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animeniacss · 3 years

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A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 19 - Date Number 2

Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?

Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU

Length: approx. 5.2k words

Chapter 19 - Date Number 2

It had been a few weeks since your…enlightening lunch with your younger sister. After her little conversation with those two men at the entrance, she returned to the table, attempting to continue your conversation as if nothing had changed. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about her comment. As playful or fabricated as she intended for it to be, she agreed with your doubts regarding your romantic standing with three men who you still were unsure if you wanted to have any romantic standing at all. It wasn’t something that could just be pushed away when the pizza was brought out to the table and Bong-Cha began talking about her own love life.

Despite that, however, you managed to keep up appearances at work as to not worry any of your coworkers. Yoongi’s team had placed second in the high school basketball tournament, and Yoongi had just returned to the preschool to continued his physical education teachings with the kids, much to their delight. There was one day, a Wednesday, where you and Hoseok dropped off the kids on the field with Yoongi, who eagerly herded the kids towards him in fits of excitement. Hoseok headed to the classroom once again to sneak a snack and rest, tired after a long morning of teaching small groups of children the names of shapes and colors. It’s a taxing job. Meanwhile, you were walking down the hall when you saw the door to Taehyung’s room open. Stopping in the doorway, you watched the man run his hands through his fluffy hair and pace the room. He was looking all over the room as if each location held a new secret to whatever answer he was so desperately looking for. He didn’t notice you at first, so you crossed your arms and rested on the door frame, silently continuing to watch him.

“…You look like you’re losing your mind.” You finally said, and dark eyes turned to look in your direction. It made you chuckle. “If that’s what it is, you’re a bit late to the party. In a preschool, one is supposed to lose their mind within the first week of employment, or else they’re considered crazy.” Once Taehyung offered a small chuckle, you stepped into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” He admitted. “President Kim said that his higher-ups want to come and evaluate me.” You blinked. “I thought I was only hired here as a recreational thing, not a real teacher. I don’t have my teaching degree.”

“I know. But you work full-time here, and I’m sure Seokjin speaks your praise at all of his evaluation meetings. Don’t worry too much about it, they probably just want to come and finally meet you.” Taehyung’s shoulders slumped. “If you want to trade, you can easily do my educational evaluation.” You said simply. “I have to show all of my lessons for the past four months, along with all of the student’s progress and how I plan to help continue to keep their progress going. It’s lots of paperwork.”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, thanks…” A smile formed on his lips. “But that makes me feel a little better.”

“Don’t stress, you’ll be okay.” You assured.

“But it’s not just that,” Taehyung said. “I got invited to another art show this weekend and I wanted to try and have a few new works prepared for it, but I haven’t hit my usual quota.”

“Is something on your mind causing all of the artist blocks?” you asked curiously. Taehyung looked over in your direction. He was silent for a moment as he studied your features, unsure of what to say. You offered him a soft smile, and his heart swelled a bit. It felt as if it did a flip, and Taehyung had to make sure he wasn’t having a stroke at that moment before responding.

“…No, not particularly.” He said simply. After a brief moment of silence, he coughed into his hands. “How’s your sister?” He asked. You glanced at him, hands at your sides. “Has she been well?”

“…Is she causing the block?” you cooed, grinning a bit. Taehyung’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

“No, no, no! Maybe that was a bad shift to different conversations but trust me, she is not the reason I’m having this block.” You forced a little laugh out, and a feeling of guilt sat right on Taehyung’s broad shoulders. He only felt that way because as the giggle subsided, the corner of your lips turned downward, and he hated that sight.

“I see…” you said simply. “I was just kidding, anyway.” You smiled. “But Bong-Cha is just fine. She’s as obnoxious as ever. She even got upset with me the other day because she asked if I wanted to go shopping with her. But she told me an hour before she left. So, when I told her that I was busy working on my education reports, she tried to guilt me into not coming with her.” You scoffed. “She’s lucky she’s got a cute face because she’s a little devil.” Taehyung chuckled. “Anyway, on a different topic…” you began, and Taehyung walked towards his desk, before turning his attention back to you. For a moment, you knew what you wanted to ask. You knew that you wanted to initiate getting together after your educational evaluation had ended. However, you knew bringing that up would only cause you trouble, and the worst part of it was, you had no idea when that trouble would hit. After racking your brain for a moment, you shook your head. “Tell me more about this art festival.”

Taehyung coughed into his hand. “Oh, well it’s actually by Haneul Park.” He said simply. “I found it online so I messaged the people doing it. It’s a bit small, they just started holding it a few years ago. But artists just kind of get together and paint, and people who pass by stop and look and sometimes will buy or even commission a painting right there.” You smiled.

“That’s amazing. I hope it goes well.”

“I’ll do my best.” Taehyung smiled. “If you want to come, Uhm-.”

“I’ll see how much of my work I get done, okay?” you said happily. Once again, the appearance of that infectious smile made Taehyung’s only grow wider.

“Right, of course.” He said happily. “I understand.” Your eyes wandered to the clock, and a small hum escaped your lips.

“I should probably go try and get some of it done now, while I have the time.” You said simply. “I hope you get over your artist block and do well this weekend at the show.”

“Right.” He said, opening up one of his drawers. “Thank you. See you later~.” Both of you waved one another off, before you disappeared out of the room, closing the door behind you. Taehyung took a moment, embracing the silence that enveloped him before plopping down in his seat. Quickly, he grabbed hold of a nearby pencil, sharpened to still untouched perfection, and grabbed a small piece of paper that he kept several of inside his drawer. When the two combined, Taehyung began sketching a big circle on the paper. As he smoothed out features, darkened lines while erasing others, he smiled to himself as a familiar smile breathed life onto the once blank paper. As he continued to scribble, he could feel his mind chipping away at the artist block that so stubbornly sat within his mind.

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Namjoon was approaching the daycare at the end of the day, the bright school coming into view as he rolled up. The windows were down, and despite the wind whipping in and out of his car, he could hear children shouting in excitement as they ran around outside waiting anxiously to be picked up. As Namjoon got closer and closer to the school, immediately, something flashed in his mind.

An image of you, bright red in the cheeks, staring up at him in shock as your fingers grazed your lips; lips he had just taken the liberty to kiss. Just the thought, as cute as it was, slammed his hands on the wheel, cursing himself. He still had yet to see you since then, having Jungkook drop off and pick-up Kai at daycare ever since. The last thing he ever wanted was to make you more uncomfortable, and seeing you could make it worse. However, Jungkook couldn’t make it in time to get Kai, leaving only Namjoon to do it. As he pulled up to the front of the daycare, another car pulled away. When he looked out the window, he saw Kai immediately. He was sitting on the swing with Kim Taehyung, both swinging side by side as Hoseok pushed the little boy, who was grinning ear to ear. After a moment of scanning, he saw only Kai was left, hence the undivided attention from all of the teachers. That included you. You were standing beside the swing, smiling softly as you watched the little boy flying on the swing.

The sound of Namjoon’s car turning off alerted the attention of those on the swing set. Seeing your eyes flicker in Namjoon’s direction. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he had to force down a gulp as he stepped out of the car. Before turning into their view, Namjoon made sure his glasses and suit jacket were fixed and that he looked presentable. Once he was ready, he turned around and waved to the group.

“Daddy!” Kai cheered, kicking his legs. “Mr. Hobi, stop me, please!” Hoseok laughed a bit as he grabbed the swing, settling Kai before he hopped off and hurried to meet his dad at the door. “I thought Kookie was picking me up.”

“Kookie has to do schoolwork today,” Namjoon said as he scooped his son up, kissing his cheek. “Why, would you rather he picked you up instead of your favorite dad?” Kai giggled, little arms wrapping around his father’s neck as he offered him a tight hug. He looked towards the three of you and smiled.

You seemed to be the only one offering him a kind smile, but honestly one out of three smiles was more than what he thought he would receive. Hoseok paused for a moment, before following your lead and offering a gentle smile and a nod. Taehyung, however, offered no smile, instead of keeping his lips in a tight and thin line with no intention of saying anything. Namjoon nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Kneeling, you grabbed Kai’s backpack and walked over to Namjoon, passing it to him with a nod. “Have a good night.”

Namjoon was hesitant, glancing down at your hand that tightly held the colorful backpack. Nodding, Namjoon’s hand outstretched and took the bag. When he smiled, his dimples poked out. It made your smile just slightly wider. “Goodnight.” He said gently. “Say thank you, Kai.”

“Byeeee, Teacher! Thank you!” Kai said, extending his hand to wave. You quickly waved back, grinning more as Namjoon carried his son to the car and buckled him up in the back. You watched him slide into the front seat, starting up his car. He did not drive away immediately, instead of turning back to watch as you, Hoseok, and Taehyung headed into the daycare once again. He let out a sigh, but the sigh must have been too loud, as he heard Kai shift in the backseat. “Daddy, are you okay?” he asked. Namjoon looked over his shoulder to his son, who stares at him with a look of confusion etched on his face. He had to rack his mind of something to say to his son that made sense, something that he would accept without a second thought. Kai was wild, but he was also smart. Namjoon liked to think that’s one thing he passed down to his son.

“I’m okay,” Namjoon assured gently. “I just wanted to make sure I had all of our stuff…” Kai looked to his side, patting his backpack and offering a grin.

“I packed all my stuff by myself today.” He said, and Namjoon chuckled a bit.

“Oh, good.” He hummed. “I’m proud of you. Let’s head home and rest before dinner.” Kai nodded in agreement as he looked out the window, watching as his dad put the car in drive and pulled away from the daycare center. As Namjoon drove away, he kept thinking back to his interaction with you just now, hoping that he did not do anything that would make you uncomfortable. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

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“Taehyung.” Jimin hummed, glancing over at his friend. Despite the bustling air surrounding the duo as they sat together at their little art festival, Taehyung was in his world since he arrived. Many different people passed by the groups of people who were creating or trying to sell already created artworks, the clear sky and beating sun shining their paths. It was a welcoming and friendly atmosphere around the art fair, and everyone seemed to be infected to act that way as well. That is, except for Taehyung.

Taehyung was sitting comfortably under a tree, his paintbrush hovering over the blank canvas before him. Jimin, who was watching him from his seat under the tree, let out a sigh as he got no response.

“Tae…” Jimin said again, but once again fell on deaf ears. He sighed, lifting himself from his spot in the grass and walking over to him. “Earth to Taehyung.”

The boy’s head spun around in a whirl. “Hm?” he asked, eyeing his friend.

“How’s your painting coming?” he asked curiously. “You’ve been so busy with it, it’s almost as if you’re in another world.” Jimin sat beside his friend, curiously tilting his head as Taehyung turned back and ran a hand through his hair. Upon closer inspection, Jimin saw that little to no progress had been made on the painting, and all that he saw was scribbles of various colors in small spots. It made Jimin smile. “This a new abstract piece you’re working on?”

“No…” Taehyung sighed. “I thought being outside would be good for me but it’s not doing much good.” A sigh escaped his lips and he set his canvas down onto the grass, his paintbrushes lying beside it. Quickly, Taehyung dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. Jimin watched as he unfolded it, and examined it for a moment.

“Oh…is that-?” Taehyung nodded.

“We spoke during work and afterward I wanted to draw her again…” Taehyung said softly. “I thought it kind of cleared some of my blocks. Normally it does, but this time I just…” he sighed. “I’m not sure, my head is foggy lately.” Jimin offered a gentle rub to his friend’s shoulder. “It sucks. I can’t remember the last time I was this block.”

“I can,” Jimin said simply. “When you first came to my house. We were what, eighteen, and you had that huge fight with your parents over the summer break. You were trying to paint enough so that we could move you to Paris…” Taehyung chuckled a bit. “But you couldn’t get anything to come up for weeks.”

“…Yeah, I remember now,” Taehyung said softly. “But it still sucks, and I hate it.” Jimin snorted a bit, grinning.

“I know. But you’ll get your groove back. For now, why don’t you just enjoy the time out here with your best friend, loyal companion, and favorite manager?” Jimin asked. Taehyung pursed his lips.

“Because none of those people could make it today.” Jimin gasped, shoving his friend as a playful grin formed on his face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He teased, but to no avail as Jimin continued to shove him, both of them laughing in amusement. Taehyung sighed, taking another look at his picture of you he had recently made. He scanned each detailed line, each glimpse of an eraser mark that remained ever so faintly, ones that only he could see because he knew exactly where they were. He had no idea how long this artist’s block would last, but he had one idea of what he could do to try and fix it.

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“The Leeum Museum of Art?” You hummed softly “Why?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung said simply. “I wanted to go to a museum to get some much-needed inspiration.” You leaned back in your seat, resting against the comfy back of the couch as you nursed a half-empty glass of wine. “So, I thought I would ask if you wanted to join me?”

A long silence followed Taehyung’s question, mostly because you didn’t know how to respond. Yes, you wanted to go and enjoy the time out with Taehyung. However, how would Taehyung take the offer? You had already suggested seeing him again but…well, that was then. You felt differently then, things felt differently then. Taehyung caught wind of the silence, and when he let out a long exhale, even over the phone it sent a shiver up your spine.

“…You don’t have to consider it a date if you don’t want to,” Taehyung added quickly. “I just want to spend time with you, as friends. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know.” You said softly. As you took another sip of your drink, you sighed. “But it sounds fun. I’d love to join you.” Taehyung grinned on the other end.

“Okay. I’ll plan the entire thing, okay? Is there anything that doesn’t work for you?”

“No, I’m free as a bird the same times you are.” You grinned. “Just let me know.”

“Okay.” He hummed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m excited to go. You’ll like the museum, it’s amazing.” You couldn’t help it, you had to grin, even more, the sound of Taehyung’s excitement making you feel excited right along with him. “I’ll call you tomorrow after I set it all up, okay?”

“…Okay.” You said softly. “Have a good night, Taehyung.”

“You too.” He said happily. “Goodnight.” The both of you hung up the phone and you looked at your wine glass. The contents were almost empty and you tossed the remainder of the drink down your throat. The glass settled on the coffee table, and your head lolled onto the back of the couch.

“Guess I have another date.” You hummed softly to yourself. “Let’s see how this one goes.” As another grin formed on your face you hopped out of your seat and headed to your room. Arms stretched above your head, you let out a loud groan.

As Taehyung set his phone down, he looked over to his work station, where tons of uncompleted sketches and small paintings waited patiently for the day Taehyung would finally finish them. As he walked over, he set himself into his seat and lifted some of the papers. A few were bent, crumpled up in fits of artistic anger only to be reopened hours later when Taehyung felt regret at throwing away something that could be so perfect. Taehyung sighed, staring as if somehow, the longer he stared the more likely inspiration would jump out at him. For now, nothing. Sure, he’s doodled, sure he’s put paint to canvas. However, nothing he’s created recently was anything he would ever attempt to sell anywhere, and his completed paintings were growing older with each passing day. As he rested his head back on his chair, he let out a deep sigh.

Hopefully, a trip to the museum would help spark the dull part of his imagination that was normally oozing with inspiration. If not, then he can take solace in the fact that he got to spend time with you for the day. That was a win in his book too.

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“I can’t believe you got another date with her,” Baekhyun said over the phone. Taehyung offered a confident grin even though he knew his friend couldn’t see it. He was waiting on a bench by the entrance to the bus station for you, his most recently received text saying you were on your way and would be there soon. Despite the cloudy skies and rumors of rain later, Taehyung felt the sun shining throughout his body. “Sparks are flying, hm?”

‘Well, I don’t know if she considers it a date.” Taehyung admitted. “I’ve noticed she’s been a bit off these past few days so I don’t want to push her too much. But-.”

“Buuuuut you want to go on a date with her so bad anyway, right?” Baekhyun teased. Taehyung chuckled a little along with his friend.

“Of course, I do.” He said simply. “I just hope she isn’t uncomfortable.”

“If she agreed I’m sure that she’s not uncomfortable,” Baekhyun assured. Taehyung nodded, his eyes scanning the crowds of people for any signs of your arrival.

“I’m going to get going. She should be here soon.” Taehyung said. With a quick goodbye, Taehyung slid his phone into his back pocket and crossed his arms, continuing to scan the area. He had yet to catch a glimpse of you, wondering if five minutes had passed since your text. As he continued to look, he heard a voice gasp behind him, and it shocked him a bit. When he turned around, he saw two girls, most likely a year or so younger than Taehyung, standing up straight and tall with stunned expressions on their faces. “Uhm…”

“I told you, Seohyun, it’s Taehyung from Instagram. That seriously attractive artist!” One girl whispered to her friend, though Taehyung heard it and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh my God, you’re right.” She squealed. “Wow, nice to meet you, Oppa.” Taehyung smiled a bit.

“Nice to meet you too. Always makes me happy to meet fans, you know? Makes me feel like some sort of celebrity.” The girls giggled at each other.

“You are talented, Oppa. I went to that art show you said you were going to last week in the park. I saw you, but you were so busy that I didn’t want to bother you.” Taehyung smiled a bit.

“Busy being artist blocked, maybe.” He hummed playfully. “But hopefully that’ll be gone soon.”

“Hopefully,” Seohyun said. “Fighting, Taehyung-Oppa~!” both of the girls giggled like school girls, and Taehyung once again had to let out another laugh. “What are you doing today, Oppa?”

“Oh, uh…” Taehyung thought about his next words carefully. He didn’t want to admit that he was going on – what he considered to be – a date. Not because he was worried it would create issues, he was in no way popular enough for that. He honestly, didn’t think it was anyone’s business. “Just going to the museum so that I can get some artistic inspiration.” The girls offered each other smiles.

“I hope it works out.” They said happily. “Maybe next time, we can join you.” Taehyung blinked.

“We’ll see…” He laughed nervously.

“Oh! Can we take a picture, Oppa?” Seohyun asked curiously. Taehyung nodded, smiling as he watched the girls dig into their purses to grab their phones. Taehyung took this moment to look back over his shoulder to see if he caught you arriving yet. He didn’t, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Ready!” they cheered, and Taehyung turned back around. He watched as Seohyun lifted her phone, angling it so that both girls and Taehyung were in the shot. Seohyun put up a peace sign, her friend threw up a finger heart, and Taehyung put a peace sign over his eye. The click of the camera sent that picture into Seohyun’s photo’s app, and she gasped in excitement. Almost immediately, she pulled it up and showed her friend, who immediately begged for it to be sent to her phone. “Thank you, Oppa.” They gasped, looking up at Taehyung. Their eyes were sparkling and they were grinning like little children. It made Taehyung feel a warm and fuzzy sensation throughout his body. He had met a lot of fans at shows and in random spots, but most of them have usually only commented on his looks. These girls mentioned his art somewhat, and that alone made him feel happy.

As the girls continued to look at the picture, Taehyung once again turned around to look for you. As his eyes scanned the crowd once again, he saw you. You were approaching the entrance to the bus station, fixing your bag that rested across your chest as you walked. Your hair, unlike almost every other time he had seen you out, was not tied up in cue ribbons, but instead was released, and fully resting on your shoulders. You were wearing an oversized beige sweatshirt that was decorated with brown and black stripes. It was tucked into a brown skirt, one that clung to your hips much like the skirts you wore to work, however, this one was much more casual, and looked a lot cuter on you. Taehyung let out a breathless chuckle as he watched you get closer, and quickly called your name. When you looked up in his direction, so did the two girls.

“Hey~!” You grinned, hurrying over to Taehyung. “I heard it was supposed to rain so I brought my umbrella just in case, and wanted to make sure I’ve dressed appropriately so I was running a bit late. Then, I got lost in the crowds when I got here so I had to find my footing a bit, and-.” When you looked up at Taehyung, you saw him grinning playfully as you continued to ramble. It only made you laughed nervously. “Were you waiting long?”

“No, not at all. I was able to keep busy.” He grinned. “You look nice, once again,” Taehyung said. You smiled, smoothing out your skirt.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure what I could wear to a museum that made me look sophisticated.” Both of you laughed a bit. “I’m glad I look okay.” Taehyung nodded, offering you his arm.

“Shall we go?” He asked, looking down at you. You hummed, smiling up at him before nodding, hesitantly taking his arm. Taehyung could see that hesitancy and bit his lip a bit.

“Let’s go.” He said happily. As the two of you began to make your way inside, the girls were standing in front of you. “Hello again.” He greeted. You raised an eyebrow, staring at the two girls who looked less than amused.

“You have a girlfriend?” Seohyun pouted sadly. Taehyung looked over at you and saw your cheeks tint pink. However, you said nothing. Taehyung had no idea what to say to them, not sure if confession that you were not a thing yet could ruin everything, he had been working towards with you.

“I’m not his girlfriend.” You said quickly. “We’re coworkers…but who are you two, anyway?” The girls exchanged glances.

“Fans,” Taehyung said simply. “I took a picture with them while I waited for you.” You hummed, nodding your head before offering them a smile.

“Yeah, and he can’t have a girlfriend, Seohyun, because while we were talking to him, he was-.” The girl was interrupted by you lifting your hand in her direction, and she blinked.

“We’re going to miss our bus….” You said simply. The girls, nor Taehyung gave a response. “…Well, it was nice to meet you. Have a good day.” You said simply. The girls tried to but back in, but you calmly nodded your head and led Taehyung into the bus station. “So, Taehyung, how long ‘til the bus arrives?” You asked curiously.

“About 30 minutes. We have enough time to grab a snack on the way if you’re hungry.” The girls watched the two of you create small talk, heading deeper into the crowds of people both entering and exiting the station along with you. Once you were out of their sight, the girls stood there, defeated in their failed attempt to try and intimidate you.

Taehyung looked over at the door when you were deep enough in, to see if those girls ended up following you. They didn’t, and Taehyung let out a sigh of relief, glad to avoid any issues. Upon looking back at you, he saw you staring up at him.

“…What?” he asked.

“Was that girl going to say you were flirting with them before I got there?” You asked curiously. Taehyung ran a hand through his hair.

“Probably. But I didn’t. They were just asking for a picture and talked about my art. It made me happy, I was trying to be nice.” You nodded, shrugging.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” You said simply. “They were very pretty so I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I wasn’t,” Taehyung said again, harsher this time. A smile formed on your face, and you squeezed his arm just a bit.

“I know.” You replied simply. “I’m just kidding.”

“Not very funny…” Taehyung pouted, causing a giggle to arise from your stomach. Taehyung sighed, smiling a bit as well from your infectious giggle. “Come on, now. Let’s get going.” You grinned, nodding as you followed Taehyung down the hallway and towards the faster-arriving bus.

As both of you stood waiting for the bus to pull up to the station, you looked at Taehyung. He had pulled out his phone, typing away on the keyboard with his hand, his other arm still extended to provide you with something to hold. You had yet to let go, but he didn’t seem to mind the position. You stared ahead as the bus pulled up to the stop, and people got off the bus and headed onto the streets of Seoul, some listening to music while others chatted with friends both in person or on the phone. Taehyung gently led you onto the bus and motioned you towards the first available seats he could grab. You smiled at him as he seated himself beside you. “Are you excited?” he asked, smiling at you.

A quick nod, followed by a smile was your initial response. “Yeah. I think museums are pretty fun.”

“You always struck me as the kind of person who loves museums.” He said simply. You shrugged.

“Guess I’m not as much of a stick in the mud as you thought, hm?” Taehyung laughed a bit.

“I guess not.” He cooed. “But even if you were, I don’t think I would have minded either way.” You felt your cheeks tint pink, and you immediately looked out the window, watching as the bus started up and pulled from the stop and into the traffic on the streets. You didn’t know how to reply to that one.

So, you didn’t.

Upon reaching the bus stop, it was another 5 minutes to walk to the actual museum, but neither one of you minded. Despite the gloomy weather, you would most likely get inside before any major rainfall occurred. So, arm in arm, you made your way down the block to the museum. As you both arrived, the museum in view along with crowds of people exiting and entering, you felt Taehyung’s arms flex a bit. When you looked up at him, his eyes were sparkling more and more with every step closer.

He was so entranced in what he was looking at, and you were too invest in him, that neither of you noticed two familiar figured that caught immediate glances at you as you headed inside.

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peace-coast-island · 3 years

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Diary of a Junebug

Happy Floral Mail and thrifty gyroids

This past week has been super busy with preparation and launching - the good kind of hectic. Daisy Jane finally did it! After months of designing products and watching various videos on how to run a shop, Happy Floral Mail has launched!

Less than a day into the launch and the response has been awesome - almost fifty orders as of right now! She's a bit overwhelmed, as expected, but it's nothing she can't handle. I'm so happy for her!

To celebrate the launch of Daisy Jane's shop, Reece, Cyrus, Isabelle, and I planned a gyroid event to coincide with that. It's a thrifty, vintage themed one, inspired by Daisy Jane - a well kept surprise that was worth the wait! Daisy Jane's been working hard designing gyroid themed furniture for the past several months so we wanted to do something to show our appreciation.

It's still hard to believe that Daisy Jane's dream is coming true. For years she dreamed of opening a shop where she can sell her art, something she was discouraged from doing because it wasn't practical.

She had a rough time after finishing school, from bad art blocks to struggling with feelings of inadequacy because she's not where she's supposed to be - eventually it wore her down so much that she decided to leave home. Then she spent most of last year lost and wandering, later settling in a place that wasn't doing her much good other than isolating her. Things didn't really turn around for her until she joined us at the camp, and from there, her creativity and inspiration came back in a flood.

Since then, Daisy Jane has been working hard to improve her art, stepping out of her comfort zone by doing art challenges, designing gyroid themed furniture, learning how to use various digital art programs, and much more. Her art has evolved so much, it's amazing to see how much she has grown this past year!

And not only that, but I think Daisy Jane's become more confident. She's a lot more certain about what she wants and is willing to go out and try new things. Now that she's away from her family, I feel like Daisy Jane has flourished. Her family's nice but they're the kind of people who kinda make you feel bad for not meeting their high expectations. Her mom has always been the most supportive in terms of Daisy Jane's art but she doesn't take her aspirations seriously. As for Mae, she seems to have double standards for who she considers to be successful - in other words, she holds Daisy Jane to a much different standard compared to her friends.

As much as her family pushes her to be successful, they also stifled her as well. Daisy Jane's mom is the kind of person I'd describe as old fashioned and traditional, but willing to be educated and change her ways. My mom's similar like that, though I think she's a bit more open minded than Daisy Jane's, or at least I have a closer, more open relationship with her. Daisy Jane's mom congratulated her on the launch, which was sweet. I don't know if Mae knows yet, but when she does, I'm sure we'll hear about it.

In between processing orders, we went gyroid hunting, which helped Daisy Jane take the edge off the launch. Of course, it's not a gyroid event without guests so Almie, Dottie, and Gladdy arrived yesterday to throw a surprise pre-launch party for Daisy Jane. It's been forever since I've hung out with Gladdy and Dottie so it's nice to see them again.

Emmaline and Minnie also dropped by via video chat at the party and then made a huge order of stickers as soon as the shop launched. Most of the orders so far have been made by friends and it makes me so happy to see how supportive we all are of each other. A part of me kinda hoped that I'd be the first to make an order but Emmaline beat me.

I didn't realize this until now, but this is the first time Dottie's seen the camp. A long while back we talked about a possible Lilacs and the Cadillacs reunion for Concert in the Stars, which ended up never happening for various reasons. Maybe there's still hope but to avoid disappointment, I'd rather not bet on it. Gladdy visited once about two years ago while Cali and Lilac have yet to drop by.

Gladdy's been doing a lot better since he last visited, which was when he was going through a rough time. He's still hurt about what happened to Janie but he's slowly bouncing back. After leaving Dove City he stayed with his parents until he could get back on his feet. Now he's living in Aurora Bay and touring with The Thunders, an indie band that's gotten a lot of traction lately after one of their songs broke through the Top 40.

Dottie's doing well too, having been touring with her band Sunflowers for over two years as their lead singer. They have an album coming out later this year and they've been making their way up on the charts. Life's been busy for her but right now the band's taking some much needed time off so she figured now would be a good time to visit the camp. I knew she'd like it, especially the beach.

And of course, Almie's here because he wants to support his best friend. He was the one who encouraged Daisy Jane to leave home as well as taught her how to stand up for herself against people who mean well but end up doing more harm than good. Now that Pippa's been hanging out with Luna and Mariposa and her latest blood work has been looking good, he and Daisy Jane have been keeping in touch more often. Daisy Jane also promised to make him her assistant when her shop grows so we'll definitely be seeing more of him at the camp!

Unlike the last gyroid event, this one was a lot less stressful. Aside from preparing for Happy Floral Mail's launch, everything else just fell into place. The event itself was pretty low key - we didn't make a big show of it so it's been kinda quiet, which was partly intentional. After all, we didn't want it to take away from the shop launch and it's also not as extensively planned as other gyroid events so that's why it hasn't been really hyped up. Since it was a big thing for Daisy Jane, we wanted to keep it within the camp, something just for us to celebrate.

A gyroid hunt's a good way to introduce friends to the camp. Aside from it being a good way to catch up, it's also a good way to show them around. Dottie enjoyed collecting seashells while Gladdy took an interest in bugs and fish. What I love about the camp is that there's something for everyone - flowers, fruit, scenery, wildlife - it's always so interesting to see who gravitates towards what.

At the creek there were a bunch of turtles hanging out and they were super cute! They're seasonal creatures so I don't see them often, and when I do, I can't help but drop everything to watch them. I think it was a family of turtles judging from the size - one big one and a bunch of smaller ones. Since we had a picnic set up, we gave them some fruit to munch on.

Another highlight of the day was sailing with Gulliver and taking a quick trip to an island to get some gourmet treats. The weather was perfect for sailing so Gulliver was looking for an excuse to take out the boat. So we were gone for a couple hours and in that time Daisy Jane received a bunch of orders. As soon we got back, we headed to the cabin and helped Daisy Jane print sticker sheets and package orders.

Then it's back to the main campsite where Almie and I proposed a toast to Daisy Jane and Isabelle and Tom Nook surprised her with a cake. We also crafted a bunch of gyroid stuff and made good progress on that. Everyone really dug the thrift shop aesthetic and that inspired Daisy Jane to work on another gyroid theme for a future event. Almie's planning to craft more gyroid stuff for his sister while Dottie's looking forward to a room makeover.

Overall, today was a great day and tomorrow we'll be packing more orders and collecting gyroids. I still can't believe Happy Floral Mail is now a reality and it went off with a bang!

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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nomimits7 · 4 years

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Undecided Chapter 5

Title: Undecided Pt 5

Genre: Investigation, murder, masked behavior.

Warnings: murder, psychotic behavior, might be triggering.

Members: detective OT7 x Forensic scientist Reader

Note: Phrases are just add-ins to help with the storyline… If they confuse you, feel free to ask!

Summary: Moving overseas for a once in a lifetime job offer was one of the scariest things Y/N ever did. That was until she got stuck in a twisted investigation of random murders, all with one link but no leads. Closing in on the culprit(s) Y/N doesn’t realize the danger she’s getting into. With no family or friends, can Y/N dare to trust those seven closest to her with her life?

A/N; I am so sorry this took so long. I’m stuck on a scene in chpt 7 that has reference to this chapter and the next! I hope you enjoy

Undecided Character intro update

•♡•

Dream: Indulge in daydreams or fantasies about something greatly desired.

•♡•

Maybe your dream was telling you that it’s okay to stay.

Well, ‘Mission getting all the boys to trust you’ were… successful? Can you truly call it successful? After all, you didn’t actually do anything. They did the testing, they set you up, they tested you, on the third day you were in South Korea to be exact. You were ecstatic that they finally trusted you, but on the other hand, you were… disappointed? You wanted to prove yourself in your own way. Not that you weren’t thankful but now what? Do you continue as normal? Do you become more intimate in your duties at the office? Questions, so many unanswered questions.

Speaking about the office, your first question of many would be exactly that… “Uh, where are we? This doesn’t look like the office”

“Oh! Ha-ha no this isn’t the office. You’re at our apartment Y/N. Remember I told you we lived in the same hotel the office is in?” Jimin said, tilting his head as he observed you.

Of course, how could you forget that? He did mention them living in the same hotel as the one where the office is located. Why that thought didn’t occur to you first, you do not know. Idiot.

“So, you all live in a shared apartment?” You asked as you glanced around the very spacious living room.

“Yes, we do. I know it's weird but being part of a traveling agency its easier. One place to worry about is better than seven different apartments in one city, don’t you think? Besides, It not just one apartment. We own the whole floor so there’s more than enough room.” Hoseok said matter of factly. As if it was the most obvious conclusion to the scenario, which it wasn’t.

Well, come to think of it, it did make more sense. When they’re all together they never have the stress of being late for work, neither were they alone at night unlike you. Wow, you kind of wished you were living with them, just to NOT be alone at night.

Wait… they live in the same building as their office. That means all of them drive all the way to your place to pick you up just to return to the same building. Where does that make sense?

“But, if you all live here, basically at the office. Why do you drive all the way to my place to pick me up just to come back here? I could always take a cab or something. There’s really no need for you guys to fetch me at all.” You curiously asked

This seemed to get a reaction from all the boys. You could physically feel Jungkook tense and relax under you as you wait for an answer. Come to think of it, why are you still in his arms? Not that you were complaining. Turns out they are very comfortable to be in.

“Well, we actually discussed that when we reviewed your resume. And we all concluded that it would be safest to fetch you ourselves than risk you, a foreigner, to navigate your way to work each day. Even though the streets are relatively safe, there still are a few individuals that prey on the innocent and foreign, like yourself. We even thought of having you live at the hotel as well, but all the rooms were booked, and it would have been awkward for all of us if you moved into our apartment from the word go. Besides, even if it doesn’t look like it at first, we tend to get jealous when one of us gets to do something the others can’t partake in, little dove.” Namjoon successfully answered. There’s a reason he has such a high IQ.

“Oh, that makes sense I suppose”. You said as a blush crept on to your cheeks. You swore he used those nicknames just to see you blush and judging by his smirk, you were 100% sure he indeed was. It’s just a matter of time before the rest of the boys pick this up. Whether they’ll use it like Mr dimples over there, you don’t know.

“Y/N? Why did your face turn pink just now? Was it the nickname Namjoonie gave you?” Yoongi asked raising one of his eyebrows. A smirk made its way onto his face as this new information manifested into his brain. Why does he have to be so fucking observant? No, the real question is… why did he have to say it out loud?

“Oh? She can blush? Well, well well… this is going to be fun” Hoseok said. His voice taking on a playful tone. Playful bordering dangerous. Maybe even with a hint of challenged laced between the lines if you squint.

This was not good. You were in trouble and you had absolutely no way of escaping. And the fact that you blush at almost everything that made your stomach to a flip, was not going to help you.

Before you could even think up an escape plan, Taehyungs dreaded phone rang again. This time though no one tensed. A ringing phone wasn’t something to be afraid of, it happens all the time.

“Kim…” Taehyungs deep voice carried across the room as the boys each continued teasing you. It wasn’t until Taehyung let out a, very loud ‘what’ that everyone fell silent.

“Where?... How long ago?... 5 minutes? And you never thought of calling us? You’re an idiot! We’re running against time here… give us 5 minutes” Taehyung concluded sarcastically. Turning around and facing you, his next words made you visibly freeze on the spot.

“So, Y/N? Have you ever seen a fresh murdered victim? Guess today's your lucky day…”

•♡•

~Follow the sound of the pipe, follow this song. It’s a bit dangerous but I’m so sweet. I’m here to save you, I’m here to ruin you. You called me, see? I’m so sweet. Follow the sound of the pipe. I’m taking over you. I’m taking over you~

The song continues to haunt you at the back of your mind as you try and focus on the scene. Although, if this can even be called a scene. Silently you cursed Jungkook for playing the song during your drive to the scene, but a small part of you was even thankful for it, it gave you a distraction.

Nothing was out of place. Nothing except the lifeless body draped over one of the corner chairs. Again, dressed in black and wearing red shoes. You patiently waited for Seokjin and the medics to clear the scene so you could map out the floor.

In the art of investigations and so, the forensic scientists are the ones that map out the floor. They mark specific areas where everyone can walk. All other areas are off-limits. This helps with the preservation of evidence and it’s just protocol. Doing this and drawing the scene as found are crucial steps in any investigation.

Once you gave the go-ahead the rest of the boys all filtered into the scene. Each carefully moving within your set boundaries as they all set to work collecting what they could. Even though this is not wise, it’s faster. They’re all trained and educated investigators, they know how to handle evidence. They have been collecting them long before you were part of the equation.

Once everything was collected and the whole scene has been thoroughly searched, twice, you all head back to the office to start your individual tasks on sorting the evidence and analyzing everything.

After many hours of sorting and analyzing, Taehyung called everyone to the briefing room for any updates.

“Right, Seokjin. Let’s start with you” Taehyung said as everyone found their seats.

“Right, Victim was female. She was shot executioner style, but this time the wound wasn’t fatal. She was, however, tortured before death. Unfortunately, I can’t say whether the torturing happened before, or after she was shot. I can, however, conclude she died at approximately midnight yesterday evening. The cause of death was major blood loss, internally as well as from the wound in her skull. She was beaten, mutilated with a blade or sharp object and forced to drink acid. This crime is much more brutal than any of the others.” Seokjin concluded with a sigh as he slaked in his seat. Visibly drained.

“Namjoon? Anything on who the victim was?” Taehyung asked.

“Victims' name was Mary-lee. She was a 24-year-old businesswoman. She was last seen leaving a popular night club only two blocks from where she was found nearly 7 hours later. She was alone at the club. Came alone and left alone. She had only one beer, meaning she wasn’t drunk. The bartender even said she came by regularly, usually only having one beer before she would leave.”

“Jimin? Do you have the results of her toxin scene?” Taehyung reluctantly asked.

“I do, With the little blood found in her liver, I found no trace of any drugs or alcohol in her system. She was completely sober during the time of her death, it’s as if the killer made sure she felt everything that happened to her. This means that these killings aren’t linked by drugs.” Jimin said.

“Great, that’s good. Were getting somewhere. Y/N?” Taehyung said sarcastically as he turned to you.

“Mary-lee was shot with a round nose bullet. That’s why it went right through. These bullets are usually found within law enforcement, unfortunately, this bullet was custom made. I also came to the same conclusion as Jimin, I just found the link in another form. The victim was once again totally cleaned and drained of blood. She was wearing black clothes and red shoes, had no trace evidence just like the previous victims even if no drugs were used on her. This means the killer is getting creative. He tortured her, something he never did with any of the other victims. She was found in pub- ” You said as your eyes went wide when they made contact with Taehyung who failed to notice.

“Right, I think this settles it. We are officially looking for a serial killer. One that feels safe enough to take risks. One that’s playing with us. One that finds joy in his killings. Yoongi, inform the press. We need to catch this mad man before he kills again.” Taehyung concluded as he stood only to be stopped by your voice.

“Wait, somethings off. Linda was killed last week in a similar fashion than Mary-lee, but they weren’t killed in the same week as the first four victims. Why would the killer change his style so drastically? Unless we missed something big. But what?” all eyes were on you as you bit your lower lip in concentration.

“Y/N, if there’s someone who can figure this out… it’s you. We’ll all help and look for the link or the reason this guy changed, but don’t ponder on it too hard, the answer will come” Hoseok said as he gave you a pat on the back.

Slowly everyone filtered out of the briefing room. Exhaustion being a common trait everyone shared at this stage, yet you all went back to work.

You can rest when you're dead...

•♡•

The news of a serial killer on the hunt for his next victim, literally send a tsunami of panic through the city. Stores started closing earlier, children were kept out of school, neighbors even started suspecting each other as the case grew more and more complicated. Lead after lead was reported daily, all leading to more dead ends than in the entire continent. This just made things even harder for everyone at the office.

You were on the verge of burning out. Tonight would be your third all-nighter and you felt it. Your eyes were lifeless, your muscles ached and begged for rest. The case had come to a complete standstill. No one could find anything to boost your chances of catching this inhuman psycho. It’s as if he was untouchable.

Staring at the same report for the hundredth time your mind went blank once again as you tried to see the connection.

Yoongi found something else at the crime scene. Something missing from the first five. A single strand of hair, female but not from the victim nor any other victim. The DNA extracted also didn’t match anyone registered on the system. This meant that either the killer was female, or the killer was near another female before he killed Mary-lee.

But there were other possibilities as well. It could have been one of Mary’s client’s hair or other worker's hair… yet everyone at the office was registered on the site used by investigators. A security measure the company uses to make sure its employees weren’t previous offenders.

There was another option, one that made your heart speed-up. The possibility that the hair sample found belonged to that of a foreigner. You were a foreigner. The color-matched your hair color, you were female, yet you never met Mary-lee.

There’s only one option left to ease your anxiety. You needed to provide a sample and clear your name, just in case, even if you knew it was nearly impossible for your hair to be a match. But something deep down felt off. This killer wasn’t that careless. He wanted this sample to be found. If its to send a message you were determined to find out what he wanted to say.

•♡•

You know that it’s already begun. The moment you hear that sound, maybe I’m a bit dangerous. Like the pied piper, I’m testing you. Like the fruit from the tree of good and evil.

Time came to complete standstill as everyone in the briefing room was staring at your, now very pale face. A mix of confusion and shock written on everyone’s face as Jimin lowered the lab results. It was a match. Your hair was found at a crime scene you’ve never been to.

No word could describe how helpless you felt at that very moment. All your hard work on building their trust, redeeming your past mistakes was now on the brink of extinction. You wanted to prove yourself and you have, now this happened. They’ll never trust you again.

“Y/N, that figure you saw at your home the second night you were in that house. You can’t recall if he/she was in your home?” Taehyungs cold voice sliced through the air, successfully scaring the living shit out of you.

“N-no, I-I don’t think s-so” You weakly replied. You felt your body losing all energy as more blood left your face. Once again you felt strong arms on your shoulders, a glass of water appearing in front of your face. Your eyes were glossy as you just sat there, making no attempt to take the offered water.

“Y/N, hey stay with me, sweetheart. Come on, drink this. No no, come back to us Y/N” Yoongi’s voice rang out as another pair of hands took your face in theirs, lightly tapping it.

“Hey, we’re not mad at you. We know for a fact you have never been to that office. There’s absolutely nothing connecting you to this case. That’s why Taehyung-ie asked if you know if that individual was in your home. That hair was planted, and we all know it!” Hoseok said from behind you. His arms tightening their grip on you as he spoke.

“Y/N, I firmly believe everyone in this room would agree with me when I say that this psycho’s targeting you. You aren’t safe in that home, not anymore.” Jungkook said from his seat, visibly vibrating with anger.

“I agree and don’t let Tae’s cold voice get to you. We all need a break from this case before we all go completely insane.” Seokjin said with tired soft eyes.

The room went quiet as your color slowly returned to your face. The newfound information slowly sinking in as you furrowed your eyebrows. The implication they were referring to had chills running down your body. Why would this killer target you? You were a nobody. A foreigner-only trying to make a living. For heaven's sake! You didn’t even know anyone here! Except for the boys.

“Why me…?” You whispered. A lost memory threatening to expose itself as the reason.

“We don’t know, but I promise you we’ll find out. No one fucks with our family and your family now!” Jimin said, surprising you with the harshness of his words.

With affirmative nods from all the boys, you felt a sense of calmness fold around you. You're going to be okay.

“Y/N” Taehyungs voice made you turn to him. His voice was somewhat softer than before.

“I think it would be best if you relocate. As Jungkook said, it’s not safe for you to be in that house. Not just that but being alone in general. I do believe the rest will agree to the fact that this madman has his eyes set on you. Don’t worry Y/N, you’re safe with us even if it’s our fault there’s a target on your back. So, how about it boys?” Taehyungs voice carried through the room.

His words made you smile, that familiar warmth returning as the implication of his words truly hit you. They care for you. You’re important to them. You’re safe with them.

“Why don’t we just let her join us at our apartment? There’s plenty of space! She can take the biggest guest room at the end of the hall. That way we’ll always be close to her. No one would be able to get to her.” Namjoon’s voice suddenly rang out from the back of the room.

M-move in with them? Wouldn’t that be… weird?

Seeing your worried eyes, Seokjin quickly stepped in. taking your hands in his, his eyes locking yours in place as his thumb rubbed reassuringly over your knuckles.

“Y/N, this way we’ll be able to keep you safe.” Taking a deep breath, he continued with a pleading tone.

“Please move in with us doll, let us keep you safe”

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Things are heating up!!

Chapter 6

#undecided #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #investigation au #z investigators #nomimits7 #i almost screamed at tumblr #but we are okay #everythings just peachy

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monicalorandavis · 4 years

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Let’s all quit fucking around and give Renee her Oscar for ‘Judy’ now

I am several months late to the ‘Judy’ party. But due to a trip getting cancelled last minute I’m having a staycation instead of a vacation. (Tomato, tomahto!) Needless to say, I’ve got time on my side and I’m watching movies, baby. Time for Judy Garland, baby. Because that’s showbiz, baby!!!

I regret even joking about the razzle dazzle of show business because for Judy Garland show business, the very business she adored, also destroyed her. And that whole journey through the dark, twisted roller coaster of entertainment is sort of the thesis statement of this whole thing.

“The biz” was a cruel bitch to the greatest entertainer of all time. Her nic-name was Miss Show Business for crying out loud and yet when we meet Zellweger, playing the title character in ‘Judy’, she’s in the final year of her life, struggling to keep a roof over her children’s heads. She’s gaunt, exhausted, addicted to pills, alcohol and can’t manage to meet a decent man to save her life.

And instead of nitpicking every wrong choice that led her there, director Rupert Goold allows us into the plodding sojourn that was Judy Garland’s final tour in England. She’d lost custody of her children to ex-husband no. 3 and finally went across the pond where her fans were still willing to pay top dollar for the Hollywood legend.

But when she gets to England we peer into the sheer loneliness that encompasses the lives of the super famous. No friends to share dinner with, kids thousands of miles away, and vulturous men always lurking on the sidelines. It’s grim and bleak and you can’t imagine things ever getting so bad. And yet they were. But, again, and I have to stress this because some power of Judy Garland compels me to underline this as a fellow woman in the arts, this is not the story of how Judy Garland ended up broke. It’s the story of how she tried her damnedest to make enough money to get her kids back because we actors are tryers.

She was a relentless performer who tried. Over and over again. She tried and tried and tried. She tried to put on a good show every night and we watch Zellweger lose the battle to those cloying pills and that seductive martini until she quite literally falls on her face. No, she doesn’t pretend like it didn’t happen. She gets up and is booed off stage and she barks back. And then she gets fired and gets word that her children want to stay with their father in Los Angeles. The final twist of the knife. Zellweger delivers that final conversation to her youngest daughter with aplomb and grace. The Judy Garland we wanted to know - Judy Garland, the mother. Tortured, flawed, generous and loving. A sensitive, soulful singer who had to fight for every scrap of dignity she ever got.

And I kept finding myself wanting to change how things turned out. She was so, so good. So talented. So kind. So willing to give herself to the audience, to new friends. She deserved more.

In one scene, that gives me chills to even think about, she asks two male fans to dinner and they can’t believe their luck. Only after dragging Judy Garland around the streets of London all night in hopes of a meal do they agree to host her at their home just blocks away. She obliges graciously and, of course because a living legend is in your home, they totally ruin the meal. And she couldn’t be a more gracious guest. She eats the terrible, soggy eggs, then, sings while her new friend plays the piano and, then, comforts him when he crumples into a ball of tears, overcome by this grand situation he finds himself in. She knows, and we know, that these two men are gay and the point is not belabored or sentimentalized. Instead, Goold treats us, the audience, like grown-ups with enough context to understand how important Judy Garland was to the gay community. She was their patron saint. Be it all the struggle, the pain under the surface and the resolve to put one foot in front of the other and sing her heart out in spite of it all. A metaphor for being gay, perhaps. Her life and legacy meant something to the community and still does. (The Stonewall Riots occurred on the day Judy Garland died and I think it played no small part in pushing things over the edge that fateful day.)

What a fight it was to be Judy Garland. A star who’d been spit out by Hollywood. Any actress over 40 will tell you their version of the story. And maybe no one understands that today quite like the star of ‘Judy’, Miss Zellweger.

I don’t think Renee Zellweger’s ever been better. She fucking soars. She sings her ass off (and I didn’t know the bitch could sing, not like this). In some instances, the resemblance is so striking between Zellweger and Garland it baffles the mind to reconcile that you are not looking at the original Judy, herself. Somehow, Zellweger completely transforms even the expression in her eyes as if the thought process, or the experience, or perhaps even the torment, is the same between both starlets. How else can an actor arrive at the exact same place as the person they are imitating? How do you achieve not just a version of a person, but the person, themselves?

I do not know what spiritual voodoo Zellweger achieved (move over, Christian Bale!). But this performance is an achievement of the highest order. I imagine Garland herself, at times her toughest critic, would be thrilled to watch the film even in its hardest moments.

Because Judy, and I suspect Renee, are consummate performers. Completely engrossed. Not engrossed. Obsessed. No, not obsessed. Addicted...

Judy Garland was completely addicted to the stage. Yes, Lady Gaga coined “I live for the the applause” but that’s only because she did her homework. Any diva in training gives their respect to the o.g. Judy Garland devoted her entire heart and soul to her performances. Often to her detriment, and to the detriment of those around her.

To be so completely talented, I imagine, is a curse to the performer. And when you’re a mother, a curse to your children. The performer’s gift has the power to kill them. It can drive them to the brink of self-destruction. The pressure and the anxiety of not performing at the same level again and again, night after night, drove Judy to the brink. The pills and the booze became absolutely necessary.

Years ago, I recall news stories about Renee Zellweger suggesting addiction and anorexia. She had wasted away, rumors swirling of drug abuse chased her - she’d been branded with a scarlet letter.

And then, I saw her in person, in Santa Monica. I was inside a Barnes and Noble bookstore (a rare occurrence nowadays in the era of dwindling brick and mortar). She was skin and bones. I barely recognized her. She looked...deranged. Her eyes were bulging nearly as much as the veins in her neck. I didn’t know why she was so distraught but my eyes fixed on her like a cheetah staring down a gazelle. She was just on the other side of the glass, and then she locked in on me. Suddenly, she was the cheetah. She stared at me, then a sour look fell upon her and she dashed away. I was shaken. I had never felt so judged by a famous person before. I had never shared such a fraught moment with a star of her caliber. But then, I wondered, maybe she hadn’t been looking at me at all. What if the glass was opaque and she wasn’t staring at me at all? What if she was looking at her own reflection that whole time? Could it be that she stared at herself that way, with that loathsome look in her eyes?

And now my heart breaks because I do believe she saw herself. She saw something in herself that she couldn’t stand and she fled from the reflection. Just like Judy would’ve ran. Just like Judy.

I’ve asked so many questions and I apologize but I must ask a few more:

What if Renee Zellweger doesn’t win an Oscar for ‘Judy’? Oof. Yes, I remember that she won for ‘Cold Mountain’ in 2004 but it was sort of payback because she’d been nominated for ‘Chicago’ in 2003 and was a shoe-in (but lost) and even that had been a sort of a gimme nom since she’d been nominated in ‘02 for ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary’ and lost even after she stole the entire world’s heart.

In a parallel way, Garland was famously snubbed for a ‘Star is Born’ in 1955 when she gave the performance of her life and lost to the quintessential Hollywood beauty, Grace Kelly. After a lifetime of comparisons and cruel remarks about her looks, it had to feel like a stab to the heart to lose to the pretty girl, the princess. Poor Judy. She just wanted to be beautiful and thin. But instead she was talented and charming. And that’s not to say she wasn’t beautiful and thin, she just didn’t fit the stupid, totally arbitrary model of beauty. And she eventually wasted away to a skeleton. Why did we do that to her? Why do we do that still?

I don’t know. But I do know that Renee Zellweger should win this god damn Oscar.

#judy #judy garland #wizard of oz #renee zellweger #oscars #oscars 2020 #grace kelly

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aliypop · 4 years

Text

Amongst The Butterflies

Wordcount: 4,583

Character Count: 24,811

Warning: Murder

A/N: This is part 4 to Empatia I hope you guys enjoy it!

"My wife can't find out anything about this.." a man who appeared to be in his '40s said covering the mouth of a young girl who seemed to be no younger than maybe 16 at most, it was a full moon in Baltimore a chilly wind blowing and a particular psychiatrist was on the prowl to hunt for his latest snack, nothing too heavy for palet just something that was easy to catch, but next to him in a tree was a distinctive woman, not too tall and not too short where she would miss her aim,

Drawing back her bow, she could already hear the torturous screams while she envisioned the ripper running after him like the suckling low life pig he was. While in her head, he was just another sinner to be crucified. Letting go of the arrow watching it soar had always made the hunter feel good as if they were playing god, but this time something was different, "Run rabbit, run.." she mumbled under her breath aiming for the man's ankle. Without a moment due, their rabbit was, sure enough, running for his. Running from tree to tree the hunter, followed the lead of the ripper until they had him front and center where they wanted him to be.

"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me plea-" the gut-wrenching sound of the arrow being lodge between his temple and his skull seemed to have pleased the ripper enough to bring a smile on his face, one the hunter knew all too well. Taking the sedative out from her shoe, she lodged in his neck, giving him enough time to stay alive for the ripper to work his post mortem magic,

"Would you do me the honors?" he pointed towards the body, watching the hunter evaluate with her grotesque tongue, " Go for the lungs, and leave him open, no stitching him up." She ran off, chasing the 16-year-old girl attaching sedative needles to her arrows. She knew something was off about this girl, from the way that she ran to the way her body language showed that this wasn't her first rodeo. Dropping a chloroform gas bomb in the area, the hunter vanished without any trace left hearing the snap of her neck, while the other body placed next to the young girl remained open, the hunter went to work sewing the teen's lips shut placing a butterfly over it.

"Doctor Lector..." Shanel said in a passive tone, walking towards her office, an ivory necklace around her neck, custom made byLector himself.

"Ms. Mahone," he nodded, watching her walk by in the designer suit he had picked out for, even though he trusted her to make her dissuasions. It was still keen to have a little doll around that he could dress into her image rather than his own, "May I offer you tea, coffee," her heel attached to the door.

" Perhaps during our session.." he smiled. Walking into his ever so bleak office space, library books at the top fireplace behind him, and the knocks of "Franklyn Froideveaux.. please come in." sitting where he always would the leather seat nearest to the window, Franklyn at the most had an obsession with Hannibal to the point that it drove him crazy,

"I hate being this neurotic." he sighed, placing his crumpled tissue on the table next to him, Hannibal, who had the look of disgust plastered on his face, tried to hide it quick enough.

"If you weren't neurotic, Franklyn, you'd be something much worse." he nodded. Watching the way he moved even annoyed him, it made him want to rip Franklyn apart tendon by nerves, to get him away from his office, but for now, obligations came first whether he liked them or not. Shanel, on the other hand, was faced with her favorite person. Big red curls blocked the view of her desk as the smell of whorish perfume wafted into the law firm, it was none other than the Tattler Fredrica Lounds, or Freddie for short, she wasn't one for ethic's which Shanel could excuse, but personal space, however, was a work in progress for the young girl.

"I heard you were on the Hobbs case, her lawyer correct?" she smiled, sitting on the edge of the desk. Her caked-on making Shanel even laugh,

"Correct, but may I ask why you're here?" Shanel glared, covering up her cases.

"Got something to hide.." she smirked, trying to pry her nose into something else yet again. "If I had something to hide,

I wouldn't have it out in the open.," Shanel growled, as Freddie saw a picture on the lawyer's desk,

"Your mother was aristocratic who later married a mobster, " leaning in closer towards Shanel, she placed a hand on her shoulder, " And gave birth to you a rape victim. How was that, by the way?" Freddie then jumped, hearing the collision of Shanels fist and the desk collide. "Carl, can you show Ms. Lounds out before I do.." she looked at the intern catching her breath and counting her breathing,

"Everyone has something to hide Mahone," she shouted, Carl, slamming the door in her face as she sat there huffing, and puffing walking down, "She will pay for this.." sporadic curls leading her down the hall to exit. Shanel, who sat at the counter in their shared kitchen with Hannibal, was quiet than usual. "Something the matter," he asked, as she broke her concentration,

"It's that Lounds woman, she's rude and she thinks she knows every thin-" her phone dinged with a text from Will and a link to the latest issue of the Tattler, "If it's about me there will be no promises that I will be kind when I rip her LIMB FROM LIMB!" Hannibal sat down next to her, "I assure you it can't be so bad.." the pair both read the article tears welling in her eyes from sheer anger, Shanel Mahone, a lawyer, a mob doll, the love toy," Hannibal readout chuckling at the caption,

"She doesn't know you as I do.." his hand rubbing against hers, calming her down, her head snapped back at him as her eyes gave him the impression for 50 words for murder and she was every one of them, " How long has it been since you've had fava beans and a nice Chianti ? " she asked him watching his eyes glow in joy,

"Since the census taker tried to test me,"

"Wouldn't you like to have a nice meal out of Lounds.."

she whispered in his ear, " Her heart paired with a nice glass of chianti, "

"She would be more useful to us alive than dead... but her time will come, love," plating the dish of Fettucini Alfredo, though it wasn't lavish to him, it did tend to cause comfort to Shanel. Something that he cared much about ever since they had gotten a bit closer and fonder of each other, twirling the noodles with her fork and spoon she moved the pile to the right of her plate uninterested, "We do not play with our food.." he watched her poke at it some more,

"When you do it, however, it is a work of art.," she mumbled, looking away from him, Shanel wasn't one to take pity on liars, but she supposed that for Hannibal her hatred for Lounds would have to subside, for now, the night had only gotten dark and the moon more mysterious. Sitting in the round black marble tub was Shanel, her hair pinned up a glass of wine sitting beside the tub, with a beautiful view, "Must you tease.." she laughed watching the moon reflect in the calming water, watching him untie his tie slowly looking at himself in the mirror almost as if he were in love with himself,

"You almost look like when Narcissus discovered himself," she snickered,

" That makes you the nymph Echo," he turned to look at her. He then smirked, "Are.. you trying to flirt with me?" she asked him, eyes reverting down to look at the slow ripples caused by her fingers. If he were flirting, this would have gone against every wall she had put up against these such things. The three don'ts, don't date, don't fall in love and especially don't kiss back, but clearly, she'd already broken one of those rules, his hands rested on her shoulders as he took in her scent, roses with a hint of chocolate and a smokey desire. "And if I were, how would you react.," he asked. Feeling a knot of stress on her shoulders massaging it out, he had been warning her lately to be less harsh on her body, but as always, she was very hardheaded.

"I wouldn't know how to react.," Shanel responded, her lips on the wine glass, "Right there ... that spot has been troubling me.. could be my mattress or the Chiliton.. the other pain in my side." she shrugged, soft lips leaving gentle traces on her back. Causing her to shiver as she felt more at ease, her guard wall slowly melting away feeling, his hands rub down her arms, collecting the access soap around her fingertips. She looked up at him eyelids fluttering, shut, as she began leaning into his embrace, into a kiss, the taste of wine swirled onto his tongue like the taste of blood on hers.

"We can't.. we shouldn't I.." she fell back into the grasp of his lips. She did it, broke rule number three, one more strike, and she could never turn back.

"The original story of Pandora's Box reminds all of man to look into their own, to find the spirit of hope that still shines," he said, handing her a towel.

"As a moral, we can find happiness even during the darkest of times, provided that we look back into the box."

"What are you getting at .."

"Perhaps i'm your pandora's box," he kissed her hand, watching her march off into his bedroom where she proceeded to get dressed. " We are partners I help with the legal papers, and you tamper with their psychic, there's nothing else between us... " she got in the covers of their now shared bed,

"I do believe you're wrong," he held up a pillow, "Though you hide your emotions very well around others, you're quite messy with them around me... why is that Shanel. Taking the blanket and pillow from him, she shook her head in the way he chose to open the can of worms which was the topic of emotions,

"Well," she sighed, getting closer towards him between the covers "As a child growing up, I was silent and reserved. The perfect child, who never wanted anything and therefore got sent away to boarding school when mommy just wanted a normal LIFE!" she ripped the pillow in half.

"Breathe." he removed what was left, "It's a touchy subject I just wanted .."

"To make your mother proud of you.." he nodded,

"Have you ever had someone that you wanted to make them so proud of that you'd give your life up to make them understand-"

"That everything I do is for you.." he finished her sentence, Hannibal knew how she felt all too well, especially when it came to sister Mischa, who he loved dearly. He had been in Shanel's shoe's all too many times, he knew what pain was, but he also knew how to hide and be numb to it. Like a monster in a very well-tailored person suit. They hadn't uttered a word at each other just a few conversations with their eyes, and head nods something that they had been doing since they first met. Morning rolled around and, as usual, Shanel had already left out for work. There was a breeze a bit of sun and Jack Crawford sitting in her office chair nearly fuming it seemed.

"Ms. Mahone.." he looked at her, his glare was a look that could kill millions, "You wanna tell me what this is about?" he asked holding the issue of the Tattler in hand. She rolled her eyes getting him a cup of coffee,

"Is this what you came to my office for?" she slammed the cup on the table agitated at only 8 am, "I'll be asking the questions here," he growled, Jack had the temper of a needle if you pushed him over ever so slightly he'd blow his fuse and be ready to fight god if he came knocking at his door.

"Do you or don't you have ties to the mob," "I have the right to remain silent." she smiled, handing her finished files to one of her interns to file for her,

"That didn't answer my question.." he began gritting his teeth.

"I'm not invading any taxes and cleary you like my work you keep coming back.." she rolled her eyes, handing him the finished decree for Abigal Hobbs.

" I suppose you're going to want to find your next copy cat killer the info's on page three," she smirked. Her phone yet again vibrating. "Seems I'll be going your way.." she mumbled, taking her keys from off her desk as Crawford only grew wearier of her. Everyone was a suspect at this point after all, and he was swaying his options. The ride down to the forest was soothing something, that she'd always loved was the beauty of nature. Her mind kept wandering to the night of the crime, the way the victim's faces looked, and how they were after the three days of decay.

FBI was scattered everywhere on the scene of the crime, cop cars parked, and the two bodies becoming a new color. The foul stench went past everyone's nose, but what they had seen didn't go beyond their eyes. Standing over the bodies were Will Graham, who had his eyes closed envisioning the scene.

"I follow Howard back to his house.." he said, walking towards the two-story house, "I make sure not to leave any traces of footprints .." he began walking on his toes hiding behind a bush, "he leaves with his next of prey, " picking up a rock as he threw it towards a tree causing them to get distracted, "When the times right I run," the sound of his feet leaving the ground was barely even heard going miles per minute as he soon climbed into a tree,

" I take my bow and arrow I puncture his Achilles tendon." he smirked, "I then find the girl I lodge an arrow right between the artery, with a sedative." he sat there watching them die as he placed the butterfly on her lips, "This is my design."

"How'd they do it this time champ," Beverly asked, standing next to Will, "A bit of hunting," he looked at her,

"Seems our killer has a type.." Jack sighed, walking up towards him, Shanel and Hannibal by both sides, Shanel smirked, handing Will over his criminal record, "And what would that be sir," Beverly asked, watching Shanel and Hannibal's reaction.

"Seems your copycat has access to criminal records.." Hannibal suggested taking a glance at Shanel who held the file, "This is the original copy of his records, he was a high school teacher who was.."

"A pedophile... I know." Jack glared at Shanel and her eagerness to help on the case which never used to bother him before, but it was the fact that she had been so pristine and detail-oriented that it scared him,

"As well as a trafficker, there's no telling what his wife doesn't know," Beverly responded looking, over his record. "Maybe this copycat is a vigilante." she shrugged,

"Batman is a vigilante.. but this.. this is a vendetta a..a sign. His cry for payback." he looked at both Hannibal and Shanel, he knew in some sense that they understood him he never questioned why but the secret would come out one day, Shanel looked at her watch then at Hannibal,

"I have to get going," running towards her car, as she heard the sound of a camera flashing she knew that it had to be nobody else but Lounds. Looking directly towards the clicks, Freddie seized the camera a shiver down her back as her memory went blank. " You didn't have to do that.." she mumbled under her breath, getting inside her car. " It's getting rather dull eating Alfredo." Hannibal smiled, closing the door for her.

She smirked, "I agree, your, sauce is a bit dry." pulling out and leaving him there to pout like usual. Walking back into her office she could sense chaos, mostly because Carl jammed the printer, and to top it off one of Hannibal's clients walked into the wrong room,

"You must be Franklyn Doctor Lector should be down the hall..at any moment." she winked at him.

"I just really needed to see him, I got so much in a hurry that I must have panicked, " he said in one breath, being handed a cup of tea. Watching him take a sip from it made the realization as to why Hannibal would come home from sessions with him and want to blow his brains out, Franklyn hadn't shut up about his prestigious crush on Hannibal and how it upset him so that he had to pay to see him, it made her sick and green with envy hearing the way he described him as if he were a god when in fact he was more than just that,

"And then there's Tobias." he blushed.

"Do you like him?" she asked out of curiosity.

"We're best friends." he looked at his watch, seeing that he practically missed his appointment. It had been a much longer day in the office then what she had anticipated. Hearing the clock tick-tock back and forth nearly drove her insane as her phone began to ring, the sound of a concerned Hannibal on the other line. She had completely forgotten about the sheer fact that he had gotten tickets to the opera, he figured that since he heard sing a little that she'd enjoy it. "Go on without me." she smiled, phone to her ear as lose hairs came out of her ponytail.

"Are you positive about this?" he asked her, hearing a bit of trouble in her voice.

"I'm sure, trust me .. though be weary trouble lurks." she hung up the call, hearing footsteps come behind her taking, a pen and lodging it in the neck of the unfortunate soul, hearing it stab through the skin as veins and blood gushed around the ballpoint pen.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, hearing her breathe hard.

"On a second note, I think I'll join you." walking towards the bathroom as she changed into a dark sparkling blue gown and heels to match walking out of her office as she felt something tug her arm, "I'll see you downstairs." she took her razor blade from out her pin curled bun slicing his hand off of her using her nails to gauge his eyeballs out while never spilling any blood on herself, Hannibal waited outside listening to his soothing classical music trying to find the missing piece for something he had been working on with his harpsichord, whenever he did he thought of Shanel sometimes falling deeper into her pool of love and other times how deep her throat was to cut,

Coming towards him like a dream was Shanel, a dark blue dress matching his tux. He had never been, so breath taken before until he saw her an angel. Shanel tucked a loose hair behind her hair, sapphire earrings dangling from her ear lobes the sight of her in that very moment made him go completely weak. "Well, don't you look appetizing ." Shanel blushed taking his hand as he ushered her inside the car, "I could say the same for you." she looked at him, his hair slicked back the way she had liked for a gentleman's hair to be when in a tux, he looked like what she daydreamed him to look like,

"First time I've seen you in something that isn't your usual suit." he laughed, closing her door for her driving off. "First time I've seen you in a tux.." she smirked, staring out the window watching the stars pass by in the night sky, reminding her of the things she never did in her childhood like camping or star gazing unless she was with her mother and Milo who at the time was very important of her. He stood as the father figure she had only wish to have. The opera house had been carrying a full house of guests as both Shanel and Hannibal looked at each other. The pair had both seen people that they knew and detested, but when in doubt, personal appearances came first holding onto Hannibal's hand to complete him, walking through the crowd of his dinner options and her next masterpiece he could smell the rudeness almost radiating off of the big names in the room,

" Doctor Lector." a familiar looking lady practically wrapped herself around him.

"Mrs. Walter.." he tried to remove her from his being, "When are you throwing another dinner, you know I just love the way you cook, it such art!" she squealed a bit pre-show drunk. As she leaned in closer to Hannibal, coming from behind her was Shanel, who looked as prideful as a lion ready to bite her meal.

"Hanni, my love shows going to start." she took him by the hand, giving him a wink.

"Hanni?" the other woman said falling off his arm like a slug to salt, she had seemed so surprised that a woman like her pulled off the definition of a man like Hannibal.

"My Fiance." he smiled, pulling her close to his side, hearing a short gasp come from her mouth.

"Your Fiance.." Mrs. Walter had looked shocked incredibly broken even, hearing him say that "Pleasure to meet you.." she said almost in a jealous rage. Shanel, who had the grace of her mother, extended her hand out, the one with a ring her mother had given her.

" Shanel Mahone, charmed, you know as Hannibal, and I always say we'd love to have you for dinner.." she then smirked at Hannibal getting an ingenious idea to embarrass him. Besides she had no idea, he would call her his soon to be bride most men usually went for fake girlfriends in that type of situation, " My darling ." he took her by the hand as they began walking off,

"My Hannikins just loves his opera." she winked, watching him crumble inside from the pet name, "You're welcome by the way.." she whispered to him a bit upset as to how he didn't act like he appreciated what she had just done for him, "You'll get your thanks soon my dove," he kissed her forehead smelling the pure stench of jealousy radiating off her,

Sitting down in their seats, Shanel couldn't help but think of the way the music made her feel. The melody of the song always reminded her of herself full of suspense and deadly, but she knew surely things were changing for her, and maybe it was time for it. Hannibal who like Shanel had too enjoyed the melody until he looked over and saw Franklyn, the man who would stalk Hannibal to the ends of the earth, Shanel felt him stiffing up beside him as she then looked over and saw him,

The other man who they both presumed to be Tobias was also staring, but this time only at Hannibal, looking at each other as the two then, sighed. "He's staring again," she whispered to him, "I know.. I can feel his wandering eyes from here." he then looked at Shanel, placing her hand inside his own. He had never appeared to be so uncomfortable before almost vulnerable in a sense.

When the show had ended, the pair tried to rush out as quick as they could, but they didn't make it, both Franklyn and Tobias had spotted them like two flies on the wall with nothing else better in their lives to do.

"Doctor Lector you're here, I mean I didn't think you like opera, but then I guess you do well would and, Tobias this is my psychiatrist and Hannibal Tobias." he smiled, the two men merely staring at each other as Shanel and Franklyn looked at each other and then at Tobias,

"Do you play?" she asked, seeing the calluses on his hand.

"I own a violin shop not far from here," he said, looking at her hands, "Seems it been a long time since you've played.." he smirked a psychotic look on his face,

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow !" Franklyn grinned.

Sitting downstairs in the living room was Shanel, her chin pressed down on her chin rest as her left hand held the instrument and in her right the bow. Strumming her instrument, she had begun to remember childhood, and the first time she had played Mozarts Lacrimosa, her favorite dramatic piece. As the melody continued to play through, she could hear the sound of a harpsichord joining her, "You play?" she kept her eyes closed knowing. Who was in front of her.

"I could ask you the same thing," he smiled, keeping up with her violin playing. He was no longer uncertain about what to do with Shanel. At this moment, she was his equal the missing half to his melody that he had been trying to find. She was going to be his symphony, and he would be her conductor. If only he could get the right melody to pluck the harp of her heart. The music had stopped playing as stood behind him,

"Bad posture doesn't look good on you.." she commented with her hand on his back, fixing his posture, "Neither does jealousy look good on you." he turned his head to look up at her. She was as radiant as the stars, an ethereal woman a universe. She was the missing venus in the Botticelli painting in his memory palace that he could only hope to find, motioning for her to sit next to him he scooped her in his arms, "You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love." he whispered tilting her chin up placing a small kiss right under the skin that made the curve of her lips. He wanted to let it linger let her know that he would be willing to care,

"You're falling hard and so sudden," she whispered back, cupping his face feeling his hands pull her closer towards his body as she gave him a quick peck on the lips. He had wanted to share a moment like this for so long, and he could tell she did too. Leaning in once more their they had met in a tender kiss the type you couldn't say anything to a friend about because it meant you had found the missing happiness in your life.

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you." he pressed his forehead against her own, the two smiling at each other as if they had once more killed someone,

"If music be the food of love play on.," she smirked, giving him a chuckle.

#hannibal x oc #nbc hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #shanel mahone #new series #fanfiction #fannibals #OC #i do not own the gif

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brawlingdiscontent · 5 years

Text

the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 1/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold (ao3 link, for those who’ve just read on tumblr, the ao3 is the most up-to-date version)

(part two) (part three)

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o)

“For who could look upon the lions of the foe, terrible with the brightness of gold, who upon the men of metal, menacing with golden face, … who upon the bulls on the ships threatening death, their horns shining with gold, without feeling any fear for the king of such a force?”

-- Encomium Emmae Reginae

----

He’s a child again, in the long, lonely halls of Normandy. The vaulted ceiling stretches above him into the darkness, the passageway illuminated only by the solitary torch he carries. The light is fairly strong, but the halls so vast that its beam doesn’t come close to revealing the top of the arch. Everyone else is asleep. As he walks the corridors he runs his hand reverently along the exquisite tapestries, painstakingly embroidered over thousands of hours.

He holds the torch close--but not too close--as his fingers trace the knot whorl of an eye, widening in surprise as the accompanying warrior sees the spear that marks his death. Here on the cloth his death will remain forever suspended, held betwixt one world and the next. The weave is coarse beneath his finger pads.

Further on, the linen panels reveal scores of horses mid-canter and the proud shapes of warships cutting through water, the cloth embroidered with fine woolen threads that fix these images of battles and glory. The teams of needleworkers who stitched the fabric with such care have been denied the pleasure their labour has sown--the tapestries hung here where few will see them--and yet their presence still haunts the works. The fineness of the work, the intricate level of detail, and the quality of the images, become, in the still darkness, his own private treasures.

At this time of night the hush of the halls feels like the quiet of a tomb.

Sometimes when Charles walks the halls, he will at length return to his little chamber to await the cold light of dawn, warmed by the sights he’s seen.

But other times he’ll sit at the foot of a tapestry, tracing a thread of silver as it weaves through the couching in the laid work. Picking it out, as though it was the thread of fate weaving through the tapestry of his life. Until at last he sleeps.

….

The morning light filters in through the planiner threads of the canvas tent above him. As he awakens, Charles senses he’s alone. The light is quite high: he’s slept very late. His body must have been trying to catch up on months of stress and lost sleep.

He looks around the tent and confirms that Lehnsherr is nowhere in sight. The tent seems largely unaltered from the previous night, but for a wooden plate on the small table, bearing food presumably left for him.

As awareness returns to his senses and marshals his limbs, noises of the camp, of the morning business, filter in from the outside. His mind already has the pictures, the smells, to accompany the sounds. He’d experienced them only yesterday, as he was brought through to this very tent. To the corner chair where he sat, awaiting judgement. In some ways, it feels like it’s still the same day, the moment stretching endlessly on in time, suspended like the tapestry soldier’s death. And yet how much now is different.

Even with the morning’s surrealness, the many unanswered questions, and with his children half a world away; there’s no siege, no imminent danger, and he feels enlivened, lighter than he has for quite some time. It’s as though his features had been cast in silver, cold and immutable like one of Sebastian's fine chalices, and had suddenly been freed.

Despite everything, he realizes, he hadn't really believed that he’d get to this point. This moment where there is an ‘after.’ No matter how he’d planned and scrabbled--all those months ago, the thought of to find himself in such a position, with his people relatively safe, his children’s futures assured, was ultimately unthinkable, unreachable.

And now he’s left with what to do next. With the future that stretches before him in the form of Lehnsherr.

Rather than dwell on this and let it threaten his burgeoning good mood, he gets up in favour of getting the lay of the camp, finding out what’s going on.

Ignoring his rumbling stomach, he pulls on his boots--the only article he’d taken off last night, and only then when he was sure that Lehnsherr was asleep--and checks for their faithful knife, before flipping open the tent flap to move out into the light.

A pair of crossed pikes block his path, wielded by two men standing firm and unyielding in front of the entryway.

His first reaction is that of sheer confusion; it takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing.

He recovers quickly. “What’s the meaning of this?”

The guards--for that is undoubtedly what they are--are Danes. The man on his left has a braided beard and a rather formidable scar running in a jagged slash down the front of his face. His companion on the right looks younger, less severe, perhaps more workable.

The older one turns to him, keeping his pike fixed in place, and offers just a one-word response: "Stay."

“On whose orders do you detain me?” he demands, but even as he says it, he knows the answer well enough. The older man spares him another glance, but doesn’t deign to utter even a further syllable, before turning away once again.

Charles swallows down the indignation that swiftly rises and tries another tack. “If you won’t let me pass, I need to get a message through to one of my men. It’s rather urgent.”

No response this time. They either don’t speak Saxon or--the more suspicious part of his mind offers--pretend not to.

Just outside, at the tent opposite, a woman is beating clothes with a washing bat, a basin at her side. She eyes him sharply, with suspicion, and the appeal Charles is considering making to her dries up in his throat.

He told Lehnsherr that he wouldn’t be a prisoner.

Bastard.

With a final glance between his guards, Charles retreats back into the tent, fuming.

The satisfying thwack of a boot hitting the tent wall only marginally improves his mood.

Eventually he sits.

He told the man he wouldn’t be a prisoner...and yet he’d also promised his compliance.

Closing his eyes, it's easy to call up his citadel. When Boethius had referred to the mind as a fortress within which to take refuge from life’s cares in philosophy's consoling grip, he likely hadn’t thought of it so literally. But crude though the construct is, it helps him to concentrate. His imagined inner citadel looks like the halls of home, the most familiar sight of his sequestered childhood. Never in doubt of him finding a good match, his distant parents had allowed Charles to dedicate his time to scholarly pursuits, so long as they were conducted in the relative isolation that would preserve his value as a spouse.

The canon of Boethius is in its usual spot. Unlike the patchy scrolls that made up his meagre collection in Londres--now buried with the state documents to preserve them from marauding forces--the shelves of his mind are full, bursting with manuscripts. The Consolation of Philosophy is housed in an illuminated volume: so valuable it’s chained to the plinth it rests on, just as its contents are fixed firmly in his memory.

He leans over to study the page on which it’s opened:

“Thou hast resigned thyself to the sway of Fortune; thou must submit to thy mistress's caprices. What! art thou verily striving to stay the swing of the revolving wheel? Oh, stupidest of mortals, if it takes to standing still, it ceases to be the wheel of Fortune.”

Not helpful.

He tries to regroup his mental resources. The sum of it is, he’s realized how little he actually knows. In all the shelves replete with facts about Lehnsherr, there’s not a manuscript that’s not fluffed up with rumour, stuffed with paranoia, and pure ornamentation. It’s why he had been so unprepared for the turns of the previous day. He opens a volume and thinks--

What does he know concretely?

He knows that Lehnsherr needs him alive--at least until he produces an heir.

Yet he's not sure he can sustain continued threats of offing himself, nor that that’s a viable way forward, with his children on the line. And yet this is the best possible position for them.

He’ll need to write a letter.

He knows that Lehnsherr cannot be so secure in his own power, that needs the security their marriage will grant him.

And, a voice at the back of his head wonders: is this what Lehnsherr envisions their marriage looking like? Imprisonment in all but name? “Yet what rights can one exercise over another, save only as regards the body? What! wilt thou bind with thy mandates the free spirit? Canst thou force from its due tranquillity the mind that is firmly composed by reason?” Boethius supplies.

He knows that Lehnsherr wants sex--

His mind jumps to last night, to the crush of the other’s lips against his--how he’ll have to find a way to deal with his and Lehnsherr’s unexpected...compatibility. To plan what he will do when Lehnsherr comes to assert his spousal prerogative. He cannot allow himself to be distracted, or worse, show weakness, let Lehnsherr see how he’s affected--

Unproductive. He closes the book. Maybe it’s time for a new tactic.

Opening his eyes, he takes the wooden trencher and picks up the dry, flat mass left to him--some kind of bread. It’s less than appetizing; clearly the keep’s stores haven’t yet made it over to the camp. He eats it regardless, not one to waste food, as his mind turns to other points of consideration.

Children.

He’s promised Lehnsherr an heir, and the man may possibly want more. He can’t be sure yet what kind of sire Lehnsherr will be. If it is the kind that Sebastian was, how can Charles possibly protect this child? And yet he doesn’t think he can do what would be easiest: wall off his feelings and abandon them to their fate, trading one child for his two others.

And then before he can help himself his mind slips from children to the getting of children. Marital relations. Sebastian had never seemed to care much whether or not he enjoyed it. He’s not sure that Lehnsherr had either, but the problem is that, regardless, he had. His cheeks heat at the memory and he quashes down that line of thinking, only noting that he should delay their marriage as much as possible until he is able to figure it out, before he should be so vulnerable again--experience such loss of control--

Right. Time to move on.

He launches himself into the task of turning over the tent.

It doesn’t take long, sparsely furnished as it is. The whole time he keeps one ear open, lest his keepers get suspicious. Lehnsherr’s battle gear has vanished--presumably back on its owner’s body. And thus, he almost immediately zeroes in on the main object of interest. Tucked away and out of sight between the fur pile--which he skirts strategically, stooping first to rescue his fallen circlet from the corner--and the tent wall.

It’s a beautifully carved casket, made of oak. The craftsmanship is breathtaking. The box’s top and its two ends are covered with thin, carved sheets of walrus ivory, clasped by gilt-bronze bands. The ivory panels are skillfully decorated with stylized birds and animals, all caught up in the great convolutions of the tendrils and leaf-like interlace.

He carefully pries up the bronze clasp, relieved to find that it’s not locked as it eases open.

His eyes are drawn first to a ring of amber inside, with fine details carved into its flat top. He picks it up to examine it. They look like characters, but in what language Charles cannot say. Certainly it’s not Saxon, Norman, or Latin. He’s less familiar with the Danish script, but something tells him that this isn’t it, either. It's short, if it’s script, a couple of words at most.

Intrigued, he nevertheless puts the ring aside and searches beneath it until he finds what he’s looking for: a short piece of semi-translucent vellum, beside some red sealing wax and stylus.

He finds ink in a thick, green vial with a cork stopper--it must be glass. Marvellous. He’s not seen it used for this purpose before--it makes the ink fully transportable. His mind quickly offers up possibilities for its existence--Viking trade routes into the far east? -- and he makes a mental note to investigate later. First the letter.

He words it briefly, keeping the sentences short, to the point, yet ambiguous. He doesn’t seal it. Even if he had a flame to melt the wax, it’s far too dangerous. If it were discovered the coded message would be instantly traced directly back to him by the seal, which could only end in disaster…

He’s just finishing up when he notes that the noise outside doesn’t match the usual rhythms of the camp.

He turns, and has just enough time to shove the newly-penned letter up his sleeve--who knows whether the ink has had time to set--to find the tent filling with strange men.

One man brushes past him to grab the very same casket he’s just stolen from--and Charles is grateful that he’d hurriedly shut the lid, and hopes he closed up the ink properly.

Another man--the young guard from outside--gestures him forward roughly towards the entrance to the tent, and he can do nothing but acquiesce to the rude summons, walking out into the light.

---

Note: I’m back!! Thanks to all of you who have supported me with likes and kudos and asks and comments and emphatic tags!! It’s because of you that this one-shot is continuing! I love you all!! I hope to update biweekly, but we’ll see, and have at least one more arc planned after this one.

#cherik #viking au #historical au #Erik Lehnsherr #Charles Xavier #X-men #subtle a/b/o #cherik fic #brawlingdiscontent #twtbog #encomium carolis regis

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devilbat · 5 years

Text

Secret Admirer

For RiversDayOfLove, @loki-the-fox prompt: Person A is a secret admirer of Person B and reveals themselves on Valentine’s Day.

Warning: Just fluff.

Loki x reader.

A/n: Snoots are not mine they are from two famous poets.

~To my dearest Y/n~

*Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

*sonnet 18*

~Truly yours your Secret of Amir.~

The note was attached to the most beautiful arrangement of lily and roses you ever seen. And it was addressed to you. Waiting for you on your desk, when you arrive at the Averages lab. You eyes had widened when you saw them. You could feel your face heat up. As you read the note over and over, before you started.

“All right who done and pissed you off, Y/n?” Tony asked as he walked into the lab noticing the vase of flowers. Which startled you in the process.

“For your info if it was anyone that pissed me off it would be you and I doubt this would be from you.” You held up the note. As Tony read it, haking his head.

“Yeah definitely not me. I don’t do poetry. But hey you have a stocker.” Tony teased.

“Wow, what did you do to piss of y/n this time Tony.” Bruce stated as he walked in noticing the arrangement as well.

“Hey now I have not pissed off y/n in a week.” Tony hissed.

“Well that’s a new Record for you.” Bruce’s chuckle.

“For your information our little y/n has a Secret admirer.” Tony purred. Patting you on the back. “Great job there kid. Now I have to figure out who I have to kill.” Tony walked over to his work table. Both you and Bruce rolled your eyes at the billionaire. As the three of you got to work.

Once your day was over you had planned on going out for drinks with the girls for a much needed girls night. Though you were just going to go right after you worked in the lab. But the unexpected arrangement had you taking them to your room. Not wanting them to get ruined in one day. You made your way through the compound carefully carrying the lager vase of flowers. Trying to make it to your bedroom.

“What in the nine realms are you doing with those.” You heard Loki’s voice somewhere in front of you, not being able to see the god as you view was blocked by flowers. Though you felt you heart sink a little. Deep down you had a small hope that they were from Loki. As he was a lover of book and poetry. You managed to move the flowers away from your face to look at the god.

“They’re um, were on my desk this morning.” You mumbled. “I guess I have an admirer.” You half smiled at the god.

“Well, I hope who ever it is could do better then this.” His voice sounded cold. Like he was annoyed to see you with anything from someone else. The god walked passed you, mumbled to himself.

“I thought they were pretty,” You whispered not think he could hear you. “Though, I thought they were from you.” As you watch him walk away. Finally you made it to your room a little disappointed. Deciding to change for girls night. With Nat, Wanda and Pepper. Taking a quick Once over. Before you left the room. You almost tripped over something. When you looked down you saw a box from Teuscher the up scaled chocolate place at the Rockefeller center. You always treated yourself on your birthday. But it wasn’t just a piece like you normally would, it was a whole box of all your favorite kinds when you opened it. Under the lid you found another poem.

~To my dearest Y/n~

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

*sonnet XVII*

~Truly yours your Secret of Amir.~

It made you blush as you looked up to see who may have left it. You watched as the elevator door opened, as Loki emerged. He took note at what he saw. You pink cheeks a smile on your face holing a box he recognized. Then pushed the elevator closed with him still in it. With a sigh you set the chocolates in your room. As you left to meet the girls.

This went on for a few days, gifts randomly showing up. Little things that meant a lot. The gift ranged from, slippers so you would touch the cold floor, an at home spa basket you enjoyed taking baths it helped with stress, even earring from your favorite 5th Avenue store. That was probably the most lavish gift. And each one came with a sonnet. Tony tried to help you figure out who had been leaving these gifts. But F.R.I.D.A.Y. Systems always seem to be off line or failed when he looked at the video. That lead you to late nights with the billionaire. Trying to figure out what was going on with his security systems.

Tony had left to go get more coffee, which seemed to take him forever to come back. You figured maybe Pepper stopped him. You rest you head on the table. Thinking of just taking a little power nap. When you woke up, the sunshine in through the blinds. You slept there all night again. But unlike the other time, were you woke up freezing. You noticed a deep green blanket draped around you. You took a deep breath as you did you remember the sent coming from the blanket. Pulling the blanket towards you, you recognized it as Loki cape to his armor. You smiled to yourself as you pulled it closer to you. You were so wrapped up in the fact that loki had done this you never heard Bruce or Tony walk in.

“Y/n did you sleep here?” Bruce asked. Which startled you. Pulling yourself to your feet ball up loki cape. So they didn’t question it.

“I guess I did, I was waiting for Tony!” You hissed, glaring at the man. Who currently looked very sheepish as he walked in. “He was supposed to bring coffee.” Bruce looked over at Tony.

“In my defense Pepper grabbed a hold of me and throw me in bed. For someone who is tiny she is very spry.” Bruce pinched him nose with his fingers, shaking his head. You could only roll your eyes.

“I’m going to call it a day.” You stated as you walked out of the lab not looking back. You could hear Tony yelp, and asked what was that for. “You deserves that.” Knowing Bruce smacked him upside the head.

You were on a mission to find Loki. You had noticed that ever since you’ve been receiving gifts, that Loki would avid you or make some snarky comment. Also you noticed little things. Like this as you held tightly to his cape. Or he had coffee ready for you when you woke up, when went down to the kitchen. Saying that; I figured since I’m making my tea I might as well make yours as well. Only to find out each time it was just how you liked it. Even though you still thought loki had given you the other gifts. When you walked into the Library where Loki frequent you looked around. You were rather shocked not to find him. Maybe he was sparring with his brother. But as you got to the training room no sign of either Asgardains.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, have you’ve seen with Thor or his moronic brother?” You called up to the A.I. She knew where everyone is.

“I am sorry y/n. I have not, not since morning. And my data shows no one has left the compound.” A.I. Spoke back through one of many speakers above you.

“Uhg,” You huffed in annoyance. “Alright thank you.” You walked off. Not really paying attention to the apology the A.I. Stated. You though maybe he was in his room. But no such luck. Giving up you walking over to your room. Before opening your door you heard muffled sounds like someone or somebody’s having a scuffle in your room. You opened it slowly. But what you saw was not what you expected. Thor had Loki chained to a chair and was fighting his raven hairs brother with what looked to be duct tape. You stood there watching. The brothers had yet noticed you.

“Why is this necessary.” Loki hissed dodging his head at his brother attempt to stick the tape over his mouth. “You know I’ll turn you into a toad again.”

“I told you that if your not going to, someone need to push you in to telling lady y/n.” Thor voice boomed with happiness with his cleaver plan.

“Tell lady y/n what?” You cooed behind the brothers. Both stoping to look over to you standing in the room.

“Ah lady y/n, happy day of love. I have brought you a gift.” Thor beamed with glee in his eyes.

“Surprise.” Loki stated annoyed, as this felt way to familiar to him. Thor patted his brother on his back. As he walked towards you.

“He is all yours lady y/n, do as you please.” Thor smiled proudly. As he left the room shutting the door. Leaving you and the God of mischief alone.

“You know I could explain this.” Loki chuckled nervously.

“Oh, I think I figured it out.” You bit your lip as you walked over the the god. “You’re brother sent the gifts to make you jealous, and when that didn’t work he did this.” You laughed as you stood in front of him.

“Yes. That sounds about right.” Loki smile his charming smile the one that could send your panties to space taking out a Klingon war ship. “Would you mind untying me love?”

“You know I think I like you like this.” You smirked as you sat down on Loki leg facing him. Making the god raise his eyebrow. “I’ll untie you if you can tell me what Thor wants you to tell me.” You whispered into his ear. You felt Loki tense up. Moving your head away from his ear. “I’m listening.” Your face looked unamused. Loki squirmed around in the chair.

“Fine.” He huffed giving in. “I have liked your for some time now darling, and would like to court you. And yes I was rather jealous that someone else may have had taken a like to you.” You smiled at him. “So may I have the honor to take you out tonight as is it your Midgard festival of love. Though I’m not sure why you celebrate love on a day that was a massacre.”

“Oh loki, shut up.” He was about to say something when your lips crashed onto his.

“I take that as a yes.” He mumbled against your lips.

“That’s a yes to massacre you later.” You smirked kissing him one last time before getting off his lap.

“Massacre me as in showing me your undying love right?” Loki asked as you started to walk away from him. “Y/n!” He yelled. Struggling against his binds. As you shut the door to the bedroom.

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#loki imagine #loki fluff #loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x you #valentines #riversdayoflove

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youngster-monster · 5 years

Text

Cardinal sins, deadly virtues

Patience is the mother of all vices.

Kael’thas likes to think he’s a patient man. No one has ever accused him of being cool-headed before — fire mages have a reputation to uphold — and he doesn’t necessarily put thoughts into everything he does or says, but he was raised for diplomacy and leadership, and leniency is par for the course. He was a professor at the Kirin Tor for a while, too, and you don’t make it to such a career without learning some tolerance for mages’ shenanigans, which prepare you for anything.

And maybe Rommath would rather call him ‘long-suffering’ than patient, but is there such a difference, really? As long as it keeps him from pyroblasting impudent noblemen for wasting his time, he thinks it’s fair game to call it patience.

But there’s a time in those endless, mostly-pointless hours of talking in circles — a moment, you see, a point, where it gets a little old to hear another of Sylvanas’ diatribes against the Alliance. He gets a little tired, a little done with her shit.

And most people are unaware of what a tired Kael’thas is like, because it’s rare for him to agree to be in the presence of anyone alive while tired. The royal guards has been called countless times during his studies after his professors or fellow students at the Kirin Tor believed him to have been abducted, while he had in fact holed up in the darkest, most isolated corner of the place, hissing at whoever dares to approach, gripping his thirtieth cup of tar-black coffee in a white knuckled grip.

(Metaphorically, of course. He has standards. But he does tend to isolate himself… Or force people to isolate him by being an ill-tempered, insufferable, easily irritated prick until he finally passes out from sheer exhaustion.)

Point is, a tired Kael’thas is not a pleasant experience for anyone concerned. But it’s usually because he gets irritable, and it is a dangerous trait to find in an already volatile mage whose sleeping habit have only worsened his temper. It’s not a problem unless you actively seek him out, which is a hard task in and on itself for reasons previously mentioned.

It’s not the worst experience one can have with Kael’thas, or rather as an innocent and unfortunate bystander to him.

As a sidenote, it is often said that, whereas most people eventually reach a point where they learn a modicum of self-preservation, mages usually bypass that stage of their life. It takes a special kind of suicidal tendencies to learn magic, after all. But it’s not quite true. Indeed, there is no one in the Kirin Tor who hasn’t met Kael’thas’ ringed eyes from across the room, seen the deep, burning rage in them, and subsequently found in themselves the capacity to love and cherish life enough to develop a survival instinct and vacate the premise as fast as possible while wearing robes.

That is because, of the people who have lingered in the presence of a Kael’thas who was both sleep-deprived and deeply irritated, few have survived to tell the tale and then agreed to remain at a distance under a few dozen miles from him. What happened to them is not discussed; it is not mentioned; it is not thought of. Everyone knows enough to fear it. More importantly, everyone knows better than to stay around the prince when he is on the warpath.

Because a tired Kael’thas might seek the silence and darkness of isolation, but that is nothing more than a byproduct of too many pre-finals weeks-long cramming sessions where the slightest sound in the library is answered by the unhinged hissing of terrified, stressed out mages. A pissed-off Kael’thas, on the other hand, seeks out confrontation, actively searches for social interaction, usually with one (and only one) goal in mind.

Murder. Or, this failing, severe bodily arm; any kind of maiming, really, be it physical or psychological.

(And maybe this has been blown out of proportions by years’ worth of new students learning in hushed whisper of the hair-trigger temper of their professor, but even Rommath avoids him in that state and that should tell you all you need to know about it, really.)

Here is a recipe for a disaster:

Kael’thas likes to think he is a patient man. In reality, he is everything but.

There is nothing in this world or whichever other one they are portal-traveling to lately that calls for more patience than peace summits and the stubborn, dim-witted, narrow-minded leaders that they gather. The same debates and arguments go in endless circles, no progress is ever made, and there is no surer way to rile him up faster than pointless, boring discussions.

And, apart from the mages and blood elves in the vicinity, no one else is aware of the danger of riling Kael’thas up.

(In all honesty it’s not their fault they didn’t think to bring it up. To them it is obvious, a fact learned early out of necessity: for all his genius and leniency, it is neither hard nor safe to irritate Kael’thas. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be aware of that?)

(Well to be fair one of them has willingly withheld this information: Rommath, who has bet on Kael’thas being the first to actually, physically snap and plans to makes himself very rich. It’s about time the Alliance realizes why they have nicknamed their king the phoenix.)

Now, it’s only a matter of who will make him snap.

In hindsight it’s obvious that it would be Genn who would do them the honor.

After a particularly difficult bout of negotiations which ended up leading nowhere but took hours out of everyone’s time, you would be hard pressed to find anyone present who wasn’t on edge. Lor’themar, who has reluctantly agreed to sit at his king’s side for those summits to offer him his more level-headed output, is honestly too tired to be angry at the waste of time. But a glance at the faces of those surrounding him tells him his case is more of an exception than a rule. Kael’thas’ expression is especially drawn, taunt in a way that speaks of grinding teeth and jaws locked around a snarl. His lips are twisted in the tense approximation of a smile, and when he absentmindedly licks his teeth it’s more a discrete display of barely-restrained aggressiveness than the thoughtful reflex it usually is.

Lor’themar glances around a second time and, deciding they are no longer needed — at this point they are only stuck here because of the small talk that ends each meeting, and it’s not out of character for Kael’thas to cut those short — he ushers his king out of the room, taking care not to touch him.

“I’ll be on the training grounds,” he tells Lor’themar, voice devoid of emotion in what is a frankly impressive show of restraint.

“Do you want me to send for Rommath?”

A pause as Kael’thas, agitated, curls his hands into fists and then forcefully relaxes them. “… No.”

“Very well, my lord.”

He watches his king stride off and can’t help a relieved sigh. That’s one crisis averted. He’s impressed Kael’thas managed to hold it together for so long. He really is growing into his role of king, becoming more and more like his father each day.

He winces as, down the corridor, a large door is wrenched open and, shortly after, slammed shut with so much force it makes the walls shake.

There’s still a long way to go.

If there is one advantage to the peace summits taking place in Silvermoon — the closest thing Azeroth has to a neutral city, the blood elves having enough history with both factions to agree to have every racial leader in their capital city and enough space to house the Forsaken delegation far away from everyone else — it is that, if the training grounds of the palace weren’t empty before, they definitely are by the time Kael’thas settles in the center of one with his sword in hand.

Blood elves have already learned this lesson the hard way and it doesn’t take much for the foreigners present to imitate them when they run away at the sight of their king.

Kael’thas unceremoniously drops his parade armor to the side, keeping nothing on but his pants and boots. Felo’melorn hums in his hand as he lifts it above his head, shifting into the position of his first fallah ishnu — battle dance, the choreographed training exercises that are at the basis of most sin’dorei martial arts.

He works through the familiar steps as slowly as he can, focusing on the burn in his muscles from the strain of the tightly controlled movements rather than the anger that burns equally hot in his guts. It’s a welcome distraction, the frustration fueling his exercise until every gesture is as fluid and as precise as those of a prowling predator.

Sweat covers his bare skin, rolling down his face as he breathes in slowly, holds it in, and then release the air in synchronization with the downward curve of his blade.

It freezes in place with the rest of his body at the sound of the voice.

"In the mood for a friendly spar, lord Kael'thas?"

The particular emphasis on the one word only means something if he cares to attribute a meaning to it. Unfortunately, Kael'thas is pissed, and all too happy to have it mean something unpleasant that will fuel his anger.

"Of course, lord Greymane," he replies, saccharine-sweet. "Do you need a moment to get ready?"

The human lets his coat and shirt drops, takes his own sword and rolls his shoulders, grinning ruefully. It's as much of an answer as Kael'thas needs.

Genn might have expected him to play on the defensive, but Kael'thas' character does not belong among the few things the mutt knows. Kael'thas throws himself at him sword first, embers trailing in his wake as he brings down Felo'melorn in a wide arc. Genn blocks it but his eyes widen in slight surprise before narrowing, feral glee briefly glinting in his golden irises.

It is soon to disappear, however. Kael'thas doesn't allow him a second of respite, not the slightest opening to counter-attack, not a single breath to gather his wit. He attacks relentlessly, alternating between quick, precise strikes and brute strength to drive him back. Genn's foot slides on the dusty ground and Kael'thas dives forward, swiping his feet from under him; Genn falls in a side roll as he hits the ground, narrowly avoiding a blow that might have landed right next to his neck or right through it, depending on how merciful Kael’thas is feeling towards his diplomats today.

Kael'thas might appear similar to any of the young mages sent by the Kirin Tor, but he is older than Genn by decades and all this time has given him the opportunity to master swordsmanship in a way human can only manage in a lifetime. By his people's standards he is already good; if he were human, he'd be a prodigy. Moreover, elves are predators by nature, their trollish ancestry still visible in the sharpness of their teeth and the uncanny strength of their lithe forms. Human stereotypes of frail spellcasters don't apply to them, who have built their culture on magic and death.

(There is a reason so many sin'dorei dances involve swords.)

But Genn might be dumber than he wants you to believe, he still has a beast's instinct, and in that second of near-death it overtakes him, and by the time he stands to his feet again he has shifted into his wolf form, white fur bristling as he growls.

The fight is more even after that, the worgen's inhuman strength allowing him to go toe-to-toe with Kael'thas' own. They trade blows back and forth, sparks flying when their swords collide. Kael'thas finds himself smiling, although it is less for pleasure of the fight and more at the pleasant thought of Genn's face when he’ll win.

And then the wolf decides to fight dirty, and throws a fistful of sand in his face.

It's not enough to blind him, barely enough to distract him, but it gives Genn a bare second of opening which he takes full advantage of. Kael'thas dodges a swipe of his claws nimbly and misses the other hand, which lets go of the sword to catch him by the shoulder and throw him backward. Genn's foot trips him, and he goes down before he realizes it.

Dust flies when his back hits the ground, knocking the wind out of him. The full weight of the wolfed-out worgen dropping on his stomach doesn't help, nor does the claws curling around his throat, digging threateningly against the soft flesh of his neck.

"Do you yield?" Genn growls, voice distorted by a too-long muzzle and too-sharp fangs.

He should — the other king won fair and square, after all. And, were it any other time, he would: Kael'thas might be proud, but he doesn't hold victory in such trivial matters so high that he would refuse a fair defeat.

But this is not any other time. Kael'thas is angry, and tired, frustrated deep to his bones, blood burning with fury that has been building up for weeks now.

Everybody should know it is not a good idea to approach him when he is angry.

His eyes flash bright gold for a brief second, barely the span of a blink. He snarls, feral like a cornered animal, and he digs his nails in Genn's side.

"Never," he grits out before fire engulfs them.

The spell — more of an explosion than a true fireball, really — throws the worgen king far from him, rolling in the dirt with the impact. He is singed, not badly wounded but hurt enough that he stays sprawled there a moment.

"You never said I could not use magic," Kael'thas says breezily, walking to his abandoned clothes as if nothing had happened. "But I thought I would go easy on you."

With that he puts his shirt back on, throws the rest over his arm and walks off. With some chance, this would prove to be a teaching moment to the man, and their little talks will maybe get somewhere next time.

(Off to the side, Rommath leans toward Khadgar and says, "You owe me fifty gold."

On Khadgar’s other side Illidan stands silent, staring at Kael'thas' retreating back with a strange expression on his face. There is a hint of dark purple on his cheeks, a blush that would go unnoticed by anyone else, and Rommath grins.

Kael'thas is far from being a patient man, but Illidan doesn't seem to mind.)

#writing #kael'thas sunstrider #illidan stormrage #rommath #Lor'themar Theron #World of Warcraft

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houseofvans · 5 years

Photo

IN THE STUDIO | KRISTEN LIU-WONG

We’re taking a peek into the studio space of LA based artist Kristen Liu-Wong whose studio apartment in Little Armenia functions as her candle scented, lamp filled and art adorned sanctuary and creative zone. We’re not only fans of her vibrant and alien still life paintings, but also the fluorescent ferocity in her more known works, which explore both sexuality and the female form.

We find out more about what Kristen keeps around to inspire, how her typical studio day ensures, and what projects she’s got coming up in 2019!

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Can you describe to folks a little about your studio or creative art space? It��s pretty humble! I live in a studio apartment in Los Angeles so I live, work, eat and sleep all in the same room haha. Because I’m always in this one little space, I’ve done my best to make it a cheerful and cozy nest. Tons of scented candles because I’m always stressed about something and a lot of lamps since I tend to work late hours and if I don’t have enough light, I get sad. I’ve been working on the same $75 floor model desk that I got out of college (which is also part of the reason I work small–no room for an easel in my apartment).

What’s a typical day in the studio like for you? I usually get up around 9–10 am (depending on how late I’ve stayed up since I can work until anywhere from 1am to 5am). I answer emails for a few hours. Some days, I’ll only check my emails quickly to see that there’s nothing that needs to be taken care of immediately because if I’m in a good place with a painting or drawing, I’ll ignore emails so that I don’t break my flow since administrative duties are pretty disruptive.

I also photograph all work in the morning since the light is best then. After I’ve taken care of the boring stuff, I start painting or drawing! I mix it up while I work- I play music or podcasts during the day depending on my mood and once night hits, I tend to watch something on my laptop that I can listen to easily but don’t have to watch while I work (I prefer telly at night so I feel less “alone” haha). I drink a lot of Redbull (which Redbull is kind enough to send me), and I smoke a lot of weed because I like to work late and with few breaks.

What type of things do you keep around the studio to inspire you or motivate you? What’s the most significant piece of wall art or inspiration you have in the space? My walls are full of art– my own, but also gifts from friends and family, art trades, prints I’ve bought, etc. I have a lot of books–not just books to read, but also art books that I use for research and reference. I also am lucky enough to have a generous sister who has gifted me many beautiful antiques and little objects or sculptures–this past Christmas, she got me an antique bonbonniere and just being surrounded by beautiful little objects is a daily inspiration.

It’s difficult to pick my most significant piece of wall art, but it’s definitely a tie between the Native American sand paintings from my sister and the pieces I’ve received from friends like Jillian Evelyn, Luke Pelletier, and Homeless Cop because they’re lovely reminders of the dope people I’m so lucky to have in my life.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen around your studio or out the studio window? What’s your favorite thing about where it is located? I face the parking lots of the adjacent apartment buildings, so I don’t really see too much interesting shit. Someone left their pants to dry for almost an entire week on the laundry line outside once, and I was like doesn’t this person worry about their pants blowing away?

My apartment IS in a cool location though- I’m in Little Armenia so the rent is still affordable, but I can also really easily walk over to Los Feliz, and I’m a $5 Uber from Silverlake. And my boyfriend and best friend each live within a 3 block radius, and I don’t have a car, so it couldn’t get more convenient.

What cool new projects are you currently working on in the studio that you can share? I’m currently preparing an extensive body of work for a show in Madrid with Okuda San Miguel and Agostino Iacurci that’s going to open the last week of February. I’ve never shown in or been to Madrid, so I’m incredibly stoked. I’ve also just started a painting about shrooming for a psychedelia group show with Corey Helford Gallery that should be fun!

Whose studio would you like to peek into? If we’re talking living artists I’d probably want to see Jonas Wood, Olafur Eliasson, Dale Chihuly or Yayoi Kusama’s studio. If we’re talking dead artists- I’d wanna visit Monet and Dali’s houses of course, and I’d love to see what a working Renaissance studio looked like/ how it functioned so maybe Bernini or Gentileschi?

FOLLOW KRISTEN | INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Vans Girls #In the Studio #Kristen Liu Wong #painting #creative spaces

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one-of-us-must-be-crazy · 4 years

Note

Re: cute prompts—I would love to see their reactions if someone happened to assume they were a married couple for the first time while they were out and about one day. Perhaps they would roll with it, or maybe it would be a little awkward.

oooooooh

This spiraled out of control and I think I’m going to completely rewrite it, but here you are. Mind you I am taking so many cold medicine right now.

The north side of the city had it’s ups and downs, and Samuels liked it in limited doses. Amanda barely tolerated it. She was duly proud of a lunar heritage, a second generation, born of fate or fluke of bad luck on the same rock her mother was, born into the generation that would fight for declaration of rights to Lunar citizens and their spouses, Amanda signed a couple petitions and turned out on election days when she remembered. There was just a fleeting moment of an echo of a victory when she heard the laws pass, how she imagined a casual sports fan must feel on hearing their home team’s first win in a long time, but it was gone when she heard someone call her name across the crowded cafeteria, and the dull roar of the dockhands all rushing into lunch hour over powered that of the TV.

Mostly, the fact she’s a lunar only occurs to her when she starts her internal, bitching monologue at how much she absolutely fucking hates Luna City. Smaller than New York, twice as shiny, and every inch more valuable than her life three times over, and all the music and film and art producers; it was noisy with tourists and the general unquiet ambience that Luna always had that unnerved from it’s great distance to Terra composes and artists for thousands of years.

She’s been spending too much time indulging Samules’ interest in art and film, and she rubs her eyes at the harsh daylight after leaving the latest art gallery, old concept art from movies about Luna going back two hundred years complete with film cells from that one by the French guy who’s name she kept mispronouncing.

“Everyone out here has charged us for admission for two,”

“Because there’s two of us, and this place is turning into the The Kingdom Park all over again,”

“Have you been?” he asks, vacantly, only recently letting himself look ahead beyond the following morning.

“If you’re asking if I want to go, hell no. But yeah. I repaired the antique space themed coaster, a team I was on got contracted right after Weyland-Yutani bought the franchise. Have you been there?”

“No.” If he was going to ask something else, or question her opinion on some obscure creation they’d just seen inside, he changed his mind, and hurried slightly to walk in line with her. They fell into pace naturally once he caught up; he of slightly more than average height, and her on the tall side, their gaits were similar. “So...it’s getting late,”

“Tired?”

“I don’t--I’m not--”

“I get it, okay? You aren’t physically tired, you don’t think they should have charged us for two tickets, and you probably aren’t hungry right now, but you know what? Maybe you’re mentally tired, and just want to relax now, maybe it’s better to shell out a little more an get to see how it feels to be treated like a human once in a while, and I don’t think you’ve ever tasted real ice cream.”

The crowds were thick, but no one acknowledged them, or the subject of Amanda’s short rant. Moments of silence passed before Samuels very subtly offered her his arm, and Amanda linked hers through it instantly. There had been very few times in her life that she had wanted to hold someone’s hand in public, but if he was going to offer, she’d take it. She walked a little closer to him too.

“I only mentioned it was getting late in case you wanted to get something to eat for yourself,”

“Treating a girl to a day out and dinner? And expecting nothing in return?” she was teasing, but as close to him as she was she could feel him get a little warmer. “Don’t worry,” she smiles, admittedly a little tired, admittedly more interested in a hot shower alone and curling up in bed with him in the warmest pajamas she owned, “You can have whatever you want later,”

“I--thank you? Where do you want to get dinner?”

“Cafe next block up might have less screaming children than the pizza place,”

“Sounds like a logical option,”

Amanda’s noes crinkled, and she bit back her ‘okay, Spock,’ comment. They’ve had a lot of small and sweet moments today, and it’s starting to make her feel uncomfortable.Inside the cafe is full, but not crowded, and Amanda crosses quickly to a row of tables along the back windows, far away from the noise from the street. She doesn’t bother with a menu, all these places have the same junk, and she mostly just wanted a coffee anyway, but Samuels already has a menu out and opened, even though she’s never seen him consume anything closer to food than a black coffee.“All the....items are named after lunar flights.”

“Welcome to tourist hell. Why do you think I live south of the city?”

“Tranquility and it’s surrounding districts are more...utilitarian.”

“Ugly as hell but affordable.”

“And a dozen of my face walking around,”

“Among other synthetics.”

“Do you know what you’re getting?”

“I was just going to get a coffee here and order take away on the way home,”

“Order whatever you’d like,”

She didn’t know many live-in couples, but the few she did all complained of the same thing: running out of things to talk about, and now, even after spending so much time seeing and doing things, she couldn’t think of five words to string together to make any kind of conversation. He’s too good for me, a part of her said, An actual human would be more companionable, another crueler part of her mind insisted. She shook her head a little in hopes to shut up both sides, only hearing the ending of a conversation that didn’t involve her.“Amanda?”

“What, sorry?” for not being an ‘actual human’ his expression was all bemused admiration as she forced her train of thought back into the present, and the young waitress (a hideous uniform in general theme of ‘retro space’ that half this part of the city had: red mini skirt, blue blouse, white boots, and eyeliner that the 1970′s wanted back) looking a little entertained by him.

“The waitress asked what you wanted,”

“Take your time,” the waitress said, “Your husband was saying you guys just went to gallery row, if you’re staying much longer I was going to suggest the museum of science fiction.”

“I’m a local,” Amanda said, correcting her. Samuels looked like someone had walked up behind her and put a gun to the back of her head, and she almost turned around to see what was going on. “He’s the one that’s new here,”

“Well, welcome to Luna,” the girl smiled brightly as he came back online,

“Thank you, I’ve...had a very good time here so far.”

“And keep giving him ideas,” Amanda smiled, “He’s not my husband. Not yet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What can I get for you guys?”

“Coffees, two, black, and we’ll split a strawberry cake slice?”Samuels is still staring at Amanda, partially confused and paritlaly shocked, looking rather frightened, long after the waitress had come and gone with their food and more pleasantries.

“Chris, take it easy you look like you were handed a divorce statement, not a mistaken for married,”

“You weren’t upset,”

“No?”

“Would you want to be married?”

“We’ve been dating for a month,”

“We’re dating?”

“I don’t know what concerns me more, the fact that you didn’t realize we were dating, or the fact that you were asking if I wanted to marry you when you didn’t think we were dating.”

“I know--I know we’re together, but I thought dating implied...I don’t know. We live together. I don’t know what that makes us.”

“Sinners?”

“You always struck me as more modern than that,”

“Very true, I’m just trying to see what will make you crack a smile. You look like you’re stressed.”

“I am. But--I mean it, what does that make us?”

“Dating, I guess. A couple, internally I keep thinking of you as my boyfriend but that doesn’t sound dignified enough for you. Man-friend makes me sound like an old woman trying to hide from her grandchildren that she’s dating again.”

“So....you would be my girlfriend?”

“If you’d like,” she sipped at her coffee, hoping to just finish it and go home, not sure if she wanted to sit him down and lecture him on general norms of dating again, or kiss him until that stupid look was finally off his face.

“But would you want to be married?”

“Jesus, I don’t know! I like you a lot, more than--I’ve really cared about anyone in a long time. But again, I haven’t known you that long.”

“Out of pure curiosity, how long would...you have to be in a relationship, in any good relationship, before you would want to get married?”

“I don’t know if I want to get married? To anyone--not just to--Chris, this isn’t--I don’t know how long. I don’t know how I could ahead of time. You’re...you’re more and more human every day and yeah, I already feel like this is work, but I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time so maybe that’s just how these are, but married?”

“I would like it...I think. It’s--a closeness I’d like to have with y--...with someone. I have no expectations on a time line but I don’t know about... Well, any of it. Anything.”

“To be honest, neither do I...But we can learn,”

“I like that idea,”

“Good. So do I,”

#chryseis

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spidergwenstefani · 5 years

Text

Good Neighbors

This is for @winterhawkkisses because moving is v stressful and you asked for happy ending fic recs and I haven’t read enough fics lately to deliver on that so I just wrote one. Pls enjoy this no powers AU featuring two dumb boys pining uselessly.

“You don’t have to do this,” Clint says to the back of his new neighbor’s head. Or not head, exactly. He hasn’t been able to drag his eyes much further above his waist.

“Where does this box go?” the guy says instead, shouldering open the apartment door. He turns enough to give Clint an easy smile, and Clint’s own box goes tumbling out of his hands without his permission.

“Shit,” he says, because the tape has managed to burst open and now there’s silverware skidding noisily across the hallway tile. “Shit, hang on-”

Hot neighbor is at his side in an instant, tucking his hair behind his ears and giving Clint the kind of gentle smile that he’s just now realized has been absent from his life for too long. He sets the box back upright, gathering up a handful of forks and nestling them back in the bubble wrap.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.” Clint hadn’t even realized they had skipped over introductions. He scoops up an armful of utensils and dumps them back in the box with considerably less care.

“Clint,” he offers.

“Nice to meet you, Clint,” Bucky says, and he picks up the box, leaving Clint empty-handed. Bad call. Now Clint’s got nothing to do but run his mouth as Bucky crosses the threshold and officially becomes his first new houseguest.

“Are you on this floor?”

“Thirty-one B. Right across the hall.” There’s no furniture in the place yet, and Bucky does a full scan of the empty living room before setting the boxes down against the far wall.

“So we’ll see a lot of each other, then. Well, and you’ll see a lot of Lucky. I think you’d get along. Oh, and Kate. You’ll see her too.”

“Kate?” Bucky asks, taking a moment to plant his hands on his hips and catch his breath. Clint can’t help but drag his gaze across Bucky’s arms. Natasha keeps telling him that the torn-off sleeves look is out, but somehow he feels like Bucky, with his half bun and dark skinny jeans, could convert her with one look at his AC/DC shirt. Clint finds himself picking anxiously at the waistband of his moving day sweatpants.

“Yeah, Lucky’s ours. Together. He’s our dog.” The barest hint of a frown tugs at Bucky’s mouth for a moment, and then it’s gone. Aw, no. Clint really hopes Bucky doesn’t hate dogs.

“You have more boxes?”

“Um, yeah. And a mattress.”

Bucky’s back to friendly smiles that tug at Clint’s heartstrings.

“Let’s do this.”

>>==========>

Clint’s hand hovers a few inches over the shiny brass 31B. There are voices coming from inside. A lot of voices, like Bucky’s got a party going on. Clint should probably leave them to it. He should probably go back to figuring out how to hook up his DVR and just use google maps to figure out what his new address is. Bucky probably doesn’t have time to-

There’s the slide of the lock and then the door is swung open, both Clint and Bucky freezing in surprise at suddenly being face to face.

“Sorry-” Clint starts, at the same time Bucky says “I was just about to-”

They pause again, and then Bucky’s giving him his easy smile.

“You go first.”

“I- I was just going to order pizza, and I couldn’t remember the address for the building.” Clint finally remembers to drop his hand from where it was poised ready to knock. He clutches the take-out menu in both hands, his daydream of Bucky joining him for an empty apartment floor pizza picnic now long abandoned. He even showered before coming over, just in case his dreams played out for once. He put on jeans.

“Well, I can give you the address if you want, but I was about to ask you if you wanted to get in on the pizza happening on this side of the hall. My buddy Steve watches TV like a geriatric, so we’re making him marathon Dog Cops and-”

“Yes,” Clint says a little too fast. “I love Dog Cops. I love pizza, too.” Bucky smiles wider and steps back from the doorway, waving Clint inside.

“Great. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

Bucky’s apartment is the mirror image of Clint’s, which he should’ve expected. There’s furniture in this one, though. And more than just a camping lantern to light the living room.

“This is Steve, the dinosaur,” Bucky says, gesturing to an absolute beefcake of a man perched somehow delicately on the arm of Bucky’s overstuffed couch. “That’s Tony next to him, and Sam’s in the kitchen.” Tony seems to be using one of Steve’s massive thighs as a pillow instead of the perfectly good couch cushion, which Clint wouldn’t dream of blaming him for. He offers a jaunty wave, and Clint’s eyes catch on his t-shirt. It’s the same AC/DC one Bucky was wearing earlier in the week. He’s got a blazer thrown on over it like it’s 2005, so the ripped off sleeves aren’t as noticeable, but it’s definitely the same one.

“So you’re the neighbor with the dog,” somebody says, and Clint manages to swallow his sudden disappointment down and turn to meet Sam.

“No dog yet,” Clint says, shoving his hands in his pockets and saying a silent prayer to whatever deity of wishful thinking drove him to actually shower today. Bucky and company are a freakishly attractive group. “But, yeah. That’s me.”

>>==========>

“Clinton Francis,” Kate says sternly, giving him a look over the rim of her sunglasses. “Putting out a dog bed, a mattress, and a coffee machine does not count as moving in.”

“I’m working on it,” Clint says, swinging his legs over the roof ledge and reaching back to give Lucky’s ears a scratch. “There’s a fridge-”

“Which was there when you moved in,” Kate points out. Clint ignores her.

“I made friends. Like, three of them. Three and a half.” He’s not sure if he’d count Tony as a friend. He seems nice, if a little overwhelming. Clint just can’t quite get himself to befriend the guy who’s almost certainly dating Bucky. He had to spend half his conversations with Tony just willing himself not to stare at the damn shirt.

“That’s pretty good,” Kate concedes, pushing her sunglasses back up. “You need to go find some furniture, though. You can’t just live out of boxes for the foreseeable future.”

“I know.” Clint swings himself around on the roof ledge so he’s facing in, taking Lucky’s face in his hands so he can do something other than look at Kate. Lucky drools happily on his arm. “I’m going to Salvation Army tomorrow. I could just live up here like a hermit instead, though. I mean, check out that view.”

“Check out that view,” Kate says, and Clint looks up from smushing Lucky’s face around to see Bucky standing hesitantly in the roof access doorway, carrying a propane tank and sporting a Metallica t-shirt with notably absent sleeves.

“Hi,” Bucky says, floundering for another moment in the doorway before finally starting across the roof. He sets the tank down next to the grill, sliding it under the rain cover. Clint has to look away as Bucky squats down, thighs straining against his skinny jeans.

“Your new neighbor is sex on legs,” Kate hisses, and Clint can pick it up easily enough so he figures she’s barely managing below a stage whisper.

“I bet his boyfriend thinks so too,” Clint breathes. Kate arches an eyebrow at him over her sunglasses, but Bucky’s finished whatever he was doing with the grill so Clint doesn’t dare risk an explanation. He goes for introductions instead.

“Kate, Bucky. Bucky, Kate.” Bucky wipes his hands on his jeans, giving Kate a half wave. He’s still a few yards away and seems reluctant to come any closer. Maybe because Lucky’s panting hopefully at him. Wow. The poor guy must really hate dogs.

“Nice to meet you,” Kate says, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head so she can give Bucky the whole batted eyelashes and sparkling eyes song and dance. Clint puts his full focus into rubbing Lucky’s ears. “I’ll probably be around here a lot. Maybe we’ll see more of each other?”

“Um, yeah.” Bucky’s eyes stay on Lucky and Clint. He doesn’t seem too enthused. “Yeah, maybe.”

>>==========>

Clint took his aids out hours ago as an easy way to block out the hammer-induced headache. If Kate hadn’t insisted on dragging him all the way to Ikea to supplement his Salvation Army finds, he wouldn’t even have the cheesy art prints to hang up in the first place. They do kind of brighten the place up, in a way. The wall clock is helpful, at least, and the dog on one of the prints might not have a smile as sweet as Lucky’s, but Clint decides he’s growing on him.

Lucky still holds the title of Best Dog, though. The puppy in the painting doesn’t do shit to let Clint know when somebody’s at the door.

“Coming,” Clint calls out, setting his screwdriver and Ikea manual aside to answer the door. Lucky settles back down on the dog bed he’s dragged out from the bedroom. Best Dog. “Hang on, I just-” The door swings open to show Bucky, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face.

“Hi,” Bucky says. “Sorry, I-” He’s talking fast, and Clint loses track of his words pretty quickly. He trails off anyways as he notices Clint watching his lips. “Um.”

“Hang on, let me get my ears in.” Bucky looks a little confused at that, but he steps into what is gradually becoming an actual apartment as Clint finds his aids on the newly salvaged coffee table. He hooks them back in, switching them on as Bucky stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, wringing his hands. “Okay, go ahead.”

“I was just coming over to see if you needed help. I could hear the hammering earlier, and, uh, then the swearing. I know the sound of a Grönlid when I hear one.”

“It’s an Ektorp, actually,” Clint says, and Bucky smiles even as he wrinkles his nose.

“Really? Gross.”

“Yeah, Kate said the same thing. I could use a hand, actually.” Bucky’s got a half frown on again, and Clint follows his gaze over to Lucky, curled up on his bed. “Um. Kate left Lucky with me for the week. I hope you don’t mind.”

Bucky crosses the half-assembled living room to crouch down in front of Lucky, who thumps his tail at him.

“You don’t happen to know Swedish, do you?” Bucky asks, scratching his fingers gently over Lucky’s head. His tongue lolls out and Clint feels a little like he’s melting.

>>==========>

There’s a wildly unexpected amount of World War Two books on Bucky’s shelf, and Clint finds himself running his fingers over the spines, sort of wishing he could glean deep knowledge about Bucky just by touching his possessions.

“So, you got a hard-on for Churchill or something?” It’s absolutely not any of the things Clint wanted to say, but he can’t exactly take the question back. He slides a book out at random, pretending like he gives a shit about trench warfare just so he doesn’t have to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah. That top hat? Are you kidding me? Absolutely dreamy.” Bucky sidles up beside him and their shoulders knock together. Clint turns in time to see Bucky take a drink of his beer, and he can feel his cheeks burning as his eyes slide over the graceful lines of Bucky’s throat. He’s unfairly beautiful at any given moment, but seeing Bucky alone in his apartment, in his natural habitat, brings out a sort of softness in him that Clint’s pretty sure is quickly ruining him forever. “No,” Bucky says after a moment. “Those books are mostly recommendations from Steve. He’s the real war buff. World War Two is kind of his thing.”

“And here I was thinking Steve was just regular buff.” Bucky bumps their shoulders together again as he laughs, and Clint kind of wants to just knock his head against the bookshelf. “So what’s your thing, then?”

“The Cold War,” Bucky answers, ducking a little lower to show Clint the bottom few shelves. Clint follows him down and ends up face to face with a picture frame. “That was my focus in college. There’s just something about the drama of it all, you know? The spies, the intrigue. It’s kind of romantic in a tragic sort of way.” The picture in front of Clint has Bucky, Steve, and Tony in it. They’re standing together in the sunshine like somebody asked them to pose, but clearly Tony’s just said something funny because Bucky’s broken eye contact with the camera and Steve is actually falling over, clutching at a Metallica t-shirt that looks painfully familiar, although it still has it’s sleeves.

“Romantic?” Clint drags his eyes away from the picture frame to see Bucky looking pensive, running his thumb over a bookmark sticking out of one of his books.

“Maybe that’s not the right word,” he says, and then he turns back to Clint with one of his easy smiles. “C’mon, then. Are we watching Dog Cops or not?”

>>==========>

“This place is really coming together,” Bucky says, and Clint smiles at him as he hears Sal’s pick up on the other end of the line.

Thank you, he signs, because he’s taught Bucky that much. He starts putting in his pizza order from memory, keeping half an eye on Bucky as he wanders around the apartment. He has the living room all set now, and his sturdy little table from Goodwill might be a little small for the dining room, but at least it’s something. He even has a bed frame now, although he hasn’t put it together yet. Bucky busies himself with examining the dining room chairs, the ones Clint mentioned his repair plans for in passing. He seems to deem them sturdy enough, because next, he joins Clint in the kitchen.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many take-out menus in one place,” Bucky says, jerking his chin at the collage on Clint’s fridge. “I didn’t even know half these places existed.”

“Yeah. Kate says I’m going to have a heart attack by the time I’m forty.” Bucky just hums in response, frowning a little at the menu for Joy Garden. “I mean, I won’t. I exercise. I eat fruits and stuff.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Bucky snorts. “I still can’t figure out how your shoulders can be that amazing without you skipping leg day every day.” Clint hip checks Bucky out of the way so he can stick the Sal’s menu back up in its proper spot on the fridge.

“I do archery, actually. I work in the range most days. My favorite bow has a draw weight of about two fifty, so that takes care of most of my workouts.”

“Jesus,” Bucky says, actually looking a little pink “Two fifty? That’s- That’s more than I weigh.” Clint shrugs, knocking their shoulders together in a poor attempt to get the shell-shocked look off Bucky’s face.

“Well, you’re tiny so that’s not saying much.”

It breaks whatever spell he was under, and the look on Bucky’s face tells Clint he’s about to get a vicious elbow jab before Bucky freezes again.

“Does Kate ever visit you at the range?” He sounds almost sad when he says it, turning his head away and tucking his hair behind his ears.

“She works there too, so she doesn’t have to.” Bucky’s gotten a little too quiet all of a sudden, and Clint’s not sure exactly how to fix it. “You should come visit us, sometimes. Give her a chance to show me up.”

“I’d believe that when I see it,” Bucky says, and Clint blinks at him.

“What?”

Bucky frowns fully, like he’s thrown by Clint’s confusion.

“You’re pretty amazing. If you do archery that often, I bet you’re great at it. And Kate doesn’t exactly have the shoulder mass to be much competition.” Clint’s mouth might actually be hanging open at this point.

“You really think I’d be better than Kate?”

“Well, yeah.” Bucky’s still frowning at him, and Clint kind of wants to kiss him.

“You so have to watch me shoot. Kate will be so pissed that I finally get to have someone cheering me on for a change.”

>>==========>

“Okay. Okay, Clint- Clint, wait.”

“I’m waiting,” Clint says, doing a piss poor job of keeping the laughter from his voice as Bucky follows him down the street. He reaches out a hand and Clint slows enough to catch it.

“Wait.”

“I’m waiting.” Bucky twines their fingers together, misjudging his distance a bit and ending up leaning heavily on Clint’s shoulder. He pauses for a moment, then laughs too, burying the sound in the sleeve of Clint’s t-shirt.

“You should come out with us all the time,” Bucky says, and Clint shivers just a little at the feeling of his lips moving through the fabric.

“Maybe I will,” Clint says. Bucky is probably the touchiest drunk he’s ever met, and the novelty of having a new member in his usually karaoke night gang was likely what made Clint the target of all his affection. He’s spent the night being hugged, leaned on, poked, and petted, and now that he’s walking Bucky home, they’re actually holding hands. Clint knows he should feel guilty about it. Well, he thinks he should feel guilty about it. He’s not exactly sure why at the moment.

“We’ll make Tony come next time, too. He’s wild.” Bucky’s holding Clint’s hand in both of his now, but the warmth of him doesn’t hold up much against the guilt that washes over Clint like a bucket of ice water.

“Yeah, you probably should.” Clint extricates himself gently from Bucky’s hands, earning a whine for his troubles. He pats him a little on the shoulder, which seems to soothe him enough to keep him walking toward the apartment. “I bet you like having Tony at karaoke night the best anyways, right?”

“No, you’re my favorite now.” And that’s all kinds of guilt right there. Clint shakes Bucky off just a little more, putting a respectable distance between them while still giving him a shoulder to lean on. All his floaty fuzziness from before has dropped right down through his stomach like a one-ton weight. “Tony only sings boring dad rock. You pick fun songs. Billy Joel is way better than Metallica.”

“I thought you liked Metallica,” Clint says. Bucky leans his head on his shoulder, and he decides to allow that, at least. He shakes his head against Clint’s sleeve.

“No. I just wear the shirts because they’re Tony’s.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. “Yeah, I figured.

>>==========>

Clint’s always found something about summer storms kind of lovely. Maybe it’s how the air hits the perfect temperature for opening all the windows and perching on the fire escape. Maybe it’s how the city simmers down to a calm sort of happiness while the rain drums away outside. Maybe it’s just the way New York doesn’t reek for once.

The city lights have bled into a hazy glow with the drizzle, and Clint takes a cold beer with him to sit outside and listen to the white noise of the city. Lucky curls up on the rug beneath the window, not as interested in figuring out how to walk across the grate with his paws.

“You alright?”

Clint almost jumps a mile at Bucky’s voice, his hands slipping on wet metal as he tries to turn back to the window. He manages to spill about half his drink on himself before finally turning around to face Bucky.

“Sorry,” Bucky says sheepishly, waving a hand full of envelopes and a small package. “I ended up with some of your mail, and- I guess I could have left it outside, but Mark over in twenty-one A said that somebody’s been taking his shit so I thought I’d bring it over. And then you didn’t answer, and the door was unlocked, and you’re just sitting out here in the rain, so…” Bucky trails off, glancing down at Lucky a little desperate as if he can offer any kind of help. Clint kind of feels like somebody’s got a vice grip around his heart.

“It’s nice out here,” he says. “You can join me, if you want. Unless you think you’ll melt.”

“Only one way to find out, I guess,” Bucky says, although there’s still something kind of shaky in his smile. He sets Clint’s mail down on the floor, giving Lucky a pat like he needs him to stay on guard, and then Clint’s scooting over so Bucky can climb over him and settle down in a dry enough spot. He nestles in right next to Clint, pressing them together from shoulder to ankle.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the cars go by and people walk past below. It’s still peaceful with Bucky next to him, but Clint feels a little like there’s an electric current running through every part of them that’s touching.

Bucky shifts for a moment, to get more comfortable, or maybe he’s just about to leave. Either way, he slides his arm out from between them, and Clint finds himself sucking in a breath at the contact.

Bucky freezes, his eyes locking on Clint’s, and the white noise of the city suddenly feels deafening, pounding in Clint’s ears like a stampede. Or maybe that’s his heartbeat.

He swallows, and Bucky’s eyes drop down to Clint’s mouth. He licks his lips automatically, the moment pressing too hard against his chest for him to find any breath.

Bucky leans in then, not fast at all, but Clint still can’t find the time to think before their lips are pressed together. There’s nothing rough about it, no clashing of teeth or biting of lips, but the urgency of Bucky’s lips sliding against his feels far from gentle.

Clint kisses back, letting Bucky’s sighs against his lips fall into rhythm with the drum of the rain and the thud of his heartbeat. He doesn’t think about it. There’s a ghost of a thought. Maybe he thinks about not thinking about it, but it’s not until Bucky groans against his mouth and gets a fist in his shirt that Clint pulls back.

“Fuck,” he says, and he hates how rough his voice sounds. “Bucky, we can’t-”

“I know,” Bucky says, and Clint hates how cold his chest feels when Bucky’s pulled his hands away. He hates how he plays with the hem of his own shirt, the Def Leppard one that Clint’s seen Tony wear at least five times by now. “I know, I’m sorry. I just- fuck.” Bucky hides his face in his hands, and Clint flounders, not sure if he should comfort him or not. “I’m sorry,” Bucky says again, his voice muffled. “I didn’t want to- God. I know you and Kate are happy together, I just-”

“Kate?” Clint almost shouts, because Kate is the last person on his mind right now. “Why do you care about Kate? What about you and Tony?”

“Tony?” Bucky drops his hands to look at Clint in shock. “What about me and Tony?”

“What about you? You’re dating.”

“I’m not dating Tony.” Bucky really is shouting now.

“You have pictures together! You wear his shirts!”

“To piss him off! He hates when I rip the sleeves off, and I only do it because it drives Steve crazy too, and they’re this close to realizing how in love with each other they are and- why am I talking about Steve and Tony? You’re dating Kate!”

“I would never,” Clint splutters, and it’s his turn to shout. “No, gross. She’s like my sister!”

Bucky’s face has about twenty emotions in it at once, and Clint can’t tell what any of them are. Bucky opens his mouth and Clint feels like he’s about to get yelled at again.

“You’re not dating Kate.” Bucky’s voice is suddenly much quieter, and he talks slowly. “And- and I’m not dating Tony.”

“So,” Clint says, because it seems like the right word to prompt him forward. Bucky frowns at him, his brow furrowing with genuine confusion.

“So why the hell aren’t we kissing?”

Clint blinks at him. He raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again. It’s been… Christ, it’s been nearly a year since he and Bucky met, and all this time Clint thought he was with Tony. He can almost feel the gears turning in his own head, clicking new things into place. Clint looks at Bucky, his hair damp with soft summer rain and his eyes boring into Clint in the fading evening light.

“I don’t know,” Clint says. He leans forward, pinning Bucky against the metal of the fire escape and tangling his fingers in his hair. “Why the hell haven’t we been kissing for almost an entire year?”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, but it sounds like a plea, and Clint is happy to oblige.

#winterhawk #my fics #buckyclint #rated: g #i looked up the ikea catalog for this

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emilococo · 4 years

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So Much for Milo Coco

Ay ay ay, has it officially been a decade since I first let myself be exposed online? It seems like yesterday I made an account here when I started joining sites like these, I wanted to make something of myself. I would use them to share with you ideas and concepts of mine, they seemed like the perfect hub for me to express myself. These places where I learnt new tricks, where I can grow as an artist. My experience on each one of them has left an impact, as I've come across many talented, aspiring individuals who I can emphasise with. While I would focus on my studies, I have these sites to help give my career a boost. When I started joining sites like these, I wanted to make something of myself. I would use them to share with you ideas and concepts of mine, they seemed like the perfect hub for me to express myself. These places where I learnt new tricks, where I can grow as an artist. My experience on each one of them has left an impact, as I've come across many talented, aspiring individuals who I can emphasise with. While I would focus on my studies, I have these sites to help give my career a boost. But lately, things have been much harder for me, as we reach the end of the 2010s, I'm going to be really open with you.

You're probably wondering why I've not posted much new pieces here, well the truth of the matter is that I've lost the drive to do any artwork. For the past few years, doing these studies would become stressful for me. No matter how hard I tried to get my work to a high standard, it could never be good enough. Part of this comes from my perfectionism, in that I would spend so much time on a certain aspect that I have to juggle so many of these agendas of mine. It's not like I couldn't understand a brief, I just wanted to do it the way that I can. The thing is that I cannot do things on command, I would rather spend a good portion of my time getting the project done right, otherwise, it would look haphazardly. I've reached the point where I went through a phase where I hit a creative block, I feel like I was scraping my brain for any ideas. I've struggled to make sense of these thoughts that I went into a quandary. Whenever I would put my hands to a keyboard, my mind would go blank. I was also told time and again that my work would not appeal to today's consumers, but I for one always wanted to work in my way. I've never been one to copy any form of zeitgeist, I never wanted to follow trends, but start my own. If there was some trend that interested me, I would want to interpret it my way. So with this pressure on me to achieve these goals, I needed to take some much-needed recuperation, to reflect on the decisions I made and do some soul searching. Whenever I would do something creative, I just didn't feel the urge to make art at all. I felt that my skills would not be up to standard and that what I do would never look as good as I hoped. I was going through this cycle where I wouldn't feel like working, no matter how much the people told me to get on with it, I would still not be motivated to do so. I don't know if it was something wrong with my brain, that the reason I take long with these projects was a mental issue. Maybe all the pressures of balancing all these assignments started to affect my mental and physical health. I always aimed to do such tasks, even if it was one step at a time. But I feel like no matter what I do, there was always this obstacle getting in the way of achieving it. Like fate was conspiring against me. Whenever I tried to get back into the routine of producing a piece, there were these insecurities, misfortunes and shortcoming that keep holding me back. I felt like Sisyphus, constantly pushing a heavy boulder up a hill, only for it roll back down again. I also had my mind set on one thing, and it would be fixated in doing that one thing that I couldn't be able to multitask. I was just leaving these goals and ambitions on the back burner, whether its because they were taking longer than I initially planned, or that I didn't have the proper resources. I was hoping that at this point, I would have gone somewhere, but I would be swamped at some point. I could hardly recognise myself, what I used to love doing had became arduous and tedious. I felt like I was a disappointment to the people who had faith in me (even my own family), but the person who I disappointed the most was my self. I want people to understand that I have limits to my ability. I feel that all my anxiety and this strive for perfectionism comes from my Aspergers Syndrome. Just to clarify, I'm not blaming my condition for my mistakes. At least I acknowledge my failures and struggles, I try to learn from them, I don't use it as an excuse for not accomplishing anything. If anything I want to prove that people who are on the spectrum are capable of accomplishing amazing feats in the field, no matter what occupation they choose. I don't want people to judge me on my condition, rather than the contents of my character. I've never talked about this with other people, but there have been times in my life where I have been depressed, where my anxiety would get the better of me. Despite my quiet facade, behind the artwork, there was a deep sadness that I tried to overcome. I've always used these sites and projects to help me overcome this woe, in some cases, I use it to come to terms with it. I've used the arts as this outlet for my emotions and to let out these frustrations. I don't want to suppress these feelings of mine, so I've tried to channel them healthily. I live for the arts and storytelling and expressing myself through these means was a coping mechanism. But I feel the hardest obstacle I've had to deal with, is society. I've always found it hard to make friends with new people, it's not that I'm socially inept, but sometimes I feel like nobody wants anything to do with me. Whenever I try to open up to other lightminded individuals, they tend to ignore me. It leads me to believe that I give a presence that turns people off, whether it's because I gave an opinion they disagree with, or that they don't understand a thing I say. Even online, no matter how much I pour into giving my thoughts and passion into something, I seldom ever get any attention for it. I feel that when I discuss more popular topics, then it gets people's intrigue. Even then, I only get so much as a simple comment. I was hoping for feedback on my artwork and writing, advice even. I'm not asking for a deep discussion or detailed critique, but I would appreciate it if someone could give a penny for my thoughts. I feel like the fool on the hill; I can handle the lack of feedback, I can even handle rejection. But sometimes it really gets to me when I have something important to give, yet others don't want to pay attention. Like I don't even exist to them. It would be nice to have a taste of some publicity, even the worse kind is better than none. This is the reason why I prefer to be alone with my thoughts because I don't want people to be recognised for any negative things I may have done. Even if I did go somewhere with my life, I would appreciate it if someone first knew me for my Cramp Twins fanart or something like that. It's why I kept myself anonymous from the public because I had this stigma that I wanted to be known for my achievement than how I look like. Now that we come to the end of the decade, I hope we can make 2020 our year to shine. I've come to accept that this will not be the end, but the start of a new chapter. We'll never see another year like it ever again, so please make the most of it. Because I can remember the 2000s ended with such a dark, dark year, that we were hoping that 2010 would be the light at the end of the tunnel. Throughout this decade, I've tried to make each moment from it as special as the last. We've gone through highs and lows, but I'm definitely grateful for the highs that we got. I achieved a lot during these past 10 years, and I couldn't be more grateful for the experience I've gained. I'm not sure what the future will hold for me or anyone else but if there's one thing I'll say, it's carpe diem. For you see, my resolution for the decade to seize every moment of every day. Take on every opportunity that comes my way without any hesitation. I want to take on similar achievements I've made for the past 10 years and amp them up 10 fold. No matter what obstacle stands in my way, I'll find a solution to make it though. For better or for worse, we can start the decade the best we can, to make it a year to remember. I can ensure you that I have big plans for the year. I've learnt not to give up on hope, I don't want to forget about my dreams or ambitions. I spent all this time trying to perfect my craft, I feel like now is the time to put it to use.

#depression #sadness #anxiety #2010s #thoughts #adversity #angrish #heart to heart talk #broken #creative block #drive

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peace-coast-island · 4 years

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Diary of a Junebug

Having a whale of a great time!

Scuba diving in the Crystal Blue Lagoon? Check. Collecting pearl oysters and whatever else lies at Sea Glass Shores. Check. Crafting a bunch of cool floaties and braving the Shimmering Whirlpool? Check and check. Riding whales towards the sunset? Check!

Vacationing at the Sparkle Islands has been exactly what I needed! It's nice meeting up with Lenie again as well as Nico and Dewey. The Fairweathers have been taking a break from recording and performing so they've been focusing on adventuring and solo endeavors.

I can't believe that Lenie's a college senior now - where did the time go? Jimmy's busy with family stuff so that's why he's not with us. It feels like forever since I last saw him - but that's what video chats are for! Also, his kids are adorable and I'm glad to finally meet them as well as his husband. Nico's been globe trotting as usual, full of fun and exciting stories to tell us. Dewey's been taking it easy, trying to create a better work-life balance after taking on too much last year.

So far their break has been going really well. With everything going on in their personal lives, they could really take some time off. Artist's block sucks but sometimes there's nothing you can really do about it other than wait it out and focus on other things. Creativity can be finicky, especially when you've got other things on your mind like responsibilities, burnout, or a busy schedule.

I've been in a bit of a creative slump as well. From running events at the camp to personal life stuff getting in the way, I've been feeling off this past week. Like I can't relax because I have a million things running in my mind. If I'm expecting a call or email I find myself unable to focus on anything else because I'm too busy mentally preparing for having to do something that makes me nervous and often drained at the end.

Fortunately, I managed to get pretty much all the boring and stressful adulting stuff out of the way. But after spending most of last week being on edge, it's hard to fall back into my normal rhythm. I've been kinda on autopilot, just trying to get through the day. Up until a couple days ago I've been feeling pretty meh most of the time.

Usually, to de-stress, I turn to art. Doodling, journaling, knitting - whatever creative medium I'm in the mood for. But when you're in an art block, it causes more stress. As someone who's been journaling for years, there will be times when you've hardly touched your notebook in days, weeks, and even months. I have to say, though, since running the camp I've been journaling in a somewhat regular basis - especially when I started incorporating art journaling into it - but I still have times when I'm just not feeling it.

Sometimes getting your feelings out on paper doesn't help, especially when you don't have the words to explain exactly how you feel without it sounding forced or an incomprehensible mess of words. There are times when I want to write about something but the words just don't come out right, so I end up scrapping the whole thing. And of course, there are times when I want to write about something that's been on my mind, only to end up rambling about something else and going off on that tangent.

Then there are times when your mind is so fogged up that you come up completely empty. Up until today, I've been head full of fog, thoughts completely empty. Still kinda feels like that, to be completely honest, but the fog's slowly clearing up. I think the whale ride really helped with that.

As someone who believes a change of scenery and a good distraction helps when life takes a lot of out you, I find that I have a hard time following my own advice. I'm all about taking time to forget your troubles and worries for a bit, but yet I'm having difficulty doing so. I don't know why, but I always find it difficult to completely let loose - like I let myself have fun but at the same time my worries are always there in the back of my mind. It's like I'm subconsciously telling myself to have fun, but not too much fun. As much as I want to let go, there's a part of me that holds on, making me afraid to let myself fall freely.

What's the point in telling people to escape their troubles for a bit when I can't even do that without feeling like I'm doing something wrong? It's not that I don't know how to have fun - though it's taken a lot longer for me to catch on than most people - but sometimes it feels forced. I don't know, it's always something I've struggled with - at least compared to most of my peers growing up. Maybe part of it comes from being a convenient person - one who doesn't ask for much, someone who doesn't go out of their way to bring attention to themselves - the kind of person who tags along and is just there.

It's kinda like I don't know exactly how to have fun. Sort of like I'm second guessing myself by wondering, "Is this what having fun feels like? Am I doing it right? Is this enough?" and of course, that totally defeats the purpose of escaping and letting go.

I have to say, being at the camp as helped a lot in terms of teaching me how to live in the moment and enjoy the good times to the fullest. It's still a bit of a new concept for me, but at least I'm coming out of my shell - and that's what counts. Maybe I'll never be as carefree as some people - I've been told that I'm kinda low-key and serious by nature - and I'm okay with that. Sometimes I wish that I could be a bit more vocal and expressive and active, but most of the time I'm happy with being an observer and doing my own thing in the background.

It was Chai and Rhonda's idea to visit the Sparkle Islands. It was on the list for a while but for the past year the islands were undergoing a lot of reconstruction so a lot of places were closed. Leyla, who's one of the princesses of the islands, was behind a lot of the restoration and repair of various sites.

Turns out that I just missed her when we visited Maron Heights to watch our friends perform in After Hours at the Opera. Because she was so busy getting the islands back in shape, she dropped by to see the show the night before we came and went back home the next morning.

Like with Kat, Hawk, AJ, and Elara, Leyla's been going through a bunch of changes as well now that things are settling down. Aside from rebuilding the islands, Leyla's getting reacquainted with her mom Archer, who disappeared about twenty years ago in a disaster that left part of the main island in shambles for years. Having her back is still a huge adjustment for Leyla and her momma Rosie as she missed out on a lot. Leyla and Kat are pretty much on the same page when it comes to reuniting with a parent who was presumed dead for most of their lives. Despite the initial awkwardness, things are going well.

As for Leyla, a heated reunion between her moms led to an unexpected surprise - three actually. In about five months their little family of three will double in size. While her moms are terrified, Leyla's at the point where she's fully looking forward to having three new siblings. Sure, it'll be tough as her moms are out of practice with taking care of a baby (or babies). The way Leyla sees it, the 20 + age difference is more of an advantage because she can easily help take care of the babies as her moms will definitely be overwhelmed.

So along with overseeing the islands, Leyla's been helping Rosie take care of Archer, who's on strict bedrest. Archer's doing okay for the most part but the pregnancy has taken a toll on her, especially since there's a high potential for complications. Now with reconstruction almost done - about 98% according to Leyla - she has been spending a lot of time with her moms.

It was by chance that we ran into Lenie and her brothers as well as Leyla and her moms. Leyla's been dropping by to check in on us but it wasn't until today she joined us on a fun filled day of crafting floaties and riding whales. Rosie insisted that Leyla take a well deserved break and invited us for dinner when we got back.

Crafting floaties was a lot of fun and so was diving in the Shimmering Whirlpool. It does take some getting used to though, and one should be a somewhat experienced swimmer as the currents can get quite unpredictable. A bit too rough for my liking at times - not a fan of being spun around quickly because motion sickness, ugh - but overall it was an interesting experience. Definitely more into crafting floaties though.

Maybe I would be more of a thrill seeker if I didn't get so dizzy easily. I can't even look at something spinning for more than half a minute without feeling a headache coming on.

Late afternoon and evening were much more chill, thankfully. Bubble tea, sandwiches, and ice cream at the beach. Building sandcastles and breaking open coconuts. Lying on a beach towel under an umbrella and watching the waves. It's hard to believe that a couple months ago this place was left in ruins.

The biggest highlight was the whale ride. Leyla set us up with some of her friends, who were more than happy to let us hop on and show us the ocean. And I have to say, it was an amazing experience!

For a moment, I was able to let go completely. No worries, no doubts, no second guessing myself. Just bliss and exhilaration. A rare moment in which I get to be in the moment instead of being aware that I'm living a memory that I'll be looking back on fondly someday. It's strange, to lose yourself like that and not feel... weird? Guilty? Disconnected? Like you're not enjoying it enough because a part of your mind is elsewhere.

Riding a whale towards a sunset - what a way to spend an evening! I guess my takeaway from this mind blowing experience is that I need to learn that a part of having fun is letting happiness come to you instead of forcing it or telling yourself that you should be enjoying this. I need to keep that in mind.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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