#my dream is to have an aesthetic desk and a studio

[mcmansionhell]

Coronagrifting: A Design Phenomenon

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled content to bring you a critical essay on the design world. I promise you that this will also be funny. 

This morning, the design website Dezeen tweeted a link to one of its articles, depicting a plexiglass coronavirus shield that could be suspended above dining areas, with the caption “Reader comment: ‘Dezeen, please stop promoting this stupidity.’”

This, of course, filled many design people, including myself, with a kind of malicious glee. The tweet seemed to show that the website’s editorial (or at least social media) staff retained within themselves a scintilla of self-awareness regarding the spread a new kind of virus in its own right: cheap mockups of COVID-related design “solutions” filling the endlessly scrollable feeds of PR-beholden design websites such as Dezeen, ArchDaily, and designboom. I call this phenomenon: Coronagrifting. 

I’ll go into detail about what I mean by this, but first, I would like to presenet some (highly condensed) history. 

From Paper Architecture to PR-chitecture

Back in the headier days of architecture in the 1960s and 70s, a number of architectural avant gardes (such as Superstudio and Archizoom in Italy and Archigram in the UK) ceased producing, well, buildings, in favor of what critics came to regard as “paper architecture.” This “paper architecture” included everything from sprawling diagrams of megastructures, including cities that “walked” or “never stopped” - to playfully erotic collages involving Chicago’s Marina City. Occasionally, these theoretical and aesthetic explorations were accompanied by real-world productions of “anti-design” furniture that may or may not have involved foam fingers. 

Archigram’s Walking City (1964). Source.

Paper architecture, of course, still exists, but its original radical, critical, playful, (and, yes, even erotic) elements were shed when the last of the ultra-modernists were swallowed up by the emerging aesthetic hegemony of Postmodernism (which was much less invested in theoretical and aesthetic futurism) in the early 1980s. What remained were merely images, the production and consumption of which has only increased as the design world shifted away from print and towards the rapidly produced, easily digestible content of the internet and social media. 

Architect Bjarke Ingels’s “Oceanix” - a mockup of an ecomodernist, luxury city designed in response to rising sea levels from climate change. The city will never be built, and its critical interrogation amounts only to “city with solar panels that floats bc climate change is Serious”  - but it did get Ingels and his firm, BIG, a TED talk and circulation on all of the hottest blogs and websites. Meanwhile, Ingels has been in business talks with the right-wing climate change denialist president of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro. (Image via designboom) 

Design websites are increasingly dominated by text and mockups from the desks of a firm’s public relations departments, facilitating a transition from the paper-architecture-imaginary to what I have begun calling “PR-chitecture.” In short, PR-chitecture is architecture and design content that has been dreamed up from scratch to look good on instagram feeds or, more simply, for clicks.  It is only within this substance-less, critically lapsed media landscape that Coronagrifting can prosper.

Coronagrifting: An Evolution

As of this writing, the two greatest offenders of Coronagrifting are Dezeen, which has devoted an entire section of its website to the virus (itself offering twelve pages of content since February alone) and designboom, whose coronavirus tag contains no fewer than 159 articles. 

Certainly, a small handful of these stories demonstrate useful solutions to COVID-related problems (such as this one from designboom about a student who created a mask prototype that would allow D/deaf and hard of hearing people to read lips) most of the prototypes and the articles about them are, for a lack of a better word, insipid. 

But where, you may ask, did it all start?

One of the easiest (and, therefore, one of the earliest) Coronagrifts involves “new innovative, health-centric designs tackling problems at the intersection of wearables and personal mobility,” which is PR-chitecture speak for “body shields and masks.” 

Wearables and Post-ables

The first example came from Chinese architect Sun Dayong, back at the end of February 2020, when the virus was still isolated in China. Dayong submitted to Dezeen a prototype of a full mask and body-shield that “would protect a wearer during a coronavirus outbreak by using UV light to sterilise itself.” The project was titled “Be a Bat Man.” No, I am not making this up. 

Screenshot of Dayong’s “Be a Batman” as seen on the Dezeen website. 

Soon after, every artist, architect, designer, and sharp-eyed PR rep at firms and companies only tangentially related to design realized that, with the small investment of a Photoshop mockup and some B-minus marketing text, they too could end up on the front page of these websites boasting a large social media following and an air of legitimacy in the field. 

By April, companies like Apple and Nike were promising the use of existing facilities for producing or supplying an arms race’s worth of slick-tech face coverings. Starchitecture’s perennial PR-churners like Foster + Partners and Bjarke Ingels were repping “3D-printed face shields”, while other, lesser firms promised wearable vaporware like “grapheme filters,” branded “skincare LED masks for encouraging self-development” and “solar powered bubble shields.” 

While the mask Coronagrift continues to this day, the Coronagrifting phenomenon had, by early March, moved to other domains of design. 

Consider the barrage of asinine PR fluff that is the “Public Service Announcement” and by Public Service Announcement, I mean “A Designer Has Done Something Cute to Capitalize on Information Meant to Save Lives.” 

Some of the earliest offenders include cutesy posters featuring flags in the shape of houses, ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home;” a designer building a pyramid out of pillows ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home”; and Banksy making “lockdown artwork” that involved covering his bathroom in images of rats ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home.” 

Lol. Screenshot from Dezeen. 

You may be asking, “What’s the harm in all this, really, if it projects a good message?” And the answer is that people are plenty well encouraged to stay home due to the rampant spread of a deadly virus at the urging of the world’s health authorities, and that these tone-deaf art world creeps are using such a crisis for shameless self promotion and the generation of clicks and income, while providing little to no material benefit to those at risk and on the frontlines.

Of course, like the mask coronagrift, the Public Service Announcement coronagrift continues to this very day. 

The final iteration of Post-able and Wearable Coronagrifting genres are what I call “Passive Aggressive Social Distancing Initiatives” or PASDIs. Many of the first PASDIs were themselves PSAs and art grifts, my favorite of which being the designboom post titled “social distancing applied to iconic album covers like the beatle’s abbey road.” As you can see, we’re dealing with extremely deep stuff here. 

However, an even earlier and, in many ways more prescient and lucrative grift involves “social distancing wearables.” This can easily be summarized by the first example of this phenomenon, published March 19th, 2020 on designboom: 

Never wasting a single moment to capitalize on collective despair, all manner of brands have seized on the social distancing wearable trend, which, again, can best be seen in the last example of the phenomenon, published May 22nd, 2020 on designboom:

We truly, truly live in Hell. 

Which brings us, of course, to living. 

“Architectural Interventions” for a “Post-COVID World”

As soon as it became clear around late March and early April that the coronavirus (and its implications) would be sticking around longer than a few months, the architectural solutions to the problem came pouring in. These, like the virus itself, started at the scale of the individual and have since grown to the scale of the city. (Whether or not they will soon encompass the entire world remains to be seen.) 

The architectural Coronagrift began with accessories (like the designboom article about 3D-printed door-openers that enable one to open a door with one’s elbow, and the Dezeen article about a different 3D-printed door-opener that enables one to open a door with one’s elbow) which, in turn, evolved into “work from home” furniture (”Stykka designs cardboard #StayTheF***Home Desk for people working from home during self-isolation”) which, in turn, evolved into pop-up vaporware architecture for first responders (”opposite office proposes to turn berlin's brandenburg airport into COVID-19 'superhospital'”), which, in turn evolved into proposals for entire buildings (”studio prototype designs prefabricated 'vital house' to combat COVID-19″); which, finally, in turn evolved into “urban solutions” aimed at changing the city itself (a great article summarizing and criticizing said urban solutions was recently written by Curbed’s Alissa Walker).

There is something truly chilling about an architecture firm, in order to profit from attention seized by a global pandemic, logging on to their computers, opening photoshop, and drafting up some lazy, ineffectual, unsanitary mockup featuring figures in hazmat suits carrying a dying patient (macabrely set in an unfinished airport construction site) as a real, tangible solution to the problem of overcrowded hospitals; submitting it to their PR desk for copy, and sending it out to blogs and websites for clicks, knowing full well that the sole purpose of doing so consists of the hope that maybe someone with lots of money looking to commission health-related interiors will remember that one time there was a glossy airport hospital rendering on designboom and hire them. 

Enough, already. 

Frankly, after an endless barrage of cyberpunk mask designs, social distancing burger king crowns, foot-triggered crosswalk beg buttons that completely ignore accessibility concerns such as those of wheelchair users, cutesy “stay home uwu” projects from well-to-do art celebrities (who are certainly not suffering too greatly from the economic ramifications of this pandemic), I, like the reader featured in the Dezeen Tweet at the beginning of this post, have simply had enough of this bullshit. 

What’s most astounding to me about all of this (but especially about #brand crap like the burger king crowns) is that it is taken completely seriously by design establishments that, despite being under the purview of PR firms, should frankly know better. I’m sure that Bjarke Ingels and Burger King aren’t nearly as affected by the pandemic as those who have lost money, jobs, stability, homes, and even their lives at the hands of COVID-19 and the criminally inept national and international response to it. On the other hand, I’m sure that architects and designers are hard up for cash at a time when nobody is building and buying anything, and, as a result, many see resulting to PR-chitecture as one of the only solutions to financial problems. 

However, I’m also extremely sure that there are interventions that can be made at the social, political, and organizational level, such as campaigning for paid sick leave, organizing against layoffs and for decent severance or an expansion of public assistance, or generally fighting the rapidly accelerating encroachment of work into all aspects of everyday life – that would bring much more good and, dare I say, progress into the world than a cardboard desk captioned with the hashtag #StaytheF***Home. 

Hence, I’ve spent most of my Saturday penning this article on my blog, McMansion Hell. I’ve chosen to run this here because I myself have lost work as a freelance writer, and the gutting of publications down to a handful of editors means that, were I to publish this story on another platform, it would have resulted in at least a few more weeks worth of inflatable, wearable, plexiglass-laden Coronagrifting, something my sanity simply can no longer withstand. 

So please, Dezeen, designboom, others – I love that you keep daily tabs on what architects and designers are up to, a resource myself and other critics and design writers find invaluable – however, I am begging, begging you to start having some discretion with regards to the proposals submitted to you as “news” or “solutions” by brands and firms, and the cynical, ulterior motives behind them. If you’re looking for a guide on how to screen such content, please scroll up to the beginning of this page. 

----

If you enjoyed this article, please consider subscribing to my Patreon, as I didn’t get paid to write it.  

[inkabelledesigns]

Sam and Jan’s Apartment - Nightmares are Reality Sims

So as of late, I’ve had a LOT of ideas brewing for yet another Bendy fic, and in some of my planning for it, I’ve built one of the locations in the Sims 4 to use as reference. It’s been busy at home, and I needed this to relax, so I’m glad I took the time to do that briefly. You may have seen my previous post about Nightmares are Reality, but if you haven’t, here’s the short version: Samantha Lorenzo from 2021 and Sammy Lawrence from 1946 wake up one morning with their bodies switched, and now both have to embrace the other’s friend group to not only find a way to get back, but also stop the inevitable fate of the studio staff as shown in the novel Dreams Come to Life. There’s angst, there’s fluff, and it get pretty rough, but there’s so much to play with for this story. 

Come with me, and let’s dive into Sam and Jan’s apartment!

So first, we gotta talk about Sam and Jan themselves. Samantha is the curly haired one, and Janet is the one in the hat (she wouldn’t be caught dead without one). Unfortunately the Sims does not allow me to change heights (and I don’t have a mod for it), but imagine for me if you will that Jan is significantly shorter than Sam. I did not have a ton in mind in the way of colors for them, but together their wardrobes have a LOT of red and black, with a little white and tan thrown in. I have Sam with the lifetime goal of being a successful author, which falls in line with her love of storytelling in modern media. Jan on the other hand is a songwriter and musician that’s still trying to find her path. The two met in college and graduated not too long ago, and now they’re both hunting for work (which Janet has part time when the fic begins). 

In addition to them, we have their cat, Figaro (named after the cat from Disney’s Pinnochio, Sam is a nerd like that).

Now, we move onto their apartment!

I chose the 1020 Alto Apartments lot for this, which came with the condition of the Romantic Fireplace that I can’t remove. But I added on Home Studio and Great Acoustics so they could bump up their skills a little easier. This is my first time playing with a lot challenge, and that is Spooky, which makes it so ghosts will come over now and again, which scares the crap out of both of them. And uh, funny story...

The ghost of Joey Drew was the third one to come, and he was VERY angry when Sam met him. X’’’D I did not see that coming, but now I kinda want to make more Bendy ghosts just to see if they pop in. Would you guys be into that? I mean Depths Henry is a ghost, so I probably SHOULD make him. 

At any rate, let’s look at the layout. Bear in mind, I am not phenomenal at building houses, much less apartments, but I think this worked out. 

It opens up into the kitchen, which is filled with all the essentials (these ladies are big on their caffeine). Currently I headcanon that Sam cooks while Jan cleans, but Jan is the better baker out of the two of them. Sam also likes to have fresh ingredients, and while I can’t do a window box on this lot, I can have some indoor vertical plants.

There isn’t much of a separation between living room and kitchen, but this is the living room! Some stuff is for playing with (since I actually play with my households now and then), like the dancefloor, but others are for actual use. They use a record player to listen to jazz and other music, and the furniture would be all mismatched like that (they were broke college kids, gotta sit on something, right? probably got it from a bunch of garage sales). The photo setup is something they use, but it belongs to their friend Vincent, which brings me to the first bedroom.

I haven’t made these two as Sims yet, but Sam and Jan have another duo living with them, Jess and Vincent, who are a couple. Jess is a makeup artist who often experiments on her friends, and she hopes to get into the makeup and wardrobe side of the cinematography scene. Vince on the other hand is a photography and film guy who’s an absolute sweetheart. Those two share this bedroom (Jess had more of a say in the decorating, Vince is pretty easygoing about the aesthetic). 

I had to make sure there was a special corner for Jess’ makeup stuff, she’d want space to move around. The mirror is also something she loves, and they all borrow it a lot. Why?

Because of this creepy room nextdoor! X’’’D So I just learned mannequins are a thing, and I can dress them however I want, so I put some in this pretty much functionless closet. (Though the two masculine ones have been glitching in a way that turns their heads a little at certain angles, and it creeps me out a LOT) This is the cosplay closet, which mostly Jess and Sam use, but all four of them have some numbers in here. These four are a cosplay group, mostly for Bendy, but for other fandoms too. Jess likes going as Twisted Alice (heavy special effects makeup, go figure), Vincent likes Henry and Joey (he likes scruffy nerds and suits), Janet dresses as Jack Fain (though she’s also done some gender bends of other characters), and Samantha (as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now) is right there as the Sammy for their group. If I can ever learn how to work with custom content, I would love to have a cosplay for each of them on these mannequins, but we’ll save that for later. These nerds are absolutely the types to play around with cosplay photos and tiktok videos, I’m sure they duet often. XD

We have some bathrooms, which are pretty self explanatory, but then we have Janet’s room. She is big on the posters and loves having her instruments right there and ready to play. She plays guitar and piano, but I may have her pick up violin down the line. Both of them have the geek trait and are prone to playing videogames more often than not, but Jan is mostly found playing her music. 

We have a small corner of the hallway for the cat. And then last but not least: Sam’s room.

This is Samantha’s creative space. Much like my space, when she’s working, it gets messy. She loves turning on some jazz while she writes, and while she’s crafting. I gave her and Jan the knitting supplies, since I don’t really know how else to simulate sewing for these characters, and they also have some clutter. Sam has one additional mannequin in her room, and she’s into figures, so there’s one of those on the desk. Her closet and bathroom are pretty simple, but that closet is gonna be really important when we get into the story, you’ll see why later.

As always, I have their Sims up on the gallery, along with the apartment, in case you want to play with them for yourself. Just note: because of how apartments work in this game, it’s uploaded as a room, so you’re going to have to fill some walls in and add doors if you want it to work like an apartment would (and you can totally turn it into a house if you want to, you don’t need to have 1020 Alto if you wanna use this). Just search for KatAlystDesigns in the Sims 4 gallery! I’ve also uploaded a few other houses recently, including the DCTL cast for my BATIM mermaid collection, and Buddy’s mother and grandpa. 

I had a LOT of fun putting this together last night, and it’s given me a much better idea of how I want to work with things for this narrative. Bear in mind, Sammy’s the one who’s gonna have to live here and put up with it, so having these details established is gonna help me to make the fic go smoother. I may tweak some things, like actually using upper cabinets in the kitchen (which I always seem to forget about), but we’ll see. XD Either way, this was a good exercise.

I hope you’re all looking forward to exploring these two and their story as much as I am! As a quick final note, I actually have a blog set up for Nightmares are Reality to mimic the one Sam has in the fic, and I’m thinking of using it as a somewhat RP, somewhat fic and content delivery system for the story, so if you’ve got thoughts on that, or stuff you’d like to see, do let me know! Here’s wishing you are all wonderful day!

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Thirteen: The One With the Aftermath

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1937

    "He did what!?" Gen and Rose's high-pitched squeals vibrated through the cellphone, resulting in Lily dropping it from her hands in surprise. Lily had broken the news to the two about the actions taken by Mr. James Buchanan Barnes just hours before in her kitchen. The way his calloused hand and cool prosthetic rested against her pale cheeks, holding her face as though it were a fine piece of china that would break if he applied too much pressure. Followed by the pressing of his petal-soft lips to her own, creating undeniable friction between the two not even Lily's deflective tendencies could deny. All over a cup of coffee.

"Okay woah, let's relax there," Lily sighed while finishing zipping up the flower-patterned muted coral skirt she had slid on above her white lace tank top. Her hand gripped onto a cropped red cardigan that hit just below the waist of the high-cut skirt. A cute and simple outfit that encompassed the true aesthetic of Lily Osborne. One that the girls on the phone disapproved of. Speaking of which, "It was just a kiss...it doesn't mean anything, right?"

Two conflicting parts of Lily seemed to have been raging war in her mind. On one hand, she prayed and hoped that the kiss meant nothing to him. That it was simply a heat of the moment sort of thing. The tension and adrenaline of the night had welled to a head in Bucky and he made an impulsive decision that didn't mean anything. It was just a kiss. Nothing more. Nothing less. But on the other hand, Lily secretly wished that the kiss was out of some sort of romantic feeling. That he had kissed her because the slight crush that Lily had on the man out of time was reciprocated. And that he felt the same way that she did. But honestly, she wouldn't believe that if someone wrote it in the sky out of the smoke from a plane. Mostly because she herself didn't believe it was even remotely possible. A guy like that liking a girl like her? It was a cliche trope but she never thought in her wildest dreams he would even look at her in a way like that.

"You should totally ask him," Rose chimed in, seemingly shooing someone away. Lily had figured the two were sitting in the kitchen at Gen's cafe, munching on pastries as they awaited even more juicy gossip from Lily. But they would be sadly disappointed because the kiss was really the only news that Lily had. But it wouldn't stop them from hoping, "He seems like an honest guy. He already kissed you and you kissed back, what's the worst that could happen?"

After a few more minutes of back and forth between the three girls, Lily hung up her phone to focus on fixing the mop of golden hair atop her head. It was only 9 o'clock in the morning, and after the events that had transpired the night before, Lily didn't expect to see Hunter come in to her room or down to the main floor for another while. Bucky, however, Lily didn't know if he was wandering around her home, or if he had taken off somehow. If the avengers sent someone to pick him up or something. But, after leaving the soft curls be and dancing across her shoulders, Lily would soon come to learn that answer to her confusion before.

Sitting at the birchwood dinner table sat Bucky Barnes and Lily's son plowing down on some frosted flakes while laughing over something. Lily stood on the landing of the stairs, heart growing even larger than it already was. It felt as though the beating organ inside of her may explode at the drop of a hat if she kept staring at the beautiful moment in front of her. A beaming smile on her son’s youthful face and a mirrored one on the stubble-covered and worn face of the Winter Soldier. Neither boy had spotted the blonde staring longingly at them from the staircase, and she prayed silently that they didn't. Instead, she slid her phone out of her skirt pocket and took a quick picture, wanting to relive the moment a million times over if she could.

"Mom!" Hunter exclaimed when Lily's feet hit the bottom of the stairs finally. He shot from his chair and curled his slim arms around the waist of his mother. Lily smiled gently as she bent down to rest a kiss on his forehead before turning to the older man who too seemed to watch in bliss at the interaction. A similar expression to the one Lily wore just moments ago.

"Morning buddy, didn't expect to see you awake right now." the blonde smiled after Hunter released her from his grip and returned to his seat. She bent down to pick up Joey's dish, the dog's ears perking up from the mat in front of the door to the backyard. After she filled up the dog’s food and gave him his morning kisses, Lily found herself sitting at the table across from the brunette man that had stayed in her guest bedroom the night before, "Frosted flakes this morning, hm? I thought these were only for Saturday breakfasts and your birthday?"

"I pulled them out, they were the first thing I saw when I opened the pantry, I hope that's okay." His timid voice radiated across the table towards Lily, causing her eyes to shift from her son over to the rugged man that sat across from her at the table. A faint grin spread along her slightly puffed features caused by her morning rise. For a second, their eyes met and the world melted away as it always seemed to do when they met iris's. Something that Lily was sure she wouldn't be able to get used to.

-----

Not too long after all three had completed their breakfast, Lily had to excuse herself. She had a duty to call her lawyer today and set up a review of her and Scott's custody agreement. There was no way in hell after that stunt occurred, Scott would be keeping partial custody of their son. He left Hunter home alone with a clearly lousy babysitter, as well as he had lied to mary about who her child was left in the hands of. Everything about the situation was already unnerving for Lily. One part in particular that just stuck in her mind like it had been superglued, was the fact Hunter had said that the person attempting to break into Scott's apartment, or at least get his attention, was there specifically for Scott. Not just to play a heinous joke or commit a petty crime. No, they were looking for Scott Harvey specifically. And that one part did not sit well with Lily.

But instead, she had a New York-level lawyer to handle.

"Lily! it's been ages since you've called. what can I do for you today love?" the man's raspy voice echoed through the phone she held to her ear.

Carter Evanson was the man that helped Lily through the roughest parts of her divorce. Kept her sane through the entire process alongside Rose and Gen. She had been so thankful for his kind words of encouragement as she would recount the numerous emotional trauma stories she had faced in her marriage to Scott. How he hadn't touched her in ages. How whenever he came home he was drunk and always smelled of another woman's perfume. But Lily never decided to look further into these things back then. He had made her believe that nothing she did would ever make her good enough. He was the best she would get. No other man would want a woman who already had a kid and a divorce under her belt. Scott Harvey had manipulated Lily into believing she was less worthy of just about anything in the world, and she continued to believe it to this day.

But Carter's kind voice created a sense of comfort throughout the whole divorce process. Always encouraging her and remind her how good of an idea this was. That everything would work out for her. How she was strong enough to get through it without chickening out like she always seemed to do. Whether it was his warm and energetic voice that would constantly play in the back of her mind when sitting down at Scott's lawyer’s table, writing out their custody agreement as well as their splitting of assets. And because of him, the divorce became final and the majority of assets and custody landed in the a-line skirt-covered lap of Lily Osborne.

"Hey Carter, I need to set up an appointment with Scott to redo the entire custody agreement. Something happened and Hunter cannot go back there- oh I'm getting another call," Lily continued, clearing her throat after placing the lawyer on hold and answering the call, "Doctor Lily Osborne."

"Ms. Osborne? This is sergeant Harrison, we just interviewed the man who attempted to break into your ex-husband's apartment last night and uh...we need you to come into the station. Right now if possible." the police officer explained, his voice reverberating through the front of her mind, setting off her heart into a mile a minute race.

-----

Arriving at the LAPD station, or more specifically, the 88th precinct, Lily rushed through and up the elevator and up towards where they had instructed Lily to go. She had to apparently see the culprit, so after convincing Bucky to watch the young boy that is Hunter Osborne, she arrived at the precinct in a rush. The moment she heard the elevator ding, she ran out in a rush and past the small gate that blocked off the desks from the public. She saw the Sergeant she spoke to on the phone and let her ballet flat-clad feet rush forward.

"Ms. Osborne, thank you for getting here so fast." the large man sighed, neck-craning down to look at the small blonde that had rushed through, "here, come with me." Sergeant Harrison sighed softly while leading the young doctor towards the interview room.

He walked her through the doors that kept them separate from the criminal that sat in front of the two-way mirror. The moment that Lily spotted the man in front of her, the young girl had to furrow her eyebrows together. The mop of blonde hair atop the man’s head screamed at Lily in a violent signal that there was something very wrong here. The way his shoulder slouched and the fact that she was unable to see his face because of his hunched posture. She figured he was too embarrassed or ashamed to even look at himself in the mirror that the police officer and Lily looked through. But his body type, his hair, the bracelet that sat on his hand looked so familiar to Lily.

"Alright sir please state your name quickly so we can get this show started." a woman's voice sighed as she entered the room that was blocked off from Lily's presence. She was a breathtaking beauty and it almost took Lily back before she reminded herself that was not exactly what she was here for. To be honest, she wasn't 100% sure why she was actually here.

A screeching behind her caught the blonde’s attention. The Sergeant that had brought her in had pushed a chair up behind her, gesturing her to sit. Saying a quick remark about how she may need to with what she was about to learn. It caused her heart to set off into such a quick beat that she was worried it may explode inside of her chest. Whatever was about to happen clearly wasn't good news for Lily. So she sat and waited. And almost threw up.

"My name is Cedar Osborne."

[karajaynetoday]

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part one

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson 

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day wherever you are in the world. Thank you to everyone who voted in my little Google form thing on what they’d like to see me write next. Here’s Part One of my 5SOS x music journalist story. It’s a little angsty, and as the first chapter this is a lot of introduction to the OC and her story, but I hope you like it! It’s the first time I’ve written an OC into a fic, so I’d love to know your thoughts and if you’re interested in reading more about Lizzie and her adventures interviewing 5SOS.

Shout outs to @wheniminouterspace and @calumrose​ for helping me sense-check this concept, and @spicycal for giving me feedback on it in its draft stages. You’re all gems! 

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Fem!OC, minor swearing

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Lizzie Lawson was having a bit of a day. Her train had been late, she dropped her coffee moments after receiving it from the cute barista downstairs (and broke her favourite keep cup in the process), and her work computer had decided to run updates the moment she sat down at her desk. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed this morning.

Her colleagues were tapping away at their keyboards, answering phone calls, and discussing upcoming story ideas with each other - the usual tasks, especially for a Monday morning. Lizzie, computerless and caffeine deprived, had to settle for a cup of instant coffee from the kitchenette, and had taken to tidying up her desk while her computer was restarting over and over again but still somehow not ready for use. She was on the floor, sorting through the snacks in her bottom desk drawer (crackers that were two months’ past their expiry date, some gummy worms, and what seemed like hundreds of cans of tuna) when James, the music editor, stuck his head out of his office and called for her.

“Lawson! Where are you?” James sounded confused. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Lizzie at her desk moments ago, and then suddenly she popped her head up like a meerkat.

“Jimbo! Here. What’s crack-a-lackin?” Lizzie responded, standing up and brushing herself off as she headed towards where James was standing in his office doorway.

“Got a pitch for ya. Step into my office, if you’re finished with your spring clean.” James chuckled as he stepped back inside and sat down on the couch opposite his desk. 

A number of journalism awards were displayed on the shelf above the couch, and the floor to ceiling window overlooked Sydney’s CBD and its tall, grey buildings, with a glimpse of the harbour ocean in the distance. Lizzie had to admit she’d imagined herself in James’ desk chair more than a few times; the music editor of one of Australia’s leading youth and pop culture publishing companies, regularly travelling the world to interview award-winning artists, and assigning and guiding well-crafted investigative pieces on the entertainment industry and those within in. 

But, in reality, Lizzie had only recently worked her way up to being in the music department, after a couple of years on the news desk and a series of casual internships at different publications around the place. But music journalism, and the passion she had for live performances and watching artists grow and develop their sounds and aesthetics over their careers, was where Lizzie had always wanted her career to go. She was grateful to James for having her on the team, but she also knew that he didn’t recruit just anyone - so her writing must’ve been strong enough to get her here. James was a good boss, salt of the earth, always had his team’s back, but he was also a little mysterious, and this morning’s meeting was one of those where his face was giving absolutely nothing away as Lizzie joined him on the couch in the office. 

“So, what’s up?” Lizzie said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Lawson. You’ve only been on deck for a few months, but turns out my gut instinct about you has paid off. That profile you did on the 1975 last month has gotten some good feedback and traction out and about.” James spoke in a measured tone, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

“Oh! Well, that’s… good, right?” Lizzie still couldn’t figure out exactly why she was in James’ office. Or why she was so nervous. 

“Correct, it is good. It’s been great to see you come into your own a little bit, and develop your interview style. I also really appreciated you stepping in to cover the Matt Corby interview for Hannah the other day, when she had that stomach bug.” James continued, seemingly searching for an email or something on his laptop as he spoke. 

“No worries! Hannah’s notes were really thorough, plus I definitely had a Matt Corby phase when he was on Australian Idol back in 2006! Oof, that fringe, you know?” Lizzie cringed internally when she heard herself starting to babble. 

James snorted, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure Matt was glad the 2006 hairstyle didn’t take up too many words in the final profile piece. He was pretty happy with it though, and his management were too, according to the label. So happy, in fact, that they’re requested you to profile another one of their artists.”

James had Lizzie’s full attention now, and she still couldn’t read his expression. “Really? Me? Who’s the artist?” She asked, trying not to get too excited too soon.

“Yes, indeed, you. 5 Seconds of Summer, or 5SOS. They’ve got a new album due out in a month or so, and their publicist is keen to fly you out to LA for a few weeks to follow them around while they wrap things up in the studio, and do a profile piece on their journey to date. Are you familiar with their stuff? They’re offering us an exclusive, something about the album being linked to their homeland or something, so they wanted to go with an Australian media outlet first.” James set his laptop back down on the coffee table and angled it so Lizzie could see an email on the screen that had a few lines of text and a photo of a band onstage.

5SOS. Was Lizzie familiar? Oh yes, she was familiar. Lizzie Lawson hailed from the western suburbs, and 5SOS was the area’s biggest success story. Aussie boys made good, with millions of albums sold, billions of song streams, thousands of concerts played all around the world, that was their career to date. But for Lizzie, 5SOS were always a bit closer to home. She’d attended the same high school as three of the band members, and Michael Clifford was someone she called her best friend, once upon a time. Ashton had also befriended Lizzie’s older brother Lachlan when they’d worked together at KFC. That was years ago now, and they’d all fallen out of touch, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works. You grow up and you move on and you don’t keep the same friends, because sometimes they move to the other side of the world and get super famous as successful musicians. Or something like that. Even if they know your deepest secrets, or biggest fears, or hopes and dreams, or you trust them more than anything, sometimes they still leave you. 

Lizzie’s previous state of intrigue quickly became panic, because what if she wasn’t actually being chosen based on the merit of her work? What if the 5SOS team knew about her connection to the band, and were going to use it to manipulate her writing in some way? What if it was all a ploy to get her and Michael in the same room so he could finally call her out on what had gone down between them all those years ago? What if - 

“Lawson! You on planet earth still, or wait?” James snapped his fingers in front of Lizzie’s face to get her attention. She shook her head to clear it, and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Yep, I’m familiar with their work. A little fuzzy on the most recent work, but I have a bit of knowledge on a lot of their early stuff. And Youngblood, of course. Everyone knows Youngblood. ARIA song of the year, a billion streams, etc etc.” Lizzie spoke, meeting James’ gaze as he cocked his head at her curiously. He knew Lizzie had a tendency to get a little nervous when she was put on the spot, but there was something about her right now that was a little more unsettled than usual that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Good. Well, if you’re down, the label will cover three weeks accommodation in Los Angeles. Labels don’t usually do that kind of thing, but their manager is super keen for you to get enough quality time with the band to build up a solid profile piece. We’ll cover your daily expenses, I’ll send you instructions for the claiming app, and then we just need your passport to get the flights booked. Sound okay?” 

“Y-yep. Yes. Okay. Right. When would I be leaving?” Lizzie pinched her thigh through her jeans to double check that she wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was actually happening. 

“Friday midday. We’ll put some feelers out in LA, and see if there’s any other interviews you can do while you’re there, but your focus will be on 5SOS because they’re picking up the bill for your stay. But that being said, don’t let that sway what you write. They’ve requested you because they like your deep, detailed, open style of profiling, so don’t be afraid to ask some curly questions to get the answers that will craft the right piece, you know?” James spoke firmly, looking pointedly at Lizzie who quickly nodded in response.

“Right, well, I’ll cc you into this email chain with their publicist and manager, and we’ll go from there. You can hand over your other pieces to Hannah, you’ll need to spend the next few days prepping for LA and doing whatever research you need to feel ready. You’ve got this, Lizzie. I know you can do a great job.” James was trying to be encouraging, as he stood up and opened the door to his office, but Lizzie’s heart was pounding with nerves and she barely hear his words. 

She walked back to her desk in a daze, and Hannah had to literally poke Lizzie in her side to get her attention and ask what James had said in the meeting. A few excited squeals and a bear hug later, Hannah was off and running talking about lists of things Lizzie needed to organise before her international adventure was due to begin in a few days’ time. Lizzie, on the other hand, still couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was happening?

--

The next few days flew by in a haze of emails, life admin, last minute shopping trips and a lot of deep breathing on Lizzie’s part, and before she knew it, she was wrangling her suitcase out of an Uber and into the international terminal at Sydney Airport. Lizzie, as a generally anxious person, had arrived the full three hours early for her flight, but her parents had treated her to a flight lounge guest pass (because they wanted her to know they were proud), so she was able to deal with her nerves by eating far too many complimentary croissants and hash browns. 

Soon enough, the time to board the plane arrived, and Lizzie was grateful that she ended up in an empty row of seats, by some miracle. Praise be to the airline gods, or whichever higher power had decided she’d be able to at least try and get some sleep in the next fourteen hours. She’d set her phone and watch forward to Los Angeles time, so she could try and adjust her body clock accordingly, which meant that she’d have to stay up for a few hours at least.

Lizzie tried to be productive, and tapped away at her research notes on her laptop for a little while, before she found herself opening up the band’s instagram page in her browser. The four men staring back at Lizzie through the screen seemed a million miles away from the gangly, excitable teenagers she’d known all those years ago. There was an interesting intensity about them in the photograph, steely gazes and defined bodies under carefully selected clothing, but there was also a peacefulness in their poses beside one another. Like being together, in this moment captured minutes before heading onstage, was the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie found her eyes drawn towards Michael; his dirty blonde hair swept across his forehead (not dissimilar to the style he’d had in their high school days, to be honest), and it was accompanied by some scruffy facial hair and a dangly cross earring in one ear. His grey-green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul, and Lizzie involuntarily shivered at the thought of seeing him again in person in a day or so. 

She was still anxious about whether or not this entire thing was a scam, but nonetheless, she was going to try her darndest to be a consummate professional, and write the best profile story of her life. In her research, Lizzie had reviewed some previous 5SOS interviews, and she’d cringed her way through their Rolling Stone interview from many years prior. She remembered reading it at the time it was published, unable to believe some of the words attributed to the boys she’d once called her friends, and the intense aftermath that followed. Understandably, they’d avoided in-depth profile interviews since, so Lizzie was incredibly curious as to why they’d changed their mind. Why now? Why her? She closed her laptop and drifted into sleep, curled up across three airplane seats and tucked under a thin blanket. 

Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were stiff when she awoke, an hour or so before her flight was due to land. She used the in-flight wifi to check her emails quickly, and noted a new one from 5SOS’s publicist Danielle, which welcomed Lizzie to Los Angeles and explained that she should catch a taxi to her accommodation at the address listed, and that she should give her a call once she was checked in. Right. That seemed straight forward enough.

LAX customs were intimidating as ever (god, Lizzie was so nervous), but Lizzie made it through without incident and was able to quickly make her way into a cab with a driver who seemed familiar with her accommodation address. They drove her to a boutique-looking hotel, and when Lizzie checked in and made her way up to her room, she was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. A queen-sized bed, a good desk for working at, a nice view from her balcony of the Hollywood Hills, a small kitchenette with a fridge and microwave, and a glorious bathroom that had a very enticing bath tub in it (Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were already thankful for the idea of being able to soak in some nice hot water for a while). 

After checking the room for serial killers (better to be safe than sorry, right?) Lizzie had a quick shower and changed out of her travel trackies and oversized hoodie into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a blazer, before opening up her phone and scrolling down to Danielle’s contact. A few deep breaths were required before Lizzie built up the courage to press “call”.

“This is Danielle!” A cheery American accent answered on the other end of the line.

“H-hi Danielle, this is Lizzie, from Junkee Australia. You said in my email I should give you a call once I was all checked in, and I am, so…” Lizzie found herself giggling nervously and facepalmed.

“Lizzie, of course! How was your flight? Long and boring?”

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Danielle’s enthusiasm made Lizzie feel like she had to perk herself up a bit in conversation.

“Well, I’m sure you’re gagging for a nap, but we’ve got to get you adjusted to the timezone so we can make the most of your time here. I’m just finishing up something in the office, but I can swing by your hotel in about 45 minutes, and we can go over your story pitch and the band schedule for the next few weeks, and figure out your interview time slots and other things you can go along to observe, if that works for you?” Lizzie could hear Danielle’s keyboard clacking as she spoke.

“Sure, well, you have my number now, so just text me when you get here. I’ll try my best not to nap in the meantime.” Lizzie’s somewhat dry response got a laugh out of Danielle, who agreed and bid her farewell, ending the call.

Placing her phone down on the bedside table, Lizzie looked around the hotel room that was set to be her home away from home for the better part of the next month, and spotted a coffee machine on top of the mini fridge. If she was really going to keep her no-nap promise, caffeine was definitely in order. 

True to her word, Danielle arrived at the hotel within the hour, and soon Lizzie found herself sat beside Danielle on a fancy couch tucked in a corner of the hotel lobby. Danielle had opened up her laptop, and also pulled a plastic folder of documents out of her tote bag.

“Okay, so… I’m sure you’ve done your own research, but here’s a few hard copies of the band bio, album press release, and a few other tidbits from the label, along with a hard copy of the band schedule. It’s all confidential and coded, the electronic version I’ve emailed you will have the proper locations for everything, but I thought a print out might be handy anyway. The boys are recording some stuff at the studio Calum has at his house tomorrow, so I figured we could introduce you there and then after that figure out what else you’d like to get done. There’s an industry showcase for some of the new songs at the end of the week, and then they’re doing various promo and album prep things, finalising mixes, photoshoots, etc, so there’s a bit of variety for you. Any initial thoughts on how you want to do the interviews for your profile?” Danielle rattled off, gazing at Lizzie expectantly when she finished speaking.

Lizzie blinked at her a few times before collecting herself. “In my research, I found it really interesting to hear the band and some of the fans talking about how 5SOS has evolved into the collective effort of four individual artists, not just the band as one artistic music entity, so I was hoping, if possible, to interview them individually, as well as observing them as a group. Would.. Would that be okay, do you think?” 

Danielle pursed her lips, before breaking out into a smile. 

“I think that sounds exactly like something the band would be willing to do. Damn, Matt Emsell was right - you do know your stuff.” She chuckled, handing the folder of documents over to Lizzie and pulling out the schedule that was on top.

“So studio at Calum’s tomorrow from 10am, I’ll swing by and collect you so we can do introductions, I’ll stick around for a bit just to make sure you’re all good but otherwise I’m just going to let you do your thing. The band have been doing this for long enough now, they don’t need their publicist hovering.”

The curiosity was killing Lizzie. She couldn’t not ask. 

“Danielle, I’ve got to ask this, sorry. Do the band… know me? Know that I’m the one coming to interview them?” Lizzie managed to get out, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” Danielle cocked her head to one side, clearly confused at the question. “I sent them the Matt Corby piece you did, and they liked that, so that was one of the reasons we asked you out here. So they’re familiar with your work, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“No, um… oh god, I’ve made this super awkward now.” Lizzie laughed dryly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, I know them. Personally. Or at least I used to. I’m from Sydney, and I went to school with Luke, and Calum, and… Michael. So I was just wondering,  um, if they realised that it was me and that was part of why I was asked to come to LA for this…Not really sure why that would make them choose me, but I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before tomorrow.” Lizzie finally dared to look up at Danielle, whose expression was unreadable.

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. As far as I know, that wasn’t a factor at all. We all genuinely liked your writing style, so whether or not the boys made the connection, I have no idea. They’re not super keen on any irrelevant personal life stuff making it into this piece though, so if this is going to be a problem for you, we should deal with it now.” Her tone was slightly less warm than before, and Lizzie could sense the protective publicist side of Danielle kicking in.

“Definitely not a problem. I entirely intend to be fully professional, and like you said, my writing will speak for itself. Just wanted to put it all out there. Not a problem for me.” Lizzie spoke up, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt.

“Good. We have no problems here then. I’ve got to run, but text me with any questions, otherwise I’ll see you at 9.30am tomorrow for the drive to Calum’s!” Danielle’s tone was nice and bright again, as she shut her laptop and gathered her belongings, patting Lizzie’s shoulder in what she assumed was some sort of attempt at calming her nerves.

It didn’t work though. Not a problem for Lizzie? Bullshit. Not a problem for 5SOS, and Michael in particular? Seemed unlikely. 

--

Lizzie was worried she’d have a restless night’s sleep because of her overwhelming anxiety about the next day’s reunion, but the exhaustion from her travelling overtook her and she almost slept through her alarm. A quick shower and a shot of espresso later and Lizzie was downstairs waiting for Danielle to pick her up to head over to meet the band.

“Morning! How’d you sleep?” Danielle chirped as she rolled into the car park, her car window down. 

“Very deeply, thank you! The room is really comfortable. Thanks again for organising.” Lizzie mentally urged herself to keep up the small talk as a way of hiding her nerves.

The car ride over was mostly quiet, but when they pulled up outside of what Lizzie assumed was Calum’s house, she definitely felt like she was about to vomit.

“Just so you know, I flagged our conversation last night with the band. About your pitch around the individual interviews, and also about your little… connection to them. Ashton didn’t seem to think it was a problem, so it should all be fine.” Danielle mused, as she opened her car door and hopped out. All Lizzie could do was nod, because her throat was dry and she was starting to panic. She blindly followed Danielle through the front gate and around the side of the house to a building in the backyard, Lizzie strained to hear what sounded like raised, male voices floating towards them as they approached. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t entirely sound positive.

Danielle knocked loudly on the door and shot Lizzie a reassuring smile, before the shouting subsided and it swung open. Calum Hood stood in the doorway, and Lizzie sucked in a breath. It’d been eight years, maybe more since she’d last seen Calum, and even then, had they spoken? She couldn’t remember. 

Calum smiled at Danielle, and then his eyes flickered over to Lizzie, not quite carrying the same happiness, but not entirely losing it either.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to casa di Calum, come on in.” He spoke with that scratchy, deep voice of his that Lizzie had reacquainted herself with when watching hours of interviews during her research. 

Danielle stepped passed Calum into the room, and she indicated for Lizzie to follow, which she did. Lizzie could feel Calum’s gaze on her as she brushed past him, but the minute she stepped inside, any sense of warmth or welcome she’d felt before vanished. 

Luke and Ashton were standing over by the sound recording panel, turning to look at Lizzie and Danielle as they entered. Lizzie thought she saw a hint of a smile on Luke’s face (they had survived Year 8 Maths together, after all… that had to count for something, right?), but Ashton was unreadable.

Entirely obvious, though, was the look of bitter disdain on Michael Clifford’s face when Lizzie finally spotted him hunched over on the couch along the wall. Those grey-green eyes were staring her down with a harsh glare. It had familiarity about it, Lizzie realised, but not in a good way. 

Danielle cleared her throat in the silence, and turned to Lizzie.

“Well, I believe introductions might not be required, but in the interest of professionalism and courtesy - “ Lizzie didn’t miss Danielle’s pointed glance towards Michael, who was still scowling silently towards everyone - “Lizzie Lawson from Junkee, I would like you to meet Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford, also collectively known as 5 Seconds of Summer or 5SOS.” 

Lizzie waved, and then immediately cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward.  She received a nod of recognition from Ashton, and small smiles from Luke and Calum. From Michael, more scowling. This was going to be a long three weeks. 

“So, Lizzie, why don’t you go through the pitch for the profile that we discussed yesterday? The boys already have a bit of an idea, but I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.” Danielle was being overly encouraging, but it worked, and Lizzie took a deep breath before speaking.

“Thanks, Danielle. And thank you to you guys, honestly. I know this is a little strange for all of us -”

“Fucking oath it is.” Lizzie heard Michael mutter under his breath, but she continued, undeterred. 

“But, I’m really excited to have the opportunity to interview you and pull together this story. Especially on behalf of the Australian music media. I know they haven’t always given you the recognition you deserve, but I think this piece is a chance to overcome that. Anyway, the specific pitch I’d love to go with is reflective of you as individual artists, as well as the collective band group. If it’s suitable, it’d be great to have the chance to speak to each of you one-on-one as well as a group, to give a holistic view of your journeys as people and as musicians and what you’re trying to achieve with this album. So… yeah…” Lizzie trailed off nervously, clenching her hands at her sides.

“I love it. We’re happy you’re here, Lizzie. I really loved the Matt Corby piece Danielle sent us, and like you said, it was really important for us to have the perspective of an Australian journalist for this story and where we’re at right now.” Ashton’s calm voice broke the silence, as he nodded at Lizzie in agreeance. Luke and Calum nodded too, and Lizzie tried not to look towards Michael because no doubt he was still glaring at her.

“Great! Everyone’s on the same page. I have to dash off to a meeting, but Lizzie has my number if she needs it, otherwise all of you please behave and don’t scare her off, nor say anything that means I’ll have to destroy her tape recorder. Sound good? Good!” Danielle rattled off quickly, moving out the door and shutting it behind her. 

The tension in the air was thick, and it was all seething from Michael’s direction towards Lizzie. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone, notebook and pen. She spotted a chair behind her, and turned back towards Luke and Ashton.

“Well, where do you want to start? A group sit down, some general thoughts on the journey so far and what the album experience has been like?” Lizzie offered, trying to make herself sound enthusiastic, but also in control and like she knew what she was doing.

Luke, Calum and Ashton all murmured in agreeance, and moved themselves over to sit by Michael on the couch, while Lizzie dragged the chair she’d spotted over to sit facing them.

“Right. All good if I audio record this?” She asked, hitting record on her voicenotes app after three heads nodded at her.

“So, the album. Where did it begin? Did anyone or anything influence or kick off the sonic direction or the start of the exploratory process?”

The conversation was flowing quite well, Lizzie though. Ashton dominated most of the responses to her questions, but Luke and Calum chipped in their perspectives throughout. Michael didn’t say a word, even when Calum poked him in the side, and instead of glaring at Lizzie he was now staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. An improvement, sort of, but still not ideal from a journalist and interviewee perspective, let alone when the interviewee was someone who used to be Lizzie’s best friend. 

Before she knew it, an hour had past, and Ashton stood, remembering a meeting they had scheduled with the label and their management team, and bringing the interview to a close. 

As Lizzie was packing up her equipment, she cautiously brought up the topic of the one on one interviews. 

“So, does anyone in particular have free time in the next few days, so I can start on the individual profiling part of the story?” Lizzie asked, her tone hopeful.

Michael’s response was to push straight past her and walk out of the studio, muttering to himself and slamming the door as he went. The loud noise made Lizzie flinch, and she realised her heart was racing and her hands were a little shaky. 

“I’ve got time, LL Cool J. I’ll meet you at Joan’s on Third for lunch, say 1pm?”  Lizzie smiled at the pld nickname Calum slipped into his quiet response to her question. 

“Works for me, C Dizzle Swizzle. Thanks again for your time today, I really appreciate it. Not to sound like a broken record, but I’m really excited for this piece and the chance to tell your story.” Lizzie found herself grinning like an idiot as she met Calum’s warm gaze, and noted that Ashton and Luke were also smiling at her.

“We’re excited too, Lizzie. Even if… some of us might not quite be as enthusiastic as they should be. But, don’t worry. He’ll come round.” It was Luke that spoke this time, his striking blue eyes somehow staring straight into Lizzie’s soul as he looked at her. 

“Here’s hoping.” Lizzie tried not to sound too dull in her response, but it was a challenge. 

Because honestly, how the fuck was she going to do a profile on all four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, if one of them could barely stand being in the same room as her?

Time will tell, Lizzie thought to herself as she walked out of the door to Calum’s studio and into the warm California sunlight. Time will tell. 

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @loveroflrh​ @spicycal​ @notinthesameguey​ @metalandboybands​

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

[bopinion]

Book of the month / 2021 / 02 February

I love books. Even though I hardly read any. Because my library is more like a collection of tomes, coffee-table books, limited editions... in short: books in which not "only" the content counts, but also the editorial performance, the presentation, the curating of the topic - the book as a total work of art itself.

Phaidon Design Classics (001-999)

Alan Fletcher (and Phaidon Editorial Staff)

Encyclopedia / 2006 / Phaidon Press

I love design. On paper and in three-dimensional space. After winning the lottery, our home would look like a mix of a high-end furniture store and a modern gallery - Bauhaus meets Apple, Philippe Starck meets Eva Solo, Ligne Roset meets Alessi, Alvar Aalto meets Le Corbusier. And I would finally meet BoConcept ;-)

I tease my wife by crowing loudly "The chair!" or "The lamp!" every time I spot an Eames Alu chair by Vitra or a Tolomeo lamp by Artemide in a movie or series - because that's exactly how her desk is equipped. And I crow often, because after all, the set designers have at least as much style in their blood as I do. But significantly more budget.

To this day, I still weep for the Wagenfeld Lamp on the Eileen Gray Adjustable Table, which didn't end up with me after the divorce. Now they have found their destiny as ambassadors of good taste. There's so much "Gelsenkirchen Baroque" - as we call the Germans' favorite taste aberration - out there, most furniture stores are a scarier experience for me than the ghost train. There is a difference between cheap and inexpensive. So for the time being, I continue to dream of a Hardoy Butterfly chair and ottoman in black calf leather and stainless steel.

Phaidon, the British eminence for reference books, obviously understands me. And has documented the 999 most important designs of the last hundred years in a compendium: Three volumes with 3,300 pages of beauty. Already on the title, the claims are made clear:

Industrially manufactured objects of aesthetic value and timeless quality:

1) Definite Models of lasting influence and enduring quality

2) Objects that are innovative in their use of new materials and unite technological advances with beautiful design

3) Objects characterized by simplicity, balance and purity of form

4) Objects that are perfect in their design and have remained unchanged since their creation.

Wow - I'm in love!

Of course, the selection of design objects is subjective, but the compilation presented here can certainly be considered recognized and comprehensive. The product areas range from furniture and lamps to household goods, toys, tools, packaging and transportation. Among the icons considered are the Moleskine notebook, the Thonet Chair No. 14, the Peugeot Pepper Mill, the Swiss Army Knife, the Steiff Teddy Bear, the VW Beetle, the Tabasco bottle, the Mont Blanc fountain pen, the Rolleiflex camera, the Bialetti Mika Express coffee pot, the Model 300 telephone, the Savoy vase and the Slinky. A wealth of design highlights - and I only took the first volume "001-333" off the shelf for these examples.

The illustrations are of good quality as well as neutral and documentary in their simple pictorial language. Construction sketches and design studies are not missing and one or the other gag appears: for example, a picture from Martin Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" is shown for the famous New York Checker Cab. The depth of information in the accompanying texts is perfectly measured - one learns everything essential about the object, its design and its creator, all well in context.

We learn: Design accompanies all of our daily lives. Design transports functionality. Design positions the individual in the omnipresent. Design creates value. Design attracts and creates expectations. Design communicates with the viewer. Design builds the bridge from sober "form follows function" to animating marketing. Design has an effect. By the way, this also applies in reverse: the absence of design - whereby one should actually speak of "accidental physical manifestation" instead, because an actual absence would be invisible and intangible - also has an effect. But just negatively.

The lasting value of good design is demonstrated, for example, by Coca-Cola, whose lettering and typical bottle shape have remained basically unchanged since 1937. Anyone who looks at Pepsi in comparison will understand what this says about the quality of the design. And even such everyday self-evident things as crown caps, zippers or pencils were once created by designers.

Of course, a reference work on design must itself be appropriately designed. Thus, none other than Alan Fletcher is responsible for the layout of the three books. Fletcher was described by The Daily Telegraph as "the most highly regarded graphic designer of his generation, and probably one of the most prolific". Born in Nairobi, Kenya, Fletcher moved to England at age five, and studied at four art schools: Hammersmith School of Art, Central School of Art, Royal College of Art and Yale School of Art and Architecture. The Phaidon Design Classics was his last major work before his death in 2006.

By the way, the three volumes were delivered in a specially designed transport case. Created by Konstantin Grčić, a renowned Munich-based industrial designer of Serbian descent. And that, in order to get to the contents, actually has to be broken. I remember that I didn't want to believe it and even wrote to Grčić's studio - unfortunately without feedback. After a few days of patience, I then proceeded to the destructive work and have since wondered if this was meant to be a deliberate statement. According to the motto "Nature is the best designer - I'm only human". Who knows...

Here is the website of Phaidon Press - the section "Magazine" is worth more than one look:

https://www.phaidon.com

[kira-art-design]

Art and Design Recruitment Poster

The Brief

The goal of this project was to design a recruitment poster for the Art and Design program at Medicine Hat College (the program I'm currently finishing this year.)

My thoughts

To begin this design, I needed to go through a process of ideation and dissecting this poster's purpose. This will help me create a design with motive and that feels complete.

This poster's goal is to entice the audience and excite potential students about what the program offers. It needs to communicate something that inspires someone, or resonates with them, to make them feel discovered and accepted, and that this program is a good fit for them. The audience isn't only young high school students, we have a diverse range of people who join, this needs to be kept in mind for the message.

Fun Fact!

I found this program from a recruitment poster hung in my highschool's art room. The design "made me think", and looked so visually pleasing, it felt like something I was already so interested in. When I came to orientation a few years later, I saw that poster hanging in the design room, along with all the program's recruitment posters. My hopes would be to create a design that did the same thing for another student.

First Ideas

I needed to come up with a message, what do I want to communicate? Sometimes this part of a design, specifically a poster, comes to me slower. I can always get visual ideas immediately, but as for my abilities with making playful connections between the words and the content can take me some time.

I began with brainstorming cliche things I've heard in my own experience as an artist. These didn't communicate as clearly as I had hoped, and the tone didn't feel right. I enjoy posters with jokes like this, and funny remarks but I couldn't achieve the same communication.

So I moved on, and began playing with making graphics that unrealistic and playful images. I was interested in showcasing the programs diversity of learning experience: combining the fine arts and design.

Focusing the Design

I didn't feel like any of my first ideas felt complete or the right tone I wanted. I had ideas about conveying the feeling of dreaming/fantasizing a future for yourself in the art/design world. This is because before coming here, in my hometown this world felt completely imaginative, and no one knew a thing about it. It’s hard to discover a fitting career when you have barely any insight into it’s existence. As well as the stigma around pursuing an art or design career, the misconceptions about the lack of jobs, opportunity and responsibility. I wanted to communicate that there is a future here, and it’s achievable.

So, the art studio set popped into my brain. It communicates the idea of a self-made or created reality, like imagining one’s future. It resembles the art studios on campus, and highlights the diversity in mediums we work with; both fine art and digital design. I wanted to continue with a theme I’ve been interested in this year, vernacular thinking by using what resources you have. In times of a pandemic, and being a broke student it is necessary to use what you have, and be resourceful. Therefore, I used only scraped paper on my desk that already has been cut or too wrinkled for my printer and tools I already own to construct the set.

Taking Photos/Making Graphics

I continued with a theme I've been interested this year; using vurnecular thinking specifically to use materials accessible to me. In times of the pandemic, and being a broke student is the necessity to do with what you have. To embrace this theme, I used only scrap paper from my desk that I've already cut from, or wrinkled too much for my printer.

I took photos with a borrowed camera (thank you friends! - a pro of being apart of this program, it feels like a community, we support each other and I've met wonderful friends.)

I played with different placement, angles and base patterns. I then photoshopped the background out, making a graphic looking photograph of the paper studio.

Final Poster Designs

Overall, I’m excited about the visual aesthetics and typography of this poster. However I always feel my abilities with connecting between the graphics and words could be improved to make the message the most impactful it can be. I played around with slightly different variations of phrasing, undecided on which communicates best.

To reveal/expose this poster as a work in progress I kept my grid in the final design. This was a connection that designing the poster itself was made and designed by someone, and as part of the program itself.

Having Fun

These are just a couple fun compositions I put together because I enjoyed these photos I took. It’s so fun to play with colour, type and image together, when they fit well together it creates a strong final piece.

[jackbabewang]

New addiction

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader Genre: Tattooist!au, Smut Word Count: 4,063

“Welcome to your new addiction.” There goes the slogan of Empire Ink, a place you’ve found to build the little dream of yours, a place where you discovered your new addiction.

Note: There’s something magical that I have to tell you guys—Few days ago, I stumbled across a tattoo of Jaehyun on my insta feed. Then, there’s a post where Jaehyun said that in his dreams he had a tattoo on his body. And I just had my tattoos touched up weeks ago. All this happened when I’m in the middle of writing this. Hope this turns out well! First attempt with suggestive content and then I have this one dollar photo shop quality, please bear with me. Thank you! (Not proofread, changes will be made in the future.)

Over the last decade, tattoo parlors burst forth within the districts of Seoul, like desert flowers blooming after a rain.

The body art was no longer viewed as a sign of trouble or gang affiliation and it was pretty common nowadays, even among the ladies.

You weren’t in the exception either. Well, not in a way like covering your skin with tattoos because you knew you would definitely regret it in the future.

Preferably, you are good in sketching and you’ve always had the idea of bringing your artworks into life. The canvas you wanted to work on was human skin, that would provide the pieces of art the mobility as they went down the streets of the city, showing off to the eyes of the public like a walking exhibition of your own.

Instead of chasing after the end goal, you chose to start it small with getting yourself a part time job during your breaks, to keep yourself motivated. Although you knew the possibility of you holding the gun is close to none, you wouldn’t mind either as long as you get to make your designs known.

You’re glad that the store you’re heading to did show a lot more interest in your artworks besides the multiple owner’s you’ve contacted, which they were looking for someone that could actually handle the machine.

A minimalist signage on the shop front, Empire Ink, large double-door of oak and glass serves as the entrance. The exterior was already welcoming.

With a genuine smile on your face, you push open the door, revealing a wide studio with high-class and modern interior. It looks as if it was an art gallery instead of the ideal place you were looking for. You’re in awe at how neatly the furniture and decorations were arranged. There’s a feature wall adhered with torn pages of sketchbooks with hand-drawn designs, the lightings in the studio making it more visually appealing.

You were lost in admiration when the sound of a friendly voice broke in, “Hello, how may I help you?”

You turn around and your eyes met with a guy who stood behind the reception desk, greeting you with a toothy smile. His hair was dark, with piercings that you couldn’t count on your fingers, wearing a black Hawaiian shirt patterned in hibiscus and palm leaves.

“Hey, um…” you begin hesitantly, unsure what to say when he continues to stare you down. “I’ve made an appointment few days ago, with Ten. It’s about the part-time job...”

“Oh, it’s you!” his smile grows even wider, eyes crinkling as he gives you a high-five instead of a traditional handshake, telling you to take a seat by a bar table while he gets some drinks for you. “I’m Ten, by the way.”

Slow and jazzy music booming through the speakers giving a comfortable feeling while you’re still doubting whether you’ve gone to the wrong place. It wasn't the tattoo parlor you envisioned.

“Relax. I don’t bite.”

He occupies the seat in front of you and props his chin on his hand, “So… I’ve seen your portfolio and I’m really amazed with your skills. I assure you that the others feel the same way too.”

Immediately a smile splits across your face, half appreciation, half embarrassment.

“Do you have any tattoos on yourself?” he wonders. The so called interview wasn’t as formal as you thought, it’s more of like a casual conversation where you get to know each other.

“No, I might regret it,” you chuckle, noticing the obvious differences on your skin. His was covered in elegance of floral line art, like the garden of Eden, while yours is a blank canvas.

And you begin to tell him about your story and the little dream of yours. You could sense the connection between him when he lets out ‘oohs and aahs’, putting you more at ease. The tiny seed of hope inside you was blooming when he said he sees the potential in you.

“That’s great! I can’t wait to work with you,” he squeals.

Your chatting gets interrupted when the entrance door opens, comes in guys in colorful hair and inked skin. You suppose they were visiting for their appointments, not until Ten calls over.

“Newbie!” he points at you and they wave in unison, greeting you with the same warmth-filled smile.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Leaving the place with a new excitement, you made a statement in your head: The whole studio just screams aesthetic, even the tattoo artists themselves.

Three weeks into your new job, you’ve gotten closer with everyone besides Ten, namely Taeyong, Yuta and Jaehyun. All of them are fairly nice and pampered you with food. While you’d help them in a lot of aspects like setting up the tattoo machines, arranging their schedules, snapping photos of their works, managing the official Instagram profile, the list goes on. You’ve done the most for Jaehyun, being busiest among the guys, that he somehow gave you the title as his personal assistant.

And when Ten needs your help, “Can you prepare my gear while I get the stencil done…”

“No, quit making her do things for you… She’s mine,” Jaehyun argues back.

It always turns out as their childish bickering with Ten defending that he was the one that brought you in while Jaehyun muttering bastard under his breath.

“How old are you? Five?” you accompanied the question with a jab on his chest.

That said, his expression brightens, the playful smirk was replaced with a fake pout and he whispers, “You poked my heart.”

You pull your hand away as soon as it was caught in his, spinning around to Ten’s workstation.

In a skillful manner, you set up the equipment and laid out unopened packages of needles, ink caps placed by the side. After one last check you had everything done, you return to your drawing desk.

The studio falls silent again, only with the soft music playing on the speakers, until you heard feminine giggles coming from Jaehyun’s workstation. Your head turns to the voice to see him entertaining his client, while she has her free hand covering her redden face.

Recently the parlor has attracted quite a number of females, each tattoo artist has one or two for a day while Jaehyun mostly have them for all of his appointments. Surprisingly they came in with the proposals to have your designs inked on their skin. Your artworks that were published on social media received thousands of likes and comments. Not to exaggerate on your achievement, you were grateful for that.

Your eyes train onto Jaehyun’s nimble hands as he works professionally, watching as the desired art piece slowly forming on her milky skin. The humming of the tattoo gun filled your ears and time just flew by when you had your full attention on the poking of the needles.

He must have felt your gaze so he raises his head, flaunting his dimples as he shoots you a cheeky smile. Something about him made you whisk away, blinking several times, clearing your throat. There was a sudden rush of emotion you couldn’t pin point but you felt your cheeks burn and your heart picks up a beat.

Jaehyun was a charming guy, you could say that’s a fact, which explains why he was flooded with the females. He is playful at times, serious when it comes to work. He gets all lovely around you and you’ve always thought it must have been their nature to be flirty and such.

The other guys have left earlier when you both were occupied with work. About half an hour later, Jaehyun is finally done, greeting his client goodbye, and he makes his way to you.

Your arm moving in a frenzy, forehead furrowed in concentration that you didn’t realize he’s lying on the bed by your side. A hand propping his head and he watches you, mirroring your actions from before.

Then all of a sudden, he breaks the silence, “I'm bored.”

He stifles a laughter, amused seeing that he gave you a little jolt of shock at the sound of his voice. Your hand jerked in reaction and you stare at your messed-up drawing, which was almost done.

“Shit. I hate you.” The pen flew across the table and you rise on your feet, lunging forward the guy who appeared to be giggling. “You’re so annoying sometimes…”

His laughter growing louder when your hands reach to his neck, strangling in a playful manner and you shove his chest.

“Are you a man,” he chokes out.

He shifts on the cushioned surface and settling to lay flat on his stomach, arms draping the sides of the bed.

“My back hurts, can you help me?” he groans painfully when his spine straightens in his current positionㅡthe drawbacks of being a tattoo artist. They often crane their necks, bend and stoop for long hours practicing their craft. They do stop for breaks to stretch their bodies, but the ache they put themselves into were incomparable.

“I wasn't hired for this…” they sure never did. None of them had you done something that ever requires physical contacts, something like giving a massage. Jaehyun was relatively comfortable with you, way too comfortable you suppose.

“Please…”

Convinced, you climb onto the bed, your knees by the sides of his thighs and you begin working your fingers on his tense muscles. He lets out grunts and hisses, squirming underneath when you reach the trigger points. Cracking sounds can be heard when he moves his head, the joints in his neck popping like a glow stick.

“I might need your help next time… You’re really good at this,” his voice muffled between folded arms.

“Pay me.”

He chuckles, basking in the silence before he speaks up again. “Hey, I’ve caught you watching me for a couple of times. I suppose you were studying the procedure, or should I say you were checking me out?” he just couldn’t let a day go without teasing you.

Perhaps, he has a secret satisfaction about your baffled, flustered and bewildered reactions.

Rather, you remain quiet. Your silence didn’t go unnoticed when he suddenly turns on his back, facing you completely. The position had your eyes grew the size of saucers, you’re practically straddling on top of him in a considered intimate position. Words caught in your throat and you find yourself avoiding his eyes, a flush starts at your neck and creeps to your cheeks. A slow panic begins to set in at the thought of getting caught, especially by the guys.

Bolting upright and trying to scramble off the bed, but Jaehyun won't let you pass. He grips your hips and holds you down, having you sitting on his thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He smiles cockily and warning signals flickered suddenly in your head.

“What do you think, babe?”

“Babe?” your brows furrowed in disbelief, you felt your heart thumping, almost jumping out of your chest. This time he loosens his grasp, letting you crawl off the bed just when Ten walks in.

The innocent guy has his eyes flitting back and forth between the both of you, staring quizzically at Jaehyun who's still lying on the bed, grinning from ear to ear.

“Please don't tell me you guys just done something like what I have in mind.”

“What-”

Jaehyun rolls off the bed and stands, “She's an expert I can say.” A contented mewling sound slipped past his lips as he stretches his body.

Laughing once again at Ten's remark. “Oh my god, you guys are nasty.”

“We didn't!”

And from that day onward, Jaehyun just stays on your mind, in your brain, your head. The voice that called you by the pet name ringing your ears, the warmth that clasped on your body making your stomach churns in a good way.

He’s always there, within your radar. Light brushing of skin which was once overlooked, you’re hyper aware of them now and they never failed to spark your curiosity. When your eyes meet occasionally, he returns it with a smile and for the first time, you realized that dimples are indeed adorable.

He does have some strange effects on you that you didn’t think it could ever happen.

In this decent size of a pantry, large enough for three people, you find yourself growing alert in his presence. He wasn’t even doing anything yet your fingers are trembling when you reach for the cabinet.

“Peach tea?” he questions out of the blue, as though he was watching you.

Jaehyun too, is having a hard time biting back a grin when he sees you like this.

You nod.

When you thought he left, suddenly, hands braced on either side of you, trapping you in place between muscular arms, inks on the skin that you can easily recognized.

“Jaehyun?” you duck your head to the side when his face closes in from behind.

“Why are you so nervous?” his voice resonates in your ears, laced with amusement.

“I- The guys-” your words came out stuttered and slurred. The last thing you wanted was to get caught red handed in this situation. Ten could hardly keep his mouth shut for weeks about that one time albeit it wasn’t even true.

“What if I say they've already left,” he turns you around, looking straight in your eyes, toothy smile still plastered across his face, “Does that allow me to do this?”

He grabs your empty cup, only a tea bag was dropped inside, and he puts it away, in one fluid moment. He wasn’t even forcing you into it yet you’ve already let your guard down.

It was his eyes that drew you in. They challenged you. Their intensity, their energy made you fall under his spell. You couldn’t move away as he holds your chin tenderly between thumb and the crook of his index finger. Jaehyun stares down at your lips. You felt the magnetic pull towards each other’s mouths. But he still didn't kiss you.

The entire time he hovers above you, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. Teasingly he grazes your lips a couple of times, his minty breath brushing lightly and a moment later, his tongue skimmed over your quivering flesh. Though he has the audacity to pull away, laughing softly when you chase after him.

“Back to work,” he sings, taking a sip from his mug before waddling out his way under the bamboo beaded curtain. Its tone of bright red of the millennial brand, Supreme, reflecting the shade on your cheeks.

There are times when things just come at you like a déjà vu, that you see with the familiarity when Jaehyun laid on the bed by your drawing desk while everyone’s gone. However at the present moment, he has his shirt removed, revealing numerous tattoosㅡan ornate cross with wings from his throat that stops between his jugular notch, tarot cards of the Sun and the Moon clad on the left side of his rib cage, a gun on his pelvic which was pointed to his groin.

His body is beautiful as it is, muscles of a Greek god that seems almost unreal.

“C'mon, don't be scared.”

The tool in your gloved hand which you were more than familiar with its assembly, feels so much different when you're going for the real deal, despite practicing it couple of times on apples and pears.

With thick, hesitating articulation, you put the question which your eyes asked mutely, into words: “Are you sure about this…”

“I’ve never doubted my decisions and it’s not like you’re gonna stab my insides with the needle, unless that’s what you’re intended.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned, I’m more towards the idea of it.”

You weren’t in a rush for the hands-on experience though, while Jaehyun thinks otherwise. He even listed out the many reasons that manipulated you into the current situation. Whether it was made up or not, you find it hilarious when he said he’s uncomfortable working on female areas that are labelled as body boundaries. Aren’t those what the ladies want in the first place? You just have to poke fun of him. But what are the chances for them to walk in and tell it straight to their faces that they want their vagina or nipples tatted when the studio is crowded with fine men.

“Just do it exactly how you practiced and I’ll guide you,” he assures.

You draw a breath and will a note of confidence into your voice, “Alright.”

Your back hunched over as you lean on the edge of the bed, fingers lightly pressing on the patch of skin just above the waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear. Purple colored stencil of a lipstick print mark works as a combination of visual simplicity and detailed lines to achieve greater realism.

You tighten your fingers on the barrel, trembling slightly when the needle vibrates at a consistent speed upon pressing the footswitch. You begin with drawing in the outlines, taking a good amount of time due to your inexperience. The first lines are often most painful as the needles need to penetrate deeper to create distinct lines but Jaehyun doesn’t budge or flinch, as if it was nothing. Well, it isn’t, if it were to be compared with the ones that are done on certain parts of his body closer to the bone.

To be frank, there’s a slight discomfort during the process. When you pull back to wipe the skin with a sanitized wipe to clean away any extra ink, he fakes a dramatic yelp and wince. Immediately you drop everything onto the utility cart, glancing over at him in concern. “I’m so sorry, does it hurt very bad? You should tell me to stop.”

“I’m only kidding,” he says, laughing a bit. “Relax, you’re doing great. Try not to press too hard and remember to pause between few seconds.”

Once the outlines have been drawn, you concentrate on shading and coloring. This time there’s no pain, just a slight tickle. Jaehyun watches your intense eyes on his skin, the needle steady in your hand. The red ink flowed down the syringe as the design gradually forms its shape.

The session took longer than usual as it is your first. Staring at the tattoo for a moment, he gives you a nod of approval. Surprisingly the end result looks better than you’ve imagined and you couldn’t hide your glee, bursting with joy over your achievement.

“You good?”

“Content.” He sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed, eyes glued to the back of your head.

“Now that you’ve left a mark on me-”

You listen carefully, slipping the rubber gloves off your hands and tossing them into a bin.

There's something in his voice of the authoritative tone, something which has the effects of flawlessly circular pancakes, perfectly swirled ice-cream cones or a truly seedless watermelon.

“It’s my turn.”

Without a warning, an arm loop around your waist from behind, then draw you against him. The warmth of his breath heats your delicate skin when he runs his nose along the side of your neck. He takes a whiff of the fragrance you sprayed on earlier and boldly leaves a trail of open mouth kisses, enjoying your gasps.

“Jaehyun,” you mutter weakly, but you have no idea what you’re going to say next. His mouth closes over a spot behind your ear and all you can do is melt into the pleasure.

To finally be wrapped in his strong arms feel heavenly, and if you thought you have any strength to resist before, it has now been obliterated. You lean back, sinking into the seductive caress. He tightens his grip affectionately, filling you with a deep, needy longing.

“God, I want you.” He groans impatiently, gently biting on your neck with the obvious intention of descending further.

Turning your body to face his, he pulls you flush against his bare torso. You pray you won’t swoon when he touches you, because you’ve been obsessing about him and his kisses for too long.

Incredibly, he presses his lips onto yours fully for several seconds before taking it up a notch. It was nothing like the kisses you had before, so desperate and urgent. His tongue seeks entrance and you open to him, angling your face to allow him total access. His hands found themselves in the back pocket of your jeans, squeezing the solidity of your cheeks.

Many minutes passed, you aren’t sure for how long but you’re beginning to feel lightheaded when he has literally taken your breath away. Jaehyun pulls back just in time and his lips move onto the column of your neck. His large hands massage their way up either side of your body until they found your breasts. With his thumb, he rubs a tantalizing circle around your nipple over the fabric of your shirt. The sensual shivers wrack your body as each kiss heightens your sensitivity to his touch. Sweet, hot desire shot through and you moan.

Your middle soared to life, and the moisture between your legs grew.

You’ve worn a tank top, granting him free access to your bare skin all the way to the upper swell of your breasts. He takes advantage of it, pressing small, nibbling kisses all over and tasting with the very tip of his tongue. Splotches of red and purple bloom at his wake, your body as a canvas to his vandalism.

“Please,” you whisper, begging for more. Your fingers curling into his thick tousled hair, tugging on the roots with a little force. A small, animal-like sound of need, passes through your lips when his mouth hovers just above your skin.

“Easy, princess.” He laughs softly. “I want to take my time with you.”

His hand finds the hem of your top, pulling it over your head until your bra-encased breasts are revealed.

“Gorgeous. So beautiful. All for me.”

Words became lost in your throat. You’re too busy experiencing the way he laves your cleavage with his tongue. It feels like you can come right then, without any further preliminaries.

Jaehyun kisses on your mouth again, a hand moving its way down your body, undoing the button of your jeans. You shudder uncontrollably when his fingers dip into your laced underwear without warning, reaching your sex. Brushing through your folds, seeking and finding that nub that brings you ecstasy. His thumb plays across the swollen wet flesh of your clitoris, caressing, teasing.

“Oh my…” you gasp, and soften against him when he touches you deeper. The slickness of your arousal spreading his skillful fingers. “You’re so good at this.”

Devilish laugh resonates in your ear. As he kisses and nibbles your neck, a finger slides deep into your body, grinding the heel of his hand against your most sensitive spot. And he adds another. Then, a third.

“Baby, you’re taking me so well.” He curls his fingers, rubbing your walls and pushing them further to reach the spot that could make your eyes roll back in your head.

Hot breath fanning your cheeks when he inches closer, whispering lowly in your ears, “I can’t wait to bury myself inside you.”

In a few short moments, you feel yourself on the verge of a climax as his fingers work expertly, flickering over the nub. His thrusts picking up pace, ramming harder like he’s going to destroy you.

“Let go,” he prods.

Soon, like a command, the building tension explodes and you cry out his name and arch against him.

When all the explosive sensation subsided, you find it difficult to look at him in case he looks smug, you won’t be able to handle it.

However there’s an urge within you, that you want to touch him, you need to. Blindly, you lean forward, kissing anything you come into contact with—his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks. Your lips travel south until you reach the fresh tattoo, and pressing a gentle kiss on it.

The permanent ink of your lips that you left on him.

A smile makes its way on your face as you stare at your work in admiration, satisfaction, with accomplishment. The idea of it was endearing, an indication where the man before you, is yours.

You may have found your new addiction.

[intergalxtic]

17 questions 17 people!

thank you to @amethyst-bitch for the tag!!

Nicknames: I don’t really have a nickname lmao

zodiac: Aries!

height: I’m 150 cms-ish, so about 4′10

hogwarts house: hufflepuff :D

last thing i googled: “Romeo and Juliet play facts” (it was for school hahah)

song stuck in my head: I’d rather be me from mean girls

amount of followers: i think i have 32??

amount of sleep: 6-8 hours a night

lucky number: 13 (I’m weird don’t even) ddjjskdj

dream job: performer/dancer/theatre actress, or choreographer

what i’m wearing: my school uniform 

fave song: I have too many,,, what i know now, world burn or all the jazz

fave instrument: i play piano so i guess it’s that?? but i also REALLy love the bass guitar

aesthetic: ?? i don’t really have one (i’m trying to though)

fave author: Cecilia Vinesse !!

favourite animal noise: cat purring

random: i was allowed back at my dance studio this week!!!

Tags: @desk-mess--reblogs @beetlejuicefanatic-aka-randi @rjthegay @edgarrallenhoee @lilmonsterbxtch and whoever else wants to do it!

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Can you rec some sterek soulmate! Fics pls? Thank you so much

Marked by Verya

The name of a person’s soulmate appears on their skin, in that person’s handwriting, at the age of twenty. Derek has been wondering for the past several years, what kind of name is Mieczyslaw?

Body Language by LadyMerlin

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates’ name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn’t have that kind of patience.

Ink Me by AsagiStilinski

Derek is never going to find his soulmate, because there’s no way in hell there exists a man named Mieczyslaw in Beacon Hills

Then Erica hires Stiles

Beat by Kalira

Derek’s heartsong isn’t quite normal, but he’s always loved the drumming beat that winds through his dreams. He didn’t expect to find that its origin, his other half, has been waiting right in front of him.

Accidents Happen by pyrrhical (anoyo)

Settling a soul bond was exactly as romantic as the movies made it seem: a simple kiss.

As it so happened, CPR worked, too.

Fate Thinks It’s Funny by AsagiStilinski

In a world where everyone has their soulmate’s first words to them printed on their wrists, Derek and Stiles end up with some of the worst: “Oh God please help” and “Derek” respectively

To be fair, their first meeting is almost as ridiculous as it sounds like it would be

Take My Mind, Take My Pain by LessonsFromMoths

Soulmate AU where you have a black stain where your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time and it turns to millions of colors once they do.Stiles was born with a very visible black palm on his cheek.

Three Marks by sanam

“And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off—And suddenly it was done.Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt.”

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

In Name Only by Cobrilee

In a world where no one finds out who their soulmate is until after they get married, Stiles concocts the perfect scheme: marry his long-time client, Derek Hale…

You know. Just to find out who he should be marrying.

There’s no way this could go wrong.

Yeah, Pass The Salt, Stiles by CallieB

Yeah, pass the salt, Stiles.

They’re not particularly inspiring words. Not like the long stream of goo spilling over Scotty’s arm. But somewhere, Stiles’ soulmate is out there, waiting to say them to him.

If only he could stop thinking about the mysterious hot stranger he met in the woods.

A Second Chance at First Impressions by Cobrilee

Derek grew up with the world’s most embarrassing soulmark, which is honestly not the best first impression his soulmate could make. Then he meets the guy, and all of a sudden the soulmark doesn’t matter quite so much after all.

spice up your life! by callunavulgari

“I said,” the girl drawls, setting her elbow down in a saucer of ketchup and grimacing. “That this whole soulmate thing is fucking stupid. You’re supposed to find someone based off of the music they’re listening to? How would you even know what was really stuck in your head and what was in theirs? It’s complete shit.”

Derek, who has had everything from Dancing Queen to the Barney theme song stuck in his head all night, winces, and says abruptly, “I think my soulmate is in middle school.”

Secondhand Soulmate by AnnoyinglyCute, Inell

Not always, not even most of the time, but sometimes – 24% of the time, statistically speaking – people meet their soulmates and live happily ever after.

THIS isn’t that story.

This is the story of Stiles Stilinski, whose soulmate died before he was born. This is the story of all the sorrows and heartache Stiles experienced, all the bullying and oppression from those who should know better but didn’t. This is also the story of the friendships Stiles made along the way, of the battles he fought – and won – and the love that endured through it all.

I Was Present While You Were Unconscious by CharWright5

Stiles had often thought about how he’d meet his soul mate, the literal muscular man of his dreams. He just didn’t ever imagine finding him on Facebook where a friend had shared a news article about a werewolf John Doe in a coma after a car wreck four hours out of town. And he also didn’t expect to bond and fall in love with the guy’s family before ever saying two words to him out loud.

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He’s got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He’s also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he’s waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren’t great but hey, Derek’s a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can’t believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There’s just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

94%, Dude by eeyore9990

The guy was really too young for the leather daddy aesthetic, but with the leather and the more-beard-than stubble and the eyebrows… Yeah, he was kinda working the hot grumpy leather daddy biker gang leader look.

And Stiles liked it.

***

For the prompt: Sterek soul mark fic wherein marks never match, they just line up perfectly to be a shape.

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski’s music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they’re incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles’ bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek’s soulmate remains elusive.

Worth Waiting For by yodasyoyo

Stiles slumps further in his desk chair, and stares disconsolately out of his bedroom window. Perhaps he should be celebrating. After all, this afternoon a soulmark appeared on his wrist revealing the name of his soulmate.

He has a soulmate.

Fuck. He scrubs one hand across his face.

This is a disaster.

Covered in Fur and (Your) Words by OverMyFreckledBody

People that said that the words on your skin - the first ones from your soulmate - didn’t matter or affect your life were big fat liars. Stiles is one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t have started creating costumes if it weren’t for the words What the hell kind of costume is that? on his arm. He’s also sure that if he never got into the hobby, he would never have met the man who said them.

Model Material by dobrien

Prompt: Soulmates AU where any tattoos one half of the soulmate pairing get show up on the other person’s body. Can be taken in any direction the author wants but no suicide etc.Model/Soulmate AU: Stiles finds out who his soulmate is and he’s willing to do what it takes to meet them, even if that means becoming a model for Alpha Fashion Magazine.

The Possibility of Silence and the Reality of Sound by crossroadswrite

Derek grew up knowing that soulmates are something to be cherished, so when he got a voice in his head, childish thoughts and flashes of color and objects, he’d excitedly jumped on his mother’s bed to tell her. She had smiled, ruffled his hair and told him how she was proud of him, even though Derek hadn’t really done anything.

I’m Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to.

He’s looking at his soulmate.

–

Stiles wakes up in his soulmate’s body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn’t wake up at all.

There’s a cup with his name on it by hellodickspeight

The sight before him is breathtaking. Wide opened whiskey eyes searching above his head, pink lips slightly parted, tongue wetting them as he considers his choice, messy brown hair sticking in every direction, moles dotting a pale skin, Derek can’t wait to ask for his name.

A soulmate AU where people have the first name of their soulmates written on their body.

Of Soulmates, Pseudonyms and Misunderstandings by halcyon1993

Ever since he asked his mother one evening why she had his dad’s name tattooed on the inside of her left wrist, Derek has dreamed of finding his soulmate. There’s only one problem—the name that appears on his wrist on his eighteenth birthday is something he can’t even read.

Soul-Mark by PaigeRhiann

His wolf purrs happily because it has taken eighteen years and getting his family killed to finally discover the name of his promised. The person he’s destined to be with. Or, as Werewolves call it – Mate.

“Genim S.” He repeats

“That’s a really fucking weird name” Laura snorts, turning back to the movie.

“Yeah, it is” he nods.

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack’s arms under Derek’s watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you’ve thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he’d long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning.A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

An Unpredictable Amount of Turtles by skoosiepants

Stiles says, “I have a five year plan. A five year plan to popularity that will tank the minute I meet this guy.”

“I feel like you’re exaggerating,” Scott says, but Scott has a katana-wielding badass waiting for him at the other end of the rainbow, and Stiles has terrariums.

Or—

A soulmate au with turtles and angst.

Soul McMates by distortedreality

The black script magically inked onto Stiles’ skin at birth declares that the first thing he’ll say to his soulmate is “welcome to McDonalds, how may I help you”.

Stiles’ life was clearly destined to be a fucking joke from the start.

Who’s the Loser Now? by Scavenger

Stiles just expects to run and swim, hopefully come at least third place, and then go home. The universe has other plans.

To Leave A Mark by Fanfiction_is_Literature

Stiles Stilinski was born with a strange mark on his skin that resembled a paw print. No one thought much about it since birthmarks weren’t rare, but Stiles started to notice it change as he got older.

Derek Hale was a rare werewolf: the kind with a soulmark on his skin. But as tragedy struck both him and his mate, his interest dwindled in finding him or her. That is, until he started to notice similar changes from his mark in a certain teenaged boy with an alarming amount of moles.

Or: The Soulmate AU where soulmates are rare and get tattoo-looking marks on their skins that describe their mate.

Sparks (Your Touch) by stilesanderek (minxxx)

Stiles has always dreamed of imprinting. Of touching someone for the first time and feeling his world changing right then and there. Of knowing that that person would love you and be with you until the day you die. And yet nothing could have prepared him for with whom he finally imprints.

Or in which when Stiles gets promoted to detective, he gets a new partner, Laura Hale, with whom he instantly becomes best friend and who he thinks is the most perfect person to step into his life, the only problem being that her brother Derek hates his guts.

Countdown by actingup

0000d 00h 00m 37s

He always imagined meeting his soul mate would take forever; that time would slow down and he would see them walking towards him, he would know without a doubt who it was. It might have been someone he’s seen before but never talked to, or it might be a complete stranger that he never would have guessed. He didn’t imagine it in front of about a hundred people, maybe two-hundred, at a Dolphin show.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

“It’s been five months,” Derek says darkly. “Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks.”

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Soulseeker by alisvolatpropiis

Sighing, Stiles reaches for Derek’s big hands, cradled in his broad lap, his skin lighting up even more at Derek’s touch. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, preparing himself to look for Derek’s soulmate. Whoever you are, he thinks, you better be worth him.

[brianc521]

Mendes Recording Co. | Something Big

It needed work. Badly. It smelt of dust, rust, and must. The floors were scuffed, the walls were holey, and the light switch didn’t work. But it was a studio.

It was a studio he owned.

He had the keys to lock up when he wanted. He had the right to do whatever he wanted here. His dreams were coming true, step by step, this was just his first right step.

He smiled as he turned in a full circle, taking in the full small building in all its glory.

It was a single story corner street building. The sign outside was halfway hanging off the post, the paint job outside made it look like a rundown halfway home. But it had a recording room, and it had a big booth to make the music to go on those recordings.

If someone would have told him 3 years ago that his little bedroom dream of recording and producing music would be coming true, he’d slap you and tell you to stop fucking around.

But now? Young 23 year old Shawn Mendes stands in his own recording studio, the sign ‘Mendes Recording Co.’ goes up tomorrow morning, and his assistant should be here any minute. His assistant.

He hired Y/n a week and a half ago when the loan for the studio went through. He was looking for someone who shared the interest in music, who wanted to start from the bottom and work up. Someone who could handle that. And Y/n was the second interview and he offered the job on the spot. Although it might be dangerous for him, she’s gorgeous, like takes his breath away gorgeous, she honestly felt the same about the business like he did. It was a sealed deal when she brought up how this reminded her of a Sam Phillips, Sun Records type of company.  

He pinched himself, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, because it sure felt like a dream.

“Mr. Mendes?” A small voice, followed by a small knock sounded. The door creaked open slightly and she peaked through.

“Come on in.” He called, rushing to the door, grabbing the handle to open it for her. “Hi Y/n,” He greeted, watching the young girl walk in.

Y/n L/n walked in, hair pulled back in a professional ponytail, she wears black skinny jeans and a white flowy blouse. Her cheeks are a little flushed as she smiles at her new boss.

“And please call me Shawn, Y/n we’re the same age.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Right sorry,” She pointed at him quickly.

“Well,” He waved at the studio. “What do you think?”

She looked around, eyes going wide at the amount of maintenance this place is going to need. “Um,” She stutters, still looking around. 

“It needs some work,” He scratches at the back of his neck.

“Just some tender loving care,” She giggles looking over at him. “But that’s the fun part right?”

He grins, “Let me tell you what I’m thinking, see what you think?” He opens the blinds so light floods the room, showing off just how much room they’re working with.

“Okay,” She nods.

“It’s technically three rooms,” He looks over at her over his shoulder. “Well really one big room with three walls,” He chuckles. “This room here,” He motions to the small area they are standing in. “Obviously the front.”

“Really?” She teases. “I thought this was the basement.”

“Okay, she’s got a sense of humor, I like that.” He laughs with her. “But anyway, I’m thinking, we’ll get you a desk and put it here.” He points to the corner. “You’ll have a computer and your own office phone, and then we’ll have like an intercom so you can reach me in the back recording room.”

She’s smiling wide as he goes on about his plan.

“What?” He asks when he notices her smile.

“I get my own desk?” She asks with a slight lilt. “When you hired me for the assistant role I thought I’d just be getting you coffee and eye drops or something.” She shrugs.

“Y/n, I hired you because you seemed as passionate about the music as I am. So yeah I might ask for coffee, but I also want you to be as apart of this company as I am.” He smiles at her, watching her face light up like a firework.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” He nods, “I mean as long as you want to of course.”

“It’s only like my dream,” She mutters.

“Then it’s yours.” He squeezes her elbow, sincerely looking into her eyes.

She blushes a light pink, looking down to her cute black flats and then back up as he starts talking again.

“You could decorate anyway you want?” He says standing in front of the big empty wall. “Was kind of hoping you’d take over that whole job?” He looks over with a shy smile.

“Of course,” She nods, “Should I be taking notes right now?”

He looks a bit shocked, and then watches as she pulls a small notebook out of her purse. “You don’t-” He starts but she cuts him off.

“You ramble, and I don’t wanna forget anything.”

He just stares at her as she starts jotting down the few things they’ve already gone over.

“Do I really ramble?” He asks softly, looking down at his feet.

“Yeah, but it’s cute.” She giggles, making him look up with blushing cheeks. “Do you have any ideas on what you see when you picture the place?” She asks with a cute little smile that has him promising himself he’d do anything to see it again.

“Um,” He snaps himself out of his trance. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry, decor wise. What do you see when you picture your company?”

“I-” He looks around.

“Here,” She says setting her things down on an old stool that sits to the side of the room. She grabs onto his shoulders, making him stand in the middle of the room. “Close your eyes.”

He listens immediately, closing his eyes and relaxing under her touch.

“Think of your dream,” Her soothing voice says. “At night when you go to bed, and think about your studio, what does it look like?”

“It has vinyl records on the walls,” He hums, “It’s blue, like a nice light blue. It has a rustic vibe, but it’s what they say ‘aesthetically’ pleasing? It’ll have pictures of the recordings we’ve done in the booth, and maybe a few nice comfy couches?”

She’s writing it all down, knowing exactly how to make that come true, and she stopped for a second when he said ‘we’ve’. She liked feeling like she was building this with him.

“Is that lame?” He opens his eyes to look at her.

“No, Shawn it’s beautiful.”

He smiles, nodding and leading her to the recording stations. “So this is the booth,” He shows off the biggest of the three rooms. “Great acoustics, and plenty of room for instruments. I wanna get a piano for over here,” He points to a open space to the left of the room.

“Where’s that door lead to?” She asks pointing to the door on the far wall.

“That leads to my area,” He grins, “Our area I guess,” He shrugs.

“Your area Shawn,” She walks to the door. “I have the front remember?” She grins.

He nods following her to the door.

“So my desk,” He pats the desk that’s there. “And I’ll have to get a new board, but this is the sound board.” He taps the piece of equipment. “And then…”

He goes on about where all of the recording equipment is gonna go, and Y/n is lost in the happiness he is radiating.

It’s obvious that a little boys dream is coming true, and it’s the cutest boy she’s ever seen at that. He’s just so gorgeous, and tall. That boy goes on for miles, and while he’s got this roughness and independent nature, he’s also so sweet and seems like the kind that likes to be held and have his hair played with.

God what she’d do to play with those curls.

“So what do you think?” He asks, snapping her out of her haze.

“Um, it sounds amazing Shawn.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, when can we get started?”

“Today?” He asks with a grin.

“Today today?” She looks around.

“Yeah,”

She looks down at her attire and knows this white shirt won’t work.

“I’m sorry I should have told you what to expect for the first week or so.”

“You know what, I have a tank top in my car.” She says holding up a finger as she goes jogging out of the building to her car.

“She’s perfect.” He whispers. “This is gonna be perfect.” 

[freddiesaysalright]

My Man Part V

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary:  Reader is a Broadway actress currently starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She’s a widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it’s a well-kept secret. She also wants everyone to think she doesn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around. Now, they’re friends. A new opportunity has presented itself to her, but Roger is suspicious of the circumstances.

Word Count: 3.5K 

Tag List: @bohemian-war @kittygirlno @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @rockyroadthepastryarchy @goodoldfashionedloverboyy @jennyggggrrr @discodeacygotmorerhythm @x1975sos @slytherinxval @cyndagoaway @doingalrightt @lovvliies @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing  If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Part I   Part II   Part III   Part IV

A/N (Please read carefully!): Warning! This part has an attempted sexual assault. A couple things I promise for this: 1) It doesn’t last long, 2) I will be telling you exactly where it starts and stops so you can skip it if  you choose, and 3) It’s not just for shock value/drama, there’s a plot reason.  If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, don’t hesitate to reach out for help. You are not alone. RAINN Sexual Assault hotline: US & Canada: 1-888-407-4747 International:+1 202-501-4444 They also offer live chat :)

Part V! Here we go!

The next day, you carefully decided what to wear to the meeting with the director, whose name was Mark Hudson. You were actually a fan of his from seeing his production of The Music Man a few years ago back in New York. It was amazing and you were thrilled to see what he could do with a Rodgers and Hammerstein classic like Oklahoma. You decided on a dress, to look more demure like Laurie. It also hugged your body in the right places, which you liked for auditions and meetings so that directors could see your type.

As the afternoon closed in, you felt your nerves begin to flutter around in your stomach. It had been a while since you’d gone for a new role. Your New York agent had secured Fanny for you before you even got to London, so you were feeling a little unsure. You fidgeted with your hair once more, sweeping it into a bun before leaving your flat early so you would appear punctual.

Your agent told you to go straight to Mark’s room when you arrived. He was in 317, so you walked straight past the front desk and got the lift. You pressed the button for the third floor and waited for the doors to close, feeling your heart rate increase with excitement. You couldn’t believe you were on your way to get your dream role.

With a soft ding, the doors opened for you on the third floor. You made your way down the carpeted hallway, and held tighter to your purse with anticipation. Luckily, the room was toward the front of the corridor so you didn’t have to go far. With a deep breath to calm yourself down, you knocked gently on the door.

When it swung open, you were face to face with Mark. He was a handsome man - dark hair, light brown eyes, and a strong jaw. He clearly took care of himself as well. His biceps and pecs were threatening to tear the tight t-shirt he had on.

“Y/N!” he cried, clearly delighted and extending his hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, kid! I’m a big fan!”

“Likewise, Mr. Hudson!” you returned, shaking his hand as he let you inside. “I’m so thrilled you thought of me for Oklahoma. I’ve wanted to be Laurie since I was six.”

He laughed, closing the door behind you. “I’m happy to give you the opportunity. Please, come in.”

You followed him further into the room. It was a standard hotel room, but large with a desk on one side toward the window. He poured himself a glass of brandy.

“Would you like one?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I’d rather get straight to business.”

“Very serious, I see,” he said, sounding impressed. “I like that. So, I’ve seen you in Funny Girl and your agent sent me the rest of your resume. You’ve definitely got the singing chops to be my Laurie. My only concern is your dance experience.”

He took a seat at the desk and motioned for you to sit across from him. You did.

“What about it?” you asked.

“Well, you’re not a ballerina,” he said. “And the show does have a ballet in the first act.”

“I’m familiar,” you said. “But trust me when I say, I am willing to work hard to learn. My ballroom training can help me, and I’ve done bits of ballet in other shows.”

“I believe you, kid,” he said. He grabbed a cigarette from the box on the desk and looked at you before lighting it. You noticed his eyes lingered a moment on your chest. “Do you mind?”

Used to Roger’s smoking habit, you said, “Not at all.”

After taking a long drag, he looked you up and down again. “You are beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” you replied, looking at your lap as a blush spread across your cheeks.

He groaned. “Oh, I love the look of humility on a woman.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair. You didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’m gonna level with you, Y/N,” he said. “I wanna give you this part.”

You grinned. “Really?! Oh, Mr. Hudson, that’s great news!”

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “There’s something I’d like you to do for me first.”

“You want me to keep it a secret that you didn’t have me audition?” you guessed.

“Actually,” he said, rising from his seat and moving to stand over you. He put his hand to your cheek and then slid it down to your neck. You wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken. “I had something else in mind.”

You had to play dumb. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” he insisted, glancing between you and the bed.

You got to your feet, brushing his hand away. Anger roiled in your stomach at the audacity to suggest such a thing.

“Mr. Hudson,” you said. “There are some things I am unwilling to do for my career. I am a married woman, after all.”

“I know your husband is dead,” he said, and he took hold of your arm, squeezing. “You’re not married. And I know you’re not with Roger Taylor either.”

“Would it matter if I was?” you replied, trying to stall. His grip on you was like a chain and he was blocking your path to the door.

“Not even a little bit,” he whispered and then yanked you into him.

****HERE’S WHERE THE SEXUAL ASSAULT STARTS. SKIP TO THE NEXT SET OF STARS IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ****

You held your lips closed as he tried to kiss you, struggling against his hold. You brought your hands to his face and started to shove him away. He stepped back, but he still had a hand around your arm.

“Let me go!” you demanded, attempting to pull it free, and trying to maintain your calm. You hoped your voice didn’t betray how scared you were. “Now!”

“As an actress, I thought you’d be better at taking direction!” on the last word, he brought back his free hand and slapped you hard across the face.

The sound cracked like a whip through the mostly empty hotel room and the force was enough to knock you off your feet. You were so stunned, you didn’t even know if you cried out. The skin around your eye was already throbbing. He let go of your arm as you hit the ground, only to shove his fingers into your hair, his nails scraping your scalp. Your hair fell around your face as it lost its style.

You whimpered as he pulled you up and tossed you - your body limp from shock - onto the bed. You tried to gather your thoughts, but you couldn’t focus. You cheek hurt, your scalp stung, and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or yell.

Quickly, he crawled on top of you. Out of instinct alone, you brought your leg up to try and kick him off. He grabbed both your knees and sat on them, holding you down with his legs. You squirmed with your upper half to try and wriggle free, to no avail. As his hands came down toward the straps of your dress, you tried to slap them away.

“NO!” you screamed. “GET OFF OF ME!”

His hand seemed to snap in place around your throat, and all noise ceased as you now fought for breath. It made your head swim and your vision go blurry.

“Be quiet, or I’ll make you,” he warned through gritted teeth.

With that, he let you breathe as he grabbed the strap of your dress and ripped it. He pulled the neck line down to reveal your breast. You felt a pang of regret at not wearing a bra. He took hold of it and squeezed so hard you yelped in pain. You grabbed his arm to try and pull his hand away, but he was too strong. With his other hand, he mirrored his actions on your other breast. It was so painful you felt a tear leak out and roll down your cheek.

When he let go at last, you let out a breath of relief, but not for long. He sat back, took hold of the hem of your dress, and shoved it up your thighs. You shivered with the cold blast of air that hit your legs. He grinned, and then your eyes went wide as he started to unbuckle his belt. Something surged in you, and you brought back your right hand to swing it as hard as you could onto his left ear.

“Fuck!” he cried, and his legs let up just enough for you to get a foot out from under them, which you drove hard into his chest, forcing him off you at last.

****END OF SEXUAL ASSAULT****

When he fell to the side, you scrambled away as fast as you could and hurtled for the door. You didn’t turn to see if he pursued you as you tugged on the handle and fled down the hall. When you got to the stairwell, you thought enough to hold your dress over your exposed chest, but you did not stop running. Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you went. You tore through the lobby, ignoring all the stares and shouts of surprise from onlookers. You had to get to the studio.

When you rounded the corner to the street the recording studio was on, you slowed to a walk. Your chest heaved with your winded lungs. You felt heavy and like every part of you was sore. You could not process what just happened. Those sort of things happened to other people. You were supposed to be going to tell Roger you got the part. How were you going to tell Roger this? Shame crawled over your skin and you felt dirty all of a sudden.

More tears welled up in your eyes as you went through everything you were feeling. Shame, anger, regret, guilt, sadness. It was too much. You heart couldn’t take it. It was beating so hard you thought it was trying to escape from your rib cage. You wanted to go with it. To shed your skin and become a person who had never been touched by Mark Hudson. You wanted Roger, too, but you felt a little afraid to face him. He knew this would happen and you felt so stupid for not listening.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Even so, you continued on your way to the studio. You could see it now. The front door was your refuge. You looked over your shoulder finally, to be sure Mark wasn’t following you. To your great relief, he wasn’t. Swallowing through the tightness in your throat, you opened the door to the studio.

You had been before so you knew where to go. You walked down the hall, and to the door of the booth. When you opened it, you saw Mary there with Paul, Jim Beach, and John Reid.

“Christ,” she gasped. “Y/N, what’s happened to you?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t form words. What had just happened to you? How could you even begin? You couldn’t. You let out a wail and fell into Mary’s arms. She held you tight, rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“Roger, you better get in here!” Reid called.

The whole band came in, and when they saw you, they shot questioning looks at Mary. She took hold of your shoulders and had you look up.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” she asked again.

Through your tears, you took in Roger’s familiar form, and you felt so awful. He looked at you with an confusion and worry.

“Roger,” you began, your bottom lip quivering. “Roger, I…” you didn’t finish, as you darted over to the nearest trash bin and vomited into it.

“Shit!” Roger hissed and knelt down beside you. From this angle, he could see the damage to your dress and the purple bruises blooming across your skin.

You couldn’t look at him. He reached out for you, but you recoiled.

“No, don’t touch me!”

He stopped, clearly hurt, and gave you some space. Then you watched him ball his hand into a fist as he jumped to his feet.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he said, and stormed toward the door.

“No, Rog, wait!” Brian urged, grabbing hold of Roger’s arm.

“Let go, I’m gonna murder that piece of shit!” Roger yelled. “Get the fuck off me, Brian!”

The idea of Roger leaving caused you to panic. You extended a trembling hand and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, tugging lightly. He turned to look at you and his face softened. Finally, you met his eyes. It was the first time since you’d known him you saw tears in them.

“Don’t leave me, Roger,” you begged. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, my darling,” he sighed as he knelt down again. “Can I...can I hold you?”

You considered it. You desperately wanted his embrace but you felt so undeserving of it. If you had only listened to him!

“Please, Y/N,” he said again.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Roger.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” he asked, as gently as he could.

“You knew this would happen,” you explained. “I was such an idiot. I should have listened to you. I’m so, so sorry.” You broke down again. “I don’t…I don’t deserve you.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong you are,” he replied, and he choked a little on the last word. “This isn’t your fault, Y/N, do you hear me? This is in no way your fault.”

You began to shiver. You couldn’t accept his words, either. All you could do was look at him and feel the whirlwind that swirled through your heart. You hardly even noticed when Brian generously draped his jacket over your shoulders, careful not to actually touch you.

“Roger,” Mary said. “She needs to be taken to hospital. That way they can report it to the  police.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t want to report it.”

“Y/N,” John said. “If he ra -”

“He didn’t,” you interrupted. “He just tried to.”

You thought this might make you all feel better, but it didn’t. You were still a shivering mess on the floor, wounded in ways far beyond the bruises.

“You should at least tell your agent,” Reid said. “If it were someone I was managing, I would want to know.”

“Would that be alright?” Roger asked you.

You nodded. After all, Stephen would be calling to find out how it went. You’d have to tell him something.

Freddie squatted down in front of you. “Can you put your arms through the sleeves, darling?” he asked. “I’ll zip you up.”

You gave him a frightened glace and he held his hands away from you.

“I won’t touch you, I promise.”

Holding the top of your dress, you slipped your arms into the jacket one at a time. You sat up a little and held it up again while Freddie reached out and deftly hooked the zipper and pulled it all the way up. You were certain you looked ridiculous, but that didn’t matter now.

“Mary, could you help her up?” he asked, backing away.

“Sure,” she said, and put her arm around your shoulders. “Come on, love. Up you get.”

With her help, you pushed yourself onto your feet. John took a step toward you.

“Hold out your hand, Y/N,” he said.

You did so, but Mary had to hold it still. He dropped a mint into your open palm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing it to your mouth. The flavor helped you feel fresher and settled your still unruly stomach.

“Let’s go,” Roger said.

You and Mary followed him out the door, quiet as a funeral procession. When you got to the street, Roger looked in the direction of the hotel and his jaw clenched. Mary hailed a cab. You gave the driver the address of Stephen’s office. As he pulled into the traffic, you found yourself numb. What had been a storm of feelings had slowed to a flat lake. You wanted to sleep or get drunk. To be anything but what you were in this moment.

When you arrived at the office, you told the receptionist you needed to see Stephen right away. She paged him and then told you to go ahead inside. The three of you entered, he took in the sight of you, and he looked down.

“Oh, no,” he sighed. “Did he get carried away?”

Roger lost his shit. In seconds, he had taken Stephen by the collar and slammed him into the opposite wall. Mary gasped, and held you a little tighter.

“You knew?!” he shouted. “You fucking knew this would happen and you sent her over there anyway?!”

Stephen whimpered. “I - I didn’t know he would get violent!”

The flat lake stirred up as you matched Roger’s feelings.

“You - ” you started but caught yourself choking on the betrayal. “You knew he wanted me to fuck him for the part?”

Stephen couldn’t meet your eyes. “I thought you’d...many actresses do that sort of thing...and he needed…” he trailed off.

“No,” you said, unsure where this strength was coming from. “Finish that sentence.”

“He’s an old friend of mine,” Stephen said. “He said it had been a while for him and he wanted you.”

Roger punched Stephen in the face, sending your agent’s head back, spit and blood bursting from his mouth.

“SO YOU THOUGHT YOU’D JUST WHORE HER OUT SO YOUR MATE COULD GET OFF?!” Roger bellowed. “FUCK YOU!”

He punched Stephen three more times.

“Roger!” Mary interjected, before he could strike again. “That’s enough!”

He released Stephen, who slumped to the floor.

“You’re fired,” Roger said.

“With all due respect, Mr. Taylor,” Stephen returned, blood dribbling from his split lip. “You can’t - ”

“You’re fired,” you cut across him. You looked at Roger and Mary. “Take me home.”

Roger stormed out, you and Mary on his heels. You could hardly remember getting back to your flat, but you were so relieved when you did. Then you weren’t. George’s photo sent another wave of guilt over you. Mark’s words echoed in your mind: you’re not married...you’re not with Roger Taylor either...

You squeezed your eyes shut. Then, your heart wrenching, you removed your wedding band. You walked over to the mantle and placed it before George’s picture, inwardly sending him an apology. But you couldn't wear it. You weren’t George’s anymore. You weren’t Roger’s. You belonged only to yourself. Oddly, the thought made you feel better. More free. But also pretty lonely.

“Are you alright?” Roger asked.

“No,” you told him. “Nothing is alright.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Mary said. “But I’ve got to get to work. Are you gonna be okay if I leave?”

You looked at Roger and held his gaze as you answered. “Yeah. I’m safe now.”  

She left. A heavy silence hung in the air. Roger took a step toward you before stopping himself. You moved slightly in his direction and he looked at you thoughtfully.

“I should change,” you said, and disappeared into your room.

You were still shaking as you peeled off Brian’s jacket, followed by your dress. You saw yourself in the mirror at last and took in the sight. You didn’t even look like you. Especially since you’d never had a black eye before. No one had ever hit you before. None of this had ever happened to you before. You thought you might break down again, but you held it together as you grabbed some sweats and a tank top from your drawer. When you were finished, you padded back out to Roger, who had taken a seat on the couch. His leg was bouncing and his hands were in fists again. His knuckles were purple from hitting Stephen, and there was a light spatter of blood on the end of his sleeve.

“Roger,” you said, and he stood up immediately. You held out the jacket. “I’ll let you bring this back to Brian.”

He took it and then looked back at you. “You want me to go?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t ever want you to leave.”

Now the emotions were coming again. When would this back and forth ever end? You could see he was itching to comfort you somehow. To wipe the tear from your cheek, or hug you, or anything to ease the pain. He tossed the jacket onto the couch.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Hold me, please,” you said in a voice so small you were surprised he heard you.

You were ready for his touch at last. You could still feel Mark’s hands on your skin, and you wanted Roger’s arms to take it away. He obliged, and wrapped them around you. Your buried your face in his chest and sobbed. You absurdly noticed how nice he smelled. It was something uniquely Roger and it brought you such a sense of peace. You never wanted to move from this place for the rest of your life.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Humor | Tanner Malmedal

Warnings? None? 

Requested? Yup! 

Summary: You’re Roze’s sister and you decide to visit her office one day to be met by a blonde vlogger with the same humor as you

Word Count: 1,628

“What is up you guys? Today, I am with my sister (y/n)!” Your older sister pans to you and you smile and wave at the camera. 

“Today is a family visiting day so I decided to finally show my lil sis around the office.” 

“I’m super excited.” You say and she turns the camera back towards you once more. “Roze has been talking about her job for ages and I’ve always wanted to visit!”

“So we’re gonna grab some coffee and then head out!” 

She turns off the camera and the two of you head to the closest starbucks before heading out. You and Roze were super close sisters growing up. The two of you always hung out and rarely fought. 

When she started working at Hi5 you saw less of her and that sucked for a while. But now that you finally have your own car, you were able to see her more. She always talked about how much fun her job was and that she could finally live her dream and you were beyond proud. 

Growing up, Roze was always singing or playing the guitar. You could be sitting around in your living room doing nothing and she’d just starts singing a random lyric. It was one of your favorite things about her and you loved listening to her voice. 

“You excited to meet everyone?” She asks as she drives. 

“Oh definitely. From your vlogs and the stories you’ve told me they definitely sound like interesting people.” 

“You’ll definitely get along with Sam and Woods the most. They’re a lot like me.” 

“Well I can’t wait.” You say. Roze drives for a few more minutes before pulling into a small building complex. You look around and spot some familiar things from vlogs but overall the buildings were completely unknown to you. 

As she pulled into her spot you feel a wave of anxiousness pass through you along with excitement. You were always a bit nervous meeting new people but you had a feeling that someone you would meet here would be very important to you. 

“Let’s start in red base. I’ll show you around my office and the studio.” 

We head towards one of the bigger buildings and Roze pulls out her camera. She tells it that we’re headed to chill records and that you would be meeting the famous Michael Badal. 

As you walk around, you’re quick to fall in love with the vibe of the studio. The art covering the walls was simple but definitely a chill aesthetic. Everyone around the office greeted you with big smiles that you were happy to return. 

“Now, the reveal of chill records.” Roze says pointing the camera towards you. She backs up into the office and your jaw drops upon seeing the finished studio. 

Like the rest of the studio, it was simple but an aesthetic. The walls were covered in a light brown tile and a microphone stood in the middle of the room. On the other side, was an elaborate set up that you couldn’t navigate for the life of you. 

“And the famous! Michael Badal!” Mike waves to the camera and when he sees you he introduces himself. 

“I’m (y/n). Roze’s little sister.” You respond. “Your set up is sick.” 

“Do you know how to work it?”

“Oh no way. I wish though.” 

Mike offers to teach you a few things and Roze insists on it so she can get some b-roll. Mike explains some of the buttons and knobs and what they do. He then plays a beat and teaches you how to change a few things on it. 

After a few more minutes of playing around on the system, you and your sister decide to head out. Next up, was a quick stop to orange base. Rekt was shooting for the day and Roze wanted you to see them film.

When you walk into orange base, it seems deserted at first until you get to the warehouse. Before entering, your sister hands you a pair of safety glasses and you quickly slip them on and follow behind her. 

The minute she opens the door, you hear a bunch of yelling and just as you walk in, a loud crash sounds from your right causing you to jump. 

“I probably should have warned you about that.” She says and you nod. 

“Roze!” Gunner yells and she waves to him. “Who’s this?” 

“Everyone, this is my sister (y/n).” Roze introduces you and you smile and wave. 

“Do you watch Rekt?” Woods asks and you shrug your shoulders. 

“On and off.” Woods smirks before turning and grabbing a random object and tossing it over to you. You just barely catch it and just as you’re about to ask why he threw you this he speaks. 

“Hey (y/n)? Does that bounce?” Out of the corner of your eye you watch Roze turn away as you lift your arm and throw the object onto the ground. 

“Ooh! Maybe you can join Rekt with a break like that!” Roze says before walking over and high fiving you. After watching the guys continue the video for a bit longer, you and Roze duck out. 

“How do you like it so far?” She asks as you walk. 

“I love it!” While walking over to blue base, the feeling that something was going to happen increases. Normally, you would brush away this type of gut feeling but it was so strong you couldn’t ignore it. 

“This is the common office.” Roze says upon walking into blue base and hanging a left. “It’s  where Sam films totally trendy. 

Upon walking into the room, you see Sam talk animatedly to a camera but stops when she sees the two of you. 

“Hey Roze! Who’s this?” She asks gesturing towards you and you wave. 

“I’m (y/n).” 

“Oh hi! Roze has told me so much about you!” 

“What are you filming?” Roze ask and Sam tells us that it’s another cake pop video. 

“Cake pops are my weakness.” You tell her and she smiles. 

“Wanna help me make some?” 

You nod in response and Sam tells you where everything is and you grab the ingredients so you can start making. As you’re working, Roze tells you she’s gonna dip for a little bit but will be back soon. 

“Do you mind being on camera?” Sam asks as you’re finishing up mixing the cake ingredients. 

“Not at all!” 

She grabs her camera from the desk and hits record. She introduces you before telling them that the cake pops are almost ready and soon we’ll start decorating. 

After we finish up decorating, Roze comes back in just as we’re filming the outro. She tells me we’ll finish up the tour and then head out to lunch. You big your goodbyes to Sam and walk away, happy to make a new friend. 

“Okay the last few people you are meeting are, Tanner, Paul, and Matthias.” She says leading you upstairs. 

You meet Matt first, accidentally running into him as he leaves his office. The two of you talk for a bit about school and what Roze does here before he quickly heads out. 

You then turn into the last office and your feeling of urgency returns. As it washes over you, your eyes lock with a blue eyed beauty. You briefly hear Roze tell you that this is Paul and Tanner but you realize you’re staring too long and offer an awkward smile. 

“Hi.” You say and Tanner flashes you and reassuring smile. “I’m (y/n).” 

“Hey.” He greets. “I love your shirt.” You look down to see you’re wearing an old Spider-Man t-shirt. 

“Thank you!” 

“Have you seen the new movie yet?” He asks. The two of you then launch into a conversation about the new marvel movie. 

“Uh (y/n)? Do you want to go to lunch?” Roze asks bringing your attention back. 

“Uhm yeah.” You respond. 

“Can I come with?” Tanner asks and you begin to smile again. 

“Why don’t you two go out alone?” Roze suggests and you whip around to give her a look. 

“It’s fine.” She says reading your thoughts. “Bring her back on time though okay?” Roze turns towards Tanner and he nods. 

“So, where do you want to go?” 

You two end up at In N Out and decide to eat together in Tanners car. After ordering and getting your food, Tanner parks and the two of you dig in. As you eat, you talk more, about Tanners job at Hi5 and where he grew up and such. 

You find yourself lost in your own little world as the lunch moves on and you end up missing three calls from Roze. When you call her back, she’s definitely not happy. 

“I’m really sorry we’ll be back soon.” You apologize to her while signaling to Tanner to start heading back. 

“It’s okay I was just worried. I’ll see you soon.” After hanging up, Tanner offers you a smile. 

“Sorry for getting you in trouble.” 

“It’s all good. Not like you kidnapped me or anything.” You smile and Tanner laughs. 

The ride back to the office was way too short and you find yourself a bit sad to be heading back. You hoped this wasn’t the last time you would see Tanner but you were also way too much of a chicken to ask for his number. 

“You’re back!” Roze exclaims when you walk through the door. 

“Waiting for us to come home mom?” You ask sarcastically and she shoves you. 

“Come on. I wanna show you one last thing and then we gotta go home.” 

“Before you leave!” Tanner says and you turn to face him. “Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?” 

“I’d love to.” 

[xexilia]

I notice when you do your comics, it applies a certain level of toner. I ended up deciding on the route of using paint brush india ink, and charcoal for toner instead. Does this aesthetic difference change the marketability of graphic novel, compared to just using toner? In the context of the prologue in this web comic, it is used to denote a fog atmosphere. In the upcoming chapter, I might use it for graveyard fog.

I think first I need to establish that what you mean by “toner” is “shading”?

I do use tones, but tonER is the stuff used in and by physical printers. Print tones refer to the dots, lines, etc. that are present in the majority of my work and that Roy Lichtenstein emulated in his paintings. Tones are dots because that’s how printers print; Thousands of dots. The closer together, the more solid the shade or color is. I’m not trying to correct you on terms, but knowing this difference will help you later because I promise, if you buy toner online and expect to get tones, you’ll be disappointed by what arrives in the mail!

So, I think you’re falling into a common trap webcomic artists make in the beginning, which is focusing on the wrong parts of the project. You asked me if this changes marketability; But you didn’t tell me:

What medium do you want to publish in? Do you want to ONLY have your comics online, or do you want to print them?

Who is your target audience and age group?

Do you want to sell or profit off your webcomic?

The first question is important because far too often, webcomic artists design for the web/screens first, foremost, and only; Later, they decide to print a book, and this is when all hell breaks loose. Lots of media (Charcole, watercolors, etc.—media is the art term for materials) can look both better OR WORSE on a screen—this is where technology comes into play, like the scanner you have, the DPI (dots per inch) its able to scan things in at, and the size of scannable area. A lot of my favorite media and mediums (I like pencil on paper), are really delicate drawings—and like a lot of artists who favor these materials, scanners just never seem to do them justice. Lots of fine artists I talk to admit that they feel their work looks best in person, and no matter how high the quality scanner, small, delicate details get lost. Part of it can be a cheap scanner, the wrong DPI setting, but the other part can be the wrong medium (That’s the term for things like canvas or paper), or the wrong SIZE medium.

Size matters; Both in terms of the scanner surface area AND the size of your medium. A lot of people (And I did this myself for a lot of the first book), work on standard size paper—8.5 by 11 inches; But professional artists, print or not, are always better off to work at a LARGER size than the end result will be. When I printed my book, I didn’t come out too terribly for the size I worked in, because manga book page sizes are smaller than their American counter parts. I also knew I planned to print from the first page onward, so everything was designed for print first and web second—this is much easier and less time consuming to do than the reverse, because a lot of print errors can occur that don’t appear on screens—and literally can’t—and can take hours, days, weeks or more to fix, depending on how bad and common the issue is and how many of your pages have this problem. A big one is called moire, which DOES NOT show up on screens; This happens when an artist applies on tone directly over another. Because most of us work digitally these days, it’s even easier for artists to start doing this and not realize the consequence until you print a book. . .and discover all places where tones overlap create this weird square pattern within them—which is called moire. This is why it’s critical to use separate tones for different shades and such, because unlike solid color printing, you cannot overlay tones like you would layers in Photoshop or other such programs. Ignore this at your peril!

My first suggestion before you go to far is; Of you want to ever, EVER print this, print out a copy of a page at home. Even if you’re happy with it, consider how you may be printing or mass producing these things; If you’re going to make them via a copier at Kinko’s, take a page down to a copier at Kinko’s and see what quality you get. If you don’t like it at full size to the ratio you worked in (In other words, printing on the same size paper you created it on), you can get some improvement by using smaller pages—but going UP in page size will cause quality to drop. I now work on paper—digital or not—that’s always 11 by 17 inches AT LEAST. For anything I make, I try to work in a size 3 to 4 times larger than the end result will be.

When I first began, I made my comics with a copier at Kinko’s, and discovered while my ink wash method looked good, it looked better with color printing; Color printing is ALWAYS more expensive, hence why when digital comic creation tools (Like Clip Studio) got invented, I was an instant convert! It saved a lot of time and money (Tones and such are all expensive), the environment (No trees died for my drawings), effort (Tones are REALLY tricky to work with by hand), and it’s no wonder that manga artists now are nearly ALL working digitally.

Also, for the disabled (Like me), digital allows us to work from beds, at home, etc. instead of in front of a desk, all hunched over. I don’t accidentally smudge ink, my cat doesn’t drink my ink (Yes, it’s a thing cats do!), and if I mess up, the power of Undo/Redo/Copy/Paste/Transform CANNOT be understated. I’ve mentioned it before, but I believe in working smarter, NOT harder. This is why I draw out a lot of backgrounds (Which you can’t see on the free copies online, but you can if you buy a physical copy or the Amazon eBook), separately, and I can just drag and drop them around as I need. That way, I can focus on drawing the characters and not on drawing a giant cathedral for every damn appearance it makes or scene change I do.

As for marketability; A lot of this depends on your target audience and age group. Even so, people tend to grow to like something even if it may be atypical of the general stuff they like. I’m generally not a fan of shoujo-ai—but many of my favorite anime and manga ARE in this genre! Turns out, if the story is good, I don’t care about the sexuality of the characters!

A lot of people expect or want color comics these days though, which is odd to me, since the manga produced in Japan is in black and white (Color printing is expensive—even for a major publishing company!) People still read it, and those who expect an artist to make a free webcomic with color pages and update several times a week or month aren’t aware of the time, effort, or consequences. Generally; No, they will NOT buy a book they’ve read for free online (As much as people love to say to support us creators, they rarely actually do), and they damn sure won’t pay for the extra cost of color printing. If you want to see the difference, check out Ka-Blam comic printers and do a price comparison between printing pages in color versus black and white.

Yes, there are people who do a Kickstarter and such and get these funds up front; They are exceptions, not the rules. Consider them—and most artists who make comics or art they make of their own choosing (Not commissions, but only originals), the same as you might someone who plays a sport and decides that they are GOING to play professionally for some orginazation or team—which is, they are counting on being in this LESS THAN 1% of their field. Yes, some people pull it off; The vast majority don’t—and skill isn’t the biggest factor in the end. Just like an athlete with all the promise in the world can have their career ended before it’s begun by an injury that never heals right, art itself is a career path with MANY hidden pitfalls and problems—and health is a major one. Too many of us don’t eat right, don’t exercise our bodies and minds, and so on; It adds up. I personally really recommend a diet with a caloric/carb intake ratio that works within your activity levels; In other words, if you’re determined not to work out (Which—don’t make this mistake), you can’t eat as much as you’d like—not only will you gain weight, but it impacts your health health, your blood sugar—it can be a recipe for an early, but preventable, grave or a LOT of suffering that could be avoided. I try to jog at least two miles a day, meditate daily, and really put my health as the main focus in my life—even before my art. I can’t draw anything or write more stories if I’m dead, after all, and I can’t produce my best work if I’m not in the best condition I can manage. With an autoimmune disease, there’s only so much I can do or control and I’m often still very sick and in a lot of pain; But I still do all I can to run or walk two miles—at least, and even if it takes me an hour or more—and to keep my heart rate at 120 beats per min. when I do. There’s a lot of days where this is about the ONLY thing I can manage and where my pain is so bad I cry and cry—because right now I don’t have a lot of means of relief; This doesn’t happen to everyone, but it means that health—no matter what you do in life—can make or break you at times. Audiences aren’t always understanding of these circumstances and yes, ones career can dry up as a result. Just because someone manages to play for the sports team of their dreams doesn’t mean their health can’t or won’t turn on them, or a serious injury will end their career; We do not live in a world where people will continue to support you because of a series of or singular unfortunate event.

This brings me to the last point, which is if you plan to sell or profit off your work; We all want to, but often making sales can come at the cost of producing something that we, as the creators, really love or are passionate about. I decided from the jump that, while profiting was nice, I’d much rather make the title I wanted to make rather than the one that sells the most copies; If I were concerned with it, trust me, Eternity Concepts would be a wildly different story, with different art, etc. I’d have written a formulaic story that was entirely predictable and changed so many aspects, you’d never recognize it; Manga fans tend to be teens, so I’d have made the cast all teenagers! It’d be set in school! Someone might magically transform to fight evil or some such thing.

I didn’t want that; If you do, there’s no shame in that, but audiences will keep buying and reading what we keep producing, and if we’re too afraid to take a risk on a chance that our story won’t make a dime—because making a dime is the most important part for you—then we can’t be surprised when it’s what people keep buying—because we aren’t even attempting to sell anything else.

Publishing houses (With novels and such) can be really guilty of pushing for changes based on market research; The thing is, the research is often based off past sales of what’s already in the market. Plenty of novels that became classics and best sellers got rejected for years and years until a publishing company was willing to take a chance and discovered that people can, will, and do enjoy new and different things. They might also do market focus group testing—but these are small sample sizes of average people—and your audience may NOT be average people.

All creative pursuits involve risks, at the end of the day; You just have to decide what rewards you want or are willing to sacrifice if you take them.

As for aesthetics, there’s no accounting for taste and I’ve seen plenty of paintings I hated sell for insane amounts of money, plenty of art styles I hated become popular titles, etc.

I will say this; When I, PERSONALLY, see a comic with tones or color, usually that’s digitally produced (It cuts out the need for a scanner!), it looks to me like it’s professionally made—by someone who is on their way or already at such a level.

While a lot of newer artists try to make do with other materials, again, the world is not a kind place and making do is just that—making do. Yes, there are a million and one reasons why one can’t get their hands on better or more professional materials—but sadly, people don’t want to hear excuses, and many successful artists got their tools by working jobs they hated, saving up, living in their cars—making major sacrifices to get to where they are now. There’s no easy road or shortcuts to the end; Yes, I do, sadly, think the mixed media approach you’re trying won’t be favorable towards your marketability—but I could always be wrong (Look at how many MS Paint comics made it big!) There’s a first time for everything.

Comics, though, is also about production speed, and traditional materials can come at the cost of working quicker. I’m a big fan of suggesting people save and wait and invest (And it IS an investment) in serious materials and tools if they wish to be seen and taken as seriously; This means making sacrifices and at the end of the day, plenty of people still won’t like what you make, no matter what tools you have or plot you employ. The person who NEEDS to like it most? . . .Is only you.

You cannot please all of the people all of the time, and the faster you accept that, the happier you’ll be with what you make.

[dxmedstudent]

my love ♡

From Cute Nickname Asks. my love - what would your dream home be like? 

Oh, what a wonderful question. I’ve been working hard on a presentation for work, and this is just the thing to relax my brain. Thank you so much for sending it in! I really want my own place; it didn’t used to feel important, but over the years of renting places I don’t even like, I’ve really started yearning for a home. I don’t think I’ll have a big place; looking at London, I’m priced out of an absurdly large chunk of it. Even if I’m lucky enough to move in with someone else, and even if we move out of town, where I live will be modest in size. But if I can have anywhere at all, I’d be pretty lucky so I guess I’ll do the best that I can.

I don’t like kitchens, they are usually hot, sticky and way too small. So maybe an open plan kitchen and dining area? So I or a theoretical partner don’t have to be stuck there alone whilst cooking, and if you have friends or family round you can mingle whilst things cook. Storage units would be accessible to my shortass self, unless whoever I’m with wants a permanent job reaching things for me. It’s too annoying when things you need every day are out of reach and out of sight.

I’d like a couple of guest rooms so I can have friends over, the way they have me over sometimes. It’d be so nice to just... entertain. I’m not much of a cook and not a domestic goddess at all, but I just want to stay in and invite friends or family for dinner and play games. I want there to be enough space for people; I’m used to not being able to invite people round, and always having to go to theirs, so it’d be so nice to have a space of my own. Speaking of games; there has to be some sort of games room. Maybe it’d be an open plan living room (or not, depending on how noisy games are, and whether there are kids),but there needs to be somewhere to relax, and have fun. There has to be some kind of living space; somewhere you can chill on the sofa and watch TV; in reality this’d probably be merged with either your dining space (and even kitchen) or your games room. But it’d have to be there. I can’t live without a sofa to curl up on with someone, or an armchair from which to dangle at an unorthdox angle. I would love for it to be full of light, maybe a nice window seat and a nice fireplace; even if it is fake. I want somewhere which feels light and airy during the summer, but which feels warm and cozy when it’s cold. I have several blankets, so rest assured anywhere I live will be cozy. I’d love to have a library; or at least room for enough shelves to store my books and comics, plus enough room for whatever books any partner brings with them, or any kids collect. I guess a home office or studio space would be nice; I’m an artist and I need somewhere to keep my art kit and my computer/tablets. One day, I’d like one of those amazing tablets that you draw on. I’d like ot to be a space that if I was living with someone, we could share together even if it just meant quietly sitting whilst doing separate stuff. I’d like to get my computer/desk out of the bedroom - it feels so studenty living like that, and sleep experts recommend not mixing work and sleep spaces.

A master bedroom with an ensuite. Because why not? We’re talking about my dream home, not what I’ll realistically afford. It’d be nice to have a biiiig bath. I’m not even a big person and I can barely fit in the bath and feel comfortably covered. And whilst we’re at it, a decent sized bed. I am so over sleeping in a tiny single bed most of the time, and whether I have a partner or not, I’d want a big, comfy space to sleep in. It’s gotta have blackout curtains, in case I do nights. If I’m talking a dream house, a balcony would be lovely; every house has them where I’m originally from, and I miss them. If there are kids, perhaps a kids’ playroom would be nice (or kids having big enough rooms to play in them) so that if I have any kids, they feel they have their own space that they get some say in. When my fictional and hypothetical kids are little, they will share a room so that they can play together and not feel lonely, but when they are older, I’d love for them to have their own rooms and privacy and so they can work uninterrupted. This number of rooms seems like a sheer luxury, but we’re talking dream houses, so it’s OK. In real life, I can’t see myself having spare rooms of any sort if I have kids, I’m not even sure how I’d afford enough rooms to keep theoretical kids in. But hey, that’s Future Dx’s distand and theoretical problem.I imagine it to be a pretty eclectic place; my room at my parents is a bit cluttered with weird and wonderful things, like a Studio Ghibli character’s room. I’d love to imagine art on the walls (mine and other people’s), and things that I love on display. It might end up pretty... eclectic, but that’s OK. I appreciate classical beauty and neat houses, but that’s also just not me, not on its own. So I might have nice pretty ‘normal’ things, there may well be a scintilating dice collection  where most people keep their prize china. There may be tasteful anime art on the walls. Comics on the library bookshelves. Hey, it’s my house, I’ll nerd it up as much as I want! I imagine it as looking like my room at my parents; there are all sorts of unrelated things chucked together, and lots of it is aesthetically pleasing, and it all sort of works in a slightly messy but charming way? Imagine an elegant (but eclectic) Victorian collector who just happens to have discovered anime and DnD. I’m going to need storage space, both on display and dovered, because minimalism is not my thing. I have no idea what the colour scheme will be like, but there will not be a magnolia wall in the house. I can imagine having photos of friends and family on the walls; say in the hall, so friends can see them and reminisce when they come over. If I was with someone, it’d be nice to find a way to merge both sets of photos and also make new ones. I’ll be honest, I just haven’t taken many photos of myself or friends lately for years; I’ve had to make a conscious effort to start  again. Because I don’t want my entire life to be undocumented. If I’m not living alone, it won’t be only my things; if I’m with someone, I’d want them to feel that the space was equally theirs, and I’d make sure that the things they love are also included. I don’t believe in the expectation that women decorate and men have a ‘man cave’ somewhere; I’d want everyone I live with to feel like the space is theirs. If I have kids, I’d love for them to feel included, too. I’m gonna be that embarrassing parent who puts their kids’ trophies pride of place and talks to their friends about their kids’ pokemon collection.

I’d love a garden. It doesn’t have to be big, but I want to be able to get some fresh air, maybe sit outside at sunset with people I care about. I want to plant some low- effort plants which smell nice and have pretty flowers and make me happy. No lawns, because I had to look after a tiny lawn once, and it was still too much effort. I want there to be lots of birds, and plenty of bugs. If I have kids, they can play out there and get muddy to their hearts’ content; it never did me any harm. There will be a cat, if I have my way. OK, there might be more pets than a cat, but it’d depend on how much time I had, and whether anyone I lived with could tolerate pets. If I lived alone, there’d be pets for sure.

That’s probably more than enough. Right now, I’d settle for my own space, a fridge that isn’t always full of other people’s food, and a decent bathroom. But one day, it’d be nice if I could get some of the above ticked off, at least.

[ignisosculo]

hello,  beautiful  humans  !  i’m  frankie  and  i’m  very  excited  to  be  here.  of  course,  i’m  super  duper  late  because  let’s  be  honest,  i  was  a  bit  unprepared  and  then  i  had  a  very  hectic  day,  so  it’s  safe  to  assume  that  i’m  literally  rushing  to  post  this.  please  note  that  since  i’m  starting  out  with  two  muses  (  pray  4  me  ),  i’m  gonna  introduce  them  both  here,  under  the  read  more,  &  hopefully  with  enough  context  if  anyone  is  interested  in  plotting  things  out  and  whatnot  ...  so  this  might  be  a  tad  bit  longer  !  also,  i  think  it’s  very  important  to  see  detective  pikachu  in  a  car  seat.  thank  you  &  goodnight.

𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍  𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍.

☾ ▹ ° ⋅  paul rudd  /  forty-nine  /  cis male  ;   have you had the chance to meet jonathan goldstein ? he has lived in old sprigg for most of his life, gaining a reputation for being quite charismatic, reliable, quirky & tense. this heterosexual leo can be found around dubois bakery and he works as an architect. most people tend to associate them with an artist’s desk and piles of sketches.〈 loved by frankie, 23, cst, she/her. 〉

this  vampire  guy  right  here  was  born  and  bred  in  old  sprigg,  missouri,  so  old  sprigg  isn’t  just  a  small  town  for  him.  his  family  had  money  so  he  had  an  a-okay  upbringing.  parents  were  pretty  strict,  having  a  set  of  rules  for  john  and  his  siblings.  he’s  the  oldest  of  four;  one  brother  &  two  sisters,  so  as  you  can  assume,  the  goldsteins  were  a  crazy,  jewish  ménage.

growing  up,  he  always  had  a  keen  interest  in  architecture.  he’d  point  out  the  many  buildings  whenever  they  traveled.  little  johnny’s  goal  was  to  become  an  architect.  before  that,  john  wanted  to  be  an  astronaut,  but  that’s  besides  the  point.  he  went  to  usc  and  graduated  with  a  bachelor  of  architecture  degree.

deciding  to  stay  in  california  for  a  few  years  after  graduating,  he  found  a  job  at  a  design  firm.  starting  out  as  an  intern  wasn’t  too  shabby,  though.  he’s  a  talented  guy  and  the  owners  of  the  studio  noticed  his  talent  ...  after  3  years,  almost  a  little  too  late.  however,  he  couldn’t  find  it  in  his  heart  to  say  ‘no’  to  becoming  a  part  of  the  team.

worked  as  an  architect  for  15  years  before  moving  back  home.  however,  he’d  left  behind  the  opportunity  to  start  his  own  design  firm.  prior  to  coming  back,  his  long-term  relationship  ended  and  was  absolutely  devastated.  he’s  STILL  as  single  as  a  missing  pair  of  socks.  tragic.  [  37  years  old  ]  :  returned  despite  how  heartbroken  he  was.

he’s  one  of  those  fun  uncles.  he’s  got  a  couple  of  nieces  and  nephews.  the  family  keeps  growing  and  growing,  then  there’s  jonathan:  single  but  he  doesn’t  mind  one  bit.  or  does  he  ?  doesn’t  believe  in  marriage,  so  give  him  someone  to  love  who  might  believe  the  same  thing  about  a  piece  of  paper  ?

living  in  california,  he  traveled  twice  a  year  to  old  sprigg  to  visit  his  old  pals  and  family,  so  you  might’ve  seen  him  around.  goodbyes  kind  of  suck,  so  he  isn’t  one  to  say  goodbye.  whenever  he  had/has  to  leave  for  a  while,  he  will  say:  ‘see  you  later’  or  ‘i’ll  be  back’  with  a  peace  sign,  trying  to  avoid  making  a  reference  to  the  terminator  movies.

not  an  important  note/quick  summary:  was  away  from  missouri  for  19  years.  graduated  from  university  of  southern  california.  intern  to  full-time  employee.  pleased  as  fuck.  met  someone  and  dated  them  for  a  long  ass  time.  she  ended  it.  came  back  to  old  sprigg.  heartbroken.  moved  on.  been  home  for  12  years.  single  af.  perhaps  too  old  to  become  a  parent /  low-key  gives  up.  works  at  home.  active.  constantly  travels  due  to  work.  a  busy  bee,  workaholic.

personality  wise:  confident  in  communication  skills,  helps  others  feel  confident  if  permitted,  positively  confident  without  being  boastful  and  egotistical,  lowkey  lives  a  carpe  diem  personality,  able  to  be  trusted,  honest  &  often  times  too  straightforward  but  means  well,  creative  af,  quirky  and  witty  sense  of  humor  (  if  it  isn’t  written  out  that  way  sometimes,  i  apologize  beforehand  because  i  think  of  witty  things  to  say  a  day  too  late  ),  regardless  of  being  charming  and  whatnot,  he’s  tense;  will  become  anxious  and  nervous  at  random  times  of  the  day.  easy-going.  /  more  to  be  added.

aesthetics:  an  artist’s  desk  in  a  design  studio  (  aka  home  ),  a  shit  ton  of  sketches  in  piles  basically  overflowing  his  home,  planners  filled  to  the  brim  with  important  dates  regarding  personal  life  and  work,  etc.  /  more  to  be  added.

wanted  connections:  give  me  everything  and  anything.  im’s  are  OPEN  !

𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐓  𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐙𝐖𝐀́𝐑

☾ ▹ ° ⋅  inbar lavi  /  thirty-four  /  cis female  ;   have you had the chance to meet ayelet al-azwár ? she has lived in old sprigg for seven years, gaining a reputation for being quite ambitious, good-natured, sensitive & worrisome. this bisexual pisces can be found around the clover and she works as a veterinarian. most people tend to associate them with white coats and messy hair buns.〈 loved by frankie, 23, cst, she/her. 〉

this  girl  has  a  love  and  hate  relationship  with  her  name.  not  only  is  it  hebrew  for  ‘deer,  gazelle’  but  her  mom’s  constant  reminder  that  it  ‘fits’  her  makes  her  give  up.  letty  is,  in  fact,  her  nickname.  she’ll  introduce  herself  as  dr.  al-azwár  if  you’re  stopping  by  the  old  sprigg  veterinary  clinic  for  your  furry  lil  friend’s  check-up  and  whatnot.

she  grew  up  in  a  jewish  household  in  brooklyn,  new  york.  the  al-azwárs  are  of  moroccan  and  polish  descent,  so  she  grew  up  learning  hebrew  and  arabic,  plus  a  few  other  languages.  probably  a  linguist.  honestly,  she  never  stops  learning  in  general.  if  there’s  a  library,  then  knowledge  is  power.  was  in  ap  classes  through  the  school  years...  including  college.  but  she  wouldn’t  consider  herself  a  genius.  always  pressured  herself  to  be  the  best.  she’s  a  damn  perfectionist.

with  her  parents  permission,  she  had  a  job  when  she  was  16  years  of  age,  so  had  been  earning  money  ever  since —  dreaming  of  attending  college.  thankfully,  mom  and  dad  were  more  than  okay  with  her  wanting  to  become  a  veterinarian.  they  supported  letty  in  every  step  of  the  way.  which  came  to  a  surprise  for  her  but  she  didn’t  question  them  at  all.

earned  her  doctor  of  veterinarian  medicine  degree  (  dvm  )  when  she  was  23.  took  a  gap  year  before  attending  [  name  of  college  ].  pretty  fucking  proud  of  herself,  even  though  there  were  pretty  hard  obstacles  along  the  way,  and  she  was  up  for  any  challenges.  but  let’s  face  it,  life  after  college  can  be  tough  af  with  landing  your  dream  job.  especially  in  new  york.

managing  on  getting  her  degree,  she  worked  two  part-time  jobs  to  be  able  to  afford  rent,  since  she  decided  to  move  to  manhattan  afterwards.  just  2  words:  big  mistake.  letty  isn’t  the  type  of  person  to  ask  for  help,  considering  she  is  still  paying  off  school.  it’d  been  2  years  until  she  realized  that  the  best  choice  for  her  was  to  move  states.  well  after  paying  her  taxes  and  bills,  and  making  a  budget.  at  that  point,  she  was  on  the  verge  of  having  a  mental  breakdown.

giving  her  landlord  the  heads  up,  the  first  thing  she  did  was  notify  her  parents  that  she  was  selling  her  studio  apartment  and  moving  back  to  brooklyn,  and  into  her  childhood  home.  asking  if  it  was  all  right  because  she’d  refuse  to  accept  their  money  and  advise  them  of  their  retirement  plan,  hoping  to  care  for  them  when  the  time  came.  a  little  superstitious,  letty  knocks  on  wood  every  time.

choosing  to  move  to  old  sprigg,  missouri  was  completely  random.  however,  she  had  the  desires  of  moving  to  a  small  town.  the  first  thing  she  did  was  buy  a  ticket  to  missouri  and  visited  the  charming  town.  she  fell  in  love  with  old  sprigg;  it  had / has  its  charm.  how  long  did  she  stay  ?  A  WEEK,  and  it  was  enough  for  her  to  make  the  decision.

for  the  past  seven  years,  she  has  lived  in  missouri  and  worked  as  the  vet  at  its  clinic  (  totally  forgot  to  mention  she  lived  with  her  parents  for  2  years  beforehand  )  and  couldn’t  be  happier.  letty  can  be  found  hanging  out  at  the  clover  with  a  glass  of  wine  in  hand  with  a  book  in  her  hand.

personality  wise:  has  the  strongest  desire  and  determination  to  succeed.  kind,  friendly,  patient.  the  mom  friend  to  people  she’s  closet  to.  concerned  more  with  the  needs  and  wishes  of  others  than  her  own.  has  a  quick  &  delicate  appreciation  of  others’  feelings,  especially  with  animals.  inclined  to  worry,  a  clinical  worrier.  introverted  but  ambivert.  /  more  to  be  added.

aesthetics:  white  lab  coats,  messy  hair  buns,  curly  hair,  pencil  skirts,  etc.  /  more  to  be  added.

wanted  connections:  give  me  everything  and  anything.  im’s  are  OPEN  !

discord:  i  constantly  change  my  username  lol  so  please  ask  for  it,  if  you  prefer  to  plot  through  there;  i’d  happily  give  it  to  you.  c:

[ofaurcra]

hello all, admin c with you again to introduce you to my first and foremost og muse here at daegu and my sweet but equally spicy dork yoo aurora, better known as rory, your local florist and aspiring business owner hbic !! below the cut you can find out a few basics about her and her background, just hit the like on this and i will eventually i promise get round to messaging you for plotting as well !! let’s get it chief :  

PAST:

aurora comes from a very well off and established family, her father is the owner of a big business trading company in japan and america, as well as some other locations overseas. her mother on the other hand, had dreams of becoming an architect that were assured to crumble after falling for aurora’s father, she was forced to throw those away in order to be his chairwoman and do her bit in further heightening his career. 

the family history is tormented for sure but rory was always taught to believe that it’s just the typical rich people chaos and way of life so she shouldn’t complain or behave in a hard done by manner. 

when she turned seventeen, the big family secret came out that her father had an affair with one of her fellow students who she considered a close friend, the girl was around twenty four. but her mother and father decided to keep the secret buried in the agreement that it would be best for and protect the family, or more so their reputation, the most. 

they stayed married despite the scandal, in a bid mostly to keep the news from going big in the media and ruining everything rory’s father had built for himself and established. 

aurora was taught to be quiet and obedient, she was not meant to have big dreams of her own and was expected to wait patiently to have a part in the family business after her brother ( @hirofm​ ) became successor given training from her father. romance was off the table and so was being a reckless teenager, she would consider potential suitors only that her father introduced her to from big name families with lots of money and investment in his company. 

this didn’t sit well with her, especially since she felt she was being forced to mirror her mothers misfortunes. the family dynamic became tense, aurora not being able to simply move on and forgive her father like her mother had done and give in to his every demand or instruction. she moved out rather young and began to live alone, making the journey from their life of luxury in america to a life on the streets in korea. 

her father was enraged and cut off her access to the family fortune, her mother offered no help to rory after her depature as it soon was followed by suffering the loss of her late mother whom she had felt was the only one who could keep her surviving rory’s fathers cold and calculated world. 

it didn’t help that hiro eventually followed in her footsteps not wanting to inherit his father’s lifestyle and fleeing. finding a love for art instead and being inspired by his sisters bold move, he set out to look for her and pursue his goals elsewhere, undisturbed by his fathers control. 

PRESENT: 

aurora works three jobs, her main one being in a flower shop that she set up herself with help from two close friends, though she often is working there herself and accomplishing every task,  her position is manager. she also works the night shift at a bistro and when she can will man the information desk at the local art museum. she also works in her spare time for a little extra income when the opportunity arises in the local library, which she considers her safe haven. 

the main reason aurora is such a workaholic is due to her fierce independence and need to show she is a capable woman but also because since being disowned from her family, she struggles to get by day by day on a good income to keep herself living comfortably. after experiencing poverty on the streets for a good portion of her teenage life she is still in the mindset of never resting to ensure she has a comfortable living. much of her nature is still a survival of the fittest in a man eat man world mindset. 

she’s opening up her own fashion boutique soon as her next big project as owner and manager once again, after studying hard online and in the occasional night class for a few years to get a degree in fashion design. something she’s always been very interested in. now hiro has located her, she’s also hoping to buy out a nice space for him to have as a studio which he can use for leisure but also make profit out of. 

she’s become very business savvy, it’s always been instinctual to her and in her blood, think fallon carrington in dynasty ( the cw reboot ) as a major source of her inspiration as a character and lucy liu’s character in the film set it up. 

some people believe her to be vain and materialistic because rory can appear quite the bitch due to the fact she’s so stubborn minded and arrogant about the independence she fought hard to establish. despite her harsh circumstances she never let it stop her from appearing to be the boss bitch she is on the inside or the outside either and so a lot of her habits from her old and more well off lifestyle lingered in terms of self confidence and appearing quite the babydoll aesthete. 

she really isn’t a bitch in the slightest, she does have a firm and strict outlook and a get shit done attitude and approach to most things in life but if you get close to her then she will consider you found family and savagely go to no ends to protect you and offer you the best she can do.

despite her busy lifestyle aurora is a nurturing friend who often makes time to socialize and be there in times of need. her favorite hangout spots for some downtime tend to be fancy cafes, botanical gardens and art exhibitions. she’s also one for chilling at home with wine and a cheeseboard, literally her kryptonite. this girl is also loyal to a fault, like she will stand by you no matter what, even if she got pissed and distanced herself a little. she’d still come running any time you called her in a crisis. 

SOME HEADCANONS: 

if you can’t find her, chances are she’s in the local library or a music studio room somewhere practicing piano to calm herself, these particular places she’s especially prone to when she has high anxiety. she’s a very talented pianist as well, it was something, one thing, her dad actually longed for her to pursue a career in part time. 

has a roommate in her apartment since she thought it important especially due to the fact she gets less social time due to all her working, this is a potential plot connection so do feel free to snatch it up. she’s rather close with them and quite the mom friend over them. 

she owns a tonkinese cat and a singapura kitten named kimura and romi respectively and they are the lights of her life, she’s a very loving cat mom and the two animals are adopted from a shelter, having been nursed back to interactive and excitable cats from less fortunate and painful upbringings so she is a rather proud cat lady indeed. 

since growing steadily but surely with her stakes in the business world and owning more of her own companies, she hopes to buy out her father and take over from him someday to watch his oh so precious material world burn down around him and leave him with nothing, the same way he did to her and hiro. but she also hopes to do this so that when she takes over she can run the company better and treat the employees with the respect they deserve after her fathers cruel treatment.