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#I had done the line art and then she took the line art and doodled the shading on it and I was like OOF
loveronlineee · 2 years
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The Little Things Part 1 (Eddie Munson x Reader)
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Masterlist  All Parts
Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)
Warnings: Swearing
Synopsis: Y/N is surprised when her classmate Eddie takes interest in her nail art stall. Did he really want his nails done or did he want something more?
Y/N notes: shorter than Eddie
Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!
Wanna request something? Look here!
The school really didn’t do fundraisers enough. Especially considering the amount of shit that goes down in Hawkins. So when they finally announced that they were going to be raising money for the families that lost someone in the Starcourt Mall fire, Y/N was ready.
Students started getting in small groups to plan what activity they would do. Selling cookies and cupcakes, raffle tickets, face painting. Y/N decided on something a little different. She had always gotten compliments on her nails. She liked making simple patterns, adding gemstones or nail stickers. The girls in her classes were very excited when Y/N told them she was doing a nail art stall.
The day had been going well. Y/N had a constant line at her stall as the girls, and some guys lined up. It was getting near the end of the day when Eddie Munson sat down opposite her. The last in the line.
“Eddie?” Y/N said confused.
“Yeah.”
“You want me to do your nails?” Eddie smirked.
“Yeah.” He dropped his change into the charity bucket on the side of the table. Y/N was pleasantly surprised. Most students had a strong dislike of Eddie. He was weird and loud. But there was something about the guy’s energy that kept drawing Y/N in.
They had a couple classes together. In fact they sat next to each other in one of them which meant they had small conversations a couple times a week.
Over the year, Y/N had found that Eddie was quite different to the perception people had of him. For one, he was not scary at all. In fact he was quite jumpy. Y/N had lost count of the amount of times she had lightly tapped him on the shoulder and he had jumped out of his skin. It made her giggle every time.
“Jeez L/N you tryna kill me?”
“I just wanted to borrow your eraser.”
He was full of positive energy. It radiated off him in waves and infected the people around him. Yeah sometimes he took it a step too far but that was never his intention.
In reality, he was just a happy go lucky dork.
“You got a color in mind?” Y/N asked, organising the bottles. Eddie shrugged.
“I’ll let you chose. Go crazy, the fate of my nails are in your hands!” He said dramatically. Y/N chuckled.
“Okay then.” She picked up a pink bottle and began looking through her flowery stickers. The guys who had got their nails done as a joke all picked this stuff. Y/N looked back at Eddie’s hands. She noted the rings he wore. She then noticed he was wearing his club shirt. The logo contained a flaming sword and a flail.
Then Y/N got an idea. Her eyes widened in excitement and she put down the pink bottle and began sifting through the stuff she kept under the table.
“What’s with the sparkle in your eyes L/N? Should I be worried?” Eddie asked with a smile. Y/N pulled out a new pack of nail stickers and smiled back at him.
“Oh you’re gonna love it.” Eddie smiled wider. He loved her passion. He had noticed that Y/N loved organising little things. Her class notes were always neat and color coded. Her make up was simple but always looked good. Her locker had pictures of her friends and doodles arranged in the inside of the door. Whatever she had planned, he knew it was gonna be good.
After cleaning up his cuticles and adding a base, Y/N took a black nail polish and began painting over each nail. She placed her other hand underneath Eddie’s to steady him. Her hand moved more and more under his as she continued.
“You sure you’re not just doing this so you get to hold guys’ hands?” Eddie joked.
“How dare you think I have an ulterior motive Edward.” Y/N joked back. “How do I know you didn’t come here just so I would hold your hand?” Eddie didn’t reply, because she was completely correct. Well that and he just wanted an excuse to talk to her more. You can only say so much during a class where you’re supposed to be quiet. “Besides, I don’t need to trick a guy into holding my hand.”
“True. Very true.” Eddie agreed. He knew Y/N was quite popular. He often saw her hanging out with the athletes and the cheerleaders, many of which seemed interested in her. Yet she remained single, which kept Eddie hopeful.
Y/N finished with the black and began to open the new pack of nail stickers. Eddie watched as she looked through them all and picked out two. She smiled and showed them. A sword and a flail.
“How’d you feel about a Hellfire theme?”
“That is awesome.” Y/N beamed and began peeling the sword. She went to put it on his ring finger but at the last second changed to his middle finger. Eddie quirked an eyebrow.
“I remember how much you like flipping people off. It’ll be more impactful this way. Don’tcha think?” Eddie chuckled.
“You think of everything don’t you L/N?” Y/N shrugged.
“I try.” Y/N finished it off with some flames on the sword and a tiny red gemstone on each pinky finger. “Okay I think you’re done!”
Eddie lifted up his hands and admired the artwork.
“Y/N L/N you are a genius.” Y/N giggled.
“Y/N!” Jason had jogged over to her table. He glared at Eddie. “You okay?”
“Yeah Jason I’m fine thanks.”
“This punk giving you any trouble?”
“No Jason. I’m fine.” Y/N repeated, slightly annoyed.
“I’m on my best behaviour.” Eddie put his hands up innocently. “Y/N was just doing my nails. I think these ones are my favourite, don’t you agree?” He put his middle fingers in Jason’s face. Y/N tried to hide her laughter but to no avail. Jason looked at her shocked.
“Y/N!”
“Oh come on that was funny.” Y/N admitted. Eddie beamed. He loved when he could make her laugh. Jason huffed and walked away. “You gotta stop provoking him though.”
“I’ll stop when he stops.” Eddie stated. Y/N nodded.
“Fair enough.” She stood up. “Well looks like you’re my last customer.” Eddie stood up too.
“Need a hand packing?”
“Uh yeah actually- oh wait isn’t your club starting soon?” Eddie shrugged.
“I can be late. You’re more important.” The two began putting away all of the nail stuff in a box.
“Wow I must be pretty damn important then cause I know how much you love your club.” Y/N chuckled.
“Yeah well you’re one of the only people outside of Hellfire that’ll give me the time of day so…” Y/N stopped.
“I’m sorry. That must suck.” Eddie shrugged.
“You get used to it.”
“Yeah well I wish you didn’t have to get used to it.”
“…thanks.” Y/N picked up the box.
“Do you think you could take the bucket? I gotta drop it off in our math classroom.”
“Yeah sure.”
The pair walked down the hallway to the classroom. Y/N noted the other students giving her weird looks. “Like I said, you get used to it.” Eddie said. “But don’t commit social suicide just for me. It’s not worth it.” He brushed off, putting the bucket down next to the others in the room.
“Social suicide?” Y/N repeated as they head to the exit and out into the parking lot.
“Yeah it’s not worth it.”
“You mean… you’re not worth it?” Eddie paused before answering.
“Yeah.”
“Well I think that decision’s up to me.” Y/N stated. Eddie stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Y/N turned back around. She could see the surprise on his face. “What? You not gonna walk me to my car?” Eddie smiled and jogged to catch up.
He watched as she put her box of nail stuff in her back seat and closed the door. “Thanks for helping me.” She said as she walked to stand in front of him.
“No problem. Anytime.” Y/N looked up and smiled. He smiled back but narrowed his eyes. “What idea is your brain cooking up now L/N?”
“You ever tried eyeliner?”
“What?”
“Eyeliner. On your waterline.” Y/N pointed to her own on her face. “I think it’ll match your whole look.” Eddie smiled.
“You think?” Y/N reached up and pushed Eddie’s hair out his face.
“Yeah.” The pair heard a noise and turned to see some people coming out of the school. They were whispering and giving them dirty looks.
“See?” Eddie sighed. “You don’t wanna be seen with me. Not outside classes.” He took Y/N’s hands and lowered them down from his face.
“Again, Eddie. That’s up to me.” She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll see ya tomorrow yeah? I’ll bring my eyeliner.” She gave him a wink and got in her car.
Eddie watched as she drove away, frozen in place until she was out of site. He placed a hand on his chest and an arm stretched out to where Y/N has gone.
“Oh L/N you are full of surprises.” He walked back into school with a skip in his step.
He couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow.
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airbendling · 3 months
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Percy Jackson and the Olympians
My thoughts during and after the first two episodes.
Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers!
Disclaimer: This is unedited. The story is still unfolding and this is just my opinion as a long time fan, recently graduated film major, and a storyteller.
I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher
"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood." AAAA A A AA AAAAAA. I am so hype for this.
"Hey fellas, wanna come hear about the imaginary things I see? Not a thing you want to be saying. To anyone."
The doodles in his notebook! So sweet. And he plays Mythomagic... I'm reeling. Can't wait to meet Nico though I know it's years away.
Percy's very quiet without his narration and such. Wish we had more of it throughout the episode.
His signature and it not fitting in the name box on his worksheet is a nice touch.
Percy owns this emoji 🤨
His friendship with Grover is everything. Swapping sandwich fixings without a second thought, the genuine smiles. I'm loving it.
That Ms. Dodds transformation was clean though I wish she was more threatening.
The insistence of the line "I didn't touch Nancy" caught me off guard. Simply, "I didn't push her." Would've sounded more natural.
Love the Jackson sass in Sally, but I'd prefer more from Gabe. He wasn't angry and irrational enough, not gross enough, he conceded to Sally too quickly. If This guy got turned to stone by the severed head of Medusa I'd just feel kinda bad for him.
I was really hoping for the "Not a scratch on this car, brain boy." and Percy's "Like I'd be the one driving 🙄"
The word vomit from Sally was a little much but Percy's Jesus line was gold.
"You are singular." Just kinda took me out of the moment. Odd wording in such an emotional beat.
I hear all my film professors screaming in my head. Why did Percy stop running when his Mom was fighting the Minotaur? He started, then just stood there and watched. Run, Percy, run!
This moment would have a lot more impact if he was running to her when she disappeared.
His battle with the Minotaur, the lack of music until he rips off the horn, well done. Very well done.
Stunning end credits art!
I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom
I'm so happy they're keeping the chapter titles for the episodes.
Okay why was the "You drool when you sleep" so ominous and random. Like it was filmed and edited as an afterthought just to check the "Iconic Line" box without understanding why it's iconic. It's funny cause he's thinking she's gonna say how cool he is or whatever. Then she says "You drool when you sleep." and runs off. Real 12-year-old energy there.
Grover's nervous energy I know and love. Aryan is killing it!
"I think my dad must be around here somewhere. I don't know how to ask for him. I don't even know his name. But I think I should see him, I think I really need that right now. Can you help me?" ...What is this?
Dionysus trying to trick him into thinking he's his father was funny but Percy actually believing it...? Would've loved that inner commentary in this moment.
The Camp Half-Blood grounds looks so barren and underdeveloped to me. The cabin area is wonderful though.
I was so scared that tree nymph with Grover was Thalia. I think this only character design I'm not a fan of so far. Her eyes felt uncanny and too human. Maybe a bit more color variation in her face bark(?) or some kind of framing, textural detail.
Yes! They're including weird demigod dreams!
I'm loving the portrayal of Luke by Charles Bushnell. He's caring, understanding, laidback. The masterful cold delivery of "Hermes is my father," but brushing it off like the Cool Guy he is, "But that doesn't matter, we're all on the same team here."
His arc is going to be devastating.
Oh and Percy's message to his mom, so happy to report he's actually making friends but he's talking about Luke and Chris Rodriguez.
Devastating.
Percy: Hey guys! Can't sleep huh?
This line and the cutaway was utter perfection.
ANNABETH!! !! !!!!!!! My beloved.
Never thought "Sunshine" would be a nickname for Percy Jackson.
Aww Annabeth fixing his crooked armor.
Great Capture the Flag battle scene! Dynamic and interesting. Nice fight choreography.
Percy: No maiming. That's like, the one rule?
Clarisse: Yeah I guess I'll lose dessert privileges for a while. 😌😁I'll live.
Loving it.
Luke's utter shock after Percy getting claimed. Ooohhohoooo.
The Poseidon cabin was a jumpscare. The outside is a little... on the nose. Like, make it look Greek, paint it blue, slap a Trident symbol on there, done. And all the hanging bones and stuff? I mean, sure, I guess. The cabins were so fun and unique in the books.
More "singular" usage by important characters. Is there a reason for this?
Amazing Dionysus casting. Truly.
Final thoughts...
Let's start with some positives.
The set design, production design, and costume design are remarkable. With a handful of exceptions, overall, it looks gorgeous, especially with the A+ cinematography and lighting. Gorgeous!!
The porch of the Big House with the stained glass was an phenomenal choice. I love it so much.
The action is well-paced and dynamic, keeping the fight scenes interesting and believable.
And the acting is wonderful despite the writing.
Oh, the writing... Yeah, I don't like it.
It doesn't do justice to the actors or the characters.
Walker is naturally funny. Watch him in anything, any interview ever. The kid played alongside Ryan Reynolds as a younger version of him. Dare I say he outshined Ryan himself in The Adam Project.
Percy narrated everything, for five whole books. And them some. We know this kid. He's funny. He's observant, sarcastic, imaginative, impulsive, a bit clueless, but sweet.
I think regular or even occassional voiceover commentary from Percy would be gamechanging. I mean that with my whole heart and soul. If I could change one thing about the whole series it would be this.
Walker could really shine but I feel like his dialogue is lacking. And sometimes just a bit odd. Like, who talks like that? (There's my professors again). Sounds kinda AI-generated to me. (not speculating, I think it's just bad writing.)
There was a lot of great lines, don't get me wrong. But I think overall, everyone's dialogue is coming up short. The PJO we know is clever and fun and I don't think it reflects that well at all.
Percy Jackson is one of the most popular series ever with a very distinct style that makes it stand out from other YA fiction stories. I feel like more could've been done to preserve those vibes and translate them to the screen.
Movie/show adaptations of books are often hit-or-misses. I think the PJ fandom has always been so passionate about getting it right is because of that distinct style.
Rick is there. They have a phenomenal cast. It's good, but it could have been extraordinary. It could have been groundbreaking. But they settled.
There were many, many moments I saw could have been instantly improved but the smallest change. But they settled.
All this to say... I'm disappointed, but I'm not surprised, and I'm not mad.
When the rest of the episodes come out, I think it'll come together to be a decent adaptation and a fun show. I'm staying positive.
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lvxybby · 7 months
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it kills me to love you (Kai Anderson x Reader) Angst (it will get better <3)
Ive been part of kais cult for about 4 weeks now. we have known each other before his cult was formed. its been 5 months since he gathered people to join, but he never told me about it until he proposed the idea for me to join. me and kai have always been big on getting things our way and if that didnt happen, there would be consequences for the person. but never killing them. or at least that idea was never in my mind. i dont know about him. i dont know much about him anymore. hes gone mad. absolutely crazy. and theres this woman. Meadow. Meadow Wilton. That stuck up bitch. And she is all over kai. i mean all over him. it goes from doing his hair. to sitting on his lap. to all out make out sessions between them. and me? im jealous as FUCK cause of it. that fucking bitch. ive loved and cared for kai for 2 years! i have given him every last bit of my attention. but he turns a blind eye every SINGLE time. but meadow. oh no...she slits some guys throat and "oh dear god meadow! your the best! you've done so much for me!" In kais eyes. fuck him. im DONE with his bullshit. "Kai!" i heard winter shout from downstairs. "Kai! meadow is here!" she shouted again. i heard very quick, heavy steps walk in front of my door than trail down the stairs. i sighed before grasping my journal to doodle in. my pencil lead dwindled as i drew on the plain white paper. i pressed harder as i drew faster. and faster. the grey color faded into a shiny black as i drew more lines. i stopped to enjoy my drawing. ive been good at drawing since i was about 13 and took art classes in middle school. the drawing was just a really detailed drawing of some spirals, something in really like to draw. but now...i wasnt feeling it. i closed the book shut and threw it across the room. i focused on the sounds around me. i focused more and more. on the sounds. "kai! oh kai yes!" i heard very muffled through the walls. why couldnt i cry out his name like that. did he not want me around? did i not do enough for him? ive been TRYING for years to please him! i cant stand to be in the same house with meadow and now im barely able to be with him. i couldnt bear to hear meadows moans for longer. i stuff my phone into my pocket and grab my tiny bag that has my wallet and other essentials in it. i walk downstairs and see winter on the couch. "where you heading?" she asked. "i dont know... anywhere but here...i cant stand your brother anymore..." i said before walking out the door. i walked for a bit before coming across a nice park. im slightly familiar with it cause they have some bird feeders, and me and kai along with everyone else poisoned them all around the city. i sat on one of the benches. after about 30 minutes my phone began to buzz. i looked at it and saw kai was calling. i also saw he left 12 messages, that i had unopened. i looked at the screen before answering. i took a deep breath in. "hello" i said. "where the fuck are you?! why havent you opened my messages?!" he shouted through the phone. "kai dont yell at me...talk to me" i said a bit angered. "no fuck that! answer my da-" he was cut off as i hung up with him. oh fuck im in trouble.
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Note
soullmate au with Peter with the writing on the arm thing. Like they write something and it shows up on their arm and when Peter and El escape (cause they both need good things in life) they end up meeting somehow?
Happily Ever After
hi anon!!!!! sorry i took so long i wasnt sure how to make y/n and peter meet 😭 tysm for the request ilyyyy
Summary: it's in the ask basically
Pairing: peter ballard x fem!reader
Warning: swearing maybe? at this point its not a warning
Word Count: 1k
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As Peter sat with 011, he felt a strange sensation on his thigh. Strange but familiar. It was the feeling of his soulmate sending him a message. He was thankful that she had heeded his request of communicating to each other on only their thighs, because that was a spot that would surely not get exposed to Dr. Brenner, and Peter could not deal with getting punished again for simply talking to his one true love. 
Did he truly believe that this random person he shared a connection with was his one true love? Of course not, but it was fun to humour the idea. He was excited to go for lunch break so he could see what she said. 
But the feeling continued, spreading from one leg to the other. Peter checked the time. Oh, it’s because his soulmate is in biology class. He chuckled to himself. He had quite the artistic soulmate. She was always doodling over herself in pen, the simple drawings usually very good. 
He complimented her on her skills often, he was impressed. His strong suit (which was still not very strong) in art was colouring, so it was interesting to him to watch small lines appear on his body to form something amazing.
 As soon as his break started, Peter rushed to his room (more like a prison, really) and pulled his white work pants down enough to expose the black ink decorating his pale skin. Not only were there doodles and sketches, probably song lyrics as well, but a little note was left for him. 
helloooo how ya been? 
He smiled down at the now familiar, messy handwriting scrawled across his thighs. Peter quickly grabbed the black pen Brenner had given him for one of his birthdays, only because one of the children had asked him when it was and when the day arrived, some of the kids made a big deal of it and Brenner hadn’t wanted to seem like he didn’t care. 
Not bad, and yourself?
It only took a couple minutes for her to reply. 
i’ve been kinda stressed lately, just got a lot of homework
What subject?
ugh like all of them
You’re really not a fan of school huh?
gods no, the only bearable part is that theres this cute little cafe right by my school so i can go and get some coffee sometimes before or after school
And conversations like that occurred almost everyday. Messages by default stayed permanent until one partner made an effort to get rid of it. This meant that he had to make the effort to scrub off whatever was on his body before going into the shower room, a shared space with cameras in it, unlike his room. 
He was lucky that Brenner wasn’t interested enough in what he did during his free time to install security cameras in his room. 
But soon enough he wouldn’t have to worry about Brenner at all. Once his plan was in motion he’d never have to worry about stupid Dr. Brenner again. 
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“Peter, where will we go now?” 011 asked him as they walked out the back door of Hawkins Laboratory. It was absolutely crucial to his plan that the young girl never found out about that massacre. Somehow, after all this horrible place had done to her, 011 would still have felt some remorse for them. Certainly enough to persuade her not to join him. 
“You needn’t worry about that Eleven, I have somewhere we can go,” Peter reassured her. He was lucky that his soulmate lived in Hawkins. They had arranged the meeting a couple weeks ago. He was aware that she might not take kindly to the fact that he brought along a child with him to stay at her house, but he’d cross that bridge when they got there.
Now that he thought about it, his soulmate would certainly have many questions for him. Questions he could not answer, not without revealing his powers. Was he ready to tell her about those? Not yet, but… maybe someday. 
As he neared the shitty gas station close to the lab that he agreed to meet his soulmate at, he stopped and crouched down to 011’s height. “Okay, Eleven, there will be a girl in there that we’re going to meet. But she can’t know about our powers. Or anything about the lab, okay? So I was wondering if you had a name you wanted to go by? We can’t be calling you Eleven.”
“I need a new name?” 011 repeated, not sure she understood. 
“Yes, it can be anything you like.”
“I… don’t know.”
“Well how about El, hmmm? Like the first part of your name, just without the even part.”
“El,” she said, testing out how she felt about it. “El is nice.”
“Wonderful, let’s go meet our friend now, shall we?’
The two entered the tiny variety store next to the gas station, Peter searched for whoever felt like his soulmate. It sounded stupid, but he had heard stories about the instant connection one was supposed to feel upon meeting their other half for the first time. 
And sure enough, the minute he locked eyes with her, an intrusive happiness filled his mind, yet strangely he wasn’t upset about it. He hurried toward her, holding El’s hand and pulling her along. 
“Hello soulmate, my name’s Peter,” he smiled at her, instantly amazed at her beauty. Her eyes seemed so bright and filled with joy, something he was not used to seeing. 
“Hi Peter, I’m Y/n. And who’s your friend?”
“This,” he gently nudged El toward Y/n, “is my sister. El.”
“Hi El! I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Y/n bent down, so her eyes were on the same level El’s were. 
“Hello, who are you?” El asked, timid about meeting someone new. Especially someone dressed in such bright colours as the ones Y/n wore. It was strange. Good strange. But strange.
“I’m a friend. You and Peter are going to be staying at my house,” she smiled at the small child. Peter’s heart warmed at the sight. It seems his worries for El had been over nothing, Y/n was very welcoming to her. 
“Speaking of, we should get going.”
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Y/n drove the two back to her cosy little home on the edge of Hawkins, making conversation with the both of them. 
“Well, here we are! Home sweet home.”
“Thank you for this, Y/n, really. I realise that despite the whole soulmate thing, El and I are complete strangers and I appreciate you letting us into your home.”
“Of course. We are meant to be after all. And that makes you and El my family. And I’d go to the ends of the world for family, so letting you stay over is nothing. Besides, we’re like… together now. Aren’t we?” Y/n smiled shyly at him, staring into his pretty blue eyes. 
“If we are, does that mean I get to kiss you?” Peter asked, looking down at her lips.
Y/n leans in, pressing her lips softly to his. “Does this answer your question?”
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titanicfreija · 9 months
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"So unrelated to everything else, I learned how to do wood-burning."
Sunny deliberately flickered at her guardian to express her question.
"Okay, well, you told me to find an art I liked. Sort of. You said find a thing to do and then suggested sculpting, anyway, and so I went to Thomas, 'cos he's the arty one, and I told him what you wanted for me and he took me down to the City, and he showed me these marketplaces where people who do the art shit all sell their things, and-- I didn't realize there were so many kinds of... Things, stuff you could do."
"Mediums," Sunny said, wishing she liked this conversation more. "Anything can be a medium."
~
"Yeah! And how you use it as one. But, Thomas took me around and... I don't like being all awe-striking most of the time, but everyone was real excited to let a guardian try their stuff, even before I paid them. I tried sculpting, and you were right, I liked it and found it natural, but it reminded me of my hammers and grenades, and I knew you didn't mean for that to be what I did with it."
Sunny chirped, but didn't say anything, so Freija continued.
"So we went to just about everything that looked interesting. There's a whole corner for the Eliksni. A weaver, two scrap-sculptors and one who dances out front when I went. Space for more. Crowd was thinner over there, so I made sure to stay longer, watch the dancer and weaver for a while. The weaver-- Eliksni and their manual dexterity. Got a scarf, you can just look yourself later.
"And I did try the scrap, and the dancer tried to teach but I don't have enough arms, and those were kinda important.
"And I tried painting, and I tried sculpting, like I said, I tried like six other ways of making pictures. Pencils, stencils, pastel... Stuff, there were like three things with that word about it. I did not try singing, we know I have fun but do not do well, and I have no intention of fixing that.
"I did try a couple of instruments. The bow-using string ones were my favorite, but I was best with a horn. Liked the drums but was constantly worried I was going to break them. Strum strings were my least favorite. The breath-- ah, I remember, the wind instruments were good but surprisingly hard sometimes? I remember coming away wondering about the ways people come up with to make noises. Lots of them had regional histories, but so many were alike, even from hot places."
Sunny glanced at Freija and felt her light flicker again. "Would you like to do that again?"
"Huh?"
"Go into the city? See... Normal? Mortal? Living people?"
"You're sounding more and more like me. I know what you mean. Non-guardians. I hadn't thought about it."
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah."
"Then why not do it again?"
Freija shrugged.
"We can visit the City again. Artist alley and all."
Freija seemed puzzled at the idea, for some reason. "Sounds good," she agreed. "Oh, but, so, we got to this one with wood-burning, which wasn't what it sounded like, but was still really neat. And I wanted to try it, but I ended up doing it my way. Which is basically finger painting with heat, but using different parts of my hands, and using Light. I drew my sun, first, and your flower on your main shell, cos that oblong shape is easy with my little finger, and I turned that into a drawing... Etching? of you. I could never draw your winter lotus, that wonky line of your petals and pointy end threw me off, but burning the shape with my fingers and fingernails worked really well. Singed a Hareball shell right next to it. Even got different shades of char going to look like the color transition. I'll show you when we get home."
Sunny chirped again.
"I kept a plank to practice on. Thomas thought it was funny. He asked if I'd use my hammer. I tried for my face after that, but the only feature I got right was my tattoo. Do you like doing art stuff? Have you ever tried?"
"I doodle with my shell points and I dance," she murmured. She hadn't done either in a very long time. Maybe since Freija.
"I've seen you dance sometimes, there's been music and you'll do that little throb bounce with your pieces, but I'm pretty sure that's not what you mean. How do you doodle with your shell?"
This definitely didn't happen since before Freija. "I would find flat or smooth places and impress on them, like in sand or dust. Murals of things I'd seen, mostly animals eating or hunting."
"Wanna do it again? We can get a tray for sand or paint or ink or something. And I know I don't dance and I remark on the moving all the time, but you wouldn't be you without it and I'd love to see you dance."
Sunny hadn't thought of it in a long time, and now understood Freija's confusion around visiting the market again.
"That sounds nice."
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blinday · 2 years
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I'm done with it. I shall criticize my favourite silly little comic because this is my life now, I suppose. No good criticism? I shall do it. And build another tag because the an.ti.l.o are so fucking annoying and childish (yeah let's call someone a bitch because she was 'agressive' in their response to a post). So, this must be a safe space for anyone who wants to actually criticize, comment or analyse this cute comic we love.
I'll start telling my experience and then applying what I know it was not done in an ideal way. In the beginning, i thought it would be very silly and boring, but boy, was I wrong. I mean, it is silly, but SO cute and entertaining! The art style is so charming. I am a very scrupulous artist, following the anatomical rules as much as possible even in stick doodles, so how freeing it was to meet an art style that literally threw that out of the window. It shows what's happening in a non realism way and passes the emotions of both characters and author. (The horniness of some moments lmaooooo). It made me connect in such a wonderful way, and I felt so intensely for each character! It's kind of a new feeling for me.
It's not perfect, of course, as I will explain.
The narrative structure doesn't exactly follow a line of thought, wich gives off some pacing inconsistensies. I for one can never really tell how much time has passed from event to event. Some people say Hades and Perse didn't know each other for more than 2 months, others claim it was close to a year, so the fandom is also very divided in this aspect.
Some characters are stabilished in a way and then act incoherent. Yeah, it deepens the character, but what I'm trying to say is, if your character has shown to have [this] behaviour, and react in a way to some situations, it will be weird if they betray this patters without explanation. Like Eros, who is shown multiple times having a great emotional maturity, and then leaves with no questions asked because he was spooked by Psyche, and then went on a rampage because of that. Wtf was that Eros, how am I supposed to poor meow meow you if you HISS AT PEOPLE!!!
Jokes aside, it was pretty weird, and I don't blame Aphrodite for hiding Psyche from him after that tantrum.
Apollo is another one. When he was first introduced he was your typical jock who isn't used to girls not wanting him and finding a quest on Perse. But suddently he is not only a psycho, but also an emotional abuser and rapist. I think it would've been way less uncanny if the change was slow and gradual, because in the same chapter he assaults Persephone he had previously stabilished good terms and accepted how she felt about him. Yeah, a person can hide their true nature, but that's not how it's done. Anyways he is a bastard and I hate him. Terribly written, yes, but a bastard nonetheless.
It also bugs me how some things are completely brushed aside and then treated as a mere trivialty when the writers remember it was there in the first place. Like the photographer incident with Hades pulling his eye off. He took SO LONG to do that, and it served no narrative purpose other than make him look badass. And then, back into character inconsistensies, Hades basically changes and this aspect of his personality is forever forgotten. It was probably because Rachel wanted to make him look cool and badass but then realized that it wouldn't be coherent to have him be both cruel and a blue cinnamon roll.
Another inconsistency is Persephone's relationship with her classmates and her grades. The writing goes back and forth with Persephone's priority list because sometimes grades are everything, and others she isn't even enjoying the college. After the rumor about Hades' violence on Perse's classmates EVERYONE stops talking to her? You telling me this pink sugar cube couldn't make better ties with ANYONE in that damn campus? I no believe no.
Artemis is constantly changing from badass huntress who can read others and deduction genius to dumbass who can't read the room, and it's frustrating because she is my favourite character. She's kinda dumber in latter chapters. Still my favourite tho.
I have more, but I think it's enough for a tag-building post. I hope you like it, and please, remember: just because I criticize, it doesn't mean I hate the comic. We can recognize both flaws and strongs in a piece and still love it.
Keep respectful and healthy, okay? It's safe, and every opinion is just that: an opinion, can't hurt anyone. I'll try to analyse characters next time. Any ideas on who?
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For the artist asks, 2, 11 & 18 :3
2. 5 favourites of your own work?
in no particular order:
pokesona, the stars are falling (not posted, will be posted with this years redraw), jewel's house, sleeping jewel, jewel's bedroom (also an extra bcuz i really like it but couldn't find the compressed file to put here: be back soon screen)
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i have a lot of fun drawing my pokesona, it was drawn completely using vector lines which was unbelievably enlightening
the stars are falling was first drawn back in 2020 and has become a way for me to compare how my art has developed over the years. 2020 only featured Jason (he/him), 2021 only had Zero (ey/em), and 2022 includes the former two plus Cleo (she/her, but shes bigender and also goes by Liam he/him), 2023 will include Jason and Ambe (she/her). its a way for me to basically do a benchmark test on my composition and anatomy and colours and shading. i always have a lot of fun drawing it and sometimes making whole new brushes. important note: this one was actually submitted to an art contest, sadly i lost but it was actually my first time since elementary putting my art out with the intent to be judged.
jewel's house was my first time drawing and designing a house and finding different places to incorporate hearts was literally so much fun.
sleeping jewel is just super cute and jewel's bunny hoodie is my favourite thing ever. i have it on my phone and could stare at it for hours.
jewel's bedroom is ALSO a redraw. i enjoyed trying to fit so many things in it, i enjoyed sketching, i enjoyed lining, i enjoyed colouring. though this is actually my least fav of the 5 bcuz i fully believe the idea that your art is only as good as its weakest point. that's not to say its bad or that everyone will approach it as critically as possible. not even to say that everything needs to be perfect. but when i was rendering it, i didn't want to shade. so i took a funky brush and just rushed thru shading. in fact you can see that when watching the speedpaint, i just kinda scribbled the shading. HOWEVER that doesnt take away from the fact i think the rest of it is really well done. i think i did well on the bed in particular and the fact that i stylized a real bed that we own and my actual childhood bed that i would die to get back (we owned two, mine was lost when mum and dad had to abandon my childhood home bcuz of shitty roommates and a shitty landlord) i enjoyed drawing my actual stuffed animals and my actual lolita dress. it like actually has sentimental value bcuz of all of that i just wish i did it better.
11. favourite comment you've ever received on your work?
uhhhh so like i dont usually recieve comments on my work aside from my family's "wow i could never do that" soooo well go with the comment you left on my bunny hoodie design bcuz as far as i can remember iirc it was the first time id gotten a nice comment about my fashion designs and i was really happy someone liked it bcuz im like super nervous about my silly fashion doodles :)
18. do you have any larger projects you'd like to pursue? like comics, shortfilm, a series, etc?
yes! id like House Of Misfits to be a cartoon, tho the show would probably be lighter than the short stories bcuz i don't imagine i could explore Amber's backstory on screen. im making a proof-of-concept website which is technically online and more than 70% unfinished.
i also have a coming-of-age novel i need to do research for called Saftey Blanket about a hijabi girl named Aminah in her senior year of highschool (if i made it a series wed get to see her twin siblings realize they're trans which would be fun but rn they are but lil babbies), id like to make a children's cartoon and a visual novel but i don't currently have any ideas for either.
btw despite the fact that i am an animator, i don't want to animate a show. i want to run a show. i don't actually enjoy animations longer than maybe 10 seconds.
i have a side project based around the album A Constant State Of Ohio by Lincoln that would be a very personal project around self image while having multiple personality disorders (and other problems), but i cannot for the life of me make an animatic. there's lots of ideas like this jostling in my brain, like a stop-motion animation of Through The Roof n Underground by Gogol Bordello, where i just simply cannot which i am fine with.
then theres the fact i do actually want to sew my fashion designs, at least that bunny hoodie if nothing else, and i cannot get my hands on any fabric despite owning a sewing machine
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luveline · 2 years
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you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]
summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model
word count: 2.4k
tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers
It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.
You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.
You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.
You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.
He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.
You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.
"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.
You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.
The whole school knew, naturally.
"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.
"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.
"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.
"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.
You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.
Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.
"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."
You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.
"Uh..."
"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.
"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.
"It's charcoal."
"What?"
"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."
He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.
It didn't matter.
"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."
You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."
"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"
"... You want the drawing?"
"I'd love it, if that's okay."
"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."
He handled it with care.
The librarian jingled her little bell again.
"Thank you. So, see you?"
"Yep," you agreed.
He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.
-
You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.
You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.
When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.
He looked much too brunette.
You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.
Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.
Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...
You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.
The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.
In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.
"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.
You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.
"Hi, dolly."
"Weasley."
"Oh, not even a first name?"
"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.
"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.
"Hi, Weasley."
He smirked.
"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"
"Nah. You never stand still."
"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.
He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.
His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.
You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.
You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.
After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.
Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.
"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."
"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."
Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."
You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."
"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."
You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."
"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."
You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.
"Thank you."
He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."
"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."
"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.
You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.
"What's in the box?"
"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.
It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.
"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.
"It's a memory box."
"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."
You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.
"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."
"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"
"Not on your life."
"They're perfectly edible!"
"Sure, Fred."
-
The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.
"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"
"They thought you were sleeping!"
A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.
It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?
Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.
"Is it a prank?"
"You're thinking too small."
"A new product?"
"Still need to go bigger!"
"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.
"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."
"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.
"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."
"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"
Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."
"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.
"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."
"This is goodbye?"
"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"
"What do you want to ask me?"
Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.
"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.
"You will?"
"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.
Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.
He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.
"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.
"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.
Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"
You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.
He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."
Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."
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cryptidmads · 3 years
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alright, so i went through the ama with wan hazmer and daim dziauddian on twitch and picked out every little tidbit i could about the megastars bc i knew you guys would want to know. this is a long post and i’m on mobile atm so i can’t put it under a read more — sorry about that! bosses are in chronological order, starting with DJSS and ending with Eve!
DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA
- djss took the least amount of time to develop out of all the bosses (haz says his fight took about half a year.)
- daim purposely tried to make djss' name as long as he could. he was specifically looking at negasonic teenage warhead from deadpool for inspiration.
- haz and daim do have the briefing/kliffnotes for djss. they discussed sharing them at some point, but idk when that would happen.
- related to the above, daim says that dj is in his mid thirties. EDIT: his kliffnotes were shared on twitter and they say he’s 41. daim must have goofed haha
- when asked if djss actually has a face and how he eats, daim compares it to kenny from south park and how you never see his face. he thinks dj does have a face in there, but that we just never see it. as for the “how does he eat” part, daim says that sometimes they don’t have to show everything.
- daim is a djneon/neonnova shipper, and it’s one his favourite pairings alongside zuke/mayday.
- daim said that uncle ali basically instantly landed the role as djss. he was that good.
SAYU
- sayu was obviously inspired by hatsune miku and other vocaloids, but haz brings up one particular commercial involving miku and google chrome, which involves a bunch of people collborating on songs and concept art for miku, similar to how sayu started as a collab between remi and tila in-universe.
- someone asked about the models for sayu's crew's apartments. there wasn't much on that, but haz mentions that one of his favourite nsr fanfics (yes, he reads them) is "Road to Redemption," and there's a scene that takes place in a studio where the crew works on sayu, and he really likes that.
- the devs wanted sayu's name to sound both malay and japanese at the same time (as well as a nod to miku). haz says it means “warm water” in japanese.
- akusuka is a direct copy of akihabara in terms of locale.
- sayu’s shellfish commercial is a homage to a real snack in malaysia named mamee monster, which is hugely popular with kids. the format of the commercial itself was inspired by a pocky commercial that featured hatsune miku.
YINU
- her game design (for her boss fight) was partially done in ms paint by music director falk (who made the base version of her boss theme)
- yinu's mom doesn't have a name. she's just mother/mama.
- haz confirmed that yinu's father is, in fact, dead.
- daim thought yinu’s name was a nod to yuna (a popular malaysian artist). it’s not.
- natura is daim’s favourite district. he likes how calm it is compared to the others.
- daim said that they wanted a hint of hope in all three of yinu’s backstory photographs, to show that no matter how bad your life gets, there’s always that glimmer of hope and that good things can still happen.
1010
- the members of 1010 do not have any official names.
- the assets for the autographs were made by the artists at one of the partner companies working with metronomik on nsr. haz and daim didn't really have anything to do with making them, and while daim did approve them for the final game, he was sorta skimming through a bunch of assets along with the autographs, and he didn't realize what they really were at the time until later. haz is impressed with how the fans managed to decipher them.
- 1010's fight was purposefully put between yinu's and eve's as a break from the emotional stuff.
- michael jackson was used as a reference for 1010's animations/moves.
- the Bio Tactical Shield that you get for zuke after beating 1010 is a reference to BTS.
- tangibly related, but the collectable figurines are supposed to serve more as a backstory to vinyl city as a whole, rather than 1010 or neon j. daim describes the figures as what events were going on and what people were doing before the events of nsr.
- 1010’s appearance from older trailers (where they all looked the same) were actually placeholders. 1010’s actual designs weren’t finished yet when those trailers were released.
- parts of 1010’s designs (for their bodies/outfits) were inspired by tron uprising, a project that daim worked on.
- somebody asked why 1010 and neon j have sculpted butt plates. daim and haz have no idea, but daim suggested that ellie (who designed 1010) and jan (who did their character models) put them there to up the “sexy robot” factor.
- daim’s favourite member of 1010 is purl-hew/blue, and haz’s favourite is eloni/green.
- the members of 1010 were designed based on popular tropes in boy bands. rin/white is “the main guy,” zimelu/red is the “bad boy,” purl-hew/blue is the “cool guy,” haym/yellow is the “young/innocent one,” and eloni/green is the “weird/funny one.”
- eloni/green not getting fan mail was based on how the “funny guy” of kpop bands/idol groups don’t seem to get as much attention as the rest of the group.
NEON J
- haz and daim didn't expect neon j to become so popular. haz joked about blaming it on ddaddystar, who did that doodle of djss and neon j from the credits.
- when asked about neon j’s age, daim said he’s definitely older than djss, and that he could be in his forties.
- related to the age thing, someone in chat said he should be older if he went to war in the sixties. haz replied by saying they never mentioned what year the game takes place in, so it doesn’t necessarily take place in the present/2020.
- a lot of people asked about the border wars, and daim and haz said they like leaving the bulk of it up to fan interpretation.
- daim said that neon j’s organs were preserved in a robotic shell after the war, and that’s why he’s considered a cyborg.
- as stated above, daim is a djneon/neonnova shipper, and it’s one his favourite pairings alongside zuke/mayday.
- neon j’s monologue was slightly longer, but it was cut down because zul (neon j’s va) didn’t do very many takes for the monologue, and the takes he did do didn’t have the comedic punch that daim was looking for, so it got shortened.
- the singing parts of neon j’s lines were ad-libbed by zul in his audition, and daim liked it so much that it stayed for the final game.
- neon j’s monologue had to be altered in the japanese dub so that the jokes/comedy would make more sense.
EVE
- the color changing paintings from her boss fight were created by accident.
- eve was put as the last boss because of how emotional her relationship with zuke was and how complicated and intricate she is as a whole compared to the rest of the bosses.
- daim considers eve to be the "final boss" for zuke, while tatiana is the final boss for mayday.
- eve took the longest to develop out of all the bosses. she was orignally a lot more complicated, and daim said they had to "filter" a lot of things about her in order to tone her down and fit her into the game.
- eve was almost scrapped from the game. daim said her concept as an eccentric artist wasn't as well known as the other four bosses’ concepts, and combine that with how long it took to finalize her... yeah.
- none of the artists have set in stone heights because of how the gameplay works, but eve is the tallest one. the closest scene in the game that has them at their actual heights is the ending.
- her name was originally eva, but it was changed bc there’s already a popular artist with the same name.
- daim explains that a big part of eve’s concept and theme is her embracing herself. he uses the example of eve’s backstory where she starts out hating herself and trying to cover the pink half of her face, but then starts doing less of that overtime. he also mentions that all the body parts (hands, arms, legs, etc.) from her fight also come from her embracing her body and using it in her artwork.
- dream fever is haz’s favourite district.
- daim didn’t originally think of zuke and eve as being an actual couple until later down the line when the story heavily implied it.
- eve’s younger designs were done by lzbros, who did all the 2d animation for the game.
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drabbles-mc · 3 years
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As Soon As I Can
Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader
Request from @alienstardust​:  Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you
I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.
Warnings: language, angst, hospitals
Word Count: 3.8k
A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo
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You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.
“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.
You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”
“You sound bitter.”
You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”
He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.
“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.
“For your cast.”
“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.
“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”
You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”
“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.
“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.
You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.
Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.
“Did Nestor do that?”
You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”
She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”
You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”
The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.
“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”
“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.
“Absolutely.”
You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.
“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”
“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”
The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”
On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.
“What?” you were careful of your tone.
She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”
“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.
You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.
--
“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”
He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”
“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”
He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.
“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”
You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”
He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”
“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”
He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”
“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”
He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”
For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.
True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.
However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.
Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”
“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.
“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”
“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”
You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”
There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”
“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”
He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”
Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”
“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”
You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”
He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”
“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”
“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”
You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”
He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”
You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”
Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”
“Yea?”
“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.
It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”
--
That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.
You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.
Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.
There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.
“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.
You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.
“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”
“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”
Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”
She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”
There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”
She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”
--
“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.
You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”
“What made you decide to get this done now?”
You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”
You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.
Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.
She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.
The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”
“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.
“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”
Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”
“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”
“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”
You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.
The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.
Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.
You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.
Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.
Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.
“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”
He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”
He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“You fucking should be.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”
Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”
“Can I see?”
You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.
“I’m so sorry.”
“What the fuck, Nestor?”
“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”
“Uh…yea.”
“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”
“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.
“I love you.”
The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”
“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.
You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”
“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”
You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”
“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”
He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”
With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”
There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.
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cloudywriter · 3 years
Text
promposals
rowaelin month - september 1st
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prompt: i just realized i’m desperately in love with you 
hey guys!! it’s finally rowaelin month and i’m literally so excited you have no idea. sadly, i don’t have time to do every day but i’ll do as many as i can. i can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with. happy writing/reading! (this is just some straight fluff) 
masterlist, AO3
~~~
The school was abuzz, anticipation hung thick in the hallways during each passing period. It had been that way for a week or so now with prom on the horizon. Everyone was constantly on high alert for the next promposal, most desperately hoping it would be their own. Girls hung around their lockers inconspicuously for far longer than necessary and boys tried to play it cool while secretly fretting over who to ask and how to do it.
Rowan was over it pretty quickly, but he’d likely have to suffer through the next month of promposal after promposal. Today was no different, there was an asking in the parking lot before school, one in his first-period English class, another in the hallway after. He couldn’t escape it. 
Thankfully, Rowan wasn’t quite as grumpy as he used to be due to a certain blonde worming into his life a few years ago but he was still Rowan. Sullen and reserved as ever. That fateful blonde being the only one to draw him from his shell. 
Rowan sighed, aimlessly scrolling around on his phone. It was the passing period before his 3rd-period class, AP Biology, and Rowan was leaning against Aelin’s locker.
Aelin always stopped by her locker after her photography class to put her camera away and then they’d head to class together. It was their routine, the same every day. Not yet broken during their entire senior year which was quickly coming to a close. That was a subject Rowan didn’t want to broach though.
He cleared his head of those unsavory thoughts. Rowan could tell yet another proposal was gearing up, Ilias came around the corner holding a poster board in one hand and a bouquet of assorted flowers in the other. At that moment too, Aelin turned the corner, giving Rowan a small smile as she hurried towards him. 
Rowan’s cold resting face tugged into a smirk as she approached her already open locker. Rowan always took it upon himself to open it for her in advance, Aelin tended to fumble with the locks that required a specific number combination and artful twisting. 
As Aelin stored away her camera and shut her locker door with a thud, a gasp down the hallway had them both turning around. 
Ansel was there, her hand cupping her mouth, clearly unsuspecting of Ilias and his proposal. They both watched as Ansel excitedly agreed to prom with Ilias and took the flowers from his outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug. 
Aelin turned her attention away from the happy couple and began to walk towards their next class, Rowan following suit. They progressed for a bit in silence until Aelin spoke up. 
“I hope Chaol asks me to prom soon,” she confessed. 
Rowan almost choked, that single sentence baffling him. “Chaol?” He asked incredulously. 
“Or Dorian,” Aelin shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her. Rowan was suddenly feeling very panicked, like a fish that had accidentally discovered land, flopping around in search of water in a frenzy. To say he felt confused was an understatement. Rowan hadn’t given prom much of his brainpower. He hadn’t even considered asking anyone. He’d just assumed he’d go with Aelin. Why would he have thought otherwise? They did everything together; he’d expected prom would be no different.
When they sat down at their blacktop table in biology Rowan silently floundered as he tried to think over this revelation. Why would Aelin want to go with someone else? Usually, before class started, he and Aelin would joke around until the teacher told them it was time to reel it in but today Rowan stared ahead, picking at the skin of his thumb. A nervous tick he’d developed throughout high school. 
Should he ask someone else then? He couldn’t even think of anyone else he tolerated enough to spend the night with. Maybe Lyria? She was nice enough, always sharing her notes with him in English when he was too busy with lacrosse to do the reading. She was quiet, soft-spoken. Absolutely nothing like the girl sat next to him. That thought made him frown. Remelle? No, he could barely stand Remelle, but he knew she liked him so at least she’d definitely say yes. 
Rowan was pretty much out of luck. Aelin and his friend group were to whom his time was devoted to, he didn’t branch out much beyond them. 
He thought of Aelin all dressed up, maybe in a golden gown that catered to her love of theatrics. Possibly in a deep green that complemented her bright eyes and skin tone. He imagined her with her hair loosely curled and flowing down her back. The delicate, golden Kingsflame silhouette necklace he’d gotten her for her 18th birthday clasped around her neck. It was easy for Rowan to conjure up that image but he couldn’t picture her looking like that and holding onto Chaol’s arm. It felt so intensely wrong to even consider it. 
It was always him. He always imagined her with him. They were a package deal in Rowan’s mind, but apparently not in Aelin’s. 
Aelin seemed to be catching onto Rowan’s internal dilemma. Throughout the duration of the class, he could feel her watching him out of the corner of her peripheral, trying to gauge what could be wrong. She stayed quiet though and dutifully continued her notes that mostly consisted of a collection of small doodles. Rowan couldn’t help but watch and wonder how she truly felt about him.
For the rest of the school day, Rowan pretty much blew Aelin off. He sat between Lorcan and Fenrys at lunch instead of the 2 seats on the right side of the circular table that always housed Aelin and himself. He told her not to wait up in the stands during his lacrosse practice and to head home on her own instead. He could tell she was confused maybe even a little hurt but Rowan couldn’t bring himself to push aside his mass of feelings that had him acting strange. 
He wasn’t even completely sure what was wrong with himself. The thought of Aelin accompanying another guy to prom shouldn’t affect him like it was; they were only best friends nothing more. She had free reign to go with whoever she wanted and she could get whoever, Aelin was a beautiful girl he wasn’t blind to that. He’d just thought it’d be him. 
All throughout lacrosse practice, Rowan was distracted, missing the ball or the goal when he had it, a stark difference from his usual skill. His coach had already pulled him aside once and asked if he was feeling okay only to be given a grunted yeah before putting him back in. He only grew more upset with Aelin as he pondered the day’s events instead of keeping his head in the game. Some part of him knew it was irrational but he couldn’t help it. Why wouldn’t she want to share one of their last big moments of high school together?  
And that’s how he continued to feel as he made the short drive home with his hefty lacrosse bag weighing down his shoulder and his school bag heavy on his back. When he finally entered the home he sighed, the scent of his mother’s cooking filling his nostrils. Honestly, he’d rather stay up in his room and stew than sit through family dinner right now but he knew it’d only prompt more questions from his parents. So he dropped his things by the door much to his mother’s chagrin and collapsed into one of the dining table’s chairs. 
“Feeling alright, son?” His father’s silver brow rose, already catching on to his foul mood. 
“Yeah, just tired,” Rowan confirmed, taking a sip of water. 
His mother entered then, a dish of pasta cupped between her oven mitts that she placed in the center of the table. “How was practice?” She asked sweetly, stripping her hands of their cover and sitting down. 
“It was fine.”
Rowan’s mother and father exchanged a look between themselves. He was normally much more talkative, always giving them updates on school, on plays they’d done during practice, on Aelin. Rowan chose to ignore their concerned expressions and instead served himself a helping of dinner silently. 
His phone buzzed then from inside the pocket of his shorts. Rowan pulled it out to check the message and frowned at the screen. 
fire-breathing b queen👑 : r u okay? 
He stuck his phone back into his pocket instead of typing a reply and forced himself to eat the rest of his dinner. He only half-listened to his parents’ conversation about their days and what was going on in his dad’s office. Rowan knew he was stewing again, falling into a spiral of uncertainty. 
“Rowan, honey, are you sure you’re okay?” His mother pressed, worry lining her brow. 
Rowan’s lips formed a thin line. No, he wasn’t okay. 
In a split-second decision, Rowan decided he was done dancing around whatever was going on between him and Aelin. “I need to go,” Rowan said suddenly, standing up from his chair that loudly scraped across the floor. His parents looked surprised by his outburst but didn’t stop him as he grabbed his keys from the little table by the front entrance and left. 
Rowan didn’t even need to look at the road to know the way to Aelin’s house. The route was in his bones now and within a few minutes he was pulling up in front of her large white house. He hopped out of his truck, not even bothering to lock the doors before he pounded on her green-painted front door. 
The door opened with a squeak and he saw Aelin standing there in one of her nightgowns that drove Rowan absolutely mad. 
“You’re not going to prom with Chaol,” he rasped, pushing the hair falling on his forehead back with his hand. 
“Huh?” Aelin was clearly confused as to why Rowan had come knocking at her door without preamble. 
“You’re not going with him,” Rowan once again declared, standing his ground, ready to get everything off his chest before he lost the courage. 
“Ro, I don’t get what you’re going on about. He hasn’t even asked me and if he doesn’t ask me I don’t know who’d I go with,” she admitted, her hand still holding the door open and her mouth in a serious line. 
Rowan surges forward at that, gripping both of Aelin’s hands in his own. “You’d go with me, Aelin. I want you to go with me,” he pleaded with her, lifting her hands up to his chest. “Aelin,” he continued, “I don’t want to go with anyone else but you. I want to do everything with you, go everywhere with you. Gods, Aelin, you’re like my reason to breathe, to get up in the morning.”
“Row-” Aelin tried to interrupt, her blue eyes going wide. 
“No, just let me finish, I- I know that sounds crazy and I know it’s so out of the blue and you didn’t expect me to show up outside your door like this and start professing my feelings,” Rowan was rambling now he knew. Everything he wanted to say to her was running through his mind like a freight train so much so he struggled to express it. The words were jumbled in his mind as if they were a bowl of alphabet soup in a blender. He just needed her to know how he felt. 
“I- I just, I thought about you going to prom with Chaol or some other guy all damn day and I hated it. Gods, I couldn’t figure out why I hated it so much, it just it- it felt so wrong. Fireheart, I want you to be with me. Gods, I think I’m so desperately in love with you I’m going to combust or something.” Rowan was getting flustered now, he knew his face was burning and he was sweating, maybe from the humidity or maybe from the sheer weight of what he was confessing to his best friend.  “Rowan,” Aelin started once again, her face contorted in pure shock. 
“I know you might not feel the same Aelin, I knew I came here risking that, and if you don’t feel the same-”
“Rowan!” Aelin said with more force, bringing her hands to cup his face. “Listen to me,” she pleaded. 
Rowan stopped trying to fight her and looked at her. He felt as though his stomach might fall out. His nerves were so intense as he stared into Aelin’s golden-ringed eyes. 
“You’re just so fucking stupid,” Aelin breathed. 
Rowan’s brow furrowed, he certainly hadn’t expected her to say that. “Wha-” he began. 
He couldn’t even finish his thought before Aelin’s lips descended upon his own. She cradled his face in her hands as her soft lips moved against his in a slow rhythm. Rowan’s brain stalled and struggled to catch up with what the hell was happening. 
He just knew this felt right, this felt so gods-damn right. 
His hands were loosely wrapped around her wrists and they traveled lightly over her arms and moved to rest on her back and pull her into him. 
Her body molded against his own. It felt like the final bit of a 50,000 piece puzzle had finally fallen into place after years of pouring over it. Rowan kissed Aelin back with just as much fever, desperate to keep her lips on his own. He brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips and she pulled back. 
They both stood there, gulping down air as they stared at each other trying to navigate this unimaginable revelation. 
“You’re- you’re not going to prom with Chaol, right?” Rowan finally managed to ask. 
“No,” Aelin breathed. “I’ll go with you, I’ll always go with you.” 
Their lips met once again.
~~~
day one down. stay tuned and have a wonderful day, xoxo
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promisedneverwrite · 2 years
Text
Nightingale
Masterlist
Taglist:@ashleyfenner @veenast @simpforolderwomen @shrzdm @maskedalienfreak @plutoscape @shows-simp-card @baexpoppy @iamsimpforpoppy @dreamofyouu @feliiix @thescarycatishere @xryu-minx @tragic-tm @stanzoeywade @sister-solaris @starofeden @kamilah78taeko @calraquin @t4nuk1 @soft-round-bees @mysel08 @noixngn @readerlovers @camisstee @somewillwin @wolfietheduckyou @calraquin @sister-solaris @spicyhotpapayas @aevumace @virgonowhere @aleiramacaii
Previous chapter
Chapter X
Poppy made her way up to her newest hideaway from Belvoire. While her clubhouse was available, it was still in a place that reminded her that she was still in school. This little cafe was separated from all that but she could do without meeting Bea all the time. But she guessed she should just be thankful that Bea never talked to her during her stay here unless in passing. 
“Oh Poppy, you’re just on time, I have something for you.” Poppy looked to who had called her seeing Sam waving her over. 
Recently she’s been frequenting this place when swimming couldn’t clear her of the nuances of school life and gossip. She’s been writing and reading letters to and from her father Art, here. It was a place where she didn’t have to worry about looking over her shoulder to read them. 
Poppy made her way over and was handed a cd. Poppy stared at it a moment gingerly taking it to look over the cover of the cd, a little doodle of a coffee mug. She’d seen cds in old 90s chick flicks but she never had the pleasure of owning one.
 The age of CDs was already past once Apple released their newest portable music playing device and she wasn’t going to be playing music from an old potato and look dorky. She was a Min-Sinclair, heiress to a multi-billion dollar company, she had the money so she was going to use it.
“Is this...?” Sam nodded with a smile.
“Yeah she came by earlier to drop it off. I’ll trust that this stays between us.” Poppy smiled and held the cd close to her nodding. Though she did wonder if she hadn’t been accosted by Veronica about joining her for a video, if she would have gotten to meet Robin.
“Of course. I’ll return it as soon as possible.”
Poppy had left almost right after, she got a hot chocolate to go giddy about listening to a clear version of the songs she fell asleep to. 
Albert had driven her home before the sun had even begun to set and she b-lined her way to her room with a scowl to ward off the girls. 
“Tonnie!” Poppy barked. Taylor appeared before her and she hummed in approval. 
“Yes, Poppy!” Poppy observed Taylor for a moment seeing the way her body language had changed since her meeting with Farmsville. 
She had seen first hand how Taylor took frustration and despite how Taylor’s demeanor looked she was capable. Smart, beautiful, talented, all what it took to be in Zeta. Poppy had high hopes for her as she saw a bit of herself in Taylor. A willingness to do better, and fulfill them with perfect precision completely unmatched by others.
“Make sure no one disturbs me, make up an excuse.” Taylor nodded as she strutted away. 
Poppy shut her door and got her laptop, setting it on her bed as she got ready for a night in. She stripped to her underwear and covered herself with a silk robe tying the silk belt around her waist loosely. She went to the bathroom putting on her baby pink polka-dotted elastic headband to start washing her face.
 Halfway through her skincare routine, she had the urge for some Korean food so she speed dialed her favorite Korean restaurant. She ended up ordering some. Tteokbokki (spicy rice cake) and Jjajangmyeon (black bean noodles) with some side dishes.
She had to thank her good genes and swimming for her snatched waist. Swimming was an exercise she enjoyed, but straight cardio was her worst enemy and only done by extenuating circumstances.
"And how will you be picking up your order today ma’am?"
Poppy thought for a moment, when the remembrance of Bea with her uber eats getup came to mind. Then she looked down at her outfit then smirked.
“I’ll have someone pick it up.”
"Alright your order will be ready in 15 minutes" 
“Thank you.”
Poppy ended the call and then texted Bea 
Uber eats, my order will be ready in 15 bring it to me 
Poppy sent the location after that one and didn't  wait for a response as she went to finish her skincare routine. 
Bea was waiting for her order of pizza and fries when she got a text from Poppy and she snorted, sending a reply.
Bossy. You’re lucky I’m still out to go pick it up
I was under the impression you did at home delivery with that box attached to your back, delivery girl  Bea chuckled. 
Har har, I have this because my bike doesn't have anywhere else to put it
I’m hungry, Farmsville. I don’t care how you carry it, just bring it to me! 
Sheesh, fine I’ll bring it but I’m so stealing one container
Don’t you dare!
😏 
Poppy glared at the emoji that stared back at her. Then huffed as she walked out of her bathroom and sat in the middle of her bed taking the cd and went to try to find where she could put it in. Her eyebrows furrowed when she found nothing, then searched what exactly a cd player looked like on a laptop. 
Bea picked up Poppy’s order thanking the server and securing it into her thermal food carrier. She drove back to Belvoire as the sun started to set in the horizon. Picking up food that was a little ways away wasn’t so bad when Bea liked to drive, but she did text Zoey to make sure she knew she wasn’t going to be late on purpose. 
Bea’s stomach growled when she took a whiff of Poppy’s food as she walked towards Zeta. Taylor opened the door, surprised she was there.
“Hey Taylor, just coming to drop off something to the evil queen.” Taylor looked at the box-like bag on her back letting her in. 
“Oh you work for food delivery?” Bea chuckled.
“No, I just got told to get it or else.” Taylor giggled as Bea exaggeratingly ran a finger across her neck and played dead. 
“Yeah that sounds like Poppy. She’s in her room.” Bea nodded.
“Thanks Taylor.” Bea made her way up the stairs to Poppy’s room and knocked. 
"Delivery." Bea mocked.
"Come in." 
Bea wasn’t expecting to be smacked in the face by the way Poppy looked. 
Her silk robe fell off one shoulder, hair all flipped to one side exposing her slim neck and smooth skin. The light filtering through the sheer pink curtains from her balcony doors created a sort of angelic glow. Some streaks of light, from the sliver of curtain that wasn’t closed all the way, danced along her skin. 
Bea only stood there as Poppy concentrated on her laptop, too struck by her appearance to move after seeing her.
Poppy's eyes were still concentrated on her laptop. But she could feel the door to her room still being open as Bea entered. 
“Why are you just standing there with the door open, close it.” 
The little gasp brought her to look up to see Bea's back turned, closing the door and moving to her desk. 
Poppy got off her bed going over to see her order. Though she made sure to slink towards Bea catlike, a small smirk on her face as she stood beside her leaving her robe to fall off her shoulder.
“Is it fine if I put it here?” Bea didn’t turn to her, just removed her bag and unzipped it to get the contents out. 
“Where else would you put it, Farmsville.” Poppy rolled her eyes standing next to her and opened a desk drawer taking out a rectangular box and opened it to reveal some stainless steel chopsticks and a spoon. Bea stood beside her stiffly getting her order out trying to be respectful and not to look over at her. 
Poppy opened them to check if everything was there smiling to see nothing amiss. While Bea was looking everywhere else, her eyes fell onto her laptop set up on the bed and a cd case opened on her sheets. 
“You know that laptop doesn’t have a cd player.” Poppy looked up from her food fingers covering her mouth as she chewed.
“Hmm?”
“Your cd, you need an external USB optical drive so you can play that.” Poppy rolled her eyes and turned back to her food.
“Use english, Farmsville.”
“That was english. I mean you need- here let me just-” Bea went to take her laptop and Poppy whirled on her.
“Are your hands even clean?” Bea paused and showed them to her.
“They’re clean.” Poppy sneered at them. 
“As if I’d believe you, wash them.” Bea rolled her eyes but did as she was told, washing them thoroughly to appease her then going to show her again. Poppy looked at her hands as she pulled her chopstick out from her mouth, a light scraping sound heard as she did.
“They're acceptable.” Bea nodded and got her laptop and brought it over, placing it on an empty spot on her desk and going to Best Buy and searching up what she needed. 
“This one, then you just plug it into your usb here and then you can play movies and whatnot.” Poppy scrunched her eyebrow.
“I have netflix for that.” Bea laughs.
“I mean the classics that Netflix doesn’t have Pop. Blu-ray dvds, or that cd on your bed.” Poppy hums.
“Fine but pick a better one.” Poppy waved off going back to eating her food. 
“You mean an expensive one?” Bea was ignored as Poppy just ate a pickled radish. The crunch blocking out Bea's question.
Bea sighs and chuckles, picking one out for her. 
“There, happy?” 
Poppy picked up a fish cake with her chopsticks, bringing it towards her mouth as she turned to Bea when a drop of sauce fell on her chest. 
Poppy wiped up the sauce with her finger and sucked on it, turning fully to Bea who was flushed red, mouth open a bit. Poppy smirked, removing her finger from her mouth slowly.
“Want some?” Bea stepped back a bit eyes averting.
“W-what?” Poppy smiled but to Bea it looked a bit predatory. 
“Korean food.” 
Bea raised her hands waving them as she backed away.
“Oh uh n-no thanks I got my own food.” Poppy raised her chopsticks up to her hand underneath to make sure no more drops fell. 
“It’s not poisoned, just try it.” 
Bea watched the chopsticks warily, like she was expecting it to jab into her eyes before opening her mouth to eat it.
 Poppy watched the way her lips wrapped around the chopsticks pulling away slowly before their eyes met. They both looked away, a sudden embarrassment filling the both of them as they looked away from each other before Poppy turned back. “So?” Bea chewed for a bit and swallowed. 
“It’s good.” Poppy puffed her chest a bit at that. Poppy noticed the small widening of Bea’s eyes as they briefly flickered down then away. 
“Good, I was afraid your palate was only corn feed and pig slop. So I guess this is a treat for you, no?” Bea briefly shook out of her embarrassment at Poppy's smirk and rolled her eyes, and shouldered her bag again. 
“Bye Poppy.” Bea turned away from her heading towards the door. 
“Wait, you forgot your tip.” 
Now Poppy was originally only going to teasingly kiss her cheek but she seemed to miscalculate the rate of which Bea turned and just how far she was from Bea’s face. 
“What tip mhm-?!” But Poppy wasn’t one to back out so she went with it. Her lips met Bea’s, her hand moving up Bea’s shoulder to crumple the collar of her jacket under her hands. Bea backed out first, red faced and touching her lips. Poppy bit her lip in amusement.
“You’re so easy to tease.” 
“It’s not funny.” Bea looked at her with confused and wary eyes and it made Poppy pause. A twinge of something made it uncomfortable to look directly at Bea’s eyes. Poppy for once turned her eyes away first returning back to her food.
“I’m not laughing, Farmsville. You can see yourself out.”
Next
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puzzilitis · 2 years
Text
Kinda a long ramble about Layton stuff that goes nowhere, but tl;dr I’m doing my annual Layton replay and have big PL brain ‘cause of it... buuuutttttt even though I’ve been doodling a lot I don’t have any motivation to neaten stuff so you may see new art posts here, maybe not.
But here this is proof!! A small compilation of some of the doodles with colour lol
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I’ve started chapter 5 of PL6 after the longest chapter in existence kdfgkj but I’m having fun still. This time round I’m including LBMR (but I gotta pay for the eps again, rip) and LMJ (which I liked but never actually finished). I think afterwards I’ll also sit and watch the anime in it’s entirety. I only watched 6 episodes to find out what happened to Layton (& Luke??) ‘cause the game that introduced the mystery did not answer it... it makes me wonder if they planned to answer it (and Sherl’s mystery) in a follow-up game, like as an overarching story similar to the prequel trilogy or if it was always their intention to be done in the anime... either way I have complicated feelings about that story-line (and I’m not huge on what they did with Paul/Don Paolo). But then I’ve had problems with Level 5′s writing in a lot of instances including in my favourite games of the series so what can you do lmao. ANYWAY... ...Since getting back into the series I remembered a lot of takes that just... I don’t know... I didn’t vibe with? And honestly seeing a lot of takes going around now... I don’t think I’d connect with the fandom very well lol;;  I remember when people had their pitchforks raised at Layton because he investigated Henry as a suspect in PL5, but did not bat an eye when he investigated literally anyone else - or even Clark in PL4 despite their history. ALSO people made assumptions about my opinions based on AU art I did which was kinda annoying... like they thought I was trying to redeem Bronev or down play what he did. Like nah, son... I still think he’s a villain?? I just don’t think he was a bad dad PRE!Targent because that’s what the game showed us. Speaking of bad dads... lol I don’t... I don’t think Layton is one OOPShgfdj;; LIKE... when it comes to Flora, it was fandom’s interpretation that she was now his daughter. Now don’t get me wrong I LOVE that headcanon... but officially she’s just a protege... or worse in the japanese version... a bride candidate... yeaaaaaah no. When it comes to Kat? Well it took a while to get there but what he did, even if it was a bad decision, he did for her... so as much as I’d rewrite what happened... I dunno I just don’t really like that idea and I’m frankly tired of it where is does happen in media.  There’s just too much I don’t agree with that I’m worried about how my art would be received if I posted any again;; I literally don’t know what I’m ranting about anymore anyway keep any PL female character slander away from me (rants about LEVEL 5′s writing of them is acceptable).
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nautilusopus · 2 years
Text
The Number I
Chapter 51: She is Driving A Car In This One Whoa
Alright let's kick this pig.
A lot happened since this thing last updated! I got COVID, had surgery, there was a failed government coup, and most importantly, several major sequences of this fic have been written in advance, both to expedite update speed and allow for less shitty storytelling.
Also, apparently y'all were still reading this thing while I was gone? So there is roughly a metric fucktonne of fan content you guys produced for this fic! Which is fucking bonkers to me.
SO let's go down the line here:
@shinjikari drew some absolute fucking bangers, including a couple of high quality memes that have absolutely no business being this good. As well as this incredible rendering of the events of chapter 1, and this mood piece that got put up literally yesterday (they both have sound!!!). Cloud can absolutely feel dorcelessness.
There's a second vibes piece here from @fury-brand (who in addition to making incredible art was also absolutely instrumental in getting this chapter made, along with @terror-billie, @tofucasserole, and countless others.
EDIT 2: FUCK I FORGOT THE CAR RIDE I'M SORRY BEL
Very surreal drawing of Cloud and Zack by @dantes-funky-inferno, this is so fucking good and Jesus Christ I'm so sorry it took this long to get to it 'cause hot damn.
@yuquiitas drew SO FUCKING MANY holy shit bruh so I'm just gonna list them off here in brief or I'll run out of characters, please check them out because there is so much character in all of them.
This excellent comic that is 100% canon.
Doodle of Cloud and Vincent plus thrilling sequel.
Cloud and rat friend.
Not one, and not two, but three renditions of Cloud and Hojo.
Diary of a Guy Who Ate Four Dudes
A couple collections of doodles.
I lied here's more.
Missed a spot.
Some extremely choice cross sections of things that also 100% happened in the fic.
Weird dude in scrubs.
Cloud, Aeris, and Zack ngl I think this might be my favourite one lol
And last but not least, quality memes.
Denebola Leo also made me a meme thank you.
I am absolutely sure I forgot some, there really were that many. (If I did please let me know so I can add them here, I am honoured beyond belief y'all made these!!!) Same goes with betaing, and also this is gonna be a nightmare to also post on tumblr due to all the links so I'll get that done later lol.
And of course, as always, this chapter contains some depictions of graphic violence and gore.
Good to be back.
Cloud hallucinates. Voices sometimes, or music – it’s hard to tell. It’s just another consequence of Jenova’s encroaching presence in his DNA, and four years after Meteorfall everyone’s more or less adapted to it and other oddities associated with being not quite human. Mostly.
What begins as a chance encounter with something that isn’t Jenova soon leads to a fight for survival that can no longer be contained in the spaces between numbers, as Cloud tries to keep himself together and finally put his past behind him.
(We’re in the home stretch!)
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mmvalentine · 3 years
Text
The Bargain Pt 7 | Feysand
Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8
Rhys and Feyre sat on the sidewalk passing a tray of chips between them.
Rhys had woken up in a good mood. The two of them were meeting at the mural site, and on the way Rhys passed a cart selling hot chips and slices of sausage with a curry sauce. Not a conventional breakfast, but delicious.
Today, he was spending the day alone with Feyre, making a giant painting, and he that sounded like the best offer he'd had in a long time. In fact, they would be doing this for the next five days. He had whistled on the way there.
Feyre had turned up in these adorable little paint splattered overalls, with her hair piled up in a bun. Part of Rhys wished he was painting her today.
They were staring up at the wall where their mural was going to go, armed with an array of paint tins and aerosol cans and discussing how to start. On the one hand, when designing the piece they had taken turns and that had worked really well. On the other, it didn't make sense for only one of them to be working at a time. In the end, they decided they would lay down the base structure, and work from either end until they met in the middle.
When they finished their chips, Feyre got up and started pulling out reams of string and weights from her pocket to make a grid, the same way she always started. Then the wind picked up, blowing the string out of her hands and Feyre cursed.
"What are you doing?" Rhys asked her, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Making the reference grid." Feyre looked at him. "Don't tell me you were just going to freehand the whole thing. Don't be a hero, Rhys."
Rhys laughed. "I was going to use a lazy grid. Use a gibberish reference instead of a grid, so you don't have to get the lines perfect."
"I don't know what a lazy grid is, but if it cuts out the straight lines, then be my guest."
Feyre put the string back in her pocket, while Rhys picked up a can of pink spray paint and gave it a shake. Then he walked up and down the wall, making big sweeping letters all over the white base.
Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the most handsome mural artist.
"Hey," Feyre said. "What about me?"
Rhys didn't turn, just filled in the last section of the wall.
Feyre you look absolutely delicious today.
The wall now filled with pink squiggles, Rhys back down next to Feyre. Where she smacked him across the arm.
"Since when are you such an outrageous flirt?" she asked him. "I don't know," Rhys answered honestly. "I'm just in a really good mood today." He smiled broadly, and Feyre rolled her eyes at him. But he caught her grin before she turned her head away, and his day just kept getting better.
Rhys completed his lazy grid: took a photo of the wall, uploaded it onto his laptop and then overlaid their design onto the photo. Instead of having a square grid as a reference point, they could now see what parts of the design matched up to what curly letter on the wall, and plot the painting scaled up.
And then they started painting.
By the end of the first day, they got the outline and main structure filled in. Feyre used a broad brush for her half, but Rhys used a lot of spray paints to cover large sections. At one stage, he got so lost in the process, unused to having someone painting by his side, that he nearly forgot Feyre was there. Until he took a step back to check the image from a far, and realised that Feyre had painted Feyre is the most delightful mural artist along the bottom of the wall where his pink script hadn't reached.
On day two, it was Feyre who showed up with breakfast. Fresh pretzels and pastries filled with cherries, and more hot coffee. Rhys traded his aerosols for brushes and they began painting in broad sweeps of rainbow colours, in Feyre's style. He painted blues across the bottom, yellows in the top, and a stripe of green across Feyre's left ear. She shrieked and flicked purple right across his chest before she had realised what she had done, and then looked mortified.
"Rhys, your shirt, I'm so sorry," she had said. Rhys pretended to be outraged for a minute, and then swiped orange across her nose before running away from her and letting her chase him down the street before calling a truce. And leaving a handprint on her back for her to find later.
On the third day, Feyre brought a speaker and they had music to work to. They added shadows and depth, and the image started to come alive before them. A wave of summer rolling from left to right. And everyday Feyre and Rhys worked closer and closer until they met in the middle. They had been swapping which side they worked on, too, so that they could make sure it was nice and cohesive. Rhys started leaving tiny messages in the spaces he knew Feyre was going to paint over.
I like the colour you put here, he wrote in one section.
In another: This bit reminds me of picnics.
And then especially well-hidden: I never thought I'd see you again.
When Feyre found the last one, she said out loud, "Rhys you big baby you have me on Instagram, you can talk to me whenever you like."
"I couldn't," he said, "you were a client." "I'm not now," she retorted, "so you can."
And then she returned to her painting, leaving Rhys to wonder what he might text her if he did.
Day four was the day of details. They picked up smaller brushes, and picked out careful patterns, finer outlines, points of solid black and white. Highlights, dot work, and the points on curls and tendrils. When they reached the centre, and then crossed the road to see the full effect, neither Rhys not Feyre could tell which parts were theirs and which parts were the other's.
Rhys whistled, and flung his arm over Feyre's shoulders.
"I think we might be done, what do you reckon?" he asked her. "I think we might be done, too," Feyre agreed. "A day early. We should call Tarquin."
Suddenly, it hit home that if they were done, he'd have to go home and Feyre would a continent away.
"No," he said. "Tarquin's not expecting us to be finished until tomorrow afternoon. Let's just have fun tomorrow, take the day off and tell him it's done at the end of the day."
Feyre looked up at him from under his arm, squinting through one eye.
"Rhysand you diabolical thing," she said. Then she stuck her hand out. "You've got yourself a deal." They shook on it, and Rhys breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure he could make one day last a lifetime.
"Come on," she said. "We'll just sign our names on the bottom."
She picked up the brush and put her signature in the corner, and then handed the brush to Rhys. He squatted down where she had been, pushed up his sleeves, and scrawled his name in next to hers. Then looked up and grinned at her.
But she was staring at his hands with her jaw hanging open. His smiled faded, as he followed her eyes and saw what she was looking at. Not his hands. His arm.
And the coloured tattoos that he had inked there after she drew them on in sharpie at their last booking a year ago.
****
Okay but lazy grid, or doodle grid method is so genius. I'm trying to write but my brain is mushy today so if you happen to be interested here's a great explanation video. Anyway I know I've slowed down a bit and I wandered off to make some Jurdan there, so thank you all for your patience.
Also! There seem to have been a flurry of new followers lately so if you are new here welcome and thank you so much for being here ❤️
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen
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corpsentry · 3 years
Text
january: an art retrospective
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i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)
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so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.
at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.
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january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.
january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:
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on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests
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the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th
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this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.
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january 11th. applied sketch
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january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i
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bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes
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i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.
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sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start
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january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit
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more applied studies
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on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real
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january 19th. i’m working on it.
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january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.
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january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud
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january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned
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26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies
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january 1st. january 31st
The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)
ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings
FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????
here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.
the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)
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take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.
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or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?
so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.
this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.
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here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages
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and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.
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this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.
this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.
thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end
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