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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster. The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler. This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others. Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies. John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven.

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together. He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it. A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp. Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention? To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one. I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon?

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch. I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice. I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts. I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat. The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man.

#dr laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler headcanons #laszlo kreizler x reader #the alienist fanfic #victorian age #v writes #the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler

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yunhowhoitiss · 3 years

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𝐜𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

masterlist

The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons.

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads.

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough.

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough.

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later.

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list.

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud.

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right?

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right? Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest.

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort.

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?”

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression.

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations.

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it.

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl.

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen. “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted.

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble.

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away.

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!”

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?”

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

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marriael · 4 years

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Be my Latibule? (Changbin x Reader)

@skzrequests

Request: My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattooist bin lmao I so vibed with this request, I love thinking about tattoist bin

Word count: 3717

a/n: part of the reason this took so long is I had to restart it twice :(

You walk into work at Insomnia Coffee Shop and your co-worker, Sohee, greets you.

“Anyone fun yet?” You ask. She's usually in when the store opens and often gets the most interesting customers.

“Not today. But yesterday a cute guy came in and ordered 3 americanos. Turns out it was for him and 2 friends. I tried to give them for free cause he looked half dead but he wouldn't let me. Who even does that?“

While she was talking you had slipped on the ugly orange apron and scowl when you noticed someone double knotted and didn't untie the strings.

You shake your head, “probably a college student pulling an all-nighter. What college student turns down free anything? Ugh, I wish some cute barista offered me free coffee, just, ever.”

Sohee turns and passes the drink over the counter. “For Jeno!”

A cute guy comes up to grab and winks at her before he turns to the door. Your jaw drops a little and you slap her shoulder.

“Is he a regular?” You ask.

“Nope. Said he got a recommendation from a friend and went out of his way to come. Weird day to do it though.”

You hum as the next customer comes in and you get thoroughly distracted. It isn’t until he comes up to the counter and speaks that you stop staring blankly.

“1 latte, 1 americano,” his voice is low and rough and he’s a little bit intimidating honestly. He’s got a small bit of a tattoo poking out one of the sleeves and you try and look at it before you have to turn around.

“Is that a tattoo?” You ask him when you turn around.

He rolls the short sleeve up to his shoulder to expose the full tattoo and you stare at the simple beauty of the moon and stars.

“Woah, that’s cool!” Sohee must’ve seen him just in her peripheral… or she was staring like you. You nod emphatically in agreement.

He blushes a little and says “thanks. Couldn’t reach this part of my arm or else I would’ve done it myself, but I still drew it.”

“Do you work at a tattoo parlour then?”

“Yeah, I do a lot of the designs for our place,”

You gasp, “can I come look at them? Please?” You pout trying to convince him to accept your strange request. You just felt something pulling you towards these drawings and the man who made them.

He looks at you for a moment then says, “yeah, let me give you the address. When you come in just ask for Changbin.”

He pulls out a random business card, not his unfortunately, and writes down the address. He slides it over and covers his smile with a sip.

You turn back to the coffee machines as he walks out the door but Mina stops you.

“Changbin huh? He was pretty cute,” she smirks.

“Hush your mouth and get back to work, brat.”

“Nuh-uh! I get to leave now but if, no no not if when, you meet him we're talking about this later.”

The next day was Tuesday and, thankfully, it was mostly empty of things for you. So you pull out the piece of paper Changbin gave you and looked up the address.

It was just a couple blocks down from the coffee shop and you head out. The building is small and squished right between a bakery and a florist, basically some cheesy romance just waiting to happen.

You walked in and looked around. There were corkboards on either sidewall and they were filled with drawings pinned to them. The bottoms of them fluttered a little at the draft you brought with you.

When you looked at him the man behind the counter raised an eyebrow at you. Ah, so it was very obvious you wouldn't be in here often.

You let out a little nervous laugh, “hi, Changbin told me to come see him here?”

The man raised both eyebrows at that. You fiddled as he looked you over again then laughed a little. “Changbin!” He suddenly yelled.

From one of the closed side rooms comes a muffled voice “go away Chan, I’m busy!”

The man at the desk, Chan, turns back to you “sorry, he’s always like this. He’s probably just sketching a custom.”

“Oh, I can come back later if he’s busy.”

Chan doesn’t answer you and instead yells at Changbin again “I know you’re not actually busy. Your partner is here to see you!”

“Hey!” You protest but Chan just grins at you as you hear the door open.

“Chan what the hell are you-” Changbin cuts himself off and gently smiles when he sees you “hey, didn’t think you were actually gonna come.”

You smile back at him. He looks much softer when he’s smiling and you were briefly caught off guard.

“Tell me again about how you’re not dating or at least interested, “ Chan’s eyes flick between the shy but wide smiles on yours and Changbin’s faces.

Changbin rolls his eyes but inclines his head towards the door he was behind and you follow behind him. He closes the door most of the way behind you and then moves to sit at the desk in the far corner. There are more drawings in here and you assume all of them are his. It’s a wide variety of subjects, from small sketches of animals and plants to large and detailed fantasy creatures.

“Sorry about Chan, he’s always delighted in teasing anyone who’s younger than him,” Changbin shakes his head, probably at Chan even though he can’t see or hear in the room.

“Have you two known each other a long time then?” You ask and tilt your head a little.

“Ah, yeah,” Changbin looks at you again, “most of us met in high school and a couple joined right at the start of college. College was really when our whole group started getting close, too.”

“Sounds nice,” you were paying attention to him, promise, but with such wonderful drawings surrounding you, you really couldn’t help it if your attention drifted a bit.

Changbin notices and raises an eyebrow slightly, “interested in getting one?”

“What? Oh, no no, not right now at least. They’re just… really, really good.”

Changbin immediately looks down and smiles, and you could swear he was blushing a bit but when he looks back up it's gone.

“There’s a couple hidden ones in here that aren’t mine. Think you can spot ‘em?” He challenges.

You immediately head up to one of the boards and stand about 5 centimetres away. You push a couple of them up and out of the way, making sure to be careful. There really is all sorts of stuff, Changbin must be pretty busy. A rushing river done with such detail you can almost see it moving. Swirls that when you look just right suddenly snap into focus to make an abstract, soaring bird. Nature moulded with a person or item in such a seamless way that there is not a difference between them, they are simply one continuous sight.

You’re looking for hidden drawings, not ogling at Changbin’s skills. Right. When you move one more there is a small piece of paper. There is… something on it. Either Changbin drew this when he was about 5 years old or it was someone else.

“Hey, I found one. I don’t even know what this is though, it looks like a squiggle.”

Changbin laughs, “hold on.”

He comes and looks right over your shoulder. You can feel his hot breath on your ear and feel his chest move when he laughs at the drawing again. You quickly reign in the slight disappointment when he moves away.

“Yeah, that’s the thing Chan keeps trying to make our mascot. Felix and I won’t let him so until one of us breaks it’s two against one,” he shrugs and it doesn’t look like he feels bad at all.

“Do all your friends have a drawing stashed in here somewhere?”

“Well, I’ve seen at least 16 drawings put in here so yes they all have one. Some of them and Felix, Jisung’s special twin, has hidden at least 4. There’s probably more that he did when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ugh, how many friends do you even have. If it’s more than, like, 6 I might be genuinely angry.”

Changbin practically cackles, “well then get ready to be absolutely furious. There’s 9 of us, including myself and everyone I’ve already mentioned.”

“That’s not even fair! How have you all been friends for so long without someone murdering someone else.”

“Oh, believe me. Seungmin’s wanted to. Unfortunately, his best friends are some of our greatest problem children. Though sometimes I'm pretty sure he'll murder them first.”

“Any other possible murderers I should worry about seeing?” You flip a couple more pictures up, still passively looking for any other weird drawings.

“Hm, Minho's murderous intentions are usually directed at Jisung. He'd do it for his cats too, though. He definitely fits in well.”

“Were there concerns about him not fitting in?”

“Yeah 'cause, he was the last one to join us, but he’s just as chaotic if not more. For Chan’s graduation night he insisted on using some mini firework things he found. Nearly lit himself and Jisung on fire with the very first one.”

Something clicks in your brain. You’ve heard this story before, from one of your random classmates. He was… interesting, to put it politely.

“Are you talking about Lee Minho? The smug bastard who tried to get everyone to call him Lee Know for like 5 months? And Han Jisung, my co-worker kind of, that I’m pretty sure hates me for some reason?”

“Wait, you know them? And why do you think Jisung hates you?”

“Yeah, Minho was my weird classmate. I’m like 90% sure Jisung hates me because he barely looks at me and gives one-word answers to all of my questions. I don’t really see him other than during shift switches but still!”

“I think Minho actually might have mentioned you before. And Jisung is just like that around people he doesn’t know. Trust me, he actually has the capacity to be the loudest person in the room. By far.”

“Huh, I wonder how many of your friends I actually know.”

"Well, we're hanging out on Thursday. Do you want to come with and meet some more of them?”

You hum thoughtfully, thinking of any possible commitments you had made lately, “I probably can but can I bring Sohee? Just so I know someone there?”

“Do I still not count as someone you know?” He whines and pouts a little for the extra effect.

“Not enough. If you all go off on some inside joke I need someone to be confused with.”

“Actually fair, because it might happen. I’ll let you know when and where we’re going later then.”

You pull out your phone and extend it to him, when he looks at it confused you raise an eyebrow, “unless you plan to send it by bird I recommend putting your number in my phone.”

He makes a surprised noise and keeps his eyes away from you and on your phone. It has not spread to his face but under his dark hair his bright red ears peek out just enough for you to see. Even when handing it back he doesn’t look at you and you smile at his bashfulness.

“See ya soon, Bin. I work again tomorrow.”

Directions are not always your strong suit. You’d like to believe they are and that’s how you end up like this, no map and unsure of what direction you should even look in.

“You look lost,” a voice comes from behind you.

You spin around. A tall puppy-like guy is standing behind you, he looks slightly amused and you’re betting it’s at your expense.

“Yeah, do you know where M.I.A Café is?”

“Oh,” he nods, “yeah I’m going there. Let’s go.”

It’s slightly awkward, walking this distance with someone you don’t know. You search your brain with how to start a conversation with someone.

“Are you… meeting someone at the café?” You ask, slightly awkward.

“Yeah, a couple of my friends.”

“Huh, so am I. Well, actually, it’s someone else’s friends and I’m just kinda tagging along,” you shrug, realizing how awkward this will probably be.

“Good luck with that,” he says as he holds the door for you.

You enter and scan the tables for Changbin’s face. You wave and slip into the chair opposite him. On the edge of the table thankfully, hopefully Sohee can recognize the back of your head. Someone sits next to you and you get a little shock seeing who it is.

He grins at you, “hey stranger.”

The guy you walked all that way with one of Changbin’s friends!

Changbin looks between you confusedly, “you know Seungmin?”

“He helped me get here. I might have gotten a little lost.”

“A little, ok. You had no idea where you were,” Seungmin snarks.

“Maybe so!”

“Well good to know you get along with another one of my friends already,” Changbin interjects.

Someone comes up and sits beside Changbin.

“Hey, I’m Hyunjin,” he greets you simply.

You give him a little wave. You don’t like judging people so fast but he’s a little intimidating.

You hear a little scrape of a chair beside and Sohee pops down at the end of the table.

“Sohee, you made it!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she sticks out her tongue at you.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Hyunjin speaks up and you whip your head towards him.

Sohee looks at him and squints for a moment. They start looking at each other for so long that you think they’re actually just having a staring contest. You think you recognize someone walking outside but when you actually look out the window you have no idea who any of them are. It’s still a nice day out, maybe you can go out somewhere after this.

“Oh! You’re the guy I thought was going to drink 3 americanos the other day!”

“Sohee~” you sing.

“What?” She looks at you, annoyed.

“You forgot an important detail that you told me about him.”

She looks genuinely confused for a moment before catching on and shaking her head, “shut up, nope nope nope.”

“You think he’s cute!” You cackle.

You, Changbin, and Seungmin make fun of Sohee and Hyunjin for a little while. It backfires when Sohee manages to sneakily turn the attention on you, well you and Changbin. Together, you being together.

“Yeah, and you stared at him for so long when he came in!” Sohee says.

“Sohee, kindly shut your mouth,” you reply, smiling the most pained and fake smile ever.

“Ok, please don’t pour your drink on me, I’m afraid. Also we work together so I’m coming for you.”

You just roll your eyes at her, you didn’t actually scare her and you both know that. She just likes to be some sort of annoying sister to you.

Hyunjin clears his throat and when you look at him his eyes are bright. He smiles sneakily and says, “you should hear about the time Changbin actually poured his drink on someone.”

“Hyunjin that was an accident and you know it!” Changbin exclaims, attempting to shoulder check a giggling Hyunjin.

You breeze into Blueprint Tattoos and Chan looks up in surprise.

“Hey there, didn’t know you were coming in today.”

You let out a single, unnatural ‘ha’, “I didn’t know either but uh, here I am.”

“Well, Changbin’s in his usual spot. I don’t think he has anything today.”

“Thanks,” you nod stiffly.

Looking around at the cork boards you can see some of them definitely done in Changbin’s style and a handful more you suspect would be his. You breathe out heavily and slouch a little before straightening and walking towards where Changbin should be, full of false confidence.

“Are you ok?” Chan asks and when you look over his eyebrows are furrowed and his forehead pinched down a little. The concern from someone you barely know is a little unusual but the warmth you get from it is welcoming.

“Yeah, just a little nervous you know?” You force a small laugh but you know it’s not convincing.

“Oh!” Chan exclaims, “well if this is what I think it is then good luck.”

Chan’s face is completely relaxed and you feel a little bit bad for making him worry so much. You’re not entirely sure what he thinks you’re doing but you smile at his kindness as you open Changbin’s door.

He has headphones in and doesn’t hear when you close the door behind you. You stand there for a minute, back against the door, just looking at him. Most people move to what they’re listening to but the only thing moving is his hand and it glides across the page. You have no idea what he’s doing but you just hope he’ll show it to you when he’s done.

You take a big breath in and out before approaching him. Tapping his shoulder gently you hope not to cause him to jerk his arm and ruin a line or anything. He stops completely and pulls his headphones out. He looks a little annoyed but then he looks up to see you and his face eases.

“Hi! I didn’t know you were coming today. Anything specific on the brain or did you just want to hang out with Best Friend Binnie?” He gives you an exaggerated and comical wink.

“Give me a tattoo?” You say, surprisingly calm for how jittery you actually feel.

“Wait, what? Are you sure? Like really sure?”

You roll your eyes like a stereotypical teenager would at their parents, that is to say, so far back it felt like they would disappear into your head, “no, Changbin, I’m not sure. I’ve really only been thinking about it basically since the first time I walked into this room.”

“That was only a week ago,” Changbin deadpans.

“Yeah, and?”

Changbin shakes his head, “I’m not going to give you a tattoo you’ll regret.”

You look around at the drawings. Feeling like that one action gave this decision away as way more spontaneous than it had originally seemed. Yes, you had been thinking about getting one and getting Changbin to do it for you but doing it today specifically was a complete impulse.

“I’m not going to regret it! Bin, please,” you pout at him.

Changbin tilts his head to look at the ceiling as if it will give him some guidance.

“What do you want?”

You clap your hands excitedly and then hesitate again.

“Well, I know I want a flower but… I want you to choose which one. I want it to be a flower with a good meaning behind it.”

Changbin nods and stands there considering your request. You take the time to look around his office again. Staring at all the intricate drawings on the walls you feel a bit dorky choosing to get a simple flower. Your eyes briefly catch on two stylized drawings of the word SpearB. One of them has a cute little ‘Binnie~’ under it and the other has a messy ‘Chanathan’ in English and Korean.

There are a couple of flowers scattered throughout the room so you’re a bit surprised when you hear Changbin ripping a page out of his sketchbook. His back is to you so you can’t see him cutting it down to a size to la and trace on your body. You can hear the gentle snips of scissors as you distract yourself with rows of flowers connected and individual petals with such detail you could believe them being real.

You watch as he gently traces the pattern onto your skin. You don’t recognize the flower right away but it looks delicate and beautiful. You think you catch him glancing up at you a few times but you’re pretty sure the clock is behind you and he’s looking at that.

You zone out almost entirely as he prepares. Well, it’s not exactly zoning out. You’d say it’s appreciation of an attractive man, your friends would say that you’re just checking him out.

Ok, so what if you are? Changbin’s shirt has no sleeves which means his arms are on full display which means that you can’t stop looking at the muscles flexing as he moves. Thankfully you’re conscious enough to look away when he turns back around.

The buzz of the gun wakes you up and Changbin is looking at you.

“All good?” He asks.

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

You watch for a moment as he starts going and the ink sinks permanently into your skin. It’s a strange thing to conceptualize, something being on your body forever. You catch a glimpse of Changbin’s concentrated face and you get completely distracted by him. If this is what he looks like everytime he gives a tattoo then you want to observe, even study, him.

His mouth is set in a firm line and eyebrows pinched slight inwards and downwards. His eyes are wide and focused and if you look closely enough you can see every slight movement of his irises following his hand around.

Neither of you say a word and you don’t dare move to try and look at the clock or your phone. Just watching and waiting in silence, but together. A shared silence is different than one had alone.

Silences by yourself can feel wrong sometimes but this kind of silence with Changbin feels so right that you almost never want it to end.

Good things often come quicker than they should and soon the buzzing stops. You can hear phantom buzzing still and suspect you will for quite a while. You lift your arm and look at it, it’s finished now but you’re still not sure what it is and certainly not what it means.

“What is it?” You ask.

“An almond blossom. It, uh, it means promise.”

“Promise, huh?” You grin and look at Changbin's pink-ish face.

You expect him to have some witty comment but instead, he just smiles goofily and breathlessly says, “yeah.”

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worbiestuff · 3 years

Text

COVID-19 PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

COVID-19, Coronavirus, is an infectious disease caused by a newly discovered corona virus. It is spread or transmitted through droplets generated when an infected person coughs, sneezes or exhales. These droplets are too heavy to hang in the air and quickly fall to the floor or surfaces. Some common symptoms include fever, dry cough, and tiredness, loss of smell and taste, headache and so on.

From a personal perspective on how COVID-19 affected me, I would say it did so in a lot of ways; education-wise, economically, physically, mentally etc.

The first confirmed COVID-19 case in Ghana was on the 12th of March, 2020. At the time, school hadn’t reopened but was in the process of doing so. Because of this, the president instructed that we were all supposed to vacate the school/hostel premises to our various homes, signifying all studies and academics to come to an end. We ended up studying online which brought so many pros and cons, which in the end the cons outweighed the pros. Bad internet restricted me from joining classes sometimes. I wasn’t understanding most stuff being taught because most of the courses were practical. Plus, I ended up missing some due dates for my assignments and had to beg or ask permission from some lecturers to finish them up because I had to balance house chores with school work because I was obviously home and couldn’t shun them because it’s my responsibility. Also, I had divided attention because of my siblings. I have a large family and it wasn’t helping me at all coupled with the online studies. In the middle of a class, I could be called to go on an errand or just have my little siblings running around for running arounds sake. It was one hell I had to go through.

COVID-19 also affected me economically. I manage my mom’s businesses for her sometimes and during the COVID-19 period everything was literally on me. My mom sells clothes. We weren’t having as much sales as we’d have if we weren’t on lockdown. Most people weren’t purchasing clothes because there were no new occasions. Weddings, funerals, parties and the rest had been halted too. I remember a friend mentioning to me that even if she bought clothes she had nowhere to take it to so she’d rather not buy, and this was really bad because there was not as much cash flow as there was without the pandemic and the lockdown.

My movement was also restricted because of the pandemic. We stayed home for almost a year. Months without stepping outside, no church services, parties, no visitations, etc. I was not allowed outside the main gate because of this and it got boring. I was just doing or following a particular pattern or routine every day for months; wake, house chores, eat, online class, sleep, and repeat. I got tired of the routine, I got tired of being online, I got tired of being stuck inside, and I got tired of everything at a point. It got so boring but there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to stay alive.

My plans on travelling was tarnished. My family and I had plans on travelling during the Easter for the most famous festival of the year which was always held in Kwahu; “KWAHU OO KWAHU! This is like a ritual we always perform, going to my mom’s hometown for the festival, paragliding, hiking and having a lot of fun but this year we were restricted as the festival itself was even cancelled, prior to the president’s address to the nation. I mean we got really sad, especially my little siblings but we had to do our part, to help curb the pandemic in order to stay safe.

Despite the negative impacts it came with, I can never forget the good it did by bonding me with my friends and families. Even though my family is large, nobody really stays at home. My dad is a business man and is always travelling up and down because of the nature of his job. My mom on the other hand left home really early and came back really late, we could go a whole week without seeing her. My older siblings too hardly stayed home because they were working. Since the president announced the lockdown, we were all brought together. Our big family was back. I was seeing my dad more often, my mom and older siblings too. We would mostly gather around in the hall, watch movies or just discuss random stuff and it felt good. On the other hand I bonded well with my friends too because we were all online. Our old high school groups became more active, we were reminiscing on old times and laughing hard at old pictures. Though it was online and not physical, it felt good and real because I hadn’t spoken to some of them in years but we got bonded and more close because of the pandemic.

THE ARTIST WHO INSPIRED ME

EMMA HARDY

Based in London, Emma Hardy is well practiced in capturing the nuances of everyday life. Her images reflect an often unnoticed drama behind the scenes. Coming from a theatrical background and having worked as an actress herself before focusing on photography, Emma cites her fascination with people’s behaviour, the tensions, interactions and quirky humour, as a driving energy in her work.

Mainly self-taught Emma prefers to work with natural or available light, “I try not to impose much technique or too much of myself on my subjects.” As such, there’s a hallmark honesty to her work. Her images are infused with a believable sense of being, her portraits are intimate and unselfconscious. Tilda Swinton, Natalia Vodianova, Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender and Stella McCartney have sat for her, among others.

Emma finds inspiration in the chaos and unexpected beauty of life, the less seen moments in between. For each commercial client she challenges herself to bring her sense of authenticity to a necessarily constructed commercial brief, “I photograph with my heart engaged, and however manufactured an instance in photography, the test is to bring soul into commerce”. Describing her aesthetic as raw but tender, Emma finds beauty in imperfection, and polish in the detail of everyday life. And through her lens, the most ordinary moments seem steeped in romance and intrigue, as if her subjects are characters in a movie playing in her head.

WORKS

WHAT APPEALED TO ME

MOODS

Emma Hardy likes capturing the everyday nuances of life or everyday moods of life. Her images are natural and sometimes unplanned. Working with people’s behavioral manners, interactions, attitudes, etc. She tries to make her work as natural as possible and puts her heart into what she photographs, as she stated herself in a commercial brief.

COLOUR

Emma Hardy likes to work with natural or available light.

THE PLAN/THOUGHT PROCESS FOR THE WORK

The initial plan of the whole work was to create something like differences, get a picture of my sister and I if possible or do a clone of myself since we already look alike and are twins. This idea was to put across a message that conveys tolerance and bonding even though we’re two different people with different personalities but still twins. Later the plan changed because of certain unforeseen circumstances. This time I aimed at creating the same differences but this time with a ball, to one part would be edited as if it were night time or dark, and the other would be left with the natural light, to show daytime. This was to signify that the sun gives the moon light, and even though they are two different bodies, the needed each other. Same applies with my sister and I, each one of us has our own sides, but we need each other to be around. The final plan after a few criticisms from my lecturer was to do the Chinese symbol yin and yang.

The principle of Yin and Yang is that all things exist as inseparable and contradictory opposites, for example, female-male, dark-light and old-young. The two opposites of Yin and Yang attract and complement each other and, as their symbol illustrates, each side has at its core an element of the other (represented by the small dots). Neither pole is superior to the other nor, as an increase in one brings a corresponding decrease in the other, a correct balance between the two poles must be reached in order to achieve harmony. Personally, I feel this symbol best describes us as twins because even though we are opposites we attract and complement each other. We have tiny traits in each other. And at the core of one another, we are represented by each other.

SKETCHES, PINTEREST INSPIRATION, MOODBOARD

FIRST DRAFT WORK

FINAL WORK

TITLE

FOUND THE GOOD INSIDE THE BAD.

I chose this title because the corona happening was a bad thing that hit us all, but even in that bad, there was a little good; me bonding with my family, especially my sister was the good.

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 25

“How’d it go? Yesterday?”

“It was good,” Mal said looking you over, “Still no sharing why you’re so tired?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” she said propping her hands on her hips.

With a huff you recounted the night and in her creeping grin you poked her arm, “Hey, don’t do that plotting smirk.”

“Your babies are having-,”

“Our Ravens-,”

“Are like your children, and together your Ravens are bonding and settling into families in your greenhouse. If he didn’t like you he wouldn’t dare let you suggest matching up his Raven with one that was living in your home. Roac is a part of him, he knows you and trusts you, with his baby.”

“You’re still not helping.” You said brushing your hair back to pull it up into a ponytail.

“Don’t you feel bad. He is a grown man, he chose to get out of bed and come help you, he accepted the offer to bring Roac, who is just as excited and had every chance to refuse the offer as well. Stop worrying.”

“There’s a better chance cows would rain from the sky.”

At that a sudden crash of something plushy into your shoulder had you looking down at the stuffed rhino on the ground then to the elderly Dam saying to the huffing donkey beside her, “Bruno! That was very rude!” Hurrying over when you bent to lift the rhino and caught her smile when she reached you. “I am so sorry Miss Pear. My son is not taking his donkey days well. Been helping me with my deliveries. I wanted to bring you one of my stuffies, your story really has helped my Edgar get some excitement in his week since his surgery left him off his feet.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m glad to hear that.” Her smile widened and you said, “He’s healing fine? Break room isn’t the same without him and his coffee and snack stand.”

“He’s doing well, few weeks yet, but he is feisty as ever.” She turned her head and huffed seeing Bruno wandering off then rolled her eyes back to you, “You two have a lovely day,” pivoting on her feet she said following her son, “Bruno, I have three more stops then we can go home.”

Looking at Mal you lifted the plushy saying, “Rhino, not a cow.” Only deepening her playfully narrowed gaze at you, “It’s my hill and I intend to die on it.”

“One of these days you are going to realize that this grump of yours and his family are treating you with the respect and love you deserve.” Your eyes scanned over your face and she rested a hand on your shoulder, “Your past, forgive the wording, is charred earth. You deserve so much more than you have gotten. Don’t let that limit what you think you deserve.” She poked the rhino, “You are a supernova, bring light, excitement, joy and chaos all at once. Shine, and let them help you. Just have to, settle your roots, you’re strong, take the wind.”

“You do realize I slide in the wind?”

“I will take the joke as a sign you’re letting that soak in a minute.” You rolled your eyes and turned to pass the crew on the show ahead of yours exiting the booths.

“I will be asking about how it went with Dis again later.” You teased making her grumble and watch as you settled your Rhino adorably up against your mic stand on top of your bag.

Behind the closed door Thorin turned around and got to rinsing off the dishes you had left in the sink he added to your washer. Tidying up a little bit and ensuring the pan he had used to cook the breakfast he added to the washer then turned to go and check on Roac. Along the way however he paused curious about those shelves and turned to see your sisters’ room. Instantly a smirk ghosted across his lips once inside seeing the peach and sparkly silver shelves that from where the bed would be he could see the full effect of the sprouting starry vines from your sketch you had added to the future bunk bed structure he couldn’t wait to see added. Small touches, simple shelves customized by you to blend in more of what he could imagine your clan to be like.

Through the other rooms there wasn’t much changed past the painting filled atrium around your piano. Each one he got a close look at then turned for the theater grinning at the incredible paintings signed with the same pear in the corner except for one with a gemstone under a night scene of a man on one knee proposing to a woman under a grand cherry tree. He knew the symbolism in it, or at least the Hobbit symbolism to it. It was possibly a wish for a fruitful union for you, assuming that it was your mother who had painted it for you. The night scene with scarce stars painted were to suggest it was a bond solely between the two, a faithful and devoted lover for you. Though in the doorway of the theater finding Roac still napping and it occurred to him that it might have been simply a scene of her own proposal to Cirdan.

From there he turned to your living room recognizing your media player that with the projector turned on he put on a random show he lowered the sound on and switched the radio on to your station and in the end of the show before yours he went to steal a glimpse into the greenhouse. Kuu’s house was still empty and contently Balakavallatagh was adorably snuggled up together inside his home in matching nests while the hummingbirds hovered around feeding before returning to their hatchlings. Dot alone slept in the new home set up and fluffed up contently in her new nest with the leaves Roac had chosen laid out just so making him smirk in turning back to the living room.

Onto the couch he settled and listened to the opening scene with a seemingly out of place mission Raul went on his ship the Tibelt by a voice they hadn’t heard often before, the narrator fully describing each moment same as from the epic cannon top proposal earlier in the story. A swashbuckling sword clashing adventure ending with his breaking into the court of Duke Frenn and requesting his aid and then leading them to join in on the search for their dear friend Bunny.

However anticlimactic it seemed next was a heart wrenching interaction between the Countess and Wolsey where she was left weeping when it seemed he was leaving her home with the impression he had given up hope. Though fully packed and ready to go he was heard boarding the Tibelt rousing hope once again that the army to meet up with the still gathering allies. It seemed their efforts could be for naught when Holm was heard shouting that the room you were being kept in was empty with a stone block on the wall missing forming a tunnel outside.

Covering his mouth like so many others Thorin sat with his heart thundering practically seeing Bunny racing through the forest around the hidden keep. Panting with earth crunching and twigs catching on her clothes muddled with echoes of Holm shouting out her name. A sudden gasp from her however cut the show to silence before it ended with a loud bellow sparking chills through everyone listening.

The sign off music played and Thorin’s gaze turned from the radio he shut off to Kuu, just noticed to have joined in on listening to the show whose cheeks puffed up in the start of a big yawn. “Do you listen to the show?”

After his full body shiver Kuu replied, “No. We prefer the book with the images. Off to bed now. Goodbye.”

Thorin chuckled saying, “Goodbye.” Watching him turn and walk back to his house before standing up and stretching his arms right up over his head from being in the same position for so long. Lowering his arms again he strolled through your home and made his way to your study. On a trunk from the doorway he spotted your typewriter, moving closer he felt a magnetic pull to get a closer look to your best friend who helped free you from the prison of your old life.

Around the edges he could feel the gritty scrapes hinting at when it had scuffed rocks and been halfway stripped of its fading former brilliant black paint job. Every inch showing your modifications and touch on repairing the various parts complete with the hatch on the side holding the Khuzdul and Elven character hammer sets to go with those characters etched next to the common tongue characters on the clearly hand engraved and polished keys once coated with gold and wax letter tops long since worn down. Just smoothing his fingers across a few of the keys he couldn’t help but smile sensing the joy just seeped into this little once abandoned machine you rescued and kept safe for so long.

The notepad however coated in Vanyar rune coated drafts clearly for the next in the series were left in the open and forcing himself to turn and inspect your book collection in the collapsing shelves from your open trunks lining the walls. Various languages coated each of the spines in various conditions with one that seemed to hold the oldest collection. Crouching down he smirked pulling out the copy of the leather bound phone book sized book on Durins half bleached by the sun you had found on Ruun. Around that were blank books fully bleached with faded smudged symbols on the spines, one of which he pulled out and smirked at the phone book sized patchwork book in a line with others.

Smoothing his palm across the sand worn cover he opened the front cover and saw the first page of Khuzdul runes hinting that it was the hammer set you first found in the typewriter. The first page had his heart rate slowing at the sentimental note from you introducing this as your first story that you hoped one day you could bring home to your mother. Biting his lip he closed the cover smoothing his palm across it again in turning it to put it back again waiting for the day he hoped you might offer to show him yourself. The sound of an odd chirping sound had him up again and heading through the house back to the theater where he smirked finding Roac awoken by a nature show on sea birds.

Thorin chuckled saying, “Sorry Roac. Kuu must have left it on.”

Roac ruffled his feathers standing up asking, “Has Dot eaten yet?”

“I believe she is still sleeping.”

“Good,” he rose up flapping hard to fly past Thorin, “I can wake her to a feast!” Making the Dwarf smirk in moving closer to turn off the projector and fold your blanket again then move to head back to the living room.

Outside the doorway when you exited, your lips parted seeing the golden strapped and heeled black platform pumps on Echthellion’s palm you took hold of in his deep chuckle, “Where did you find these?”

You looked up at him and said, “Not telling. But they are yours.”

“Thank you.”

He chuckled and tilted his head, “Come on, off for contracts.”

You nodded then pointed at Mal, “I’m finding out what happened.”

She grumbled again and turned to head out to head back to her place readying for another visit from Dain to see BamBam and come see his latest check up at the vet. Following Ecthellion you went to his office and eased your fingers around the pen you were given while he readied the contracts. Already you signed the anonymity pages for him to ready the deal so that all the pages on these contracts had you named as Bunny. Dozens of signatures later and the papers were locked in his case freeing him to stand and walk around the desk to accept your crashing hug before he asked, “What else have I missed?”

In a groan your head fell back and his grin eased out hearing your latest chaotic unfold in your life. “Now not only do I have a giant bear shaped hedge trimmer in my yard I have two Great Owls. Not even mentioning I have one of the rudest courting birds in my house, I swear, if Roac didn’t seem to like her-,”

Ecthellion laughed and gave you another hug you melted into, “Go home, take a nap.”

“I’ll try, but who knows who will show up at my door this time.”

Back into the hall you pulled out your phone and smiled at the pictures of your sisters and mother with their necklaces along with pictures of Cirdan with his shirt and journals making you giggle at the raving reviews of the gifts and pictures you had sent their way. All the way down to the garage again you hugged the rhino to your chest smirking as you eyed your heels from the expensive brand in the lift.

Standing outside of his car with his arms on the hood Frerin was waiting and pointed at you saying, “Ents! I figured it out! The roar!” You giggled and came closer to the car luring his eyes to your shoes and rhino, “More gifts for the show?”

“The rhino is from a wife of our coffee cart guy, he’s out from a surgery. And the shoes are from Ecthellion, said to leave my shoes for the festival to him.”

“Hell of a pair of shoes. Had an ex who loved that style of shoes, so expensive.”

“Every now and then he demands to get me a new pair. I still have some pink ones but they don’t work with the look.” He nodded and you opened the door and lowered inside. “Eager for your flight?”

He chuckled and said, “It’s a flight out for an event then a flight back to get back in time for the festival. Can’t wait to see you fully dolled up.”

“What are you going as?”

“Badger, obviously, mask and all.”

“Adorable,” Making him chuckle again.

“I imagine you are straight off to bed when you get back.”

“May sit up a bit.”

Smirking at you he asked, “So, with the scooter does that mean you would be wearing heels more often?”

“Don’t think I go places often requiring heels.”

“That could always change.” He hummed out and said, “Let’s get you home, Sis.”

A buzz from your phone had you looking at it and saying, “Aviary is thrilled Belly and Darling got on so well.” Inhaling sharply you drew his eye and asked, “Have you seen Zebra Raven mating dance?”

Lowly he chuckled, “No, I have not had the pleasure.”

“They have it, on the site. It was painful to watch,” making him chuckle again. “I love him, but if a guy tried to pick me up dancing like that, I don’t think I’d make it to his bow.” Making him chuckle again, “I mean it’s a nice idea to have guys dance to pick you up but thinking it and doing it would be vastly different.”

“I will note that down, your guy has to be able to dance,” he chuckled at your nudge to his elbow, “Alright, just have an interpretive dance on standby. Got it.”

He chuckled again at your head leaning forward to tap against your rhino’s, “Terrible.”

“I’m teasing, I wouldn’t set you up to be embarrassed, even on another’s behalf, Sis.”

Glancing over you asked, “Did Dis tell you how her meet went with Mal?”

Frerin chuckled, “Not yet, Mal seem shaken?”

“Not shaken, but avoiding. If it went badly she’d be in tears but she’s not saying something.”

Frerin, “No doubt she’s just processing. Big weekend.” He looked at you again, “So that’s how you ended up at the tea shop? Your coffee stand guy got sick?”

“Well, I drink cider at work, coffee makes me jittery. I tend to have panic attacks when I get jittery.” You glanced at him and said, “Not all the time, but it’s like an intense house of terror like they have in theme parks. Brain just imagines things that aren’t creeping up on me.”

“I get like that with espressos. And hot air balloons, can’t even be near them.”

The final turn had him parking in front of the house and he reached over patting your knee, “Get some sleep, Sis.”

Out of the car you climbed and through the winds you slid your way through your propped open front gate and up to your front entrance where you exhaled relaxing in the relief from the force against you. With a final wave his way you let yourself inside seeing him wave back and start to drive off when you eased the door shut. His continued use of the term of sister was shaken off as you hung up your bag and followed the sounds of the show playing to the living room. The room was empty but the whistle of your kettle had you turning for your kitchen to find Thorin there with a grin saying, “Great show. I take it that was our mystery narrator?” You nodded and he asked with a smirk easing out, “Rhino and heels?”

“Ah, heels are for the weekend and the rhino was a gift. Our coffee cart guy is off his feet on medical leave and his wife brought this, show’s been helping keep him distracted.”

“That’s good.” You nodded and set them down on the counter as he said, “Roac brought Dot breakfast. She was pleased.”

“Doubtful,”

He chuckled and said, “She argued the berries weren’t bright enough but ate them anyways. Still good ground to start on. Him and Bala are flying around the back yard giving the girls some time to chat.”

For a few moments your eyes were locked in the silence until he turned to grab the kettle to fill your mug pouring water over your filled whale infuser, “No mug for you?”

He shook his head, “Not this time, had some earlier. I drink any more of your tea and you’ll run out by morning. I will get you more cider and teas,” your lips parted and he said, “I want to. Someone has to make sure you don’t get swindled on some imitation.”

“Well don’t forget your fruit, veggies, jams and bread.”

“I-,” Around the counter you strolled and grabbed one of your reusable totes you started to fill randomly making him chuckle at the hefty amount you set on the counter with a cling wrapped loaf of bread on top.

“Payback is painful isn’t it?” You teased.

And he rumbled back playfully, “Excruciating.”

“Good.” He smirked then looked to Roac in his flight into the kitchen from his stop into the greenhouse.

Proudly the bird landed on Thorin’s shoulder and puffed up saying, “Dot has asked me to leave.”

Your lips parted and Thorin chuckled walking over to stroke his hand down your arm, “Good sign. Thank you for the bag. Enjoy your tea and get some rest. No pressure on coming in tomorrow if you want to stay in.”

“You get some sleep too Mug Dealer.” You looked to Roac, “Thank you, Roac.”

“I am eternally grateful for you finding me my Mate.” Grinning at you while Thorin lifted his bag.

Thorin rumbled another low goodbye and you escorted the pair to the door and made sure they both got in safely before you turned back to your tea. Lifting your whale seeper you cleaned it out and rinsed it off and turned to lift your mug sending off a review of your tea. ‘Surprised by some company at home, but chivalrous as ever my Mug Dealer came to my rescue with another lovely pineappley touch to it.’

Again comments racked up with the usual amused statements egging you on to make a move with your Mug Dealer if you weren’t already together. And you pocketed your phone seeing some of the other shop owners from the expo still puzzled as to who you could be but no less amused by the dynamic involving the surly Dwarf they assumed to be the Dealer in question in need of a good wooing himself. A check on the greenhouse brought Belly to a swing closer to you stroking his head against your cheek before flying off to chase after Darling in another hopeful round for increasing their chance of a large clutch of eggs. Kindly you greeted Dot who eyed you curiously then asked, “Roac has left?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and said, “He certainly flies fearlessly.”

With a nod you replied, “Yes he does.” Taking a sip of your tea while she hopped to the perch outside of her home.

Fluffing up her feathers she said, “I shall not make him struggle too long I think.” Flying down to the ridge around the fountain to inspect the lily pads that she hadn’t seen before, testing if they would hold her or not.

Turning from there you went to check on your hummingbird house grinning at their parents who left you to watch their hatchlings now getting their feathery coating in order signaling in a week or so they could be left without their mothers for longer periods. Though here safe in your warm greenhouse they really didn’t need much heating and there was more than enough food to keep them and hundreds more well fed for generations to come. “Hello little ones.” Various personalities had begun to show already and before long their parents were back to catch their yawns in time for a noon nap signaling your turn back to your kitchen to rinse out your empty mug. To your couch you went to relax to whatever was still playing and slowly drift off into a nap of your own.

“I am pleased with the territory for my dwelling with Dot.” Roac said shifting on the bar on the passenger side of the dashboard in Thorin’s car in his first turn.

“It is an incredible greenhouse.”

“Jack Rabbit has changed the lands to perfection for hatchlings.”

Thorin glanced at him wondering why he had called you that. “Yes, she has. Jack Rabbit?”

“That is what Bala and the others call her. I wish to fit in.”

“Ah,”

Roac’s head tilted looking his friend over, “Have you danced for her yet?”

That had Thorin look back at him, “We do not dance to attract Mates.”

“Singing then? You have a very deep voice, none can bellow as you can. Surely she will choose you.”

With a chuckle he replied, “Thank you, but again, our courting rituals are far more complicated than yours.”

Roac looked forward, “Hmm. She has a fondness for you, the home is-,”

“Roac,” he sighed in catching his friend’s nod, “The necklace she was wearing, I gave it to her.”

That puffed up his feathers giddily, “She is weighing her options then, just as Dot is restraining true impressions on my approval as her Mate! What is the next step I shall assist all I can!”

Wetting his lips Thorin replied, “It is a matter of working the right words at the right moment to agree for a courtship.”

“Words, of course. Poetry, not a song. I have faith in you that the right words might find you to secure her approval.”

Widely he smirked at his friend’s blind faith in him and the situation and rumbled back, “Thank you.”

The rest of the way Roac muttered his plans to finalize courting Dot only making Thorin’s grin deepen as it stirred options in his own ideas concerning you. Once parked he reached over taking hold of the bag first once his door was propped open and then for Roac who hopped onto his arm and walked up to his shoulder to free his hand. Securing the bag he took the short walk up to his apartment, inside which he spotted Frerin in the living room already smirking as he asked, “Ooh, she sent you home with goodies I see.”

Thorin chuckled and set the bag down feeling his stomach clench in Roac’s flight back to his dwelling in Thorin’s room to nap, from the bag he pulled out your bread and a jar for tomato soup and set up the tomatoes to let it simmer as you had. “Apparently this is revenge.”

Frerin on his feet hummed, “Revenge smells good.” Lifting the bread he asked, “She makes her own bread too?”

Thorin nodded and carried the bag to put the rest away in their pantry on a shelf usually left empty now entirely for your goods. “You have not tasted soup like this. So good.”

“She made you soup?”

“She was tired and anxious, comfort food.”

Frerin nodded and came to his brother’s side while he cut the bread just like you had, but left more behind to have some later, “Alone, together, cooking, details?”

Thorin sighed and looked at Frerin, “It was nice. Late night cooking, it was cozy. She was half asleep and the soup was incredible, grilled cheese too. She cooked we cleaned up and then handled the arrivals together.”

“That’s sounds perfect. I’m glad she called you.”

“So am I, even if Bala was the one who nominated Roac for his wingman and I’m just his chauffer, I have no clue how I could have handled being surprised like that.”

Frerin shook his head, “You and me both,” going to smell the soup, “This all she sent?” Then turned to head into the pantry to look at what you had sent.

Thorin’s eye however went to the box on the living room table and he smirked using his keys to open the package from which he pulled the cd out of. Across the cover a honey haired woman seated at the piano of singing stones in a brilliant silvery orange blend, clearly an older version of you. With you in a pink gown with strips laying delicately across your shoulders holding the dress above its drastic dip in the back lined with silver accenting gems matching those on the edges of the mermaid skirt. Facing the large mic they were left with just the silhouette of your face and sight of your lit up snowy curls braided up into an intricate bun.

Breaking the plastic wrap on it that dropped into the open box he switched on the disk player and put it on turning Frerin’s head at the intro of the ethereal piano. Taking hold of the case Thorin passed him he smirked as his brother focused on the soup he gave its first stir. Each and every song until the soup was served up building up their adoration for you upon discovering another of your hidden talents. Their own hums blended into the mix while enjoying the finished meal, only pausing when chills ran up their backs hearing the intro to the song that had been played on the Bunny show making the pair look at the track number to know the name of the song Frerin pulled up translated lyrics for on his phone only warming their hearts more. Fully cleaned up at the end of the disc Thorin took his box and the cd to his room to listen to again later on his way to dropping onto his bed once his heavy boots were taken off.

Curiosity had gotten the better of you and upon waking up after sunset you brushed your hair out of your face and walked out to your back yard. Under the lights of the gentle glowing lanterns you walked the pathway back to the seating area already hearing Hector adjusting his wings on his exiting of their new home. Bright eyes landed on you and he turned fully at your brief wave, “Hello. Just wanted to check in, see how you liked your first day.”

Hector gave you a soft grin stepping closer and extending his wing to the side, “Come and see our changes.”

You nodded and came closer flashing another grin and wave at his mate upon stepping up into the seating area listening to all Hector and her had put into the area to make it comfy for their eggs. The trio that she revealed to you in their trade off on warming them on her way to the yard to stretch fully. Hector’s head tilted seeing you eyeing the eggs, “We would allow you to touch them.”

You looked up at him with a spreading grin, “Thank you,” knowing fully most birds would never allow someone to touch their eggs. But crawling carefully into the nest you got a better look and crouched down closing your eyes to listen to the warm eggs one at a time. “They sound very strong.” Climbing out again you asked, “Nearly time, right?”

They both nodded and she said, “We have agreed, should our daughter accept Kuu we would allow her to remain here with you. Our home has many daughters, she would find plenty and comfort here where we could always visit.”

“That’s so thoughtful, if that’s what you would wish for her. I would take very good care of her.”

Hector grinned at you, “We know. You have been most kind, the others, they tended me but did not see what we needed in that dwelling.” Settling carefully down on top of the eggs his feathers folded around.

“Yes, they have told me they might be taking some tips from my own dwelling. Especially for Striped Ravens, when they can find them. Their numbers are so low.”

She asked, “Your Raven has mated well?”

You nodded, “Yes, they took to each other right away. They seem very happy planning for eggs.” On her way to go search the nearby stream for fish you said, “Enjoy your night, I’m going to make some dinner myself.”

To which Hector answered, “Eat well, do not worry your mate will surely return to claim himself as yours soon.” Giggling to yourself mentally you walked back to the house catching sight of her one legged giddy hop with fish still wiggling in her foot she showed off to Hector. Dinner was pulled together, a thick stew using up more of your jarred goods and bread before you cleaned up and headed to your bedroom to change and lay in bed to a film waiting to fall asleep again knowing you needed more rest.

Pt 26

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC #Frerin #Giant Owl #Hobbit #lotr

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bloodandpaintchips · 3 years

Text

A Second Draft

Tagging→ Andrea Sheldon, Gunnar Leidolf Time Frame→ November 4, 2020 Location→ Sangren, Colorado General Notes→ The blue tape had to come down eventually.

The bed in Andrea’s new room at Johnny’s was like a giant pillow. She’d only left once, to look at the moon and to find someone to feed on (a nondescript patron at Ted’s who she merely compelled to forget that 10 minutes so he could keep drinking). Now she was back in this really soft bed and alone with her thoughts. And now that she was back in town, those thoughts were drifting to Gunnar a lot. It was a sore spot, as she couldn’t think of him without thinking about August and the things August took from her. She got to feel the things she felt with Gunnar after the fact, and she’d so often find herself closing her eyes and trying to place herself in the murky memories. She had to get out of this bed. That buzz from having just fed was right under her skin and she knew just laying around missing him, miles away from where she remembered he stayed, was a little ridiculous. She was in her van in moments, driving to her father’s house and hoping he’d been long asleep. Her features changed momentarily and she could feel it. She had a lot of emotions to regulate, especially looking at her old house, but she was here with a purpose -- in and out.

Climbing the side of the house near her bedroom was incredibly easy and she briefly thought about how she’d probably be getting used to random discoveries of what she was capable of for a long time. The window was open, considering Frank probably just avoided the room, even when he was waiting for her to come back. Slipping inside, Andrea scanned the area and quickly gathered her work boxes, one full of graphite and brushes and markers, the other full of bulky acrylic paint tubes. All right where she left them. She was back outside in moments, tossing the boxes in the passenger seat before getting in, starting the engine and taking off to Gunnar’s. Not wanting to waste time when his place came into view, she got out, grabbed the boxes and locked the van before making her way up to his door. A few seconds were spent wondering how he’d even react or how she’d explain showing up years later to make good on an art promise, but she shook her head finally and knocked.

Gunnar had spent the better part of the hour hauling in a brand new television. And he wasn't sure if that was responsible or a little bit sad. A rare day off and when he'd left the auto shop he'd decided shopping was a good idea. Granted, he needed the new TV but the normalcy of it all was odd. And oddly comforting. The large flat screen was set up, cable installed, and he was settled on the couch with some mindless comedy when he heard the knock.

Strange, that. He sniffed the air, finding no trace of something unfamiliar or unwanted (no cloying honeyed smoke), and shuffled to the door. Whoever, whatever it was, it wasn't like he couldn't handle it. More than likely some poor sod selling something that knocking on any other door would've gotten him a bite for his troubles. He wasn't, however, expecting to see her. The arched brow was the only indicator of surprise, eyes unreadable as they studied the pretty features of the girl who had disappeared in a cloud of mystery and remained as such for so long, Gunnar wasn't sure what to believe about the why and when, if ever she was going to return. But there she stood. Different, but not. Changed, yes. And so he stepped aside and gave her a short nod. "Come in."

When he opened the door, even though she had no clue what to expect, she smiled a little. True, she missed him and seeing his face again just reminded her how much. He looked exactly the same, only his hair was short. Still thick, though. Eyes still very blue. At his invitation, she walked in and set the boxes down in the nearest convenient spot before facing him completely. “So um,” she started, kicking her foot toward where she set the boxes. “I came to work on that.” She turned her head to look around the space, eyebrows raising when her gaze landed on the gridded blue tape -- still there. Fixing her eyes back on him, her smile returned despite her efforts to keep it subdued. “Fuck.” With that, she bounded toward him, practically jumping up to wrap her arms around him in a hug that she hoped would transfer all her feelings. “I’m sorry. I missed you,” she said into his shirt.

He watched her enter his space, eyes shifting briefly to the box and then to the wall. It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about the blue tape still outlining the long-abandoned art project. Hard to, considering it took up the entire length of it. He'd long stopped tossing the odd and errant glance at the thing and eventually it faded into the background, usually only coming up whenever a visitor, rare that that was, had inquired. And he'd never actually give a response, simply shrugged. But there she was, the prodigal artist returned. No worse for wear, barring the change in diet.

And the strength. Jesus. That was wholly unfamiliar. Odd to place to the very human, very delicate Andy of old. This one, still pretty, but with a considerably stronger grip. He returned the hug, instinct not to put his full strength behind it. Difficult to break, the old habit. Andy, less so. He didn't understand the apology at all, and his lips lifted into a brief smile that he pressed into her hair. "Only a little late," came his reply, the dry humor of it all hidden in his hug. "Missed you too."

Laughing at his words, she held onto him a little longer before pulling away and running a hand through her hair. “I would’ve been on time, but some stuff happened,” she replied, smirking and giving a small shrug. “I probably should have called. Or something. I don’t really know what’s polite. But I brought all my crap with me to paint. I also figured I should tell you what happened. Well not should, but I want to tell you. If you’re still willing to have me talk your ear off and put creepy stuff on your wall.” She found herself taking him in, possibly trying to fill in those memories again. “I like your hair.”

"Figured as much," he replied, letting his smile linger as she pulled away. "Don't worry about it. What's done is done. Still glad to see you." Calling probably would've been the right thing to do. But Gunnar could understand the urgency that came with getting the hell away. Andy had ties, though. And she hadn't struck him as the type to disappear into the night. But all things considered, he got it. "Don't mind either. The talking or the art." Her compliment made him laugh, a short gruff sound and he raked a hand through the shorn blond locks. "Thanks. Got tired of combing it. Needed a change. See you did too." He nodded towards her own hair. "Suits, though. You want something to drink? Beer? Tea? Do tea now. Big changes."

She picked up her boxes and walked over to the wall, setting them down and looking it over to get a feel of just how big the space was. “Good.” She thought about all of the things she wanted to tell him, where she would start, and how to say it all. The idea to paint the wall was honestly a way for her to figure all that out without just taking up space in his loft. Working with her hands also just opened her up in a way she’d never been able to explain. “Beer is cool. Thanks,” she replied, getting her graphite sticks out and a small piece of tarp to set them on the floor. “So I’m just gonna go with my gut on this and hope you don’t regret still letting me do this. I used to have a plan but those are kind of leading me to shitty places lately, so I’m gonna go with the flow.” She smiled, turning to look at him. “I think I’m in the right place for it.”

Gunnar left her to sort out her supplies and headed to the kitchen to retrieve their beers. "Don't think I would've kept the tape up if I changed my mind," he told her once he returned, handing off one of the chilled bottles. "Been some time, but I still remember you're a dab hand with paint and art. Sure that hasn't changed." The 'right place' part was interesting, and Gunnar was sure she wasn't just talking about the wall. He wondered what other places she encountered and what had finally brought her back to this one. "Not much you could do that I wouldn't like."

Taking the bottle, she brought it to her lips and downed most of it before setting it on the floor near her supplies. “Guess I was thirsty,” she said, smiling briefly before grabbing a piece of graphite and picking a corner of the grid to start mindlessly outlining a figure. Her hands worked quickly, weirdly keeping time with her brain in a way that she wasn’t used to. She filled in shadows until finally, she spoke again, not tearing her gaze away from what she was doing. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other?” She had things she wanted to say but she wasn’t sure if she could look him in the eyes about it yet. So she kept sketching.

"Looks like." His own bottle rested comfortably on his denim covered knee once he settled back on the couch. Gunnar sipped his beer and chuckled. Knocking back beers; another newly acquired quirk. The television was on, saving them from a long gap of silence while she worked and posed a question that Gunnar had wondered himself, plenty of times. Still, he didn't answer right away. Curious about the way her fingers moved easily, as if no time had passed. Or the way she asked without actually looking at him. "Been some time, pet" he answered honestly. "You wanting to know something specific?" He paused, taking another sip from his bottle. "Think it was when we were out on my bike. Took us for a ride."

She was already finishing up on a figure outline, moving on to another as she gave him time to answer. When he did, she stopped, setting the graphite down and turning to him. “Yeah, it was when you took us for a ride,” she replied. The memory was a happy one, but it didn’t make her smile. “I remember too. And after you brought me home, I got roughed up real nice, fed on, and then compelled by August to believe it was him. Again.” She tucked some hair behind her ear and sat against the wall, facing where he was across the area on the couch. “Actually, every time I was with you, barring the first time, was...in my mind, with August. I guess he was grooming me or something. He’d been changing my thoughts repetitively for months and I had no clue, until he took the trust I had in you and tried to use it to take my virginity. Well he didn’t try. He did. And this happened,” she said, quickly gesturing at her face as it turned, only for a moment. “The wedding’s off though,” she joked, the smile not reaching her eyes. She didn’t look at Gunnar yet, unsure of how her word vomit would land and trying to subdue the flecks of anger she already felt describing it all.

Gunnar let her talk, expression unchanging as the words hung in the air. The truth of the matter that had left them both confused (and much anger on his part) finally revealed. The haze of those happenings had bothered the hell out of him. Knowing something was amiss with the dandy that seemed intensely occupied with Andy. And now he knew why. Her bouts of forgetfulness. The bruises. Christ, her face. He knew that, of course. Sussed it out from Johnny, what August had done to the girl. And part of that rage lingered in him. Angry with himself, for not noticing who and what the asshole was, put the pieces together in time. It'd been too late for Andy then. She was different now. He tried to suss out where her emotions lie, difficult in the almost clinical way she spoke of August twisting her mind and taking and tainting the memories. Nothing to that smile, or the gallows humor. But then he sensed it, fleeting spark of anger. Familiar in feeling, but foreign coming from Andy. But understandable. A justified rage, metered but not mindless. Nothing less than what she owed to herself, and the unfortunate situation she was put into, against her will. He pushed the beer bottle to the coffee table, and regarded her, unsure of what to say.

When she finally looked up, grabbing a piece of graphite to twirl in her hand, she kept going. “I know this is a lot. There’s like, no way to make it not a lot, if that made sense. But yeah.” Sometimes she liked being able to cry, but as liquid began to burn at her lids, this wasn’t one of those times. She didn’t even know what kind of tears they were — angry, remorseful, etc, she just wiped them away quickly. “He’s dead now, I killed him pretty much immediately. Before I even registered that I could kill anything. But all I felt was red, for months. Like I couldn’t even control it or my actions, and when I was finally able to, I was still fucking lost. I was afraid of what I would do but most of all I just felt shame?” She met his eyes, hers a bit bloodshot. “And once my mind was clear enough to really assess what happened...why every time I was with him it felt like a copy of something, why I was telling myself I was in love with him but I kept trying to leave with you somehow, I felt...stupid kinda. Like it was my fault. I know logically it wasn’t but I couldn’t even be here. I made up some great journey in my head to find my mom but it was all me trying to run from the reality of what happened. I think I still am a little, but I needed to come home. I left a lot here.”

No one could fault her for taking off. Gunnar surely didn't. Mostly. He knew what it was like, having that kind of rage inside, first glimpse of it, and the impulsive need to get the hell away from everything. Gunnar watched her, the tears she brushed away, and he felt nothing but grim satisfaction at August's end by her hand. Learning the full truth, the dandy deserved far worse. His fingers twitched against his denim-covered knees but he didn't furl them into fists. It wasn't needed. Andy didn't need his anger. Words, words were better. Even though they were never really easy for him, he liked trying for her. "Know you wouldn't leave if you didn't have a reason. Same for coming back. S'not your fault. Even if you know it, doesn't hurt to hear it. Did what you had to do. What you thought you had to do. Just glad you remembered you had things worth coming back to."

She let a tear fall and smiled, genuinely this time as she listened to him grumble out those things she really needed to hear from him. Andy knew he wasn’t much for words; he expressed himself in other ways, but he tried for her and it was evident. It made her feel happy to be back and regretful at the same time. “I did think I had to do it. I thought I had to do a lot. I’m always thinking. Vampirism didn’t get rid of that, unfortunately.” She put the piece of graphite in her hand back on the tarp and pushed herself off of the floor to go sit next to him on the couch. “I’ll probably finish the wall in a week. It’s gonna be all the faceless things I always saw in my head. Easy to duplicate, the eyes and hands and just, curtains of darkness. I’ve committed it to memory. But right now I wanna sit here,” she told him, tugging at a band on her wrist. She was quiet for a few moments, gathering her thoughts again. “I’m sorry. I know that might sound silly to you but I don’t know how else to express the things I feel, one foot away from you. I just have these memories of you that feel like they’re fifteen years away because they were so fucked with and maybe I’m just sorry in general. I feel like it’s all a bunch of sorry. But I won’t bore you with all of my regrets and sorries. I just wanted to say it one more time I guess. Now I have to move forward and I’m...not great at that,” she said, turning to look at him and smiling again.

"Might be a good thing, that Andy overthinking. Balance out the impulse control." His lips lifted in a light grin. "No rush on the wall. I'm around mostly, and I'll give you the spare key. Pop in whenever." Gunnar shifted slightly when she sat beside him, glad the distance was reduced. She'd been far away long enough. Carrying, from what he gathered, a pretty heavy weight. August. Her road trip. Something about her mother. What happened with them didn't need to be another one of her burdens. "S'not silly. Can't say I think you need to atone for anything, least with me. Sometimes moving forward, might be better." He exhaled and reached out, stilling the fingers that were still tugging at the band on her wrist. "Can't undo what he did, taking those memories. It's proper fucked up. Still us, though. Some changes. Give it some time. You work on your wall. We'll be alright."

Her fingers stopped moving under his and she blew out a breath, sinking into the couch a little more and feeling a relief she didn’t even know she was searching for. “I feel like I forgot what it feels like to relax,” she said quietly, letting herself slump over and rest her head on his shoulder. “Everything happened so fast, and then I was just feeding and running and searching in an endless loop. Always so much energy directed in different places...now I’m talking about making art again, something I haven’t even thought about since I left. And I’m here, and your place smells the same and you smell the same. I was almost getting used to the upheaval, but I’m remembering what content feels like again,” she explained, laughing a little. “It’s nice to not be freaking out about something for a bit.”

"Not much to freak out about here," he told her, surprised that it was true, for the most part. Things in Sangren were always strange, but familiar in its weirdness. Human Andy was always so cautious. This new Andy lacked the body heat but was no less warm in actions. Head on his shoulder. Rambling. Not the same, but similar in the ways that mattered. In the Andy ways he'd missed. "Pretty new for you, pet. Feeding, and the like." His smile was brief at the sound of her laughter. "'Spect you'll fall into the rhythm again. Different now, you being all super strength. Can't make you tremble anymore if we ever spar again."

She nodded against his shoulder, silently agreeing. She had become her own greatest fear, so while Sangren felt so familiar, it also felt like a completely new place for her to get to know. But having a place to stay in Johnny’s home where she felt so safe, and sitting here with Gunnar and feeling the warmth and activity under his skin -- it wasn’t overwhelming. “Feeding...yeah. I’m still not totally used to it but it’s interesting being able to just…” she started to focus on his arm, running her fingers down his veins and turning into his neck a little more. “Smell and feel everything? And hear everything.” She paused, taking in what he said and laughing a little. “Super strength or not, that’s still very much a possibility. The trembling was attributed to a few things there.”

He hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but hearing Andy admit to the trembling being more than just their afternoon spar made him laugh. "Guess that's true enough. Gave you plenty to tremble about." It was strange to think about her feeding. Not in a bad way, just a wholly different picture of the girl he'd last seen. The timid one who wouldn't have been as bold, tucking her face into his neck or initiating touches. "Do I have to worry about you sizing me up for a meal or for a fight?" he asked, the question dripping with amusement as he dipped his head, letting his faint grin brush the top of her head in a brief touch. "Takes getting used to, I'll bet. Senses in HD. Blood is a rush. That I know. Guess you're less about the spilling than the savoring, though."

Andrea thought about how much that would have made her blush before, but it just made her smile. “As for nervous trembles, you’d probably still get those. A little. Despite this practically new body, I haven’t…” She stopped, biting her lip and trying to find the right words. “Sparred like I probably could. I haven’t even felt the hunt since those first couple months when I couldn’t control it, and that was like just seeing a dissociative red for an extended period of time. I don’t know my strength yet, which anyone could tell from my now-crinkled steering wheel.” Honestly, she was afraid to know it -- the scope of what she could do. It was like she didn’t know her own hands anymore, the only thing making her think that wasn’t true being the way she just eased into working on the wall again. It told her maybe she was different but not entirely, and maybe she could know herself fully again. Maybe more than she did before all this. “You don’t have to worry about me trying to eat you. I may like your scent more than usual and maybe I can hear the blood flow in and out of your heart, but I don’t wanna eat you. Maybe taste but only with consent,” she joked, shaking her head. “But you’re right. Feels like an understatement actually. Trying to balance living life still, but through this whole new lens.” She didn’t comment on the last part, knowing her feeding method was so inefficient and probably wouldn’t last her. But she didn’t want to talk about that.

"Yeah? What makes you nervous lately?" He listened as she recalled her experience, seeing red and feeling that out of control strength and something like understanding tugged at Gunnar, because he got it. Knew the thrill, the taste and feel of it, and the slippery sensation of fear that went with it. "Like to tell that you get used to it, but you don't. Adapt, though. That happens. Evolve with the change. Takes some time. Test your limits. I could help with that. If you're ever feeling like you need a show of strength. Work out that energy." That...well perhaps that was meant a few ways. Gunnar smiled at her little joke, letting his fingers slide through her slender ones. "You smell different. Not bad. New, is all. Few days of playing in paint, remind me of that Andy scent." His fingers brushed her knuckles, eyes holding a thinking look as he considered his words. "Dunno if tasting's a good idea, pet," he rumbled. "Never had a vamp at my neck. No telling what my blood'll do. Wouldn't want this mess in here to harm you."

“I’m not sure how to explain it, but mostly I make me nervous. It’s weird knowing you’re capable of a lot, but not what exactly.” She appreciated his honesty, and the fact that it was from a reliable source -- they weren’t the same, but there was a bit of overlap and it made her happy to at least be talking to someone who knew what it was like to have to subdue something all consuming; to know that not being able to regulate emotions could lead to carnage. He’d felt that for so long, and she felt like she was joining a fucked up club. For a moment she remembered the fear in her father’s eyes when he saw her change and sighed. “It’s time for me to adapt to a few new things.”

She leaned up a little to meet his eyes, searching them for a moment before smiling a little. “That could be fun, having my limits tested. I constantly have more energy than I know what to do with. You should definitely help me out.” She cleared her throat, getting distracted at the feel of his hand, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “Just wait till I’m covered in paint. It’ll happen very soon considering how many layers of it I’m gonna need for what I have in mind.” She glanced over at the wall, smiling and feeling a little spark at the thought of creating something big again, still bigger than anything she’d done. His little warning made her swipe the skin of his neck with her nose again, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away slightly, smirk in place. “Just say no to Gunnar blood. Got it. Wouldn’t wanna lose myself.”

"S'good, you having that bit of nerves," Gunnar said with a short nod. "Means you're not far gone. Can always come back to yourself. Seen plenty of types lost to the wildness. Nearly been there myself." He shrugged. The sigh that followed was curious, but Gunnar wasn't one to pry. Andy would talk on her own time. He liked the easy flow of their talks. Missed it over the years. And he wasn't surprised that she'd readily agreed to his offer. He could sense her strength, the raw power rolling off her in waves. That kind of energy always called to his own, even if it wasn't exactly the same. "Whenever you want us, then. I'm around." Andy's excitement about the wall and diving back into her art was infectious. It'd been so long since nothing but that blue grid, a strange reminder to that time that seemed forever ago. It felt full circle to have her back like this. Sitting with him and talking art...the blood chatter, that was new.

There was more boldness, the brush of her nose against the line of his neck, keen sense of smell making his skin twitch. She was definitely full of power, and that was a curious, new thing. "Aye. Wouldn't say no to a nibble or two. But drawing blood, no telling what's to be made of that. Always been curious about it. Not curious enough to risk you, though."

“Can always come back to myself,” she mumbled, repeating him. “I think I’ve wanted to hear that for a while, Gunnar.” She sat with that for a moment, thinking about how for someone who usually didn’t chat too much, sometimes he said exactly what she needed to hear in the most succinct way. She pursed her lips at his words, listening and nodding in agreement. “Nibbles good. Bites bad. Best to leave the unknown where it is.” Some of his words stuck out to her and she inhaled a little, circling back to something he said. “Anytime I want? You promise?” She finally let her free hand wander, running her fingers through his hair, liking the smell of that too. “Cause sometimes people regret stuff like that.”

"Glad I could help." It was sincere and he backed it with a brief smile. It was good she'd agreed about the blood. There was enough already to sort with her memories of their previous encounters. Not to mention the bloodlust. He wasn't entirely sure where she was with control, and the last thing anyone needed was a test. The raseri didn't burn as hotly now and he hadn't dulled it with drugs in some time. But he was always aware. Always cautious. He did lean into the caress of her fingers. That was nice and familiar. He was amused by her playfulness, the suggestive of it all. "Promise. Haven't regretted anything we've done so far. No need to start. Especially since you remember now."

Andrea had been testing her limits, afraid to cross boundaries although she knew by merely coming to see him, the heightened aspect of it all mixed with her attraction would be intense. And he looked at her like he wanted her, and she could smell his breath, and his hair was soft on her fingers. She felt it all so acutely. His response only established some things, especially his mention of her memories. She wanted one that was clear, hers and never muddled with. Yes, she got them back but it was through a fog. She couldn’t remember how he felt. So she leaned up, tilting his head gently by his hair before brushing her lips against his. The contact made her want more immediately so she kissed him, releasing his hand so she could lean against his form and touch his face. “I’m sorry, I just,” she whispered once she was able to pull herself away, lips a little puffy from her excitement. “You just...I should probably be good and work on the wall.”

Gunnar accepted the kiss with a small grunt, more surprise than instinct. It was brief, and then Andy was pulling away, with apologies and an energy that was very much like her former self, so much that Gunnar could've smiled. Instead he reached for her, long fingers skimming her jaw, lifting her face to his so he could give her another kiss. Lips slanting over her own, soft and cool and he savored the feel of her mouth, dropping feather light presses before shifting back. "No thinking Andy," he told her, paralleling the impulsive words he'd given her on one of those muddled nights long ago. Daring her delicate human self to give in to those base instincts. He dropped his hands, letting his arm flop across the back of the couch as he regarded her. "Go be good now. Work on your wall. Don't wanna stand in the way of art. I'll be over here."

#p #para: a second draft #ch: gunnar leidolf #gunnardown

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malignedaffairs · 4 years

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Artist Interview

Some time ago I was asked to answer some questions for a Russian community that collects interviews from various fanartists - what a lovely idea! Here’s the Russian translation along with lots of other interesting interviews. Under the cut is the English version.

On the artist

Nickname: Fifi

Date of birth: December 11th

What city are you from? Berlin

What genre in music do you prefer? Are there any favorite bands/singers? Dark electro, industrial, gothic, EBM, new wave, with a little side of metal and rock’n’roll. My favourite band is Rammstein.

The book that made the most impression and why? There’s nothing life-changing, but I have a ritual of reading before bedtime and some books have been great companions, mostly because they are gripping as hell or because they build up a huge world to blissfully get lost in. I really enjoyed In Cold Blood, The Swarm, Out, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Fifth Woman, Into Thin Air, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the Harry Potter series, Lord of the Rings and ASOIAF.

What are your hobbies besides artistic creativity? Video games, reading up/watching documentaries on things like history, nature, the psychology connected to criminal cases or the obscure niche interest du jour, tasting and trying to cook food from around the world, spending time with close friends and family, planning trips and travelling, board games, being outside in nature, doting on my cat.

What movies (TV series) do you like to watch? Is there something you revise (recommend)? I prefer short thriller/mystery/horror series like Zone Blanche, The Sinner, La Forêt, Penny Dreadful, period dramas like Moon Lovers or The Tudors, movies/series that are funny and thoughtful like Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Intouchables and Better Call Saul, Tarantino movies, oh and movies/series about food!

Favorite anime? Mushishi, Hellsing Ultimate, Samurai Champloo, Kuroko no Basuke, Dragonball Z

Favorite manga? Vagabond, Blade of the Immortal, Naruto, Dragonball, Rookies, Shokugeki no Soma

Favorite pictures, installations? Romanticism paintings, they’re so atmospheric. And traditional artwork from indigenous cultures.

Is there something that you would have trouble parting with? (Some thing, for example) There are things like my old diaries or my hard drive full of photos and drawings, but in general I’m more attached to places than to things.

What are your future plans? Getting better at my job, falling in love, lots of drawings.

On the art

What was the beginning of your passion? Discovering how crayons work as a toddler, I guess.

Do you think the academic base is obligatory and should everyone go through universities to be good masters? I think a profound education can totally polish your technical skills, so the benefits can be great. But art is very individual, and you don’t need university for expressing yourself creatively. When I graduated from high school I thought about studying to become a professional artist, but decided on keeping it a leisure activity for me to unwind and express myself without any pressure.

How long have you been drawing? I’ve been drawing from early childhood.

Tell us about the process of drawing. Where do you start, how do you finish? How much time is spent on drawing? When I’m super lazy, I just use one layer. I start with a rough sketch and refine it by just adding cleaner lines on top and erasing the messy parts. When I’m less lazy I do a rough sketch and a second layer of clean lines on top. During the process I often adjust proportions by cutting, warping and relocating parts of the content. For a comic I first think of a rough plot and draft the dialogue, then make a rough storyboard with page thumbnails. I usually only plan around three pages at a time, never the whole thing in one go. Colouring is another beast entirely. No system there whatsoever, I just put colours on there and hope for the best. Usually a drawing takes me at least two hours, comic pages take up to eight hours. I mostly use the same three brushes all the time.

How did your nickname appear? Fifi-la-fumeuse is a random thing I found in a book about curiosities I bought in Paris a long time ago. It’s basically a vintage doll that was used for educating students about the dangers of smoking during pregnancy. I liked how creepy it looked and the name sounds nice and a little similar to my real name, so I’ve kept it ever since. Malignedaffairs is an allusion to the “forbidden” nature of Itasasu, which was my OTP when I started my blog back in 2012/13. Nowadays I’m finding the name rather corny, but it’s what most people associate with my art, so I’m just keeping it.

What inspires you? Everyday life, my feelings, media, exchanging ideas with people within the fandom.

How do you feel about criticism? Do you criticize other artists? I’m not here for the criticism. My first and foremost goals in posting art on the internet are expressing my feelings, getting in touch with like-minded people and having fun, not necessarily improving my artwork or meeting any achievement goals. I’m grateful for constructive criticism if I respect and trust the person who gives it. I only give criticism if invited to do so.

Do you have your own characters? Or maybe the whole universe? Tell a little about it. No, I don’t have any OCs at all.

How did you come to the Naruto fandom? What kind of heroes do you draw and why them? My ex bf was a big fan of Naruto and always tried to get me into it, but I found it boring and childish. After we broke up though, I felt really lost and started to watch Naruto as a way to feel a little closer to him, and before I knew it I was super into the plot and the characters and then Itachi appeared and the story of the Uchiha brothers struck a very deep chord with me. I’m very much into beautiful, tragic, brilliant but troubled characters who are sweet cinnamon rolls inside, and Itachi and Shisui are like the posterboys for this concept. I feel like they’re the perfect muses for me to give some kind of shape to my ideals of love and mutual respect.

Do you agree with the opinion that national self-perception, as an intellectual factor, is present in the creative process? You’re always influenced by the social environment, the battles and the values you grew up with, and some of that can be determined by your nationality. Themes like identity, society, communication, politics and ideologies are often expressed in art, and if that’s the case you can’t and probably don’t even aim to separate it from national self-perception. I think it’s more present in original art than in fanart though.

What topics worry you and most often are reflected in your work? Belonging, mutual love, loss, sex.

Do you consider drawing to be your recognition in life? Do you plan to continue to devote yourself to this business? It’s an important part of my life and I’m going to do it as long as it feels right, but I won’t pressure myself.

What advice do you have for novice artists? Expect your drawings to look ugly in the beginning and draw all the ugly pictures anyway. Draw whatever attracts you, however silly it may seem. “Art block” means you should lower the pressure on yourself and allow yourself to draw something ugly, silly or uncreative, or even take a break from drawing. Art is not about achievement but about expression. Don’t take it personally when no one seems to appreciate your art right away. Instead actively seek out like-minded people in online communities or in real life, get engaged and show your art to them. Also: flip that canvas!

#text #too bad i can't read russian #i'd love to read all those interviews without the awkward translation google translate spits out

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dr-astormylasthurrah · 4 years

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spam’s character design tips!

(various designs I’ve done! adopt characters belong to their owners, I only include them here as examples and claim no current ownership.) *disclaimer: it was 9 pages before i added pictures so i’m not inaccurate

If you would rather read this as a Google Document, please click here! (The document has more examples as well!)

Hey! My name’s Spam and I write Danganronpa: A Stormy Last Hurrah! You may also have seen my art for various stories and users around the Internet, including RATS: 252 Chances at Redemption and the Alca Ronpa series! You may ALSO also have seen my character designs, including those for ASLH as well as certain characters in Alca Ronpa and Kill the Joker: AnotheR Game! I sell adopts fairly frequently as well and have miscellaneous designs floating around the web, so I figured I may as well write something about my process. This is mostly oriented towards human OCs! So hopefully this helps someone!!

Before starting this guide, I’d like to give credit to gaiacseas/gokuhara’s “How I Design OCs: Do’s and Don’ts”! When I was designing the ASLH cast, I found myself coming back to this guide again and again. A lot of my points are the same as theirs, but I talk a bit about my own process, especially when it comes to characters that I revamp and redesign.

All uncredited art was done by me, including character designs. Characters belong to their respective owners. All other art is credited.

So let’s get started!

CONCEPTS

The first thing I’m going to say is that my character designs, especially those for myself, take absolutely FOREVER. I usually go through many, many pages of concepts and color tests before I find something I’m satisfied with. It’s a long and very constructive process, and if I’m designing a character for someone else, it can take weeks before we can find something we’re both satisfied with.

Alexei Ilyich Bazhanov, ASLH’s SHSL Birdwatcher, was a design-first character, meaning that I came up with his design first and built his personality around it. Although to be fair someone who constantly wears a feathery halfmask in public is inevitably bound to be kind of dramatic, so there’s only so many ways his personality couldn’t be influenced by his design. However, his design took a bit of a downgrade from his initial design to his current iteration, largely because of his initial design’s similarity to Tatsumaru Harai, ASLH’s SHSL Kabuki Actor.

In Tatsumaru’s concept sketch, you can also see the inspirations I cited for their design! I don’t consume much media, so the characters I cite as reference are often OCs in my friends’ stories. Here, I cited Minami Tachibana (Danganronpa: Dead on Arrival), Alix Murasaki (Ultimate Danganronpa: Supernova at Sea), and… Rhanahad Electricrone (Alca Ronpa 2), for some reason. I… actually don’t remember how or why any of those influences connect to Tatsumaru at all? Actually, for almost all of the ASLH characters, I scribbled down some notes on design influences and proceeded to ignore them. So maybe don’t listen to me actually. But design influences are good! Just don’t straight up copy them.

ANYWAY, as you can see, Alexei and Tatsumaru both had longish coats with balloon pants. However, I had better reason to keep these traits for Tatsumaru than Alexei, because kabuki acting actually uses these elements in its costumes. Thus, it made more sense to change Alexei’s design, although I do think that he would still actually wear that original outfit. It’s very himcore.

The point is that this ended up in many, many more drafts of concept sketches until I found something I was satisfied with. Like, six pages. It was kind of insane. It’s worth it in the end to make a polished product, though!

BODIES

(Admittedly, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the best when it comes to drawing distinct body types. It’s a weakness of mine that I’m getting better at, but I’m still not great at it.)

The #1 tip I can give here is to use shape language! This is what people use in pretty much all Western cartoons - ever think about how hard it would be to take Bill Cipher seriously if he was a circle? gaiacseas goes over shape language and silhouettes in far more depth in their tutorial, so I really advise looking at it! The basics are:

CIrcles/ovals convey softness and gentleness

Rectangles convey solidity and strength

Triangles convey sharpness and distrust

Combine shapes to modify the image your character conveys!

Also, just a tip: if you’re designing a cast of characters, please don’t just make them all the same body type! In real life, if you got any random sample of people, they’re not all going to be the same body type. Diversifying your body types helps a lot to distinguish characters from each other, too. Imagine if all of these characters had the same proportions as each other - even though they all have distinct outfits, you would have a much harder time perceiving them as different people.

If you’re going to draw characters of a body type you’re unfamiliar with, good for you! But first, take the time to look up guides on how to draw those body types. Studying real people also helps a lot to understand the vast varieties of body types. Just look at this picture of Olympic and Paralympic athletes from the 2016 Rio games - there’s already a ton of variations in “muscular” depending on what their sport is, and each athlete is optimized to their sport! It’s like that for literally everyone on Earth with literally every body type. There’s millions of ways to be skinny (bony? lean? malnourished?) or fat (most fat around their stomach, arms, legs?) or muscular (tall like a basketball player, dense like a weightlifter?) so make them count!

Also consider making characters with disabilities! My commentary on this as an abled person is fairly limited, but I will say to please note that what you think you know about disabilities is not necessarily true. This is in regards to their experiences having a disability, but can even apply to things you don’t think about - the wheelchairs most wheelchair-bound people use are not usually medical wheelchairs, for example. Research!!

On a related note, please don’t make racial caricatures or draw all your characters with the same facial features. People of specific ethnicities tend to (but not always) have certain features that are common to people across a regional area, but that’s no excuse to veer into drawing in the same way old racist cartoons are illustrated in. Again, there’s plenty of guides to help with learning about these! Or just look at the people around you and draw real people as practice. You’ll find the world is much more diverse than you think.

And speaking of references!! I’ve seen a lot of really good guides these days for drawing different body types and features! Go check them out go check em go!!

sdkay’s guide on drawing different facial structures (original post was deleted)

kenzandfriends’ guide on drawing fat people (original post was deleted)

nsfwbutts’ guide on drawing fat people (guide isn’t nsfw but their blog is so this is a reblog)

mel-lion’s guide on drawing black features

chuwenjie’s guide on drawing East Asian faces

“world of averages” - composite images of thousands of portraits of people from different places (re: certain facial features being common to certain ethnicities!)

calvin-arium’s guide on drawing characters in wheelchairs

Honestly if you’re looking for help just literally google “how to draw [character trait] and I GUARANTEE you there is a guide out there for you. While people not belonging to the demographic you’re drawing will probably not notice if you don’t portray groups accurately, those who are part of that demographic will be absolutely delighted.

MOTIFS

Motifs are a really neat way to make your character stand out in a crowd, especially if those motifs have meaning behind them! I mostly do this for adopts, but one of my favorite designs was Ophelia Zhang, a character I designed and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with.

She’s Medusa-inspired, as is obvious because of the snake motif on her jacket and the green hair/yellow eyes combination! Maybe you didn’t notice it until I pointed out, but now that I did, it raises intrigue about her character and her connection to the myth, doesn’t it?

Aside from Ophelia, most of my (own) characters aren’t very motif-heavy, but I like having common themes and patterns that run throughout their outfits at least. It just makes the outfit blend better. Some examples of this include Claude Bates, ASLH’s SHSL Violinist, and Chiyo Kumoshita, ASLH’s SHSL Cellphone Novelist.

Nonstandards are a great way of making a character Become Their Motif! Claude is based on snakes, specifically grass snakes - he’s got beady eyes, fangs, a grass snake pattern on his pants, and the combination of weird vesty jacket thing and striped shirt creates a belly scales effect. HOWEVER, he’s also got violin motifs! Most obvious are the f-hole patterns on his coat, but a more subtle thing is that his shirt has 5 stripes - a music staff (which sheet music is written on) is made of 5 lines!

(“so spam shouldn’t he have only 4 stripes on his shirt, for the 4 spaces on a music staff” shut up i realized i messed up his design too late. my orchestra director is going to kill me)

Chiyo, on the other hand, has a distinct cloud motif! This primarily is to match her surname (雲下 are the kanji for “clouds” and “under” respectively), but the other reason Chiyo has a cloud motif is because of ASLH itself - ASLH is loosely themed around the Shakespeare play The Tempest, and Chiyo, being ASLH’s protagonist, gets a “clear skies” motif. Neat!

OUTFITS

(“Incinerate” is the base for Puppet from Kill The Joker: AnotheR Game!)

There is SO MUCH that can be said about outfits and how I design them. The #1 tip I have is to look at what other people wear, and then decide what it is about that outfit you like so much! If you go somewhere where people are dressed differently from what you’re used to (a distant city or a foreign country), take notes! For me, some elements I come back to a lot include collared shirts, sweaters, oversized overdecorated overcoats, and cloud/sky patterning.

So here’s a little about what makes outfits distinct from each other!

Colors:

Bro this is SO IMPORTANT. There’s a lot that can be said about color theory, and gaiacseas says more than I do on the topic, but basically color conveys a lot about the character. Muted colors convey a muted personality, and brighter colors convey a brighter one! As gaiacseas says in their guide, however, this sets up a great way to subvert expectations about your character.

Protip! If you’re having trouble with a color scheme, just color pick from an existing picture! I don’t have any examples of this on hand, but I do know that sunset pictures are very yummy and I have a lot of pink/orange colored designs. Coincidence? I think NOT.

The number of colors you select is of course up to you, but personally, I don’t use too many individual colors for ease of creating reference images. Of course, realistically, no one’s going to wear clothes the exact same color as each other. Unfortunately for that realism, I am lazy and don’t want to color pick 10 colors, so this is how I live.

Layering:

This is the absolute #1 best way to build texture and silhouette in your characters! Step one, find a funky garment. Step two, find another funky garment. Step three, put them on top of each other. Step four, PROFIT.

The easiest garments to do this with is of course jackets, but they certainly aren’t the only garment that can be layered! Layering is just a matter of looking at clothes you would not usually wear together and going “I wonder what would happen if you wore this together?” In real life this is usually a disaster. But in the world of art and hypotheticals everything is fair game and NOTHING makes sense!

Patterns:

For when layers just don’t cut it! As far as patterns go, they could tie into motifs or just be a nice pattern. For example, Mal Jenkins is a painter, so the patterns on his sleeves, pants, and bag are based on Monet’s “Water Lilies”.

On the other hand, patterns could just be a pattern or recurring motif! The world is your oyster!

Materials/textures:

When combined with layering, clothes of different textures and weights can add a lot to a design! I mentioned before that I like designs with jackets, let’s look at a couple different hoodies! Featured here is Tristan McRae, ASLH’s SHSL Video Game Designer, and Hayato Kikuchi, Ultimate Parkourist (submitted to rebootmon’s Danganronpa: Zetsubou Panic!!).

You can see that Tristan’s jacket is made of much thicker material than Hayato’s, which is very baggy and loose. This already makes their designs a lot more distinct from each other! (They’re also wearing totally different colors so that helps too.)

Other textures I like to do include adding holes (like Spring from KTJ:ARG has holes in her coat), adding things onto fabrics (like Tsukino Chisaki, ASLH’s SHSL Flight Student, has studs on her coat and boots), and adding visible stitching (like Brendan Valdez, ASLH’s SHSL Flight Student, has patches on his coat).

Clothes:

Having a general idea of what clothes actually exist is a very good start! Such as:

Tops: t-shirts, collared shirts, long sleeve/short sleeve shirts, tank/tube tops, cold shoulder shirts, blouses, sheer mesh shirts…

Bottoms: Skirts, gym shorts, denim shorts, jeans (with and without holes), leggings, culottes, kilts...

Dresses: Prom dresses, casual dresses, ball gowns, formal full-length gowns…

Undergarments: tights, fishnets, garters, long socks, short socks, gloves, bras/bralettes...

Coverings: Hoodies, cardigans, overcoats, denim jackets, capes, ponchos, vests, suit jackets…

Shoes: Slippers, flip-flops, sandals, high heels, sneakers, athletic shoes, slip-ons, boots...

Accessories: Hats, barrettes, hair ties, jewelry, bags, headbands, belts, chains, suspenders, buttons, glasses...

So from there it’s just mix and match! Keep in mind the different styles of clothing as well - you can swap out things like collars and edges to create variety! There’s different types of boots, different types of skirts, different kinds of bags. The sky’s the limit!

No, I Meant Like Clothes Inspiration:

Oh. Again, keep an eye out for specific art inspirations! If you see a cool character design or outfit on social media, bookmark it! Just remember not to copy clothes exactly, because that’s called art theft! I have a storage Discord server where I keep screenshots and links of art and outfits I come across while scrolling social media.

I find that the best original outfits are a combination of different outfits. Take certain elements that you find cool in each outfit , then add a few elements of your own and stick them all together! It might take a few passes to work as cohesively as you’d like, but keep trying! The best outfits that take inspiration should look so seamlessly blended and original that they should only look like the references if you compare them to each other.

I also have a few characters inspired by songs, so sometimes I’ll incorporate the motifs of MVs for those songs into their outfits. I don’t really recommend this unless you’re 100% prepared to be called out on where the outfit came from, and I ESPECIALLY do not recommend lifting the outfit exactly. Again, that’s art theft.

Isaku Umitsu, my SHSL Kyudoka, is based on the Hitotsume-sama, Bun-chan, and Kulukulu characters from utaite Eve’s music videos Literary Nonsense and Outsider. Looking at them side by side, the inspiration is obvious, but when taken out of context, it shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind unless you’ve watched Eve’s videos 100 times (like I have) (take my computer from me please).

References:

As for references! Here’s just a couple that I found digging through my Tumblr!

My main blog’s fashion tag!

moatdd’s layering how-to! This changed my life when I saw it.

OSF Costume Rentals - period accurate clothing!

leaf-submas’s hat and skirt style guide, feat. Napstablook!

Jfashionmagazines - Japanese street fashion!

If your mutuals have fashion tags or pages, that’s a good place to dig through as well! They almost certainly have different styles than you do, so you’ll get exposed to a lot of different styles!

Outfits are a lot of fun and my favorite part of designing characters! Hopefully it will be for you too! :D

REDESIGNING CHARACTERS/NEW OUTFITS

Ever got a character design you love, but then decided you weren’t feeling anymore? Or got a character from someone you ended up hating? Or you found character art from 5 years ago and decided you hated it? YEAH ME TOO TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE!!

ASLH has four characters who were adopts: Ririka Kashizaki (SHSL Nail Artist), Sentarou Sekisada (SHSL Seat Filler), Hirono Ekyou (SHSL Oendan), and Ryouji Atsui (SHSL Caterer)! For a “complete from scratch redesign” I’ll be talking about Ryouji, who was converted from an attempt at design to a fantroll to an original design!

As you can see, I had a lot of trouble with Ryouji’s design. (It probably didn’t help that I didn’t finalize his personality until basically the prologue though lbr.) I didn’t really know what I was doing, and though I had the concept for the vibes I was shooting for, nothing seemed right. Around the same time, I bought an OC design from my friend Marti, and I was having so much trouble I was like “y’know what let’s just fuse the two”.

My process for redesigning OCs, especially when doing something like humanizing a nonhuman character, is to pick the certain traits I’d like to keep and change the rest. For Ryouji, the elements of his concept art I wanted to keep were parts of the outfit (the apron and vest) and the elements of the fantroll I wanted to keep were his eyebrow scar and the squares pattern on the jacket. Thus, when redesigning him, I made him have all of these elements! This was probably one of my favorite designs to make ever, and I’m really glad other people seem to like it too.

Weirdly enough, as soon as I finalized his design for his first reference, his personality almost immediately materialized. Which really just goes to show how much design can influence character personalities.

(Fun fact, drawing Ryouji’s reference was the first time I drew his final outfit, so I’m extremely grateful it turned out as well as it did.)

Other characters, like Hirono, only need a quick outfit touchup. I loved Hirono’s design already, and it fit with what I had in mind with her personality. All I did to change her was the same process I use to make any other outfit, see above. She’s an oendan, so she gets a hapi coat and school uniform… though, honestly, that original outfit is still super cute. I should draw it again sometime.

Most of the characters that I redesign as heavily as I did Ryouji are fangems and fantrolls that I buy from my friends, because I know that they understand my mighty need to redesign things. I try not to redesign adopts I get from other sources because I don’t know how the people I bought them from would feel about my editing their design too heavily; Sentarou and Ririka fall into these categories, so when I got them I mostly changed their outfits.

For me, it feels weird to redesign already-existing human OCs, but it’s also not impossible - Tristan, for example, used to be white. No I’m not going to show you the sketches for that and all you need to know is that it sucked, mostly because I was having a lot of trouble making him look nerdy but also nonthreatening. I think how he looks now is a good balance. If you ever get stuck redesigning a character, a race or gender swap (if either is possible tastefully) can go a really long way, and can even subvert expectations about a character! Just keep in mind dynamics and messages as well - if you have a strong violent woman and go “hey she should be trans”, that’s really not the best stereotype you would probably want to display in your work. Be mindful!

2015 (og design) => later 2015? (RWBY AU) => 2017 (AR3) => 2018 (DE:OPH

CAST BALANCE: DESIGNS

I wasn’t going to talk about this but then I decided I was gonna talk about it! I mean this is kinda a guide for Danganronpa characters, but this applies to any cast that is presented in a group. The characters in ASLH fall into a few different categories:

Created for beta ASLH: Chiyo, Amal, Tsukino, Ririka, Kanemori, Tristan, Tiana, Claude, Iris, Aster

Created for current ASLH: Ryouji, Sentarou, Alexei, Tatsumaru

Preexisting characters: Hirono, Brendan

The largest problem I had putting all the cast members together was revising outfits so that, as seen with Alexei and Tatsumaru above, designs wouldn’t be too similar. For the most part, I had vague ideas of what I wanted for each appearance; even the characters whose designs materialized fully-formed (like Tiana and Brendan) were edited slightly for cast cohesion.

I wish I could say I was responsible in developing all 16 characters’ designs at once so I could keep an eye on their design consistencies, but I would be lying. Instead, I finalized them and then posted them one by one. This was a double edged sword. One, I couldn’t go back and readjust colors or designs without making a whole new reference (which I actually did for Tatsumaru). However, because I was able to take a birds-eye view of my cast, I could see what design elements I needed more of - ESPECIALLY for color scheme! You’ll notice that a lot of the first row in my cast pic is very dark and grey-dominant, so I made a conscious push to include more colors in the second row of characters.

My one regret is not doing more talent-related designs. For a majority of the ASLH cast, you wouldn’t be able to tell their talent from appearance alone. In some cases this would have been impossible anyway (how do you convey to a Western audience a SHSL Cellphone Novelist through design?), but the only really distinct and obvious talent related designs are probably Tatsumaru (who probably doesn’t count because kabuki acting is maskless); Claude; Iris Sumitama, the SHSL Honors Student; and Kanemori Shionaga, the SHSL Football Player. Can you guess who they are?

Also, Alexei’s outfit should have been more extra. I still regret not making it so.

TOO LONG, DIDN’T READ

Go look at gaiacseas’ thing.

I do at least a page or two of concept art before settling on a single design.

Pay attention to body types!

Motifs can make a character look really cohesive and thematic.

Pay attention to what you like in outfits, too!!

Color schemes give an at-a-glance idea of your character’s personality.

Layering creates distinct silhouettes and can be done with more than just jackets!

Varying materials and textures makes the same garments look distinct from each other.

Making interesting outfits is as easy as mixing and matching garments.

Find outfit inspiration, but don’t plagarize!

To redesign characters, take the elements you like and shift everything else until it looks the way you want it to!

Balancing cast designs is a tricky process; going one-by-one is possible but has its ups and downs.

A LAST NOTE

In general, when you make a character whose life is different from yours - especially those belonging to marginalized communities - for the love of GOD please do some research about the experiences those communities have. It is a very bad idea to make them into a mouthpiece for your views of the groups. (SHSL Activists that are portrayed as unreasonable SJW strawmen irritate me to no end.) If you don’t feel you can portray a character respectfully, through either drawing or writing them, either a) research and listen to people of these groups so that you can or b) don’t do it, and maybe reevaluate yourself and figure out what about making this character makes you so uncomfortable.

Which isn’t to say that you have to be 100% perfect at everything, of course. In general, so long as the misinterpretations are unintentional, people belonging to the groups you try to represent tend to be pretty happy that you’re trying at all. You have no idea how happy I am to see agender representation in fanganronpa casts, especially because the Danganronpa OC scene likes to stick to hard gender binary balances. So it is worth it if you want to try it!

GOOD LUCK

And happy character creating!

If you enjoyed this document, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi or checking out my commissions! Or, of course, read Danganronpa: A Stormy Last Hurrah.

#tutorial #art ref #tips #character development #danganronpa #danganronpa oc #dr #fanganronpa #fangan #my art #my ocs #not aslh #spam speaks #long post #q

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maikatc · 4 years

Text

Black Sun Tale | I’ll Have My Day

hello! things are yet again calm before another storm for this chapter, i’d have to say. but there are some sections that i appreciate for just existing in this one as well.

remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, and enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated.

A day followed by after Ayu’s time in Fowls. Instead of the dead breeze of the forest, the morning woke him up through traffic and an early store-keeper’s yell.

Creeping awake from his freezing body, Ayu sat up from his thin blanket and shivered in his jacket. He shifted his spaced gaze to the alley’s ground. It was cold and shapeless, but the tiny cracks of grass formed a gentle frost through the night.

Breaths formed clouds in front of him. And he buried himself in his jacket as his own frosting skin had already woken him up.

But then, memory served his groggy mind well.

Ayu zapped himself awake and scurried over to his ‘stuff’ pile. After digging through Oliver’s pineapples, medicine, and whatever he found in parts of the forest, he recovered his walkie-talkie after weeks of having no use.

Clicking on the connection button, the walkie hissed as he called out in excitement, “Annette, Annette, Annette-”

The call seemed endless, for Ayu made no stop of saying her name until she replied. Though, she only managed to pick up once his voice grew sore.

“Ayu… Why are you calling me at six in the morning on a Saturday?”

“Because we’re having a meeting today,” he explained. “Go and tell Oliver to come over too.”

The walkie’s buzz filled in the gap between Annette’s reply. “... Are you telling me to go to a meeting right now…?”

“What time is it?” He asked, as the sun had no sign of rising.

“I already said it’s six a.m.”

“Oh.” His winter schedule had already started. “Shit.”

“Lort, I’m exhausted,” Annette commented. “It’s been a long week, Ayu, sorry-”

“No, no, it’s my fault.”

“No. I usually wake up at five. Today’s just a day off before church.”

Ayu tensed his hand at the device. “It’s okay, Annette. You can sleep some more, I’ll wait.” Before he could drop the walkie-talkie in guilt, he added the important notion again, “Just don’t forget to text Ollie for when he wakes up.”

“Gotcha’.” He heard from what he left behind him. “Thanks, Ayu.”

In the musky morning, he said to nobody, “It’s nothing.”

***

“You should have paid more attention to the time Ayu.”

“I know, Lillie, but I can’t tell.”

“Look up at the sky,” she giggled. “There isn’t even daylight.”

“I get it.” Scribbles filled Ayu’s new page while winds tried blowing the paper away. “I already said it was my fault.”

“As it is. You just disturbed a nice morning for her.”

“She- she had a busy week…”

“And you interrupted her only time of rest. Sounds rather careless.”

Ayu broke his pencil tip. “No, I-” His words would have continued if it weren’t for a figure by his entrance, not of Lillie smiling at him, but of Oliver.

Accessorized with a pillow, blanket, his ukulele, and another bag, Oliver entered into the alley nonchalantly with all the items. However, it’d only been half an hour since his talk with Annette.

“Why are you here this early?”

Oliver placed down the sleeping materials. “I pulled another all-nighter and my mom left for work early in the meanwhile.”

“Then why…?” He nudged at the pillow.

The boy sat down by him, nuzzling up in his extra coat. “I thought I could take a nap here. But,” he passed the bag to Ayu, “I brought leftovers from last night too. Fork included.”

A grumbling stomach left Ayu to stare blankly at the food. “Can I eat it right now?”

“Of course, you can.” The direction of Oliver’s answer faced his ukulele instead of Ayu, as he already began opening it up.

Another morning wind blew, lunging Ayu to warm up his legs. He hissed at the weather.

“… I should have brought you a jacket.”

“It’s fine. This isn’t the coldest it’ll be.”

Oliver huffed in the frosty air, laying down the instrument he held and grabbing the blanket. “When the meeting’s over, I can take you to my place again. For now, take the blanket.”

Hesitant, Ayu snatched the cover out of Oliver’s hands and wrapped it around himself. His cocoon welcomed him in a snug embrace, its fluffy fabric softening his dry skin. “Why’d you bring such a nice one?”

Oliver rubbed his hands off of the tail of the cocoon. “I just found it in my closet and it looked comfy.”

The child in the blanket smiled smugly at the new warmth.

“You can keep it if you want,” Oliver chortled. “You definitely look comfortable.”

Despite the satisfying bliss, a simple few facts knocked Ayu back to questioning. “Don’t you still want to sleep?”

“Yeah… I’m gonna need to eat in a few days so I’m ‘bout to be out of it soon.”

He tottered his new blanket around himself, but gently tossed it aside for the winds to meet him again.

“Ayu-”

“I’ll eat while you sleep. Since I got some sleep.” He opened the streaming, microwaved food from the container, revealing baked ham and other goods. The scrumptious smell already distracted him.

“But…”

“God, this looks good.”

He already began devouring the plate, too focused to listen to Oliver’s answer. “Alright…”

The seconds the small yet hefty meal remained in the bowl was minimum, as Ayu chowed down on some of the bread he had gotten the day before as an after-snack. While biting through, he marked his gaze back at Oliver, who had set up his own bed.

Ayu’s old and withering blanket managed to be reused as a sort of bedsheet to cushion the hard floor. Oliver had neatly adjusted himself underneath the cover brought in, alongside having his head eased by his pillow and Ayu’s pillow being hugged his arms.

“You’re fast.”

Oliver turned his way to Ayu’s eating wall. “You have a good pillow.”

Their personalities radiated at that moment, one a mess and the other an urbane thing of exhaustion.

There was no help but laughter.

***

With such a chilling morning, the two relaxed by each other’s side. Ayu sketched calmly next to Oliver, who seemed to bounce lots in his sleep.

A new scene was set into fruition for the boy. Vague dreams lead his pencil to sketch out a glaring eye, then a flat chin, then a long neck. Rage was embedded in the blank stare he’d created. And a circle was the perfect touch for yelling. Such artistry in an image would make a great impact for the audience and their emotions, right?

“… Probably not.”

“Probably what?”

Ayu jumped at his seat, whisking himself to see Oliver in his home-made bed and staring at his drawing from a distance.

“You were awake?”

Oliver trudged his arms to hold himself up. Rubbing his eyes from the rising sun, he answered, “Yeah. It’s hard for me to sleep in general.”

“… Do you usually stay up all night?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

It took few seconds to process how tiresome he was, but Ayu made a deep breath. He dropped his sketchbook to the side to ask questions. “What do you do all night?”

He plucked on the ukulele he left beside him. “What I do during the day: whatever. Just quietly.”

“Is it because you’re hungry?”

He stopped playing. The note that rung from the last string was choked by a tap from his hand. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Ayu stared at the abyss of his thoughts as he made questions. A memory formed for the new one, though reluctance of asking slowed his words. He looked at Oliver directly. “Can I see your arm? –“

He met Oliver with the sketchbook at his hands. Oliver’s eyes peered through the newest pages. By instinct, he lunged at the hand and grabbed the journal back. “Stop it!”

Oliver held a cheeky, sluggish smile as he chuckled. “What? I just wanna see them.”

Ayu raised a brow, a smidge of a blush shined by his cheeks. Is it the wolf or something? “You didn’t ask.”

“Well then,” he sat up with good posture, “may I see your new drawings?”

Ayu’s red tint heightened more in the realization that nobody had ever asked. He questioned why he hid them in the first place, but nonetheless, he complied. “Sure.”

Oliver held the book again and scanned through the pages. Ayu watched as he rung his fingers around his hair. New judgement was unpredictable. Except if it’s the wolf, obviously. His neutral expression forced a tense feeling inside of Ayu’s gut in the process of reading.

“How long have you been drawing?” Oliver asked while flipping a page again.

“Uh.” Ayu counted with his fingers. “I think six years. Someone told me I was good at it when I was six, so I just kept doing it. But I stopped when I was eight.”

Oliver hummed in response, still scanning.

He continued, “My parents didn’t pay attention, so I never got advice except that it was good- oh yeah I stopped around the time I was eight… then Annette gave me the journal last year, so,” he counts, “I’ve been drawing for three years.”

Oliver clicked his tongue. “Well, it definitely shows.”

The vagueness of the comment punched Ayu in the gut. But one page turn later and came a page full of bad handwriting. Ayu’s chest rose at the sight, yet Oliver stared at it for far too long. He uttered, “What’s this?”

“… Oh it’s- they’re my journal entries. Nothing really happens in them though.”

Oliver scans through once more, while Ayu doubted he could even read them. “Have you ever tried to write something?”

“The entries have enough bad spelling.”

Oliver shook his head. “No, I mean like try and write something, like a poem.”

“A poem…?” He may have only heard the word once in kindergarten. The lesson itself was lost in his passage of time.

“Just write random stuff,” he said slowly, “in multiple lines, maybe rhyme it. It’s, uh, like a song if you will.” He gave the sketchbook back to him, a pencil already on his side. He gazed down at the new blank page.

When was the last time I heard a song? Oh yeah, one time during a traffic jam this one guy was blasting-

“Do you need help?”

Ayu snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh, no. I think I’m good… Do I just make a song?”

Oliver lost eye contact. “Uh, sure. You can make it short if you want too. It doesn’t have to be long.” He pulled back his hair. “Write what you want.”

The blank page dawned him far too much. Drawing never took much thinking for him –though improving always baffled him–; however, the start of a word intimidated and struck him at odds.

Whispers of old pop songs flooded back in his mind. Those that played on the weekend at his car loudly and excitedly. He’d be cheering for the weekly trip where he finally went outside and off to Obodo. The generic lyrics bounced by his ears as the park and playground rested ahead of him. The older girl by his side sang to the music while making captions to his art on a clipboard, handwriting pretty and flowery like her name.

The summer sun beamed at his vision but reality blew at his skin again. The breeze reminded him of the page in front of him as well, to his dismay. Oliver had gone back to playing ahead of him. Ayu shivered in bitterness and began scribbling down the vocabulary he would remember. Words flowed to him simplistically and bluntly all the same. And hard pressure made the pencil squeak at movement.

After a decent ten minutes, his thoughts were on paper, with reference to those pop songs of old.

Cold gos by

Throo on the nite

Snow is shy

and hideing in the sky

and I wayt

day gos away fast

dont be layt

ill have my day soon

There… that looks okay, I think.

He called out: “Oliver I did it.”

“Really?” He turned around and put down his uke. “I thought it’d take you longer.”

He handed the text. “I just thought of pop songs.”

“Did you copy them?”

“No. Just used a line I heard a lot.”

Oliver nodded. “Good. I used to copy rhythms of songs I thought was deep so you’re doing better than I did.” He read the lyrics. As he tilting his head, Ayu’s anticipation wracked instead of fear. Yet the time taken to read was lengthier than expected. “Okay your spelling isn’t actually that bad for what you have.”

Why is that the first thing he says, he questioned. The excitement died down to possible critique.

“Honestly, as simple as it is, it’s a good simple.”

“And?”

“It needs a bit of tweaking, but overall there could be a good rhythm to it. Looks like a nice kids’ song to me.”

A kids’ song?

“It’s cute, I guess you could say.”

Ayu’s impatience pushed his words out. “Can you make a song out of it?”

Oliver’s eyes widened at the page. “Oh. Uh, yeah I guess I can.”

“Right now?”

He scoffed, “No, not right now. Music takes time.”

Ayu’s curiosity got the better of him. “How long?”

“However long it needs to take. But I don’t think this’ll take that long.” He held the slip of the page itself. “Can I take this?”

“…”

“You can copy it down on another page.”

Slow at first, he nodded. “Why don’t you write it?”

Oliver’s face fell flat. “Yeah… if I read it right at least.”

“Psh, you can do it.” Ayu smiled at Oliver. The master musician would make beauty out of his work in his mind.

Oliver rewrote on the new page with focus in his eyes. And through some squinting and pausing hands, he teared the new page off of the journal, folded the page and placed it in his pocket. “There.”

Ayu took the sketchbook back. “So, what now?”

Oliver nipped back his instrument. “Thinking of the melody. You can take the blanket back if you want.” He crawled over to the corner, huddling in his own imaginary nest as he plucked a string. “I’ve been thinking of making more suspended chords lately, so I might do that,” he murmured.

Ayu canned a chuckle, unsure of what he meant in the first place.

***

“Is Oliver here yet?”

Ayu turned his head from his drawing to find Annette sliding her sneakers into the alleyway. Her composure sloppy and uncoordinated. She didn’t stay up, did she?

She whipped back the bun that flew over her head. “Oh… he is.”

“I’ve been here,” Oliver replied.

“Twenty minutes after you texted him actually,” Ayu added. He then shifted in his blanket cocoon.

Staring at them both, she straightened back her posture at the harmony of the two. “Huh. Well darn.” Sitting down between the two, she made a deep breath and un-frazzled her hair. Then, like she never changed before, she perked up to start conversation. “So, do you want to start the meeting Ayu?”

He peered at her, brows weighing down his eyes in concern. Though the subject matter carried more weight for all of them. “Yeah, so- wait Oliver, you want me to tell her all of it?”

He shrugged at him. “Not the big one but most of it is fine.”

Understanding what he meant, Ayu agreed. Yet, Annette cocked her head in confusion.

“Okay so it turns out Oliver’s parents are assassins and might be involved with the entire powers thing,” he informed Annette.

“… I’m sorry, what?”

Oliver pointed his hand out to Ayu. “Did you have to say it like that?”

Ayu said back, “What other way do you think you can tell her?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, slowly? Let her process it?”

“You didn’t let me process it.”

“Okay that was by accident and shock-”

“Can you please explain?” Annette interrupted the two by whining.

Ayu blinked, back from Oliver, then back to her. “Right. So,” he explained the situation, albeit poorly in wording.

Annette’s mouth gaped with confusion set on her face. “I… Oliver, why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

He avoided his sights from her. “Didn’t know they existed ‘til like, two weeks ago.”

“He’s adopted like us,” Ayu remarked.

The girl brushed through her hair. “Huh… well three’s a party, I guess.”

Ayu continued, “Yeah, so I met with this chick from his parent’s group and learned a couple of things from her. First there’s-” he paused, remembering the boy in the room. He was the one who did not know everything. “Oliver, can you not be here for right now?”

“What? Why?”

He whispered to Annette, “It’s about Akeldama.”

She eyed him, and dipped her head, telling Oliver, “It’s a personal thing.”

Somehow, the communication between the two, whether it was between her tone of words or expressional speaking, seemed to work. And Oliver stepped out for the moment in time.

Ayu scooted his way to Annette, huddling next to her in secret conversation. “I might’ve been tricked by Akeldama.”

She cocked her head. “I thought that was obvious.”

“No, no, she told me that almost everyone in the society was tricked to join since he offered them survival and freedom,” he hesitated at the last word, “but then forced them to kill for live.”

“Then what you’re saying is… you made your wishes to live, but it’s going to screw up…?”

With doubt, he shook his head. “Maybe, but us fucking up with the monsters might also be the killing- maybe… okay that sounds dumb saying it out loud.”

Annette stopped him before he could add on. “Not really. But do you know how much the society has to kill then?

In an instant, he blinked three times. “Actually, I don’t know. Shit, I forgot to ask.”

Making her thinking face, with hands holding the chin, Annette guessed, “I wouldn’t think they’d be forced to be mass murderers.”

“I would. It’s Akeldama.”

“Yeah… right.” She hissed at his reminder. “Then, what if it isn’t the monsters then? What do you think will happen?”

“I dunno,” Ayu copied her thinking face, “I didn’t plan this far ahead for the meeting.”

“That isn’t good,” she sighed.

Ayu slumped from his position. “Yeah… but that’s all I needed to talk with you.” He processed what came to mind next. Though another privacy error occurred. Might as well get it over with. “Can you go out and get Oliver, but you stay over there instead?”

“Did you tell him something new?”

“No, he has something I need to tell him.” Ayu’s thoughts formulated as he talked.

“Gotcha’. I’ll go get him.”

She walked out, leaving Ayu more time to gather his words together. But in no time, Oliver entered back in. “Alright, what is it now?”

Twiddling his thumbs in his cocoon, Ayu started. “So… you know about your dad, right?”

“Forgot I had one, go on.”

He made a frantic nod. “So, I actually figured out his history yesterday.”

“And…?”

Ayu taught him the lesson, again poorly. “But it was in the 1700s, I think.”

Oliver stared at him in suspicion. “… That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, right?!” He blurted out.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed calmly. “He can’t be my dad then, so who is?”

“I don’t fucking know, that’s the problem.” A strong gust of wind blew his thoughts away. “Oh shit-”

“Did Eilwen say anything else about it?”

Ayu clung to his blanket. “Not really… she wasn’t allowed to go into detail. But he doesn’t really look like you either; his hair was a lot lighter.”

“Still red?”

“Ginger.”

“Oh, god he’s a devil.”

“What?”

“It’s a joke at my school.” He snapped his fingers. “But anything else?”

“Uh… I think she said you were a wish child. Which, now thinking about it, might be a bad thing.”

“What do you mean bad thing?” Oliver asked. “Aren’t I always a bad thing?”

“No- but, I can’t think of how to explain. Wishes just feel like bad luck to me.”

Oliver placed his head on his bent knee. “Well, it’s fitting at least.”

Ayu sighed on his behalf. “I’ll try and get more out of her, the next time I see her.”

“You’re coming with me again?”

Ayu tipped him, “Whenever she can.” He looked on over to the entrance. Conversation due at the end. “Hey, Annette! You can come back in,” he called out.

“Hm, I have an idea.”

Bringing herself up to discussion, Ayu and Oliver shifted attention to Annette.

“What if we’re supposed to be a part of the society, then? Since we have powers and stuff.”

Ayu’s face laid crooked, in reminder of his conversation of Annette. But, he pointed out his eye instead. “If we were, then why would we have these marks? Besides, the leader would have picked us up and have us join immediately.”

Annette gave him a knowing look left the topic.

“If anything,” Oliver added, “I’m the most involved with them at the moment. You two still need to figure things out.”

Despite the still unknowingness up in the air, Annette smiled. “At least this is the most info we’ve gotten. And in just a month too.”

“I know, I know.” Ayu buried his face in his blanket. “Thank god Oliver’s here now.”

Oliver laughed at the comment. “Oh really?”

“You’re the only reason we got this in the first place.” He muffled his voice to him, hiding his minor embarrassment which the reason was left unknown as well.

“Sounds like I’m just your gateway,” he quipped.

“You know what I mean,” he huffed.

“Wait hold on…” Annette’s expression drew her brows together. “What about the monsters?”

Ayu’s own face grew stern. “That was the first thing I asked. But she couldn’t talk about it.”

Oliver kept silent.

“Really?” She gawked her hand forward. “I thought there’d be something but… let’s just hope there is something about it soon.”

“Wait a minute,” Oliver actually spoke, “There haven’t really been any monster attacks since November started, hasn’t there?”

Annette answered. “No, aside from the forests deaths but Ayu can’t even detect those. But what about it?”

Oliver’s face cringed at the side comment, but went on, “Wouldn’t they come like every two days before? It’s almost December and they’re basically gone.”

Ayu perked his attention at Oliver’s observation. He never noticed that nothing happened, considering he did nothing regardless.

“Yeah… what did happen to them?”

***

“Don’t talk to me like that. There’s no spirits around.”

The boy in the television opened the door, revealing a jump-scare of moaning spirits, only to close it instantly.

“Alright, so I might have been wrong. Let’s run-”

Oliver chuckled at the joke. He watched Mr. Rious causally on his seat whilst working on his new tune. On the same couch yet again was Ayu, coped up with a pillow and bowl of pasta.

The meeting ended soon after the questioning of the monsters, as Annette received a call from her father wondering where she was at eight in the morning. Luckily, the cold was beginning to grow more intense and shelter also grew in Ayu’s yearning. Thus, her absence was a blessing for his body heat.

Chewing on his new lunch, not wanting to pay attention to the frightening ghosts, and needing to make a certain topic clear, he decided to ask Oliver again, “So you need to eat in a few days, right?”

Oliver’s reaction was neutral. “Yeah, I don’t feel terrible right now though.”

“That’s good…” He picked up another noodle with his bare hands and ate it. “But Oliver, can I see your arm please?”

The tune he was playing stopped, leaving only the T.V. to make noise. “… Sure, fine. It isn’t as bad as before.”

Ayu gulped. “That’s, better, at least.”

Oliver pulled his left sleeve up and directed it to Ayu, revealing his marked arm. The black sun still laid peacefully, but above were all of his healed scars, including new fresh ones up top.

“Wha- they’re still there!”

“It’s less than before!” He pulled his sleeve back down. “Like you said, I’ll do it less… and if this training works, it’ll go down gradually. Like you and bread.”

Ayu raised a brow. “So, you’re saying your food is my training?”

“Essentially.” He picked up the uke again. “… Also, I think I got your song down.”

Ears woke up at the words, and Ayu followed at the attention-grabber. “Really?”

“Yeah, I just repeated the rhythm, so it was easy.”

Ayu hopped in his seat. A grin covered his sunken cheeks. “Lemme’ hear it.”

“I knew you’d say that.” He rolled his eyes, forming his starting finger positions in the meanwhile. He reminded him, “It’s not a masterpiece, just to say.”

And with a single breath, he began to play.

“Cold goes by

Through the night.”

A new sound echoed from his voice, a type of singing from him that Ayu never heard prior. The voice itself was still soft, as always, forming patterns of music through is instrument and voice beautifully.

“Snow is shy,

Hiding in the sky.”

The estrange aspect radiated with the airiness of the tone; how lightly it reached to the high notes and simmered down in gentle grace. The melody tranquilized Ayu to not even pay attention to the lyrics, or the repetitive chords and simplistic progression.

“As I wait,

day goes away.

Don’t be late,

For I’ll have my day.

I’ll have my day.”

He allowed the last strum to ring throughout the room, placing it down to his lap all the while.

Words had no meaning for Ayu at the moment, similar to any other time Oliver played. It managed to take all his efforts into forming two words. “It’s pretty.”

“Pretty?” He gawked. “I never thought you’d say something like that.”

“But you’re talented.”

He corrected him, “I’m not talented. I just have too much time on my hands at night… Besides, with time and effort, any song can be good. Unless you work with modern country.”

“… You make your own songs too, don’t you?”

A nod was received, with slight reluctance at first.

“Can you sing one?” Ayu asked genuinely.

The musician’s mouth twitched downwards. He turned back to the television. “They’re more personal. And embarrassing.”

Ayu ate another handful of pasta before it’s warmth goes away. “So, you don’t want to share them?”

“No,” he answered, and placed his ukulele to the side. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think your songs are nice either way.” He giggled. “How long have you been making songs?”

Oliver pulled down on his sleeves in a shift. “Three years.”

“What are they about?”

“That’s the personal part.”

A man appeared on the screen out of nowhere, wailing in agony as he melted like a candle.

“Okay Oliver, we’re changing this!”

***

“Oh, my God, I’ve never seen this episode!” Ayu had jumped out of the couch and right up close to the T.V. His gaze fixated not on Oliver anymore but instead the theme song of his favorite hero.

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s Crimson!” He cheered. “I haven’t seen them in so long.”

Oliver’s tone laid bewildered at the old animation and loud brass. “I didn’t think it’d be the show from the nineties. Heard that was the trippy one.”

Crimson ran down the city as the saxophone solo drove in to Ayu’s nostalgia. “Trippy or not, it’s kickass.”

A glare set foot from Oliver from then on. “Sure, it is.” The intro continued on with its silhouetted visuals. “How come you watched this?”

“We had it on DVD and my sister would explain everything for me.”

“Your-?” Ayu’s fascination distracted him from his slip-up. Yet, Oliver never finished his question. “What would she explain?”

Ayu answered. “Stuff that happened in the episodes, and why it made Crimson cool.”

“That he’s a hero?”

“That she does what’s right and whatever to help people. No matter how crazy the stunt can be.”

Oliver stayed silent as the opening scene played. Crimson was in his everyday persona, taking all the photos for news coverage as the millionaire of the city. The glamour and pizzazz gloated by the rich fellow shined throughout the screen. “… Why’re they a bitch?”

“They’re not!”

“Well, if you flaunt money and power like that when you can, you know, save people, it’s a bit of a dick move.”

Ayu’s retort was unknown to him. Only knowing ten episodes on repeat was not of help of him in the subject matter. Instead, he grumbled and continued on watching.

***

Crimson seemed to have gotten himself stuck in the middle of two heists. What was worse was that the two heists were of rival gangs in a competition for the same bank! And with the cops trying to catch the masked crusader yet again, how will the craziness of the night end?

Crimson was running rampant! Bandits were flying everywhere in the city after discovering she was trying to catch them all. She had lost the cops ages ago anyways, so that means that all there is to do left is-

“Vittorino, shut up.”

The immersion clicked out of Ayu’s mind as Oliver’s words blinked him out of the television screen. He had finally been silent for the past few minutes yet this comment blew him away from the scene again.

However, the second he turned around at Oliver, a taller man was standing beside him.

“Holy shit-” he jumped at his seat on the floor.

Oliver looked at him. “He can see you now, I’m guessing?”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “Ayu, this is Vittorino: the guy who’s been bothering me for the past two months in which I haven’t mentioned because honestly he doesn’t make that much of an importance.”

Ayu studied him in his surprised state as the name finally started to register. His dark hair being the only recognizable aspect from the past. “You’re the Vittorino Eilwen talked about?”

Oliver tilted his head. “Eilwen talked about him?”

“Of course, she did!” Vittorino tacked on a grin and walked on over to him. He spoke to him and only him. “And you better not tell anything she said about me because its unimportant.” He gritted the last words out. His lanky figure leaning over Ayu as a governing tower.

“… right.”

“Alright then!” His tone changed completely. “I’m only here to introduce myself.” As well as his demeanor as he bowed in front of Ayu.

Even Oliver made a face at his action.

Ending his bow, he made a turn at both of them, waving, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

And he was gone as if nothing happened.

“…What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t worry, he’s a weird fuck too.” Oliver assured. “He tells people to kill themselves yet he’s a religious saint the other half of the time.”

At first his words startled Ayu. Though majority of Oliver’s fun facts had led him to the same reaction, so might as well skip the moment. “From what Eilwen told me, that makes sense.”

“What did she say?”

“Just rumors… about-”

“Look at what I just told you a minute ago,” Vittorino appeared again. “Don’t!” And he vanished yet again.

“… Huh.”

Oliver and Ayu looked at each other from the sudden interaction. The bewilderment of both seen in each of their expressions… Oliver cracked up first, following Ayu.

Oliver wheezed, “Okay that was definitely a first from him.”

“It wasn’t what I thought he’d be like!”

They both laughed like the unamusing children they were.

“Wait, when did he tie up the cops?” Oliver asked Ayu as the ending of the episode played before them.

Ayu kept his eyes glue to the screen. “We probably missed it while talking to Vittorino.”

“Why is Crimson an actual criminal?”

“Because the police sucks, and the city’s law thing in general.”

“… Okay, fair enough.”

The ending zoom-in starred the poor police officers, grumpy yet abandoned upside-down in ropes. Because Crimson had forgotten to actually free them! What a laugh!

Ayu chuckled at the final joke but Oliver to no avail.

The credits began to play in a slower jazz rhythm, with a female singer singing her smooth soul out.

“Oh what? This actually sounds nice,” Oliver commented. He checked the clock behind the couch. “Oh… my mom’s about to come back soon.”

Hearing the news, Ayu turned off what was playing. “So, you want me to go?”

“Are you fine with it…?”

Ayu told him. “Yeah, that blanket you gave me is gonna make tonight way better.” He got up, grabbed his sketchbook, and already walked up to the door.

“… Right. Keep on writing. I like it.”

He smiled at his opinion. It isn’t the wolf this time. “Will do.” He opened the door and took his leave. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye…”

Slam.

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