Right to fear, wrong to believe
Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.
How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.
Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:
I mean could he climb that tree any faster?
(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )
In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.
@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:
Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly.
I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.
Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).
But what about Heaven?
See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.
But they haven't.
[GIFs posted by starrose17]
All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.
I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:
What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.
And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav
(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)
While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.
From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :
I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work.
They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.
Yes.
So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.
(Well, it obviously could be both.)
BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.
Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.
After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?
Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.
You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.
And that just breaks my heart.
123 notes
·
View notes
V The Mysterious Wayne Family
Dick Grayson V Gotham - Chapter 2
“Why can’t I sit in the front seat?” Danny demanded to know, crossing his arms from the back of Dick’s car.
Dick sighed, peering back at him with the rearview mirror. He’d been shaky as they escaped the apartment without getting attacked by the media. Did the idiot get sick? Was the media in this dimension such a big threat?
Truthfully, Danny didn’t know a lot about this dimension, despite having lived in it for around a year. That year was spent almost entirely homeless, spending only the last few weeks with Dick. Otherwise, he was sleeping where he could, spending his days in libraries and conning people out of cash as a child medium.
…Well, calling it “conning” was a bit of an overstatement. He did get people in contact with dead relatives and the like. He just… didn’t always quote them exactly, especially when it meant he could get enough money to eat for the day.
“It’s unsafe, Danny, you know that.”
Danny glared at him from his booster seat, which put him perfectly at eye level so he could lock eyes with Dick with the rear-view mirror. He hated this whole situation: the booster seat, his age, needing to rely on an adult, the stupid media, the stupid police, the stupid Dick… Okay, he kinda liked the booster seat. It was based off of some hero—Superbman—who was an alien? But looked like a human?
That may be one of the biggest differences between this dimension and his hom–the dimension he was born in. Danny had been one of the only heroes back there, along with Valerie and Dani, if you could even call them heroes. In this dimension? There were hundreds. There were space aliens to normal people in costumes to other humans with powers, and while not all of them were heroes, a lot of them were.
And Danny hated how easy they had it.
Every day back in Amity Park was a fight for acceptance, a battle to convince people that yes, he was a ghost with good intentions, only for that trust to be lost the moment he wasn’t fast enough to stop a ghost from hurting someone, or got thrown through a wall trying to protect people. It was constantly one step forward and one step back, and nothing Sam or Tucker or Jazz said ever truly made him okay with it.
Despite everything, he hoped Amity Park was doing alright without him. He couldn’t go back—wouldn’t go back, even if he had an open portal and his powers, not after what happened—but hopefully they were doing okay.
He hoped his rogues had listened and stayed away from the Fenton portal. For their own safety.
Like every time he thought of his pa–the Fentons, the scars across his chest flared up. They might have been long-healed, but the pain always lingered, a sharp lance that lingered in the thin skin of his wound. Fiddling around in his pocket, Danny found his juul and puffed. Exhaling, a bubble gum smoke filled the cabin as the CBD started to work its way into his blood.
Dick coughed. “You know you won’t be able to do that in the manor, right?”
Danny grumbled, rolling down the window a crack.
“I’m serious, Danny. I know you need it, but the rules are different at the manor. You’ll need to go outside to smoke.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll smoke outside. Wouldn’t want your gramps to get bent out of shape.”
He laughed. “I think Alfred would be alright, once we explain your medical issues. It’s Bruce we’ll have to worry about. He’s got this thing about drugs… once he learns what’s in your juul, he do whatever it takes to get you off it. He won’t even listen if we tell him about your chronic pain, he’ll just think you’re lying!” Dick threw his hand up in the air. “Honestly, it’s just lecture after lecture with him.”
“He can suck a cock then!”
Dick laughed, all traces of anger gone as his bright eyes glanced at him through the mirror. “Say that to his face, and you get ice cream for a week.”
“Done!”
The illusive Bruce Wayne. Danny had heard the name from the TV that morning, and apparently he was Dick’s dad. Not that Dick ever mentioned him in the months they knew each other. Not that this Bruce guy ever visited on the occasions Dick managed to convince him to stay the night, nor in the weeks after his foster placement was finalized. Danny didn’t even know Dick had a dad until this morning, so clearly something was going on here.
If he focused on this case—the mystery behind the estrangement of Dick and Bruce—then he’d finally be able to get his mind off Mrs. Bennett’s case. The Shade had approached him early that morning, flickering in the moonlight, barely visible and just formed. Her case was so easy too; her killer was her son-in-law, she’d been awake when he killed her and he’d definitely left behind evidence too, but there was no telling if the other detectives at Bludhaven PD would find it. Or would care enough to find it.
Corrupt bastards.
Speaking of which—”Are we actually going to be able to consult on cases while we’re in Gotham, or was that just something you said to make me feel better?”
“I believe I said case, as in the singular one with Mrs. Bennett. But yes, I’ve already arranged it with the Commissioner.”
“But she works for the Damir family! We can’t trust her.”
“We can’t trust her when it comes to cases related to the Damir family,” Dick corrected. “Other than that, she’s decent at her job.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
“She’s better than the other officers in our department?” he tried again.
“Also not a compliment. I’ve met dead guys that are better cops.”
They bantered back and forth, but the closer they got to Gotham, the tenser Dick became. Dick wasn’t the type to get serious out of nowhere—the only times Danny could remember were when a case involved a gang or that one terrible time when some ugly-ass assassin with a stupid-ass name came to town—but whatever was waiting for them… must be bad. Right?
Gotham, Danny noticed as they drove through town, looked better than Bludhaven, like how rats look better than turds. Danny had heard the rumors about Gotham, mostly about all the dangerous villains, but there was clearly some money going into infrastructure. Beautiful gothic buildings dripping with gargoyles towered overhead, and there weren’t nearly as many boarded up shops and potholes.
It wouldn’t have been a bad place to set up shop if it weren’t for all the Shades around.
The ghost population of this dimension mostly comprised of Shades with the occasional Poltergeists and Wraiths. Ectoplasm wasn’t as accessible here; just traveling to this dimension had stripped Danny of almost all the ectoplasm in his body and he still hadn’t recovered, so his powers barely worked. But Shades were shadows of humans when they were alive, weak and incorporeal unless you were a ghost too, barely kept together with their obsession.
Bludhaven had a lot of Shades. That’s why Danny settled down there when he first arrived. He wanted to help people move on if he could, either by solving their murder or contacting their loved ones.
If Bludhaven had a lot of Shades, Gotham had a colossal number.
Shades clogged the walkways and the streets, dissipating when someone or something went through them and reforming in an instant. Some alleys were plugged with them and some alleys were empty. Danny watched with wide eyes. Ghosts were supposed to be rare. He’d thought ghosts were rare. But Gotham was plagued with violent crime… violent, unique, indescribable crime, worse in intensity from Bludhaven, but not quite there in frequency. There were women with their faces melted off, men ripped in half down the center, children blown to bits, creeping around the streets of Gotham.
Danny sunk down in his booster seat. “I want to go home,” he admitted quietly.
Dick sighed. “I know, kiddo. I want to go home too.”
He blinked away stubborn tears. Dick didn’t understand. This wasn’t Danny’s home, this dimension wasn’t Danny’s home, Dick wasn’t Danny’s home (as much as Danny appreciated Dick, he wanted his family, but they hated him, they attacked him, they—)
Dick continued talking. “But you know what? Everything’s going to be okay. Because my grandfather is going to love you. And Bruce— He’s a little rough around the edges and we might not get along right now, but he’s going to love you too.” Dick sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Danny. “Tim’s going to adore you; he’s told me that he’s always wanted a younger sibling and I can’t blame him; his house looks so lonely and his parents were always gone. He’s staying with Bruce now as a foster since his dad’s in a coma, but he’s been family long before that…”
He listened to Dick continue to ramble about his family. Bruce was rarely touched upon in his stories, but Alfred was spoken of with unmistakable love (Danny never knew his grandparents, Mom and Dad were disowned years before he was born, he could probably guess why), and he clearly adored Tim (He could understand that, Danny loved Jazz with his entire soul, but what would it have been like if he had a younger sibling? Would his relationship with Dani have turned into this if they could’ve spent time together?). Dick continued with stories about his best friend and ex-girlfriend, Barabra (Sam and Tuck, Tuck and Sam, his friends were dead and it's his fault—), and even a few including Tim’s ex-girlfriend too.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think.
Before long, the car slowed to a stop. Ahead of them was a grand manor, the kind shown in those regency tv shows that Jazz loved watching, with obsessively maintained gardens and beautiful, clean exterior. A stone staircase led up to larger-than-life wooden doors; Danny couldn’t identify what kind of wood, but it was probably something expensive and old. Mahogany? That sounded like an expensive wood.
Dick put the car in park before turning around in his seat to look at Danny. “Alright, buddy. Are you ready to meet our family?”
“Your family,” Danny corrected mulishly, unbuckling his seat belt.
“Our family,” Dick said again, smiling. “They’re good people, and they’re going to be here for you.”
“Sure.” Sliding out of his seat and out of the car, Danny stayed slightly behind Dick as they walked up the steps and to the front door. Before Dick could knock or find the doorbell, the doors opened to reveal an old stereotypical butler. He even had a British accent! “Master Grayson,” he addressed Dick coolly, but when he looked at Danny, his expression softened. “And Young Master Daniel. It is good to finally meet you, and welcome to Wayne Manor. I am the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth.”
Danny ducked away. “Danny’s fine,” came his muttered response.
Alfred smiled. “Young Master Danny, then. Come along; Master Bruce is waiting for you both in the foyer.”
Dick grimaced. Did that mean something bad? What was a foyer, a fancy word for office? Was Dick going to get scolded?
They followed Alfred into the house (although, calling it a house felt like an understatement). It was even fancier inside, with marble floors and a glistening chandelier overhead. Danny felt significantly out of place in his jeans and ratty coat he’d pulled out of the trash.
There was a man pacing in the room (was this the foyer?). He was dressed in a fancy suit and built like a brick house, but looked similar enough to Dick in a weird funhouse-mirror way. The moment he saw them, his face smoothed into a banal smile and Danny immediately didn’t like him. “Dick! You’re home.” Striding up to them, the man immediately hugged Dick, who stiffly returned it. “Welcome back, chum. And who’s this?”
Dick’s smile was strained. “This is my foster son, Danny. Danny, this is Bruce; I was his ward until I turned 18.” Ouch. Not even a foster son, but a ward? That sounded like a significant step down from fostering. Danny glared at Bruce, who seemed taken aback by his hostility. Dick laughed nervously. “Sorry about him, he’s shy.” Now Danny glared at Dick.
Bruce’s smiled evened out as he crouched down, like that would hide his fucking massive body. “It’s nice to meet you, Danny,” he said. “I’m very happy you're here. Hopefully it’ll be a lot more peaceful now that you’re staying with us.”
Danny scowled. “Suck a cock, douchebag.”
Bruce’s smile dropped as Dick smothered a laugh. “Watch your mouth,” Dick scolded without any heat behind it. Danny smirked.
“It’s okay, Dick,” Bruce said, straightening up. “I’m sure Danny’s just shaken up from the sudden change. I’m feel the same, since you didn’t tell any of your friends or family that you were taking in a child.”
“Oh, so you can adopt a child without telling anyone, but when I do it—”
Alfred stepped in. “If you both could contain yourselves a minute longer, I can get the Young Masters settled in. I’ve already arranged a room for you in the family ward, Young Master Danny, if you’d like to rest? It is still rather early in the morning.”
“It might be better to give him a tour of the manor before anything else,” Dick said, eyeing Danny warrily.
“I’m not going to get lost.”
“Mhmm.” Dick didn’t believe him.
“I’m not!”
“Just like how you didn’t get lost at the precinct? Or at the morgue? Or at—”
“I never got lost on the streets!” Danny thought that was rather impressive. Besides, it’s not his fault the morgue was just empty hallways that all looked the same!
“The streets are labeled. Besides, you’ll never know where the in-house theater is without a tour.” Dick winked, like that was a big selling point.
Bruce interrupted them. “Why don't you give him a tour after we talk, Dick? It’s been a long time since we last spoke and I was hoping to ask you about your… recent life change.”
Dick pinched the bridge of nose. “Of course you want to start the interrogation right away,” he muttered, eyebrows furrowed. “Alright, but I don’t want Danny to hear this. Alfie, could you– Tim!” Following Dick’s glance, Danny found a teenager in his fancy pajamas standing on the stairs leading to the second floor. The teen, who looked enough like Dick to be his brother and Bruce’s son, rubbed his eyes like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Tim can take you on the tour! Come on, Danny.”
Dick ushered Danny up the stairs to Tim. “Will you be okay without me?” Danny asked, not wanting to leave Dick alone with Bruce.
He got a bright smile in return. Danny didn’t trust it. “Of course I will, kiddo. Don’t worry about me, just focus on having fun with Timmy.”
Tim looked blearily between them. “What is going on?”
“You’re taking Danny on a tour so he doesn’t hear me and Bruce fight,” Dick told him plainly. “Danny, this is my brother and Bruce’s foster son, Tim. Tim, this is my foster son, Danny. You two have fun!”
Ignoring Tim’s protests that he hadn’t had breakfast yet, Dick pushed them up the stairs and into the immediate hallway, closing the door behind him. They stared at each other for a moment before Danny pressed his ear against the crack in the door. “When did Dick get a kid?” Tim asked.
“Like, three weeks ago, keep up.” Tim tried to say something again, but Danny shushed him. After a moment, Tim joined him in eavesdropping by the door.
Dick spoke. “I’ll start. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you both I was fostering a kid. I was planning to inform you after the two month mark and Danny had settled in a bit more, but obviously that plan is out the window.”
“I accept your apology, Master Dick,” Alfred said, and there was a sigh of relief. “However, I would still like to know how this happened in the first place.”
“I’m more interested in knowing how you managed to foster him without us being interviewed as character references.”
“...I may have used my boss’ influence to make sure that only my co-workers were interviewed?” Dick admitted.
“Master Richard.”
“I’m sorry, Alfie, but he’s a flight risk! Do you know how many times I managed to get him to come home with me only for him to disappear in the middle of the night!? Fourteen times! Danny’s admitted that he ran away from his previous home, he still hasn’t told me his real last name, and he’s paranoid enough to give Bruce a run for his money! I’ve just barely managed to gain his trust. I didn’t need Bruce being Bruce to ruin it for us—”
“If you had asked me to stay away, I would have—”
“No you wouldn’t, Bruce! You’d pick and prod and try to uncover his every little secret because you don’t trust me to figure it out myself! If Danny had suspected that someone was looking into his past, he would have bolted, B. And I would have lost him forever.”
Danny nodded. He would have. Not that Bruce would have found anything about his past–the perks of getting stuck in an alternate dimension–but some rich asshole poking his nose in his business? Danny would have snuck onto the next bus out of the city.
“You can barely take care of yourself, Dick!” Bruce insisted. “If it was such a dire situation, then you could have contacted me and I would have–”
“–Lost him immediately because he has a strange hatred for billionaires?” Dick scoffed. “He wouldn’t let you get within six feet of him if you tried to take custody.”
“I–”
“He bites too.”
“Dick–”
“Hard.”
“Richard–”
“And it’s pretty bold of you to say I can’t take care of myself. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Because the word hypocrite is written across your forehead in crayon.”
“But I’m not the one who struggles to make rent each month.” Danny flinched. He’d known that Dick didn’t get paid that much, but was it really that bad? Didn’t Dick get a pay increase when he was made detective? Or was Danny taking so much money that it negated the pay increase— “Nevertheless, I’m not trying to take custody away from you, Dick. I’m just… trying to figure out how we got to this point.”
“We got to this point by not trusting each other,” Dick said tiredly. “And I still don’t trust you, not after what you did.”
Dick, I–”
“No, Bruce. This is my life. Besides you were only a few years older than me when my parents died and you decided to raise me on your own. It’s hypocritical for you to complain that I’m doing the same. Look, I’ve known Danny for over a year–”
“You mean you’ve hid this from me for over a year?”
“Bruce–”
“I knew I should have been suspicious when you got that foster license. You’ve been planning this for months–”
“Bruce!” Dick snapped, and Danny had never heard Dick that mad before, not even the first time they met. “Obviously I’ve been planning this for months! I’ve been planning this since the first week I met Danny! The only reason I got that damn license was for him!” He felt… warm. Danny knew that foster licenses were hard to get, but Dick had really wanted him since the week they met. Danny had been so… feral back then, he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting him, not even Jazz. Dick continued, voice barely audible through the door. “He’s a good kid. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
A sigh. “I just… don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret, that’s all.”
“Are you saying you regret adopting me?” The angry voice was back. “Adopting Jason?”
“That’s not what I meant—!”
Tim pulled him away from the door. “We shouldn’t be listening to this. Come on, let’s start that tour you need.”
Danny tried to pull away, but Tim was deceptively strong for his thin frame. Despite his struggles, he was halfway down the hall before he knew it. “Let me go, cocksleeve!”
“You don’t need to hear that,” Tim said. “Trust me, things always get… heated between them, when Jason is brought up. That’s not something you need to witness.”
Jason, huh? That must be the linchpin in this entire investigation. Dick had never mentioned a Jason before, but he was clearly important if the entire family got bent out of shape for him. Did Dick cut contact with Bruce because of this Jason? Did Jason force Dick to do it? Dick would never abandon his family like that, Danny knew this had to be true because of his determination in trying to take Danny home, but if he was forced to stay away… Maybe Jason is an associate of Bruce that Dick hates?
Danny finally managed to jerk his arm away. His entire hand ached. “You don’t have to drag me!”
Shock crossed Tim’s face, like he’d finally realized what he was doing, before it fell. “I’m sorry, Danny. I shouldn’t have pulled you. It’s just… Jason isn’t something you should hear about, at your age. I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring him up, especially around Bruce. Okay?”
Studying the boy, Danny agreed. Sounds like Jason’s some sort of criminal contact, so it was best to behave carefully. Danny kicked at the ground, scraping dirt off onto the carpet that ran in the center of the hall. “So, what do you guys do for fun around here?” He asked. “I don’t need a tour, I’m not a baby.”
Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I just spent the night in the library, working on a case? If you want to lend a hand with that?”
Danny narrowed his eyes. “I thought you just woke up?”
“...Just because I was in the library doesn’t mean I was awake the entire time.”
Ah, a fellow insomniac. His eyes narrowed further. “I only like interesting cases. What kind are we talking about? Fraud? Robbery? Some dinky school kid project?”
“Multiple homicides. If that’s interesting enough for you?”
“...Carry on.”
A/N: Anyway, I’m using @/jedipirateking’s age chart for the ages of Batman characters. Since we’re right before Under the Red Hood, that makes Dick 24. Danny is roughly a year younger than Damian, but was originally 17 before he was deaged.
Dick: Yes, this is my feral street child.
Danny: *foaming at the mouth, swearing*
Tim, internally: Oh! Dick must have already informed Danny about our identities! They work on cases together too, maybe we can work on one to bond?
Danny, internally: Wow, rich people have weird ass hobbies
Danny: *so close, yet so far from figuring out the Jason thing*
Red Hood: Did someone just walk over my fucking grave again?
Yes, some things are being kept vague on purpose. That’s for a better reveal in the future.
@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog
87 notes
·
View notes
HELLO AMORE 💥💥💥💥❗❗❗ so I've been thinking.... Artist!Shen Ricky x Muse!Reader 🤭🤭🤭 IT COULD BE FLUFF SMUT ANGST(I will cry) WHATEVER U WANT. I JUST LOVE THE IDEA OF ARTIST X MUSE KSKWO. (no rush though, make sure to take care of yourself and put yourself first! I don't want you to feel pressured to do my requests💖)
.
.
.
💖
His Muse
Pairings : Shen ricky x fem reader
Genre : fluff, slight angst(?)
Warnings : reader described as woman with long hair
A/n : Why is this lowkey giving "draw me like those French woman jack" from titanic🤓
Your eyes wandered along the detailed painting, each one giving you a different kind of aura. The small brush strokes and the careful layering of each color left you in awe.
You have always been a fan of art. Growing up with a father who was talented in drawing, you desired to be like him one day.
You wished that someday, you'll be able to portray the world on canvas just like him.
A few weeks ago, you heard about a new gallery opening. A anonymous painter, famous for his beautifully drawn canvas, had finally decided to reveal his new collection to the world.
Led by curiosity, you found yourself wandering through the spacious hallways, your eyes analyzing each and every peace of art.
You couldn't deny, that the paintings had an affect on you. The similarity to the painting style of your father left you in shock.
It felt nostalgic, yet so new. The way each brush stroke left its own impression you felt truly exciting. The desire in you to meet the artist rose quickly, yet was the only thing the artist left behind, a small flower and his initials.
S.QR
You continued your way, carefully looking at each and every painting until your eyes met with a certain peace. Displayed on the big canvas was a woman with long hair, each strand carefully painted.
Her eyes had such a beautiful glow, one that held the whole world in it as she smiled brightly. She was sitting on a beautiful Saint chair, her skin exposed yet nothing was able to be identified.
The vulnerability yet love displayed on the painting left you in awe. The artist must have truly loved that woman.
Your eyes began analyzing the woman's face, wondering if you might knew that woman. Until it dawned on you, that woman displayed on the canvas was intact you.
Your lips apart in a soft gasp, Goosebumps appearing on your skin as you found ever little detail of yourself displayed on the painting.
"Beautiful isn't it?" A deep voice spoke from behind which left you jolting in shock. You turned around, your eyes meeting with dark ones.
The unknown man smiled down at you, his hands crossed behind his back. His red hair complimented his pale skin, something that left you surrounded in a familiar atmosphere.
Something about him just left you speechless "Do you perhaps know the artist?" You asked, turning back to the painting, only to look back at the man.
His smile got bigger and he nodded "Oh yes, he's a close friend of mine" His voice was smooth, a little too smooth for your liking.
It felt like he was danger, something you mustn't interact with "Then why would he.." You closed your mouth, gazing at the painting deep in thought.
You didn't know the artist who had drawn this portrait. Maybe it was just an coincidence? A coincidence that the woman looked exactly like you, even having the same mole on the left side of your neck...
"What do you think about the painting?" The man suddenly asked, pulling you out of your trance. You bit your lip, glancing at the redhead before looking at the painting "It's beautiful.. I'm just wondering wh-"
You were interuppted by the man taking a step closer to you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear "Why its you who is displayed on that canvas?" He finished your sentence and you turned to him, surprised by the close proximity.
You narrowed your eyes ever so slightly, tilting your head suspiciously "What's you're name again?" You asked softly, suspicion rising in your chest.
He just smirked down on you "Shen Quanrui, but I go by Ricky" He introduced himself smoothly, and all of the sudden everything made sense. Why his red hair and enchanting face seemed to familiar.
"Can you draw me like them?" You asked softly, pointing at the painting infront of them. Displayed was a woman, beautifully laying on a red satin chair, nearly completely uncovered while her hair fell down her body beautifully.
Ricky looked at the drawing nervously, his heart pounding slightly as he imagined drawing you like this "Are you sure?" he mumbled and you nodded eagerly.
It wasn't like you two were too young, being young adults left you want to experience and try out new things.
The two of you ended up in a cozy art studio, in the middle of the room standing a red satin chair just like the one in the picture. You wore a black robe, nervously brushing through your hair as you waited for ricky to finish setting up all his utensils.
He cleared his throat, looking up from the canvas "You..." He began, eyes wandering up and down your body as he gulped "You can lay down now" He spoke, quickly pulling his eyes off of you. You nodded softly, slowly making your way to the chair.
You turned your back to him, undoing the strings of the robe before letting it fall onto the floor. His eyes wandered over your bare skin, trying to remember each and every curve and mark as fast as he could.
You layed down "Like this?" You asked, wanting him to guide you to the pose he found the best. He licked his lips, his eyes roaming over your skin before he shook his head "Angle your legs slightly, and lift your arm" He instructed and you obediently followed his orders.
The sunset tinted your skin in a orange color, creating a beautiful scenery. Ricky began sketching the outlines, his eyes occasionally wandering over your body before looking down onto the canvas again.
This rythm continued for a few more minutes until he finally finished the sketch. Now it was time to pull out the oil colors, carefully mixing each color to create the one he desired.
A frown appeared on his face leaving you slightly anxious, was something wrong? "Everything alright?" You asked, the atmosphere between the two of you electrifying. He looked up at you, glancing down at the painting before looking back up " I don't think I can do this" he mumbled, a serious expression on his face.
You frowned in confusion "W-why?" You stuttered, sitting up fron your previous position. He let the brush fall onto the floor, standing up while wiping the color off his hands "I can't draw you" He spoke, unable to look into your eyes.
His words seemed to further confuse you as you quickly picked up the rob, throwing it over your body before standing infront of him, stopping him from leaving the room "Is it the position? Or the colors? I'll change them both! Just tell me what's wrong" you spoke. He glanced away seemingly fighting with his inner self "No its just you. I cant draw you" He spoke sternly and a soft scoff left your lips.
You hated yourself for it, but you could feel your tears welling up in your eyes "H-huh?" You managed to voice out, but ricky just gave you one last glance before leaving the room.
Insecurities were starting to wash over you. We're you too ugly or too fat? What was it that made you so undrawable to ricky.
This was the last time you've seen him. He ignored your desperate calls and messages, and after your -th message, you decided to stop. You hated the way you felt so pathetic, you hated the way he made you feel.
"I finally managed to draw you" his deep voice pulled you out of your flashback as you blinked a couple of times. You looked up to him, a slightly distant expression in your eyes "Took you 6 years?" You asked dryly and ricky looked down, a guilty expression on his face.
"It wasn't your fault" He confessed, his eyes darting to the ground. You looked back at him as you heard how vulnerable his voice sounded "That's not what you said back then" your voice was laced with mockery.
Internally you felt bad, it wasn't that you didn't resent him for hurting you like this back then, but being a people pleaser left you feeling bad whenever people are hurt because of you. Even when they deserved it.
"I felt insecure" He confessed, eyes staring at the drawing of you "I tried my best to draw you, but you were so excited and anticipated. I was aware of your deep understand of art, and when I realized I was not able to portray the beauty of yours, I felt depressed."
He let out a sigh "It was my fault for being unable to draw you, but see this drawing as my apology." You turned to the drawing, gazing at it. You could see the emotions and hours he had spend into this drawing. It was exactly how you layed back then. It was as if he remembered every little detail of yours, the way your shoulder had a small scar, or how each skin particle had its own colors.
"It's beautiful" you whispered which left a small smile appearing on Ricky's lips "You are beautiful" He spoke smoothly and you couldn't help yourself from snickering.
"You're just like back then" you spoke as you turned to him. He shook his head "There's a difference" He said which left you raising your eyebrow "and that is?" You asked in amusement.
"Back then I was a coward, now I'm brave enough to make you mine" He spoke, his hand wandering to the back of your neck before gently pulling you closer "And I won't let go this time" he whispered.
29 notes
·
View notes