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dearkusuo · 3 years

Text

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed.

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along.

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers.

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun.

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future.

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret.

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him.

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again.

The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook.

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face.

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit.

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum.

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision?

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out.

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home.

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes.

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki no psi nan

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

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I like Venti so much. Best boy.

How would Venti feel about an S/O with synesthasia. The ability to hear color. One day she goes to him performing on the street with a sketchpap and shows him what he sounds like.

My, my, look who it is. The person who started it all, and ending it. It's amusing how this came full circle and of course you bring me such an interesting yet difficult prompt *balls fist, shakes at sky*

I had a lot of time to think about this and I feel it was still so hard to make. And there's so many variants and uniqueness to each case so this will be a wild ride. But this marks the end of this special event and on to a new one, and I thank you especially for being with me through it!

This fic made me realize I need a better Venti banner lololol

Ethereal Hues

Venti with a Reader with Synesthesia (Specifically, the ability to see sounds)

The wind-borne bard fancies audiences that sings along, that joins him in his merry tunes. He knows faces, distinguishes them, reads their responses. If it was unorthodox tales he sang, he would laugh at the predicted angry churns. If it were awesome tales of adventures, Venti would bask in the glory of awe and cheers.

And so he finds you to be the most peculiar individual he has ever audienced. You stand in the back far away from the crowd as you carry with you a notebook. Based on the way you steal glances to him whenever he performs out in public and the way your hands moved, you were definitely sketching him, yet you paid no such expression for his songs the same way the others did. And he was sure you were no deaf individual.

He had been intrigued since day one, and he had been so even at the third. When he wishes to come to you, he would always find you packing up immediately after his performances, and he would be swept aside by the task at hand: getting his share of Mora for a fantastic performance.

You were only there for his music, and your interest seem to disappear the moment the music is lost.

So slowly he would adjust his schedule, making it so his songs linger longer, his notes stretching out more just to keep you there in his vision for longer. And yet whenever he privies himself to have caught your attention, it seems as tho you were not really interested at him: even if the distance between you were great, he knows you were looking through him.

This game of cat and mouse had stretched out to seven days.

You managed to attend every tale the bard tells within the walls of Mondstadt but never have you stepped foot inside the tavern of Angel’s Share when he would perform late at night. With this discovery, he doesn’t bother to try lure you out from there, opting to skip performing in the tavern.

Much to Diluc’s surprise. It had gone so that the bartender himself asked if things were not looking great for the bard, but he was met by a smug and conniving smile, that he was quick to smack the shit out of and never bother about again.

Every time the bard wishes to approach you after the last string of his lyre is plucked, he was blocked by the crowd or pulled by a child, enough to render him unmoving, enough of a timeframe for you to disappear. You would think it was you purposely evading the bard’s advances but the way you move and act doesn’t seem like you were running away or in a hurry, more so, you look more disappointed that the festivities had to end every time.

A week of disappointments had led Venti to play his sorrows to his lyre under the tree at Windrise. It was a tune that no one in the public eye has seen him play and he was content in indulging on his own misery.

“Eyes from the fountain bench, of a longing stare had whence.

Slip between thy grasp, even as I call out through a rasp.”

“Ah, a different one this time,” he’d almost fallen out of the branch he was hanging by when a voice suddenly spoke out from beneath the tree’s shade. And there you are in all your glory, an amused expression in your face as you watch the Anemo wielder catch himself before gracefully flying down in front of you in disbelief. “Hello.”

“Hi!” He squeaked out before clearing his throat, adjusting his posture to reflect his usual composed facade with that wide grin.

“The colors brought me here, but I didn’t expect you to be the one producing them.” He watched you fumble with the familiar sketchbook in your hand, his muse in his curiousities right in front of him nonchalantly, as if fate had not been trying its best to separate them for the past week. "With the collection complete, I can finally show you the whole thing!" You practically shoved the pad to his face, forcing him to step back.

And there he saw the most ethereal painting he had seen of himself. His lone form in front of the statue where he usually plays, there in his company were streaks of light blue, reminiscent of Barbara's elemental skill. He clutches the pad for a better look as he notices more blots of complementary colors littered in ecstatic manners. Below, the words 'glee' was written in dark cursive.

Next page had warmer colors, that wrapped around him like silk and satin which would then plunge to the floor like cold white mist. This one was labelled 'Comfort.'

There were four more illustrations that depict numerous vibes of his tunes whenever he had performed, and paired with it comes different colors and patterns. Each one was more detailed than the last and with new vigor he was more than eager to see the next ones—

And then the last one was the latest, where he was once singing his odes and woes from the tree's branches. Yet this one holds a different gesture to it and he sucks in the details with a faraway gaze. Black, gray and navy blue hang like curtain as it seemingly seeps from his flesh, tangling into a weightless form before diverging into a single string of black that casts itself past the borders of the paper. It was like shadows that desperately cling to its owner, ones sadness and desperation taking form into a monster that seeks a vessel.

He looks up to you with eyes once again shining at the brilliance of the illustrations- before he clutched the pad to his chest, a toothy grin and a dangerous glint in his teal eyes, "I'm keeping this~"

To hell with that.

First he takes your sketchpad and rifts through it like there's no tomorrow, and then he lays claim on it?! The audacity of this bard!

With the only arsenal that you had, you started throwing brushes and acrylics at the floating bard until he had to crash land from getting caught by his extravagant cape. What an oversight.

That day, you'd finally sit down with the famous bard and properly got to introduce each other. While you're ecstatic to chat with the person you'd long admired from afar, Venti was more ecstatic at the idea of you and your marvelous power. It's similar to elemental sight, he imagines, and he pried with more inquiries than you had anticipated.

You thought he'd be weirded out by both your colorful sense or the fact that you had stalked him for a week to immortalize his ethereal glow in the shadows.

Yet he was so open-minded about it, wanting to accompany you more on your endeavors and jokingly using you as his marketing manager for more Mora opportunities. You find the idea not so bad.

At one point in time without your knowledge nor acknowledgement, Venti (ever so curious boy) changed his form from his bard friend to copy yours, trying to see if he were able to replicate your vision. Alas it was not as easy as that. Whatever Venti did after that, not even Celestia knows.

Your ability to see the streams of music instead of just projecting associated shapes and colors had made it easy to find Venti, and vice versa.

When he wants to find you specifically, Venti sings your name in a lilting melody as he walks through the stone streets of Mondstadt, the blazing color pouring through your window as you crane your head out and look him down from the second floor.

Venti's invisible aura brightens at the sight of you and he presents the fresh Cecilias in his hand, singing for you to accompany him to another day and you're forced to do so with his cheesiness.

He continues to sing even as you resign to your home to prepare. Unbeknownst to you the people of Mond watched with wonder and awe at the sweetness of the serenading bard that comes by every 9 AM daily to your doorstep.

Nature rarer uses yellow

Than another hue;

Saves she all of that for sunsets, —

Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,

Yellow she affords

Only scantly and selectly,

Like a lover's words.

You tilt your head at Venti at his lyrics, its lines influencing the color that coats him before his lyre finally calms its strings. He does not expand on his words as the silent conversation ended with a smile. Venti had been making songs with colors incorporated in them and despite the Muse of hues, you have yet to understand what they truly mean. If they mean anything at all.

You wish you could bring about the same flowery words to describe how beautiful Venti is, your current muse, adorned with the colors of a world only you can see. But for now, as you watch him smile past the crowd and lock eyes with yours, the most you can do is immortalize his ethereal hues. Until you finally work up the courage to admit it was not the colors that had drawn you to him.

This is a blessed day as it marks the end of the 50 followers event, and start the 100 followers one! Thank you for joining us in this journey, we still have a long way to go!

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact imagines #exile.flower #genshin impact venti #venti #venti x reader #followers special #i feel emotional ending this event #stay strong author stay strong #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral

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keichan · 4 years

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Paint Me This

Request: DUDE I LOVE YOUR BLOG SM CAN I REQUEST KAGEYAMA X READER?? Liek the reader loves to paint and becomes manager because she knows Yachi and they fall in love and kags tries to confess and fails like the bab he is 🥺🥺? Fluff please!

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SM! This is my first request ever! I don’t think that this is as fluffy as I wanted it to come out but I still enjoyed writing it 🥺I hope you like it

Genre: fluffffff, pinch of angst

WC: 2262

★Kageyama x Reader ★

”Y/N! I’m so glad you were able to come!” Yachi grinned, beckoning you to meet the team. It was you and Yachi’s second year at Karasuno and you have yet to meet her volleyball team she manages, though now was a better time than ever. Your club that you have attended for the last year had unfortunately shut down due to lack of members, but luckily your best friend was able to save your ass, per usual. Not only is it your first time meeting these guys, but your first managing gig as well

“Yachi-san, who’s this?” A small, orange haired boy peeked between two of the taller members of the team, his mouth agape. A taller boy with bluish-black hair nudged him to silence.

“This is my friend, Y/N! Since our goal is nationals again, she’s here to help us out this seaon! So be prepared to see her more!.”

“A new manager?” Two boys practically yelled in harmony with each other.

Yachi giggled before nodding in agreement. She quickly turned it over to you for your self introduction.

“My name is L/N F/N. I’m a second year. I’m in class 2-3. Uhhh- I really enjoy painting in the courtyard during lunch so you can always find me there.” You laugh nervously at all the sets of eyes staring at you.

“Nice to meet you!” You said abruptly before dipping your body into a bow. As you drew your head your line of vision met with the tall bluish, black-haired boy from earlier. That’s when it clicked in your mind.

“Kanayama! We’re in the same class aren’t we?”

He automatically stiffened before nodding his head jerkily. A pink hue barely painted his features.

A tall blonde behind him snorted.

“Are you even going to say anything?”

“It’s Kageyama!” He stuttered.

“I’m so sorry!” You laughed rubbing the back of your head. You gave him a warm smile before breaking off to individually meet everyone else. Not before long, practice began.

Kageyama and Hinata silently peered over your shoulder in the courtyard to see what you were painting today. With your headphones in, you quietly hummed to the rhythm and your brush strokes followed.

He usually passed you everyday to see what you were painting, but today was the day that Kageyama accidentally lost his footing leaning forward and toppled onto your picnic table, rather hard. You jumped in your seat as the tall setter awkwardly regained his posture. He sent a glare to Hinata who instantly scurried away.

Kageyama cleared his throat and brushed off his pants.

“Sorry, I- uh was tryna see what you were painting there and I uh”

You quickly set down your brush to wave your hands.

“Don’t worry about it Kageyama-kun! You can help me judge this peace if you wanna! Go ahead and take a seat.” You absentmindedly patted the bench beside you.

He stepped his long legs over the bench before firmly sitting next to you. You presented a small canvas in front of his face and his mouth morphed into a small ‘o’. It was the scenery of the mountains behind Karasuno high. He saw it everyday on his way home. It was a beyond perfect painting.

“Beautiful.” Was all he could manage.

“Me or the painting?”

He froze in place before you nudged his shoulder playfully. Your eyes traveled from the painting to his with a smile so wide, your eyes squinted shut. “I’m just kidding, Kageyama-kun! Thank you!”

A small shadow appeared on the boy's lips.

“Of course.”

Now that he thought about it, he meant you.

A month later, it has now been integrated into your schedule that Kageyama sits next to you at lunch time bearing a carton of milk for himself and a canned coffee for you. Some days he chose to paint with you, though his paintings never came out as well as yours, you definitely acted like they did. He was definitely becoming a prodigy in your world as you were learning his. Anything that you mentioned you like, he’d attempt to paint. Meanwhile, he was more than happy to explain volleyball to you. Sometimes you’d pretend to not understand, only to see how happy he becomes when he gets to talk about what he is passionate about. You adored the setter with all of your heart.

Today the two of you sat against the wall of the school, with a sketchbook in your hand you were jotting down new ideas for personal projects when you felt a weight gently press onto your shoulder followed by a faint snore. Kageyama had passed out, though it made sense with the boys overexerting themselves for the upcoming game. With a faint smile on your face, you slid your phone out of your pocket to take a quick picture of him. He was precious, though it was definitely a potential blackmail photo. You closed your sketchbook and rested your head atop of his until the bell rang.

Months later and the boys volleyball team had become your family to the extent that it felt like you’ve known each member for years. You knew their quirks, their antics, what made them tick. Especially Kageyama. If anything you’ve been spending more time with him than Yachi. You always put in extra hours to help him practice and study. One could not be seen without the other.

Though for the last two weeks you haven’t been at your usual place on the courtyard. When Kageyama asked, you told him that you had supplementary lessons, though it didn’t make sense to him due to the fact that you have never struggled academically as far as he knew. In fact, if he ever needed a tutor, you were always there to help him.

Now he handed you your daily canned coffee in silence at the start of each after school practice. Anytime he’d attempt to talk to you, you’d shy away and stutter nervously. If you wanted to blatantly avoid Kageyama after all this time, he was just hoping that you’d be a little more direct. After a while , he finally gave up on showing up to the courtyard for lunchtime

The evening breeze was chilling to the bone as the cold front rolled in. It was now late December and Kageyama was zipping up his jacket to begin his walk home. At the edge of campus he heard his name being called.

“Kageyama-kun!”

He turned on his heel to the sound of your voice with his heart beating rapidly.

He stood in place until you ran up to catch him.

“Kageyama-kun!” You panted. “I have something that I need to give to you

The setter dug his hands in his pocket with a blank stare on his face. He tilted his head. “Y/N-san, we’re about to go into winter break, I’m sure this can wait until we get back.”

However he felt the opposite.

You were already digging through your bag before the words finished pouring from his mouth. With both hands on a canvas you presented it to him with your head dipped.

“Happy early birthday, Kageyama-kun!”

He carefully took the canvas from you and gazed at it with awe. It was a painting of him setting the ball. You perfectly captured his features. The face he always makes concentrating. The details on his fingers, his hair, his nose. Everything. It looked lifelike.

He studied it for minutes in pure amazement. It was one of the kindest things anyone had done for him. The joy in his heart was overwhelming.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve been distant from you lately, Kageyama-kun. I wanted to do something really special for you, though, I’m not good with painting people so I’ve been going to the art teacher’s classroom for lunch. I’m awful with secrets and surprises, so I apologize for acting the way I have I-”

You were pulled into a hug. Long arms wrapped around your body as Kageyama’s head buried into your neck. His warm breath tickling your skin against the cold.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. “I love it. You're the best.”

The compliments sounded odd rolling off of his tongue, but you couldn’t help but smile.

“So I’m forgiven?” You pulled away from his embrace, a sly smile resting on your lips, your faces inches apart.

“Of course, Y/N-san.”

Luckily for Kageyama, mother nature was on his side or else his face would be beet red.

He walked you to your home with many questions in his mind. The main one being how can he make you his?

You were startled to see Kageyama waiting at the gates, you figured that he’d be at the gym in the early morning with the spring interhigh right around the corner.

“Good morning!” He said with a smile painted on his lips. Slightly unusual, but you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

“What’s got you in a good mood?”

He glanced over to you with the corners of his lips upturned. “So there’s this girl that I really like-” Your heart automatically sank to the ground, but you kept an eager expression on your face.

“I really want to ask her to get dinner with me at this place in town this weekend before we all leave for Tokyo. I think she’s super pretty, she helps me out in a lot of ways…” She must be so lucky to catch his eye. After all, a lot of girls at the school fawned over Kageyama Tobio. The two of you halted at your classroom door before he turned to you.

“Y/N, I really like-”

The morning bell rang.

You rest your hands over his and give him a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

You quickly walk into the classroom, leaving the setter with his chest aching.

“So, how’d it go?” Yachi popped in front of you as you silently flipped through the pages of your manager notebook, practice for the evening was finally drawing to a close.

“What?”

“Didn’t Kageyama-kun ask you out? He texted me that he was going to do it after break?”

“WHAT?” You shouted making the entire gym come to a screeching halt. Balls quickly thudded to the floor. You quickly used your notebook to shield your face from everyone else.

“Are you saying he didn’t?” She whispered as if the whole gym’s eyes weren’t on the two of you.

“C’mon guys! Keep it moving!” Enoshita called. You lowered the notebook slightly only for his eyes to meet with yours briefly. With a nervous look on his face he quickly hustled back to his position on the court.

“He was talking about some girl he liked today!” You yelled in a hush whisper.

Yachi gasped. “That’s you! He really did try! Well it was the best he knew how to. And I’d like to say it’s obvious that you two like each other. I’m pretty sure the whole school knows”

Heat rushed to your face and you did your best to hide how flustered you were. Your eyes followed Kageyama as he played with the team.

“I thought I did my best to hide it.”

“I think your three-week long painting project of him kind of gave it away.”

“Shut up.”

After cleaning up, you waited at the stairs of the clubroom for Kageyama. At the top of the stairwell he paused before walking down and carefully tapped your shoulder.

“Y/N, I-”

“Kageyama-kun!” You turned to smile at him, nerves eating you alive.

“I-I just wanted to apologize for earlier. That was out of character for me-” he looked off into the distance with his hand messily running through his hair. “Just don’t worry about what I said I-”

You swiftly walk towards him taking the collar of his team jacket nervously in your hands. You catch his gaze and his speech slowly comes to a halt. You gently pull him down to your face to place your lips softly on his. Kageyama’s lips move slowly against yours as his hands travel quickly along your sides to cup your face delicately. He pulled away with his lips lingering on top of yours, his eyes searching your features for an answer to his silent question.

“I like you, Kageyama-kun. I really really like you. Sorry I misread your confession earlier, I… I uh kinda thought it was for someone else...”

A sheepish smile appeared on his lips as he leaned in to capture your lips once more. Your arms traveled around his neck to gently move into his hair while his hands moved down to hold your hips.

“Well I’m glad that’s cleared up now. Also, just call me Tobio.”

Your eyes twinkled as you studied his face.

“Give me another kiss, Tobio-chan!”

“Get a room you two!” Tsukishima’s voice cut the atmosphere like a knife. Yamaguchi snickered behind him.

“Shut the hell-”

You grabbed his sleeve and gave it a slight tug. He smiled down at you before giving Tsukishima a scowl. Interlacing your hands together he began to walk you home. You waved goodbye to the boys before using your free hand to wrap around his arm.

You swung your intertwined hands marvelling at Tobio under the streetlights. The walk so far has been quiet, but calming. Suddenly Kageyama came to a halt, pulling you by his side.

“Y/N… Would you uh. Um… Be my- err- be my- uh-”

“Yes, Tobio.”

You quickly gave him a peck on the cheek before walking ahead of him.

He grinned from ear to ear.

“Wait up!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama x yn #kb takes on requests!

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years

Text

Save A Spot For Me

Fandom: Marvel (College AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: Bucky Barnes x reader where he always saves a spot for her in their one uni class and everyone noticed and ships them

You: sooooo...here’s the thing..

Bucky: late again.

You: yup. save a seat for me?

Bucky: of course

You: 😁 thanks!

Bucky shakes his head with a fond look on his face. He pulls open the door to his next class, one that you share with him. When he entered the lecture hall, there were already a few students in their preferred seats.

Bucky made his way to one of the middle rows, choosing a seat for him and then proceeding to place his things in the seat beside him, a place for you. As he dug out his supplies for the class, his buddy, Sam, waltzed into the room, heading straight for the seat next to Bucky, the one he was saving for you.

As soon as Sam grabbed for Bucky’s bag, he was stopped, “Hey, hey! Woah! That’s Y/N’s seat!”

Sam snorted, “And where’s Y/N right now?”

Bucky shrugged, “Said she was gonna be late.”

Sam shook his head, “Snooze, you lose!” he proceeds to move Bucky’s bag to the floor and sits in the seat that was preserved for you.

The brunette frowned, “You couldn’t have just sat in the other chair beside me?” with a shake of his head, Bucky moved his things to the other chair next to him. He then pulled out his notes and began to read the content from last lecture.

Soon enough, more and more students began to file into the hall. Whenever one would come up to Bucky, they’d ask, “Y/N’s seat?” to which he’d give them a sorry look accompanied with a nod. However, many didn’t seem too upset. Oddly enough, people would smirk at him or give him a knowing look.

“Why are people looking at me weird whenever I say that I’m saving a seat for Y/N?”

Sam chuckled, “Probably because we can all see how much you like her?”

Bucky scoffed, “What? No! I-I don’t like her! We’re just friends!”

“Mhmmmmm, keep tellin’ yourself that, man,” Sam gave a looking showing that he was unconvinced by Bucky’s words.

Bucky frowned. He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted when Professor Coulson entered the room. His mouth shut immediately and he picked up his pen, ready to take notes.

____________

You absolutely hated living off campus. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. Living off campus meant you didn’t have to deal with the RAs, campus police, annoying floor mates, sharing bathrooms with 50+ people, etc. You had more privacy, a bathroom you had to shared with 3 people, and amazing roommates. The downside was not having the convenience of being closer to your classes. Instead, you had to take the bus to campus and the bus was never reliable. Like today. The bus driver decided to take a different route to the college than the usual and it’s going to make you late. Again! This will be your fourth tardy to class and you’re really hoping Coulson doesn’t rip you a new one in front of everybody.

At least Bucky said he’ll save you a seat. He’s a nice person like that. A nice person with gorgeous blue eyes, a beautiful smile, soft chocolate brown hair-UGH! Get it together, Y/N! You can’t crush on your friend like that. Was he a friend? You don’t really hang out outside of class. And you two usually only text about school. Maybe he’s not a friend then. But you’d like to be his friend...maybe more.

The bus finally arrives to campus and you mutter, “Finally!” under your breath as you practically hop off the vehicle and run towards the lecture hall. You’re twenty minutes late.

You head towards the back door of the lecture hall, slipping in as quietly as you can. You look down to see Bucky and you tip toe over to his row, whispering apologies to the students you pass. Bucky spots you and shoots a smile, removing his bag from your spot. You’re grateful that Coulson’s back is to you as he’s drawing a graph onto the board.

Just as you’re about to sit down, Coulson calls out your name, “Y/N, you know the rules.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to you, staring expectedly. You sigh, straightening your form as you stand, “I’m Y/N L/N and I’m late because my bus driver thought it was a good idea to take a different route to campus, which made me twenty-five minutes late to class.”

Coulson nodded when you sat down, “Alright. Now as I was saying-”

You drown out Coulson’s voice as you hurriedly open your notebook to write down all of the notes he’d put on the board. When he begins to erase them, you open your mouth to tell him to wait, but Bucky’s hand lands on your arm. He scribbles down something at the corner of his page. You lean in and read it:

Don’t worry. You can copy my notes later. ;)

Your shoulders deflate with relief and you mouth, “Thank you,” to him.

He shrugs and mouths back, “You’re welcome,” then goes back to writing out his notes.

After class, Coulson calls you up to his desk and you feel yourself tense as you approach, “Yes, sir?”

“So, I hate to do this, because you’re actually a really great student and you’re doing so well in my class, but I do have to give you a warning that if you’re late again, that’s an automatic absence.”

You nod understandingly, “I know, sir. I don’t mean to be late, you know. It’s just the bus-”

“I understand, but why doesn’t your boyfriend give you a ride?”

You look at him confusedly, “Boyfriend?”

“Barnes,” he says with a smirk, “The guy who always saves you a seat and secretly gives you heart eyes whenever you speak up in class?”

You honestly didn’t know what to say to that, “O-Oh, uh, Bucky and I-”

“Babe, you ready to go?” you look to the door and see Bucky’s head popping in.

“Uh, yeah?” you say unsurely.

He nods, “Let’s go then! Sam and Steve are waiting for us so we can head to lunch!”

“O-Okay!” you say and shoot a nervous smile to Coulson, who’s practically beaming at you. You wave at your professor and exit the lecture hall.

You then frown at Bucky, “Why’d you do that? Now he thinks we’re dating!”

He chuckles, “You make it sound like a bad thing.” you follow him as he continues to walk towards the cafe, “Besides, you don’t wanna embarrass the guy, do ya?”

You snort, “Why not? He embarrasses me all the time!”

“Which is you fault, by the way,” Bucky says with a pointed look.

You feign offense and point a finger at him, “It’s not my fault and you know it, Barnes!”

_______________________

The day after that, you get to campus early, as you told Bucky via texting him a selfie of you on campus. He proceeds to send you a selfie back showing you he’s already at the hall with a seat saved for you.

He waits patiently as you make your way over, doodling in his sketchbook yet another picture of you. So deep into his doodling, he doesn’t notice one of his classmates settling in the seat next to him, until another classmate from behind speaks up.

“Hey, blondie! You better take a different spot! Barnes doesn’t like anyone else sitting next to him other than his tardy girlfriend!”

Bucky grunts in dismay when he realizes Brock Rumlow, the campus asshole, is speaking. He looks over his shoulder with a frown, “Shut up, Rumlow, before you dumb down everyone’s IQ!” he then turns to his classmate with a sorry expression, “Sorry about him...Sharon, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, and sorry. I didn’t know this was Y/N’s seat. I usually sit up front, but my neck is starting to hurt since he’s been using the overhead lately. I’ll move down a seat.”

“I really am sorry.”

She shakes his head, “Don’t be. I think it’s cute that you do that for Y/N. You really like her, huh?”

Bucky feels his face start to heat up, “Well, uh, yeah.”

“You guys would make such a cute couple. You should ask her out! In fact, bring her to movie night that my sorority is holding for the school! It’s a thriller movie so if she gets scared, you can hold her and stuff.”

He nervously chuckles, “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you mean about the movie and not asking her out. Because you should definitely do it,” she sends him a wink and then moves down a seat.

A few minutes later, you burst into the room, earning a few playful hollers and applause from some students. You take a bow and then continue to climb the steps towards your seat. You carefully place a coffee cup onto Bucky’s desk, “Here.”

He takes it with a scrunch of his nose, “What’s this for?”

You settle in your seat and gave a shrug, “I mean, you save me a spot for every class. You don’t have to, but you do. So thanks for saving me the effort of looking like a dumbass for searching the room for an empty spot.”

“You’re welcome, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Still. I wanna thank you.”

“While I appreciate the coffee, maybe you can thank me another way?” he then slaps himself on the forehead, “Wait! I just realized how that sounds and that’s not what I meant!”

You throw your head back with a cackle, “I didn’t think of it that way at first, but now that you pointed it out, yeah, it sounds wrong.”

Bucky groans, “Sorry. Sorry. Anyway, what I meant was that...maybe you wanna...go on a date sometime?”

“S-Sure!” you say surprisingly.

“Great!” Bucky says with much relief, “I hear there’s a movie night comin’ up. Wanna go?”

“I heard it’s a scary movie so I’ll definitely be covering my eyes for most of the film, but sure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand and protect you if need be,” he says with a smirk.

“HALLELUJAH! PRAISE THE LORD!” a booming voice echoes throughout the lecture hall. All eyes land on Sam, who’s standing on the other side of Bucky. He cups his hands around his mouth and hollers, “LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND THOSE IN-BETWEEN, JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES HAS FINALLY ASKED Y/N L/N OUT!” students from all over the room burst into applause and cheers which makes you and Bucky want the ground to open up and eat you both.

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel au #au #college au

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diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker x Reader -”On Cloud Nine”

The Clown Prince of Crime died protecting his girlfriend and now The Afterlife Assessment Bureau doesn’t know what to do with him: although J’s actions didn’t change the outcome, it scored major points in his chart and they have to recalculate the final score. Until that happens, The Joker was allowed to wait on the Lower Clouds right below The Higher Clouds where the woman he tried to save is spending eternity.

“Hey lady!” you hear as you watch the beautiful blue skies from your fluffy cloud. ”Hey!”

Y/N looks towards the source of the noise only to notice this strange man with green locks waving at her from the cloud below.

“Yes?”

“Where are we?” the guy asks, having a hard time processing what’s happening to him.

The two don’t recognize each other: once you’re dead, you’ll have no memory of your past; they definitely don’t recall being together while they were alive.

“Not sure, but it’s beautiful,” you sigh and he huffs, annoyed.

“Ugh, it’s boring. Nothing to do besides sitting down and analyze… whatever the hell this is!” J flares his arms around as a voice coming from everywhere echoes in the stillness:

“Please mind your language, sir!”

“Who said that?!” The Joker tries to find the person that just admonished him and there’s no other soul besides the woman he’s having a conversation with.

“I don’t know,” you lift your shoulder up, intrigued. “Kind of weird,” you dangle your feet above the abyss, totally unconcerned about the invisible presence. “What is that?” you point at the sketchbook he’s holding.

“My drawings,” The King of Gotham sulks, restarting to doodle on the almost blank page.

“Can I see?” you curiously inquire.

J bites the pencil and frees his hands, then shows you his current masterpiece.

“Could you hold it higher?” you squint your eyes. “Higher!!”

The expression on your face demonstrates you can’t perceive too much.

“Why don’t you come over?” the man proposes and your stalling makes him snicker: “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“Hmmm…” you debate on the offer not because you’re afraid of a little jump but because you’re uncertain it’s worth the trouble.

“C’mon!” The Joker wants to get up and help yet Y/N is already hopping down on his cloud: she’s always been independent, one of the qualities he secretly liked about her before they both unexpectedly kicked the bucket. “Nice landing!” J chuckles as you take a sit by him, the artist reprising his work. “What do you think?” he proudly boasts.

You glimpse at the clumsy lines depicting an apparent landscape filled with pumpkins and can’t hold in a smile.

“I think there’s a lot of potential hidden behind the primitive naivety of this little gem,” you give him your honest judgement and J scoffs, intrigued.

“Primitive?!”

“I like your style,” you sweetly reply since you realize you shouldn’t have blurred out the comment; he might be offended by your genuine critique. “The pumpkins are super cute,” you add in order to divert his attention.

“I like pumpkins,” The Joker growls.

“Me too,” you continue. “That would be an adorable nickname for someone, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” he shakes his head and mentions: “Why are you staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“They’re silver,” you bring your face closer to his, puzzled to discern the detail.

“Are they?!” The King touches his mouth, appalled.

“Yes, but it suits you,” the sincere tone calms down his frantic movement.

“Am I ugly?!” his ego emerges even beyond the grave and Y/N has the perfect answer:

“No, you’re handsome in a sort of eerie way.”

J frowns, suspicious.

“So I look creepy?!”

“You don’t look creepy to me,” you candidly emphasize. “In my humble opinion, you’re attractive.”

He straightens his back, pleased at the statement and your rosy cheeks give him a boost of confidence.

“Are you going to ...e-hem…” you cough, flustered at the stupid confession, “…draw another pumpkin over here?” your finger taps on the corner of the paper.

“Might as well,” J agrees and you have no clue that what he’s doing is basically thanks to you.

God knows how much you encouraged his practically nonexistent skills just to keep him away from problems he created for himself and others! You were actually his number one fan and to be honest his only fan: as long as The Clown Prince of Crime was immersed in his unique hobby, it meant Gotham and its citizens were safe.

The Penthouse was filled with The Joker’s phenomenal paintings and sketches, extravagantly framed by yours truly to overcompensate the lack of substantial talent.

“Ma’am, please return to your cloud!” the voice you heard earlier resonates all around once more.

“Why?” you glare left and right, annoyed you can’t see anybody.

“You belong on The Higher Clouds,” the elusive response doesn’t enlighten the mystery. “Hold on, we’re sending our representative over!”

After a few seconds Y/N and the former King distinguish an individual dressed in a black suit carefully jumping from cloud to cloud, steadily approaching his objective.

“Apologies for the delay,” he addresses the stunned couple once in The Joker’s space. “Sir, we had to compile a lot of paperwork for you,” the guy flips pages of a thick file, annoyed. “After adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing your points, turned out your final score is still a negative number.”

“Huh?!” J puckers his lips, confused.

“It seems you were a very bad person, sir; did a lot of despicable things and dying while protecting the girl you loved doesn’t mean diddly squat in the end!”

“Awww,” you gush at the revelation. “That’s so romantic,” you whisper and the man bends over, completely overwhelmed:

“Ma’am, allow me the honor of shaking your hand,” the agent grabs your fingers, softly squeezing them. “You are a true legend and we are forever indebted to your greatness: you put up with him and saved numerous lives also,” he gestures towards The Joker and you gasp, finally understanding the bigger picture.

“He died…for me?!”

“I died for her?!” the awkward pair asks in the same time.

“Yeah, no big deal. You were killed anyway and I’m so, so sorry for that,” the emissary extends his regrets to the woman he admires, entirely disregarding The Joker’s sacrifice.

“No big deal??!!” the latest shouts. “Dying for someone is no big deal?! How the fuck am I still in the negative?!!”

“Language!!!!!!” the omnipresent voice surfaces again.

“WHO.IS.THAT?!” Y/N gets vexed at the multiple invisible interruptions.

“Steve Rogers,” the representative notifies. “He’s in charge of The Profanity Control Department.”

“Who?!” J crinkles his nose, fed up with the messy situation.

“It’s not important,” the agent cuts him off. “What’s important sir is that you can’t be here; we have to move you.”

“Move me?! Where?”

“Yes, where are you taking him?” you quiz the black suited guardian.

“Far away, unless…”

“Unless what?” J crabbily interrogates.

“Unless someone is willing to transfer their points to you, sir. It hasn’t been done in centuries though; lots of bureaucracy involved and frankly, if I may: why would anybody donate their hard earned credits to you??!!”

The Clown is scandalized at the brutal affirmation while Y/N has a magnificent idea:

“How many points do I have?”

“Mmmmm…,” the man flips more pages and finds the information: “Ten gazillions.”

“How many does he need?”

“Three gazillions.”

“Oh,” you cheerfully clap your hands. “I have plenty so I’ll donate my credits to him.”

“Nah, you don’t want to do that,” the man shrieks, already unhappy with the perspective of putting in overtime for this project. “We’re out of clouds; we’ll have to make more and that takes forever.”

“There are plenty of empty clouds around!” The Joker barks.

“Not empty. They are inhabited by others but you can’t see them: you can only see the people you are connected with, true love type of deal,” the emissary indifferently blurs out.

“So…that’s why I can only see him and he can only see me?!” Y/N’s burning, red face matches J’s stellar entitled smirk after the astonishing revelation.

“Precisely,” the flat tone prompts The King’s logical question:

“Then why can’t I stay on this cloud?”

“The Lower Clouds are similar to a waiting room; we can’t have them occupied for long periods of time.”

“I’ll share my cloud with him!” you firmly suggest as the emissary is panicking:

“That means more paperwork!! We usually don’t have two residents spending eternity on the same cloud.”

“Make it happen!” J commands. “The lady wants to give me her points and share her cloud. You can’t say no, you said it yourself: she’s a legend!” he preys on the guy’s hesitation.

“I would really appreciate your help,” your disarming smile gives the guardian a nudge in the proper direction.

“Of…of course ma’am,” he stutters because how can one say no to a legend?!

And you surely count on it.

“I have to stipulate a reason for all this, what should I write on the formulary? In a simple sentence, it needs to be specific and concise: why are you gifting him credits and share your personal area?”

Your brain slots are hollow yet there’s one motive:

“I like his drawings.”

The impeccable suit ogles J’s silly scribbling, muttering under his breath:

“Another Picasso…” then louder:

“I’ll do the paperwork; for now, please vacate the premises and go on the Upper Cloud; we have new arrivals that require the Lower Clouds,” he exhales and starts leaping away, leaving you and The Joker behind.

Your cloud descends so you both can step on it and then floats higher in the air again.

Y/N gazes at the stranger in silence, until he breaks the shell:

“Thank you for your generosity, Miss…” J sniffles, realizing an important detail is absent from the whole dialogue. “What’s your name?”

“…I don’t know…” you regretfully answer. “I can’t remember…”

The Joker scratches his chin with a brilliant solution on the horizon:

“You said Pumpkin would be an adorable moniker for someone. Do you mind if I call you Pumpkin?”

“No, not at all,” you gladly accept his proposition. “And you’re welcome, I had so many credits, might as well use them. I have to thank you too for dying for me, Mister… What’s your name?”

“Bits me; I can’t recollect.”

Y/N pouts, upset she doesn’t have a name when a genius recommendation escapes her lips:

“You know… you have this small “J” letter tattoo under your left eye…” you gently poke it and he feels a sudden warmth taking over his body. “Is it ok if I call you J?”

“U-hum,” the hypnotized King gazes at the woman in front of him. “So I have tattoos on my face?”

“Yes, a few: a tiny star and a big one on your forehead that spells ‘Damaged’. And playing cards on your neck…” you describe his ink, mesmerized.

“Do they make me look horrible?”

“You don’t look horrible to me,” you praise and J inflates his chest at the declaration; oh boy, you definitely have a way with words.

“Thank you Pumpkin,” the flirtatious Clown winks and you play with the hem of your shirt, about to burst out with delight.

“You’re welcome… J.”

“Oh my God!” The Joker snaps out of it since the artist in him is begging for attention: “The sunset’s gorgeous! I have to sketch this!”

He sits down on the cloud and you scoot over until your thighs touch, interested in his new project.

“Your cloud is a better quality than the one I was on,” he bounces on the white, velvety texture. “It will certainly improve my technique!”

“Absolutely!” you enthusiastically exclaim, determined to assist no matter what.

Heaven knows your new friend J evidently requires steady guidance regarding his hobby: he’s no Picasso yet, but with a legend’s help he might eventually get there.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

and everything that goes with it; i thank you all

A/N: So........ ash v. social media v. borhap cast i guess??? no-one asked for this, but i love them.

[aydtd]

It definitely starts as a joke.

“Hey, Ma Rocket?” Joe’s filming on his phone during a costume trial. With her arms crossed, Ash is partially hidden by Rami who’s spinning, the frills of his shirt fanning out around him. She’s frowning, thoughtful and pensive, but when Joe calls, she turns to him, eyebrows raised and expectant.

“Aye?” She’s not smiling, mind obviously still pondering over the fit of Rami’s costume, but it’s a clear enough acknowledgement that Joe’s response is clearly spoken through a smile.

“You responded; you’re the on-set mom now.” He declares. Ben laughs from somewhere off camera. “No takebacks.” Joe follows it up with, but Ash is already wearing a longsuffering look of resignation. The video cuts off before she can flip him off, but her movements are too deliberate to be misconstrued as anything else. The video is released almost a full year later, once the NDA has been lifted on the movie and Behind the Scenes pictures and videos start flooding out, but at that point the joke had moved beyond being just that.

Ash is not hard won; kindness and respect win her loyalty easily, it’s just that those traits are sometimes hard to come by in this industry, and she’s often dismissed because of her age, especially by younger performers. Bohemian Rhapsody is different, of course in part because they all know who she is by virtue of who they’re playing,

Joe’s not her favourite, not officially, and neither is Ben, much to his quiet disappointment; officially her favourite is Karen, and everyone else is tied second, but each of them holds a very special place in her heart and soon that begins to bleed into her social media, as well as some of theirs. Ash gets Instagram at Joe’s behest, only a month before the world premiere of Bohemian Rhapsody. It’s not as if she’s lived her life in obscurity, but come the turn of the millennium, her time at the edge of the spotlight had mostly come to an end, and she had been able to continue her work behind the curtain of pop culture for almost twenty years. This was all new, and unexpected, but she tried to take it in stride.

So she follows the cast, of course, follows Roger and Brian and the Official Queen page, as well as any of her friends or former clients she can find, and much to their horror, her children. Okay so her son isn’t horrified since he’s a public figure and he doesn’t use it for personal photos, but both her daughters have posted pictures of themselves in bikinis, and they thought they’d be safe since Roger followed them after the photos were posted, and at least he never went back and liked any of their old photos. Ash likes every single photoeach of her children has even posted, and all three are a little horrified.

That’s a cute one of us at Bonfire Night!! Is one of the many comments she leaves across the entire timeline of Astrid’s Instagram history, this particular one being from a 2014 photo, and so Astrid herself posts a screenshot of her mother blowing up her notification on her story.

@joemazzello what have you done

Joe subsequently posts a screenshot of a set of DMs between himself and Astrid on his own story.

Yesterday @ 3:47am

@astro_winnie: then tell him to change his oil

@astro_winnie: what a heathen

Today @ 1:21pm

@astro_winnie has mentioned you in her story

@joemazzello: What exactly are you accusing me of here?

@astro_winnie: mum didn’t have an Instagram yesterday 🤔🤔

@astro_winnie: I don’t know how but this is your fault

@joemazzello: she’s just having fun 😂😂

@astro_winnie: SHE LIKED MY BIKINI PIC FROM 2 YEARS AGO IM DYINg

The whole conversation is captioned ’Well anyways, go follow Ma Rocket @rockettaylor49’. The following picture on his story, posted ten minutes later, is a clarification that he isn’t actually Ash’s son, that it’s just a nickname. Even so, Ash’s actual son gets a photo with him at the premiere and caption it ‘brother from another mother (probably) @joemazzello’ and it goes viral on both Tumblr and Twitter.

Ash’s first official post is a picture of herself and Freddie, a Polaroid of the two of them aged beyond belief, taken in 1969. It’s the only photo she had when she was still in uni, and even she seems surprised to see it. Roger finds her staring at it, expression blank as she looks at where they keep it, pride of place, over the mantle. Without even asking, he understands, and he presses a kiss to her temple.

’@rockettaylor49: My favourite client helped me with this caption, he said I should remind you all that you can have more than one love of your life, and that that love isn’t necessarily romantic. To me, Freddie was family from the moment I met him, and I love and miss him every day. Freddie & Me. 1969.’

The post is flooded with love and support and more heart emojis than you can shake a stick at, and it’s not long before she’s amassed a large following. The only outlier in the initial comments comes from her second daughter, Cate.

@cate.astrophy: @rogertaylorofficial got upgraded to favourite client. nice.

The entire rest of the family, as well as a few random unknowns, like the comment.

Ash’s aesthetic is surprisingly clean; old photos from back in the day, old initial costume designs in sketchbooks, the paper gold with age and colours faded, but still with her initial notes scribbled neatly around the edges. The only modern things she posts are photos of shopping bags filled with fabric she’s just purchased, and photos of her friends and family.

There’s only one selfie on her page. Its Ash, poorly framed if only to keep Joe in focus behind her where he’s leaning against the door to a trailer and double over with laughter, with Ben glaring through the window at both of them.

’@rockettaylor49: Trixie gave me a selfie stick and Ben tried to confiscate it when he heard me say 'selfie’ so he was locked out. Usually I was with Roger on the other side of the door back when Deaky was locking us out of places… What a terrible influence he was!! But anyways here you all go, my first selfie. Me & Trixie featuring My Disrespectful Boy, Ben. 2018.’

The way the cast call her ‘Ma’ definitely started out as a joke, mostly between Joe, Ben, and Ash, but it slowly spreads to the others.

“Where’s The Golden Boy?” Ash calls on set, holding a cap for Rami, who was warming up. It’s rather endearing, the way he jogs to her wearing a smile.

“Here, Ma, what do you need from me?”

“Hat.” Is all she says, presenting it to him. They’ve always had a soft spot for each other, having worked together on Night At the Museum and it’s sequels for several years. He was one of the last to pick up the habit of calling her ‘ma’, after spending so long calling her Rocket, but he’s grown into it, they all have. Even some of the crew have taken to using the nickname, or some variation.

And maybe she leans into it, leans into her age and her wisdom, and they know they’re sort of telling her story too, but there’s a disconnect when they look at her, at her greying hair and the deep laugh lines around her mouth, and they forget who exactly she is. Though sometimes, rarely, they’re given sharp reminders.

There’s a video on Gwil’s phone that he later puts on Instagram once he has her permission, and the NDA has come to an end, of Ash on the set of Live Aid. She’s sitting on the edge of the stage, legs hanging over the edge, and Roger’s in front of her, at the perfect height to rest his chin on her knees.

“Do you think you can still do that impression of yours?” Roger’s voice is barely audible, but he’s grinning, and Ash cards a hand through his short, white hair.

“Which- oh, the Freddie- oh Christ,” she laughs, “this’d be the place for it, aye?” And she starts clearing her throat, about the time that Roger spots Gwil and his curious camera.

“Sorry, was just trying to catch a video of the empty stadium,” Gwil’s voice can be heard, and Roger laughs, which causes Ash to turn. Seeing Gwil, she smiles, and nods at the camera.

“You’re gonna wanna get a video of this,” Roger grins, nudging Ash’s knee, and she turns an amusing shade of pink, struggling to her feet. Gwil rushes forward to help her up, but Ash brushes him off.

“I used to do this with Freds to help him warm up, and whenever I was side of stage,” she says, a strangely fond smile on her face as she reminisces, “I’m no singer, never have been, this is probably as close as I’ll get,” she warned, looking straight at the camera.

Taking a deep breath, she clears her throat, and belts out ‘ay-oh’. As if being summoned by a siren, everyone who can hear her, responds in kind. Smiling, pleased, she continues with the bit, as does everyone else, slowly gathering around her. It sounds uncannily like Freddie, and she holds an arm out to Rami to join her in leading the gathered crowd, which he agrees to with a bright grin, which ends with him yelling ‘hey, hey, hey, Hammer to Fall!’ and Ash, as well as the rest of the crew, bursts out into laughter.

The video’s posted with the caption ‘Ash Mercury in her prime’. All three of Ash and Roger’s kids comment about how they hadn’t heard her do that in so long, and not for the first time, Gwilym finds himself marveling at what it would be like to have Ash and Roger as actual parents.

Once the camera’s off, Ash talks quietly about how she and Freddie used to practice it, because he couldn’t teach Ash to sing to save his life, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t teach her this.

“He was like, an actual brother to her,” Ben says quietly when he and the other three boys are gathered together, checking in before they finally started filming.

“Yeah, it’s crazy to think some times; she took his last name for a full fifteen years," Rami muses, and there’s something that warms in his heart whenever he catches Ash’s wistful gaze as she watches them perform, quietly grateful.

There’s a few videos here and there from set from Ash, little moments she finds endearing, usually set to music;

She catches her son, Barney, and his partner dancing to Seaside Rendezvous alone in the makeup truck, joyful and bright, they sway together to the beat as her son sings along, and his partner laughs fondly, pressing their smile against his chest as he tries to make kazoo noises.

When Cate, her middle daughter, comes to set, she takes a seat by the piano and plays the opening for Seven Seas of Rhye.

“That’s the one he wrote for you, isn’t it?” She turns, beaming, and Ash sits beside her. Again, Cate plays the opening, and Ash hums along, out of key, and Cate swallows her own gentle laughter, instead singing along.

Karen Gillan has a perm in order to play Ash, but unlike Joe, she appears to have no trouble in it, actually takes great pride in it. Ash has caught the rest of the cast, on several different occasions, using it to take photos of themselves with a stunning, ginger beard, which amuses her to no end, as it was something Roger was want to do on occasion when he got bored back in the day.

On the night of the Oscars, at the afterparty, Ash uploads two videos in the same post, one from set, and one from that night. They’re simply captioned ‘Me & The Champions. 2018/19′.

The video from on set is from the final day; Ash’s hands are shaking the camera slightly, but her voice is loud and clear, ringing throughout the set;

“Where are my kids?” And like clockwork, Ben, Gwilym, Rami, and Joe all come out from various places, followed by Lucy and Karen, all giving her fond looks.

“Oh man, I’m gonna miss my set-mom,” Joe looks like the thought genuinely pains his heart, and as the realization dawns on the others, there’s a fond and faintly forlorn expression mirrored on all their faces. Joe’s the first to go in for the hug, despite Ash’s faint ‘oh Jesus Christ, Trixie’, but they all soon join.

The second video is from right after the Oscars awards ceremony, when most of the cast and crew who’d been attending are doing photo opportunities, and while Brian and Roger are already with them, Ash had hung back.

“It’s so good to see all my kids in the one place!” She calls, and Joe’s expression lights up as he hears her voice.

“Ma, we won!” Rami holds up his Oscar with delight, already a little tipsy, as were the rest of them as they crowd Ash, all wrapping her up in a group hug. Someone’s humming We Are The Champions. Ash suspects Joe. But she takes delight in the moment anyways, pride flaring bright in her chest.

#roger taylor #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap imagine #joe mazzello #ben hardy #gwilym lee #rami malek #Lucy Boynton #karen gillan #borhap cast imagine #Queen #queen imagine #Brian May #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #the angry lizard writes

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thesoftdumbass · 5 years

Text

sweet as can be

detective Bucky Barnes x baker Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: None? I don’t even think there’s language, you can correct me if I’m wrong

Summary: Bucky Barnes has no idea what to do for his daughter’s 12th birthday party. That is, until he meets you.

Inspired by this ask that I sent to @bucky-plums-barnes for Daddy Wednesday!

masterlist

Bucky Barnes looks once more to the computer sitting in front of him before groaning and dropping his forehead onto the desk in agitation. His daughter’s birthday is in five days and he had put off planning for too long because of work. Closing the case involving a string of high-end robberies had been put on priority and Bucky was too preoccupied to focus on putting together an awesome party for his little girl.

Last year his ex hosted Becca’s birthday party, so this year was his turn, and Jude and Wesley’s joint party would be planned by Dot. Bucky knew he had to do great for this party, not only because his daughter wanted to impress her friends as all twelve-year-olds do, but also because he wanted to one-up his ex-wife. It’s not like Bucky and Dot had a competitive relationship, but sometimes it’s nice to feel good about his parenting skills.

Dot and Bucky started dating in high school, both taking an interest in the other automatically when they met through the astronomy club. After they graduated and went on to college, they found themselves suddenly with a baby on the way. They were in love, so marriage seemed like the best option. A baby girl, a wedding, and a twin boy and girl later, and Bucky and Dot realized that they were just going through the motions. Knowing that they had fallen out of love, their relationship ended with an amicable divorce, shared custody of their children the only thing connecting them now.

Bucky shakes himself out of thoughts of his past with Dot, turning his attention back to Google. Having waited so long to even browse for decorations, he hadn’t had the thought of ordering a cake before now. Presently, looking through different websites and making calls to various bakeries, Bucky is thinking he may have to figure something else out for last minute. Maybe Bec would like a pizza cake?

Bucky’s brooding is interrupted when his partner at the precinct comes over and knocks on his desk to get his attention, sitting down on the tabletop when he looks up.

“Hey Barnes, what’s with the pity party,” Natasha asks with a smirk painted on her red lips.

James lifts his eyes to Nat, a dreadful look crossing his face. “I’m the worst father in the world,” he mutters after a moment. When his friend laughs he points a glare in her direction that has startled many perps into talking, though Natasha is completely unaffected by it. “I’m sorry, is my misery amusing to you?”

“And you call Rogers dramatic.” She says and rolls her eyes fondly, her laughter dying down after a minute. Her face going back to passive, Nat sends a look his way. “James, you’re not the world’s worst father and we both know it. I mean, you never met my parents.” With a shrug, Nat stands up and walks around the desk, sitting down in her own chair on the other side.

Bucky sighs and drops his head, knowing that what she said about him is true. “It’s just that Becca’s birthday is so soon. She’s turning twelve and I know that’s a hard age. I wanna make it special for her, but I waited too long to start planning.”

Bucky hears Nat mumble something about men and procrastinating, which he opts to ignore. Instead, he looks down at the list of tasks that he scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing strands out of his eyes.

“I need to figure out what the theme should be, but the cake is what I’m worried about most. Every bakery I’ve called or looked up needs at least three weeks in advance for specialty cakes.”

Natasha nods her head, thinking for just a moment before her eyes brighten with an idea. “Give me a minute, I know a guy.”

Bucky knew better than to ask. Nat would give him the information when she wanted and not a minute sooner, so he went back to his computer, switching tabs to a website devoted to party planning to look for decoration ideas.

A few minutes later a notebook is tossed down in front of the detective, startling him out of his trance. He glances down at the scribbled address and name, then up to his partner standing with a hand on her hip. When he raised an eyebrow in question, Nat nods her chin at the paper. “That’s the bakery that will make Becca’s cake. They’re not very busy right now, so you should be able to order a cake and it will be ready by the party.”

Looking back down, James runs his fingers over the corner of the paper, thinking. “Brooklyn Bake Shop, isn’t that where Sam works?” When he receives a nod in return, Bucky’s face lights up in a smile. “Oh, that’s where you got those awesome cupcakes that you brought in for New Year’s! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“I believe it,” Natasha mutters, but Bucky sees a mix between a smile and a smirk on her face when he looks up wearing a faux offended expression. She rolls her eyes at their typical teasing banter, flicking Bucky on the forehead. “Get over to the bakery, Barnes.”

“Right! I’m on it,” Bucky says, tearing the paper from the notebook and folding it up in his pocket before grabbing his jacket and taking off.

Pulling round pans of cake out of the oven, you transfer them to a rack so they’ll cool before you can ice and decorate them. Taking a second to breathe, you lean against one of the counters and pull your phone out of your apron. You see a text from Natasha, a close friend who is also dating the co-owner of your bakery, Sam.

Nat: Hey is it alright if I send a customer your way? They need a cake by Saturday.

You smile down at your phone, appreciating that Natasha is always thinking of you, sending business your way.

You: No problem. I’m not too busy with orders right now, and I have some free time this afternoon if they need a consultation. Send them by!

You receive a confirmation text from Nat and pocket your phone and clean up the kitchen, then grab your cake sketchbook. You take it with you to the front of the store, deciding to help out at the display case while you wait for your new customer. You finish helping one of your regulars with picking out an assortment of cookies and send her to the cash register to check out, turning to the next person in line.

You take in the man standing in front of you, chin-length chestnut brown hair pushed behind his ears and scruff over the lower half of his face making his light blue eyes pop. Your eyes move lower and you can’t help but notice how fit he seems, the muscles in his chest and arms demanding attention from beneath the dark blue button-up shirt that seems just a tad tight. You shake yourself out of it after a moment, clearing your throat and hoping the man didn’t notice you practically ogling him, though the hint of a smirk on his face tells you otherwise.

“Hi and welcome to Brooklyn Bake Shop, what can I help you with today?”

“My friend recommended your bakery,” he says casually. A sample cake in the display case catches his attention and as he leans over to take a closer look at it your eyes are drawn to the badge hanging from a chain around his neck, making a light bulb go off in your head.

“You must be Natasha’s friend,” you point out and he straightens up, looking over at you with narrowed eyes. You gesture to the badge that is still visible sitting atop his broad chest and his face relaxes with understanding.

“Yeah, Nat told me that I can order a cake. I couldn’t find anybody else that can get it done by Saturday, so she really saved my life by giving me your information.” You nod your head and hum but when you don’t say anything else the man gets a brief panicked look on his face. “You can make one by Saturday, can’t you?”

You’re unable to stifle the small giggle that rises within you at his show of distress. “Of course I can get a cake done by then. My name is Y/N, I’m part-owner of the bakery.”

Relief shows itself all over the man at your words, and a genuine smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “I’m Bucky.”

“Well, why don’t you sit with me and we’ll talk about your cake, shall we?” Bucky nods and you walk around the counter, leading him to the small sitting area in the corner of your shop. Two comfortable chairs sit together with a side table nestled between them as a place to go over cake designs with clients and you sit in the chair on the right, nodding for him to sit in the other seat when he hesitates briefly. As Bucky takes a moment to get comfortable you grab a pencil, opening your sketchbook to a new page.

“Let’s start with the basics, what type of event are you ordering the cake for?”

“My daughter’s birthday party.”

You nod, writing that down. “What can you tell me about your daughter,” you ask brightly. You watch as Bucky’s face lights up before he is giving you a characterization of his daughter.

“Rebecca is my oldest girl, and I’ve also got twin 9-year-olds, Jude and Wesley. Becca turns 12 on Saturday and I’m hosting her party, I just got really busy with work and didn’t start planning until, well, today.” Bucky looks down, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks and you smirk softly. “Becca likes taking photos, she carries one of my old cameras around with her everywhere. She’s great in school, especially history and science. Becca’s favorite thing is space, she loves when I take a drive out of the city so we can watch the stars, and she says she’d like to be an astronomer one day.” An adoring smile lifts Bucky’s lips at the thoughts he is sharing and you have to contain the ‘awww’ welling up in you.

Watching Bucky as he talks lovingly about his daughter, you try to keep your mind on the business at hand and not on this sweet and caring man that you’ve just met. It doesn’t hurt that he may be the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

No, you mentally shake yourself out of it, he’s a customer. Just go back to discussing the cake.

“So what kind of theme should we fit the cake to, does your daughter have a preference?”

Bucky brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, embarrassment taking over his face. “I haven’t picked out any decorations yet, and Becca said she wanted it to be a surprise,” he says and you try not to let yourself focus on the way he bites his lip shyly.

You nod, thinking to yourself for a minute. “You said she loves space, how about an astronomy-themed cake? I have a few ideas…”

The rest of your afternoon is spent with Bucky, designing the cake, choosing flavors and fillings, and you even brought your laptop out of your office to look up decorations to fit the party theme that he had agreed with, sharing the links with him. After closing your computer and sketchbook, you stand from your seats and you stretch your arms up, having been sitting for too long. Bucky chuckles and follows your lead, his back cracking noticeably, making you giggle along quietly.

“Thank you for seeing me, I was starting to panic about disappointing my little girl,” he says to you after a moment.

“I doubt you could do that, Bucky. And it’s my pleasure.” The smile on his face reflects your own and you duck your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, your new customer speaks up again. “Do you mind if I stop back by the counter and pick up a few treats to go?”

“Of course not,” you say, but the time on your watch grabs your attention as you walk toward the counter. “Shoot, I have a rack of cakes to ice, and then I should get started on bakes for the morning. Sam can help you if that’s okay.”

You grab the attention of your business partner with a wave and he walks over as Bucky nods. “That’s fine, Y/N, thanks again for helping me. I’ll see you on Saturday?”

Your heart thumps at the thought, but you only nod and hum in affirmation before disappearing into the kitchen to pick back up on your tasks.

Sam looks on in amusement as his friend watches you walk away, a near-dopey smile on the detective’s face. Bucky hears a throat clear and immediately looks to Sam in irritation, only to see the baker shaking his head in faux disappointment with a smirk on his face.

“What, Wilson?”

Sam chuckles at the scowl Bucky now wears, a gap-tooth smile lighting up his face. “Nothing, Barnes.”

Bucky mumbles a disbelieving “sure” under his breath before leaning back down to check out the offerings set in the display case. “Can I get an assortment of 6 cupcakes and a dozen chocolate chip cookies?”

Eyebrows raise amusedly. “Feeling a little peckish, there, Buck?”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m taking these back to the station for everybody. Make sure to put some of those French toast cupcakes in there for Natasha, I don’t want her to kill me,” Bucky says, his tone suggesting that he’s kidding...kind of.

Sam chuckles and gathers the requested items, packaging and ringing up the purchase. Bucky leaves the shop with armsful of snacks, and hope that he may not have failed his little girl after all. Now it’s just up to him to assemble the rest of the party.

part two

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one for a while! I don’t know yet if this is going to be a series, but I definitely have at least a second part in the works, who knows when I’ll finish and post it haha. I hope you enjoyed reading, please leave feedback if you’d like to see more from me! Love y’all 💜

If you’d like to be notified when I post something new, message me or send an ask and I’ll add you to my tag list!

permanent tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718 @feelmyroarrrr @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @vulcanaeris @killerbumblebee @kjs-s @starshiphufflebadger @goingknowherewastaken

marvel tags: @izzy10718 @shortbty14

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #avengers #avengers au #sweet as can be #dad bucky barnes

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the-gunslock · 4 years

Text

HIVER 8 - BALLET TONNERRE

Hiver and Amanda cuddle in the bed in a cloudy morning, the former staring blankly at the ceiling thinking about her next course of action, and the latter inspecting her lover’s face and ethereal eyes for any trace of emotion. They have been talking for around an hour now, no rush to put their clothes on since their first time together.

“...Think ya should look for the Techeuns on that.” Amanda says, rubbing her fingertip up and down on Hiver’s sternum. “Heard that Awoken dreams usually have a deeper meaning, might help you find somethin’ ‘bout yourself, darlin’.”

“Sure, that’s a good idea. Huh…” Hiver props herself on her elbows, thinking and turning to Amanda. “Honey, can you do a drawing for me?”

“What of?”

“An outfit. I’m going to the Dreaming City.”

“Ally-oop!” The shipwright says, bouncing on the bed and straddling the Warlock, holding her wrists in place and moving her face close to hers, causing her to struggle playfully. “Who said you could?”

“NOOOOOO!” Hiver half-shouts, barely containing her laughter.

She plants a deep kiss on her girlfriend’s mouth, moving her hands from her wrists and intertwining her fingers with hers. As Hiver relaxes her body and closes her eyes, Amanda moves close to her ear.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She whispers.

“What is it?”

Amanda sits back up on Hiver’s lap, pulling her into a forehead kiss.

“You’ll always be the one I love, no matter who you were before. What matters is who you are now. ‘Kay?”

Hiver moves in to touch her forehead with her own. “Okay.” The blonde woman smiles.

“Can we never leave this bed?”

In response, Hiver holds her and lifts her by her bottom, causing her to entangle her arms and human leg around her body, like a sloth holding on to its favorite branch. “Guess that’s a no. How’re you so strong for someone so tiny?” She asks as Hiver kisses her neck and opens her bathroom door.

“It’s just a ten centimeter difference,” the Warlock answers, putting her girlfriend on top of a vacant section of the sink. “I’m not that shorter than you. I’ll run the bath for us.”

“You’re the perfect height.” They chit chat as the bath goes full, with Hiver asking Trinity to send her details of how the outfit needs to look, down to color and texture. Soon they are fully geared, riding Hiver’s Bronco to the Tower, Amanda saving a page on her industrial-model-and-doodle-filled sketchbook.

Hiver went to orbit to trace a course for the Dreaming City. While on her workstation, Amanda quickly makes a croquis of a person (With Hiver’s hair for guidance) and starts trying to delve into the mental image of her lover’s visions.

As she went, it was evident that is was some sort of modified, dark purple ball gown that an asymmetrical cascading skirt, sprinkled with a sparkly, golden star-like gradient fading from the hip. The top part has a wide neckline that is semi-disconnected from the dress’s ¾ sleeves, both of their hems lined with black fur. The back of the dress - as she had also sketched - was deeply cut out, exposing the user’s entire back.

As a final touch, it has a silk, glittering sash over the waistband, secured with a little brimstone brooch shaped like an eight pointed star. After signing her name and scribbling some notes about the fabric and the texture, Amanda cracks her fingers, hoping it would be enough for Hiver to begin a search.

“Wait a minute…” Amanda narrows her eyes at her drawing while stretching her wrist. She is missing something that feels very obvious, and she bites her lip as she tries to figure out what it is.

Nevertheless, she sends the image of her sketch to Trinity, going back to seeing about ships and waiting for Hiver to respond. Soon, her tablet notifies her about an incoming audio message.

“Yes, yes! It’s perfect. I hope Petra or the Techeuns have something to say about this. Thanks, babe, I love you infinity ♥”

“Anytime, darling. Love you infinity times infinity ♥” Amanda replies with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Whatcha smiling at?” A voice calls from above. She doesn’t even need to turn around to know who it is, just rolling her eyes at the sound.

“Hey, Luna.” She greets, putting her tablet away and turning back to the ship engine that needs repairing. “Did a drawing from Hiver’s dream, now she’s seeing if she can find anything ‘bout it. Dunno if it’s any lead, but one can dream.”

“Can we see it?” Luna’s Ghost, Frost, asks, ever curious.

“Notebook’s on my desk.”

Luna picks up the notebook, looking over the messy, albeit practical strokes of Amanda’s drawing of the gown. She had a talent for this, and Luna made a mental note to remind her not to waste it.

“Interesting. You draw very well!” The Hunter says, closing the notebook. “Where did she go?”

“Thanks. Dreaming City. Talk to Petra.”

The Hunter makes a flustered expression remembering her Queen’s Wrath crush, and for a second she considers going there just to see her for some time.

“Not saying that goin’ there is a bad idea, but I’m totally sayin’ goin’ there’s a bad idea. Hiver’s dead set on this and she might kill you if you try to interrupt.” Amanda says, not turning her head from the engine.

Luna and her Ghost trade shocked looks. “What can be so important that she might kill me of all people over?”

“Herself. Leave her do her thing, Petra ain’t dying anytime soon.” Amanda reassures, leaving the “I think” part of the sentence in her thoughts.

“...Sure. Good luck, you two.” The Nightstalker says before walking away.

“Likewise.”

Hiver’s ship flies through the skies and crisp marble-like towers of Rheasilvia, spotting the Queenswrath on radar and transmatting near her position, as she aims her scout rifle at the Taken below.

“Petra!” She calls out with a plastic case and tumbler in hand, making the woman turn around. “I need your help, and come bearing a peace offering.”

“What for, cousin? We aren’t enemies.”

“All the more reason why you should enjoy it.” She hands Petra the case, containing many still hot triangle sandwiches filled with ham and various vegetables. Her eye glistens and her stomach growls when she smells the Warlock’s gift of a fresh meal.

“Surely, you have my attention.”

“So…” Petra says, sipping from the tea that Hiver brought to her. “you see yourself dance in this garment, and you believe that it may be connected to your past life?”

“Exactly.”

“I think it would be useful to see this dance you refer to, Guardian. With your measurements, in a couple days, we can get this dress done.”

Trinity starts scanning Hiver’s body to conveniently get her measurements and send them to Petra. “What do we owe you all?”

“How about a favor? You help me clean this section’s buildings, ridding it of the Taken, and in exchange you use it to show us your… mysterious dance. I don’t know why, they just -- keep coming back. Argh. Filthy demons.”

Hiver pulls out her Ace of Spades and twirls it in her hand. “Then we just gotta keep killing them.”

With her cannon and her cheery attitude, Petra remembers Cayde for a moment before coming back to reality.

“We got incoming.” Trinity states to the women, who go alert as a Blight materializes in front of them.

“Petra, have this.” Hiver passes her Le Monarque bow and its arrows to Petra, certain that she would be on her best element if she used it, her grin being a good enough confirmation. Together, they jump off the perch and run on towards the Rheasilvia temples, firing at the many Taken units and Blights that block their path.

After a while of dynamic and surprisingly fluid combat (Given they had barely worked together before) they manage to secure the temples and rooms needed for the Dreaming City’s Corsairs and Techeuns to resume work. One of them has a very large, circular space in the middle, almost like some sort of theater. Seems like it would be the spot.

“I’ll stay in this area for a while, so the Corsairs can set up a base of operations. Once your dress is done, I’ll call you ASAP.”

Hiver extends a hand to the Queenswrath, who shakes it vigorously while looking at each other’s eyes.

“Cousin, I’m sorry. What was your name again?” Petra asks for reminder, making sure she knew who to call once the dress was ready.

“It’s Hiver.”

“Of course. What does it mean?”

“An Earth language word. Means “Winter.” Until next time, Petra. I’m just a message away.”

Petra eyes the intricate black and red weapon in her hand, almost forgetting she held it. “Hiver, your bow!”

“Oh. It’s called Le Monarque, after a type of butterfly.” Hiver says, pulling out Trinity in order to be transmatted into her ship, ready to join her Fireteam. “You can have it for now, Petra. Take good care of it.”

With that, the Guardian vanishes, leaving Petra puzzled. She narrows her eye in thought.

“...What is a butterfly?”

Regardless, the Queenswrath is interested in the capabilities of this new heirloom. She decides to do some field-testing with it, grabbing another glowing arrow off its quiver and stepping outdoors once more, pulling back the string.

“What’d ya get?”

“Not much yet. Petra is working to get the dress done. In the meanwhile, I’ll just… go about my days.” The Warlock says, lying in boredom atop her girlfriend’s workstation. “Hey, you need any help?”

“Sorry babe, I’m good.”

Hiver groans. Nothing piqued her interest yet since she was so invested in finding out what she was seeing. Amanda would love to help, but as always, she was shackled to her work schedule and couldn’t do much else except talk and give her the occasional kiss or nuzzle.

“Darlin’?” Amanda says, sitting straight in her desk, looking at a circuit board she was tinkering with.

“Yes?”

“Can ya run some Arc through this? Wanna see if it works.”

Hiver jumps down to the workshop, quickly locating the electrical parts of the circuit, and powering it just enough for it to display an image on a screen Amanda had it connected to.

“Whew, fixed. Thank you, Hiver.”

Hiver gives a happy smile for being useful, ready to go back to the roof.

“So… How ‘bout we put a smile on that face?” Amanda says, putting her work gloves back on and turning to her. “Did I tell ya I managed to sell my place?”

The Awoken’s blue eyes widen.

“You’re moving in with me?” Hiver yelps excitedly, drawing more attention than she would like from the Hangar workers. She didn’t care. Her eyes were shining, (More than usual) with anticipation and glee.

“Ahaha, YEAH!” The shipwright adorably bounces in place. She has been waiting for this, and it felt very comforting to finally break it to her girlfriend. They hug intensely while giggling.

“I’ll need to negotiate a day off to move my stuff to your apartment. That’s gonna be fun.”

“I can contact my clan, see if they can help us do it. Everyone needs to put their backs into something.”

Soon after they returned to their spots, Hiver starting to message her friends to get assistance on remaking her girlfriend’s new home.

Two days after, Hiver returns to the Dreaming City due to receiving a call from Petra, containing a picture of the dress she had asked for, perfectly replicated down to the last detail. The Awoken were nothing if not meticulous in their craft, no matter what it was. Hence, the Guardian was eager to try it out and dance, even having warmed up and practiced it that morning. It felt weaved into her soul, even more than the Light.

She doesn’t know why.

As her ship soars over the spot she helped secure days before, Petra waved at her, with the dress being levitated by her side. Touching down, Hiver runs up excitedly to give her fellow Awoken a warm hug, and observe the dress.

It dazzled in the sunlight, the colors being brought out by the flawlessly crisp fabric, the perfectly combed black fur and the jeweled brooch holding up a sash that appeared to be made out of pure nebula. It looked just like she dreamed, and as such she wasted no time putting it on herself. Fit like a glove, and matched her gold pointe shoes perfectly.

Once everyone was watching, she was ready to begin. Trinity put on an ancient serene, orchestral music so Hiver could get started. The Warlock closed her eyes, and, when she opened them, the building, Petra, the three Techeuns, the City, all was gone.

What she saw was a black, starry sky, blending in with a vast, calm ocean on the horizon, a moonlight-like glow coating her skin. She danced fluidly, with passion and grace, treading a path on the water, as if the ocean’s surface tension would break if she made a single misstep. Every touch of her toes was mere ripple, a reflection of delicacy and image. Sometimes she spun, sometimes she fell, in the end everything was part of a choreography she knew like the back of her hand, but didn’t comprehend.

As the song comes to an end, she sat on the ground on her knees, a hand raised, and closed her eyes once more. When they opened, she was back at her previous scenery, and the Awoken women stared, interested but intrigued. From their faces, Hiver could tell something struck a chord, but she could not tell if it was a good or bad one. No one said a word save for whispering among themselves, and after a while she had her answer.

“Cousin,” Petra called her attention, “we are going to run an archive query. Your performance is not unfamiliar, but neither of us was able to recall it immediately.”

Hiver could only nod and hope that she wasn’t wasting everyone’s time. She had already put in so much effort into finding the results, it had to be here somewhere.

Right?

Commander Zavala’s Ghost notifies him of an incoming video message, sent with utmost urgency to the Vanguard channel. Calmly, he turns around on his viewpoint on the Tower and nods at Ghost to put it through.

“Commander Zavala.” The woman with the eyepatch addressed in the recording.

“This is Acting Regent-Commander Petra Venj of the Reef. Recently one of your Awoken Guardians, a Warlock by the name of ‘Hiver’, has had a inadverted run-in with Awoken history, and the Techeuns request that she and her wife, Chief Shipwright Amanda Holliday, get permission to leave their post and come to the Dreaming City as soon as they can. Thank you for your attention, Commander Zavala. Petra out.”

Zavala furrows his brows. It was curious, for rarely did the Awoken need to contact Earth’s citizens for anything since their Queen was gone — much less a non-Guardian.

He relays the message to Holliday, asking that she reach out to her ‘wife’, and warning that she has permission to leave for the day as long as necessary. He trusts this has nothing to do with City affairs, but he is still on alert. After about fifteen minutes, he spots Amanda’s Cerulean Flash jumpship leaving the Hangar, towards the Reef’s ghost city.

KA-CLINK. Thud.

Every bullet of the flamboyant Hunter’s black and gold Tatara Gaze sniper rifle was one more Scorn aberration down on the ground. The patrol she has been doing for the Corsairs had been rewarding, and in time she would be ready for whatever bigger threat the Dreaming City brought upon her.

“Luna, heads up.” Her little drone says.

“What is it, Frost?” She asks, standing up in the moundtop of Divallian Mists.

“I detected two of your most contacted frequencies approaching the Dreaming City.” Frost states, spinning.

“The Gunslock and?” Luna says sarcastically.

“Heh. Her girlfriend.”

“Amanda? What is she doing out here?! If something gets her, it’s over!”

“Pretty sure Hiver will look out for her. Still, want to go see what they’re doing? I reckon they’ll speak to Petra.”

Summoning her Harbinger’s Echo Sparrow, she launches it on the ground and speeds towards Rheasilvia.

“Hey girl.” Amanda greets the Regent-Commander after getting out of transmat.

“Hello, Petra. Got any news for me?” Hiver says with a smile, hiding her concern for being called so urgently.

Petra silently motions for them to sit on the ground, where laid a picnic towel-like object with circular patterns, holding a book and a Reefmade data pad in her hand. She had some food with her, a retribution for Hiver’s “peace offering” days before.

“I do have news.”

Sitting with the Earth women, Petra pulls up a page on her book. Hiver and Amanda look at each other nervously, wondering what the big deal was.

“Cousin.”

“Yes?” She answers, startled.

“Do you remember when you first arrived here?”

“We activated the Oracle Engine. Found out Mara is alive. Now the Guardians freed Sedia, Shuro Chi and Kalli, and we’re trying to contain the curse.”

“Your Ghost.” Petra motions to Trinity. “She spoke to me, and asked about the Dreaming City. I told her about how the Awoken have built hidden cities, scattered throughout the Reef, not unlike this one.”

“I remember that.” Trinity mentions.

Petra hands the ragged book to the women as they eat. It apparently speaks of these Cities — some lost to time, some unseen, most unheard of to Guardians. It’s written partly in English, and part in other languages they don’t seem to understand.

“In some, we live and raise kids, in others you make weapons. Here, you meditate and learn…” Trinity continues. Luna, having just arrived, perches herself in a nearby rock, where she can hear the women talking.

“And in some specific ones, we develop our art. Artistry is a must for any civilization that develops critical thought and self-expression. You, Hiver…” She motions to the Warlock. “And you, Amanda…” She motions to the human. “Have seen it in our tapestry. Our tailoring. Our blacksmithing...”

“Your sculpture, architecture…” Hiver continues. Amanda widens her eyes in disbelief.

“Your dance.” Amanda spouts. Hiver is left mute, and Petra nods.

“Our dances… art made to celebrate our bodies. Our Queen. Our energy, and the fact that we breathe. And, may I add…” Petra says, ominously leaning closer.

“Like everything else you haven’t been allowed to see, they are very well-guarded secrets. Family and teacher heirlooms, in a way.”

Hiver and Amanda nervously trade looks.

“Hiver, listen to me, and listen well to what I am about to tell you.”

Hiver is breathing heavily through her teeth, trying to contain her ever-growing anxiety. Petra puts both hands on her shoulders, staring at her face seriously.

“You are Reefborn.”

#destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny warlock #destiny fic #oc x canon #hiver the gunslock #amanda holliday #petra venj

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kenmaiii · 6 years

Text

stop being jealous and bitter!

Now i know you cant outright just throw away your jealousy in the art community. You see a really cool popular artist or just someone with absolutely amzing art and you think “wow holy shit their art is so good i wish that was me and that i could do that....” I understand that spite can be a good thing sometimes; it can be what motivates you to improve and do well, especially if the artist is well... not the best person in terms of personality. Great, that’s even more motivation to do well right!?

But when does all the comparing go too far?

----------------------------------------long post incoming------------------------------------------

Now i’ve had people very close to me do this. I’ve been told that im ‘popular’ which im honestly not seriously. They could probably be reading this right now, but this has been bothering me for awhile so i must get this out there. Let’s step into a certain mindset for a moment:-

You hate your artwork. You hate your current skills. Sure there are artists you like. But then there are ‘THOSE’ ones. You have very specific artists you follow just because theyre so good and popular they make you feel bitter and you still check up on them regularly to fuel that bitterness. You know good and well that they make you bitter and angry and peeved but you just keep going back.

Step back for a moment and think.... why on earth am i fucking doing this???? Comparing and feeling bitter about another persons skill or popularity and letting yourself stay sad and bitter isn’t good for ANYTHING, art aside. It’s good to want to feel validated at the work you spent time on but it WILL get tiring if you keep complaining that ‘your art is bad’, ‘your art isnt good’, ‘its shit’ or ‘garbage’. Your brain is just internalizing that and hindering your work and future improvement. It’s most importantly WASTING YOUR own time, YOU the creator. And not to sound snobby here, i really truly dont intend for that, but some of you know good and well that you keep belitting you work because you only just want people to compliment your art when youre only doing the bare minimum to improve! I can only tell you as a friend or an on-looker that i love your art so many times (as much i really do love it and hope for your improvement) if you continuously decide to still turn around and say you hate your work and tell me im wrong!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why reach for compliments then! Why continuously turn them down?

And i’m not saying you cant ever not like your art (cause it happens) or decline a compliment, but to do it every single time....it leaves a bad image for your work. You either start to believe it, or the person complimenting you will get put off from your negativity!

It makes people feel bad, especially if theyre also artist AND also your friends. You can’t keep saying you prefer their work and still put down your own. It makes your artist friend uncomfortable. They might not know how to respond when you keep doing it. And im sure they wouldnt want you to keep making yourself feel bad. Personally, i wish all my art friends success and improvement, and i want them to love and feel proud of their work more than the times they hate it. We really need to uplift each other as artists.

Thanks.

What you think and say is what you become and if youre always negative and comparing youre gonna tear down both the person you admire and yourself. Ie, if youre constantly thinking ‘ill never be as good as this person’,’no ones ever gonna like my work’, ‘i cant color as well as they do’ or saying that your work is only ever garbage... newsflash asshole! your mind absorbs that negativity and makes you believe it! u fool!!!!! Because brains are stupid and can be your worst enemy at times!

Sometimes you just need to stOP looking at certain peoples work completely if it gets you that bitter or angry or sad. Unfollow them! Block them! Delete their name from your search history if you have to! Stop hurting yourself and forget about them, it’s like trying to think about an ex thats moved on. Pointless.

Negative emotions such as sadness and anger are our brains direct ways at trying to reach out to ourselves.

You: seeing cool art Your mind: remembering you dont have some of those skills or popularity + comparing = sadness/ anger/ bitterness at not being able to be at that lvl withtin the same timeframe or less

Your brain is trying to tell you to fix this! But you know you might not have the tools to gain that much popularity or become so good at anatomy, coloring , compositions or backgrounds overnight, so the only solution for your brain is to self-sabotage.

It’s just the same as suddenly feeling sad for no reason. It’s your mind trying to work out a problem you never resolved. Maybe your friends haven’t replied in awhile and you feel ignored. Or you subconsciously remembered a bad experience without really realizing. You’ll get sad. Your mind is is saying ‘Hey asshole im sad. I know it might be out of your control but I’ll stay sad about this one thing until you resolve it somehow. ’ (whether it be blindly distracting yourself on purpose or fully wallowing in the feelings)

So we realized youre feeling intensely about this persons work vs your own...then what exactly happened there? The answer is pretty simple. Some kind of information processing happened in your brain. The result of this processing made the your mind conclude that one of your existing problems (art in this case) can never be solved; whether conscious or unconscious, and this explains why your mood might change all of a sudden without any kind of warning signs (in relation to what you saw).

Inspired VS Jealousy When youre inspired youre working against yourself in a GOOD way. You’re feeling motivated to make something great! Youre feeling motivated to make something better than the last piece!! And honestly thats wonderful!!! That is a lot nicer than being in art-block, comparison negativity hell.

YOU are the only one responsible for where you are as an artist. That goes towards every artist of every skill level! There’s always someone better than you and there’s always someone worse than you. People get better at art in different intervals depending on how much they take in or put into practicing. Some people just get some concepts and fundamentals a lot easier and quicker than others but that doesn’t mean they naturally had that ability from birth. They put in the work just as you should be doing instead of feeling so intensely negative! But when you’re jealous and negative all the time, that’s when it starts to go downhill. :/

Jealously is a very human emotion at its core. And im not saying its super easy to deal with and just suddenly get over, but there are things you can do to slowly help yourself do it at least a little less.

Here’s the best things you CAN do instead:- - Write down some of the things you find yourself feeling bitter over about, especially when you look at another artists work? Ask yourself why these specific things? If it’s something you yourself can work on in your own pieces then maybe uh do that? - Find the time to practice your work. - Practice even more. - If it’s your style that you arent happy with think of the artstyles you like and set aside time to mimic the way that artist might draw something (hence adding that to YOUR style). Take a sketchbook page or two and just draw entirely in those styles. - Practice. I can’t stress this enough. I know artists say this a lot and it can kind of just be thrown around carelessly, but if you keep putting this off and saying you don’t want to practice or talking about how time is going by when you should be practicing things.... and STILL refuse to practice then???? I cant help you sorry. Time waits for no one, so sometimes you need to grab time by the horns and kick its ass for awhile. Put in that effort! - Please use references. Even better if you use it nearly EVERYTIME you draw something, especially yknow...if its a pose, body part or background that you know you have no idea how to properly express! Find a stock image or a variety of websites to use! Save poses that you like from online magazines, other artists and photographs you see anywhere online. I like to look at online magazines from other countries or photographers, and there are tons of places like pinterest or instagram and whatnot. - Stop comparing and being bitter. Ii cant say this enough it gets me so ticked off, but my stubborn taurus self refuses to fully go off until it all piles up and this post is the result lol. If you know you can’t let go hating on a certain artist (for no good reason) then dont hate-follow them! Don’t check up on their work constantly! Don’t even talk about them!!!!!!! Try to get them out of your head for goodness sakes. Majority of the time they dont even know who YOU are so why are you worried about what they’re up to. - STOP SHITTING ON YOUR OWN WORK. - STOP IT RIGHT NOW. - AS THE ARTIST SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO FORCE YOURSELF TO SAY ‘’hey, my work isn’t exactly where i want it to be at this point in time and it may never be but i can appreciate that i’ve gotten better at a lot of things and im better than where i was a few years/ a year/ a month ago/ even weeks ago.” - ”I’m proud of this piece and can’t wait to get even better.” - Art is a struggle that takes time, effort and a lot of work. There’s always going to be someone better than you and there’s always going to be someone worse than you. You can only strive to get to the level that would make you happiest, otherwise you will get irritated with it and feel absolutely miserable about everything you produce. - PUT IN THE WORK TO GET YOUR ART OUT THERE. Social media has been both a curse and a blessing to artists all around. It’s made it easier for us to share our work around and opened paths for making money online and at home and connecting with other artists, but competition grows everyday as more people post their work in the same market. (ie another reason why it can be hard to get your commissions out there) Also as artists we want that dopamine rush you get from people liking your stuff, i get that its gucci. -But if you aren’t tagging your works well, posting somewhat consistently, not really bothering to talk to people in certain art communities (even people in your fandom because hey potential friends and even partners on future projects), not adding your works to groups (a big problem i see with people on places like deviantart mostly), joining and sharing them in art group chats/aminos/discords, joining events to get yourself out there (such as zines/big bangs/gift exchanges etc), giving tips and advice or even little helpful tutorials to people then how do you expect to be noticed? How. If youre not doing at least TWO of these things then hoW can you complain about not getting attention. :(

Of course you dont have to do ALL of this. Im just saying ...if you arent out there advertising how will more people know about you? This leads to you thinking no one likes your art (skill level excluded because even my cringiest old art would have a few comments or encouragements to see my future improvement, and i still want to hide when people like/comment/reblog said old art to this very day).

I understand mainly OC artists feel this way that no ones gonna like their characters, or it just doesnt get reblogged enough in general but thats understandable too. No one is ‘selling out’ if they only do fanart. No one is ‘snobby or scared to get themselves out there’ if theyre really enthusiastic about their stories and worlds. Otherwise we wouldnt have fandoms int he first place, theyre all someones work. And hell, good for you if you draw both. It really is just a matter of how you put yourself out there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’ll take some time but there IS always someone out there that likes your stuff. And sometimes you just have to be content with making work for yourself, work that makes you happy. The online art world is tough especially when youre small but once you fall into the depths of bitterness its hard to rewire your mind...

This is how yall should be looking at your/others work majority of the time: You: seeing cool art Your mind: omg thats beautiful! i wish i could draw and paint like that. i should practice more , try out some poses and anatomy or implement what they do into my work. i wanna make a cool ass piece like this too i feel so pumped to draw and work!!

And that’s that! Do yourself a favor and be happier you bastards! Its tiring being negative and sad all the time and i want tf out of it. Its so very tiring and annoying to be sad and bitter as shit!!!!! My goD

I can’t really think of anything else to add to this and the text may appear angry sometimes as i was very heated when i wrote this but tried to tone it down a lot hfkds. Im not some ‘art guru goddess with supreme skill uwuw’ but advice is advice! It’s always up to the person listening to take it or not.

I’m gonna end this with one of my favorite art quotes of all time from t h e Arin Hanson himself. Because it really is true.

Get yourself out there, practice towards a level that makes you content and try to have more fun with loving your work.

It’s taken me a long while to post this, as i’ve been feeling this way for...at least a couple months??? but i finally put it all out there i just needed to do this lol. Sorry if i mightve repeated info sometimes here and there?

This post is just as much of a call out to my own actions but more so @ those of you that specifically do this!

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lucelockwood · 6 years

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Is there a reason you’re suddenly nostalgic for all of our disaster cases?”

Lucy’s cross-legged on the sofa in the library, her sketchbook open and forgotten in her lap. Instead she’s spent the better part of the evening trying to figure out what has gotten into her boyfriend, who is seated next to her, seemingly engrossed in the book in his hand.

Lucy knows it’s an act. As much as he pretends he’s not paying her any attention, his blush gives him away. Unable to sketch but with fingers itching to do something, she’s got his other hand in both of hers and has been restlessly toying with it all night. Lucy can’t help the smirk that forms as she contemplates his flushed face. Not even a year’s worth of being openly affectionate with each other has tempered his sensitivity to being touched.

Lockwood clears his throat, but he doesn’t look up from his book. “Not sure what you mean, Luce.”

That’s a bald-faced lie if she’s ever heard one, and judging by the way the corner of his mouth is quirking upward, Lockwood is well aware that she sees right through him. Two days ago he’d brought up the “magnificent staircase” in the Wintergarden house while they’d been sparring in the practice room. Then, while preparing supplies for a case the following day, it was the giant hole she’d inadvertently torn in the floor of Aickmere Brothers. This morning? La Belle Dame and Lucy’s one-night-only trapeze act.

Lucy’s not kidding when she calls them disaster cases. She can’t recall a single one of them without wanting to cringe.

Another look Lockwood’s direction shows that he’s still happily pretending that he has no idea what she’s talking about. Knowing he’s paying her full attention, Lucy lists the cases, ticking each one off on his fingers as she does. “The Hope’s burning house, the bone glass auction, Mrs. Wintergarden, Aickmere Brothers, and La Belle Dame.”

He hums distantly, turning a page, but his smile has emerged full force.

Lucy finds that she has had quite enough of this game. She reaches over and pulls his book out of his hands, forcing him to look at her at last. “I was reading that,” Lockwood protests, though the words are half-hearted at best and his smile doesn’t fade.

Lucy glares at him as she stuffs the book between the cushion and the arm of the sofa behind her, out of his reach. “No, you weren’t.”

He concedes instantly, his eyes sliding up to hers without a hint of contrition. “You’re right.” There is laughter in his voice, and Lucy would call him out on his obvious enjoyment of her agitation if it weren’t for the sudden intensity that is his undivided attention.

There are a hundred things Lucy could say to him now, like calling him out on how stupidly cryptic he’s been, or scoffing that of course she’s right, but it’s growing harder to breathe under his soft gaze, and her train of thought keeps getting derailed by the intrusive, traitorous thought that it’s been far too long since the last time he’d kissed her senseless.

Lucy is torn between two polarizing demands, that of needing an explanation, any explanation, for his recent behavior, and that of wanting to shelve all discussions of any sort until much, much later. Lockwood shifts closer, turning so that he’s facing her more fully. His eyes linger on hers long enough for Lucy to feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but then he looks down at their hands, breaking the connection and easing the tension in the air around them. After a moment’s thought, he pulls one of Lucy’s hands into his lap. “I understand why you’d call them disasters,” he says at last, his fingers tracing over hers softly.

“Because that’s exactly what they were,” Lucy says, once she’s recovered enough to remember what she’d asked him before stealing his book and unwittingly bringing the full force of his magnetism down on herself in the process.

“From one perspective,” Lockwood half-heartedly agrees, prompting Lucy to roll her eyes.

“You were ghost-touched, nearly drowned, concussed, and psychically enchained, not to mention impersonated by a ghost that tried to convince me you were dead.”

Lockwood grins up at her. “I wasn’t actually dead, you realize.”

“I didn’t know that, did I? Last I’d seen, you were flying through the air at the mercy of the poltergeist.” As far as she is concerned, Aickmere Brothers had been one giant disaster from start to finish. He knows how she feels about this case in particular, as they’d discussed it at length shortly after her return to the company.

Lockwood turns his attention back to the hand he’s got captive, his expression slightly less teasing. “I’ll admit that one was a little messy.”

“We almost lost the company and this house,” Lucy continues, knowing that it’s likely a lost cause. “I tried to leave forever. We nearly died. So many times.”

“We did have more than our fair share of close shaves. But we survived.”

That doesn’t mean she has to look back on any one of the awful incidents fondly. And he still hasn’t answered her initial question. “It’s not like you to be so nostalgic,” she says at last. Acting of its own accord, her free hand reaches up to comb through the hair at his temple. She can never sit this close to him for long before giving in to the desire to touch him.

Lockwood’s hands fall still as he leans into her touch. When he speaks again, his voice is just the slightest bit uneven. “I was recently presented with a unique sort of challenge that has made a little hindsight necessary,” he says.

That, Lucy thinks, is about as cryptic an explanation as anything he’s said to her all week. But before she can voice this, Lockwood’s talking again.

“I’ll grant you that we’ve faced difficulties, but we’re where we are today because of those cases. Each one was a stepping stone on the path towards becoming who we are today.”

Lucy can at least concede that point. “You always said Lockwood and Co was going to be the best agency in London.”

To her surprise, Lockwood is shaking his head even before she’s finished the thought. “I’m not talking about the company.” In the silence that follows, he brings her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers as he lingers. “Us, Lucy. You,” he kisses her hand again, his attention nothing short of reverent, “and me.”

Lucy finds herself unable to say anything in response. She can barely breathe, let alone speak. When Lockwood straightens, their joined hands coming to rest between them, it is all she can do not to throw herself at him.

“I think you might have wanted to skewer me with your rapier multiple times this week,” he murmurs, and if the look he gives her is more rueful than contrite, she finds she doesn’t much care. “I’m sincerely sorry about that. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to get to the point.”

Lucy can only nod. Lockwood shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. It is this that tells Lucy what his steady hands and easy smile do not: for reasons she can’t begin to guess at, he is nervous.

But then he’s looking at her again, and talking, and Lucy finds herself drawn completely in. “Tell me, Luce, how did we escape that burning building?”

“We jumped out of a window, as you well know.”

“From the second story, on the slight chance that those bushes might break our fall.” Lockwood’s answer comes right on the heels of her own, his smile wide. “And Sir Rupert, the night of the bone glass auction? How did we get away from him?”

“By jumping . . .” The parallel hits Lucy sharply, cutting into her answer. “By jumping into the Thames,” she finishes, her voice trailing off as she considers the implications.

“Exactly.” Lucy can feel the nervous energy radiating from him as he speaks, his words rushed. “You fell into that hole in the department store lobby and I followed. I jumped right in to get you back, to save you. You are terrified of falling, and yet when I needed you, you threw yourself off of a balcony because it was the only way to save my life.” He gives himself a second to breathe, but he doesn’t look away from her, reaching out to caress her cheek. “Lucy, love, do you see the pattern?”

She does. Eyes wide and heart racing, Lucy understands at last. His motives are so clear that she’s ashamed of herself for not catching on before he’d laid it out in front of her. Hadn’t she asked for this? Hadn’t she challenged him to do it? She hasn’t had time to fully process his words, to second guess the conclusion that she’s jumped to, before he’s moving, sliding off of the couch altogether until he’s on his knees in front of her, both of her hands clasped in his.

Lucy’s breath catches in her throat. “Anthony?”

His given name from her lips sends that delicious red flush up his cheeks, and the smile that he gives her is nothing short of breathtaking. “A week ago you told me that our getting married now would be the equivalent of our leaping off of a warehouse into the Thames.”

“I wasn’t wrong,” Lucy whispered.

He holds her gaze steadily, his dark eyes almost pleading. “No, you weren’t. But it wouldn’t be the first time we held on to each other and jumped.”

The words sink deep into her heart, and Lucy knows she is lost. She could blame it on his voice, tender and low and so achingly vibrant, or on the way he’s looking at her, drinking her in, really, as if she is the reason for every heartbeat that keeps him alive. She could even blame his heartfelt words, words that make this insane idea seem like the simplest, most logical decision they could ever make.

The truth is she was lost long ago. Possibly from the moment he’d first asked her to jump with him out of a burning house.

“We’ve been taking incredible leaps together almost as long as we’ve known each other, Lucy Joan,” Lockwood—no, Anthony says, emotion making his voice break. “Please take one more with me. Please.”

Anthony Lockwood already owns her heart, her life, her life after death, and just about anything else that was ever hers to give. There was only ever going to be one answer to this question. Lucy pulls her hands from his, framing his face instead.

“If I haven’t made it clear already,” she says, for once not even caring that tears are gathering in her eyes, “I’ll jump off of just about anything, Anthony, as long as it’s with you.”

She doesn’t bother to wait for a response. Instead, Lucy Carlyle wraps her arms tightly around his neck and kisses him.

Later—much, much later, as it happens—Anthony produces a ring from his pocket and slides it onto her finger. It’s a family heirloom, of course, and so very perfect that Lucy is fairly certain she’ll be staring at it for weeks. Her appreciation is too much for Anthony, who kisses her so deeply that Lucy thinks her toes will still be curling in the morning.

She doesn’t mind in the least.

#inktober ficlet #day 28 #part 3 #abrupt endings for the win #but watch out for an epilogue #because i can't stop myself #also a deleted moment #because i couldn't get it to fit #but i loved it so much #locklyle #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #my writing #writing practice

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shawol9196 · 6 years

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Working Muse ((Oneshot; het! Onho; 6K))

“I was hoping to paint a picture of you.” “Me, sir?” “Yes, if it’s alright.”

(Warnings: there’s a mention of nudity but nothings described and nothing nsfw becomes of it)

Uhh this is set in like early 1900s

When Jinki returns home from his art tour of Europe, he’s immediately hit with art block. No matter what he tries to paint, what he tries to sketch, all he gets is empty pages. While abroad, he’d had no trouble filling up sketchbook after sketchbook, needing a full new trunk for them by the time he headed home. Something about the mundaneness of home just sucked all the creativity out of him and he found himself praying for a muse.

***

When Jinki comes down for breakfast, Junghee -- the family cook -- is already bringing in the meal. He sits down and tries to figure out what’s different about the room. It hits him after a few minutes that it’s an additional presence. There’s a young woman, probably around Jinki’s age, standing in the back corner nervously.

“Sirs and Ma’am, this is my daughter, Minjung.” Junghee announces. “She’s old enough to work now, today is her first day, but she hasn’t been assigned anywhere yet by Junmyeon. If there’s anything you need done, beyond the ordinary, she’ll be down in the kitchens with me for now but at your full disposal.”

She waves and Minjung comes forward into the light. She’s pretty, very pretty, even in the plain black servant dress she wears; she seems oddly tall, though it could just be because of how short Junghee is. She curtseys and does her best to hand things to her mother to help with serving breakfast. Jinki watches her work and she seems to notice, avoiding his gaze. Once dinner is served, Minjung and Junghee leave.

“Junmyeon was telling me about her. Not particularly talented in any particular thing, but good enough to manage any task.” Jinki’s mother says.

“If I wanted her to be my assistant, when I’m painting, would that be alright?” Jinki asks, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I don’t see why not.” his father says.

His mother makes an odd expression but says nothing. They eat in relative silence, his father reading the paper while Jinki and his mother each read a book. They were nearly done with Junmyeon knocks on the door.

“Sir, Mister Jungsoo called and requests you come in early. Should I prepare your car?”

“Yes. I’ll be ready in 10 minutes.”

Jinki’s father gets up and leaves the room, and it’s just Jinki and his mother now. She finishes eating and stands.

“Are you painting today?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“I feel a headache coming, so paint as long as you like. I will probably take dinner in my rooms.”

“Yes, Ma. I hope you feel better.”

She departs and now it’s just Jinki. Junghee and Minjung reenter the room.

“Have they left you alone again, Jinki?” Junghee asks.

“They always do. It doesn’t matter though.”

The two women start clearing the table. Jinki reaches for a roll off a plate that Minjung’s picking up and she apologizes. She exits the room momentarily and Jinki turns to Junghee.

“Junghee, if I have a task for Minjung, would that be alright to take her with me?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Just send her back to me whenever you’re done or if she’s not up to your tasks. Ma’am says you’re painting today, should I send her to go take water to your studio?”

“Yes, that’ll be good.”

When Minjung comes back in, Junghee starts giving her directions. She departs quickly and Junghee smiles at the closing door.

“She’s a hard worker, sir. Quiet and good at following directions.”

“I trust she will be, if she’s any bit as nice as you.” Jinki says with a smile.

Jinki manages to make it to his studio -- a refurbished old barn in the back piece of the property -- before Minjung does. He sets a chair out, changes into more

comfortable clothes, and starts pulling supplies out. She knocks on the door before coming in.

“Where would you like the bucket, sir?” she asks.

Her voice is lower than he expected it to be, something akin to one of the alto singers he’d been friends with on his trip. He smiles and points to a spot near him.

“Here will be fine. It’s Minjung, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

She sets the bucket down and moves to stand back towards the wall.

“You don’t have to hide away, Minjung. I know my parents are stuffy with that kind of thing and Junmyeon is a stickler for rules, but as long as you’re in here, you’re allowed to exist as a person.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

She stays where she is, hands folded and head down. Jinki continues arranging paints and tries to think of a way to get her to speak freely.

“Do you like art, Minjung?”

“I haven’t seen much, sir, only what’s in the house. But I like what I saw in there.”

Jinki moves over to his bookshelf, grabs one of his reproduction books off of it.

“Here, this has some of the pieces I saw when I was abroad.”

She takes the book out of his hands and he gestures for her to sit on the couch. She sits, but doesn’t open it.

“You can look through it, you have my permission. You won’t get in trouble. Is it okay if I sketch while you look through?”

“Sketch?”

“Yes. I like to sketch things out before I properly paint them.”

“What are you going to paint?”

“I was hoping to paint a picture of you.”

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, if it’s alright.”

“Oh, it’s fine with me, sir. Wouldn’t you like to paint something else though? Something pretty?”

“You’re a pretty girl, Minjung. I haven’t wanted to paint in days, until I saw your face at breakfast.”

She blushes deeply, trying to argue that she’s plain. Jinki makes a note to paint her blushing expression later on. He eventually gives up on getting her to accept his compliment, telling her to go ahead and look through the book. Halfway through his sketch, there’s a knock on the door. Before he can tell her to stay still, she’s shut the book and answered the door. It’s her mother, bringing in lunch. She tells Minjung to go back to the kitchen, to retrieve something she’s forgotten. When she’s gone, Junghee turns to Jinki, setting up her little lunch cart for him as a table of sorts.

“Is she doing well, sir?”

“Oh yes. She’s a real lamb.”

“I’m glad, sir. She was so nervous this morning, though I think that was more of Junmyeon’s doing I think. He’s always been a bit harsh on her, even when she was little.”

“How old is she?”

“She just turned 18 just before you got back, sir. I know you’re too little to remember, but I had her right after I started working here. Your mother was very kind to me, during that time. Anything that they weren’t using for you any longer, blankets and toys and such, she let me take home for her. Oh, but listen to me babble. I’m sure you’ve got work to do, sir. She’ll be back along in a moment.”

Jinki nods and she leaves. He puts his sketchbook aside and starts eating. Minjung comes back with a plate of cake and a small purse of her own. She places the cake down in front of Jinki and stays standing, unsure of what to do.

“Do you have lunch, Minjung?”

She nods, holding up her purse.

“There should be another chair in the corner, you can bring it over and eat with me if you like.”

“Oh, sir, I’ll be fine.”

“Please, I insist.”

She nods and gets the chair. Though there’s plenty of room on the cart, she keeps her lunch on her lap. Her apple and meat filled roll aren’t much, especially in front of Jinki’s two plates of food, and he feels bad as he watches her stare at his food. He continues eating, but leaves a few bites of cake when he finally puts his fork down.

“Do you like cake, Minjung?”

“I’ve only had it a few times, sir.”

“Did you like it when you had it?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“You can have these last few bites if you want them, I know you must still be hungry.”

He holds the fork out to her; she takes it, but hesitates.

“You have my permission, enjoy it.”

She starts eating, taking as small of bites as she can. He tries not to laugh at her blissful expression, but a smile does escape. She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket to clean her face.

“Were you done looking at the book, Minjung?”

“No, sir.”

“Good, I’m not done with my sketch either.”

She puts her chair away then moves back to the couch. Jinki watches her, making sure she’s sitting the same way. He finishes quickly before she’s done looking over it so he starts making notes in the margins about what colors to use. She closes the book and looks up at him.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you feel more comfortable going back to help your mother? It won’t upset me if you are.”

“I...I think so, sir.”

“I’ve finished my sketch, so I’m going to paint now. Come close and let me have a good look at you and then you can go.”

She nods, leaving the book on the couch. Though she walks over to him, she keeps a distance. He reaches out for her hand, noticing how she tenses up.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. I just want to make sure I get the color for your skin right. I saw far too many sunkissed women painted as if they were made of marble or alabaster when I was abroad.”

Minjung shyly holds her arm out for him to inspect. She refuses to look at him and Jinki finds her shyness charming.

“Alright, you can go now. You can save yourself a trip and take the lunch cart with you if you like.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

***

Over the next week, their interactions are almost identical. Every morning, after breakfast is finished, Minjung accompanies Jinki to his studio. He gives her some still task -- reading, needlework, copying -- and sketches her as she works on it. They eat lunch together and he gives her the last bite of his cake. It becomes a sign of trust and respect, in a way; Jinki hopes it will make himself more amiable to her. When he’s finished with the sketch, he allows her to go to her mother while he paints. When he compares them to her the next day, though, they’re never quite right.

***

“You’re going to be helping me a little more today,” Jinki says, pulling out two chairs. “I want to do some practice painting portraits. All you have to do is stay somewhat still, alright? We can talk during, and when your mother comes in you can behave as you normally do, but just try to hold the position otherwise, ok?”

She nods and waits for him to tell her to sit. He gives her instructions and she follows as best she can. When he’s finally got her posed, he gets started.

“So what’s your favorite painting, in the house?”

“I still haven’t seen all the rooms in the house, sir.”

“Out of the ones you’ve seen, which did you like most?”

He watches her tilt her head then move it back to how it was. A smile plays at his lips but he manages not to laugh.

“I like the one in the parlor. Of the garden.”

“I painted that one while I was abroad. It’s of the Boboli Gardens in Florence, Italy.”

“Really? It’s so lovely, sir. I wish I could travel someday; this is the farthest I’ve ever been away from home.”

“Did you go to school?”

“Yes, sir. That’s why I work here. Your parents paid my ma enough that we could afford for me to go to school, so now I’m here working to pay off that debt.”

It makes sense to Jinki; his parents helped to pay for most of the servants children to be educated. They made for more useful staff. They take a break right as Junghee brings lunch. Though Jinki’s been sharing his cake with her for almost two weeks now, Minjung still hesitates to eat it when he offers it. When it gets to be her normal time to leave, Jinki still isn’t finished.

“I know I normally let you leave at this time, but I’m not quite done yet. Are you okay to stay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can sit comfortably, I’m just finishing your face.”

She hums but doesn’t move. It doesn’t take him much longer to finish, but he finds himself stalling to keep her there. Eventually, he starts feeling guilty and announces that he’s done. It’s a good likeness, though still not as good as he would like. Minjung stands and goes to head for the door, but turns around.

“Could I....can I look at it, sir? The painting?”

“Of course. You did very well, today; I’ve never had a model so patient with me.”

Minjung blushes and walks around to see.

“What do you think, did I do a good job?”

“Yes, sir, though I think you made it a little too pretty.”

Jinki chuckles. “And here I thought I wasn’t making it pretty enough.”

Minjung blushes again and grabs the lunch cart.

“Have a good evening, sir.”

***

Jinki paints simple portraits for a month. No matter what he does, no matter what technique he uses, he can’t get her eyes right. So after two weeks, he simply stops his portraits at the bridge of her nose. On a trip into town, he discovers a costume renting shop. It’s meant for theaters, but the shopkeeper is more than willing to let Jinki rent single pieces.

“Minjung, if I brought costumes for you to wear, for me to paint you in, would you wear them for me?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“You don’t have to wear anything that makes you uncomfortable. I won’t fire you or punish you at all.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first costume he brings for her is a simple milkmaid’s costume from a recent play. Over the next year, he paints her in every costume he can get his hands on: queens, ballerinas, historical figures, mythological women. No matter what he paints her as, he hides or leaves out completely her eyes and forehead. They get in a rhythm with it. She comes in the first day or two, so he can paint her. Then, she does whatever work her mother or Junmyeon can find for her the days that follow, until Jinki finishes the painting and finds another costume. Instead of leaving her bites of cake, he starts to bring her little treats from the confectionary next to the costume shop: little chocolates and petit fours. On days when all they can find for her is mending, Jinki will invite her to come sit with him. Normally, he doesn’t like people coming in to watch him paint. Something about her presence is calming, though, and he spends the time telling her whatever he knows about the story associated with the costume. After spending so much time together, they begin to develop a close friendship; though neither will admit to it, fondness also blossoms between them. Minjung starts to smile more freely, to talk more freely, though she still refuses to call Jinki by his name. For her birthday, he gives her a miniature copy of the garden painting that she likes and a full box of chocolates; she nearly cries. When Jinki’s birthday comes, she gifts him a delicately embroidered handkerchief.

***

A year and three months after he started having Minjung model for him, he runs out of costumes and ideas. Minjung comes to the studio, but he has no canvas out, no pencils sharpened, no paints to mix.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

Jinki looks up at her from where he’s laying on the couch. He hasn’t even bothered to change into his painting clothes.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve just got a block is all. I can’t find any new costumes to use and none of the old ones suit my fancy to reuse.”

“Oh.”

“I got you a treat. It felt weird to go past the shop and not get you anything.”

Minjung smiles shyly. “You don’t have to get me anything, sir. You’re wasting your money spoiling me like this.”

“You always look so happy eating them though, and seeing you happy makes me happy. So it’s not a waste at all to spend a few cents on our happinesses.”

Minjung sits down next to him and takes the treatbox. She takes her time eating the pecan cluster inside and he’s content just to watch.

“So you’re not going to paint today, sir?”

“No, Minjung. You can go. I know your mother needs help with the party later. I’ll be fine on my own.”

She curtseys before she leaves, thanking him again for the treat. Truth be told, Jinki does have an idea of what to paint, but no idea how to ask her to agree to it.

For a week, Minjung comes in every morning and Jinki sends her back to the house. He feels bad, especially when he sees the disappointed look on her face, but he can’t bring himself to ask her. On the eighth day, he can’t stand it anymore. When Minjung comes to the door, he tells her to come inside.

“Did you finally think of something to paint, sir?”

Jinki feels himself blush. “Y-yes. I thought of something.”

“What is it?”

“Before I tell you, I want you to know that you have every right to say no to this. I won’t fire you, I won’t hold it against you, I won’t mention it to anyone that I ever asked.”

He sees fear creep up in Minjung’s eyes but she nods so he continues. He gets one of his sketchbooks out, flips through the pages. Eventually he finds the picture he wants -- someone’s rendition of The Birth of Venus -- and he hands it to her. Minjung’s expression remains mostly blank, and Jinki wonders if she understands.

“I’ve wanted to make a copy, more of a version of my own, since I saw the original. I’ve run out of everything else to paint, this is the only idea left in the bin right now.”

Realization starts creeping over Minjung’s face.

“Like I said, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I have this and I’ve seen enough art that I could make a copy easy.”

“But you don’t want to make a plain copy, sir.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So you’re wanting...”

“I want you to pose for me.”

“Nude?”

“Only if you don’t mind. If you don’t want to, it’s more than fine-”

“I’ll do it.”

Jinki looks at her in shock. This was definitely not what he was expecting of her. She smiles then looks at the door. The atmosphere becomes tense with nervous anticipation.

“What if someone walks in?”

“There’s a lock on the door. We can use that room that you’ve been using to change into costumes. It’s big enough for what I need.”

“Are you...are we doing this today?”

“Whenever you’re ok with doing it.”

“Today is fine. I’ll go....I’ll start getting ready.”

Minjung walks into the back room and Jinki goes to lock the door. He wanders around getting supplies, trying to give her as much time to back out as he can. By the time he finally goes to the backroom, she’s taken off her dress, shoes, and underdress and is in the process of untying her corset. Jinki arranges his things and when he looks back up, she’s standing in just her chemise. Their eyes meet for a moment, before both shyly look away and Minjung pulls her chemise over her head.

“How...how do you want me?”

“Oh, uh, sitting. I brought a sheet for you to sit on, and to cover up with during lunch.”

He puts the sheet down and she sits. Though she initially won’t look at him, she finds the courage to after she’s posed. It takes him almost four times as long to draw; more than once, she has to inform him with a smile that he’s repeated himself more than twice. They’re both mostly quiet, Jinki making sure he has every line, every curve, every bit of shading true to life. By the end of the day, all he’s got is a half completed sketch. She dresses herself more quickly than expected and curtseys.

“Shall I...expect to come back tomorrow, sir?”

“If you’re up for it.”

It takes Jinki two days to finish the sketch and another three to paint it. He starts another, and it takes a full week. Never in his life has he ever painted this slow; not even in Rome, when he and two friends had gotten 9 girls to pose nude for them to recreate a painting of the Graces. Over the previous year, he’d averaged almost 10 paintings a month. This month, he only completes 3. It’s comfortable, by the last one. Minjung has burned her hand, and so Jinki offers to help her retie her corset. For the first time, she gives him instructions. When it’s done, she turns around to face him.

“Thank you, sir.”

Jinki tries to say ‘you’re welcome’ but the words won’t come out right. She smiles gently at him and he feels a surge of confidence.

“Minjung...”

“Yes, sir?”

“If I...could I...would you mind it if I kissed you?”

“You can, sir, if it pleases you.”

“No, I want to know if....you have to say that...what I mean is...”

“Jinki,” she says, cutting him off. “It’s ok. Kiss me.”

They’re both surprised; she’s never used his name before. He reaches out to hold her face and he has to lean up to account for his shorter height. They kiss once, and Jinki pulls away.

“I’m leaving for a short trip tomorrow. I’ll be gone for two weeks. There’s going to be an art competition, can I submit some of the pieces I’ve painted of you?”

Minjung nods, eyes teary.

“It’s late, you should finish dressing before your mother comes looking for you.”

***

Two weeks pass in the blink of an eye. Jinki won the competition, pieces taking home all three top prizes. No less than seven newspapers have written about him and he can’t wait to show Minjung all his success.

Breakfast is quiet. Each of them is absorbed in their own quiet pursuits. When Junghee brings breakfasts in, it’s her alone. She gives Jinki food, but seems almost cold towards him. When breakfast is done, he heads to his studio. Minjung isn’t there either. Though he spends the whole day waiting, she never comes by. He’s worried something’s wrong, but Junghee’s already left and won’t speak to him anyway. The next day is a repeat, as well as the day after. His fourth day home, Jinki goes down to the kitchens to speak to Junghee. She’s making bread.

“Hello, Junghee.”

She brings her fists down onto the bread dough before looking up.

“Hello, Jinki.”

For the first time in his life, Junghee is terse with him.

“Is Minjung well?”

“Yes, she’s fine.”

“I have something I want to give her.”

Junghee looks angry.“When did you start painting her?”

“I had her sit for practice portraits for me, that was almost a year and a half ago.”

“No, I mean when did you start painting her? Naked.”

“Oh. I...maybe a month? I promise I didn’t make her though. I told her that she could say no without repercussion and I asked each time.”

“Your mother found one of those paintings while you were away. She gave Minjung a real harsh time. I want to believe that you’re kind to my daughter, Jinki, especially with the way she gushes about you on the way home. But some things are a little hard to swallow.”

“I have prize money, from an art competition that I entered. I wanted to give her the money, I know she needs new shoes.”

“I don’t know where Ma’am told her to go. She’s been giving her separate instructions each morning since she found it.”

“Thanks, Junghee. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“Don’t be sorry to me. Be sorry to Minjung. She’s the one hurt in all this.”

Jinki’s heart sinks. The last thing he wanted was to have to confront his mother. He makes his way back upstairs and heads to her room. She’s laying on her couch when he comes in.

“Hello, ma.”

“Jinki, can you come back later? My head hurts something terrible.”

“Where did you assign Minjung today?”

At the name, Jinki’s mother sits up.

“I don’t want you seeing her anymore.”

“Why?”

“How are we supposed to marry you to a reputable girl if you’re sitting around painting nudes of servants? What will others think of you? I don’t want my son to be the town pervert!”

Jinki reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out all the newspaper clippings he’d saved.

“Actually, people rather liked my art.” he says, showing them to her.

She grabs them, throws them on the floor. He reaches down to pick them up and she lays back down.

“Fine. I won’t stop you from ruining your life, since that seems to be what you’re so intent on doing.”

“Ma, where did you assign Minjung to?”

His mother doesn’t answer. Annoyed with her behavior, he leaves the room, heading to his father’s office. He walks in just as his father gets off the phone.

“Jinki, my boy! What brings you into see me today?”

“When I was younger, you told me that I could marry any woman I wished. Do you still stand by that?”

Jinki’s father looks amused. “Yes. I assume you’re in here to get my blessing for a proposal?”

“Yes, Pa.”

“To whom?”

“Minjung.”

“Minjung? Who’s that?”

“Junghee’s daughter. The one that’s been helping me paint.”

“You want to marry a servant?” “Yes, Pa.”

“It’s not because of any....trouble is it?”

“No, Pa, nothing like that. I’ve simply become fond of her in the time that she’s worked by my side.”

“Well, if that’s what will make you happy, you have my blessing. You’ve come in at a good time. I’ve just bought you a house. It’s smaller than here and is a bit further from town, but it’s yours if she agrees.”

“Thank you, Pa.”

Jinki leaves and heads down towards the kitchen. Junghee’s just put her bread in the oven and is sitting on her stool, peeling potatoes.

“Junghee, might I ask something of you?”

She looks up, less cross than before. “Yes, sir?”

“I know your husband passed a few years ago, otherwise I would ask him. If she consents, would you allow me Minjung’s hand?”

Junghee drops her knife and potato.

“You want to marry my Jungie?”

“Yes, Junghee. I’ve grown quite fond of her and I think she’d make a wonderful wife. My Pa has just bought me a house, too, so we wouldn’t have to stay here under my mother’s eye. You could come along too. Not as a servant, but as my mother in law. You’ve always been so kind to me, Junghee. I couldn’t stand the thought of my mother in law being a servant to my mother.”

“Oh, bless you, Jinki. Did your mother tell you where she’s at?”

“No, but I have a feeling I know who can tell me.”

It doesn’t take long for Jinki to find Junmyeon. The butler has a penchant for a few spots in the house, making him easy to find.

“Where has Ma sent Minjung?” Jinki asks.

“I’m not permitted to say.” Junmyeon says, without looking.

“Junmyeon, if you don’t tell me where she is, I’ll go upstairs and tell Pa about you and Ma. About those pretty letters I found in her desk. About the real reason she has those headaches everyday.”

Junmyeon’s face flushes with fear and embarrassment. “Now Jinki, let’s be reasonable. I’ve hidden a good number of things for you.”

“I don’t think I’m being unreasonable Junmyeon. I’ll ask you again. Where is Minjung working.”

Junmyeon looks around, glance down the hallways for any potential listeners.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but she might be doing laundry at the moment.”

Jinki walks off in the direction of the laundry room. Though he can see Minjung from the doorway, he pauses in the hallway. He watches her work, waiting until she stops stirring the clothing to go in. They make eye contact and she quickly starts working again.

“Minjung, might I speak with you?”

“I’m...I’m not to speak to you, sir. Ma’am orders.” she says with a sniffle.

From her puffy face and little sniffles, it’s not hard to tell she’s been crying.

“What did she say to you while I was away? You can tell me, it’s alright.”

She starts pouring soap and borax into the tub, continuing to avoid his eyes.

“She found your paintings. She said that I was ruining you. Making you into a bad person. That I can’t see you anymore, because otherwise you won’t be able to find a wife.”

She struggles not to cry and Jinki reaches out for her hand.

“Damn what my mother says, Minjung. She has no room to have an opinion on anything concerning this. She’s having an affair, you know.”

Minjung finally looks up at him in disbelief.

“With Junmyeon. They’ve been having an affair behind my dad’s back since I was around four. It’s part of why he got hired; when he interviewed, my mom happened to see him. She put in a lot of good words for him. That’s why she has so many headaches.”

Minjung starts stirring the pot again, processing the information.

“I’m sorry, Minjung, that you got caught up in this. I never intended for you to be hurt. You’ve done nothing wrong, my mother’s temper clouds her judgement. I’m so sorry, my pretty girl.”

“What...what did you want to speak to me about, sir?”

He reaches into his pockets and pulls out the articles.

“Remember how I asked if I could enter some pieces of you into an art show? Well I did. I submitted five pieces; I took home all three top prizes. I had to extend my trip an extra day because all these press people wanted to interview me over it.”

“That’s wonderful, sir!”

He reads the articles to her as she works; they’re all glowing reviews of the ‘new artist Lee Jinki and his wonderful model’. She’s beaming by the time he’s done. When she turns away, he takes the opportunity to get down on one knee and reaches into his other pocket. She’s shocked when she turns around, almost dropping the sponge in her hand. He helps her put it down before continuing.

“Minjung, I know this is probably incredibly forward of me, but I...over this time we’ve spent together, I’ve grown fond of you, of your presence near me. It’s been distressing to me, to have been away from you for so long. You’ve become a muse to me, if it’s not you, I can’t paint at all. Even when I was at the show, I tried to sketch little copies, to bring back to show you, and I couldn’t do it. I know I’ve asked you many favors, and you’ve always been so kind and willing, and I can’t thank you enough. Can I ask one more of you?”

She nods, tears welling up again. He opens the little box, revealing the ring he’d bought on his way home.

“Minjung, would you give me the greatest happiness by becoming my wife?”

Tears spill over, and though she gives an answer, Jinki can’t understand it.

Jinki stands, putting a hand to her cheek.

“Oh, sir. Yes, it would make me so happy, sir.”

After putting the ring on her finger, he pulls her into his arms so she can cry.

“There’s only one thing, if we marry, Minjung.”

“Yes?”

“You have to stop calling me sir. You’ve called me Jinki once before, now you get to use only that. I’m no longer your boss; I’m your fiance, your equal. Can you do that? I know it’ll take time to get used to, but you’ll try, right?”

“Yes, s-,” she starts, then corrects herself. “Yes, Jinki.”

“May I kiss my bride to be?”

She nods with a smile, laundry long forgotten behind them.

Once the normal laundress is brought in to finish the job, Jinki takes Minjung into town. It’s her first time riding in a car and he holds her hand the whole way. After an obligatory stop by the confectionary, the make their way to the dress shop. He buys her a small wardrobes worth of clothes and two special gowns are ordered: a ball gown, for their inevitable engagement ball, and a wedding dress. They return back to the house and Junghee cries at the sight of Minjung in her new clothes. The next day, when the paper shows the engagement announcement, all three of them cry.

***

They marry in Italy, taking Junghee along with them for it. They visit the Boboli gardens, and Jinki’s charmed by his new wife’s excitement when they find the plot that he’d painted before. He paints it again, though this time he adds her and Junghee having a picnic to the scene. For the first time, he draws her whole face. Junghee leaves after a week, so they can have their honeymoon and so she can see that their new house is decorated properly. As they tour around Italy, Jinki begins to teach Minjung how to paint. She picks it up rather quickly, and it becomes a little game of theirs to see who can better copy different paintings and sights they come across.

Minjung bears their first child on their first anniversary, a daughter they name Gwiboon. Two years later, they have a son they name Taemin. Just as Jinki primarily paints Minjung, she herself primarily paints their children. She gains some notoriety for it, and even wins a few contests herself. When Jinki’s father grows ill, he takes over the business. After a few short lessons, Minjung takes over the finance and accounting side. They make quite a pair and become somewhat of a symbol of happy and successful marriage.

***

Twelve years after they marry, a man named Joon comes to interview Jinki. He’s writing a book on contemporary art, and wishes to include Jinki in it. They speak at length over a week’s time.

“Alright, I have just one more question for you, Mr. Jinki.”

“Yes?”

“In your first run of successful paintings, when you won all three prizes in one show, who was the mystery woman in all of those paintings?”

Jinki chuckles to himself. He looks past Joon, where Minjung’s standing in the doorway. All these years, he’s never divulged that it was her in the paintings -- offering a different vague answer each time -- and it’s clear to see that she’s curious to see what he says this time.

“She was a working girl.”

“Was she a factory worker?”

“No, she was a domestic worker. Worked in my father’s household. She became a sort of assistant of mine.”

“By assistant, do you mean muse, sir?”

“Yes, she was. We just referred to her as an assistant.”

“Who was she?”

“My working muse? Oh, the same woman who’s always been my muse, from the first time I saw her.”

“How would that be, sir?”

Jinki looks at Minjung and she nods her permission for him to tell the truth.

“My muse was, is, and always will be my wife.”

#they do an exhibition together of their family #its sweet and they get a lot of notoriety from it #joon also puts minjung in the book #tho its a more of an addendum to jinkis part #het!onho #onho #jinki #minjung #rich and poor au #writing #artist au #1 shot 2 shot just for 1

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freya-a-smith · 3 years

Text

Evaluation !

Since September, I have been working on the first project of my year two graphics communications course which was titled PAGE TO SCREEN. This project was about famous books that have been turned into a movie and creating artwork from them. I had to create alternative book covers and film posters for my selected theme, which was The Jungle Book.

I was pleased with my selected book/film as I knew I was going to be focusing on the audience of children. This would mean many different colours were going to be incorporated into my project and also an element of education was going to be brought in my artwork as well.

For a lot of my outcomes, I used Pinterest for inspiration as I wanted to see what had been done before so I could create unique results that would stand out.

When you look at my outcome, there are elements of the jungle throughout all of them as one of my goals was to focus on grabbing my audience's attention. A fair amount of the features were animals. The reason for this was because my target audience being children I wanted my artwork to educate them on animals that would be found in the jungle.

There was a lot of trial and error within the project as I was experimenting with different styles such as thresholding, halftoning, extra. One of the processes that helped me get over mistakes was having the pieces of artwork up on my desktop and then create the same thing again on photoshop but changing the bit that didn't look right. Still, by doing this, it allowed me to have better outcomes than the first and also made me learn a lot more, and by learning, I was able to broaden my skill base. Alongside this, there was a lot of research. Not just artist research I was researching the author of the book Rudyard Kipling and also researching about the jungle, the jungle book originated from. By doing this, it allowed me to look at colours and animals for inspiration, and by doing this, my artwork came out well.

Within my project, I created five book cover designs, and 11 movie poster designs within all these designs I was making illustrations to use on them including digital images drawn on photoshop and procreate and also hand-drawn work using pens, paint and pencils.

When I was given the jungle book, I was excited to start creating artwork. As I got into the project, I began to find it hard as I had problems that I didn't think of such as showing expressions through an animal's face and being able to create cartoon looking animals to represent the 1968 animation film but soon realized it was hard so, during my project, I decided to focus more on the real-life jungle book that was made in 2016. This made it slightly more manageable as I was able to use an image of real animals to work from and not having to create my animal from scratch.

Other issues that I had to approach was the colour pallet at the beginning of my project. I was focusing on the colours of the jungle as I wanted the colours to represent it, but then all my work started merging into one, so I decide to use a website called coolers.Co this was a colour generation site, and by using this, I was able to use unique colour pallets that made my outcomes stand out. First, I started adding different colours in slowly then completely didn't use green, and the results came out well. My final book cover design had no green on it at all, which can show progress has happened, and I have worked on targets.

The journey of the project had a high at the beginning due to my interest and excitement to create but then went downhill but soon lifted again after I had the problem solved and come up with solutions this made it run more smoothly.

With having been doing the concept and topic of page to screen the jungle book I knew it was going to be children based as I said at the beginning, I knew my aim was to make fun, unique, educational pieces of artwork. Nowadays I feel like children are more into movies as technology is overriding the classics such as books that is why I have made many different movie posters as that is what I feel children would be more drawn too now. However, there are still children who love books hence why I always focused on creating book cover but just not as many as the posters, I was still focusing on the educational bit for both of them, But mainly the book as that is something you pick up and really absorb whereas with a movie poster it is something that you look at to get an a fell of the movie and get a feel for what's to come and with my outcome, I think you can see that being portrayed.

This whole project opened my skill base hugely as I was learning new skills every day and not just the skill I was being taught. I also learnt skills about organization preparation but mainly understanding of my target audience. I feel that out of the skills I learnt from college understanding my audience and how important it is to understand and get on the same wavelength as your audience. This will give you the best outcomes as you are putting your self in there shoe's. It works well and makes you want to do more artwork as it gives you a lot of inspiration. But overall, it also helped me with this project.

Page to screen project was a project that consisted mainly of computer-based work. This included the materials of photoshop and illustrator and in my case also procreate there was also the element of practical workshops such as typography, collagraphy, screenprinting and illustrations(continuous line drawings), my favourite media that I used was probable the digital art as I like the effects and texture I was able to create, and how I was able to bring a piece of artwork alive, the only thing that wasn't as enjoyable about the digital art was having to constantly create layers, so you were able to move them around even though it helps a lot when you want to manipulate the outcome, its frustrating when you get to the end and realize its all on one layer but when that has happened, I have always been able to sort it out eventually. My favourite part of the practical workshop was probably the illustration workshop as it was a challenge having to keep the pen on the paper the whole time to create the illustrations were hard but what I drew was terrific illustrations.

With each book cover and movie poster design I had to select the right size for both of them so throughout the project this became a prosses I had to do every time I wanted to create an outcome. With the book cover, I have to prepare an a4 horizontal white page on photoshop making a 2cm gap in the middle for the spine of the book with the rulers and then with the movie poster I had to create an a3 white page on photoshop.

Another process I had to use throughout the project was looking and planning my design to do this, I went on to Pinterest and had a browsed at different book cover/posters for inspiration.

A technique that appeared in this project was animating. I had done this technique in another project before last year; this benefited me as I was able to crack on with it. The only thing that was different was the animation have a different topic/concept. Animating was an old skill to me, but I managed to learn a new skill within it which was another way of animation I learnt that you were able to create an animation without having to do the process of moving and saving this helped as it was an easier but effective way of animating.

With the current situation of COVID19, we were asked to create a blog on Tumblr this was to ensure us that our lecturers were able to see our work in case of other national lockdown and also minimizing cross-contamination of passing our journals back and forth. I really have enjoyed having tumbler as our alternative sketchbook and journal as to me look a lot nearer than my previous projects, and with my specialism being graphics communication, I can present my work in a high-quality way compared to last year, and with Tumblr, I was able to look at my blog as a whole project. I was also learning about aesthetic as you could transform your blog to link to your topic. My blog contains a lot of work, including research. The research was a big part of this project as I needed to learn about The jungle book but not just the storyline, but about the background of the jungle book, this helped me a lot as I was able to plan colour pallets layouts and general inspiration and overall enjoyable to me. It helped me with my target audience a lot. As I am on the topic of research there was research on my blog about the artist that inspired me the main artist that inspired me to do my final book cover design was Coralie Bickford smith she is an amazing illustrator for book cover designs, and I just fell in love with her work and I was able to create outcomes using inspiration from another artist that help me more with digital illustration, his name is Roy Lichtenstein he inspired me with my halftone work, and I can happily say it some of the favourite work I have created.

One of my the pieces of primary research I did was creating my own mood board using objects to help me understand the topic of the jungle book, and I used Jordan Bolton as my artist inspiration for this as I wanted to link to back to an artist.

I have really enjoyed this project of the page to screen and can happily say I am pleased with my outcome.

My outcomes are very strong and show planning, and the main thing is catered to my target audience I feel like they could be a genuine poster and book cover, but there are also some weaknesses, but the weaknesses were not with my outcome because I am happy with them it more about my blog side to the project if I was to work on something it would be delving into more artist research and even though it was hard to find an artist that inspired me I still feel like I could have done some more but still happy with what I have achieved.

With this project, I feel like was to be harsh on myself, and I did this as it made me work harder what I mean by this is when I looked at my work I reviewed it as two people one of them was saying the good thing and the other picking up on things I wanted to change, and this helped me and was an effective way of self reviewing and help me at the end with outcomes.

To me my outcome show progress as from the start of the project from the 16th of September to now you can see my work has grown and this is down to workshops such as halftone, typography workshops and these were only in the first couple of weeks on the project, and there were many more, but you can see it has helped me grown as a designer and learn, I feel the workshop that has to help me the most was the typography because it made me understand how much can be conveyed through typeface and also helped me understand how important it is.

Overall my outcome has worked well there have been displayed on my blog along with my research, other outcomes and problem-solving. The way my work has been displayed is in a unique way I have placed my book cover design onto a book, so it looks more realistic as with my poster I have made sure I have a high quilty picture and has been put onto a mock-up on to different billboards in different areas.

My whole project shows the progress of my skill and how my outcomes have been created and that is what I wanted for my blog to portray and I am excited to use the skills that I have learnt in my future project as they are very useful and I know I have a lot more knowledge on the audience and that will help me plan and create better and significant outcomes in the future.

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sadrien · 7 years

Text

prince of cats

chapter one: if i profane with my unworthiest hand

on ao3 || on ffnet

[full note on ao3]

it been a journey to get here. i started outlining in november.... i'm really excited that i'm finally able to share it with everyone! this fic was inspired by two (2) posts. one of which was this video of salem the glittery cat

shoutout to everyone in the miracusquad who was online when i started talking about this! thank you for letting me idea bounce/dump, and thank you for being so supportive in general <3 shoutout to my @mlfanfiction fam for not yelling at me when they realize that i had many other things i was supposed to be doing in november. things that were not this fic.... i love you guys and finally, massive shoutout to @ladriened!!! thank you for your endless support kc <3

last quick thing! im going to be using these tags for this fic: 'proc ml' and 'prince of cats ml'. obviously i wasnt going to use poc and prince of cats is already used for half a dozen other things because...shakespeare

enjoy!!!!

Marinette hums to herself as she hauls her bag up on her shoulder and flicks off the lights in her apartment. For once, she got a decent amount of sleep and she actually ate breakfast this morning, so today is already better than most. Now if she can get the stitching on this new jacket done before lunch…

She pauses to check her phone as she closes the door behind her. Nothing surprising, nothing pressing. Alya confirming lunch like she does every week and insisting Marinette bring juicy gossip to the table. Marinette rolls her eyes as she turns the key in the lock. Fortunately, or unfortunately for Alya, work has been drama free lately. A nice breath of fresh air after a tense argument between two other designers that ended in screaming a few weeks ago. For days after, the workroom was stifling and awkward. Marinette is glad she has nothing to bring to Alya. Besides, Alya will have more enough to say on her own.

Marinette looks up in surprise as she spots movement out of the corner of her eye. She blinks as a black cat leaps up onto the sill of the window at the end of the hall. The cat sits up and licks it paw, shimmering gold in the morning light.

“Huh.” Marinette stuffs her keys into her bag and inches closer to the cat. A golden cat, that’s…odd. She didn’t even realize anyone on this floor had a cat. She glances over her shoulder as a door swings shut and someone swears. She sees the cat jump down from the window out in her peripheral vision and run toward the stairs. Marinette takes another step into the center of the hallway with half a mind to follow it.

Instead, someone crashes into her.

Marinette stumbles backward, her legs tangling with theirs. She groans as she hits the floor hard, banging her elbow on the ground. She winces as the person above her apologizes profusely.

“I-I’m so sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Marinette stares at him, heart in her throat. His face is flushed and his blond hair falls in his eyes, eyes so green that spring itself would be jealous.

He stops talking and she forces herself to look away from his eyes. Instead she studies his coat, long and dark with impeccable stitching. She tries to come up with a price range for a trenchcoat of this quality to distract herself from the fact that his hands are bracing either side of her head and they’re incredibly close for two complete strangers.

“H-hi,” she stutters.

He blinks. “Uh…hey.” His eyes go wide as a meow echos through the stairwell. “Shit!” he whispers, scrambling to his feet. He runs a hand through his hair, making it puff around his head like a halo, and offers Marinette his other hand. She hesitates for a moment before taking it, letting him tug her to her feet. “Nice to meet you, I have to go!” he says as he sprints toward the stairs. He hooks onto the wall and skids as he turns the corner into the stairwell.

It takes Marinette a moment to realize her bag has spilled all over the hallway floor.

She tries to shake the stranger and his sparkling cat from her mind as she picks up her things and hurries to work. She drowns herself in fabric and sketches, but she can’t get his face out of her mind. When she picks up a pencil to work on a dress design, she finds herself itching to trace out his profile and the curl of his hair.

Marinette groans and puts her head down on her sketchbook. She’s twenty four! She’s a grown woman with a job and an apartment and a social life. She should be over the collège crush phase, but here she is. Obsessing over someone she hasn’t even exchanged names with. Strangers have caught her eye before, a smile making her heartstrings twinge or bright eyes causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach, but she hasn’t experienced something like this in years. All feelings and mush and sudden wooshes of emotion that make her feel like she’s floating.

This is ridiculous.

Marinette texts Alya, because she needs to be grounded, stat. She doesn’t have time to be moon eyed over a guy, no matter how tall and handsome.

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Are we still on for lunch??? Like 1000000%?? (I know you confirmed earlier I just need like. Another confirmation sorry)

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess of course!!! arent u at work?

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful :P Yes

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess something up??

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Yes but Im saving it for lunch The usual??

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess gotcha yes!! see u in a bit! <3

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful See you then!

Marinette puts down her phone and gives in. When she returns to actual work, the stranger’s face covers two pages of her sketchbook.

✦ ✦ ✦

Thoughts of the stranger vanish from Marinette’s mind as Alya practically collapses in the seat across from her.

“Are you alright?” Marinette asks, reaching out to touch the back of Alya’s hand.

“I hate my job,” Alya groans. She drops her head down on the table with a thump.

Marinette rolls her eyes but pats the top of Alya’s head anyway. “You love your job.”

“Not today,” Alya mutters. “I’m going to set this entire article on fire.”

“That bad?”

“Yes. I just— words? Sources? Journalism? It’s all horrible.” Alya sighs and wallows for another moment before sitting up. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?” she asks.

The stranger’s eyes appear in Marinette’s mind and suddenly, under Alya’s gaze, it all seems incredibly trivial. Marinette knows Alya would willingly listen to her talk about the weather and be completely invested in the conversation, but she can see the way work is weighing on Alya’s shoulders. Marinette can feel it weighing on her own. She wouldn’t be lying if she said thinking about the stranger was a good way to procrastinate.

Marinette glances down at the menu, even though she already knows exactly what she’s getting. “Same as you; work. This new line is possibly going to kill me.”

Alya nods in agreement. “Right there with you, girl.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette stands in the hallway in front of her apartment for much longer than she usually does. Usually, she’s dead on her feet and ready to sleep. Recently, she’s been working longer and longer hours to work on the newest clothing line. But today she’s wired and awake. And has been standing in the hallway fumbling for her keys for almost ten minutes.

She shakes her head as she slides her key into the lock and twists it until she hears the click. She’s an adult, not a teenager. She needs to pull herself together. She also needs a glass of wine and Netflix. She pushes the door open and flicks on the lights in her apartment. Just as she’s stepping inside, the apartment door next to her opens and a tall, blond man steps out, holding a phone to his ear and keeping his eyes cast to the floor as he locks the door behind him.

Marinette scrambles to shut her apartment door, her heart beating in her ears. She feels like she was just caught staring, even though he hadn’t even glanced her way.

Right. So her immediate next door neighbor that she never bothered to meet is her handsome stranger from earlier. Of course. That makes sense, she knows almost everyone else on the floor.

She sighs and rests her forehead against the door. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs to herself.

She toes off her shoes, changes into pajamas, and collapses on the couch with her laptop, her tablet, and a glass of wine. The bottle sits on the coffee table in front of her and she’s sorely tempted to just drink straight from the bottle. The past few weeks have been overwhelming and dealing with a crush on top of it—

Marinette isn’t sinking that low. Not yet.

(She hears Alya in her head insisting that drinking wine from the bottle isn’t a low point. She hears Alya say it as she hands Nino and Marinette their own glasses before taking a long sip from the bottle. “I feel like a teenager again,” Alya says with a bright smile and knocks the bottle against Nino’s glass.)

Marinette turns on the TV and chooses a show to start binging at random. Then she makes herself comfortable with her tablet and computer and lets her mind wander as she draws whatever comes to mind. Dresses and jackets start to form on the blank canvas of her screen. The swoops of skirts and the curls of hair. The straight lines and sharp curves forming themselves into clothes and people and expressions and accessories.

Marinette finds herself using an awful lot of green.

#marinette dupain cheng #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #alya cesaire #ml fanfic #proc ml #prince of cats ml

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