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starlingflight · 3 years

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@thisismegz as requested, the missing scenes from Everything I Wanted of Ginny dealing with her guilt over how things went between her and Dean.

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The sun felt especially bright contrasted as it was by nearly a full day in the dungeons with no one but Snape for company. Harry savoured the way the light summer breeze tickled his uncovered arms and the way Ginny’s hand felt in his as they made their way out into the grounds.

It seemed the majority of Hogwarts’ population had decided to take advantage of the good weather, for the lawn beside the lake was crowded with huddles of students. Their usual tree was already taken by a noisy group of fourth-year girls and so Ginny led him to a free patch of grass not far from the lake's stony shore. She sat cross-legged on the ground, pulling Harry with her.

He went to position himself beside her but Ginny clearly had other ideas, she shuffled slightly, placing her hands on his shoulders and smoothly guided Harry’s head into her lap so that he was lying on the soft grass with Ginny above him, her fingers tracing lightly across his forehead.

“If your brother sees this he’s going to lose his mind,” Harry warned, though in truth he was finding it difficult to care. The headache that had been building behind his eyes, caused by a long day in the dark, stuffy dungeon was receding with every stroke of Ginny’s fingers over his skin.

Unsurprisingly, Ginny seemed to care even less about Ron’s reaction than Harry did. Her only response to his warning was to gently slide his glasses off and place them carefully on the grass beside them, making it easier for her fingers to trace the features of his face without obstruction.

Neither of them said anything for a while, Ginny was now little more than a blur of creamy skin and striking red hair above him. Eventually, Harry let his eyes slowly drift closed, revelling in the feel of her fingers on his face and the sweet, floral smell of her shampoo drifting to him on the summer breeze.

Snape became nought but a distant memory under Ginny’s careful attention and Harry was vaguely considering that there was a strong chance he was going to fall asleep, warm and content as he was, when Ginny broke the silence between them.

“I think I'm going to apologise to Dean," She declared.

It took Harry a moment to register what she’d said, his brain felt fuzzy from the heat. When his wits finally caught up with him, Harry almost asked her why but he immediately realised he didn’t need to.

He’d seen the guilt on Ginny’s face last night and he’d felt the same thing himself. They’d both admitted they’d been in denial about their feelings for each other for a while and maybe that was no one’s fault but it didn’t change the fact that Dean had been caught up in it.

“If I tell you I think it’s a bad idea are you going to think it’s because I’m jealous or threatened or something?”

Ginny's fingers were still stroking lightly across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, across his forehead and Harry found that it was almost impossible to feel jealous given his current situation.

“No,” She said mildly. “I’m going to ask you why you think that, though.”

He’d rather she didn’t but if Harry was being honest with himself, he knew her better than to expect Ginny to blindly accept what he was saying. “I’ve been in his position. I watched you with him for months, and I didn’t expect you to break up or begrudge either of you your happiness or anything but…”

Harry trailed off, still not used to telling anyone his deepest feelings and still not entirely comfortable with it.

"But?" Ginny prompted, one of her hands working its way up into Harry's hair, massaging his scalp. He felt himself relax immediately.

"But there isn't anything you could have said to me to make me feel better about the situation, to make me not want you."

Ginny's hands didn't stop their slow exploration of his hair for even a second. "It's not the same thing," She said without missing a beat.

"How isn't it?"

"It was never like this with Dean," Ginny unwound one of her hands from his hair in order to gesture between the two of them before quickly returning it, much to Harry's delight. "I was never this happy, not even at the start. The thing that you were waiting for is so much better than what Dean lost."

Secretly, Harry wholeheartedly disagreed with this. The thing that he'd been waiting for, the thing that Dean lost, was Ginny and there were no words on the planet that could ease the devastating blow that Harry already knew would come from ever losing her.

"You really want to talk to him?" Harry asked, knowing it was pointless to argue with her when she'd already made her mind up.

“I really do,” Ginny responded and Harry knew the matter was settled.

“Okay,” He agreed. “Did you want to go now?” He added reluctantly, he could quite happily stay in this spot for the rest of his life.

“No,” Ginny said quickly, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to get out of detention, you’re staying right where you are.”

Ginny and Dean did not cross paths for the rest of the weekend. Nor was he anywhere to be seen at breakfast or lunch on Monday. Ginny was beginning to strongly suspect that he was avoiding her when she quite literally walked into him on her way out of Ancient Runes on Monday afternoon.

“Sorry - oh!” Dean’s apologetic smile faltered as he took Ginny in.

“I’ve been looking for you!” Ginny said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, though Dean still didn’t look cheered at her pronouncement.

“Er, have you?”

“Yeah, do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously in a way that made Ginny’s heart sink. They’d been friends for years, they’d been close since the first D.A. meeting and now the two of them had reached a point where the prospect of holding a conversation was enough to set Dean on edge.

“It’ll be really quick, I promise.” Ginny tried again, hoping her face held as much sincerity as she currently felt.

“Alright,” Dean said reluctantly, gesturing for Ginny to lead the way.

There was a low wooden bench halfway down the corridor, under a row of mullioned windows which revealed the sweeping vistas of the Hogwarts grounds and the lake. If nothing else, at least the view would be pleasant.

Ginny took a seat on the bench and Dean followed her lead; she couldn’t help but note he was sitting as far away from her as physically possible. One good shove and he’d topple over onto the castle’s stone floor.

“How have you been?” She began cautiously.

“Fine,” Dean responded. Ginny raised a sceptical eyebrow. Dean had always been forthcoming with his feelings, one-word answers weren’t his style at all. “I’ve been good, Ginny. I’ve been working on my art - I’ve had a lot of emotion to channel into my drawings, I think I’ve got some really good ones for my portfolio.”

Ginny nodded, trying not to think too hard about what emotions Dean may have been using to fuel his creative pursuits. “You were always very talented.”

It was Dean’s turn to raise a dubious eyebrow at Ginny now. “Is that what you wanted to say to me? You like my drawings?”

“No, I wanted to apologise,” She said slowly, half-expecting Dean to shut her down before she’d explained herself. When he said nothing, but continued to look at her expectantly Ginny took a deep breath before continuing. “I should have ended things between us long before I did. I knew your feelings were stronger than mine and I shouldn’t have kept stringing you along.”

Dean listened patiently as Ginny spoke, but he began to shake his head in disagreement as she finished. “That wasn’t what bothered me. It was that I could clearly see where things were going between the two of you, but you were so adamant that I was seeing things that weren’t there. It was frustrating.”

Ginny began to fiddle nervously with the ends of her hair, slipping the long strands between the ends of her fingers. “You’re right,” She said quietly, looking not at Dean but out of the window where she could just make out the Giant Squid’s tentacles rising out of the water in the distance. “I know it probably doesn’t help, but I hope you know I wasn’t lying to you on purpose - I really believed our banter and joking was innocent, it was unbelievable to me that Harry might actually have liked me.”

Dean made a noise halfway between a snort and a chuckle; Ginny looked back from the window to find that he was smiling at her. “Of course he liked you, have you seen you?”

“Stop it!” Ginny exclaimed, reaching out and shoving Dean lightly enough that he didn’t fall off the bench as she’d been worried he might earlier. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!”

“You stop it!” Dean argued through a laugh. “Serious conversations don’t suit you at all!”

Ginny grinned, it had been so long since they’d joked with one another. Even in the weeks before they’d broken up all they’d done was argue. “Does that mean we can be friends?”

“Honestly, I think friends will suit us better than a relationship ever did,” Dean said sincerely. “No offence, but I didn’t find the constant fighting particularly enjoyable and I don’t think you did either.”

Ginny chose not to answer, there was no point in going over their old fights now. When she looked back on her time with Dean it was as though she was remembering something from a different lifetime. Instead, she pushed herself up from the bench and waited for Dean to join her. “Come on, let’s go and set the Hogwarts rumour mill alight by walking into dinner together.”

Dean fell into step beside Ginny without protest, the cautious, guarded look that had been upon his face at the beginning of the conversation was no longer in sight.

#hinny #harry x ginny #dean thomas #hp fanfic #hbp missing moment

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hellyeahheroes · 3 years

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Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

#dc #robin #damian wayne #batman and robin #batman #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #batgirl #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #batfamily

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lilypixels · 3 years

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Izzy’s Dag-Dag The Artist… Tag

By @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

~ Rules ~

Show us a rendition of yourself in your own art! Can be anything! Sims render? Random stick figure? Picrew? Go nuts! (Just be sure to tag the artist if you use someone else’s picrew!!!!) Tag the blogs you want to know, and don’t be a dick that’s it! Also, feel free to answer as vague or in-depth as you want. And if you don’t want to answer a question for any reason just don’t vibe with it! Skip it if you wanna! Also make sure you tag me and use #dagdagtheartisttag so I can see it!!!!!!!!

This is a bit long so i’m just gonna...

~Questions~

1.) Do you prefer to be referred to by your name or blog name? Both are fine! I don’t care much about what people refer to me as in general and have had someone on here call me lily once

2.) Where are you from? I won’t say exact, but I live in the middle of USA (I can’t wait to move-)

3.) Do you have pets? 👀 Yes! 3 dogs and 2 cats, tho only one cat is truly “mine”

4.) Tell us about your “dream”. uhh like where I want to be in life? what I want to do? um I’m still working on the exact job title, but I wish to do research at a natural history/science museum (sorta like archives or collections manager, but neither of those are quite right i think). Otherwise, I just hope to adopt and even foster kids cause my life would not be complete without little ones :3 (spouse/partner optional lol)

5.) Aside from art, what are your hobbies? Randomly researching things that grasp my attention, games...lots of games, reading, watching tv, coloring (wait does that count as art-), uhhh spacing out

6. )Does anyone irl know about your blog? yeah, but mostly just know about, not like see my posts i guess

7.)Do you know anyone from your blog irl? not outside of just chatting on discord

8.) What are some fun facts about you? I’ve had some poems published before (it was with entering a poetry contest), I have surprisingly good balance, my brain is not properly awake/functioning until 10am which has led to me almost using soap as toothpaste a few times too many, I have a birthmark on my finger (bonus: it sorta changes color/how noticeable it is depending on how hot or cold I am lol, i call it a mini thermometer cause of this), apparently Lion King was my Disney movie obsession as a kid...oh and I have a certificate in cryptozoology lolz

9.) What’s your day job? i work as a private nanny/glorified babysitter (i don’t live with them or drive but work regular hours through week and as needed; even join the occasional vacation with them)

10.) Do you have a celebrity look alike? i don’t think so; a girl in high school once said I look like Cameron Diaz tho-

11.) What’s your aesthetic? for my blog I think it’s becoming like dark academia meets cottage core?? idk for myself...who knows

12.) What kind of artist are you? the tired kind lol

13.) How did you get into your form of art? if we’re looking at sims, uhhh well I just happened to learn about cc one day, then happened upon simblr, saw edits, and thought I’d give a try cause I can’t draw but I need a creative outlet so this worked for me

14.) What do you watch/listen/read/anything else while you create? if I do anything, its listen to music; music is generally random based on what I feel like but more recently its been 2d anime groups (idolish7, hypnosis mic, etc)

15.) What is your favorite of your own creations so far? lets see...this, this, and this edit wise I think

16.) How would you describe your art style? idk chaos

17.) What is more satisfying to you coloring or outlining? coloring, I like coloring

18.) What meme would you use to describe yourself?

19.) What character from any media form do you most identify with? oh gosh uhhhh there’s a few but I’ll say Iori and Sogo from Idolish7 since they come to mind first lol. Iori is a fellow aquarius who hides his interests and agonizes over past slipups even a year later, others have legit moved on but he’s still stuck on it (that was true moment I was like “omg you are aquarius” lol cause yeah meee). Sogo i heavily relate to as well cause he’s,,,very nice and hides his own feelings, putting others before himself (but when right buttons get pushed, he can be scary lol) so yeah, those two

20.) If you were on the run, what would you change your name to? I’ve never thought of this...no clue

21.) Have you ever or do you want to change blog names? I have changed names, yes; I used to be silverine-sims but after a time i didn’t ~vibe~ with it

22.) God forbid Tumblr decides to pull a MySpace and lets us have page songs, what song would you choose? page songs like adding playlist to blog? i mean its possible already with bit of coding and I used to have one set up but uh one song huh? gosh um I guess Twisted Hearts by tasuku hatanaka; it was op for Moriarty the Patriot s2 and I’m pretty obsessed with it rn

23.) Oh yeah, I’m still on the MySpace train and I’m starting discourse! Who’s your top 8? my brain refuses to think and rank; i have trouble with choices and that extends to favorites,,

24.) Did you understand those references or did you have to look them up? (I’m fully aware I’m ancient, but are you?) i know of myspace but otherwise i have no clue what all it entailed

25.) One last question; why are you like that? I grew up watching Secret Saturdays, He-Man, Teen Titans, Danny Phantom, and Spongebob idk what to tell ya ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Dag dag?

Now tag tag!!!

I know not all of you will do this or was tagged by izzy already but I’m tagging everyone I can think of anyway-

@cyansimblr @neriney @lunchsims @waysims @klayde @sinfulwunders @void-imp @ladykendalsims @lazysunjade @almost-spring @smolteabirb @lunaziie @clumsyghostie and uh uh anyone else cause its too early and my brain just quit

#for the card thing #i was gonna do playlist but then id have to think more and choose a few songs from many #for characters itaru from a3 was another one #but two i picked maybe work more #also what does dag dag mean??#or is it a play on tag to rhyme??#tagged #tag thing #was gonna use simself for this #buttt i deleted after that one dream self tag #and photo from it wasnt cutting it #so used this picrew one #from another tag lol #dagdagtheartisttag

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writtenonreceipts · 3 years

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If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted. Tired. Sleepy. There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling. Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot. She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near.

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm. Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed. Especially after a poor night's sleep. And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe. She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare. Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired. Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky. She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train. Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good. He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath. No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest. His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring. But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings. Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike. Not that it was surprising. She’d not drawn anything new in months. Oh, she’d tried. She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing. Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw. She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice. But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement. Not even the man across from her did anything interesting. Figured. He was so attractive his life had to be mundane. At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city. After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.

Especially not lately. As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it. Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day. She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats. And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?”

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her. He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away. Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

Life continued. And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty. Her coffee remained dull. Work did not improve.

Something needed to change. But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was. She’d left her ex months ago. She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend. She’d started getting out more too. Somewhat. When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again. And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again. Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for. She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared. She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train. It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him. Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind. Or it was his confidence. Arrogance. Something. She found him mesmerizing. How stupid was that? A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning. Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers. Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release. She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about. But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent. At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear. She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag. In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page. It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work. The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say. Sometimes it was just easier. Sometimes it was just better. Sometimes the silence was how she communicated. Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars. Storms and shadows. All convalescing on a shape. A person. A…

Feyre frowned at the scene. Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?” The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her. The crossword in his lap was complete. Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought. Maybe about five years older than she was. And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered. She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out. She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings. All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully. She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward. “And the art? It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said. And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off. Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him. To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him. If only for a moment longer. She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it. Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion. Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station. Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident. Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done. Something she’d said. Hell. She hadn’t even done anything that stupid. Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside. Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased. And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline. Somewhat. At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train. She didn’t mean to fall asleep. Not really. But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact. He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him. Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors.

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform. She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly. His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you. It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked. He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking. You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long. A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile. She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand. Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside. “Rita’s? That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head. “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately. “I mean, if you want. You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines. And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets. The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks. She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago. And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating. Anything that made her feel alive. She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home. Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad. She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night. She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly. But one day. One day, maybe she would.

thanks for reading my dears! i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem! I really do enjoy them!

tags:

let me know if I put you on the wrong tag list/want to be removed. it’s generally going to be easier for me to just have basic acotar/tog lists and not go into too much worry about that, so just and fyi...anywho

tottenhamboys20 @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @julemmaes @lysandra-ghost-leopard @harrymoncheri @firestarsandseneschals @rapunzel1523 @emikadreams

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feysand fanfiction #feysand au #modern au #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acomaf #just me writing #writing is better than self misery #thanks anon!#anon #anon answered

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remy2fang · 2 years

Text

December 30, 2021

It’s been about 2 and a half years since I fell in love with F.A.N.G. A lot has happened and I didn’t think it’ll come this far.

I knew the existence of FANG since 2016, so the early days of Street Fighter V. I didn’t own a PS4, so all I had were YouTube videos to watch. He was very interesting to me. Reminded me of Hsien-Ko and the Harpists from “Kung-Fu Hustle.” His design was appealing to me. I was also intrigued because of Jesse Merlin’s portrayal of him. Many people thought he sounded “gay” and threw homophobic rhetoric, saying F.A.N.G should drop the “N” in the name. Oh, real mature, guys -_-;; My thoughts were quite the opposite, his voice was what made me like the character.

I then watched his Character Story Mode. His look was interesting in this. His hair is so long and thick. The physics made it swing around so seductively. I had a feeling that this design was popular amongst the girls. I liked him, but it wasn’t enough to make me go nuts for him at the time.

Then, I watched the Japanese version of the story mode. His voice was so deep, but there were instances where it became high pitched. I thought to myself, “Hmm, he sounds like Shigeru Chiba.” I Googled to see if F.A.N.G was voiced by him. Lo and behold, he was indeed voiced by Shigeru Chiba. I told myself that he is now my favorite Street Fighter V Character just because Shigeru Chiba voiced him. I have been a fan of Chiba for many years, mainly because of his role as Schwartz from Juukou B-Fighter. To be honest, I was amazed that I was able to recognize his voice. I hadn’t listened to it between 2012 to 2016 until I heard it from F.A.N.G. Even back then, he became my fave SFV character, though not quite topping Remy as best Street Fighter character at the time.

Throughout the years between 2016 and 2018, I have been keeping tabs with the SFV storyline or at least for the Character Stories. I didn’t really bother to watch the Cinematic Story mode except for a few scenes here and there, mainly because it stretches at 2 to 3 hours long. I did enjoyed the few scenes I’ve watched mainly because of the character interactions and such, though I couldn’t help but think about Street Fighter: The Movie, or the American Cartoon series. The plot was very much in line with those kinds of material. While watching the Character Story modes, I was just hoping for Remy to pop up anytime because so many other SF3 characters showed up. Alex, Ibuki, and Urien became playable characters. Gill had a cameo in the Cinematic Story mode. Kolin became a fleshed out playable character after so many years as Gill’s NPC secretary. Also Oro and Eleven (prelude to Twelve) appeared in character story modes. Necro and Effie made background cameos. I was just hopelessly waiting for Remy to come out, whether playable or not.

By July 2019, I decided to look up for Street Fighter fanart on Pixiv. I knew that looking for Remy fanart is hard because he’s not popular, but I went and see just for the sake of it. When scrolling through the first couple of SF fan work, an extremely well-made artwork of F.A.N.G showed up. I thought, “Hey I like him and that looks REALLY GOOD!” So I clicked on it. The artist was Kuzune who made a few other works of FANG. What I notice is the apparent “romanticization” of this character, something I hardly see when I looked for FANG fanart years prior on Deviantart in 2016. Because of the way Pixiv works, I was led to see other fanart of FANG. So many good art of him by talented artists, in which many of them also gave him a nice aesthetic.

The one artist that actually made me fell IN LOVE with F.A.N.G was Tsai-Game. The art was not only extremely well-done, but there was a strong understanding of anatomy as well. It also helped that the art made F.A.N.G fun, sexy, and appealing. Another incredible artist that sealed the deal with my love for FANG was Hideaki, whose style was bursting with beautiful colors and elegant muscle anatomy. Also to mention, many artists and fans shipped F.A.N.G with M. Bison (Vega/Dictator). Years ago I had the notion that FANG would be paired up with him, but I have never seen it until I checked on Pixiv. Both Tsai-Game and Hideaki were avid shippers and would often illustrate such scenarios. Because I’m a Fujoshi myself, of course I got into it!

After seeing these images, I thought I was done. But the next day and the day after, I couldn’t get enough of them. I’d often come back to those images because they’re so beautiful and FANG looked so good in them. It’s odd, I loved him but I didn’t find him attractive before. But after seeing those pictures, I couldn’t see him the same way anymore. I just fell in love with him. Because my favorite F.A.N.G artists hardly upload their work on Pixiv, I wanted to know where they were most active at. As I looked through their Pixiv profile, they have Twitter accounts.

From there, I see their works and I was just so happy. Also, I ventured a little further and found English speaking FANG/Bison shippers. It looks like the fans were having fun. Because I didn’t play nor own SFV at the time, I hesitated to join the fan circle at first—I might be deemed as a “fake” fan if I were to come in. What also halted me was my embarrassment of falling in love with a fictional cartoon character. It had been years since I had a major crush on one. I seriously thought I grew out of it, but I guess I didn’t. I didn’t want my Art Twitter account to be associated with my new obsession. I didn’t want my friends on Facebook and Instagram to know about it, or at least not yet.

I thought about it for a day or two. I realized by the time I own or play SFV, that’s when the fan circle will die out and I’ll be missing out on the excitement. So I decided to create an account that’s dedicated to fangirling over F.A.N.G. I named it Remy2FANG in dedication to my former favorite Street Fighter character and to the character that took his place. It was also a blank slate for me, so none of my friends knew about it…except for 2 of them. I wanted to join the fun with the other F.A.N.G fans before it’s too late. I wanted to enjoy the moment while the passion is still burning. And I am GLAD I joined in when the fan circle was still there.

It was a fun, special, and magical time. Not only that our little group uploaded neat artwork of FANG, but we had our thoughts, analyses, and headcanons that we’d share amongst each other. We even played with our Bison/FANG ideas. I will never forget that. It was Dragon-64, Fumettosa, Minaree3, NoeruParisu, Night_Garage, Rose, Dictatress, Randi, KAAD, YolaMiguelita, and Technically Blind. Funny thing is that Minaree3 noted that there were more fangirls than usual that joined during that time. We talked a lot. It was a lot of fun. It was definitely an amazing time.

Because I was surrounded by FANG enthusiasts, I had a taste of what the FGC was all about. I could say that I lurk around the FGC back in 2001 to 2003, but I don’t remember it was called as such at the time. I just remember going through a lot of GameFaqs, Street Fighter, and Videogame forums, but have never heard of such a term until that summer of 2019. But to my surprise as almost 2 decades have passed, that the FCG had become more progressive, or at least within the FANG circle and the people they associate with along with big name FGC members. They advocate for racial equality, feminism, the LGBT community, representation and inclusivity. It was a beautiful thing for me to see.

There were many good artists within the F.A.N.G Twitter circle. The FANG account I made was initially just for fangirling and I didn’t intend to turn it into another Art account. Also I hadn’t made a lot of quality fanart for many years, but these artists inspired me to go back to my groove. My F.A.N.G artwork definitely gave me some sort of recognition to the point where EventHubs featured my work on an article. If anything, my biggest thanks goes to the little F.A.N.G circle who were there in the beginning of the creation of my FANG account. They Liked and Retweeted my art, which in turn was shared by members of the bigger FGC that follow them. To be honest, I never really have that much luck with Twitter. I usually get about 5 Likes max on my posts in my original Art Twitter account. I would say the difference between my Art and my FANG account is that I have a better connection with people on the F.A.N.G one due to shared interests. So my FANG account has turned not only a fangirling account but also a place to express my love for F.A.N.G through art.

A few weeks later, I realized that F.A.N.G doesn’t have a lot of costumes compared to other characters. A lot of FANG fans hoped that Capcom releases more skins for him, but knowing how unpopular his character is, I had little hope for new content of our favorite poison master. I thought perhaps if I commission a modder to create costume mods for FANG, that might make some the FANG fans and mains happy. I know it didn’t make sense on my part because I didn’t own a gaming PC nor the game itself, but I did wanted to make the F.A.N.G fandom happy in some way. Many people expressed interest in having a Hsien-Ko skin for FANG, which made a lot of sense for me after seeing his fight style and several fanart of it. So I painted a mock-up of how the modded skin would look like. I messaged several known modders about my idea and asked for the cost of a modding commission. Unfortunately all of them either have their hands full or they do not accept commissions. I was a bit sadden by it. I posted up the mock-up on Twitter in hopes for an unknown modder to pick up the idea. There were a lot of supportive comments on there, though there was one that told me to “Stop dreaming and start making” lol. Admittedly I was quite salty by that comment, but way later on I was grateful to heed those words.

During this time, I also noticed that the Story/Nguuhao costume model and textures for FANG was never released online. I didn’t know whether I’d get into modding or not at the time, but I commissioned Dragonlord720 to rip the models and textures from the game for both the default and Nguuhao costumes. I just wanted the fbx and texture files. Not only did I received those, he was also generous enough to make XNALara versions as well. So kind! I told myself that if I’d get into modding, I’d use these files that Dragonlord720 gave me. It was still an intimidating thing to get into because it has been many years since I’ve done anything worthwhile on Blender or any other 3D programs.

Eventually I got to play SFV at a local Round1 and embodied my inner FANG. Before playing the game at the arcade, I learned some F.A.N.G movesets via wiki pages and YouTube videos to give me an idea on how he plays. I hadn’t played videogames for 8 years prior to playing SFV, so I was choppy at first, but oddly got much better after playing FIGHTING EX LAYER in the same arcade. I played SFV there for only three separate occasions.

For a time, I thought about owning the game for myself. I contemplated whether to get a PS4 or a gaming PC. A PS4 would be a cheaper option and I could possibly get one on a Black Friday sale. BUT I knew the PS5 would be released a year later, so there wouldn’t be a point in buying a PS4. I thought about waiting it out. But if I were to wait, by the time I get my hands on a PS5 and play SFV on there, the lifespan of that game would end (spoiler alert, it hasn’t been the end yet). Getting a gaming PC means fun with mods, but it would also be an expensive investment. I didn’t know if I’d be playing games long term because most of the time I often go outdoors or do some other activity. It was something for me to think long and hard about.

While I pondered about getting a console or a gaming PC, I decided to look up on Jesse Merlin. Ever since my F.A.N.G craze, I’ve been wanting to meet him in real life at an event. I learned that he’s an opera singer and stage actor, so I thought about checking up on his Twitter page for any upcoming performances in the LA area. As I scrolled down, I noticed he mentioned a familiar friend’s name. I didn’t know if he was referring to the same person, so I checked on Facebook, typing Jesse’s and my friend’s name on the search engine. There is a match. Apparently my friend is best friends with Jesse Merlin for years. This was quite a mindblower for me lol. I became friends with said friend because he was friends with old Hollywood actor Hurd Hatfield, best known for “The Picture of Dorian Gray” (1945), during the 1970s and 1980s…and I’m an ardent fan of Hurd Hatfield for many years. It’s funny that my friend who was friends with my favorite actor also happens to be friends with the voice actor for F.A.N.G. Wow, that is a lot of “friends” there lol. It’s like no matter how different my interests seem from one another, they’re somehow connected to each other one way or another. At least now I know that there’s a connection between my favorite actor and my favorite Street Fighter character!

Eventually I got to meet Jesse Merlin at a film festival through my friend. Not gonna lie, I was a nervous wreck when meeting him…then again, I’m always nervous when meeting people. At least Jesse was both patient and courteous while I was anxious lol. I told him I really like F.A.N.G and that the community love him very much. He was appreciative of what I said and told me he was proud of his work on SFV Cinematic Story Mode. Did I mention that his natural voice is marvelous? It’s deep and smooth because he’s a bass-baritone opera singer—very different from F.A.N.G. Also he was quite popular at the festival. One of the films that we watched has Jesse in a cameo role and when he appeared on screen, the entire theatre applauded. It was awesome!

Back to the gaming aspect. A few months later, I saw Randi’s Twitter post about SFV being free on Steam for Black Friday week. I knew my non-gaming laptop was too weak to handle SFV, but I downloaded the game on Steam during the trial period anyway because why not. It took almost a day to download the whole thing. When I first played it on my laptop, it was at max resolution and it ran super laggy. I put it at the lowest graphic settings and the window resolution at 800 x 600. That was the best option for my potato laptop. It ran relatively well, albeit with crappy graphics and some lag lol. After playing the game and getting the costume and color that I wanted for FANG through Fight Money, I decided to buy the base game at $7.99. That’s all I really needed actually. I didn’t need to buy anything extra since all I wanted was just F.A.N.G and his color #14 Story costume. After that, I never played the game at Round1 ever again since I can just play it at home.

Obsessing over F.A.N.G was something of secret. By this time only 3 real life friends knew about it. One lives across the country. The other two were actually coworkers. I don’t really open myself up to people about fictional crushes unless I know a person who’d understand these kinds of things. One of the coworkers is also a Fujoshi. I showed her an official picture of FANG in the game. I could tell that she thought I had weird tastes. I then showed her yaoi art by Tsai-Game. THAT’S when she got hooked! From there she actually actively looked for FANG art on her own and told me whatever I showed her was absolutely beautiful. I never thought I’d get a friend and coworker to get into the BisonFANG ship. I’m not gonna lie, this was a fantastic moment.

Because I was entrenched in FGC Twitter, or at least the Street Fighter aspect of it, I decided to go to Capcom Cup 2019. It was only in LA, so it’s not so much of a trek for me. I’ve never been to an Esports event, so I was curious. As it turns out, it was exciting to see these professional players in real life, seeing them play right before my eyes instead of through a phone screen. Also the enthusiastic crowd made the atmosphere fun and lively. It was definitely an awesome time. I also got to meet some online personalities and made some friends after the event. I’m only a casual player, but these kinds of settings are really fun to go to.

For a few more months, I continued to make F.A.N.G art and play SFV sporadically. The most I could do is hitting rank at Arcade Mode (not actual Rank lol). I managed to be the #1 FANG in North America and #2 FANG in the world for a short time. People still enjoy the F.A.N.G art content I put out. All was fine and dandy, until the pandemic hit the US. I got furloughed from my job and I didn’t know how long this would last. During this period of uncertainty, I thought about what I could do before eventually exiting out of SFV. Either get good at Rank or get into modding so I could make a whole bunch of F.A.N.G skins for the FANG community.

I tried getting into Rank. I have yet to lose a set, but didn’t fight that much either. Thus I still have a 100% win streak as of the end of 2021 lolz. It was somewhat nerve wrecking and it did made me nervous, so I figured that online matches isn’t something for me if it stresses me out. Maybe someday I’ll get back into it when I muster up the courage.

So I took up modding instead. By this time, I realized that I can’t wait for anyone to grant my wish for the costume of my dreams. Capcom isn’t going to make it and modders are fully occupied with their own matters. I had to act as if no one else would make it, so I had to take it in my own hands.

For many months, I have been aware of the existence of Modderbase and it’s plethora of tutorials. The problem was that I never knew where to start, so the whole thing was just intimidating. Eventually I found a tutorial that was meant to be the start-all for beginners, which was found via a Google search rather within the Modderbase site itself. When reading it, it actually sounded more approachable. Also it has been years since I’ve used Blender, but the tutorial showed the few most important tools and techniques when doing a simple costume mod. In other words, this is the definitive modding guide for a beginner.

When I downloaded Blender, I was amazed how intuitive the user interface became. Old school blender was hard and weird to use. The newer versions made things easier to work around with. This in itself boosted my confidence in using the program.

Was making my first mod an easy task? NOPE!! It was frustrating because I never used Unreal Engine before and SFV kept on crashing whenever I put in my mod. I realized after 5 days that I installed the incorrect version of UE4, and it took me time to figure out on how to download that particular version on the Epic Games launcher. That’s when I could finally put my mod in the game without crashing. The other frustrating part is figuring out the physics. F.A.N.G’s sleeves have one of the most complex physics assets to emulate (the winner goes to Necalli because he has TWO physics assets). I was also hesitant to use the Nvidia Apex SDK tool because it was not recommended as opposed to the 3DS Max equivalent, and I don’t have 3DS Max. In the end, I just used F.A.N.G’s original physics asset for his sleeves and left his front cloth with no physics. Not the most perfect thing, but it was an accomplishment for me. Also I have to thank Dragonlord720 because I used his fbx file and textures for F.A.N.G.

After making my first mod, I thought I wouldn’t have to learn Apex cloth physics. Guess what, I still had to learn because most of F.A.N.G’s official skins requires apex lol. Also after I released my first mod, I was already commissioned to do a tweak on Mech FANG’s mesh, and it required apex physics. Darn FANG and his flowy clothes! Hence, I had to teach myself this Nvidia Apex Cloth tool. Good thing there’s a written tutorial on Modderbase, otherwise I wouldn’t know how to deal with it. It was still a long and frustrating process because I ran into a lot of problems when making the apex. It took some trial and error to learn, but I end up figuring certain things out. I guess thanks to F.A.N.G’s flowy clothes, I end up learning Apex cloth physics early on.

Notice how I always mention that modding is a time consuming hobby? At this point I understand why many modders have their queues filled up or they straight up don’t accept commission work. In my opinion, modding is harder than making 2D art…but I also think it’s funner than drawing. I think because it’s a new and exciting thing for me.

That being said, remember how I had to choose between getting a console and a gaming PC? I’m glad I didn’t get the console because I’m now a modder.

Aside from making mods, I also recorded myself creating my first mod along with some apex physics. I knew that there were already written tutorials and videos out there, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to create my own for the world to see. I thought it would make certain concepts clearer for those who wish to learn modding.

But with full honesty, I have online friends who wish to have new costumes and skins for their favorite characters. I made these videos and organized all the tutorials I’ve learned in hopes that my friends could make their visions come true. The time when I released my tutorial vids, I was sadden that it had little to no reactions from my small circle. But, I also have to be mindful that not everyone has the time to learn the craft. Although the results can be rewarding, it is still a very frustrating and time consuming hobby. Even I still get frustrated when modding something, so it’s understandable that other people wouldn’t get into it unless they really really REALLY want to. Also, people have their own lives and have more important things to attend to.

Despite of that, I still end up receiving a lot of reactions, comments, and questions from people that are genuinely curious about modding. I guess my videos did serve a purpose after all. Another thing is that these videos showed another side of me that I was not quite aware of. I never wanted to become a teacher, but I didn’t realize that I’m capable of teaching or troubleshooting. I’ll say, it’s a very powerful and refreshing feeling that I’m able to do these things.

During this time while I was happy making F.A.N.G mods, half of the small group of friends I had in the beginning deactivated their Twitter accounts. I was saddened by this. Although I was able to keep in contact with some via other platforms, there are others whose whereabouts are unknown. I hope all goes well for them. I miss them as they are some of the few people left who love talking about the BisonFANG ship openly on a public platform. From what I’ve seen from past posts and what others have told me, BisonFANG used to be a relatively popular thing back in 2016 and 2017. I’m assuming a lot of it was due to F.A.N.G’s heavy involvement with the SFV plot, both in Character and General Cinematic Story modes during Season 1. Looks like I joined at the tail end of the party. It was brief, but I could say that it was something of a last hurrah for that fandom. Despite not playing the game from the start, it was definitely the right decision for me to join the fun while it’s still shining. Nothing lasts forever.

Although the fun has died down, there are still people who love the ship. I’ve seen a few new fans pop up here and there showing their love via headcanons, fanfiction, and fanart up to this day. It’s good to see that it hasn’t gone away just yet.

If the BisonFANG ship is sailing away, I at least still make fanart and mods for the fandom. I’ve created many things. For the F.A.N.G community, the modding community, and the FGC overall. I’ve learned to mod other games like FIGHTING EX LAYER and GUILTY GEAR XRD REV 2 and will be expanding outside of these titles. I’m happy that the modding community is welcoming, if not for my eccentric mods, then it’s most likely for my tutorials.

Because some of my mods don’t have the most heteronormative aesthetics to them, my works have actually inspired similar minded individuals to create what they truly wanted. One modder in particular is Azeilein. She became an incredible modder and she provided something that is fresh and unique to the modding community. I saw her potential before and now I’m proud of her accomplishments. If anything, I hope mine and my friend’s ideas would help others muster up the courage in making what they want without fear of other’s opinions.

I’m not the most perfect modder, but at least I did what I did. Even though I’m quite mediocre as a player, I at least have made my mark on the FGC. Happy to know that some of the top F.A.N.G players and the FGC as a whole appreciate my creations and thoughts.

Speaking about top players, 2021 was definitely the Year of the F.A.N.G. So many F.A.N.G mains won 1st and 2nd in offline real life events. It was something to behold and even I was not expecting this. I’d be happy if a F.A.N.G main reached #2, but I didn’t think it would be possible to see a few hitting the #1 spot. Dee Ancer got 1st and NovaSpec got 2nd at Ronin Rumble. Metalqueersolid got 1st in Celtic Throwdown. The biggest win goes to Mono for CEO 2021. He won 1st place with F.A.N.G. This is the biggest win for all F.A.N.G players in the world. We’re all so happy. It was absolutely wonderful and I got to see it.

It’s funny that all of these amazing things happen since I fell in love with F.A.N.G. I’ve made friends, went back to drawing quality fanart, started playing videogames again, learned how to make mods for SFV and other games, became something of a mentor, and saw the beautiful side of the FGC. If anything, it is the supportive people in this community and outside of it that encouraged me to do what I do. Also a few more real life friends know about my FANG love now lol. I’m thankful to have what I have.

For those who finished reading this, thank you for hearing about my life story with F.A.N.G 💜💜

#street fighter #street fighter v #f.a.n.g #fictoromantic #lifeisgood #bisonfang

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apatheticanvas67482 · 3 years

Text

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

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calboniferous · 3 years

Text

In Theory

Work 1 in The Pen and the Sword aka. my jedi and academics AU

A stressed post-graduate anthropology researcher from Coruscant University enters the Jedi Archives for the first time and is promptly taken under the wing of one Master Archivist Jocasta Nu.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32355310

—

Master Jocasta Nu felt the visitor before she saw them. Stress and a frenetic energy radiated through the force tangled with the unique threads of emotion and colour that made up their signature.

Closing the book in front of her with a soft thud, mindful of its frayed edges, she appraised the blue nautolan hurrying towards her. Their worn brown coat was unbuttoned and struggling to stay onto their shoulders, saved by the strap of the bag hanging off one side which the nautolan had one arm wrapped around. Apparently, the bag’s tie had lost the battle against the tide of flimsy and datapads making the simple bag bulge obscenely.

Ah.

A scholar.

Like the many before them, they had come to Master Nu’s beloved archives in hope of finding salvation in its hallowed stacks. With her guidance, they always did and more often than not, they would return again. And again.

However, this scholar was not one that Master Nu had seen before and as they glanced wide-eyed at the towering shelves, shying away from passing Jedi, she surmised that the Jedi archives were unfamiliar to them also.

They reached her desk out of breath.

“I need books on Kante martial arts and history. Do you have books on Kante? If it has historical martial arts then that would be incredible but I’m setting the bar low. Really, the bar is non-existent. Should I even be setting a bar I don’t know- do you know what the Kante are? Were? They’re extinct”

“Young one, breathe.” Master Nu said, lifting her hand to interrupt the rush of words. Her brow softened in sympathy, “How about you start from the beginning and tell me what your thesis is and then we’ll go about finding resources.”

She signalled to one of the Padawans stacking holopads nearby for them to take over monitoring the main desk and led Tema to one of the many sunlit alcoves tucked between the buttresses.

Settling on a cushion across the low table from the sleep deprived nautolan, Master Nu pulled out her well-worn datapad, ready to formulate a list of texts to recommend for this student’s project. She had gathered quite the collection of such lists over the years and took great pride in curating them. Often, she would continue to add to them in her spare time so that when the person they had been made for returned, it was waiting and ready. And, if Master Nu happened to enjoy the thrill of a hunt for obscure references through her own archives every now and again, that was her own business.

Stylus in hand, she was ready to begin.

“You mentioned martial arts?”

“Right. Yes. I’m studying the fighting style of the Kante people which they used to reclaim their lands 7000 years ago after it was conquered in the Chandrillan Divide. The politics of the reclamation itself have been documented to death but there’s kriff all discussing how they actually fought,”

Master Nu hummed sympathetically, listening as a classic university post-graduate research tragedy poured out in all its glory. The purple shadows smeared under Tema’s dark eyes suggested that more than one night had been lost to this.

It was a credit to her Jedi training and skill as an archivist that Master Nu could write notes, elegant script flitting smoothly across the datapad without misspelling a single title or name, while offering comforting hums and interjecting words of encouragement where Tema faltered.

“So now I need to piece it together myself in order to build a theory on how the Kante people approached battlefield strategy,” Tema finished, fidgeting with their bag strap.

Setting her stylus down, Master Nu surveyed the drafted list with a critical eye. It was a daunting selection. She weighed the situation in her mind and carefully turned the datapad off, placing it down with a muted click of metal on the polished stone table.

“That’s quite the task you’ve got” Master Nu said, “more than an Honours project scope covers.”

She loathed to discourage any scholar but there were limits to the workload that could be shouldered and she had a strict honesty policy. With all her Jedi compassion and experience ad Head Archivist, Master Nu knew how to recognise when a student needed guidance in whittling down their research focus to a reasonable magnitude.

“I know,” Tema sighed, shoulders sagging, “I know but my project topic has already been approved by my supervisor.”

“Dear, your project as it stands is enough to satisfy a PhD and beyond. I can tell you are passionate about it but it’d be a tragedy for you to fail because you tried to complete years’ worth of work in the 10 months you have.”

The blue nautolan wilted a little, head tails curling.

“I don’t see what choice I have. I can’t form a thesis on the merits of Kante strategy without knowing how it worked at the individual level,” they said, resignation colouring their force signature grey with worry.

Master Nu paused, and after a moment spoke.

“Have you considered centring your project on the martial arts itself? At the individual level, as you say. Leaving the rest aside to focus on that should technically be within your project topic.”

Tema blinked, “That’s…that would work. Yes.”

Master Nu watched as they turned the idea over, considering how to approach it.

“Yes. That would make it more of a research-and-reconstruction project. A literature review with practical application.”

They gave a wry smile, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

Some of the frazzled emotion of their presence eased and a few threads of humour sparked in its wake.

“I could have saved myself from being sick from worry in the University ‘freshers yesterday.”

They flushed a little darker at that admission and Master Nu suppressed what would have been a rather unprofessional snort of amusement as she clicked the datapad back on. Ah, younglings. They never changed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. That amount of stress isn’t conducive to clarity of mind, I’d wager,” Master Nu soothed, deleting a few items from the list with a satisfied air, “You’re hardly the first person’s I’ve known to have an adverse reaction to academic stress. Now, I do believe this list is ready.”

Rising with more grace than her age suggested she was capable of, she smoothed the creases in her cream and straw-gold robes and led the way into the maze of columns and shelves. Tema followed a step behind in a manner that to any observers bore remarkable resemblance to a duckling following its mother – if ducklings were six-and-a-half feet tall, that is.

“Somehow I find it hard to imagine a Jedi getting sick from assignments,” they mused absentmindedly, tipping their head to catch some of the book titles they passed, “all this information – it’d be hard to fail.”

Master Nu chuckled at that, passing through an archway into a side corridor.

“I’m afraid it can happen to anyone. One of my agemates routinely emptied his stomach at the prospect of examinations – that one, in fact,” she said, gesturing to one of the bronze busts lining the hall. The metallic features gave the human man depicted a severe expression. In Master Nu’s opinion, it was rather true to life even if the beard was far to neatly sculpted.

“The poor man. Perfection was as much his vice as his virtue.”

She smiled fondly, crows’ feet crinkling with nostalgia at sharing this particular story – at sharing the humanity of someone so proud and distant both in life and artistic rendition.

Tema faltered and the markings on their head tails blanched light blue.

“Oh, uh, my condolences.”

“Hmm?” Master Nu turned to them, “Oh no, he’s not dead. He’s retired.”

“Oh,”

They blinked, nonplussed.

“This way, dear”

The pair continued on their winding path. Master Nu, frequently gesturing to some architectural feature or other with her datapad, began to explain how the Jedi Archival system worked, pausing every now and then to pull a tome from the shelves.

“It is what many have described as ‘archaic’,” she said, stepping deftly onto the fourth rung of a sliding ladder attached to one of the shelves to reach her next target, “but no one—and I mean no one—has said it is an ineffective system.

“At least not in my earshot,” she said with a laugh, pulling the volume from its place and passing it down to Tema. The rumours the initiates (and fully-grown Knights) liked to spread about Master Nu’s draconian defence of the archives may not be entirely accurate but were taken by most as a warning to avoid slandering the archive in her presence. She knew Tholme liked to stir the pot and recount tales of her lightsabre prowess to the initiates, no matter that the stories were thirty years out-of-date.

“That being said, it can take some getting used to. The Padawans and Knight Archivists are always around and willing to retrieve sources for our visitors.”

Master Nu dismounted from the ladder, blew dust from her sleeve, and turned a critical eye on to the stack of books and datapads in Tema’s arms that had been steadily growing in size. The scholar looked strong enough to take a couple more, taking into account that their bulging bag would not fit anything more inside.

“That’s the last one from this aisle.”

She clicked her tongue and marked a check on her list next to the sources they were borrowing. They were all copies, of course, or volumes easily enough to source a replacement that their loss wouldn’t be abhorrent. Nonetheless, clean records made maintaining the collection less stressful on her soul.

On that note, Master Nu was pleased to feel that Tema was no longer pouring stress into the force like an anxious firehose. And—

She stilled, tilting her head as a familiar presence tickled the edges of her senses.

“Master Nu?” Tema asked, noticing her change in manner.

“Nothing to worry about,”

She once again took the lead. Down the aisle, then one aisle to the left and as they rounded the corner Master Nu smiled at the sight before her.

A little blue and beige figure was hunched over a book resting on the floor, absentmindedly gnawing on her Padawan silka beads and completely oblivious to the world around her.

“Padawan Secura! Why am I not surprised?” Master Nu called lightly and the twi’lek girl jerked, breaking from her literature-induced reverie to scramble to her feet.

“I’m not skipping sabre class again. I swear!”

Had it been any other Padawan of Aayla’s age group, Master Nu would think that emphatic declaration of innocence meant the Padawan in question was skipping class. Skywalker came to mind as a repeat offender of that variety.

Only question was that Junior Padawan sabre classes were always on Taungsday afternoons—this afternoon—and had been since before Master Nu was a crecheling. She hummed, unconvinced.

“Knight Kenobi is doing catch-up lessons this week and he said my forms were good enough to skip.”

That explained it. It seemed only yesterday that he’d been roaming the archives as a padawan himself, tearing through histories of the planets he’d visited at Qui-Gon’s side with single-minded focus. Shame that his lineage had picked him up before her own could. He would have made a fantastic archivist despite his record of being convinced to scale the bookshelves whenever Vos got temple fever.

Well, at least Aayla’s fencing education was in good hands.

Master Nu beamed at Aayla, “Then good work padawan and, as you are free, would you like to join us in gathering sources for Scholar Induri here?”

Aayla brightened, “Absolutely!”

And then, remembering her diplomacy training, bowed to Tema, setting her Padawan beads swinging. “Nice you meet you, Scholar.”

She scooped up the book she had been reading and as she put it back in its slot, Master Nu glimpsed the title.

“Reading Bastilla Shan again are we Padawan?”

The padawan blushed, fiddled with her tunic and handily dodged the teasing with a question of her own, “What are we looking for, Master?”

“See for yourself, young one,” Master Nu passed over the datapad, pointing to the highlighted entries.

Aayla squinted at the handwriting for a second before passing the pad back and running away down the aisle, one hand skimming the shelf labels. Padawans were lovely to have around and, watching Aayla slide 4 meters down a ladder and return to them with a grin plastered across her face, Master Nu wondered if she should take another student. Or, better yet, invite her former Padawans around for tea to see if more Grandpadawans would be joining the lineage soon.

“Thank you, dear,” she gave Aayla a pat on the head, “I’ll leave you to your reading. Just don’t forget to remind your Master that he needs to renew the materials he borrowed last month.”

Then, she turned to Tema who hadn’t made so much as a peep the past five minutes, seemingly satisfied to observe the interaction.

“Let’s get these checked out so you can get to reading them.”

Back to the main desk, the archivist and scholar wandered, and a minute later there was a new name entered into the borrowing database.

“Again, thank you for everything, Master Nu” Tema said, gathering the stack back into their arms. They were a little overwhelmed but they were smiling.

“Dear, it’s no trouble. One last thing, are you planning on enlisting someone practised in martial forms in your project? Or were you aiming for a more theoretical illustration of your findings?”

Tema cast their eyes to one side and shifted their weight.

“Ideally, yes, but I have no idea where to find someone like that so…theoretical?”

They trailed off.

“Good. I’m free to ask around here, then,” Master Nu said, tugging Tema’s bag strap so it was in less immediate danger of falling of their shoulder.

“If you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to send me a message or drop by. My archive is always open,”

At that, she tucked a slip of flimsy with her com code underneath the top datapad in the stack and gave Tema a parting pat on the cheek. With hope in their step, the scholar passed back out the archive doors, into the sunlight of the hall beyond.

Content, Master Nu smiled and watched them go.

“Now,” she mused to herself, opening the roster of temple-bound jedi and beginning to peruse the list, “who to ask…”

Her thoughts turned to the bronze bust of a man whose devotion to esoteric research was only outmatched by his skill with a blade.

His legacy…

Her eyes caught on a name. Yes, that would do very nicely indeed.

In the interest of vetting the source she intended to recommend, Master Nu made a mental note to attend next week’s exhibition tournament.

#jedi #jedi culture #fic #my writing #jedi and academics #the pen and the sword #jocasta nu #repost #star wars

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legionofpotatoes · 3 years

Note

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

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thebrotherssalvatore321 · 3 years

Text

Keeping Secrets Ch. 45

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

“Last stop of the tour…” Klaus said as he pushed a door open and motioned Katie inside. “Our living quarters.” He shut the door behind her. “I know it’s a bit bare at the moment, but we can redecorate it however you like.”

“In case you couldn’t tell by my somewhat plain house in Mystic Falls, I’m not much on decorating. All I need to make a living space functional is a bed, wireless speakers, a desk, and you.” she ticked the things off on her fingers then grabbed his shirt and pecked him on the lips.

“I don’t want it to just be functional, I want you to feel at home here.” he told her as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to look at the three rooms laid out in an L shape, all connected by square framed archways with two windows at the top and painted with white paint that was chipped and cracked. “Take a look around.” The first room contained nothing but a white, wood framed fireplace. The second room contained a simple brown leather couch and a plain oval dark wood coffee table that sat adjacent to another fireplace that matched the one in the first room. The couch and table faced an exterior wall with an arched, windowed door with shutters that led out to a private balcony. A tall window sat on each side of the door.

The third room shared the exterior wall and had three windows. A dark wood bed was in the room with a brand new mattress still wrapped in plastic on it. Its high backed head board sat against the middle of the back wall. On the wall across from the windows was a door that led to a large walk in closet. To the right of the head board was another door that led to a luxurious master bathroom complete with a deep claw foot tub and glassed in shower with three different showerheads.

“These were my quarters.” He told her from where he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. “I want to make them ours, but I will not know how to achieve that unless you tell me. Even if it’s a simple suggestion like antique white furnishings and a canopy bed centered on a white plush rug.”

“I really just threw out the first thing that came to my head.” she said with a laugh. “You’re the one that waved your magic wand and turned it into something out of a freaking Victorian fairy tale.” She smiled and tilted her head to the side as he kissed her neck.

“So throw out some more ideas and I’ll wave my wand again.” He told her then stopped kissing her neck and she turned around to look at him.

She blew air through her lips as she looked around the room. “Okay.”

“And before you start putting things for our little princess in this space I already have conjoining rooms elsewhere in the compound set aside to turn into a nursery for her and bedroom for us after she is born.” He informed her, making her give him a smile that said she was surprised, but delighted to hear that.

She laughed and shook her head getting back to the space at hand. “So…will one of these rooms be filled with your art supplies?”

“No, I have another place picked out for my art studio.” He answered. "If you want we can find a place to turn into a studio for you."

"But I don't paint. Not good enough to have my own studio anyway." She said with a confused frown.

"A recording studio." He clarified.

“Oh.” She said with a smile, flattered that he was thinking about her hobbies as well. “I’ll think about it.” she told him then turned her attention back to the space around them.

“Like I said before, I want a desk. I can write anywhere, but I’ve always done it better at a desk for some reason.” She told him then looked out at the balcony. “Out there, maybe some comfy patio chairs or something. I like to read outside when I’m bored even if it’s freezing out. Speaking of reading, can we have my books that are in my room in Mystic Falls sent here?" Thinking about her belongings that got left behind for the first time in months her mind went into overdrive with questions. "And the painting you bought me on our first date? Is it possible to make a white bedroom suite look masculine? Oh my god shut me up before I have all my belongings back in Virginia moved here."

He laughed at her excitement. "You know...This is your new home. You can have whatever you want moved here. As far as white furniture being masculine, yes with the right colors and styles it can be. So if you want your furniture from your bedroom in my mansion moved here we can. But I was hoping to keep that as it is for a vacation home.”

“A vacation home?” she asked with intrigue.

“Yes, I know you said you hate that town, but it is not only where you grew up in this life and where your friends are, but it’s where I was born and raised.” He told her as he placed his hands on her hips. “I know you miss your friends even if you haven’t said so.”

“I do, I just hope that they don’t hate me for falling off the face of the earth.” She told him sadly then brushed all thoughts of her abandoned friends from her mind with a blink and a shake of her head. “We can leave my bedroom there as it is.” she told him, getting back on topic. “And I want to have my things from my house and my landscape painting sent here. The stuff in the basement of my house…all that family history crap, can stay there.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He told her with a smile as he walked into the bedroom and put her duffle on the bed.

“Isn’t Mystic Falls also where you fell in love with Tatia?” she asked as she walked over and leaned on the archway into the bedroom simply because they had never talked about his past loves.

He sighed and gave her a frown. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to bring her up. You know, since you have a special hatred of doppelgangers.” She walked over to him and set her hands on his chest as he grabbed her hips and pulled her close. “Tatia aside my interest in the Petrova doppelgangers has only ever been self serving.”

“So you’re immune to their allure?” Katie asked with disdain in her voice and a roll of her eyes.

“Yes.” He assured her.

“How many doppelgangers have there been anyway?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“As far as I know, three; Tatia, Katherine and Elena.” He answered.

“And you were only ever intimate with Tatia?” Katie asked.

Klaus laughed and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and looked down at the floor for a second. He still had a smirk on his face when he looked back up at her. “If you are asking if I, like my brother, have had sex with Katherine, the answer is no. I courted her to keep her close until I could find the moonstone, nothing more.”

“And that’s the truth? You’re not just telling me that because you know I hate her?” she asked.

“It’s the truth.” He told her as he looked into her eyes and she could tell he wasn’t lying to her.

“Good.” She told him then moved around him and started taking things out of her duffle bag. “I was starting to think she had slept with the entire male vampire population.”

When he turned around he could tell by the distant look on her face that something else was bothering her. “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked. Instead of answering with words she looked at him and let the blood flow to her eyes then pulled her lips back, showing him her lack of fangs. He cupped her chin in his hand looking at her normal teeth with a frown. “That’s…strange.”

“I don’t need fangs if I no longer need to drink blood.” She told him with a look down at the floor as she pushed the blood back. “It tastes like sour metal now.”

“When did you notice this?” he asked, looking worried as he always did when they noticed another change in her vampire state.

“Yesterday morning.” She answered. “I would have told you, but things were already tense between us and I didn’t want to add to it.”

“At this rate you’ll be human by the end of the month.” He pointed out and she nodded. He closed his eyes with a sigh and pulled her into him, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

A knock on the door made them pull apart and walk over to it. Klaus pulled it open revealing Bradley. “I’m guessing you’re not here to call on me.” Klaus stepped aside and motioned Bradley in and over to Katie who was standing a little ways behind Klaus.

“Hi.” Katie greeted him with an awkward smile.

“I was wondering if you would like to go out for lunch.” Bradley told her with a look between her and Klaus.

“I would like that, but…I don’t know if leaving the compound is a good idea.” She drawled then looked behind her at Klaus.

“I believe you have made your point to the witches very clear.” Klaus said. “Werewolves don’t set foot in the quarter and I don’t believe your father, or any of the other vampires in this city to be a threat to you or our child.”

“Plus I know all of the witches that frequent the French quarter.” Her father chipped in.

“Are you telling me that it’s finally safe for me to see the city?” Katie asked with an excited smile at Klaus.

“Yes.” He told her with a small smile and his hands tucked behind his back. “As long as you are with a trusted vampire and you stay away from the caldron I’m comfortable with it if you are.”

“Who do you consider trusted?” Katie asked skeptically.

“Before I answer that question…” Klaus clapped his hand down on Bradley’s shoulder and looked at him with a condescending smile, “Let’s have a quick chat, shall we?” He steered him through the still open door of their quarters.

“The roles here seem oddly reversed, but okay.” Katie said more to herself than Klaus as she shut the door behind them.

Katie was unpacking her duffle bag and hanging her clothes in the closet when she heard the door open and headed that way to see that Klaus and Bradley were back. “And the verdict is…?” she asked hopefully.

“Let’s call this a trial run.” Klaus told her. “Straight to the restaurant and straight back. If all goes well we’ll discuss further outings. Sound fair?” he asked, not wanting to make her think he was trying to control her.

“Sounds perfect.” She said with a smile as she bounced on her toes then looked at her father. “Meet you in the courtyard in twenty?” she asked and he gave her a nod and a smile then shut the door as he left her with Klaus. She turned and looked at Klaus with suspicious eyes.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You’re trusting him? You don’t trust people that haven’t earned it, most of the time not even then. What’s with the nice guy act?”

“Act? Little Phoenix, you wound me.” he told her dramatically as he placed his hand over his heart. She smirked and gave him a look that told him to answer the question. “He is your father and yes he is loyal to Marcel, but I do not underestimate the bond of blood. I will always worry about you when you are out of my sight, but I will not let my misgivings keep you from giving your family a chance to heal.” He told her seriously. “Besides, I saw how miserable you were cooped up in that plantation house. It is not my goal or my right to cage a Phoenix.” He told her as he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Though, I urge you to never let your guard down.”

“I won’t.” She told him practically bouncing with happiness as she bit her lips closed, keeping the words I love you from slipping off of her lips. Now wasn’t the time to tell him, nor was randomly blurting it out, the right way to tell him. No, as long as she’d waited, it needed to be done romantically. Problem was…she sucked at romance. Instead of telling him she stood on her toes and caught his lips with hers. The kiss quickly turned heated and with a whoosh he picked her up wrapping one of her legs around him with his hand on her thigh. Even though he wanted to press her against the wall and take her right there, her ever growing belly wouldn’t allow it. So he whooshed her over to the unmade bed instead.

TVDTVDTVD

“Klaus seems a little overprotective and controlling if you ask me.” Bradley said from where he sat across the table from Katie, cutting the chicken fried steak on his plate.

“You see an overprotective boyfriend trying to control his girlfriend, I see an appropriately protective father just trying to keep me and his child safe.” Katie argued. “People have been threatening my life and my baby’s since I sat foot in this city.”

“I can’t help but feel partially responsible. You wouldn’t even be in this city had I not reached out to you.” her father admitted.

“Yes, but had you not reached out to me I’d probably still be in Mystic Falls hating you and claiming that I had no blood family.” She said as she pointed at him with her fork then stabbed a piece of lettuce. “I was starting to despise that town anyway, with it’s stupid town council and the same judgmental faces I’d seen every day for the past nineteen years. If that bitch Carol Lockwood called me trash one more time I would have broken her uppity little neck.”

“Oh, yeah, she was a bitch wasn’t she?” He agreed and things fell quiet between them for a while as they ate and Katie got a little lost in thoughts of the past.

“So I have a question, maybe you can answer it. Carol always called me a piece of trash and Grandpa always called me a slut even though I wasn’t. I never understood it. Can you shed some light on that?” Katie asked, then took a bite of her salad.

“I hate to speak ill of your mother, but her reputation may have tainted yours. Before she and I married she was a bit…wild. A lot of people didn’t even think you were my daughter.” He explained.

“Really?” she asked unbelievingly then motioned between the two of them with her hand. “The resemblance is kind of uncanny. I even picked at my cuticles like you did.”

“You remember that?” Bradley asked through a bite of his food.

“I forgot about it until Elijah poked around in my head and dug up old memories.” She explained with a shrug then took the last bite of her salad.

Things fell quiet between again as she sipped on her tea and Bradley finished his steak and potatoes. He covered the bill then asked, “Ready to head back?”

“Actually I have a small request.” She said as she held her fingers up in a pinching motion. “Do you know a good jewelry store nearby?”

“You didn’t okay this with Klaus did you?” her father deadpanned.

“First, I don’t take orders from him and he knows it. Second, I can’t surprise him if he knows where I’m at 24/7.” She replied ticking the things off on her fingers with a devious tone.

“You want to buy Klaus jewelry?” her father asked, looking at her through narrowed eyes.

“A ring, yes.” She answered.

“You’re not going to propose to him are you?” Bradley asked knowing Kate had always been a bit of a free spirit like her mother.

Katie busted out laughing. “God no.”

“As long as you don’t let him rip my spine out through my throat for doing this then sure. There’s a jeweler around the corner that I’ve used for years now.”

TVDTVDTVD

“Good evening.” The man standing behind the counter at the back of the store with glass cases here and there greeted her then noticed Bradley walk in behind her. “Oh, hey man, how’s it going?” he asked as he walked over to them.

“Good.” Bradley answered as he and the jeweler slapped their hands together in an over the top handshake. “Chad, this is my daughter, Scarlett.”

“Actually I prefer to go by Katie these days.” she spoke up as she held her hand out to Chad. “Hi.” She told him with a smile.

“Hi.” He echoed back, returning her smile. “What can I do for ya?”

“I’m hoping to find a ring for my guy.” Katie answered, taking in the man. He was Caucasian, looked to be in his late thirties and wore a simple outfit of jeans and a black dress shirt. The thing that gave away his profession in Katie’s opinion were the three gaudy rings on his hand and the diamond crusted eagle pendant that hung around his neck on a thick platinum chain.

“Alright. Do you have anything specific in mind? A certain metal type, certain gemstone?” he asked.

“Yeah, uh, I was thinking something simple. No gemstones. Maybe made of black tungsten.” Katie threw out as a kicking off point.

“I think I have a few options for you.” He motioned her over to a case of rings and after looking through them she found one she thought Klaus would love.

“You’re guy?” her father asked as they walked down the sidewalk on their way back to the compound.

“He’s over a thousand years old, calling him my boyfriend feels kind of immature and silly.” She defended herself.

TVDTVDTVD

She managed to hide the ring in its box in their living quarters before Klaus found her. “How’d it go?” Klaus asked as he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her into him.

“Smooth sailing.” Katie answered as she placed her hands on his shoulders then slid them up to hold the sides of his neck.

“Good.” He pecked her on the lips. “Are you feeling up to a dinner tonight here in the courtyard with Marcel and his closest comrades?”

“Sure.” She answered then turned from him and walked over to the couch in the middle room and sat down. “What’s it for?”

“Just a general get to know each other dinner.” He shrugged as he stood in the archway facing her.

“The last time someone said we were having a general get to know each other dinner a dagger ended up in Elijah’s back.” she pointed out. “If anything other than friendly conversation and eating is going to happen tonight please give me a head’s up.”

“I plan on giving a speech to our new friends and to further rally them and convince them we have absolutely no plans on creating a hybrid army, I plan on asking Marcel’s right hand man, Diego, to lead a wolf hunt.” He told her with his hands tucked behind his back.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked with a narrow eyed shake of her head as she stood up.

“How can I sire hybrids if there are no werewolves left in the bayou to turn?” he asked as if it were obvious.

“I strongly disagree with that.” she stated as she walked over to him.

“Why?” he asked curiously as he set his hands on her waist. “They tried to kill our child.”

“Several reasons.” She started and he guessed by the one finger she held up and the determined look on her face that she was about to go off on a rant. “Tyler tried to kill me. As far as I know he’s not part of their pack. The New Orleans werewolves didn’t touch me and are therefore innocent.” She held up a second finger, “By needlessly killing those wolves you’ll be asking for backlash and a fight we don’t need right now.” then a third finger, “And the main reason, our child will have the werewolf gene.” She told him as she dropped her hand and placed it on her stomach. “If, God forbid, something happens to you and she triggers her gene, I won’t know how to help her. If you kill all the local werewolves who will we have to go to? We need them to be our allies or at the very least on neutral ground with us.”

Klaus sighed and gave her a smirk. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“Okay, I will take your advice and not ask Diego to lead a wolf hunt.” He answered.

“Not even so much as a rousting.” She clarified as she grabbed his chin in her hand stubbornly.

“The werewolves are not to be touched or harassed.” He confirmed as he took her hand off his face and kissed her palm. “Perhaps I should buy you a tiara.” He told her as he dropped her hand and pulled her as close as her tummy would allow.

“Why?” she drawled momentarily forgetting that Klaus was the new king of New Orleans.

“Because you are already stepping into the role of queen quite nicely.” He told her as he whooshed them over to sit on the couch with her sitting sideways in his lap.

“Eh give me a week, I’m sure I’ll screw it up somehow.” She told him only half meaning it.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Stop it.”

“So how formal is this dinner going to be?” she asked, changing the subject. “I didn’t exactly bring a lot of clothes.”

“What you’re wearing is fine.” He answered as he took in her grey racer back tank top that was pulled a little tight across her stomach and dark wash distressed jeans. “You might want to wear a jacket though. It'll be a bit chilly in the courtyard at night.”

Katie slipped her hand over his that rested on her thigh and leaned her head on his shoulder. After a while of sitting in silence, both lost in their thoughts Klaus asked, “Sing for me?”

She smiled wondering what it was with the Mikaelson men liking her singing voice. The only difference between the two men was Elijah knew she was a bit shy when it came to her hidden talent and waited patiently for her to decide to sing for him. Klaus, on the other hand, had no problem asking her to and she loved it and his tendency to push her outside her comfort zone. “What would you like to hear?” she asked as she picked her head up and looked at him.

“Write me something.” He replied with a challenging tone.

“You’re kidding.” she looked at him with raised brows.

“Nope.” He told her with a shake of his head.

“You know I can’t just write something on demand right? I have to be inspired.” She pointed out. “You’re an artist, do you not need inspiration to pick up a brush and put paint to canvas?”

“So you need a muse?” he asked with a cocky look and she nodded. “You’re mine most of the time. Can’t I be yours?”

“I don’t know, let’s see.” she replied then caught his lips with hers and he laughed into the kiss. She slipped from his lap, breaking the kiss when she stood up, then went to her still half packed bag and grabbed her journal and pen. He watched as she sat down on the other end of the couch, pulled her knees up, propped the book up on them then put pen to paper. As she got lost in her writing, Klaus grabbed a sketch pad and pencil from his bag he’d dropped at the foot of the bed and started drawing her. He finished before her and she glanced up to see him looking at her, lost in her delicate features that concentrated on the book. After a few minutes she looked up at him through her lashes and smirked. “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.” He countered and she just smiled.

“Well, you can stop because I’m finished.” She told him as she put the cap back on her pen and tossed it to the coffee table.

“Then let’s hear it.” he prompted with a come at me motion with his hand.

“You’re lucky I like you so much.” She told him with a playful glare and he gave her a look that told her ‘I know’. Still not secure in her writing skills she turned her eyes to her journal and kept them there not daring to look up as she started singing. “Like every flower’s got a field and the cloud’s have got the rain. Like the night has got the stars and a fires got a flame. Like a moon has got the tide and the rivers got the sea. I’ve got you and you’ve got me.” A small smile pulled at his lips as he listened to her sing the chorus. “Like a singer’s got a song and a song has got a rhyme. Like I know you’ve got a smile when I can’t get to mine. Like every soul has got a heart and a heart has got a beat. I’ve got you and you’ve got me. Oh, some things are guaranteed. Oh, some things will always be. Like I’ve got you and you’ve got me.” she finished and snapped her journal shut.

When she looked up at him she saw him looking at her, admiring what he knew was his and no one could take from him. “I swear you are a siren.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked with a smile as she set her journal on the coffee table and crawled across the couch to him. “Are you under my spell?”

“Very much so.” He told her as he moved her around to straddle his lap. He noticed an odd look on her face and asked, “What’s that face about?”

“I’m trying to think if there is a male, wolf, devilishly handsome variant of a siren.” She answered.

He laughed at her odd thought process. “I don’t sing.”

“No, you growl.” She pointed out as she slid her hands down his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “And I swear it does things to me.” he gave her a questioning side eye and smirk. “May I?” she asked as she held her hand in the air beside his head. He nodded and let her into his mind when she placed her fingertips to his temple. The two times he growled when fighting Marcel’s men flashed through his head, telling him what she was talking about. When she took her hand off his head he gave her a suggestive smirk. “There’s a reason I call you big bad wolf even though you’re a hybrid. You’re animalistic and I love it.”

Love was clear in his eyes as he cupped her cheek in his hand and caught her lips with his in a tender but passionate kiss.

TVDTVDTVD

The courtyard was lit by chandeliers that Katie had failed to notice before and a dining table had been moved in for the occasion. Klaus sat at one end of the table and Katie at the other. Marcel sat to Klaus’s left and Bradley sat at Katie’s right and the rest of Marcel’s inner circle took up the other seats at the table. When Klaus tapped his champagne glass, everyone looked at him and listened as he gave a toast to immortality. With a motion of his fingers waitresses and waiters came out and slit their wrists then held them over the bows that sat in front of each vampire. When the staff left, Klaus lifted his champagne glass again and looked at Katie. She had asked to hear exactly what he was going to say in his toast, not wanting any surprises whatsoever. This part she suggested exchanging a certain exclusive word for a more inclusive one reminding him that he was the king but he wasn’t the only one living in the kingdom of New Orleans. She was interested to see if he would take her advice. “To our city, to my home again.” He gave her a smirk that she returned seeing that he took her advice. “May the blood never cease to flow…”

“And the party never end.” Marcel finished as he raised his glass.

Katie didn’t miss the shared look between Marcel and his right hand man Diego before the latter lifted his glass and said, “To New Orleans.” Everyone else followed suit echoing Diego’s words. Katie simply lifted her glass of sparkling white grape juice and sat it back down.

“I understand that some of you may have questions regarding the recent change in leadership. I invited you here tonight to assure you that you are not defeated. No, my intentions moving forward are to celebrate what we have. What Marcel, in fact, took…” Klaus said as he placed his hand on Marcel’s shoulder, “and built into this, a true community of vampires.”

“What about her?” Diego asked with a point at the other end of the table to Katie. “Isn’t she human or whatever?”

Klaus looked at Katie with a smirk, knowing she’d have something to say about his tone. “My name is Katie.” She spoke up trying to remain confident under Diego’s scrutinizing gaze. “Any questions you have about me, or for me, you can ask me. And yes, in approximately one months time I will be completely human.”

As Katie spoke Klaus walked around the table and stood behind her. “Yes before Diego interrupted me I was going to say there is one further matter I would like to address. As many of you know, Katie is carrying my child, but she is also my partner.” That part of his speech was ad libbed, but she liked the fact that he called her his partner. It had a nice ring to it and was more mature than calling her his girlfriend, not that she didn’t like him calling her his girlfriend when it was just the two of them.

When he slipped his hand over her shoulder she reached up and grabbed it. “Consequently I trust you will all show her the appropriate respect. However, I understand that some of you are concerned by this vicious rumor that I intend to use the blood of our child to create hybrids.” Katie kept her hand on his and looked at her father then the rest of Marcel’s men. “I assure you I do not.” Klaus walked back around to his spot at the head of the table and lifted his glass. “So eat, drink and let the merriment begin.” Klaus finished then took a drink from his glass and everyone followed suit.

Soon more staff came and replaced the bowls of blood with actual food. Thankfully the conversation picked up around the table and Bradley introduced Katie to the people sitting close to them.

“So I didn’t see a ring on his finger.” Bradley spoke up making Katie’s eyes go big and she looked at Klaus to see him deep in conversation with Marcel.

“Will you shush before you ruin it?” Katie asked quietly, making her father laugh. “I haven’t found the right time to give it to him yet. I don’t have the chance to be the romantic one very often and I don’t want to screw it up.”

“You’re mother wasn’t romantic either.” He told her with a smirk.

“Really?” she asked not remembering much about her mother other than her teaching her how to play piano.

“She always tried way too hard and got all nervous and let her mouth run away with her.” he told her and Katie realized then that she had also gotten a nervous habit from her mother. “My advice, don’t think too hard about it. Go with the flow.”

“Follow my heart and go with the flow. Could my parent’s advice be any more cliché?” Katie asked no one in particular with a shake of her head making her father laugh.

TVDTVDTVD

When the dinner was over Katie and Klaus retired to their quarters. When they walked in Katie noticed that dark blue panel curtains had been hung over the windows and the bed had been made with pale grey sheets, an admiral blue comforter and was turned down, all ready for them to slide between the clean sheets. Her bag that had been left on the bed was gone and she noticed the things that had been in it were placed in appropriate spots in the room. “Are you ready to call it a night?” Klaus asked as he walked up behind her, brushed her loose auburn waves to the side and kissed her neck making her sigh.

“Not quite yet.” She answered as she turned in his arms and he gave her a curious look. “Stay right here.” she told him then walked around him and when she heard him take a few steps, turned and pointed at him. “Na, uh, uh.” He laughed and held his hands up in surrender before he tucked them behind his back.

She got the ring, took it from the box and stuck it in her back pocket then located her speaker dock on the fireplace mantle in the middle room. She pulled up a slow song from the twenties on her cell phone then put it on the dock, pressed play and walked over to the arch way and held her hand out to him. He took it and walked with her into the room, giving her a twirl before he pulled her close and started dancing with her. After a few seconds he recognized the song. “This is the song we danced to at the twenties dance.” He pointed out as he pulled back to look into her eyes.

“Ella Fitzgerald’s The Man I Love.” She confirmed. “It took me a while to remember the lyrics considering I wasn’t swept away by the song, but rather the man I was dancing with.” She told him, making him give her a small smile. “But I eventually did and I looked it up and downloaded it for a special moment like this.”

“And why is this moment so special?” he asked considering they were just dancing.

She moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek in her hand and slip her thumb over his cheekbone. “Because it’s the moment I tell you I’m in love with you.” His blue eyes went wide before a big smile took over his face and she moved her hands to hold the sides of his neck. “I love you, Big Bad Wolf.” A yelp followed by a laugh left her lips when he picked her up by her hips and spun her around, an almost growling victory laugh left his still smiling lips as he did. He kissed her as he sat her back down and cupped her cheek in his hand. When the kiss broke she stuck her hand in her pocket. “And I hope you won’t get mad, but I may have talked Bradley into making an extra stop earlier today. It was literally right around the corner from the restaurant. I promise we were safe and please don’t take it out on Bradley he-” she was cut off when Klaus put his hand over her mouth.

“I’m not mad.” He assured her then took his hand off of her mouth. “I assumed if there was somewhere you really wanted to go you wouldn’t let me stop you and I trusted you would stay away from witches. So where did you go?”

“A jewelry store.” She answered. “I’ve never bought anything for a man before, much less jewelry. So I’ll understand if you don’t like it or don’t want to wear it.” She held up the black tungsten band with a wood inlay around the center of it. “It’s tungsten, so it can handle wear and tear and the wood is Hawaiian Koa, a symbol of strength.”

When he looked up from the ring she was still holding between her thumb and index finger she saw that his eyes had watered and when he blinked a tear slipped down his cheek. Hoping it was a tear of happiness, she wiped it away. He took the ring from her and kissed her. Through the kiss he told her that he loved it and he loved her. When the slow kiss broke he asked, “Is there a certain finger you would like me to wear it on?”

“Whatever finger it fits and you’re comfortable with.” She told him with a shake of her head. He lifted his left hand and slid it onto his ring finger, it fit perfectly and she smiled. “I was going to snoop around our bedroom at the plantation in the hopes of finding your daylight ring to make sure I got the right size, but we had to leave before I got the chance.”

He grabbed her right hand in his left and pulled her close, dancing to the song again since it was on repeat. He gave her a twirl making her smile. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Since my chat with Cami.” She answered.

“I have Camille to thank for this?” he asked with raised brows.

“The ring, no, the confession, yes. You seem surprised.” She observed.

“Given your past jealousy I was afraid any interactions you might have with her would have the opposite effect of this.” He told her honestly.

“Apart from my initial jealousy and the fact that she is not only beautiful, but drop dead gorgeous, I have no reason to be threatened by her.” She replied and Klaus smiled a little. “In every other relationship I’ve been in it has felt like there was another woman ready to take what was mine the first chance they had. Be it Elena or Katherine…I even feared Ronan would turn to my sister when she lived with us. But for once it feels like my feet are firmly planted in the ground beside the man I love. I no longer have any insecurities when it comes to us.” She moved her hand that had been resting on his chest to hold the side of his neck. “I just hope you feel the same way.” She slipped her thumb over the soft skin of his neck and looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I will admit, your hesitance had me worried.” He answered and she gave him a look that asked why, although she had her own theories. “You insisted that you only wanted me yet you couldn’t tell me you love me. Therefore someone had to be standing in the way. Who could it have been if not my saintly brother?”

“Me.” she answered. “and my fears because with love comes hurt.”

“And you know I will never intentionally hurt you.” he assured her and she let a small smile pull at the corner of her lips.

“I wasn’t worried about myself.” He blinked at her slowly. “You’re invincible and I’m…not. I was afraid that if I told you I loved you only to be ripped away from you…that I would hurt you and that is something I never want to do.” Her eyes watered and he breathed out a shaky breath. “Then Cami basically pointed out that by trying to protect you I’d only hurt you more and she was right.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “Remind me later to send Camille a very expensive bottle of wine or a gift basket.”

“From both of us.” Katie agreed.

Klaus kissed her forehead then wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she wrapped hers around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I love you, Little Phoenix.”

“I love you too, Big Bad Wolf.” She answered. After a while Klaus let go of her and walked over to her cell phone, stopped the song, took it off the speaker dock and tucked it into her back pocket. “I take it you are ready to call it a night.”

“I am ready to lay in bed, in my home, with the woman that I love.” He told her, “I can see the sleep in your eyes.” After they got settled for the night they laid in bed, lost in thought as they cuddled, Klaus absentmindedly playing with her hair. “For future reference, what is your favorite gemstone?”

“It’s a two way tie between blue sapphire and mystic fire topaz.” She answered. “And diamonds are always good too of course.” She added. “But not chocolate diamonds, ironically I hate them as much as actual chocolate. They just look like dirty diamonds to me.” She looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “What about you?”

“I prefer my jewelry free of gemstones.” He answered and she picked up his hand, looking at the ring he chose to wear on an important finger.

“So you like it?” she asked looking at their hands as she pressed her palm to his, always liking the sight of her very feminine and much smaller hand compared to his larger, masculine, nimble fingered one.

He threaded their fingers together. “I love it.” he told her then pressed his lips to hers.

“Thank you for choosing to wear it on that particular finger.”

“It’s an important ring from a very important person. It deserved an important place to shine.” He told her with a smile. “And I recall a moment when you mentioned that you didn’t like that I go out and about without any indication that I’m taken.” She forgot she had mentioned that in their discussion about Cami. “And for that reason, as well as many others, it will never leave this finger.” He assured her as he slipped his fingers over the chain of her necklace that hadn’t left her neck since he put it back on. “Unless, of course…” he started with a tone to his voice that was meant to tempt, “it should ever be replaced by a wedding band.”

“Whoa. Hey.” She shot up in the bed and turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Slow down there Sparky.”

Klaus busted out laughing. “I was just messing with you.”

She punched him in the shoulder, which only made him laugh harder. “Give a girl a heart attack why don’t you.” she placed her hand on her heaving chest. “I seriously thought you were about to propose and I am nowhere near ready for that.”

“I’m sorry.” He told her, realizing now that her heart was beating way too fast. “Come here.” he held his arm out for her and she lay down and let him pull her into his chest and resumed playing with her hair, attempting to calm her. “I really am sorry. I knew you’d have something to say about it, but I didn’t know it would push you to the brink of a panic attack.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t know it would either in all honesty, especially considering Bradley thought I was going to ask you to marry me when I told him I wanted to buy you a ring. I actually found it kind of funny.” She told him quietly.

When her heart rate lowered to a normal pace he tried once again to approach the subject, gently this time, curious to know why she found the thought so frightening. “Can I ask you a question regarding certain previous subject matter?”

She smiled at his blatant attempt at avoiding the word marriage as she pulled back to look at him. “Yes. I won’t freak out on you again.”

“Is the thought of us getting married really so frightening or funny?” he now looked a little hurt or worried by her reaction.

“Funny no, frightening yes. It’s just…” she didn’t know how to explain why she had never thought about marrying him even though she loved him and most women naturally thought about their future with the man they loved…marriage, kids, navigating their forever together. She’d thought about what her dream wedding would look like before she got her memories back, but now she knew the ugly truth of what marriage could look like. “I hear the word marriage and I automatically feel…strangled.”

“Because you were forced into your first marriage and felt you couldn’t escape it.” he said in realization.

Katie nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I would feel the same way if I were to ever marry you. It just means…that it’s a crack in my side of the mirror that needs to be mended.” She said with a shrug. “I just thought it was funny that Bradley thought that I would propose to you.” she explained not wanting him to think she thought a forever with him was laughable. “I’m old school. It’s your job to pop the question, not mine.”

“After tonight’s reaction I’m not sure how I would even navigate that.” he admitted.

“Give me some time and help me warm up to the idea and you can do it however you want to.” She told him and he gave her a smile and kissed her forehead before she tucked herself back into his chest. “And, just so you know, I used to watch say yes to the dress with Caroline all the time. So I already have a dream dress in mind.” He gave her an interested look. “What type of dress do you think I would like?”

“Simple, sheath or trumpet silhouette, maybe satin and lace.” He guessed thinking he was spot on until she laughed and shook her head.

“Not even close.” She told him with a shake of her head. “My dream dress is nowhere near simple.”

“Then show me.” he told her now very interested because the most extravagant dress he had ever seen her wear was the dress that Elijah bought her for the Mikaelson ball and it was on the classic and reserved side of fashion.

“Not gonna happen.” She answered.

“Why not?” he asked with a frown.

“Because it’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding.” She answered as if it was the obvious one and he rolled his eyes. “I will tell you that the designer is Pnina Tornai and it was a custom made dress. So good luck finding it on the internet.” She told him with a devious look. “And if we ever do decide to tie the knot it will be in this certain dress. If I can’t hunt down the original I want to get Pnina Tornai to make another one.” His jaw dropped in a smile and he laughed as he closed it and shook his head at her making demands for something extravagant. “I’ve surprised you again haven’t I?”

“Yes.” He said with a smile and a nod. “All the other dresses I’ve seen you wear were safe and classic.

“Most of the dresses I’ve worn were bought by other people and I will not play it safe with some cookie cutter wedding dress. Trust me, you’ll like it. Pnina’s dresses are sexy and usually do a good job of showcasing your most favorite part of me.”

His eyes dropped to her chest and a dirty smirk pulled at his lips. “Yeah?” he asked and she nodded. A growling laugh left his lips as he rolled over, hovering over her as he caught her lips with his.

A/N: Reviews and thoughts on my stories are always welcomed and highly appriciated as well as reblogs and likes, but the reviews are what really keep me writing. Just saying.

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umbralstars · 3 years

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Alright now that I've talked a bit about his province it's time to talk about the man himself. We should all be aware of the few bits of canon info we got about Rufus, but here's my own general thoughts about his character and the relationships he has with his family.

Rufus is 13 years older than Lambert and wasn't exactly thrilled when his parents decided to make Lambert heir instead because of him possessing a crest while Rufus didn't. Rufus understands logically why Crests are useful for rulers to have (the legitimacy they offer along with a powerful Relic if a ruler needs to defend the state is useful and he won't deny that) but doesn't believe a Crest necessarily makes one automatically a good ruler. Recognizing early on the faults in Faerghus' system of governance, and feeling like he has something to prove, Rufus was hell bent on leaving his mark on Faerghus whether he's king or not.

Rufus is actually an incredibly intelligent politician who studied not only the governing systems of old, but also tried to learn as much as he could about foreign governments so he could reform Faerghus. He's been reform minded since he was a teenager. Even spent a good portion of Lambert's formative years impressing his ideas onto his younger brother, until Lambert knew enough to start coming up with his own ideas and debating solutions with Rufus. While the brothers were never the closest, Rufus implicitly trusted Lambert because his brother was just willing to trust and listen to him and that meant a lot to Rufus. He did more than his fair share of criticizing his younger brother, but at least he knew Lambert could find appreciation in that.

As Grand Duke of Itha, Rufus had a certain view on wealth and how a government should be structured.

He firmly believes that wealth should be used to glorify the state through great public works and that a well educated populace along with a well fed and protected populace led to the greatest societies. He still lived large and made it known, but he had a more patriotic attitude towards his wealth and believed he had a moral obligation to spend it on Faerghus' greatness. Under his rule, Castell Itha went from a cultural backwater in Faerghus to having one of the largest public libraries (something that would be replicated in Fhirdiad with Lambert turning the Fhirdiad College of Sorcery's library into a royal one open to the public) in Fodlan and having better urban planning than many cities in the Empire. He personally encouraged the creation of great works of art, poetry, and new magical techniques all for the good of Faerghus. He believed that Faerghus could be a cultural powerhouse and he was going to make it so by Sothis.

Rufus' aspirations weren't just limited to Itha either as he was of the opinion that Faerghus' incredibly decentralized governance style was holding the Kingdom back from greatness. Ever since Loog, the Kingdom had been an almost confederation of various states who paid homage to House Blaiddyd and the royal court but devolved so much power on internal matters they were functionally independent. The Kingdom's codes of chivalry were mostly developed and lauded by the crown as a way to retain some centralized authority and respect, but the various states in Faerghus could pretty much beef with each other as they pleased. Nowhere worse was this problem than in the northern reaches of Faerghus. Because much of the north has sided with Loog there was never any consolidation, so the north was made up of hundreds of duchies, counties, baronies, etc that could give the Holy Roman Empire a run for its money.

Rufus saw all of this as a blight on the Kingdom and made it his life's mission to fix it when he became Grand Duke. Lambert and him were working towards a goal of essentially a federalized monarchy with a strong centralized government. It's the entire reason he started to consolidate power and take out anyone who dared to get in his way. He also has a very 'my way or the highway' outlook on the other noble houses and wouldn't hesitate to screw them over if they don't fall into lines or prove to him that they're incapable of leadership.

Rufus can also be incredibly petty and spiteful if he feels he's been offended in some way. House Galatea is the big example of this. Galatea had been having financial problems for decades before hand, and the Count spurning Rufus on his betrothal request for peaceful inclusion in the Grand Duchy he considered a grave insult. Rufus didn't incite the rebellion as some claim but he did capitalize on it because he wanted to show how weak Galatea was and undermine the Count's authority. A more bloody example came when a smaller noble house in his domain tried to kill Rufus and his heir to take the riches for themselves. While they failed on both counts, Rufus decided to purge the entire family and their supporters with having the ringleaders tried and executed leaving the rest to flee for the Alliance.

The only House he begrudgingly respects is House Fraldarius because he does consider Rodrigue to be a capable leader and they do somewhat get along. They encountered each other a lot and, while Rogrigue is critical of Rufus' certain proclivities, they were able to be amicable to one another. He dislikes how many nobles fled to House Fraldarius due to the perceived aggression on the Grand Duchy's part. But for him, as long as Rodrigue was on Lambert's side with the reform measures he can share power in the north. He and Margrave Gautier have always disliked each other for numerous reasons, but the two don't clash over territory so they can tolerate each other's presence.

Rufus is also a mixed bag of being extremely charismatic, but pretty much only becomes so to woo people or get what he wants. In all other aspects of his life Rufus was domineering and stubborn with his beliefs and in his social life. He was and still is extremely piss poor at handling emotions and this includes his own. He could also be cold and ruthless when it came to pursuing his goals and was willing to do shitty things to get results.

Speaking of doing shitty things yes the man is a prolific womanizer, and every single relationship he has with the women in his life and his children is unique. He does frequent brothels and has done so since he was in his late teens. He courts heiresses to incorporate their houses into his territory or for purely political gain. Many of the children he has had may very not consider him a father at all simply because he's never been in their lives for whatever reason. At bare minimum he makes sure his mistresses and his bastards have at least a comfortable living situation, but that's about it. Rufus is obviously not incapable of loving people or considering his children family, he just doesn't a lot of the time while he never wishes ill upon them. There are a few instances where this was not the case and he was much closer to his mistresses and children, but they were honestly few and far between.

Since I mentioned his family other than Lambert and Dimitri it’s OC time.

Rufus and Emyr

Darya Artemi was probably one of the few women Rufus ever truly fell and love with. He initially approached her in the same way he had heiresses in the past with just intentions of courting her along with her soon to be lands, but somewhere along the line he genuinely did fall for her. When Emyr was born and it was discovered he had a Major Crest Rufus jumped on the opportunity to make him the heir. They never did legally marry, but she was Duchess Consort in everything but legality. Darya was mostly fine with having an open relationship with Rufus as long as he was around for her and their children.

Rufus as a parent is just as domineering as in every other aspect of his life. He could be caring but extremely strict as well and pushed for perfection in everything Emyr did. He wanted his son to be the perfect heir for the province he was building, and be like him in many aspects. Emyr did love his father and wanted to live up to every expectation.

When Darya died, Rufus experienced one of the first major depressive episodes in his life. He pulled away from his children, threw himself into work and all of his vices, and became even harder on Emyr than he was previously. If her death wasn't enough, some of his mistresses felt an opportunity to get ahead and tried to fill the void or even remove Emyr on a few occasions. The houses never really leveled out again and both Emyr and Rufus clung to the perceived stability they had before Darya's death to their relationship's detriment. They never could come close to breaching those vulnerable waters.

When Emyr ran away with Katya, it came after years of strife between him and his father that did permanently damage their relationship. Rufus was devastated when he lost Emyr and Katya along with a good portion of his family. He grew even more depressed, lost control of the court entirely, and never could form anywhere close to a good relationship with his nephew. He lost a good number of relationships during the four years before his death in friends and family. He spent the last years of his life guilt ridden, dogged by horrible rumors, and trying to keep together a country which was begging to rip itself a part.

For Emyr's part, he never did wish for his father to die in the way he did. In some ways he did love Rufus even after everything. Emyr is like his father in many ways and terrified of becoming him in many others.

TL;DR: Rufus is complicated.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe3h oc #rufus blaiddyd #emyr artemi blaiddyd #fire emblem #rufus analysis #oh he is my beloathed #a good ruler until he lost control of everything #and pretty complicated personality wise #he's got his good and his bad parts #blaiddyd bastards #a lot of this IS for my own personal writing and so obviously a lot of it is very embellished #but feel free to take any aspect of this if it jives

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thewildsophia · 4 years

Text

.Art Project. Clone High//Van Gogh x Reader

Van Gogh x Reader

Word Count: 2564

~~~~~~~~~~

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get the thought of the tiny Dutch artist out of your head. You weren’t even sure what about him it was that caught your attention. Perhaps it was his orange hair that almost looks red in the right lighting, or maybe his pale skin that mirrored the white bandages that you know he changes everyday (you also loved how his face would blossom with this gorgeous shade of orange-pink when he was complimented), or maybe it was just his hands. Yeah that was it. His hands, petite and delicate, that could paint such beautiful, exquisite paintings that told of many different things.

God you felt like such a creep.

But you couldn’t help it. You were absolutely infatuated, -- no, that’s not quite right -- obsessed with him.

And the worst part about it all was that the two of you have barely had any real interactions with each other. The last time the two of you had really talked was when you were assigned an art project with him. It was a collaborative project where you two were given a piece of art and two canvases and you would paint half the artwork on each canvas using styles and colors that were different, but still complimented the other half.

You two had received the artwork The Kiss by Gustav Klimt, with you painting the man and Van Gogh painting the woman. You had used cooler colors -- blues, greens, grays and purples -- while Van Gogh used warmer ones -- reds, yellows, oranges and whites. You had focused most of the detail on the man, leaving the background somewhat barren with Van Gogh doing the opposite, focusing on the background and less on the woman.

It had actually turned out really well and the two of you had received a perfect grade, but what you liked the most about the whole thing was how much time you got to spend with him.

You worked with him for a whole week and when the deadline was coming up he invited you to his dorm to finish it. You actually found it quite funny how much his room looked like The Bedroom, but you weren’t surprised.

If you really thought about it, it was probably the second day when you started to become fascinated by him. The sketches had been completed and you two had just started painting. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t focus on your piece, intrigued by his painting. His strokes were quick, decisive, like he knew exactly what he wanted. It was difficult not to stare as he painted and you had barely gotten any work done that day. And he quickly picked up on your distracted state.

“Is something the matter?” God that voice sounded just perfect to you. It was deep, but not too deep, and somewhat raspy, like he had a slight cold. You could listen to that voice for hours.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” You remember him asking.

“Yeah.” You had answered, “I’ve just never seen you paint before. It’s beautiful.” After those words had left your mouth, that beautiful peach color blessed his pale skin and he looked away with a bashful smile.

“I-Thank you.” He had stuttered and it was probably the cutest thing you had ever heard. You wanted to get him to do that more often. After that the two of you continued to work on your project with the occasional chatter between you.

When the two of you had finished, you didn’t really talk to the other. You’d wave to each other in the hallways while transitioning classes or offer a quiet “Hey” when entering Painting II. What you did find a bit strange is that if you show up first, he’ll sit at the same table as you and vice-versa, and neither of you seemed to mind it.

Actually, it kind of worked to your advantage.

You really couldn’t help yourself and often found yourself drawing Van Gogh in your sketchbook, ranging from basic sketches to full on ink pieces (of course you’d ink them when you got back to your dorm). It’s actually gotten so bad lately that you now have completed paintings of him, whether it be acrylic, watercolor, oil, gouache, you name it and you probably have it.

You were actually about half way through painting another piece of him, although you didn’t like this one as much as some of the others since he looked a bit too feminine. While painting, you heard a knock at your dorm’s door. You quickly looked at the clock hanging on the wall opposite of a window.

“It’s almost 10pm, why the hell is someone coming up here?” You thought before getting up and looking out the peephole in your door only to be greeted with nothing. You grumbled to yourself while opening the door just to make sure no one left something for you.

Upon opening the door, you’re greeted with none other than the clone of Vincent Van Gogh himself, canvas and set of acrylics pinned at his side. You felt yourself straighten as you greeted him.

“Oh-Hey. It’s almost 10, are you alright? You need something?” You asked watching him shift his stance before answering,

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for coming by so late, I just needed a bit of help with the portrait project and you’re the only person I really felt comfortable coming to.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his. You felt your heart stutter at hearing that.

“It’s alright, what did you need help with specifically?” You asked leaning onto the door frame.

“I’m having trouble with making a background that works with the subject.” He said. Weird. Backgrounds are usually his speciality. “Um, may I come in?” He asked. Your eyes widen slightly with realization of you forgetting to let him hit you.

“Of course! Sorry.” You apologized sheepishly, moving out of the way to let him in.

“It’s fine.” He said. You closed the door before quickly jogging over to your desk, grabbing the still wet painting and placing it against the wall opposite the door, facing towards said wall. You cleared a spot on your desk for him to place his things.

“Alright, let’s see what you got so far.” You said looking over his painting.

You talked to him for about 15 minutes about how he could improve what he currently had before you got up to grab you painting to show him what you had done.

“That’s Frida Kahlo, right? If I remember correctly she’s from Mexican descent, so I would use brighter colors like greens, pinks and yellows.” You said while rustling with the huge stack of paintings you had looking for it. “I had gotten Aaron Douglas, so I stuck with more desaturated colors and focused less on details and more on the silhouettes of the subjects.” Once grabbing the painting you returned to Van Gogh, placing the painting onto the desk next to his.

Only…That wasn’t the right painting.

Nope, instead it was one of Van Gogh, specifically the one of him you had finished a few weeks ago of him looking at himself in a full-body mirror while painting a self portrait. You grabbed the painting, pressing it against your chest the moment you realized it was the wrong one. You stared at him a moment before turning around and scrounging around in the pile again for the right painting.

“Y/N-” Van Gogh started, but you weren’t gonna let him finish.

“Just! Give me a second.” You said, searching a bit faster. God seemed to be against you that night because when you started to look for it faster the whole stack fell and, of course, with it came the majority of paintings you had made of him. And…the painting of Douglas.

You stood there a moment, feeling the sweat gather at your forehead and back of your neck. You grabbed the painting of Douglas before stacking all the other ones up. You turned back around, slowly walking back over to the desk and putting the right painting next to his.

“So, um, like I was saying earlier…” But your voice died in your throat when you heard him speak.

“Y/N.” He said firmly. You felt yourself swallow thickly before looking over at him. “Come with me.”

And you did. You really didn’t feel like arguing with him after what had just happened. He led you to his dorm room on the 3rd floor, unlocking it and gesturing for you to step in. You did before he closed the door and walked over to the corner of his room. He pulled out a bundle of canvas, separating them from each other.

“You know, for the longest time I felt like such a creep doing this so often, but after seeing what you’ve been doing, I feel a lot less like one.” He said while revealing the paintings to you.

They were of you. They were all of you.

You felt your heart leap out of your chest as your eyes laid on the paintings. They were all different from the last, varying in size, color, style, much like your own.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since we were assigned that project together, ever since…you said that about my painting.” He started, “At first you were just a passing thought, but as time went on, you started to plague my mind more and more often to the point where I couldn’t get you off my mind.” He finished, that stunning peach color returning to his cheeks.

You walked over to where he had the paintings spread out over his bed, running your fingers over the texture in the dried paint.

“Oh, Van Gogh, these are…” You started, still stunned about everything.

“Not my best work, I know.” He said scratching the back of his neck, “It was a bit difficult painting you without having you here to reference.” He admitted.

“No, Van Gogh, these are beautiful.” You said stroking your cheek, “And not just because they’re of me.” You added with a laugh, to which Van Gogh also let out a chuckle.

The room then when quiet, neither of you having the courage to speak up until you decided the silence had lasted enough.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” You started, “But you’ve captured my interest, and ever since I got to watch you paint that day I also haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” You paused, breathing in deeply. Well, it’s now or never you suppose.

“Everytime I think of you, I can physically feel my chest tighten and I feel almost like I’m going to be sick, but in a good way.” You tried to explain, not meeting his light blue eyes once. “I’m not sure if this is what love is supposed to feel like, since I’ve never really been in love before, but…I know that I do like you. Like…really like you and…God, I don’t know what I’m saying; I’ve probably said too much.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

“No,” You heard him say, “You said just enough.” He grabbed your hand, making you look down at him.

“I’ve…I’ve never really been in love before either, but…I do know that I really enjoy being with you, even if we’re not talking to each other. Just being around you makes me happy. Hell, the whole point of me seeing you this late was just to see you.” Van Gogh looked up at you briefly before looking down at the ground. “Ah, I’m rambling. Look, my point is that I don’t know what it’s like to love someone, but I do know what it’s like to really like someone, and…I really like you.” He finishes, looking back up at you only to notice the glassiness of tears that clouded you e/c eyes.

“Oh, no, wait don’t start crying.” You heard him say, but you couldn’t stop the flow of tears that warmed your cheeks every so slightly. You collapsed onto your knees, embracing Van Gogh, soon feeling his arms wrap around you and the wetness of tears on the back of your shirt. You hugged him harder when you heard a sob rip from his chest, trying your best not to start sobbing yourself. After all, you didn’t look the most elegant when you cried.

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours before finally pulling away from the other. You looked him in the eyes, rubbing away some of the stray tears that still remained on his cheeks. He returned the favor.

“All this time,” he started, “I was so scared to tell you how I felt about you. Hell, I was scared to talk to you at all. I was so worried that I would mess things up between us that I decided to just stay silent.” He paused, sighing. “It’s…difficult for me to connect with people so…I don’t have many good friends. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“I was scared too,” You admitted, “In all honesty, I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to talk to me after we finished the project. I like being around you, so I was okay with just sitting near you in art.” You ran your hand through his orange hair, being mindful of his bandages.

“I guess we're both kinda creeps.” You say after a minute. He smiles with a chuckle.

“Yeah.” He whispers, “I guess we are.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Extended Ending:

You let go of Van Gogh, allowing him to clear his bed and put the paintings away. He straightened his bed out, looking over at his own clock that read quarter til midnight. He turned to you, peach dusting his pale cheeks.

“Would you, um…” He stuttered, “Would you like to spend the night? I don’t mean like, you know, but just…sleep. It’s late, we have class in the morning and it’s a bit of a walk to your dorm.” He finished, gesturing to his bed. You blushed before smiling.

“I’d love to.” You answered. He smiled before opening the covers, patting the open space.

“Great! I-Um, I’ll get the lights.” He said, walking past you. You took your shoes off before climbing into his bed, moving all the way over to one side. He turned the light off, the room only being visible because of the moonlight coming through the curtains. You felt the bed shift, assuming Van Gogh had gotten in the bed with you.

For a while, you both laid there stiffly, painfully aware of the other’s presence. You felt his eyes on you for a while before he spoke.

“Um…would it be alright if I…” He said, scooting closer to you. You did the same, until the two of you met in the center. You turned your body towards his and he did the same. The two of you simply stared at the other for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your neck. You, in turn, wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin upon his head. He pressed his face into your collar and you shuttered as you felt his breath on your neck.

“This,” he started, “This is…” Leaving you to finish his sentence.

“Nice.”

#clonehigh #clone high #clone high van gogh #vincent van gogh #clone high vincent van gogh #van gogh x reader #clone high x reader #vincent van gogh x reader #clone high van gogh x reader #thewildsophia writes

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

Who Is That? (Harry Styles)

“Can I get two daiquiris and a shot of tequila, please?” I ask the bartender leaning over the bar. As I wait I turn to my left and see the man who walked into the restaurant only minutes ago, seemingly capturing everyone’s attention, including mine.

“Hi.” I greet, turning to look into his green eyes.

He gives me only a tight lipped smile before taking a sip of his own drink. Not even bothered to fully look in my direction.

“My friend sent me over here, and I normally don’t do this but-” Before I even get the chance to finish my sentence the man interrupts me. I had been on my way over to talk to him and introduce myself after I was highly encouraged by my friend at our table.

“We can take a picture, but please wait a while to post it and you can’t tag the restaurant. I’m about to have dinner with my family and I would prefer to keep this quiet.”

“What?” I ask, my brows furrowing. This is not at all where I thought it would go. Who does this guy think he is?

“A picture? That’s what you were coming over here for? C’mon, let’s do it then.” He states as if it’s obvious, looking at me as if I’m daft.

I let out a laugh and shake my head in disbelief.

“Do you know who I am?” He seems genuinely curious now, not quite as entitled as he was acting earlier. His brows express how shocked and confused he truly is. “You don’t need to pretend or anything, it’s fine. It happens all the time.”

“Am I supposed to? Do we know each other?”

“You honestly don’t know who I am?” He doesn’t bother to answer my questions as he scratches at his chin for a few seconds. He lets out a scoff as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I haven’t a clue who you are, and I’m not sure how much I care anymore. I was coming over because I thought you were handsome, but now I kinda think you’re an ass.”

Finally the bartender comes back with my drinks, I quickly throw back the shot.

“Cheers. I hope you have a lovely evening.” I mutter, not even trying to hide the sarcastic tone in my voice.

I set down the shot glass and take a daiquiri in each hand and start to walk back to my table. His hand gently catches me on my shoulder, forcing me to stop.

“I’m sorry, you’ve just caught me at the end of a rough day. It’s not very often I come across someone who doesn’t know who I am.”

“It’s fine.” I keep walking not caring to hear anymore from him and he lets go of me.

I don’t know what I expected. I never should have bothered to say anything. He could have remained that beautiful stranger, rather than the ass who opened his mouth.

“How’d it go?” Hannah gushes as I set down the drinks and sit down. Her cheeks must be burning for how wide her smile is.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask. It takes all of my willpower to not completely turn around and get one more look at him, to see if his eyes are still on me. The way she keeps staring behind me proves that I’m right.

“Well duh! You just talked to Harry Styles!” She can’t wipe the smile off her face, “And he’s totally still checking you out!”

“Yeah, who is that?”

“Do you remember hearing about One Direction before you left?” She asks, trying to jog my memory from years ago. My knowledge of pop culture from the past years is severely lacking.

“Kind of. A boy band, right?”

“Yes! He’s one of the boys, they’ve all gone solo. Harry’s done really well, he’s even been in movies. Unless you’re ancient, literally everyone knows who he is.”

“You sent me over to say hi to him knowing that he’s some big hot shot famous guy?” I laugh. Of course Hannah would think that's a lovely idea.

“What? What was the harm, if it went well that’s awesome. If not, you never have to see him again!”

Well, she has a point there.

For the past six years I’ve spent my time with Love Volunteers to teach Ghanaian youth creative arts. It was some of the best years ever, it felt amazing to give back and feel like I was making a difference. Eventually it had to come to an end, so that led me coming back home to Los Angeles. Ghana will always hold a special place in my heart, along with all of the people I met there.

I’m pulled back into whatever Hannah was saying when she throws her head back in a loud laugh, thankfully off the topic of Harry. I tried to ignore it when a few minutes ago he walked by with two other people. He did say that he had dinner with his family tonight.

The rest of the meal goes well. I get to catch up on everything that I’ve missed that didn’t come across well in the letters we exchanged or since the last time I visited. It’s nice to be back in the states and be able to live more freely. It was time for me to come home, I spent the past week with my family who were glad to have me home. Today I moved into my new apartment and back in my city. I start my new job in a few days, similarly I will still be working with kids. Teaching was always the plan for me to come home to, I just never knew I was going to be gone so long. I was able to skip my student teaching year and use my time spent in Ghana as a form of credits.

“Alright, will that be all for you tonight? Could I get you any desert?” Our waitress politely asks, smiling down at us. She reaches for the menu to run through a few of the different things they offer. Hannah and I already both agreed that we are too full at this point to add on.

“Just the bill please, that would be great.” Hannah smiles, “We need it split if that could be possible.”

“Actually that’s been taken care of.”

“What?” I question, brows furrowing.

“Yes, a man at the bar took care of it earlier. He said he owed you an apology.” The waitress smiles as if it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. Obviously she knows who he is. She wishes us a good night before walking away.

“Can you believe that?” I ask, walking side by side with Hannah to the door. We both sat for a minute, Hannah trying to figure out what it means that he paid for our meal.

“No! Can you believe that Harry Styles paid for our meal? He’s so kind.” She gushes.

“Yeah it would be if it wasn’t out of guilt.” I push open the door, we’re met with a warm breeze as the sun is setting. It casts a perfectly pink and orange haze over everything in its reach.

“Okay, so I’ll see you later? Are you absolutely sure that you don’t need a ride?”

“I’m positive! My apartment is in the complete opposite direction of yours. I’m calling an Uber right now!”

“Okay, fine! Call me later, text once you’re back home. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Hannah gets in her car and waves as she pulls away and I get my phone out of my bag. The Uber will pick me up in twenty minutes, so I wait patiently outside the restaurant. The restaurant was sort of on the outskirts of L.A. if you can even call it that. It doesn’t exactly surprise me that it’ll take a while to get someone out here.

The door bursts open and it grabs my attention with the sudden noise. It’s Harry and the two women he was with. I catch his eye while he hugs one of them, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, before wishing them a goodbye.

He takes a few steps closer to me, while he waits for the valet to bring him his car.

“You didn’t need to do that.” I pull my purse a little tighter over my shoulder.

“No, trust me, I did. My mother raised me better than that, I’m sorry I was being rude. I promise, I’m never like that.”

“Well, never say never.” I fight looking down at my phone to see how far away “Adam” is. This might be the longest twenty minutes of my life if it continues like this.

“Ouch.” He grins, it seems like either his meal or his company put him in a brand new mood.

“Sorry.” I smile over my shoulder, “My friend actually lives in the real world and she seems to think you’re really kind, so I’ll get off your case.”

“You don’t live in the real world?” He questions.

“I do now, but I didn’t for a while.” I laugh, “I’ve spent the past six years volunteering in Ghana. I really had no clue who you were. I wasn’t exactly staying up to date on the new music when I was over there. According to Hannah, you’re a pretty big deal.”

Harry lets out a wide grin, a blush gracing his cheeks. So he is humble. Okay, maybe Hannah was right, he’s alright.

“Some might say that, yes.” He looks down at his shoes, tapping one against the other.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” I tease.

“I’m not shy, I’m just trying to figure out how I can change your image of me. I’m always going to be my first impression, right? Some ass at the bar with a grumpy attitude?”

“I think you’re doing fine. Thankfully, no one is made up of one moment. You’ve done more than enough to make up for it.” I place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “Your slate is clean.”

“Well thanks for that.” He laughs, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah, just waiting for my ride.” I check my phone to see that Adam has canceled the ride for some reason. I’m sure he’s just realized how far it is to get here and then turn right around to go back into the city to my apartment building, “Which was just canceled, lovely.”

I try to find another Uber, but there is no one close by. I spend a minute refreshing, waiting for anyone to accept my request.

“I could give you a lift if you needed.”

“What?” I ask, shocked.

As if on cue, the valet pulls up with his car. They give him his keys and thank him, I look between him and the car with doubt. This man is a total stranger to me.

“I mean, it’s getting late. Your options aren’t going to get much better as it gets later.” Harry explains. He could be right, even by now the sky is starting to take on a dark blue.

“How do I know that you’re not trying to kidnap or kill me?” I ask, “I don’t know you at all.”

“Look me up then, google me.” He shrugs, his smile never wavering.

“Google doesn’t know if you’re secretly a creep.” I roll my eyes.

“Fine, then you drive.”

“You’re going to let me drive your 1972 Ferrari Dino?” I ask skeptically.

“You know cars?” His smile widens.

“Better than boy bands.” I tease, I bite back a smirk.

He throws his head back in a loud laugh. It makes me smile just seeing him laugh. It’s refreshing to see someone so happy and easy to laugh at my sassy remark.

“Fair enough.” He throws his keys up for me to catch.

“Are you sure? I haven’t driven a car in six years.” I laugh. I drove atvs when I was over there, but never actually a car.

“Well what’s life if it’s not a risk.”

“What if I’m a crazy person?”

“I’m trusting you. Same way you’re trusting me.”

“You might actually be crazy.” I scoff, looking at the keys in my hands.

“Maybe.” He grins, his eyes go wide for a second.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He’s already seated in the passenger spot. I roll my eyes and walk around to the other side of the car to get in.

“You might be the most mad person I’ve ever met.” I pull my sunglasses out of my bag and put them on my head to keep my hair out of my face. Since I started the car, Harry’s taken the top off the car.

“Maybe. Or maybe the most sane.” He flashes me a grin, “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Are you sure about this?” I tease, revving the engine a few times.

“No one’s stopping you, love. The brake is the one of the left.” He leans back without a care in the world, even throwing in his own banter.

I didn’t realize how much I missed driving until this exact moment. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never driven like this. A one of a kind sports car with the top down. A famous rockstar picking the music as we drive down the 101 in towards the city. The feeling of being free, and in complete control. The music is loud, my hair flying back behind me, wild and untamed.

“So, what are you doing now that you’re back? I assume you’re staying here for a while then if you have an apartment?”

We finally start talking again once we’re downtown, it’s easier to hear each other without the wind from the freeway.

“I am.” I look over my shoulder to switch lanes, “I actually have a job as a teacher that I start pretty soon.”

“Well that’s lovely, what grade?”

“Sixth.” I smile. “Yeah, I’m really excited. When I was in Ghana I was teaching youth creative arts. I was only supposed to go for nine months, a year max, but I really loved it there.”

I glance over at him, to see if he’s listening, or if he even cares.

“Have you ever just had that feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be? Just a place that felt exactly like home?”

“Yeah, once or twice.” He admits, “If that’s how you felt, why leave?”

“Because I couldn’t stay forever. My life is here. I’ve had that feeling twice in my whole life. Once was there, and the other was here. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me happy being here.”

“I know the feeling.” He smiles.

Shortly after that we make it to my apartment building, I pull into a spot in the front. My doorman gives us a nod making us laugh.

“Thank you for getting me home, and letting me drive. I think this might be my new favorite car.” I run my hand along the dash with appreciation.

“I think I’m going to miss her.” I tease with a pout.

“She’s always the best until you’re on a grocery trip.” He jokes.

“Well thank you Harry.” I take off my seatbelt and walk around to the sidewalk. I wave over my shoulder seeing him get out as I walk up the steps.

“Maybe I could get your number.” He pauses to clear his throat, “You know, so you can see the car again.”

“Just to see the car?” I grin.

“Well, I’ll be there too.” He

“I think we could make that happen.”

He reaches his phone out toward me to fill out a contact.

“Y/n.” He grins reading it off his phone.

“That’s me.” I simper.

“I’ll be calling you, Y/n.” Harry smirks and takes a few backwards steps towards his car.

“I’m counting on it, Harry.”

plz let me know what y’all think! xoxo

PART TWO

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 17 - With Him

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, how will it go in the end?, 4.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

One finger tapped on the strap of his fanny pack as Alex listened for the right bus stop to be called. If all those months since he’d seen Willie had been long, this past week had been longer. Especially since the news about Caleb had hit hard and every minute in the studio now felt like the band was precariously teetering on the edge of a cliff. He was going to try not to let any of that get in his way today, though. He’d made it to Saturday and Willie was only a few streets away, and he didn’t care what happened for the rest of the day - it was going to be good.

Finally he heard the next stop announced for where he needed to get off and he pulled the cord that told the driver to make a stop. Stepping onto the sidewalk, his heart bounced around in its chamber like the Tazmanian devil from Looney Tunes. He was glad that Willie lived in the basement of the apartment building he occupied because it would’ve been the worst if Alex forgot which room he was in and spent hours frantically knocking doors.

It was hard to tell if he was moving quickly or if his mind was just racing, but in either case, he eventually found himself at the door. For a second, he simply took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to get a visual of Willie immediately pouncing on him the moment the door opened out of his head. It wouldn’t exactly be unwelcome, but Alex was realizing how desperate he was to be with him and was amazed at how it affected his imagination.

Lifting a hand, he made sure he knocked loudly. Soon after, the door opened, and Alex was greeted with shining brown eyes, silky, gorgeous brown hair styled into two braids, and a smile he could make home in. Willie.

“Hey, come on in!” Willie was saying, standing to the side and gesturing for him to enter. Crossing the threshold, Alex gazed at the humble space, taking in the details with heightened interest. “This is mi casa!” He began showing Alex around. “We’ve got the main living space, very cozy. The kitchen to your left, but no dining room so it’s all criss-cross applesauce on the floor - makes it extra chill. Bathroom through the back. The sink and shower handles will sometimes shock you, so don’t mind all the electrical tape.”

It was surprisingly accommodating for a dingy basement, and Willie had already made little additions that spoke volumes about him without words. A king size mattress sat in the corner of the ‘main living space’ on the floor with a small bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf only had a handful of cassette tapes and a Walkman lying on top, with a few sketchbooks on the middle shelf. Next to that, the dresser had a small collection of vintage soda bottles and a camera sitting on its surface. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers covered the ceiling above the bed. Even a couple cat toys could be spotted on the floor. Immediately, Alex approached the area where Willie’s desk sat surrounded by sketches hung on the wall.

“So these are your drawings?” he asked, although the answer was obvious. They were so good. Willie followed him over, the squinty smile still in his eyes.

“Yeah. Some are new. Most of them are attempts to recover what Caleb tore up.”

Alex looked at Willie apologetically, even though the loss of Willie’s previous work wasn’t his fault. Without warning, a pressure on his leg and the sound of loud purring announced Sheldon’s presence. The cat looked up at him and blinked slowly, already begging for attention. Heart melting, Alex bent down to pet him.

“Hey, Sheldon,” he said. “I forgot how cute you were!” He smiled as Sheldon rubbed his head against his hand with more affection that he’d likely seen from any other creature on the planet. Well...maybe there was one other that matched it. Alex had heard about how pets could take on the temperament of their owners, and suspected this was a clear example. “He’s gotten so big since I last saw him.”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be almost two years old, if Escobar guessed his age right.”

Standing again as Sheldon pattered off, Alex returned his attention to the wall of art, looking at the pieces more closely.

“So which one is your dad?” he mused.

Willie untacked one of them and held it out for Alex to examine. “This one.”

Holding the edges carefully, Alex gazed in amazement at the detail Willie had caught. The edges were certainly less defined, but the scene inside the truck was so easy to visualize that Alex could almost feel the leather of the seats and the windchill from the window. He wasn’t sure what began burning in his chest as he peered down at the image, but it was profound and complex.

“I’ve thought about seeing if I could find him, but I think with my memory it’s kind of impossible,” Willie told him.

“He looks so happy here. I don’t get why you would end up as a foster kid.”

“Yeah, I wondered that too. Maybe he didn’t have a choice?”

Alex looked at Willie’s face, and he could tell half of him was lost in a world of what-ifs and other questions. He was always trying to seem so easy-going, and to an extent he truly was, but he couldn’t hide the constant sense of upheaval that rested on his shoulders. At least, Alex was picking up on it more, now that he knew the things he did. He may have been biased, but he couldn’t imagine anyone not fighting their hardest to keep Willie.

Suddenly his gaze was drawn to the unfinished work on the desk, and recognized it as a portrait of himself.

“Wow.” The word fell out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Willie started with a hint of shyness. “Obviously that one isn’t done, so…” He reached to put it away.

“You got that far off of memory, though,” Alex said. “I’m impressed. And you make me look good.” He offered an encouraging smile. “Maybe some time today I could be a model for you?”

Willie cocked his eyebrow, surprise and playfulness making an adorable combination on his face. It made Alex’s smile grow wider.

“Well, we’ve got a whole day ahead,” Willie said. “Your wish is my command.”

“Okay,” Alex said, leaning onto his back foot casually, one side of his lip curling with intrigue. “Well, I wanna see where you go around here. You seem to have a knack for finding the best spots. We can play it by ear.”

“What’s that one song with the one phrase?” Willie asked. “‘Any way the wind blows?’” He sang shyly, clearly playing down what Alex could tell was a nice voice.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Alex smiled. Willie’s job at the record store was at least giving him a good taste in music. “Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about the classics once you hang out with me enough.”

An emotion flashed in Willie’s eyes and after a moment Alex realized what those words were actually saying. He held his gaze, hoping he could communicate his intentions clearly, unlike the last time they’d seen each other. Willie swallowed, and his expression remained excited as he loaded his backpack and led them out the door, board in hand. Alex followed him, deciding not to question which direction they were going.

First, they made a stop to buy a bunch of apples. In classic Willie fashion, he went to a bodega, and this time he communicated with the cashier in rough Spanish. Alex knew he was showing off, and smirked at the notion that Willie enjoyed impressing him.

“So what do we need these for?” Alex wondered as they left the bodega. “Besides a ton of apples for lunch.”

Willie’s secretive smile made Alex raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a surprise.”

A little while later, they stood before the most unlikely place in all of Los Angeles: a horse barn. Staring at the building as if it loomed fifty feet above him, hands in his pockets, Alex gulped and a lump of dread landed in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh no,” he muttered apprehensively.

“Oh yeah,” Willie said, turning to him with a thrilled grin on his face.

Alex wasn’t exactly afraid of horses...he just had no idea what to do around them and therefore was not sure what to expect from them. Also, he would’ve worn different pants if he’d known this was on the agenda.

“I promise, they’ve got some really chill horses,” Willie tried to ease his nerves. “I’ve gone on this trail enough times. Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about riding once you hang out with me enough.” He winked as he threw back Alex’s line with a sly smile.

Unable to argue, Alex shook his head and used the hand in his pocket to gesture forward, signaling to Willie he was up to the challenge. He watched him practically skip inside and he had to jog to keep up after him. They signed in and then were led to two stalls.

Willie immediately gravitated toward a tall golden-colored mustang stallion with a dark mane, apparently both already familiar and happy to see each other. Alex watched him gently greet and essentially coo at it while comfortably stroking its nose and then feeding it an apple. He longed to have that sort of talent with other creatures, and simultaneously realized that he yearned to receive that same tenderness.

Once the horses were tacked up and one of the instructors had given Alex some brief pointers on how to ride, he found himself following Willie on a trail while mounted on a painted mare. The only philosophy he could adopt out here was to be gentle and not get lost.

“Not so bad, your majesty,” Willie called over to him.

An extremely nervous laugh elicited from Alex’s throat involuntarily, only making Willie laugh in return. Alex rode a little closer so they were nearly side by side on the trail.

“I’ve been here once,” he said. “I think I was about twelve? My mom thought that it would make me change my mind about taking ballet classes. We rode for maybe fifteen minutes before I got so nervous we had to turn back around and go home. Never made it through the full trail.”

“Man, that sucks,” Willie commented. “I didn’t know you did ballet.”

“Yeah, that and a few other types of dance. I was forced to quit a little couple years ago. That’s about when we got serious as a band, so I just found something else to bother my parents with.”

He could see the gears click into place as Willie came to a few conclusions about his parents and gave an emphatic nod.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance. That was the one thing Caleb had promised to teach me. He’s the worst, but he definitely knows how to dance.”

Suddenly, Alex remembered watching Caleb’s movements when he’d served him and the boys at the diner. Of course he could dance; everything had been fluid and smooth. All he could say to that thought was “huh,” at first. Then after a few moments: “I’ll have to teach you one of these days then.”

Willie’s eyes crinkled at the corners, happy at the prospect.

“Yeah, okay! Add that to our to-do list.”

Alex chuckled. They had a to-do list now. He bit his lip as he continued following Willie along the trail. It was a gorgeous day and in this area the sky was so clear compared to further inside the city. Greatly contrasting his experience from years ago, Alex felt himself become much more at ease and felt confident enough to take greater control of his horse. Willie pulled out his camera and snapped a few scenic photos every once in a while.

Eventually, they stopped at an outlook and Alex had to take in an awed breath. The view was clear for miles all around them. Green hills spanned the landscape in every direction with patches of city speckled in between. Even the ocean line was visible from there. How did Willie know how to find these?

“Hey, Alex!” Willie called, lifting his camera. “Say cheese!”

Turning to face him, Alex flashed a genuine smile as Willie captured him atop his horse against the scenery. He was usually pretty camera shy, but this time he really didn’t mind. Keeping memories like this actually felt important to him, unlike the many times he’d been forced to pose with his family at functions he’d also been made to attend. Those occasions had always felt so insincere - less about enjoying the memory and more about trying to prove their status as the polished, functional family everyone aspired to.

He saw Willie dismount for a moment and stretch his legs. Gripping the reins and looking around in uncertainty, Alex realized he’d gotten on before ensuring he could properly get off. Thankfully, Willie noticed and came up to him, hands raised.

“Okay, so just...carefully lift your foot out of the stirrup and swing your leg over toward me,” he instructed. Sucking in a breath hesitantly, Alex did as he said. “Alright, then...here.” Willie offered a hand for Alex to grab so he could slide off with ease. Landing on the ground, he leaned into Willie to gain his balance, and felt a congratulatory pat on his back. It took more restraint than Alex anticipated to not simply wrap his arms around him and sit like that for an indefinite amount of time. They had all day ahead of them; he didn’t need the sudden fear of losing him to derail things out of nowhere.

“Sorry if I look like a wimp about all this,” he said, letting go of his hand.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Willie assured him, shaking his head. “This is...this is new.”

His eyes seemed to take Alex in from head to toe and Alex could’ve sworn the charge in the air between them would buzz if they got closer, spark if they made contact. It was almost like that moment in front of Willie’s door the week before. For a few seconds they remained locked in that trance before Willie took hold of the horse’s reins and handed them to Alex.

“Technically this trail could take hours, but I’m guessing this isn’t all you’re interested in today,” he said. “What do you say we stretch our legs a bit and then ride back?”

Looking from the reins in his hand back to Willie, Alex nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Opening his backpack, Willie handed him an apple and then bit down into one of his own. Taking a bite, it was one of the most refreshing apples Alex ever eaten. They walked the horses a little ways and tried to get good pictures of the different views around them. Alex asked to try his hand with the camera and get a few good shots of Willie. He didn’t consider himself a photographer, but he doubted when the photos got developed that they would turn out badly. The way Willie smiled made him seem like he was made of sunlight from the inside out.

As they rode back to the barn, Alex kept replaying those moments where he’d refrained from making a move over in his head. This had been strike two. If he continued on like this, he was going to hate himself for the rest of eternity, he was pretty sure. Was it some weird kind of side effect of the whole ‘Willie come back to life’ thing? Watching him affectionately say goodbye to his horse once they were ready to leave, Alex looked at his own horse and raised a tentative hand up to her nose.

The mare gazed back, patience gleaming in her eyes. He finally set his hand down on her nose and gently rubbed it up and down, smiling a little to himself. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this - it was just a matter of getting through all the barriers he made for himself in his head. Moving his hands from the horse’s nose, he stroked along her neck, and caught Willie smiling at him from the corner of his eye.

“You wanna try feeding her an apple?” he asked.

Thinking for a few seconds, Alex nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Pulling one out of his backpack, Willie placed it in Alex’s palm.

“Alright, so hold it out in front of you like this…” He positioned Alex to offer the apple. “And keep your palm flat.”

Alex uncurled his fingers and after sniffing at it a little the mare ate it out of his hand. He could ignore the sensation of her mouth touching him because Willie still had his arm around his shoulder to hold him steady. They looked at each other, and Alex wished he could get a proper shot at Willie’s face at that angle with the camera.

“Looks like you’re gonna get the hang of this,” Willie commended.

Alex looked back up at the horse, a little bit of pride swelling in his chest. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Later, they went to the beach at Alex’s suggestion. He was perched on the surface of a picnic table, posed as if he were looking off into the distance. Willie sketched with great concentration, having taken his hair out of his braids so he could run his hand through it. The late afternoon sun brought out all the best color contrasts in their surroundings - one of the things Alex loved about coming to the beach at this time of day.

“So I have a question,” Alex started, trying not to move too much. His tendency to talk with his hands kept getting him in trouble.

“Shoot,” Willie prompted him, not looking up.

“Did Caleb let you go to school or anything? Or did he provide any sort of education at all?”

Squinting, Willie looked thoughtful for a moment.

“So, after the accident, he told me that I’d had to be taken out of school,” he began, continuing to sketch. “Which makes sense, I guess, if I forgot everything. I remember some basic things, like math wasn’t hard to pick up again. Once I was recovered enough to go places, he just let me go to the public library and find whatever I wanted to read. But he always insisted on not having reminders of who I was before and said it was supposed to be helping me ‘become my own person’. He got rid of things like my school yearbooks and old journals and things. I didn’t think anything of it at first because he’d just called it useless clutter and I believed him. As soon as he decided I was fit enough to work in the diner and help out at the hotel, he told me to forget about school. Anything else I picked up was from watching TV, or listening to the radio, or something. Sometimes I’ll just remember I know something after hearing about it and it’s like it was just always there.”

Listening intently, Alex marveled at the whole thing. The fact that Caleb was not only negligent, but actively discouraging Willie from knowing anything, made him wish he could take down the man’s whole career. However, he figured Willie probably had a lot of his intelligence still untapped. If he’d been able to get away from Caleb and somehow create a life for himself in the span of a few months, Alex wondered what else he was capable of.

“What’s something you remember?” he wondered.

“I guess I used to be really obsessed with space. Just planets and stars and all that. I can spout off facts about Jupiter’s moons and stuff like that. Did you know that the moon Europa has a saltwater ocean under a layer of ice?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I didn’t. That sounds really cool though.” He thought of the stickers on Willie’s ceiling and smirked a little before reassuming his pose.

“I sort of wish I could remember being in school,” Willie was saying. “Everyone else seems to just share all of those memories and understand each other that way.”

Alex saw his brow furrow, and could tell he felt left out. He pondered on his own experience growing up in public school. There was almost no other way he would’ve met Luke, Bobby and Reggie if they hadn’t all attended the same schools. While he could easily critique and complain about it to no end, he knew it was a privilege.

“School is definitely hard,” he told Willie. “But I did get my friends out of it, and I guess that makes up for it. If it’s any consolation, you could just complain about Caleb like he was your horrible English teacher who thought he knew more about the subject of your essay, but you cited all of your sources and they proved him completely wrong.”

Willie laughed. “Why? Did that happen to you?”

Alex bobbed his head from side to side and feigned looking thoughtful . “Maybe.”

“I kind of like reducing him to a loser English teacher. He just sounds petty and sad.”

“That’s high school,” Alex confirmed.

Leaning back from his work for a minute to take it all in, Willie brushed a hand through his hair.

“Here, you wanna take a look at it?” he said. Alex hopped off the table and went to stand over Willie’s shoulder at the drawing and was immediately rendered speechless. The detail was impeccable, but Alex was more impressed by the feeling he got looking at it. Willie had managed to make him appear...handsome, and pensive, and fascinating, like anyone else could look at him and create a million unique ideas of who he was. However, it wasn’t anyone else looking at him, it was Willie, and what he’d captured felt like the truth. Alex couldn’t really explain what that meant, only that it was an honest representation.

“Okay, I know I said the one back at your place made me look good, but this is...this is unreal.”

He could see Willie trying to be modest, but the corners of his lips couldn’t stay down. Funny enough, he appeared even more unable to find words, and simply beamed as he looked back and forth between his sketch and Alex’s face.

A sudden impulse came over Alex, and he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on top of Willie’s skateboard and backpack. Willie sat looking flustered for a moment.

“Wanna swim?” Alex nodded toward the waves, bidding Willie to follow. He didn’t wait for him to catch up as he immediately began running into the waves up to his knees. Alex knew his pants would be even more ruined the second he hit the salty water, but he didn’t care. Now the sun was beginning to set and the chill of the waves was refreshing, and he couldn’t express what he felt just then in any other way.

Willie tackled him from behind, climbing onto his back and nearly knocking him over into the shallow tide. Clambering back to his feet, Alex splashed water at him. They began a playful water fight back and forth, until they were both drenched. Eventually, Alex tried to catch hold of both Willie’s hands in an attempt to prevent being splashed anymore. He had the advantage of longer arms, but before he could get a tight hold of the second arm Willie’s leg swept under his and they both fell just as a large wave washed over them.

As the water pulled back, they sat in the sand in a tangle, laughing. All Alex could think of was how pretty Willie was in this light, hair swept back off his face with tendrils resting over his shoulders, sun gleaming in his eyes and constantly shining from the inside out. The laughter died between them and he caught a look in Willie’s eye that made him wonder if he appeared to him to be just as perfect in that moment.

This time his mind and body worked in sync as he lifted a hand and gently pulled Willie into a short, tender kiss. All the self-flagellation from earlier was washed away in one pure moment, and exhilaration moved into its place. It felt soft and sweet, just the way he expected it should. Just as quickly as he’d let go, Willie went in for another one, a little longer and a little deeper. One hand remained caressing his cheek while the other wrapped around his upper back. Alex couldn’t help smiling into another kiss; he was too happy to care about anything else. Hardly a week ago, this had been impossible.

As they let go, their hands came together and they looked into each other's eyes, both releasing a relieved chuckle. Willie looked at the rest of the beach behind them and Alex’s eyes followed, but at this hour there were too few people around and no one paying attention to them. Turning back to Alex, Willie sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Wow,” was all he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah, I’d definitely do that again,” Alex smirked, until the joy in his chest converted it into a full grin.

A wave washed over them again and they both stood, shaking out their hair and trying to wipe off whatever sand they could. Heading back up the beach, Willie grabbed Alex’s hand so they could make their way up together. The sun was nearly set but Alex was sure it had just gone into his chest, bursting with excitement. Once they reached the picnic table, they gathered their things and Willie offered to carry Alex’s shirt inside his backpack on the way home. Thank goodness there were a few patches of grass so Alex could try to get a little more sand off his feet before putting his shoes back on.

“So how long have you been sitting on that?” Willie teased as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and they left the beach.

“Shut up,” Alex laughed, knowing he was being called out.

“No, really!” Willie bumped his side jokingly. “I want to know!”

Tilting his head back to try to remember, it didn’t take Alex long to give him the answer.

“Since day one,” he told him.

Surprise swept over Willie’s face as he looked at Alex.

“Seriously?” he asked.

Alex nodded.

“Me too.”

It was Alex’s turn to look surprised. Without saying another word, he took Willie’s hand in his and then kissed it before continuing back toward his place. The whole way they talked about all the different things they needed to do together in the future. Riding on more horse trails, dancing lessons, skating lessons, art modeling sessions, going to band practices and gigs, visiting the record store while Willie wasn’t working, etc. They both agreed that the entire day technically counted as a date, and all further plans would as well. Alex was reminded once again that he didn’t have a notebook to write things down in, and vowed to have one for the next time he saw Willie. Once they reached Willie’s door, they had already put their shirts back on and it was completely dark outside.

“Are you free any time next week?” Willie asked, still holding onto Alex’s hand.

“I wish I could say yes, but probably not. And as much as I’d love to give you my number, it’s really not the best idea.”

“Well, I could give you mine,” Willie said.

Alex shot him a confused look. Holding up a finger, Willie dug into his backpack until he found his sketchbook and tore off the corner of a page, quickly scribbling one down and handing it to Alex.

“It’s actually the one for work,” he said. “But if it’s what we can do for now, I’ll do it. Kyle won’t care.”

Looking at it for a minute and then stashing it in his now-dry pocket, Alex took hold of Willie’s chin and went to kiss him again. It was really hard to stop, but they soon broke apart.

“I gotta go,” Alex murmured.

Willie only nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go and slipping his own into his pocket.

“I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

Once again heading up the short set of stairs to the sidewalk, Alex rubbed his lips together, relishing in the taste of what he and Willie had just done. He couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #alive au #willex #willie #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #viva las vegas #with him #fiddlepickdouglas

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somegirlsnerdywords2 · 4 years

Text

Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a O (Part 2)!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Orenchi no Furo Jijou:

Genres: Comedy, Fantasy, Josei, TV short

Synopsis: On his way home from school, Tatsumi sees a man collapsed near a lake. When he approaches him, Tatsumi notices something strange: the person in need of help is actually a beautiful merman named Wakasa! Because Wakasa's home has become too polluted to live in, Tatsumi graciously offers his bathtub as a refuge. With a boisterous merman as his new roommate, Tatsumi's normal life won't be returning anytime soon, not to mention Wakasa's aquatic friends—Takasu, Mikuni, and Maki—often show up uninvited, making them all quite a handful for the high school student. As he humors their curiosity for human life, Tatsumi sometimes finds himself enjoying their childish antics, but he will have to keep his cool if he intends to keep up with his daily life and newfound friendship. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8.5/10

Finished airing in 2014 with a total of 13, 4 minute long episodes.

My Thoughts: A soothing tv short with a fantasy twist and cute guys as far as the eye can see!

Oshiete! Galko-chan:

Genres: Slice of Life, Comedy, School, TV Short

Synopsis: At first glance, Galko, Otako, and Ojou are three high school girls who seem like they wouldn’t have anything to do with each other. Galko is a social butterfly with a reputation for being a party animal, even though she is actually innocent and good-hearted despite her appearance. Otako is a plain-looking girl with a sarcastic personality and a rabid love of manga. And Ojou is a wealthy young lady with excellent social graces, though she can be a bit absent-minded at times. Despite their differences, the three are best friends, and together they love to talk about various myths and ask candid questions about the female body. Oshiete! Galko-chan is a lighthearted and humorous look at three very different girls and their frank conversations about themselves and everyday life. No topic is too safe or too sensitive for them to joke about—even though every so often, Galko seems to get a bit embarrassed by their discussions! [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2016 with a total of 12, 7 minute long episodes.

My Thoughts: Cute art/ animation style. An alright short but nothing amazing.

Otome Youkai Zakuro:

Genres: Demons, Historical, Military, Romance, Seinen, Supernatural

Synopsis: Second Lieutenant Kei Agemaki, the son of a famous general, has hidden his extreme fear of paranormal beings all his life. However, when he and two others are reassigned to live and work with youkai in the Ministry of Spirit Affairs, he is brought face-to-face with his worst nightmare. Now with the help of the fox spirit Kushimatsu, he and his fellow officers must learn to work alongside youkai maidens—Zakuro, Susukihotaru, Hoozuki, and Bonbori—to solve paranormal cases. Set in the midst of an alternate version of Japanese Westernization, Otome Youkai Zakuro explores the clashes and unions that can occur when east meets west, local meets foreign, and women meet men. The unusual alliance of the youkai maidens and human officers must learn to work together in a world that is changing around them. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

Finished airing in 2010 with a total of 13 episodes.

My Thoughts: An interesting (if not a bit cliche) but incomplete anime. Has a manga.... which is also incomplete and updated very, very slowly.

Ouran Koukou Host Club (Ouran High School Host Club):

Genres: Comedy, Reverse Harem, Romance, School, Shoujo

Synopsis: Haruhi Fujioka is a bright scholarship candidate with no rank or title to speak of—a rare species at Ouran Academy, an elite school for students of high pedigree. When she opens the door to Music Room #3 hoping to find a quiet place to study, Haruhi unexpectedly stumbles upon the Host Club. Led by the princely Tamaki Suou, the club—whose other members include the "Shadow King" Kyouya Ootori; the mischievous Hitachiin twins, Kaoru and Hikaru; the childlike Mitsukuni Haninozuka, also known as "Honey"; and his strong protector Takashi "Mori" Morinozuka—is where handsome boys with too much time on their hands entertain the girls in the academy. In a frantic attempt to remove herself from the hosts, Haruhi ends up breaking a vase worth eight million yen and is forced into becoming the eccentric group's general errand boy to repay her enormous debt. However, thanks to her convincingly masculine appearance, her naturally genial disposition toward girls, and fascinating commoner status, she is soon promoted to full-time male host. And before long, Haruhi is plunged into a glitzy whirlwind of elaborate cosplays, rich food, and exciting shenanigans that only the immensely wealthy Host Club can pull off. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2006 with a total of 26 episodes.

My Thoughts: Raise your hand if you believe this series deserves a remake!? I would lose it if they remade this series but the original isn’t all that bad either! Worth a watch if you’re a shoujo lover!

Outbreak Company:

Genres: Harem, Comedy, Parody, Fantasy

Synopsis: Shinichi Kanou is a shut-in otaku with a vast knowledge of anime, manga, and video games. One day, after applying for a job in hopes of escaping his secluded lifestyle, he is kidnapped and transported to the Eldant Empire—a fantasy world filled with elves, dragons, and dwarves. Trapped in this strange land, Shinichi is given an unlikely task by the Japanese government: to spread otaku culture across the realm by becoming an "Otaku Missionary." To accomplish his mission, Shinichi has the full support of the Japanese government, as well as the half-elf maid Myucel and Princess Petralka of the Eldant Empire. Together with this ragtag bunch, he will overcome the obstacles of politics, social classes, and ethnic discrimination to promote the ways of the otaku in this holy land. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7/10

Finished airing in 2013 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Not memorable at all. Character design looks nice, very shiny...

Owari no Seraph:

Genres: Action, Military, Supernatural, Drama, Vampire, Shounen

Synopsis: With the appearance of a mysterious virus that kills everyone above the age of 13, mankind becomes enslaved by previously hidden, power-hungry vampires who emerge in order to subjugate society with the promise of protecting the survivors, in exchange for donations of their blood. Among these survivors are Yuuichirou and Mikaela Hyakuya, two young boys who are taken captive from an orphanage, along with other children whom they consider family. Discontent with being treated like livestock under the vampires' cruel reign, Mikaela hatches a rebellious escape plan that is ultimately doomed to fail. The only survivor to come out on the other side is Yuuichirou, who is found by the Moon Demon Company, a military unit dedicated to exterminating the vampires in Japan. Many years later, now a member of the Japanese Imperial Demon Army, Yuuichirou is determined to take revenge on the creatures that slaughtered his family, but at what cost? Owari no Seraph is a post-apocalyptic supernatural shounen anime that follows a young man's search for retribution, all the while battling for friendship and loyalty against seemingly impossible odds. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 4/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Cliche, but not in a fun way. I rarely watch anime involving vampires though so that was a bit fun.

Owari no Seraph: Nagoya Kessen-hen

Genres: Action, Military, Supernatural, Drama, Vampire, Shounen

Synopsis: Yuuichirou Hyakuya is finally reunited with his childhood friend Mikaela Hyakuya, whom he had long presumed to be dead. Upon their reunion, however, he discovers that Mikaela has been turned into a vampire. Determined to help his friend, Yuuichirou vows to get stronger so that he can protect Mikaela as well as the comrades in the Moon Demon Company. Kureto Hiiragi receives information that a large group of vampires will be gathering in Nagoya, preparing for their assault on the Imperial Demon Army's main forces in Tokyo. Led by Guren Ichinose, Yuuichirou's team is one of many selected to intercept and eliminate the vampire nobles. With the Nagoya mission quickly approaching, the members of Shinoa squad continue to work towards fully mastering their weapons, while learning how to improve their teamwork. Yuuichirou must gain the power he needs to slay the nobles and save his best friend, before he succumbs to the demon of the Cursed Gear. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 3/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: It somehow got a sequel... still lacking. Plenty of pretty people though with little substance...

#orenchi no furo jijou #tv short #anime #oshiete! galko chan #ouran high school host club #outbreak company #owari no seraph

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