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elbarkla · 2 months

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Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

1 – Manage Your Health

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

#2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you’re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning. Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

#art progress #art tips #art tutorial #art resources #art guide #artists on tumblr #elbarklaart

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years

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Weasley support system

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Summary: Y/N takes the position of a subtitute teacher at Hogwarts; her and George’s eldest son comes out as gay Word count: 1465

warnings: pretty emotional, but I wouldn’t say sad? supportive parents and siblings

a/n: This is based on the concept from my last post. I didn’t spend too much time working on it so I hope you like it? I couldn’t decide on a title so this one might be rubbish. It was a good palate cleanser while writing the next chapter of little steps as it’s long and my mind started going in loops. Which is why if you have any request, send it my way. I know I haven’t shown much yet, but I’m open peeps

Feedback encouraged!

14th May 2020

Dear Y/N,

The reason I am writing to you is to make a request.

I have recently received news of our current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s plan to retire. I’m afraid this has come as a bit of a shock to me and I won’t be able to find a suitable and competent successor in time before September. I don’t suppose you would be willing to take that position long-term, however, I’d like to offer you the position of a substitute teacher for one year, time in which I’m sure to find somebody good enough.

I am giving you time to think the decision through, but I hope to see you at the start of September.

Minerva McGonagall Headmistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

You finished reading the letter and placed it on the table next to your coffee mug and the breakfast leftovers. George took your hand and you looked up at him, both of your facial expressions in a mix of excitement and uncertainty. “What do you think?” He asked after a bit of silence, softly caressing your hand with his thumb. “It’s an interesting opportunity..” “It is..” you trailed off “I would see the kids more” he nodded.

You got a bit happier at the thought, and your mind once more went to how soon they’d finally be back home for the summer. You got used to being apart from them, last September even your youngest left for Hogwarts, meaning you and George were left alone at home. You got used to it, but you still missed your babies, who were not babies anymore.

Your eldest, Lucas - now finishing his fifth year, was an introvert with a heart of gold. The twin girls – Ruby and Vivian – although different from each other, both took after their dad – but to your luck with less interest in mischief. The youngest – Jacob, had a natural talent for driving his sisters insane.

You knew being apart from George for months after nearly twenty years of being married would not be easy, but you decided to go through with it, hoping this interesting experience would prove worth it.

Riding on the Hogwarts Express brought a familiar sense of excitement, but you weren’t a student anymore. It was strange, passing the compartments and seeing your children and their many cousins chatting with their friends just as you have all those years ago.

As a professor, you were determined to make your students comfortable and interested in what they were learning. They often asked questions about your work and sometimes about Weasleys’ Wizards’ Wheezes (as a Mrs Weasley it was inevitable) which served as a treat.

“Luke, could you stay behind, please?” you called after your son one day, right after a N.E.W.T. level class with 6th years. He gave his friends a look and walked up to you. “Could you pass me your textbook for a second? I think there were some changes between editions and I’d like to check it with the one I have before my next group…” You said as he reluctantly took the book back out of his bag and put it in front of you.

You flipped through a few chapters and started skimming through one you needed to check. You saw some doodles around the text, along with a few signatures from the same person – Dylan. You did not give it much thought – you knew Dylan, he was Luke’s friend and visited your house a few times in their first years.

You also didn’t notice Luke’s change in expression when you reached that page. His whole body tensed up and breath hitched. He didn’t listen to you ramble about the change in the description of non-verbal spells, he wiped his sweaty palms in his trousers and studied your face, waiting for something.

“You should invite him over around Christmas, baby. It’s been a while.” You said closing both of the books. “Who?” “Dylan” “Why?” asked with a shaky voice, starting to feel slightly sick. “Well, you mention him so often. He’s still your best friend, isn’t he?” you looked up to see your son in a state you’ve never witnessed before and you didn’t understand why. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes started to shine. “He’s not really my friend, mum.” you waited for him to continue, “I like him.” his voice barely audible, yet you still didn’t understand what was going on. You brought your hand up to caress his arm as his lip began to tremble, “I know, baby, it’s-“ “No, mum, you don’t get it!” He bit his lip holding back his tears. “I- I like him…”

You pulled him into a hug and cursed yourself for taking so long to catch up. You embraced the boy as tight as you could. “I’m sorry,” he said between weeps. “No, baby! You have nothing to be sorry about” You brought his face to your shoulder and caressed his head. He took his height after his dad and was already taller than you, but right now felt so small in your arms as you wanted to protect him from the world. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner” “It’s my fault you didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me.” You said, now crying with him. You stayed like that for a bit, kissing the side of his head from time to time. “I’m not sure you could’ve done any better, mum. You’re pretty great,” he laughed softly. “I try.” You chuckled. “Could you.. could you not tell dad?” he said pulling away. It slightly worried you. Was he afraid of coming out to George? You didn’t know how he’d react, but it couldn’t be bad. He loves his children, no matter what. “I- I just want to tell him properly, face to face. I’ll do it during Christmas break.” “Ok, baby,” you said, relieved, pulling him down to place one last kiss to his cheek, to which he rolled his eyes. Back to normal, that means.

It wasn’t easy hiding it from George when you saw him next weekend, but you managed. Luke soon came out to his siblings (Jacob replied with ‘so?’ and the twins claim they knew).

Before you knew it, George was picking you all up from Kings Cross and you were heading home for Christmas.

The next day, you spent the early afternoon at the Burrow to Molly’s delight. Back home, you planned to decorate the house and most importantly – the Christmas tree, after dinner which you were now preparing in the kitchen. It was open to the lounge room, where you could hear George mumble mostly to himself while reading a magazine. You had missed that.

Lucas walked down the stairs inconspicuously and walked up behind the couch. “Can I talk to you, dad?” he asked and you tried to stick to your cooking and let them have their moment, but it was hard not to listen in. “Sure, champ, what is it?” George looked up from behind the paper for just a second, and Luke sat down. “I- I gotta tell you something.”

George put the paper down, confused by the sudden seriousness. “..You’re not making me a granddad yet, are you?” he tried to lighten the mood, but when Luke only looked at his feet, George straightened up completely with raised eyebrows. “No, I’m not,” George’s face relaxed a bit, before his son continued, “that’s unlikely.” he paused for a bit and took a deep breath. “I’m gay, dad”.

There was silence for what felt like hours when in reality it lasted just a few seconds.

George’s face showed pure shock. His back fell against the couch. “Dad?..” Tears started to well up in Luke’s eyes and you wanted to run up to him when you heard the shakiness in his voice. But then George looked up at him.

The warm, reassuring smile you saw on his face reminded you again why you love that man so much. He opened his arms and your son entered his embrace. “I love you, son. And I’m proud of you.” “I love you too, dad.”

That evening, decorating the house with your family made you happier than ever before. You watched the kids bicker about the placement of the ornaments when an arm snaked around your waist. “The rascals will always find something to fight over, won’t they?” he said with a smile and kissed your cheek. You looked up and placed your hand on the side of his face and whispered “I love you” “I love you back,” he said and kissed you softly. When he pulled away, you saw that familiar smirk and he turned to the kids.

“So, any boy you’re gonna introduce to us soon?”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #harry potter imagine #x reader

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didimentionthatimawriter · 3 years

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Heads up, this is a long post, but it's important. Please read it. Some people may have been able to guess this based on the last couple of posts I've shared, but I figured I should make an official post about it here.

In January I got officially diagnosed with Moderate ADHD, Predominately Inattentive (for anyone who doesn't know, this is what used to be known as ADD, but it recently was grouped with ADHD because of the similar symptoms). What this means is I have a hard time focusing and paying attention, have problems with forgetfulness, but I'm not as hyperactive as other people with ADHD might be.

This isn't something that I've caught or developed, this is something that I've had all my life and it went unnoticed. I still remember getting in trouble when I was in elementary school because I was really slow at doing assignments and could never finish anything on time because I spent the whole time daydreaming instead. To this day I have a really hard time paying attention in lectures without daydreaming, doing something else like doodling or writing notes for a story, or getting very restless and fidgety.

How did I not get diagnosed until now? It's actually very common for women with ADHD, especially the inattentive kind, not to get diagnosed until they are adults. Girls with ADHD in particular go under the radar because of this stigma that ADHD makes a kid (usually a boy) super hyperactive and you can't get them to sit down and be quiet unless you give them a pill. Kids with inattentive ADHD are mostly just brushed off as ditsy daydreamers who need to get their heads out of the clouds, but it's not that easy. Sometimes, sitting down to listen to a lecture or get a task done is physically difficult.

I didn't get diagnosed until recently because I had been able to cope with my symptoms for the most part. I made decent grades, I had strategies to force myself to pay attention, I had study groups to go to where I had to make myself do work. The biggest problems I faced were that tasks took me so much longer than everyone else to do and I still daydreamed a lot, but even that was used to my advantage since I pursued writing fiction.

Everything that happened with Covid-19 and quarantine took away all the structure and routine I was used to, and my symptoms got worse. Then I moved out, got an apartment in a whole new city with whole new people, a job, entered a Master's program, all without an established routine to get my feet on the ground. Suddenly doing a reading for class or writing a 200 word discussion post was impossible, or would take me three times longer than everyone else did. It could take me three hours to read and annotate a 20 page article. I had major imposter syndrome, my anxiety got worse, I started having very bad depressive episodes, and I couldn't cope with anything anymore. This led to a decline in my physical health, too. I remember it got so bad I once went a week without showering because I either didn't have the energy to or I just forgot to.

I only ever considered ADHD after one of my friends who had been diagnosed with it recognized some of the symptoms in me and suggested I get tested. I did, despite people (including myself) trying to convince me there was no way I had it, and it came back positive. I also got diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

I'm not sharing this for people to pity me or worry about me. I'm fine. I'm getting help and learning how to cope with this, (and I've made a lot of improvements), and I'm hoping that when the pandemic is officially over and I can get a routine back in place it will be easier to manage. I'm sharing all of this to stress how important this is and I want to help raise awareness for it. People who weren't diagnosed and given treatment as kids often develop anxiety and depression because they have such a hard time keeping up with the pressures of everyday life. Statistically, the links between mood disorders and ADHD make adults with ADHD 14% more likely to attempt suicide than people without it, and it's especially bad for women. (Source here: https://www.usnews.com/news/health-news/articles/2020-12-29/adhd-raises-adult-suicide-risk-especially-for-women )

The best thing we can do to make those numbers go down is to recognize it and treat people for it before they develop those other disorders, and the first step is to get rid of the stigma that goes along with it. ADHD isn't always a kid unable to stay in their seat or blurting out in a discussion, (in fact, some of those kids may not even have it and are just disregarded and given pills to make them manageable, but that's a whole other issue).

ADHD is having 500 different thoughts running through your head at once that you can't drown out. It's spending days obsessing over whatever your hyper fixation is on and forgetting about your immediate responsibilities and relationships. It's having a decent vocabulary but forgetting most of it or mis-speaking when you're trying to write or talk to someone. It's experiencing a lot of stress and anxiety about tests or projects with time limits. It's forgetting people's birthdays or not talking to an old friend for a long time even though you miss them because they aren't there with you and your mind is on other things. It's procrastinating working on big projects because there are so many things to do now that something due not now doesn't feel as important, (then promptly getting extremely stressed out when that big project is due soon and you haven't even started on it). It's getting so overwhelmed with the things you need to do that you disassociate and can't get out of bed. It's becoming paralyzed with indecision. It's spending more time preparing for a task than actually doing the task. It's wanting to do your best but not having the capabilities to do it.

ADHD is hard to deal with, but it does not make someone any less of a person. I'm not ashamed of it, but I want people to understand it and learn how to work with people with it. People with ADHD aren't lazy or uncaring, they just don't think the same way as normal people.

#adhd #adult adhd #adhd problems #adhd struggles #undiagnosed adhd #adhd awareness

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somedayonbroadway · 3 years

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I found a quote from Ally Condie that could be used as a prompt: Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.

I have no idea if this is good or not, but let’s post it anyway, shall we? ;)

Can be seen as romantic or platonic, and I missed posting for you guys. Ya’ll are the best.

TW: mentions of bullying and slight mention of child abuse, teen pregnancy, sick background character

“Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.” ~ Ally Condie

They were just kids once, kids that believed in monsters and fairy tales and true love, kids who came from two different places and still ended up at each other's side all because one moment, one single instant that changed everything.

David had gotten hit in the back of the head with a dodgeball.

It wasn’t that David had been trying to play sports. In fact it was quite the opposite. David much preferred sitting in the classroom and reading a book. His twin sister said he was just boring. They were six.

On this day in particular, Mrs. Mills had closed the classroom for recess. Something about needing private time and David needing fresh air. David had been out there for almost a full seven minutes and he did not understand what all the hype was about. He could hardly focus on the words he was trying to read on the page. It was much too noisy and the kids out there pulled on his hair and spat little papers at him.

Still, David sat by the wall, curled up with his book, his knees to his chest as he dared devour every word.

No one really understood him. Hence, the dodgeball that hit his head.

David looked up quickly at that, his wide eyes searching for the monsters who had disturbed his concentration. There was a group of kids, two boys and three girls, snickering at him. He neatly put his perfectly crisp bookmark between his pages and carefully set the thing down on the ground. Then he waited for more.

“Get him!” one kid yelled, Morris Delancey, one of the snickering boys. David didn’t make any move to run. Logically, he knew he wouldn’t get very far. He would take the headache over some scrapes on his knees and elbows. So he waited for the attack patiently, making sure his book was safely out of the way.

The dodgeballs came flying.

All David could really do was try and stop the things from hitting his face. Other than that, he was an open target. That is, until another voice from the crowd called out, “Hey, everyone, free ice cream in the cafeteria!”

Eyes snapping up at that, David watched the dodgeballs drop from the other kids’ hands as they all ran off, squealing annoyingly as someone grabbed his wrist. David barely managed to grab his book before he was almost dragged across the playground into the grass. “Here! They won’t find you over here,” another boy said.

His book hanging at his side, David tilted his head. “There’s no ice cream in the cafeteria,” he stated obviously, as though the other boy with the messy brown hair and forest green eyes should know that.

But the boy only shrugged. “They don’ know that,” he stated, sitting down under the tree and then twisting over to lay on his stomach. There was a piece of paper laying in the grass. It was a dry day, so the paper wasn’t wet. David still wondered how this boy was okay with one side of the page being dirty as he moved his pencil over the page. “I’m Jack. Jack Kelly,” the odd boy introduced, not even looking up at him. “You can call me Jack. Or Kelly. It don’ matter.”

Squinting a bit at that, David hesitantly sat on the grass, cringing at the dirt that would now be on the back of his pants. “I’m David,” he said back. “I haven’t seen you before,” he mentioned, picking at the cover of his book.

Jack just shrugged again. “That’s cause I’s new,” he stated. “Prob’ly won’ be here long. I don’ think my foster ma likes me so much.” Jack said those words like they held no weight at all and David did his best to understand. Jack ma didn’t like him. He didn’t get it. A mother always loves her kids. That’s how mothers worked.

With a small shrug, David just nodded like he knew exactly what Jack was talking about. “Thanks for helping me,” he said, sitting down under the tree they were close to. He picked up his book and opened it back up.

Smiling a little as he doodled, Jack responded, “sure, Davey.”

“My name’s David,” the boy tried to correct.

Jack nodded. “Okay, Davey.”

And that was the beginning of something good. Something that was meant to be. That encounter was fate. Maybe some of their teachers warned against this relationship. Maybe Jack and David were too different to be friends, to even be allies. David always had his nose in a book and Jack was always getting into trouble from that day forward. It was odd. They were odd.

But they were inseparable ever since.

—

Years went by and the two stayed the same, only, Jack never got to stay in one house for longer than six months. By some miracle, the two still lived close enough for a nine year old Jack to knock on his only friend’s window at midnight.

The two knew each other too well. Jack had known that Davey would have his nose once again stuck in a long, long book that he would go on and on about for the next week and a half. He knew his friend wouldn’t be asleep. He knew Davey would let him in.

“Jack, what happened to your eye?!” Davey gasped as he turned a light on and helped Jack climb in.

“Shhhhh!” Jack hissed, terrified of waking someone else up. “Nothin’, I just fell over,” he insisted, immediately collapsing in Davey’s bed and curling up in the blanket, shoes and all. “What are you reading?” Jack always asked. Maybe he just liked hearing Davey talk. Something about it was calming, familiar and steady. He didn’t hang on every word. He let them wrap him up in an invisible, warm blanket.

Trusting his friend, Davey jumped on the bed in front of Jack and grabbed the book. “I can read it to you!” he offered. And Jack’s eyes lit up.

See, Jack had never been the best reader. Davey knew that. The words were all jumbled when Jack tried to read. None of it ever made sense and it hurt his head when he tried to focus. His teachers always got mad at him. But not Davey. Davey liked to read to him. So Jack nodded, and watched his friend get comfy on the bed next to him as he started to read off every word. Jack just watched him in amazement, wondering how everything was so easy for Davey and he could still care about someone like him.

Davey had a lot of things. He always said he didn’t, but he did. Davey had a nice sister and a cute little brother. And he had his mother and father. He called them weird names, but maybe they weren’t so weird to Davey. Ima and Abba. Davey had a whole room to himself and more books than Jack could read in a whole lifetime.

Sometimes, Jack wished he was Davey. He wished he could have a nice family and a nice house and nice warm food that wasn’t locked away and out of his reach. He wished he could curl up in this bed without a care in the world.

But then he thought that Davey deserved this life more than him. He was just glad to have Davey there with him.

So Jack covered Davey with more of his blanket and then yawned beneath the safety of the heavy thing before letting his best friend’s voice lull him into a dreamless sleep. “Goodnight, Jackie,” Davey whispered.

“Goodnight, Davey,” Jack managed to mumble back.

This was not the first time this had occurred. And it would not be the last.

—

Still, the boys had to start growing up eventually, no matter how they tried to stop it.

Jack was there when David was told he’d be the man of the house.

His dad was sick.

Jack and Davey sat side by side in that waiting room. Their feet only barely touched the floor. Jack had refused to leave ever since they’d gotten the news. “You don’t have to stay,” David said. They were thirteen and terrified.

Jack shrugged and picked up the book that was next to his friend today. “What are you reading, Davey?” he asked.

Shaking his head, David wiped at his face. “It doesn’t matter. You should go home—“

“I’d rather stay here,” Jack shrugged, looking around awkwardly, wishing he knew how to make Davey feel better, wishing there was anything he could do to make the other boy smile. So he opened up the book, grabbed his pencil and started sketching. David didn’t stop him. He loved it when Jack doodled. Only, Jack was beginning to do a lot more than just doodle.

The picture caused David to snicker a bit as a few loose tears fell down his face. He ended up laying his head down on Jack’s shoulder and just laying there, letting himself be sad. And Jack didn’t move away. He didn’t speak. He just sat there with that book in his hand, those pages opened up, doing everything he could to be there for his friend and his friend’s family.

Sarah, David’s twin sister, sat down beside them with their baby brother Les in her arms. “Are we gonna be okay?” she whispered to David, trying not to upset the boy in her arms.

But David didn’t even have to answer. Because Jack was there. And Jack answered expertly, “You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll be right here for ya… whatever ya need,” he promised.

It was a promise that Jack kept. And David could be nothing but grateful. He leaned on his friend and closed his eyes, trusting he would be safe for the rest of the night.

—

Davey was there when Jack found out he was getting adopted.

Davey thought it was supposed to be a happy day. Jack was terrified. “He don’t even like me!” Jack insisted, pacing across Davey’s room like he’d done so many times before, his fourteen year old voice breaking as he told Davey everything. “He’s doin’ it for the money! N’ he don’t give a single penny of it ta me! Ain’t that money s’posed ta be for me?”

“Jack,” Davey called, noting that his friend was frustrated. “You’ve always wanted to be adopted—“

“No!” Jack argued, pausing and thinking about it. “Okay, fine, sure I have, but… not by him…” he sighed, collapsing on Davey’s bed beside him. “Can I stay here tonight?”

All Davey did was shrug. “Always, Jackie,” he promised. “The real question is, what movie are we watching?”

Relaxing at that, Jack climbed into Davey’s bed, curling up beneath his covers and pulling the book out from beneath him when he found it. “Anything as long as we can convince Sarah ta make us some cocoa,” Jack decided.

With a small laugh, Davey put on a movie that Jack would forever refuse to admit was his favorite and he let Robin Williams explain the story of the lamp as he curled up beside Jack. “You know you’re part of this family, right?”

Looking over at him, Jack squinted. “What?”

“You’re practically a Jacobs,” Davey muttered, texting Sarah on his flip phone for some cocoa and popcorn. “You know, you’re just… a Kelly,” he shrugged.

Jack squinted at that. Davey was usually so good with words and here he was leaving Jack confused in a whole different way. But before he could ask what the meant, Sarah was standing in the doorway saying, “yep, just making sure you both still had two legs. Go get your own stuff.”

With a dramatic groan, Jack pouted. “But I’m a man in distress!” he groaned.

So Sarah rolled her eyes. “You owe me one, Kelly.”

The two boys snickered as Sarah walked away, curling up only slightly closer and watching their movie.

—

They grew up, side by side, much too quickly. They’d laughed together and cried together and fought and played and gotten each other through hard times and breezed through the best times. And now came this time, this time when Jack and David were sitting across the room from each other, fifteen years old and confused and terrified.

“I got into Roosevelt—“

“I got Amelia pregnant—“

They both froze at each other’s words. Jack could’ve cried. “Roosevelt?” he whispered. “Davey… that’s… that’s in Santa Fe—“

“You only slept with her once because of some stupid game! How the hell is she pregnant?”

Neither of them felt like they could breathe. “Davey… y-you can’t leave me here like this— if Snyder finds out—“ Jack shook his head. “I-I don’t know what ta do…”

David shook his head, turning back to his suitcase and continuing to fold up his clothes. “I told you not to play that stupid game—“

“Davey, I get it! I’m an idiot! Just please don’t go!” Jack begged. “Davey, I…”

Turning to him, the taller boy finally revealed the tears falling down his own face. “You think I want to leave you?” he whispered. “Jack, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had.”

“Then why is this happening?” Jack asked.

“Because it has to. Maybe… maybe it’ll be good—“

“I just knocked some girl up! Snyder is going to kill me and my best friend is moving across the country!” Jack rushed out, his voice breaking. “What am I supposed to do?”

Pulling Jack to his chest, David sighed. The two of them just stood there for a long moment, clinging to each other until Davey pulled away and handed Jack a book. “Want me to read to you?” he asked innocently. All Jack could do was nod.

They had no idea what was truly going to happen next.

—

The phone calls used to be constant. The messaging was daily. But those were gone within the first year.

Jack’s child was born. He was kicked out to the streets. He was left with nothing. And he was too proud to ask for help.

David’s career fell into place. He was drowned in paperwork and student debt. He had to work two jobs in order to make it all the way through law school.

The letters grew fewer and fewer until one day they stopped. Years past and Facebook was the only thing that told them the other was alive. Jack posted about his art and his life as a single, teenage dad, and Davey posted about his life as a successful lawyer.

It just never felt the same.

It wasn't until one day, when David picked up a book for the first time in months that a few clever little doodles made him smile. He ran his fingers over the things, opening his computer almost fifteen years later and clicking on Jack’s profile, a picture of him and a boy named Tyler James. The boy was almost fifteen. David smiled to himself and opened up the messages, typing in a simple quote.

“Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.” ~ Ally Condie

And then he waited. For a long time, he just stared at that screen, watching nothing until those terrifying three dots appeared.

“You know if you want to meet for coffee, you could just ask,” came Jack’s reply.

And David smiled wider than he had in years.

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chibi-mushroom · 3 years

Text

Hey everyone! Finally get to post my piece for the memory of promises zine! check out the link here if you want to grab one of your own copies in the leftover sale! I was so happy to be able to join in on this zine, and I hope you guys enjoy all the work that went into it! (Also keep in mind this was written before MoM.)

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Namine rubbed her temples and looked at the clock. Midnight already. DiZ was not going to like this. The next time he came into the white room would bring on some lecture or punishment of some kind. She had been working furiously all afternoon trying to get past this one section of memory, but there was something that was keeping her back. Her pulse began to race. She was feeling sick. The door to the white room opened and with a squeak, Namine ducked under the table, fearing the familiar stride of the man in red.

"It's okay, it's just me. You can come out now." A soft voice sounded in her ears. "You're safe. DiZ said he needed to run an errand and wouldn't be back for a couple of days."

Slowly looking up, Namine could see the outstretched hand of the only comfort she had in this lonely place. "Riku. You're back."

She took his offering and stood up. He hadn't let go of her hand just yet, blindfold still covering those beautiful blue green eyes he had. She was glad it stopped him from seeing things like her girlish blush. He was only offering his hand as a friend. Besides, it was wrong for her to want to be with him- nobodies weren't supposed to feel anything. So why did she?

"You're shaking." Riku stated simply. "Have you eaten anything today?"

So he could even feel the slight tremor in her hands. "No, not exactly."

"Do you want me to get something for you? I think there are some leftovers in the fridge."

"No, I'm alright. I have to get back to work." Namine tried to take her hand from his, but he held onto it all the tighter, leaning down a little to be at eye level with her.

"You were working when I left, and I can tell you haven't gotten any sleep. How are you expecting to take care of Sora when you can't take care of yourself?"

Right. Namine thought. He's just like DiZ. All he cares about is getting Sora restored. You're just a tool.

Still, she couldn't help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat as his blinded eyes sunk to meet her tired ones. Maybe she should take a small break. All of this stress was making her read too much into small gestures.

Namine simply nodded, and Riku left to warm her up some food. Sensing that going back to Sora's memories would be futile, she grabbed her sketch pad and turned it to the very last page. This was her secret page, covered in things she thought about. Mindless doodles she drew when she was waiting for the computer to check on Sora’s physical well-being.

The sketch pad was not necessary for her magic to work. She could rearrange memories- crush the hearts of her poor unsuspecting victims- without it. She used it though to help her concentrate. By visualizing the memories, she was able to make a more convincing edit or capture the feelings that were hiding beneath the surface. So many times she had drawn Sora, Riku and Kairi together. And sure there were strong feelings of both love and jealousy, but had she not had her sketch pad, she might have missed Sora's emotions of gratitude for two stalwart best friends, confusion about school topics they had recently studied, and hope that Kairi would want to go with him to the first school dance, even though he knew they would just go together and bail early to hang out on the play island like they always did whenever the school had some social.

"Here you go. It's nothing special, but it's better than nothing." Riku interrupted her thoughts with a plate of food.

With a gasp, Namine hurried to cover her sketch pad. Even though she knew he couldn't see it, he moved so gracefully that she sometimes wondered if he really was blind. Although those first couple of days made the mansion quite a bit louder with his cries of annoyance as he bumped into furniture. He even fell into the secret compartment that hid the computer lab, but luckily managed to land safely.

"Drawing something you don't want anyone to see?" Riku smirked.

"No!" Namine replied a bit sharper than she thought. "Maybe."

Riku laughed as he set their plates down and pulled a chair over. "I'm only kidding. You don't have to be working on Sora nonstop. If you want to take a moment for yourself, then do it."

"No, I need to be working on Sora. It was my fault he's like this in the first place. I want to keep my promise." Namine picked up the white plastic fork. For once would it hurt to have some color around here?

With a sigh, Riku held his hand out for her to hold. "We've been over this, Nam. What happened wasn't your fault. You were being used." Softly Riku muttered "you still are."

Namine looked at him for a moment and then looked down at her food. She picked at it for a few moments before softly sliding her hand in his and taking a couple of bites. She ate in a comfortable silence, simply feeling the pressure that came from the gentle touch. This sort of thing wasn't unusual for them. They could usually be found in silence with their hands connected. But the mountain of pressure from the recent block in memories and lack of self care was threatening to squish Namine with its enormous weight.

"How's the restoration going?" Riku asked.

Namine's stomach began to twist around itself. "I'm….not sure."

Riku squeezed her hand, urging her to explain. Namine sighed, unsure of how to continue. Would he get mad if she told the truth? He had slowly been becoming more like DiZ, after all. He used to be there with her when she was getting told off. These days, Riku was never usually in the white room for more than five minutes unless it was late at night.

"You remember what Sora's mom used to tell him all the time, right?" Riku recalled.

"Never talk to strangers on the play island?"

Riku chuckled, remembering a secret promise. "A problem shared is a problem halved. If you tell me, it might relieve some of the pressure on you."

There was no avoiding it, not as long as he held her hand.

"It's just that, well-" Namine fumbled for the words. "There's been a bit of a roadblock. I've been doing my best to sort it out, tracing the connections, but it's like the memories slip away as soon as I think I have a grasp on them. I may have gone through half a notebook trying to find a solid piece."

There was a pause, as if Riku were considering what to say.

"I'll go get you a new notebook tomorrow, then. As for the memories, we'll get it figured out. You need to take a break, anyway."

"No!" Namine swallowed back further emotion. Maybe she really did need some sleep. She was being more irrational than she expected. "No, it's fine. I'm sure I'm doing something wrong."

"Don't say stuff like that. If there's anyone who can make this situation right, it's you. Please, just take a few hours to rest tomorrow, okay?" Riku squeezed her hand again.

"I don't really have a choice here, do I?" Namine sighed.

"You always have a choice. I'm just asking you as someone who cares a lot about you."

Someone who cares? Namine thought. She slowly nodded in reply. Maybe a break was exactly what she needed.

"Thank you, Riku."

One Year Later

Again Riku tried to beat Marluxia, and again he was defeated. He only had this last battle to finish, having started against the organization members he recognized or had personally fought against. Which, admittedly wasn't many, but after several attempts, he was down to the last. It frustrated him that he still wasn't quite used to the keyboard controls, and Sora's moves were much less based in strength and relied much more on magic. Riku had never been very good with magic, focusing on perfecting his cure and dark firaga spells instead of learning the large array of magic that his friends had mastered.

Some keyblade master I turned out to be. Riku thought, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms. I can't even stop my two best friends from leaving me again. This is just like back then…

His mind began to drift away with thoughts of Castle Oblivion and Twilight Town. He heard the door open and gentle footsteps move toward him.

"Hey Aerith. We can work on that scarf in a minute. I have to get some more ethers for data Sora first."

"I take it the fight didn't go well then?" A soft voice walked closer.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Not Aerith.

"Hey Namine. How could you tell?"

Namine placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "You're really tense. Besides, I could feel your frustration from a block away."

What anger and annoyance had once plagued Riku's mind had since washed away. All he could register was how reassuring Namine's hand on his shoulder felt. She smelled nice, too. A faint blush warmed his cheeks. Ever since Kairi had insisted on going to sleep and Terra had left for the dark realm with Aqua and Ven, Namine was the only person Riku shared everything with. She had heard him vent several times, and she had been helping Aerith teach him how to knit. It was her delicate fingers that had lead him through the steps of a cable.

"I guess I need a little bit of a break." Riku said with a sigh. "Wanna go get some ice cream or something?"

"Sure." Namine smiled, stepping back so he could get up and stretch. They began to talk as they walked to their usual ice cream shop.

Since Scrooge, Huey and Dewey had returned home, the ice cream shop had been manned by one of the local citizens. He usually gave Riku a discount, so Riku usually put some munny in the tip jar. It had become routine over the past year to go whenever Namine came to visit from Twilight Town.

"How is everything going with Roxas and Xion?" Riku asked, sitting down and unwrapping his fruit bar.

"Slow." Namine replied, taking a small lick from her chocolate cherry ice cream cone. She wanted to try all of the flavors, and this was the last one. "Not too bad, but I think I preferred the strawberry cheesecake the best."

"That was a flavor Kairi always liked." Riku smiled softly.

When he saw the way Namine looked for just the hair of a second, he realized that was probably the wrong thing to say. He inwardly cursed himself and his inability to be the suave guy all the girls had thought he was growing up. Kairi and Namine didn't get much of a chance to talk after she got her replica body, as Kairi had almost immediately asked to be put under. Riku wondered what it was like living inside a heart of pure light. Just like Castle Oblivion, she didn't talk about it much.

"We should get some for her when she wakes up." Namine continued to eat her cone. There was an uncomfortable silence for just a moment before Namine spoke up again. "Who were you fighting when I came in?"

"Marluxia. He was the head of the castle, right?"

Namine nodded.

"I never really got to meet him as I was down in the basement back then. I'm sorry you had to deal with a guy like him."

"It's alright. I...had some support. There was Sora and Donald and Goofy. And despite everything I did to him, there was your replica, too." Namine spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "But don't feel bad. He made his decisions, like everyone else."

This time, it was Riku's turn to nod in agreement, taking a bite from his treat.

"After the data battles are all said and done, what happens next?" Namine asked softly.

"I...don't know. All I know is that I've been having these weird dreams lately."

"I wondered. You look tired." Namine grabbed on to Riku's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Maybe it was a reflex, maybe it was a force of habit, like how they used to sit back in the old mansion. Either way, the touch on its own was enough to pull Riku away from the dark thoughts that usually sat at the horizon of his mind. He squeezed her hand in response.

"Don't hesitate to call me if you ever need someone to talk to. I miss our little midnight chats." Namine admitted.

"I do too." Riku smiled softly. "They really helped clear my mind back then."

"A problem shared is a problem halved, remember?" Namine was glad she could actually see his eyes as she recalled back to his words that helped her through her time at the old mansion. "Care to share anything?"

Riku paused. He sighed before starting to speak. After he told her of the recurring dream he'd been having with the buildings and the feeling of being watched, he also admitted to the weight that had been pinned on his shoulders.

"I know it might sound silly, but I can't help but wonder if these dreams are connected to Sora somehow. I just wish I could understand it more." Riku finished his bar and set the popsicle stick on the bench beside him.

Namine had just finished her ice cream as well, wiping her face with the napkin. "Maybe it's time you take another journey."

"With the data battle still to fight and Kairi still asleep? I can't leave now."

"Maybe not now, but after the last battle is won." Namine gently pulled his hand close to her and began massaging it. "But that means I can't follow you. Will you be alright on your own? Maybe you can check Kairi's dreams."

"I...don't know. I haven't used my dream eater powers in a long time and the process is still kind of fuzzy for me." He could feel his muscles relax as she worked at his weary hand.

Doubt was rising in his chest. Maybe she was right. Who was he kidding? He wasn't ready for this kind of thing. He wasn't like Sora or Kairi who could follow their hearts at a moment's notice. He couldn't always feel the way it was trying to lead him.

But as he saw Namine patiently working on his hands, the stiff muscles being brought to relax against her fingers, a light shone through the storm of his doubt. How he hadn't realized it before was a mystery. Ever since they had met, she had been the light in the dark, just as he had provided shade for her in the brightest situations. As she finished the massage, she tenderly squeezed his hands, reassuring him that she was there and willing to help. Surely that was love.

He felt love for her, no question. But with Sora and Kairi gone and asleep, there never seemed to be a good moment to tell her what his heart really wanted to say.

"We...we should be getting back." Namine sighed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, but then, I'm not really all that sure of anything anymore."

"If there's anything I know, it's that things will get better. We'll find Sora. I don't know how or when, but we will." Namine took his hand again, standing before him.

Namine took a quick breath and then leaned over, placing a quick kiss atop his head. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be able to reach, but since he was sitting down, she could offer a small token of her affection and confidence in his abilities.

She and Riku's faces filled with blush, although a smile tugged at her lips. Namine didn't have enough courage to kiss him on the lips like she had wanted to for so long, but this was safe. He couldn't spurn her for a harmless kiss to the head. After all, what was some reassurance between friends?

"Thank you, Namine." Riku had a hard time looking at this angel of a woman without his heartbeat increasing.

To think she was willing to be by his side after all this. He decided there and then that he would listen to his heart and tell her of his feelings...after they set everything right. Once Sora and Kairi were home and together, then they could sort out their own relationship. It would give him yet another reason to bring his best friend home.

He could still feel the kiss on his forehead, and it brought a genuine smile to his face. He stood up and began walking away from Merlin's house.

"Don't feel like you have to stop working on the data battles on my account. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright." Namine stopped for a second.

"We can get back to those soon enough. I need a little longer before I get back into it." He took his trash and threw it into a nearby can. "There are some fountains that are really pretty this time of day nearby if you want to check them out with me."

A smile formed on Namine's lips. "I'd love to, Riku."

#RikuNami #namiku #mopzine #kh fanfiction #riku #namine #post Re:Mind #Pre MoM

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romancandlemagazine · 3 years

Text

An Interview with Al Baker

I first came across Al Baker’s photography whilst looking through an old copy of a magazine called Flux I’d snaffled from Manchester’s world-famous second-hand wonderland, Empire Exchange.

Hidden in the magazine’s pages, between an interview with Mark E Smith and a review of a newly-released sci-fi film called The Matrix, were two black-and-white photos, snapped from the window of an ice-cream van, showing kids lined up for a bit of frozen respite from the summer heat. Reading the fairly minimal bit of text below, it turned out the photos were part of a series called ‘Ice Cream You Scream’.

I’d missed the exhibition by approximately 20 years, but thanks to the high-speed time-machine known as the internet, I managed to track him down. Here’s an interview about his fine photos, his time living in Hulme Crescents and the benefits of carrying cameras in a Kwik Save bag...

Classic ‘start of an interview’ question here, but when did you get into photography? Was there something in particular that set you off?

Like a lot of young people, I knew that I was creative but hadn’t quite found my place. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be a writer or in a band. I used to doodle, copy Picasso’s in biro, so off I went to art college and tried my hand at different things. All it really taught me was that I had neither the patience, technique or talent to become a painter. Photography seemed a much easier way to make images, a more instant result. Of course, the more you get into it you realise that whether you’re any good or not does rely upon patience, technique and talent after all.

Was ‘being a photographer’ something that people did in Manchester in the early 90s? Who did you look up to back then?

Not really. It was very rare to see another person wandering around with a camera back then. Even years later when I began photographing the club scene in Manchester no-one else seemed to be doing the same thing. Not at the night clubs I went to anyway.

Now it’s very different. These days you see people with cameras everywhere. Club nights almost always have a photographer. People are far more image-conscious due to social media. Today most people are busy documenting their own nights out with their phones. Look at footage from any major gig these days and half the room is filming it. Back in the 90s no-one seemed to care about documenting anything like that. You were very unlikely to see the photos that someone might be taking the next day or, in fact, ever. People often used to ask ‘What are you taking photos for?’ with genuine surprise or distain.

In terms of photographers whom I looked up to there are so many! There are great image masters like Cartier-Bresson or Elliott Erwitt. Photographers of war and social upheaval like Don McCullin and Phillip Jones-Griffiths. I liked Alexander Rodchenko and Andre Kertez, how they broke the conventions of their day with wit and invention.

I loved the dark and dirty images of Bill Brandt, and his inspiring nude studies too. I loved the city at night recorded by Brassai. Paris in the 1930s definitely seemed to be the place to be. Diane Arbus, Jane Bown and Shirley Baker. American street photographer Gary Winogrand was a huge influence on me, as was Nick Waplington’s book ‘Living Room’.

I was also quite lucky to be living in Manchester at that time. Daniel Meadows and Martin Parr had both attended Manchester Polytechnic. Denis Thorpe had worked for the Guardian in Manchester. I saw Kevin Cummins iconic Joy Division images, Ian Tilton documenting The Stone Roses. Both were regularly in among the inky pages of the NME.

I also saw an exhibition of Clement Cooper’s photographs of the Robin Hood pub in Moss Side, which was another big influence. I was also very lucky in that my very first photography tutor was Mark Warner, who produced very beautiful images, did a lot of work for Factory Records. He shot The Durutti Column’s (1989) Vini Reilly album sleeve. He was probably the first person who ever really encouraged me.

I really like that series of photos you took from inside an ice-cream van in the late 90s. What was the story behind that?

The initial idea for that project came from my friend Steve Hillman, who is an actor. At the time he was ‘between jobs’, which is an actor’s euphemism for being unemployed, so he was working an ice-cream round to help to pay the rent. I was at his flat one night, thinking aloud about where I might go next with my camera. I’d spent quite a long time following graffiti artists work around Hulme, and had my first exhibition based around that. But it only seemed to lead to offers of more work with graffiti artists, and I wanted to do something else.

I’d done a 2nd exhibition based around portraits of my friends in Hulme. I’d flirted with some one-day projects, like Belle Vue dog track, Speakers Corner in Hyde Park. Anyway, while I was talking, not really knowing what I was going to do next, Steve simply stated ‘You should come out on the ice-cream round with me. No-one ever comes to the van without a smile on their face.’ And it just struck me as a beautiful & simple idea. So, one day we just set off. 4 or 5 rolls of film and all the free ice-cream I could eat, which I discovered wasn’t very much!

What was the logistical side of those photos? Were they taken from the same van?

They were all shot on the same day, the same van, all around Salford. It was good fun, but actually very hard work. Trying to constantly find new angles, different framing and working on a hot August day in such a small confined space. By the end of the day I felt that I had enough strong images for my next exhibition. They were much jollier images than ones I’d made before. As a result, because it had more universal appeal, I got quite a lot of good publicity out of it, and Walls gave us hundreds of free Magnum ice-creams to give away on the opening night!

These days I could think of more than a few reasons why you probably shouldn’t drive around Salford photographing other people’s children without permission haha (in fact, I’m surprised that I wasn’t hung from the nearest lamppost!) but I was much younger and far more naive back then. Besides, that was something that I’d learned from living in Hulme. You don’t ask for permission. Someone will only say ‘No’. Just crack on and do it anyway.

You also documented the last years of the Hulme Crescents. A lot of people talk about that time and place in Manchester, even now—but what was the reality of it? What was a normal weekend there like?

It was quite unlike anywhere that I’d ever lived before. It looked like a fascist dystopian nightmare, only one peopled by Rastas and anarchists. Bleak concrete interconnecting walkways. No through roads whatsoever. A fortress feel to the place. The entire estate was earmarked for demolition before I arrived. Everyone else seemed to be busy moving out. But I was already spending a lot of time there, post-Hacienda, parties, friends, lost weekends.

There were lots of young people living there. Families had mainly moved out as the heating didn’t work properly, flats were cold & damp, often infested with cockroaches. There were traces of old Irish families, the Windrush generation, interwoven with punks and drop-outs.

There was a cultural & artistic flowering among the ruins. A Certain Ratio, Dub Sex, A Guy Called Gerald, Edward Barton, Ian Brown, Dave Haslam, Mick Hucknall, Lemn Sissay, all lived there at one time. It was the original home of Factory, where all the post-punk bands played. In turn that led to Factory Records, New Order, and the Hacienda. The PSV club later hosted raves and notorious Jungle nights. It was a good time to be young.

You lived there as well as shooting it. Do you think it’s important to be a part of the thing you’re photographing, rather than just an outsider with a camera?

I don’t know that it’s important to be a part of the thing you’re photographing, ‘embedded’ is what the war photographers call it, but you definitely capture different images. Certain things that might have been shocking to an outsider were commonplace, normal & every day to me. Boring even. On the other hand, I was much less likely to be robbed walking around. That meant I could take my camera places that other people couldn’t, or maybe shouldn’t!

I used to wear my camera beneath my coat so it couldn’t be seen, and I carried my film and lenses in a Kwik Save shopping bag so as not to attract unwanted attention. I got into the habit of handing that bag over the bar at the pubs I went in. I would collect it the next day if I could remember where I’d been the night before. Bless you, saintly barmaids of old Hulme.

If you look at my images of Hulme people they’re usually reacting to me and not the camera. Either that or they’re not reacting at all. They’re ignoring the fact that I’m taking a picture. That’s what gives them that ‘fly-on-the-wall’ feeling.

This is something that I put to greater effect later when I was photographing in night clubs, skulking stage side or hiding in a DJ booth. When DJs & MCs see you week in week out at the club doing the same thing they stop posing for the camera and just get used to you being there. You become part of the furniture. And when people stop being conscious of the camera, when they ignore that you’re even present, you can step in much closer. Put simply, you get better pictures. They’re much less performative and far more honest. It’s not often people can say they like it when they’re being ignored, but for photographers it’s a gift.

Do you think somewhere the Crescents could exist now, or was it just a case of the perfect accidental recipe for that kind of creative, DIY activity?

No, I don’t think anywhere like Hulme will ever happen again. I think the city council learned that lesson a long time ago. It was a dystopian utopia for us, but it grew out of failure. When I 1st went to university they warned us never to set foot there. I said, ‘But what if you live there already?’ and there was an embarrassed silence. They really hadn’t expected a poor boy from Hulme to be in the room. Now they own half of it and it’s all student Halls of Residence.

The city centre has been regenerated, redeveloped & gentrified. We can’t afford to live there anymore, and people like me are pushed out. Hulme was a failed social housing experiment, an eyesore & an embarrassment to the people who had commissioned it. People like me moved in & we made it our own. They’re never going to allow anything like that to happen again. Every quaint old fashioned pub that closes becomes a block of flats. The footprint is too valuable to property developers. One day all we will have will be faded photographs to bear witness to a very different way of living.

Was it through the Crescents that you started shooting graffiti? 

When I first arrived in Hulme I’d just spent 3 years living with mates in a couple of houses elsewhere in the city. It suddenly struck me that that part of my life was over and I had very few photographs of that time. I’d been too busy learning photography, taking the kind of photos that every art student takes: Broken windows; abandoned buildings, and bits of burnt wood. I vowed I wouldn’t do that again. I began documenting the life that was around me.

I started with the architecture, as it was quite unlike any other place I’d ever seen. It had a desperate, faded beauty even then. The whole estate had been condemned for demolition before I arrived, but the city council had given up on the place long before that.

I started to notice graffiti pieces going up, seeing the same names repeated. It was obvious that there was a small group of writers trying out their styles on a large canvas for the 1st time. Wanting to claim this derelict space as their own Hall Of Fame. I started to document them as they sprang up. Then I noted that context was crucial, and so I began to include the soon-to-be-derelict buildings in the images also. The shapes & colours of the graffiti looked positively psychedelic beside the drab monochrome of the setting.

With your graffiti shots, you show a lot more than just the pieces. Was it an intentional thing to show the act behind it a bit?

Because it was Hulme and no-one cared, these guys weren’t working in the dead of night like most graffiti writers do in the train yards and what-have-you. They were working during the day, right out in the open. So, documenting their work, it wasn’t long before I ran into Kelzo. He really didn’t trust me at first, but I kept coming back. So, I got to know them. They started to let me know where they were going to be painting next.

In 1995 Kelzo organised the 1st SMEAR JAM event (named after a young aspiring writer who used to come down to Hulme to learn, and had died suddenly from a nut allergy). That was such good fun that another event arrived the following year, another & another. Graf writers came from London, Edinburgh, Leeds, Sheffield, and as far afield as Spain. The local community came out to support and, as usual, it turned into a party that lasted all weekend.

I got into the habit of taking 2 cameras. One loaded with B&W film to capture the event itself, and another with colour transparency to document the finished artwork.

Graffiti… hip-hop… kids getting ice cream… I suppose there’s a few different subjects there, but was there an underlying thing or theme you wanted to show with your photos? Maybe getting a bit philosophical, but they’re all quite free acts—is it about enjoying what’s there?

It was more about documenting the life I saw around me. Moving to Hulme was what led to me capturing graffiti, and graffiti led to hip-hop events. Once Hulme was demolished I moved my camera into the city centre and began photographing club nights. House and hip-hop turned into Drum’n’Bass, and then dubstep. Residents and warm-up acts have now become headliners in their own right. Manchester has always been a great city for music, and it kept me busy throughout the naughty Noughties. I’ve pretty much retired from all of that now. I’d had enough after over 15 years of it. I no longer feel compelled to document something as ephemeral as a club night anymore when half of the audience are doing it themselves anyway. Then coronavirus came & properly killed it all off. I don’t know what it’s going to be like now going forward, but it’ll be someone else’s turn to document whatever that is.

What do you think makes a good photograph? 

You need to have a good eye. You need to notice & be aware of the world around you. You always see an image before you create one. You don’t require expensive equipment. Mine never was. And you don’t need to be trained. It’s one of those areas where you really can educate yourself. A certain amount of technique and technical understanding goes a long way but, again, you can pick those things up as you go along.

There are different kinds of photography, of course, but for me it was always about capturing a moment. The Decisive Moment, as Cartier-Bresson so eloquently put it. It’s something that the camera has over the canvas. For me the camera has always been a time machine. Like an evocative love song on the radio, it can transport you back immediately to a time & place long gone. It also acts as a witness for those people who were not there. Images tell stories. And we all like to hear and tell stories.

A couple of years ago I was invited to talk at the University of Lancaster for a symposium on documentary photography, which is a tradition that I had always considered my photographs sat within. But oddly, as I gave my slide-show presentation, images that I have seen and shown many times before, and thought I knew very well, I suddenly saw in a brand-new light. I could see myself in every image. Almost like a self-portrait from which I was absent but my own shadow cast large. I realised that I haven’t been documenting anything other than my own life. 25 year old images suddenly had something new to say, something new to tell me.

Do you still take photos today? What kind of things are you into shooting these days?

I don’t really do a lot of photography these days. I teach and facilitate as part of my job now. I still do the odd event but night club photography is a much younger man’s game. I really don’t have the levels of commitment, energy or enthusiasm I once did. I feel like I’ve taken enough images. If I never took another photograph ever again, that’s OK. Maybe, perhaps, I’ll get into a different kind of image making in my twilight years … but for now I’m trying to reassess the images I made 25 years ago. People are far more interested in them now than they ever were at the time. Now they have become documents of a time and place which has gone. The graffiti and the walls that they were written on have disappeared. Many of those night clubs have closed. Time moves on. The images and the memories are all that is left.

Over all those years, how has the art of photography changed for you?

Back when I started taking photographs, where I lived in Hulme, the kind of music that I was into, the magic of a night club moment, there were very few people I knew of who were doing the same thing. Now I am aware of others who were. Almost everyone is their own photographer now. Mobile phones & social media have given a platform for anyone to make & share images of their individual lives, whether it be their friends & families, holidays, public events or more private & intimate moments. Anyone can document their own lives now, so I no longer feel that I have to. I do still love photography, it’s still my favourite form of art, but I don’t feel compelled to capture it all anymore.

I suppose I’ve pestered you with questions for a while now. Have you got any wise words to wind this up with?

If you want to become a photographer you must learn your craft. Keep doing it, and you will get better. But you must remember to always be honest. Make honest images. Listen to the voice of your own integrity. Don’t worry too much if no-one sees any value in what you do. If you’re any good people will eventually see it. It may take years, it did for me, but images of the ordinary & everyday will one day become historical, meaningful & extraordinary.

We live in a world today mediated by images, a Society of the Spectacle, but we still need photographers: People who have a good eye, an innate feel for the decisive moment; what to point the camera at and when to press the shutter. The images that you make today will be the memories of the future.

See more of Al’s photos here.

#Photography #Interview #Al Baker #Manchester #Hulme Crescents

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years

Text

with you [chapter four]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: tbh working on this story at night is the only thing holding my sanity together while I’m taking care of my grams. But also this chapter was a huge pain in the ass to fix and I’m 0.02 seconds away from punching a hole in the wall. But it’s fine because it’s finished and I ran all the way home just to quickly post this.

Anyway, thank you for reading and your constant support. It truly means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy ch4. ❤️

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4

Read on: AO3

---

The page remains blank.

No matter how much Violet wills the pen to move on its own, to put all thoughts both known and unconscious to paper, it remains beside the open notebook. As outrageous as it sounds, a small part of her hopes one day the pen will magically come to life and solve all of her problems with its problem-solving ink. Then everything will be okay.

Though she has a feeling the walkers will go extinct before her pen develops a sentient personality or therapeutic skills.

And she’ll be dead by then, so it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“It helps if you pick up the pen,” Aasim said, not bothering to look up from his own work. “Just saying.”

She knows even by his deadpan tone that he’s trying to joke with her, even if he’s not good at it. Laying bait for her to bite back with a sarcastic remark of her own.

“But then I’d actually have to write something down.”

“Oh no,” Aasim smirks, paying her a brief glance. “Effort.”

That cracks a small smile out of her, and for a fleeting moment, they’re smiling at each other as if that’s a normal thing. It’s hard to maintain that connection, so damn hard, so Violet hides her smile from him by turning away to look towards the gates.

The very same gates that Clementine, AJ, and Rosie pass through. Back from patrol, if she overheard correctly. Even from a distance, Violet can see the delighted grin Clementine wears, a grin only matched by AJ’s. Far brighter than Violet’s.

AJ hugs her tightly before breaking away and bolting towards Louis, James, and Tenn. Clementine remains, though, arms folded over her chest as she watches the group of boys with such fondness that it damn near makes Violet want to scream.

Shit, just…. Shit .

“Hey,” Aasim reaches over, tapping on the blank page of her journal with his own worn-out pen to grab her attention. “Lucy had her babies this morning. Seven of them. Well, eight, but one of them didn’t make it.”

Violet tears her glare away from Clementine to instead glare at Aasim.

“Who the hell is Lucy?”

“One of the pregnant rabbits, remember? Not the one that had babies last week, the other one.”

“We’re still naming them?” Violet asks. Aasim made it very clear that no names were to be used when they started up the rabbit farm by the greenhouse.

“They’re food, not pets. No names. No attachments.”

That didn’t last long.

“ I didn’t name her,” Aasim corrects. “Willy did, even though I’ve told him again and again not to. Now when it comes time for us to put Lucy down, he’s not going to talk to me for another two weeks, as if I’m the only one at fault. Remember Albert?”

“Ah, Prince Albert,” Violet nods. “He sure was delicious.”

Everyone agreed that the lovely Prince Albert was one of the handsomest rabbits they had with his snow white fur offset by brown feet and ears. They also agreed that he made one of the best rabbit stews Omar’s ever created.

Including Willy. That is until Omar offered him one of Prince Albert’s lucky feet and Willy realized just who he had consumed.

The boy didn’t speak to Aasim or Omar for a week, but Violet believes that he still carries around one of Prince Albert’s feet for good luck, despite everything.

“Yeah, anyway, did you want to come with me to check on them? Ruby’s out there now. Maybe you could stay with her and help out?”

Violet scoffs.

“Look, I’ll take your night shift, too,” Aasim adds. “That way you don’t spend all day out there and then have to do a night shift.”

“I like having the night shift.”

“Every night?”

“Sure.”

“Well,” Aasim taps his pen against the table, thinking loudly to himself. “I’m giving you the night off anyway. Ruby would appreciate your company.”

Oh, would she, now…?

It’s not that Violet minds Ruby. She’s the only girl Violet has left to talk to at this place- the only girl she’s willing to talk to, actually.

Violet would say that she enjoys evenings spent with Ruby… most of the time.

The problem with talking to or spending time with Ruby is she’s a lot. Not in the same way Louis is, but more in an overbearing mother sort of way. Always asking her how she’s feeling, asking about her day, if there’s anything she can do to help Violet out or if she wants to do this or that. She’s far too pushy sometimes, especially when it comes to shit she doesn’t understand.

“Clem’s tryin’, Vi.”

As if Ruby has all the answers to make her happy. She always makes it sound so damn easy.

“Why can’t ya just talk to each other?”

The problem is that Ruby tries to take care of everyone so that she doesn’t have to think about how to make herself happy. Why focus on your problems when you can bury your pains and wishes beneath fairy tales and other people’s problems?

At least, that’s Violet’s assumption.

Maybe Ruby is happy.

Maybe Violet just wishes she wasn’t.

Fucking hell.

Just when she thought she couldn’t be any more fucked...

“My company or yours?” Violet mumbles, finally picking up her pen, putting it to paper.

“What? My company- oh, I see.” Aasim rolls his eyes, dropping his pen in the book before shutting it. “Ha ha, very funny. I get it.”

Violet nearly rolls her eyes, too. Speaking of those who don’t bother with their own shit-

“I was thinking that it’d be good for you to go out there and help her, that’s all,” Aasim says, tucking his notebook under his arm and standing from the table. He means to walk away on that annoying note but hesitates. Then, lowering his voice to one of disquiet, he says, “I’m worried about you. So is everyone else.”

“I’m fine, Aasim.”

“...Right,” he sighs heavily. “Please go help Ruby with the rabbits. I’m only going to be there for a little bit before heading out to check the traps with Louis, and she could really use the help. Please?”

“Fine.”

Aasim lingers, shifting his weight as he gives her a chance to say something more, a chance she refuses.

“Thank you.”

With that, he’s walking away, leaving her by herself to finish a doodle of a pen with curly hair and fire for eyes with a speech bubble.

“Why are ya still here?”

---

“Is my neck supposed to feel this stiff?”

“Yes. It’s a sign of a good, unmoving model.”

“Well, good to hear that my career is off to a good start.”

Louis is still sitting there at the table, cracking jokes and trying his best not to move while James and Tenn draw. James points to various parts of Louis’ face before motioning to Tenn’s paper, something that brings a grin to Clementine’s face.

“Don’t worry, Clem,” says AJ as he hugs her. “I won’t say anything. Can I go draw now?”

“Have fun, kiddo.”

She can safely leave AJ to catch up on art lessons with James. He promised her he wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone- even Tenn- until she had everything all planned out.

Now that Mitch has the measurements, the ring is- hopefully- being taken care of, so all that leaves is how she plans on doing this. Several lingering thoughts follow her as she spends most of the day helping around the school, doing usual repairs to the gate and their walls.

She would’ve checked on Lucy and the other rabbits, but Aasim warned her that Violet was there with Ruby and Louis. She almost pushed him aside and went in anyway, but damn it, she knows better by this point.

Instead, she and AJ help Omar clean out the fire pit and gather fresh wood, briefly considering letting him in on her intentions. Omar’s a trustworthy friend and while she appreciates his opinion, she decides against telling anyone else until she has the ring. She’s found that battling her eagerness to be growing more difficult with every passing day.

So much so that she also considers asking about the progress on said ring when she finds Mitch and James near the library’s entrance, speaking in hushed whispers that she couldn’t make out. All talk stopped when she approached them, and began again when Mitch became snappy with her before dragging James away.

Odd, and not boding well for her, but she firmly believes that if there were any issues she should know about, Mitch would tell her.

When the sky finally turns a lovely mixture of pink and orange, AJ gives her a hug goodnight before making his way over to Tenn’s room for another sleepover.

Before retiring to her dorm for the night, Clementine pokes her head into the music room to find it empty. A slight disappointment falls over her as she hoped Louis would be up for some piano lessons, but that dissipates when she finds Louis kneeling on AJ’s desk with a roll of duct tape hanging from his mouth when she walks in, a stack of drawings placed beside him. He’s taping up one of the portraits of himself on the wall.

“Ey!” He waves at her before spitting the tape out. “Look at these!” He hops off the desk and points at the one he just hung up. “That’s the one James drew. Charming, isn’t it?”

The amount of detail in the portrait is startling, a fully shaded-in head portrait of Louis that seemingly stares right at her. Even the little details, like his freckles and the scar on his chin, are noticeable.

“It’s way weirder than I thought it’d be,” he says, “having someone stare and dissect every part of your face. Did you know I have a very angular jawline?” He tilts his head up to prove his point. “And James said I have a nice eye shape.”

“He did do you justice,” she says, still admiring the picture. “Very handsome.”

His chuckle comes out loud and anxious, not having expected her to say that.

“Hah, yeah, except,” then Louis pushes his jacket back to place his hands on his hips, “uhm, do you think my nose is big?”

“What?”

“James said I have a wider nose. He drew it bigger than it actually is, right?”

“You have a very cute nose.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Clementine giggles. “Your nose is perfectly fine, Louis.”

He eyes the portrait, still uncertain, only to then gasp as if just remembering something.

“Oh, wait though, ready for this?” He searches through the pile before plucking the one he wants out. “ This is the one Tenn drew.” He proudly holds it up.

She can’t say she’s not impressed. It’s nowhere near as proportional or advanced as James’, but Clementine can see the effort and charm within the lines. Definitely Tenn’s work.

“Wow,” Clementine smirks, nudging him. “I see it now. James is right, you do have a big nose.”

“ Hey ,” Louis reaches up and playfully pinches her nose, “big talk from little button nose over here.” Louis sticks Tenn’s portrait on the wall, next to James’. “There! We’re getting quite the art gallery.”

“One’s missing, though.” Clementine grabs Louis’ picture of Rosie off the desk and tapes it up with the others.

“Seriously?” he asks sheepishly.

“Oh yeah. We’re never taking that one down.”

“Terrific.”

Louis continues to look through the rest of the drawings. He hums to himself lightly, a tune she recognizes. He sticks more drawings on the wall; ones that AJ drew of him and Tenn, one he drew of Disco Broccoli.

He pauses when he comes across the one of AJ, Clementine, and him. The one with the beach ball. He smiles fondly at it before sticking it up there with the rest.

She sits on AJ’s bed, leaning against the frame to close her eyes and listen to his cheerful humming.

One of the few things she loves in this world is the comfort she has when he’s around.

It’s a comfort she never thought she’d find again. Before Ericson, she and AJ never had time for comfortable peace. When it was just them, there was always that lurking feeling, that bitterness, that lingered in her thoughts.

Now, they have a place they call home.

Clementine can’t imagine where they would’ve ended up had she not crashed the car. They’d still be out in the world, scavenging every little bit they could to survive. They never would’ve met the people she now considered family.

She and Louis would’ve never met, where she and AJ never met anyone at Ericson.

That’s a really shitty thing to think about.

Finding this place, their home, was the best thing that happened to them. Meeting everyone here- Louis, Violet, Mitch, Ruby, Aasim, everyone - has done so much for them. For years, she worried about her and AJ, about always being on the road in a car that constantly ran on fumes, about running across assholes who wanted to hurt them, about the dead finally getting the best of them. Nowhere to go, no direction. A neverending search.

She sneaks a glance at Louis. He has no idea.

He finishes up, shoving the duct tape in a drawer. Leaning against the desk with arms crossed over his chest, he looks at her with a tired grin, but says nothing.

She raises a brow.

“What?”

He shrugs.

It’s like the weariness of their previous night has caught up to him, like something triggered a sinking reality that weighs him down. The shadows along his face from the setting light do nothing to hide the sadness betraying his eyes.

She slowly approaches him and reaches out to grab his hand, tugging him closer to her.

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey.”

“You feeling any better?”

“Of course.”

“Really?” Clementine locks their fingers together. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had one that bad.”

He keeps his stare focused on their hands. “...It wasn’t that bad.”

“Louis.”

“Clementine.”

“It was about that woman, wasn’t it?”

He says nothing, but she can see the answer clear in his eyes.

Yes, Clem, you know it was. It always is.

The first and only living person Louis ever personally killed, and it was purely accidental. It frustrates her that it still haunts him, and even more so that it’ll always haunt him. Even when he expressed the relief of “having it in him” to protect those he loves, there’s always a suffocating weight that comes with the first. If anyone knew that, it’s Clementine.

That kind of guilt, no matter how irrational, never stops.

“Dorian.”

“Hm?”

Louis closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to hers.

“Her name was Dorian.”

“Lou-”

“I know.” He pulls back, forcing a smile. “I know.”

His gaze falls on her nose. He pinches it again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles sincerely. “Just… want to make sure you’re alright.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much, Clem. There are more important ways to spend your time.”

More important?

She supposes that’s a good way to put it.

“Y’know, I was thinking about what you said this morning,” Clementine smiles. “AJ’s having another sleepover with Tenn tonight, so we have the whole room to ourselves.”

Louis raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

“Wanna build a pillow fort?”

“You read my mind.”

Without any hesitation, she kisses him. It’s a quick, soft, comforting peck that catches him off guard.

Another kiss to his lips, and then another. Clementine holds onto the nape of his neck and moves to his chin, his cheek, placing soft, intimate kisses against his warm skin.

He looks at her with lidded eyes before his hands caress her cheeks, his thumb brushing just below her eye.

He kisses her, eager for every press of her mouth. He doesn’t stop kissing her, even when she tightens her grip on his jacket and pulls him back with her. The desk hits her hip and he’s quick to lift her up onto the surface, almost knocking over her venus fly trap plant.

A pleased sigh escapes her lungs as she desperately moves to his jaw, down his neck. Her hands move beneath his jacket, trailing down to the hem of his shirt before bunching the material up. His skin is warm. His breathing is quick, shallow.

“Clem! Clem!”

Louis yanks back, their lips parting quickly with a loud smack as she nearly topples over from the force of him ripping away.

The bedroom door slams open and in barges Willy.

She’s disoriented, lightheaded, blinking rapidly and frantically searching for any sign of danger. All she finds is Louis, who’s now over at AJ’s desk, humming incredibly loud, and Willy hurrying in with a triumphant smile.

“Clem, guess wha-!” The second he sees Louis, he stops and gasps. “Oh no!”

“Oh, look, darling!” Louis stops pretending to look at the pictures and glares at the young boy. “It’s Willy, the boy who doesn’t know how to knock! Nice of you to pop in unannounced this late in the evening !”

Willy’s face flushes a scarlet red as his gaze darts between the two, falling down to Louis’ shirt, which remains lifted to reveal part of his stomach.

Louis yanks the material down, fake coughing.

Willy’s face is reminiscent of a fresh tomato at this point. It seems that even he got the sense of what was happening before he ran in.

Clementine slips down from the desk and tries to casually straighten out her own jacket and adjust her hat with an unfazed face, even though she’s positive that her skin is blotchy and red, too.

“I’m sorry!” Willy blurts out, covering his eyes. “I didn’t see anything! I’ll knock next time! I swear!”

“Uh-huh,” Louis frowns. “Said that last time, didn’t you?”

Now she’s not sure who’s redder, her or Willy.

“Willy, what do you want?’ Clementine sighs. She composes herself and approaches the boy.

His eyes went to Louis before meeting hers. That’s all she needs.

“Is it Mitch?”

Willy nods.

Clementine’s heart flutters. Choosing her words carefully, she asks, “Is he done?”

Willy nods once more.

“Done with what?” Louis asks.

“Uh-”

“Watch,” Clementine interrupts. “I completely forgot that I have watch.”

“Seriously?” Louis asks, confused. “Wait, I thought Ruby had watch tonight.”

“I switched her,” she lies, moving towards Willy and adding, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Willy leaves without another word, staring down at the floor. Clementine holds back an annoyed sigh. The previous mood is completely gone and now she’s made a mess of lies that she’s gotta detangle before Louis gets suspicious.

Damn it, Willy.

Couldn’t have waited until morning.

Louis gives a thoughtful frown.

“I’m a little worried about him,” he says, “about Mitch, I mean.”

“Oh, uh, really?”

"Something weird’s going on with him,” Louis nods. “He’s been down in the basement every day for the past week and- ...Well, I went to check on him this morning before breakfast.”

Panic shoots through her stomach and into her heart.

Louis pauses, unsure if he should continue.

“And?” Clementine presses.

“...Well, when I tried going down the stairs, I think- well, it was probably nothing. I probably didn’t see what I thought I saw because I could’ve sworn I saw James down there, too-”

Clementine’s stomach drops.

“-and I don’t know what they were doing but before I could even get down the stairs, Mitch threw a shoe at me.”

“A shoe?”

Oh, goddamn it, Mitch-

“Yeah, right at my face! He about hit me in my big nose!”

Clementine rolls her eyes. “Again with the nose thing?”

“I’ve accepted its abnormally monstrous size,” he says. “Anyway, then I saw him again on my way to the greenhouse and he wouldn’t even look at me. Not that he’s one for conversation or anything, but it’s like… I don’t know. It felt weird. I don’t know what he’s doing down in the basement or what they’re doing if that really was James I saw. I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

“Probably… I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone shout ‘no!’ and ‘out!’ that many times in a ten-second time frame before hurling shoes at me. It was pretty terrifying.”

“Mitch is…” Clementine’s at a loss. While she’s thankful for Mitch’s ability to think on his feet so quickly, she wasn’t sure if she approved of the shoe method. “...Hard to understand sometimes, and he and James are friends so it’s not that weird that they’re hanging out together.”

Louis considers this, though she can tell he’s not completely convinced.

“...Do you think they’re… I mean, it’s none of my business but if there was something going on between them-”

Oh boy.

Louis then shakes his head, changing his mind.

“Y’know what? I’m sure it was nothing.”

She sighs. So much for not making Louis suspicious of anything. Then again, maybe this is her fault. She did tell James that Mitch was working on fixing the ring, and she should’ve known that would lead to him trying to help.

“He’s working on a project,” she says lamely. “He probably wants a second opinion on it from James. ”

“A bomb project? I didn’t think James was a fan of explosions.”

“Firecrackers work as a great distraction for the walkers,” says Clementine, which isn’t a total lie. Mitch brought up the suggestion to James a while ago. They spent a long time discussing the idea if she remembers correctly.

Well, better not let sweet Ruby know,” Louis says. “She’s still got a personal grudge towards Mitch’s bombs ever since that thing in the greenhouse, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she smirks. “ ‘A bomb? I will whip his ass!’ ”

Her Ruby impression gets a chuckle out of him. “Hope he knows a shoe won’t be enough to stop her. If anything, that’s just provoking the beast.”

“He’ll have to learn that for himself,” she smiles. Clementine approaches him again, fixing the collar of his jacket and apologizing, “Sorry I can't stay and help you build an amazing, comfortable pillow fort. Will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, darling.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek. “We can always build a pillow fort another night, or, uhm, finish what we started. Maybe I’ll go tickle the ivories for a while before bed, so if I don’t see you before your finished or if I’m not awake, goodnight and stay warm.”

She gives him a long kiss goodbye before she leaves.

One the door’s shut, she takes a moment to take a deep breath.

Her face still feels warm after all the excitement. She’s still a little annoyed at the interruption, but if she’s right about what Willy was trying to imply, then she has to hurry. She can only hope that Mitch found a way to fix the ring.

The wait is starting to make her anxious.

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lillithenettix · 4 years

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Part 3

Part 4/?

Part 5

With Putunia out of his view, Habit wanted to turn around. Look after her as she ran as if that would give him any answers to all the questions appearing inside his head.

Read the rest of the fic under the cut!

He still remembered the day she got checked in by her parents. She was very loud and violent. Jumping around his office as soon as she entered, not even sparing him a glance.

So rude! He wasn’t looking forward on having to handle her at the time.

At least she seemed to appreciate his wall art. He liked it when his creations got acknowledged and fawned over. It caused him to feel a sense of accomplishment. Throughout his life he learned to cherish the little things. They kept him going. Pushing him forward when nothing and no one else did.

As he started talking with her parents, something felt oddly familiar. It scratched at the back of his head like a caged wild cat trying to escape its small prison. He didn’t let it show. He just answered all their questions. They had so many it was almost making head hurt. Most of them were just silly, even in his less-than-sane opinion.

Is it really free? Is it legal? We don’t have to come to check up on her until the very end, right? Could you provide a free ride for her to get back home?

At some point he stopped paying attention to the parents’ blabbering and just kept nodding, while looking at the little girl still engrossed in the paintings. He hoped he could get the parents out of his hair soon. He really wanted the mind-scratching to go away.

Once the parents seemed satisfied with everything, they called Putunia over. Habit was still looking at her, not sure if feeling delight to meet his newest Habitician or something akin to annoyance.

Not even a second later, he decided it was annoyance. As soon as Putunia set her eyes on him she, for some reason unbeknownst to him, decided that he was a super villain. He was taken by surprise when she sprinted towards him only to punch him where she really shouldn’t have. Not even a man built like Boris could keep standing after that.

Once he was done dealing with the pain on the floor he ushered the father away even if he was trying to help him. Boris stood up, trying to contain his annoyance at the whole situation. He wished he had Pabit here with him right now. He was sure he could’ve stayed calm with him on his hand.

As he was about to take a few deep breaths, maybe count backwards from ten, he saw what was going on. Putunia standing straight and tense with her eyes closed so hard her whole face was wrinkled, her mother raising her hand above her head-

Suddenly, he knew what the scratch in his mind was. It was abruptly so obvious. So painful. So familiar.

He saw a much younger Boris, his father, and his Lily. They were standing in front of him. He was frozen still. It took him only a blink to get back to reality. See the little girl, her mother, and her boxing glove.

His body moved on its own. It felt like he had no control over it. He grabbed the mother’s raised hand in a flash, maybe a bit harshly at first, but he let go just as fast. Thankfully, it seemed to get the point across.

Don’t hit her.

He remembered being in a bit of a shock for a while, his voice completely lost to him. That’s when he drew the first anti-violence poster, or rather, post-it note.

He didn’t do many things right in his life but, he thinks, that’s the one thing he didn’t screw up.

His reminiscing got put to a halt when, immediately after the little girl was out of sight, a man with bright pink spectacles appeared before him.

It was Dallas, the painter. The first thing he noticed were the paint stains on him. He was always messy when it came to painting. Different colors were smudged on him every day. You could almost tell what he was painting just by looking at those.

Then, looking up, he noticed a snowdrop hanging above Dallas, stuck behind his headband. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it for a while.

Purity, innocence, sympathy… That’s what the flower meant. Though, somehow, that didn’t sound right.

After burying the Tooth Lily seeds, he didn’t have anything to do with flowers anymore. He avoided them for so many years. It was easier ignoring what his heart yearned for that way. Only once he was brought out of his manic state by Flower Kid did he allow his mind to wonder about flowers, study them, and appreciate them.

He had to think harder. What does a snowdrop mean?

A hand casually put onto his shoulder broke his train of thought.

Boris finally looked down, away from the flower and towards Dallas. The younger man put his other arms onto the table, and leaned his head on his hand. The relaxed smile plastered onto his face made Boris feel calm. It’s like his smile was telling him-

“Don’t worry, dude.” Dragging out the words like he usually did. “All’s cool.” He took off his glasses, hooked them onto the low collar of his shirt leaned closer. His smile turning a bit more devilish.

Habit could feel his breath now. As seconds passed he got more and more flustered at their proximity. His heart skipped a beat in anticipation as Dallas closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and sent a kiss to Boris.

Boris wasn’t sure how to react. Another kiss, just for him! Blushing, he opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what but he needed to fill the silence. It was simply too much!

Dallas didn’t let him get even a squeak out before he removed the snowdrop from his headband and tucked it behind Habit’s ear next to the other two flowers.

He gave Habit another pat on the shoulder, “You can, like, relax now.” And continued on the same path as Putunia.

Ah, he remembered the meaning now.

-----

When Dallas came across the Habitat website during his art block he thought he found his solution. The page was totally inspirational. Like, the bold colors, the doodles, the everything! It really didn’t take him long to pack up his art supplies and make his way there.

Even before entering the Habitat, when looking at the whole area, he was itching for a brush. The whole resort was an art project, if you ask him. Especially the weirdly shaped tower. Honestly that one looked ready to collapse at any moment, but he was no architect, he’s sure it’s fine.

When he entered the place he was getting a bit giddy seeing all the wall art. Could his art block, like, really end here? Is this the inspiration he needed?

Wanting to soak in as much of the view as possible in as little time as possible, he jogged around the place. The more he explored the calmer he got. It was a big place. A unique place. And the whole experience could be an inspiration by itself. The giant wall doodles were also nice, but it wasn’t quite cutting it. Something was missing. He wanted something more.

Should he really stay here? He wasn’t sure anymore.

Not having time to think his decision trough, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, using enough strength to not give him room to resist.

The person responsible was like, super tall, very green, and kinda pretty. Taking in the comically fluffy hair, giant blue coat, and little top hat on top of his head, he put two and two together.

“Whazzup, Doc?” He made a little peace sign, as if it added to the conversation.

The doctor tilted his head, seemingly waiting for some elaboration from Dallas.

Okay, maybe it was like, totally weird to come in unannounced and then wander around for who knows how long, instead of going to the medical professional running the place. But who can blame him? He’s an artist in need of motivation!

“So, like, I want in.” Does he, really? “Into the Habitat, dude.” Guess so.

The tall guy instantly perked up, hooked his hand around Dallas’ own, and dragged him towards the tower.

“Oh, then follow me!” He was already dragging him places, but okay, got’cha. “You will love it here!”

Dope, he sounds genuine. It’ll be, like, fine.

It’s been so long since that day.

Besides his first week there, he barely saw Habit around. Eventually, he forgot about him. Well, kind of. There were so many self-portraits and doodles decorating the Habitat it was hard to keep him completely out of mind. Only towards the end of his stay, when the creepy PSAs of his started playing every night, did Habit start lingering in his mind for longer periods, rather than just quick and easily forgettable reminders.

He wasn’t sure what exactly went on with Habit behind the scenes, but it didn’t seem very… chill. He might’ve been a bit dense, but not blind.

In the end, he ended up hearing about the events that transpired during the big event from others.

Maybe it was the fact he hadn’t experienced any of the bad stuff directly. Maybe it was the fact he’s a criminally chill dude. Or maybe it was the fact that Habit was genuinely remorseful about his actions, by the tone of the letter, even desperate. Whatever the reason, it didn’t take him long to make up his mind and accept the Doc’s invitation.

He even thought of the perfect gift to bring him, to celebrate his new beginning. Something representing hope.

A snowdrop.

#my art #my writing #Dallas Smuth #Boris Habit #smile for me #smile for me game #sfm #dallas is such a pleasure to draw

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2sunchild2 · 5 years

Text

Daminette au: Slow burn

I’m writing this instead of my fic because I just got hit by a little bitch, named inspiration.

Au by the great and powerful wizard of Oz @ozmav

Tags owo: @mindfulmagics @realrandomposts @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @slytherinsheashire @kelelamentia @justatempo-writes @jaynintodd @maribat-archive @starry-bi-sky @ayuchan07 @kaitlinmarley @miraculous-mangoes

ՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁՁ

15 year old, the meeting

Damian Wayne was never the social type. He mostly kept to himself and tended to stray away from any social interaction. There was plenty of that at home. He repeats to himself every time he gets upset over not having a friend.

He walked up the steps of Gotham Academy so he could escape whatever embarrassment Jason was planning on putting him to. The kid around him began whispering, and although immune to it (they talked about him a lot), he couldn’t help but eavesdrop at th conversation going on two feet away. He didn’t want to be obvious so he didn’t lean in too much, but he heard snippets.

...new girl...

...Paris...

...just moved...

A new girl? Interesting. He would look into that when he gets the chance. He made his way to the science classroom, bumping into an unfamiliar body. The people around them quieted down, staring curiously. The body ended up being a girl, who unfortunately dropped her books. She blushed in embarrassment and started speaking in a language he knew, but never really spoke.

She was rambling in French.

She was unfamiliar to him.

Oh... she was the new student.

She stopped when she noticed the silence and looked down, probably more embarrassed than before, if that was even possible.

“Damian Wayne.”

He had no reaction to the voice of Olive Silverlock (a real character I swear I looked it up) who marched up to him with a steely gaze.

“Are you trying to scare our new student on her first day?” The silver haired class president didn’t give him a chance to answer since she turned to face the flustered French girl, “You’re Marinette, right?”

The girl managed to nod. Olive grinned and locked their arms together, “Let’s get you settled in your dorm, ‘kay? And then I’ll give you a tour.”

The girl smiled at that, her blue eyes shone brightly. She let out a soft ‘merci’ to Olive and she turned to Damian before being dragged away.

“Je m’excuse.”

16 years old, the first step; starting out

Damian Wayne was not one to go out with a girl. That was Dick’s job. And yet, he looked at his best friend, whose head rested on his shoulder as she thought of a new design.

They were at the park today. Marinette mumbles something about the need to be inspired. They were in the manor at the time and Titus, with his amazing timing, wanted to go outside. It was a win win for everybody.

Damian watched as she focused on the blank page she seemed to be at war with. It was actually funny to see her this frustrated. He tried to hide his chuckle and failed. It was rewarded with a bone-chilling Marinette Dupain-Cheng glare. He put his hands up in surrender and smiled sheepishly. She went back to her glaring match with the paper.

Damian sighed and leaned back against the bench, “Don’t stress too much about it Angel, inspiration will surly make its way to your lap in no time,” he gestured towards the book set on her thighs.

It seemed like someone was in fact listening to him. A pretty pink petal had landed in the middle of the sketchbook. Marinette picked it up curiously before letting out a gasp. She turned to Damian with the biggest smile he’d seen today, “My best friend Damian,” she started, “I was hit, by a little bitch called inspiration.”

Damian let out a laugh. Only Mari.

17 years old, the second step; accepting

Damian Wayne didn’t like a lot of people. And Chloe Bourgeois was far from being one of the few. She arrived in Gotham, claiming to be a friend of Marinette’s. He was doubtful but the girl kept insisting and frankly, he wanted her to shut up.

Turns out the blonde girl was right because the next think he knew she was being tackled by his best friend. They were both on the floor, laughing in the lobby of the student dorms.

They sat in the cafe and he couldn’t help but notice how much lighter Marinette seemed to feel with this girl. She looked happy.

Damian decided that Chloe Bourgeois wasn’t so bad. As long as he got to see his Angel smile, he was content.

18 years old, the third step; falling

Damian Wayne was not an emotional person. He didn’t cry when he failed that one exam. He didn’t cry when he got badly hurt in a fight (though he tried to reassure Mari he was okay but she was not having it and he kept flinching every time he moved). Hell, he didn’t even cry during graduation.

So you can imagine the shock he was feeling when he felt a tear rolling down his cheek as Marinette stepped out of her dorm room in her prom dress. He could see Olive smirking at him from the corner of his eye but he paid no attention to her, he was to busy gawking at the beauty in front of him.

He never left her side during the party. And if she ever walked off to talk to some friends, he would always be watching her. Some guys kept telling him how ‘whipped’ he was. He did was he did best and ignored them.

The last dance of the night was surely something he’d remember for the rest of the night. They held each other closely while the music was playing in the background. He stared at her bluebell eyes as though nothing else mattered. It was just them.

It was safe to say he wasn’t expecting a slow kiss. But it happened. He enjoyed it. And he kissed back.

19 years old, the fourth step; realizing

She left.

Well, not entirely. She just wasn’t in Gotham at the moment. And she wouldn’t be back until Christmas.

Marinette had gone off to college abroad, in Paris, specifically, to pursue her fashion career.

And even tough they video chatted every weekend, it wouldn’t fill the gaping hole in his chest. He wanted her there, with him. He wanted to snuggle up to her while they watched one of those cheesy rom-coms she enjoyed so much. He wanted to sit in the kitchens and watch her hum a Disney tune while she baked. He wanted to hold her whenever she cane running to him with good news. He wanted to be with her while she sat down and sketched. He thought it was adorable the way she scrunched her brows in concentration, or how she stuck her tongue out when she was sketching, or, whenever she had artist’s block, when she’d doodle little things on his hand. He wanted to hold her dammit. He wanted to take her out, court her. He wanted to be with her, and for her to be with him. He wanted to hug her so tightly and tell her how much he loved her.

Huh. Love.

That’s something he hadn’t thought about before. Did he love Marinette? Or was this just admiration?

No. Fuck that. Fuck admiration.

He loved her. He fucking loved her.

He was in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

20 years old, the final step; confessing

Damian Wayne was not nervous. Of course he wasn’t! He was Damian Wayne! He was Robin for fuck’s sake. Surely that would be harder than a little confession.

Right?

That was what he had initially thought.

And he was wrong. Oh so very wrong.

Damian Wayne was a fucking wreck.

Marinette had been rambling about one of her design projects. One she, obviously, passed with flying colours. That wasn’t what he had been paying attention to though. Maybe it was how the July breeze seemed to brush her hair, making it fly. Maybe it was the way she used her hands so animatedly whenever she told him a story. Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled when she got exited over something.

“I love you.”

That made her stop. And it made him regret opening his mouth.

She stared at him, mouth agape, face as red as the strawberries in the bowl she was holding.

“I...you...what?”

Well, he couldn’t take it back now. And he did mean it. God this was noth how he had imagined confessing.

“I love you,” he took a sharp breath, “I’ve loved you for quite some time now actually. I only realized it last year.”

He raked his had through this hair and let out a shaky breath, “I honestly don’t know how it happened, but it did. And I’m glad it it.”

He looked back at her to see how she’d react. Her eyes were still wide and it didn’t seem like she’d be saying anything so he decided to continue.

“You don’t have to answer immediately! I was uhh... wondering if... you would let me court you... you don’t have to accept I mean you already have so much going on but if you’re willing—”

He was cut off. It took him a second to process what was happening.

She was kissing him.

Holy shit! She was kissing him!

But before he could kiss back, she pulled away, much to his disappointment.

“I love you too, silly,”she gave him a big toothy grin, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He could practically hear his hear beating in his chest.

She intertwined their hands and leaned in, “And I would love for you to court me.”

They were about to kiss again, but, this time, someone else decided to interrupt.

A faint ‘yes!’ was heard near the bushes, the voice sounded scarily familiar to Dick’s, which followed by a slap and an offended ‘ow’.

“Should we tell them we know they’re spying on us?”

His Angel laughed and shook her head, “Let them have their fun.”

¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥

Last post before I start school!

#maridami #daminette #maribat fic #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug au #made me emotional

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littlestarofthewest · 4 years

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Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 3289 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 04 of 08 | Link to Masterlist

Arthur knows what he's doing is stupid. In fact, he is stupid. He got up even earlier than usual, taking care of the firewood. Julie prepares it most of the time, but when she briefly mentioned in conversation that she doesn't particularly like doing it, Arthur immediately had the urge to do it for her.

He likes to think that he's just trying to help out around the farm, but after the pencils and the whole trouble Arthur went through with Jasper, he can't pretend that what he's doing has nothing to do with Julie. Somehow he always ends up helping her in particular.

Ever since she kissed him on the cheek, she wanders around in his mind when he's not busy thinking about something else. Having the chance to hold her in his arms didn't make it any easier. In fact, he feels like he's years younger, even more of an idiot, and stupid enough to think that she might like him as more than a friend, if at all.

Julie's a nice person. Doing sweet things comes naturally to her, and has nothing to do with Arthur, but he still can't stop hoping. He's chopping wood and buys a new shirt like a changed man, as if he wasn't a killer, wanted outlaw, and complete failure.

Arthur finishes the last logs with a sigh, knowing full well that his day won't get any better. With some tools, he heads out to one end of Mr. Henderson's property, beginning the work that will probably take him the whole week, building a new fence.

On the one hand, it's a good thing that he can stay away from the stables for a while. That way, he at least can't embarrass himself in front of Julie. On the other hand, he has a lot of time to think.

For the last two days, he's been remembering his ride with Julie. They didn't talk much, but Julie kept smiling at Arthur, so abundantly happy that she was finally able to ride Jasper. It was a joy to watch her race over open fields, her blonde hair flying in the wind. She seemed to glow in a golden shine under the warm summer sun, so free and unburdened that watching her made Arthur's heart ache.

Fuelled with those memories, Arthur keeps working on the fence, trying to neither think back to his old life nor imagine the future. All that matters is hitching up posts, one after the other until the day is gone.

He makes good progress until he hears a rider approach. Arthur's heart drops when Julie rides up to him on Jasper. "Hello, Arthur."

Arthur tips his hat, pulling it deeper into his face. "Jules."

She hops off the horse and strides over to him with a bundle in her hand, her eyes wandering over the already finished fence. "Let me guess, you didn't take any breaks."

Arthur opens his mouth, but Julie shakes her head and takes his hammer away before throwing it into the grass. Then she grabs his hand and pulls him to the nearby woods, making him sit down on a fallen tree in the shadow of a few branches.

"I had time to make something to eat for you since the firewood was already done," Julie says, raising a single brow at Arthur while unpacking the bundle in her hand.

"Was it?" Arthur says, looking out over the farmland in front of them.

Julie pushes a bowl with stew into his hand and tops it off with a thick slice of bread. "It's cold but better than nothing."

"Thank you," Arthur says, although he's not sure how he's supposed to eat with butterflies in his stomach.

Julie is sitting way too close, her leg brushing against his. Arthur would move, but then he'd fall off the tree. Instead, he shovels a spoonful of stew into his mouth. That should keep Julie from asking him any questions.

"You know that you don't have to do everything, right?" she asks.

Arthur chews, but Julie keeps looking at him, waiting for an answer. He clears his throat, trying to come up with an excuse. "I don't mind the firewood. It's quiet work, relaxing. Just like building a fence."

"You must have had quite the excitement before when you actually like doing these boring things."

"Enough for a lifetime," Arthur says, knowing that he's avoiding her unspoken question. It's not fair to keep it a secret from Julie who he truly is, but the thought of her thinking less of him twists Arthur's stomach into knots.

He forces down more stew, and maybe Julie takes the hint or just wants for him to eat, but she stays quiet, looking up into the trees. They sit there until Arthur is done eating, and Julie fetches a bottle of water for him as well, scolding him for not bringing one along in the first place.

Arthur thanks her again, trying to put the bottle into his bag to bring it along. He curses when one side of the bag tears, and his journal drops to the ground. It falls open, and Arthur hurries to pick it up, but Julie is quicker than him. Her eyes grow big as she looks at the page, and Arthur's heart stops, thinking about the things he recently wrote about her.

"I thought you only wrote in this," Julie says, "I didn't know you were drawing, too."

"It's just silly little doodles," Arthur says, hoping that Julie won't turn the page.

"That's the whole farm from the viewpoint up on that ridge," Julie says with wonder in her voice. She moves a few steps before turning around, holding the journal up against the horizon. "Arthur, that's incredible. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

"My pa," Arthur begins, realizing too late that he was thinking about Hosea and horrible guilt consumes him.

"Your father was an artist?"

"No, what I meant was that he gave me my first journal when I was 15," Arthur says, the memory weighing heavy on him. "I've been trying to draw whatever I saw since then."

"Well, then he's a good father. You're really talented," Julie says. She closes the journal with such care as if it was a precious relic before handing it over. "I've meant to draw a few places around here, but somehow I never get around to it."

"How come?" Arthur asks, wishing he could see some of Julie's drawings.

"Mrs. Henderson would say I work too much," Julie sighs, "and Mr. Henderson is always concerned about me. A young woman alone on the road? Better not. There's a beautiful pond up in those woods, but there's a road going past with many travelers and stagecoaches, so there are sometimes bandits in the woods as well. Mr. Henderson would kill me if I went there on my own."

"He's not wrong," Arthur says. He met enough outlaws in his time who went far beyond thieving and killing. Some of them were so bad, you wished they would have killed their victims. "There are some bad people out there."

Julie studies Arthur for a moment as if to ask if he's one of them, but then she walks over to Jasper. "I better let you work now, or Mr. Henderson will have my head for distracting you."

"Thank you for the food," Arthur says again. After all, he can't tell Julie that she's already distracting him anyway.

"Somebody has to take care of you," Julie says with a smile before riding off, leaving Arthur with a warm feeling in his chest.

------

The next morning, Arthur walks out of his cabin, finding a fresh water bottle and a tightly wrapped package in front of his door. He doesn't have to look inside to know what it is. Julie must have gotten up even earlier than usual to prepare some food for him. Arthur picks it up, finding a little note tucked into one of the folds. It says, "Take some breaks."

Smiling, Arthur puts the package in his saddlebag and rides out to continue his work on the fence. This time, he doesn't mind those thoughts of Julie dance around in his head. He can't change her as much as he can't change himself, so he might as well enjoy her kindness, no matter how undeserved it might be.

When noon comes around, Arthur takes Julie's advice to have a break. He unpacks the food package, finding cold roast, bread, and berries. Sitting in the shadow of a huge tree, Arthur savors his meal. Somehow, it tastes so much better than anything he's ever eaten before. He's about to pack up when he finds a piece of paper sticking out from under his plate.

Arthur pulls it out, his eyes growing wide. It's a drawing of him on the Mustang riding up to the stables. Despite sketching other people all the time, Arthur has never seen a picture of himself. It's like looking into the mirror, and he's impressed how well Julie can draw.

Wondering why Julie picked this specific scene, Arthur's stomach does a little summersault when he remembers what happened right afterward. Closing his eyes, Arthur can imagine how Julie's touch felt on his skin, but then he quickly gets up. He can't risk to drift off into these kinds of phantasies.

Instead, Arthur carefully folds up the drawing and puts it in his breast pocket before riding out to town. Mr. Henderson asked him to run some errands, and he might be able to find a little thank you gift for Julie. At least that's what Arthur thought.

He's done with Mr. Henderson's business in no time, but even after an hour, Arthur can't find anything to give to Julie. He can't exactly gift her a sack of rice, but at the same time, anything more personal could give her the wrong - or worse - the right idea about Arthur's growing feelings for her. In the end, he decides that a heartfelt thank you has to do.

On his way back, Arthur has another idea, though. He's on the road Julie talked about the day before, so Arthur steers his horse into the trees to find the pond. It takes him a little going back and forth, but he knows what Julie has been talking about once he sees it.

It's a beautiful place with high trees and lots of flowers that surround the small body of water. Birds are singing, and when Arthur comes closer, a few deer quickly jump away and disappear. Letting his horse roam free, Arthur walks around the pond two times to find the right spot before settling down with his journal.

Usually, Arthur's quick with his drawings. He always had other things to do or was with someone who didn't appreciate him taking forever to sketch an abandoned church or oddly shaped tree. Today, Arthur takes his time. He tries to capture how the sun sparkles on the water, and painstakingly draws all the single petals on most of the flowers. He only rushes to finish the picture when the sun begins to set.

Looking at his finished work in the dim light, Arthur remembers Julie's words about him being talented, and for the first time in a long while, he feels proud about something that he did. Folding the paper as carefully as possible, he puts it to Julie's drawing in his pocket and hurries back to the farm so he won't miss dinner.

At the house, Julie greets him with a lovely smile, and Arthur's heart skips a beat once again. Thinking about giving her the drawing later makes him so nervous he can barely follow the conversation. When they're done eating, Julie heads outside to play her guitar, and Mr. Henderson holds Arthur back to talk about work.

Arthur nods along until Mr. Henderson finally gives him free. Outside, Arthur finds Julie sitting on the steps that lead up to the door. Her guitar is lying next to her, but she's not playing.

"No music tonight?" Arthur asks.

"I felt like watching the stars," Julie says before turning to Arthur and patting the floor next to her. "Come sit with me."

Arthur swallows a lump in his throat, feeling like he might pass out. He can't remember the last time he's been so nervous. For a moment, he thinks about making up an excuse to go, but his feet act on their own, carrying him all too willingly over to Julie. He sits down next to her, leaving generous space between them, but Julie scoots closer, pointing into the sky.

"I love that one," she says, and Arthur follows the line of her outstretched arm to a big star that shines particularly bright.

"It's pretty," Arthur says, looking at Julie. She turns her head, and he tries desperately to come up with something else to say. "Thank you for the food. And the drawing. You're way more talented than I am."

Julie's cheeks gain a little color, and she waves her hand. "Like you said, just silly little drabbles."

Arthur thinks about the picture in his breast pocket, and it takes all his courage to take it out and hand it to Julie. "I thought about what you said when I was heading back from town. You probably could have done a better job, though."

Julie unfolds the paper and gasps before staring at Arthur. "You drew the pond?"

"I gave it a shot," Arthur says, rubbing his neck. Now that Julie is looking at it, he begins to see mistakes he didn't notice before, and he feels he should have taken more time to get the picture right.

"It's beautiful," Julie says, her eyes wandering over the page. "The details in the flowers. The water. This must have taken you forever."

Arthur shrugs. "Maybe when I'm done with the fence, we can ride up there together, and you can draw it yourself. Or any of the other places you wanted to draw."

Julie looks back up at Arthur, a shine in her eyes that makes his skin tickle. "You would do that?"

Arthur's not quite sure how they ended up so close to each other, and he knows he should just say yes, or maybe nod, but he's always been an idiot. "For you," he says, his voice almost giving out on him.

He moves even closer to Julie, knowing full well that he shouldn't. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she leans in, and Arthur closes the distance between them, his lips brushing against Julie's. Arthur's heart feels like it might jump out of his chest any second, and he wants nothing more than to hold Julie close, but then the door screeches behind them.

They move apart as if hit by lightning, and only seconds later, Mrs. Henderson comes out of the house. "Aren't you going to play, Julie? I really feel like-"

She stops herself when her eyes fall on the paper in Julie's hand. "Oh, my dear, that's lovely. When did you draw that?"

Julie throws a quick glance over to Arthur before handing the drawing to Mrs. Henderson. "I didn't. Arthur drew it today."

Mrs. Henderson's mouth falls open, and she looks back and forth between Arthur and the drawing. "Well, look at you, Mr. Morgan. Aren't you full of surprises? Who knows what else we might find the longer you stay with us."

She can't know it, but her words cut deep, and Arthur gets to his feet. "I think I better go to sleep. I want to get an early start on that fence."

"You two make quite the couple," Mrs. Henderson sighs, running a hand over Julie's hair. "The name, the drawing, and nothing but work in your heads. The two of you really need to have some fun for a change."

Julie lets out a muffled noise, and Arthur wishes he could just melt into the ground. Instead, he taps his hat. "Goodnight."

He turns around, walking away so quickly that he doesn't know if the two women respond. Arthur's whole body seems to fill up with rage, and he wishes he could give himself a good beating.

When he left the gang, Arthur swore that he's done with making stupid mistakes, yet here he is, well on his way to hurt a nice, young woman, and maybe ruining more lives. The surprises he's filled with are danger, sorrow, and regret. Neither Julie nor the Henderson's deserve any of that. If he wants to stay, he has to get himself under control.

--------

Pretending to be busy with the fence, Arthur manages to stay away from Julie for two days, and then he jumps at the chance when Mr. Henderson asks him to bring one of the horses he sold to its buyer. That way, he gets to stay away for three more days, trying to sort out his feelings.

At first, he goes with booze but concludes that that's just one more mistake, considering how he behaves when drunk. The trouble is that Arthur can't sleep when he's sober. He's tossing and turning, only drifting off for a few minutes before waking up in a cold sweat, guilt consuming him over and over again.

By the time Arthur gets back to the farm, he's so tired he can barely walk straight and doesn't remember the last time he ate. Still, he brings his horse into the stable, doing his best to take care of it. It's already dark, and Arthur hoped he could sneak into his cabin without anybody noticing. Of course, he has no such luck.

"Arthur?" Julie asks behind him, and Arthur does his best to stand up straight when he turns around to her.

"Yes, it's me. I just got back."

Julie takes a step closer, worry in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Just a little tired," Arthur says with a forced smile. "It's been a long ride."

He's not sure if he actually sways at those words, but it sure feels that way. Julie comes even closer, studying his face. "A little tired? You're dead on your feet. What's wrong?"

Arthur knows that he won't get out of this so quickly, so he shrugs. "Haven't slept well for the last few days. I'll be fine."

He waits for Julie to scold him, but she just takes his hand and leads him into the next empty stall. It's filled with fresh hay, and Julie forces him to sit down. "I'll be right back," she says, her voice low.

Arthur wishes he could go, but he's not sure he could get up on his feet before Julie's back. Instead, he shrugs out of his jacket and puts it behind his head like a makeshift pillow. He's staring at the wall on the other side when Julie appears in front of him. She puts a blanket over him and then sits down with her guitar on her legs.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asks, but Julie only shakes her head.

"Just close your eyes."

She starts playing, and Arthur does as she says. He's nervous with her closeby, and he wants to apologize, but he's not sure how to even get the words out. "I'm sorry, Jules," he finally manages to say.

"Sleep, Arthur," Julie says, her voice warm and comfortable like the blanket over him. "You'll be fine."

It takes a while until Arthur can focus on the music, but then a nice heavy feeling settles in his stomach, the notes carrying him over into a better world, a world where he doesn't have to apologize for liking someone.

#my writing

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jaehyun-eclipsed · 4 years

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Before I Met You | Ten

Updates: Sundays, ~8 PM EST

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Before I Met You Masterlist

Prev | Next

“What are you doing?” Jaehyun asks.

He looks down at me as I sit on the floor, boxes and papers scattered around me. A smirk slowly forms on his face, the scene in front of him clearly amusing.

“I’m just going through some of the old papers I’ve saved.” I chuck a stack of papers into a cardboard box. “There’s a lot of stuff from my college days that I haven’t touched in years so I figure I can throw it out.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows raise in curiosity. He bends down to pick up something that catches his eye. “What are these?”

“Oh! Those are a bunch of polaroids we’ve taken together. I put them in a box each time we took them and since I’m cleaning up and redecorating, I thought I’d make a photo garland with them above my desk.”

“That would be nice – oh! This is from our first date!” He flips to the next photo. “Oh and this was the first night you came over and we watched Before Sunrise together!”

I stand up and lightly grip onto his forearm, leaning my head against him as he continues looking through the photos. “You know, I was quite surprised you suggested we watch that movie.”

“Oh really? Why?”

“It’s an unusual style for a movie; it’s not something everyone would necessarily appreciate,” I say. “I was pretty excited you wanted to watch it though!” I grin up at him. “It’s one of my favorite movies. I watched it for the first time when I was a sophomore in college.”

“I really liked it. It was really interesting and I was impressed at how it kept you focused the entire time even though it was so simple.”

I let go of his arm as he hands me back all the photos.

“I have a couple emails I need to send, but for dinner I was thinking we could make some pizza? I bought sourdough,” he says.

“Yeah, that sounds great! Let me know when you’re ready!”

He smiles and gives me a light peck on the lips. “I love you.”

I lift my hand to gently caress his cheek before bringing it to the back of his neck to pull him down for another kiss. “I love you, too.”

As Jaehyun leaves the room, I look down at the floor again, spotting my chemistry lab notebook from freshman year. I pick it up and flip through it, seeing that there are still a significant number of blank pages that can still be used. Perhaps I’ll keep it. When I reach the back cover, a sense of nostalgia overcomes me as I scan the many sticky notes containing various equations and important points I needed to memorize for the final. I briefly quirk an eyebrow before breaking out into a smile when I see the light green sticky note at the bottom with a doodle of a smiling watermelon with arms and legs. Mark had drawn it for me when we were studying and hid it in my notebook when I left to use the restroom.

I actually haven’t spoken to Mark in a while. He’s difficult to get a hold of. Last I had heard was that he was doing some service work and traveling. Occasionally, he’d post a picture of himself playing the guitar wherever he was – usually on a beach or for an audience of small children.

Mark will always hold a special place in my heart. My time with him was very limited, but he’s a fond memory I’ll always hold dear. He was the first real friend I had in college – the first person away from home I ever felt comfortable speaking to. For me, he was the sign that things were going to be okay.

He was right though. Things did get better as I progressed through college. I moved out of the dorms and found a better roommate. I made some new friends that I could call up and hang out with. Studying was still difficult, but I did figure out what worked in order for me to be successful. It’s still not a place I miss, but I do appreciate all of the opportunities I had. And on the rare occasion I had the chance to talk to Mark, he was always so excited to hear that things were going relatively well. He ended up being someone I told a lot of my boy problems to, and though he didn’t have a ton of advice every time, he was always amused by my stories.

However, there was one time – the summer before I graduated college – where he did have some advice that really helped me. That was the last time I saw him in person.

I do miss him.

Sadly, we didn’t contact each other that much after he went to London. The time difference made it a challenge and whenever one of us was available, the other wasn’t. I felt like the universe was trying to tell me something.

I do remember one phone call we had though. That call broke my heart.

Is it even possible to have your heart broken by someone who was just a friend?

Because Mark was the first person to ever break my heart… and break it twice.

“Hey! I went to Derbyshire the other day. You’d love it! It’s so beautiful!” he said. “And Chatsworth House is gorgeous. No wonder you like that movie so much. They chose some good filming sites.”

“It’s a very aesthetically pleasing movie!” I remarked. “I’m so jealous though. You got to live my Elizabeth Bennet dreams.”

“Yeah! You should come visit considering I’m going to be staying here for two more years.”

“Wh – what?”

“Yeah! Shortly after I got here, I was looking into transferring and college here is usually three years so the timing kinda works out. The UK normally doesn’t like transfers, but since I’m here, I figured some stuff out with their counselors.”

I was happy for him, truly. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want him to come back considering our time together was so short. There was so much more I wanted to talk to him about. He was different and he embraced being different. He was always so comfortable in his own skin and had a carefree spirit that was easy to be around. Mark truly enjoyed life – with all of its complexities and particularly its simple pleasures.

Honestly, I didn’t think Mark could say anything else that would have been as devastating as when he told first told me he was leaving.

But I was wrong. Hearing him decide to stay there for longer than he had originally planned was equally heartbreaking. It’s hard when you’re waiting for someone to come back and they don’t when you expect them to. I even get a little disappointed when Jaehyun says a business trip has to be extended for a couple days. But that’s nothing compared to two years.

Timing.

The timing was never right for us.

But one thing’s for sure: Mark kept his original promise.

Dear Y/N,

Hello! I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to write to you! Life just gets so busy sometimes! I wanted to thank you again for the journal you gave me. Your note was so sweet! I don’t know if you noticed, but I was trying not to cry when you gave it to me haha. I also added the pictures we took together. You know, we look pretty cute in them haha!

I hope you know that I live vicariously through you. London is great, but I do miss California! I like hearing about all of the different aspects of your life, especially your boy drama (because who doesn’t like a little gossip) so keep it up! I just wanna let you know that even though I’m 5,000 miles away, I’m always a call/email/letter away! If you need me, I’m here!

I’m really grateful I got to know you, even if it was only for a little bit. I do wish we had met earlier, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to remain friends even after I return! Once you become friends with me, you’re stuck with me forever haha :) But please stay in contact with me! Sincerely, I think you’re incredible.

I hope everything this semester is going swell for you! Sounds like you’re taking on a lot, but I know you can do it! As you know, I’m not the most gifted in chemistry, but if you need anything else, just let me know!

One last thing: Keep up being amazing! Good luck trying to keep all these boys off you, but I’m sure they know when they’ve met an incredible find. It’s not often you meet a girl who is kind, pretty, smart, and funny; so I doubt you’ll be able to keep them away for too long!

Anyway, I hope you continue to write me letters sometimes! Isn’t it fun to have a pen pal?! I love hearing about what you’re up to! So keep me posted!

Love, Mark

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Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #wayv #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #nct lucas #lucas wong #wong yukhei #mark lee #nct mark #superm #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #before i met you

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euphoriacrossing · 4 years

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So, uh finally got my journal stuff.

I put it together yesterday, I am SO excited about it, it's better than I thought, BUT I have eight dividers (and can actually have more sections than that if needed because I have more dividers, plastic folders I can use to separate, and extra tabs I can use to label) and I don't know what sections I want to put so I can write it on the tabs.

I was thinking things like a tab for character profiles for the villagers, a tab for friend profiles, a tab for collecting and crafting, a tab for decorating, a tab for bells and budgets, things like that. I don't even know if I can come up with eight solid good sections, I might need to take some dividers out but we'll see.

I also have seen some pretty cool layouts. Like a play tracker someone made, I actually had a sheet come with my journal that had the months and days all listed in a chart so i am using that. But if you have any cool journaling layouts so far i would love to see them.

I am gonna try to print out my dodo airlines ticket and avatar from piccrew to paste in my journal since I can't draw. I have TONS of stickers and glitter glue and craft stuff so I might decorate my dividers with non-AC related decorations just so they are cute but I don't waste too many of my AC stickers though I guess I can always order more from etsy (lol, not really because I have already spent too much money and it's just the first of the money... but I mean, if it becomes an "emergency" I can and I can always purchase them at later days), and I actually still have some coming from etsy.

I ordered some gold letter stickers to spell out "New Horizons" on the front of my journal. I decided I just wanted to put that instead of my island name which I'll put inside on a "title page" of sorts. That way if I change my name for my island before the release I can just rip that page out and do a new one.

Oh I have both a clear pouch where I can put stencils and I have some stickers stored, and a fabric pouch where I have a pen, a stylus, and my amiibo cards. The fabric pouch I have clipped into the discs, but on the front so it doesn't hold the cover open. I know they have those pouches you can slip onto the planner with an elastic, but I like this little clip on one better. It's really small and only fits like one pen along with the other things which is usually less than I would carry BUT I guess this is already a bulky enough planner, I'm already unsure if it will fit in the AC sling bag with my switch, so best not make it any bulkier. Though my journal/planner did come with a canvas case, and it's not too much bulkier but it is a good place to store stickers and pens as long as I don't bulk it up too much, and that should help protect it if I shove it in a bag.

I guess most AC journaling will be done at home, but sometimes I go to my grandmother's or the hospital and I might want it with me to use depending on what info I end up writing down in there and how useful it becomes to me, I am not sure. I mean, I definitely have bags it will fit in along with my switch, but I ordered the AC sling bag because it was cute and I wanted to carry it, so if it doesn't fit I will possibly not be carrying it as much.

Oh also my journal stuff came with these nifty clip in to-do lists which I have a feeling i will be using to better make use of my AC time. I got some weekly planner sheets as well. I also have the monthly ones which were unnumbered so I went ahead and numbered those. =/ Tedious work. But now the monthly ones I will use to write down events, holidays, and birthdays, and I will leave those in there. The weekly planner sheets I just put in six weeks worth, and I will probably just do six weeks at a time and tear them out and throw them away when I'm done. That way I am not taking up too much room on my discs, but I can write more detailed plans and things I need to get done on those, but after I DO those things, I won't need the weekly pages at least I hope I can part with them. I am trying very hard not to make this a AC /diary/. I want it to be more like a reference book for my Island. The difference being one is nostalgic for me and the other one is actually useful to me OR anyone who might play on my island. Like if it's a proper reference someone else could pick up my switch and play and have access to say my Islanders birthdays, or the native fruit, or how much I was intending to spend on this, that, or the other. I don't know how many people intend their journals to be more like a diary, but I don't want to waste time writing things down that will only be nostalgic to me, instead I want the GAME to play as my sort of diary, for the memories I make to be playing, not writing. I want to write down things I need to remember and not just things I want to remember, I'd rather those just happen as in game moments. And if I want it to be a diary in the future, since it is discbound I can do that. But to start off that is not what I am going for. So that being said, hopefully I can part with the weekly pages and just throw those away since they won't really likely contain and pertinent info I will need in the long run. And any that do contain like birthdays or events, those will be added to the larger calendar so I won't need the weekly pages to remember when those things are.

Anyway, I am overall pretty excited about my journal being here and being able to work on it. I actually listened to some music yesterday while working on the calendar and it was kind of fun. Now I can just test different layouts, and things like that. My stencils come tomorrow I think. I ordered two sets actually so I could have more little doodles. And I can test what pens work the best and all that. It gives me something New Horizons related to do, which considering that's all my brain really wants anything to do with right now, it makes a huge difference for me.

If you have any ideas to help me with my journal, feel free to share them either in a reblog, or reply, or tag me in a post on here, whatever. I'd love to see your layouts and hear your ideas for different sections and stuff. Oh! And if you can think of anything else cool to print out for my journal, let me know! I know a lot of people are doing the dodo airline's tickets and I am gonna do that plus the piccrew avatar, but is there anything else cool I should print out? Like any reference guides or information that might be helpful when playing?

I know some people are already writing down friend codes and what not. But I am going to wait until I actually add people which will be closer to when we can actually play together.

But other than that, PLEASE share your ideas with me. =)

#acnh journaling #animal crossing new horizons #animal crossing #new horizons #acnh #ac new horizons #journal #planning #discbound #acnh journal

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holeinotomemind · 5 years

Text

Victor: Punishment

WARNING: Smut, spanking, MC sassing Victor

Also posted on AO3: Here

Blurb: I made a doodle of Victor bowing and apologizing to me and it is now circulating in the LFG company emails. He was beyond upset. I tried to get myself out of trouble by acting cute, but Victor was determined to punish me for it.

Victor's version and part 2 of 4 of a planned punishment themed story.

Words: 3,930

“The revenue increase forecasted for the next quarter is 5%, compared to Q3 last year. This is largely due to the increase of show production contracts and the renewal of another season of Dine Together with Loveland TV.” I sat across Victor’s desk as I went over the company forecast and budget report.

He had his elbow on his desk, cheek resting on his knuckles as he flipped through my reports, filled with graphs and numbers.

“The show had a very high rating last season, so we are expecting to get on a more popular time slot and have a much larger budget.” I went on as I elaborated on the budget projections and expected return on investments.

I looked towards Victor to see his reaction when I finally finished my presentation a good fifteen minutes later, but he remained silent.

It was amazing how anxious I still get every time I come to LFG to make these monthly reports even though I had done it countless times in the past couple of years. Even the fact that Victor and I had been together for some time now didn’t alleviate my anxiety. If anything, it exacerbated it.

Silence ensued as he continued going through my report, and all I could hear was the sound of pages flipping.

Nervousness got me restless. I tried to cross my legs but found the pencil skirt I was wearing today too restrictive. As I uncrossed them, I heard my high heels clicked inelegantly on the hardwood floor. I bit my lip and sighed.

I simply could not do anything with grace. Even when I donned this professional suit as a deliberate armor, I probably still did not look like the owner of a successful production company. But I so desperately needed to look the part.

I couldn’t afford for others to think I slept my way to the LFG fundings when everyone in our company worked so hard for it. It wouldn’t be fair for their hard work to be undermined like that just because I had decided to go out with Victor.

“If you are not confident in your report, you should not have presented it at all.” Victor’s deep voice was stern, and his words critical as always.

“It’s not that I’m not confident in the report…”

“So why are you squirming in your seat like an idiot?” He was harsh and straight to the point.

“It’s nerve-wracking, sitting there waiting for someone to judge your presentation,” I whined. “I’m not you. I’m a producer, not a businessman. This is not my forte.”

“Then fake it till you make it.” His tone was softer now, more encouraging. “You’ve done a good job on your report, and you should be proud of that. If you let people know you are nervous, it will undermine their confidence in it.”

I sighed, knowing he was right. Ever since we started going out, Victor became even more of my mentor in business. He would always be harsh on avoidable mistakes but equally encouraging towards improvements.

The meeting concluded without further issues after Victor asking several questions regarding upcoming productions. So I scrolled through some of my friends’ moments on my phone while I waited for him to check on some emails before we head out for lunch.

Then, all of a sudden, the room went quiet, and the hair on my arms stood up. There were no more mouse clicking, keyboard typing sounds, and I could literally feel the air around me drop several degrees.

I chanced a peek at Victor and immediately regretted it. He was giving me the death glare.

“What is this?” Victor demanded in a slow deep voice that had me broke out in a cold sweat. At my confused look, he waved at his monitor.

Gingerly, I got out of my chair and circled around to his side of the desk. When I saw what was on his monitor, my face paled.

There on the screen was a video of a flipbook animation drawn on the bottom corner of a notebook. It was a small doodle of a man, kneeling in front of an annoyed girl, bowing furiously and apologizing about something. Nothing was really wrong with the video.

Except the man bore a striking resemblance to Victor and the girl me.

No wonder the office was so quiet and everyone’s desks were empty when I was walking down the hall earlier. Usually, everyone was on their best behavior working at their desk when Victor was in the office, but today everyone, including the head secretary, who sits in front of Victor’s office, and Goldman were nowhere to be found.

I should have known there would be trouble when I lost my notebook two days ago. I just didn’t know it would be this bad. The video was sent to everyone with an LFG company email more than half an hour ago. By this time, every LFG employee would have seen it already.

I am so dead. My brain screamed as I let out an anxious awkward laugh.

“Who would have drawn something like that?” I feigned innocence as I slowly backed away from him.

Victor reached out quickly towards me. I felt his fingers circled my wrist just before he jerked me forcefully towards him. Losing my footing at the sudden tug, I stumbled and landed right on his lap.

“Who, indeed.” His spat, voice even lower and deeper than before. “Perhaps I should launch an investigation? This person must have a death wish to draw something like this.”

“Or maybe she was just mad that you threw away her secret stash of chips two weeks ago!”

“Or maybe she just finds it thrilling to infuriate her superior?”

“Superior?” The word touched a nerve, and I couldn’t help but retort. “Well, let me remind you that you are my company’s investor, not my superior, Mr. CEO.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave me a look that says “idiot,” and I knew I blew it. I had inadvertently admitted that I was the perpetrator.

My eyes darted around, trying to figure a way out of this, but my brain refused to cooperate, so I did the only thing that seemed appropriate at a time like this. Sweet talk him and act cute.

Putting on my sweetest smile, I smoothed his tie out my hand. “I was just upset that day because I was stressed out and really wanted to eat those chips. You know they are like my comfort food.”

Victor’s expression was unchanged, but he also did not stop me from talking, so I continued.

“Nobody else was supposed to see that doodle. It was on the notebook I carry around with me. Who knew I was going to lose it.” I pouted.

“When you are always so absent-minded and on average misplaces one thing every two weeks, can you really say you didn’t expect to lose it?” His expression was still hard, but I knew he softened up a teeny tiny bit.

“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry, but I swear I didn’t lose it on purpose. And it certainly wasn’t me who made it into a video.” I wheedled as I petted him on the shoulders in an attempt to further calm him down.

“You really think this is going to work on me?”

I didn’t know if he said that to goad me on or he was just being his annoying self, but whatever it was I took it as a challenge. Hands flat on his chest, I leaned into him, brushing my lips against his. I pulled back a little to gauge his reaction, but he simply looked back at me with his poker-face.

I leaned in again, this time kissing him more slowly and tenderly. The familiar scent of his aftershave calmed my nerves as I licked sensually at the bottom of his lips. His eyes watched me carefully as if he was assessing my performance.

When he opened his mouth slightly, I took it as an invitation. Deepening our kiss, I grazed my tongue over the tip of his and slowly rolled it against mine. He held my waist with one hand and traced the other up my back, and when I sucked lightly on his lips, I could feel his gentle squeeze on my nape. By the time I pull back again, he had his eyes closed, and we were both panting. My lips curled into a smile.

“So, who was it just now that said it wasn’t going to work on him?” I teased as my eyes focused on the red lipstick mark I left on his lips. It was oddly satisfying, seeing my mark on him.

“Who said it’s working?” He said, right before he pulled me back towards him.

He lips crashed against mine; his tongue demanded that mine to follow his lead. His kisses were like him as a person, forceful, and all-consuming. I couldn’t help but moan against his mouth.

When he finally released me, I could feel a small sting on my lips. I could only image how swollen they must have been from his kiss.

“I thought you said it’s not working,” I whispered breathlessly.

“It’s got nothing to do with it.” He kissed me again before I could comment on how his actions are contradicting his words.

His kiss was slower this time, more gentle. As I melted into him, the hand he had on my waist moved up to cup my breast. I circled my fingers around his wrist, wanting to protest, but he pressed my mouth harder against his, swallowing my words.

I could feel my body slowly began to respond to him as his large warm hand kneaded my breast as his other stroked my nape. My hands clutched his suit.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I said half-heartedly when we finally broke apart again, cheeks flushed.

“Why?” Victor lowered his head towards my neck, nuzzling it.

“Because this is your office and someone might come in.” I tried to think rationally, although I held my grip on his black suit.

He smirked and unbuttoned my shirt in response. “You didn’t complain last time.”

“Well, I’m complaining this time then.” Whenever I was with Victor, I always feel the need to talk back for some reason even if I don’t mean it, even if it gets me into trouble.

He ran his tongue down my neck and sucked on the most sensitive spot that he got to know so well since we had been together. I moaned and shivered in response, and he sucked even harder, enough to put a mark on me.

In one fluid motion, Victor pushed one side of my clothes off my left shoulder, taking the bra strap with them so that they were all bunched up at my elbow and my breast spilled out for him to see. He pulled me closer to him. I could feel small stings as he trailed his lips across my exposed collarbone and towards my already hardened nipple, no doubt leaving his marks along the way.

Thrusting my hand in his hair, I held him close to me as he sucked on my nipple, rolling it around with the tip of his tongue as his large hand kneaded my other breast through my clothes. I mewled softly as pleasure coursed through my body.

When he finally released his mouth, Victor looked up at me and smirked. “Looks like someone is not complaining about the office setting anymore.”

Why does he have to be a jerk even at times like this? I frowned, wanting to come up with an appropriate comeback but came up empty. Frustrated, I pushed his face back towards my chest and heard him chuckle.

He pushed the rest of my blouse and bra strap off my other shoulder; the blazer already slid off on its own. Victor moved to kiss and suck on my other breast. My head rolled back as he continued to cause a small current to run through my body, and my core clenched in anticipation.

Then, a sudden pain made me yelp as I felt his teeth biting not so gently on my nipple.

“Why’d you bite me?” I grabbed his hair and yanked his head away from my chest, glaring at him accusingly. The bite didn’t hurt that badly, but I was surprised that he did it at all.

“I told you, it wasn’t working.” Placing both his hands on my waist, he lifted me up effortlessly and flipped me over. Pressing on my upper back with his palm, he pushed my upper body onto his desk while my legs dangled off of it. I shuddered at the sensation of the cold desk against my sensitive nipples.

About to protest at the sudden change in position, I turned my head back towards Victor to find that he had stood up from his executive chair, his large body looming over mine. I lost all my words of objections when I saw him hooking a finger to the knot of his grey tie as he slowly pulled to loosen it.

I didn’t understand why some people think men taking off their tie was one of the sexiest things until I met Victor, but now I simply think it should be illegal. Every time I watch him do it, I get butterflies in my stomach, and I stare as if mesmerized by his action.

This time was no exception.

Throwing his tie onto his chair, he went onto undo his cufflinks and rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. He bent his body over mine and pressed his mouth on my ear. I shuddered as his hot breath tickled my ear, and then I heard him saying, “Did you really think I have forgotten about that offensive doodle you made?”

It took me a moment to register what he meant, and when I did, it was too late. I tried to get up, to escape from this vulnerable position, but he already had me pinned with one hand pressing down on my upper back, and I could feel his other hand hiking up my skirt to bunch around my waist.

“Garter belt?” I heard him say with a hint of appreciation in his voice. He ran his hand up and down my thighs, stroking them gently, his finger tracing the elastic strip clipped to my stockings.

Snap.

I yelped out in surprise when I felt a sharp sting on my butt. He had hooked a finger under the strap and pulled, just to release it and have it snap back onto my sensitive skin.

“Victor!” I felt my core dampening when he did it again with the other side of the elastic strap, the small pain mixed with pleasure.

Placing his rough, warm hand on my buttocks, as if to soothe me of the slight pain, he kneaded it as he did with my breasts just moments ago. As his fingers squeezed my sensitive flesh, I could feel the movement slightly parting my slick folds, causing the evidence of my arousal flowed onto my thong.

Then, through my peripheral vision, I saw Victor with his hand raised.

Smack.

I heard the loud sound of his hand connecting with my flesh before I was able to process what was going on. Then, I felt the sting on the area just between my buttocks and my upper thighs. I gasped at the sensation, but before I could take another breath, Victor’s large hand connected at the same spot again.

I cried out loud as the impact vibrated through my slick core. Overwhelmed by the pleasure-pain sensation radiating through my flesh, my hands clawed at the desk as his continued to rain down on that sensitive spot of both sides of my bottom.

The sound of him punishing my poor little ass echoed through his office along with my cries. When I belatedly realized that I might have been too loud, I stuffed my fist into my mouth, trying to muffle my voice.

“Idiot, you forgot my office is soundproof?” He chuckled, paused for a moment to let his words and the tingling sensations of my mistreated bottom to sink in, before he began the spanking anew.

When he finally stopped, I could feel my upper thighs and buttocks burned and my core drenched. I turned my head to look towards Victor, unsure if he was done with my punishment or if he was simply taking a break.

His eyes on my butt, he had a smug grin on his face as if admiring his handy work. I could only imagine how red they must be right now, and my face flushed in embarrassment.

Running his thumb over my panties, he pressed against my clit, and I felt myself shudder. “You are enjoying this punishment a bit too much I see,” I heard him say before I heard a rip.

I opened my mouth, ready to protest that Victor had just torn my brand new pair of panties, but before I could say anything, I could feel him thrusting a long digit inside me. Closing my eyes, I moaned at the sensation as his finger moved in and out of my dripping core, and all my complaints were forgotten.

Pushing my thighs apart, he went to kneel behind me. I mewled loudly when I felt his tongue flicked over my sensitive clit, sending currents down my spine. He slipped a second finger in me and then another as he slid his tongue on that small bundle of nerve endings, sucking occasionally.

My muscles clenched, pulsing around his fingers as the world splintered around me. I yelled out his name as electricity coursed through my body, his mouth sucking on my clit throughout.

When my breathing finally slowed, and I calmed down, I heard him unclipping my stockings from the garter belt, rolling them down my legs as he kissed my inner thighs. I stepped out of them, along with my high heels, and saw Victor throw them onto his chair, landing beside his tie.

Slowly, he stood to his full height. The sun shone through the windows behind him, and for a second he looked like a giant shadow looming over me. The feeling of being overpowered by a man of his size was intimidating, yet exhilarating at the same time.

I watched the movement of his broad shoulders as he slowly took off his belt and opened his zipper. He took his already hardened length in his hand, stroking several times before he took his wallet out from the desk drawer and fished out a condom.

Ripping open the package with the help of his teeth, he slowly rolled it onto his erection before pressing himself against my slick core. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself entirely inside me. I was wet and ready to accept him, but the feeling of his hot length filling and stretching me in one thrust had me gasping out loud.

Just like with anything else, he didn’t give me any time to adjust. He immediately began to pump in and out of me with stroke after powerful stroke. There was no rhythm to his thrusts as if he wanted to take me by surprise. I moaned out loud every time his pelvis connected with my still-sore buttocks, and the cool metal of my garter belt clasps hit my upper thigh.

I closed my eyes as the pleasure built up in me once again, and I could hear the sounds of Victor’s heavy breaths and small groans. And then I heard a noise that didn’t belong:

A knock on the door.

“Victor! Someone’s coming.” My eyes flew open as I gasped in surprise. Planting my palms on the desk, I tried to push myself up, only to be pushed back down on to the desk with a thud by Victor. He pressed his large hand against my upper back, holding me down with a strength I wasn’t able to fight off.

Every muscle in my entire body clenched at the thought of the horror of being caught having sex in the office, but Victor didn’t seem to care as he continued thrusting inside me. Shoving my fist inside my mouth, I tried to stifle my voice.

I watched in horror, as if in slow motion, the office door opened and Goldman’s brown colored dress shoes appeared behind the door as he stepped in. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining the embarrassment of being seen like this by Victor’s assistant, and silently praying that this was just a nightmare.

But the expected scandalous gasp never came. Hesitantly, I cracked my eyes open several moments later and found everything unchanged. The door was still cracked open, and Goldman’s shoes were still peeking out behind it.

It took me a moment before I realized what must have happened and heard Victor’s chuckle.

“Did you really think I was going to let him see you like this?” His voice filled with amusement.

“Then why didn’t you say so?” I yelled at him, half frustrated and half relieved. I should have known that he would stop time to prevent us from getting caught, but in the heat of the moment, I panicked and completely forgot about his evol ability.

“Consider it as part of your punishment.” He said as he playfully slapped my butt. “Besides, you were so afraid that you got so tight. Did you really expect me to stop when your sweet little cunt is squeezing my cock like that?”

I blushed at his words. Unable to come up with anything as a comeback, I silently cursed him for being a jerk and myself for falling in love with said jerk, but the cursing didn’t last long.

Victor circled his hands around my waist as he resumed his long deep thrusts, this time pulling me against him to increase the impact and grinding against me when he was fully inside. Pleasure began to build inside me once again, as my pelvis hit the edge of his desk every time he slammed into me and the impact vibrated straight to my clit.

My mind went blank as the world shattered once again around me, and my muscles clamped down on him. Energy rippled through my body over and over, I arched my back, pushing myself against him, willing for the pleasure to continue.

Victor quickened his rhythm, pounding in me faster and faster. Then with a loud grunt, his length began to throb. He buried himself deep inside me; his body shuddered as he came, hands gripping my waist, fingers digging into my skin almost painfully.

He leaned towards me and buried his face in my neck as he tried to calm his ragged breath. Equally breathless, I reached my hand back to caress his nape slowly. We stayed in that position until we both recovered, and he kissed my temple before slipping out of me.

We took our time cleaning up and getting dressed. By the time Victor resumed time and Goldman walked into the office, I was again sitting in the chair across from Victor as if nothing had happened, the only evidence being the used condom in the trash can.

As I listened to Goldman’s report and Victor ordering that video of my doodle to be removed from the face of the planet, I secretly wondered what he would do to me if he found the other doodles I drew of him.

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #戀與製作人 #evol x love #mr love victor #victor #mlqc victor #li zeyan #李澤言 #fanfic #mlqc fanfic #fan fiction

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bendywackyadventures · 4 years

Text

BATIM SOL AU- School Daze Chap. 7

Hey everyone! Here is a brand new chapter I have for you all.

Just a slight warning this does featuring bullying at the end. Nothing too major don’t worry!

So just a quick thing I wanted to post this chapter in June because it was Pride Month and wanted to bring up the toons sexual identities (which will be revealed at the end of the chapter). However, I was so focused on A Hat in Time stories I had to hold this chapter off till I finished a few of those stories before finishing this one!

But here it is! The next chapter of SOL AU!

Enjoy!!

The bell rang for lunch and the upstairs classes left their rooms to grab their lunches from their lockers or racing to the cafeteria to get in line and grab their lunches. Alice grabbed her lunch from her locket and just as she was ready to head to the cafeteria, she stopped to see Lauren pulling out her lunch box and a notebook. Once she closed her locker she turned to see Alice right in front of her.

“Uh hi.” Alice nervously said giving a small wave. Lauren didn’t respond back and just stepped back and walked away from the angel. “W-wait!” Alice called out. The angel sighed seeing she failed again for interacting with Lauren.

Alice slowly made her way to the cafeteria and slammed her head down at the table. Danni, who was eating a tuna sandwich looked at her angelic friend. “Guess talking to Lauren didn’t go as planed?” She asked.

“No.” Alice sighed. “Wait how did you know?” She asked. Alice didn’t tell her or any of her friends about trying to talk to Lauren.

Danni chuckled. “You’ve been in school for four days now, and during those four days you’ve been trying to talk to Lauren.” Danni explained. “I’ve seen how you look at her.”

Alice smiled giving a light blush. She then decided to eat some lunch to take her mind off it. Alice smiled seeing Linda and Henry gave her a roast beef sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple, two cookies, and a juice box.

As Alice was setting up her lunch she glanced at Bryan who was reading a book as he was eating his sandwich. Danni gave her friend a slight kick in the shins. “Ow!” Bryan hissed. “What was that for?” He asked. Danni glared and pointed at Lauren and Alice. Bryan understood what Danni was trying to tell him, and nodded that he will help with whatever plan she had.

While Alice was enjoying her lunch, she was surprised that Bryan was pushing her chair towards Lauren’s table. Alice was freaking out that she was being headed, or forced towards the girl she desperately tried to talk to. Danni held on to Alice’s lunch and placed it on the table surprising Lauren.

Lauren’s eyes widen as she saw Bryan bringing Alice over to her. Bryan smiled at his angelic friend before heading back to the table with Danni. Alice glared at her friends, who waved to her with a smile. “Now we watch and wait.” Danni snickered.

Alice sighed and faced Lauren. The two girls were quiet with one another, especially Alice who didn’t know what to say just sat their nervously thinking of what to say. “Huh hi.” Alice nervously said as it was the only thing coming to mind.

Lauren didn’t reply and just went back to doodling in her notebook. Alice frowned and just continued eating her lunch. Danni and Bryan sighed in frustration seeing it will take till the end of lunch to make these girls talk.

It didn’t take too long though. As Alice ate she was thinking of what to talk about with Lauren, and got an idea seeing Lauren’s drawings. “So you like drawing?” Alice asked. Lauren looked up and nodded, before drawing. Alice smiled seeing they were getting somewhere. “My dad, Henry used to be an animator.” She replied.

“Really?” Lauren asked. Alice blinked hearing Lauren’s soft spoken voice. The young girl covered her mouth and went back to drawing. “S-sorry I’m told I sound q-qu-quiet and can’t speak any l-louder.” She stuttered. “S-so I b-barely talk.”

Alice sighed looking down feeling bad for the girl. “Well I don’t think your quiet.” She said. Lauren looked up. “You sound clear as day.”

Lauren gave a small smile. “T-thanks.” She replied. Lauren started to feel comfortable around the angel and held her hand out. “I’m Lauren.”

Alice smiled and held her hand out. “Alice!” She replied beaming.

Danni and Bryan fist bumped each other seeing the two girls starting to make some friendship progress together. However, there was one group of friends who didn’t seem happy that the new girl was being friends with the former loner; The Lockets.

“There is no way I’m letting loner art girl be friends with new girl!” The leader of the Locket’s glared.

Kelly, who was drinking replied. “Well I think its sweet, Clara.” She replied.

The leader of the Lockets, Clara glared at her dimwitted friend. “Oh shut it Kelly, who’s side are you on, anyways?” She snapped.

Kelly whimpered and sighed. “Y-yours.”

Clara nodded. “That’s what I thought.” She said before pulling away from her friend. Kelly gave a small glare towards her leader before finishing her drink. Clara then turned to face the other blonde haired girl who was taking notes on the entire thing. “Karen do you have any notes about the new girl?”

Karen looked up from her notes, and adjusted her glasses. “Well sadly I couldn’t get into her files, as thanks to what you did last year I’m not allowed.” She reminded her leader. “Good news I was able to follow up with what Kelly spotted and all we know she has a cat for a brother.”

Clara turned to Kelly, who didn’t give eye contact towards her dimwitted friend and glared at her. “That’s it? No one would believe us if we admitted that to the entire school! The entire student body will think were CRAZY and send us to the nut house!” She shouted.

“Hey its not my fault I got caught!” Kelly snapped back. “I told you I should of used your car to stalk them!”

“Hey!” Clara snapped back. “No one is allowed to drive my car! You can ride, but no drive!” The girls started to biker ignoring their plan at stake as the student body watched the cat squabble going on. This argument gave Danni a laugh as she ate her chips and drank her can of lemonade.

“Now this is a dinner theater.” Danni commented.

As the Locket squabble was going Lauren was showing Alice her drawings. Her notebook was scattered with cute drawings of animals and a page at what appeared to be a cartoon style similar to what the Bendy cartoons looked like.

“Wow! I love your cartoon drawings!” Alice beamed. “Its almost like what my dad used to draw for this studio.”

Lauren giggled. “My dream is to be an animator and work at a studio myself too.” She replied.

Alice smiled. “That is amazing!” She cheered, her halo blinking like a light when she said that. Lauren smiled seeing how the angel enjoyed her drawing and her dreams. “I wish you luck on your dreams! Just keep on dreaming and you’ll get there!” Alice covered her mouth and looked down. Now she was starting to sound like Joey,

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Lauren asked.

“S-sorry just what I said.” Alice apologized. “A...friend.” She lied. “A friend I knew who betrayed me said that to me.”

Lauren frowned and got up from her seat and put an arm around Alice. “Sorry about that.”

Alice gave a small smile, but a small blush appeared on her face. “Its not your fault.” She replied. “Its mine.” Alice thought. Lauren wanted to ask why was it her fault for this friend to betray her, but as she glanced at the bickering mean girls ahead she stayed quiet and hugged her new friend.

“I know its hard to feel betrayed, but sometimes you have to move on from it. It hurts, a lot because you put their trust in them and your scared of loosing that trust once again.” Lauren explained.

Alice nodded. “I lost a lot of trust back at my old home.” She mumbled.

“Yikes.” Lauren hissed feeling that sting too. “I’m really sorry that this happened to you. Is that why you transferred here?” She asked.

“For the most part yeah. I’d rather not explain.” Alice replied.

Lauren smiled. “Whatever makes you comfortable Alice.” Lauren let go of the hug and sat back down eating her lunch. Alice smiled feeling better from Lauren’s comfort, and continued to eat her lunch as well. As the angel ate she felt her heart beating for some reason. Was it because of Lauren? Or was it because someone understood her pain?

Even after lunch, these feelings haven’t gone away for the little angel sent from above.

As Alice was walking to class she started to feel her heart beating faster. Not beating fast after running, but more of a fast heartbeat like...she was falling in love. That’s what Allison told her when she would talk about her relationship with Gent worker, Thomas Conner. Alice started to realize that she may have a loving feeling towards Lauren.

“Alice are you okay?” Alice soon snapped out of it when she saw it was Danni speaking to her. Alice turned to Danni and saw she looked nervous towards her best friend.

“Oh y-yeah I’m fine.” Alice lied. “Just relieved you know.”

Danni sighed. “Look sorry for pushing you into talking to Lauren, but you two needed to introduce one another, and Bryan and I had to make a move.” She explained.

“Danni, its fine. That push was all I needed.” Alice reassured her friend.

“It is?”

Alice nodded. “We just had a great conversation, and I’m just relieved everything I wanted to tell her came out, and I didn’t scare her!” She explained. This was the truth!

Danni sighed in relief. “Thank goodness.” Alice smiled as she and her friend walked to class, and enjoyed the rest of the day. Though as Alice paid attention in class she couldn’t shake the feeling of Lauren off her head. Alice sighed and she would talk about this with Henry or Linda after school.

After school, Alice said goodbye to Danni and Bryan as she was on her way to pick up Bendy and his friends from school, that was about to end in about half an hour. As Alice was on her way to the elementary school she spotted Danni ready to walk home herself. Alice smiled and decided to invite Danni to join her in her walk to pick up Bendy.

“Hey angel.” A voice said. Alice sighed and turned to see it was the Locket’s leader Clara speaking to her. Taking a deep breath she went over to the other girl.

“Yeah that’s me?” Alice questioned wondering why these girls want to talk to her. “What do you girls want?”

Clara and her friends looked at each other before laughing. Alice was confused and nervously laughed herself wondering what was so funny. “Oh were just...interested in you.” Clara answered.

Alice was confused and yet impressed. “You are?” She asked. Clara nodded. Alice wasn’t sure to believe what the mean girl was telling her. After what Danni told her about these girls and Linda warning about bullies she didn’t want to bring her hopes up that these girls were going to be anything but nice to her.

“Were interested in how monochrome you look.” Clara commented giving a giggle. Alice gulped feeling an insulted at that.

Alice took a deep a breath not trying let those words get to her. “Well thanks...I guess?” Alice questioned. Clara and her friends just kept on laughing. Alice gulped wondering how long she could keep her cool before breaking down.

“That wasn’t a complement.” Karen replied. “You just don’t look human.” She pointed out. Alice’s eyes widen as the girls laughed at her again. Alice frowned, but wasn’t going to cry. She was going to hold it in, not let these girls get to her. She was a brave angel! She was a strong angel! She was...a week angel.

“So where did you come from?” Kelly asked. Alice tried to answer, but Kelly covered her mouth. “No don’t tell me! You came from some wacky wonderland!” She laughed. Clara and Karen didn’t think it was all that funny, but Kelly was in the right place.

Clara shoved Kelly aside and glared at the angel. “Listen here angel. I don’t know who you are, or where you came from! Just letting you know I’m in charge of the school! You may be making friends left and right, but once I find more about you. You’ll be squished like a bug!” Clara threatened.

Alice gulped, now she was truly scared now. This wasn’t like Joey threats, this was more of Susie threats. The angel remembered how the sweet, kind voice actress became as mean as Clara towards Allison, and no matter what the angel did nothing could of changed Susie’s behavior. Alice nodded not responding to the bullies.

“Oh by the way, you aren’t the prettiest girl around here.” Clara insulted. She chuckled and gave the angel a shove making her fall to the ground. “See ya looser!” Clara yelled. The girls laughed as they walked off insulting the angel behind her back. Alice got up and brushed herself as she watched her tormentors walk away.

Once they were gone, Alice felt tears coming out of her eyes and quickly wiped them away. She wasn’t going to cry, not right now. She then took a deep breath and made her way towards Bendy’s elementary school.

Bendy and his friends were still waiting in front of the school and were worried that Alice forgot and that they would need to call Henry or Linda to pick them up. “Where is Alice?” Bendy complained.

As his friends waited, Marie spotted a familiar angel walking towards them. “There she is!” Marie shouted. Bendy and his friends smiled and looked to see Alice walking towards them. However, Bendy saw something was wrong with the angel. She looked sad.

“I wonder what’s wrong with Alice?” Cody asked his twin sister. Connie shrugged not sure either.

Alice was taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm and not cry in front of Bendy and his friends. “Just don’t tell them Alice. Just don’t tell them.” Alice said to herself. With that she wiped the rest of the tears from her face and put on a fake smile. “Hey guys sorry I was late!”

“That’s alright Alice. We didn’t wait too long.” Connie replied. Alice sighed and decided now was time to head off to take the kids home and head home herself.

As the group walked home, Bendy felt something was wrong with Alice. Even if Alice or Boris looked okay on the outside, Bendy could feel how their truly feeling. Bendy knew Alice wasn’t herself and was keeping something sad and serious.

Even after dropping off the kids at their respective homes, even when doing homework, and even during dinner. What Bendy sensed was an angel holding in her emotions, trying to keep it in as long as she can. It wasn’t just Bendy who noticed something wrong was the angel, Henry and Linda also saw something was up with Alice.

“Everything okay Alice?” Henry asked.

Alice looked up and swallowed her food. “Y-yeah! Just a long day of school!” Alice lied continuing to eat. Henry and Linda looked at each other and knew there was something wrong with Alice.

~~~~~~

So here are the toons identities:

Bendy-Pansexual

Alice- Bisexual

Boris- Aroace

#Sol au #slice of life au #Alice Angel #Lauren #Danni #Bryan #bendy the dancing demon #boris the wolf #Henry Stein #Linda Stein

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

To Keep You Safe

Title: A guy like you should wear a warning

Chapter: 6/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Language, making out

~~~

Thanks to my speedy healing powers I was able to leave the infirmary the day after Loki’s late-night visit. I was still prescribed extreme amounts of rest and a moderate amount of painkillers, so I used the time when the others were busy working or training to unpack the boxes from my apartment and truly decorate my suite. Now that I wasn’t working myself into the ground each day, I had hours and hours to kill. If I was going to be staying here a while, so it might as well feel like home.

I had more in control of my powers so I allowed myself the luxury of putting out my small potted succulents and aloe plant onto the windowsill, having retrieved them from Pepper’s office after she had nabbed them for safe-keeping ages ago. I wanted to replace the duvet with mine from home, but moving up from a meager full-sized bed to a king meant that wasn’t going to work. It was easy to order another through F.R.I.D.A.Y., and a simple plush forest green duvet cover arrived promptly. Steve helpfully reassembled one of my bookshelves for me and put it up next to the couch in the sitting area. I finished that off by filling it to the brim with my extensive book collection.

The last bits of personal memorabilia were my drawing supplies. I hadn’t touched them in years, truthfully not since I began distracting myself after New York with work, but I had little else to do in my free time. I wasn’t allowed to train yet, and my job as Tony’s assistant had already been filled by someone else. Plus, I can only watch reruns of The Office so many times. So, my sketchbooks were scattered across my coffee table, with the one currently in use on my bedside table when I wasn’t lugging it around as I puttered about. A pouch of charcoal was always alongside it, along with a black-stained once-white towel to wipe off my hands.

So, in the interim of getting injured and being allowed to train, I drew. I now had a designated spot on the couch parked in front of the TV that was left open for me to curl up beneath a black blanket, to avoid stains, and draw as I socialized. My sketches started as complete and total trash from my lack of practice, but after a few attempts, my friends went from looking like misshapen cartoon characters to actual people on the page. If you squinted and tilted your head a little. And allowed for artistic license. But it was a work in progress like everything else in my life.

One surprising figure who kept appearing in my sketchbook turned out to be Loki. Whenever I was out of my room, he seemed to be as well. Keeping to the shadows and himself, but still present. His penetrating gaze drilled holes into the sides and back of my head as I went about my day. When I’d look up to catch his eye he stared back unabashedly with that same look of puzzlement that he had worn during our last conversation. Because even though he had been my new shadow, he never approached me, and I couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to him. 'Hey, so, you totally saved my life and now we don’t seem to hate each other and I don’t know what that’s about or what to do about it. So, what’s up? Stalk much?' That didn’t feel right. So I just left it be. If he wanted more answers so that he could wipe the curious look off of his face, it was very clear that he knew where to find me. Even if I couldn’t see him, like when I went on walks with Thor or Sam to keep my strength up while I healed, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt his eyes upon me.

And each night, when I would wake screaming and sobbing in bed from visions of the Hydra men I had slaughtered, he was there. After the first night when I sent my trusty ole rock flying at, and then through, his expressionless face and learned that it was just a projection, it became routine. I’d wake up shrieking, drenched in cold sweat, and there would be an illusion of the Trickster God sitting on my couch watching over me. Never talking, never approaching me, just keeping guard over me with a steady gaze. Even though he wasn’t physically there, I knew that he was just on the other side of the wall, having woken from my cries and sending his doppelganger to me. Some tiny part of me took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone, and it was that part that I clung to as I fell back to sleep each time. That part only grew with each occurrence of his reliable appearances for my night terrors.

Should I have been more creeped out by it? Probably. This could go into stalker pasty vampire territory real fast. But I was so desperate for any sort of comfort that I began to search for him immediately after I was wrenched from my haunting dreams, a sigh of relief huffing out of my mouth when I saw him sitting at his post. It wasn’t good for me in the slightest to become so reliant on his steady presence, but it helped too much for me to put an end to it. What was it hurting? Besides our sleep schedules, of course. But mine was damned either way.

So, with little else to do, I drew him. If he could be a creep, so could I. I kept him in the corner of my eye whenever I would sit and sketch. And through my workings, I continued the exploration of the distant but oh-so-present god that I had begun in the infirmary. My fingers became familiar with the sharp lines of his cheekbones. The harsh angle of his jawbone. The slant and curve of his lips from the ever-present smirk. My eyes knew the breadth of his shoulders and the lean yet defined muscle filling out his standard button-down shirt. His long, spindly fingers were familiar to me not only from touch but now sight as well. And it was easy to fill my pages with his exceptionally well-proportioned figure while carrying on with everyone else. They got uncomfortable as the subjects of my sketches, but Loki was unwilling to talk to me to voice his opinion. As the only one to do so, he became my easiest muse.

~~~

After two weeks of rest, recuperation, and doodling, I was finally allowed to return to my training sessions with Nat and Wanda. And even in those, Loki lingered at the fringes. At first the others took notice, just as I had long ago, and waited for him to take action or say something or do anything to give a reason for his continued presence. It was one thing to always be about in the living room or grounds but harder to explain when he was always fifteen steps behind me. But when nothing happened and no explanations were given they tuned him out as I had learned to. If he wanted to be the ghost of my life, that was his prerogative. I needed to get my ass back in shape.

This was made all the more apparent as Nat slammed my body onto the training mat for the fifteenth time during our latest training session. My back was becoming far too familiar with the dark mats that cushioned my repeated falls.

“Knock the wind out of ya?” she asked, smirking down at me and offering her hand to help me up.

With a gasp and nod, I took her hand and allowed her to yank me gracelessly to my feet. I braced my hands on my knees, taking deep breaths and blinking the stars from my eyes.

“Tony talked to us and we all agree. We’re not leaving you as unprepared as you were before. So, catch your breath, because we’re not done yet,” she declared, holding out my reusable water bottle for me.

I drank heavily from it and even poured some on the top of my head, relishing the ice-cold water on my sweaty body.

“Then bring it on,” I tossed my water bottle to the edge of the mat. “I haven’t had my ass kicked in enough different ways yet.”

And Nat seemed to take that as a challenge. In the next hour she pinned me, tossed me to the floor, and put me in various holds until I tapped out probably 20 more times. At least.

“Good job, Jen. You lasted longer than I expected,” she praised me, tossing a towel on my prone form on the floor.

After she slammed me onto my back for the final time getting up didn’t seem like it needed to happen right away. The floor and I were good buddies by now and I just wanted to spend some more quality time with it. I groaned wordlessly, swiping the towel from my bare midriff and throwing it over my face. My entire body hurt, but my shoulder was the worst of all. An itchy, burning sensation pulsed with my heartbeat beneath the gnarled mess of scar tissue just to the right of the strap of my sports bra. I scratched at it absentmindedly before standing up, throwing the towel around my neck.

“I mean it. You’ve been out of commission for almost three weeks. It’s hard to get back into it, especially with the God of Ghostliness checking you out the entire time,” she teased.

“Oh no, that was definitely not what he’s doing. He feels guilty and he’s just keeping tabs.” There wasn’t a universe where Loki, Prince of Asgard, would be eyeing me for that reason. “Plus, he probably gets a sick thrill from watching me eat dirt over and over again.”

“I know I do,” Nat joked, linking her arm through mine as we walked out of the gym toward the building housing our rooms. “But really. You’re wearing a sports bra and tight leggings, all hot and bothered from getting your ass kicked, and grunting and huffing and puffing. It’s definitely some guys’ thing.”

I rolled my eyes, not dignifying her speculations with a response besides that. I was an unknown to Loki, that was all. He was such an intelligent person that he probably didn’t like not understanding something, and he just hadn’t figured me out yet. Once he was satisfied with whatever mystery of my character that he was trying to solve he would go back to slinking around the Compound on his own.

That didn’t explain his almost-nightly visits to my room after my nightmares, but I had long ago concluded that I wasn’t going to understand his motivation for that, either. Probably something along the lines of wanting me to shut the hell up so that he could get some sleep. That sounded more like his style.

Nat pulled me out of my thoughts with her suddenly enthusiastic tone. “Hey, before I forget, Sam and I were thinking of heading to the city tonight. Maybe hitting up a club and getting some,” she paused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, “frustration out. You should come. After all, you did say you like dancing.”

“I was kidding! Tony asked me how I was feeling while I was in a hospital bed with a hole in my shoulder and brains falling out of my skull and I’m a sarcastic smartass when I'm tired! That doesn’t count!” I exclaimed, laughing as she pulled me toward the stairs. My jelly legs quickly redirected us to the elevator.

“Doesn’t matter. You haven’t left this place in over a month. You need to get out. You’re coming. After dinner you’re coming to my room, I’m throwing you into the slinkiest dress I can find, and we’re hitting the town.”

By that point we had reached the main living room, and she pushed me toward my door for a much-needed shower.

“It’s happening!”

~~~

True to her word, after we’d all eaten dinner I was dragged into Nat’s room. There wasn’t even time to protest as the assassin plopped me down onto her bed, aiming a stern finger at me before going about her diabolical plans to dress me up like a doll.

She went through her clothes like a madwoman, picking out dresses and holding them up to me, then frowning and tossing them aside onto a rapidly-growing pile of provocative frocks. I didn’t blame her for the struggle considering the differences we had. She was a bit bustier and curvier in all the right places than my taller, boxier frame. With my bigger hips, smaller ass, and longer legs, half of the dresses were tossed aside simply because we weren’t looking to get me arrested for indecent exposure.

Finally, after several minutes of searching and a mountain of rejected dresses, she shoved one into my hands. “This is it, I know it,” she exclaimed, shoving me toward the bathroom to change.

I stumbled inside and closed the door behind me, holding in a groan. Whatever she picked I knew it had to be far more risque than anything I’d ever choose for myself. But she got one thing right from the start: the color was my favorite: a deep emerald green. I didn’t see any sequins or sparkles, so that was a bonus. Mimicking a disco ball had never been high on my list of wardrobe choices.

But as soon as I put it on, after first running to my room and back to grab a strapless bra, I knew it wasn’t happening.

The high halter neckline of the dress revealed my fair, only slightly muscular shoulders, and as such, the twisted mess of raised pink scar tissue I wasn’t too keen on revealing. Following the dress down, more of my pale skin was revealed by cutouts on either side of my waist just above my hip bones. I only ever showed my midriff when I was working out, and that was because Tony seemed averse to air conditioning in the gym. This was a lot of skin. Plus, it was a dress and I just really didn’t want to wear one.

“Nat, this isn’t going to work,” I whined through the door, staring at my body critically in the mirror.

“Lemme see, Pebbles!”

Sighing heavily, I opened up the bathroom door and padded out into the bedroom. I even did a little twirl to prove just how much the dress did not work for me.

“I think that Tony is right about the Poison Ivy thing, especially in that dress. Damn, girl!”

“It’s too much, Nat!” I covered the fair skin revealed at my waist to the best of my ability, crossing my arms over myself.

“No, you look stunning! He’s not going to know what hit him,” she gushed, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to a vanity in the sitting area of her room. She pushed me down in front of it and began fussing with my hair.

“But it isn’t too much?” I asked quietly.

“Trust me, you’ll knock him dead,” she promised, twisting my hair into a bun on the back of my head.

Him?

One hour later, I looked myself over in the mirror while Natasha quickly got dressed, surveying her handiwork.

After existing in the dress for a while, I begrudgingly admitted to myself that it wasn’t the absolute worst. I still felt a little uncomfortable with how tight it was, but I was given some relief and breathing room with the slight flare of the skirt out from my hips. My dark brown hair had somehow been thrown up into a simple bun with just one long gold hair clip, a feat of epic proportions considering just how much hair I had. A delicate gold arm cuff resembling a snake wrapped around my bicep on my right arm, hopefully distracting from the scarring above it that wouldn’t disappear behind the dress no matter how much I tugged at it. My ever-present thumbprint necklace was completely hidden by the high neckline and collar of the dress. And to complete the outfit, much to Nat’s dismay, I snagged a pair of chunky black ankle boots from my closet. If I was going to be dragged out for a night on the town, I was not going to do it in the scary-high black stilettos she had offered to me. Breaking my ankles would probably put a damper on the evening.

At least my makeup was within my comfort zone. With subtle winged eyeliner, heavy mascara, and berry red lips I still looked like I tried without resembling a clown. As Nat said, 'You, but better.' I think it was a compliment.

“Oh! One last thing,” Natasha cried, popping up from finishing her makeup at the vanity and dashing out of the room. She reappeared moments later with Tony by her side.

“Damn, Poison Ivy. You look fantastic. I didn’t even recognize you.” Tony sauntered over to me, wrapping me in a brief one-armed hug before pulling back and holding out a polished wooden box from behind his back. “I know you may be feeling antsy about tonight, so I sent out for this.”

I blushed at Tony’s compliment and took the box over to the vanity. “Y’all really want that nickname to stick, huh?” I asked, rolling my eyes as I opened the surprise gift.

“It’s an obsidian dagger. It’s made out of volcanic glass, so you should be able to control it with your powers if you get in a tight spot. And that’s a thigh holster. It should work over or under your clothes. The leather is reinforced on the inside, so you can't cut through it. But be careful. That thing is sharp as hell.”

I stared at the beautiful, semi-translucent black dagger and holster nestled in the red velvet inside the box. With a flick of my wrist, the dagger slipped from the sheath and flew into my waiting hand. The blade itself was about the length of my hand, and the handle just long enough for me to comfortably grasp it.

“It’s perfect, Tony, thank you,” I beamed, pulling everything from the box and carefully sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Natasha snapped out of admiring the weapon from afar once it was put away and pushed Tony toward the door. “Now shoo! She needs to strap that thing on and you need to go home to Pepper.”

“You kids have fun! The car is waiting out front! Do something I would do!”

I rolled my eyes with a smile at Tony’s shouted parting words before looking back down at his gift. It was beautiful. And he was right. The heavy dread that had settled in my stomach lightened slightly with the promised protection of the deadly weapon. The slim holster easily slipped up my leg and under my dress, which was just long enough to cover it. When I stood up and looked in the mirror, the extra swing of fabric around my legs concealed it. I had been concerned, since, once holstered, the set-up ran from slightly below my hip bone to the middle of my thigh on the outside of my leg.

“Let’s go, Trouble,” Natasha called, leaving the bathroom and shoving her feet into a similar pair of stilettos to what she had tried to force me into earlier. She was stunning in the classic strapless little black dress that clung to her every curve. I don’t know how she thought I was going to get any attention from whoever the mysterious ‘him’ was that she kept referring to when I would be standing next to her drop-dead gorgeous ass.

We both grabbed our bags on the way out of her room, mine a tasteful black leather square clutch on a long, thin gold chain and hers a bright red clutch with black straps to match her heels.

As we left her room, we saw the third member of our party. Sam was waiting for us dressed to kill in a brown leather jacket, white t-shirt, and dark jeans. He was the embodiment of looking cool without trying too hard.

But to my surprise, another man was waiting for us in the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks when I took in Loki leaning casually against the arm of the couch. The slim black pants, dark gray button-down shirt, and fitted black blazer looked like they were made for him and him alone to wear.

Oh. Him.

The arrogant smirk he normally wore fell from his face as his piercing green eyes blazed a path down my body, lingering on the golden snake bicep cuff and cutouts. The offhand comments Nat had made and her very particular styling choices suddenly made much more sense as I watched Loki eye me appreciatively. I was going to kill her and her meddling ass, assassin or not.

She pushed me toward Loki before walking over to Sam and casually slipping her arm around his waist so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. I stumbled slightly and turned to glare at her, wishing that that dumb green box had given me face-melting laser powers right about now. When I turned back around, Loki was standing just inches away and was offering me his arm with a mischievous smile.

“You look absolutely divine,” he murmured, taking my left hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

“Thank you.” I blushed for the second time that night and lowered my gaze to the floor in front of us.

We followed Sam and Nat silently down the stairs, Loki’s arm tightening to trap my hand securely against his body as we descended together. While my dazzling friends in front of us chatted away excitedly about tonight’s plans, I couldn’t get over my shock to think of anything to say to the prince escorting me to the back row of the waiting black SUV. He took one of my hands in his, the other resting politely on the middle of my back as he helped me inside. After I was settled on the rich leather interior, he went to the other side and gracefully slipped in next to me.

Sam and Nat piled into the row in front of us, letting the driver know that we were ready to go. I fumbled with the seatbelt, my hands shaking and missing the buckle once, twice.

Along with the shock of Loki’s presence on our outing, I was suddenly very aware that this was the first time I was going to go out in public since getting my powers. I thought I had a good grip on them, but what if I didn’t? Would wherever we were going have anything around that I could accidentally use against someone if I got hurt? What if I lost it and used my new dagger on someone? Loki's steady hands covered mine and helped me on the third try, bringing me back to the car and making my breath hitch in my throat.

I pulled away and angled my face to look outside. My heart was threatening to jump out of my chest. Not because of how pleasant his cool fingers had felt on my warm skin, but because I was anxious about being around so many people again. Yep. That’s it. I kept my eyes trained outside the heavily tinted windows for some time, listening to Sam and Nat without actually hearing what they were saying. Anything to focus on besides Loki’s leg that pressed into my own each time we were jostled by the car.

After a few tense minutes, I cleared my throat and blurted out the one thought that wouldn’t stop nagging at me. “Why’d you come?”

Loki’s eyes met mine and held them prisoner in his own with their intensity. “To keep you safe.”

And that was that.

~~~

We pulled up to a stop outside of a busy club, a long line curled around the side of the building as people waited in the chilly September air to be allowed inside. After accepting Loki’s hand to help me out of the car, I stifled a groan at the thought of waiting in such a line with just the short dress I had on to shield me from the cold. Neither Nat nor myself had thought about the weather when she was playing makeover.

But I had not realized the power of who I was with as I trailed behind my friends. Loki, Sam, and Nat strolled confidently up to the bouncer, Nat flashing him a jaw-dropping smile and Sam slipping him an even more jaw-dropping collection of bills. With a satisfied smirk and leering eyes ogling Nat’s ample cleavage, the giant of a man waved us inside.

The thumping bass assaulted my ears after we stepped through the door behind the bouncer. The smell of sweat and mixing colognes and perfumes made me crinkle my nose. Multicolored lights flashed across the club, just light enough to illuminate the undulating dancers in the middle of the room without being so bright that they felt self-conscious. Along the edge against the brick walls were various couches scattered here and there, left in shadow to afford those resting from their revelry a bit of a break from the pandemonium.

Nat didn’t seem to notice any of it as she let go of Sam and grabbed my arm instead. She yanked me from Loki’s grip and led me to the nearest of two dark wooden bars. I looked back at Sam and Loki briefly before I was swallowed up by the crowd. The former was already moving in on a very attractive woman, and Loki remained standing tall and proud where I had left him, alabaster skin changing colors with the flashing colored lights around him. His piercing eyes tracked me until I was out of sight. I turned my attention back to my friend, following in her incredibly steady footsteps for her mile-high stilettos. We both leaned against the bar and she flagged down the bartender.

“Vodka cranberry please, make it a double!” I shouted, hoping that the bartender could make out what I was saying over the almost deafening music. I couldn’t even hear what Nat ordered and she was right beside me. She placed a large bill in his hand after our two drinks were in front of us and shouted something else that I couldn’t pick up.

I grabbed mine and took a drink, grateful to discover that he had heard my order correctly. I didn’t have time to savor the drink, as Nat caught my attention by holding up a shot of clear liquid in front of me suggestively.

“No! I can’t hold my alcohol!” I shouted, shaking my head dramatically at her and attempting to push the liquor back in her direction.

She leaned into me, pushing the shot back into my hand. “Yes! What have you got to lose?”

With a groan, I accepted the shot and hastily poured it down my throat, wincing at the burn of vodka that I felt all the way down to my stomach. I chased it with a sip of my drink. It was a smart move for my taste buds, but not necessarily my liver. Too late now.

Her drink now in hand, Nat grabbed my free hand with hers and pulled me out onto the dance floor. I could see Sam off to the side, getting very familiar with the woman he had approached earlier. Loki was nowhere to be found, but he had to be close. He wouldn’t come all this way just to leave. He was most likely off taking advantage of the inebriated patrons and the dark surroundings, God of Mischief that he was. This was probably his twisted version of a candy store.

I felt the shot working its way through my system, warming my body and loosening up the strangled tightness that had gripped my chest in the car earlier. I could feel the power coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t hard to tamp it down and focus on the buzz in my head instead. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all. I allowed myself to give in to the infectious anonymity of the pulsing darkness, laughing and dancing with Nat.

Several songs and one more drink later, I was working my way passed tipsy and toward drunk, and I needed a break. I gestured toward the bar, but Nat shook her head and closed her eyes while she kept on dancing. It didn’t hurt my feelings any. She deserved to let loose just as much as I did and I didn’t need babysitting just to go get another drink and take a load off for a minute. I pushed my way through the crowd of sweaty bodies to the bar and plopped down on a barstool.

I pressed a bill from my clutch into the bartender’s hand when he came around to me, asking for another vodka cranberry. He went off to make my drink, and once he was back and the beverage was lightly grasped in my hand I closed my eyes for a moment to focus on catching my breath.

A cool hand settled onto the exposed skin at my waist and an arm stretched across my back. I opened my eyes to see someone plucking the drink from my hand before retreating quickly.

“What the fuck?” I swore loudly, whipping around to see Loki looking at me over his shoulder as he sauntered away, my drink held tauntingly in his slightly raised hand. He slipped into the crowd and I was just barely able to make out the top of his head among the throng of dancers.

I hopped off of the barstool a little less gracefully than I would have liked. I was at least grateful that I was able to pick my way through the crowd without stumbling into anybody despite the alcohol in my system.

While it had been easy to find him when I had been removed from the crowd thanks to his height, once I was surrounded by people I lost him. A growl of frustration passed through my lips. The God of Mischief was a real pain in my ass.

“Lose something?” The words were passed to me over the din of the club through smooth lips pressed against the shell of my ear.

I turned around to see Loki watching me with a smirk on his lips and mischief glinting in his eyes. I tried to be quick and snag my drink from him, but he lifted it higher so that all I succeeded in doing was looking like an idiot.

He stooped down to speak lowly into my ear again. “Your drink for a dance, little one.”

“Are you serious?’ I shouted, glaring at him as he pulled away. The quirk of his brow signified that his proposal was indeed very serious.

I contemplated just going back to the bar and getting another drink. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the money, with what Tony paid I could retire today and live a modest, but comfortable, life. But it was the principle of the thing that mattered. He was throwing down the gauntlet and I was just stubborn enough and drunk enough to pick it up.

I shrugged my shoulders in light acceptance of his terms and he closed the distance between us to place a large hand on the small of my back. I draped my arms around his shoulders and made sure to press back against his hand as I rolled my body to the beat that reverberated through my boots from the floor.

His pale skin was the perfect canvas for the colored lights to saturate as he stared down at me moving against him. I couldn’t help the smirk of my own as he pulled me closer to him until our chests brushed. I blamed the alcohol and exercise for the cause of my heart beating erratically in my chest and my uneven breaths. It wasn’t the darkening of his eyes as my hips rolled against his. And it was most definitely not the solid muscles that flexed against me with each twist of his body. Nor was it the wolfish smile that pulled on his lips as his hand skated across my back to grip onto the exposed feverish flesh on my side.

He used the leverage he gained from this new position to turn me around so that my back was to his front. I felt every angle of him against me as he pulled me flush against him, from his rigid chest curling into the back of my bare shoulders to his hips grinding deliciously against the padding of my ass. The hand not holding my drink rested on my flat stomach, keeping me against him as we moved together to the pounding bass. My arms reached up above me so that my hands could resume their place around the nape of his neck, consequently opening my body up to him for his perusal.

Surprisingly, he didn’t take advantage. His hand remained stretched across my soft stomach, holding me to him, but the other moved down around me until my drink was poised in front of my lips. Emboldened by the heady mixture of alcohol and his masculine scent surrounding me, I tilted my head forward enough to down what was left of my cocktail after he had seemingly taken his own drinks from it if the low level of liquid was anything to go by. The glass disappeared from his hand, which was now free to trail across my jaw and hook on my chin, turning my head so that his nose brushed against my cheek and his breaths panted out against my sweat-dampened skin.

“You have had your drink. You are free to go.” His words were at odds with his hand, which held me captive against him by digging pleasantly into my hip.

We had fulfilled the bargain that he had given me. I danced with him, and he had given me what remained of my drink. But it sounded like too much work to go find Nat, Sam was most definitely enjoying time with some random beautiful woman, and I had to admit that Loki was an amazing dance partner. Why would I leave him to go dance alone, or worse, have some random brute grind up on me and try to cop a feel? I knew, well kinda, what to expect with him, so I just laughed in response and dragged my nails against his sensitive skin at the nape of his neck.

Over the pounding music, I felt more than heard the rumble of his chest at my actions, and the sound sent chills through me. His large hands took to roaming over my body as we danced, never staying in one spot for too long. Dragging from the outside of my thighs to my hips to brush across my stomach to reach up and trail down my upraised arms and back again, leaving fire in their wake.

I shut down the logical part of my brain that told me that I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. That this was Loki, the god who hated me and was nothing but his own needs. Future me could worry about that. Right now I was too engrossed in the exhilarating movement of his body against mine to do anything about it. Especially when he ducked his head so that his lips trailed across my bare shoulder. It was intoxicating.He was intoxicating.

“What do we have here?” he purred, voice velvet sin behind me. His hands had stalled their movements on the outside of my legs, and one hand toyed with the edges of my dagger over the fabric of my dress.

I turned around in his arms and moved my hands down to rest against his chest. “Insurance,” I smirked up at him.

He chuckled darkly and looked positively sinister as he loomed over me. “Plan on using it?” he asked, his groping fingers reaching behind me to gather a healthy amount of my backside in their clutches.

I smiled sweetly up at him as I released him to reach behind me and take his hands into mine. “Only if you don’t keep your hands to yourself,” I replied, slipping out of his grasp and walking away.

When I peeked over my shoulder for his reaction, he was where I had left him, watching me stroll away with a predatory gleam in his eye that sent a rush of heat through me. The logical side of me had disappeared some time ago, sent away by the sensual roll of his hips against mine, so I shot him a wink before slipping through the crowd toward the edges of the bar, one of the dark leather couches calling my name.

What the hell was that wink?

I found an empty couch in the shadows and perched on the armrest, taking care to keep my thighs firmly closed together and my skirt draped over the lethal weapon I was hiding. Wouldn’t do for anyone to see anything they shouldn’t. It was much easier to breathe now that he wasn’t holding me so tightly to him, and I bowed my head as I focused on cooling and calming down.

“You need to rehydrate.” The words came from above me as a pale hand holding a glass of water slipped into my field of view.

Like any intelligent woman who had had alcohol in public before, I knew better than to accept a drink that I hadn’t seen made. I lifted my eyes to Loki, expecting to see the same lascivious expression on his face as I had last seem him, but only finding a light concern furrowing his brow instead. But he wasn’t looking at me. He straightened up while I watched him and turned partially around to stare off into the crowd. When he turned back to face me, an urgency had taken over his features.

The seriousness of his expression cut through my buzz and I stood up as quickly as I could manage from my awkward position on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

He seemed to grapple with something for a moment as he searched my face, indecision in his darting eyes and twitching fingers. When it appeared that he had made a decision, judging by the forced exhale through his nose and his hands reaching out to steady themselves on my waist, he stepped closer and stooped down so that our foreheads were almost touching. “Do you trust me, little one?”

My hands immediately went up to exhibit a light pressure on his chest, keeping him from getting any closer as I studied him. There wasn’t a smirk, mischievous grin, or pleased smile on his face to indicate that he was trying to trick me. The hunger that I had detected in his eyes earlier had been wiped clean and replaced with anxious sincerity. It was startling to see him change so abruptly.

Did I trust him? I mean, he hadn’t threatened to stab me in several weeks, so that was an improvement. And I sure as hell had been dancing with him just a few minutes ago like I did. I had picked to dance with him instead of going at it alone because I knew that he wasn’t going to be a creep about it. But trust implied something deeper. Built on a bond and respect and a mutual understanding. I wasn’t sure if I had that with him. He wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important, though. And it must be, to cause the visible tension in his body.

“Um, I guess so. Sure.” That was the best answer that I could give him. He was going to have to take it or leave it.

“Then trust me in this and do not hit me.”

“Don't hit-”

My words were swallowed by his lips swooping down onto my own. I froze under the suddenness of it. When I didn’t respond to his ministrations he dragged his lips from my mouth to my ear.

“I’m in contact with Sam and Natasha. They believe that Hydra has tracked us here and is searching for us. Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. We can disappear as another amorous couple seeking our pleasure in the shadows,” he explained quickly.

Nat had told me about that tactic. It was a common one, easy to execute if you had the wiles or knew your partner in a mission. I certainly didn’t have the first, but I had a bit more of the second now than I did at the beginning of the evening. If Nat thought that it would work now, and Loki agreed, who was I to argue?

He was waiting, tensed, for me to decide the next course of action. He was allowing me the option of going along with the plan or backing out. The very notion that he wasn’t going to force me into an uncomfortable situation after I had shown hesitance was one that I wouldn't have expected from him. He was known for taking what he wanted and begging no forgiveness, not for politely doling out options in times of distress.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gathering the smooth material into my palms. I tilted my head back enough to look up at him and traced the elegant contours of his face with my gaze, taking in the unexpected kindness that warmed his bright eyes. I tilted my face up to him and closed my eyes before bridging the small gap between our lips in a searching kiss.

I wasn’t sure what I expected kissing him to be like, I hadn’t truly thought about it, but it wasn’t this. His lips were so soft and tasted of vodka and cranberries as they worked expertly against me. His hands splayed out against waist and pulled me until our bodies were pressed together from hips to chest. The contact, so easy to facilitate earlier on the dance floor, was now much more charged and it coaxed a gasp from my throat.

That small noise seemed to awaken something within him, and the gentle exploration of my mouth turned more passionate, his tongue snaking out to tease the seam of my lips and beg for entrance. I granted it willingly and melted into him. My body moved on its own accord as he stoked molten flames beneath my skin. My fingers released their grip of his expensive shirt to wind around his neck and tangle in his long black hair. I lightly scratched at his scalp, remembering his pleasure at it while dancing, drawing a low groan from him that shot straight to the heat that was pooling in my lower belly.

His long body surrounded me. He walked us back until I was trapped between his body and the wall, pinned by his leg slipping between my own. When I wrenched my mouth away to gasp for the air that his embrace had stolen from me he took it in stride and moved his scorching lips to caress the delicate skin of my neck.

Just as soon as his tongue snaked out to lave against the pulse that was hammering in my throat, he froze, his once-relaxed muscles tensing against me. His hands left my body to press against the wall on either side of me as he towered over me. As if he could make me disappear behind his lean frame.

“We have to move. Now,” he panted, taking my hand in his and pulling me quickly behind him as we fled the relative safety of the shadows.

He led us to a metal exit door and we spilled outside. The chill of the air soothed my flushed skin and helped clear the haze that had settled over my mind. Loki held my hand behind his back as he looked around the dark alleyway we found ourselves in. The faint bass from the club stopped, and two gunshots reached my ears through the thin door behind us. Screaming patrons poured out of the front of the club. Thankfully they ignored our dark figures pressed against the rough brick wall.

“It’s Hydra. They discovered Sam and Natasha. We need to leave.” He kept his death grip on my hand as he pulled me deeper into the alley and away from the entrance.

“Don’t take another step.” A voice pierced through the screams, shooting ice-cold fear through my veins.

Loki turned around and pulled me with him, keeping his body between me and whoever had spoken. I peered around his shoulders to see two men slowly approaching us, guns pointed at Loki’s head.

Hydra had found us.

#to keep you safe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #loki/ofc #language tw #making out tw

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