themanygayships

[caspia-writes]

Penguin Classics Covers

I think @sleepy-night-child had an open tag for this a while back. If she didn't, I'm going to ignore that fact and do this anyway. Y'know. Several months later. At an unholy hour. As one does.

Anyway, here's six book covers from my current overall WIP, Verräter!

And now we have reached the point where I should, traditionally, tag people. Hmm.

First of all: here's an open tag for anyone interested!

For more specific tags, well... @whither-wander-whump? @oh-no-another-idea? @sleepyowlwrites or @ashen-crest?

(To be honest, I don't remember who all has done this and who hasn't, so no pressure and most definitely an open tag!)

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley sees Meredith again after so many months, he is filled with a range of emotions. He wonders if he has done enough for Noah on his own. His primary mission in life is to be the best dad, the one Noah deserves, and he has to be honest about how that is going to affect what he has going on with you.

Warnings: Angst, smut, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was up early. He'd barely slept anyway, but that wasn't entirely Meredith's fault. He had been scrolling through all the photos of you that he had saved on his phone, and he even considered calling you well past midnight. 

He had a bad feeling. Meredith had never gone this far before. Last year and the year before, she had simply called Bradley, begging for an update about Noah around his birthday. And once he had sent her some updated photos, she briefly bugged him about custody, and then she had vanished again. But now he felt like he had made things so much worse by ignoring her calls for so long. 

"What the fuck," he muttered as he got dressed. Meredith had followed you and Noah to the damn park! He wanted to believe that she wouldn't intentionally do any actual harm, but she obviously spooked you. Since you had no idea what she looked like, your reaction had been to put Noah's safety first.

Every time Bradley thought about you protecting his child, he got a warm feeling in his chest. Simply thanking you wasn't enough; he wanted to hold you and Noah and spend hours explaining it to you. Then maybe he could understand this feeling better himself. 

But you got hurt in this mess that Bradley had helped create. And he needed to make it better if he could. 

There was a light knock at his front door, and he went to answer it as he zipped up his jeans. "Hi," Nat whispered, giving him a tight hug as he let her inside. "What time is she coming?" 

"I have no idea," he replied miserably, and Nat rubbed his back for a moment. When Bradley called her last night, she agreed to watch Noah while Meredith came by. He wanted to find out what Meredith wanted before he let her see Noah.

"Okay, well, I'm free all day. I'll take Noah with me back to my place, and you can just call me after Meredith fucks off."

Bradley nodded. 

"And if Meredith doesn't feel like fucking off," she added, "I'll make her."

Bradley couldn't help but grin down at her. "Thanks, Nat. I'll go wake him up."

Once he had played another round of musical car seats, Bradley waved as Nat pulled out of his driveway with Noah and a stack of coloring books in tow. Of course the coloring books were ones that you had brought over when you came to babysit or just spend time here, and now Bradley was itching to call you. 

Instead he messed around with his coffee maker and brewed a vanilla latte, just the way you liked it. He was still sipping it and thinking about how much he loved the way you looked in his house when another knock jarred him from his thoughts. 

He abandoned the coffee on his counter and went to the door once again. "Meredith," he said with no emotion as the tall blonde pushed past him and into his living room. 

"Bradley." Her expression was smug as she looked around; it had been years since she was here, and very little had changed. But Bradley did see her eyes catch on some of the artwork you and Noah had made for him which was hanging on the far wall. "Where's Noah?" 

"He's not here," Bradley replied, tucking his hands in his pockets.

She turned back to him and glared. She had always been beautiful but haughty. "I don't want to see you. I want to see him."

Bradley didn't waver. "You specifically told me on the phone that you wanted to talk to me in person. So let's talk."

"Fine," she said cooly, dropping down onto his couch. "But next time we set something like this up, I want him here too."

Bradley almost laughed in her face as he sat too. Next time? Over his dead body there would be a next time. Noah didn't know who his birth mother was, and Bradley wanted to keep it that way. Bradley grew up without a dad, but under very different circumstances. Meredith had a track record of being nonexistent, and Bradley didn't want that for his son.

"Where is he?" she asked, sharp eyes on him. 

Bradley sighed. "He's being well taken care of, Meredith."

"By your babysitter?" Then she said your first and last name, and Bradley felt a chill wash over his body. 

"How do you know her name?" he grunted, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap.

"It wasn't hard to find out after I got her license plate number. She's a nursing student at the University of San Diego, Bradley. A mere child," she said, shaking her head sadly.

Bradley's heart was pounding. Meredith knew who you were, and she wanted something from him. "Did you scare my babysitter on purpose yesterday?"

Meredith laughed, head tipped back as she placed her hand over her heart. "Are you really going to keep calling her that, Bradley? She's obviously 'babysitting Noah' because you're messing around with her. Your little booty call. And she looks like she is all of eighteen years old."

"She's twenty four. And don't talk about her like that," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Don't."

Her eyes lit up. "So it is true. I was just making an assumption, going off a hunch. She's cute, so I'm not surprised at all. But I don't think they are going to take too kindly to a father who is busy fucking the babysitter. One who is basically half his age, at that. A father who is distracted. A trashy, young babysitter who is sleeping with someone over a decade older than her."

"Meredith," he growled, trying his hardest to stay calm, but he was seething now. 

"And you let that trash around our son, Bradley. A glorified slut, making money and getting laid while she's at it. And that's not even taking into account that you're still in the Navy. You leave Noah with random friends of yours every time you're deployed, none of whom are his legal guardian. None of them can make decisions in an emergency. You lack any and all stability." She was completely calm as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed. "No, they will not like that at all."

"What the fuck are you getting at, Meredith?" And then Bradley noticed for the first time that she brought a fancy looking leather bag with her, out of which she procured a manila folder.

"This should spell everything out nicely for you." She handed it to him, and he opened it and skimmed through a stack of papers. His heart rate grew steadily faster until it was getting hard to breathe. It felt just like the first time he hit 8 G's. He was going to throw up. Bradley could feel the bile rising in his stomach as the panic truly set in. His insides clenched as he looked at her.

"You want custody."

"Full custody, yes. I have a lawyer. A good one."

He closed the folder and tried to hand it back to her, but she pulled her hands away and stood. "You can keep that," she said with a smirk. "I made several copies."

Bradley stood as well, and got in her face. "No judge in this entire state is going to award you custody of Noah. Not after the shit you've pulled."

She shrugged and headed for the door. "Lucky for me, you've pulled your own shit. We'll just have to wait and see who sounds more believable."

His heart was thudding, and his ears were ringing. "You abandoned us, Meredith! You haven't paid a single penny for anything in nearly four years, and Noah doesn't even know who the fuck you are!"

As she turned the knob, she looked back at him and said, "Abandonment is a strong word, and you can't prove anything. And may I suggest you learn to keep your emotions in check? It will be good practice for the courtroom. And you need to keep that girl you're sleeping with away from our son. I won't hesitate to ruin her if I need to. You already forced me to go through her once, Bradley. I'll do it again with no remorse if I have to. Noah is my son. Just because that girl is fucking you, that doesn't give her the same rights I have."

"Do I need to get a restraining order, Meredith?" he called, but she was already walking out to her car with a little wave over her shoulder. 

"Not if you want me to allow you to have visitation rights. Oh, and make sure you answer my calls next time, so we can prevent another visit at the park!"

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

You were laying on your back porch in the sun, trying to finish reading your assignments for the following week. Every hour or so, your phone went off, but it was never from the only person you wanted to hear from. It was just a bunch of texts from Greyson, begging you to come over. He must be bored. It was probably too early in the day for him to get stoned, and you knew he was too lazy to look for another girl for the night. That was why he was bothering you now. 

You squinted and turned your head away from the sunlight and thought about your ruined sunglasses, crunched up in the parking lot next to the playground. Bradley said he was going to call Meredith. You were so embarrassed; you actually ran away from Noah's mom. Surely she wasn't going to hurt either of you. She probably just wanted to see him, even if she did sound like a bitch when Bradley described her. But she was pretty. And probably just the right age for Bradley. Now you had a very clear image in your mind of exactly what he was trying to replicate when he was using the dating app.

You had a gross feeling in your stomach. You hated waiting like this. You were always waiting for everyone else. First you waited for Greyson to contact you whenever he wanted to see you. More recently you'd been waiting for Bradley to let you know where you stood with him.

When you decided you were hungry, you stood and went to your kitchen. You tore open a bag of Skittles as you looked through your refrigerator, but after you ate a handful, you left the rest on the counter and walked away. 

When your phone rang late in the afternoon, you answered it as soon as you saw who it was. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly, and you were met with a beat of heavy silence that made you want to cry.

"Hi. Any chance you can stop by later? Just for a minute?"

"Yeah," you replied, pacing the length of your small living room before curling up on your couch. "I can do that."

"I'll see you later."

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

Nat kept Noah at her place for most of the day while Bradley had a good, old fashioned nervous breakdown. His best friend was good like that, and he didn't even have to give her any details yet. She just knew what to do without any prompting. 

Bradley sat in the middle of Noah's bedroom floor and thought about everything he could lose if this didn't work out for him. He had a dresser full of Noah's little clothes behind him, and a closet full of Noah's toys next to him. He paid for everything for his child. And not that Noah was a burden on him in any way, but they never got any help from Meredith, monetarily or otherwise. But he could see how it would be impossible to prove she abandoned the two of them. And it probably didn't help that he never returned her phone calls or let her see him when she begged in the past.

She was a business developer. She made more money than Bradley. But he never went after her for a cent, because he knew he would rather have his son to himself than have to share Noah with someone who didn't really care about him.

So why the fuck did Meredith want to be involved now? It didn't make sense. And Bradley hated that he thought the worst of her at this moment, but he did. He just knew there had to be something he was missing here. 

He laid back on the floor and fiddled with his phone, forcing himself to stop from calling you. He rubbed one large hand along his face and let out a sting of curse words. The fact that he wasn't sure if he would be able to protect his own son was making him anxious and scared. But he could protect you. He could save your name from being dragged through the mud. He could prevent you from potentially spending your time in a courtroom, from becoming collateral damage to Bradley's crime of falling for Meredith and getting her pregnant in the first place. 

And Bradley knew he had to protect you, because he wasn't worth it. Getting messed up with him was not worth your time and aggravation. He just wished he had pumped the brakes a little harder, told you this was a bad idea and shut it down earlier. He should have never let it get physical. All the flirtation and banter should have been enough for him. He should have taken it for the ego boost that it could have been and moved on, pursued a woman from the dating app and stayed away from you. 

It was already too late for him though. Because he knew how you tasted. He knew all the little noises you made when you were underneath him. He knew how good you looked in his clothes. He knew how much Noah loved you. And he fucking knew you loved his kid right back.

And now all of his baggage was coming back to haunt him. 

"Fuck!" Bradley shouted. And then he scrolled through his phone until he found Tracy's number. It was a Saturday, and he hated to do this on the weekend, but what choice did he have? 

"Hello?" 

"Tracy? It's Bradley Bradshaw. I'm not sure if you remember me, and I'm sorry it's Saturday-"

"Bradley. Of course I remember you. And your sweet son. Noah, was it?"

"Yeah," he replied, running his hand over his eyes. He had taken Noah with him last year when Nat urged him to talk to a lawyer about setting up a will. They had also touched on the topic of a custody agreement, which Bradley had firmly told Tracy was something that wasn't necessary at the time. 

"What can I do for you?"

"Do you remember our conversation about custody and parental rights for Noah?"

"Yes, I remember."

He sighed deeply. "I think I need to revisit that conversation."

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

You changed into a cute sundress and packed up the three remaining coloring books and the pack of neon crayons you had for Noah. You added a bag of Skittles to your tote, and then you headed out to your car as tears prickled your eyes. 

Your arm hurt a lot more today, and changing the bandages with your left hand had been challenging. You considered taking your first aid kit along with you and asking Bradley for help. But then you decided that getting over there and getting this over with was more important. 

He must have spoken to Meredith by now, and while you weren't sure exactly what that meant for you, there was no doubt it wasn't good. 

You parked in his driveway alongside his Bronco, and let yourself in the front door. It was late. Noah was probably in bed already. That was probably why Bradley asked you to come now. 

"Hi," you whispered. He was sitting in the middle of the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, and he looked impossibly handsome as he glanced up at you. 

"Hi," he echoed, his voice deep and raspy. You thought that maybe he wanted to add Princess to that greeting by the way his lips were silently working, but then he snapped his mouth shut. 

You wanted to go sit in his lap. It was the only thing that would make you feel better right now, but you knew you shouldn't do it. And as you took a few steps closer to him, he stood, and you could feel the heat from his big body. 

"Are you okay?" you asked softly. He leaned a little closer to you, like he wanted to kiss you. His hands were reaching for your hips, but you watched him clench them into fists and drop them to his sides. 

"I think I will be," he replied, and you couldn't stand it any longer. You reached for his face, stroking his mustache as his eyes closed. And then you kissed him. And he kissed you back. Right before he took a staggering step away from you.

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

The only thing Bradley wanted to do was get lost in your kisses and beg for you. He wished he could forget about everything that had happened after he fucked you at your place and left for work yesterday. Pretend Meredith wasn't a threat. But he couldn't keep pretending. That much was made clear when he spoke to his lawyer earlier.

After he stepped away from you, he cleared his throat and said, "We can't do this anymore."

You laughed humorlessly as you ran your fingers along your glossy lips. "Can't do what anymore, Bradley? What exactly have we been doing?"

"Messing around," he replied, keeping his eyes on your face. It was so much more than that though, and he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for trying to make you think he felt any differently. For trying to make you think he didn't care about you. "It was fun, but I need to take things seriously. For myself and for Noah."

You pressed your lips together and looked at the floor. "Did you and Meredith get back together?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

The thought of it made him sick. It made him feel outraged to even think about Meredith at all, let alone romantically. But if that's where your mind went, then so be it. 

"We talked about it."

You gasped, but you didn't look at him. "You told me she abandoned you. And you think that would be best for Noah? Best for you?"

"I'm... not sure," he replied, wanting more than anything to collect you in his arms and take care of you. Kiss you. Be with you. But he couldn't protect you and do those things right now. Not after his conversation with Meredith, and especially not after speaking to Tracy. "But sometimes people change."

"You sound unsure," you said, looking up at him hopefully as tears collected in your eyes. "Why won't you give me a good reason? A solid reason?"

Bradley ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, using his anger to hold back his own tears. "I can give you a whole list of reasons. Is that what you want?" You didn't respond verbally, but the quiver of your lips made him keep going. "You're too young for me. I need a woman more mature than you. Someone who would help me take care of Noah. Someone I could be in a real fifty/fifty relationship with. And not just with Skittles."

You sobbed, and he hated himself. But he kept going.

"You think you want this, but you don't. You're just a kid. You don't know what you want. But I can guarantee that me and all my baggage isn't it."

"I never said you had baggage-"

But he cut you off, shaking his head and saying, "I said it. So it doesn't matter what you did or didn't say. This is not going to work. I don't want this."

You had tears dripping onto your cheeks now as you looked up at him. Your pretty face was scrunched up in sadness or rage. Probably both. Because he was behaving like a dick. 

Your shoulders shook while you cried. "Fine. I understand," you said through your tears. "I can't make you want me back."

He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, because you were the only thing he wanted right now. He had let himself indulge in his feelings for you, and now he was hurting you on purpose. And it was killing him.

"Can I say goodbye to Noah?" you whispered, swiping at your tears.

Bradley nodded, stumbling behind you as you walked quickly to Noah's room. He stood in the doorway and watched you gently brush Noah's hair away from his forehead as you sobbed. Then you bent to kiss his cheek and whispered, "I love you, Noah."

Bradley couldn't take it. He turned away and walked back to the living room. He broke his own heart, which he could eventually probably handle, because the outcome he wanted was important to him. He could come to terms with keeping you away from him. He knew you'd be better off without him in the long run anyway.

But he hadn't anticipated how much this was going to hurt his son. Maybe he had made a mistake.

When you walked back into the living room with your tote bag on your shoulder, you slapped Bradley's house key against his chest without looking at him. He fumbled and caught it before it dropped, but when he turned toward you, all he saw was the swirl of your dress as the door slammed shut behind you. 

Bradley stood with the key in his hand, inhaling the smell of wildflowers as he listened to your car pull out of his driveway. 

"Goodbye, Princess."

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

Bradley, what did you do?! Hope you enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 14

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[itwasnotahamster]

- Letters from the Dead - (Part 1)

Langhus, 21 March 1990 | © The Old Nick | Source: Letters from the Dead

The brackets will indicate possible context or corrections (sometimes commentary). - 💜

"Only Black is true, only Death is real!!! Gore is trend! Hello Nick! It's Dead here again. Hey- you're really good at drawing, I use to do some drawing stuff myself. I enclose something of it in this letter. Maybe we together can work something out, maybe even in Metal Destruction…? You asked of releases, if we need some artworks for that... Well we rarely give out much and as for the next release we'll probably have some photograph instead. But if we would need something that you might feel for help us out with I'll tell of it. So what we can use drawings for is for stuff like flyers, ads and letter­pages. So far I have done the drawings for that... well the main reason of that is that we have a (old!) xerox mashine and I'm the one in the band that 'can' draw. It's not so often that I have time left to spend hours or sometimes days by making drawings and too many don't like that kind of drawings I make (but fuck them wimps!). But onto the Deathlike Silence Prod. now. The 2nd edition of the 1st release on DSP. - Merciless is out now, the one you get here as promo. We're looking for distributors everywhere and everybody who can sell 10 (or more) records will receive a copy for free + that 10 records will be cheaper. As soon as this the 2nd ed. has paid, Imperator will go in studio.

Imperators LP will contain 8-10 songs (depending on how many "old demo songs" they'll use - but it'll be new trax as well) and it'll be entitled "The time before time". After that it'll probably be the colombian Masacre as the next release. Masacre will be very soon release a 7- inches with 3 demo songs on the greek label Scene of Love. That's a new started label and I hope they can give out enough copies, not limited ed. of it. Of course we give the bands free hands and they're not bounded to use at all, but I'm thinking of the fact that Masacre is selling so much... Only in Colombia their 1st, and only demo sold 1000 copies ( which is more than our Deathcrush demo has sold worldwide...). We can only press up 1000 copies each time of every edition of DSP, and the first ed. Of Merciless sold out as fast as we could pack and post it. This second ed. we recieved [received] for not a so long time ago will depend on how much stamps we can get, of how soon it'll sell out. In Norway it's very hard to sell records - it's far away from USA or South America and I don't think any real scene exists here. Do you think you can take care of some distribution/selling of DSP releases, or you maybe know someone else who's interested? [True dedication]. I think Merciless will be very easy to sell in Italy. Many zines exists there and we recieve many letters from there also. We also sell other records (given out by various underground labels) but it can be so different of what records of others releases we sell 'cos we usually don't get so many of them, so they sell out so soon. But anyway - I can tell of what we presently have got (except of Merciless)

LP's (£10000 + postage)

Agressor/Loudblast (split LP, France) "Licenced to thrash"

Arakain (Czechoslovakia, speed metal - I do not like this one!) "Thrash the Trash"

Nomed (France)... very boring mainstream... "Like..."

Abomination (USA)

Disharmonic Orchestra/Pungent Stench (Austria, split LP)

Malicious Intent (Canada) "Shades of black"

7's (£5000 + postage)

Asphyx (Holland, Limited ed. 1000 copies) "Mutilating Process"

Atrocity (Germany) "Blue Blood"

Pungent Stench (Austria) "Extreme Deformity"

Disharmonic Orchestra (Austria) "Successive Substitution"

Do not print this in Metal Destruction, I will explain it to you, ok. If you want any of these records above, please tell of how many and of what records so I can see how much the postage will be. Now over to Mayhem. For the first time we've been in studio and recorded 2 songs (first time with this line-up I mean). It'll be released on Chicken Brain Records, a swedish kind of underground label some time in this autumn. It'll be 8-19 other (swedish) bands on it, among them Merciless. I don't know the title of this compilation LP/CD. Our songs that'll be on it are "The Freezing Moon" and "Carnage". The Freezing Moon is a new one and pretty different from our other songs, as example it's a long guitar solo on a very long Doom part on it and that's because we wanted to have a solo at only one track (of our new ones). Carnage was made in '85 (!) so it's really old. It was on the 1st demo/reh - Pure Fucking Armageddon (released in only 100 copies and not available) but with the thought of the very bad sound on it we feeled for playing it again and try to keep the original sound of it. I'll tape these trax for ya but I'm not so sure of if it'll be enclosed in this letter or if I'll put this letter togeather [together] with the Merciless record but anyhow you'll get this tape. You can record it to others if you like to but please don't trade it, and I'll record some else bands too for filling out the rest of the tape. Have you heard of the INCREADIBLY KILLING GREAT band Tormentor from Hungary? Their demo is about 4 years old but it sounds like the Death/Black metal bands of today. We try to find out if they want a deal on DSP. But unfortunately they hardly speak any English at all so it seems like neither them or us understood it... We think of releasing a full-lengtht LP of Mayhem but it seems to take a fucking longtime before we got material enough for it... The only we know about it is a title that MUST be used - De Mysteriis Dom. Sathanas. That was about all future plans I can tell of I guess. I look forward to see Metal Destruction. There's a possibility that we can sell it also, but I can't say if for sure.

About Satanism... well, I'd like to join a very underground and Illful, Evil and Grim Coven. I think you know of the hassles by finding any or getting any contact with a such. I do NOT like what's created by Anton LaVey like 1st Church of Satan. I came in contact with a dude who's a degree in the American Satans Sons - Church of Satan and he explained of it has nothing to do with LaVey at all. I asked of if it does exist in Europe also and of what it is exactly... well he didn't reply. But I heard later thet Satans Sons shall exist in Europe but I still don't know in which countries it is. In Norway it's not much of this, but in Sweden (-I am swedish) that 1st Church shall be in Stockholm (the capital there) and it shall be about 5 churches built by satanic sects, used only by satanists, mostly it's under christian churches - like the one under "Mariakyrkan" (Mary's Church) in the South of Stockholm where the 1st Church of Satan use to hang around at. I know it exists really Dark covens that use human sacrifices and are eating human flesh - them are those I try to find. I do not know much about magic and I can't say I'm a practicer of it 'cos I havn't succed. What is depending on what one can do in magic (all of its kind) is of what books one can get...those are hidden in libraries and so hard to even see... 'cos of course they don't let anyone even see them. You must be a scientist or something like if you would see the microfilms of that kind of books. A great library of many various kinds of magical arts and the Blackest of Black Arts too is the British Museum in London. But it's so damned difficult to get ones claws on those books. One book I really wanna get is De Mysteriis Dom. Sathanas, unfortunately it exists only in one copy... are you practicing any magic and do you know of any covens? Have you seen/heard/felt anything supernatural? I have but I didn't understand much of what that was and I think the most of it was only so-called echoes from the past or the future [I am curious about this]. Do you know anything about astral planes and out-of body travelling? You seem to be into it and I agree about stupid trendmakers so it is something that I feel I can tell you of. I had a weird experience once, I had inner bleedings and it couldn't be found at x-rays so when it continued to bleed and bleed I finally fainted and dropped down the floor 'cos I run out of blood. The heart had no blood left to beat and my veins/artairs were almost emptied of blood. "Tecnically" I was dead. At that moment I fell down (into a door I heard of later) I saw a strange blue colour everywhere, it was transparent so I could, for a short moment, see everything in blue, till something shining white and "hot" surrounded me. What happened later is out of interest, I woke up when some ambulance men came and drove me to a hospital and there the bastards of surgery started to cut me up at the wrong side so I got a huge scar for that. However, it's someone I know who's had many out of body experiences and is using magic of various kinds and knows much more than I do of "supernatural" experiences, that I asked of this 'cos it was so strange about those colours. She told me that the first 'plane' in the astral world has the colour blue. The "earthly" plane has the colour black, then comes a grey one that is very near the earthly one and is easy to come to. The next one further is blue, and then it gets brighter and brighter till it "stops" at a white-shining one that can't be entered by mortals. IF any mortal succee enter it, that one is no longer a mortal and can not come back to the other planes nor back to this earth. After the white plane or level or whatever it goes further with other colour I don't know of, there only spirits and great sorcerers can travel. I was told that the white plane I then entered, without I knew it, was the dead world and I died. But I also got thrown back after a short time which very rarely happens. So of what I've heard of I have some kind of purpose to achieve here."

Reached the limit for this one, I will add on!

[chevvy-yates]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

I may chose my art for this one!

it's been a long while since I drew my last pic! (back in 2021 I think) – if at all, I drew once a year during the last 5 years bc it takes me ages.

I used to do a lot of traditional fanart back in the day (and during my studies), then I found a liking in drawing with illustrator (lol yes) and did digiatal stuff as in outliens in this programm and then went on coloring with photoshop (I never got into using ipad apps to draw).

But let's start with

OLD BUT GOLD – traditional stuff (I'm still proud of):

Phoenix, garuda fighting nagas and a Japanese Zombie Dragon yo!

I've been influenced a lot by Japanese traditional woodblock print and tattoo art and I love mythical beats and creatures. So these exist.

I'll put the two I did of Kyo (vocalist of Dir en Grey) extra including the songs I drew them for, next. He's perfect for art (I may have been influnced by his artbooks and album designs a little as well at that time).

and this stuff here is my most recent I did for a personal 960s au fic of an old tv western show I started writing when rona times hit (it kept me super busy, thankfully). Since I wanted to make more or less a book out of the chapters I decided to draw a bit for it as well, so have Gil, Rowdy and Rowdy's bike:

I miss doing illustrations sometimes and I often thought about drawing my pixel boys as well but tbh, I can take pics of them that almost look real to me at times and like I always wanted them to be, it costs me a few hours now instead of 3 days spending on an illustration like I used to do (I mean, look how often I lost myself in drawing details already in my traditional ones - the work behind it was often immense — I remember having parts of Lotus lyrcis, which were Japanese, translated into Siddham for the Lotus Kyo one! To this day I do not know if it is right or wrong, noone can read it anway i guess? lol

[th3e-m4ng0]

hello!! do you have any tips or advice on knowing when to stop and take a break instead of recklessly pushing forward for perfectionist artists like myself? i always keep pushing it and telling myself "just a little more," but end up biting off waaaaay more than i can chew. i think i might be a little too obsessed with perfecting and refining everything i draw, including sketches and simple doodles, when it's completely okay to just. leave it as it is!! and while it's probably not 100% bad, i don't think it's all that good for me in the long run, either i have such a terrible habit of turning something simple into something more refined. like, i'll have a nice, simple and messy doodle, for example, but then end up obsessively cleaning up the lines aka basically converting a sketch into inks when it should've stopped and stayed a doodle i'm sorry if this ask seems kinda overwhelming, it got somewhat long!! it's just been something that's been on my mind for a while now and i wanted to seek out other people's opinions on it...

oughhhh that's hard, but i get you !!! sometimes i'll be doodling something that popped into my head, then blink, and realize i just rendered the darn thing fghfhfgh

have you tried setting up timers? for like, maybe an hour, or an hour and a half? (or maybe 10 or 15 minutes, that's up to you !!) try finishing a drawing (or doodle) in that time, and leave it as it is when the alarm starts ringing. it'll help with how you manage time and keep the drawing detailed enough (but not Too Detailed) that it looks good enough, because you're not spending time on rendering Everything, but rather focusing on keeping the drawing comprehensible

or perhaps zoom out of the canvas from time to time? that's what i do when i catch myself detailing things, i zoom out until the drawing looks quite small (but not That Small), sit back on my chair and stare at it intensely. can i still see the details? are they That important to the whole piece? most of the time, you won't see them very clearly, and they might even be interfering with the flow of the artwork, and you Don't Want that !! (I know i don't). so if that happens, just stop, and leave the drawing be

sometimes a drawing doesn't have to look perfect to You, it can just look 'Good Enough', because chances are whoever sees it will think it's Perfect and Just Right !! like the cake image, the audience will be like "ohh cake, tasty !!!"

[aldercaps]

Artist ask game!

2 5 9 16 22 26 29 30

Go!

thank for the ask!! This kind of stuff is very fun to talk about

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

I will nearly always draw someone facing left if I have a choice! idk its just easier. often if i have to draw someone facing right i just... flip the canvas so i can draw them facing left instead skdjhfs

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

oh the VAST majority i don't post, it's mostly doodles and things that i don't think are finished enough to publish. the stuff you see on tumblr and instagram is like, 10% of what i make probably.

9. What are your file name conventions

uhhhhhhhhhh. bad. on my new laptop it doesn't automatically show what the file visually looks like which makes it WAY easier to find what i'm looking for. let me see the pictures, windows

these are just the files ive actually named. the stuff that stays on procreate just stays as "untitled artwork 256"

like once a year i'll go through all my files and name them with reasonable things like the one on the bottom, since thats what my digital design teacher taught me when i was in high school, but otherwise its just. random words.

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

I don't know if I'm especially good at it more than other stuff i do, but i just don't see the point in doing clean, crisp lineart. i CAN do it, I just hate it. it takes so long and id rather spend fifteen hours painting than doing crisp lines and cel shading.

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

😬

sometimes i remember to do stretches afterwards?

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

uhhhhh i'm not actually sure. I can remember a drawing i did ages ago back in highschool of two characters about to get into a fight, one of my friends looked over as i was flipping through and shrieked because she thought i was drawing them about to fuck, if that counts? I couldn't find it to show you though, I have no idea where my sketchbooks from high school went.

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

god, i don't really know? Even if something doesn't directly *visually* inspire me, I don't think anything I love doesn't affect my art in some way, even if I'm not consciously doing it. Permeability of the soul and all that.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

hmmm. I can't think of anything recent since my art like, consistently gets more than 2 notes now, which is still wild to me. i could tell which one is definitely OVERrated (tumblr radar found my post just as the wwdits hyperfixation faded for good) but maybe this one from two years ago? I still really like it, but it only got like ten notes.

[novelmonger]

imaginary brother idea

This is a story idea I'd love to turn into a visual novel someday, and I hope to work in collaboration with my sister to make that happen eventually (she would do the programming and artwork, I would do the writing and maybe help with finding music/sound effects).

I don't have a solid grasp of the plot yet, just a basic premise. The main character is a ten-year-old boy named David who lives with his mom, who has to work long hours to support them. David is something of a loner and doesn't really have any friends, but he does have an older brother named Jonathan, who is fourteen and David's best friend. Jonathan is basically the ideal older brother - he's smart, fun, cool, always seems to know what to do or what to say, and never complains about having to spend time with his kid brother. He genuinely likes hanging out with David, and David looks up to him so much.

There's just one catch: Jonathan is imaginary.

Excerpt below the cut (from a thing I wrote in a burst of inspiration before we got the idea to make this a visual novel).

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan got to his feet and headed for the door. “You have to have supper.”

“No. I'm fat enough already.”

Complete silence fell over the room. Jonathan stood frozen, his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned back to face David. His expression was inscrutable in the dim light. “What did you say?”

David felt tears welling up, burning at the backs of his eyes, and he quickly rolled over to face the wall again. “You heard me,” he whispered.

“Who told you that?” Jonathan's voice was hard. “David, who said that to you?”

David shrugged. “Nobody has to say. Isn't it obvious already? I'm just a...a fat...l-lazy...pathetic....”

The mattress sagged with Jonathan's weight again. This time, he sat right next to the pillow, and David wondered if he could see the tears beginning to leak out again. He wondered if he was going to give him another hug, or rub his back like Mom probably would in such a situation.

To his surprise, Jonathan did neither. Instead, he grabbed David's chin and turned his head a little roughly to face him. “Hey—listen to me, dude. Don't let anybody get away with talking to you like that. Especially not yourself. Hear me?”

David wrenched out of Jonathan's grip, turning his head away again in shame. “Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “You're strong...fast...good at everything.... You don't get picked on every day. You don't...prove how...how uncool you are...every d-day....”

Jonathan snorted. “So just because I don't have to try as hard, that means I'm better than you? Sheesh, you've got a lot to learn about this life if you think that's how it works.”

David peeked over his shoulder at Jonathan, too confused for the moment to continue feeling sorry for himself.

Jonathan was nothing but a silhouette against the orange light streaming in through the window. “So you wanna be cool, huh? Well, why the heck are you listening to those bozos who talk to you like that, then? Why do you want their approval anyway? Sounds to me like all they do is put people down to make themselves feel better. That doesn't sound like a cool person to me. Just sounds like a loser.”

Slowly, David rolled over to a more comfortable position to watch Jonathan's silhouette. “You think so?”

“Hey, I can prove they don't know what they're talking about. Remember Lord of the Rings?”

David nodded. Jonathan had read it to him last year, and then they'd borrowed the movies from the library. He'd watched them over and over until they had to go back. Maybe they should check them out again....

“Okay. Then think about Samwise Gamgee. He's a chubby little Hobbit. A gardener. Not a graceful Elf like Legolas, not a cool sword-wielding warrior like Aragorn. He doesn't have magic like Gandalf. But you know what? If it wasn't for him, the Ring would never have made it to Mordor. Some people say he's the true hero of the story. And did he ever stop to say, 'Oh well, I'm fat, guess I'll give up now'?”

Despite himself, David giggled at the thought. Already, his heart felt lighter. Somehow, Jonathan always seemed able to make anything bearable. He swiped his hand across his eyes again. “So...are you saying that...I'm not fat?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I'm saying, who cares if you're fat or not? Some lame guys at school think you're fat? So what? That's like the oldest insult in the book. Just goes to show you've got more creativity in your little toe than they could ever hope to have.” He could hear a wry smile in Jonathan's voice. “Of all people, I should know that.”

Smiling, David sat up. “Okay. Pot roast?”

With a laugh, Jonathan ruffled his hair. “Sure, pal. Pot roast.”

David beamed. He loved it when Jonathan called him pal. More than anything else Jonathan had said, that was what convinced him: He was cool. He was cool to Jonathan, and that was the only opinion that truly mattered in the end.

WIP ask game

[mxssromanoff]

I. I Won't Say I'm In Love

part two | part three

prompt; you and isabela have been rivals the second you two met and have been obsessively hating on each other since

pairing/s; isabela x fem!reader

warning/s; language (like just one word lol)

wordcount; 1.17k

a/n; the amount of times i had to re-write this bc my dumb butt kept accidentally posting this (six times!). anyway, i'll write the second part on my free time. 1k is my limit

You and Isabela have hated each other for as long as you could remember, and no matter how much you two avoided seeing each other, you'd still end up being face to face with Señorita Perfecta—what was left of the perfect girl you once knew at least.

I mean, your houses were facing each other and your bedroom window was directly across from her balcony! Seeing each other was unavoidable at that point.

It was like the stars aligned to make both of your lives miserable.

But you being spiteful of each other wasn't without reason either.

You still remembered, clear as day, being bitter about not winning an art contest for the children in the Encanto just because Isabela could pull flowers out of her ass.

You, of course, being the six year old kid that you were who was quite the sore loser, told Isabela to her face that she was a fake who only won because she was a Madrigal and of course, she didn't take kindly to that and demanded you apologize.

You didn't and instead tore her artwork to pieces. Fists went flying everywhere after that.

Needless to say, you've hated each other since then and have even brought your rivalry to adulthood, fighting over the pettiest of things.

Nothing changed either even after Casita was rebuilt.

“Ugh, look at her,” you said as you looked up from your sketches, a spiteful gaze specially directed at the bright blue figure of Isabela Madrigal who was busy trying to make crops sprout in front of her family's casa.

“You're still playing that game?” Mirabel asked as she lounged next to you in front of your house.

“What game, Mira?” you snapped. There was no game in hating Isabela Madrigal, no matter which form she took.

“Oh, I don't know,” Mirabel gave you an innocent look before her eyes landed on the dress you were supposed to be working on.

And that's right, you were the town's dressmaker, having taken the mantle of your papa's legacy, which was the main reason why Mirabel could be seen hanging around you.

Aside from the fact that both of you used to share mutual hatred for her sister.

Your eyes followed hers and the moment you realized that you've been absentmindedly scribbling the eldest Madrigal with the angriest chicken scratches you've seen in existence, you closed your sketchbook.

At least she didn't see Isabela's name scribbled over and over again on one of the other pages.

“She was in my line of sight, I couldn't focus on anything else!” you reasoned.

“Riiiight, right, so, um, you still hate Isa even if she's changed?” she asked you.

“Of course, I do!”

Isabela might have retired from being a Colombian Barbie but it wasn't like she ever faked hating your guts. What would she gain from that anyway? As far as you were aware, she wanted the village to look at her as if she was Mother Teresa.

“Yeah, but don't you think that maybe you're too...I don't know, invested in her?”

That...you have nothing to counter with.

Everyday, you wake up and the first thing that would pop up in your head was Isabela. You'd spend hours planning out how to make her day worse without actually doing most of them. From dedicating most of your life into hating her, you've noticed small bits and pieces about the perfect daughter that most people would have otherwise overlooked.

You've noticed how her eyes would light up whenever they'd land on the most bizarre objects or how she'd steal an extra serving of cake when she thought nobody else was looking, or that one time when—

You narrowed your eyes at Mirabel.

“Well?” she pressed on.

However, instead of answering her, you stood up with a huff and gathered your belongings before leaving Mirabel to her own devices.

You were not going to admit anything. You hated Isabela Madrigal with every fiber of your being.

So much so that you felt like drowning every time you looked into her eyes.

And you hated it.

Isabela watched as you disappeared from her line of sight, yet the bitterness brought by your distant presence still lingered like some sort of evil miasma.

“You should talk to her,” came the voice of her cousin Dolores.

“There's nothing to talk about,” Isabela said as she went on to proceed with her task.

But instead of vegetables, she sprouted red roses.

An annoyed frown formed on Isabela's face. You totally just jinxed her.

“So we're just going to ignore that you still made a flower statue of Y/N in your room?” Dolores gave her a side glance as she bent down to pick up a vibrant red rose.

“It's only there because insulting her always makes me feel better,” Isabela defended, earning herself a raised brow from her cousin.

Okay, that was a half-truth. It wasn't only just one and she made them because Isabela hated you so much that you were practically living rent-free inside her head 24/7 that she just had to make several floral statues of you out of frustration, all with different facial expressions. Again.

The last batch have been destroyed along with the old casa.

Every morning since then, you were the first thing she'd see and the first words she'd say were of course nothing but insults hurled at you and your stupid, beautiful face.

You were also the last thing she'd see before she'd close her eyes, and you'd be there in her dreams, haunting every single one of them.

She thought about getting rid of your statues, and she did at one point but that only ended up making her even more agitated for whatever reason.

“Don't you think it's time that you two finally mend your relationship?” Dolores said. “It's been fifteen years.”

“There’s nothing to mend, Dolores,” Isabela replied, removing the roses from her vegetable patch, hissing when a thorn pricked her finger.

Her cousin sighed in exasperation behind her, feeling Dolores’s judging gaze burning holes through the back of her skull as she placed the rose she picked behind Isabela’s ear. “Just admit it.”

Isabela’s eyes landed briefly on her sister who suddenly stood up on her seat to follow you inside your house.

“Admit what?” she knew what her cousin wanted to say, knew that Dolores knew she was playing dumb, but the mere thought of it had her…feeling things that absolutely disgusted her.

Or at least that was what she wanted to convince herself.

“That you’re in love with Y/–”

But before she could complete her sentence, a flurry of colorful flowers went flying Dolores’s way although Isabela spared her from accidentally swallowing a stray petal, unlike with Camilo.

“Isabela–”

“No, I’m not going to admit anything and you weren’t just going to say what you were going to say!” Isabela said, dumping a pile of roses on her feet before stomping away.

She hated you. That was the only thing she had been sure of before and after her phase of perfection.

She hated how you can only smile around other people, hated how she could only hear your laughter from afar, hated how she could never be the reason for both—and that scared her.

So no, Isabela Madrigal will never admit that she was in love. With you, of all people.

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hii! May I have a fic for chrollo 🍮? One where reader is extremely disappointed to found out what Chrollo did to those poor Kurta kids. Reader is on full on raging yet he'd just brush it off, smth like "So? They're already dead anyway. I don't think you'd hate me either." Yes angst!

Oof this is good, thank you for the ask! Yes it did come out super angsty!

Chrollo x Kurta!reader : Brush it Off

Chrollo was everything to you. The moment you two met it seemed as though you had fallen in love at first sight. He was cute when you saw him that day in the museum, seemingly lost in thought over an artifact. You decided to go up and stand near him, but you were too afraid to say anything. The two of you had been standing in the same place for what felt like an eternity and you finally decided to give up on ever asking the handsome man how you wanted to talk to him about the museum until he looked at you with a smile.

"You seem to like this piece as much as I do," you froze up when you heard him. Spinning yourself around back to him, you looked at him with a surprised face.

"Ah, well, yes I do think that the work i-is, pretty neat," you scolded yourself for sounding so petty. You didn't think you sounded cool at all!

"Even if that is the case, I wonder if you have any other objectives, you were standing here for a long time and not many people do that. Did you want to talk to me about something?"

He could read you like a book. The two of you ended up spending three hours together in the museum, sharing things about yourselves while also admiring the artworks. He was also the one that suggested the two of you go for a coffee run together. It was what felt like heaven to you.

Things became even better when you really started liking him. He was even the one that confessed his feelings to you, and of course you said yes when he asked if the two of you could be in a relationship. How could you not? He was the only one that protected you from people that tried to harass you in the streets, and he seemed to understand you better than you knew yourself. It became even more apparent when you revealed to him your origins.

"Do you have a family by any chance? I would love to meet them," you ask him while the two of you were in your apartment. He paused while looking through your bookshelf, you had welcomed him to borrow any books that he wanted. Turning around. he gave you a weak smile.

"I don't have any, rather, I have always lived with people that I consider 'family' but it doesn't fit the standard definition of one," he responded. Ah, so the two of you were similar.

"I see," you shifted your gaze down. "I'm sort of like that too, since I'm, well, I'm a Kurta."

You didn't notice him furrow his eyebrows when you said this. "I was out in the world doing work when the incident around my clan happened. I never got to say goodbye to my family, I never saw my friends celebrate their birthday there either," you added on, looking out the window. "I wonder if they're angry at me for being the survivor, almost everyone died in the incident except me," you said. Of course, this was not true. Chrollo met someone recently that was a Kurta survivor as well. But instead of showing his true colors right away, he decided to play a bit more.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," his voice was soft, he was walking towards you. Brushing some hair out of your face, he saw that your eyes were glazed over with tears brimming. "I'm not sure what the best way for me to help you is, but I want you to know that you aren't alone. You have me, and I'll always be by your side."

Ah, where did that chivalrous man disappear to? The moment the two of you were hugging and kissing the next it seemed like the two of you were enemies. It happened after you ran into a bounty hunter, one who explained to you what the Phantom Troupe did and such. You weren't sure why the hunter was telling you all of this, but then he grabbed your shoulders and looked desperately at you.

"Man, do you even know how much fucking money is on their heads?!" He shook you.

"Stop, you're scaring me!" you pleaded with the man, but he kept rambling on.

"They're going to get me set for life! I'm gonna be richer than the mayor of Yorknew if I even kill two of 'em! I know you know one of them, so just lead me to the guy will ya?!"

"I don't know anyone from the troupe! S-someone help!" you looked around, but the two of you were in a quiet alleyway in the city. You were trapped. You didn't know nen either, but your eyes started to turn red. Thinking your emotions were overflowing, you squeezed your eyes shut so the hunter wouldn't know.

"TELL ME WHERE THE HEAD IS AND THAT'LL BE IT! DON'T TELL ME I HAVE TO KILL YOU AS WELL FOR BEING AN ACCOMPLICE YOU PIECE OF-"

Suddenly you heard something and a splatter of liquid across your face. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked up to see a single pen stabbed into the hunter's head. Blood trickled down your face as the man slipped and fell, his eyes still open in shock. What made you scream however wasn't the fact that the hunter was dead, it was the fact that someone you knew had killed him.

"C-Chrollo, what's going on?" you muttered. He looked unfazed however, simply giving you the same smile he did back at the museum.

"You were running late for our trip to the market today, I was worried and it seems my intuition was correct," he was so calm.

"H-how could you kill someone though! More importantly, are you, are you part of the Phantom Troupe?" you asked him, now your voice was rising. He turned to you after kicking the man's head to the side with his foot.

"Yes, I happen to be the leader as well."

"S-so, you were the one that was behind the death of my clan as well," you stumbled back, too shocked by the news. How could he not be ashamed that he did such a thing?! "Y-you said you cared for me, you even told me that the Kurta did nothing wrong yet YOU KILLED THEM!"

"Ah, you're so naive, y/n, you should learn how to read people better," suddenly the Chrollo you knew disappeared. His eyes were cold, but he kept smiling. You wanted to punch him, scream at him for what he did to your life, but all you could do was let tears well up in your eyes.

"Darling, don't cry, you know I don't like seeing you-"

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME YOU MONSTER!" you shouted, turning away from him. A horrible sob came out of your throat and you buried your face in your hands. Chrollo still watched you, now slightly amused.

"You called me 'sweetheart' yesterday, but now it's changed to 'monster.' You can be quite indecisive you know," he commented. "Besides, the Kurta was buried with their village, they are not with us anymore," he walked slowly towards you, almost like you were some prey and he was a lion.

"You trusted me so much, you sang love to me every night, I don't think that would change for some creatures, right?"

"Are you saying I'm one of those 'creatures' then?" you looked up at him, he was directly above you.

"Perhaps, but I'm not out to get your eyes and sell them yet," he was so direct with his words. "I want to still stand by you, I'm sure you have no one else to turn to either way."

He was right. He was always right. You wanted to tell him you had your brothers and sisters, your best friends from Lukso Province, but no one was there behind you. You were all alone, the sole survivor of the Kurta clan (at least to your knowledge). Sighing in defeat, you let Chrollo wrap his arms around you. He shushed your weeping, whispering sweet nothings to calm you down.

The day went on as if the event never happened. Instead of going to the market, the two of you settled to stay indoors. He was reading on your couch as always, and you were making some food. You looked at the pan, it was a mix of ingredients you were familiar with. The dish was a favorite of yours when you were younger, one that your mother had always made.

"Remember to share it with those that care for you and those that you love," your mother said while patting your head. You nodded and watched as she showed how to prepare the dish.

"'People that care about me' huh," you mumbled to yourself. "How ironic."

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 4 (Bucky Barnes au)

“And if you're feeling lonely you should tell me

Before this ends up as another memory”

A week. You'd met Bucky a week earlier and still hadn't forgotten the feeling of his arm on your back, the deepness of his voice and the blue of his eyes. How could you? You were trying to spend as much time with Darren as you could, but he was hardly ever home.  When he wasn't working, he was meeting one friend or another to watch a baseball game. You had been married for one week, and this was your seventh day alone in your apartment.

The place you and Darren lived in was small and you had given your best to make it feel like a welcoming home. From green plants to scented candles and beautiful artwork, everything was meant to make any visitor feel welcomed and cozy. Your favourite thing was obviously the couch and beanbag chairs : they were all dark grey and the fabric gave them the impression of a cloud. Not that it mattered to your husband, though... You sighed as you got up from your couch and put your coffee cup on the kitchen counter. Taking out your phone out of your back pocket, you stopped for a moment, biting your cheek. Should you...call him? No. It was too soon and you  hadn't  heard from him at all since the wedding. Maybe it wasn't a good idea. Scratch that: it was probably a terrible idea.  You decided to call Steve instead, hoping he would have some work for you at the compound. You  had already helped out a lot, especially in terms of scientific development. You and Bruce Banner were currently working on a tissue-repairing  technology. It was a work in progress and Banner didn't have much time for it, but you always tried to make yourself useful: there was always an agent who needed a wound to be stitched.

"Y/n? Hi! How's the married life going?" Your heart warmed up as soon as you heard Steve's voice on the phone.

"Hi, uh... Good, thanks. Do you need my help at the compound?" you asked.

"No, not really. I mean, you always find ways to help, of course, but we thought you'd like a week or two, you know." He paused. "Don't you have a honeymoon to go to?"

"Darren's too busy with work. He said we'd go when he gets a week off, which is...not right now. So do you need me there?"

Your friend took a moment to answer. "Yeah, we always need you. Do you want me to send a car?"

"Yeah, Darren took ours and I don't think a taxi can take me there. Thanks, Stevie! See you soon."

"Okay, the car will be at your place in an hour. See ya!"

Hanging up the phone, you already felt better than five minutes earlier. Going to the compound meant working, for sure, but it also meant you got to see and spend time with Wanda, joke around with Sam or just chit chat with Bruce. You could say the compound was like your second home, now.  After a quick shower and changing into some jeans and t-shirt, you deemed yourself ready to go and packed your backpack – no, a handbag was not enough to carry your multiple notebooks and pens.

You scrolled on your phone to make time pass faster and when the bell rang, you furrowed your brows. Drivers usually honked and didn't bother ringing the doorbell. You went to the interphone and pressed the speaker.

"Who's there?"

You heard what sounded like the end of a throat-clearing noise. "It's Bucky. Steve asked me to pick you up."

Your lips froze and your brain stopped functioning correctly for a second. Who? What? Why?

"I'll be down in a sec," you ended up saying, acting as composed as possible.

'Damn you, Steve.' You did want to see Bucky, but time to prepare for the occasion would've been better. Last time he saw you, you were wearing a pretty dress and your hair was done and...shit. You quickly ran your brush through your hair, hoping it would make it better, before thinking of how ridiculous you sounded: why would Bucky care about how you looked, and – more importantly – why would you ?

When you found yourself down in the entrance hall, you caught a glimpse of Bucky through the glazed door. He seemed to be carrying something. You opened the door and greeted him with  a smile.

"I didn't know you'd be the one coming,"  you noted, trying to figure out whether he enjoyed being here or not.

He shrugged and looked at the floor.  "Steve apparently had no one available so...he asked me. Ready?" He handed you what he'd be holding the whole time and...

"A helmet? Why would I- Oh. You don't have a car,  do you?"

Bucky let out a laugh. As brief as it was, you couldn't help but swoon. You looked up and smiled back. "What's so funny?"

"You don't like bikes?" he asked, raising a brow.

"No, I just... They're not as safe as a car. "

"It's safe with me, I promise. Come."

You followed him with a grin as he placed his helmet over his long hair and you tried to strap yours on, fiddling with your fingers.

"Let me help." You almost stopped breathing when his fingers brushed against your chin as he attached the helmet's straps. "Okay, we  should go now."

You nodded and sat behind him, unsure of where to place your arms. "Hum..."

Bucky gently seized your wrists and brought them on his stomach. "Just hold on here." You  felt his back tense as you joined your hands on his body. You hadn't been this close to him since you'd met. Your own body's reaction was to nestle against Bucky's. Whether you wanted to feel safe on this bike or you just needed him to be close, you had no clue. Bucky started the engine, made sure you were holding on tight and started driving through the streets. The wind on your exposed skin made you shiver and after ten minutes or so, you felt comfortable enough to rest your chin on Bucky's back, right behind his shoulder.

Something in the way Bucky drove and took his turns made you think he was  used to go faster. Was he slowing down for you?

"Are you going slower than usual?" you yelled behind him.

Turning his head around would've been too dangerous so he nodded.

"Don't hold yourself back for me then, I'm not a kid!"

His shoulders moving hinted at a laugh as the motorbike sped up. It only made you cling harder to him and when you arrived at the compound half an hour later, you realised  you were smiling too hard for your own good.

"You screamed", he said in a soft voice, a smile floating on his lips.

"No, I did not."

"Yeah, you did."

You  shook your head and tried putting on a serious face as you saw Wanda coming to you. You didn't want her to tease you about your – probably  – huge smile. By the look in her eyes, you could tell she'd obviously busted you. She hurried towards you and hugged you tight.

"I'm so happy to see you," she breathed. "Are you here to work with Bruce?"

"Yeah, or just help around." You lowered your voice. "I needed to get away from home for the day."

Your sister gave you a confused stare before she understood. "Oh. He's working too much again?"

"Yeah. I guess staying home with his now-wife is too much to ask." You looked away for a second. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be bitter."

Bucky got off of the bike as well and stopped next to you, as if waiting for something. He must've spotted the interrogation in your eyes because he gestured to your head.

"The helmet," he explained. "I don't think you wanna wear that all day."

You chuckled. "No, I don't." You struggled once again with the straps and when Bucky unstrapped them for you, the same shiver as earlier ran down your spine. "Thanks for the ride," you added as he walked away to the building. He waved at you and nodded, smiling a little less brightly than he did in front of your house.

"That was some tension I just saw there," Wanda remarked. "Were you even able to keep your hands off him on that bike?"

"Wanda!"

"What? I'm just asking. Isn't he your soulmate or something?"

You ran your hand through your ruffled hair and gave her a disapproving look.

"You"re the one who told me soulmates could very well be friends," you argued. "And you  shouldn't be encouraging me down that road. I'm married, in case you forgot."

"Yeah, to a man who didn't even booked a honeymoon."

"He's busy," you said, looking away from your sister. Finding excuses for Darren was easy. Selling them to your sister was a whole different ballgame.

"Not to me, y/n. You should tell him you want to go!"

"Yeah, maybe tonight." You started walking to the compound. "I need to talk to Bruce about our last meeting. I'll see you later."

Wanda shook her head before going the other way, towards the gardens. You loved your sister, obviously, and she meant the world to you. However, when she was seeing right through your lies and excuses like she'd just been, it always drove you mad at yourself. Sure, you were in love with Darren and he'd never been mean to you, but you knew perfectly you didn't have to take all of his shit. You could feel he was taking you for granted, and you decided that had to change. If you didn't start fighting for your own wellbeing, you knew Wanda would. You weren't eager to witness such events.

--- Just finished writing part 7, so here's part 4 for you! I hope you still like this story :) Your likes really make me smile throughout the day ehe

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@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02

[theomengirl]

~ GOM as a father ~

[notes] ~ hello! i' m sorry for not being active for the past two weeks because i was battling writer's block, and since college has started it also got in the way of my writing. the requests are piling up and i'll try to work on them as soon as possible ;;; here's a hc of your fav gom boys while you wait. thank you! ♡

Kuroko

the most normal out of the 6.

he’s really appreciative and compliments his child on something they do.

the type to give a sweet morning call and kisses them as soon as they wake up.

later at night, he would read them books and stay longer before their bedtime just to have a simple talk. “what was your favorite part of today?”

also assures them that he's all-ears if they're bothered by something.

no matter how bad his day went, he would never show it in front of them.

you and Kuroko always stick a note filled with encouraging words on their lunchbox to boost their spirit.

sets a healthy lifestyle to help with their growth because he doesn't want them to take after his low stamina.

he loves to assist when they have an art project and he'd display the artwork at home while giving a pat on the head. "look at this awesome work made by you."

Kise

the moment he officially became a dad, he cried for a whole day.

one night, you felt exhausted and Kise wasn't on the bed the moment you woke up. then you found him at the room next door, snoring on the carpet with scattered diapers while your child was sleeping soundly in their crib.

hangs family pictures all over the house and he puts his child's shots throughout the years. he's also active on social medias to boast about his little family.

he's clingy and would give big hugs and kisses at random times, for no reason at all. often argues about who love whom more.

a little sad when they refuse to accept his affection. "dad, stop it. i'm older now." "doesn't matter, i'd still hug and kiss you every day even if you grow grey hair."

spoils them with toys until there's barely any space to keep them, which gaining him a whack from you. "don't buy toys anymore." but he just couldn't look away and came home with another one.

brags about the magazines which he featured on. "doesn't your dad look handsome here?"

he takes his child to his photoshoot site once in a while and the people there would squeal.

his heart breaks if he sees them getting frustrated or sad. "hey, you have your mom and me. you'll always be our biggest pride so let's figure out together, alright? now should we crash at your favorite restaurant?"

gets excited when they do. he's also good at role plays, sometimes a cop, a prince, a monster, etc.

Midorima

a little awkward and confused as how to act natural when his child pretend to shoot him or he plays a prince.

"mom, can you play with me? dad's terrible." then he'd call Kise to ask for some advice.

often doubts himself whether he's a good father or not, but that thought got washed out after his child came home saying he got an A for his essay; 10 things i love about my father. reading it before he leaves for work has become a routine.

bonds over basketball. he'd teach his child how to shoot threes and encourage them until they get better.

he makes sure they keep lucky items with them every day.

totally lost his cool and was panicking when his child got a fever. you tried to calm him down but he instantly rushed to the hospital, only to return home again because the doctor said it wasn't serious; just a usual fever every kid runs to.

the type to set a curfew.

might push them in term of academics, but not too hard. and he would always praise them no matter how bad the score they get. "it's just a number. i just hope you understand the subject so it'll be an advantage for you in the future, you can always do better, because you're our son/daughter."

lowkey jealous if the Shutoku uncles get close to them and glares at Takao because his child seems to favor him.

Aomine

the troublemakers in the house, especially if he has a son. a carbon copy just in a smaller size.

definitely passes on his basketball legacy and they would lose track of time. you had to call them multiple times over dinner only to get responded with "5 more minutes!" and lasted for another hour.

tells them the importance of teamwork no matter how good they are in basketball. he doesn't want his child to repeat his mistake in the past.

"why are you worried over the exam you just finished, when the scores aren't out yet at that? honey, tell the kiddo what place i was during high school," he said as he laid down on the sofa, watching tv while picking on his nose. "your dad was in last place."

he would give a lesson to whoever tries to pick up on or belittle his child.

try to position himself a friend instead of a parent so they'll not be afraid to open up to him.

calls them with pet names he comes up with or he just go with "oi kiddo"

lots of skinship and he often buries them under his large body or traps their head under his shirt when he's being playful.

"don't grow up too fast. i'll be sad, you know?"

Murasakibara

despite his habit of unhealthy eating, he restricts his child to do the same.

"no more candies." "but dad, you had it more than me. can i, please?" "no. you're still growing, your teeth will rot." "so can i eat as much as you once i grow up?" "still no."

the happiest when the school invites parents for a one-day activity together. the other children hover around him because they find his purple hair amusing.

you were amazed by how much he had matured after having a child compared to before the marriage.

rewards them with snacks and sweets if they achieve something.

loves to give them teddy bear hugs.

Akashi

sets good examples that his child would follow; a man with manners.

pays full attention to their education. at the same time he takes things slowly and is aware that his child isn't a machine that should excel at everything.

"please do tell me if you ever feel like the lesson doesn't suit you. talk to me, okay?"

says "i love you" or "you're the greatest thing ever happened in our life" whenever he gets the chance.

tries his best to spend some time with them despite his busy schedules as he doesn't want to lose track of their growth.

takes them along to his business trips, classical concerts or simply playing basketball with the uncles from Teiko in hopes that his child will learn naturally by watching.

he would never demand them to be perfect like the doctrine he received from his father, because his child's happiness is number 1 priority above anything else.

teaches them leadership skills and how to earn other people's respect without hurting them.

overall, he avoids to repeat his past by being more considerate and affectionate to his own child which he treasured so much.

[annonmaly]

Ok, It's Not Red. So What?

"Oh, It's Not Red" continuation

Welcome to the third part of my posts regarding Mochijun-sensei's official VnC artworks. This is just a continuation of the 2nd part (there will be no artworks to be discussed). I will just share some absurd ideas that I came up with after my realization (some may already be out there). If there's any chance that you stumbled to the prior post and decided to continue. I salute you brave warriors that assume I would mention anything that makes any sense. To those who have no time to read a post that only talked about Murr's eye color. Here's a summary: I realized Murr's right eye is not red.

Curious as to how did I come to this conclusion? Check it out here: Oh, It's Not Red (You may not read the first part as it isn't related to this. But if you want to, it's here: Regarding some of VnC Artwork this title is so uncreative)

As usual, a friendly reminder that best in writing is an award I never received. I'm not the person who could analyze, explain, or theorize things clearly. Please bear that in mind while reading. Photos are not mine, of course. Also, spoiler alert to be safe

Now that it's all said and done. Let's go ahead and talk about Murr.

By this time, we already know who is Murr. And I think we all agree that the cat is not just a cute mascot of the series. I bet that he would be a game-changer (yes, I'm putting Murr on a high pedestal). The question is: What do you think of Murr's role in the story?

After spending hours and hours of reading here and there, the common theories I found are:

1. Murr is Sensei (The Shapeless One)

Sensei is an observer. And where is the best place to observe? It's beside your subject of interest. Also, as his title suggests, he is shapeless, so maybe he could shapeshift into anything he wants. This sounds probable but, I do not lean on this much for two reasons.

Personal preference. If this is true, Sensei is weird, not terrifying. I mean, instead of doing scary and shady affairs during his free time, he decided to be a cat just to watch Noé.

Look at the image below closely.

Did you found Murr? No? Take a closer look at Louis. At first, I thought he was just reading, but his book has a weird shape. Where did I see that again? Oh, right.

Not yet satisfied? See this panel from the manga. This is after the first image's scene.

(Grandpa obviously has his favorites)

I think the cat Louis' holding is Murr. Thus, there's a panel where Sensei and Murr are together. That's the second reason I'm skeptical about this theory, folks.

Well, we also don't know. Maybe grandpa killed the cat so he could disguise himself as one.

2. Murr is a spy camera of Grandpa De Sade

It's a simple one. The theory goes like this: Murr's right eye connects to Sensei in whatever way. This panel is what inspires this theory:

(This cat really is suspicious, I bet he is one of the puppet masters of this arc along with Sensei)

This theory is what I'm more inclined to believe. I suppose the cat is working under/with Grandpa for their grand schemes. So, of course, he would report to Sensei the events that took place. Whether he is using his right eye or whatever means it is.

Going to my personal thoughts...

I guess that Murr was a kin of the vampire of the blue moon. He used the power too much, and thus he was rewritten from the inside. Alas, Murr became a cat! Why is he heterochromatic, tho?

Ok, kidding aside, there are two ideas I want to share.

1. Possibly Twins

Mochijun-sensei dropped the bomb in chapter 46. She gave us the idea that the theme of twins would be relevant in the story. Here is the page where Veronica mentioned the thing about twins:

Then three chapters later when Misha forced Noé to drink his blood and reveal his memory. Mochijun-Sensei dropped another bomb.

After seeing this, we speculated that Faustina and Luna are twins. I love that thought. Just imagine how complex the relationship it would be between the two. But if we think about it. What if this is just a misdirection? First, Mochijun-sensei makes us aware that the subject of twins is somewhat important. And while that information is still fresh in our memory, she dropped another bomb and told us that the blue vampire and the queen looked alike. Mochijun-sensei set this up so that we could connect the two easily.

All we know is that: Vampire twins are a symbol of bad luck, and Luna looks like Faustina. This is just me overthinking things, but what's life without competition. So, let's add three more names to the list that could be a set of twins.

Murr and Luna: Because why not? His left eye is blue. Also, Luna's left eye was never shown in the series. It's always hidden by her hair, maybe it's a different color.

Noé and Luna: Let's just say he is older than the series claimed him to be. Noé's memory started on the day that it snowed. I believe that Mochijun-sensei is keeping the timeline vague since it would reveal too much information. I mean, we don't know how long time passed from the day Noé was found by the old couple to the day Sensei brought him to the castle in the forest. Keep in mind that the vampire's growth differs for each person, as well.

Also, is the story the Noé and Sensei told trustworthy?

(How kind are this kidnappers that the kid was not traumatized? Also what's with the injuries. I don't much about slave trading in VnC world. But, if you're going to sell something you don't want it to have visible damage right. Sorry if the comparison sounds offending)

As far as I could tell, Sensei is shady, like really. Noé's memory is also not reliable. After all, someone out there may have the ability to manipulate memories. What if Noé was was born ages ago and was induced to sleep for a long time for whatever reasons?

Going back to Noé and Luna. Mochijun-sensei is giving us subtle hints of his association with Luna. I only saw Luna from one chapter, but I could say they are somewhat similar aside from the hair and skin(?) color (I will make a list later if I still have of time on hand).

(Child Noé and Luna both have similar haistyle, they have the "lid" as Mochijun-sensei called it. Their eyes are different tho')

Go on, read chapter 49, you'll see what I mean. Also, take note that at some panels (especially the ones where Noé is feeling extreme emotions), Noé's left eye was hidden by his hair or something. Who else out there that we don't see her left eye? Yup, the vampire of the blue moon (I have a weird feeling about Noe's left eye that I will share later) To conclude this, I think that Noé was not from this era. He is actually from the past and preserved in whatever way from whatever reason. And maybe he is actually the twin brother of Luna, seeing that they have a resemblance.

For now, I won't say that he's a reincarnation of Luna (I may change my mind later) as the timeline doesn't coincide. Besides, human Vani's reaction when Misha told him that there's a way to revive Luna is intense. Meaning he wants Luna to stay dead. I also believe that human Vani is hiding "something" he knows about Noé. So if Noé's a reincarnated Luna, there's no way human Vani would stay with him.

Murr and Noé

If you saw my previous post. I convinced myself that Murr's right eye's color is violet (the same shade as Noé's). That's why I decided to include them here. I have no definitive reasoning aside from their eye color and how Murr treated Noé in the series.

In the meantime, I'll write the scenario in my head. What if Murr and Noé are twins. Something happened when they were young, and so they were separated. Noé was somewhere we don't know yet, while Murr encountered Vampire Vanitas and Grandpa DeSade. Then the rest is history.

I swear I didn't expect it to be this long, at any rate, this would be to be continued here: Ok, It's Not Red. So What? (continuation)

Note: This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

[mydearestdaisy]

(Artwork: Gustav Klimt, The Kiss, 1907–08)

Nowadays, I've had numerous worries that concern a fair share of guilt for not being able to spend enough time with you, especially when compared to previous days when we'd be all over each other for nearly 24 hours a day. However, I had this specific rule with myself that I wouldn't want to say a lot of words of apology to my loved one, especially if it wasn't something that was inherently my fault (because you know very well that not being able to spend time with you was also something out of my capacity too).

So, Alana, I'd like to thank you for sticking with me regardless of the circumstances and for understanding me, though this is probably something you've heard from me many times. I know very well that I haven't been the best boyfriend lately. I've been too focused on my job and career that I neglected you at times. I've left you to sleep when you still wish to talk to me, and the days we've spent talking with one another lessens as day goes by. But I want you to know that my absence within those moments doesn't mean that I love you less than before.

I still love you a lot, even after two years of spending with one another. No, I don't get sick of you. I'll get sick thinking of the days I'll spend without you instead. But I don't want to think about such dreadful situations when you're still very much present by my side and loving me wholeheartedly despite all of my shortcomings. I am filled with gratitude when I think of you, and I suppose such a thankful feeling is also what makes me fall in love with you more.

There's no one else I'd like to watch new movies with if not for you, and there's no one else I'd rather talk about just about anything if not you. I love you so much that I have a hard time appropriately expressing or conveying it (and I'm sorry if it seemed like as if I don't show it much or enough nowadays), but that is also why I try to jot down all of my thoughts into this letter to let you know that even after all this time, my heart still yearns for you.

You are still the favorite accident in my eyes, and you still hold the number one spot in my heart.

Looking back on our two years together, I'd say a lot has changed, such as the fact that you're now a night owl and I'm a morning person, whereas it used to be the other way around. There are still many changes taking place as we've grown as individuals, but that's life: everything progresses. I'd say it's taking a better turn because I know you're doing it because of your studies and thesis, and I'm doing it because of my shifts (hence why I don't want to nag you any further about your bad habit).

My feelings weren't quite the same as they used to, not in a way that my love for you has grown weaker but rather that I've felt stronger and care for you more profound than it used to be. I'm glad that I get to grow with you and see you grow, that we get to spend so many occasions together and that I have you through the hardest of times or share the happiest of news.

I hope this isn't too much to ask, but will you continue to stand by my side even in the near (or even in the distant) future? Whether we spend days, weeks, months, or years together, I know they will be happy because there are no such things as bad times when I'm with you. After all, I'd rather not be okay with you than be okay without you (cue Charlie Burg's I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You).

There isn't much that I can promise you, but I will do my utmost best to bring you more happiness and laughter. I'll try to be more present whenever you need me, so please continue to stay by my side. I love you so, so, much.

Happy second anniversary, my dearest little daisy.

[md3artjournal]

Source: https://twitter.com/Schnumn/status/1485615223579070468

When I was younger, my dad used to tell me that when you really like something, you'll find yourself doing it and putting a lot of effort into it, without even noticing. Over the years, that has degenerated into this idea, that when I get into negative thought spirals, especially about my art, that maybe I just don't want it bad enough. Maybe I wasn't meant to do this. But I don't know what else to do. I kind of like doing this and everything else is hellish, but maybe I don't love it as much as I thought? If I don't belong here, doing this, then maybe I don't belong anywhere? Maybe all my assertions are wrong, and maybe being wrong all the time is my only normal, or the only thing that can reliably be expected from me: To fail. At everything. So I just end up feeling lost, depressed, and trapped.

Maybe it's time I told those negative thoughts, "f**k you".

Recently, I've been toying with the idea that maybe I'll never get good at drawing humans or humanoids, because maybe I'm just not interested in that. Sometimes I hear critiques of fiction, and the critic will say, "It's clear the author wasn't interested in writing that." Maybe I've been confused on what I'm actually interested in drawing. I love fandom and fictional characters, and I'd love to be able to draw fanart of those fictional human characters...But I never want to study anatomy, fundamentals, etc. But as my personal drawing challenge this month has shown me, I can still draw something pretty well: flowers. And as the past couple years has shown me, I can also draw tigers and (fuzzy) animals. Anything from photo reference, actually. This past Christmas, I actually managed to draw 2 portraits of my parents in under 2.5 hours, and everyone agreed those turned out well. All this time, I've been yearning to draw something well, just be able to have a resulting artwork that looks inherently beautiful, something I can feel proud of, and not something that was only liked because it was fanart and the other fans of that series found it. (I Like art all the time, solely because it's a series or character I love.) But all this time, I've been ignoring my ability to draw from photo reference, because that wasn't what I wanted to do. I thought it wasn't important to me. It wasn't "what I loved". I instead wanted to draw fanart of my favorite fictional characters!!! ;o; But maybe that's just a misconception on my part. Maybe humans aren't really what I want to draw; maybe not what I'm actually interested in. Maybe flowers and animals are what I'm interested in. Maybe I really do love that stuff. I have been admitting more and more to myself lately that I think I really like flowers. And even when I draw them inaccurately, the resulting artwork always ends up looking inherently good. I feel better when I finish a flower or animal sketch. Maybe I should be more of an environmental artist than a character artist? Whereas, fanart of human fictional characters (with no photo reference) is such a crap shoot with me, I could spend 3 hours on something and it just makes me feel bad or worse, in the end. I rarely meet the standards of my love for a fictional character. My art is never good enough reflect that. Most of my fanart, even when it shows a progression of my previous skill, often just exasperates my depression sooner or later. Maybe if I wasn't making a living off of artist alley for the past 10 years, comparing myself to others wouldn't be an issue. But I can't escape seeing how much my fanart of fictional humans falls short. I'm funneling myself into continually trying to draw fanart of fictional human characters, and continually reminded of how bad I am at it, even when I reach a personal best or grow. So I guess it's no wonder I keep having to ask myself the implicating question from my dad's words: Maybe I don't love these fictional characters that I think I love so much. And that breaks my heart. ;____;

But maybe I should instead be concluding that it's not that my love for these characters is in question, but rather, my interest in drawing humans in general. Honestly, I avoid humans in real life so much, I'm not only pretty much a hermit, but I also avoid eye contact, avoid most social interaction, have avoided photos of people decorating my bedroom all my life, and my dad has suggested that maybe some measure of autism runs in our family. Maybe it's only natural that I'm not interested in drawing humans.

And maybe that should be distinctly separate from my love for a character or series, because that doubt in my fandom love really hurts me. I should be separating my self-doubt in my human-drawing skills from my doubts in my love for my fandom obsessions. I love my fandoms and fictional characters so much; conflating that with my drawing (humans) skill and "somehow" still never getting any better at fanart---not even getting better at the will to study to improve it---can feel like a pretty infinite gap. "How can I love this series/characters so intensely, yet not be getting better at it? If love translates into dedication, and translates into will to study/improve? If this infinitely intense feeling of love for a series/characters translates into nothing, despite loving a fandom so much, then isn't improving my drawing of their fanart hopeless?" If the best panacea is still ineffective, then nothing will work. It's a very hopeless place. And now I think it comes from conflating 2 things that should be separated (if I want to keep my self esteem): my love for series/characters vs my interest in drawing humans.

[jpjaja]

#BetsLit

I Still Search for Your Face in a Sea of Stangers

by Kimi Spaña

Some things are better left unsaid.

I lived by that mantra. Words are cheap, there were negative thoughts I had planned to take to the grave, secrets I will never tell anyone... and the most bitter pill I had to swallow — unsaid feelings. These are the regrets I have been keeping up my sleeves, the thoughts that keep me up at night, and the pretentious shoulder shrugs of "I'm fine."

I lost count of how many make-up scenarios I had imagined inside of my head. This particular one bugs me — had I known we'd meet that night at Shaw Blvd. Station, I wouldn't take the train going home.

I remember everything from that moment so vividly.

"Para po sa inyong kaligtasan..." the paging system of MRT blasted through the speakers.

One of the perks of going home late is I won't have to wait in line for hours to get inside the train. MRT stations could get ridiculously crammed with commuters, especially during rush hour.

"...'wag po tayong tumapak sa dilaw na tiles..." the paging system continues.

Soon, the train came. I found a comfortable seat near the doors.

Usually I would take out my phone to scroll through my social media feed while waiting to arrive at my station, but tonight is different. Sitting parallel to me is a familiar face; I've brushed shoulders with him a couple of times along the stations. He's that guy with the apologetic eyes and smile.

His attention is fixed on his DSLR's screen, he presses a few buttons and then he points the camera at my direction. I heard his shutter clicking. We were both shocked; his camera and arms are freezed in midair as I raise one eyebrow at him.

"Oh... I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't noticed someone took the seat." He scratched his head, embarrassed.

"It's okay," I said. I tuck a few strands of my hair behind my ear. It's one of those awkward moments that makes me blush for no apparent reason.

"It's for a digital art I'm working on," he explains. "But don't worry, I'll delete the photo you're in."

"Is that so? Would you want me to move seats so you could take the photo?" I asked.

I didn't wait for his reply instead, I stood up and took the seat next to him. I could tell how flustered he was from his body gestures.

"I'm really sorry, didn't mean to bother you," he apologized once again.

I smiled at him. "I don't mind."

In Plato's the Sypnosium, humans were created with four legs, four arms, and two heads, until Zeus split them into two. It makes sense that we spend the rest of our lives looking for our other halves. That night, I went home thinking I found mine.

We exchanged numbers. We would talk on the phone 'til we doze off to sleep on each other's good nights, then the next day he would always wait for me at Shaw Blvd. Station and board the train together, me dropping off at GMA Kamuning Station and him at North Avenue. It went like that for months. We were inseparable. Everyone thought we're a thing, I thought so too.

We were sitting at a cafè near our workplace that time. He's drinking his favorite coffee while staring at the pouring rain outside the window. I found myself wondering what could be inside his beautiful mind? Does he feel the same way about me? But the night ended with us parting ways at the MRT station. Like always.

That was the ending. I never received another call from him again, I couldn't find his shadow everywhere. I went to his apartment but all that was left was his messy art studio, his unmade bed, and his crying sister.

She said, "he's gone." I'd like to think of "gone" like he went away to seek better job opportunities like what he's always told me, gone as if he'll be back after realizing all he's ever wanted is right here, in his small apartment.

But he never came back. He never did. His sister gave me a small journal. She said it was for me to keep, a thing that would remind me every day that I was loved by his brother. She said she knows that if he's still alive, he'd also give this to me.

I went home and cried myself to sleep. It took me everything I have to finally open the journal.

On the first page is a painting of me at the train, the first time we met. I flipped through the pages until I landed on the very last painting. It wasn't finished, he never got the chance to finish it.

Under the unfinished painting is a handwritten note... "I love you."

Tears started falling, it just can't stop. I traced every brush strokes with my finger tips, picturing him while putting all his heart while painting these memories.

It hurts even when I know that death is a guarantee. If only I know that was the last time we'd be sitting in a cafè, if only I know that was the last time we'd ride the train together... I guess that's the thing with "last time", you never know when it'll be the last. Because if I knew, I would've kissed him and tell him how much he means to me.

My love... until our next life.

// Artworks by: Aeonix //