#ms paint you will always be there for me in my worst art blocks
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#ms paint you will always be there for me in my worst art blocks#this ones about my physical conditions which kill me when they flare up#aka me letting myself be a little dramatic for a moment#st sebastian#scoliosis#pmdd#chronic pain#art#blue#red#ms paint#nerves#internal organs
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Songs Used in Ozzy & Drix (Season 1)
Home With Hector
Tik Tok - Ke$ha
I Want You to Want Me - KSM
Girl-Crazy - LMNT
Follow Me Now - Jason Gleed
Human Fly - The Cramps
God Is A DJ - P!NK
Dancing With Myself - Billy Idol
I Wonder - Diffuser
Should I Stay Or Should I Go - The Clash
Cupid's Chokehold - Gym Class Heroes
Juliet - LMNT
Ms. Jackson - Outkast
Ultimate - Lindsay Lohan
Don't Mess With My Man - Nivea
These Boots Are Made For Walkin' - Geri Haiwell
DJ Got Us Falling In Love - Usher
Dynamite - Taio Cruz
Hello - Mindless Behavior
A Thousand Miles - Vanessa Carlton
Pieces of Me - Ashlee Simpson
Call Me Maybe - Carly Rae Jepsen
Don't Stop The Music - Rihanna
Permission to Party - KSM
We Belong Together - Mariah Carey
Moves Like Jagger - Maroon 5 ft. Christina Aguilera
Miracles Happen - Myra
One In A Million - Aaliyah
Reflex
Basketball - Bow Wow
Go Figure - Everlife
Danger Zone - Kenny Loggins
My Own Worst Enemy - Lit
Beat It - Michael Jackson
Basket Case - Green Day
So Bring It On - The Cheetah Girls
Eye Of The Tiger - Survivor
Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) - Kelly Clarkson
Irreplaceable - Beyoncé
You're The Best - Joe "Bean" Esposito
Come Clean - Hilary Duff
Strepfinger
Secret Agent Man - Johnny Rivers
Keep It Undercover - Zendaya
Missing U - Robyn
A Lousy Haircut
Strut - The Cheetah Girls
Solo Star - Solange
Beauty Queen - Lash
Hair - Lady Gaga
Oh, My Dog
Who Let The Dogs Out - Baha Men
Bounce - System Of A Down
Bow Wow (That's My Name) - Lil Bow Wow
Hound Dog - Elvis Presley
Puppy Love - Lil Bow Wow
Street Up
Jenny From The Block - Jennifer Lopez
Welcome to The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance
Drop It Like It's Hot - Snoop Dogg
Get Low - Lil John & The East Side Boyz
Back In Black -AC/DC
Paint It, Black - The Rolling Stones
Bloody Mary - Lady Gaga
Goo Goo Muck - The Cramps
Back to Black - Amy Winehouse
Gas of Doom
About You Now - Miranda Cosgrove
All I Want is Everything - Victoria Justice
When There's Smoke
Cigarette Duet - Princess Chelsea
The Globfather
Summer Is Not Hot - Selena Gomez And The Scene
Pon De Replay - Rihanna
Don't Eat Stuff Off The Sidewalk - The Cramps
Boombastic - Shaggy
Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride - Mark Keali'i
So Sick - Ne-Yo
Beyond The Sea - Bobby Darin
If It's Lovin' What You Want - Rihanna
Cancer - My Chemical Romance
Starships - Nicki Minaj
California Gurls - Katy Perry
Ozzy Jr.
Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N Roses
Always Be My Baby - Mariah Carey
Welcome to My Life - Simple Plan
Growth
American Idiot - Green Day
Drama Queen (That Girl) - Lindsay Lohan
So Yesterday - Hilary Duff
The In Crowd - Mitchel Musso
Wannabe - Spice Girls
Flavor Of The Weak - American Hi-Fi
Genie In A Bottle - Christina Aguilera
Distracted - KSM
Take Me Away - Lash
Rip Her To Shreds - Taryn 24
I Can't Hardly Stand It - The Cramps
Number One - Ginger Fox
How Bad Can I Be - Ed Helms
Mean Gurl - Gina Rene
Rumors - Lindsay Lohan
I'm Just A Kid - Simple Plan
The Art Of Losing - American Hi-Fi
The Middle - Jimmy Eat World
Tangled Up in Me - Skye Sweetnam
Run This Town - Jay-Z, Kanye West and Rihanna
She's So Mean - Matchboy T
Me Vs. The World - Halo Friendlies
Get Out - Mitchel Musso
Royals - Lorde
Sugar Shock
Sugar Rush - AKB48
Sugar, We're Going Down - Fall Out Boy
I Want Candy - Cory Simpson
Candy - Mandy Moore
Goodies - Ciara
Sell Me Candy - Rihanna
Candy Shop - 50 Cent
Lolipop (Candyman) - Aqua
The Sweet Escape - Gwen Stefani
The Dream Factory
Sleep - My Chemical Romance
Thriller - Michael Jackson
Someone's Watching Me - Hilary Duff
Rockin' Bones - The Cramps
Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics
Remains of The Day
Scream
The Monster - Eminem and Rihanna
Problem (The Monster Remix) - Becky G and Will.i.am
Ghost of You And Me - BBMAK
Teenage Dream - Katy Perry
The Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance
Ghost of You - Selena Gomez And The Scene
What Dreams Are Made Of - Hilary Duff
Friends On The Other Side - Keith David
House of Wolves - My Chemical Romance
Calling All The Monsters - China Anne McClain
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Scenic Views (e.b.)
Summary: an ocean view hike is supposed to be relaxing. so why wasn’t it for you and buck?
AN: i defs lost this request BUT i found it and here it is! I’m sorry that it took me so freaking long! i also added a little bit of spice to this
request: @tacopanda omg so cute. you and Buck go hiking on a very scenic hike to a view a ocean view and on the hike you end up spraining your ankle
You knew you shouldn’t have agreed to go on a hike with Buck. Buck was in impeccable shape, he was a firefighter, so of course he was in good shape. You were an amateur painter, who spent most of their time at an art studio than outside. You were healthy and in good shape but you never went out of your way to go to a gym and workout.
But when Buck asked for something, you usually caved. And this time, he wanted to go on a hike with you. Saying that maybe seeing that beautiful view of the ocean would give you the inspiration you were severely lacking.
It wasn’t every day that the most prestigious art museum in LA showcased amateur artists and you were lucky enough to be one of the few to be featured. But, you needed a piece to showcase and you had no inspiration for one. Usually an idea just came to you and you’d go wild but given that you knew what could potentially come out of it, that was blocking your creativity immensely.
You were doing surprisingly well for someone who doesn’t particularly workout on a daily basis. You were keeping up with your boyfriend just fine for the most part.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this.” You groaned, climbing a rather steep incline. “You’re doing great though!” Buck commented. “I’m dying on the inside.” You rebutted. “With the pandemic, this is a good way for us to get out of the house and do some bonding.” He said. “We’ve been bonding, stuck at home, for over a year. How much more until you get sick of me?” You teased.
“I think it’s impossible for me to be sick of you, Y/N.” Buck said. You smiled up at him as the two of you reached what seemed like the end of the trail. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath as Buck looked at the view. “If this doesn’t give you the inspiration to finish your painting, I don’t know what will.” He said.
You stood up straight and walked towards where he was standing and overlooked the view of the ocean. “Wow. You don’t see a view like this every day.” you commented. There was really an ulterior motive for Buck bringing you on that hike.
A motive you were not aware of. You and him had been together for the worst moments of each other’s lives, even if it wasn’t always in a romantic sense. You were there when Abby left him, he was there for you when you started art school, you stayed by his side when he was suing the department and the city. Even through a global pandemic, the two of you stayed by each other through it all.
There was no doubt that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you and the scenery was beautiful and it felt like the right place to start. Given that you didn’t know about Buck’s plan, your impulsive and exploratory nature got the best of you.
There was a large rock a few feet away from where you and Buck were standing and you wanted to go get a better look of the ocean. You moved to stand on the rock while Buck was making sure he didn’t leave the ring at home.
You were looking at the view from the rock when Buck caught your attention. “Hey, Y/N?” He called. You turned around quickly and somehow lost your footing, bending your ankle in a very unhealthy manner and falling on your ass in the process.
When you hit the ground, the only thing you could do was laugh. Buck rushed to your aid, examining you for any serious injuries, while you were laughing hysterically.
“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” He asked you. “This is so embarrassing.” You laughed. “Are you hurt?” Buck questioned. “I think I hurt my ankle. Falling straight on my face.” You answered, still laughing.
Buck furrowed his eyebrows at your laughter before he pulled out his phone. “I’m calling 911.” He announced. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just a sprain.” You said. “A sprain that’s swelling up to the size of my wrist. Y/N, you need to go to the hospital.” He told you.
“Can’t you just carry me back down? I mean, you are a firefighter too.” You questioned. Buck looked at you for a moment, knowing that he really should call an ambulance for you. “Fine. But you’re going to the ER whether you like it or not. If you broke your ankle because of a hike I took you on, you’ll never let me live it down.” He finally said.
You and Buck made it back down to the parking lot and he carefully placed you in the passenger seat of the car. “I can’t believe I convinced you to do this. It’s my fault you got hurt.” He commented. “Buck, I’m the clumsiest person alive. No one is at fault here but my lack of reflexes.” You rebutted. “But,” He started. “No. No buts. It’ll be fine.” You told him.
You were in a good amount of pain but you didn’t want him to know that, knowing it would make him feel ten times worse.
At the end of the day, it was just a severe sprain. Nothing too terribly serious and you just had to keep it bandaged for a few days until the swelling went down. Buck felt terrible, so he made sure that whatever you needed he got for you without the usual complaining. Even though it wasn’t the ideal situation, you might have found the inspiration you were looking for.
__
It had been a month or so since your failed hike with Buck and it was the night of the showcase at the art museum. The entire 118 was going to be there which made you more nervous than you thought.
No one has seen the piece you made but you were rather proud of it. You told Buck that it was an abstract landscape piece but in reality it was much more than that. It was a simple, black and white portrait of Buck that you painted after a long night watching TV on the couch.
It wasn’t anything fancy or extravagant. It was just him, completely unaware that you were memorizing how he looked at that moment.
Everyone was standing around, drinking champagne and talking amongst themselves, while you were a bundle of nerves. You kept looking around the room, waiting to see when they were going to unveil your piece.
“Everyone’s going to love it. I mean, you haven’t shown me what it is, but I have no doubt it’s amazing.” Buck told you. You gave him a smile as the art curator stood in front of your piece. “Oh my god.” You muttered. “The next local artist contribution we’d like to unveil, comes from Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N.” She announced, before the sheet covering your portrait fell.
There were murmurs throughout the room but from what you could see on people’s faces, they were all positive murmurs. You avoided Buck’s gaze, afraid of what his reaction would. “Y/N, that’s amazing.” Maddie complimented. “Thank you.” You said, bashfully.
You then looked up at Buck, who was still staring at the painting of him. “So? Do you hate it? You hate it don’t you. I knew I should’ve asked if it was okay-” You started before his lips met yours. That seemed to silence you long enough for your nerves to dissipate.
“You really like it?” You whispered when you pulled a part. “I love it, Y/N. I-It’s incredible.” Buck answered. “I thought you didn’t have inspiration.” He added. “Well, after the hike and seeing how you were with me, that gave me inspiration. Because why not paint something I love so much?” You answered. “Will you marry me?” He said without really thinking. “I’m sorry, what?” You questioned.
“That was supposed to happen way more smoothly than me just blurting it out but, will you marry me? I was going to ask on our hike but then you fell.” Buck said. You were stunned at first, trying to process everything but you soon smiled and nodded your head. “Yes, Buck, I’ll marry you.” You answered.
No one around you was aware of what was going on and that was 100% fine by you. That evening was about your art and other people’s art, you didn’t want to take that away.
Buck reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box, opening it up and placing the ring on your finger. “Are we going to tell the others?” You asked, staring at the ring on your finger. “Tonight’s about you and your art. We can tell them tomorrow.” Buck answered.
You didn’t think a person could be more thankful to have sprained an ankle until now.
#911 imagine#911 fox#911 season 3#evan buckley#evan buckley imagine#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley oneshot#imagine#imagines
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Normal Love and Superheroes: Two - my city
Summary: Leena gets a meeting with the Bruce Wayne himself and a call from John Blake.
Pairing: John Blake x OFC (Leena Duckett)
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: none I think...characters discuss Sexy Times and getting drunk but like that’s it I suppose
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
“Why the heck would he want a private tour with me? He asked for me specifically?”
“Look that’s what he said over the phone, Leena.”
“But did he say why?”
“I’m so terribly sorry I didn’t take the time to ask Bruce frickin’ Wayne, one of the biggest patrons of the gallery, why he asked for a tour from you specifically.”
Leena blushed. “Sorry, Adeline. I just…”
“Don’t worry about it.” The blonde sitting behind the welcome desk smiled with a closed mouth. “I’d react the same way if I were in your shoes. A whole hour or more with Bruce Wayne….”
Another tour guide jogged up to the front desk from the bowels of the gallery. Leena turned and watched her approach. Phoebe had a look of conspiracy and impression on her long face. She came to a halt beside Leena and elbowed her in the side.
“So are you gonna take Mr. Wayne into one of the more….Private rooms of the gallery?” Phoebe asked with a wicked smile.
Leena rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the hot feeling that was spreading from her neck into her face. It was no secret about Gotham that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, was extremely attractive and constantly single. She saw the tabloid covers as she stood in line at the grocery store. She even ran into him outside of a restaurant one time. But his sexual promiscuity was not what bothered her about giving him a private tour. It was more the fact that he was Bruce Wayne, billionaire enigma businessman that seemed to have intimidation come out of his very pores. Who was she to be giving him a tour of the galleries that he often bought from? A no-name artist who worked two jobs, one of which she hated, to make ends meet? That didn’t sound like the kind of girl that should be giving a Wayne tours of anything.
“No I will not, Phoebe, Jesus!” Leena laughed.
“Oh, come on, have you seen him? Plus, you know he’d be open to it. He’s slept with every hot girl in Gotham and beyond.”
“Just cause he’s slept around doesn’t mean he’d be open to swapping spit in a broom closet with a random gallery tour guide.” Leena rolled her eyes. “Maybe he wants just a normal day out. Like anyone else.”
“God, you’re no fun,” Phoebe groaned.
“I think we know from after hours drinks just how fun Leena can be,” Adeline, the front desk girl, pitched in.
Leena rolled her eyes again and smirked. She always told herself, after those nights out, that she would never fall into the temptation of going again. She always got way too drunk, being a lightweight that fell very easily under peer pressure. And because she always got way too drunk, she always ended up doing something she regretted. Like dancing on top of a table, kissing some random person in the dark corner of the bar they frequented, or possibly recreating dance scenes from Chicago with very little success.
“Please stop,” Leena begged with a red face.
“Excuse me ladies.” An older gentleman with an English accent approached the front desk. He looked very nice in a dark suit with white thinning hair. “I’m here for my tour of the gallery.”
“Of course, what’s the name attached to the tour?” Adeline asked.
Phoebe squeezed Leena’s arm and wiggled her eyebrows before she trotted off, back into the gallery. And Leena was about to do the same, but —
“Bruce Wayne. I run his house and am looking for some new work to be put up. I believe I set aside a tour guide already?” the old man said.
“Oh, yes, you did.” Adeline typed on the computer for a moment, giving Leena a bit of side-eye as she did so. “You’ll be touring with Ms. Duckett.”
Leena let out a breath. A sudden wash of relief and disappointment running through her. She knew that the gallery was the place for many of Gotham’s most elite families to buy art for their various homes throughout the world. Rich folk wanting to support local artists. But she had never given a tour to any actual members of those families. It was always the butlers, the house runners, the managers, the publicists even. But they always state that it is the butler or the house runner coming to assess new pieces that have been put up. So when Bruce Wayne’s actual name was logged into the system, Leena really thought it was going to be him walking through the halls of their gallery. Really laying his eyes on the art and choosing it for himself rather than someone else choosing it for him and barely even noticing that it was hung in his manor. The disappointment didn’t last long, however.
Leena stepped towards the old man with a smile. “And I am Ms. Duckett. A pleasure to meet you…”
“Alfred, miss.” He held out his hand and she shook it.
“Well, right this way, Alfred.” She gestured for them to enter the gallery and she began to lead. “We’ll start with our glassworks suite — “
They entered the first room of the gallery. The Shefield Gallery was extensive, housing several different mediums of art from a variety of artists. Pure white walls to off balance the bright pops of color that the artwork created, heightening the customer intrigue. In this first room there were at least fourteen pedestals strewn about the room, each one holding a different piece of glass artwork. Leena liked to look at glasswork, but would probably never attempt creating any herself. Molten glass just seemed a little too dangerous for her taste.
“Actually, sorry to be a bother, but I was hoping to look at something specific on this trip.” Alfred pulled a piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Leena. “A piece specifically requested by Master Wayne.”
Leena stopped them and took the piece of paper with raised brows. It was a print out from the gallery’s website. Her eyes widened.
That was her painting. Put up in the employee suite of the gallery after much begging and finally the curator taking pity on her for being a slightly hungry artist.
She looked back up at Alfred to see him smiling at her. She quickly regained herself and asked, “Um — are you sure it’s this one that Mr. Wayne wants?”
“Yes. That’s the one.”
With a resigned nod and a thick swallow, Leena led Alfred to the employee suite. She could feel her fingers going numb. Bruce Wayne wanted her painting? Really? He asked for it specifically? She was sure that the old man had to be lying to her for her benefit. Playing some sort of weird joke that ended with her humiliated and a playboy billionaire laughing at the footage of her misfortune. Or maybe there was no farce and the man really did like her painting so much he wanted to buy it and hang it in his home. Leena rubbed at her neck. He would be the first person to ever like her work enough to do so.
They came to the employee suite and Leena stopped them in front of the painting in question. She put her head down as Alfred looked at it. His thin lips were quirked up in a small smile but she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.
“Pick your head up, miss,” he said, “I know you painted this.”
“Is that why you asked for me for your tour?” Leena asked.
“It is indeed.” His smile widened. “Master Wayne wanted me to see what kind of person could paint something like that.”
He pointed to the canvas and Leena furrowed her brows. She turned to the painting herself. Was there some vulgar message she, the artist, had missed? No. She couldn’t see it. All she saw was a portrait of Gotham at night. Done in oil paints on a medium sized canvas, Leena had always been told she leaned too far into her impressionist influences. But she couldn’t help it. Ordinary subject matter with a heightened sense of romanticism and color was something that Leena was just drawn too. The painting was Gotham at night, looking out over the skyline with the lights from the offices and apartments shining brightly, as if the viewer were looking down from the highest story of some building or other. In the glowing rooms in the foreground, people could be seen. Families, tired office workers, friends getting together.
She had titled the painting My City.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said, turning back to Alfred.
“Master Wayne sees Gotham as a dark place — a place full of hate, injustice, and cruelty,” Alfred said.
Leena pulled a face. “While I will not disagree with Mr. Wayne — Gotham is full of the worst kinds of things — but it is also still worth saving. And loving. And living in if only to save it and love it more.”
Alfred smiled, a soft and knowing thing that made Leena’s eyes narrow.
“And Master Wayne would agree with that sentiment as well.” He turned to the painting again, hands clasped behind his back. “Which is why he was drawn to your work so much. You share similar views on a city that many have lost faith in — a rare find, especially in art form.”
Leena was puzzled. Bruce Wayne grew up in Gotham, just like she did. But they saw completely different sides of Gotham. Wayne saw only the elite, the rich, the famous side. The side that lived in penthouse suites, owned entire blocks of buildings, and could afford to eat at those fancy restaurants downtown. The faces of Gotham City. While Leena saw the hands and feet, the workers and the heart and soul of Gotham. The side that worked fifty hour weeks, lived in the slums, and had to cut up and burn their own furniture to keep warm. Gotham wasn’t worth saving because of the side that Bruce Wayne saw, that made it worth damnation. Gotham was worth saving because of what Leena saw.
“Um — well — uh — I…I don’t really know what to say. I wish I could tell Mr. Wayne thank you in person.”
Alfred seemed to get an idea. “How about you deliver the painting in person to Wayne Manor? Tomorrow perhaps? You could thank him in person and he would get to meet the artist behind the painting that has captivated him for so long. That is, if you are free, of course.”
“Well, if he wanted to do that he could have come himself today.” Leena couldn’t stop the words before they came out of her mouth.
Her eyes widened as she stared at Alfred. God, she really needed to learn how to control her mouth. She could feel her neck heating up and her face paling all at the same time. Her face scrunched up as she closed her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t look at him he would just go away or she would just sink into the floor. Either option would spare her from the agonizing embarrassment ripping through her right now.
“I’m so — “
Alfred chuckled. He actually started laughing. A polite and somehow very British thing that had Leena’s eyes flying open.
“I couldn’t agree with you more, Ms. Duckett,” he chuckled out, “But Master Wayne has turned into a bit of a recluse as of late. And I really do think he would appreciate meeting you.”
Leena bit down hard on her lip. If it meant making the $500 the painting was priced at, she was willing to do anything honestly. Even it meant borrowing Jamie’s car and meeting the actual Bruce fricking Wayne himself. That was enough money to pay her half of the rent for the month and she only had to do one thing. Not work her ass off at two different jobs. Her need for the money more than outweighed her apprehensions about meeting a billionaire and talking to him about her art and her thoughts on Gotham.
“Alright. Tomorrow at three o’clock. Is that an okay time?”
“Oh, yes. Just in time for tea.”
_______________________________________________________________________
“Please could you stop the noise? I’m trying to get some rest,” Leena sang as she cleaned her paint brushes, “From all the unborn chicken voices in my head!”
She moved back to the canvas she had set up by the windows overlooking the city. Who knew getting a meeting with one of Gotham’s most influential men would give her inspiration for a new painting? The reference photo of Bruce Wayne was tacked into the corner of the canvas. She had gotten the idea on the train ride and subsequent bus ride back to her apartment when her shift at the gallery was over. Something about Bruce Wayne being a recluse and seeing the good in Gotham just gave her a spark of inspiration. A spark of inspiration to lesson her fears about meeting the man by painting him as a vigilante sasquatch.
It was at least making her feel better about the whole thing. Jamie had walked in from her own work shift with many questions about it. But Leena had only held up a finger for patience and put her headphones back in. Jamie knew what that meant. Her roommate had had a weird day and needed to vent through her art.
Leena continued to paint for some time. Lost in the music and the colors and shapes that flowed from her paintbrush. Leena’s mother had given her paints and paper when she was very little as a distracting craft while she tried to clean around the house. But her mother could not have known that that would have sparked a lifelong love for art and painting. A dedication to get better and better and find her own style. Winning contests, medals, and even studying art in college. Leena felt the most at home when she was painting. Felt the most herself when she had a brush in her hand and a vision in her head that just needed to be let out.
This was one of those ideas she just knew would consume her every waking, and possibly sleeping, thought until she got it out and onto the canvas. Vigilante sasquatch Bruce Wayne was going to camp out in her cerebral cortex until she had brought him to life. Trekking through the woods, covered in body hair, wearing a stupid bright red face mask. If he thought the city was so worth saving, then why didn’t he give money to the police department so they had the tools to catch the criminals loose on Gotham’s streets? Why didn’t he donate money to improve Gotham’s infrastructure, education, hospitals, mental health services, or literally anything else besides funneling money into his own company?
If she were to see him right now, she would have a piece of her mind to give him that was —
Her phone started vibrating in the pocket of her apron. Leena groaned. She had gotten into such a good groove, too. She pulled out her iPod first and paused her music. Then she flipped open her phone and held it up to her ear. She didn’t even bother to see who was calling. Her mother usually called around that time of day anyway.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” she asked as she pinched the phone between her cheek and shoulder.
“Uh — “ A distinctly male voice came through. “Sorry, this is John Blake. Were you expecting your mom to call you? Cause I can call back later.”
Oh, God. After realizing that, in her euphoria, she had forgotten to get his number, she had been waiting to hear from him for nearly two days.
“Oh, shit,” she said, quickly wiping her paint stained hands off on her apron, “Um, no — sorry. Sorry. I wasn’t — with my mom. I can talk now. Officer Blake — John. Officer Blake?”
At the mention of that name, Jamie peeked her head out from the gap in the curtains surrounding her bed with a look of pure interest on her face. Mouth open and her eyebrows raised as she looked across the room. Leena shooed her away with a wave of her hand and an uncontrollable smile.
“You can just call me John,” he laughed, “You getting around okay without the bike?”
“Uh, yeah. Taking the train and the bus — definitely throwing my budget out of whack but — that doesn’t matter…At all.” Leena glanced over at Jamie, still listening in, only to see her roommate roll her eyes.
When did she get so terrible at talking to men?
“Well, I have some good news for you.” Leena could feel her heart jump into her mouth, making her physically stand on tip toe and stare out the window as he continued to speak. “I found it. So — uh, where do you wanna go for our date?”
Leena squeezed her eyes shut, the smile on her face nearly hurting her cheeks as she tilted her head towards the ceiling. Was this really happening? After Jacob, she didn’t know if she would ever find anyone else. If she would be willing to put herself out there like that again. But with John, something felt different. He was safe, kind, and somehow she just knew that he would never hurt her like Jacob did. She twirled around once and she could hear Jamie whispering, asking what was going on. Leena ignored her roommate.
“How about Superdawg?”
Superdawg? Jamie mouthed with an unbelieving face.
“That hotdog place over by Robinson Park?”
“Uh, yeah.”
She heard him chuckle. “Sorry. I just suppose I expected you to pick something a bit more…I don’t know…”
“I’m not a fancy kind of girl, trust me.” Leena laughed. “We could eat and then maybe take a walk around the park or something? If that sounds good to you — I don’t — “
“No, that — that sounds great, actually. Honestly, kinda glad you didn’t pick something fancy.”
“Okay, cool.” Leena looked over at Jamie with raised brows and a wide smile. “Uh, what time?”
“Saturday — tomorrow at six? I can pick you up?”
“Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll see you then.”
“See you then, Leena.” She loved the sound of him saying her name. “Bye.”
“Bye.” She flipped her phone closed and turned to face Jamie with fists triumphant in the air. “I have a date! And I’m getting my bike back!”
#the dark knight rises#john blake#john blake imagine#john blake x reader#john blake x you#john blake x oc#dark knight#dark knight imagine#dark knight fic#dark knight fanfic#dark knight fanfiction#john blake fic#john blake fanfic#john blake fanfiction#joseph gordon levitt#jgl#nolan batman#dark knight trilogy
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If it's 1 thing that pisses me off is that everyone who sees hateart of favorite characters go apeshit crazy and want people off the site and constantly feed the person who made it. They act like it's the worst fucking thing in the world! Hate art of anything is not ok and childish. I don't like seeing hate art of my favorite and least favorite characters too. But people get so offended. Just ignore or block. Hot damn. It's not that hard. When some troll "draws" random users pfp on fire or whatever in ms paint, everyone goes full on rage mode and make hate art of the attacker. Hate art of users is NOT ok but when you do what they did, you're no damn different from the troll. It's not even art! It's just a shitty drawing a 5 year old would make! "WAAAHHHH! SOMEONE DREW MY PROFILE PICTURE IN THE TRASH!!!! WAAAAHH! THAT'S SO MEAN! I HATE THIS PERSON! LET'S DO WHAT THEY DO BECAUSE THEY ARE ASSHOLES AND DESERVE IT!!!!!!!!" People need to stop worrying about it and ACTUALLY TRY to get REAL problematic people off of DA like ban invaders, people who actually make r4pe and murder art of REAL innocent users, people who give death threats or tell people to off themselves, are predators, are n!zis when the fucking admins don't do shit! And those ban invaders NEVER leave and stay there for YEARS! They always come back! And no one does shit! People need to grow the fuck up and go after REAL TOXIC bullies and DO SOMETHING to stop them! And these are fucking grown ass adults!!!!! Sorry for bitching but this needed to be said.
yeah, the admins do need to go after problematic users, but hate art is in a form of hate speech from my understanding in this rule so 🤨
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Stealing a Jule’s Heart: Chap 2
Museum Date
Please reblog if you like!
AO3
Julia stood looking at the painting before her. She knew she should be patrolling the area for Carmen Sandiego, but this was one of her favorite pieces. She fidgeted idly with her long blue dress. She wasn't used to dressing so fancy.
Tonight was the grand gala at the Louvre. Wealthy art lovers from all over France, and all over the world were gathered to admire the collection. There were so many people here that security was strained to their limit protecting the pieces. Which attracted master art thieves. Julia felt someone join her in looking at the painting.
"Beautiful," a woman's voice said.
"Yes, this is one of my favorite paintings." Julia said, then turned to face the newcomer. "How do you always find me, Ms. Sandiego?"
Carmen Sandiego could only be described as breathtaking in her red dress. Her red hair was carefully tied up in an elegant bun and she carried a small red clutch. The woman in red turned to the painting as if noticing it for the first time.
"I just go to my favorite work of art, and somehow I find you there." Carmen said. Julia turned back to the painting. Despite her best efforts a hint of color was rising in her cheeks. That was the second time Carmen said something like that. Julia doubted she was actually talking about the art work.
Julia watched Carmen turn to survey the room as the orchestra's song ended. There was some light clapping and several folks moved around the dance floor. As the next song started Carmen offered her a gloved hand.
"May I have this dance?" Ms. Sandiego asked with a warm smile. Julia hesitated before taking the hand. She had been tasked with stopping the thief from taking anything. Surely Carmen couldn't steal anything if Julia was holding onto her? They walked together to the dance floor.
"Do you mind if we talk privately?" The woman in red asked. She tapped her finger on the neckline of her dress. Julia could tell without checking that her comms were blocked. ACME really needed to update their systems so this stopped happening.
Carmen grasped Julia's waist and begin spinning on the dance floor. Julia could feel multiple eyes on her as they danced together. Her dance partner didn't seem worried.
"I love that dress. Blue really is your color!" Carmen said.
"Personally I would prefer one of my suits. I've never been one for dresses."
Carmen smiled. "I always prefer to be in my coat and hat, but we all have to play our parts tonight don't we?"
Julia was quiet for a moment, her face growing serious. "You must know you are being watched."
"Of course I am." Carmen said, while she continued guiding Julia around the dance floor. She would occasionally glance over the other woman's shoulder. "I see the Louvre security. Multiple members of Interpol. Several ACME agents and of course a few VILE operatives. Not to mention a few free agents. And they all have their eyes on me. "
Julia's surprise grew with each group Carmen listed. She was observant. Also Julia was surprised Carmen knew about the ACME agency.
"Wait, VILE operatives? You aren't with them?" Julia needed confirmation of her theory.
"Not any more." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Not that your boss will ever believe that. Or your uh, travel partner."
They both turned their heads at the sound of a distant crash. Across the room Julia could see Chase wiping himself off. It looked like the inspector had tripped over one of the wait staff. The waiter was helping to wipe him down and gently ushering him away from the dance floor.
“Tonight everyone has their eyes on me.” Carmen said turning them away from Chase. “The infamous thief Carmen Sandiego is here at the Louvre Gala. She chooses to dance with a former Interpol agent. What could we be whispering about here?"
The song ended as the two women held each other close. Julia couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that their dance was over. Still she stepped back from the woman in red.
“That was a very pleasant dance Ms. Sandiego. But you are still a criminal, and it is my duty to bring you in. Will you accompany me willingly?” Julia held out her hand. Carmen looked around the dance floor in a panic as the next song started playing. Julia was vaguely aware of multiple people moving towards them in her periphery, but she refused to take her eyes off Carmen.
“How about one more dance?” Carmen took Julia’s hand and held her waist. Julia couldn’t keep a small blush from rising on her face.
“One more dance couldn’t hurt.” Julia said. Carmen smiled warmly at her and lead them into their dance. This song was more energetic than the last, with the dancing couple breaking apart and rejoining again and again. Julia allowed herself to relax and pretend. Maybe this was just a date between her and the beautiful woman in front of her. Maybe they weren’t on opposite sides of the law. Maybe this song could last forever, just the two of them twirling together.
At one point during the song when Carmen spun away from her, Julia found herself dancing with a tall, dark Frenchman. His ears were pierced and he wore a black suit with purple accents. He looked decidedly uncomfortable to be dancing with her. He didn’t make eye contact with her the entire time they danced and at one point she barely heard him whisper, “Sorry Topo.” Why was he apologizing to a mole?
As Julia danced with the Frenchman, waiting for the break in the song she could see that Carmen was dancing with a platinum blonde. The blonde had large glasses on that seemed to glow green. Neither woman seemed happy with their dance partner. In truth it looked more like they were fighting in time to the music than dancing.
After what felt like an agonizingly long moment the dancers split from their current partners to rejoin their original ones. Julia smiled at once again being in Carmen’s arms, but the smile dropped as she took in the woman in red’s appearance.
Carmen had a red mark on her face like she had been hit and her hair was starting to come out of it’s bun. The worst was the slash across her chest. Four bloody lines ripped through the neckline of her dress. Julia could see the frayed wires hanging out of the dress. She suddenly realized she could hear Chase and the Chief talking in her ear again. What ever had been blocking her coms had been destroyed.
“Carmen what happened?” Julia put her hands near the cuts. The woman in red winced but smiled.
“Tigress was able to cut my signal blocker.” Then Carmen turned and smirked at the blonde. She held up a small object with a trigger. “But I was able to get this.”
“Bait and Switch!” The blonde screamed in rage as Ms. Sandiego pulled the trigger on the object. The lights in the Louvre immediately shut down. Amid the panicked screams, cries of rage, and shouted orders, Julia wrapped her arms around her dance partner. Carmen couldn’t steal anything if Julia was holding onto her.
In the dark Julia felt a hand on her chin. Her face was lifted up and a kiss was pressed against her lips. She melted into the kiss. Even in the dark, with the chaos around them, this was everything she had wanted for months. Carmen pulled back and whispered Julia’s name into the dark.
The lights were only off for a few seconds, when the room was suddenly illuminated again. Julia was a little surprised to see that it was in fact Carmen she was still holding onto. The blonde and the Frenchman were both stunned to find the lights back on as they tried to break the protective glass covering on one of the pieces. They looked at the approaching guards and ran for the entrance. A few other would be thieves followed them out, with varying levels of success in their escape.
“There was only going to be one moment, where they could have stolen something and gotten away with it. That wasn’t it.” Carmen said with a smile. Then she stepped back from Julia, their hands lingering together, before she pulled out her grappling gun, fired it at the sky light and was gone.
Multiple guards rushed past and around Julia, but she was breathless from the kiss. And she felt a small folded piece of paper placed in her hand. She glanced at it, then slipped it away. She and other ACME agents had work to do.
#carmen sandiego#julia argent#jule thief#carmen sandeigo netflix#carmen sandeigo 2019#writing emerald
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Tag Game
Tag Game
I was tagged by both @amandagaelic and @waitingforthestarstofall
1. What was the last movie you watched in theaters? I think...either Little Women or Knives Out (for the second time).
2. What’s your favorite game to play? One that I call Murder Mansion, but I think is actually called Betrayal at House on the Hill or one called Bang! - mostly because it was the most hilarious introduction to a game I have ever had where I got to play a trigger happy unlimited round packing Sheriff who everyone was trying to kill and my besties from the dawn of time were in fact my loyal deputies.
3. Chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla, if I must only pick between those two.
4. What’s the last show you binge-watched? Yellowstone or Locke & Key
5. Do you have any pets? Oh dear. Yes. Three cats, two horses, and three dogs (though technically I might own a third horse, who knows at this point?).
6. What’s your favorite fairy tale? Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.
7. Who’s your favorite superhero? Batman - not the one that they keep portraying as an abusive asshole like Howard Stark, but the one who legit went to court to keep Jason Todd as his son and dipped out from being Batman and Bruce Wayne social obligations when Jason needed him and collected orphans and tried to make sure they wouldn’t turn out like him.
8. Who’s you favorite Disney Princess? Pocahontas or Tiger Lily probably, though I was never really a fan of the princess movies. I liked Treasure Planet and Great Mouse Detective where there were zero romantic subplots or princesses.
9. Where’s the first place you’re going to go after the social distancing is over? ALASKA. BECAUSE THAT WAS THE PLAN BEFORE THIS HYAH! SHITSHOW!
10. Cookies or Cake? Cookies. I am weirdly not a fan of cake.
+ 10 questions from @teenwolf-theoriginals:
1. which show could you watch over and over? Lucifer, Daredevil (and add-ons), Republic of Doyle
2. favourite song lyric? " I choose my eyes wide open/And my heart half-broken every time/Over the gilded golden shackle/And the reassuring sentimental lie.”
3. favourite season of your favourite tv show? Lucifer season 4, Daredevil Season 1, and...whatever season ends with Jake Doyle getting kidnapped and locked unconscious in a shipping container bound for Mexico
4. what never fails to make you smile/happy? Cirque De Sewer videos on Facebook (ren fair comedy show with cats and rats and a former ballerina).
5. how are you doing with all that’s going on in the world (virus, having to do social distancing, etc)? I feel really weird saying this, but the quarantine is working out freakishly well for me. My sister, who hasn’t lived nearby since 2010, came to visit for our mom’s 70th birthday just before the travel ban, so she’s been here for a little over 2 weeks now, which is the most I have seen her in 10 years. We live in a small town on a farm, so I have a lot to keep me busy outdoors without having to go to public outdoor places. My job is 100% capable of being 100% remote, we always buy from the warehouses when we have coupons so we have plenty of food and paper goods, we have puzzles out the wazoo to keep us busy when the weather is bad, we have a huge garden every year so if this keeps up we’ll have all our own food and eleventy billion movies and crochet projects, etc. I’m also a hella hermit normally, so this is not really all that new. Little mad I can’t go help a friend paint their house, but eh. Small price compared to a lot of others.
6. we all love new music to listen to, name an artist that is underrated/you think people should check out? Janet Devlin. Irish/English folk singer I found on Spotify.
7. tv show or movie? TV show. I love the level of character development that can happen when given the opportunity.
8. favourite holiday? Thanksgiving. All the food. And less work than Fourth of July, because July means I get roped into directing the town parade and half a dozen other things because my parents get me to.
9. a song that describes you? “Psycho” by Ava Max.
10. describe your tumblr in three words? Themed = for chumps.
+5 questions from @macspaperclips
1. What is your favorite hobby? Crocheting, or writing
2. What is your favorite book? Or/and a really good book you’ve read recently? Six of Crows duology - a heist series that I got sucked into thanks to fan art and then finding out the main male lead can’t stand human touch and I was like SOLD.
3. What is your favorite Ship that will never happen (Or hasn’t happened yet)? Not a shipper. I hate ships, because inevitably, ship wars ruin everything. And in some cases, really make me question sanity or mental health of some people. Said I didn’t like a female romantic lead, next thing I get is death threats, and I am totally the type to back track a URL, hunt you down in the real world, and brain you with a hammer. It’s not good for my anger management.
4. If you could spend the day with any living celebrity, who would it be?
Harrison Ford, because it would be on his ranch in Jackson Hole.
5. The best worst movie you’ve ever seen. A movie that you know objectively is trash but you can’t help but really enjoy it. The new Robin Hood with Taron Edgerton, or the Four Musketeers.
My questions (answer these if you’re tagged, then come up with some questions of your own, and then tag people):
1) What is your MBTI and/or Enneagram Number? MBTI - I had to look this up - INFJ or ENFJ, depending on how you want to interpret that first letter.
2) What TV episode is your all-time favorite? The Hay Burner on Bonanza,
3) What does happiness mean to you? Lack of desire
and tagged on because I was in fact tagged by two people @amandagaelicquestions:
1) If you’re a fic writer, do you reply to every review? And if so, how long do you wait? I have only recently started getting over my weird phobia of responding to reviews (I also am rather new to AO3 and it was a little hard or impossible to do in FFN.net), so some stories in the smaller fandoms like Magnum, I have tried to respond to all of them, and it takes anywhere from a day to a month, but in Lucifer...oh dear. It’s daunting, and I keep freaking out because I haven’t finished the behemoth that is Damnatio despite it being years, so I don’t want to respond back to everyone saying “I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN I AM FINISHING THIS” in between severe writers’ block.
2) What color Starburst is the best? Of the original? Pink. Of the options of outward packaging? Blue.
3) Skittles or M&Ms? M&M’s
4) If you were to learn any new language, which one would you choose and why? Bold of you to assume I would learn only one. I am actually taking...four lessons through Duolingo? Irish, Welsh, Spanish, and Hawaiian (Was learning Navajo, but I made it to food and WTF....nope, kicked my ass).
My questions:
If you could be anything else, what would you be?
If you’re a fic writer, what would you guilty pleasure fic idea that you won’t write because you don’t think anyone else would read it?
Is there something you wish you knew more about, and if so, what is it?
tagging: @dragonnan, @rohanrider3, @sofasurf, @buckky, @ariaadagio, @get-whumped, @itsjustdg
If you’re busy or otherwise not feeling it - as always, feel free not to play. If you weren’t tagged, I also mean you. You can come play too.
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“Reunited at Last” Chapter 3: Suspicions
Diana dragged her feet as she walked through Town Hall to get to the Mayor’s office. People greeted her but she kept her head down, continuing her long, slow walk as if goring to her death. It was only the second day of her indefinite punishment and while Lacey was pretty cool as far as babysitters went, Diana missed having the house to herself. She dressed as she wanted, played music while she did her homework or danced around, read her books, played with her toys--whatever she wanted without anyone being in the way. She loved it.
“Hello, Diana. Did you have a good day at school?” a kind voice broke through her sulking.
Looking up, Diana’s heart sank when she saw she was standing outside her mother’s office and next to her assistant’s desk. Johanna was a kindly older woman who had served as the assistant for several mayors, including Diana’s grandfather and great-grandfather. She sat right outside the mayor’s office in a little cubicle decorated with a desk and a few filing cabinets as well as some personal knick-knacks Johanna had collected over the years. Diana always liked Johanna and returned the smile the older woman gave her.
“It was okay,” Diana replied in answer to her question, not wanting to be rude to Johanna. She was not part of the battle between the supposed mother and daughter. “Still a lot of reviewing to make sure we remember everything we learned last year.”
“That does sound boring but I’m sure it’ll get interesting again.” Johanna motioned to the door. “Go on in. Your mother is waiting for you.”
Biting back the urge to snap that the mayor was not her mother, Diana thanked Johanna. She opened the door, ready to face Mom. Her teacher had told her earlier that Mom had spoken to her about her supposed homework assignment the day before so Diana knew she was busted. It had been her mother’s late day yesterday so she had gotten home after Diana had gone to bed. Diana hoped she could get away without a big lecture today but she doubted it.
They mayor’s office was decorated in earth tones, as Diana knew from her art classes at school. She also had memories of when her mother decorated the office, though she doubted now that they were even real. Still, she could rattle off the name of each color--the rug was canyon brown and the walls mocha cream with harvest gold accents. It made the mahogany colored fireplace stand out more. Chocolate brown couches faced the fireplace with a mahogany coffee table between them. Mom had a book full of pictures of Storybrooke for visitors to peruse on it.
All of that was to Diana’s left. On her right was a long, cherry wood dining table with several matching chairs. Mom had meetings with other government officials and her staff members there, usually providing them with food and beverages from the snack bar against the wall. It was stocked with several types of snacks and drinks, as well as a good variety of fruit--except for apples. Even the basket of wax fruit Mom kept on the table contained no apples, something Diana only recently noticed. It intrigued her, just like her mother’s fascination with birds. She had several paintings of them hanging on the walls both here and at their house. Diana gave one the side-eye as she stood in the doorway.
“Why don’t you grab a snack and then have a seat on the couch? I just need to finish up one thing and then we can talk,” Mom said, head bent as she filled out some paperwork on her desk. It was located in the middle of the back wall, right in front of the large windows that overlooked the town. The only other place to offer a better view was the clock tower above Storybrooke’s abandoned library. No one went up there, though, as the clock was broken--unable to move forward because the curse had stopped time for the citizens of Storybrooke. It made Diana question so much and she wished she could find the answers, not have to tap dance around her “mother.”
For now, she did as her mother suggested and grabbed a granola bar as well as a juice box from the fridge. She then sat on the couch, her book bag at her feet, and waited for Mom to finish her paperwork as she munched on her snack.
It didn’t take long for Mom to sit down next to her, tucking her black skirt under her as she did so. She placed a picture frame upside down on her lap before adjusting the pink sweater over her white shirt. Mom leaned closer as she smiled at Diana. “How was your day, princess?”
“Okay,” Diana replied, shrugging. She then repeated what she told Johanna.
Mom nodded. “Revision is very important. You need to make sure you have that foundation in order to build up your knowledge.”
When Diana shrugged again, Mom pressed her lips together. She then said: “I spoke to your teacher yesterday.”
Diana’s heart sunk. “I know. Sister Trina told me.”
“So I know that there was no survey assignment. I also went to talk to Ms. Mills yesterday as well,” Mom continued.
“You did?” Diana asked, her stomach twisting up in knots. “Did she tell you why I was really there?”
Mom nodded. “I wasn’t pleased that you lied to me but you were only following Ms. Mills’ lead and she was trying to spare my feelings, so I’ll let it slide--for now. But we need to talk about your sudden belief that I’m not your mom and Ms. Mills is.”
“Because it’s true,” Diana protested.
Mom’s brow furrowed. “Why? Because some book told you?”
Diana knew that when she put it that way, it did sound silly. Yet she also knew in her heart that it was true. She doubted Mom would accept that and would keep pushing until Diana doubted her own heart. Villains were very good at that thing.
“I don’t look like you or Dad,” she said instead. “I don’t feel part of this family.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears and she wrapped her arm around Diana. She lifted the picture frame to reveal the photograph of herself lying in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby wrapped in a white blanket and wearing a pink hat. “Your father took this the day you were born--the happiest day of our life. You are our daughter--my daughter.”
She let Diana hold the picture as she moved in closer. “I know things have been different since your father’s accident. I know it’s been hard not having him around. It’s been hard for me too, trying to be the mayor as well as both mom and dad to you. And I’m willing to admit that maybe I haven’t been so great a mom these past few months.
“I have a proposal for you,” she continued. “I promise to make more time for you. Starting this week, I’m going to block out a special chunk of time that’s only for the two of us. We can do whatever you want--go to the movies, go shopping, have lunch, practice archery. How does that sound?”
It sounded tempting. Diana loved all of those things, especially archery. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to spend time with the enemy. Perhaps she could get some answers while lulling Mom into a false sense of security. This appeared to be a win-win situation.
“That sounds great, Mom,” she replied with a smile.
Mom smiled but her tone sounded serious as she continued: “Now you need to do something for me. You need to stop all this nonsense about Ms. Mills being your real mother. I spoke with her and she’s agreed to have no contact with you.”
“What?” Diana exclaimed. She would’ve jumped up but Mom had tightened her grip. “That’s not fair!”
“It may not seem fair but it’s for the best,” Mom insisted. “I don’t want you talking with Ms. Mills either. Instead, I want you to talk with Dr. Hopper.”
Dr. Hopper was the town’s psychiatric and Diana’s stomach twisted at the implications. “I’m not crazy!”
Mom caressed Diana’s face as she softened her tone. “Of course you’re not. I just think a lot has happened and you need someone to talk to, someone who can help you work through everything. Dr. Hopper can do that. And you won’t be alone. We’ll also have sessions together to become stronger as a family, okay?”
Though it sounded like she had a choice, Diana knew she was going to see Dr. Hopper whether she wanted to or not. She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she said: “Okay.”
“Thank you, princess. Things are going to get better, I promise.” Mom hugged her. “And the first step is for you to give me the storybook. I think it’s best if we got rid of it.”
Diana had been expecting that and she was glad she had already left it somewhere safe. It allowed her to truthfully say: “I don’t have it. I gave it to a friend. The book was meant to be shared.”
Mom’s eyebrow went up but she relaxed, seemingly accepting that answer. “Good. I think we’re off to a very good start then.”
There was a sharp rap on the door before it opened. Johanna stood there, facing the two. “Lacey is here for Diana,” she said.
“Thank you. Tell Lacey she’ll be right out,” Mom replied.
Johanna nodded before closing the door. Mom stood. “I’ll be home in time for dinner. Be good for Lacey.”
“I will,” Diana replied, putting her book bag on. Mom opened her arms and Diana hugged her, playing along for now.
Mom let her go and Diana headed out of her office. Lacey stood there, tapping one of her blue pumps impatiently. She leaned against the wall, her black skirt ending far above her knees. Her bright blue sequined halter top sparkled in the fluorescent lighting and when she caught sight of Diana, her necklaces clanged together as she straightened up. “Hey, kid. Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” she said. “What are we doing today?”
Lacey shrugged, glancing at the door. “How will your mom react if I gave you a makeover?”
Diana looked over Lacey’s messy ponytail and expertly applied makeup, admiring them. Though she thought a makeover sounded like fun, she shook her head. “I’m already on thin ice with her and I’d rather keep you as my babysitter.”
Lacey laughed. “I’m sure. Or else you’d have to deal with Mrs. Figg again.”
“Ugh,” Diana replied, scrunching up her nose. “She was the worst.”
Mrs. Figg had been her babysitter when she was a little girl. She had been strict with a lot of rules Diana had to follow and only had prunes for snacks for her, which had prompted Mom to start sending snacks with Diana. Mrs. Figg did not own a TV and usually preferred Diana to read quietly, though she did let her play with toys as long as she didn’t get too loud and didn’t make a mess. As she got older, it was harder and harder to please Mrs. Figg no matter how much Diana tried to obey her rules.
It had been a relief when her parents had decided to trust Diana with more responsibility now that she was older and got Lacey to start watching her at home before only having her come on nights when they had to work late. Lacey wasn’t the typical babysitter, though she made sure Diana ate healthy meals and did her homework. She didn’t hover over Diana and gave her her space. While it would’ve been easier to sneak off to see Regina without Lacey around, it still didn’t keep Diana from plotting her next move to break the curse and get her real family back.
Continue reading on FFnet, AO3 or Wattpad
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Vicious Cycle
A while back, I wrote about the physical aspects of my creative process—where I write, the tools I used, etc… Now, to mix it up a little bit, I want to talk about the mental aspects of the creative process, at least the mental aspects of my creative process. I can’t speak for every creative person, and I certainly can’t speak for other writers.
I am impressed by how some writers have an incredible, workman-like approach to the craft. Stephen King is amazing, of course. He is prolific. He writes every day, rain or shine, holiday or not. He’s at his desk by seven or eight in the morning, and he goes until lunch, maybe later. Of course, there are other writers than make King look like he’s suffering from writer’s block. John Creasy, a British mystery novelist, has written over 500 books under a dozen pen names. That guy is a workhorse. In Stephen King’s book, ON WRITING: A MEMOIR OF THE CRAFT, King talks about Anthony Trollope:
“At the other end of the spectrum, there are writers like Anthony Trollope. He wrote humongous novels (Can You Forgive Her? is a fair enough example; for modern audiences it might be retitled Can You Possibly Finish It?), and he pumped them out with amazing regularity. His day job was as a clerk in the British Postal Department (the red public mailboxes all over Britain were Anthony Trollope’s invention); he wrote for two and a half hours each morning before leaving for work. This schedule was ironclad. If he was in mid-sentence when the two and a half hours expired, he left that sentence unfinished until the next morning. And if he happened to finish one of his six-hundred-page heavyweights with fifteen minutes of the session remaining, he wrote The End, set the manuscript aside, and began work on the next book.”
That is an admirable work ethic. And an incredible pace. Every writer has to figure out what works for him or herself. Writing is a personal art. Some people work better at night. Some in the early morning. Some need quiet. Some blast music (the louder, the better). Some have little spaces set up where they write daily. Some write in various locations—you get the idea. Whatever works best for you, you must do. When people tell me they’d like to write, but they don’t have the time, I always think, “Then you don’t really want to write.” You make time for what’s important to you, always. If you value television (as I do), you find the time to watch. Runners find time to run. Anglers find time to fish. Painters find time to paint. Barbarian hordes find time to bathe in the blood of their enemies. You make time for what is important to you.
When it comes to the amount of dedication it takes to write 300 pages of a rough draft, that has never been a problem for me. I have been churning out novels since I was in high school. I wrote at least one or two piles of garbage in high school, and I probably cranked out several thousand pages of unreadable hack when I was in college. (This is a good thing, though—Brian Michael Bendis said that you have to write about 20,000 pages of slop before you start to figure out what you’re doing.) I can always find time to write. Even when I worked jobs that had me doing 12-hour days, I would manage to scrape out a paragraph or two at night. Before John Grisham quit law to write full-time, he wrote on legal pads between court cases. I read a story about a mystery writer who was driving semis, and he would dictate his story into cassettes while he drove, then he paid a local gal in his hometown to transcribe the stories to MS Word for him. I have known servers who wrote scraps of stories in order pads with cheap pens standing at the counter waiting for an order to be put up. Point is—if it is important to you, you’ll do it.
Writing isn’t about waiting for some mythical muse to kick you in the ass. It’s not about art. It’s not about being attuned to the celestial heavens. Over my lifetime of writing, reading about writing, taking classes on writing, and teaching classes on writing, more than anything else I’ve learned, writing is about putting your butt in a seat and writing. That’s it. No magic. No inspiration. Just sit and do. If you can’t do that, you can’t write. I get people (especially students) telling me about stories they have in their heads. They can summarize them well. They can tell you about them for days. However, the story stays unwritten until they can put themselves in the chair and write it out. My good friend, Nella Citino, gave me a mug a few years ago that I keep on my desk at home. It says, “Any idiot can come up with a good idea—get it written!” That is the truth of the matter. Put up, or shut up. Sit down and write.
That’s all fine and dandy to say, I know. The actual practice of it is much harder in reality. I have learned that my own creative process tends to follow an ebb and flow. When I’m writing, I’m 100 percent writing. I don’t want to edit. I don’t want to read someone else’s book. I don’t want to watch TV. I write as long and as hard as I can. I write until the backs of my hands hurt from typing. I write until my vision goes blurry from staring at the screen.
When I get into editing, I don’t have time for writing. The two modes are different parts of my brain, it seems. I cannot switch back and forth between the modes easily. I don’t have time for someone else’s book, either. I cannot enjoy reading a new book when I’m in editing mode. I get too critical. I get too into the “That’s not what I would have done there…” mode, and I start to hate that book. I feel like I have unfairly subjected some authors to that mode of my brain and now I dislike their stuff.
When I am out of the writing and editing modes, I get fully into the reading mode. I will read six or seven hours a day. I will put away three or four books a week when I’m in that mode. I have always been a fast reader, and when I’m in that mode, I read even faster. I enjoy reading in that mode. When I’m trying to read when I’m in writing mode, I have no patience for reading. Why read someone else’s story when I’m not done telling my own, yet? I do force myself to read when I’m in writing mode, but it’s only after I’ve put in a full day of writing, or I’ve had to take a break from writing because my hands hurt too much to continue. (Getting old is for the birds.)
My final mode in the creative process is the do nothing mode. It happens usually after I first finish a book and my brain begins to feed me the “why bother” rap it has perfected over the years. “Why bother?” it says. “Wouldn’t you be happier lounging back into depression and playing video games for fourteen straight hours?”
--You have a point, Brain.
“How about you maybe just watch Scrubs reruns instead of writing?”
--Brain, you are on fire!
“Hey—remember five years ago when you accidently read that really negative review of one of your books? Go back and reread that comment so you know not to do this anymore.”
--As you command, Overlord.
This do-nothing mode is one of the worst things my brain tries to do to me. It is very easy to slip into, because doing nothing is literally the easiest thing in the world to do. Doing nothing requires zero effort. Doing anything at all requires 100 percent more effort than doing nothing.
I have quit writing books at least a thousand times in my life, maybe more. Every time this weird creative cycle in my brain hits this point in the rotation, I quit being a writer. “Been thirty years with no real success to show for it, Fatso,” says my Brain. “Do the world a favor and shelf your keyboard.”
And I do. I do every time. Every time I hit that point in my creative process, I officially quit writing.
Sometimes, that brain-forced retirement lasts months. Sometimes, it’s only a few hours. But I always quit.
I also always come back.
In the movie, THROW MOMMA FROM THE TRAIN, Billy Crystal uses the expression, “Writers write. Always.” It is something my father has repeated to me many times over the years. It is something I have imparted to my students many times. It is okay to quit writing. If you stay retired from it, though—that is where you run into problems.
I have found that I am able to claw my way back from those self-imposed bouts of retirement through sheer force of will. Pick up the computer. Open the file. Put your damn hands on the keyboard and make some words. Sometimes, I do that, and I will only get a few words, maybe a sentence or two. Nevertheless, I will have written something. That’s the key. The next day, I might only get a few words again. Maybe I only sat at the computer for ten minutes before letting that negative part of my brain take over for the day. (“C’mon Fatboy…let’s go re-watch THE PRINCESS BRIDE.” –Swell idea, Brain.) But it IS a few words that I did not have that morning, and that is what counts.
I am getting better and the productivity side of writing. I am getting better at knowing that I can sit down and churn out five or ten pages in a sitting, even if I don’t “feel” like doing it. Those pages might need some enhancement later on, but they will exist. It is always easier to go back and enhance. You cannot edit if the pages don’t exist.
I know I’m hardly an expert on writing. I know that my pathetic sales are a misty, almost evaporated drop in the wide and vast lake of publishing. I know that I am not an expert on the creative process. This is just a summary of how my brain works when I write. It is why I do what I do. And why I want to write. It might not help you, but it is something to read and consider.
If you struggle in a creative field like I do, like so many of us do, I think it is important to remember that we are not alone. We are all tiny little ships making our own way on a large, cruel sea. Your mast might snap. You might hit a rock. A big whale might sneeze on you. Maybe you don’t feel like holding the tiller anymore. This is okay. It is all part of the process.
But don’t give up.
Keep sailing.
I hope we all get to where we want to go.
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This week I saw a video on GB Studio from MortMort. It’s a program for making GameBoy games that work inside an emulator. I like to try out new tools just in general but this engine really inspired me. I spent all my nights this week making a short game about fish called ZUG. Play it here on itch.io.
What makes the engine so interesting is how it restricts you. The emulator can only render three colors (#017821, #86c06c, and #e0f8cf) and a fourth is used as a transparency layer (#65ff00). This meant creating a limited palette in Aseprite (and MS Paint) to create the sprites. Within that confine, each sprite could only be 16×16 pixels per frame. You could have up to 25 frames but always within the 16×16 square. This means making the most of each tile that you have.
Additionally, there were limits on how complicated the background could be. A neat thing the compiler does is translate the backgrounds into smaller chunks to conserve memory. However, this means that unless you are making good use of repeating tiles, you have to make everything as simple as you can.
Even the number of ‘Actors’ or objects placed in a scene had to be limited to nine per scene. In Zug, there are animated bubbles around the area. To get this effect, I had to make a single animation then repeat it in a line a number of times (three at most). Then I offset the animations between the frames (that 25 frame limit from earlier). This eventually made a neat bubble effect and kept me under the memory requirement.
Even the music was difficult because of the memory limitation. GB Studio can only process .MOD files for sound. These are four channel files that play the music while being emulated. This is amazing cause that means the sounds don’t have to be recorded (and take up more space) on the cartridge. It’s terrible because, like in Zug, it means there can be some distortion. I think there must be an issue with too many sounds in an active channel at the same time. This is one of the problems areas that I didn’t get smoothed out. The song is completely unrecognizable in game. It plays great in the engine but it builds and runs wrong.
A very neat feature of GB Studio is that the programming is contained in automated script blocks. For someone like me that wants to lead a class on making games, this is perfect. No matter the skill level, I could sit down with someone and walk them through an exercise and expect standard(-ish*) results. There is an expansive library of existing scripts. If/Else statements, scene changes, and animations are prepackaged. It also has a quest handler, a counting system, and a save/load feature. I got a little ways towards understanding this. At a certain point, I needed to move on though. I think they are still working on documenting and expanding these. I’ll circle back after some more updates.
*when a human is involved it can get iffy.
Beyond technical limitations, I had a lot of fun just making sprites. I’ve been messing with Unity 3D meshes, so it was nice to get back to basics. The sprite handling for GB Studio is really nice. There isn’t any guesswork in how the sheet will generate. This means that from an art standpoint, you can rapidly prototype animations without a lot of down time. In GameMaker, you have to edit the sprite, create an object, and place it in the scene before you can really know how it will work out. Then again, in GM you can also ad-hoc change the size of your sprite and aren’t limited to 16×16 so it’s a give and takes.
I came up with the fish theme cause I wanted a game that started with a ‘Z’. Zug was the first word that came to mind. While searching it online (to make sure it wasn’t anything nasty) it turned out that it was a real world. It’s an area in Switzerland and a word from fishing vocabulary (or at least says Google). I really liked the idea of an underwater theme. I know the creatures shown aren’t exactly Swiss in origin but they aren’t exactly zoologically accurate either.
Zug as a word has some connotations of pulling or being lead in a direction. It had to do with the right to pull in fishing nets. This gave me the idea for the core game thesis. It made me think about life, the influences we have, and the constant time is toward an end. It’s not perfect by any means but for a one week game, I think it’s not the worst concept for a thesis.
If I could do it again, I would use net imagery. Having patterns that slowly move in on you as you travel the game. I would probably make it where there are constant fishing nets around and you have to avoid them. Additionally, I would research a lot more about Lake Zug and make a proper effort of having area specific fish in the game.
Another pain point, when you compiles, the engine will tell you if something is wrong. However, what is wrong is not well documented. Usually, it either runs with game-breaking errors or it doesn’t at all. This means saving often and remembering what changes you made for easy backing up.
A super cool thing–you can build to a ROM file. That means, in theory, you could put this on a GameBoy cartridge and play it on the original hardware. I preferred the web format for ease of use/sharing but this is really fun.
In conclusion, I really like the possibilities that GB Studio offers. I got frustrated with it at one point and tried to recreate the game in GameMaker. It took way more time to get the coding to work as intended. I think with a few more updates, GBS will be a great engine. It is already an amazing adventure game making. For now, I’ll head back to Unity. That system has a lot more upfront learning but there were some things that it handles much easier (different file types and such).
Thanks for reading–here is the stuff I used to make Zug:
The Good Stuff
by m0d
Public Domain License
https://modarchive.org/module.php?33325
MortMort
youtube
GB Studio:
https://www.gbstudio.dev/
Documentation page:
https://www.gbstudio.dev/docs/
My GB studio project:
https://mortmort.itch.io/acgb
GB Studio Discord:
https://discord.gg/CuFVqXk
Puns
https://www.fishkeepingworld.com/fish-puns/
ZUG This week I saw a video on GB Studio from MortMort. It's a program for making GameBoy games that work inside an emulator.
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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/parkland-anniversary-moment-of-silence-marks-one-year-since-school-shooting/
Parkland anniversary: Moment of silence marks one year since school shooting
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A US community devastated by a school shooting one year ago is marking the tragic anniversary with quiet mourning.
Seventeen people were shot and killed by an ex-student at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School (MSD) in Parkland, Florida on 14 February 2018.
Students and educators across the country are also marking the day with vigils, moments of silence, art projects and other demonstrations.
On Wednesday, the Florida governor called for a renewed investigation.
How is the event being marked?
Schools in Broward County – the southern Florida region where 14 students and three school staff members were killed – will operate on a regular schedule, but students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas will hold a “non-academic” day devoted to commemoration and healing.
Classes at MSD will end before 14:20 local time, the moment the shooting began a year ago.
“Although we mourn from the lives that we’ve lost through a horrific act of hate and anger, I believe that we must also celebrate the possibilities of what can be through love and support,” superintendent Robert Runcie. said outside the school on Thursday.
Schools across the state of Florida held a moment of silence at 10:17 local time, to honour the 17 people killed in the gun attack.
The city of Parkland is sponsoring a day of service at a park near the school and will hold a moment of silence, with a vigil to be held later in the evening.
Mental health professional and comfort dogs will be there to assist grieving students throughout the day.
How being a student gun control activist took its toll
WATCH: I was shot and now owe tens of thousands of dollars
Emma Gonzalez, a survivor who became a prominent student activist after the attack, said the gun control advocacy group March for Our Lives will remain silent through the weekend.
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Media captionStudents around the world on US school shootings and their biggest fears
“Like so many others in our community, I’m going to spend that time giving my attention to friends and family, and remembering those we lost,” Ms Gonzalez wrote in a statement.
“The 14th is a hard day to look back on. But looking at the movement we’ve built – the movement you created and the things we’ve already accomplished together – is incredibly healing,” she wrote.
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‘I’ll always remember that morning’
Jimmy Tam, BBC News, Parkland, Florida
“I keep missing her,” sobs a male student, as he pulls away from an embrace. His friend was killed in the shooting. He says plans to visit her grave for the last time today; it’ll help him move on.
A noisy intersection outside the school has been transformed into a memorial garden for staff and students to remember and reflect.
Hundreds of flowers of all colours now accompany the “Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School” sign.
But not just flowers – there are painted pebbles and paving slabs with messages, a totem pole with all 17 victims’ names, and 17 angels that light up at night.
Staff and students, many in maroon “#MSDStrong” T-shirts, have been coming all day. So have parents, friends and other loved ones.
On occasion, Amazing Grace has played out of a speaker that’s been set up.
Victoria Gonzalez created the garden, named Project Grow Love, with her teacher Ronit Reoven. Victoria lost her boyfriend Joaquin in the shooting. Today she’s wearing a brooch with a photo of him.
She remembers her final morning with him last year, on Valentine’s Day: “We shared our gifts and we just felt unstoppable and he did always tell me that our love was bulletproof, believe it or not. I’ll always remember that morning.”
How else is the event being marked?
Elsewhere in the country schools are marking the anniversary with art projects or statements.
Boardman High School in Ohio will hold a “legacy lockdown” including an active-shooter drill, which organisers say is a way to help students feel safer and emergency officials to feel more appreciated.
The Buffalo Teachers Federation in New York have encouraged people to wear bright orange, as hunters do for safety, and hold a moment of silence.
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Media caption“When people think of Parkland I want them to think about people standing up for something”
In a statement, President Donald Trump pledged that he will “not rest” until US schools are made safe.
“Today, as we hold in our hearts each of those lost a year ago in Parkland, let us declare together, as Americans, that we will not rest until our schools are secure and our communities are safe.”
Former President Barack Obama – who told BBC News in 2015 that it was “distressing” that the US has not passed national gun safety reform – tweeted his support to the March for Our Lives students on Thursday.
Skip Twitter post by @BarackObama
In the year since their friends were killed, the students of Parkland refused to settle for the way things are and marched, organized, and pushed for the way things should be – helping pass meaningful new gun violence laws in states across the country. I’m proud of all of them.
— Barack Obama (@BarackObama) February 14, 2019
End of Twitter post by @BarackObama
What has changed in the past year?
According to the Giffords Law Center, an organisation advocating for more gun control, lawmakers in 26 states and Washington DC passed 67 new gun safety laws in 2018.
Four states raised the minimum age for firearm purchases, and seven states strengthened or expanded background checks for gun buyers.
More than half of all 50 states passed at least one gun control measure in 2018, according to the New York Times.
Efforts to prevent mass shootings and gun crime – which account for roughly 25,000 deaths in the US each year – have gained little traction on the national level, with partisan bickering blocking any congressional legislation.
But the federal government enacted Mr Trump’s ban on bump-stocks, a device that enables many rifles to fire at the rate of a machine gun.
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Media captionWhy Parkland school shooting is different – the evidence
Bump stocks were used to kill 59 people in Las Vegas in 2017 – and injure more than 400 – but were not used by the shooter in Florida.
Democrats have made gun control efforts a priority since winning a majority in the House of Representatives in November, and earlier this week took their first action to address gun violence.
On Wednesday the House Judiciary committee approved a bill that would require gun buyers to undergo background checks in virtually every single gun sale.
The bill now moves to the full chamber, and must be passed by both the House and Senate.
More on US school shootings
2018 ‘worst year for US school shootings’
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Media captionHow much do US students fear school shootings?
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It has been my good fortune over the years to run in circles that allowed me to meet many talented people, such diverse and beautiful creators. These people were a large part of the inspiration behind Castle in the Sky. My desire to share their work helped hone the focus of this blog. It felt important to build a place where I could introduce all of these amazing people while covering conventions, indulging my anime fixation, and generally having a blast with my readers.
As part of the “Grand Opening” of Castle in the Sky, I wanted to aim the spotlight for a time on a dear friend of mine who also happens to be a talented artist. May I present -drum roll- Sarah Meadows! While Ms. Meadows is most well-known for her work in the Sailor Moon fandom, she has much to offer in other fictional realms including (but not limited to) Zelda, Ranma, and Stephen Universe. She also has inspired original art. The true extent of her diversity can be seen firsthand in her commissions if you check out her DeviantArt gallery (link at the end of the interview!) (And, yes, she does commissions! ❤ )
How long have you been drawing?
Since I was seven years old. I know this specifically because the first thing I learned to actively draw was Yoshi off of the SNES booklet that came with Mario World. So 27 years now? Yikes. (Awww! I bet the result was absolutely adorable! <3)
Please, tell us a bit about how you got started.
It’s a silly answer…but when I was in Kindergarten I remember washing my hands at the classroom sink and over it was a diagram of a rainbow with each of the colors “red orange yellow green blue purple” labeled appropriately. I don’t know what clicked that day but I became fascinated with color and couldn’t wait to learn more. School supply aisles always filled me with joy seeing all the possibilities in color. (Not silly at all. You’re just proof that there is magic in rainbows.)
What are your top three most inspiring sources of inspiration?
Manga and anime (Primarily classic 80s to 90s golden era) took my soul, but Disney movies growing up definitely made me want to think about drawing cartoons and possibly animating. I’ll get back with you on the animating haha (I think we will all agree that you should DO THE THING!)
What works best for you when you need to take a wrecking ball to an “ART BLOCK”?
Normally my life is a funk when I’m experiencing my worst art blocks. Getting back on track with routine or taking a week off to just veg and play some video games helps me “defragment” so to speak. Things like Pinterest and Tumblr help when I just don’t know WHAT to draw but the urge is there. (Both great suggestions. Taking a break is widely overlooked when it comes to creating.)
Is there a particular medium that you would like to explore in the future? (watercolor, oils, charcoal pencils, etc.)
I wish I was brave enough for colored pencils and Copic pens. But then there’s no edit>undo and that cuts at my confidence sometimes. But I do wish to play around and make pieces that way. I’d love to sell pieces at conventions like this. Feels more personal than digital for some reason… (Can we get a vote on how many of you would love to see her work at your local convention?)
Do you have any advice for budding artists?
Draw draw draw. It’s 90% practice and 10% talent and artistic eye. If you look at an older piece and cringe don’t get discouraged. That’s pure proof of improvement that you can find ways to make your piece better. Revisit old ideas and see how much you’ve grown! If you’re young and still in school take all the art classes you can. You may know a lot of what is being discussed but there’s no bigger value than practicing these techniques and sharing them with your peers. You can always learn something new. (Take notes, everyone! This is good stuff here! Take it to heart. <3)
Random Questions
What’s your sign? (Because, you know, astrology intrigues me. Lol I always feel like such a creeper asking this. >__<)
My birthday is June 19th so I run smack between a Gemini and Cancer. Some days I feel more like one than the other. But anytime I read stuff on either sign they nail me dead on. (Another water (and air lol) baby. I’m going to start keeping track of everyone’s signs. lol)
If you had to paint your world in only three colors, what would they be?
I tend to like soft and sweet colors. Like early sunrises or sunsets. But at the same time, I love the filtering of lights through the trees. So shades of green as well! It’s tough to narrow it down much further than that. Green inspires me. Soft pinks blues and purples soothe me. (Does anyone else think she should do a picture with this theme? It would be gorgeous!)
A magic door appears before you. When you open it, what’s on the other side? (Absolutely anything or anywhere you can dream up…)
Endless possibility. All your hard earned work has finally brought me to a place that brings me peace and joy. Also a sense of accomplishment. That’s what I’d wish to see on the other side. That magic door is effort and motivation. And I intend to use it! (Oh! I think this would be perfect. Want some company? ^_^)
You’re having afternoon tea in a magical garden. You can invite anyone alive, dead, or fictional. Who’s on the guest list?
This is gonna sound cheesy, but I would love to have tea with girls like the Sailor Senshi. I learned that Naoko created her girls in the image of what kind of friends she’d love in her life. I think I would be much the same. You’re more than welcome to join. (Aw! What do you say, guys?)
Name three songs that would be included on the soundtrack of your life.
Oh gosh, this one is tough. “No Roots” by Alice Merton explains my philosophy on life and how I like to live it. Another is a duet by Selina and Lee Hom. It’s called “You’re the Song of my Life” and it pretty much fills my heart with love for the rock in my life Javier. The third is gonna be cheap but the Moonlight Densetsu (Sailor Moon theme song to those who don’t know) because that show is awesome and so many aspects of Sailor Moon entrance me. (I’ll be checking out the first two, and the third… If you don’t know it, you should check it out!)
Do you have any random facts, sage advice, or anecdotes you’d like to share with the readers?
If you come up with a creative idea and find out it’s been done, try not to get discouraged. Go through with it anyway! Instead feel happy that ideas that come naturally to you are also things the greats have thought of and you’re on the right track! (Another valuable bit of insight that any creative soul should keep in mind. No one can do the thing quite like YOU!)
What else can I say? The art speaks for itself. Here is just a sampling of the artist’s work. Links to her social media and art sites follow the gallery. Stop in and show her some love!
You can find Ms. Meadows and her lovely art @
Art Station
DeviantArt
Instagram
Facebook
Artist Spotlight: Sarah Meadows It has been my good fortune over the years to run in circles that allowed me to meet many talented people, such diverse and beautiful creators.
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Museum Date
This is a sequel to my previous Jule Thief piece. Though it took me forever to find because of Tumblr’s tagging system.
To the anon that request these two on a date, that is coming up next! I wanted an inbetween date before the one you requested.
Julia stood looking at the painting before her. She knew she should be patrolling the area for Carmen Sandiego, but this was one of her favorite pieces. She fidgeted idly with her long blue dress. She wasn't used to dressing so fancy.
Tonight was the grand gala at the Louvre. Wealthy art lovers from all over France, and all over the world were gathered to admire the collection. There were so many people here that security was strained to their limit protecting the pieces. Which attracted master art thieves. Julia felt someone join her in looking at the painting.
"Beautiful," a woman's voice said.
"Yes, this is one of my favorite paintings." Julia said, then turned to face the newcomer. "How do you always find me, Ms. Sandiego?"
Carmen Sandiego could only be described as breathtaking in her red dress. Her red hair was carefully tied up in an elegant bun and she carried a small red clutch. The woman in red turned to the painting as if noticing it for the first time.
"I just go to my favorite work of art, and somehow I find you there." Carmen said. Julia turned back to the painting. Despite her best efforts a hint of color was rising in her cheeks. That was the second time Carmen said something like that. Julia doubted she was actually talking about the art work.
Julia watched Carmen turn to survey the room as the orchestra's song ended. There was some light clapping and several folks moved around the dance floor. As the next song started Carmen offered her a gloved hand.
"May I have this dance?" Ms. Sandiego asked with a warm smile. Julia hesitated before taking the hand. She had been tasked with stopping the thief from taking anything. Surely Carmen couldn't steal anything if Julia was holding onto her? They walked together to the dance floor.
"Do you mind if we talk privately?" The woman in red asked. She tapped her finger on the neckline of her dress. Julia could tell without checking that her comms were blocked. ACME really needed to update their systems so this stopped happening.
Carmen grasped Julia's waist and begin spinning on the dance floor. Julia could feel multiple eyes on her as they danced together. Her dance partner didn't seem worried.
"I love that dress. Blue really is your color!" Carmen said.
"Personally I would prefer one of my suits. I've never been one for dresses."
Carmen smiled. "I always prefer to be in my coat and hat, but we all have to play our parts tonight don't we?"
Julia was quiet for a moment, her face growing serious. "You must know you are being watched."
"Of course I am." Carmen said, while she continued guiding Julia around the dance floor. She would occasionally glance over the other woman's shoulder. "I see the Louvre security. Multiple members of Interpol. Several ACME agents and of course a few VILE operatives. Not to mention a few free agents. And they all have their eyes on me. "
Julia's surprise grew with each group Carmen listed. She was observant. Also Julia was surprised Carmen knew about the ACME agency.
"Wait, VILE operatives? You aren't with them?" Julia needed confirmation of her theory.
"Not any more." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Not that your boss will ever believe that. Or your uh, travel partner."
They both turned their heads at the sound of a distant crash. Across the room Julia could see Chase wiping himself off. It looked like the inspector had tripped over one of the wait staff. The waiter was helping to wipe him down and gently ushering him away from the dance floor.
“Tonight everyone has their eyes on me.” Carmen said turning them away from Chase. “The infamous thief Carmen Sandiego is here at the Louvre Gala. She chooses to dance with a former Interpol agent. What could we be whispering about here?"
The song ended as the two women held each other close. Julia couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that their dance was over. Still she stepped back from the woman in red.
“That was a very pleasant dance Ms. Sandiego. But you are still a criminal, and it is my duty to bring you in. Will you accompany me willingly?” Julia held out her hand. Carmen looked around the dance floor in a panic as the next song started playing. Julia was vaguely aware of multiple people moving towards them in her periphery, but she refused to take her eyes off Carmen.
“How about one more dance?” Carmen took Julia’s hand and held her waist. Julia couldn’t keep a small blush from rising on her face.
“One more dance couldn’t hurt.” Julia said. Carmen smiled warmly at her and lead them into their dance. This song was more energetic than the last, with the dancing couple breaking apart and rejoining again and again. Julia allowed herself to relax and pretend. Maybe this was just a date between her and the beautiful woman in front of her. Maybe they weren’t on opposite sides of the law. Maybe this song could last forever, just the two of them twirling together.
At one point during the song when Carmen spun away from her, Julia found herself dancing with a tall, dark Frenchman. His ears were pierced and he wore a black suit with purple accents. He looked decidedly uncomfortable to be dancing with her. He didn’t make eye contact with her the entire time they danced and at one point she barely heard him whisper, “Sorry Topo.” Why was he apologizing to a mole?
As Julia danced with the Frenchman, waiting for the break in the song she could see that Carmen was dancing with a platinum blonde. The blonde had large glasses on that seemed to glow green. Neither woman seemed happy with their dance partner. In truth it looked more like they were fighting in time to the music than dancing.
After what felt like an agonizingly long moment the dancers split from their current partners to rejoin their original ones. Julia smiled at once again being in Carmen’s arms, but the smile dropped as she took in the woman in red’s appearance.
Carmen had a red mark on her face like she had been hit and her hair was starting to come out of it’s bun. The worst was the slash across her chest. Four bloody lines ripped through the neckline of her dress. Julia could see the frayed wires hanging out of the dress. She suddenly realized she could hear Chase and the Chief talking in her ear again. What ever had been blocking her coms had been destroyed.
“Carmen what happened?” Julia put her hands near the cuts. The woman in red winced but smiled.
“Tigress was able to cut my signal blocker.” Then Carmen turned and smirked at the blonde. She held up a small object with a trigger. “But I was able to get this.”
“Bait and Switch!” The blonde screamed in rage as Ms. Sandiego pulled the trigger on the object. The lights in the Louvre immediately shut down. Amid the panicked screams, cries of rage, and shouted orders, Julia wrapped her arms around her dance partner. Carmen couldn’t steal anything if Julia was holding onto her.
In the dark Julia felt a hand on her chin. Her face was lifted up and a kiss was pressed against her lips. She melted into the kiss. Even in the dark, with the chaos around them, this was everything she had wanted for months. Carmen pulled back and whispered Julia’s name into the dark.
The lights were only off for a few seconds, when the room was suddenly illuminated again. Julia was a little surprised to see that it was in fact Carmen she was still holding onto. The blonde and the Frenchman were both stunned to find the lights back on as they tried to break the protective glass covering on one of the pieces. They looked at the approaching guards and ran for the entrance. A few other would be thieves followed them out, with varying levels of success in their escape.
“There was only going to be one moment, where they could have stolen something and gotten away with it. That wasn’t it.” Carmen said with a smile. Then she stepped back from Julia, their hands lingering together, before she pulled out her grappling gun, fired it at the sky light and was gone.
Multiple guards rushed past and around Julia, but she was breathless from the kiss. And she felt a small folded piece of paper placed in her hand. She glanced at it, then slipped it away. She and other ACME agents had work to do.
During my vacation I completed 9 stories in 7 days. Now it took me another 7 days to finish a 10th story. Work takes way too much of my creative energy.
#carmen sandiego#carmen sandeigo 2019#julia argent#jule thief#writing emerald#hopefully this one shows up in my tags#so I don't have to look for a thousand years#to find it when I post the next part
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