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haechvn · 1 year

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Maybe It's The Jazz

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: N/A

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary/Request: PART 2 FOR STOP TRYINGGGGG!!!!

Author’s Note: I got about 20k requests to do a part 2 so here it is my babies. Even though it is fanfiction, I personally have sense so I like when my reader does as well. Anything that is underlined is a link to a previous story I wrote in case you haven't read it already. Enjoy!!!

Taglist: @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @beautybyfire @theblacksuccubus @cherios @killmongerskeeper @shuris-whore @nut4shuri @gaspyghosttt @elliesdinosauar @idkhersposts @ziayamikaelson @trinthebean @sleepingnova @yunhofingers

Two years. It has been two long years since you walked out of her life. Two silent years since you have seen your ex-fiance. To say those years were easy for you would be a complete lie.

You had moved to the south of Italy and bought a beautiful beach house on the coast where nobody could bother you or disturb your peace. That peace only existed in your mind for a week. For the first month, all you could do was cry. Cry at the water’s shoreline as the sun kissed your forehead in comfort. Cry in the shower as the water provided a gentle pat on the back and cry on your afternoon walks as the wind tried to wipe your tears away. Sleep no longer became your safe place as your mind was riddled with the memories of your soon-to-be-wife cuddled up behind you, her nose brushing against your shoulder and just feeling safe in her presence.

Loving Shuri was the first time you had ever let anyone see the real you and the probability of her nervous self asking you out on your first date leading the two of you to get engaged was not something you expected at all. The two of you had been able to grow so much as individuals but also as a pair. You bared your souls to one another. Shuri breathed life into you and you did the same for her. You two fit together so seamlessly until you didn’t.

You didn’t regret leaving her at all. It allowed you to focus on why you are deserving of the best and truly prioritize certain things in your life. Your skin cleared magnificently, you felt like you were physically in the best shape of your life and you have been able to live your life to your hearts’ desire without any worry. You didn’t get seriously involved with anyone again but you have your fair share of dates and hookups during your separation. You have already forgiven her for her mistakes in your heart as you know that a number of things could have been clouding her mind at the time. Staying in that environment wouldn’t have done either of you any good. You know that if you were able to find love once, you are most definitely going to find it again. That was until love came knocking on your door one starry night.

You were in the middle of practicing a new pasta recipe as your chef that would usually come over for dinner had gotten sick. It was safe to say that the food you were attempting to make may or may not be safe for human consumption. It was 9:32 p.m., soft jazz played in the background and you had just smoked the cutest pink joint you rolled before deciding to cook. Maybe that’s why your food might end up in the garbage. You swayed your hips to the music and just allow yourself to feel free, arms swinging in the air with a smile stacked onto your face. You hadn’t felt this way for an eternity. The soft jiggle of your doorbell took you out of your elevated haze and brought you back down to earth. You had a strict policy about having guests come over past nine, so your mind is curious as you waltz over to the door, determined to figure out who thinks they can bypass your own rules.

You couldn’t help the startled gasp that left your mouth as you peered through your peephole. It’s her. It’s the Queen of Wakanda. It’s – your mind wouldn’t even allow you to utter her name, as it brought pain to your spirit just thinking about it. You raced back to the kitchen to throw off your apron and shut off the stoves. Why are you in a rush all of a sudden? What is the hurry for? It’s not as if you prayed everyday for Bast to return Shuri to you on a silver platter. That you wished and wished until you had no energy left to see her sculpted face one more time or be able to hold her in your arms again. Okay. Maybe you did. Dreams do come true and yours had found her way back to you.

Opening your front door, you were met with the strong presence of your ex-lover. With a single rose in hand, Shuri let out a shaky breath upon seeing you for the first time you had left. Your beauty still left her starstruck. She had imagined this day so many times, over and over, wanting nothing more but to pour her heart out to you and prove that she is a changed woman.

She realized that too much of her identity was shelved into how many tests she could perform, not how she shows up for people. It is a mistake she made for a very long time and promised herself she wouldn't let that become who she was meant to be, especially after finding the book T’Challa had left for the two of you.

Her mind had convinced her that you were in danger and that you were in constant need of protection but what could she have done if you told her to leave you alone. Shuri couldn’t sleep at night either, barely keeping up with eating properly and continually failed her science projects that she was once a prodigy at. Like you, time has allowed her to reevaluate her life. Being that you were her life, Shuri realized that no matter how much she wanted you back, getting you would not solve the issue at hand. She had to heal herself. This was the first time she was truly alone in that sense so navigating through her own mind, thoughts and actions felt like a never ending punishment at first but allowed her to blossom in the most beautiful ways.

She spent a lot of her time journaling, speaking with her ancestors as well as trying not to let her past mistakes define her. As she wished to shed the previous version of herself, the hardest part was convincing her mind that she too is worthy and deserving of a love that lasts a century. She just couldn't shake the feeling that the love she wished to experience again was you. That is why she stood before you now.

“Hello,” she said, her voice a slightly deeper than before but still commanding the attention of anyone she spoke to. Her hair was thicker, curlier but she still had that gorgeous undercut on the sides. She wore a sporty gray two piece, with her signature kimoyo earrings and what is that? A nose piercing? Okay.

“I have so many things I would like to say to you if you give me the chance. I know showing up here without letting you know may be strange but I couldn't take it any longer.”

You felt your heart race. It hasn’t done that in so long. You are mature enough to hear her out and listen to her words but you do wonder, knowing that time can truly change a person, if you are going to be met by the same Shuri. Just based on her present energy and stance, you can tell that this is a woman with intention standing before you.

Sitting in a comfortable silence outside on your porch, the ocean’s breeze greeted the two of you. Memories of the lengthy time you had spent together in Haiti on similar nights like this, under completely different circumstances. The rose she offered you laid between the grasp of your fingers, unsure of what to do next. She had just admitted that she hasn’t stopped thinking about you in the two years since you’ve been gone.

“I realized that even if I get the chance to be in your space again, I was going to have to fix the issue. I was going to have to fix myself,” her stark eyes never leaving yours, hand holding onto your free one and mind determined for you to see that she has transformed. She began to explain how she had truthfully done the inner work to address all the problems that she had within herself and reflected as well as seeking counsel from those closest to her. She just wanted you to hear her out, seeing as though the last time you had seen each other, Shuri didn’t have any words to share with you. Her heart and thoughts were no longer shielded by the insecurities and misfortunes of the past.

“Allow me to be the woman I was meant to be for you. Please. Allow me to love you the way you deserve and —,”

Her voice faded away as your eyes closed shut. Are you really willing to let her just walk back into your life when you are at your most peaceful? You aren’t opposed to loving again and you have healed your wounds. Your mind was in a healthy place as well as your physical and mental and love was the last thing you wanted to check off of your list. Shuri used to be your happy place and sanctuary. The least you could do is give her another chance.

You set your rose down on the coffee table to your right and turned to Shuri. Her eyes pleaded for you and spirit yearned for yours. Pulling her close to you, your lips ghosted around each other, feeling the light weight of her breath on you before carefully connecting your mouths. Scared and delicate. That’s how you would describe the kiss the two of you shared until you found ourselves back in the familiar pattern the two of you once shared.

Your chest warmed up and your heart felt like it might burst. She’s back. She’s back and she’s better. This is all you ever wanted. As much as you missed your relationship, you knew it was far more important for the two of you to heal no matter how much time had passed and now, the two of you can reclaim that love and start over. One step at a time.

You two knew that your souls just needed a little bit of time to recognize one another once more. There is no need to rush.

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eoieopda · 8 months

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[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

#bts #skz #atz #svt #gfx recs #gif recs #art recs #jade speaks

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leclsrc · 1 year

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happy 1k! 38 with charles please <3

words unspoken – cl16

genre: fluff :), drabble, 1k celebration

38: whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss. title from this

“And it painted a mural all over our kitchen. You know, on the back wall, the green one where you accidentally chipped off a bit of the paint? Yeah. With its hind legs, and a paintbr—just a huge—just, like, angels, and babies. Honest to God, it was better than the Sistine Chapel.”

“So this was a Michelangelo deer?” Your boyfriend asks humorously. “That’s funny. I just had a turtle painting Picasso in my dream the other night. What are the chances?”

“You are such a little shit,” you say, but you’re both laughing. Another day of sharing your dreams to each other—a habit that started out of a way to start morning conversations and continued because of how much you enjoyed listening to each other talk. Your dreams varied, from nightmares, to those of the ordinary type, to the weirdest, most obscure kinds of figments you could possibly conjure.

Like this one. “But that’s not all. So this deer. It’s done painting this magnificent mural, right?”

Charles nods, genuinely interested, adjusting his glasses as he pulls you onto his lap, wraps his arms around your waist. “So it finishes the painting, and it turns and faces me, and behind it, the painting totally melts off! Like, gone. Just—all of it—poof. The wall’s all green again. And I’m begging the deer to paint it back.”

“Oh, it betrayed you!” Your boyfriend clutches his chest. “How could it possibly?!”

You flick his cheek to shut him up. “And it repaints another painting over it, as per my request, but it’s a totally different painting. It’s not even a painting. It’s just your and my initials, tiny and accompanied by a little heart. No angels. Or babies. Or chapel ceilings.”

“And that’s it.” He fiddles with the sleeve of your knit sweater.

“That’s it.” You turn from the couch and toward the kitchen, where you can spot the wide, forest green wall you’d been talking about. “Just by the fridge. A heart and our letters.”

“Okay. As a professional dream interpreter,” he says, eliciting a scoff out of you, “I would say this means we need to do the same thing.”

“Paint the Sistine Chapel?” You joke, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Or adopt a deer?”

“I’ve got my own animal in the house already, thanks.” You roll your eyes at the offhand joke but allow him to continue. “We still have spare paint in the kitchen cabinet from when you begged me to repaint the bookshelf white.”

“Race you,” you whisper, clambering off his lap and bolting toward the cabinets.

Unfortunately, you’ve hit a caveat. You can’t find the tube or can of white paint for the life of you, so despite your headstart, you find yourself staring at your boyfriend’s proud, paintbrush-and-paint wielding grin. You roll your eyes, gesturing for him to start.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says. “How’d it look like?”

“Just let me—” you fight briefly over the paintbrush but eventually you’re drawing careful strokes of each initial, housing them inside a tiny heart. You place the brush down and step back, proud of your handiwork. “It’s just like the deer’s.”

He hugs you from behind, and you clutch his arms, both of you just staring at this new, human, lovely as it is imperfect, addition to your home. He leans down, stops right as your lips brush together, then whispers delicately, “I love you.”

You kiss him back, smiling. When he pulls away, you poke his nose. “I love you, too.”

—

“So it’s an extra 40 euros to get the green color matched and have that splotch painted over,” the super says boredly.

You stare at the white. A “splotch,” he’d called it.

You wonder how many times you’ve called something a splotch, garbage, irrelevant, when in truth it meant so much more to a total stranger. You want to turn to the super, say, coolly, casually, “Oh, my ex-fiancé and I drew that a couple years ago, so it’s not a splotch, you son of a bitch.” But you’ve no time for deep thinking or mapping out possibilities. You need to empty the place by today.

“Yeah, just go ahead and add it to the charge,” you say politely. “I forgot what that splotch was all about, actually.”

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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ckret2 · 9 months

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Failed to resist the urge to post a snippet from chapter 16. This is my way of 🤝ing @godsfavoritescientist over the "grieving ex-worshiper who never figured out how to fill the gap left by a false god" Ford characterization.

Ford didn't move. He was still staring at the neon sign of an eyed triangle hanging in the psychic shop's window.

Did the "psychic" who ran this shop actually know what that symbol meant, Ford wondered? Did Bill have a worshiper here? Perhaps just another believer who'd been recruited by one of the micro-cults Bill left in his wake, five degrees removed from a former "student" that Bill had "inspired" and then abandoned half a century ago? Or had Bill met them in their dreams? Had he been summoned up to give them knowledge of the future—did they remember Bill as the central figure in a visionary dream that now made up the core of their spirituality? Maybe he'd visited them more than once, while trying to decide whether they'd be useful to him? Perhaps he'd been grooming the fortune teller into his minion, feeding them lines he wanted to pass on to a local politician or scientist? Did he ever play board games with them?

Did they worship him still?

Did they know their god was dead?

####

There'd been an ache in Ford's chest for over thirty years—an empty pit that once held awe—a dark void that used to be filled with starlight. Ford knew now that, metaphorically speaking, the divine light Bill put off had never been anything but optical illusions with flashlights and mirrors. But even so—even so, nothing and nobody had inspired such sublime wonder in Ford since.

During his lowest moments out in the multiverse, starving and exhausted and despairing, he'd irrationally wondered if the unimpressable depression left in Bill's wake was evidence that Bill had been truly that great, too great for a human like Ford to understand, and the shadow cast on his life in Bill's absence was the natural consequence of turning away from something godlike.

Ford had gotten over that. He'd recovered, he'd grown. He understood the truth: Bill's parlor tricks had dazzled his eyes so thoroughly that now he couldn't detect the subtler glimmer of the truly wondrous. He wondered if his eyes would ever adjust to the dark again.

Whether he liked it or not, he missed the way mind-blowing awe felt. He missed being dazzled.

There were days when he wasn't sure what he resented Bill for more: vomiting so much glittery garbage into his soul, or stopping.

#gravity falls #grunkle ford #bill cipher #(and even though this is technically platonic I think it's worth tagging—)#billford #(—since like the intensity is there)#about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(and four sentences later ford discovers bill pilfered some research from his briefcase and scribbled a coded message in purple crayon)

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come-on-darling-honey · 1 year

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The Beaten Path, [Paul Lahote x reader.]

Walking through the woods to meet your ex-best friend Paul should've been an easy task but a red eyed creature changed that. Then a silver wolf changed it even further.

word count- 6k [my longest fic ever !!! [fem! reader, no biological factors mentioned] [reader is Quills cousin but no race is mentioned, in order to be accessible to all readers!]

warnings- mentions of ed!bles, nothing explicit.

I couldn’t see three feet ahead of me. The usual light touches of the leaves grazed and screamed at my skin, my face, my legs, my arms. I couldn’t stop, just keep climbing, keep going. The trees were thick and steady, the rough bark under my feet felt as if I could never fall. My fingertips gripped onto the rough bark; a blistering pain followed every movement up. I ran until I couldn’t breathe anymore, seeking solace in the high ground of the tree as a vantage point upon the misery I’d ran from. Climbing into the vivid greenery I couldn’t breathe, my lungs felt strained as each breath left rapidly. My feet and hands moved quicker than I could think, the only thought in my mind was run. Run from the creature that grabbed me. The foreign beast that didn’t belong on the hiking trails I grew up on. Even climbing now, I could see it. The creature’s skin was uncomfortably pale and freezing cold, like rocks. Empty red eyes, that were dull flames staring at me.

That creature belonged in the urban walls. Among the garbage of modernity. Not the beaten path. Locals referred to it as ‘the bush’, warning tourists visiting First beach to ‘stay away from the Bush, there’s creatures in there that would make a beast cry.’ The creature was of no doubt agile but held no comfort in the ground, its feet kept slipping as they never mastered the placement on the dry dirt floor. They tried grabbing onto a branch, snapping it by accident. Its red eyes screamed their discomfort. But most locals in Forks and La Push learnt how to walk the path. The dirt path and how to climb along the rough trees. Even on this unusually hot day where the dirt hardened, it was home.

I’d reached the west clearing when the creature found me. It was fast. Too fast. But it was frozen. For two seconds. Two glorious seconds where I managed to run to the treeline, skidding down the paths I’ve known since childhood. Climbing the tallest tree to see where it was. Turning around I wish I never had, the creature and its pale body had been ripped apart by a beast. Snarls and a viscous thrill filled the air, the swell of the trees forgotten now. The beast was a large… silver wolf. A glorious wolf. I’d seen wolves in the bush before but none that big. It was unnaturally big. Bears couldn’t even compare to its size; the sleek silver coat was so thick I expected it to sling it off to reveal a beast of a man. Two other wolves appeared helping the silver wolf, a black one and a brown one. My hiking boots felt too heavy on my feet, suddenly I felt this inhuman urge to pray. But I couldn’t move, think or pray. My movements were singular. Every slight change in my body a fault of my rushing mind. It was odd, I felt no fear as I watched the strange wolves tear the creature apart. Was it because I knew they wouldn’t be able to reach me this far up the trees or the deluded voice whispering in the back of my head that they saved me. That the creature that looked so human, it was inhuman was the desired target and they had let me run away. I wanted to give the wolves my onliness so they would protect me, love the dirt before me. But I don’t know why, and I could never explain it, but I felt as if they knew. They saw and bled with me. Or they were too busy tearing apart the creature. The guttural snarls sounded suffocated with marble or rock, every bite I could hear sounded more like a crack than a tear. It was haunting. The wildflowers of the clearing swayed in the wind, getting crushed by the fight.

There was a thick gust of wind swirling around me, my body felt as if the wind flew straight through. I could smell the sweet fragrance of the leaves that surrounded my body, shielding me. I emersed myself within the evergreen. Rough bark grazed my fingertips as I gripped onto the tree as a lifeline, my fingers still sore from my frantic climbing. My feet were warm and steady, the hiking boots, while too heavy and confining also helped me. I was alert. The trees whispered, well the barks, growls and screams were louder, but I couldn’t focus on them. The air was wet. It’d rained in the night, but the hot summer sun had dried most of the dampness, yet it lingered. It was weird that I couldn’t hear anymore, only a constant ringing pouncing through my ears. There was a lump in my pocket, remembering the edible stashed in there I was glad I decided to take it after I met up with Paul, glad my drug induced self wasn’t wandering the bush about to run into the creature. My reasoning being I’d need the small edible after to deal with whatever he was going to say and to manage the emptiness I’d been feeling since I had last seen him.

It had been hours since the attack. The wolves had left, burying the creature’s body in the dirt. But I couldn’t leave, I could barely move or think. What if there were others? Of course, my family would start to worry, so would Paul. I’d promised to meet Paul on the north clearing, not west but I’d been side-tracked, so he’d no doubt start to look for me. He’d always look for me. Even though I was angry at him, he’d find me and help me get rid of this dull pain in my head. I was no longer perched in the tree rather sitting on the thickest, highest branch. The sun had started to set when I felt myself drifting asleep, thankful that I’d been able to rest on the branch without threat of falling.

I felt a burning in my throat before I felt the cold. Wearing short cargo shorts and a thin t-shirt was a smart idea through the burning sun of the daytime as I hiked but it was now the biggest mistake I could’ve made. Carefully finding my footing, I climbed down the tree. Shivering, I wanted to vomit. Fear kept itself harboured in my throat. As I reached the ground my head spun, looking for red eyed creatures. Was it even real? Had I fallen and gotten the concussion instead of being thrown? But then how, in my concussed state, did I manage to climb the largest tree if it wasn’t for adrenaline? What I found was safer yet in my moment of haze from lack of adrenaline and possible concussion I was terrified. That silver wolf was there, at the bottom of the tree. How hadn’t I seen it? It was so large I must’ve been blind. But even if this wolf saved me, I was too close to it. Unforgivably close to an animal that could rip me in half with one movement. The ringing had subsided, I could barely hear the deep breaths as the wolf slept. Its paws spread to the empty sky, waiting for a sun kiss.

Moving as slow and steady as I could, the wolf awoke. Watching me with a soft kindness I’d never seen before. No one could ever explain to me why the hell I felt like I’d seen those eyes a hundred times before. Why I felt safe. I had begun to place some distance between us as I reached the end of the clearing, up north, Would I even be able to see the path? I stepped onto three stones, following the path over the deep lake, my head swirling and my eyes gathered a black haze. I couldn’t see. Even in the moonlit darkness, I couldn’t see anything.

I heard my name being shouted.

I kept walking.

After the fourth yell I realised who it was, Paul. His voice was dry and scratchy, but it was him, there was no one else it could be.

I turned quicker than I had moved in hours. Paul stood there wearing… almost nothing? He’d yelled my name again but my head was spinning. I needed to yell to him to be fucking quiet. That there is a massive wolf behind him and he could get killed if he didn’t shut up. But I couldn’t. Something wet hit my knees, I’d fallen into the edge of the lake. Blood flew from my knees onto the bedrock. My hands in the water up to my mid-arm. Everything was so blurry. All I could see was a shimmer from the moon onto the water. Then I felt him, hands coming onto my waist, pulling me up. I couldn’t speak. I just wanted sleep. Something to give me energy again.

I don’t know how I got here. In a large warm bed. Warm orange blankets encased my body, wooden walls holding me with a soft fondness. I could hear shushed talking now. I was at Emily’s. Her cabin was so warm. Looking down I could see my hiking boots strewn across the wooden floor, my shorts and shirt on a pile on top of the old red rug. Immediately I looked down to see old pyjamas I’d left here on my body, praying it was Emily who’d changed me. Coffee danced through the air; I couldn’t help but picture the familiar kitchen. Wooden furniture that had be loved and worn by the people I held dearest, the yellow and orange rug that Emily had made with her aunt, and Paul sitting at the table. His long hair framing his beautiful tan face. The dim, homely lighting of the kitchen would encase him, and he’d seem alive.

This was the first time in weeks I was going to see him, well technically the second time in weeks. I’d bumped into him as I was leaving Emily’s, he’d stared at me in shock. I was angry but I held no grudge. I held a grudge for weeks; bile rose in my throat when I thought of him. When our friends angrily spat his name. We’d be in school and see him, angry rants and swears flooded the air at his lack of loyalty and cruelness. I couldn’t stop thinking about him though, Emily had told me I should just give in and see him. She’d been very persistent. Despite always helping me leave before Paul would arrive with Jared and Sam. I owed her, I guess.

“You’re awake!” A sweet voice said as the door opened, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts. Two long dark braids framed her beautiful face. She wore a green t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, holding a glass of water. Emily came over to me and started fussing over my head and that I should slowly drink some water, but also lay back and not push my body too far.

“how’d I get here?” I pushed out of my throat, it felt grainy, like someone had put a filter into my throat.

“Paul found you, sweetie.” She said, redoing the braid down my back. Her thin fingers moving to my shoulders lightly massaging them.

“You’re knees and hands are kinda cut up” a familiar voice said from the doorway, I hadn’t seen Paul and Sam standing there. They must’ve been there the whole time. He was worn down, under eye bags dark and large. I’d only met Sam a handful of times; he’d looked at me in such an odd way. Waiting for something, but now he looked oddly satisfied. I never thought I’d be wishing for the odd discomfort again. Sam was larger than Paul, but Paul normally at least, was quicker. He’d slide in before anyone else, in school, in gym and when we played as kids. Even on hikes he’d always reach the goal first.

Sam called my name, pulling my attention away from Paul, who looked incredibly dishevelled and stressed.

“When you’re fully rested, we have something to tell you but for now you need to eat and rest.” As if Sam rung a bell in Emily’s head, she got up swiftly and went pass the two men, probably to the kitchen. Sam followed her, laughing lightly at her.

Still standing in the doorway, Paul stared at the floor. He looked so tired, I signalled for his attention then to the bed beside me. He didn’t lay next to me like he normally did rather he sat on the edge. Somehow that hurt more than anything else. He tucked some fly aways form my braid behind my ear smiling weakly. Then pulled his hands into his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, looking down. Tears filled his eyes. I realised now he was wearing a t-shirt; one I’d bought him. I’d wanted to buy him hiking boots, so he’d stop wearing that grim pair of vans he’d gotten when we were fifteen, but his feet kept growing and I only saw the point in buying him a stretchy shirt, three sizes too big. It was snug on him now, but it didn’t look like he could physically grow anymore.

“I don’t understand” before he could answer I continued, “why are you sorry?” the tears fell, I grabbed his hand pushing every muscle in my body to move closer to him.

“I should’ve helped you.”

What was he saying? He had nothing to do with the creature. It felt like my legs and arms burned as I remembered the creature being torn limb by limb. The great silver wolf that fell asleep at the foot of my tree, keeping me safe. How I didn’t run, maybe it was the concussion making me delirious or it was intuition.

“The wolf didn’t hurt me!” I almost shouted, getting defensive over it. There’s no way he could’ve thought that is what hurt me. He looked shocked. His mouth hung open softly, shock clearly sitting in his eyes. “There was this-” How on earth could explain this without sounding insane “this creature and it threw me…” trailing off I realised how mad I must sound but something in his expression made me carry on “… and the wolf, the silver one, saved me. I climbed up a tree and the wolf stayed there! Like- like it was guarding me” I was desperate at this point, begging that he’d understand. Or at least he’d think I’d hit my head harder than Emily originally thought. My throat scratched; I shouldn’t have yelled.

But he laughed. Grabbed me into a bear hug and laughed. He was still crying; he was crying harder than before. But he laughed.

“Did the wolf seem… familiar?” He asked, I would’ve taken this as a joke, but he was watching me with a constant sincerity, almost begging me for the truth. “Because it was and I know this is insane but you have to believe me.” He added, desperate.

“I believe you.” God, I wished I didn’t because I also wasn’t completely following what he was saying but I’d believe him.

The next twenty minutes were a haze of confusion, disbelief and hunger.

I knew the tribal history; my grandparents told me and my cousin Quill all of them. Quill’s tall friend, who I couldn’t remember the name of, had been calling Paul and his friends the hall monitors on steroids, I’d laughed at the time when Quill told me. Mostly because Quill kept quizzing me on Paul and if I knew anything, he looked like an angry squirrel being swallowed by his grey sweatshirt. I knew about certain men of the tribe who were in the three bloodlines and that they would protect us. As wolves, since that was their soul, but they were stories. Stories made by the Elders or even the elders, elders to keep the tribe’s history alive and interesting… and Paul was telling me it was all true.

That the reason he’d left my garden almost shaking in anger was because his body was throwing him into his first phase. That he’d been in incomparable pain. That I’d hated him and cursed him for weeks for leaving me, that he didn’t want to. Sam had given him an order and he’d no choice but to submit. I couldn’t be angry at Sam, no, it was for the safety of the community, for my safety and my cousins.

His hand traced down my back, beside my braid. It was a perfect sensation. A hundred tiny graces upon me. It hadn’t felt like this before when he touched me. It was as exciting and as explosive before. Now it was as if his hand had always been there.

“What are you thinking?” his voice was low, sweet and fanned by his breath next to my ear. We were so close. He’d moved closer to me after he’d explained the big thing. I thought him turning into a wolf would be the biggest news but then he told me about… imprinting. That he’d imprinted on me. That he couldn’t stop thinking about me, since we were kids. That all the imprint bond had done is prove his feelings.

“I’m not too sure.” Before he moved his hand away, I grabbed it, “I’ve always liked you, but I don’t know, you turn into a wolf, Paul. A wolf, it’s just… it’s a lot.”

“I understand.”

“But I do like you,” I noticed a small bird sitting in the tree outside the window. A black-capped chickadee, small and fragile but with an attitude larger than the moon, they’d always commute to the bird feeder in my grandma’s lush garden. ‘they’re a sign of content, dear’ I remember my grandmother telling me as I grew. I have contentment with Paul, he is adventure and roughness yet a peaceful whirl of wind. The hot sun on my back and the smiling grace of a clumsy fawn in spring. Sometimes my grandma would say that they can see the future, when I was a kid, the concept enamoured me. I’d practically ran to school the next day, sitting down in English class I turned around to face Paul and told him that those tiny, sweet birds can see the future. He’d laughed and told me they couldn’t but we both spoke about it for hours after school.

I heard his laugh and could already see his smile.

“Do you remember when we were kids, old Billy Black told us about the ancestors for the first time and we ran off to play in the ocean.” He moved closer to me, thighs touching.

“I remember my Nana and your grandfather laughing at us when a wave knocked us to shore.” I laughed with him, the pain from before now a dull ache. “And quill chasing us back into the sea.”

Quill. Does he know? It could happen to him. Has it already happened to him? He’s of the three bloodlines, we’re of the Ateara bloodline, it could happen. My tiny baby cousin could be subjected to revolting pain and his body reshaping, throwing him violently into this world. If it was anything like Paul had described, it to be he was about to be in an indescribable amount of pain.

“Will it happen to Quill?” I stopped laughing. All happiness had been scraped out of me. Barren would be the word to describe it.

“Sam thinks so, so does your grandfather,” my head pounded. My body shifted before my mind could. Of course, he knew but why would he know? How could my own granddad not tell me. Not let Quill and I into the world we both might’ve been subjected towards. “Your grandparents wanted to tell you both everything but they… feared it would trigger Quill to phase.” He added on, his hand reaching mine. It’s like he wasn’t even aware that he was doing it, like it was as simple and as common as breathing. When his hand gripped mine, I knew he was right, that it was all real.

“Do they know about the imprint?” I asked, he looked away from me.

“Yes, I wanted to tell you first, but you wouldn’t see me, and I couldn’t keep going.” He stopped, breathing heavily “Sam told them, they were worried about you and the impact the bond was having.”

“What do you mean?” Was this the cause of my headaches and insomnia? I’d been using some medication to sleep and it just led to some intensely horrific nightmares. Had Paul felt this? Had he felt worse? He certainly looked worse. Paul affirmed my thoughts, but it seemed he got the worst of it. He was in physical and mental pain at the thought of me hating him. His right hand lightly traced circles on my thighs. We spoke for hours till Emily came in and called us for food. I adjusted to being with Paul again quicker than breathing. He was glued to me. His warm body centred me, we laughed and joked with Emily, Sam and Jared. They spoke about Embry Call, one of Quills friends, how he was showing signs of changing. He was the tall friend I remembered, he was so sweet and shy. I couldn’t stomach the idea of that boy going through the pain the men around the dinner table went through. But he wouldn’t be alone. I guess that was something. God Quill was going to kill me if he finds out I know. At least I can call my grandma and talk to her about it.

“Oh um, I think I should get going,” I said standing up. I’d just noticed how dark it was outside it couldn’t be earlier than 1am, and as someone who lived with her Grandparents, 1am was not an ideal time to get home.

“I’ll drive you.” Paul said, his voice whirled around me, encapsulating me and holding me. The air was freezing as it hit our faces, walking to Pauls truck I laughed when he ran ahead of me to open my door. Everything felt so easy again. Paul lived five minutes away from me, we used to carpool to school every day. Stopping at the Sonic to get coffee and food. Singing off-key to whatever cassette we could find. We’d go and hike in the Olympic national park on the weekends, spend the whole day together and then the whole night. It didn’t feel like we’d spent an hour apart, let alone weeks. The ride was short and clam, the streetlights illuminated the road pathed by trees. There was an almost hidden path that was a sharp left to get to my house.

“I know it’s late….” I trailed off as we arrived at the front of the big house. “But is there any chance you could stay the night?” as we got out I noticed not only the porch light was on but so was the light to the kitchen. Someone was awake, and it wasn’t my grandparents who go to sleep at 10pm every night. “Who is that?” I asked, drawing Paul’s attention away from my face, how long had he been looking at my face? My knees ached, a throbbing pain from where I fell over in the bush. Paul walked towards the front door, opening it quietly. His shoulders were tense and I couldn’t see his face but I doubted it’d be very friendly to any intruders. The door creaked open, I closed it behind me. We took our shoes off, socked feet hitting the wooden floor. My home always smelt like incense, my grandma burned it everyday before she went to sleep, a habit I’d picked up from her.

“Quill! What the fuck!” I whisper shouted seeing Quill’s stocky figure eating cereal. He looked at Paul with a shit-eating smile on his face. “It’s 1am what are you doing here?”

“Gran called me cause you” he emphasised, pointing at me, “Didn’t come home!”

“Well, I’m home so thanks but go sleep in the guest room.” I tried to push him away, but he stayed put, staring at Paul. I knew the two almost got into a fight the other day if Sam hadn’t stepped in so my hope for a sweet loving interaction was so far away it was learning to read a map to go further away from the two men in my kitchen. “Please don’t you two.” I sighed, grabbing bread and butter.

“Why is he here?” Quill asked, cereal in his mouth and eyes piercing at Paul.

“Your cousin, who lives here, invited me in.” Paul’s voice was solid, but his tightened jaw showed how thin his patience was.

“You shouldn’t take in strays, especially ones who leave you alone for weeks.” Quill said practically spitting at Paul.

“You know nothing about this.” Paul shoved his finger into Quills chest. Of course, Quill knew exactly what button to push. I sat down on the counter, eating toast and pushing my socked foot between the pair to keep them apart.

“Guys, 1am, people are sleeping. Don’t.” my voice was cool; I knew neither of them would do anything but my head still hurt so I didn’t want to entertain them. Then I felt a cool hand grab my leg.

“What the fuck did he do to you.” Quill seethed. Staring at the dried blood on my legs.

“I fell Quill, stop being protective. I’m an adult, I can handle myself.” He didn’t look like he was going to take this well, always keen to having an overdramatic imagination. His grip tightened on my leg. “Seriously Quill, drop it.” My voice was deeper now. I didn’t want this to be a spectacle. Paul was staring at him, almost daring him to say what he was thinking. To give him a reason.

“He wouldn’t hurt her, darling. Let go of her leg.” We all turned to see my grandma in the doorway, her hair out of its usual braid, cascading to her hips. She knew about Paul, about the imprint bond. Of course, she knew but this wasn’t going to make it easier to explain to Quill.

“You woke up Gran well done idiot.” I whispered kicking Quill lightly. She made her way over to us, checking over the scrapes on me. She scolded us for being loud and then Paul and I for staying out so late. That despite us being adults I live her roof and should always listen to her. which i knew of course.

“You should’ve called little bird,” she muttered putting her hand to my cheek, she was cold compared to Paul who had grabbed my hand at some point. “Quill go to bed sweetheart.” Quill was about to protest but the glare he was given shut him up and he sulked off to the guest room down the hall but not before looking at me. I felt a swell of guilt raise within me. He looked so hurt. Liked I’d listened to the pain the sound of drums caused him and then proceeded to dance to the thumping beat. My hand tightened around Pauls. I looked down, my cheeks were hot in shame.

“He’ll understand one day.” Gran said, cleaning the scrapes, I felt a sting as the alcohol wipe hit my skin.

“I don’t want him to, he’s only 16 Gran. At least Paul had graduated high school when it happened to him.” I said my eyes following her actions as she teetered around the kitchen.

She and Paul soothed me, it got to the point where it sounded as if they were soothing themselves. Knowing one day Quill would understand if the Cullen’s didn’t leave soon.

Paul slept in my room that night and for every following night for the next two months until one night we made the decision to sleep at Pauls house. We weren’t expecting his dad to rush in at 3am, however.

He called our names. “It’s Quill.” He was holding the phone, pulling it from the kitchen through the one-story house. Despite being dreary and sleepy Paul and I immediately pulled ourselves apart grabbing clothes and shoes as quick as we could. Quill had a fever all week, he was sweaty and vomiting alot. I had wished it was just a sickness that he'd gotten from a friend, but I should've known better.

“Where is he?” I asked as Paul jogged to his truck, turning on the ignition.

“He was at your grandmas but he ran into the woods.” He said, leaving the house with us “Paul you should go find him, I’ll drive.”

“I think I’d be the last person he’d wanna see.” Paul said getting into the truck. I got in too, Pauls dad asked one more time if his son was sure, “I am dad, go back inside before the boys wake up.” His brothers were young and had school in the morning. I’m sure even though they have no idea what is happening they’d love to use it as an excuse to bunk school. The drive was quick and a complete blur.

Arriving at my house I saw my grandmother crying into my grandfathers’ arms. Her long hair melted into his, they fell into this whirl of grief together. There was something oddly haunting about that and yet beautiful. I’d found out recently it was my grandmother’s father who had been a shifter like Billy Blacks Grandfather. The pain was recognised by her, she knew it. She’d breathed it, I wonder if she ever could’ve imagined this would’ve all happened again. All this pain and anger. The lights in the house were all on, it was freezing, the wind was sharp.

“He screamed when he shifted.” A slight voice said interrupting my thoughts as Paul and I got out of his truck, his arms weaving around me. It was Emily, she wore her soft pink pyjamas and Sam’s denim jacket drowned her frame. She looked just as tired as I felt.

“Where’s Sam?” Paul asked, it sounded broken, like there was bile raising in his throat. I knew he didn’t really want to see Sam, to be told to do something he deeply doesn’t want to do. But he respected Sam, loved him like a brother. He’d kill for him like a brother. He told me one night in hushed voices as our limbs entangled how he wished he’d known Sam and Jared before all of this, how it felt like he had been known by them so well he had finally felt seen.

“He’s looking for Quill, he said to tell you to stay with the family.” His chest exhaled heavily. His arm tightening around me. When I looked up at him I hadn’t even noticed the fear in his eyes till Emily walked away and he looked back at me.

“He’ll be okay. Scared but okay,” He whispered guiding me over to the little cluster of love that had formed for Quill. Everyone was whispering. We couldn’t speak any louder in case he heard us, frightened and confused. One wrong word had every persons throats suspended in the cold air of a Sunday night. Monday morning, I amended as I looked at the old leather watch on Billy Blacks wrist. Before I could think I was pulled into my grandparents. I couldn’t breathe, lungs constricting and thoughts blurring. My tears were hot and choked as I cried onto my grandpa’s shoulder like I was five again. A small child who had fallen from a tree or who just missed her cousin and couldn’t understand why he couldn’t live with us all the time. I just want to know he’s safe. He’ll be safe I know but I don’t know.

I wasn’t sure for how long I stood and cried but I felt a familiar warm hand on my waist pulling me into an even more familiar chest. Paul’s hand stroked my hair as I cried. My head hurt.

“They have him, he’s okay.” He muttered into my hair. I breathed shakily and heavily as my hands slipped to his back, gripping his shirt. I hadn’t known at the time, but Paul had shifted to hear everyone while I was with my grandparents. Embry had found Quill on the Canadian border. He’d gone so far.

After he came back everyone departed with their respective partner. Embry, Quill and Jacob all phased back and cried into each other. Overwhelmed and angry. They cried so hard they couldn’t breathe. Knowing they would be going through this together though, that soothed Quill. He wasn’t alone again. There was no forgiveness in the air as we all knew why they’d been forced into this. Quills mom, my aunty Rita, grabbed him with the most pained hug I’d ever seen. Uncle had walked over to Paul and I, explaining that Quill had shifted in his sleep, he’d had a nightmare.

An orange hair pin caught my attention from the corner of my eye, turning I saw Kim Ironheart, my cousin. She wore an old pair of basketball shorts and an old jersey. I ran over to her. Clutching onto her. Asking above to spare her. She sobbed into me, her breaths as rugged as my own. Sleep still laid in her eyes like the slippers that clung to her feet.

A strong and clear voice called us over, Quill. He stood on his own in the space between us and the rest of those who lingered. I couldn’t make out his expression. I couldn’t bare to look. Kim walked over to him. Saying how he ‘shouldn’t scare us like that, shitass.’ I heard his laugh, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the floor. Would he even forgive me? Understand that if I had told him it could’ve triggered him earlier or that I knew why Embry and Jacob were ignoring him and it wasn’t because he was a bad friend but because he was too good. That I knew the end was near. He called my name again and I looked up. His eyes were creased with a smile and flooding with tears as his hand beckoned me over. I ran. The dirt under my sneakers fleeing beneath me. Colliding roughly with him and Kim. We were as thick as thieves. We stood together throughout so much, when I lost my parents, when Kim lost her closest friend and now when Quill lost a part of himself for others. Our arms weaved around each other like when we were kids begging our family to let us all sleepover. Our cries turned into laughter as we stood, feet planted in dirt.

“I take it the three of you are all sleeping in the living room tonight?” gran laughed, ushering us inside. Emily and Sam lingered, Paul laughed and followed my Grandparents inside with my phone and purse in his hands. As Quill went over to Sam, I tried pulling Kim by the hand, but she was frozen. Transfixed. I followed her gaze to Jared. He was as frozen as she was. Staring at her like they hadn’t known each other since they were three. Oh. I think this is… Not my place. I decided to go and find Paul, I dropped Kim’s hand but not before an extra squeeze to let her know she wasn’t alone. I found Paul on the sofa his smile transferring to mine. His lap was warm as I sat down.

“Did Jared?” I asked, his slight nod was all I needed. He stared at me trying to gauge my reaction. But all I could do was smile more; she’d liked him for such a long time.

“Lets sleep, I’ll knock Jared’s teeth out in the morning.” He joked pulling me down into him.

I couldn't sleep, not until Quill and Kim came in. We spoke for hours. Quill still wasn't Pauls biggest fan but he understood. They tore me a new one for how i found out about Paul and the rest of the legends. We didn't speak to Kim about Jared, they will take their time. For now it would just us basking in the sweet moments of the end. We'd take a hike together through the bush the next morning, finding our place once more on the beaten path.

pauls pinterest board

authors note: just handed in two essays back to back so please accept this as a gift for being away for longer than I expected! I took so much love and care writing this I hope it makes at least one persons day! Next up is Paul Lahote colour blind ! I love you all ! I'm going to promise right now that you will get another post on the 13th of March which is my birthday !! Take care- em x

#paul lahote imagine #twilight paul #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #x reader #x you #x yn #twilight #new moon twilight #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #twilight revival #quil ateara #i cant believe this took me a month to write #i hope you all like it #if you dont just dont tell me #x y/n

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krispyweiss · 1 year

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Christine McVie Dead at 79

- “She was the best musician anyone could have in their band and the best friend anyone could have in their life,” Fleetwood Mac says

Fleetwood Mac’s Christine McVie has died “following a short illness,” her family said in a statement.

McVie died Nov. 30 in a hospital with her family nearby. She was 79.

“We would like everyone to keep Christine in their hearts and remember the life of an incredible human being, and revered musician who was loved universally,” McVie’s family said.

“Gutted to learn about the passing of Christine McVie,” Garbage said in a statement. “Just gutted. Songbird forever.”

“This is so unbelievably sad,” Foghat wrote on Facebook. “RIP, Christine McVie. Such a beautiful soul.”

Born Christine Perfect, the singer/songwriter/keyboardist played first with Chicken Shack. She joined Fleetwood Mac after contributing to 1970’s Kiln House and was the band’s third-longest-serving member after Mick Fleetwood and her ex-husband John McVie.

“We cherished Christine deeply, the band said in a statement.

“She was truly one-of-a-kind, special and talented beyond measure,” Fleetwood Mac said. “She was the best musician anyone could have in their band and the best friend anyone could have in their life.”

McVie played alongside every member of Fleetwood Mac save for Peter Green and appeared on all but four of the band’s 18 studio albums.

Living Colour’s Vernon Reid eulogized McVie as his second-favorite Mac member after Green and quoted her lyrics to “You Make Loving Fun” as some of her best.

“No other voice … captured that feeling of the narcotic stage of love better than Christine McVie,” Reid said.

“What a tremendous loss to the music community,” Bret Michaels said on Twitter. “My deepest condolences to the family, friends and fans of Christine McVie.”

She recorded three solo albums between 1970 and 2004 and released a 2017 duo album with Lindsey Buckingham that was followed by a tour.

Her death is “terribly heartbreaking” and an “enormous loss,” Ron Sexsmith wrote on Twitter.

“She wrote my favorite Fleetwood Mac songs and I also loved her solo work,” he said.

11/30/22

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inverseautotroph · 7 months

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Uploaded Feb 22, 2020

STORY UNDER THE CUT

"What... is that?" "Hehe, like it? Thinkin' I'm holding our elusive little pantry thief! Trying to catch it was a bit of a struggle but courtesy of one of your hairbands, I doubt it's going anywhere quickly." "It... I'm not seeing things right? He kind of looks like a..." "Very, very, tiny little human? No, Maryam, that seems to be exactly what I'm holding. Or at least, looks like one. What do you think the chances are it's like, a toy robot or just a REALLY weird mouse?" "If... if he's the one sneaking into our cupboards, I doubt he's a doll, and the signs he was leaving behind were a little too careful to be a mouse I think. Have you tried just... asking him?" "Course I did! But the only response I get is a bunch of tiny squeaks that only almost sound like words. And anyway, there's still the chance it could try lying to me, even if it could talk with human words. Ain't that right little guy?" "God this is so weird, I... swear he looks like my college ex..." "Who, the little brat that treated you like garbage for a year and then ghosted out of nowhere?" "Well! I mean he wasn't. Always bad... but yes, that one. How did you remember--" "Looook that's not important right now. The important thing is that we're going to keep it, and so I'm handing this thing off to you!" "P-pardon??" "Oh, you think I should just throw it out or squish it? No judgement, I can do it right now, here--" "No no nonono wait no! Do not do that, please! I just meant why are you giving i-- giving him... to me?" "Well, I sure can't take care of something like this, it'd probably be dead in a day or two! Plus, I know you well enough, I figured you'd get the most enjoyment out of it, hehehe~" "I... don't know how to feel about the way you said that, but... Alright. I don't. Want you to throw him out or something." "Perfect! Well, here you go, I gotta get going somewhere I'll be back later tonight now byyyye~" ---- Drew this and the story kind of tumbled out of it. Drawing this was fun, I don't know if I got the makeshift hairband rope looking how I wanted to, but that's fine. Maybe I will draw these three again some day, but for now, hope you like it~

#giant/tiny #macro #giantess #shrinking #old deviantart dump #familiar discovery

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ooops-i-arted · 8 months

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I am so tired of Ahsoka!

She wasn't needed and now she is literally everywhere. I go on on any social media and serach for Prequel Trilogy stuff and I can't go 1 minute without seeing something about her, when she wasn't even in the films. I honestly am so mad that I wasn't part of the fandom before Ahsoka was created because she kinda becomes "the most important person for Anakin (fuck you Obi-Wan and Padme)".

It's a bit sad since she could have been a cool character. Just make her master someone else and don't make her the most special and powerful Jedi. And if they wanted to make her a padawan of a "special" master than maybe introduce a new Jedi who idk maybe left the Jedi Order long ago and now they return because of the Clone Wars. This would mean that: a) Ahsoka still has a "special" master b) because she is trained by a master who only recently returned to the order she has training different than any other padawan c)due to her master she has controversial opinions on some Jedi customs. This could be a good point of conflict for her character (do I listen to my master or the Order) and also doesn't make unnecessary changes in the story of film characters (Anakin, Padme, Obi-Wan and others).

Honestly, I think that when you do a serial for a beloved film you should ensure that the characters you fit with what the films tell us. The Jedi Council didn't want to make Anakin a master, so why would they give him a padawan. As ignorant as they could sometimes be, I think that connecting "Anakin is not mature enough to be master" with "Anakin is not mature enough to have a padawan". It's really something I think they would notice.

I 👏 HAVE 👏 BEEN 👏 SAYING 👏 THIS 👏 FOR 👏 YEARS 👏

She is COMPLETELY unnecessary to Anakin's story and always was. Every story beat she supposedly fulfills is already fulfilled by another character. I kinda wonder if it was an attempt at whitewashing Anakin's character (Lucas was involved in TCW and apparently wanting Anakin to be more appealing from what I heard, and this was back when the prequels and Hayden were NOT as loved as they were now because my generation wasn't as huge a fandom voice as the old OT-loving guard) and making him more appealing but no. Anakin is a human garbage can and that's what makes him such a compelling and interesting character!!!

I honestly would probably be a huge Ahsoka stan if TCW was envisioned as its own thing and focused on her as a character on her own instead of making her Anakin's Most Specialest Beloved Padawan Who Is Best At Everything (She Can Even Fight Grievous omg!!!). Back then we were so starved for female characters, we had Leia and some Padme mainstream but that was it (you only knew about Mara Jade in Legends and she wasn't in the mainstream merch or anything from what I recall), and much as I love a good dies-of-sadness joke, Padme is often simplified to that and shoved aside even though she's a really cool and complicated character in her own right. I will give Ahsoka credit for blazing the way for female characters to be more included in Star Wars, but it falls flat when she's just propped up as Coolest Wisest Bestest Jedi-but-not-a-Jedi-actually-she's-better-than-the-Order Girlboss. Now we're back to Only One Female Character Above All Others. (Rey and Rose were ruined with bad writing, Hera and Sabine are wonderful but definitely not mainstream (and probably being butchered in the show), Gina Carano ruined our chances of any more Cara content, Peli was just a cameo last season, and Bo-Karen also got the Always Right Beloved TCW Girlboss Treatment.)

Imo the Council was pretty much always on the money with Anakin (at least with what they knew of him - they didn't know of the Tusken murder spree for example) and there's no way Anakin was ever ready for a Padawan or that anyone in their right mind would give him one. In MY episode III fanfiction when Favored Main Character Got A Padawan, Obi-Wan got the Padawan because he had more experience teaching, even at 12 I knew Anakin had no business teaching anyone. Also, it was NEVER previously canon that Padawans were assigned. Masters chose them as in the Jedi Apprentice series. I will NEVER let that go. Ahsoka being assigned to Anakin was so contrived.

#anti ahsoka tano #anti ahsoka show #i will never shut up about how filoni writes as well as i did at 12 #my Lia Skye was basically Ahsoka except she wore Jedi robes bc 12yr old me hated female sexualization #anon #asks #if you don't have anything nice to say about ahsoka come sit next to me lmao

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hezzabeth · 4 months

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Revati stormed out into the hot, heavy darkness. Everything was quiet and still, the dead hair dryer was smoking. In the distance, someone was singing. Revati walked towards it, her feet stumbling over tree roots. Bridgadeiro Bun was sitting next to a tree.

"I told you to wait at camp," Revati gently scolded him.

"I got bored! Are you ready to go? Mama hates it when I'm late for Apple day Dinner," Bridgadeiro taking her hand.

It was a new vibrant gesture.

One that for a long time Revati never dared wished for.

A gesture that began a few short months ago with a dance.

Bridgadeiro's eyes suddenly widened with surprise and he gasped. A thick plastic cord had sprung from the feel, wrapping itself around his neck.

Three hair dryers remained, and Revati had one more to confront.

"Will you please just let him go? I have a weapon," Revati addressed the darkness.

An older hair dryer appeared, its black cord attached to its base.

"You humans killed my husband, the least I can do is kill yours," the hair dryer said in a lady's voice. Strictly speaking, the appliances didn't actually need electric cords or genders, or spouses for that matter. For a species that despises humans, they did seem to copy them quite a bit.

"He's not my husband!" Revati pointed out. In truth, she wasn't sure what Bridgadeiro was. When she said goodbye to him four years ago at the end of an empty train ride, she was sure she'd never see him again. But then a week or so later, he appeared "just to check up on his tent." This happened quite often, no matter where Revati went. When he wasn't visiting, he sent messages to Revati's bangle, photos of random things he had spotted, such as a butterfly on a garbage bin, sincere questions about what she was up to. Every year, Revati put her foot down and insisted on traveling back to Olde Landon for Diwali, and every year for three years running, Bridgadeiro Bun was waiting at the gates.

One year he had actually, much to everyone's horror, brought the infamous ex-girlfriend, Margarine. She was a short and extraordinarily pretty girl with freckles and Snow White hair. Whenever she stood next to Bridgadeiro, she clung to his arm in a way that showed off her cleavage. They stayed for the entire two-week festival. Margarine kept exclaiming over how "adorable" everything was while also bragging about her family's "modern living orb." She insisted on sleeping with Bridgadeiro in the greenhouse but complained the next morning about how the soil bags hurt her back. It seemed like she was obsessed with getting every single resident's name wrong. Needless to say, everyone was happy when Bridgadeiro arrived alone the next year.

"Then you don't care if I kill him?" the hair dryer asked.

"Of course I care!" Revati protested. Last Diwali, during Lakshmi Pujan, Bridgadeiro had helped her walk up and down Baker Street, handing out firecrackers to all the residents.

"I can't believe you brought these all the way from your space station!" Revati remarked.

"Well, your Nanni said last year she missed being able to say goodbye to your ancestors properly," he said with a small shrug.

"You're far too helpful! Look at everything you've done," Revati remarked, gesturing about. The plants Bridgadeiro had grown on Baker Street were still thriving. Several of Dusk's students were picking winter berries.

"It's not that much, and it's the least I can do," he replied.

"You repaid me for saving your life a long time ago," Revati said, glancing toward him. They were standing so close together their hands were almost touching. When Revati turned her head toward him, she briefly felt one of his cotton candy curls brush against her cheek.

"Oh no, I do all these things because I like you," he replied. The space between them was very close. In the distance, Revati could hear the whoosh and bang of firecrackers.

Revati swung the mace with a practiced, perfect motion, slamming it into the hair dryer. The air filled with beautiful bright sunlight, and the hair dryer collapsed. Bridgadeiro fell to the ground, still gasping desperately.

"Did you... have to kill her?" Bridgadeiro gasped.

"She's an AI machine; they're probably uploading her brain into a new dishwasher as we speak," Revati reassured him.

There was a clanking sound, and the android appeared.

"Good evening, your majesty," Bridgadeiro wheezed.

"I thought you told your pet clown to wait at the tent," the android remarked coldly as Revati helped Bridgadeiro up.

"He got bored," Revati said as Bridgadeiro brushed down the front of his blue-checked shirt.

"No real harm done! Do you want to head back to the tent to get your luggage?" Bridgadeiro asked Revati, who nodded as something twisted in her stomach. Nerves.

In the year 3556, there were exactly four hundred and eighty-seven major religions across the solar system. There were the old classics such as Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. There were the meta religions such as the Lovecraftians who worshiped fictional kings in yellow. There were the cults that worshiped objects such as carrots and shoes. Then there were the historical figure faiths. The Church of Dollyhart. The Temple of Sweet Baby Elvis. One of the largest historical religions was, of course, "Goupism," or as Nanni called it, "That parasite cult."

As far as Revati could tell, Goupism centered around a beautiful lady who long ago stole hundreds of ideologies. Of course, "Goupers" didn't call it that. They called it "mindful integration."

Bridgadeiro wasn't a religious nut. He didn't force people to wear nothing but an assigned color. He also didn't spray people with "psychic vampire" spray. He did, however, have faith. Faith wasn't something Revati really encountered.

"So, this holiday you're taking me to is to celebrate the existence of apples?" Revati confirmed as they stumbled upwards in the dark.

"Apples, ridiculous! In my court, we only attend festivals that are at least a thousand years old," the android remarked, its eyes lighting the way.

"It's to celebrate both apples and the goddess's daughter. It's about how such a simple universal fruit can be used to fulfill so many needs," Bridgadeiro explained to the android.

"I do like apple juice and apple pie," Revati conceded.

"Not to mention apple cider," Bridgadeiro added.

Up ahead, Bridgadeiro's tent shimmered in the dark. When Revati first heard about Bridgadeiro's tent, she was expecting an all-terrain raincoat propped up on a stick. Instead, the tent was a massive blood-red bioluminescent mushroom. As they approached the tent, Bridgadeiro gently pushed aside some of the fungus, creating a small opening. Once they were inside, the fungus sealed behind them. The inside of the tent was filled with sinister red light. A light Revati had long ago gotten used to.

"You know in my court, we have a massive Chocovale festival! We create an entire palace using only the finest Neptunian cocoa," the android declared as Revati grabbed her luggage. Her luggage consisted of a battered backpack stuffed to the top.

"That's nice," Revati replied. It was best to act as polite and dull as possible whenever the android went on one of her "court" rants.

"Never settle for apples when you can have chocolate, my dear," the android replied, and Revati smacked the android with the side of her bag.

"I thought we agreed when I signed my working contract that you would stay out of my personal life!" Revati snapped back.

Four years ago, Revati had been nothing more than an unpaid sidekick. Three years ago, however, when it became obvious that Dityaa did not want to be found, Revati almost went home. Then the android started doing something extraordinary. The android started paying her. Paying her to follow along, changing parts, and polishing metal as they traveled from city to city. Paying her to fight off bandits who were trying to steal the android's eyes. Sometimes it seemed like she paid Revati just to listen. Revati didn't want to think about being a ghost haunting an android for money.

"We did, but your personal life is interfering with your work! We are so close to finding Perdita! Closer than we've ever been! And you're running off to pick apples with your beau," the android snapped.

Revati glared at the android before grabbing Bridagdeiro by shirt and defiantly kissing him.

"My holiday break started twenty minutes ago! If I want to pick apples, I will pick apples," Revati spat back after letting a shocked Bridgadeiro go.

"We don't actually pick the apples on apple day; we did that two weeks ago," Bridgadeiro remarked, touching his lips and looking stunned.

"Really, Revati? You can do so much better than this! Once I find Perdita, I can find you a spouse that rules an entire moon," the android sighed, and Revati folded her arms.

"Maternity droid, open up battery-saving mode," Revati said.

"Don't you dare!" The android shrieked.

"Enter sleep mode until the battery is fully charged," Revati said, and the android slowly made a clicking sound as it powered down.

"Her battery won't start charging until the sun rises, and then we'll have ten hours," Revati said, pulling a small eye dropper out of her pants pocket. Carefully, she squeezed a drop of liquid onto the tent's walls, and they exploded in a cloud of glittery spores. Revati put the eye dropper away and pulled out a small plastic box, using it to scoop up some of the spores.

Revati was going to reluctantly miss the rainforest; it was nice being able to go out at night without freezing to death.

"You kissed me," Bridgadeiro stammered as Revati put the box away.

"I kissed you to prove a point," Revati replied, holding up a hand.

"The last time you did that, you said it was never going to happen again," Bridgadeiro replied, gently grabbing her hand.

Revati stared at it briefly, remembering last Diwali, the fireworks crackling in the sky, Bridgadeiro's hair smelling like lemon and spices.

"Because of Margarine! You kept breaking up and getting back together with her so many times it gave me psychic whiplash," Revati said, snatching her hand away.

"And I told you that night it was done," Bridgadeiro said gently. It was that same gentle voice that so many fell in love with. Everyone adored Bridgadeiro, the way people loved marshmallows and pillows.

"And I told you I'm nobody's second choice," Revati said firmly before scanning the dark, trying to find the track that eventually led to the forest's main town.

The sort of people who loved Revati were the crazy ones who loved ghost peppers and hardback chairs.

"You're not second! I invited you to Apple day," Bridgadeiro said as Revati began to walk down the path, leaving the sleeping android behind.

"Let's just keep going! The town is an hour's walk away," Revati replied.

"Can I hold your hand? You might slip in the dark," Bridgadeiro replied.

"Fine," Revati conceded. In the buzzing insect darkness, someone watched them go.

#nanowrimo2023 #speculative worldbuilding #life on mars #science fiction #speculative biology #world building #fungus scifi #saying farewell to armageddon #ya fiction #ya scifi

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