#was v happy with that kid portrait so i want to draw one for the others too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clotpole-art · 3 years

Text

Retrospective: Illustrated Merlin Alphabet Challenge

Finally finished the Merlin Alphabet Challenge, so here's the artist notes no one asked for! See below the cut for comments on each piece by order of creation. Be warned folks, it's a long post.

Before we begin: credit to @merlin-gifs for the challenge, which can be found here. It's awesome, go do it.

First thing you should know is I did probably 80-90% of these while on phone calls or in Zoom meetings and that's reflected in the simplicity of most pieces -- the compositions aren't complicated, the lines aren't refined, the coloring is slapdash. If you noticed variation in quality of the pieces, that's why!

Second: I tried to focus on trying something new for each drawing. Didn't always happen, but this challenge did succeed in helping me push me out of my own comfort zone.

Without further ado...

A is for Arthur Pendragon

Textures, baby! Brushed metal of his armor, scratchy linen texture of his shirt, wispy softness of hair and skin. I'd recently gotten my tablet out of storage after a year of figuring out where the hell I was going to live and this was one of the first pieces of digital art I spent time on. Glad it was Arthur kicking us off!

B is for the Beginning of the End (1x08)

Fun fact, I did not draw this with my tablet. I drew it with my work computer's touchscreen. It was awful, would not recommend.

C is for Camelot

I wanted to get used to different brushes, so landscape of the castle it was! There are brushes that help with drawing grass; I did not use said brushes and my wrist hurt afterward. That being said, I really enjoyed working on this and it was one of the few pieces I didn't do while multitasking.

D is for Daegal

Also drawn on my work computer's touchscreen, not my tablet. I didn't learn my lesson from B and the experience was even worse. This is my least favorite piece which sucks because it's Daegal so I'm slated to redo this sometime in the near future. Gotta do our boy justice.

E is for Elyan

Oh, I adored drawing this. Elyan often gets shafted in terms of fandom appreciation so I made sure to choose Elyan for this prompt and to participate in the Elyan fest. Plus, I love a good ghost story and figuring out a way to include the druid spectre was fun. Didn't multitask on this piece because Elyan deserved my full attention.

F is for Freya

Ho boy. This piece. I have such mixed feelings on this drawing. Really really didn't like it after I'd decided it was done and very nearly scrapped the whole thing. I had a vision in my head that I just couldn't render into reality and it frustrated me SO MUCH. Looking back, I like it much better than I did when I first created it.

G is for Gwaine

What can I say, he's pretty when he's cold. I didn't stretch too much with this one -- it's my normal drawing style, I was just trying to find a brush that mimicked the softness of pencil.

H is for Hunith

Another one that didn't stray too far from my comfort zone. I was stupid sick and slammed at work, so a motherly Hunith manifested herself. I blame the bad brush choice on the cold medicine.

I is for Isolde

I woke up and chose violence! Tried to vary my figure drawing style a little in this piece but my brain resisted, resulting in... this. Not mad at it, but not happy with it either. Poor Isolde.

J is for Juggling

Ah, this lovely piece was drawn during a particularly vexing meeting at work. Fun fact, there's another version of this line art that's less about Merlin's stress and more about mine.

K is for Knights of Camelot

Continuing the theme of doodling through bad news and shit meetings. Like I said above, normally meeting doodles aren't complex because I'm concentrating on something else. This one was more involved because I didn't want to concentrate on the meeting. I have a few issues with this from a technical standpoint (perspective, my nemesis) but it's still one of my favorites. Tried some funky coloring technique, didn't hate it.

V is for Vibrant Colors

And here is where we said fuck the rules and started going out of alphabetical order! This one was really fun to do and I loved kicking off Albion Party with this as my first submission. The colors were a challenge (as I hoped they would be) and this is the first time I had to do some color tweaking midway though and after finishing the coloring process. Vibrant Arthur, my beloved. This started as a multitask doodle but took dedicated time to finish.

O is for Old Religion

The concept for this one was buzzing in my head for a bit before a quote-prompt solidified it. I adore the thought of more visible, tangible representations of Merlin as the son of the elements, of "magic itself" -- not just sun-gold eyes, but sea-water hair and sandstone-skin. A complement to the vibrant Arthur portrait.

S is for Sorcerers

When I said I wanted to challenge myself, I wasn't kidding. Ho boy, this was fun but frustrating. I wanted to completely illustrate a gif. So I did. Will I do something like this again? Maybe. A while from now.

M is for Morgause

See above -- same illustrated gif style so at least I was able to reuse some drawings. Poor Morgause ended up looking a little wretched here because I was mentally done with this when I was drawing her. Love the concept of tarot cards + Merlin but others are doing it so I won't continue this series.

Z is for Zzzz

This one was specifically done to test out some custom brushes I made in Krita to make abstract background drawing easier for me. I think they turned out well! Plus who doesn't love bb iridescent Aithusa.

L is for Leon, P is for Percival

Quick, minimal doodles of the boys! Mentally, I was going for a Brady's-style retro ensemble cast TV show credits feel. Not mad at it! Some boys look closer to their actors than others (I think my brain broke drawing Percy, my apologies to Tom Hopper).

T is for Tristan

It wasn't until after I posted this that I realized there was more than one Tristan in Merlin. Could have drawn Isolde's bf but I drew Ygraine's dumb jock undead brother instead. Had some fun with dark greys and blacks here regardless.

Q is for Queen Annis

Best royal in Albion, bar none. I tried a different coloring technique here and I kinda like it! may make it my go-to but we'll see. Old habits are hard to break. Also: our queen deserved more badass clothes.

X is for Arthur X Merlin

Oh, be still my shipper heart. Doodled and colored during a meeting. I had hoped to spend more time on it outside of multitasking but alas, work is a bitch. This one is slated for a rework sometime in the future; I adore the concept too much to let it go without creating another version of this that isn't an utter mess.

U is for Uther's Ward

And here's my attempt at forgoing line art. Not fun, do not like.

Y is for Young Warlock

Channeled some pain into this one. Those are the dead eyes of someone who had been told that he'd succeeded when his friend died. That the destiny he'd been expecting to carry on his shoulders into old age was done and dusted before he turned 30. Grief plus the existential dread of the aimless immortal. Oof. One of my favs.

N is for Nimueh, R is for Rising Sun, W is for Will

And we end on this sorry offering. I was away from home for a while without my tablet and I just got tired of waiting. So, pen doodles at the airport. This was a challenge in its own right because 1. pen only and 2. I wasn't able to pull Netflix up for a reference on the fly. Which is why Will's face is obscured and Nimueh looks.... not like Nimueh lol.

In summary: this was a goddamn joy to do. I finished 26 letter prompts in approximately 21 weeks, which exceeded my own unspoken goal of filling one letter per week. I found a good, happy corner of the Merlin fandom after a years-long hiatus away from being a fandom creator. If you did make it this far with me, thanks for reading my inane comments and giving this little project even a moment of your time -- I'm so grateful.

#merlinalphabetchallenge #clotpole art #long post #merlin fanart #merlin #bbc merlin #bbc merlin fanart

22 notes · View notes

duvetsandpillows · 5 years

Text

Lando Norris Fluffy A-Z

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about the other?

He love your eyes, the moment your eye locked with his, he knew that you were the one, he had never seen such bright beautiful eyes. He is sure he saw them literally sparkle.

B = Baby: do they want a family? why/why not?

One day definitley but not for a few years. You two are practically kids yourself.

C = Cuddle: how do they cuddle?

He loves to be little spoon but he would never admit that to anyone. In public he always has an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

D = Dates: what are dates with them like?

For your first date Lando took you out to Top Golf and then for ice cream. During the season you don’t see each other that much so dates tend to be takeout and movies.

E = Everything: “you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…)

You are my princess.

F = Feelings: when did they know they were falling in love?

He fell head over heels when he met you and those feelings only grew stronger everytime you spoke to him, to the point where he’d be a stuttering mess. It got to the point where you were the one to make the first move.

G = Gentle: are they gentle? If so, how?

Lando was as gentle as he could be with you. However when it came to in general he was quite clumsy and would brek a lot of things or hurt himself.

H = Hand/Hold: how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

He isn’t the biggest fan of holding hands. He prefers having an arm round your waist or shoulder.

I = Impression: first impression/s

He thought you were the coolest woman in the world. He immediately got self concious that you would think he was a loser and was very shocked when you asked if he wanted to hang out with you later.

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

You loved to scare each other, jumping out of closets, hiding under beds ect, you had a small compertition to see how was easier to scare.

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

When out in public he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead but when you’re alone he loves to kiss your lips. He loves how plump and soft they are.

“Kissing you is like kissing a cloud of happiness.”

L = Love: who says I love you first?

Lando had come back from Belgium and went straight to your flat. You were acting off with him and he didn’t know why. He sat down with you on the sofa and took your hands in his.

“You’re just gonna leave me in a month or so for a model or something now you’re an F1 driver.

“I love you more than you could ever imagine baby. It’s me and you against the world.

M = Memory: their favourite moment together

You had spent the night gaming together. It started with Lando teaching you how to drive his simulator. with you desperately trying to do a better lap time than him. After a couple hours you swtitched to fifa and you ended up beating him but Lando was adament that he let you win because he was a gentleman.

N = Nickel: do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

He doesn’t really spoil you with possessions but he spoils you with memories, days out, weekends away. He spoils you with all the time he devotes to you.

O = Orange: what colour reminds them of their other half?

Purple. The day he met you, your eyemake was a light smoky purple look. Everytime he sees that shade his first thought is of you.

P = Pet names: what pet names do they use?

My love, Baby, Mush

Q = Quaint: what is their favourite non-modern thing?

He enjoys drawing. Whether it’s helmet designs, random doodles or portraits of you. If he wasn’t gaming he almost always had a pencil in is hand.

R = Rainy Day: what do they like to do on a rainy day?

You would always go on long drives together when it rained. You would take a map out and choose a random town you’d never heard of and would set off exploring, taking turns at driving and at times getting lost.

S = Sad: how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Lando gets very quiet and to himself when he is feeling down. He will beat himself up over whatever it is wrong, no matter how small it is. As soon as you notice you pull him into a hug. Eventually he will tell you what is wrong, after you persuaded him to tell you. He always thought he was bothering you, You two en up scrolling through memes finding ones that make him giggle.

T = Talking: what do they love to talk about?

He loves talking about his family. He is very close with them even though he doesn’t get to see them a lot due to them having very busy schedules, you love seeing him happy he gets when he gets off the phone with one of his siblings and tells you what they’ve been up to.

U = Unencumbered: What helps them relax?

He loves to play with your hair. He is determined to learn how to plait so he can give you funky hair.

V = Vaunt: what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Lando isn’t the keenest in showing off. The only think he does is his helmet designs that he has created for races.

W = Wedding: when, how, where do they propose?

You’re both still young so it wasn’t really on your minds but Lando knew that one day he would make you his wife.

X = Xylophone: What’s their song?

Stop it by Fisher. Ever since that radio check it’s become yours and Lando’s boogie song.

Y = You’re the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You’re the milk to my mug.

Z = Zebra: if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

Neither of you have the time for pets at the moment but you’ve been desperate for a dog, to which Lando ended up giving in and bought you a German Shepherd puppy for Christmas.

#lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1

354 notes · View notes

sparklydreamies · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (3) Seo Changbin: He Laughed

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Seo Changbin

Genre: Light angst +hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,000+

Summary: Don’t give power to merciless people behind a screen.

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/N: Hi guys!! Sorry it took me so long to post again, but I’m back, and hopefully I will be able to write more frequently! This story is centered around the changes in Changbin’s appearance and confidence from debut to now. I always feel bad writing members in pain, but this is the story I came up with lol,, I guess the moral of this story is that idols are people who have valid emotions and feelings, and we as fans don’t have the right to dismiss them and treat them like dolls. So on that note, thank you all for reading!!<33

All throughout his childhood, Seo Changbin had always been skinny. There was never much of a reason for his naturally slim stature other than genetics and a fast metabolism. It always seemed as though throughout his youth, he had never experienced the usual figure changes that a lot of his friends had gone through, whether it was the gain of muscle or fat.

No matter how much food he ate, it never seemed to show on his body. There wasn’t a single part of his body that had excess fat covering the very visible bones. He could never grab a hold of any extra flesh on his body like some of his friends could.

As a teenager, he was always told that it was because he was a “growing boy”, and that he needed a lot of calories in order to grow big and strong. It wasn’t until he was in his early twenties that his stature began to change. He slowly became more muscular, thanks to his countless hours in the gym. Not only that, but he began to notice the faint gain of fat whenever he ate a lot without burning the calories.

In a way, Changbin had always felt like he was blessed to be naturally slim. It was especially appreciated for someone in his line of work. Even after it became easier for him to gain fat, the company had never considered him “too heavy” for an idol. Muscle mass was a different story, however as time progressed, Changbin was able to build the perfect amount of muscle to satisfy the company as well as his fans.

In short, Changbin had always liked his body.

“Time’s up!” Doni called. “Put your markers down.”

Changbin didn’t put his marker down. Giggling like a small child, he avoided the attempts Jisung made at stealing the black marker from his hand, only stopping when the show host called him out on it.

“Changbin’s naughty, he keeps cheating!” Coni laughed.

This was what Changbin loved doing. Making a fool out of himself during variety shows, cheating during games with his members, and overall acting like a child whenever he could.

“We should stop the show right here, Changbin ruined it for everyone.” Doni joked, and Changbin felt Jisung collapse on his back in a fit of laughter, nearly knocking them both off their stools and onto the ground.

“Okay, let’s start with Felix! Show us your drawing,” Doni called, and Felix flipped the notebook he was holding in his hands around.

The point of this segment was for the members to draw a portrait of how they perceive another member.

The entire group as well as Doni, Coni, and a few of the staff members had burst out in laughter at the drawing Felix made of Jeongin.

“Felix, you forgot eyebrows!” Jeongin whined from his spot. Changbin didn’t even notice the missing eyebrows; he was more focused on the teeth that were twice the size that they should have been.

The segment continued on like that, and Changbin felt a swell of pride when the whole group laughed at his drawing of Minho, which looked so scrappy that a five year old could do better. Changbin was having fun.

It wasn’t until it was Jisung’s turn to share his drawing that his mood took a shift.

“And this is my drawing of my lovely Changbinnie-hyung” Jisung giggled from his spot behind his muse.

Changbin took in the piece of art before him. The hair was scraggly, the eyes were small, and the chin looked more like a “V” than a chin.

Changbin laughed at the representation of himself.

“Oh the chin! The chin!” Coni laughed as he made the shape of a “V” with his hands to mock the drawing. Changbin laughed.

“That is the most accurate drawing so far!” Doni commented as he forcefully took Changbin’s face and traced the edges of his chin with his fingers. “Wow, Han is an artist!” Doni cracked as he high-fived Jisung. Changbin laughed.

“He captured Changbin’s face so cleverly!” Coni praised, sitting back down on his stool. Changbin faked annoyance at the hosts and at his band mate. And then, he laughed once again.

His brothers were practically howling at the scene, their voices creating a cacophony of sound ringing in Changbin’s ears. He was happy. He was laughing. So why did it feel as though his stomach was falling through the floor?

For the first time that day, Changbin had to forcefully plaster a smile on his face. He felt the bubbling feeling of embarrassment in his chest for the rest of the filming.

A little while back, Han Jisung had been given a nickname by his fans. Less than a nickname, it was more of a cute comparison. His cheeks had always been unusually large and soft. Whenever he would eat, he would store food inside of them, making them more accentuated than they were before. It was because of this that fans had begun calling Jisung a squirrel.

Jisung liked the connection. Contrary to how he presents himself, he had often struggled with accepting and liking his cheeks. He didn’t like the way they made him look younger and more boyish. He wanted to be perceived in a more mature and manly way.

That was why when fans began to compliment and praise his chubby cheeks, it helped him become more confident in his face.

Changbin had seen the improvement of Jisung’s spirit. Praise for Jisung’s cheeks from fans had helped him improve his self image a lot, and for that, Changbin’s love for his fans had only grown.

He only wished that he could experience the same reactions to his insecurities.

Changbin wouldn’t consider himself jealous of Jisung’s full cheeks and round face. It was stupid to compare oneself to another person based off of superficial things like looks, however it didn’t stop Changbin from appreciating the younger boy’s unique features.

The show aired on it’s planned date with no faults. Changbin watched the program on television, and was fairly proud of the results of the editing process. He had hoped that STAYs would enjoy the hour-long show.

After a few hours, Changbin opened Twitter so that he could get a sense of how his fans appreciated the show. Skimming through fans’ tweets, he noticed a few that stood out to him.

Most of the comments were about Felix and Jisung’s aegyo, or Hyunjin’s random dance challenge. The deeper he scrolled, the more tweets he found about him.

Normally, having a lot of tweets aimed at him would be an honour to Changbin. It usually meant that he was charismatic and funny enough to gain fans’ attention. That was why he didn’t understand the embarrassing feeling that came along with the jokes about his face structure.

That’s all that they were. Jokes. People liked to joke about his chin, so why should he worry? Why did he feel shameful?

Changbin’s stomach continued to drop with every comment he read about his face. Every time he saw that drawing of him, it was like another pin stabbing his chest.

That night at dinner, everyone was talking about the show. The members were talking about the comments that they received, the fans reactions, and how they thought it was a really successful show.

At one point during the meal, Jisung had shoved Changbin in the shoulder and laughed about the drawing that he made and how funny the fans thought it was. Changbin laughed.

Changbin had always been able to hide his feelings well. Especially as an idol, hiding hardships is mandatory. Changbin was good at laughing. It was a sure fire way to make everybody think that you’re happy, when on the inside, it feels like you’ve swallowed a thousand bees.

So that night, he laughed. He subjected himself to be the clown, even though it hurt him. Nobody needed to know about how he let his tears fall onto his pillow while they all slept.

Changbin had thought about how he was working so hard to remain slim and skinny, and how if he were to gain just a little more weight, he could possibly make himself softer and cuter, like his brother Jisung.

He figured that it was worth a try. Sure he might have to fight the company tooth and nail to gain the weight that he wants, but it was worth it. It was worth it to change how he looked. It was worth it to satisfy his fans.

For the next few weeks, Changbin had let himself gain weight. He ate more and stopped trying so hard to burn it all off. He still worked out enough to remain healthy, and he was still trying to gain muscle, but whenever he stepped on the scale and saw that he was a pound or two heavier than he had previously been, he felt his heart swell.

It was an odd thing to want to gain weight. Most idols would kill to be as skinny as Changbin had been, yet here Changbin was, trying to gain weight for the purpose of chubbier cheeks and softer edges.

Eventually, it began to work. Changbin began to wake up in the morning to see that his face was rounder, fuller, and cuter than it had been before. The whole thing made him elated.

It had gotten to the point where he was satisfied with his outer appearance. His chin was much less prominent. A less prominent chin meant that there was less for people to make their jokes out of.

“Hannie, stop!” Chan shrieked just as Jisung smeared a fat glob of vanilla frosting on his cheek.

All of the members were crowded in their living room, celebrating Bang Chan’s birthday with their fans. The energy level in the room was ecstatic. Some members were getting cake violently rubbed into their skin while others were trying to read comments and make the VLive as normal as possible.

Changbin was in the middle of answering a question when he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind where he was sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table. Before he thought better of it, his head was turning and he was met with a face full of frosting from Minho.

“Hey! Minho, get back here!” Changbin screamed, getting up to chase the nuisance around the room.

Laughter filled the room and lit up Changbin’s heart. He thought that nothing could destroy his mood.

It wasn’t until the next day that Changbin had checked Twitter again.

He scrolled through a lot of happy birthday wishes for Chan, which made him smile. He read a few of the messages, and saved the ones that he wanted to show to Chan.

And then, he got to some posts about the live. Most of them were sweet and nice, there were some clips of various parts of the live including the moment that Changbin got his face full of cake. As he scrolled for longer and longer, he got to some comments that were less light-hearted.

They didn’t like the weight he gained. Of course he noticed the comments from fans who had thought he looked healthier and happier, but no matter how many positive comments he saw, the posts from people calling him fat and saying that he was “letting himself go” were far stronger. The people calling him a pig and a fatass and ugly were too loud.

Changbin didn’t understand. After everything he did to satisfy the fans, they still made negative comments about him. He once was too skinny, now he is too fat.

He knew that he shouldn’t listen to people who didn’t show their faces, yet to know that people were confidently calling him degrading names stung him deeply. He felt a hopeless feeling bloom inside of him, and it drove him mad.

Changbin felt the first tear slip down the side of his face as the feeling of his chest collapsing took him over. His phone was thrown across his bedroom, the sound of a screen shattering as it hit the floor being the only identifiable noise in the room.

He wanted to scream. There was no pleasing them. He hated himself. He hated the way that he looked. He hated himself when he was skinny, and he was beginning to hate himself now that he gained weight. But mostly, he hated the way that he was reacting.

This was the job, wasn’t it? None of this should be surprising to him. He had known about the malicious comments aimed at the other members for various reasons, so why was this so frustrating for him?

Changbin fisted his hair to ground himself. He tried to count his breaths in his head, but all he heard was the comments ringing around in his ears.

...He got fat...

...Has he stopped working out?...

Fucking breathe.

...He’s turning into a pig...

...Changbin’s face is so fat...

Letting out his first scream of frustration, Changbin shot up from his bed. If the fans wanted him to be skinnier, then fine. He would get skinnier.

This was for the good of his career. Nobody liked an ugly idol, and if he is more attractive with a slim stature and a pointy chin, then he would work to achieve it. If he gained the weight, surely he could lose it again.

The room was small, and it felt like it was getting smaller.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he threw open his bedroom door. Changbin grabbed his running shoes from the rack by the entrance, slipped them on, and took off from the dorm that felt like it was suffocating him.

The night air was refreshing against Changbin’s burning skin as he sprinted down the street. Ten o’clock at night couldn’t be considered too late to go for a run, especially when the moon was shining so beautifully in the otherwise pitch-black sky.

Changbin didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. His lungs and legs were burning with the unexpected extortion. The sweatpants and t-shirt he was wearing didn’t make for good running clothes, but that didn’t matter to him.

For a minute, he felt okay. He could even say that he felt good. For a minute, he had forgotten all about the fans and their vendetta against his happiness.

The wind had dried the tears off of his cheeks, and he just became another faceless person in the dark. Changbin didn’t think of himself as an idol, but rather a person who’s tight chest was slowly beginning to take in enough oxygen for his head to stop pounding.

He didn’t know how long he ran for that night. His mind had cleared completely of thoughts, and he wore himself out. He didn’t even notice the warning signs of exhaustion before he was throwing up in a patch of shrubs.

Slowly coming back to reality, Changbin realized he needed to get home. He wasn’t too far from the dorms, so once he gathered some strength back, he began walking.

It was hard to tell how long it took him before he was trudging up the stairs and letting himself through the front door. He tried to be as quiet as possible.

The clock on the stove read 12:24. Changbin knew that if any of the members had realized he was gone, that he would be in a world of trouble.

He took his running shoes off at the door and made his way to his and Felix’s room, expecting to see the younger boy playing video games or getting ready for bed. What he was not expecting was to see Felix sitting on Changbin’s own bed, frowning at the phone in his hands.

Felix’s eyes darted up like a meerkat, relief flooding his features when Changbin entered the room.

“Where the fuck have you been!” Felix sighed, jumping up from the bed to pull the older boy into a hug, “I came out of the shower to see you were gone, you weren’t answering your damn phone, I was fucking worried you asshole!”

Changbin repressed a smile as he pushed Felix away. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Felix scanned Changbin, his eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. “Did you go for a run?”

“Yeah,” Changbin answered.

“In... your sweats?” Felix fingered at the pockets of Changbin’s sweatpants, and the older boy swatted his fingers away.

Changbin nodded and flopped down onto his bed.

“Why didn’t you take your phone with you? I’ve been trying to call you,” Felix ran a hand through his hair, “Fucking hell,” he sighed.

“I don’t know, Lixie.” As soon as Changbin’s head hit the pillows beneath him, he felt the exhaustion from his midnight run catch up to him. “You should watch your language, by the way.” he mumbled, cracking a small grin.

“Changbin, seriously,” Felix climbed up beside him, “You’re fucking lucky! I was two seconds away from telling Chan, I swear to god.”

Changbin looked up and saw the lines of genuine concern stretch across the boy’s face.

Felix had always been a caring person. He was always dependable, and he was really a true friend. It didn’t matter if Changbin was older, because he knew that Felix would always be there to protect him.

Wordlessly, Changbin grabbed Felix by the arm and pulled him to lay down beside him. A fond smile graced his face.

“Thank you for worrying,” Changbin whispered, “but I’m fine.”

Felix sighed. There was a beat of silence where Felix closed his eyes, and Changbin had started to think he fell asleep. But then, “Are you okay?”

Changbin was stunned and confused for a second. “Yeah... why?”

“You don’t usually go for runs. Especially not late at night.” Felix whispered.

Changbin snaked an arm around Felix’s torso. “I was just having a bad day.”

Felix was fidgeting slightly. It looked like he was fighting some sort of internal battle about whether or not he should say what he wanted to say.

Changbin smiled at the nervousness. “What?” he encouraged.

Felix’s gaze caught Changbin’s eyes. “Was it the comments? About your weight gain?” he asked in a small voice.

Silence. There was no sound coming from anywhere in the dorm as Changbin processed the question. The smile that rested on his face immediately slipped away.

“I... I saw them on Twitter, and they pissed me off, so...” Felix trailed off, lowering his gaze, “I mean you haven’t even gained that much...”

“I gained the weight on purpose,” Changbin said when he zoned back in on Felix.

“Oh...” Felix’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Why? I mean, not that you don’t look good, but like... Why did you want to gain weight?”

Changbin thought about why he wanted to gain weight. He thought about Jisung’s drawing, the “V” face comments, the constant embarrassment around his appearance, and his own insecurities.

“It’s stupid.” Changbin dismissed, but of course, Felix kept digging.

“It’s not stupid. It’s just me, you can tell me.” he eased.

Changbin sighed. “You know... how people had been making jokes about my face? And my chin?”

Felix nodded, confusion showing again.

“I hated those comments.” he whispered. “I just got so insecure about my looks after people began to make those jokes, and I just... wanted to fix them.”

When Changbin looked at Felix, he saw that the confusion was still etched onto his features. “But...” Felix started, “you always laugh at those jokes.”

Changbin felt like shit for unloading this onto Felix, yet he continued to explain. “I’m good at laughing.”

The boys sat in silence for another minute. Felix seemed to be mulling over what he had been told, and Changbin watched the look of confusion melt into one of realization, and then sadness.

“I’m so sorry,” Felix breathed, “I... I didn’t know you felt like that. I would have never made those jokes.”

Changbin felt his heart crack. Felix almost sounded heartbroken, and it killed Changbin inside.

“But hyung...” Felix said, “you know that you don’t have to fix anything, right? You’re perfect. Don’t let them get to you.”

Teardrops were threatening to fall from Changbin’s eyes for the second time that night, except instead of being born out of pain, these tears were brought on by the overwhelming feeling of being loved.

“Okay...” was all Changbin could muster the strength to whisper. He didn’t trust his voice, so instead, he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his best friend’s forehead.

“You know what, hyung?”

Changbin hummed.

“I have dealt with so much hate because of so many things,” Felix sniffled away his own tears, “first they were upset because I wasn’t fluent in Korean, then they didn’t like my freckles, then it was my voice, and I thought that there was just no winning with them.” Felix closed his eyes.

Changbin didn’t even think about that. If any member was no stranger to criticism from online fans, it would be Felix.

The thought was crazy to Changbin. Why would anybody go out of their way to hurt somebody as sweet and perfect as Felix? The thought of somebody actually hating Felix for his mess of pretty freckles still amazed Changbin.

“But you know what I realized?” Felix continued, snapping Changbin out of his own thoughts, “It’s not my job to please everyone.”

“What do you mean, Lixie?” Changbin asked.

Felix opened his eyes again, “Like... I’m doing music for me, right? If people don’t like the way that I look or who I am, then that’s their problem, not mine. Get it?”

Changbin was amazed.

“How are you so young and yet more wise than half of the industry?” Changbin saw the light in Felix’s eyes, and it made him smile, too.

“I mean it still hurts sometimes, but... less now.”

Changbin agreed. He couldn’t see how reading vicious comments like that could ever end up getting easier.

“But now that I know you get comments and stuff that hurt you too, maybe we could... help each other. When it hurts a lot, you know?”

“Like you mean... I come to you when it hurts, and you come to me?” Changbin asked. It made him feel special to know that Felix trusted him enough to want to go to him for comfort. It made him feel like he wasn’t the only one that got happiness out of their relationship.

“Yeah, something like that,” he answered.

Changbin’s smile returned full force.

Felix was like sunshine, Changbin thought. This issue that seemed so horrible and painful to Changbin, now seems less than half as terrible since Felix was there for him. Since now, Felix was there to comfort him.

He didn’t care if it made him weak or less of a man, because he didn’t feel like he had to be strong when he was with Felix. Felix had always been comfortable in his emotions, and Changbin admired that about him.

“If you’re happy with the way that you look right now, you should keep it this way,” Felix encouraged him, “because for the record, I think you look better like this. You look happier.”

“I am happier,” Changbin whispered.

Shortly after that, the two boys fell asleep in Changbin’s bed, happy to have the support of their best friend.

Although it was hard at first, Changbin slowly became more confident in himself and his appearance to not care about how other people wanted him to look. Even when he slipped up, Felix always caught him with a hug, a smile, and a shoulder for him to rest his head.

For a while, Changbin had to fake his happiness during videos and variety shows. No matter how much he repressed it, the worry of how his fans would react to his appearance was always dangling in the back of his mind like an itch that he couldn’t scratch.

But it got better. Changbin found himself worrying less and less about what his fans thought, and more about what he thought. Over time, he didn’t have to fake his happiness. The fans had even noticed how Changbin’s growing confidence affected him.

And perhaps best of all, eventually began to laugh again. It wasn’t a fake laugh, or a laugh to cover his shame. It was a real laugh that honestly held his real happiness. And unlike how he laughed before, this laugh was the product of his self confidence and strength. No laugh could ever be brighter or fuller than his.

35 notes · View notes

flowersandskeletons526 · 4 years

Text

“Broken Noses and Bad Ideas” - Modern AU Glitradora, Part 1

Quarantine is kicking my ass but writing in nice. Enjoy!

----

Glimmer lit a cigarette as she stood over two fallen punks in the alley, blood still trickling from her nose. One of the leather clad idiots groaned but stayed down. Glimmer waited a second to make sure neither were getting up to come after her. When they stayed still, she blew a puff of smoke towards the sky and stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

Wispy clouds turned orange above her as the sun slipped beneath the skyline, streetlights winking to life and neon signs illuminating the city. The smell of rain hung in the cool air. The lights made colorful, muddled reflections in the puddles scattered across the pavement. Glimmer tuned out the car engines and police sirens, the thudding of footsteps all through downtown, and focused only on the wet concrete beneath her boots. A chilly breeze swept her unkempt hair away from her face. She popped the collar of her jacket to keep the wind off her neck.

She made her way towards the outer rim of the city, to a tiny shop tucked between buildings. A pink and gold sign that read “Brightmoon Magics” hung above the front windows. Glimmer slipped into the cramped store, locking the door behind her and trudging to the back room. She opened the door to a narrow staircase.

“Hey, Glimmer!” Adora chirped.

Glimmer yelped and fell back against the door. She groaned, dragging a hand down her face as Adora rose from her seat on the stairs. “Adora, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I came in earlier to tidy up while the shop was closed and I needed to talk to you, so I just hung out here until you got back,” Adora explained. Her Letterman jacket was tossed over her shoulder, a few stray locks of hair framing her face and the rest pulled into its usual ponytail.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long. I had a lot to do.” Adora paused, frowning as she cupped Glimmer’s cheek. Glimmer winced. “Is that blood? Glimmer, what happened?”

Glimmer shrugged and swept past Adora up the stairs. “I got into a fight. It’s nothing.”

Adora followed. “With who?”

“I don’t know. I went over to Mermista’s and she had another rager going. Some girl bumped into me, blamed me for spilling her drink, her buddy got loud, all of that. Mermista said she didn’t know who they were.”

“And they beat you up?”

“No! God, Adora, calm down. You know I never lose a fight.” Heading to the bathroom, Glimmer ran cold water over a rag and held it to her face. “Besides, they barely hit me.”

“Glimmer.”

“What?”

“I know you’re lying.”

Glimmer turned, leaning back against the sink as Adora crossed her arms in the doorway. “Adora.” She poked the blonde in the chest and pushed her back. “I’m fine.”

Adora huffed and trailed after Glimmer as she tossed her jacket onto the table. “Since when do you go to Mermista’s parties?”

“I don’t know, for a while, I guess. I thought you liked Mermista.”

“Well, I do, I just don’t like all the yelling and drinking.”

“You’re a jock. Isn’t that your brand?”

“I’m an athlete, not a frat boy.”

“Thank God.”

Adora smiled and sat on the weathered couch. Glimmer flopped over the arm, stretching out and laying her head in Adora’s lap. Adora threaded her fingers through Glimmer’s pink and purple hair, exposing the black roots, and Glimmer smiled up at her.

“You’ve got to redo your roots soon,” she remarked.

“I can let it grow out a little more,” Glimmer said.

“And then you’ll complain about the black showing through.”

“Yeah whatever.”

Adora chuckled. Her bright blue eyes sparkled, bright and carefree and happy. Glimmer’s heart twisted with memories of simpler times, and she turned over, facing away from Adora. Adora tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hey, I think Bow gets off his shift pretty soon,” Adora said. “Want to call him over and order a pizza or something? We could have a best friend squad movie night like we used to!”

Glimmer shrugged and closed her eyes as her brow furrowed. “I guess.”

“Or we could do something else? We could go bowling, head to the arcade, go out to eat somewhere. Do you want me to call Bow and see what he wants to do?”

“Adora, you’re doing it again.”

Adora’s hand stilled. “Doing what?”

“You did this right after she died. You try to distract me from it by just ignoring everything and letting it pass by. Please, just… not tonight.”

Taking a deep breath, Adora sighed and smoothed Glimmer’s hair back from her face. “Am I that transparent?”

“Like air.”

“That’s fair.” Adora leaned her head back. “I can’t believe it’s only been a year since Angella died. It feels like we’ve been drudging through a decade already trying to deal with this place since then.”

Glimmer hummed. In reality, she woke up every morning still aching like it was the first day, like she had just come home from class to meet the police on her doorstep. Her stomach coiled into knots as she remembered the night before the accident, how they fought and screamed at each other, how her last words to her mother were words of anger. The memory made her want to puke.

“Glimmer?” Adora asked. Glimmer looked up. “Do you want me to call Bow?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, a squad movie night sounds good.”

“Sweet!” Adora cheered. Glimmer sat up so she could stand, stretching her muscular arms above her head. “What do you want on your pizza?”

“Pepperoni and extra cheese.”

“Okay, I’ll get one for you and me and a vegan one for Bow.”

“Sounds good.”

Glimmer picked her head up out of her hands and tried to relax for the rest of the night. Adora and Bow distracted her with jokes and old ridiculous movies that they used to watch when they first met. It worked, for the most part, dragging her out of her own head and drawing a few genuine laughs from her. She didn’t tell Bow about the fight, or Adora about her secretly continued smoking habit, or either of them about her pounding headache and the guilt weighing her down like cement shoes. Putting on a smile until they left drained what little energy she had left.

Glimmer gave her friends one last hug as she walked them out. Adora smiled, one hand resting gently on Glimmer’s forearm. “Text us if you need us, okay?” she said.

“Okay,” Glimmer mumbled.

“Do you need us to pick up any extra shifts this week?” Bow asked.

“No, I’ve got everything covered. Thanks, though.”

“Okay, well, we’re here if you need us.”

“I know.”

Bow and Adora wrapped her in their arms and held her tight for a few moments before they left the store. Glimmer locked the door and set the alarm. Returning to the apartment, she tossed the leftover pizza in a barren fridge and made an ultimately forgotten note to go grocery shopping. She sat on the edge of the couch with a sigh.

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her. She groaned, reaching blindly with one hand and holding it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Shimmer!” Seahawk shouted. “How are you, my friend?”

Glimmer jumped and held the phone away from her face. There was a scuffle in the background, and she heard a crash and Seahawk scream before Mermista’s voice came over the speaker.

“Alright, he’s gone,” she said as Glimmer held the phone to her ear again.

“No I’m not!” came his voice in the background.

“Ugh, go fix your mustache! Sorry, he grabbed my phone.”

“Does he not know my name or is he picking on me again?” Glimmer asked.

“I think he’s picking on you still. Anyway, Perfuma wanted me to call and check on you. She saw a post about those party crashers getting their asses kicked and thought you did something.”

“Can people even crash your parties? I thought they were open invitation.”

“Hey, I am trying to be nice here.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. They followed me and I left them in an alley.”

Mermista laughed, barely more than a huff but the most anyone could get from the queen of blasé. “I told her you’d do worse to them. I mean, Adora would have been breaking down my door if anything actually happened.”

Glimmer grimaced, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Alright, so that aside, I’m taking a few people out this Friday. You know Netossa, right? She’s that grad student I was hanging out with a while ago.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Her wife Spinerella is the manager at the new bar downtown.”

“The Crystal Castle?”

“Yeah, now listen. Perfuma, Seahawk, and I are already going and wanted to see if your super pal trio or whatever you call it wants to come. They’ve got live music and a great bartender. I’ve heard she’s a little crazy, but cool.”

“It’s the best friend squad.”

“Whatever. Are you in or not?”

“I’ll ask.”

“Let me know. Bye.”

“See you.”

The next morning, Glimmer drudged out of bed to open the shop. Both Adora and Bow had class all day at the state college uptown. Adora was a political science major and star of the track team, the golden child of the entire school. Bow studied engineering and competed on the archery team.

Before everything, Glimmer was going to follow them and study politics or law or both. Now she could barely get through the online business classes she forced herself to take.

Glimmer adjusted shelves of crystals and vials of various herbs, dusting off old books and charms. She barely remembered her father, the founder of the store, having only a dusty framed picture in her apartment to remind her of him. Angella, however, she remembered as clear as day.

She was tall and regal, always dressed in flowy pink and sky blue dresses and dripping in moonstone jewelry. She seemed to float through the store between the cramped shelves and tables. Glimmer never quite understood how she managed to miss all the numerous creaky floorboards in the old building. She remembered Angella’s gentle smile when Glimmer came home raving about some new project, or the first time she brought Adora in looking for a job when the blonde first moved to the city. Glimmer had hung Angella’s portrait behind the front counter, but it wasn’t the same. It did nothing to ease the ache.

A bell rang as the door opened. Glimmer didn’t look up. “Hey there,” she called.

“Hey,” said an unfamiliar voice.

Light footsteps circled the store. Glimmer looked up as they paused behind her. “Can I help you with… anything?”

A tall, tanned woman stood by a shelf of vials. A mane of wild brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, held back from her face by a crimson band. A bright red tank top left her freckled arms bare, covered in toned, sharply defined muscles. Two gold rings pierced her bottom lip. She wore one gold hoop in her ear, reminding Glimmer of a pirate. Her long nails were painted black, and pale scars marred her knuckles. Bright eyes turned to Glimmer, one blue and the other a deep amber.

“Burning sage?” she asked.

Glimmer blinked, returning to her body and waving to a table. “In the corner.”

She stepped back behind the counter as the woman picked out a bundle of herbs. Setting it on the weathered counter, the woman leaned forward with her arms on the edge, studying Glimmer as she rang her up. Glimmer glanced at the woman and met her eyes. The woman tilted her head, sizing her up, it seemed. Glimmer trained her eyes on the cash drawer.

“Blessing a new place?” she remarked.

“Just moved in,” the woman replied.

“Welcome to the city.”

“Thanks.” The woman looked around as she took her bag. “Cute little place. I wasn’t expecting to find a place like this here.”

“Do you practice at all?”

The woman shook her head and stood up straight. “Only the sage, and it’s just a bad superstition I picked up.” She smiled, flashing sharp teeth. “Maybe I’ll pop back in to check out the crystals, though. Thanks for the sage.”

Glimmer nodded. Her eyes followed the woman out of the store until she disappeared down the street. A shiver raced up her spine. The intensity of the woman’s stare stuck with her like a frost frozen on her skin. It wasn’t unnerving, necessarily, but those bright, focused eyes tugged at Glimmer’s mind throughout the entire day.

By the time Friday came around, Glimmer’s headache had yet to fade. If anything, it was worse. She sat on the couch, dressed in her leather jacket and torn pink jeans, pressing the heels of her hands against the eyes. She considered cancelling until Bow showed up in his favorite tight black crop top, grinning from ear to ear. Glimmer smiled and tried to avoid any bright lights as they headed out.

“So, Adora’s not coming?” he asked.

“Late night study practice,” Glimmer explained. “She said she’ll be there next time.”

“Sweet.” Bow touched her shoulder. “Are you okay? I know you’ve been tired lately.”

“Yeah, of course!” Glimmer chirped. She linked their arms. “Come on, tonight we’re going to have fun and get wasted like real college kids.”

Bow laughed. “There’s the Glimmer I know!”

Glimmer forced a laugh and held his arm tighter.

The bar was loud and hot and dark despite the neon lights everywhere. Mermista and Seahawk were already on the dance floor, and Perfuma caught up with Glimmer and Bow by the bar.

“I’m so happy you guys made it!” she said as she threw her arms around them. “Come get a drink, the band is going to start in a few minutes.”

Glimmer and Bow followed the tall hippie through the crowded room. “Who’s playing?” Bow asked.

“Some new band, I guess,” Perfuma answered. “I think they’re called the Horde but I don’t know. Mermista does.”

A short woman with impossibly long purple pigtails stood behind the bar. She wore weathered overalls with the straps hanging around her waist, and a pair of red goggles was pushed up on her head. She grinned at them.

“Bow!” the bartender chirped.

“Entrapta!” Bow said. “Since when are you a bartender?”

“I needed the job to finance my projects. Mixology is technically a science, so it works!”

“Awesome. Oh, Entrapta, this is my friend Glimmer. Glimmer, this is Entrapta. She’s in my robotics class.”

“Nice to meet you!” Entrapta said. “What can I get you two?”

“Tequila sunrise,” Bow said.

“Whisky on the rocks, please,” Glimmer said.

The band came on just as they got their drinks. While Bow stayed by the bar to talk with Entrapta, Glimmer found a place against the wall to watch the show. Four people were already onstage, adjusting their instruments. The drummer was a burly man with green hair slicked back from his face and scales tattooed on his neck. The guitar player, a stocky woman with an undercut and dreadlocks pinned back from her face, hung back by the drum set. The bass player was a tall, strong woman with a white undercut and red scars up her arms, talking to someone offstage. Tucked off to the side was a pale, scrawny kid on the keyboard.

Someone stepped onto the stage, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Glimmer’s eyes widened as the strange woman from the shop stood before the front microphone. She opened her arms to the applause, grinning with those sharp teeth and dressed in metal and leather.

“Hello Etheria!” she shouted. “How is everyone doing tonight?” The crowd cheered, and the woman’s grin widened. “Alright. Let’s get this shit started!”

The drummer counted them off. The music was heavy but bright, with harsh drums and grungy guitar. They pushed a fast tempo as the front woman grabbed the microphone. Glimmer’s eyes were glued to the woman as she sang. Her voice was low and raspy, and she sang with an explosive fire that set Glimmer’s heart pounding. She hardly listened to the lyrics, just the sound of the woman’s voice as she belted out the notes.

Glimmer barely noticed when Bow slung an arm around her shoulders. “Aren’t they amazing?” he asked over the music.

“Yeah, they’re wicked,” Glimmer said.

The last song finished, and the woman paused for applause, inquisitive eyes scanning the crowd. “You guys have been great tonight,” she said over the cheers. Her eyes met Glimmer’s across the sea of people, and she grinned. “Come back again, we’re here all week.”

That odd chill settled over Glimmer again as the band left the stage. She nudged Bow. “Hey, I’m going to head home. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“Okay. Let me just say goodbye to Entrapta,” Bow said.

“No, Bow, stay. You’re having fun. I need a walk anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you walking home alone.”

“It’s not ten minutes. I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

“I will.”

Glimmer sighed as she stepped out into the cool night air. Lighting a cigarette, she rubbed her eyes as she ghosted through the empty streets. The woman was stuck in her head. The sight of her singing was seared on the inside of Glimmer’s eyelids, with her wild hair tossed back from her face and the stage lights a bold red behind her.

Several pairs of footsteps clicked on the sidewalk. Glimmer turned. The people from Mermista’s party earlier in the week blocked her path, along with two more thugs to bolster their numbers.

“Hey, you!” one shouted.

Glimmer cursed. She spun on her heel to run, but they grabbed the back of her collar and flung her back. She managed to punch one in the jaw before they slammed her against a brick storefront. She opened her mouth to scream. The leader sucker punched her. Dazed and bleeding, she let her head hang as the punk laughed.

“Payback, bitch,” she spat.

The woman wore heavy jeweled rings. They left little cuts all over Glimmer’s face, breaking the skin through her clothes as the thugs rained blows down on her. She struggled to break free from their grip, but they held her tight against the wall. Blood poured down her face and soaked into her shirt. Her vision began to tunnel.

Muffled shouting echoed from down the street. The blows paused. Someone screamed in pain, and Glimmer was suddenly dropped to the ground. She heard a scuffle and more screams. Two of the thugs collapsed in front of her while the others bolted down the street. Blood poured from wounds in their back or side, pooling beneath them as they struggled to get away. The unknown attacker stepped over the leader of the gang and kicked her in the face, leaving her there to bleed.

Bloodstained boots approached Glimmer as her vision faded. The last things she saw before she lost consciousness were hands dripping with red and a pair of bright, focused eyes.

#glimmer #catra #adora #bow #bow she ra #perfuma #mermista #seahawk #scorpia #lonnie she ra #kyle she ra #rogelio she ra #glitradora #modern au #college au #she ra reboot #She Ra #spop #oh god this is gonna be a long one

47 notes · View notes

waithyuck · 4 years

Text

extra elongated tag game

tagged by @gohyuck my love

tagging: @kwantified @honeyyu @jensungf @renjunwrites @neo-shitty @suingjaehyun

O N E

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

okay so my ult group is nct and I can’t remember what song exactly but i remember not being a stan and LOVING back 2 u so much that I had to look into nct

for bts is was serendipity and blood sweat & tears

ateez was pirate king bc we stanned since debut 😔✊

T W O

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

favorite item of clothing?

I own a lot of hoodies but my fav is my dark gray we go up hoodie and it’s big n comfy....yeah

if you had to smell like one scent for the rest of your life what would it be?

I think I would want to smell like vanilla or lavender

favorite painter? why?

frida kahlo bc she embraced everything about herself and did wonderful self portraits

what’s your favorite horror movie (and if you don’t like horror, why not?)?

I don’t like jumpscares so most horror is not to my taste....however give a psychological horror and I’ll go off ab how much I love it (like idk if it’s considered horror but ‘a cure for wellness’ anyone???)

iphone or android?

iPhone dude

favorite tiktok trend (and if you don’t like tiktok, you can talk about how much influencers suck)?

i only go on tiktok for the kpop content I don’t know trends,,,,also can be talk about how most influencers on that app manipulate literal children into giving them money?? for doing absolutely nothing??

if you could wake up with any new ability what would it be?

the ability to read others emotions and make them happy no matter what (call me a corny ass bitch but it’s true)

favorite superhero/supervillain/antihero?

people consider her a ‘villain’ so I’m saying maleficent (from the movie maleficent) bc ??? she fell in love with a man and he fuckin just,,,,did her so dirty and left her broken-hearted and cut off her wings like ??? hell I’d be mad too I’d curse the little ass baby he had with another woman just as fast as she did. also how about that character development??? she cursed aurora but always looked out for her and eventually came to love her?? and that’s the kiss that broke the spell and woke aurora up?? call that motherly love we stan

if you could only dress in one color for the rest of your life which color would it be?

realistically black is prob the way I would go but gray is also a valid option

who’s your ult and give me five reasons why.

oof y’all already know it’s my boy lee donghyuck

1. his vocals??? the vocals alone are enough reason to stan

2. his dancing??? he is so incredibly talented and I love watching him move

3. his hardwork and dedication to his career, like he loves what he does so much and I love seeing him shine (but also like, pls let him sit the fuck down for a sec)

4. his aura and personality !!!!! is just so loveable !!! he brightens the room with his mood-making personality and I’m just in love with him god

5. okay okay now I’ll touch on the fact that he’s so fucking handsome??? a visual king ???? look at that face, look at those legs, JUST LOOK AT HIS BODY PROPORTIONS. PERFECT.

my questions:

what is your favorite memory from your childhood?

If you could travel anywhere in the world with just a snap of your fingers, where would you go and why?

describe your personality in three (3) words.

what is your favorite thing that you have ever read? (anything you’ve ever read counts! fanfiction, poems, novels etc.) why?

are you the studying type of person or the type to just ‘wing it’ when you have a big test coming up?

between bold colors and pastel colors, which do you prefer?

do you live life in the moment or do you plan every action you take?

what is your favorite holiday and why? (all holidays count! across all religions and cultures 😄)

would you rather stay up to stargaze in the middle of the night or wake up early to watch the sunrise?

what is your favorite eye color on another person?

T H R E E

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

F O U R

the ultimate tag: answer whichever ones you want to because there are a lot and then tag a few blogs you’d like to get to know better!

PERSONAL

name: samantha

nickname: sam

birthday: march 9

zodiac: pisces sun

nationality: american

languages: english, currently learning korean

gender: female

sexuality: pansexual :)

height: 5’2” (157 cm)

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: music, tv, movies

meaning behind my url: hyuck is doin too much he’s gotta just give me a break and wAIT A SEC = waithyuck

blog established: 2020 but I’ve been on tumblr since 2015

followers: 791

FAVORITES

favorite animals: pigs, cats, dogs, snakes

favorite books: lord of the flies, the great gatsby, hamlet even tho it wasn’t technically a book

favorite color: yellow, orange, pink

favorite fictional characters: gilbert blythe, prince zuko from atla idk who else

favorite flower: sunflowers, carnations, roses

favorite scent: vanilla, citrus, lavender

favorite season: spring or fall

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: like 4-5

cats or dogs: both

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: hot chocolate

current time: 2:23 p.m.

dream trip: seoul, rome, greece in general, london, dublin

dream job: teaching english as a second language, linguist, translator

hobbies: writing, drawing, singing

hogwarts house: hufflepuff

last movie watched: burlesque lmao

last song listened to: kick it - nct 127

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): my fingers are double jointed lmaO idk

F I V E

10 things i can’t stop listening to

slow down - chase atlantic

watermelon sugar - harry styles

to die for - sam smith

we go up - nct dream

blue side - j-hope

god’s menu - stray kids

inception - ateez

love me right - rendezvous at two

renegade - aaryan shah

HER - chase atlantic

#tagged #tag game #raya🧡#mutuals #gohyuck #thanks for the tag !

2 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 6 years

Text

“You inspire me. Maybe I can help you inspire yourself”

The Dearest Boy (Part 4: Mind)

Taehyung x Reader (or oc)

Word count: 1.3K

The Dearest Boy Masterlist

a/n: I just really love how clever and deep Taehyung is while also always thinking creatively and uniquely. No one has a mind like Tae’s. This is just kind of about Tae helping you find your inner child in his own creative way. (It’s a tad bit self-serving... whoops.) I hope you babes like it!

Moodboard by: @la-vie-en-tae

With you, everything was so put together. When you reached a certain age, you started feeling the need to be in control. Whether it was being on time, keeping the refrigerator clutter free, or color coding your closet, everything was neat and organized.

When you were a kid, you were very eccentric. You didn’t have a care in the world what anyone thought of you. You simply didn’t have time to care about what people thought of you, too busy in your own exciting world that existed in your mind.

However, with an overbearing mother who held you on a pedestal, you overtime molded into the perfect child, keeping everything within control. Then, as the world hardened you bit by bit, you just kind of lost the person you used to be.

And then you met Taehyung.

Taehyung was everything you wished you could be. He was free. Unabashedly and unapologetically himself. Creativity radiated from him.

You, on the other hand, had a difficult time shutting off the control freak. Taehyung called what you considered to be your inability to let go “composure” and “stability”, saying things like, “I admire your ability to remain composed. You give our lives stability.” However, he could tell you wanted to break out of your shell. You just didn’t know how to allow yourself the freedom to do so.

He made efforts to pull you out of your comfort zone, without making you truly uncomfortable, such as dragging you along late-night strolls, visiting the local playground, and dancing to jazz music at 3 am in your kitchen.

A long time ago, you would have found it strange that he was asking you to meet him at his art studio at 2 am, but after dating him for a while, this had become normal. When you answered the phone, you were met with a giddy, “Peaches! Come to my studio, I want your company.”

Your reply, of course, was a whiny, “Tae, it’s so late.”

“Is it? I thought it was just very early,” he teased. “You like being early,” he added with a giggle. Biting on your lip to conceal a smile, you huffed.

“Fine, I’m on my way.”

About 25 minutes later, you were kicking your shoes off and stepping inside his studio, your eyes immediately finding the messy head of blue hair positioned in front of a brightly painted canvas.

“What are you working on, Angel?” You spoke gently through your slightly scratchy voice. Tae’s head whipped around, a wide grin spread across his face, happiness meeting every one of his features.

“Come here,” Spreading his arms wide, he excitedly walked towards you, meeting you halfway as he enveloped you into a big warm hug. As soon as you wrapped your arms around his waist, he sighed in content, squeezing your frame in his arms. “Will you just hang out with me for a bit?” He asked sweetly, almost shyly.

“Of course,” you smiled, pulling away to look up at his face. The vibration of the chuckle reverberating from his vocal chords tickled your lips when you pressed them to his Adam’s apple.

Planting a kiss to your forehead, he smiled against your skin. “Make yourself comfortable,” he whispered, his breath tickling your head. As he turned around and waked back to the canvas, decorated with a charcoal drawing of an abstract face, you smiled at how cute he could be. Looking around his studio, you inspected the new pieces he had created since the last time you’d hung out with him as he worked.

There were several drawings and paintings of abstract people, as well as a couple of portrayals of sunrises and sunsets. As you admired his work, you got kind of bashful as his collection of portraits of you caught your eye. You’d seen them before, but they made your heart race every time you looked at them.

All artists have their “muse”, and Tae claimed you were his, not only making paintings and drawings of you, but also writing songs about you, dedicating his favorite music to you, and constantly capturing you in photos.

Tae had five portraits of you so far: one of you reading, one of you cooking, one of you smiling with flowers in your hair, one of your nude form illuminated in the early morning sun as it shined through your window, and one with flowers blooming out of your head and heart.

Looking through them for the hundredth time at least, suddenly, your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widening in surprise when you saw a new addition to the collection of you. A portrait of you as a kid, wearing a big baggy shirt with a picture of Bubbles the Powerpuff Girl (your favorite one, and the one that you always said resembled Taehyung), messy bed hair standing on end, and colorful mismatched socks. You were sticking your tongue out as you held your hands in V shapes over your eyes.

You knew the photo he had used as a reference, though you hadn’t seen the photo in ages. Taehyung’s arms unexpectedly wrapped around your waist in a back hug, startling you for a moment before you settled into his embrace as he placed his chin on your shoulder. Pressing his lips to your jaw in a sweet kiss, he smiled. “This is one of my favorite photos of you,” he told you as he wiggled the photo that he held in his fingers, making you look down and quickly take it from him in excitement. “I just had to draw it. I was inspired.”

A grin pulled at your lips. “Where did you even find this?” Your eyes scanned the photo fondly. It was always one of your favorite photos of you.

“I found it at your house when we visited your family a couple months ago,” he giggled. “I kind of stole it.”

Your smile spread across your face as you peered over to look at your sweet boyfriend. “How did you even recognize it as me?”

Scrunching his eyebrows, he cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a completely different person now,” you told him as if it were obvious. Taehyung immediately shook his head, negating your comment.

“You’re that same little munchkin,” he smiled fondly. “Peaches, I know you feel trapped inside your own mind sometimes. I personally admire how composed you are, but I can see that your control over yourself burdens you sometimes. But this happy and carefree little one is still inside you,” he reached up to lay his palm against your heart.

Frowning, you blinked back some tears. “How do I find them?”

“By letting go, just a little bit at a time.” Kissing your shoulder, he smiled affectionately. Nodding slowly, you cast your gaze to your feet. Lost in thought, it took you a moment before you noticed your socks. Mismatched. Putting two and two together, you realized he started mismatching your socks when he did laundry around the same time you visited your parents.

“You started mismatching my socks on purpose,” you spoke out loud, not quite a question but more of a verbal realization. A light chuckle vibrated against your shoulder as Taehyung’s boxy grin beamed up at you.

“Like I said, just a little bit at a time,” he whispered in his low timbre. Shaking your head in fond disbelief, a big stupid grin on your face, you looked back to the drawing. “You inspire me,” he said more seriously. “Maybe I can help you inspire yourself.”

Staring at the charcoal drawing, as you felt Taehyung’s words soften your heart, your eyes misted. “You know, this is one of my favorite photos of myself” you told him, making Taehyung look from the drawing to your face. “But I prefer your drawing.”

Lips forming into a stunning smile, his eyes twinkled with happiness. “Really?” He asked in surprise.

“Thank you, Taehyung.” As your sweet man squeezed you in his arms a little tighter, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck, you thought, I can see myself in these arms for life. You lost yourself years ago, but Taehyung was the person that would help you find that little kid again, so carefree and happy. He’d help you find yourself.

126 notes · View notes

olympivnshq · 5 years

Text

congratulations hanna ! we’re so glad to see someone applied for our boy ACHILLES! we immediately agreed your application was amazing the second we laid our eyes on it - and the fact you went above and beyond to research achilles’s lore was just so heartwarming. it was very clear you were passionate about the character in how you’ve captured his voice and essence effortlessly throughout the application. so, that said, we’re happy to have you with us with your first faceclaim choice: NEILS SCHNEIDER!

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ OOC INFO.

I’m Hanna, a 22-year-old nerd hailing from the GMT +2 timezone. I love coffee and drunk crying because I couldn’t pet a dog once.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ DEITY — GENDER. AGE RANGE.

ACHILLES – MALE. 26 - 29.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Austin Alexander Pelham-Niarchos, though for the sake of simplicity, he goes by Austin Pelham. Actor / Heir. Tribeca, Manhattan.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

deafening cheers of the adoring crowd. letting the waves wash over your feet. a confident posture, challenges welcome. lazy mornings with a lover. biting into fruit and cherishing the taste. gilded crowns. teeth bared possessively when you try to take something that is theirs. flippant eye rolls. the constant presence of paparazzi. bloodstained swords. the rush of adrenaline. a child living entirely in the moment, not caring about the future. cities decimated after a whirlwind of rage and grief. dividing your time between two homes. a silver spoon in his mouth. spite is a great motivation. golden curls that bounce as you run. screams loud enough to frighten the gods themselves. a heart tattoo on the crook of your arm. a grin as sharp as a knife. a blindfold covering your eyes at the critical moment. slender fingers skillfully manipulating the strings of a lyre. boys or girls? boys and girls. bones tainted with exhaustion. black sunglasses, black leather jackets, black jeans. it’s this or that – no time for in-betweens. death is a friend. whatever it takes. the dust in your competitors’ eyes as you run past them with ease. a tight, terrified grip on it so it won’t slip away.

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

i. so in god’s son we trust/ ‘cause they know i’m gonna give ‘em what they want. ii. some legends are told; some turn to dust or to gold. but you will remember me, remember me for centuries. iii. if there’s light at the end, it’s just the sun in your eyes. iv. i’m gonna fight ‘em all / a seven nation army couldn’t hold me back. v. you people are mistaken if you think that i’m awake and celebrating anything that i’ve become.

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

Achilles. It would be easy to focus on what is known of Achilles’ and conjure an idea of his personality through his deeds. A legendary child with a destiny that had even the gods themselves trembling. A ruthless and skilled warrior who, instead of being deterred by the crimson covering, was energized every time he was out on the battlefield. A stubborn and prideful man who was unafraid to close his eyes to the suffering of others if it helped him make a point. A fiery inferno of rage on a quest to avenge his beloved’s death. All these traits are a part of Achilles; there is no denying that. However, if he was reduced to only these, it would be a major disservice to his legacy. The aforementioned traits paint a portrait of a godlike creature with very little humanity in them. That is not who Achilles is, though. He was half-god, yes, but he was also mortal and had traits which highlighted this part of him. Achilles was a trusting child, for he had been told from a young age that he would be great and, therefore, had little to nothing to fear. He was a natural performer with an innate power, a way with words, to captivate people and draw them in. He was a fearless leader unafraid to fight beside his men instead of forcing them to fight his battles for him. He was a man in love – and oh, did he love ( & grieve ) deeply. Achilles was a man who made mistakes and, consequently, despite his invulnerability, suffered the horrifying consequences of those actions. Did he deal with those consequences well? That can be contested. But in the end, he did learn from his mistakes, even if it was slightly too late. But that just proves that, despite his demigod status, beneath the expectations of greatness placed on his shoulders at a young age, Achilles was human.

Austin. The memories of Austin Alexander Pelham-Niarchos indicate a story eerily like the original hero. The only son of a US Army General and a Greek heiress to a shipping empire, Austin’s destiny seemed clear from the start – enjoy the opulent life, join the Army, and become the greatest hero this nation had ever seen. This was the path laid out for him; and Austin accepted it with a casual shrug of his shoulders before resuming his daily adventures as Manhattan’s boy king. Some called it arrogance, some called it indifference – but truthfully, that reality felt like a distant dream, years away, so of course a child could not be bothered to focus on it for too long. And so did Austin’s rich kid life – education in the best institutions in the world, money, fancy clothes, fast cars, and a large crowd of adoring sycophants. While he did enjoy the advantages granted to him, he could not shake the feeling in the back of his mind that something, or perhaps someone, was missing. This obstacle, nevertheless, was not powerful enough to complicate his future plans, but as he graduated from Harvard University, one such challenge did arise. She had never before openly objected Austin joining the Army when the time came, but suddenly his mother was vehemently against it. His parents had a major argument over it, yet Austin remained indifferent – this was not, after all, the first time his parents were quarreling. He was even less interested in getting involved when his mother, through her connections, got him his major role on the silver screen. Acting hadn’t been a profession Austin had seriously considered, but it did not take long for him to get swept up in the glamour of it. Specializing in action or war films due to his athleticism and ability to fight, Austin knew he had found his calling. Sure, some people called him a particular personality ( a polished way to call him a stubborn, somewhat single-minded asshole ), but what could they do to him? He has millions of fans screaming his name, he’s Hollywood’s moneymaker even after several years in the business, and he gets the job done in a way no other can. Even now, when he’s on a break after finishing shooting next spring’s major blockbuster film, Austin feels like he’s a god at the dawning of the world.

answer these questions:

1. Are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?: I’d say Achilles is quite indifferent towards the matters of Pantheon. Despite being a demigod himself, he holds no special love for them; this was evident after Patroclus’ death when he willingly defied them in order to avenge his beloved. Gods are, in Achilles’ mind, a messy and dramatic bunch (a bit rich, considering what a drama queen Achilles himself is) and he does not have time for that. He fulfilled his destiny back in Troy; now he just wants to live his best chill life with Patroclus without the interference of the gods.

2. what is their stand on mortals?: Mortals > gods. 100%. Achilles is half-mortal himself, so how could he ever despise them? Furthermore, several things in his life swayed his opinion toward pro-mortal. Firstly, when the quest for glory was his main goal in life, he preferred mortals because they would be the ones responsible for ensuring his legacy would remain alive. To gods, he knew, he’d be just another hero. Mortals, on the other hand, would revere him in the years to come. Secondly, Achilles wouldn’t want to live forever without Patroclus (and there’s basically no way for Patroclus to become a god), so that’s another reason why he would rather stand with the humanity than the gods.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

he has barely set a foot inside the bar; his hand still rests on the door, holding it open. not everyone within the establishment, but already austin can sense that, within a few seconds, all the attention will be on him. an arrogant observation, perhaps, but a truthful one as well. readying himself for this encounter, his lips twist into his trademark smile ( a cheshire cat, and a veil of secrets all in one ) mere second before he lets go of the door. it clicks closed behind him and, as if compelled by the sound, everyone’s heads turn toward him. the heir observes their wide eyes, their not-so-subtle whispers for a moment ( a cheap source of amusement ) before he strides toward the bar with purposeful steps. with graceful movements, he hops on to a bar stool with ease and lifts his hand to catch the attention of a bartender. “i’d like to have—,” austin considers. his expression turns serious before an idea hits him. he glances at the glass of the person next to him, “— whatever they’re having.” the bartender nods and as they leave to make him his drink, austin shifts so that he’s facing the person whose drink idea he just borrowed. “aren’t you going to tell me what exactly i’ll be drinking?”

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

Here’s my pinterest board!

#semi appless rp #lsrpg #literate rp #mature rp #greek myth rp #achilles #ohq:accepted

1 note · View note

e350tb · 6 years

Text

Steven Universe: Marooned Together - Chapter Thirty-Six

(thanks to @real-fakedoors for proofreading, as always. Read her stuff!)

As do most things with the passage of time, the gunshot wound faded.

The aches and the pains did not.

Vidalia noticed that she just couldn’t carry all the things she used to, or work as hard - and while the Curator was enthusiastic, he wasn’t exactly fit, so she was forced to look for new museum employees. She was surprised when Blue Pearl answered the flyer, and even more surprised when she asked genuine, interesting questions about all of the paintings in the museum.

She began to teach her what she knew - technically and practically. Her lines were straight and geometric at first, but not at all bad, and as time went on she blossomed into an impressive visual artist. Drawing remained her passion, but Vidalia taught her to paint, to watercolour, to sculpt.

She didn’t think much of it until one day, six months after the coup, when the Curator blandly asked her a question.

“Are you training your successor, then?”

He immediately apologized profusely and bolted for his office before Vidalia could reply - which was odd, because she wasn’t offended by the question (although it was a tad insensitive). It made her think - was she? After all, she wouldn’t be around forever, and she’d brought Blue in specifically because…

She cleared it from her mind. What was coming was coming; for now, as always, she’d focus on the moment.

The months flew by - they seemed to fly right off the calendar, the world speeding up as she seemed to slow down.

A year after the coup, Jeff inaugurated the New Earth Home Guard, the replacement for the disgraced Resistance under the command of Peedee Fryman (Captain Franks’ offer to lead it had been politely but firmly declined.) They were explicitly designed to be less threatening than the old guard - green uniforms instead of black, old fashioned helmets shaped almost like bowler hats, and a distinct scaling back of random military parades. The biggest change of course was that anyone could join, human or gem.

There was a big shindig to celebrate the moment at the Diamond’s Lament, but Vidalia found herself growing tired as the night wore on - before long, she found herself trudging home, her legs weary and aching.

She found herself sitting on a crude little bench near the museum to catch her breath.

“You alright, V?”

She looked up. Amethyst was standing there, concern underlining her features.

“You left pretty early,” she said, “I mean, nobody’s even wasted yet.”

“I’m just tired tonight, Ames,” replied Vidalia.

Amethyst sat down next to her.

“That’s… really not like you.”

Vidalia sighed.

“Yeah, well… you know, it’s late,” she said.

She looked up at the lights swirling in the sky, dancing and swirling in the Oort Cloud.

“If we died tomorrow,” she asked, “Do you think we’d have lived a good life?”

“I… well, duh, but what brings this up?” demanded Amethyst.

“I’m in my seventies now, Amethyst,” replied Vidalia, “Considering I spent a good portion of that without proper food and water when we started this place, I think that’s pretty damn good, but…”

She sighed.

“...I feel like I’m slowing down,” she said, “I just… can’t do the stuff I used to.”

“Okay, I really don’t like you talking like this, Vidalia,” said Amethyst, grabbing her shoulder, “I mean, come on, you’re not…”

Vidalia chuckled, and Amethyst trailed off.

“Look at you,” said Vidalia, “Just as beautiful as the day we met.”

“Hey, you’re still hot, if that’s what you’re saying,” said Amethyst.

Vidalia smiled.

“But you’re gonna be here one day,” she continued, “And Sour Cream, and Onion, and I… I won’t be. And I just…”

Amethyst swallowed and nodded, her eyes glassy and her lip trembling slightly.

“I’ll look out for ‘em, V,” she said.

Vidalia pulled Amethyst into a tight hug, patting her back gently.

“Thank you, Ames,” she replied.

There was a long sniffle, and Vidalia couldn’t help but laugh a little. It was infectious, and Amethyst vibrated in her arms as she laughed back.

“Getting old fuckin’ sucks, V,” croaked Amethyst.

Vidalia nodded.

“Damn straight it does.”

Another year flew past, and suddenly she couldn’t run without losing breath. Her pace slowed. Everything else accelerated.

Her work at the museum seemed to scale back more and more, with Blue picking up more of the slack. She had learned to categorize everything in the galleries, and on those few happy occasions when a scavenger brought back an old piece, she was able to tell where it was meant to go - most of the time - without Vidalia’s help.

She still had enough energy to veto the Curator’s more impractical ideas - “...and where exactly are we going to put a working railway?” - but her work became increasingly administrative, and she found herself more and more unsatisfied.

In those moments, she turned to painting. The world outside was changing day by day, and she was determined to chronicle it. She had painted before - the dark days of early New Earth were represented with limited and crude paints and charcoals, while today’s fabrication technology allowed her to use whatever technique she wanted. She wanted to show her kids, and Sour Cream and Onion’s kids (should they choose to have them), what these times were like.

And there was one painting she was more and more determined to paint.

“Okay, so you just want us to stand in front of the barn?” asked Stevonnie.

They and Lapis stood on the beach before the barn. It was a beautiful sunny day on the Island, and after so long on New Earth, Vidalia had started to forget what sunny days on a planet were like. She leaned out from behind the easel, studying her subjects.

“Maybe sit on that rock,” replied Vidalia, “Lapis, put your arm around Stevonnie’s waist.”

“Like this?” Lapis did so as they sat down.

“Perfect,” replied Vidalia, “Alright, I just need to get the sketch and the basic colours down, then I reckon I can finish back at home.”

She began to put paper to canvas, swiftly drawing up the rough sketch on her easel. After a while, she stopped to cough into her arm - she drew it away and saw red spots. Not again, she thought grumpily.

“Vidalia, are you okay?” asked Stevonnie, concerned.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, hold your pose…”

It didn’t take terribly long for the sketch to be finished - Vidalia was well practiced, after all - and she was soon onto the colour. In this moment, she felt freed - existing in a world of rich blues, sandy pale yellow, greens from the treeline and brown from the barn, and in the middle of it all, two figures who loved each other; and there she was, bringing this all to life, preserving this singular moment forever on canvas. There was a simplicity to it all that soothed her mind.

Eventually, however, she set down her brush and climbed to her feet, and all the aches and pains and stresses of life seemed to slowly crawl back, nettling their way into her joints with the familiarity of a houseguest.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ve got the gist of it. I think I’ve got enough to finish back on New-”

She coughed again, and this time some of the red gunk fell to the sandy beach. Before she’d recovered, Stevonnie had run over, placing their hand on her shoulder.

“Vidalia, are you sure you’re okay?” they asked, “Maybe I can help.”

Vidalia chuckled.

“Kid, it’s an internal thing,” she said wryly, “And I’m not swallowing your spit.”

“But…”

“Beside, it comes and goes,” continued Vidalia, “Doesn’t stop me from doing anything, so… let it be.”

“But I want to help!” exclaimed Stevonnie.

Vidalia smiled, putting her hand on their shoulder.

“I know,” she replied, “But… how do I put this, I…”

She shrugged.

“I’m okay,” she said, “I know it’s coming, and… I’m okay.”

Stevonnie frowned, eyes filled with concern.

“Know what’s coming?”

“I think we both know,” replied Vidalia, “Warp me out, will ya?”

She turned to the warp pad - hesitantly, Stevonnie followed.

“I’ll let you know when this is done!” said Vidalia, “I think it’s gonna come out really well…”

It was a night like any other.

Vidalia sat in the living room of her apartment, built into the back of the museum, taking in the moment. She had just been working on a painting - not the Stevonnie and Lapis one, that had been done for months; this one was a completely spur of the moment one.

It was her as she was now, wrinkled and grey but still smiling, still full of life; next to her stood Amethyst, and both laughed at an unheard joke. In the background was the museum, it’s artifacts arrayed in cases, displays and on the walls. Next to one, Peedee and Jeff shared a kiss. Peridot stood next to an old fossil in a glass case, but her eyes were really on Amethyst. Blue Pearl sat at an easel to the left of her, Yellow modelling for her. Stevonnie and Lapis walked around nearby, lost in each other’s company. And dotted around them all were her other friends; Garnet, Jenny, Rhodonite.

And on their own on a bench, talking about the little things that brothers speak of, were Sour Cream and Onion, the elder one ruffling the tuft on the younger’s head, as a portrait of Yellowtail looked down on them.

She didn’t know if it was her magnum opus, but it was a damn fine piece, if she said so herself.

It wasn’t finished, mind - about two-thirds were painted, and she hadn’t really begun with the shading at all - and yet when she looked at it, she felt a sense of satisfaction. There was more she’d like to do with it, so much more, but if she couldn’t? Well, that was okay. There was something there, something she had done, and she was damn proud of it.

Her eyelids were heavy as she laid back in the chair, and as she began to drift off, she could have sworn she could see a bearded figure in yellow.

She nodded wearily.

“Took me long enough, didn’t it?” she whispered.

Then, smiling peacefully, Vidalia drifted off.

It is with great sadness that the Museum of Earth announces that it’s co-founder Vidalia passed away last night at the age of seventy-four. She is survived by her two children, Sour Cream and Onion.

Vidalia was the heart, soul and most of the muscle that got this museum started in the early days of New Earth, when all we had were a few meagre crates of human artifacts, and what could be found on the backs of the survivors of Earth. It is almost entirely due to her that we gathered the collection we have today. But her efforts extended beyond our walls - she was one of the great bridges between human and gem that allowed us to survive and thrive in this new world.

It is going to be hard to imagine New Earth without her, but we must follow her example, and live up to her spirit, her kindness and her tenacity in the face of all adversity.

We asked that you give her family space in what is a sad and difficult time for them. We have been asked not to publish the details of her final resting place until she has been laid to rest…

Stevonnie put down the slip of paper, letting it fall to the floor as they sat on their mattress, a deep lump in their throat. With shaking hands, they clutched their temples, closing their eyes.

“She’s gone,” they muttered, “Everyone’s… gonna be gone one day…”

A hand came down on their shoulder, and they looked to their left. Lapis was sitting down, pulling them into a hug.

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly.

She pulled them in close, rubbing their hair as they began to cry into her shoulder.

Amethyst wiped her eyes as she watched the tiny canister float into the Oort Cloud - the final resting place of one of her best friends. She could feel the eyes of Onion and Sour Cream on the bridge behind her - she turned around to find Onion already leaving, his expression unreadable as ever. No-one would ever have known he’d been bawling earlier.

“Is… is he gonna be okay?” she asked softly.

Sour Cream nodded, turning around to follow his brother. He made it as far as the door before turning around.

“Hey, Amethyst?” His voice was croaky and soft from lack of use.

Amethyst raised her eyebrows in surprise. Ever since he had returned to New Earth, she had never actually heard him say anything.

“Yeah?” she asked, and immediately kicked herself for not saying more.

“Thanks,” said Sour Cream, “For being her friend.”

Fresh tears threatened to spill over her cheeks as she smiled sadly back.

“My pleasure, SC,” she replied, “My pleasure.”

Sour Cream gave her a small smile in return and walked away.

“Amethyst?”

Peridot got up from her chair, walking slowly up to her girlfriend.

“Are you… gonna be okay?” she asked gingerly.

Amethyst smiled, putting an arm around Peridot’s shoulder.

“She’s at peace now,” she replied, “I’m gonna be sad for a while but… it’s not a bad way to go.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the trickle of tears, the frog in her throat, and a strange sense of calm in her very being.

“Not a bad way to go at all…”

#steven universe #marooned together #vidalia #stevonnie #lapis lazuli #amethyst #peridot #sour cream #onion #blue pearl #lapvonnie #amedot

10 notes · View notes

athyrabunlord · 7 years

Text

Daydream [VI] Hanamaru & Ruby

Reminder: This is based off of Daydream Warrior and this fanart I did Warning: Profanity, violence and sex. Ships: You>Chika>Kanan>Riko>?; with mentions of YouMari & KanaMari, and implied DiaYoshi & Maruby Words: 2,823 [concept doodle]

[I. Mari] [II. Chika] [III. Yohane] [IV. Kanan] [V. Dia] [VI. Hanamaru & Ruby] [VII. You] [VIII. Riko] [IX. ???]

VI. Hanamaru & Ruby

“But I want to go back” “To that day, the day we met” “My one wish goes ungranted”

“You’re not asleep, are you?”

You’s arm remained draped over her closed eyes. She felt the weight of someone sitting down beside her head as well as the pleasant floral scent that always seemed to accompany the speaker. She refused to budge from where she was sprawled on her back across the bench with her legs dangling over the edge.

A quiet sigh, though there was a hint of exasperated fondness. “Still, don’t sleep here in the open, you might get sick.”

You’s lips twitched in humor. “Isn’t there a saying that says bakas don’t get sick?”

She grinned behind her arm when the newcomer playfully ruffled her hair. “Don’t call yourself a baka, silly.”

“Hey! You’re messing up my hair!”

“It’s already messy to begin with though?”

“How mean,” You growled and sat up abruptly, batting the hand away from her head. She chuckled at the startled squeal and laughed even more so when the other girl punched her arm. “That’s weak, y’know.”

Another punch, this time more forceful, though nothing compared to the fist fights she was used to. Even then, she rubbed at her abused arm and whined. “Ow~! I’m gonna have a bruise tomorrow.”

“Baka…”

“Ah, so I really am a baka?”

Okay, she deserved that pinch, but her bandaged cheek was still sore from the brawl yesterday and she couldn’t suppress the urge to flinch. The same hand then gently caressed the injured area, as if apologizing for inflicting further pain. She closed her eyes briefly to relish the sensation before opening her eyes and turning to face her companion at last.

“Hey.”

“Hey you.” Amber eyes were filled with concern as the burgundy-haired girl lightly brushed her thumb over the bandage. “Why do you always get into fights-?”

“Now now, I don’t start them. Trouble comes looking for me, not the other way around,” You smiled wryly as she slouched in her seat. “They’re not that bad, and overall it’s good exercise, Riko-chan.”

“No, it’s not. One of these days you’ll get really hurt, and I don’t want that.” Riko said sternly, her fingers curling near You’s cheek as if threatening to pinch it again.

You backed away and pouted. “I know I know. Geez, you and Chika-chan won’t ever stop nagging at me, will you? Be proud, I stopped the fight before it got too bad, and came here to rest.”

“I see. Good, there’s improvement at least.”

Airily, Riko straightened and pulled out a familiar sketchbook from her bag. She ignored You’s questioning gaze and began to doodle the scenery. You’s blue eyes swept over the park, noting the few people strolling along the path, a kid playing with his dog over there, some flying their kites beyond the pond, and an old couple seated at a nearby bench and simply enjoying the nice weather. Everything seemed so picturesque, the tranquil atmosphere so good that it almost felt fake, especially compared to the frequent fights she’s gotten herself involved in.

Nevertheless, this wasn’t bad. This wasn’t bad at all. She could get used to such peace.

She listened to the quiet scratching sounds of the pencil as Riko sketched, smiling at the occasional pauses when the latter wasn’t pleased with the lighting or the composition.

“You’re not mad me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Aha, you are mad at me,” You peered at her friend and scooted closer. In response, Riko scooted away and resumed drawing like she wasn’t even here. Pouting again, You repeated her action and received the same reaction. The cycle continued until Riko was barely seated at the edge of the bench.

Huffing, she set down her sketchbook and scowled at the grinning You. “What?”

“Finally made you look at me.”

Riko raised an eyebrow and exhaled deeply. “Look, I’m not mad at you. Like I said, I’m just worried. Stop getting into fights so often. Chika-chan’s worried, Kanan-chan too.”

You rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself. Kanan should know that better than either of you.”

“Just promise us… promise me, okay?”

It was really difficult to say no, not under such pair of piercing, pretty eyes. You shrugged, holding her arms akimbo. “Alright! I’ll try to stay out of trouble. In exchange though, I wanna see this!”

Before Riko could react, You snatched the sketchbook out of her lap and flipped through the pages. She hummed in appreciation at the detailed drawings, some still life and some of animals. The recent pages, however, were filled with portraits of a ponytailed girl. Jogging, stretching, napping, drinking a bottle of water, or just smiling at the viewer.

Snickering, You wasn’t surprised to see Riko’s face turning beet red. “Does Kanan know?”

“Of course, but that doesn’t make this any less embarrassing. Can I have it back already?”

Taking pity on the blushing girl, You held out the sketchbook and chuckled again when Riko hugged it protectively against her chest. Silence fell upon them for a while, long enough for You to shuffle uncertainly. Was that too much teasing?

Just as she was about to apologize, Riko spoke up in a muffled voice. “Do you believe in true love, You-chan?”

For some reason, the question stung her more than any physical injury ever did. She immediately thought of a mikan-haired girl and her beautiful smile. This thought alone pained her just as much as it made her happy. Self-conscious, she scratched the back of her hair and mumbled. “… yeah, I do.”

Riko giggled at her response. The soft sound tickled inside her heart, yet she didn’t feel insulted or annoyed.

“Why do you ask anyway? You’re the happy couple, not me.”

“Just curious, that’s all.”

“Riko-chan…”

“It’s true, I just wanted to know your thoughts.”

You folded her arms, trying to read the soft smile on Riko’s visage. Was that bliss? Would she look like that too, if Chika were to accept her feelings? But that wouldn’t ever be possible, would it? After all, Chika loved someone else, someone who was also her friend.

And that person happened to be Riko’s girlfriend as well.

“Okay, now that you know, what’re you going to do?”

Riko turned away and looked into the sky, not smiling but not frowning either. Her whispered reply drifted with the breeze, so quiescent that You almost didn’t catch it.

“I’m going to set things right.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Don’t fall asleep here, you’ll get sick.”

You grunted but did not move to acknowledge the speaker. Her arm was draped over her face, shielding her closed eyes from the sunlight as she remained sprawled on her back across the bench. Her mind was a mess, chaotic even long after she had left the hospital. She’s wandered back to the park and found herself reminiscing her time with Riko.

Truth be told, she missed chatting with Riko. She didn’t remember what happened after that, though she did recall avoiding her since that puzzling conversation.

Why though?

You gritted her teeth and turned to her side, resting her arm against the cool and rough surface of the bench’s backrest. Ah, she didn’t want to be prodded about her feelings for Chika or talk about love, as subtle as Riko had been. Sometimes, You admired how Chika and Riko remained good friends under such circumstances, while she and Kanan…

Deep exhale. She clenched her fist and tried to ignore the throbbing pain from her wounds. That Dia may have cleaned and bandaged them, but her words had torn open something more painful. Perhaps she should go back to Chika now, as she promised she would. She couldn’t find her phone, which was prolly broken and still back at Chika’s place, and that was the excuse she kept telling herself to delay facing Chika again.

Again, she recalled Riko’s soft smile when the latter spoke of true love. How could Matsuura fucking Kanan betray her? Dragged Chika into this?

Someone to share your joy and pain, someone to talk to… someone to hug.

Only Mari understood You. She didn’t want to see either Chika or Riko. She wanted to see Mari at this moment, desperately so. In spite of whatever Mari had with Kanan, You still wanted to be with her. It wasn’t just about screwing each other senseless, or just having someone period. No, it wasn’t something as paltry as sex.

It was so much more than that, You was certain of it.

Her thoughts were rudely jostled out of her mind when petite hands pushed her further along the bench to make room. You’s legs dangled awkwardly over the edge while her face was uncomfortably squashed between her arm and the backrest. Growling in annoyance, she sat up and glared down at the short brunette and her pigtailed friend.

“What the fuck?”

“Language please,” Hanamaru was unfazed, her thick novel open in her lap. She didn’t even glance in You’s direction. “You were in my seat, so I moved you.”

You pulled back her fist, fully intending to at least punch the spot beside the girl’s shoulder to scare her. She stopped in mid-motion however, when her glare found Ruby’s green eyes. They were unnerving, emotionless and severe.

It was the same way Dia looked at her, back in the hospital.

Deep breath. In and out. In and out. You clenched her eyes shut and slouched in her seat. The tense silence was intermittently interrupted by the rustling sound of Hanamaru flipping the pages of her book. She should just leave and save herself from this inexplicable stress, but her pride refused to give in. Why should she get out of the way? She was here first!

“… there are so many other benches available, why this one?” You looked around the park, noting the lack of passersby, empty benches and the dried up pond.

“I always read my book with Ruby-chan here, and I don’t intend to change that,” Hanamaru’s gaze remained fixated on the novel’s small print. Ruby appeared to be reading over her friend’s shoulder as well.

“A stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“Not as much as you, You-san.”

“Ha! You think you know me?” She angrily recalled their encounter days ago, also here at the park. “What, you want me to wake up? Is that it?”

The brunette shrugged, her voice flat with nonchalance. It was clear that she didn’t give a fuck. “Awake, asleep, daydreaming, does that matter? You remain the same no matter what. Why do I even try?”

Again, You was seized by the violent urge to hurt the smaller girl. Not out of desire to cause her pain, but rather to solicit some sort of emotion out of her and her friend. Any other girls would have fled or screamed in fear if You were to glare at them like this, but not these two. It wasn’t as if You enjoyed terrifying younger girls, but such reaction would have been normal at least.

Hanamaru and Ruby’s lack of expected response was unsettling.

You covered her face and chuckled sardonically. Did she just wish for normality? What a fucking joke! She thrived in chaos. Only in bloody fistfights did she feel alive. Peace? What peace? She will never know peace.

It was not meant for her. Fact.

“What’s that book? Is it really that interesting?”

“Oh it is. Riko-san recommended it to us. We would like to finish it.”

You pursed her lips, unsurprised by their acquaintance of the artist. They came to the park often enough, they might have even bonded over common interests. Literature was a form of art too. Riko used to mention her friend Dia preferring classic literature, while her other friend enjoyed fantasy and in particularly the occult.

Right. Yohane and Riko were good friends, and that was how she came to know the eccentric gothic girl.

“Where’s your friend?”

Neither Hanamaru nor Ruby answered her.

“I was looking for her.”

Hanamaru turned a page, her expression unreadable as able. “Then keep looking.”

“Smartass,” You rubbed her chin. “Odd, I swore you used to speak in an odd accent or dialect of some sort, at least around her. Yohane-chan I mean.”

“Is that so?” There was an indiscernible tremor in her voice.

“Yup. Well, I don’t give a shit how you speak, just pointing it out.”

Silence again.

“How about you?” She shifted her attention to the pigtailed girl. “Say something. You mute or what?”

Ruby blinked and stared at her with those disturbingly blank eyes again. Her lips remained sealed.

“You are mute then.”

Ruby returned her gaze back to the book.

“No seriously, I was looking for your friend. She was talking to me but then she disappeared out of the blue-”

The book was slammed shut so abruptly that it made a cringe-worthy thud. There was something ugly and abhorrent in Hanamaru’s brown eyes. It was fleeting, but the intensity of such emotion had You tense defensively.

“Dia-san is with Yoshiko-chan.”

Ruby started trembling so Hanamaru gently held her hands, the gesture so drastically different than her vicious glare towards the older girl.

“Yo…shiko?” You was distinctly aware of her own heart pounding within her ribcage, like a trapped beast frantically trying to break free. Yohane… Yoshiko… Tsushima Yoshiko?

“Yoshiko-chan is still in a coma,” Hanamaru whispered darkly. “So perhaps you’ve been hallucinating, or you just have a sick sense of humor. Whatever it is, please stop it. It’s just us left now, Ruby-chan and I. The moment you even attempt to hurt Ruby-chan, I swear you will be begging for death the moment I’m done with you.”

Such savage words sounded so uncharacteristic and outlandish from a petite girl, let alone someone like Hanamaru. Yohane’s friend was usually smiling, playfully berating the gothic girl’s antics and cuddling Ruby.

That Hanamaru would never hurt a fly. The brunette here though would follow through with her threat, word for word.

You felt sick.

Back at the warehouse, back in the hallways of the hospital, and countless other times, she has been talking to thin air? But Yohane had replied to her. Or was it her own conscience, taking the form of the girl she considered trustworthy?

“Onee-chan is wholly devoted to Yoshiko-chan now.”

Both Hanamaru and You’s eyes widened as they looked at Ruby, whose expression was serene and somehow that sent a chill down You’s limbs.

“I loved her, you know? Yoshiko-chan. But I’ve been useless and I’m scared of facing her again,” Ruby was smiling. “Maru-chan too. Maru-chan loved Onee-chan, ne?”

Hanamaru cringed, her carefully controlled expression crumbling to that of pain. “That’s-”

“It’s okay. I know. That’s from before. We have each other now and that’s all that matters,” Ruby held up the brunette’s hand and interlaced their fingers, the gesture full of tenderness that it inexplicably frightened You even more. “Even then, I still wish we could go back, back to the way everything used to be.”

“That’s the one wish I cannot help you with, Ruby-chan,” Hanamaru pulled her hand away, her eyes churning with raw emotions. “Like what Kanan-chan said, it’s just a nightmare, one that none of us can ever wake up from.”

Ruby nodded slowly, her lips pressed in a thin line while her expression returned to that unnerving, vacant one like before.

It took a moment for You to realize she was covered in cold sweat. She wiped at her damp brow with her forearm and almost tripped in her haste to stand up.

“I-I’m going to g-go see Riko-chan. She… She can help me, yeah. She always has.”

Hanamaru stared at her coolly and gestured at the trees on the other side of the field. “We just went to see her. She’s over there.”

You staggered away as fast as her failing legs could bring her. She knew there was a hidden entrance to the park in that direction. She didn’t usually take this path, as it was covered with undergrowth which made it annoying to walk through. However she used to be familiar with the area, as it granted its visitors privacy and a natural veil of filtered lights from the canopy tops. Riko loved sketching here.

And this is where I…

She stumbled out of the woods and found the small gate that faced the intersection of a busy street. Gasping for breaths, she stood still and stared at the ponytailed girl crouched beside the dilapidated fence.

Kanan was holding a bouquet of roses, tears sliding down her cheeks and raining upon a withered wreath against the corner. She gingerly placed the bouquet beside a photo frame, her lips moving with whispered words.

You found it excruciating to breathe, her heart aching like someone had clenched it tight in their grip.

Kanan stood up listlessly and looked at You with dead eyes.

“I’m going to set things right.”

#athyra writes #Daydream Warrior AU #youriko maruby #but also diamaru yoshiruby kanariko I suppose #gawd this story is so messed up sometimes I wonder why I even...#XD;;;;#but hey at least #climax coming up!#3 more fragments to go!#I had to rewrite this one several times ~_~#just to get the tone right #in the end settled with this mirror image 030/#cuz of the maruby bridge from the song #but yeah I had this in my draft since July #loool uncertain about uploading it #but since I’m on vacation #*tosses this #just so I have so original content/fanwork here #schedule upload

43 notes · View notes

2700fstreet · 8 years

Photo

OPERA / 2017-2018

DON CARLO

OPEN REHEARSAL

Washington National Opera

Music by Giuseppe Verdi Libretto by Joseph Méry and Camille Du Locle Translated into Italian by Achille de Lauzières and Angelo Zanardini Based on Friedrich von Schiller’s dramatic work Don Carlos

So, What’s Going On?

Spain, the mid-sixteenth century.

Our hero, Don Carlo isn’t doing well. The infante (een-FAHN-teh, basically a Spanish word for “prince”) can’t get along with his father, King Filippo II (fee-LEEP-poh), and, to top it off, Carlo has no real royal responsibilities to keep him busy.

Oh, and did we mention he’s in love with his stepmother?

Filippo had promised Carlo a beautiful French bride named Elisabetta (eh-leez-ah-BEHT-tah), but, at the last minute, the king swept in and married her himself. Not cool. Nope, definitely not cool.

Enter Rodrigo (ro-DREE-goh), a nobleman and Carlo’s best friend. Rodrigo tries to cheer Carlo up by getting him involved in a political cause (nothing says “distraction” like a revolution). Spanish-occupied Flanders, (present-day Belgium) Rodrigo explains, is badly oppressed and needs a leader ASAP. Having a lot of free time on his hands, Carlo agrees to act as “savior” to the Flemish (i.e., the folks from Flanders). Got it so far?

But there’s a catch. He’ll need his stepmom’s permission.

Rodrigo fires Carlo up for a Flemish fight.

Take a listen… In one of opera’s most famous duets, Rodrigo and Don Carlo take a vow of friendship and promise to work together to achieve freedom for Flanders. Listen for the sounds of the brass instruments, symbolizing war and aggression, as well as royalty.

youtube

Back to the story…

Rodrigo arranges a meeting between Carlo and Elisabetta, telling the queen her heartbroken stepson needs a favor. But one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, the Princess of Eboli (EHB-oh-lee), overhears and takes Carlo’s heartbreak completely out of context—she thinks Carlo might be in love with her.

At the meeting set up by Rodrigo, Carlo tells Elisabetta he’s dying of love.

In other palace news, the king is highly suspicious of Elisabetta’s relationship with Carlo. He summons Rodrigo and asks him to spy on Carlo and Elisabetta’s extracurricular activities. Rodrigo unwisely uses this moment to plead for Flanders, claiming the king is applying unnecessary force to maintain peace in the Flemish territories. Though slightly moved, Filippo warns Rodrigo his rebellious ways may get him into trouble with the Spanish Inquisition (…bet you weren’t expecting that).

Sometime later, Carlo receives a mysterious letter. Thinking Elisabetta wishes to see him, he waits for her in a romantic spot, and she promptly arrives wearing a veil for cover.

(Yeah, just kidding: It’s not really Elisabetta, but Eboli in disguise.)

Carlo whispers sweet nothings to “Elisabetta,” but when the mix-up comes to light, he tries to take back his professions of love. The damage is done, however—Eboli figures out Carlo’s words were meant for someone else…and that the “someone else” must be the queen.

Rodrigo rushes in. Believing Eboli will go straight to the king for revenge, he asks Carlo to hand over any incriminating evidence pertaining to Flanders.

Eboli plots vengeance against Carlo for (accidentally) playing with her heart.

But tensions between Filippo and Carlo are about to boil over anyway. At an auto-da-fé (an execution led by the Inquisition and overseen by the king), Carlo interrupts the ceremony by bringing some Flemish citizens before Filippo to call the king out and beg for royal mercy. Things get heated, and Carlo draws his sword. Horrified by this treasonous act, Filippo calls for someone to arrest his son. To everyone’s surprise, Rodrigo steps forward and leads Carlo to jail.

A private family feud is put on public display.

Take a listen… In his aria, “Ella giammai m’amò” (“She never loved me”), Filippo contemplates the sad state of his marriage. Listen for the sorrowful string music, which repeats incessantly as if to reflect Filippo’s relentless thoughts.

youtube

Filippo wants Carlo out of the way (like…completely out of the way), so the king appeals to the Grand Inquisitor to ask if the holy man will pardon Filippo for ordering Carlo’s execution. Convinced the uprising of the Protestant-leaning Flemish—and not Carlo—is the real threat to Spain and to the Catholic Church, the Inquisitor slyly suggests Filippo may be absolved if he hands over the traitorous Rodrigo in exchange. Yikes.

The Grand Inquisitor offers a terrible bargain: Religious blessing in exchange for Rodrigo’s demise.

Take a listen… In this intentionally frightening scene, the Grand Inquisitor’s deep and forceful voice, along with the quivering strings and percussion, remind the audience (and Filippo) that the church wields power in sixteenth-century Spain.

youtube

Suddenly, Elisabetta bursts in claiming she’s been robbed. She asks her husband to take action against the culprit, but Filippo quickly admits to the crime himself. He then confronts Elisabetta about a portrait of Carlo she keeps hidden in her stolen jewelry box. Elisabetta maintains her innocence, however. She may love Carlo, but she’s never been unfaithful.

And yet here’s a twist: Filippo has.

Filippo tries to shame Elisabetta.

While comforting the queen after Filippo’s accusation, Eboli confesses she’s been having an affair with the king and that jealousy (for both Carlo and Filippo) led her to steal Elisabetta’s box and throw some serious shade at the queen. Shocked, Elisabetta orders Eboli to head to a convent. Eboli searches for a way to make things right—and finds one. She stumbles onto Carlo’s death warrant and resolves to intervene before it’s too late.

Take a listen… Eboli curses her own vanity for inspiring her to betray her queen in the aria “O don fatale” (“Oh fatal gift”). Check out how the mezzo-soprano uses both high and low notes to convey her sense of frustration and despair in the musical sample below. Also: Listen for the outbursts from the trumpets, trombones, and horns at the opening. Can you tell things have gotten pretty serious?

youtube

But can Eboli alert Carlo in time? Can Rodrigo escape the watchful eye of the Inquisition? And, most importantly, will Elisabetta and Carlo be allowed to ride off into the Spanish sunset?

Who’s Who

(Italian version of the original Spanish names listed; English version names in parentheses)

Don Carlo (Don Carlos) infante of Spain (tenor—the highest male voice) Filippo (King Philip II) Carlo’s father and king of Spain (bass—the lowest male voice) Elisabetta (Elizabeth of Valois) queen of Spain (soprano—the highest female voice) The Princess of Eboli (known as “Eboli”) (mezzo-soprano—a middle-range female voice) Rodrigo marquis of Posa and Carlo’s friend (baritone—a middle-range male voice) The Grand Inquisitor (bass)

Good to Know

You’ve heard of the Spanish Inquisition before, right? No?

Okay, well, just in case you haven’t, you might want to keep in mind that the Spanish Inquisition was a Catholic branch of the Spanish government whose task was to find and “question” anyone who wasn’t loyal to the Catholic church, particularly Jews and Protestants. These “interviews” were often literal torture, as the Spanish monarchy was known to use the Inquisition as an excuse to enslave innocents in order to get free labor.

Now that you’re familiar with the Inquisition: Did you know King Philip II, his wife Elizabeth, his son Carlos, and the Princess of Eboli were also real? Philip II was a sixteenth-century Spanish monarch who did indeed marry a French woman (Elizabeth of Valois) whom he had initially intended for his son. Turns out Philip and Elizabeth actually had a reportedly happy marriage, and the love story between Elizabeth and her stepson was invented by writer Friedrich von Schiller in the eighteenth century and exploited by Verdi in the nineteenth century for maximum dramatic impact.

The Princess of Eboli was likewise a genuine attendant at court and the wife of King Philip’s right-hand man. Rodrigo, however, never actually existed; he’s more of an ideal representation of compassion and progressive thinking created by Schiller at a time when the Enlightenment ideals of reason and rationality swept across Europe.

And Carlos? Sadly the historical Carlos wasn’t quite the romantic hero he is in the opera. Rowdy, and unpredictable, the real-life Carlos was decidedly not in love with his stepmom. Yet, as in the opera, Carlos wasn’t given much power by his father and eventually grew fed up with life in Spain. The infante then demanded control over Flanders, which was being ruled by a brutal cardinal of the Catholic Inquisition.

Just like in the opera, Flanders was a place of political (and religious) unrest in the mid-sixteenth century. Absorbed into Spain’s considerable empire via a political marriage, Flanders was somewhat content to be ruled by Philip’s father, Charles V, who had been born in Flanders and was well respected there. Things changed when Philip assumed the throne, however: Philip was more Catholic than his father and the new king had no trouble sending clerical and military forces to keep the Protestant-friendly Flemish in line—often using violent methods of persuasion.

Philip ultimately deemed his son unfit to serve as ambassador to such an unstable region and had Carlos put in jail to prevent a political catastrophe (thanks, dad). Carlos died while under arrest, but the Flemish controversy continued, and uprisings followed soon after.

Check This Out…

Don Carlo features many melodies that repeat themselves to help the audience recall a particular scene or emotion from earlier in the story. Listen up for tunes that come back to haunt these characters again and again (especially the themes from Carlo and Rodrigo’s Act I duet, Carlo’s first lovesick solo, and the choir of horns that opens the opera).

Though Carlo is the title character, all the leading roles in the opera are given at least one aria (solo song) in which to express their feelings, and each character has their own unique musical and vocal style. Can you identify some of the ways in which Verdi gives each character his or her own spin? Is there a type of note (high, low, stretched out, cut short, etc.) or rhythm (slow, fast, galloping, etc.) that sticks out as being a specific character’s “signature sound”?

The finale of Don Carlo is notoriously open-ended, leaving much of the interpretation up to the performers and production team. Pay close attention during those final moments. What do you think the director and designers of this particular version wanted the audience to believe about the characters’ fates? Do you feel this explanation of the ending is correct? What do you think actually went down in the Spanish court?

Verdi wanted to immerse his audience in the culture and atmosphere of his operas. One of the ways he achieved this effect in Don Carlo was to include music that plays just off stage, giving the illusion of “surround sound” and extending the action of Don Carlo beyond the borders of the proscenium. Listen for the organ, church bells, brass band, choirs, and solo soprano voice coming from the wings of the theater. Do these help you feel like you’re at the heart of the story?

Think About This…

The dialogue between Filippo and the Grand Inquisitor—which was purposely added to the original story by Verdi and his librettists—includes some heavy musical clues regarding the evil subtext of the scene. In fact, Verdi uses ominous-sounding instruments to make it abundantly clear that some devilish plots are being hatched. What instruments stick out for you in this moment? What do you think Verdi’s position was regarding organized religion? What do you think he felt about monarchies like the one in Spain?

Eboli sings a song about a woman who hides her appearance and discovers a terrible secret. And…surprise! Later in the opera, the princess herself actually wears a veil and uncovers something about Don Carlo she wishes she hadn’t. Do you think the creators were making a specific point about disguises or about women who mask their identity?

Don Carlo is a mixture of big, crowded scenes for huge choruses and smaller, more intimate moments for four people or fewer. This contrast between public life and personal drama is something that continues to fascinate audiences in the twenty-first century. Can you name some recent films or TV shows in which the private struggles of a handful of characters are set against the backdrop of an overarching story that packs an epic and/or historical punch (hint: think The Crown or Game of Thrones minus the dragons)? Do they parallel Don Carlo in some way? Why do you think viewers are still drawn to these types of dramas?

Filippo, though tyrannical and misguided, is ultimately portrayed as a sad and lonely figure in the opera—thanks in large part to Verdi’s sympathetic music and also to the made-up love triangle between Filippo, his son, and his wife. Do you think Filippo’s desperate attempts to govern the lives of his family and his subjects are a response to his own feelings of helplessness? How do you think the other characters handle forces beyond their control (e.g., love, war, religious duty, honor, etc.)? Do you think anyone in the opera is more successful than Filippo at facing down these seemingly insurmountable challenges?

Take Action

As hinted above, the private actions in Don Carlo often have public consequences. Toward the end of the opera, Rodrigo, whose personal loyalties to the king and to Carlo are severely tested, ultimately chooses a path he feels will do the most good for the most people. In his beautiful final aria, he considers the type of legacy he wants to leave behind and asks that Carlo never forget him and never abandon the Flemish people. “Non ti scordar’” (“Do not forget”), he sings.

Take some time to think about how your own personal actions can affect public discourse or change. Research a group of people facing adversity like those in the Flemish territories mentioned in the opera (this could be a group you consider yourself a part of and/or strongly identify with, or it could also be a community you simply wish to help). Next, come up with a plan to spread the word and jumpstart a campaign to make a positive difference. Concerned for the people devastated by recent hurricanes, fires, and other natural disasters? Organize an afterschool meeting to educate your fellow students and to brainstorm fundraising ideas. Want to throw your support behind victims of abuse in a foreign nation? Set up a crowdsourced relief fund and ask family and friends to donate.

Want a wider audience for your social justice campaign? Use social media platforms like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, or tumblr to get people talking about your cause and to post news and pictures of outreach events. If you decide to post, let us know by using the hashtag #donotforget.

Explore More

Go even deeper with the Don Carlo Extras.

–

Major support for WNO is provided by Jacqueline Badger Mars.

David M. Rubenstein is the Presenting Underwriter of WNO.

WNO acknowledges the longstanding generosity of Life Chairman Mrs. Eugene B. Casey.

WNO's Presenting Sponsor

Don Carlo is a production of the Clarice Smith Opera Series.

Additional support for Don Carlo is provided by The Dallas Morse Coors Foundation for the Performing Arts.

The Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Program is made possible through the generous support of The Morris and Gwendolyn Cafritz Foundation, with additional funding provided by Judy and Billy Cox, Robert and Lynn Downing, Carl M. Freeman Foundation, Virginia McGehee Friend, Susan Carmel Lehrman, John & Mary Lee Malcolm, Michael F. and Noémi K. Neidorff and The Centene Charitable Foundation, Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey P. Pohanka, Dr. Arthur and Mrs. Robin Sagoskin, Mr. Alan J. Savada and Mr. Will Stevenson, Dr. and Mrs. Guillermo Schultz, Mr. and Mrs. Michael R. Sonnenreich, Washington National Opera Council, and The Women’s Committee of Washington National Opera.

This performance is made possible by the Kimsey Endowment; The Morris and Gwendolyn Cafritz Foundation and the U.S. Department of Education.

Major support for educational programs at the Kennedy Center is provided by David M. Rubenstein through the Rubenstein Arts Access Program.

Kennedy Center education and related artistic programming is made possible through the generosity of the National Committee for the Performing Arts and the President's Advisory Committee on the Arts.

#opera #doncarloat2700F

1 note · View note

chromemuffin · 7 years

Photo

Shoukoku no Altair Liveblog (Chapter 5)

A lovely image. The lines are lighter/clearer in the digital version, but this one has the translation of the names and their titles so. I just love these portraits though, especially how some of them fall out of the frame (Shara! And the tall dudes). And wow, for once you don’t look like a tiny child, Mahmut! He still comes up to Zaganos’s chin, though he is a little taller than Shara. (despite me dragging him for his stature, I’m not much better irl. I am also short enough to be inconvenienced by the world around me.)

Before I even get started on the gut-wrenching situation Mahmut has found himself in from last chapter, let me comment more on those portraits.

I love the detailing on the frame, and the designs at the bottom that symbolize each character. Not going through all of them, but here are some nice details I noticed:

Iskander looks puffed up. :3

I keep meaning to mention this, but haven’t found a place to bring it up since noticing it after the first chapter. Iskander is shaded so that there is a light band in the shape of a crescent moon on his forehead.

Louis’s pants/leggings/whatever these are have some sort of pattern or embroidery on them. The manga-ka’s attention to detail is nothing short of amazing. Not to mention the circles on Mahmut’s standard outfit, which have to be drawn every time he appears in it.

So the eyepatch twins are Colbert and Eleanor? I remember Eleanor’s name mentioned last chapter. And seems they are also from the Cult of the Red Snake, as is evident by the Arbok-like creature. Arbok is based on the Indian cobra, for the pattern on its hood, but I’m not well versed in snake species so idk what the symbolism here is. It looks very happy for some reason, though.

Chapter 5: The Citadel

Onto the actual chapter! We left off with Mahmut getting punched in the gut by an ugly rusty looking club of a sword.

Chill, dude. Seriously.

Poor Mahmut.

I don’t think his leg gets cut here, there’s no blood, so does that mean you are supposed to use that sword to bludgeon your enemy to death? It looks like a club, really it does.

(And I can kind of see how this outfit was supposed to be a dress, there are just so many folds and stripes involved it just looked like one big cloak.)

Stop being creepy, eyepatch dude. The font makes it more ominous too. (Also, he has very pointy ears.)

Oh? What have you got there, Iskander? The basket Shara carried their clothes in? Looks like Mahmut sent him on a mission of some sort. Also, an interesting note. Apparently golden eagles fly with a slight V shape in their wings, like an airplane.

Interesting, another crest. This is the place Leredrick is from, if I recall.

Oh, man. This lady’s dissatisfied face.

Ha! ‘I’m outta here’. She even does a little hand wave to say, ‘this isn’t worth my time’. She’s so done.

Well, that escalated quickly.

A lot of these characters pull off dramatic, menacing, sinister, and ‘I don’t give two fucks’ very, very well.

HAHA yeah awkward moment when you realize it was all a sham and there is absolutely nothing you can do to take it back.

But, who is this I see approaching:

Iskander, what are you up to.

Looks like a bird and a dancer are here to save the day.

OF COURSE, eyepatch lady has to go and ruin it. Oh nooo, Shara.

So it was the container Mahmut keeps meat in for Iskander, not the basket. Poor birdie, gotta work nights too. xD Eagles aren’t nocturnal. And he has to sacrifice his food to boot.

But where he is dropping it off?

“Once the Imperial Army gets here, we will have to fight on their side. Once we do, the Empire will save the hostages. All we can do now is hope the Empire will keep their promise.” I’m not so sure about that anymore, Ibrahim. They seem kind of trigger happy.

And back to Zaganos. What have you been doing this whole time? Preparations I guess.

Uh...what is that...Zaganos is the ‘Poison’ General so...I love the detailing on the jars/bottles, though. Each one is different for some reason. Are they each a different poison or did he just decide to stick them in fancy containers? Yeah, they didn’t exactly mass produce things back then, but these aren’t even all in the same style.

Zaganos really does not hold back, does he. Though he does seem to be thinking about the decision here, it is a pretty underhanded tactic. Well, at least he’s not jumping at the bit to use it.

Well, who do we have here? People from the Empire, right. Why are they attacking the guys sent by Louis...? Aren’t they on the same side...And since the name of the eyepatch people’s cult is Swedish, maybe that means they are more like mercenaries Louis hires, rather than actual soldiers from Balt-Rhein.

Gllad is an awkward name to my English speaking self. You don’t see that consonant cluster every day, and it’s one letter off from Glad (in Japanese it is グララット, guraratto, so yeah, that matches).

I like this more formal introduction to these two, though, purely for the fact that the antagonist actually got injured (it’s like, a scratch on the arm but whatever) before the main conflict with them even starts.

I see. So Leredrick just doesn’t want to follow Louis’s plan (quite an extreme way to say ‘fuck you I’m doing my own thing’ considering they’re on the same side though lol).

Poor kid. Stop bludgeoning him with your club sword, you jerk.

UGH, his expression morphing into resolve and defiance. Aand then back to pain.

LOOKS LIKE IT CAN STAB. will you please leave him alone already you ass

Even worse than a pointy sword, it is uh apparently CRACKING bones. And he has to twist it around, pouring salt in the wounds much.

Now that’s just painful to watch urggh. And that is a LOT of blood on the next page.

What’s going on...I think I see a wing shadow there... (and the text box from hovering over the image whoops)

AHAHA THAT’S GREAT. Seeing her just go fwip! Gone! was greatly needed after seeing Mahmut freaking tortured in an alleyway.

Shara’s expression is great, too. And I really like the flow of the lines framing her on this panel. It’s just so fluid and swirly.

Holy mother of- that is a lot of birds. Way to go, Iskander! OH. Was he...maybe dropping his container of meat to attract the other birds? It seemed that he was dropping it off near a tent earlier.

Mahmut is a summoner of birds. That would be his special power in a fantasy land.

And this is actually really fucking terrifying. More terrifying than just Iskander coming at you with claws outstretched. Apparently the largest of the golden eagle species can have a claw on each foot that is only a tiiiny bit shorter than that of the harpy eagle (the largest eagle in the world, and a deadly thing that can carry deer into tree branches and can easily cut you to the bone). Female golden eagles can be the size of a man’s torso. So, WOW.

And now we get smug Mahmut! God, this kid’s expressions.

This is a massive page (I think it’s a 2-pager actually). Just...drawing all that detail. The cover coming off (with those stripes), the frame of the tent, the birds, the people and all the supplies that formed a wall around them.

Oh.

OH. Not so high and mighty now, are we.

YES. SAVED BY A DANCER AND A BIRD.

Methinks you owe Iskander some meat. What a good birdie.

I’m surprised you can move that arm of yours, though.

BUT. I have not forgotten Zaganos, who is preparing to use some very deadly concoctions. Oh, never mind! They got the message to him on time.

Very nice horse. I like the tassels it’s decked out in.

lol She’s great. Got a passed out/dead guy right next to her too.

“All the troops were drunk at the time or something.” Better than knowing you were outsmarted by a kid, a dancer, and a bird right.

His faces are...haha and he even has a hand on one hip. *pokepoke*

We don’t know much about them yet, but these two are rather fun. ‘Killed by falling rocks’...Ok...

OH YEAH. EYEPATCH DUDE. HE’S STILL THERE.

So, falconers usually use a whistle to call their bird back to them, but it looks like Mahmut uses his for other purposes.

Like smacking swords out of people’s hands. What happened to his club sword?

It also has the little wing symbol on it. Actually, is it a whistle? I can’t really remember if it was ever mentioned anywhere that it was. I just assumed.

Ooh, this battle is not over yet. Man, Mahmut is tough. He was still able to fling that thing around with his injured shoulder. Adrenaline is a godsend.

Very nice. You can see a bit of blood (!! he really needs to get that treated) and it seems he let the sword fly out of his grasp on purpose to-

Choke him, apparently, nice.

But the question is: What would Mahmut have done in if he was in Ibrahim’s situation? Interesting. He’s talking about how he is helping Ibrahim out, not based on his actions here, but because they’re friends.

WELL, you certainly got back at him. Is he dead? And what happened to Eleanor after she got carried off by the birds? Are they both dead.

Anyway, I’M SO GLAD THIS DIDN’T END IN TRAGEDY. I still have 17 more volumes to go for that to potentially happen!

Iskandeeerrr I like his little jesses. Iskander is half the reason I’m looking forward to the anime.

Btw, you owe him some meat, Mahmut.

They cleaned this up for the digital release (it was originally spread across 2 pages and thus a little awkwardly split up).

STOP. You’re not allowed to make me cry this early in the series. (kidding, I don’t cry easily, but damn. That was a great ending to this arc.)

...What is with your expression, Iskander.

That is the look of a bird that has seen some shit. My cat makes the same expression sometimes for no good reason.

The credits page is a nice touch. You usually don’t get one like this. I love Mahmut petting Iskander up there in the corner. Birds like to be scratched, too!

...Though Zaganos has this, like, Medusa hair going on. Does it get worse without the hat?

AND THAT’S THE END. DAMN was that an emotional rollercoaster.

← back・onward →

#shoukoku no altair #the very long altair liveblog #image heavy post #long post #i don't want to edit this ever again #just endless scrolling to the bottom #altair vol 1

5 notes · View notes

fullmoonfireball · 7 years

Text

OC Recap-thingy???

hecc i put this off for too long

i dont really know what that anon meant when they requested this, but i hope this’ll do (readmore bc this is gonna be Long)

Crinoline Parisa

Ribbon’s mom

where’s her husband??? we just dont know

she’s doing her Best™ to be a good mom to Ribb

Lace Parisa

Mirror World!Ribbon

an edgy lil shit

very grumpy

why have i never posted a coloured pic of her

Shadeleine Walsh

Mirror World!Adeleine

Probably the OC I fiddle the most with.

She has a really strong Texan accent for some reason??? I don't know why I gave her it

Takes magic lessons from Wiz( that magician guy that no one seems to remember/care about?). As it turns out, their brand of magic is not anything she can pull off.

Works as their assistant sometimes... Even if it can be slightly terrifying because of their methods (their magic lets them make the tricks a bit more than just illusions). Shaddy has gotten cut in half (or more parts) more times than she cares to count.

Actually more interested in drama, but she's taken what she got.

She's good friends with Shadow Kirby! They hang out a lot!

Her name used to be Shado. And yes, that IS pronounced the way it looks like it is. She hated it.

Owns an oversized magenta sweater and wears it at ever chance she gets. Wiz hates it.

there wasn’t originally another character in this picture what are you talking about

Shadow Marx (left)

Mirror World!Marx (no duh)

Mild insomniac. He hates it.

Just wants to sleep, like any other noddy.

Dating Mirror Magolor

May or may not have kept him up with his late-night thoughts a few times.

Syzzle (right)

Mirror World!Gryll

Doesn't care about Star Stacker (or any similar game) in the slightest.

A complete NERD

Probably owns a library or something

Theatra (left)

Mirror World!Claycia

Complete drama queen

Which is good, because she's an actress.

Gay as hell for Shadow Elline

she’s supposed to have horns like Claycia, but I forgot them in this picture

Shadow Elline (right)

Mirror World!Elline (what a shock)

An inkbrush fairy-thing

Writes most (if not all) of Theatra's stuff

Gay as hell for Theatra

the ‘straight man’ of the duo, despite being neither straight nor a man

Mirror Magolor

Mirror World!Magolor (obviously)

An anxious little negg (nerd egg)

A cinnamon roll (unlike his counterpart)

Protect him

Knows nothing about where he came from

Dating Shadow Marx

Slightly annoyed by how much he keeps him up. But he stops rambling... eventually.

More info on him can be found here

Rose Symyva (left) and Violet Larivi (right)

They're married

Rose is pretty chill, Vi's a bit more eccentric.

Don't insult Violet unless you want to face Rose's wrath (which you don't).

I don't know much about them yet, they're mostly just designs.

Typhiste Nirymsu

DEAD (GOOD RIDDANCE)

He was An Ass

Dated Magolor at one point.

Used to be a prince (now he's just dead)

LEMME SMASH

Echo

Also dead, but less so.

Died from electrocution.

Doesn't remember anything about her life, which distresses her.

When she was alive her name was Iris

Updated version of one of my first Kirby OCs

Niaviri Taysin

Also dead (for real this time)

A good little egg

Was a florist!

v gay with Odalania

Tislora Altryb

Mags’ mom

v sweet egg

maiden name is ‘Azaress’

was closer to her son than Aparctias was

idk what else to say about her

Aparctias Altryb

Mags’ dad

firm, but kind

taught the egg most of what he knows about magic out of family tradition

also got him started on learning English

Hynwari (left) and Sanfyria (right) Rimaddim

only exist in the Popa AU

super dead, even in the AU

both of them are Very Short (Sanfyria especially). they could make Meta Knight look like he’s average height

Popopo (the green half of Kirby)’s parents

she’s supposed to have speckles i just forgot them in the original pic

they were specifically targeted to be killed just so their son could be taken from them by Nightmare

Hazel Pesyphomia (left) and Amelia Evitheth-Pesyphomia (right)

MARRIED

Adopted a certain artist as their child.They love that noodle-orb a lot

Amy would absolutely fight you if you were to insult her wife or her kid.

Were honestly really scared the first time one off their kid's drawings came to life

Twila

You know her. She's the one with all of those scarfies.

Spoils those little beasts

Was actually supposed to be trained as a Spynum, not a Simirror, but was more interested in magic than archery.

Lives mostly-alone in the woods.

Amicia Tyopt

technically that’s not actually her in that picture but let’s look past that

as implied above, her body was stolen by sectonia (shown above)

idk anything about her personality yet tbh

Osgifu Amata

handmaiden moth, in more ways than one

worked for Sectonia Way Back When

deceased

Eglantine Cujoi

Into™ gals

first body stolen by Sectonia

deceased in both body and mind

Kimiko

anime-verse oc

demon beast

just read this it’s got all you’ll need to know about her

Jordan (the one with the spear) and Coral (on top of Jordan)

BWD's siblings

Jordan is their older brother, Coral their younger sister.

He works as one of Dedede's guards. She's too young to work.

Jordan's a little jealous about Taylor (BWD) outranking him, but he's proud of them at the same time.Coral is a little ball of energy.

They were the other Waddle Dees in Dream Collection's intro, and the sleeping Dees with the eye implants next to Bandanna Dee in Robobot( in the modern train level I think?).

Odalania

Dead

Really freaking good at magic

Lean Bean

Worked for Typhiste's family

Gay™ with Niaviri

also has a casual clothes ref

Magolor (not that one)

yes, every other time ‘Magolor’ has been mentioned I was referring to canon one. i call this one Old Magolor/Classic Magolor/etc. for simplicity

this is who canon mags named himself after

Old and Dead

one of the lor’s previous captains

lorlor

Cymboria Taysin

niaviri’s younger sister

she’s the bigger one

very sweet

good at magic

likes to travel

often brings foreign flowers back to nia!

Morastrum Altryb/Nirymsu

doesnt exist in the mainverse

a Good Lil Girl

... even if her dads (mags and ty) are both Asses

last name depends on if Typhiste is alive or not

likes sweet foods

Myrdinia

mirror world!drawcia

an automaton made by wiz

speech has a Low Quality Garble

incredibly bitter over the loss of her sister

always has at least 5 throwing knives on her

Glorious Nebula

really old

their language shows their age

how are they still functioning

no one’s really sure how they lost that quarter of their face

used to have one of those shooting star decorations, but it got broken off at some point i totally didnt just forget it

??? (left)

old and dead

one of the ancients

married to garulin, was very happy with her

probably worked a lot on the clockwork stars, but did help with other artifacts as well

pleasant guy, but not really anything special if you ignore his place in history

Drusorig (middle)

also old and dead

another one of the ancients

i don’t have a proper ref for him, but there is this

he has dark fur, for all that matters

i dont trust him

very strong magic

the master crown was his own personal project

he didn’t trust anyone else with it so i think you can imagine who the subject of his experiments with it was.

destroyed most of the evidence of his experiments before his death so no one would know about them

it worked

Volzavair (right)

also also old and dead

guess who’s also one of the ancients (it’s him)

actually has a proper ref

SHORT

gay, but ended up marrying a woman out of convenience and desire for offspring

relatively weak magic, specialized in technology

worked on the Lor Starcutter, but died before it was completed

his oldest kid probably finished it

Kyneriun Snekell

press ‘f’ to pay respects

sweet pastel boy

loves baking

a little younger than magolor

Dalindia Nirymsu

dead

was queen regnant

could be a pretty strict ruler, but tried to be a just ruler

her husband is dead(er?)

ty’s mom

tried to keep him in line

Tiltaii

i’m not even sure if that should be their name but i’ll just... roll with it

theyre nonbinary

a literal doodlebug (pillbug artist)

painted these portraits

doesnt have any magical abilities unless floating their hands counts

bought Paintra from Paint Roller, and was... pretty surprised, to say the least when she suddenly came to life

regardless of their surprise, they’re trying to take good care of her

???

a honey bee

runs a cafe

very polite, but not a pushover

more or less a design with a few ideas attached at this point

Garulin

married to the unnamed green ancient

technically one of the ancients but not commonly acknowledged as one

pretty good at magic

mostly worked with the artifacts’ ‘mind’s, both through programming and magic

Shadow Sectonia

mirror world!sectonia (what a shock)

floralian jewel wasp

accidentally ended up corrupting other world!sectonia by having too much contact with her

naturally a wasp. hasn’t stolen anyone’s body

she’s too nice to do that

dead. actually got murdered around the same time her counterpart died

spoilery elements below (don’t worry he’s the last OC here)

Shadow Taranza

mirror world!taranza (who would’ve guessed)

overly-loyal

like, ‘would unhesitatingly die for someone he cares about’ kind of loyal

nervous mess, even before Sectonia died. that only worsened things

he’s not okay

#there's a lot of old art here so #youre welcome for that i guess??#idk i dont want to look at it either #Vesper's OCs #LONG POST #save #ref #maybe i'll update this one day #probably not #lmao theres actually a few that are missing because ive never posted anything about them here #or anywhere #i dont expect anyone to go through all of this because of how ridiculously long it is but Congrats if you do

7 notes · View notes

ma-ng · 7 years

Text

come back for me (iv)

chapters: i. , ii. , iii. , iv. , v.

ao3 link for those who prefer

ah, i'm sorry this took so long!! visiting unis and their cities is a lot more draining than you think it is. and i'm also sorry this chapter is a little shorter than the others but there's a reason for that!! i have an idea about the next chapter that will hopefully make up for this one's length... and it also introduces on of my biases so. soon i'll have two biases in this story to play around with lmao.

i hope you enjoy!!

iv. lost

everything considered, taehyung feels very icky right now.

he’s made a new friend, though, and even been taken to seokjin’s room — he has a bunkbed! it’s so cool! — to look at all the books and toys he has that he decided wouldn’t be taken to the living room. and the toys are all cool, taehyung loves every single one of them. he’s not jealous, because there’s a lot here and he feels just a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things at his fingertips. figuratively. because they’re still seokjin’s.

after telling taehyung that he can sleep in the bottom bunk tonight if he wants — because seokjin takes turns sleeping in both bunks, and right now it’s the week of sleeping in the top bunk. taehyung doesn’t question it, because it makes sense. if he had two beds, he’d take turns sleeping in each of them — they grab a colouring book each after much deliberation and make two trips each to bring down to the living room every single one of seokjin’s colours. he has a lot, taehyung sees. he has feltip pens, and crayons, and pencils, and paints. but they don’t bring the paints down, because seokjin says that you can see them on the other side of the page and it ruins in the picture on the other side.

and now, taehyung is sitting on the floor, shoulders slumped and hand holding a half-scrunched up tissue, just watching seokjin as the six-year-old purses his lips in concentration, making sure every mark of the pink coloured pencil stays within the lines. he thinks his mouth might be hanging open a little as he just stares, because seokjin looks up and takes his tissue from his hand to wipe at his chin.

“don’t drool,” seokjin says, scrunching up the tissue in his little hand and then clumsily wiping at taehyung’s nose, too, for good measure. “you need to swallow drool. staying highd— hid— water is important, taehyungie.”

taehyung blinks but obediently closes his mouth, trying to take the tissue from seokjin so he can stuff it in his pocket where he’s keeping all the tissues he’s been using, but his new friend is stubborn. “okay, hyung.”

“give me all your tissues,” seokjin says.

he then reaches for taehyung’s pocket at the same time the five-year-old does, pulling out any tissues he can reach. two minutes later, seokjin has toddled to the kitchen with snotty tissues in his hands to dump them in the bin and returned with a whole kitchen roll that he had to stand on his tiptoes and almost scale the kitchen to get.

seokjin resumes his colouring after he sits down and gives taehyung the kitchen roll, who feels very content to just sit there, sniffling every few minutes, cuddling the kitchen roll to his chest. the older boy doesn’t take much notice until he’s finished colouring two more petals of the flower carefully, not a single bit of colour outside of the lines.

the six-year-old blinks. “are you not going to colour in?”

taehyung blinks, too, and looks down at the colouring book he’d picked out as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “um.”

seokjin grabs an orange pencil and holds it out to taehyung. when he gets more of a blank stare, he insists by giving his little fist a small shake. “you’re orange. you should take it.”

“I’m orange?”

the older boy nods. “you look like orange to me. happy and warm.”

taehyung doesn’t say anything when he unwraps one of his arms from the kitchen roll so he can take the orange pencil, looking from it to back up at his new friend’s face. seokjin looks very proud of himself, a triumphant smile on his face, and grabs the pink pencil once more to finish his flower. taehyung watches him again, focusing on how the pink never really strays from the black lines and all he can think is that seokjin must have had a lot of practice.

his attention is slowly drawn from his friend’s colouring to the pencil in his own small fist, and something like determination grows in him. he shuffles closer to his colouring book and opens it gently. it isn’t his book, so he needs to be careful. it’s seokjin’s book, and seokjin wouldn’t want him to bend any of the pages. he likes seokjin, so he likes seokjin’s stuff.

there are a few pictures that have already been coloured in, and they range from very neat to a little messier, but taehyung is sure that the practice has paid off. because seokjin is very good now. he finds a picture of three children happily dancing together and decides that the girl’s hair is going to be orange after much deliberation. cuddling with the kitchen roll proves to be hard as he goes a little outside of the lines so he very gently places it next to him.

the two boys sit in silence as they colour. taehyung takes longer than seokjin does, if only because he’s very careful with which colours he wants to pick out and put where. colouring is hard, when you’re trying to be neat and follow in your friend’s footsteps. but he tries his best, chewing gently on his tongue and trapping his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration as he goes. when the two of them finish, seokjin’s is still neater than taehyung’s, but the six-year-old gasps when he spies taehyung’s.

“that one looks like me!” he whisper-yells, pointing a chubby finger at the boy on the right.

taehyung smiles shyly, because he may or may not have coloured the boy in to look like seokjin, even going so far as to crudely draw the anchor his friend has on his t-shirt. “it is you.”

“and this one’s you!” seokjin says, pointing to the other boy in the picture. he looks at taehyung with a wide grin and wraps his arms around his friend. “this is so cool!”

taehyung beams, smile turning box-like and scrunching his eyes up. seokjin smiles back until he notices the five-year-old’s nose running and tuts, grabbing the kitchen roll clumsily and patting at taehyung’s nose with maybe a little more force than was necessary, but at six years, he still hasn’t quite learned what smooth is.

when seokjin has set the scrunched up bit of kitchen roll aside, he notices the girl in the picture and jabs a finger at her. “who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” taehyung says, staring down at the girl with his friend. he shrugs jerkily, reaching for his kitchen roll and hugging it to his chest once more. “but— but I made her orange.”

his new friend nods sagely. “she does look happy. you even made her cheeks red!”

he gets another hug for his attention to detail and taehyung is beginning to think that maybe his own cheeks are starting to turn a little red. but instead, he manages to convince seokjin to colour one more drawing — a drawing that taehyung is going to pick out — while he watches from the sidelines contentedly. and it’s all going smoothly, the five-year-old flicking carefully through both books they’ve brought down to try and find something for seokjin to colour in when he comes across the portrait of a family.

there’s a mother and a father with two sons, huddling together with big smiles on their faces as they just fit in the drawn frame. it’s been designed to look like it’s hanging on a wall, with a hideous wallpaper print behind it. but taehyung focuses on the way the parents are leaning against each other, happily cuddling a child close each.

before he knows what’s happening, his face has scrunched up and he’s trying very hard not to cry loudly.

seokjin, for his credit, looks alarmed at the sight of his new friend crying on the living room floor. he pushes his colours out the way to get closer to taehyung and gently tugs on his shoulder. “taehyungie?”

the five-year-old stubbornly keeps his head bowed but his shoulders are shaking. his whole body’s trembling and he doesn’t really know that seokjin has left, running into the kitchen to try and find the adults until there’s a large hand on his back — way too big to be seokjin’s — and the colouring book is being gently eased out of his grip.

“hey,” jinyoung says softly, and he’s sitting next to taehyung. he’s rubbing up and down the kid’s back and it looks like he’s trying to see his face. “taehyung-ah, what’s wrong?”

taehyung continues to stubbornly not look at jinyoung’s face, but this time shakes his head and tries to curl himself up in a ball. and jinyoung lets him. the hand doesn’t stop rubbing at his back, and it’s soothing and somehow just ends up making taehyung feel worse until he lets out the first sob of the night. it startles seokjin, who taehyung can hear talking to yugyeom a little bit away, but jinyoung doesn’t say anything. instead, he pulls the small boy into his lap and cuddles him close to his chest.

taehyung’s not really sure why people are stubborn when they’re crying and someone’s finally holding them. or, you know, making an effort to cheer them up in general. he had quite a few friends when he was still at home that yelled when they cried because they didn’t want people to see them like that. he’s always thought it was stupid. and he reasons with himself that the only reason he didn’t want seokjin and jinyoung to see him earlier was because he thought he could not burst into tears. apparently he was wrong.

the small medium turns his head and fists jinyoung’s shirt after wrapping his arms around his neck. there’s a hand cradling the back of his head and an arm around his waist and he feels tiny. he feels tiny and safe and doesn’t care that he’s crying any more. because jinyoung is murmuring to him quietly and he’s not asking what’s scared taehyung into crying any more, instead he’s just telling him that it’s okay, everything’s fine, hyungie’s here and so is yugyeomie and seokjinie, you’re safe, we’ve all got you, just let it out.

as a five-year-old, he doesn’t really have a good grasp on how time works yet, so when it feels like he’s been crying for forever, he thinks he’s been crying for forever. his nose is in a weird state of running too much and blocked so heavily that the bridge between his eyes hurts and threatens to give him a headache. but he slowly pulls back and sits, slumped, in jinyoung’s lap while the dream weaver gently cleans his face with kitchen roll.

“are you okay, taehyung?” jinyoung asks softly, one hand cupping the boy’s chin so he doesn’t turn his head away as he gently pinches his nose with kitchen roll. “blow.”

taehyung blows as hard as he can and waits until his nose and upper lip are snot free to speak. “I miss mummy and daddy.”

the five-year-old timidly chews on his tongue when he spies the conflicted emotions running over jinyoung’s face. and he feels bad. he feels bad because jinyoung has been real nice to him since he’s been here, and he’s made everything fun and he’s now got new friends! he has new friends because of jinyoung. and he’s managed to sleep when he’s scared because of jinyoung. so he feels bad, because he thinks saying something like that makes him seem like he doesn’t appreciate jinyoung. which he does.

“I see,” jinyoung says, and he looks sad. he looks sad and taehyung panics, because this is his fault. it’s his fault for missing family—

“I-I don’t love them!” he says quickly, and if his throat wasn’t sore and his nose blocked, he’s sure that he would probably have shouted. jinyoung looks confused now, and taehyung brings his hands away from where they’d fisted the back of the adult’s shirt to tug at his own fingers. “I mean… I miss them! I don’t…”

the dream weaver holds his sides gently and gives him a squeeze. “hey. hey, taehyung-ah.” he doesn’t say anything else, and the five-year-old feels even guiltier when he locks eyes with his foster dad. “it’s okay to miss your family, alright? and it’s okay not to love them. or to love them. or to not miss them. it’s alright. don’t feel like you should be doing anything, okay?”

taehyung chews on his bottom lip and curls one hand around two of his fingers uncertainly. he gives a small, jerky nod, and he must not look relieved at all because jinyoung hugs him close again. the hand on his back returns and he shuffles until he can lean press himself against the man, making himself as small as possible.

seokjin slowly walks over and walks around the two until he can sit on the floor of the side that taehyung’s facing. the five-year-old says nothing, just sniffs, and takes his friend’s hand when it’s offered. the six-year-old has to shuffle closer on his bottom until his little knees are pressing against jinyoung’s thigh, but he refuses to let go. the grip on taehyung’s hand almost hurts, but he doesn’t let go, either. this is the first friend that has seen him cry and stayed with him through it. seokjin went and got jinyoung.

“taehyungie,” seokjin says quietly, and taehyung blinks. “we can be family, right?”

taehyung blinks again. “huh?”

“we can be brothers,” seokjin says, and he says it with more confidence this time, going so far as to nod and shake their joined hands. “you can be my little brother and I can be your older brother.”

the five-year-old stares, eyes wide. he looks down at their hands, then back up at seokjin’s face. “but— but you’re hyung. already.”

the other boy nods fiercely. “I can be family hyung, right? I want to be family hyung.”

“family hyung…”

jinyoung’s grip on taehyung has loosened enough for him to have his arms looped lazily around the small boy, back resting against the sofa. he’s watching the two of them closely, taehyung finds out, when he turns his head to look at the adult. he sees nothing other than an incredibly soft smile on jinyoung’s face.

so he turns back to seokjin with a smile of his own, pushing on jinyoung’s chest so he can sit up straight. “you can be family hyung.”

seokjin beams at him and eagerly accepts the hug taehyung gives him.

although for the rest of the day taehyung doesn’t smile as much as he usually does, and there’s this uncertain air around the five-year-old that has jinyoung wondering whether taehyung knows or suspects that his parents don’t want him or not, seokjin doesn’t let go of his hand for as long as he can, doing whatever they’re doing, and it makes jinyoung’s heart feel heavy in his chest and so very present in his body he’s amazed he doesn’t have a bruise. the six-year-old has taken such a quick liking to taehyung, making an effort to ask taehyung for his opinion before they do anything and telling silly jokes that only the two kids find funny.

it continues on until yugyeom and jinyoung have to put the two youngsters to bed, making sure they brush their teeth properly and get changed without too many distractions. which is still amazing, even with a sick and down taehyung. with a promise of sleeping after being read a bedtime story, jinyoung and yugyeom close the bathroom door behind them and wander over to the kitchen.

“so,” yugyeom starts, pulling the fridge open and letting his eyes roam over the items on the shelves as if he’d never seen the inside of his own fridge before. “what’s consuming your every thought this time?”

jinyoung freezes where he’s leaning against the counter, blinking once in the direction of his youngest friend. “excuse me?”

the other waves a hand at him lazily. “you have that look on your face that you only get when you’re getting too far stuck in your own head.” yugyeom sends a look over his shoulder. “you in the mood for some wine?”

jinyoung stares, lips parted and mouth ever so slightly open before he shrugs exaggeratedly and rubs at his face. “yeah, wine would be good.”

the two of them stand in silence as yugyeom pulls an already opened bottle of red wine out of the fridge and two wine glasses from a cupboard off to the side, close to the sink. jinyoung takes the glass offered to him moments later and nurses it close to his chest, eyes unfocused while staring aimlessly at the handle of a lower cupboard. or, at least, he had been staring at it until his mind started wandering down path after path.

a hand on his shoulder makes his jump, wine dangerously close to sloshing over the rim of his glass and staining his shirt. staring at yugyeom’s face, the first thing he notices is the already redder tint to the man’s lips that give away the mouthful of wine he’s already had. yugyeom says, “let’s sit in the living room, yeah?”

jinyoung nods and doesn’t comment on yugyeom swiping the bottle before they leave the kitchen.

he sinks down on the sofa, letting himself slide down until he’s slouching and dangerously close to spilling his red wine all over himself. he must look distraught, because for once yugyeom says nothing nor takes his wine away from him, just sits a foot away and leans back, taking another mouthful himself.

and jinyoung’s thinking about taehyung, and how horrible it must be to be five and see ghosts but not be able to talk to his parents about it. he’s thinking about telling taehyung that his parents don’t want him anymore, and he can feel the anxiety start to rise in his chest, clawing slowly at his throat and sucking every bit of moisture out of his mouth. a childish part of him doesn’t want to have to tell him, would much rather keep his mouth shut on the topic.

and then, jinyoung’s thinking about telling this to yugyeom; about expressing his problems to the young witch while the two of them are lounging on the sofa, with red wine in glasses and stains on their lips. he snorts. he snorts again when yugyeom looks over and laughs quietly, lazily, into his hand as he rubs his face yet again.

“you okay, hyung?” yugyeom mutters.

cupping his own cheek, jinyoung traces the outline of his friend’s tv with his eyes. “I will be. I guess.”

“you know,” the taller of the two says and he shifts his position so he can face jinyoung better, “it was going to be hard no matter what. foster care. and you knew that.”

“I knew that,” jinyoung repeats distractedly into his wine glass.

“we talked a lot about it, do you remember? those times you didn’t think you could do it because of what that meant telling the child. and it’s not an easy thing to do.” yugyeom shuffles closer until his knee is pressing into jinyoung’s outer thigh, and it’s unusually comforting. “nobody finds it easy to tell a child why they’re not with their biological parents. but it’s not like you raising them is going to make it worse.”

the dream weaver stares at his friend’s face deeply, lips pursed around glass. he parts them enough to take a small mouthful and then pushes himself up to sit properly. he swallows and rests his hands in his lap, eyes now on the burgundy of the alcohol.

“hyung,” the hedge witch murmurs, tilting his head a little. “you took me in when I first came here, remember? you practically raised me—”

“everyone else pitched in, too,” jinyoung interrupts.

“bammie’s my age, jaebum wasn’t in the picture for a few years, and youngjae kept popping in and out.” yugyeom pokes jinyoung’s arm, and keeps poking until the two of them lock eyes. “you and mark were the only two who were a complete and utter constant that acted like any kind of parental figure for me for years. and even then, mark wasn’t very sure, and he was easily persuaded by jackson.”

jinyoung’s voice is small when he says, “jackson means well.”

the other nods. “yeah, he does. he always means well. but that doesn’t always make for a good growing up environment, does it?”

“what are you getting at, yugyeom.”

the younger witch doesn’t comment on the exhaustion that’s crept into his voice, and it’s a nice move, really, it is. because jinyoung doesn’t think he’d be able to try and pretend that today hasn’t drained a lot of his stored up energy. instead, there are fingers combing through his hair gently, pads of fingers and edges of nails scratching gently at his scalp and he feels his eyes close without consent. but he trusts yugyeom, so it’s okay.

“I’m me mostly from what you did in the last few years,” yugyeom continues, and he’s speaking quietly, murmuring really. jinyoung can feel his warm breath on his cheek and his body relaxes further. “you helped me accept that having differing opinions from your parents is okay, that growing up sometimes meant fucking up, and that not every mistake is as big as we make them out to be.”

“is that all I’m good for,” jinyoung snorts, a small curl to his lips, “life lessons?”

the fingers in his hair move until they’re accompanied by a palm and suddenly yugyeom’s cupping the back of his head gently. “among other things, but that’s your main job.”

jinyoung grins and slaps his friend’s thigh, letting his hand rest there and follow the curve of it afterwards. the two sit in silence like that, the dream weaver with his eyes still closed and yugyeom most probably tracing jinyoung’s profile as he is want to do with all his friends in close proximity. the wine in the glasses is topped up whenever it’s running low and positions are changed until by the end of the night, the bottle is empty except for an inch of burgundy liquid and the two witches are curled up together on one end of the sofa, unconscious.

in order to be fair, we have to say that it is rather difficult to identify what is normal. for a lot of people, normal would be going to work at an office, or a university, or in a coffee shop. normal would be aching feet after being on them all day, or finally sitting down to a lunch they’ve been waiting for every day that week. and for some of those people, normal is routine, and for some of those people, normal is getting on a plane every other week to explore a new country or new city of the same country.

for a smaller group of people, normal is pets that see into other dimensions, taking care of plants that talk or play with children, suddenly finding a grimoire that most certainly isn’t there’s lodged behind their bookcase. if you think down to it, normal is what happened to jinyoung and taehyung last night; there was an unwanted guest staying in their home and they had to evacuate in order for a close friend to deal with it. honestly, to be fair, it wasn’t much more than an inconvenience to have to find somewhere else to stay while the whole ordeal went down.

if jinyoung would spare a thought, he’d think about how un-normal his whole evening had been to anyone from the first sector. it would be difficult to tell a human friend about the annoyance of needing to room somewhere else because someone who died forty years ago, or three hundred, as sometimes the case may be, decided that they wanted to be a stubborn bastard and witness the world change after their time was up.

so, realistically, the four of them — jinyoung, yugyeom, seokjin and taehyung — getting stopped by a woman dressed in black clothing that hasn’t been seen for at least a century, veil covering her face, could be considered normal, too. in one world or another.

“you can help me,” the woman says.

jinyoung blinks as she stares at each of them expectantly, her hands clasped in front of her at chest level. there are glittering jewels on her fingers, surrounded by silver, and her nails are long, too long, actually, and in dire need of a cut. jinyoung thinks he can see dirt clinging beneath him and it takes a physical effort not to show any kind of disgust towards this little detail. yugyeom’s hand feels suddenly warm and present on the small of his back and jinyoung has no doubt that he’s reached out with his other hand to pull the boys just a little closer.

“we can help you?” jinyoung says with a quizzical expression, squinting just a little in an effort to look beyond the woman’s veil to find some kind of identifying feature. he finds nothing, staring at what he can only describe as an almost pixelated face.

the woman steps closer, voice a conspiratorial whisper. “it’s my husband, you see. he’s not doing well. he suffers. and because he suffers, I suffer. my children suffer. but you can help me.”

the crowd in the street doesn’t show any signs of noticing what’s going on, parting around the small group and not sparing them more glances than you would expect of nosy pedestrians who don’t actually have the time to eavesdrop properly. and it’s only that nonchalance makes jinyoung think that the woman might not be as big of a threat as he thought originally. because even in a world where normal can be the inconvenience of having a non-benign ghost in your home, or suddenly having to take care of a small necromancer, or witnessing two of your closest friends suddenly get together seemingly out of nowhere, a woman approaching asking for help can’t be that weird.

but yugyeom shakes his head, the action firm and offering not an inch of negotiating. “we can’t help you. so now, if you’ll excuse us—”

“but you have to help me!” the woman insists, voice high-pitched and hissing, stepping in their way when they try to move around her. her veils jerks when she moves her head a little too quickly, nearly as if she’s trying to lock eyes with one of them. “nobody else understands, believes! he is suffering and I cannot take much more of it!”

“we can’t help you,” yugyeom repeats and he makes another move to push past her, guiding jinyoung in front of him and pulling the kids behind him, when the woman lets out and grabs jinyoung’s arm.

“ah—!”

he yanks it out of her grip and takes a step back in under a second, bumping into yugyeom but not caring, instead cradling his arm close to his chest. his nerves are still sparking, still tingling from where she’d touched him. it wasn’t a nice tingling, though, not the kind of tingling you get just before your foot goes numb. no. it was the tingling that flares up a single second after you touch something too hot and the full effect of burning your skin takes place.

yugyeom’s grip on jinyoung’s back changes, fingers now curling into the material of his jacket tightly. if jinyoung looked, he’s sure he’d see narrowed eyes and a set jaw that’s just shy of jaebum’s own expression of anger. but he doesn’t look, allows him to place his trust in yugyeom that he has got a good hold on the kids, because he doesn’t want to look away from the woman. the woman who’s still got her hand outstretched from where he yanked it away.

she looks pleading.

“guys!”

the familiarity shakes surprise through the two adult witches’ systems and they snap their attention over to a familiar body pushing his way through the crowd. kunpimook smiles at them wide and waves them over with a ringed hand, stopping ten feet away from them and not quite turned to face them all full on.

before jinyoung can even think, yugyeom is pushing him forward and he’s almost tripping over his own feet. but then kunpimook is there in front of him and he has a hold on the dream weaver’s upper arms and he’s still smiling.

“oh guys, i’m so glad i found you!” he says, gushes more like, as if he hadn’t seen the four of them just yesterday. his hands drop from jinyoung’s upper arms but he loops one of his little fingers with one of jinyoung’s. “i’ve been looking for you everywhere, i have news to share with you.”

the whole situation is way too peculiar, prickling at the dream weaver’s unease. he wants to ask, but he thinks better of it, thinks better of trying to ask outright why one of his oldest friends is acting completely out of it after such a weird interaction. so instead, he goes with, “what—”

“come on!” kunpimook interrupts, dragging him quickly away. and with their little fingers still interlocked, jinyoung doesn’t have much of a choice. his jumper pulls a little and settles at the base of his throat when he moves, reminding him that yugyeom still has a strong hold on the back of it.

kunpimook leads them down the street without stopping, only turning his head briefly from side to side when they come to to roads they need to cross, coming very close both times to getting them all run over if it wasn’t for the reflexes of the drivers, stopping just in time. it doesn’t stop them from getting beeped at, rude hand gestures and on one occasion, a handful of insults floating their way out of an open window. but kunpimook doesn’t address the drivers.

“you musn’t talk to people like that, jinyoung-hyung,” kunpimook says a little later once they’ve stopped. he turns to face them properly, eyes lingering on the eldest’s face. “i thought we taught you better.”

the dream weaver snorts freely and crosses his arms over his chest, levelling the other with a look. “you taught me. right.”

kunpimook raises his eyebrows. “what, do you think raising people is a one-sided thing?”

“of course not,” jinyoung snaps, shoulders rising to brush his earlobes as he huffs, shuffling a little on his feet. “I’d like to think I know a bit more about magic than you do.”

seokjin tugs on his brother’s jacket. “gyeomie-hyungie.”

kunpimook and jinyoung lock gazes and stand there for quiet seconds that include yugyeom pulling his brother closer and flickering his gazes between his friends. he sighs when nothing changes after fifteen seconds and chooses that moment to speak up.

“look, what’s happened has happened, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. so can we just move on. please?”

the dream weaver is the first to look away, changing his focus to their shoes. “what did she want, anyway?”

“that’s not important,” kunpimook says nonchalantly. he pushes himself up onto his toes to look over jinyoung’s shoulder at the crowds behind them, scanning them for any sign of the same woman in black. “what’s important is that you can finally learn from yugyeom for once, rather than following your own ideas.”

“what.”

seokjin tries once more, tugging on his brother’s sleeve, bottom lip wobbling. “gyeomie-hyungie.”

the heavily tattooed witch drops himself back onto the sole of his feet and gestures to his best friend’s face, his own expression screaming ‘duh’, “he didn’t give away any emotion other than go away, which in this situation, is a good thing. you already hung around her too long, but it was in open air, so you should be fine.”

jinyoung snaps his gaze between the two youngsters, his own for once clouding into confusion. “what are you two talking about?”

“hyung,” yugyeom says, hand cupping the back of his younger brother’s head gently. “when was the last time you hung around other creatures.”

the dream weaver’s lack of response is telling enough.

yugyeom raises his eyebrows at him and kunpimook shakes his head. “whatever, it doesn’t matter. what matters is the fact that none of you have been in close contact with her for very long, or in an enclosed space. so you can worry about a lesson later.”

“alright,” jinyoung says slowly, shoulders sloping down once more. “what did you have to tell us, anyway?”

“huh?” kunpimook blinks.

“you were screaming at us? said you’ve been looking for us? ring any bells?”

“oh!”

“gyeomie-hyungie!”

the sob makes the three adults jump in their spots, kunpimook close to having a heart attack and jinyoung inches away from punching someone in the teeth. the three of them ae a little more than perplexed when they look down to see a red-faced, snotty seokjin, tears briming his eyes as his little fists cling tightly onto the hem of yugyeom’s sleever.

“taehyungie’s gone!”

#mack writes #gotbang fic #got7 fic #bts fic #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #park jinyoung #kim yugyeom #kunpimook bhuwakul #foster care au #cbfm #cbfm fic

3 notes · View notes