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reminiscingtonight · 4 months

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Three's Not A Crowd

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It was an accident.

If confronted about it Ingrid will vehemently deny snooping.

Because she wasn’t. In any way.

It all began with a simple tidying up. No matter how many times Ingrid reminded Mapi not to leave her various books and bags around the house the Spaniard just never took it to heart.

So doing what she does best, Ingrid puts them away for her girlfriend.

Opening the hallway closet, she starts the daunting task of hauling the heavy bag onto one of the higher shelves. It’s there, when the bag is halfway over her head that something falls out, the zipper not having been fully shut.

A couple curse words are grumbled out when the object smacks her square on the top of her head. Sighing, Ingrid crouches to grab at what she realizes is Mapi’s sketchbook… only to pause when she sees the page the book has fallen open onto.

Mapi’s artistic abilities have always been magnificent. When not busy with football or taking Ingrid out on dates, the Spaniard can always be found sketching away in some corner of their house. Ingrid’s always the first to point out how wonderful she finds her girlfriend’s pieces of art but these particular sketches, they’re nothing if not breathtaking.

Ingrid picks up the book, fingers lightly tracing the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Whoever Mapi’s captured down on the paper is nothing if not beautiful. Your eyes look kind, mouth curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

Surprisingly it isn’t jealousy Ingrid feels at the sight of someone else captured so perfectly by Mapi. It’s curiosity that causes her to flip through page after page of Mapi’s sketchbook, each one containing a different picture of you through what’s clearly multiple different days. In some of them you’re staring right at Ingrid through the pages of the pad, in others it’s only your side profile that’s been captured.

The more Ingrid looks, the more her curiosity grows. And it’s this same curiosity that has Ingrid knocking on their shared bedroom a couple minutes later, book still in hand.

“Who is this?” It’s not an accusation, words coming out soft and curious as Ingrid gently places Mapi’s sketchbook down next to the defender.

Mapi’s body all but freezes when she sees what Ingrid is referring to, eyes growing comically wide. “That’s uh, she’s um-- I just… she caught my eye-- and I… I--”

Mapi’s clearly at a loss of words, and Ingrid is quick to put her out of her misery.

Ingrid puts a light hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Mapi, don’t worry about it. I know you’re loyal. This isn’t me asking if you’re cheating on me. You love me too much to ever think about breaking my heart.”

The blonde’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her fingers. Ingrid waits patiently, as the Spaniard gathers her thoughts.

“She works at the cafe next to the park.”

Ingrid listens, if not with a little too much investment, as Mapi details the first trip that took her across your path. Something about you had Mapi returning time and time again, if just to hear your voice or get some work done in your presence.

Mapi finishes her story and they put away the sketchbook and their day goes on as normal.The conversation really should have put an end to the thoughts swirling around her head, but something keeps tickling at the back of Ingrid’s mind.

She should let it go.

Ingrid knows she should let it go.

But everyone says curiosity kills the cat and that’s exactly what happens.

Ingrid goes to see you.

Well she actually goes to the cafe at which you work at, but it’s definitely with the intention to see you in action.

And see you in action she does.

Right from the get-go Ingrid can understand why Mapi’s been so drawn to you.

You’re soft spoken, eyes sparkling as you take her order. When Ingrid hesitantly pauses over unfamiliar Spanish words you don’t make a big deal out of her sudden switch to heavy-accented English. Instead, your smile grows wider, happy to converse in your native tongue. You converse in light English. Ingrid only stumbles over her words every here and there but you don’t comment, nodding along to everything she says as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You’re just so nice and just so sweet and…

Ingrid finds herself coming back to see you again. And again. And again.

She grows used to the way your face would light up when you catch sight of her walking through the doors. You’re always quick to nudge your coworker out of the way just so you can take her order.

Ingrid doesn’t expect to feel things.

She’s in love with Mapi, she knows that. The two of them are supposedly going to get married in the future, live the happiest of lives together.

But something about you is just so alluring. And it isn’t like Mapi isn’t attracted to you either. Although her girlfriend has never said it out loud, Ingrid knows her fascination with you is due in part to how beautiful she finds you.

It’s after practice that Ingrid makes up her mind.

There’s really nothing to lose either way. Either it works out, and she can make Mapi happy as well. Or it doesn’t. Worse case scenario the two of them will just have to get their caffeine fix somewhere else.

Ticket clutched in hand, Ingrid walks up to the counter.

---

Working at a cafe was never in your plans.

But neither was uprooting your entire life and moving across the ocean to Spain.

A year ago you had a really nice job, a loving girlfriend, a life you were sure was set to last you until the end. Walking in on your girlfriend in bed with “the friend you didn’t need to worry about” really turned everything on its head.

When your job’s contract ended there wasn’t really anything keeping you tied down to the city you really only moved to for your ex-girlfriend for. So with nothing but a suitcase and plane ticket in hand, you made the rash decision to go to the ever sunny Barcelona.

You’ve only been here for a couple months, but you’re already in love with the city and the culture.

You get used to the everyday buzz of your routine. Wake up, go for a jog, head to work, make some coffee for some pretty girls, go home, rinse and repeat. Really not too much to focus on so it’s no surprise you noticed her right away.

Bleach-blonde hair, reserved but beautiful smile, yeah, how could you miss someone like her?

She always ordered the same thing whenever she came in, one hand clutched around a small book and pencil. You’ve only ever heard her say her drink order, her name, and a polite thank you when you’d bring her drink, but beyond that, she was a mystery to you.

During lulls in your shift you’d often find your eyes drifting to where she sat, head buried in her book as her pencil made its way across the page. Her ink was magnetic, so many tattoos everywhere, her arms, hands, neck.

You come to look forward to the days Mapi would come in. Every Monday like clockwork.

And while Mondays were for Mapi, Thursdays were for Ingrid.

Ingrid was another one of the girls you’ve come to look forward to seeing.

Unlike your Spanish crush, your Norwegian crush grew out of fondness.

At first you thought it was funny, having feelings for someone not from Spain in Spain. But Ingrid would always do whatever she could to make you laugh when she came in. She’s funny and attentive and just so caring, it’s no surprise you find your crush growing with each day.

So yeah, maybe you’re crushing on two women in Barcelona, but it’s not like the other knew about your feelings for them or the other woman, so you feel vindicated to continue pining over Mapi on Mondays and Ingrid on Thursdays.

When Ingrid asked you to accompany her to a Barcelona match your first instinct is to say no.

First off, you never expected her to actually ask you out.

Secondly, and more importantly, your best friend from home was always trying to get you to go to a soccer game with her but you never found much interest in people kicking balls around for ninety minutes. But to squander some alone time with a beautiful girl away from your place of work? Well that sounded pretty appealing.

The closer the match day gets the more excited you become. The day of the game you find yourself trying on at least half of your closet before calling your friend for help. All you really got was a bunch of teasing remarks, but with only a few minutes to spare you make it out the door to the game.

You send a text off to Ingrid when you get to your seat. Everyone around you is already joyous, spanish chattering going off everywhere around you.

But then the minutes tick by and your text is still left unread and Ingrid is still nowhere to be seen. It’s already passed the time Ingrid said for you to get to the game, but you can’t seem to get ahold of her nor can you spot her anywhere.

You frown. Maybe something came up and Ingrid’s just running a little (a lot) behind?

Or perhaps you were just the fool to ever believe a gorgeous woman like Ingrid would ever be into someone like you.

Your heart sinks at the prospect of being stood up.

Suddenly your mood drops, no longer as excited at watching the game as you were earlier. The longer you sit here without seeing any hint of Ingrid, the more you find yourself wishing you never accepted the ticket in the first place.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when the crowd around you starts cheering, the first of players starting to jog out onto the field for warm-ups.

Blinking away what you know would be tears of frustration, you let your eyes rake over the unfamiliar players. Mapi’s the last thing on your mind as you wonder where Ingrid can be, which is why you almost do a double take when you see someone who looks a bit like her jog right past you.

Wait.

Your head whips to the side to track the player.

Mapi’s dressed in Barcelona colors as she lightly pushes one of her teammates on the field. She’s now on the other side of the pitch, but you can still see the way she’s laughing and joking around with her teammates.

Before you can really make sense of what you’re seeing, you feel your heart stuttering to a stop for the second time in seconds.

There’s a familiar tall figure running up to Mapi’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. You would know that dazzling smile from anywhere.

Ingrid is on the field.

Ingrid is on the field next to Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t ask you to go to today’s game with her. She was asking you to watch her play in today’s game.

And watching Ingrid play soccer apparently meant also watching Mapi play soccer too.

Although you’re here for Ingrid you can’t help but drool over how good Mapi looks streaking down the field.

She seems to dance with the ball, effortlessly launching it right into the path of her teammates.

You’re standing up and cheering when her assist turns into a goal.

She’s celebrating with her teammates when you see Ingrid tug on Mapi’s sleeve. And then they’re both looking at you. You flush red at the gigantic smile on Ingrid’s face and the confused yet still slightly pleased look on Mapi’s.

When the final whistle blows you’re not quite sure what the proper etiquette is.

You’re still debating whether or not you should head out and text Ingrid later when you notice her heading in your direction.

It’s automatic, the way your lips curl up into a smile.

Until you realize she’s got one hand on Mapi’s forearm.

It’s obvious that the two of them are arguing about something. Mapi’s eyebrows are drawn together, hand’s waving in front of her as she rapidly says something to the Norwegian. They’re still too far away for you to hear them but you can still make out the way Ingrid fondly rolls her eyes at the other woman.

As soon as they come within earshot of you though, Mapi falls silent. She’s looking a bit shy and bashful, not at all as confident as when she was playing earlier, but Ingrid still drags her to a stop in front of you.

“You could’ve told me you were playing in the game when you asked me to come, Ingrid.”

Ingrid grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You let her pull you into a sweaty hug, laughing when she shakes you side to side before letting go. Ingrid gives Mapi a slight nudge before the shorter woman gives you a subdued hello.

She looks nervous. For what you’re not quite sure. If anything, you should be the nervous one. What’s your luck that the two women you’re crushing on know each other?

It almost seems natural, the way Mapi leans into Ingrid, and the way Ingrid so readily slots a hand on Mapi’s waist.

It takes a moment but your heart drops when it clicks.

“Oh, are you guys… you’re together?”

What. The. Fuck.

No, you’re not crushing on two women who know each other. You’re crushing on two women who happen to be together!

“Si,” Mapi confirms, looking a bit uncomfortable at the way Ingrid keeps manhandling her towards your body.

“Anyways, how did you like the game?” Ingrid butts in, eyelashes batting at you.

Your eyes keep darting between hers and Mapi’s. “It was… it was a nice game. I can’t really say I have much experience to compare the match to, but you guys definitely tore up the field.”

Ingrid hums. “Well we’re just going to have to change that, won’t we.”

You don’t really understand what she means so you stay quiet, giving her a polite nod in response. If you were embarrassed thinking Ingrid stood you up earlier, there’s no words that can describe the way you’re feeling now. All you want to do is go home and curl into a ball. You’re going to need a couple days of wallowing about to get over these two stupid little crushes of yours.

“The girls are planning on going out, if you want to come.”

Nervously scratching the back of your head, you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not quite sure why Ingrid looks so hopeful when Mapi’s literally held in her arms right in front of you.

“I don’t know…”

It’s the sight of both Mapi and Ingrid’s faces falling that instantly makes you start doubting your decision.

“Please?” Mapi rasps, hand lightly falling upon your arm.

Mapi hasn’t really said much this entire time, but your eyes drop to where she’s touching you, face instantly heating up at the simple feel of her hand on your skin.

“I--” You make the mistake of raising your eyes, making direct eye contact with Mapi. The Spaniard’s eyes are soft and it feels a bit as if she’s staring right into your soul. Her fingers absentmindedly dance their way down to your arm as you try to say anything other than how much you’ve been thinking about what exactly her hands can do.

“Well I suppose an hour or two out won’t hurt.” It comes out of your mouth without you really intending it to.

But your heart feels a bit lighter at the way Mapi instantly looks like you’ve just made her day. Ingrid’s sporting a similar smile, chin resting upon Mapi’s shoulder. As gently as she can, Ingrid shuffles Mapi out of the way. You don’t have any time to react before she’s leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. You’re sure your face is flaming red when she pulls back, but then Mapi’s leaning in next, kissing you just as softly as Ingrid did. She lingers for a beat, pausing to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wait outside the corridor for us, yeah? We’ll let security know to let you through.”

Still dumbstruck you nod, not able to get rid of the tingling warmth from your skin.

The two of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing down the tunnel towards the locker room. There’s nothing you can do but stare after their departing figures, hand coming up to touch your cheek as if you can’t believe what’s just happened.

Because now that you’re really thinking about it, what did just happen?

#mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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achelouise · 17 days

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my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin kaveh #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin kaveh x reader

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thebearer · 11 months

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the casual dominance in the fic abt carmys girl going to the resturant drunk was immaculate !!! i would absoluetly devour a piece where his girl goes and gets a tattoo and he’s there and helps her take care of it after yk but with some casual dom in there if you’re cool w that 🫶🏻🫶🏻

no pressure to write the piece if you’re not up for it! LOVE your work and your carmy fics💗💗💗

ahhh thank you so much!!! ofc and I hope you enjoy <3

"'s cute." Carmen muttered, lips curling when he looked at the little design, dainty and on your ankle, a simple line work for your first one.

"You think so?" You looked down at your extended leg, the sketched designs laid there before the actual process started.

"Yeah," Carmen nodded, eyes shining when he looked up at you. "Looks like you."

You blushed, rolling your eyes and looking off to the side to hide your melting face, how flustered he made you with such ease.

"You ready for me?" Donovan, Carmy's cousin, turned the corner, black gloves on and hair pulled back.

Carmen insisted you go here, where he got all his tattoos done by his cousin. "You have a big family, huh?" You had grinned at him.

"Not that kinda cousin, but yeah, baby." Carmen had laughed, grinning at you sweetly.

"Yeah." You nodded, a little shakier than you would have liked.

Carmen's eyes darted to yours, scanning the features on your face. "It'll be quick. Promise it doesn't hurt that bad." Donovan nodded at you.

You nodded back, lying back onto the reclined chair. Carmen pulled up his stool next to you, a hand running over yours gently. "Want to hold my hand?" He teased gently, fingers wiggling next to yours.

You weren't sure if he was joking or not, but you grabbed his hand anyways, fingers sliding to lace with his, clinging to the rough skin of his knuckles. Carmen smirked, rough pad of his thumb brushing over your hand.

"I'm gonna start." Donovan announced, holding the machine in his hand. "Try not to move, alright? It'll make the lines all jagged and weird."

"Ok." You nodded, your hand squeezing Carmen's a little tighter.

"Hey, look at me." Carmen muttered, your eyes sliding to meet his. "It won't hurt too bad. I promise."

Your face distorted, tensing with the first prick of the needle on your skin. You squeezed Carmen's hand tightly, back tightening to keep yourself from moving. "It's ok, it's ok. " Carmen muttered, putting a hand on your thigh to still yourself. "Just take a deep breath. That thing is tiny, it'll be over soon."

"I don't know how you do this." You grit, teeth clamped to keep a strangled gasp out as the needle danced over your ankle.

"Yeah?" Carmen snorted amused. "That would be nothin', baby. My knuckles hurt like a bitch."

"Really?" You grinned.

"Oh my God, Donny, tell her." Carmen looked at the man by your ankle.

"Oh, yeah." Donovan laughed lightly, shaking his head gently, hand still gliding over the sketch. "Nearly cried on me, sweetheart. I kept having to stop so he could walk around and get himself together."

You giggled, looking up to catch Carmen's eye roll. "Really? Thought you were a tough guy?" You teased, teeth sucking when the needle ran over tender skin.

"No way, baby." Carmen muttered, eyes shining at you playfully.

"'m just kidding." You hummed lowly. "You're pretty tough. 'specially to have all those because I think this is gonna be my last. No offense, Donovan."

"None taken." Donovan snorted. "They all say that. Then they're back in here in a few weeks."

You grinned, taking a cleansing breath at the bump of the needle against your bone. Carmen's free hand running over your hair.

When Donovan finished, showing you the final results, you grinned admiring the tiny little design. "Looks so good." You beamed.

Donovan gave a half lipped smile, nodding in a thank you before pushing back on his stool. "I'll get you wrapped up. You'll wanna get some Aquaphor or somethin' to put on that. Stay outta the sun."

Carmen nodded beside you. "I'll make sure she does it, Donny."

Your tummy flipped with excitement, his hand still laced in yours. And he did make sure you did. Giving you Advil later after your pre-appointment dose. He took the wrapping off the next day for you, putting a thin layer of the petroleum on for you.

"Wow, you're a pro at this." You hummed, watching him from the opposite end of the bed.

Carmen shrugged, heat blooming on his cheeks. "Yeah. Done it a few times before y'know. Just wanna make sure it's done right f'you, baby."

You were sure that's partially true, but you also knew Carmen liked to take care of you like this. A love language all of his own that made him feel safe, in control. And you were happy to let him do that for you.

#thebearer #thebearerblurbs #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy berzatto x you #the bear season 2

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cordeliawhohung · 6 months

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Golden Days

soap x pianist!fem!reader - written for @glitterypirateduck holiday challenge

A quiet coffee shop is the perfect place for Johnny to relax and get his mind off things. But he finds he enjoys it a bit more when someone starts playing the old, beat up piano.

masterlist

warnings: none! super fluffy! short and sweet. maybe slightly ooc soap because i don't write for him super often...

wc: 1.7k

a/n: inspired by the original lyrics to "have yourself a merry little christmas." i think that version deserves some more love.

Getting some R & R was always easier said than done, and Johnny found that he always had to keep his hands busy while he was on leave. Whether it was a quick skirmish of footy, hitting the gym, or even going for a walk, he was always in motion. But as the weather got cruddy with the bitter December wind and the pavement slick with what little snow dusted the lands, he found himself stuck to drawing. Simple sketches, he liked to call them. Silly doodles that meant little to nothing.

A majority of his journal was full of fragments of the world. A favela in Brazil where the buildings and homes seemed to stretch forever; a watermelon with a knife sticking out of it; diagrams of various ships and vehicles; the works. And he’d write some snarky comment or make fun of his captain in the privacy of ink and paper. His home away from home, whenever he was feeling sentimental, anyway.

Even as he enjoyed a fresh cup of coffee in his favorite mom-and-pop’s cafe, he drew. At first he started out with attempting to draw his cup of coffee, logo and all, until he realized that it would be lukewarm at best by the time he got the sketch how he liked it. Instead, he opted to drink his coffee while he scribbled down a Christmas tree. Might as well keep it to memory when the older gentleman who made his coffee had obviously spent so much effort into decorating it. Dazzling lights, gold tinsel and ribbons, and a glowing star at the very top. He wouldn’t be able to catch all the details, but it was enough.

A cold chill blew past the exposed skin on his forearm as the door opened and closed with a ringing bell. By habit, Johnny quickly glanced up towards the entrance where he saw you, bundled up in a winter outfit. He had never seen you before, which didn’t surprise him because he was hardly home enough to recognize most faces anymore. Your smile instantly warmed the shop back up as you grinned at the old man behind the counter.

“About time you showed up,” the old geezer teased as you approached him. “The usual?”

Sweet, Johnny thought. There was always something endearing about the love elders held for younger generations. Their knowing gazes, their kind smiles, although usually mischievous too. The owner got to work on making your cup of coffee, and as you waited you began to wander around the shop. Decorated head to toe in pine and all the gold decorations in the world, it was a bright warm corner in the sleepy city.

Naturally, you eventually made your way over to an upright piano pushed up against the wall next to the Christmas tree. Somehow, it was beautiful and ugly at the same time. Faded ivory keys, but a beautiful dark stained wood for the body, and it was also missing the upper panel, exposing the hammers and strings. It looked like it had been through hell and back, yet still stood proudly like the day it was made.

“Why don’t you play us something?” the owner suggested, his hands still busy with making your drink.

You paused just as your fingers brushed against the keys before throwing a cautious glance around the shop. No one else was in the shop besides Johnny, who you threw a polite smile towards before your eyes settled back on the older man.

“Maybe another time,” you deflected, eyes flickering over to Johnny. “Don’t want to scare away your customers.”

“Aye, don’t worry about me,” Johnny spoke up. He waved a graphite covered hand at you, pencil still nestled between his fingers. “I don’t mind a bit of music.”

The internal struggle was obvious in your eyes, and Johnny turned his attention back to his drawing in an attempt to keep the pressure off of you. Eventually he heard a slight creak of wood as the ancient stool settled underneath your weight. Johnny couldn’t help but glance back up at you as your fingers ghosted over the keys, petting them almost, before you dove headfirst into a dreamy chord.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed, the music quickly cutting off.

Boisterous laughter erupted from the owner as he leaned against the counter, your cup of coffee next to him. You looked at him with wild eyes and mouth slightly agape.

“You tuned this piece of junk?” you questioned.

The old man held his arms to the side and shrugged. “Merry Christmas.”

With some newfound vigor, your attention returned back to the piano in front of you before you played that chord once more, that time with more confidence. It was such a soft, beautiful melody; something that reminded Johnny of his childhood somehow, yet he couldn’t quite place it. Some sort of nostalgia hidden deep in his chest that started to ache and burn.

And then you started to sing.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.”

That… wasn’t how he remembered the song going. Blue eyes tore away from his journal as Johnny looked up at you. With your back turned to him, it was impossible to see your face, but he watched as your arms moved and fingers danced, how your body swayed with the beat and your feet tapped on the pedals.

“Next year we may all be living in the past. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Pop that champagne cork. Next year we may all be living in New York.”

So much for making the Yule-tide gay. There was something a little more somber about this version of the song you performed, something that had both Johnny and the shop owner completely enamored. Between your singing and the lights of the Christmas tree casting a warm glow over you, it was something straight out of an odd, demented Hallmark movie.

“No good times like the olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who were dear to us, will be near to us no more.”

There was a slight pause in the music. A prolonged chord that rang on the exposed shimmering strings of the piano. The moving hammers fell still in the exposed skeleton of the piano. After a moment, your head fell slightly as you continued on to finish the rest of the song.

“But at least we all will be together. If the Lord allows. From now on, we’ll have to muddle through somehow. So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.”

Notes sang and died down into silence as the song ended. You sat there for a short while before sliding off of the bench and awkwardly facing the rest of the mostly empty shop. The owner gave you a few well-natured claps, to which you bowed sarcastically to before approaching the counter once more to retrieve your drink. But Johnny was still dumbfounded.

“Beautiful. Haven’t heard that version before,” he spoke up, setting his pencil along the center of his journal where it rested between the pages. He leaned back in his seat, stunning blue eyes taking in the sight of you.

You turned to him with a sheepish smile, hands wrapped around the warm center of your cup. “It’s the original version Judy Garland wrote, actually. The one they deemed too depressing and asked her to change.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yeah. I always liked this version better,” you explained.

Somehow during your short conversation, you had managed to meander closer to Johnny’s table, hand brushing against the chair across from him yet not braving to take the seat. He wasn’t ignorant to the way your eyes flickered down to his journal, or how your lips tugged into a small smile at the sight of it.

“Pretty,” you commented, nodding towards the journal.

Instinctively, Johnny glanced down at his work, and he could feel his throat grow a little tight. There was the luxurious Christmas tree he had sketched, with the dazzling ornaments, then there was the dimensions of the walls behind it, and then there was a half finished sketch of you, sitting at the piano facing away from him.

“Aye, it’s something I guess,” he chuckled, hands playing with the edge of the paper.

He blamed the glow of the lights for making you so beautiful. Like some sort of angel that should have been sitting on top of a tree rather than talking with someone like him. But you are there, and you’re real, and you ask him his name and give him yours and he swears that whole conversation feels like coming home. Like he never belonged anywhere else except in that coffee shop with you. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental.

“Well, I, uh, have to get going,” you said eventually, eyes awkwardly darting to the clock that rested above Johnny’s head on the wall. “But I’ll be back here around the same time tomorrow. I could… play you a happier song.”

It was impossible for him to hide his grin as he stared up at you. Of course he agreed, and he found himself getting more excited for it than he should have been. You give him a sheepish wave as you exit the shop, the bell ringing with your absence as you dissipate down the street. Things grew quiet again as it was just Johnny and the old shopkeeper, who was busy cleaning his machines. He looked back down at his journal and fiddled with his pencil as he thought about how to finish up his sketch. A part of him wished you came into the shop earlier. He would have put you at the center of the picture rather than that tree.

“She’s single,” the man suddenly spoke up.

When Johnny looked up, he realized the man was looking at him, and he wasn’t all too secretive about the mischievous glint he had in his eyes either. Really, he wasn’t quite sure what to say in response.

“Yeah? That’s some intel you got,” he said, slightly stiff and a bit sarcastic.

“She likes the Italian restaurant two blocks down the road,” the man continued. “I’m sure she would say yes if you asked her to go with you.”

At that, Johnny had to chuckle, and it sounded something like a warm grumble in his chest, as if he was actually attempting to entertain the idea. Still smiling, he glanced down at his journal again, finger tapping against the paper.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It may be your last.

Well, perhaps he could entertain that thought after all.

#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #codholiday2023 #cod x reader

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fayeforrosie · 1 year

Text

Carnations and Lillie's

Part 4

Karina X Fem! Reader (Feat Ningning)

As Karina begins her art lessons with you at your studio, becoming more comfortable around you and finding herself enjoying such an atmosphere, she devises a plan to win your heart over

Part 4 to The Only One I Want

Warnings- Literally nothing Karina is so adorable here

Word Count- 2.4k

The tapping of Karina’s foot could be heard throughout of the entirety of the building, a recognizable form of Karina’s anxiety displayed for all those to see. She bit her lip, glancing down at her drumming foot while her stomach turned sideways. It was practically a mission for Karina to reach her hand up and flick her wrist, knocking on the door ahead.

Nevertheless, Karina strides forward, tapping silently on the door, worried it would be too quiet for you to hear. She takes a step back and readjusts herself, noticing the sounds of your footsteps increasing as you got closer.

Then, the door opens, and Karina comes face to face with you once again.

“Hi Jimin, good to see you again”, you smile and take a step back, your arm grazing outwards as a sign for her to continue into the room.

Karina smiles back, unable to allow any words to slip from her tongue, as she was far too nervous to talk right now. She had to give her mind at least a few minutes before she could think of any words, just in case her brain wired down from the overstimulation.

“I’m excited for our first class together”, you exclaim, picking up on the slight uncomfortable atmosphere

If she wasn’t going to even look at you, why would she even come anyway? You thought to yourself.

“So I was thinking...”, you slide a chair over towards the girl, taking a piece of paper that you had recently sketched your plans and ideas for your sessions with the idol beforehand. You point to the first idea you had marked down, and then fix your attention on the girl beside you, never letting a smile leave your face.

“Since you were so attracted to my painting that was in the museum, and that it was focused on realism in nature, we could start on creating some pieces that connect to nature in some type of form. You are the artist, so you get to decide how you want to interpret your work.”

You continue on to share your ideas with Jimin, allowing her to perceive your ideas and be enlightened on everything you were willing to go over with her. You didn’t hear any words coming from the girl, only small nods and smiles, however you came to notice that she was especially captivated by your realism in nature idea, and you decided that you would start with that.

After discussing what was best for you to begin with her, you went over all the supplies that she would need herself if she would seriously want to create a hobby out of art. You told her your background, and how you began to take an interest in art, a response to Karina’s questions she had and her advances to get to know you.

While your simple chat session seemed to have gone by quick, you noticed that a half an hour has already gone by, and with the fact that you only had the idol for an hour today, you suggested the two of you get started.

You moved your chair in front of Jimin, placing two blank papers out for the both of you, and discussing the basics of interpreting nature onto a piece of paper.

While you spoke on the necessities that would be required for your art, Karina couldn’t help but stare desperately at your lips, her own curving into a soft smile as she admired how beautiful you looked while you spoke, almost as if you were an angel. She adored the way your eyes fundamentally disappeared in result of your beauteous smile. Everything about you captivated-

“Jimin?” You tilted your head, tapping the girls hand in attempt to regain her focus.

“Oh um”, Karina adjusts herself into a more appealing position, running her fingers trough her hair and tucking her front pieces behind her ear, “sorry, I’m listening.”

The girl cringes at herself, knowing fully well that she had just been caught daydreaming about you as she started intently at your blushed lips. She rolls her eyes at the thought of being teased by her band-members for such an accident.

Time goes by and eventually you had taught her the basics of what she needs to do in order to create an artistic piece of nature. You firstly taught the girl how to draw a flower, and then the surroundings that would be included in such a scenario.

After informing her that it would be her turn to try, you stood up abruptly from your seat, startling Karina, and made your way behind the idol, directing her to pick up her own pencil.

“Go ahead, start with your base”, you encouraged, “imagine what the scene would look like, how beautiful the surroundings are, and then spill all that onto the paper.”

The leader nods, although her face tinted bright red as a result of your close proximity, and faces downwards to begin on her work.

Once she starts, she almost immediately allows her hand to take the lead, creating her base for the flower to stand upon. She draws a simple atmosphere, including gorgeous designs that she had picked up from your speech to her.

Karina finds herself getting lost in the moment, as if a little rat was on her head, pulling her hair strands in every direction to maneuver her hands across the paper, sketching a beautiful ambience. That is until you assisted her.

As she was sketching the outline of her grass, you reached down to her hand, stopping her movements and bringing it over to the side of her paper.

“You see how this side”, you point with Jimins pencil, it still being in her hand, “is the same size as this right here?” You bring her hand to another spot atop of the paper, pointing it at now a new place she had previously created.

Karina felt the breeze of your breath against her neck, arising the tiny hair on the leader's neck while she contained her own heartbeat to the best of her ability. She was afraid of you hearing the evident pounding against your chest, given the closeness in which you were with her.

“Since these are two different places, and one is farther away from the other, you would need to make this one smaller, to show that is isn't as close.”

After giving Karina the advice for her work, you distanced yourself once again, missing the warmth of the leaders hand against your own, however you quickly diminish such a thought before taking a seat in the spot you had previously attained.

Time flew by in the class, the music produced amongst the wind kindly conjoining with the light trace of Rnb you had emanating from your computer. It was truly an aesthetic, yet simple ambience the two of your warmly respected.

Karina had finally finished the outline of her base for the drawing, and showed it to you excitingly. You smiled and told her that she was already on the right track to creating some beautiful, and she gratefully accepted your compliment before standing up and packing her things, a response to you ultimately informing her that her time was sadly up.

At the door, you leaned in for a hug, which ultimately took Karina by surprise, but nonetheless, she smiled and pulled you in, a short, three-second hug pleasing the prolonged, twenty-four hour day she had.

You told Karina that you were excited for her to comeback, and she expressed the same before going on her way.

After that day, Karina came to take classes with you for three weeks straight, never missing a single day. If she was to be informed that their was a meeting she was required to attend, or something else on her schedule that was the same time as your class, she would immediately called ahead to her manager and delay the conference.

With each class, Karina fell harder for you, feeling as though she were a love-struck high school girl obsessing over her crush, and in all honesty, it is exactly what it was. She was obsessing over you, in a healthy way of course.

Karina picked up on your tiny habits you would do throughout the class, where if you were getting frustrated and couldn’t draw something perfectly, you would bite on the end of your pencil with a thwarted scene upon your face, and she would catch herself staring at such an endearing expression before you could notice.

Another habit she loved was when you were concentrated and your eyebrows would furrow as your eyes squinted at the paper below you. Not only was your countenance winsome and adorable, but she additionally admired the way you were so focused on perfecting your work to your greatest ability. Karina could sense your ambition and talent for art, and she truly wanted to prove to you that she was interested in the beauty and nature of your work, if not more than you.

The two of you became close over the three weeks as well, allowing yourselves to be comfortable in each other’s presence and finding peace during your sessions. You were able to joke around with Karina now, treating her as if she were a friend from the past, and as much as Karina felt content with your tranquil appearance now, she couldn’t help but dream for more, where you were closer to her, laughing and telling jokes but in a romantic aspect.

She wanted to have something serious with you, and yes she only met you around three weeks ago, but Karina knew you would cause her to fall hard, and that you did.

Now, Karina found herself inside her dorm room, knees side by side with her member, Ningning, as she discussed her plan to confess to you.

It was inevitable. Karina needed to let you know how you made her feel. How you allowed her to experience what it was like being around someone so special that did not treat her as an idol, but as Jimin, instead. You made her feel alive, and nobody else on this planet, especially the men she was blindly chosen to go on dates with, could compare to what she felt for you. Thus, Karina could not hold such deep emotions to herself, and knew she had to share them with you, or else she might as well call her manager and set herself up another stupid blind date to make her go crazy.

“So what’s your plan?” Ningning voiced beside her leader, smirking as she leaned closer, as if it were a top-secret mission of some sort.

“Ok, get this...”, Karina points her fingers to the girl and smiles, “I’ve been learning how to draw nature and shit with Y/n, and we are just about finished with our project we are working right now, right...”.

Ningning nods for her to continue, oblivious to where this is going.

“Well, while we have been doing our project at the studio together, I’ve also started my own project, which is basically similar to what we are doing, but I think this one is looking better. Y/n and I are focusing on flowers right now for our drawing, and we were talking a couple weeks ago right, and I-”

“Wait wait wait”, Ningning shoves her hand in Karina’s face, laughing at the speed her leader is talking in. She could tell how excited and coordinated she was for this plan.

“So you’ve been working on a separate project while doing the first project with Y/n?”

Karina nods with a smile, however it drops as soon as Ningning palm comes into direct contact with her bare arm, an angry expression adorning her features.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this? I want to know these things!” Ningning shouts and crosses her arms. “Whatever, continue.”

Karina laughs and takes a breath before going on.

“Well anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted”, Ningning scoffs at that, “when we were talking before, she told me that her favorite flowers are Carnations, being the reason she was drawing them on her paper, so I decided to include a big carnation in my secret project. And then get this”, Karina smirked and lightly pushed her member’s shoulder.

“My favorite flowers are Lillie’s, and Y/n knows that, so I also drew a Lillie next to the Carnation, symbolizing her and I, and I added like hearts and stuff! So I’m planning to finish the drawing tonight, and then tomorrow I’m going to write her a letter explaining the drawing, and confess my feelings at the end!”

Karina’s face stung bright red while her smile never left her face, and she quickly noticed the sharp pain to her cheeks when she realized how hard she had been beaming. Once finished with her elaborate plan, Ningning congratulated her for coming up with something so cute and clever, and how she never expected such a anti-love type of girl like Karina, to be head over heels for you, going as far as writing love notes and such.

“I’m happy for you Rina”, Ningning grasped the palm of Karina’s, finally taking a turn into a more sincere direction.

“I know you really like her, so I wish the best for you. It’s really nice what you did for her, seriously.”

With that, Ningning leaned forward towards her member and instantly pulled her into a tight embrace, rubbing the warmth of her finger tips upon the back of Karina’s neck. It was truly a special moment for the two, and Karina was forever grateful to have such an understanding and optimistic friend, as was Ningning.

“I’m going to get some rest, but I wish you the best of luck Jimin.” Ningning left her with a kiss on the forehead, turning the lights off on the way out before she reminds her leader to get some rest.

Karina tugs her knees up into her chest as she thinks about what had transpired between her and Ningning. She was exceptionally delighted with the way Ningning expressed her positivity for her plan, and it made Karina even the more assured with what she was going to do.

Her plan was perfect... she had the art, the writing, and her feelings to offer you. Now, all she needed was your reciprocation, and man did Karina wish for that.

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janyiahsucks-blog · 1 year

Text

A Dream With a Baseball Player

~Miles falls in love with someone who he can't even know.~

wc: 0.6k

warnings: slight stalking (miles is a pussy)

Miles is taking this very seriously. I mean it's his first official mission from Miguel and after their long-standing tension he is quick to try not to disappoint him.

He has a very strict set of rules assigned to most of them being, so he simply doesn't cause more harm than good. The one Miguel stressed the most was to stray from interacting with the people of Earth-780. He says he doesn't want Miles getting attached to people from other multiverses and that this mission is a simple in and out job.

"Do NOT overcomplicate this Morales" Miguels voice is so loud that it rattles in Miles's skull before finally settling.

To say the mission went slightly awry would be an understatement. In the course of trying to capture the anomaly he finds himself in a situation in which he has to save (therefore interact with) one of the many citizens of Earth-780. You.

Probably the most normal person Miles's has interacted with in weeks. But to him you're enthralling. There's just something about you that drives him crazy. He doesn't know what exactly it was that first drew him in, but he knows the hook line and sinker was your smile.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he knows from that moment on he's absolutely fucked. You exchange maybe five words on the way back to your apartment (he insists to walk you).

In the brief conversation he catches your name, and he finds himself wishing he could be just Miles. Maybe he could introduce himself some other time when he wasn't on duty but that happened to be what Miguel called a liability, he had some strict rules against dimension hoping for anything other than missions.

But hey some rules were just meant to be broken, especially if it meant he could see you smile at him just one more time. He found himself visiting Earth-780 far more than he would like to admit. When he was there, he spent all of his time on you. Following you home, making sure you were safe, finding your hobbies. And most importantly sketching you. Candid linework of you in the park, the outline of the back of your head, you smiling at your friends. They filled his sketch book to the brim. Sure, it made him seem like a little (lot) of a stalker, but he just needed to know that you and that smile were fine.

When he got home from long days of patrols and fighting crime, he thought of you. Opening his sketchbook his fingers trace the lines that make up your face on the book. He decided in that moment for one of the very few times in his life he wanted to break rules and he was gonna do it no matter the consequence.

The next week after days of preparing himself he opens a portal to Earth-780 and walks himself all the way to your local park. He knew you'd be there due to his detective work (mild stalking).

You were sitting on a bench minding your business looking as gorgeous as always when he approached you. An awkward looking boy with a lopsided smile and his hand held out in front of him.

You look around trying to see if he's confused, because to your knowledge you have no idea who this man is.

"Uh Do I know you..." Your voice is like music to Miles's ears. He hasn't heard something so sweet since their previous "conversation" if you can even call it that.

"Oh No you don't I just thought you looked like you needed some company" He shrugs trying to be nonchalant when really his heart was beating out of his chest and his brain was turning to mush.

"I'm Miles"

When he gets your number and you make him pinky promise to call he finds himself happy he decided to break some rules

#miles morales headcannons #miles morales x reader #miles morales #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #astv fanfic #miles morales 1610 #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv miles

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shadebloopnik · 2 months

Text

Some really messy sketches on a small little AU with Carmilla as a Fallen Angel Warrior.

Different from the Exorcists who slaughter Sinners, and more dedicated to the actual protection of Heaven against the darker forces. The designs haven't been thought out much, but I like drawing the horns, so I thought it'd be a cool warrior hairdo, like how Exorcists wore demonic masks (I was really bored in class okay-)

Her daughters, Odette and Clara are there too. They looked pretty different even as twins, which were a bit of an oddity at the time. They were often made to dress alike, and act alike. Most viewed them as a package deal rather than taking time to understand their individuality.

Its why they're dressed so freely in hell, relishing in how different they can be whilst still having a great bond.

Her daughters are ultimately what causes her to fall. Drawing the half horn half hair down style looked a lot cooler in my head, but it was fun regardless.

Some secret regarding her daughters get found out, Heaven making her choose to either cast her daughters down or join them. Carmilla didn't hesitate.

More info on the AU/fic in the cut belowww:

I dunno if im ever gonna expand on it, but I loved the idea of making it Zestmilla. Maybe Carmilla met the old Overlord in one of her trips in hell, maybe fighting in a battle there? Or helping establish order? Anyway, she was alone when she met Zestial, and the two were quiet the enemies when they met. They fought, though didn't aim to kill, resulting in a close fight with Carmilla as victor. She wasn't an Exorcist warrior, and saw no need to immediately end this Overlord. She wasn't sent there to do mindless murder, and would like to avoid useless battles if she could. Besides, he was polite enough, and though she didn't trust him, he didn't grate on her nerves either. Zestial was quite taken with her, suspicious and quite murderous towards an angel, but liked her well enough for her wit and level headedness. Her grace and skill in battle was also admirable.

They bump into each other many more times, over the course of Carmilla's visits to hell, and with each meeting, they turn a bit more cordial, even striking an unlikely friendship, that blossoms into much more. It takes them about a hundred or so years(bc i LOVE relationships that REAAAALLLY take the time to develop and build on that trust and love) before they become romantically involved. They seem like the couple who would take it slow, being cautious and not rushing anything less it would harm the other.

And though Carmilla's trips to hell were halted, their love was not for naught as she gave birth to Clara and Odette. Her one regret was not being able to give Zestial the great news, he would've been an amazing father.

She manages to hide their identities for a good while. The two had rather angelic features, wings and all, and humanoid forms unlike their father's. The only thing that pointed to their demonic heritage were their eyes, whose sclera was the same shade of red as her iris. It was easily hidden with simple spells though. The two girls bore quite the resemblance towards her, even with some oddities, and were left fairly alone, being able to remain undetected for decades.

(I just left this post to sketch this out real quick lol, just to get the coloring in mind, not set on the design but I dont mind it.)

The peace couldn't last. After a while with Odette and Clara still being considered young as angels, their secret gets out. Maybe the spells wore off, or by a slip of the tongue, but for some reason or another it gets found out that they're half demons. They were attacked, and the daughters were stripped of their wings and sentenced to be cast down to Hell, left at the mercy of the next Extermination. Carmilla was given a chance to redeem herself and stand back, and let her "mistakes" be washed clean.

Carmilla fought back, her wingless daughters clutching to her own feathers for protection. She scooped them up, flying away to hell, less they get any more damaged. Try as she might, however, they didn't manage to escape unscathed. She plummeted into Hell; feeling the curses and painful burn of magic at her back, nipping at her form.

It was as if Heaven and Hell itself tore her apart with her descent, both pulling with reckless abandon, shaping her into what they wanted.

She couldn't even afford to lose consciousness; she had her daughters to protect after all. Both girls were weak and bleeding, their backs aching from where their wings used to be. Carmilla glanced at her own feathers, and felt her heart break. It looked just as painful as it felt. Her once sleek and razor sharp looking feathers were nearly singed beyond repair. She retracted them, less she attract more enemies with them in display.

She struggled to get up, carrying her daughters with her despite the weakness in her legs. She didn't even have her spear with her, weaponless except for the ballet slippers she'd forged herself with angelic steel. Her hair was down and unruly, all three of them covered in burns and cuts and bruises and bleeding wounds. The attack came out of nowhere. Her daughters weren't even given a chance to defend themselves.

Weaponless. It can't happen again.

She manages to drag her daughters with her, only one place she could think of approaching. Its been decades since she's been to Hell, she hopes the territories didn't change too much. She was hesitant in going to Zestial for help. After all, its been years, and she'd left without being able to say goodbye. He'd be justified in hating her, and she wouldn't hold it against him. At the least, they could hide somewhere in his territory. His lands were one of the best choices, the demons residing under his rule were fairly disciplined. In a place as dangerous as Hell, an environment that was fairly familiar to her gave some bit of comfort. Even if he didn't accept them, even if he was unaware of their existence, Carmilla was satisfied with simply a place to rest.

She needed not worry though. As soon as Zestial heard the slightest news about strangers in his territory, he rushed to meet them himself. He noticed the large crash just some hours before night fell, and couldn't help the spark of hope. He was greeted by the sight of a few dead bodies, 1 or 2 who thought they could get lucky taking advantage of a weakened opponent. He arrived just in time to see a third fall, bloodied heels clicking on the ground below. The figure stood tall, though was clearly tired and heaving deep breaths. He barely noticed the two smaller figures in the distance, his gaze focused solely upon the lone woman, whose silver hair was still so beautiful even with all the dirt and blood matting it. He stepped closer, the sound of it causing the woman to turn and-

It didn't matter how dark it was. It didn't matter how her sclera was now the same shade of red as her iris were, as if it were inverted. He'd recognize her anywhere.

Without caring that he'd get stabbed himself, he rushed to pull her in a tight embrace, feeling her freeze beneath his arms. He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling it even with the blood and dirt, afraid as though she'd disappear if he ever let go.

He felt her large hands wrap around him and for the first time since his existence in Hell, he felt as if he could cry. This was real. This wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor a result of insanity. She was here. After all these years she came back to him. He couldn't be happier.

He immediately takes her and the two girls back to his residence, letting them clean up and helping patch their wounds. When he found out the two were his daughters, he felt as if- yea no, he was crying, this wasn't just a feeling, he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as he hugged the two as firmly as he could without aggravating their wounds. He felt so angry for them, enraged that heaven could deal out such punishments for something the girls couldn't control.

He took them all in, preparing rooms for everyone. He prepared one for Carmilla too, not wanting to push his luck. It has been years after all, and he didn't want to force himself onto her should she decide she didn't reciprocate anymore. In the end, they all slept in the same room. Carmilla wanted to be with Zestial, feeling safer with someone else in the room to stand guard, and her daughters crawled back to her, far too afraid to sleep in such a new place alone after everything that happened.

So they all snuggled in the same large bed, Zestial keeping a respectful distance from the young girls as to not frighten them, all the while letting his webbed cloak wrap around Carmilla in comfort.

Carmilla fell asleep last, her thoughts running wild. It was all so much, but right now, here with her daughters in her arms and under Zestial's embrace, she felt at peace for the first time in a long while.

Glancing at the mirror across the room, she hummed at the changes in her eyes. The only thing she could think of was how was that she finally matched her daughters. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, she'd think, drifting off into sleep.

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jennamoran · 3 months

Text

The Far Roofs: the Rats' Books of Names

cover art by Isip Xin

Hi!

Today I’m going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. I’ve previously talked about

general principles,

the rats,

the campaign,

the Mysteries, and

my favorite Mystery.

Today, I want to talk about a key setting element:

The rats' "books of names."

So, the high concept here is pretty simple. The rats of this game are pretty cool, but not cool enough to deal with god-monsters on any kind of equal basis. The Mysteries aren't like Goliath to their David, at least not usually; they're more like Scylla and Charybdis to their Odysseus. Sometimes it's possible to negotiate. Sometimes it's possible to fight back. But a lot of the time, "winning" a confrontation with a Mystery is more about surviving. Making it through.

Except ...

Just like it was for human mariners, a situation where the whole environment they travel through is full of impossible horrors one just can't do anything about ... that's kind of untenable. Humans never made the sea safe, but they did learn to navigate it. They figured out how to sail, how to chart, how to not get constant scurvy, how to knot rigging, all that stuff.

In like fashion, the rats have this multi-generational project to, basically, nibble away at the "Mystery" part of the Mysteries. To not just survive their encounters, but to come away with a bit more information every time.

To learn, eventually, how to handle all of this stuff, all these monstrous divinities that haunt the Far Roofs.

The Books of Names, in short, are a sacred tradition of the rats and pretty much a defining feature of their interactions with the Mysteries. Most families of rats keep their own set. The shelves of the rats' great libraries overflow with huge and magnificently illuminated Books of Names—dozens or hundreds for any given Name. Over the generations, at a grievous cost, the rats are grinding down the impossible magic of the roofs into something comprehensible, something they can grapple with. To record truth, and insightful commentary, and eventually learn to live with even the greatest and most awful Mysteries.

What this all means to the rats is a little tangled. They worship the Mysteries, I think, and hunt them; they are hunted by the Mysteries in turn. They dream of one day defeating or destroying them, but I don’t think they’d like the world where they’d been destroyed. They are hammered into shape, both as individuals and a people, by the Mysteries, and I don’t think I can ever really fully express what these books, or the Mysteries themselves, mean to them.

They are rich, like cake, like wine, like a well-loved and annotated cookbook. They are generations of wisdom, bound in form.

To the rats, they are, I think, life itself.

Let me show you what an example is like! Like, what you might see opening up some rat family's Book on the Mystery Hoop Snake.

Quick Hoop Snake sketches, by Jenna

So your typical Book of Names is going to start with a couple of introductory pages, maybe some sketches or whatever, and then move on to what the rats call a Mystery's "heralds," the ... ways you know that the Mystery is near. The things that you see when it's interested in you, when it's considering haunting you, or just passing by. The things that it emerges from, in the world.

It'll usually start with a list, with lots of room left to go, like:

Heralds of Hoop Snake ...

* blurred vision * getting turned about * sudden light or sudden darkness * the sudden realization that something is, and has been, very wrong * * * * * ...

and then, like, a couple pages set aside to go into each of those more, with a mix of personal statements (often newsletter clippings, because the rats send these comments around) and summarized opinions or facts.

Like:

Blurred Vision

“I saw it on the road. Down the alley, past the milk crate, in front of that old cabinet someone left out on the street. I was rubbing my eyes, and they were a little blurry, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d seen it, or what I’d seen. It was just this blur of colors rushing by, all these colors. And I thought, a flag? A mural? Someone’s shopping bag, caught by the wind? It wasn’t until I’d had that happen like three more times, these half-caught glimpses of color, in the rain, when I didn’t have my glasses on, from the corner of my eye, that I actually saw Hoop Snake direct.” — Alyona Waynwright, 2018

NOTES

Gavrilo writes that Hoop Snake lives in the confused sensorium. The world jumbles up, and Hoop Snake comes out.

Ioanna comments: “Little incongruities become bigger ones.”

Constantinope Volkov accidentally summoned Hoop Snake through an abstract in-progress painting. He could not later replicate this feat.

Elsibet Križ proposes a mechanism similar to the way that new, unknown scents temporarily seem like improbable combinations of the known—how your first encounter with a cat does not produce the sensation, “Ah, this is the smell of cat” but “oh no, my parents are being ripped apart. The world is shaking. Why is there peppermint?” You mistake the world, and Hoop Snake is there.

Meredith McCawley (human) comments that when she is very sleepy a pile of colored yarn can look like a snake to her; the passing lights of the cars, like eyes.

Kesterley Novác pushed on her eyelids to watch shapes spin. They got more and more detailed until one day she saw Hoop Snake! Trying to chase Hoop Snake into her eyes she wound up headbutting the wall.

Getting Turned Around

You are nodding along. You are small, they say. And meek. You are but a child. I will fix that for you, they say. You think, “Wait, what?” In that “Wait, what?” there is a snake. — Iodine Petrova, 2012

NOTES

Maria Augustine, Leverage Jordan, and Daisuke Ozlov attest this experience of Hoop Snake: “we are confused, and then, we are not confused. A snake takes its tail into its mouth, and rolls.”

Kaeda Vanagir was noted as having frequently become lost in the weeks before her June 1993 disappearance chasing after Hoop Snake. (May she one day return.)

Jezdimir Czerny likened the moment of seeing Hoop Snake to becoming turned around, to feeling like you know where you are and where you’re going, and then you look up, and you’re actually somewhere else.

Violeta Schulz was flung from a spinning ferris wheel and, before she landed, a snake burst from the bushes to, as the witnesses described it, “drink her down like wine.”

I found a Hoop Snake scale in a little store that I’ve never seen again.

Hoop Snake Scale

“I was literally just popping out to buy the news. Only, I hadn’t had my coffee yet, and somehow I wound up … I don’t even know where. It was a garden, up on the roofs, but it wasn’t a rat garden, and I don’t know where it is, and I can't find that place now. There was a colored banner, there, tied to a tree. It fluttered like a snake in the wind.” — Presley Weekes, 2014

Sudden light, by Jenna Moran

Sudden Light, or Sudden Darkness “There were noises in the dark. Thumping. Crashing. I thought it was the cats. My brain was so sleepy. I couldn’t put it together, except: oh, the cats got down here. We don’t even have cats. So I stagger out there. I’m not even dressed, just a long shirt on. I didn’t have my glasses on. Everything was just a blur. And I look at the cats, the thing I thought was cats, and like, for just a moment it was. For just a moment, it was cats, moving in the dark. Then it was ‘cats,’ like, one thing, one item, one animal, with two parts, that were shaped like cats. Like a dromedary, if cats were humps. It stuck its tail in its mouth. It began to roll away. ‘Like Hell,’ I said, but I didn’t give chase. I wasn’t dressed!” — Lucy Stokes (human), 2004

NOTES

Valery Merlin experienced frequent incidents of his electric lantern coming on unexpectedly and blinding his eyes, sometimes accompanied by a fulgurative scent. This ended when the flare of the light revealed a snake like a coiled spring; he fell over, the lantern broke, and the incident thus resolved.

Priscilla Augustine reports a summer cold that stuffed up her nose to the point of intermittent blindness, during which intervals objects would fall of their shelves, slithering or rolling noises echo through the halls, and glittering snake scales appear in unlikely places. Later, Hoop Snake appeared; when she complained that she could not chase it owing to her cold, it leapt up her sinus passages, cleared them out ... and vanished.

In 2007, Tsubasa Kysely reported such high levels of paparazzi harassment that “I can hardly see from all the flashing.” He would ultimately disappear in what is believed to be a Hoop Snake incident; may he one day return.

When our senses become unreliable, Eureka writes, the world becomes the inexplicable.

The Sudden Realization that Something Is, or Has Been, Very Wrong

“The funny thing was, that wasn’t the first time I saw the snake. It had already been there. It was in that picture frame, hanging over my bed: this picture of a snake. Sometimes it moved. It was in the background on this show I watched. I would go outside, and sit on the edge of the roof, and there’d be a snake there, all curled up with its tail in its mouth, and I’d say to it ‘hey.’ I had to keep moving it out of the sink. One time, I think, I walked into my house, but it wasn’t my house. It was the snake. And I still didn’t realize. I still wasn’t able to really process, here is something inexplicable. It was just part of the world I thought I knew, until one day, I looked at it with fresh eyes and went ‘oh my freaking saints, that is a snake.’ It was like it was laughing at me, when it stuck its tail in its mouth. Like it was making fun of me. I took a step towards it, and it rolled away. Another step. Another. But there wasn’t roof underneath me any more, so I fell.” — Mikhael Bygones, 2015

NOTES

Gavrilo writes that we often fail to recognize the presence of Hoop Snake in our lives until it has already been present for some time.

Meriadoc Ozoles was famous as “the Chasing Mayor” because she kept running after bits of colored string floating by in the breeze. It wasn’t until she caught one and it turned out to be Hoop Snake that people remembered that colored string doesn’t normally just float by all the time.

Maglev Brunsinick grew up in a burrow that turned out not to be real: he wandered out one day, and looked back, and there was only a snake. "I should have known," he says, "looking back, what with the way Mom and Dad were just internal organs. But, like, I was a kit?"

Torrin kept tripping over her grandmother's tail everywhere in the house. One day, she spilled hot oatmeal all over her grandmother's tail. "Oh no!" she said, and tried to clean it off, but her grandmother wasn't in the room. The tail wasn't reacting to the heat. Also, it was a snake tail. She dashed in to confront Hoop Snake; startled, it threw aside her grandmother's shawl, looked every which way in a panic, and then flung itself away down the drain.

Vasilisa writes: "What is reality but a snake we won't see?"

“At some point I realized that I did not work at the company. I think it was the looks people were giving me. Steve. Like, there was Steve, and he had this look in his eye like, ‘why is there a rat here. Why is the rat wearing a suit. Why is the rat carrying a folder with our third quarter projections.’ I was just strolling along, on top of my game and on top of the world, but I couldn’t help shriveling a little at all the looks. At this growing disorientation, like: Why is this place? What is it for? Why was I heading to my cubicle to spin around and around and around on my swivel chair when the skies were so blue; when the roofs were so high? Who even hired me? Who decided that this was the way life would be? Why do people who don’t do any work get paid so much more than us rats down here in the trenches who do? And the more I tried to just cope and keep moving, the louder the questions got inside my heart, until I spun around and I pointed and I said, ‘because I’m damn good at this, STEVE.’ He was so gentle. I was … I wasn’t expecting that he’d be so gentle. ‘If only,’ he said. ‘If only that was why anyone found their way here.’” — Rufica du Lac, 2016

Jenna Talking Again

It's basically that kind of thing! Plus a lot of blank room left for more.

After that section on the Heralds, it'd move on to the "weapons" of the Mystery, the way it hurts you, the way it messes around with your life; like, for Hoop Snake ...

The Weapons of Hoop Snake ...

* ridicule * confusion * anything you don't expect them to be * * * * ...

... but, I think I'll stop there for now.

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse at the rats' Books of Names! Don't forget to check the kickstarter out!

#the far roofs #jenna moran #ttrpgs #hoop snake #yes that's the same steve as from nobilis antithesis

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chubs-deuce · 2 months

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Hi!! Love your artwork and your Charlastor AU with Dawn!!

I was wondering if you think Alastor would make any dawn-themed dad jokes and puns in your AU, and if he does, what would Dawn and Charlie think of them? I can’t really think of any off the top of my head right now, but I know ‘a brand new dawn’ is a phrase he could maybe use!

Again, love your art!!! If you don’t mind answering questions about it, do you have any advice for artists who want to improve their drawing or any practices that have helped you develop your skills? And are there any particular artists that really inspire you?

You’re one of my favorite artists and I don’t know how to explain it but your drawings have so much life in them!! 🌟

sdlksdflkj thank you so much omg!!!

I'm so glad you're enjoying them ;W;

And he would be insufferable with them lmfaoo, especially because I'm sure Charlie would hop in on a few of them and add to the pile as well xD

One more I can think of rn is "Oh, I was wondering where the sun went!" whenever Dawn enters a room, because the implied punchline is "but then it Dawned on me" or something? XD idk I'm not good with puns sadly

Now regarding the art advice!! This one got HELLA long so I'll hide it under a cut for everyone's comfort lmao

I know it sounds shallow and like worthless advice, but a huge huuuuge part of getting better at art is to just... make art! Practice makes perfect - it develops your motor skills, gives you somewhat of a muscle memory for certain basic shapes that are a necessity to have a good feel of for good foundation sketching.

Practice also develops your eye for compositing and for how color theory actually applies in practice, it basically helps you develop a more consistent grasp on art as a whole :D

There are some things I've learned over time that definitely helped speed things up though xD

here's some rough sketches I did just to demonstrate what my rougher drawings can look like - also a little diagram (on the right side of the image) of things I keep in mind for the average proportions of a human body!

I tend to sketch very loosely and try to capture the overall vibe and silhouette/rough shapes first before I even think about adding details - there's a certain flow, squish and stretch to everything that's just much easier for me to get a good feel for when I use quick, loose brush strokes and as few lines as possible to convey a concept.

Repeatedly sketching humanoid characters of various shapes, builds and sizes for years genuinely helped enormously in getting not only faster but also more consistent with it!

I'm fairly well practiced with hands and expressions especially at this point since I like to focus on those in my art often, so those come fairly easily to me as well now!

Something I learned along the way about keeping a certain liveliness to my artworks is that sometimes you have to forego anatomical correctness a bit if you want to fully express specific emotions - if you try too hard to keep everything perfectly proportional and realistic, it can make the outcome look stiffer than you might've aimed for - this is something I actually struggle with in my cleaner artworks :'D The ones I do proper lineart for, since a lot of the flow of the original sketch gets lost in the process haha

As for artists/artstyles that inspire me...

There's @/southpauz for example!

Her artstyle is unbelievably expressive and her eye for compositing and her use of shapes is SUBLIME - it inspired me to let loose more with my expressions, exaggerate features a bit more and to push the way I try to vary facial features :D

Then, back when I had that massive Rise of the TMNT phase, the artstyle of it has actually greatly influenced how I draw today!

It manages to be detailed and highly recognizable despite its deceivingly simple style - it exaggerates shapes and uses it to communicate personalities, emotions and action super effectively and taught me a lot about utilizing those more efficiently myself :D

And last but not least Ishida Sui - the mangaka behind Tokyo Ghoul (which used to be a highschool obsession of mine)

His striking use of colors, textures in abstract, yet symbolically heavy ways and his courage to be rough and expressive rather than looking polished, yet also having such a solid understanding of realism blew me the fuck away as a teen and still does now!!!

His art may have less of an influence on my style today than it used to back then, but I think in my more exagerrated, more horror-esque drawings you can kind of see it still :'D Either way I greatly admire him as both a writer and artist.

-----

I'm genuinely so so flattered that you enjoy what I do enough to give me such high praise, thank you so much for writing me such a wonderful ask <3 I'm glad I got to gush about some of my favorite artists/artstyles for a bit haha

If you have any more specific (digital) art related questions don't hesitate to reach out!! I love giving pointers about a subject I'm so passionate about, we don't gatekeep helpful information in this house!!! <3<3<3

#chubs answers #charlastor fankid #chubs ocs #dawn morningstar #art inspiration #art tips

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riddle-me-ri · 11 months

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A/N: honestly didnt think I would come up with another astv fic so quick after the first one lmao but I got inspired for this scenario based on the overall consensus struggle artists are having drawing Miguel (me included asdfhjk). I was stuck between doing a drabble or a list of headcanons and doing some other characters as well. But I decided to keep it simple for now, but if you guys would like to see headcanons of the other characters reacting to you drawing them, feel free to let me know and tell me about any other ideas you guys may have!

Trigger Warning: none

Word Count: 795

Miguel O'Hara x Reader - Drawing Practice

Being a part of the Spider Society definitely had it’s perks and setbacks.

Yeah, it can be stressful, exhausting, and anxiety inducing. Honestly, that just came with being a Spider-person in general.

On the plus side, it was nice to be a part of something so extraordinary. Just when you started to feel lonely, you were soon thrusted into this whole other universe of other walks of life that were like you.

Which easily kept you inspired for your art. You had a plethora of finished sketchbooks, scrapbooks of your drawings you did on notepads, napkins, and other materials.

When you weren’t on missions in your own universe or serving as backup for an anomaly mishap, you were likely swinging around the headquarters looking for your next subject. (Not to mention there was no angle quite like the one you could get hanging upside down…)

During one of the more calmer days, you were sifting through your latest sketchbook. It was almost full. Mostly consisting of whatever caught your eyes, some new environments from different universes, and all sorts of different Spider personas.

Well, most of them anyway. There was still probably many more you have yet to see…or one in particular you see almost every day.

Spiderman 2099 a.k.a. Miguel O’Hara a.k.a. The guy that founded and ran this whole thing. He’s also Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating…and handsome…but mostly intimidating.

You rarely spoke to him outside of certain missions where he requested you for back-up or for any sort of follow-up meeting.

You definitely can't forget his face though…perhaps you could draw from memory? Maybe start from his mask and go from there? It can't be too hard. It's not like he's ever gonna see it anyway, and besides how are you going to draw everyone else but him?

You got comfortable at a nearby corner seat in the food court area. You took a deep breath and started sketching.

The more you sketched the more all the hustle and bustle started to fade away. It was you and the sketchpad. You could almost hear the pencil scrape the paper and the thumps whenever you had to erase something with your eraser.

Some significant time had gone by, and a certain leader was looking for you. Yet you didn't have the slightest clue.

Miguel cleared his throat to get your attention properly and you almost jumped to the ceiling.

"Oh, uh…hi, Miguel…w-what's up?" You really wanted to ask how long he was there. And damn your hyperfocus for interfering with your spidey senses.

You clutched the pad to your chest, trying to keep him from seeing what you were doing. You hoped he never even noticed.

"I wanted to ask you about this new mission. If you wouldn't mind following me so we can discuss it in private?"

"Uhh. Yeah. Okay, sure." You got up from your seat, still clutching your sketchbook like a lifeline in treacherous waters.

As you followed behind him, you couldn't help but feel conflicted.

On one hand you didn't want him to see and on the other you kinda wanted to know what he thought about them. Would he appreciate them? Would he think it was weird? It's not like it was just him, you drew all the Spiders…

"I like your drawings, by the way." He commented over his shoulder as you got closer to his desk.

"Oh. Uh..uh thanks…"

"Gotta admit, I've never had anyone draw me before…" Miguel mentioned.

"That was my first attempt, you're the only Spider I haven't drawn yet."

"Felt obligated to add me in with the others?"

Before you could stop yourself, you said. "More like saving the best for last…"

You both stopped simultaneously in your trek. Both of you were shocked at the sentiment.

Miguel was far from perfect, despite how hard he tried to be perfect and in control. Despite his flaws and his cold aura. You admired his determination and dedication (even if it bit him more often than helped him.)

He turned to face you, as if expecting you to take it back or say it was a joke.

"Really?"

You nodded.

You couldn't help the soft swell in your chest when you saw the faintest hint of a smile grow to the side of his lips.

You tried to train your eyes and brain to take a mental photo for later.

You two started walking again in comfortable silence, until Miguel's voice perked up.

"Although. I don't think I have that many wrinkles." He quipped.

You quirked your eyebrow, questioningly. "With your stress?"

Miguel nodded in a huff. "Fair enough. You should probably add more."

You tried to refrain from giggling as he tried to refrain from smiling any wider.

#ri writes #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel o'hara x reader #atsv spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader

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solara-bean · 1 year

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Hello! I saw you fan fiction of the Wolf and thought it was too cute not to make fanart of. Hope you like this quick little sketch of your art Y/N.

OH MY GOD!!! THAT'S BEAUTIFUL!! I'M GONNA CRY THANK YOU SO MUCH😭💕💕💕💕

This really got me thinking of how Death would react to it so here you go☺️

Y/n's mood improved exponentially after their encounter with Death. Their friends, although still in shocked and horrified that they unknowingly let their pal spend time with such an entity, were happy to see them doing better. Y/n made sure to have more fun and relaxation like the wolf had encouraged. Before they knew it weeks turned to months and still no creation was made. They tried not to let it bother them. ' Let it come naturally', they remembered.

Then in a sudden burst of power they got it! Something fun and simple for them to make and possibly put into a gallery: art pieces for the colors of the rainbow. They loved exploring colors so this was perfect. Now all they had to do was think of a subject for each color. Red was first. It was a no-brainer on what the subject would be since it was always on their mind anyway.

They finished it in two days, taking their time and loving every second of it. It was evening when they'd finished cleaning everything up. They were pondering on what to have for dinner when a knock came at the door. They couldn't help but gawk when they saw who was waiting for them.

" Hello little red."

" It's you!" they exclaimed, pulling Death in for a hug. " I can't believe you're really here."

" I'm here querida," he held them gently, " I'm here. Sorry it took me so long."

" No apology needed. I'm just happy you're back." they guided him inside by the hand. " Come in. I was just about to get dinner ready."

" Ooo, what's on the menu?"

" Not quite sure yet, but I've got a few ideas. I can get you something to drink while you wai-" they came to a halt, " Hm?" looking back at Death, they saw his gaze fixed on something.

The canvas covered by a tarp, resting against the wall amongst closed paint cans.

' Oh no.' Y/n thought.

But it was too late. Death had already been looking at them with an overly amused grin.

" You made something." his voice was full of endearment.

" I did." they let go of his hand to wipe off their sweaty palms on their clothes.

" Well aren't you gonna show me?"

" Uuuhh...no."

The wolf made a mock sound of offense, hand clasped over his chest.

" Why? You aren't going back on our deal are you?" he sighed.

" No! Not at all."

" Then why can't I see it?" he leaned in, eyes curious and ears perked.

" Because..." they sighed." I'm worried you won't like it. I'm still a bit rusty you know and uh," they rubbed the back of their neck and averted his gaze," it's kinda about you."

Death's brows shot up.

" Me?"

" Mhmm"

After a few quiet moments, he carefully took hold of their face and gave them to softest look he could muster.

" I'm sure it's amazing." he got closer and rubbed his fluffy cheek against the side of their face, a low growl similar to a purr was heard. "Please give me the honor of seeing it first."

That's all the encouragement Y/n needed. With shaky steps and sweaty palms, they marched over and ripped off the tarp the same way you'd rip off a bandaid. Then they waited. And waited. And waited some more. Dear god this was torture! They finally mustered the strength to look at him and he was just...standing there. Eyes wide and no tell to what emotion he was feeling.

" S-so uh...what do you think?"

Still nothing. Was he even breathing??!

" It's the start of a series for every color of the rainbow. Red's first and your eyes are the prettiest red I've ever seen so- Oh my god please just tell me you hate it so I can-"

" I love it."

Y/n could've swore their heart stopped.

" What?"

" I..love it." he said again. Then a wide smile spread across his face. " I love it!"

In seconds Y/n was scooped up into the most crushing yet safest hug ever. They both laughed as he spun them around.

" Really? You really like it?"

" Yes of course I do! It's amazing." He pulled back to look them in the eyes. " You're amazing. I'm so proud of you Y/n."

Y/n sniffed and buried their face in his cloak to hide the tears that were forming. They remained like that for awhile, content as ever.

" How long will be staying?" they asked not bothering to move and neither did he.

" A week. Is that enough time for you querida?"

Y/n pulled away to give him a small peck on his nose.

" It's perfect."

#puss in boots the last wish spoilers #wolf puss in boots #puss in boots wolf #puss in boots death #puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots wolf x reader #seriously thank you this is really good art #you got his eyes perfectly #I really want that kitty mug

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cipheramnesia · 1 year

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The Menu, to me, is such a fascinating movie. I'm going to come back to it and watch the way it's filmed more carefully. but the first time through is such a tantalizing and layered discussion about work, wealth, and inevitably life under capitalism.

What I particularly love about it is that at a very surface level reading it offers a sort of "introduction to systemic inequality," an easy to swallow metaphor of humanity literally consumed by exploitation to the point of annihilation, wrapped around a peppy little survivor girl finale. For me, stripping away all the tasty deeper subtext, it still fulfills the most basic component of a popular film, which is "having a good time." You do not need to try and "get it," you can simply enjoy it by itself if you like.

However, as soon as we get into the finicky details of the movie, especially our "final girl," it starts to get really interesting because the initial surface metaphor starts to fall apart and demand a more complex level of thought. (This will feature some spoilers.)

What I find fascinating is that our protagonist is a sex worker. The entire grand metaphor proposed by our chief antagonist, the chef, is you can divide the world into the served and servers. He has arranged what he thinks is a perfect and flawless illustration of this grand truth, and one unforeseen change fully undermines his entire thesis. She's a worker who provides a service, she's someone getting served by workers in the process of that service. Her job and her life weaves between both worlds and although it's possible to make some larger sweeping generalization, to do so would take the nuance away from the lived reality of most people who are at once point or another both things. This undermining of the chef's thesis is very much the point of the movie, not to suggest there is no class or wealth inequality, but rather as an entry into moving past the surface level binary view of "haves and have nots" into a more complex idea of how wealth and power affects people in different places of the hierarchy.

The movie itself presents each new act as a new item on the menu, which is a well-considered choice, as each step forward reveals more information that builds the complexity of the ideas in the movie and whets your appetite to consider it further. The plot, the characters, and the action in the film progress in a way that mirrors the kind of experience the menus title cards before each segment are describing. The restaurant itself being totally isolated, with every employee committed to their jobs with a cultish intensity lays a groundwork for the production of the idea that individual lives are disposable not just in the literal sense, but metaphorically, a quick sketch of the modern expectations of a workforce by capitalist society to consider their personal lives as disposable in comparison to their jobs. Ralph Fiennes' casting as the chef adds a kind of metatextual level to the proceedings, as he himself is an aspirational actor for many other working actors in the film industry. The way he is worshiped by his devout employees while viewed as someone meant to perform on demand by his employers is the kind of deeper exchange that our modern hierarchy expects from us. You can find a higher place in the world so long as you are always willing to trade yourself to anyone who can afford to purchase you.

This level of exchange, where we as individuals are the actual consumable goods in some way is more at the heart of the Menu than a simple binary division of class. It is also the reason to have a protagonist who is, in a literally sense, her own medium of exchange. The surface metaphor of everything as transactional and finite is deliberately broken time and again, because the antagonist, a chef, is unable to see a world more complex than his own route of understanding it, through food and cooking. He sees everything as abstracted, consumable without any possibility of restoration, resources as something which can only be exchanged but never increased or distributed. He is not the villain in the movie, that role remains with characters like the stockbrokers, the old wealthy gentleman, and our protagonist's date for the evening. But he is the antagonist because of his fundamental idea of the world aligning with the villains (even while ostensibly there to kill them) and in conflict with the fundamentally reasonable position of our protagonist, that she ought to live.

I would enjoy dissecting The Menu scene by scene because there's simply so much going on in it, for me personally. I think there's something excruciatingly interesting to be said about the protagonist being a sex worker, in particular because the movie itself does not chose to view this in an exploitative way, but rather uses it to serve the larger idea that humanity cannot, in fact, be broken down into a consumable resource alone - that giving of yourself does not mean a loss to yourself. I also believe there is a distinct turning point in the movie where Ralph Fiennes sits down at a table, which is to me a huge change. It is the movie making an effort to draw a line under the real thesis, that even the antagonist who insists throughout the movie that he exclusively exists as one who serves, who gives himself up one bite at a time until he is exhausted, even he is someone who cannot exist in his own idea of a false binary.

The chef here is not wrong in recognizing the existence of exploitation, or even necessarily incorrect in his ideas of addressing it through violently usurping those in power. I would argue that overall the conclusion of The Menu doesn't disagree with the notion of hierarchical exploitation innate to modern society. If anything, it serves to illustrate even more how much this trend is ultimate a downward spiral of inevitable and total destruction.

However, it is a movie that is meant to be optimistic, a movie about hanging on to our human connections even when we have some exchange between each other. It's about caring for other people, caring about what they do for us, or caring about what we do for others. The conclusion, and our survivor girl, are a recognition of that hope and that potential which still exists.

(edited from bad casting memory)

#the menu #horror movies

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upon-a-starry-night · 1 year

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Number Neighbors Pt.1

Natasha x Fem!Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 970

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

~~~~ You were told you were a naturally curious person, you tried every hobby you saw, new things caught your attention, and trends were constantly popping up on your social media that you’d wanted to try. So when you’d caught sight of the newest trend going around you knew you were all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway.

What could possibly stem from something so little?

You’d just woken up from a dream about living in a beautiful house with some woman you’d met online, inside of the dream you were sitting on the counter while the woman made breakfast. Your brain was still fuzzy with sleep as you were trying to recall the memories of the dream before they faded away.

You really should keep a dream journal with all the odd dreams you have.

You remember the dream almost exactly but the woman was blurry in your memory, her face never fully visible and always changing so you could never quite get a clear grasp on her features. But there is one thing that you could recall; clear striking green eyes.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Your second alarm spooked you out of your thoughts and you shook your head, silently erasing the dream like an Etch-a-Sketch. As you grabbed your clothes for your shower you remembered your late-night activity; scrolling through copious amounts of online videos, and deduced those were definitely a contributor to your weird dreams.

As you were opening your phone to set up your shower music you got a notification from one of your favorite news articles.

“Social Media’s New Craze! Meet Your #NumberNeighbor!”

You chuckled a bit, this new trend had been going crazy ever since some girl had found out she was number neighbors with a celebrity. No doubt everyone was trying to have the same lucky result as she did.

Even you had to admit over the past few days you’d been resisting the temptation to try it for yourself. But you were worried your number neighbor might be some sort of perv or weirdo that asked you for feet pics. However, with all the stories you’d been reading over the past few days of people finding new internet best friends, the temptation and curiosity were quickly becoming too much to bear. So to save yourself from curiosity overload you shrugged your shoulders and typed your number with one digit off into your phone.

Unknown Contact

Y/n: Hello!

It was simple, nothing fancy or weird for a first text, you didn’t want to scare them away by coming off as too strong. You could save the memes for the future- if there ever was one. There was no immediate response and you deflated after a few minutes, sometimes no one owned the other number, and a lot of the time people chose to ignore texts from random numbers.

You couldn’t really blame them honestly. Although, you also had to take into account that it was currently 7 AM and most people didn’t wake up at that hour on purpose… except for those who like to indulge in self-torture that is.

You got yourself ready for the day, taking a nice long warm shower (including having a shower concert) and making yourself a quick breakfast. You were seconds away from forking another bite of your syrupy waffle into your mouth when your phone chimed with a notification. You were a bit confused at the sight of a text notification, having forgotten about your spontaneous early morning decision, but as soon as the memory popped back into your head you were eagerly unlocking your phone and opening the message.

Unknown Contact

Unknown:

Hi? I’m sorry, who is this?

Y/n:

Right sorry, I realize now how weird just saying hi is

I’m your number neighbor!

Unknown:

What is that?

Y/n:

:0 You don’t know what a

number neighbor is?

Unknown:

No.

Y/n:

It’s where you text the number that’s one digit off of yours!

Unknown:

You expect me to believe that you got this number by coincidence?

Y/n:

Why? Are you some sort of celebrity?

If you don’t believe me just look at my number

it should be one digit different than yours.

You can even look it up online it’s super popular right now

Unknown:

huh

I guess you’re right

but I’m going to need you to lose this number

Y/n:

Aw, what? Why?

Unknown:

because it’s a very private number

Y/n:

Wait omg are you like the FBI or something?

Unknown:

or something.

Y/n:

That’s so cool!

Do you solve crimes like how they do in criminal minds?

Unknown:

You mean that crime show

on Netflix?

Y/n:

Yes! I’ve seen like all of the episodes a hundred times

Have you ever seen it?

Unknown:

can’t say that I have

Y/n:

You have to watch it! It’s sooo good

Unknown:

I guess I’ll have to take your word

seeing as you’ve seen it a hundred times

Y/n:

😳 ok so that miiiight have been an over exaggeration

Unknown:

I never would’ve guessed

Y/n:

Ha! So you do have a sense of humor!

Good to know

Oh shoot I’m gonna be late for work, It was really lovely texting you!

Byeee!

Unknown:

Bye.

You were smiling the whole drive to your work, sure they might be some sort of FBI secret service person but they seemed nice- not a dry texter at least, and it didn’t seem like they were too annoyed that you were texting them. You wanted to give them some space since they’d asked you to lose their number, and you completely understood their hesitation, but the excited feeling that settled in your stomach told you that you were not going to be able to resist texting them again.

Pt.2

A/n: I’m still contemplating this format but I think it’s better than pictures of text messages don’t you? Lmk :)

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wasyago · 1 year

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okay don't mind me just gonna ramble for a second haha-

(this was originally going to be under the drawing, but it got too long, and i can't add it in a reblog because both things are on queue, so separate post it is)

i just love how every time i start a drawing im like "well alright, just a quick sketch yea? no color, maybe some gray to white gradient and that's it, okay?". and then i start drawing (and obviously it takes longer than i thought because duh) and i go "okay but- i gotta at least do the flat colors, right? just the flats- maybe even some random colors to not spend too much time on it--". and then. of course. i do the flats, and im pretty happy with the result yeah? looks simple but not too simple, like it has some color some personality to it, but its not over the top so. so, i leave the drawing i go to get some water and start on an actual piece, and when i come back and take a look at what i drew its like, "well. listen. listen-- yeah im still pretty happy with how it looks but, but. it could be a little better, yea?" and then i sit down, put my water down, put my other drawing to the side, and i sit there making this quick sketch look better. "oh i don't like the colors anymore! but its all on one layer now so i can't exactly change them, plus i still like the idea, so maybe some filters? yeaj some filters on top will do!" (and of course its a yellow shade filter, because im original like that and 90% of my drawings don't also have it on). and then i add them filters and i think" well maybe some bounce light now? surely it already looks better with the filter but its kinda flat, and i want to bring *a little bit* of the original color in" so i add the bounce light, but now it looks out of place! shocker! so i decide that surely i can maybe add some grass at the bottom to hide the edge of the drawing a little. and well, alright, grass looks good, but its too dark, brings a lot of attention to it! and i can't exactly make it lighter, so, the logical choice would be to make the characters darker too, bring some contrast into the thing! and lets just do all the values while we're at it, why not! patterns to the horse, make the pants and skin darker, yes yes. and, oh- but now the eyes are lost because there's more dark hues! gotta make a new layer on top and make them eyes a little bit darker, maybe also color the bandana red and not brown so it looks special, hm? oh and! while we're on this top layer, lets also fix up the hair a little, maybe add some blush... oh and the straps of the saddle look weird, gotta fix those too! oh man and not that i look at it-- the head is too big! lets merge all the layers together and start that same thing over again! yes yes make the head a little smaller, yeah looks much better now! oh, better add some fading as well, to make it fit in the background a little, oh and some glow, suuure sure, and some lights in the eyes, and-

(and now that im looking at it, i realize that i somehow didn't save the final version????? like, i did a lot more to the thing, fixed up the saddle and that awkward shade oh his knee, and the grass-- i wont fix it now because NOW im too lazy to do it for some reason, but yeah, a bit unfortunate u_u)

anyways, point being, love art, art is pog, wish i cared a little less about it sometimes, but it also turnes this into this (imagine me pointing at the drawings as i say that, overly dramatic and sounding a little annoyed with myself)

#yagotalk #my art #sketch #wooo yeah woo yeah art

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witch-hazels-musings · 2 years

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absolutely certain

Genre: sfw, fluff/angst (some difficult personality traits are mentioned)

-- a few head-canons that I think are 100000% true and you cannot convince me otherwise - hazel is *checks title* (not edited)

Includes: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Thoma, Xiao, Zhongli

Character x GN Reader | Anthology

Albedo

he loves seeing you accomplish your goals - big or small, if you set your mind to something he is transfixed in watching you figure it out until the solution drops in your capable lap. he will aid you, of course, but only when you’ve exhausted all your options - its not that he wants to see you struggle, it’s that he knows you are capable, even when you feel l like you’re not (he’s your biggest cheerleader)

he enjoys cooking for you - it’s become something of a slight hobby for him (though it’s not often). when the moment is just right, or he finds himself preparing food for later in the day, he will make something extra and bring it your way just so he can see the smile on your face

he’s not touchy-feely - he will hold your hand, and offer respectful touch, but he doesn’t think much on intimacy, especially in public. albedo’s affection comes out in many ways, but physical affection is low on the list - it’ll take time for him to be that close. sit beside him while you both work, trail your fingers over his arm while you’re lost in thought, play with his hair - he will welcome all of them in due time; if there is more, a discussion will need to be had about what comes next. all he needs is to know what you want, all he needs is your clear consent - wherever your boundary is, he wants it defined to know how not to cross it

he has notebooks filled with drawing of you - its not a secret that albedo likes to draw things he thinks ‘capture the meaning of life.’ you’ve seen him sketch a quick portrait while at dinner and give it to the subject he examined, but what you don’t know is that some of his most treasured possessions are the sketchbooks he has where every page is filled with you. engaged in the mundane, he captures your likeness. you’re lost in your work, he traces those expressions. you gift him your smile, he’s captured it on parchment. but his most favorite drawing of all is framed on his desk, protected by shimmering glass reflecting the warm sunlight. looking at reminds him of the wholesome nature of this world because it captures purity in all forms. it represents laughter and joy, of love and family - this drawing is simple but to him its everything: his most cherished person lifting his sister into the air so she can reach the stars

Childe

he adores lifting you into the air - for fun, for love - hugging your back or wrapping his arms around you from the front, the sound of your laughter and the feeling of you in his arms, relying completely on his strength gets him going more than anything else

he wants a family with you - he doesn’t care what it looks like, 1 child, 10 children, no children - he could care less what that family looks like as long as it’s you. make him your family, allow him to expand his own - till death do you part he will never let you go

he will talk your ear off - when he’s comfortable with someone, completely trusts them, he shares his whole world - and perhaps a bit too much - he will tell you stories of his childhood, of the ups and downs, he’ll gush about his family and share pictures he has of them in his wallet. childe wants you to know him -- not harbinger him, not fighter him -- please, will you give him the time to get to know Ajax?

he thinks about things head on - because most of his problems can be solved by direct action, he will tend to offer a lot of problem solving options when you are struggling. sometimes they work and others they make you more overwhelmed; he might not notice his tactics are failing until you snap but when that happens he retreats, relents, waits for you to tell him what to do. -- ‘just hold me, okay?’ -- ‘you got it’

Diluc

he looks at you far too often - even before the two of you started dating, he found himself drawn to you. his eyes, his heart, his want to be at your side - it was practically suffocating. for a while that’s all he’d allow himself, a quick glance, a perk of the ear when he heard your voice - but you reached through the tiny crack he left open for love until he was finally brave enough to take it

he stands so close - close enough for you to feel the warmth he gives off, near enough that every once in a while you’ll feel something familiar press against your lower back - it’s his hand that yearns to touch you but tries so hard to hold itself back. he isn’t affectionate in public, but his proximity speaks every drop of love he feels for you

he’s focused - sometimes too much that it can feel like you don’t exist around him. you can be talking to him, try to ask him a question, or stand in the room waiting for him to notice you but he never does. the boy’s thoughts are consumed completely with what’s in front of him - it hurt at first but you soon learned its not because he doesn’t love you. if you really want his attention, all you need do it walk near to him and run your fingers over his ear - trust me, the eyes that find yours hold nothing but unconditional love

the master of the ‘lifting your chin’ technique - there is something about the feeling of pushing your chin up to look at him that drives him wild. the first time he did it he was nervous, worried he was being too controlling but the way you reacted told him otherwise - now, whether its to ensure you hear him, to see your face before he leaves for the day, or to hold you tenderly as he kisses you hello, he can’t get enough - and neither can you

Kaeya

physical touch is his way of life - kaeya has to be touching you in one way or another. his hand to your back, his arm on resting on your shoulder or head, his back flush against yours, chest to chest as he looks in your eyes. you’ve found yourself swarmed by his desire for touch, smothered in it at times but he just can’t stop himself. it’s his love language -- touching or being touched. the surest way to ease his stress is to place with his hair, run your fingers over his eyebrows as he rests in your lap, gently caress the angles of his face, the corner of his raised lips - let him be close to you, it’s all he needs

seriousness is not a natural reaction - the vast majority of what comes out of his mouth is a joke, a tease, a ‘this isnt very serious’ response which, at times, can be rather fun but at others it’s infuriating. he hates being serious, it reminds him of all the terrible moments in his life, reminds him of the strict world he was raised in - he never did flourish in serious land. he has a hard time shifting gears - more like those gears are coated in high-proof liquor - but if there is something he hates worse than having a serious conversation its seeing you cry ... to freeze those tears he’d do the unthinkable

he’s capable - capable in accomplishing his goals, capable in getting what he wants, capable of twisting what’s around him until it spells out his desires, his wishes - Kaeya is far more capable than he lets on and that is his best weapon. it can be quiet jarring to see him switch from the lazy, ‘go with the flow’ attitude he’s so often employs into a serious, almost terrifying focus. every time you see it it sends a shiver down your spine; not because you know what he’s going to do, but because he so easily made you forget in the first place

he feels everything - he tries not to let it show but every slight against him, every whisper spoken in the shadows he hears like another stab in the back. Kaeya might appear to be aloof, indifferent, out of reach from all the goings on around him but he’s not - in fact he’s so sensitive that he’s learned to build barrier after barrier to keep him in tact. it’s why he’s so much better at working in the shadows -- it’s easier to deal in back-alley agreements than face a world flooded with light. micro expressions, shifts in tone, these are not lost on him -- you wonder why he stares at you so much, it’s because he’s waiting for the truth to come out and hoping without hope you’ll be the one person who never lies to him

Thoma

he gives all of himself - and while this makes him a wonderful person, it also makes him vulnerable to exhaustion. the boy puts everyone, everything before his own needs that there are times you’ve found him passed out in the most random places. once he was doing laundry and you found him face first in a pile of clean clothes. he’ll try to play it off or tell you its fine - good luck trying to convince him to slow down - its like arguing with radiant sunshine (and you often lose)

best house-husband, a tad strict - Thoma doesn’t mind keeping the house clean, making food for the two of you, ensuring things are running smoothly. he will willingly let you do your own part in maintaining the household, especially after a quick lesson on proper cleaning -- just know that he isn’t shy of crossing his arms and giving you ‘that look’ when you try to out-do your limits -- ‘don’t climb so high, its dangerous.’ / ‘slow down when you’re cutting, you could get hurt’ / ‘when you need something come find me’ -- Thoma would do it all if it meant you stayed safe ... just ... let him grab the hot pan for archons sake

he holds your hand - like all the time. wherever you’re going, whenever you drift away, he will scoop your hand in his so he can keep you close, keep you safe. a kiss on the hand is a way for him to share his feelings when words aren’t enough, a gentle squeeze is a reminder he’s here with you, interlaced fingers ensure others know you are his and he is yours -- even in his sleep, your hand is in his, just the way he likes it

he’s SO encouraging - Thoma is the most positive best cheerleader you could ever ask for. he will root for you in all ways, in all cases, and celebrate with you when you succeed. he knows you are capable and can do it on your own - you’ve accomplished so much already that this thing wont hold you down for long (though he will help if you need it; after all, he can’t take seeing you sad)

Xiao

he self-isolates a lot - it’s not because he hates you - in fact, you’ve grown to be a comfortable place for him. strangely enough, his mind wanders to you so often that he has gone to the bubu pharmacy in search of diagnosis to his obsessive imaginations - but there are moments when he needs to be on his own; to protect you or his heart he won’t say. Xiao will come back, no matter how what, he can’t imagine a life without seeing your face

he tries his absolute best - he knows nothing about relationships. the closest ones he had were taken from him long ago, and the only other companions he knows are formal, respectful, and set at a proper distance - this is so new to him that he will fail a lot but he tries again, and again, and again, because he knows what it looks like to see you smile and that is something he desperately wants to see again

he’s dangerously protective - if danger ever reached you, he would show no mercy in eradicating it. in these moments he can become terrifying, almost foreign to you but there is no mistaking the hand that keeps you behind him, the arm that glows as a warning to those wanting to cause you harm, the back that separates you from all danger -- you mean the world to him and he will dive into the deepest darkness to protect your light

boy is touch starved - at first he doesn’t know what to do with himself - you put your hand on his arm and he tenses up, you hold his hand and he pulls away, you lean in to kiss his cheek and he balls his hands into fists. tender touch has never been given to him so he’s unsure how to react, uncertain if this is something he deserves -- but once he knows your hands will never hurt him, that your arms will never cage him, that your heart is as pure as the crystalflies he longs to reach, he melts. he leans into you like you are purifying water; his back relaxes against your chest as you hold him, his expression softens when you caress his cheek, he almost hums when you play with his hair - you’ve taught him so much - but he never imagined he’d learn that someone's hands could be so safe

Zhongli

he buys you the most extravagant gifts - its obvious he wants to spoil you - zhongli see’s gifts as a representation of his admiration for you, the more personalized, special, perfect the gift the more it reflects the honor you hold in his heart - don’t be surprised to see lavish clothes, ornate dishes, rare books, or other random items appear in your house - he saw them while he was out and thought of you

he listens to everything - and i mean everything. there is nothing that gets said around this man that he doesn’t hear (don’t whisper secrets, it’s why his hair is so long). something you’ve learned? he will be attentive in your recollection. something you love? he will sip his tea quietly while you explain every tiny detail - there is something beautiful in the way you shine in these moments; how can you blame him for wanting to watch

he’s a slight hoarder - he doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘getting rid of things’ and though he is very particular about the way his home looks, his office, his environment, he can build up quiet a bad habit of keeping too many trinkets (or bringing home to many for you when he knows full well you don’t know where to put it). luckily, you’ve found some ways to compromise - now there is a rotating schedule of fanciful items resting on your bookshelf

he lets you sit on his lap - like, this is the biggest win. if he’s reading, he simply chuckles at the way you crawl on his lap, the way you nestle against him, hand on his chest as you rest your back against his shoulder. it’ll make him pause until you’re comfortable but whether you stay up to listen to him as he reads aloud, or fall asleep against him, he doesn’t mind - in fact, it brings him comfort that he can’t completely articulate

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