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askdannysroleswapau · 3 months

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"proof of concept" design for Voidball + some pupil designs from '22 (back when he still had a tail)

quite a lot has changed! a few key design details have carried over from this one (chipped ear, singular eye, and the heart-shaped hole in the torso), but many aspects have since been scrapped or reworked

design notes under the cut! but be warned! its just a little under 1k words

before we begin, there's this phrase that i'm going to be using a lot and you ought to know what i mean by it!

the phrase is "design philosophy" and in simplified terms, its a set of rules or principals one follows when designing a character. there's a ton of different design philosophies and they vary wildly depending on the medium, the team behind it, the art style, tone and even country of origin!

the one i used for Voidball is a mix of my own observation/analysis of Rob's character design and some principals that the team of Across The Spiderverse used for The Spot. here are the rules i eventually settled on!

remove as much recognizability as possible from the character's appearance, save for their physical stature and select features (eye/mouth/hair/ears/etc.) the end result should be almost entirely unrecognizable

details such as textures, markings, or accessories must either be done away with or heavily simplified

use sharp angles wherever possible, rounded shapes must be sparse (can you tell which part i gave myself more leeway on lol)

do not clutter the design or over-complicate it; principal of Occam's razor

now, let’s get started!!

Head and Ears

i set out with the intention to give him a similarly complicated head shape to Rob, but i quickly dropped this idea because i hate drawing complex geometry! the slice taken out of the head, however, ended up sticking around! you can see some examples of what was dubbed the "sliced melon" head in the doodle dump post.

you can see that the ears have stayed about the same, although i now avoid drawing them with super defined geometry. out of all of the details carried over from this design, the chipped ear is my favorite :)

Eyes

those pesky eyes! i wanted to keep the singular eye, but at first i was unsure of what to replace it with. you can see here that i initially replaced it with an isolated box of static. this looks bad and is not visually appealing!

as i began to imagine static functioning as more of a viscous, liquid substance, i decided to cover the left side of his face with a constantly dripping river of it, obscuring the eye completely. this is both easier to draw and more visually interesting! plus it removes recognizably, which was very important to the design philosophy.

as for the right eye, the pupil shape depicted here has two sharp triangle indents in it.

while it was an interesting idea, it looked too similar to the eyes you see on rubber-hose animated characters, which wasn’t what i wanted. the other three ideas i sketched had similar ideas regarding negative space, but all of them would eventually be scrapped.

as it turns out, the original pupil shape works for a reason! i learned there that going against the original philosophy would not end up working in my favor. i went on to pull many future design elements directly from Rob's design, such as the doubled pupil!

Upper Body

his left hand was originally disconnected/fragmented from his arm/wrist. while cool in concept, this was eventually dropped because it was too difficult to draw consistently. oh well!

his torso/waist were originally more cylinder/sphere-shaped to contrast how Rob's design is made of squares/polygons. again, i have since decided to follow the original philosophy instead of going against it.

my favorite design detail for the torso is the heart-shaped hole in their chest! it is by far my favorite thing to draw :3c

Lower Body

you can see that their waist was more of an elliptical shape here; the legs were also cylinders devoid of much static and largely maintained their patterns.

also notable are the missing portions of the legs. the right leg prominently features a jagged empty space below the knee and a missing section near the hip. this aspect was dropped to simplify the design and remove recognizability

not so much as a note as it is a funny tidbit, but the feet aren't meant to look as if they've been attached at the heel. i just drew the legs before the feet and didn't bother erasing the overlapping lines.

this design wasn't meant to be super solid or well-thought out, i just needed to get the general idea down on paper, and that's what i did! :)

Tail!

ah, the static tail! the visual style of the tail was meant to hearken back to the scan lines you see on old VHS tapes.

as cool as this idea was, it conflicted with him needing to have gained a pig tail in The Future, which i consider to be crucial to the story progression. hah! i love getting to write stuff like that.

having a tail also made him more closely resemble Gumball, which conflicted with rule #1 of the design philosophy. on top of that, i had already used the static tail idea in The Sister, and i felt like recycling it for another character would cheapen the impact of that moment.

and so i revoked his tail privileges. a tragic, yet necessary sacrifice 😔

and with that the notes are done! i don’t know if anybody will actually read this, but i sure did enjoy writing it!

#this is really more like concept art than a proof of concept but its too late to change that now lol #while i was working on this i actually stumbled across a second draft of this design from around the same time (august 24th to be exact)#but this post was already long enough #so i'm saving that for another time #long post #the amazing world of gumball #tawog #danny's roleswap au #drsau #voidball #voidball drsau

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vargaslovinghours · 2 years

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Half a dozen in one (1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5)

Oh no the Apotheosis is back and it wants to play, that’s never a good thing

Scriabin is not into it

I wanted to draw King Scriabin but I goofed up the crown so bad lol, at least his face is cute ✨

Pokemon Vargases! From that time that I forgot how to draw their Pokemon versions lol. You have to approach Espeon!Edgar gently, he’s easily spooked

Sylveon!Scriabin is such an attention hog, poor Edgar haha

*puts my feelers around you condescendingly*

Sleeping on each other, always ♥ Even sleeping, they’re still intertwined lightly, Edgar’s hand on Scriabin’s shoulder and Scriabin’s on Edgar’s arm ♪

I had an idea about Scriabin “reading” Edgar’s mind by guessing how he feels about something, but I unfortunately forgot the specifics just as I was writing it down, so frustrating

I do remember that it was something a lot closer to how Scriabin felt about that thing and he was describing how he felt, not just Edgar, but he realized too late

Made him feel isolated :(

Apology hugs 💕

Who wrote this eviction notice, this is a cave?? I just think they turned out really cute here haha ♪

Stop being naked >:0

Don’t wanna get used to it >:(

After all the Father and Daddy puns, I had to lol. Lady!Edgar with her hair down is just so prettyyyyyy

Two mops, makin’ out

For whatever reason, I started a teeny tiny little ScriAnimal series - first up is Scriabat with hand-wings because lol

I was watching a video of someone with their bird who was munching on the inside of their glasses stem haha

Scriabird is here to scream and knock things off the counters

And cutely chew on things

We are stopping this sketchdump for a Jake appreciation minute ♥ Thank you for appreciating Jake, now back to our regularly scheduled programming

A quick and silly digital doodle - waxing via tape is not recommended

Got the urge to draw dragons again, Scriabin needs to settle and Edgar is in protecc mode. His hugs are even harder to escape than normal!

The original sketch for sleepy Edgar - I couldn’t decide whether to use “World’s #1 Dad” or “World’s Best Dad”, so I just used both for the final version lol. Did Todd give it to him? Did Scriabin? Did they both get him nearly-matching mugs??

One of the early drafts for the ‘17 redraw; this was actually all drawn on one layer (on purpose! lol), which was a really fun experiment with some brushes I rarely use. I liked the angle of Edgar’s face too, he looks so smug haha ♪

Tiny Edgar doodle for a quick reference, he’s so cute ♥

I wasn’t kidding when I said it took a while to get Alone Together right, I was this close to giving up and just doing it the easy way several times before finally getting the trick down - I’m glad I didn’t but sheesh!

I started a pretty long mini idea that I managed to get like 90% of the way through before deciding I didn’t like it lol, but there were still some really fun poses and expressions

“What is it?” Light concern Edgar ♥

Probably the most complex panel of the set, as much as I like the leg poses I’m also frustrated by them lol - didn’t help that my page smudged >:P

A little bit of expression practice, the cute thing is Scriabin

I heard it, we all heard it, everybody saw!

Couple’a Scriabins to practice hair differences. I’ve gotten used to making him simultaneously fluffy and sleek like on the left, but I really love a True Floof look too, with many more starts and stops, it’s really fun ♪

Uppies!

Oscillates between “Why” and “You can’t tell me what to do”

Brain baby Weirdly enough, this was actually inspired by a skin-horror idea I had but decided was a little too body-horror-y and so I repurposed it lol

Some goofy matryoshka dolls haha. They remind me of Near’s finger puppets from Death Note somehow hmm

More hair differences, using opposing methods of line directionality while shading and texturing Scriabin’s hair. Pushing up from under gives this really nice line weight; it’s harder to do consistently because I keep wanting to sweep down, but when it works, the shadows fall exactly where they should and it’s lovely ✨ And like I said, pulling down is a lot easier, and because of that I can get these really uniform lines - I prefer the tapered effect, but pulling definitely has its uses and-

Hey wait a minute-

Golden floof ✨ This is actually really hard to see IRL lol

Edgar Warmup to see if my tablet was working properly, didn’t have time to pull up refs so from memory it is!

And that’s February through May again! Lots of silly little things, and a surprising number of scrapped larger ideas hmmm

#💟#Doodles #Sketchdump #Art #Edgar #Scriabin #Jake #A short and sweet one this time around #Also wow Nny didn't get any placement this time around - I guess he did show up a big more frequently in normal sets lol #Kind of anyway #Got a few of the classics running around - Apotheosized!Edgar - Lady!Edgar - Snake Charmer #Mostly all regular Vargas stuff tho ♪#And no blood! Wow!#That I Definitely got out of my system in the meantime lol #I think the only ones I didn't talk about as much as I wanted to were the Scriabirds - I actually love drawing birds I just don't very much #They're simultaneously so sleek and fluffy and poofy and goofy! Love birds!#And Scriabin's coat was really fun to draw over wings haha ♪#I really should draw the Vargeons again - ironically the birds turned out way more how they're supposed look lol #I still have a few more longer ideas that I'd like to finish up that didn't quite make the cut for May #I started them in May but it's looking increasingly like they'll be a June+ thing lol #Guess it's yet to be seen on whether or not they'll make the next sketchdump! Since I've jinxed it every time so far haha ♪

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wulfies-kpop-fanfics · 3 years

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One Photo → Mark Lee [4]

↳ Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳ AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳ Warning: Suggestive

↳ Word count: 4,556

↳ Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | You Are Here! | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THURSDAY - 4

The next day, you quickly went onto Blackboard and finished your online class final as soon as you woke up. Tired and a little grumpy, you were happy that Rhiannon had already left the house for her lab, leaving you with a full range of the tea kettle and whatever cereals you had left in the cabinet. You suppose you should go grocery shopping on the weekend.

You have some music playing through your phone as you go through the motions of your morning, brushing your teeth and hair, dusting on the tiniest bit of makeup and a swipe of lip balm to your lips. When it comes time to choose an outfit, you slip on a pair of shortalls and a white Star Wars shirt that Rhiannon had bought you for your birthday last year.

It almost felt like a dream to be where you are right now, to be going out and getting your first real taste of business, what it would be like to go out in the world and have people pay you for your work. All of it was happening because you met your soulmate.

You looked at your hands, scars still ever-present. They'd be there forever, and not long ago you had detested the idea of ever having them. Even to the point of making Mark afraid to speak to you about it, and a twinge in your chest came with a sudden feeling of guilt.

You had been in love with Mark for a long time, as much as any fan of his would say, maybe more. Finding out that he was truly meant for you was beginning to chip away at the bitterness you had acquired growing up. Maybe you still had some doubt for all of this, as things would actually still work out when he left to go back to Korea, but being around him felt like all of your aversions wouldn't matter one day.

Letting go of the nerves living inside of you was difficult, but you managed to clench your hands and smile. This was all a part of your dream. Perhaps one day you would be able to look on your body and not think back on your life before. Thinking positively from now on was your goal. With that, you grabbed your camera and your bag, heading out the door.

On the subway, you listened to your playlist, a shuffled mix of your favourite songs. You zoned out until you reached your stop, wandering about the station and grabbing a candy bar on your way out. The morning itself was still but the rush of subway trains and people in a hurry created wind currents that caused you to need to smooth out your hair constantly on the way to your destination.

As soon as you enter High Park, any grumpy fatigue you had been harbouring since waking up melted away. The sheer beauty of the park always managed to awaken the artist within you, whether it be filling up your camera with photos of trees and the cherry blossom petals in the spring; amber, red and brown leaves in the fall and the snow-capped branches in winter, or just doodling people in your sketchbook while sitting against a tree after class. It was one of your favourite places to be.

You sat against a cherry tree by the path you and Mark walked on together, letting small petals of cherry blossoms to float down and land on your hair. You gripped your camera tightly and aimed it without thinking, capturing the emptiness of the park that surely wouldn't last forever.

Sometimes you had thought about wandering so far out into the wilderness where you wouldn't see any other people or man-made objects as far as your eye could see. Then, you could take photos of the beauty the planet has to offer while breathing untainted air and feeling fresh wind on your face.

Just then as you closed your eyes to imagine it, a small breeze grazed your cheek. The warmth of the sun washed over you and it nearly made you want to take a nap right there on the grass. The day already feels so wonderful, and there was only one thing missing to make it perfect.

"(Y/N)!"

Your eyes flutter open as Mark runs up to you. He's accompanied by the small crowd that are his bandmates, all walking along the path all at their own pace. Mark reaches you and sits down on the grass next to you.

"Hi, Mark," you greet him with a blush, watching him as he plucks a cherry blossom petal from your hair.

"You look lovely," he comments with a shy smile. "You haven't been waiting long, right?"

You smile warmly at him. "No, don't worry."

Mark grinned back at you. "I'm happy the weather cooperated with us," he remarks, taking a moment to look up at the blue sky, dotted with two or three wispy white clouds. "It's a beautiful day."

"Yeah," this time, instead of looking back up at the sky, you're looking at Mark. It's fleeting, knowing he was so close to you that you could touch him. The way his profile is when he's looking up at the sky with a wondrous smile makes you want to take a million photos, but you hold back as you notice everyone else approaching.

Everyone in the group greets you, giving you a hug and smiling as you do your best to introduce yourself in Korean. Most of the boys assure you that they can understand basic English and not to worry about the language difference.

You're nervous, of course, to meet your favourite artists in person, especially all at once. In real life, they're all so tall and in some ways, it just feels so different than you imagined to interact with them.

There are little bits of conversation occurring as you all wait for Rhiannon, Donghyuck insisting that they all stay put to make sure she can find you. You're smiling brightly when you notice he's constantly on the watch for her, making you wonder if she would experience a similar situation to yours. He's speaking fondly of her to you as best he can, which makes your heart flip - knowing how happy she'd be if you told her about it.

There is maybe another ten minutes of discussing what all the boys want, background, poses, angles and composition when Donghyuck's small smile grows into a giant grin. He's waving at someone who is approaching from the distance, who stops in their tracks once they look up from the ground.

You take Mark's hand and squeeze it. "Come on,"

Everyone follows your lead, approaching your best friend. Rhiannon is clearly frazzled from a long lab, her hair in a messy ponytail, but she's dressed in a pretty, long black and white striped jumper and black heels accompanied by her large black purse that probably had her school uniform in it.

Once you get closer you wave at her, her returning wave much more subtle. She's covering her mouth with her other hand, and once you all reach her, you can tell she's crying.

All the boys are a little frazzled, but you know that they all mean well. She probably wasn't the only person to nearly faint when meeting them.

"안녕하세요," she manages to stutter through her hand. You're smiling at her, beckoning her to join the group, but she doesn't move.

The other boys are quietly complimenting her on her pronunciation and making comments to themselves, Johnny leaning toward you to ask if she's okay, but you're more focused on watching this all unfold. Mark nudges you with his elbow.

"Here, watch this." He steps up to Donghyuck and whispers in his ear, gripping the younger boys' shoulders and full on shoving him in Rhiannon's direction.

Donghyuck says a few startled words in Korean, none that you can really catch, holding out his hands and bracing for a fall. His grip lands on Rhiannon's shoulders and she is barely able to catch him by placing her hands on his chest.

Both of them yelp in surprise, the other boys watching and laughing warmly to themselves. Eventually, the two of them settle into a proper hug, Rhiannon shoving her tear-ridden face into Donghyuck's shoulder.

Mark wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your cheek, grinning mischievously. "I hope they're soulmates," he says, quiet enough that only you can hear it.

"I hope so too."

Rhiannon can barely keep herself composed as all the other members give her a greeting hug once they all manage to peel her and Donghyuck off of each other. She showers them in stuttered compliments and praises, all phrases you have heard her planning to say months ago while the two of you were discussing what you would say to your idols if you ever met them.

It's an emotional moment, and it makes you all the more motivated to spend the day making your task absolutely perfect. Just one photo.

You could have laughed at yourself. 'One photo', Johnny and Jaehyun had specified when you first met them. Like that was ever going to happen. In one take, Donghyuck had coughed and caused motion blur, another where Johnny's eyes were closed, Jaehyun's eyes were both somehow blocked at the same time by cherry blossom petals, and one more where Yuta stepped back and lost his balance on a large rock a child had kicked towards him while he was passing by.

Through Taeyong's insistence of a perfect photo and tiny bits of life getting in the way, you felt as if taking one photo for NCT127 was going to be the longest photo shoot of your career that hadn't even started yet. You all were laughing and smiling through it, which made the experience fun and enjoyable, even though there were so many things to consider.

Click.

Your smile was wide as you went back into your camera to look at the preview of the last photo you've taken. All the boys come out from their poses to gather around you and Rhiannon, each of them scrambling to get a good look at the tiny preview screen on your camera.

"I think this is the one," you confidently say.

Everyone is posed happily at the edge of the old cobblestone path, in between two cherry trees that were shedding cherry blossom petals, all of which were perfectly captured floating through the picture, none of them obscuring any faces. Everyone was smiling, had open eyes, and each part of the photo was clear and crisp. You even managed to think that you maybe didn't need to touch it up in photoshop at all. Even the lighting was nearly perfect.

"This is the one," Jungwoo agrees with you, after managing to push Taeil aside long enough to have a direct look at the camera.

"I think so too," Mark chimes in next to you. "You're amazing."

You're going red in the face as most of the boys begin to agree with you. Once you have your personal space back, you're able to turn off your camera and place it securely in your bag.

"Let's go for ice cream!" Doyoung suggests, and everyone else immediately agreed.

Spending time with all of the members of 127 and Rhiannon didn't really feel as crowded as you thought it would be. Of course, in reality, it was - especially at the small ice cream cafe you all ended up in - taking up two whole booths.

It all felt real and like a dream at the same time, genuinely spending time with them and talking, being friendly. The day wasted away as you all explored the city, wandering into random stores and picking out little trinkets as souvenirs. At times you would pull out your camera to take more photos, the day's progression adding to your different collections of lighting and atmosphere.

Eventually, you all had dinner together, splitting the cost of a giant order of homemade pasta at the St Lawrence market, piling onto the picnic tables on the lower floor and sharing a quiet few moments as the sun set on another day.

“So, (Y/N), what made you a fan?” Jaehyun is smiling at you, eyes switching between looking at you and Jungwoo who is sitting on your right, shovelling his pasta in his mouth. You don’t even think he’s chewing it.

“Rhiannon,” you say flatly. Rhiannon kicks your shin quickly after, she’s sitting in between Donghyuck and Jaehyun, smiling innocently. “Ow! Well, uhm, we were in high school at the time when she became a k-pop fan, and immediately tried to pull me down the rabbit hole as well. I was reluctant for a while, but eventually, I gave in. When I started exploring on my own, I saw your Firetruck music video and… well, the rest is history.”

Mark, who is sitting on your left, is grinning at you. “What’s your favourite song by us?” He asks and soon turns his attention to Rhiannon.

“Which subgroup?” She asks excitedly. “I can name one for each, so can (Y/N).”

You sheepishly nod. “All of them,” Johnny quickly chimes in, picking slowly at his own food.

“Well, it’s always been tough for me to decide but Boss is my favourite U song, Touch is my favourite 127 song, GO is my favourite Dream song and since WayV made a debut a little while ago with Regular, that’s my favourite by them so far.” You answer sheepishly, and Mark’s grinning at you. It’s probably because he’s involved with 99% of those songs.

“And yours?” Donghyuck is looking at Rhiannon expectantly. His accent is thick and you find it very endearing that he’s doing his best to speak English.

Rhiannon hummed, a grin spread over her face. “BOSS by NCTU, Whiplash by NCT127, We Young by NCTDREAM, and I really like the teaser video music for WayV’s debut.”

Donghyuck’s smile widens to a grin, “We hot,” “And we young!” Rhiannon, Mark and Donghyuck all sing in unison, which causes everyone else to start laughing.

Jungwoo finishes off most of his plate and hums as if he wants to ask a question. You give him your attention and he asks a question in Korean, but you can’t quite understand it. Before Mark can open his mouth to translate with a blush, Rhiannon does it first. “He wants to know who your favourite member was before Mark,” she says, grinning mischievously at you.

Your face goes beet red as you not so subtly look over at Johnny. He is looking between you and Mark, the latter immediately wraps an arm protectively around your shoulders. “Uhm… well, I really liked Johnny at first. I had a really big crush on him. Then Mark became my bias,” you’re looking at Johnny sheepishly, who is smiling sweetly at you.

Doyoung then chimes in, also speaking Korean, which Rhiannon translates to “now you’re making it awkward!”

The conversation continued in Korean, Johnny putting his hands up defensively and also turning beet red as Mark starts speaking, and everything is going so fast even Rhiannon can’t seem to translate it besides “Yeah, they’re arguing”. Meanwhile, you’re trying to eat your food and not react to the whole thing.

It takes a little while for everything to calm down, and at that point, you’re staring at Rhiannon who just shrugs at you. You’re awkwardly scraping sauce from the bottom of your dish as someone finally speaks up again, Mark tightening his grip protectively around you. “What made you so good at Korean, Rhiannon?” It’s Johnny, who is doing his best to not make eye contact with Mark, who you guess is still a little heated from that argument that ended not three minutes ago.

“Well,” Rhiannon starts shyly. “A lot of Korean TV shows and a couple of friends from live streams I watch.”

“It’s impressive, you should keep practising,” Mark praises with a smile.

"Thank you," Rhiannon is now also red in the face, grinning like an idiot.

"When are your birthdays?" Jungwoo is wiping his sauce-drenched face with a napkin, his accent thick. He's endearing, you think.

"Mine's July fifteenth, ninety-eight," you answer shyly, a little nervous to see their reactions, learning that you're older than Mark.

Donghyuck's eyes widen for a moment as he nearly shouts "Noona!" In your direction, making you fully hide your face in your hands.

"Your birthday is close to mine," Taeyong finally speaks up, and Mark rubs your shoulder gently to keep you from hiding your face. "Mine is July first."

"Mine's October twenty-fifth, ninety-eight," Rhiannon chimes in.

Donghyuck is almost equally surprised to learn this, but this time he's quieter. He still says "noona," while looking Rhiannon straight in the eye as she goes beet red and looks away from him.

"We are birthday buddies!" Yuta exclaims, grinning wildly and still holding a fork full of pasta that is slowly slipping off the utensil. "Mine is October twenty-sixth!"

This brings Rhiannon back from being shy. She brightens up, smiling over at Yuta who flashes her a big thumbs up - "we should celebrate together!" The conversation picks back up and once again begins to wildly veer from topic to topic.

Once everyone finished their food, you all walked around the lower levels, stopping at another shop full of Canada themed trinkets and souvenirs. Mark ended up buying a hilarious red and black plaid onesie, the butt of the pyjamas was removable and had a bear on it. Donghyuck bought a stuffed moose and the others bought a variety of shirts and maple flavoured treats. You ended up buying a stuffed animal yourself, a soft polar bear, an idea mind for it. However, you weren't sure you would be brave enough to ask Mark about it.

Not noticing the time seemed to be the growing trend these past few days, as when you all clamour out of the bottom floor of the market, it had gotten dark and the place was about to close for the night. All of you headed to the subway together, chatting and forgetting about life outside the day.

Mark held you close, an arm wrapped securely around your waist. "Can I walk you to your dorm?"

"Don't you think you should just go back with the guys?" You ask. "The subway is really expensive…"

Mark smiled and shook his head. "It's okay, we have special passes for when we're here. I just want to spend more time with you."

Your heart melted and you nearly teared up. "I want to spend more time with you too."

Mark grinned and held you a little closer as you walked. He was warm, and you wouldn't admit it out loud, but your entire body was screaming. You wanted to hold him forever.

You all separated at the subway station, the boys taking the opposite train. Rhiannon and Donghyuck had their own little moment before he left as their train arrived. They talked in Korean a few feet away from the crowd of boys and a little further away from where you and Mark were standing. It was sweet, watching them intentionally hug this time, holding hands until the last moment when the train was about to close its doors.

Donghyuck wanted to walk to the dorm as well, but Taeyong remarked that Mark had already been lectured enough the past few days he had decided to stay out late. Donghyuck protested but eventually had to give in.

Mark walked the two of you home, right to the door of your apartment.

"I'll leave you two alone for a bit," Rhiannon said softly, unlocking the door and slipping inside, leaving you and Mark alone in the hallway.

You looked up at Mark, who was returning your gaze and smiling at you warmly. "You are more beautiful every time I look at you," he says, a cheesy grin spreading across his face as he watches your reaction.

"Mark," you're nearly laughing as you say his name, "please, you make me blush!"

"Good," he speaks softly. "I just want to make you feel the best that I can in the time that I can."

That was when it hit you. Every time you had to think about having a soulmate, you had really only thought about yourself. You inwardly chastised yourself for being so selfish - and frowned.

"Mark, I'm sorry," you begin softly, and his expression turns to concern.

"For what? Are you okay?" He asks, hands gently cupping your cheeks.

You lean into his touch, "of course I am. I just feel terrible that all of this has happened to you so quickly. I only thought about myself when it hit me you would be leaving the day after the concert."

Mark nodded. "I'm going to miss you," he admitted. "But I feel amazing whenever I'm with you. I want to spend as much time here with you as I can, so I can remember it. Until the next time I can see you."

"Mark," he sighed as you said his name, "are we going to be okay?"

Mark nodded softly. "Of course we will be. No distance, land mass or body of water is going to get between us, ever."

"Okay," you whisper. "I trust you." You stare into Mark's eyes for a moment, his hands still gently resting on your face. He presses his forehead to yours, and your noses touch for a moment. That was when the moment both sped up and felt like it was slowing down at the same time.

Mark presses his lips to yours softly, his hands moving past your neck and your shoulders to your hips. He's soon moving to press you up against the wall of the hallway, trapping you between it and him. His mouth moves over yours, and you feel him hum and separate you for just long enough for him to kiss you from another angle, pressing his body closer to yours.

Your little shopping bag with your polar bear inside drops to the floor as you let go of it to place your hands on his chest. Mark groans into the kiss, backing up for a moment to look at you with hungry eyes before diving back in.

You don't know how long he kissed you for, hands running up and down your sides, tight enough that he could probably feel your bra underneath your t-shirt. You're suddenly whimpering when he presses his knee between your legs-

"(Y/N), get your ass in here before I punch your soulmate!"

Mark releases your lips with a sheepish laugh, licking away the saliva trail between your mouths, which almost makes you faint. His face is red, blush extended past his cheeks to travel to the bridge of his nose. "Sorry," he whispers shakily, "got carried away."

"Me too," you admit, trembling against the wall when Mark finally sets you free. "I, um-"

"Me too," he repeats, as if he read your mind. He takes a gentle hold of your hand. "Maybe another time?" You understand what he's implying, as if your entire body isn't on fire already, you quickly nod.

Mark lets your hand slip from his, and you can tell he is having a hard time peeling his eyes away from you so he can leave. "Mark, wait, before you go-"

"What is it?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. He's having trouble keeping eye contact, his eyes flicking constantly from yours to your lips.

"My polar bear," you start, picking up the bag you dropped earlier. "Could you please, um… cuddle him for a while? Until you leave?"

Mark's eyebrows furrow until he realizes what you meant, his eyes drifting from your face to look at the plastic bag you're holding out to him. "Will this help you when I'm gone?" He asks, gingerly taking the bag from you.

"I hope so," you say quietly, clinging to him in one last hug. "I'll give you something of mine in exchange."

Mark returns the hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Sounds like a plan."

You watch Mark leave, nearly breathless and a pit at the base of your throat. Thoughts ran through your head of what could have happened if you weren't interrupted, the pit running further and further down your body to rest with the butterflies in your stomach.

Once you're finally able to go back inside, you really wish you hadn't immediately met eyes with your best friend, perched on the armrest of the couch and holding a mug of tea. Both her eyebrows are raised and a smirk is dancing on her lips.

"Were you two trying to fuck in the hallway?" She asked, taking a sip of her tea, watching you struggle to take off your shoes.

"N-no," you stutter, trembling hands giving away that you were… most likely lying.

Rhiannon laughed and shook her head. "Jeez. Learn to get a room," she jokes. "I'm going to bed."

"N-night," you call as you watch her pad into her own room and shut the door, leaving you to your own thoughts. It was hard for you to keep your brain from going off the rails as you changed into your pyjamas. You considered making tea, but you figured it was probably a bad idea. Shortly after changing, showering and doing your bedtime routine you slipped under the covers of your bed.Your rampant thoughts were made all the worse when you got a text from Mark.

Mark: I'm back safe

You: good, I'm happy you're safe

You: I'm about to go to bed

Mark: I wish I was there in bed with you

You could have audibly gasped when you read his text. You thought for so long with your fingers hovering over the keys that you got another text from him.

Mark: I'm sorry I got so carried away in the hall. I just really wanted to touch you. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable at all

You: no of course not, I actually really liked it

Mark: you did? Oh God… now itll never leave my head

You: I don't think it will leave mine either.. I really wish you could have stayed

Mark: me too but I would have gotten in a lot of trouble and the concert is already tomorrow

You: and you're leaving Saturday :(

Mark: yeah…

You: I want to kiss you again

Mark: I want to do a lot more than that

Your heart picks up speed and you grab your Death Star throw pillow to squeal into it. You're trembling even more as you type your reply.

You: I wish we had more time

Mark: we can make some if you come straight to the stadium after your class

You: ok

You: I'll run

Mark: looking forward to it

Mark: Rest well okay

You: I'll do my best considering

You: You too

Mark: yeah I promise I'll try

You locked your phone and placed it on your desk next to your bed and turned over, bringing the covers over your shoulders. It was hard to concentrate on sleeping, but you eventually dozed into a dream-filled sleep.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct127 #nctu #nct scenarios #nct imagines #reader insert #fanfiction #kpop fanfictions #kpop scenario #kpop imagines

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justsomewritingblogg · 3 years

Text

Avatar:TLA (Part 19 of many)

Request: None

Requested By: Nobody

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Summary: Bitter Work

Warnings: Mild peril

Word Count: 1K+

Last Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were awoken but a weight suddenly landing atop you……again. Your eyes shot open, seeing Sokka on top of you, still in his sleeping bag.

“This keeps happening.” You muttered, voice groggy. Sokka leapt up, still in his sleeping bag, and hopped over to Aang, mumbling something about “running around”. He hopped over to Toph, muttering something about “making noises”. Frankly, it was incoherent. Sokka hopped away, still muttering to himself. Aang jumped, landing next to Toph.

“So, what move are you going to teach me first?” He asked. “Rockalance? The trembler? Ooh! Maybe I can learn to make a whirlpool out of land!” Aang exclaimed, doing hand motions for each move. Toph held an arm out, signaling for him to stop.

“Let’s start with……move a rock.” She suggested.

The Avatar clapped. “Sounds good. Sounds good!”

Toph led him away, going somewhere where you presumed it would be easier to earthbend. Katara followed, interested. You on the other hand, were more interested in getting more sleep. That whole instance with Azula a few nights ago was still taking its toll on you. You were still exhausted.

You heard a shout and sat up, seeing Aang had crashed into Appa. A small chuckle was heard moments later. You turned, seeing Sokka still in his sleeping bag, leaning up against the wall as the sleeping bag came over his head.

“Ha! Rock beats airbender.” He joked quietly.

“I don’t understand what went wrong. He did it exactly like you did.” Katara voiced.

“Maybe if I come at it from a different angle…” Aang wondered, beginning to move around the boulder. Toph grabbed his sleeve.

“No. That’s the problem. You need to stop thinking like an airbender.” She told him, hitting his forehead lightly. “There’s no different angle, no clever solution, no trickity-trick that’s going to move that rock.” She told him, pushing him over. “You’ve got to face it head on. And when I say head on, I mean like this!”

Toph jumped into the air, head-butting the boulder. It smashed into pieces. Your jaw dropped as your eyes widened in terror.

“Uh…..I don’t think I can do that.” Aang admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You need to be blunt. You have to show the rock that you’re the boss, and you’re not afraid.” Toph told him. “And actually, that gives me an idea. Wait here.” She instructed. You watched as Toph used earthbending to get up the side of the cliff. She did a few hand and feet movements, creating a sort of slide in the mountain. She created a boulder, sitting it at the top before sliding down. She approached Aang. “This time we’re going to try something a little different.” Toph informed. “Instead of moving a rock, you’re going to stop a rock.” She spun around, facing him. “Get in your horse stance!” She demanded. Aang quickly widened his stance, getting lower. “I’m going to roll that boulder down at you.” She told him. “If you have the attitude of an earthbender, you’ll stay in your stance and stop the rock.”

You could see the look of terror settling on Aang’s face as he looked up at the massive boulder. “Oh boy.” You muttered, placing your head in your hands.

“Like, this.” Toph demonstrated.

“Sorry, Toph. But are you sure this is really the best way to teach Aang earthbending?” Katara asked, stepping forward.

“I’m glad you said something. Actually, there is a better way.” Toph grabbed Aang’s cloth around his waist, pulling it off and tying it around his eyes. “This way you’ll really have to sense the vibrations of the boulder to stop it.”

The look of surprise and fear on Aang’s face showed you that he didn’t approve of this method. Toph continued anyway. “Thank you, Katara.” She spoke.

“Yeah. Thanks, Katara.” Aang told her, a snappy tone to his voice. Toph, using earth as a launch-pad, threw herself to the top of the cliff. She pushed the boulder down. You watched as the large rock rolled, getting closer and closer to Aang. You chewed the inside of your cheek in stress. When the boulder was close, Aang jumped over it, the rock flying into a nearby wall. Toph came running down, no doubt about to scold him for not standing his ground.

“I don’t want to hear this.” You told no one in particular, standing and leaving, trying to find Sokka. “I wonder where he could have gotten to.” You muttered, wandering around a nearby forest. It wasn’t really a forest, per-say, but there were enough trees that you could get lost in it. You stopped walking when you heard a voice.

“-didn’t work out that way. I admit it, you’re cute.”

Silence followed. You recognized the voice as Sokka’s. You crept forward, seeing a small, brown creature sitting on your friend’s head.

“Okay….you convinced me. If I get out of this alive, it’s a comically correct, vegetarian existence for me. No meat. Even though meat is so tasty.”

The creature hopped off of Sokka’s head, running away. It was then you noticed that he was stuck in the ground, and couldn’t shoo away a fly that had landed on his head. You walked forward.

“Wow, did I hear that right?” You teased, emerging from the trees. Sokka whipped his head around to face you. “Sokka’s giving up meat?” You taunted, crouching down to his level and brushing the fly off of his forehead. The creature came back before he had the chance to respond.

“Hey! Looks like my karma’s already paying off!” He exclaimed. The creature dropped an apple a few feet in front of him. “It’s okay, I got it.” Sokka assured. He tried to pull his arms out of the hole to reach it, only resulting in several pained grunts and his boomerang getting squeezed out of its sheath on Sokka’s back. Sokka pointed at the weapon. “Now, come back, boomerang.”

You chuckled, picking up the apple and wiping it off, holding it up so Sokka’s mouth. He gratefully took a bite, chewing quickly before taking another bite. He acted like he hadn’t been fed in weeks. He finished the apple in record time, looking over at you as you tossed the core away.

“Do you think you could get me out of here?” He asked. You looked down at him, observing his predicament.

“I don’t think so.” You admitted.

“Well, could you please try?” He pleaded. You brought water out of your canteen, pouring it into the hole. “Not to question your methods, but what’s the plan here?”

“Will you wait?” You asked, looking up at him. You turned the water into ice. “Hopefully this will make you more slippery, so you’ll slide out.” You suggested. You reached forward, grabbing his hands. “On three. One, two, three!” You tugged, causing him to yelp in pain.

“Ow, ow!! He complained. You stopped, looking over at him. “Wait! I think I budged!” He exclaimed. “Try again!” He instructed. You reached forward, but hesitated.

“You sure?” You confirmed. He nodded. You chewed on your lip, reaching forward and pulling him some more, sliding him further out only slightly. You pulled with all your might.

“It’s starting to get cold!” He whined. You opened your eyes, (they were squeezed shut from the strain), seeing that he was slightly blue. You turned the ice back into water, bringing it back to your canteen.

“It’s getting dark.” You noticed, looking up at the sky. The creature, who you now know as Foofoocuddlypoops, was tugging on his ‘warriors wolf’s tail’. Sokka was getting desperate.

“Okay, karma person, or thing, or whoever’s in charge of this stuff. If I can just get out of this situation alive, I will give up meat, and sarcasm.” He pleaded. You cocked an eyebrow at his antics. “Ow!” He exclaimed as Foofoo pulled out his hair tie, letting his hair go wild. “That’s all I got! That’s pretty much my whole identity. Sokka: the meat and sarcasm guy. But I’m willing to be Sokka: the veggies and straight-talk fellow.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’ll be the day.” You muttered.

“Aang! Thank goodness! Have you got any meat?” You heard Sokka shout from beside you. You turned, seeing Aang rush over.

“Sokka! Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing Sokka’s hands and pulling.

“Ow! Stop! Stop!! You’re gonna pull my fingers off, but I don’t think the rest of me is coming!”

“Hm. I bet I could airbend you out of here.” He placed his hands on the ground as air flew out of the crevice Sokka was in. When the dust cleared, Sokka’s hair was straight up, until his weapons fell on his head, flattening his hair again.

“Seriously Aang, I know you’re new at it, but I could use a little earthbending here. How about it?”

“I can’t. I can’t do it.” Aang admitted softly.

“Well, if you can’t earthbend me out of here, go get Toph.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, venturing back into the forest to see if you could go find Toph. If Aang won’t, someone has to get Sokka out of there. When you finally made your way back to camp, you found Katara. “Where’s Toph?” You asked, approaching her quickly.

“I’m not sure.” Katara replied. “She said she was going to find Aang.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fantastic.” You mumbled. Katara’s eyes lit up, prompting you to raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“You found him!” Katara exclaimed, rushing forward and hugging Sokka. You turned, seeing Aang and Toph with him. You smiled, seeing your friend out of the hole.

“The whole time I was in that hole, not knowing if I would live or die, it makes a man think about what’s really important.” Sokka began. You cocked an eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips. “I realized-”

“Hey, Katara! Look what I can do!” Aang interrupted. He turned to the side, making some movements. A chunk of rock flew off of a pillar.

“You did it!” Katara exclaimed. “I knew you would!”

Appa suddenly roared loudly. Aang rushed over. “Appa! I can earthbend now! The key is to be completely immovable, both mentally and physically.”

The large bison licked Aang, knocking him over. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” You assured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Sorry it’s so short!

Tag List: @pizzamelon7384, @rissa-doodles, @chewymoustachio, @exo-nova, @90skid018, @hitsugayarose, @samanthadegaro, @casedoina, @bri-brithebumblebeee, @beeposstuff, @lunashaw57, @aamcqueeny, @anactualvelociraptor, @dnarez, @theferretkids, @fancyapricotcalzonepersona, @hyuckcherie, @bitchtits15, @rintheemolion, @panbelle, @littlemsrantsalot, @lovelyfuckingcunt, @h3llbunni

#Avatar #Avatar: The Last Airbender #A:TLA #Avatar: TLA #Zuko x reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #Zuko #Mara's works #My works

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moominquartz · 4 years

Photo

rating: T fandom: Steven Universe prompt: Secretly Drawing the Other warnings: None Apply word count: 3.4k requester: @kohakhearts

[IMG attached]

Connie is in desperate need of a reference picture.

My first complete fic for Fluff Bingo, which is something solely in a writing discord I’m apart of! Yes, it was inspired by BTHB, but it’s fun to have something to go to when I’m all out of angst juice. :)

[Read on AO3!]

~*~

Connie has never been especially talented at anything outside of school. She wins only as many tennis matches as she loses, and she struggles with the advanced sheet music that most of her peers seem to pull off flawlessly. Her grades are always A’s, sure, but that hardly seems like talent or skill, only an ability to test well.

The one thing Connie has never allowed herself to itemize — never allowed herself to compare herself to others, no matter how tempting it is — is her ability to draw.

To be fair, she knows she isn’t very good. When she begins, she’s heavily influenced by the wide-eyed, shoujo anime she adores, and proportions are the furthest thing from her mind. She draws solely for the fun of it, for pure expression. She draws when she’s ecstatic, she draws when she’s angry, she draws when she’s so sad that her tears stain the pages.

It’s only pencil drawings, but they’re very personal to her, and it’s something she doesn’t want anyone knowing she’s doing. Her parents know, because they’re her parents and she needs them to buy her the sketchbooks and the pencils. None of her friends do.

No one except Steven.

“Whoa,” Steven whispers with wide, childlike awe as he holds her sketchbook between his hands. He cradles the book as if it were scripture bound in expensive, gilded leather. “Connie, you’re amazing.”

She blushes. “Oh, it’s not anything special.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at her with such fervent belief that it throws her off-kilter. “Connie, I don’t know anything about drawing, but look at all the details you put in here!”

That isn’t quite true; Steven draws as well, though maybe not as frequently as she does. Still, she supposes she can see what he’s saying. Even though the proportions are way off and Archimicarus should not be double the size of Lisa’s head, Connie took the time to put in every accessory she loved into Lisa’s outfit. She was determined to make sure Lisa was recognizable, despite the fact that the movie hadn’t come out yet and nobody knew what Lisa was going to look like.

“Okay,” she murmurs, feeling high on the praise. “All right, I’ll take that. Thanks.”

He grins. “Will you show me more sometime?”

“Oh, uh… sure.” Flattered that he’d even ask, she agrees without thinking about it.

Connie starts to draw him. Not out of any intention, and certainly not because she wants to. It happens entirely by accident that she looks down at her sketchbook, struggling to find inspiration, and realizes she’s doodled his head in the corner.

It becomes commonplace that, when they’re spending time together — time not always spent doing something, but rather, sharing the same space and simply being — Connie will draw.

Sometimes Steven asks, but more often than not she says no. He takes absolutely no offense at all, and that’s part of why she likes him. He just lets her do her thing while he chugs through another playthrough of GolfQuest Mini or plans out his next TubeTube video.

Connie’s never been good at drawing real people. They’re even harder to get right than her anime characters. But the doodle doesn’t look entirely bad. It doesn’t look like Steven, but it doesn’t look bad.

And this is how Connie learns to use references: she stares at him while he doesn’t look at her.

She’s nervous at first, watching him while she draws. She’s afraid he’ll realize what she’s doing and draw attention to it. He’ll strike a pose or blush and say something about how she should be drawing someone else, or worse, he’ll ask to see it when she’s done. But Steven doesn’t do any of that. He keeps right on going, completely oblivious.

Connie gets pretty good at drawing him.

Years pass and Connie gets pretty damn good at drawing him.

The way she draws him changes with time. Her skills transform and puberty hits Steven like a freight truck. Every time she sees him, he seems to have grown a few inches. She hardly gets the chance to draw him more than once or twice while he’s in front of her. Once she reaches high school, she has far less time to just “hang out” — or if she does, and they aren’t doing anything, she’s forced to spend her time doing homework.

And then she figures out the work-around.

“What’re you up to?” she asks aloud as she types it into text. “Send pics.”

It sounds as if she’s asking for something else, but she absolutely isn’t. She hopes her Mom doesn’t still go through her text messages, or else she’s going to have a very awkward conversation with her later.

Her phone dings in response before she even sets it down.

w/ lars at the bakery!! lookit this! [IMG attached]

Yes, score! She only hopes it’s got a good enough angle—

—aaaaand it’s a picture of a dessert. It’s a very delicious-looking chocolate orange mousse, but it’s not of Steven.

She tries again on a different day, when she’s so tired of studying her eyes will fall out if she has to read one more word. She pulls out her sketchbook, lays on her bed, and texts him again. I’m so boredddd. Doing anything fun?

To prompt a photo in return, she attaches a selfie while she’s lying on the bed. It isn’t the best selfie she’s ever taken, but this isn’t about that. It’s about getting one back.

Steven, as always, replies quickly. sry, @ LH, can’t talk now. No picture. Connie glances at the clock just to make sure it is, indeed, past 8 PM, and she frowns.

Fine. Maybe she can ask for some help.

I am so sorry, Connie. Pearl’s texts are always way longer than they should be. You should’ve asked me a few weeks ago! I had a ton of pictures saved, but I recently exported them to an external harddrive. And he’s been so unwilling to let me take pictures of him recently.

Connie bites her lip. Pearl isn’t exactly a ‘grandma’ with technology — most of the things she’s learned how to operate, she’s done herself or only after one demonstration — but Connie wonders if she pressed, if she asked Pearl to retrieve her most recent picture of him to send to her, that Pearl would be a little too curious in return.

With all other options exhausted, Connie turns to desperate measures.

“Why am I doing this, again?” Amethyst asks over the phone. “Can’t you just, like, ask him yourself?”

“Please,” Connie all but begs. “I can’t tell you what it’s for, I just need a picture of him from the front, and it need to be at least waist-up. Although if you could get a full picture of him standing up, that’d be even better. Oh, and please don’t let him know that it’s for me.”

“Hmm.” Amethyst’s little hum is plotting, and Connie absolutely hates it. “Well, what do I get in return?”

“Huh?”

“What, you’re not expecting me to do this for free, are you?”

Of course. This is Amethyst. Connie chews on her bottom lip, considering.

“Well, what do you want? I could order Fish Stew for you.” Connie’s mom gives her enough of an allowance for her grades that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Or some of Lars’s bakery’s treats, if you like.”

Amethyst’s laugh goes to her bones. “What? I’m gonna need more than that. Hmm… How about this: I’ll take the picture for you, but you gotta come here to get it yourself.”

“What?” Connie’s voice squeaks. “You can’t be serious, Amethyst! It’s a school night!”

Amethyst snickers. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it tonight. I’ll text you when I have it, and you’ll get it when you come over. Oh, but when you do, you’d better bring two full pizzas with you, okay?”

“O-kay,” Connie mumbles, defeated.

“Sweet. Catch you on the flip side.”

do u need his face showin?

Connie blinks at the text on her phone, three days later. She’s just gotten out of school and Amethyst sent it three hours ago.

Yes.

dam. well heres the outtake [IMG attached]

When Connie clicks through, she gets the full shot of Steven all right. But he isn’t standing upright and still; instead, he’s rushing past the camera, blurring the shot, a hand in front of his face to block it from being seen.

This is a shitty picture.

i kno, that’s why i sent it to u w/o getting pizza, dam!!

In the interim, Connie tries once more to provoke a selfie from Steven. This one requires a little more effort and is incredibly flirtatious — borderline forward — but she has to try it. Her sketches of him seem more and more off by the day, and it’s driving her nuts. She needs that reference shot, at least one.

She has a violin concert one Friday night. She dresses up for it, wearing black slacks, a white button-up with a high collar, and a black blazer. A simple tie, black with blue stripes, adorns her neck, and she lets her hair down. Like this, it would just barely tickle her shoulders. She puts on a little more makeup than she normally would for a concert; she dabbles in foundation, in blush and lipstick, when normally she would settle for mascara and concealer, if she decided on makeup at all.

Eyeshadow is still too foreign for her, but she hopes this is enough.

Then the trick is taking the selfie itself. At first she takes a shot without her shoes on, then decides it would probably look better with them on, especially if she’s trying to get one back. So she puts on her nice pair of loafers and stands at the full-body mirror in her room, taking a deep breath as she tries to set her nerves to rest.

“It’s fine, Connie,” she murmurs. “It’s fine. It’s just Steven, and what’s the worst thing that could happen? That he just flat out doesn’t respond?”

That is, by far, the worst thing that could happen. She doesn’t know what he’d do if he did that, because Steven is always the type to reply within a few minutes. She doesn’t know if it’s just like that for her or for everyone, but she has to trust that he’ll reply to this.

She takes the picture. It’s a little lopsided because her hand is shaking, but it’s the full picture of her, head to toe. She sends it off with a caption that, she hopes, is not too flirtatious, not too forward, because she would hate to put him off:

Don’t I look nice? What are you wearing tonight?

She bites her lip. Mom calls for her to get going, that she’s taken too long, but Steven’s response is almost instantaneous: a long, long string of heart eyes emojis and hearts of different colors and patterns. Then another text, this one saying, you look amazing!! i wish i was there!!!

It isn’t a selfie, and it doesn’t answer her question, but it makes her heart soften nonetheless. He’s so good to her, and of course that makes him difficult to manipulate. Maybe she really should just ask.

Several hours later, on the drive back home from the concert, she turns her phone back on. And to her surprise, there is a message waiting.

sorry this took so long, i wanted to match!! [IMG attached]

She blinks.

Steven has gone all out for this. He’s wearing a formal dress she hasn’t seen before, the same blue of her tie; an A-line that allows her to see the broadness of his chest, with off-the-shoulder sleeves that proudly display the freckles of his shoulders, and a pleated skirt that begins at his waist. His shoes are the same color, heeled, open-toed, and he’s even done his nails.

His makeup is more intricate than hers. Blush, foundation, eyeliner, mascara, an iridescent violet eyeshadow and vibrant lipstick.

He’s sent multiple pictures. One is of him doing a kissy face, eyes lidded; the next is him laughing, blurred from moving the camera, what might have been a shot he hadn’t done on purpose; and the next is of him doing a peace sign.

Connie’s face burns. She’s glad her mom and dad take the front seats, so that she can have this little moment all to herself.

I love it! She hesitates over the send button. He sent her all those emojis, and she can’t even say more than three words?

You look great! Oh, but he looks more than great, doesn’t he?

Can I come over? Now that was honest, but way too suggestive!

She deletes it again and then realizes they’re almost home. She has to send something, she’s been thinking way too hard about it!

You’re the most beautiful, most handsome man in the whole world, and I wish I was with you.

She sends it before she can think twice about it. Steven responds immediately with many more emojis.

Connie can’t get the way he looked out of her head. In school, she doodles the dress in the margins of her notes. At tennis practice, she imagines trying to wear those heels and run at the same time. In orchestra, she pretends Steven is watching, that he came to her concert in that outfit.

She draws him, of course. For hours in her room, she flips through the pictures and draws, and draws, and draws. She draws him in the dress in different poses, in different settings, with different people.

… Mostly with her.

Her outfit’s different, though. It’s not the same, boring orchestra one she had to wear for the concert. She Googles different outfits and finds some fantastic, colorful tuxes, and of course pretends she would ever be able to wear them.

She’s in the middle of coloring a self-indulgent piece in which the two of them are dancing in these outfits (and this is one she would never, ever show to anyone), when she gets a text from Amethyst.

i got the pic. but uh… kinda havin some issues [IMG attached]

Connie blinks.

It’s a picture of Steven, though not the one Connie asked for. He’s closer to the camera, a rage in his eyes as he moves toward the person taking it, mouth open as if speaking.

Oh, no. Is he mad at Amethyst for sneaking pictures of him? Quickly, Connie tries to call her, but it only rings twice before going to voicemail.

Oh, no.

She calls Steven instead. He hangs up on her, too, but shoots her a short text: can’t talk.

URGENT, she replies in all caps and without punctuation. He does not reply.

She grabs her sketchbook, rushes downstairs. It’s late but not so late that she’ll be in trouble. She runs past Dad at the kitchen island, sipping on coffee before he goes in. “Sorry, I’ll be back before Mom!” she promises, slipping her shoes on.

“Where you going, honey?”

“To Steven’s!”

And when she opens the door, there, waiting for her, is a pink-hued lion.

When she throws open the door to the beach house, Steven is still yelling: “—you know I don’t like it when you take my picture—”

“Why?!” Amethyst yells. “Just because it’s me?!”

“No, it’s because I don’t want y’all snapping pictures of me for a scrapbook like I’m a baby—”

“AHEM.”

Connie’s clearing of her throat cuts through it, startling them both. They spin back around to face her, and while Amethyst’s glance goes askew, almost ashamed, Steven sees in her an immediate ally.

“Ugh, Connie, this isn’t a great time!” His voice is high, angry, but not at her; clearly, he thinks she’ll be on his side. “You won’t believe this, but Amethyst’s been trying to snap photos of me all week when she thinks I haven’t been looking, without even asking me or anything, and I’m in the middle of confronting her about it because if she thinks this is funny—”

“She doesn’t!”

“—just because that concealer isn’t working on the dark circles under my eyes, then she’s got another thing—” He cuts himself off, and Connie feels her nerves spike as he turns to her again, looking almost like a startled animal. “—uh… what are you talking about, Connie?”

“I asked her to do it.” Connie’s voice is one of defeat. Shame makes the room feel so much hotter than it is, and she wishes she could hide. She makes do by pressing her face into both of her hands and speaking against her palms. “I’m sorry. I just… I needed to get a picture of you and I didn’t want you to know, and that was probably really weird and creepy of me, and I’m sorry.”

The silence is suffocating. Steven whispers something to Amethyst, and Connie can’t hear the response. He must think she’s so creepy, that she’s been manipulating him somehow, and that she’s a horrible, untrustworthy person—

A moment later, Steven is right by her side. “Hey.” His voice is soft, and he pries a hand from her face to enfold in both of his. It should be comforting, but for a moment, she feels even worse; like she’s tricked him into offering her this kindness. “Um… So, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I thought you’d say no.” That’s not quite it. “I… I thought you’d ask why.”

“Well, now I kinda really wanna know.”

“I…” And here it is, the big moment. The confession. She looks down, unable to meet his gaze as her free hand fists at her side. “I’ve been drawing you and I needed a reference.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then two. And then Steven bursts into laughter, loud and relieved and maybe even playful. It still is humiliating to hear, but at the same time, she’s so, so glad he isn’t angry.

“You totally could’ve asked! I would’ve sent one to you, because that’s like… really, really nice of you to draw me.”

“No, it’s not!” And as she looks back at him, she can see just how much he doesn’t see this. She doesn’t tug her hand free because, selfishly, she hopes he never lets go. “I haven’t been doing it because I’m planning to paint you a portrait or anything, I’ve been solely using you for practice and it’s probably a really selfish thing of me, I-I even used the selfies you sent me that one night, and I’ve kind of lost all control over that, because you were so gorgeous in that dress and I…”

“Wait.” He cuts her off, and she bites her tongue. “Can I, like… see the drawings you’ve done? Or a few of them? I know you don’t like it when I ask, but there’s got to be at least one or two you’re proud of, right?”

“You… want to see them?”

“I want to see everything you’ve ever drawn!” His voice is so sincere and enthusiastic that her heart soars, forgetting immediately every single thing she said that could have soured their relationship. “But only if you’re cool with it! You’re such an amazing artist, Connie.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“Don’t start with me. I can go on and on.”

She smiles. She fidgets with a strand of her hair, and though it’s juvenile, she plays witness to the way such a small thing makes Steven’s face light up in adoration.

“Hey.” The word cuts through the moment, startling the both of them, and they look over at Amethyst leaning against the fridge with a raised eyebrow. “So now that like, the truth is out there and all that, I think I’m owed something.”

Connie opens her mouth at the same moment Steven groans, cutting her off. “I… yeah. I’m sorry, Amethyst. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I’m sorry for just… assuming stuff.”

Amethyst’s gaze then turns to Connie.

“Uh… Thank you, Amethyst.” Connie sighs. “For doing all of this for us.”

Amethyst laughs. It startles Connie a little, but Amethyst just shakes her head, a knowing grin on her face. “I can think of, maybe, a way for you two to express just how sorry and grateful you are…”

Steven blurts out a “huh?” while Connie giggles, reaching for the phone in her pocket.

“On it.”

#connverse #su #su fic #steven universe #connie maheswaran #isaiah writes #fluff bingo #real talk this was so much fun to write lmao

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Snapshot.

Atsushi likes to draw in the park. He doesn’t realize how many times he’s drawn the handsome photographer until the man comes talking to him.

Kuniatsu / Artist Atsushi, Photographer Kunikida (also ft. bug lover kuni)

Word count : ~3K

Atsushi settles down on the grass, back against the tree, and crosses his legs. He sets his cardboard folder against his knees and opens his sketchbook.

It’s new, and empty, a gift from Kyouka for his birthday, along with the set of pencils he’s brought with him. He puts the metal box on the ground next to him, picks on and looks around.

It’s a sunny day, in April, so the weather is still somewhat cool and the park isn’t as packed as in the summer months. Atsushi takes in the tree line, in the high building behind it, the people walking, the guy sitting on a bench playing a video game, the blond man lying on his stomach, a camera in hand.

He starts to draw.

Broad strokes shape the trees, from gross shapes first until he moves on to smaller details, leaves and patches of grass and the shape of a man with a camera.

It takes over an hour for Atsushi to get to the point of drawing him, deciding last minute to add him to the scenery, and when he looks up to check if he has moved, he finds the man in the exact same position.

Utterly still, and a look of complete concentration on his face.

Atsushi draws him, smiling to himself, taking great care in the placement of his finger on the camera button, in the way his messy ponytail falls on his back, in the angle the sunlight makes his glasses glint.

About another hour later, about ten minutes after he changes page and takes on drawing a spider that crawled up his leg, the photographer sits and stretches, setting his camera around his neck. Then he walks to the man on the bench, who puts his video games in his trench coat.

They exchange a few words, and leave.

Atsushi tries to imagine what this man could possibly have photographed.

Bugs.

What Kunikida absolutely wants to photograph is close-ups of bugs.

It takes longer than he expects, but waiting is something he can do. His roommate is Dazai Osamu, so his patience is forged in fire, iron and exasperation.

The last bug close-up he takes is a caterpillar crawling its way to the nearest leaf, set right in front of his camera, and he has a pretty good shot of it eating.

When he is done, he sits back and stands, joining Dazai, who puts away his video game.

“Are you finished?” he asks, and Kunikida nods.

“I’m done.”

“Show me!” Dazai leans over to see the screen of his camera, almost knocking Kunikida off balance.

“Oi, be careful!” He huffs and turns the camera back on and opens the gallery, flipping through the different pictures he took during the last few hours.

There is, besides the caterpillar, a group of ants carrying bread crumb from where a family had picnicked for lunch. He shows him the ladybug as well, particularly proud of this one, as it's a picture of it as it takes off.

Several grasshoppers, a yellow butterfly and a bee.

Dazai looks over the pictures, and his nose wrinkles as he makes a face. “That’s gross, Kunikida, you could at least try to take pictures of more glamorous subjects.” He grins. “Like me.”

“Bugs are certainly glamorous,” Kunikida shoots back. “Unlike you, they’re an essential part of the ecosystem and are underappreciated. They need to be more recognized for the role they have in preserving our environment!”

Dazai sighs over-dramatically, draping himself on his shoulder. “Am I not an essential part of your ecosystem? Kunikida, you black-hearted man.” When Kunikida rolls his eyes, Dazai pulls himself straight again. “I’m only trying to help you. If the cute boy over there knew you took pictures of bugs—”

“The what now.”

“Don’t turn around,” Dazai orders, and Kunikida almost does as a reflex. Instead, he glances back to where Dazai is looking, to a (admittedly cute) white-haired young man sitting under the tree. “He’s been staring at you for an hour.”

“He’s drawing,” Kunikida hisses, starting to walk away. “This activity usually requires a lot of staring. He just happened to look in my general direction.”

Dazai doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “But you’re wrong. He was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai.”

The park is a good source of inspiration, Atsushi decides on the third day of drawing there. He changes his spot every time, looking for new sceneries and people to draw. There are a lot of critters he ends up doodling, from birds to bugs and a few squirrels.

He brings a hot drink with him today. The temperature has dropped during the night, and it’s pretty much cold, so there is no one in the park besides Atsushi himself — and the photographer.

Today he has a tripod and facing away from him, and it’s an angle Atsushi rarely draws anyone in, so he takes the opportunity to put it down on paper.

His friend is with him today too, and Atsushi plans to draw him as well, but he quickly forgets about him. He puts special attention in the angle of the photographer’s shoulders, well defined by the blue coat he’s wearing. It stops under his knees, mid-calf, and then Atsushi makes sure to draw the folds of the pants just right.

Once, the photographer makes a movement to turn away, seemingly in Atsushi’s direction. Atsushi ducks his head, pretending not to be watching.

Then he tries something new. He looks up, trying to guess what the man is seeing, what he is taking a picture of, and sketches it as well as he can. It’s not perfect, but it’s a fun game that he finds out he likes to play, for now.

Once he is done, he catches sight of a cat playing in the grass and changes his subject.

Maybe, he thinks, he should bring Byakko to the park with him, next time?

Kunikida comes back to the park often.

It’s not necessarily to take pictures of bugs, though he likes it, but he needs practice in taking pictures of larger sceneries and finding a focal point in it.

A subject, noticeable enough to draw the eye, placed in a way that makes it looks part of the larger picture rather that the focus of it.

He turns on his heels, and catches sight of the young man he has seen two days before — the one who, Dazai insisted, was looking at his butt. He’s sitting just on the line between shadows and sunlight, bent down, focused on his drawing, hair overshadowing his face.

His pen scratches at the paper, and he periodically looks up to the calico cat playing a few meters away.

When he does, the light hits his face just right.

Kunikida twists the head of his tripod and turns the camera in his direction, making sure to include the cat. The white-haired artist isn’t paying attention to him at all so, the next time he looks up at the animal, Kunikida snaps a quick picture.

He opens the picture folder and stares at it.

It’s perfect.

It’s not the only picture Kunikida takes of him.

“You’re turning into a stalker~" Dazai teases, poking his side, and Kunikida flushes.

“I’m not a stalker!”

“S—ure. It’s not your fault he is so photogenic, right?”

On the latest one, he is lying on the ground, legs swinging slowly as he draws a different cat. This one is black and white, and Kunikida saw it arrive with him. It’s probably his cat.

Over the next few days, it seems like every time Kunikida tries to take a good picture, this young artist is just there, in a corner, looking a natural part of the place. He zooms in on one of them as much as he possibly can before it turns blurry.

He is smiling here, wide enough to show some of his teeth, to make his eyes crinkle and shine.

Kunikida spends several second looking at it, at every details of his face he can make out, committing them to memory. Then, he duplicates the pictures and crops it.

That’s a smile he wouldn’t mind seeing up close.

God, he’s starting to sound like Dazai.

Next to him, Dazai’s obnoxious laughter only gets louder, and Kunikida would strangle him with his bare hands if not for the attention it would draw.

“I should apologize to him,” he decides suddenly. Because taking secret pictures of a stranger isn’t simply weird, it can come off as downright creepy, and Kunikida is not a creep. Because he’s started to look for this young artist on shots he’s definitely not on, and to zoom in on his face, and this is getting out of hands.

“You can’t!” Dazai can barely contain his glee. “He’s napping!”

Indeed he is, and Kunikida gives up. He huffs and settles on the ground to take more pictures of bugs, stopping all movement to wait for one to approach him.

A few minutes later, he finds himself nose to nose with the young man’s cat, who bops its face on the camera lens.

Resigned, Kunikida adjusts the settings and presses the button. The cat’s nose looks enormous on the resulting picture, it’s curious eyes wide, its face magnified. One it's taken he sits up and shows it too the cat.

“There,” he says. "Are you happy?”

It stares at the picture of itself, rubs its head on Kunikida’s hand until he gives it a good scratch, and leaves.

The cold has passed now, as the end of April nears, and more and more people come to enjoy the sunshine and warmer weather. Atsushi sees families and several dog walkers.

He sets Byakko upon the grass. “Don’t go too far,” he tells the cat, who flicks her black-tipped tail at him before ignoring him.

The photographer is almost facing Atsushi today, so he has to be more discreet while drawing.

He focuses on his face, this time. On the line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes, and the way he frowns where he’s focused. He adds in as many details as he finds, and the more he draws the more his eyes are drawn to him.

By the time he is done Atsushi feels like he knows this face by heart.

The photographer’s expression changes as he takes different pictures of crowds while Atsushi records them in his sketchbook as fast as he possibly can, stomach fluttering as he discovers the range of emotions this man expresses.

It’s wonderful practice, especially when his tall friend annoys him until he turns to him.

“Stop it, Dazai,” Atsushi hears him snap when the friend in question purposely waves in front of the camera to wave at him. He supposes the picture is ruined, because the photographer emits a loud noise of frustration. “Dammit, it’s all blurry now! Stop that, you useless waste of bandages!”

The sound attracts Byakko’s attention, and she wanders away from Atsushi. She curiously paws towards the pair until Dazai notices her and bends down to pet her.

She rubs her head against the man’s hand, before messing around, coming close to knock the tripod over. The sight it almost as Atsushi on his feet, but before he can Dazai looks up. His eyes catch Atsushi and he smiles, wide, like a Cheshire cat.

Atsushi’s face burns. He has been caught staring. To make it worse, Dazai tugs on the photographer’s arm and points to the cat, then to Atsushi. The man picks up Byakko and walks over to Atsushi with decisive steps.

He's mad at him, he thinks as he tries to read his face. He’s going to yell at him for staring or for letting his cat mess around his equipment.

The photographer stops right in front of him, and Atsushi realizes his work is in plain sight. He slams his sketchbook close, hoping he hasn’t noticed it — and the handful of drawings of his face all over the page.

“Is this your cat?”

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi says, standing up to take her. “I’ll be more careful with her —”

“Please do,” the man answers, handing her to him. “What is she called?”

“Byakko.” He scratches at her ears and sighs. “I’m really sorry, I figured the park would be safer for her than letting her out in the streets.”

“No harm was done.” His face smooths over as he notices Atsushi’s distress, as if trying to reassure him. “She came over to me yesterday as well, and got her picture taken for her troubles.”

“Really? Thank you for not—you know—” He shrugs. “Uh, I’ve seen you around? Several times. I’m Atsushi.”

“Kunikida, it’s a pleasure.” His eyes fall on the discarded sketchbook. “I’ve seen you here as well, you seem to be a prolific artist.”

“I try!” He sends him a weak smile. “That’s how you progress, right?”

“Of course. Practice makes perfect— you must be skilled.”

“I can show you?” Atsushi offers, cheeks fading to a light pink. “If you want?”

Kunikida nods. “I can show you some of my work as well, if you’d like.” He gestures back at where his camera is still set. “I’m a photographer.”

Atsushi picks his sketchbook up again and flips it to the previous pages, trying to find one he likes enough to show off. He’s never liked showing his drawings to anyone, but Kunikida doesn’t seem the kind of man who would laugh at him, and something like excitation bubbles in Atsushi.

Until he realizes just how many times he has drawn Kunikida in the past few weeks.

“Uh—” The sketchbook snaps shut again, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Would you look at the time! I should really head home!”

“What—”

It’s obvious, from Kunikida’s face, that he’s seen them. He glances from the sketchbook to Atsushi, who is currently stuffing his things in his bag as fast as he can.

“I can hear my mom calling me!”

It’s only after he offers to show Atsushi his work that Kunikida remembers just how many pictures of him are on his camera roll.

He is almost relieved when Atsushi runs away, because it would have been a lot to explain. He would probably think Kunikida is a creep.

“Or maybe not,” Dazai tells him, thoughtful. “You say you saw that he’s been drawing you? So, I was right, he was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai, I’m sure he didn’t draw my butt.” He sets up his camera and looks around.

“Shame, it's very nice.”

After three days of going back to the usual park, Kunikida finally resigns to the fact that Atsushi isn’t showing up anymore. Since then, all his pictures have been bland — incomplete — so Dazai suggested moving location.

This new park is larger than the previous one and different enough to give him new material. The trees are denser and clear-cut paths run through it. A fountain stands in the center, the water flowing with a soothing noise.

Next to him, Dazai flops down on the grass, staring up at the sky and pulls out his earphones. Kunikida takes a picture, mentally labelling it as “Dazai being a lazy ass, as usual”.

It's only half-hearted, because Dazai doesn’t have to come with him on his photographing endeavors, and some days Kunikida wonders why he comes at all. Besides, saying he doesn’t enjoy Dazai’s company would be a blatant lie, they both know it.

Suddenly, Dazai rolls on his side and takes one of his earbuds out. “Your favourite subject is here,” he points out. “Looks like someone had the same idea!”

Following his fingers, Kunikida finds Atsushi sitting near the fountain, scribbling in his sketchbook. He almost has his back to him, so he can’t see his face.

“You should—”

Kunikida doesn’t hear the end of Dazai’s sentence. He grabs his camera and walks towards him until Byakko, sitting by him, raises her head in his direction.

She stands and meows, attracting Atsushi’s attention, and he turns around. His eyes go wide as he sees Kunikida, and he stammers out something that sounds like “hello”.

“I would like to take a picture of you, please,” Kunikida declares, and Atsushi’s face turns into a deep, concerning red.

“Uh?”

He raises his camera. “You also don’t have to be embarrassed about drawing me. People watching — and drawing — is a strong hobby that can only lead to great progress in your art.” He pauses. “There are also several pictures of you I took without your knowledge and consent, I’m sorry. In my defence, you are often the only person who doesn’t move around.”

Atsushi looks a lot less panicked now that he knows Kunikida doesn’t hold anything against him, and laughs. “I hope you know how weird this sounds.”

“I’m aware.” His strict composure softens, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “So, can I take a picture?”

“Sure.” He sets his sketchbook down. “How would you like it to be?”

“Just a portrait.” He crouches to be on the same level as Atsushi, who is still sitting, and smiles as the camera is pointed to him.

It’s the first picture he takes where Atsushi is looking right at the camera, smiling at him, and Kunikida’s heart jumps in his chest. He sits on the bench, right next to Atsushi, to show him.

The young man leans over until their shoulders touch and stares at his own face, not unlike his cat did just a few days ago.

His cheeks are still pink when he pulls on of his uneven strand of hair behind his ear. “Could I see the other ones?” He gulps, and seems to gather the courage to add something else, twisting his hands: “I mean, I could show you mine—” his graphite stained fingers tap his sketchbook as he speaks “—and you can show me yours. Over coffee? Maybe?”

Kunikida blinks in surprise, taken off guard, but he smiles. “I would like that.”

#bsd #kuniatsu #kunikida doppo #nakajima atsushi #bsd kunikida #bsd atsushi #writing

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grandtheftstarship · 5 years

Text

Painted Roses (Barista!Jim Kirk x Artist!Fem!Reader) [Request!]

“So, Jim is a barista in a coffe shop /he could be the owner too, but it's not that important / and the reader always goes there but she never drinks coffee just hot chocolate or sometimes tea. She's an artist and she always goes there and sits there for hours just drawing people in her sketchbook. Sometimes she's all covered in paint. /continuing/... And she somehow caught Jims attention and one time she forgets about time and sits there all day, Jim brings her refills time to time maybe some desserts to eat because she kinda forgots... Until Jim tells them that it's closing time, but they start a conversation an they sit there for a litte while longer... ||Sorry for the long ask, if you don't want to do it, it's fine, still love ya! 💕 Have a nice day ❤️” - @rh-girlonfire

I love this request SOOOOOOOOOO much!!! Mainly because I like to think of myself of an artist :) I can never get enough of coffee shop AUs! Please enjoy :) Love you too ❤︎

Also THANK YOU ALL FOR FOLLOWING ME!!! I just reached 100 and even though it’s a small milestone it still means a lot to me :) Thank you all for supporting me and what I love to do! Love you all ❤︎

P.S- I just wanted to let you all know that I see it when you guys comment and reblog! I just can’t respond because this is a secondary blog, so it won’t come up as me :( Just know that I see you, and I appreciate you!!! Every time someone comments or reblogs it makes me so happy :) Did I mention that I love y’all?

Word Count: 2157 Warnings: mega fluff, I’m pretty sure this is my favorite thing I’ve ever written ever, swearing, keep a lookout for the Office reference ;)

Take a shot every time I use the word sometimes lol

You didn’t know when you first started coming to the quaint little coffee shop on the corner of your block, and you didn’t know when you started making a habit out of it. Once or twice a month turned into several times a week, and then suddenly you were there for several hours a day to work on your projects. You found the atmosphere warm and inviting, as opposed to your cramped apartment down the street that you could barely afford.

Yes, you were a starving artist. But that didn’t make your art any less meaningful. Ever since the first day you had been coming, you had your table. It was the smaller booth in the corner by one of the large windows overlooking the park and the busy street. It was also dotted with paint marks, but the owner didn’t seem to mind.

It was the barista, though, that caught your eye. Every single day, he was there ready with one of your usuals. You never drank coffee, it was usually tea or hot chocolate. He usually chose for you, but you didn’t mind. Whatever he made tasted delicious. You always ordered ‘for here’, enjoying the cute, white mugs with the pretty art he made with the cream in your hot chocolate or with the honey in your tea. It was different every day, sometimes a flower, or a cute face, and one time he made an elaborate heart with swirls and sprinkles which made you blush as you thanked him.

On days you were really working hard, you were there from opening to closing now and again, he would bring you refills and sometimes small deserts. You would pull your headphones back and thank him, smiling as he would rub the back of his neck, bashful. You thought it was cute.

In fact, you thought he was cute all the time. On days you weren’t really working on big pieces you would just pull out your sketchbook and draw the people around you, but mainly it was him, dressed in his black apron and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You would draw him from various angles; walking with the serving platters filling both his hands, smiling at a customer, washing things in the sink: rough sketches of him filled many pages in your book.

Other days, you would decide to paint outside in the park in the morning to get practice with realistic nature, get covered in paint, and then head over to the coffee shop for your afternoon drink. It was on these days that you felt the most insecure since you were in your painting overalls and your old vintage Queen T-shirt underneath and you were covered in various colors and stages of dried paint. There was even paint in your hair or on your face sometimes, and the barista (who, after you finally took notice of his nametag, was named Jim) would kindly point it out to you. You would get red in the face and frantically try to wipe it off, getting more paint on your already paint-splattered hands; it was all just a mess.

Today was not one of those days, though; today you were working in your sketchbook, doodling and working on drawing people. You came in early, some twenty minutes after they had opened. Jim was there as you walked in, beaming as you walked up to the counter.

“Hey,” he greeted, pushing a mug full of steaming cocoa up to you.

You peeled your headphones back to rest on your neck as you pulled out some wrinkled dollar bills. You frowned. You didn’t realize how low you had been getting on money and you knew exactly where it had all been going. Nevertheless, you put a smile on your face and slid the money across the counter to him.

“Hey,” you returned the hello, lifting the mug from the counter. “What’s my drink of the day today?”

“Well, we just got some new teas in so I thought I fix one up for you,” he replied. “This one is Chamomile Citrus, with three swirls of honey just how you like it.”

You smiled, pink dusting your cheeks. “Thanks, Jim.”

Your blush deepened as his face reddened up at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It was the first time you had ever called him by name, and you felt like he liked it. He did.

You moved away before he could say anything else, heading over to your table and settling in. You pulled your headphones on and unpacked your backpack, flipping your sketchbook open to the next blank page and getting started.

_______________

Jim didn’t know when he first started noticing her. Maybe it was when she first started coming in with paint splattered all over her overalls, maybe it was when he first saw her set out her paints. He didn’t really care, all that mattered was that he noticed her now.

He had never been so captivated by someone like he was by her, his typical pulled-together demeanor was thrown out the window when she entered the shop and when she smiled all of his insides turned to mush. He didn’t even know her name.

So, in order to capture her attention, he started writing down her orders for future reference, such as how much whipped cream she liked on her hot cocoa, or how much honey she preferred in her tea. There was one thing he knew for sure; no coffee.

He figured out that she was pretty lenient when it came to her orders, so he started making them ahead of time. He knew that she would be in almost every day, so he made them when he had a free minute. He even started practicing latte art on other customers’ orders to try and impress her. He felt like she enjoyed it. She did.

He would never forget the time the flower he meant to do on her hot chocolate one time morphed into a heart that actually looked pretty good so he decided to just go for it. Her face was exactly what he wanted, her cute cheeks turning a soft pink and her thank you coming out a bit quieter.

He couldn’t deny the fact that he was attracted to her. He had been with plenty of girls, but it was different this time. His palms would get sweaty when he saw her come in and butterflies would spring up in his stomach when she thanked him for whatever thing he had brought her.

He caught himself staring at her sometimes when hours were slow, noting how her bottom lip got caught in her teeth as she concentrated, and how that one strand of [h/c] hair fell into her eyes every so often and how she would blow it out of her face and keep working. He was mesmerized by it all. The only problem was that he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with those feelings.

There wasn’t exactly an outlet for him to let them out through and he didn’t want to sleep with other girls, so he kept them in a little jar in the back of his mind. When he lied alone at night in the small apartment above the shop (that the owner, Leonard, had graciously let him stay in), he would let them out and let himself feel in full throttle. Sometimes it was a lot to handle.

He didn’t realize how much he felt for her until she came in only a few minutes after he opened with a large canvas. She didn’t go to the counter right away since her hands were full, so Jim came to her. He set her iced tea on the table out of the way, humming as she thanked him.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his apron as he walked away, only then understanding what he had gotten himself into.

_______________

You had never been there this long. You barely noticed the time passing as you painted, concentrating hard on the details. You hadn’t even realized that you had started painting the cafe storefront until you started mixing the paint. You decided to just go with it.

Jim brought you little pastries and refills from time to time, making sure you wouldn’t be disturbed. Even he didn’t disturb you, letting you enjoy your time listening to [your favorite band] and just paint to your little heart’s content.

That was, until closing time rolled around.

You didn’t know that you had been there for that long until Jim tapped your shoulder and you jumped, like, three feet in the air.

You yanked back your headphones and smacked him in the arm.

“You scared me!” you gasped. He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, but...” He waved his arm at the empty floor.

“Oh...” you sighed in disappointment. You had really wanted to finish your project before the day was over.

“I mean... if you want to stay I could close up shop and we can talk or something while you finish...?” he asked it like a question and a smile spread across your face at his flustered expression.

“Sure,” You replied. “You got an aux cord?”

He nodded, leading you behind the counter and letting you plug your phone in and shuffle your playlist.

“Wanna help me?” he asked, beckoning you over to the counter.

“With what?” you wondered, walking over.

“With the drinks,” he picked up the box of your favorite tea. “Tea sound good?”

You nodded, grinning. He showed you how to mix the two teas together and how he made honey flowers to float on top of the steaming mug before they dissolved into the hot drink. He fixed himself one before shutting off all the lights besides the one above your table and sat in the booth across from you that had gone unused for so long.

Your music played softly in the background as you resumed painting, Jim watching your brush intently.

You looked up sharply, catching him off guard. “Wanna play A Question Game?”

“A question game?” Jim repeated, bemused.

“Yeah, like where we ask each other random questions to get to know each other better.”

“Is this what you do on all of your first dates?” he smirked.

“What’s a first date without the basics?” you mirrored his expression. “You go first.”

“What’s your name?” he questioned.

“[y/n],” you replied, not looking up. “[y/n] [l/n].”

He let your name roll around his mind, liking the feel of it. “Your turn.”

“What’s your last name?” you glanced at him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Kirk,” he responded. “James T. Kirk.”

You looked up quickly. “Your real name is James?”

“What did you think it was?” he chuckled. “Jimothy?”

You laughed, enjoying the reference. Jim’s eyes bore into yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before,” he said, a little quieter. “You should do it more often.”

You sent him a knowing smile. “Next question, Kirk.”

The game went on like that for at least another hour or so, basic questions like favorite colors, birthdays, favorite shows, hometowns, etcetera etcetera. You learned that Jim’s favorite color was purple, his birthday was on March 22, and he was from Rivertown Iowa.

“I think I’m finished,” you said suddenly, wiping your paintbrush off on a paper towel and putting it in the water.

“Oh yeah?” Jim stood. “Let’s see it.”

You propped it up and turned to look at it, pride flooding your senses.

“Wow,” he breathed. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said shyly, cleaning up your things and putting them back into your backpack. “Well, I really should be going.”

You started to open your wallet to pay for the food, but Jim stopped you by putting his hand over yours. Heat blew up in your cheeks, as you met his gaze.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, eyes flicking down to the painting. “If you want, you can pay by letting me hang that on the wall.”

You eyes blew open wide. “Seriously? You want my art on your wall?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I really do.”

You stared back into his blue eyes and let him close the distance between you, liking the feeling of his smooth lips against yours. He pulled away first, stomach flipping at the sight of your eyes still closed. They opened slowly and you smiled up at him.

“Second date?” he asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

You giggled, raising your hand up to boop his nose.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pecking his lips before pulling out of his embrace. You picked up your backpack and slung it over your shoulder, holding your headphones. “See you tomorrow?”

“Same time same place,” he grinned as you smiled and waved as you left, pulling your headphones over your ears and putting your hands in your pockets as you started walking down the street to your apartment.

Both of you thinking about what a wonderful day you had.

#star trek #jim kirk #james t kirk #star trek fanfiction #star trek fanfic #star trek imagines #star trek x reader #star trek reader inserts #jim kirk x reader #jim kirk imagines #jim kirk reader inserts #james t kirk x reader #james t kirk reader inserts #james t kirk fanfic

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laallomri · 6 years

Text

[minific for #JuLance! each is about one of Lance’s birthdays and has a one-word theme]

[25th birthday. theme: proposal]

It’s half past ten PM on July 28th, and Keith and Lance are sitting on the floor in front of the couch in their tiny apartment, watching Planet Earth.

If Keith had his way, this is not how he and Lance would be celebrating Lance’s birthday. If Keith had his way they’d be at a giant party with Lance’s entire family and all their friends, even if it means Keith would use up his socializing quota for the next month.

But there can’t be a giant party, because real life doesn’t stop for birthdays, even the birthdays of boyfriends as wonderful and fantastic and deserving as Lance is. So Keith had had to settle for showing Lance all the presents their family and friends had mailed in, and calling up everyone who hadn’t already messaged Lance to remind them to do so, and spending the afternoon Skyping Lance’s mom so she can help him make Lance’s favorite dinner.

After dinner they went for a long walk on the beach, alternating between holding hands and kicking sand at each other, until finally they got tired and decided to come back home, stopping along the way to buy a bunch of garlic knots and too many bags of candy. And now they’re here, watching Planet Earth, Lance sitting with his back against the bottom of the couch and Keith sitting in front of him and leaned against his chest, with Lance’s arm around his waist.

(“Shouldn’t you be the little spoon?” Keith had asked as they sat down. “It’s your birthday.”

“Exactly,” Lance had said, then, with a gleam in his eyes that should have warned Keith, “that’s why I want to be the big spoon, so I can take my birthday privileges, like—this!”

He blew a raspberry in Keith’s neck, then another, then another, until Keith laughed so hard he snorted, until Lance knocked over their mountain of candy bags in his efforts to get a squirming Keith to stay still so he could blow more raspberries in his neck.)

It’s been only a few minutes since then, contented silence interrupted only by the sounds of them eating and their occasional mimicry of David Attenborough’s voice. Keith puts his bag of M&Ms on the coffee table next to his colorful pens. He’d bought several packs of them when they’d moved into this apartment a year ago, so he could leave a few around the space and always have a couple within reach. Drawing helps him when he feels lost or groundless, when he closes his eyes and forgets where he is; he grabs a pen and doodles on a scrap of paper, on a mug, on his hand, anything to calm him down and give him an anchor so he can remind himself that he is home, and safe, and okay.

He doesn’t feel lost or groundless now, but he hasn’t drawn all day, so he uncaps the blue pen and pokes the arm Lance has wrapped around Keith’s waist. Lance drops a kiss to the side of Keith’s neck, just beside the tie of his ponytail, which Keith takes as agreement to draw.

He makes a tiny pattern on Lance’s thumb, diamonds overlapping like snakeskin. Lance reaches into the bag of garlic knots with his free hand and takes one out; it smells good, so Keith tilts his head without stopping work on the pattern and Lance pops the garlic knot into Keith’s mouth, with an ugh at the weird insects zooming around on the screen.

They continue like that for a while—Keith doodling, Lance alternating between feeding himself and feeding Keith while commenting on the creatures on screen. Keith huffs or snickers or says what whenever expected, though he keeps doodling, diamond patterns and stars and phrases in the Galra symbols that Krolia had taught him during their time on the space whale, so many years ago: peace, happiness, love, friendship.

Eventually he runs out of space on Lance’s arm. Lance pauses the episode.

“Nice,” he says, stretching out his arm to admire Keith’s handiwork. “Do you want my other arm too?”

“Yeah.”

Lance moves the food over to his other side so he can eat with his decorated hand and leave the other one free for Keith to draw on. He resumes the show and Keith stares at Lance’s other hand, frowning a little. He thinks he should do something different this time, instead of just little doodles. He liked the symbols; maybe something like that? Though he’ll have to keep it simple, since Lance’s Galran isn’t very fluent.

Happy birthday, he writes in Galran symbols, running horizontally below Lance’s wrist.

I love you, he writes next, because even after all this time it’s still infinitely easier to write it than to say it. He’s said it aloud before, said it a thousand times, but somehow the permanency of writing it is still easier than the transience of saying it.

“Oh my god,” Lance says, and when Keith looks up he sees his nose is wrinkled. “Do you see that ant? It’s all squashed. Gross.”

The ant is indeed squashed. Keith glances at it, then back at Lance. Even with his nose wrinkled and his mouth full of the garlic knot he’d just taken a bite of, he’s still stunning, all sharp jaw and firm mouth and pointy nose and curly hair. Keith thinks he could look at him forever.

You are so handsome, he adds beneath the last line on Lance’s arm, then, because at this angle he can see Lance’s long lashes, see how they frame eyes bright and brown, Your eyes are beautiful.

He thinks of the raspberry kisses earlier, of laughing so hard he snorts, of the pleasant scrape of Lance’s scruff against Keith’s neck; thinks of waking up that morning, of seeing Lance’s face calm and open in sleep, illuminated by pale early sunlight.

You make me happy, he writes.

He thinks of how Lance’s face lit up today whenever he got a birthday message from a friend or relative, of how his happiness made Keith feel lighter as well; thinks of the diplomatic meeting they went to last week to help Allura, of how he had only had to look at Lance once for him to understand that he thought the other diplomat was full of shit; thinks of the conversation they’d had when they went to lunch with Shiro the other day, of how Lance had said “hey did you tell him about the thing yet,” of how Keith had said “the thing or the other thing,” of how Lance had said “the other thing,” of how Keith had told Shiro exactly what Lance meant, of how Shiro had laughed, startled at how they had somehow managed to communicate so vaguely; thinks of how well he and Lance know each other, like they are one soul put into two bodies, alike and different, apart and together, each their own person but so in tune they might as well be one.

You are my favorite person.

He looks at Lance again. The episode has ended, moved on to the one about oceans, and Lance’s expression as the whales come on screen is one of pure delight. He feels Keith’s eyes on him.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He kisses Lance’s cheek, once twice thrice, tiny kisses for the tiny freckles dotting his skin. Lance smiles, his dimple flashing, then goes back to watching the whales.

There isn’t much space left on Lance’s arm. He’d probably let Keith draw on his leg, too, or shift so he could draw on his upper arms—it’s absurdly hot tonight, so they’re both wearing basketball shorts and tank tops anyway—but for some reason Keith feels like this last bit of space should count, should be the final space to be filled for now.

There’s dramatic music onscreen as a baby whale swims through the waves. Lance coos at it.

“I wish you could have pet whales,” he says. “I want a whale. Then I could ride him around in the ocean.”

“You already have a lion,” Keith reminds him, still pondering the empty space on Lance’s arm.

“That’s for space,” Lance explains. “I want a cool animal for the ocean, too.”

“Our lions can go in water.”

“Okay, Mr Mansplainer,” Lance says, and Keith doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he sounds fond. “I still think a whale would be cool. Or a dolphin.” He gasps, as if just now remembering something. “No! Forget all that. I want a shark.”

“You’re not very faithful to your pets,” Keith says, amused.

“My love is fickle,” Lance says solemnly, then grins, suddenly, like a light being turned on in a dark room. “Except for my love for you.”

“Corny,” Keith says, though he smiles too. “What kind of shark would you want?”

“Hm, well…”

Lance launches into a detailed comparison of all the sharks he knows, both earth and alien, rattles off facts and experiences in aquariums and his own personal opinions (apparently hammerheads are “not appreciated enough, Keith!! They’re so cool!! But everyone thinks they’re dumb cause of the way they look, which is discrimination!”). He’s done this before, but Keith loves it every time anyway and always makes sure to listen. He puts down his pen and pauses the show so Lance knows for sure that Keith’s attention isn’t anywhere else.

Lance is in the middle of talking about great white sharks when it happens. His face is bright and expressive, his free hand moving around as he talks, and he’s so excited, and he’s talking about how the most dangerous of the alien sharks they know of still isn’t anywhere near as deadly as a great white, and Keith has heard this a hundred times, but this time it feels—different—new, almost—though not new, not quite, not new but like new, like a familiar room that’s been repainted, or a favorite book he’s read after a long time, or an old recipe made by someone else’s hand.

He blinks, unsure what it means, and then Lance reaches into the bag of M&Ms on the coffee table, pops a couple into his mouth, takes out a few more, and despite Keith’s hands being free now that he’s capped the pen, Lance holds the candy to Keith’s mouth anyway and feeds them to him. Keith bites down on the candy, feels the sweetness burst over his tongue, watches Lance’s eyes and Lance’s mouth and Lance’s hand, moving through the air as he talks, and his heart jumps, and settles, and whispers, I want to marry you.

He blinks again. He expects it to feel scary, overwhelming, but the sentence sinks into him, settles into his bones, spreads through him like cream poured into coffee, the cloud bursting through the dark liquid, sudden at first then more slowly, until it overtakes him so much he can’t think of anything else.

He shakes out of it long enough to pay attention to the rest of Lance’s ramble, to respond every so often so he knows Keith is paying attention. Eventually Lance settles on wanting an alien shark species called saavmach for a pet, and Keith agrees with his choice, and they resume the ocean episode.

Keith uncaps his pen and put the tip to the empty space on Lance’s arm. He chews his lower lip for a second, closes his eyes, opens them, then writes his last sentence. He caps the pen once more and sets it on the table.

“Done?” Lance asks. He glances at his arm, surprised. “Did you just write on this one?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. His stomach flips. “I wrote some words on your other arm too, but I thought I’d practice full sentences.”

Lance pauses the show and looks again at the first arm Keith had drawn on.

“Peace, happiness, love, friendship,” he reads, then snickers. “Is that the Galran version of a Live Laugh Love sign?”

Keith pokes his cheek, though the joke makes his stomach settle a little. It’ll be okay. They’ve been teammates for years, friends for years, boyfriends for years. They’ve survived battle and bickering and the chaos of trying to cancel a cable subscription.

It’ll be okay.

Lance is looking at his other arm. His brow furrows as he tries to read the longer sentences in Galran. Keith watches him; despite his efforts a moment ago his stomach twists nervously again.

“Happy birthday?” Lance checks.

Keith nods. Lance looks at the next sentence and smiles.

“I love you too,” he says gently, then, grinning as he sees the next two lines, “Hell yeah I’m handsome! Though your eyes are prettier than mine.”

Impossible, Keith thinks, though out loud he says, “We can be tied on that one.”

Lance read the next sentences. When he looks up his gaze is soft.

“You make me happy too,” he says, then, cheekily, “but I think my favorite person is the guy who sells these garlic knots.”

“That’s understandable,” Keith says, as seriously as he can manage, though he’s pretty sure Lance sees the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lance looks back at his arm. Keith watches, his heart in his throat, too afraid to breathe. He’s not even sure Lance will understand it. He’s not sure Lance has ever seen the word marry in Galran.

It seems like he struggles with it. Keith is pretty sure he’s already read it a couple of times; he sees him mouth the words to himself, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s reading it right or not. Keith wants to say something, but he feels like he shouldn’t, feels like he needs to let this unfold, let Lance answer on his own.

And then—

—he feels Lance get very, very still—

—feels him inhale and not exhale, feels him hold himself in place, as if any movement will change the symbols written on his skin.

“Keith,” he says, and it’s a question, and a statement, and an answer.

Keith looks at him, his heart thumping. Lance’s eyes are glittering.

“Yes” is all Keith says, then, too quickly, “I mean—I know we’re still kind of young, but—” He takes a deep breath, slides his hand to twine his fingers with Lance’s. “I love you. I don’t want to wait. Though if you want then of course we can—we can have a long engagement or not tell anyone else for a while—”

“I want to marry you too.”

Keith opens his mouth, closes it.

“I want to marry you too,” Lance says a second time, and his eyes are still glittering, and now he’s smiling smiling smiling so big that Keith’s heart can’t take it, and oh—

They lean in at the same time, so eager they bump noses at first, laughing a little before finding each other’s mouths and kissing properly, soft and sweet.

“I’m going to ask you officially sometime,” Keith says, when they break apart.

“Not if I ask you first!” Lance says, with feigned belligerence. He narrows his eyes, though he’s smiling too much for it to have any real effect. “You better watch out, Kogane. I’m gonna kick your ass with this proposal.”

“I’m sure you will,” Keith says, smirking, “when you tell me about what your plan was, after I’ve kicked your ass with my proposal.”

Lance gasps dramatically, and Keith snickers, and then Lance surges forward and blows another raspberry into Keith’s neck, and Keith almost knocks his head against the coffee table trying to escape from him, and somehow that jostling of the table resumes the episode, so they both shriek as the show starts playing again seemingly of its own accord, then cackle as they realize what happened, until they’re tangled together on the floor, snort-giggling at how dumb they are.

“Best birthday ever,” Lance whispers into Keith’s neck, still giggling.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Keith says, and he wants to say more, wants to say I love you so much and I’m so happy we’re gonna get married and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, but then Lance blows yet another raspberry in his neck, so Keith has to cancel all the cheesy romantic crap he’d planned to say, because currently he needs to take revenge on his fiancé.

#JuLance #voltron #klance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #my fics #my post #long post #100 #500

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purplesurveys · 5 years

Text

495

Do you like oatmeal raisin cookies? If I’m starving to death, I can eat them provided that I manually remove the raisins. But if there were other options I could leave it easily. Which smells better - Pez or Play-Doh? I’ve never come into contact with Pez, so Play-Doh is my pick by default. I don’t feel bad about it though cause their clay smells gooooooddddd. Does your hair reach your boobs? Surprisingly, no. It used to grow back really quick in the past, but right now it’s only up till my collarbone and I haven’t had a trim since almost a full year ago. When are you having spring break? Never? And how will you be spending that time? I won’t be?

Have you ever had a crush on celebrity no one knew about? HAH, yes. Wrestlers are technically celebrities and boy is my one guy crush all up in that alley. Do you have a Roku? No, we don’t...I don’t think that’s a thing here. What's something that fills you with anxiety? Pending meetings. Even though I’ve never had one bad meeting in my life, I always think that the next one is gonna go terribly. I never have gotten used to it. Do you like Anthony Green or Jack White? I have no idea who both of them are. I guess the Gen Z-ness is strong here hah. Do you think you're attractive? I know I look okay but like I’m not gonna voluntarily parade myself as ‘attractive.’ Do you drink coffee on a daily basis? No, not daily. Probably 1-3 times a week. I love coffee but I know how bad the effects can be sometimes, so I try not to rely on it for every situation. Do you have strict parents or are they more chill? They were strict when I was a kid, which I understand now because I was a PRETTY FUCKING DUMB KID. I could never clean my school backpack, I took 5 hours to finish meals, I lost every phone ever handed to me, I failed math exams, I lost activity sheets from school and missed assignments here and there, and I stopped playing with every toy I was bought mere days after it was bought for me. I was an absolute nightmare...then I kinda gave myself a huge kick in the ass when I started growing up for real and matured from there. My parents have seen the development through my teens so they've grown to be super chill these days. At what age did you move out of your parents? (or what age will you?) I don’t have a definite plan when it comes to age, but hopefully in the next couple of years.

What age do you think is too old to still live with your parents? Probably like 30. Filipino family culture works a little differently, and parents don’t mind if their kids live with them a little longer. Do you think Clinton Kelly looks like a less scruffy Bradley Cooper? Ok I had to look up this dude so I know what you’re talking about...and hey you know what you’re kinda right! Just in some angles though. Do you always download the free songs on iTunes? I never did this. Have you ever loved a boy who was dating some other girl? Welp, I’ve never loved a boy, period. Is your hair all the same color? Yes. It’s all black, never been touched other than the yearly haircut. Have you ever tie dyed anything? We had to tie-dye a shirt for home econ in Grade 6. Do you know anyone who says 'wow' a lot? That would be me. I can always find a way to use it regardless of how I’m feeling lmfao. Have you ever watched Bob's Burgers? Nope. How many cardigans do you own? One. It used to be Gabie’s but she gave it to me because she says it’s too small for her.

Denim, leather or varsity jacket? Denim! Goes with everything, except denim jeans. Has a teacher ever caught and read a note you were passing in class? No, not like that exactly. But I was once reprimanded because I was the one caught with a note that was being passed around in class that whole time. Like out of everyone in that class, that teacher - who obviously hated me - chose to pick me as her target for that day. I hated the kid who started that note for the rest of the year. Do you know anyone who is afraid of horses? I don’t think so. Do you clean things that are already clean when you're bored? Nope. I like cleaning, but it is NOT one of the things I do when I’m bored. How did you spend Valentine's Day? I don’t even remember...malls don’t take bookings on Valentine’s, so Gab and I had to go to like three different restaurants before we were able to settle in Barcino, which I didn’t even enjoy 100% because it was at that moment that I found out I don’t really like Spanish cuisine. Do you get President's Day off at your school? No. We don’t have that ~holiday~ and UP would NEVER take part in it if we did. Would you rather live in a tropical or arctic climate? I’ve lived in tropical climate my whole life and I could do with some change. What is the last thing you took that wasn't yours? My dad’s car keys. Do you have an older brother? Not biologically, but I’m very close with my eldest cousin and he’s pretty much a big brother to me. What do you do when someone overweight complains about being overweight? My girlfriend does this and what I do is to find something really pretty about her for that day, let her know about it, and keep repeating it so that she feels less shitty. Is there any Irish, Scottish, or Danish in your heritage? None at all. Do you find Asians attractive? That’s my race, so sure? Is it racist to ask if a specific race is attractive or not to someone? Yes. Have either of your parents ever been to jail? They haven’t. Have you ever been to jail? I have a very vague memory of my parents making a stopover to a prison once, and I still have no clue why they did it.

Do you think Urban Outfitters is overpriced? I haven’t been to their store. Are your collarbones prominent? Yesss, I love my collarbones. Have you heard about the Alyssa Bustamante case? No. Bustamante is like insanely a Filipino surname though and I hope she’s just part Spanish or something? Have you ever in your life worn overalls? Yep. How did you react when you heard Whitney Houston had died? I was a little sad because it happened at a time when I was obsessed with Beyonce (and Whitney was one of her idols), but I didn’t know a lot of her songs so I forgot about it pretty quickly. Do you love yourself? What is the brand of desktop/laptop you're on right now? Apple. Are there any words you don't usually pronounce correctly? I’ve never figured out how to pronounce ‘innovative,’ for one. Do you think Helena Bonham Carter is attractive? Y E S. Would you rather listen to Dolly Parton or Dusty Springfield? Dolly Parton, but really, neither. Are you watching The Walking Dead this season? Ooh, I stopped watching 4-5 seasons ago. It sucks now. What TV shows do you keep up with? Queer Eye and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Are you a light sleeper? When I have to sleep lightly, yes. Have you ever forgiven a cheater? I’ve never been cheated on. Would you consider cuddling cheating? Of course. What does the purse/bag you last used look like? It used to be a white tote bag, but now it’s dirty white with a coffee stain at the back lmao. It has a cute doodle of a whale shark for its design. Would you wear heeled/wedged oxfords? I wouldn’t be opposed to those. Go for it. Do you own a blazer? I do. Gunmetal, cooper, silver, or gold? Silver, if we’re talking about jewelry. When's the last time it snowed where you live? Literally never in the entire history of the planet and the universe and time. Can you make a clover with your tongue? I haven’t tried. What's your favorite coffee brand/flavor? Starbucks, caramel macchiato. Have you ever made out with a firecrotch? With a who now????? Do you listen to The Story So Far or Balance and Composure? Neither. Is your belly button pierced? It isn’t.

#survey #surveys

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royal-writer · 5 years

Text

Come What May

I will love you, until my dying day

- - - -

She had a way with making him quiver with affection, whether wide awake or asleep. It was just an ordinary moment; a simple day, with the midday sun shining against bloated fluffy clouds, but no moment felt commonplace when she was involved. Everything felt extraordinary, even when all she was doing was willingly fallen into his lap to doze.

Just resting her eyes, she’d said before sleep overtook her. He’d thought to scoff, but resisted. At one point or another, he’d tossed aside the balancing book and choose to live in the moment. She’d stirred just enough as he’d repositioned her where she rested now, peacefully lulled just above his ribs where she could hear the drumming of his heart. She was blessedly soft and peaceful; the tiniest wisps of breath, how he’d had to wipe a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth and shift her so her chin wasn’t bearing all the weight of her head into his torso.

He adored the way the light played on her bronze skin; the way it made her soft hair muted in color. How beautiful she was, with her lashes low and body molded into the shape of his own. Even her breathing; shallow and relaxed, mimicked the rise and fall of his own as he traced with his eyes the shape of her face; counted each tangled curl over her nose and eyes, studied her every inch of her complexion knowing it by hand.

Her heartbeat steadily pulsed in time with his own. The slightest flex in her muscles and her nose crinkled into a sleepy grimace briefly before settling back against him.

Feeling a sudden urge, he reached over to grab at the notebook laying nearby, as well as the graphite. A babbled murmur escaped her, and he froze as her eyelids rose and immediately fell again. Gravity seemed to be stronger than her will to awaken. She sighed sleepily, nestling her face into his chest and open arms as he held her briefly. She fell into her nap once more.

Amon tilted his hips, leaned, and snatched upon the pad and pencil. This time, she barely had time to groan and lift her shoulders at the slight movement. He grunted a grateful note to himself.

As she wiggled back into a comfortable position, he flipped into a fresh page near the back, and began.

First, with the gesture. A fine curving arched line, and he felt satisfied with the position of her body in the frame. He looked her over, watching as she took a deep and dreamy breath, and sketched a few light lines to indicate shapes.

The next lines he scored deeper into the paper; following the shape of her head, to where he could see her hip, and down her lustrous legs. Bunching up his nose, Amon grumbled quietly to himself as he began to draw lighter lines. Displaying her elegance, her femininity, and the softness of her soul in all its grandeur, he began to hesitantly sketch each bend and curve that oulined her figure. The unity of their breathing fell into each other as he tried to replicate her profile in short, gentle strokes of the utensil.

As he lifted his eyes from the drawing to his figure, he was met with an unapologetic half-mast set of golden eyes lingering right back on him.

He offered her a sheepish, slightly guilty smile.

“Wha’re doin’?” she inquired with drowsy accusation, pawing lightly at the notebook in his hand.

“Drawing,” he admitted shyly.

“Le’me see.”

“It’s not finished.”

“Le’me see,” she slurred, suppressing a yawn as she pawed at his chest, his hands. Her lip pouted out. It was a trick she used to be ‘irresistible’, not that he had the heart to tell her in all their years together that she needn’t bother. Just as with all her tricks and quirks he was so delighted in, he enjoyed seeing her make the effort.

It simply wasn’t necessary, because he was always ready to fetch a hook to catch the stars in the sky to please her. No request was out of bounds for his darling Essätha. Lucky for him, his ever-patient lover never bombarded him with more than the need for him to hold her, and the cutest painted art that was her batting her eyes and asking for a kiss.

Chuckling at her followed whine, Amon turned the paper around for her to see the progress on the silhouette he’d been working on.

“Flowers are easier,” he concluded. “Each petal has its own story, but they are essentially similar: differences in shape, roundness and curve; corners and rips and tears and crinkles, a steam, and some greenery.”

Her eyes examined his work for a moment of silence. His heart swelled at her expression; open, thoughtful, and easy. It was even better when she looked back at him. The sun breaking dawn; all light and overflowing joy as the world turned to pale shadows around her beautiful splendor and joy.

“I think it’s nice,” she murmured sweetly, releasing the edge of the leather binding. Her hand captured upon his, drawing it back to brush her lips against in an intimate kiss.

It certainly wasn’t his best work. Barely the start of an outline. Her shape, the fanning of her lashes, her mouth, the directional waves of her hair, and not much else. He had documented flora of the region with painstaking detail, many many years ago, and taken notes on their growth cycles. That had been a damn near documentary masterpiece.

This was nothing. Even a masterful artist could never compare to staring at her; touching her, the realness of her warmth and the happiness that shone in her eyes as she sank back down to rest her cheek against him. The love and innocence in her gaze captured him.

He placed the pad and graphite on the floor, never taking his eyes off hers. Her fingers danced over him; tracing his chest, finding the dip in his shirt to tease the short strands there. Upwards still, whispering against the angle of his throat, the sharp lines of his draw, moving to smother the tips of her fingers over his nose, his cheeks, his mouth.

The nobleman’s body felt weightless as a giddy spur jolted from his heart and made his head buzz with euphoria. He took hold of her wrists before her hands could retreat, and pressed a kiss to each fingertip and palm slowly, catching the blush entering her cheeks and the unexpected shy smile grace her lips as her eyelashes fluttered. Her most private loving smile, only for his eyes.

“You make me look beautiful,” her voice teased, taking hold of his face in her hands as he released her wrists. Her fingers stroked his cheeks, and along the fuzz of his sideburns and beard.

He snorted back a dry laugh. “You are always beautiful.”

“I look better with you.”

“Heavens woman,” he playfully growled, pulling her closer as she giggled. “You look resplendent regardless; but you wear your bliss the most lovely of all.”

She had all the gull and nerve to wrinkle her nose at him, and stuck out her tongue.

“Essätha.”

She didn’t take the warning tone very seriously, batting her lashes innocently. “What?”

Forcing himself to sit up suddenly with a grunt; his spine aching and back popping from the surge, Amon cupped her chin in his palm, and brushed the lingering shape of his mouth against hers. When she moved to follow him; hoping to gain her fill as she exhaled hopefully, he pulled away gradually a bit more, every time.

“M’lord-” she whimpered, her hands tightening against his cheeks to steady him.

He thinned his mouth into a frown, furrowing his brow as she tried to kiss him.

“Amon-”

“Say you are beautiful, my darling Essie,” he taunted her with comforting fondness. “Acknowledge your gifts. You are more ravishing than any portrait or doodle; than any sculpture could dare to hope to capture.”

His fingers caught a ringlet of spiraling hair hanging over her face, and he twirled it idly away, staring into two suns. They did not blind him. They hypnotized him. He could not look away. He could not bare the idea of doing so. He loved how her eyes burned him to cinders; renewed from the ashes each and every time.

“You are the pinnacle aspiration that all master’s crave and inspire to achieve in their work. You are the jeweled showpiece they all hope to make. You are sublime my love, and I am in awe of all that you are.”

“Kiss me,” she begged desperately, tantalizing him with her wicked lips and heated wanton gasp.

“Say it.”

Her eyes narrowed. His grin was smug and patient. He could wait as long as he needed to.

“I am beautiful,” she relented in an impatient rush, running her hands down to grab his shirt. “And I am yours. Now will you kiss me?”

Amon hummed with approval. “I love the addition,” he barely whispered, his mouth moving against hers as he spoke.

She trembled all over. “I thought you might…”

He kissed her lightly as she smiled and giggled. The very essence of the sun lay on her as he drank in her breathless laughter. Sweet ambrosia nectar and countless dreams awakened inside him; a thousand stars and fireflies, a million candles and yet none, not a single thing, could compare to the light of her burning bright and constant in his life.

Once he’d attempted to kiss her a few times (she never could break that smile, and it was so infectious it found his own), Essie dropped her face with a pleased sigh to nestle and wriggle against his chest. She found her spot once more, further down near his heart to bury herself. Her breathing was hot against his clothes; snuffling, soaking in his cologne.

He combed his fingers through her loose hair a few times as she huddled her legs closer around his hips. While she lay there, comfortable and quiet, Amon leaned back over to pick up the booklet and pencil. He began a new shapely form of her; bushy hair clumsily hiding her face and her fingers curled around his shirt. It struck a hard note against his heartstrings.

He stopped for a moment to reach down; the tablet and utensil under his chin, to relax her grip with a gentle stroke of his fingers massaging along the tendons of her hand. When her body was limp once more; completely boneless against his chest, the Illiad heir picked back up and returned to his sketching. A lengthy twist of hair fell right there, and the scales upon her nose crested right there.

As he looked up, her head tilted to the side, giving him a gorgeous view of her luminescent eyes holding his gaze with romantic adoration.

“Did you ever think that life could be so happy and perfect?”

He held a smile that matched how captivating her own was.

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m glad I have you to show me that it can be.”

She dragged out a heavenly little sigh of understanding, and rubbed her cheek against his torso; her hands gliding in rhythmic circles now against his chest. He smiled a bit wider, and reached for a hand to give it an affection squeeze of understanding.

Returning his attention to the art piece, Amon focusedon the detail of her eyes; trying to capture them just right. It seemed that no matter how he smudged the stains of graphite however, it wasn’t didn’t quite fit. No amount of shadows and white space left to show the dramatic lighting could follow the planes of her cheeks just right, or the slight sultry droop in her eyelids, or the way the corner of her lip continued to pull higher and higher the longer she stared up at him.

Criticizing the atrocity of his work, he tried to fix the carefully placed row of lines for her lashes to better frame and enhance her eyes.

Softly, his lady love cleared her throat as he continued to draw. He paid the sound no mind, trying to fix the slant of her mouth to display her whimsical tease in it.

“Never knew, I could feel like this,” she breathed; her voice flowing in rises and falls of a sing-song pitch. “Like I’ve never seen the sky before.”

His eyes peered up from the paper that was his canvas, to the masterpiece of the beautiful woman he called his own as her fingers reached up to comb the hair back.

“Want to vanish inside your kiss,” Essie crooned faintly. “Every day I love you more, and more.”

The very oxygen that filled his lungs failed him. He stared. Stricken. Drawn to her siren call; but it was much more than just her song pulling him in.

“Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?” As she serenaded him, one hand cradled the side of his face, and the other took upon his slack-hand. He dropped the writing tool on himself as she twined her digits around his, where he could, in fact, feel the throb of her pulse.

“Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change: winter to spring.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, whispering softly against the back of his hand as she kissed his fingers, “But I love you, until the end of time. Come what may, come what may-”

“I will love you,” he harmonized with her; their voices syncing in a soft chant as they sang together, “until my dying day.”

No words were ever truer. He was spellbound. The words, the meaning, the truth; how she serenaded him with a glow of love. She had the most beautiful, heartfelt eyes of gold and he was the wealthiest man, drowning in perfect affection so untarnished and pure and genuine that every cell in his body that died was reincarnated by the minute with even more love for her. She was so strong, so brave, so tender and sweet and he could feel her words ache in his very bones with need.

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place,” he thickly rumbled in the depths of his chest.

Essätha stretched out across him, closer now. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his throat as she responded with the next line freely: “Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace.”

“Suddenly my life doesn’t seem such a waste; it all revolves around you,” they hummed together. “And there’s no mountain too high; no river too wide. Sing out this song and I’ll be there by your side.”

“Storm clouds may gather,” she lilted.

“And stars may collide,” the nobleman acknowledged quietly.

“But I love you.”

“I love you.”

His words; her words, slurred against each other as he leaned into her and she into him, “Until the end of time.”

Unable to resist another second, Amon dragged her the rest of the way and she collapsed into him with a muffled sound of approval. Soft, pillowing lips and her fingers lost in his locks, gripping them to the roots as he crushed her, perhaps tighter than necessary. He didn’t want her to take flight on those angelic ivory wings, and leave him spiraling with his want.

When he broke for air; gasping, her devious little smirk and panting breath pressed further kisses slowly along the corners of his lips. He cuddled her closer. He needed her. He had to have every inch of her so violently suddenly close. The aroma of honeysuckle perfume, the angles of her waist, the arch and bend of her. He had to feel her; touch her, hold her. He had to love her; she had to know how much he loved her.

Her raspy exhale came out startled as he nuzzled his face against her throat. A tremble raced down his spine. Her heartbeat was running wild. He kissed her collarbone lightly; tasting rays of the cosmos stars.

A snorted squeal of laughter peeled out of her as his beard rubbed up against her upper chest, and she squirmed around him.

“Amon!”

He ignored her playful protests, and inhaled her fragrance.

“My darling Essätha,” he cooed, brushing his lips along the side of her neck to her jaw. “My beautiful, selfless, amazing Essätha.”

Tittering lightly, she threaded her fingers through his hair one final time before squirming between them to land on his chest. She pushed him back down into the sofa, and like an addict he reached for her once more. The waves of the ocean surged and crashed just below her in his gaze as he lay pinned; more by the sternness of her stiff wrists than by her strength.

Her mouth twitched, trying to resist a smile as she breathed heavily still.

“The day’s young, and the sun is out,” she reasoned. “Why don’t we go out for a while, and enjoy it? A horseback ride along the wooded trails sounds nice, don’t you think?”

Amon took a few deep breathes to calm his breathing, and sank fully down into the couch. His grin was filled with playful mirth as he replied; “Will you be riding in front of, or behind me?”

She blinked rapidly, and proceeded to snort. “I’ll be riding Aero, of course. You have Maestro.”

“Ah. Certainly,” he mumbled with a bit of dejection. “It would be better for the horses.”

“You can always ride close,” she offered, sitting up on his chest so her fingers splayed out against his chest, and her long free strands of hair no longer tickled him like curtains along his face, chin, and neck. “I would be happy to hold your hand while guiding the reigns.”

As she threw a leg over to climb off of straddling him, he grunted and began to sit up. “Any place in particular, my love?”

Her eyebrow arched as she glanced back upon him. “Anywhere your heart desires,” she teased with mischief, patting his chest. “My destination will be the same as it is at the end of any journey we partake.”

He watched with an unquenchable hunger as she stepped aside for him to freely sit up. He yearned already for that wonderful climax of her folded back in his arms. But he could wait. The moment was always worth the wait.

Slinging his own leg over, he grunted as he sat up to wipe a hand over his face. The pencil hit the floor, and he clutched at the notepad crookedly shoved at his side to throw it on the coffee table as he got up. Snatching upon the graphite, he added it as well, pleasantly surprised by the hand that took his as he righted his position.

“Come along, m’lord,” Essie gushed with delight. “Adventure awaits!”

“So it does,” he agreed fondly, locked in her gaze. He squeezed her hand with reassurance, feeling his heart lifting off into the stratosphere.

The greatest adventure, the greatest prize of it all: a lifetime spent with her, his darling Essätha.

#royal writes #essamon ship #Essie rw #amon illiad #excruciating fluff

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thewritewolf · 6 years

Text

True Sight - Chapter 3

Hello and welcome to the preview of Chapter Three! I’ve gotten back into the swing of things, so I’ve got some August Fluff Month stuff on the way. As always, I’ve only posted the first thousand or so words of the chapter, with the rest (and all the other chapters) on AO3.

Enjoy!

Read the rest on AO3

Marinette was feeling better after talking things through with Chat. While they aren't any closer to finding out who the stranger is, the situation didn't seem as frightening as it had before. She sighed as she set her backpack down on the chaise in her room, pulling out her homework as she did so.

Tikki flew out of her purse and landed on her shoulder. With so many possible things to talk about, Tikki waited for her charge to initiate conversion. In the meantime, her presence was comfort all its own for the frazzled teenager.

She had just gotten home from school, a familiar routine that gave her solid ground in this rough patch: Wake up, get ready, talk to Alya, take a seat. Clash with Chloe – gotta make sure she doesn't help out Hawkmoth everyday. Perform basic pleasantries with Adrien, take notes, eat out with her three main friends. Her heart fluttered for a moment as she realized she could count Adrien among her friends now. She cheered herself on. One step closer! Take more notes, go home.

Sitting down at her desk, Marinette began staring at her homework. Her mind was too preoccupied with the Ladybug side of things that she couldn't focus on the assigned worksheet. Tikki landed in front of her, meeting her eyes. The young heroine of Paris let out a sigh. “Chemistry can wait. I won't be able to work on this until I've settled down a bit.”

“Maybe a walk in the park will help you organize your thoughts? It certainly wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air.” Tikki offered.

She considered it. There was plenty of sunlight left, and the park was beautiful during late autumn. Why not?

-------------------------------------------------------------

A short bus ride later and she found herself wandering through the park with her sketchpad. The park was popular this time of year, and she passed by a few of her classmates.

She spent some time sketching in amiable silence with the other class artist, Nathaniel. He had been working on a larger piece, and was taking a break by doodling in the sunlight. Marinette made sure that he promised to keep her updated with his progress before she moved on.

In her search to find a secluded spot, she stumbled across Juleka and Rose. She thought about calling out to them, but decided that might be intrusive and turned around.

Max, Kim, and Markov were heading to a soccer game Kim was taking part in. She joined them and made some sketches while cheering with Max and Markov. It wasn't too interesting to her, however, and too distracting for drawing. Halfway through the match, she excused herself and spent the rest of her trip on her own.

A couple of hours passed and she found herself out of the park and with several pages filled with sketches. Most were scenes she had watched, some sly sketches of random park goers, others particularly beautiful plant life. Some was design sketches for warmer clothing for her and her partner. Which got her sketching Chat Noir more. Who knew it was so fun to draw his distinctive outfit?

She hummed absently to herself as she roamed the streets of Paris. Tikki poked her head out of the purse she was hiding in to take a look at their surroundings. “Marinette!” She whispered to her charge. “Master Fu lives nearby. Maybe he knows something about the man? I know his parting words have been bothering you.”

Was that why she was feeling so out of it? “I suppose you're right, Tikki, but I don't see why he'd know anything.”

Trying a different angle of approach, Tikki responded. “Maybe he figured out why the ritual didn't work?” With another potential enemy floating around, Marinette would like to have that power boost sooner rather than later.

Marinette came to a decision quickly. With a firm nod of her head she changed course. “We're almost there anyway. We might as well ask.”

She ducked into an alley and made a few quick turns before reaching the storefront – a store which boasted “ancient Chinese secrets” and “world-famous chi massages.” She was glad she had her sketchbook with her, since she ended up having to wait for about half an hour due to a customer's session being already in progress. Eventually that customer left, and Master Fu stood before her, holding open the door while waving her in.

Nodding his head in a shallow bow, he moved past her to pour some tea. Two incredibly small cups and two normal sized cups were arranged on a low table and filled. He took a seat at the table, on the red cushion there. He started the conversation. “My apologies for making you wait, but I cannot act too suspiciously while either of you are here on non-urgent business. The facade I have established can withstand some... eccentricities... but not in great quantities." His face became a mask of gentle concern. "What is troubling you?”

Am I wearing my worries that openly? Or is Master Fu simply very perceptive? Filing those questions to the back of her mind, she answered as she took a seat opposite him. “Do you know anything about that person who we fought yesterday?” As she asked, Tikki flew out from her purse as Wayzz emerged from... somewhere. She didn't catch where he was hiding. They landed next to the tiny cups that had been poured for them.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Possibly, but I can't be sure. Tell me about the fight the two of you had with him. We will address his capability for hunting akuma afterwards.”

Marinette took and breath and gave what she thought was a fair account of the event – their arrival, his confirmation of their identity, his assault and the clashing between weapons. It was as she was describing the rapid exchanges between Chat and him that Master Fu held up a hand to stop her.

“You say that the sword was leaving physical marks on the staff of Chat Noir? You are sure of this?”

Marinette nodded. “I didn't even think that our weapons could be damaged.” She had see them lose their power before, but barring that, they hadn't suffered damage. Which made her a bit less confident in her armor.

“They shouldn't be able to. The number of substances that can damage the main components of the miraculous can be counted on one hand. The most obvious are other miraculous. The others are rare to the point of non-existence or lost to time.”

Marinette's eyes widened. “Do you think that we are dealing with another miraculous bearer?” She wasn't sure what she thought about that. Hawkmoth was bad enough, but at least this one seemed to be willing to fight alongside them.

Master Fu stroked his beard once again. “It is possible – there are still miraculous that are lost or unaccounted for, including one of the seven. But I feel this is not the case.”

Marinette's ears perked up at that. Having the stranger be a miraculous bearer was something she understood and could plan for. But an unknown person being able to harm at least their weapons and probably even their armor was... unsettling.

He got up and walked over to his electronic notepad. Returning to his seat, he began flipping through the virtual pages of the copied book of miraculous lore. While doing so, he spoke. “I have not made progress in deciphering the remainder of the ritual we performed, but I have compared it to the other pages in the text. Specifically, the alchemical recipes that unlocked the specialized forms of your miraculous. It was difficult to notice at first, but the language is subtly different. The potions claim to awaken power from within, whereas the ritual promised to sharpen their powers.”

He stopped and sipped tea while Marinette absorbed the information. So the ritual was meant to hone their abilities rather than be a power boost. Her shoulders sagged. I guess it was too much to hope for a quick fix to our problem. Then her eyes widened as the implications caught up to her. “Do you think that we... summoned this person?”

Master Fu slowly nodded. “That is a very real possibility. The fact that he appeared no more than a day after we performed the ritual and tracked you two down specifically is too great a coincidence to be ignored.”

Great. So they were responsible for adding to their own troubles. Then again, that fight with the akuma immediately afterwards would have been time consuming without help. There was also the relief that this wasn't part of a slow burning plot by Hawkmoth. Which reminded her... “Did you want me to describe the battle with the akuma?”

At his nod, she began. The form of the villain, their brief struggle before the stranger's arrival, his discovery of the akuma's hiding spot, his defense of Chat, and the delayed beeping of their miraculous.

The elderly guardian had been following her story intently, but was surprised with the ending. “That is... very strange. That would suggest they were receiving outside power, sustaining the transformation.” He furrowed his brows and looked deep in thought. “I feel that deciphering the remainder of that ritual has become of paramount importance. Is there anything else you wanted to ask, Ladybug?”

God, it was weird to be called that while she wasn't wearing the spots. She shook her head and got up to leave. Tikki returned to float by her head.

"Good bye, Ladybug, and be careful. We do not know what motivates this stranger."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

She still had homework waiting for her, but she found it much easier to focus on after her walk. She got it done in record time, but the sun had long since set. Leaning back in her desk chair, her mind wandered over the day's events.

Her conversation with Master Fu hadn't exactly set her at ease, but she was at least glad that it wasn't Hawkmoth up to any new tricks. He may be getting stronger, but she and Chat Noir were improving as well! As her thoughts drifted to Chat, she was reminded of Tikki and the sustained transformation.

“Tikki?”

Her kwami stopped midway to lifting a whole cookie to her mouth. She gingerly placed it on the desk and glided over to her charge. “Yes, Marinette?” Tikki watched her with big, round eyes.

Marinette paused. “Did you feel the flow of energy Master Fu mentioned?”

Her kwami crossed her arms and legs over her, eyes crossed for a moment. She looked deep in thought as she responded. “Yes. It was very strange." She opened her eyes and began flitting around Marinette. "Normally, I draw my power from a pool within me – cookies help fill this pool, but there is a steady stream that will fill it over time. In that moment, the stream's flow became much stronger, and I could keep up the transformation with no problem. If given time, we might have even been able to call on the Lucky Charm again.”

Marinette mulled over this information. Most of it was nothing she hadn't figured out on her own, although Tikki put it into more definite terms. “Has this ever happened before?”

“Sometimes. Usually, when there is a lot of magic in an area. It probably wasn't a conscious decision, for what it's worth.” Tikki waited for a response, but Marinette was tapping her finger on the desk, plainly unsatisfied with the answer. Tikki returned to her cookie and was beginning to nibble at it while Marinette watched.

She bite her lower lip and wondered if it would be too much to ask if Tikki knew anything about the ritual. If it was in the guardian book, then that must have meant it had been used by miraculous users in the past, right? Maybe other Ladybugs had dealt with it before, and Tikki would have been there for those times...

Tikki looked at her with eyes filled with sympathy, likely having figured out her charge's next question. “I'm sorry, Marinette. I can't answer questions about past Ladybugs.” The kwami became more vibrant and her voice took on a more hopeful tone. “But I can say that you shouldn't worry about it. This will all work out in the end, trust me!” Her charged sighed, disappointed with the answer, but not surprised by it. Still, she trusted Tikki had her best interests at heart, and felt worry slip away.

Marinette yawned and took that as her cue to get ready for bed. She was able to sleep early for once and she fully intended to take advantage of that. Tomorrow, she would have patrol with Chat, but for now she could relax.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marinette dupain-cheng #master fu #marinette #True Sight #ml fanfiction

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cassercole · 6 years

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"paint me" for queve!

a drabble about one character drawing a picture of another

Steve wasn’t sure when he had picked doodling back up. He wasn’t even sure it really left, but now he was more aware of it. Especially when it came to Q. He found himself almost always doodling one side of her face or her hair or her eyes when he was lost in thought. Post-It Notes and random corners of the newspapers had his small, lightly sketched portraits of her scattered around their apartment.

But he had never really drawn her. Not like “one of his French girls” as that Jack guy had in Titanic nor like any of the paintings they had seen during their date days to art museums. That was, until, the evening he found himself feeling very inspired to.

He had just gotten out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his midsection as he walked out of the bathroom. She was laying on her side at the foot of their bed, her brow furrowed just slightly with concentration. Her hair flipped over so that there was a rather large wave before it trickled down into her usual dark waves. She was just in her bra and underwear, an open crossword in front of her as her pen danced over her fingers.

She wasn’t paying attention to him, focused on solving her puzzle. He stayed quiet as he moved over to the dresser, picking up his sketchbook and moving over to the seat across from the bed. The light from the bedside lamps gave off a warm color that spread across the room, dousing her in it. He was quick to sketch out the general outline, not wanting to lose the position she was holding.

Over the past few years, he began to memorize every detail of her body. How it stretched and rolled. He used to think she was all just sharp angles because there was no muscle or fat on her. But as they became closer and he was able to explore more of her body, he found a secret softness she had and curves that hidden by the clothes she wore. The freckles across her shoulder, the tiny scars scattered around her body from her childhood, the upper thigh tattoo that was on display. He made sure to capture the focus in her eyes, the sharpness that it created, but also how her bottom lip protruded out in a small pout – off setting the seriousness in her face.

He got lost in it, wanting to make sure it was utterly perfect. Nothing could compare to the real thing, but he was going to try to get as close as possible. He outlined and shaded, erased and redrew, filled in the details and created different textures. All to make sure he captured her in all of her essence.

“What are you doing?” he heard her voice ask. He didn’t know how much time had passed or how many times she had asked him. He looked over to see her giving him a knowing smile.

“Just sketching.” he answered. She bit her bottom lip, pushing herself up so she could get off of their bed. He lifted his sketchbook up and away as she settled onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.

“What are you sketching?” she asked innocently, curiously. He squeezed one eye shut and shook his head, making a face.

“Nothing, really.” she reached for the sketchbook, not believing him. He pulled it out of her grasp.

“Steven.” she said seriously, lowering her chin. He matched her, lowering his chin as well,

“Queenie.” he responded in the same tone.

“Please can I see what you were drawing?” she asked nicely. He gave her a smile, but raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure you wanna see?” he asked, teasingly.

“Yes.” she answered matter of factly. He paused for a moment before handing the sketchbook over to her. She took it and suddenly his chest tightened at the realization that she was going to see what he drew. How he drew her.

“It’s not the best. I have to fix some of the details – it’s just the position you were in was difficult, but you still looked beautiful. I’m sorry, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to explain away all of his mistakes. She didn’t respond, her fingers lightly trailing over the drawing of herself.

“This is how you see me?” she asked softly, eyes finally darting from the drawing to his face. He swallowed, unsure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, “It’s beautiful.” she followed up, voice still soft, “Steve, I love it.” she looked back down to the drawing.

“You do?” he asked, feeling a bit relieved. She let out an amazed laugh and nodded, looking back at him,

“I do, I really do.” she leaned forward to kiss him lovingly, “Thank you for thinking I’m beautiful.” she said, fingers against his cheek,

“I don’t think, I know.” he corrected her as his arms went around her waist. She gave him a happy smile before kissing him again.

“We’re hanging this up.” she said decidedly, nodding as she did

“You’re half naked.” he pointed out.

“And? This is beautiful. I’m framing it and we’re hanging it up.” she said, in a tone that he knew not to argue with. He sighed as she quickly kissed him again before getting off his lap to go find the perfect spot in the apartment to hang it up.

#answeredprompts #whindsor #queve #THEM!#cole tag

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litriu · 7 years

Note

Hi I'm stalking your art tag because you're SO GOOD and just?? How did you improve so much? My art looks the same from like. 10 years ago. How do you do what you do

First of all, thank you so much!! You’re such a sweetie!I am by no means an art teacher. I feel like you have to have a certain mindset to be a teacher, and I don’t have one of those mindset. I’m not good at it, so I don’t teach, but I will give you some really helpful stuff I wish I’d figured out earlier.

Second of all I’m going to give you a boring answer you don’t want to hear and I don’t want to say:

Practice.

Now, here’s the more fun answer that I’m hoping is more helpful:

Practice while you’re going. Every time I draw is a chance to practice. I’ll draw and redraw poses and edit them about a dozen times before I settle on it for lining! In one of my most recent drawings I have AT LEAST 29 layers of me drawing, redrawing, and tweaking the poses.

Practice can mean sitting down and doing 20 hand sketches, or practice can mean something different. Find out what method of practice works best for you. Sometimes drawing a thousand hands doesn’t help, and it’s okay if it doesn’t help you. Find another method!

Don’t settle on your first draft! Redrawing something is not only improving the drawing, but giving you experience for the future!

Draw from life, i know, that’s really basic. But still, it helps!

Make practice fun! Motivate yourself to practice by using things you enjoy drawing. Are you garbage at drawing hands, but you love drawing aliens? Draw aliens with a bunch of hands. This is a really basic example, but you get the jist!

My babe and I recently (before I came down with tendonitis and had to take a break) would watch a dance video where the dancers are wearing relatively snug clothing, pause it at a random place, set a timer for 5 minutes and draw whatever pose we got. (you can obviously do a shorter time if you want!) It helped a lot with foreshortening, movement, and making bodies look more 3d.

Speaking of which this won’t help your art any but it’ll help your health: S T R E T C H before, after, and while you draw, okay? You know that tendonitis I mentioned? Yeah, guess who didn’t stretch. Find stretches that work for you. Wrists, back, neck. Walk around a little every once in a while. Drink water. Eat. Take care of yourself.

Practice SMART, not just practice. Figure out what you want to strengthen in your art style. If you want to focus on improving the fluidity or readability of your poses, doing half hour studies of detailed landscapes or portraits isn’t going to help with that. Doing 1 minute speed-sketches of exaggerated poses might, though. Same goes for if you want to get better at drawing landscapes and detailed portraits.

You’ll get something out of it, so if you want to do these things do them! They’re fun! but don’t draw nothing but anime eyes and wonder why you can’t draw a skyscraper perfectly.

REFERENCE. U S E R E F E R E N C E

I’m gonna break this wall of text up with a doodle of a kitten because it’s a lot

Don’t be afraid of shitty anatomy! Sometimes to get the right perspective, it has to look weird. Making mistakes helps you learn what to improve. What works and what doesn’t. And, in my experience, the pieces I obsessed over were the pieces I felt like aged the worse, while pieces I had fun doing and relaxed drawing are still pieces I really love.

All in all, just don’t be afraid of mistakes. You’ll make them, just have fun making them.

EXPERIMENT, EXPERIMENT, EXPERIMENT! Experiment with colors. With more lineweight, with less lineweight, with weird anatomy and proportions, try out aspects of art styles you love, try out aspects of art styles you hate! Just have fun!

Step out of that comfort zone! Learn something new! You don’t have to curate an entire art exhibit on horses if you can’t draw horses, but sketch a couple at least.

Take bits and pieces from everywhere and adapt them to what works best for you. Does this method of sketching not work for you? Okay, change it. Find a new one. Find one that works better. That includes this list of tips! If something I’m saying doesn’t work for you? IGNORE IT! find something new. Don’t try to force yourself to work in a box that doesn’t work for you. It’ll just make you feel inadequate, and instead of spending time improving, you’re spending time trying to fit into the box.

I can’t give you too many super specific tips because I don’t know your art style or what you want to improve, but in general, just experiment and adapt to whatever works best for you.

This one is more of a catch all for developing your art, not nesecarilly improving it: Don’t treat things like color theory as sacred rules of the land that cannot be broken. Learn anatomy, learn color theory, learn about lineweight and how it works, learn about light and shadow! But keep in mind; they’re a guide for how things work, not an instruction manual. Do whatever you think looks cool, even if that isn’t what other people say looks good.

Learn at every opportunity! You think that lighting is cool? Try to replicate it. You watched a speedpaint and you liked their technique? try it out for yourself. Like that color palette? Analyze what you like about it and try to replicate that feeling.

Draw as often as you can! And “draw as often as you can” does not mean draw until your hands and arms hurt! It means draw a little when you have some time, if you have the energy. Don’t hurt yourself.

Time for another kitten break

Take a step back if you don’t like how something’s turning out. close it up, have something to eat, sleep on it, work on something else, whatever. If you’ve just been looking at it too long, that’ll fix it. And if there’s actually something off, you’ll come back to it less frustrated and with fresh eyes!

Draw fingernails on hands. This sounds really weird and dumb and random but it literally upped my hand game by at least 25%. It does WONDERS for portraying the angle of the hand.

A major chunk of my artistic development and improvement was done in a very unhealthy way. When I was younger, I would push myself to pain, I’d stay up until 3-6 am drawing something, I’d cry at least once every two weeks because I wasn’t good enough. I improved a lot very quickly, but I pushed myself way too hard because I was so desperate to improve…

Don’t do that. I mean it. I’m very thankful for the growth i achieved in that time, but if you can avoid that phase, do. It’s better to improve slowly and keep a healthy relationship with your art than to push yourself so hard that art becomes a chore and you lose your passion, or even hurt yourself.

Finished not Perfect

Your art has improved!! I promise it has, it may not seem like it but it has! You don’t see it right away, but every single drawing is a little better than the last as long as you keep striving to learn a little more with every drawing. Everything grows at a different pace, and you’re growing at the right pace for you.

You’re good enough right now! Have goals for what you want to do with your art, not standards for how “good” you need to be!

I’m sorry this post is long, I wish I could say “I sacrificed my soul to the art demons” but… I can’t say that. I didn’t do anything special.

Draw as much as you can, draw what makes you happy, draw new and exciting things, and surround yourself with art, artists, and people that inspire you!

BEND ART TO YOUR WILL AND MAKE IT YOUR PET

If you know an art demon that might help too idk?

aaaand here’s one more incredibly small, incredibly round kitten

#long post #litriu text #art advice #probably incredibly questionable art advice #my tips and tricks for art pretty much amount to #'idunno sound' + have fun do whatever you want #palepinkroses

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oh-my-otome · 7 years

Note

Hello! Two things! 1) I loved the headcanon for Shigezane. Could you give us a sneak peek of his diary for MC or his reaction if MC found his diary? :o 2) Do you have a favorite NPC in slbp?

Thank you, Precious! Let’s see what Shigezane’s written from my other post!

Making his way back to his room, from the baths, Shigezane paused to look up at the milky sky with its faded clouds. As if bidden from deep within him, a chill spread through his body, like the toll of a bell, and he gave his head a little shake to sweep his damp bangs from in front of his eyes.

Having only recently arrived back home from a routine mission, this was his first chance for some alone time. While the opportunity to finally put his feet up after being gone for so long was a comfort to him, Shigezane found that his thoughts ambled more than once to the scene that unfolded the day before, and how he alone had no personal welcome.

Surely, he was warmly received by the retainers and servants that he left behind, but there was no one special waiting just for him. No one to come running from the castle gate, maybe even with a smile on their face– or was that too much to hope for?

Even if they didn’t run up to him, if someone could just be there searching the crowd only for him, then maybe–

‘It would have been great if she had come out with the others.’

With his basin of bathing supplies cradled in his arms, Shigezane continued on to his room, feeling the crease in his brow notching deeper as he went. He shut his door against the dampness in the air, but the scent of the pre-rain wind snuck inside with him.

Sitting heavily in the center of his room, Shigezane flopped backwards onto the tatami, meaning to set the basin down gently, but not caring at all that it clattered beside him instead, rolling to a stop and spilling its contents. A cake of soap tumbled toward the nearby futon, spinning on its sides at an angle before settling itself.

There was nothing particularly funny about watching it as it twirled to a stop, but it amused him in an odd way, and he was eager enough to slip out from underneath his sunken mood.

He allowed himself a dry laugh, which fizzled quickly into a deep sigh.

He laughed more easily when he was around her, but somehow, he didn’t think that he’d be able to come up with anything humorous even if she were sitting beside him right now.

Looking just beyond the soap, Shigezane shifted his gaze to the futon itself, and was reminded of his “special collection” of books, which he kept hidden under his futon’s pallet– not exactly the most original place –but he had his needs, like anyone else. He considered flipping through a digest or two– if only he had the energy to get up.

His eyes wandered over to his book case, passing over all of the books he had received but never read, up and up each shelf until they rested finally on the spine of the last one at the top, sticking out just slightly.

Shigezane couldn’t remember ever reading that one, and the curiosity was enough to get him to finally push himself up off of the floor.

In pulling it out, he realized immediately why it was unfamiliar to him: it was that journal that he had gotten from Tokugawa, when he had come bearing gifts for everyone in order to entice Kojuro out from under Masamune’s nose.

He thumbed along its edges, turning it over in his hands. Feeling as if he may as well use it to doodle, at the very least, he lay himself down on his futon, careful not to tip his bottle of ink over.

He tested out a few strokes, ending in a funny drawing of a cross-eyed Kojuro, before he decided to write, instead.

Feeling pretty terrib–

No, that wouldn’t do.

Shigezane’s hand paused mid-stroke, and the action caused a spot of ink to splash upon the page. No, he wouldn’t want to re-read it at some point and then start feeling even worse for having written it.

‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ he decided, striking it out and re-dipping his brush.

There’s this…woman.

Ugh, but she’s so much more than that– but how to quantify it!

She funny and brilliant. Not smart-brilliant…

‘Dammit,’ that wasn’t what he meant, either.

She’s…brilliant like the sun is brilliant. When I look at her, it’s like I almost can’t take how she seems to shine.

Here, he slammed his brush down in its ink pot, and shut his eyes in embarrassment. Was he always this corny, and he just didn’t realize?

‘But,’ he thought, hesitating to touch the brush to the paper, ‘no one has to see what I write here.’

No one has to know.

But still, that’s probably enough for today. Shigezane lifted the book reverently and placed it off to the side, in a column of light filtering in from the window, so that the ink could dry. Then he set out his futon and turned in for a nap.

–The next day

Shigezane practically skipped to his room, and with his momentum, he barely stopped in time to open his door without slamming into it.

Without bothering to close it behind him, he goes immediately to the book case and fetches his diary, then sits right where he was standing, turning to reach the ink pot on the shelf just over his shoulder.

We talked, today!

He paused to look at the words as the ink settled, feeling a smile stretch on his lips, before he put his brush to the page again.

Really talked– not just asking what I want to eat.

She gets this look on her face. I don’t know– it’s just the way that she smiles when I tell some stupid joke. But the way she smiled when she talked about her family in Kyoto –it’s…different.

Her face was–

Shigezane closed his eyes in the hopes of making the memory that much more vivid, his head tilting back automatically to rest upon one of the shelves.

It was beautiful. I don’t know what to do to get her to smile that way again. But I…really want to see it one more time– just for me.

But she frustrates me, too, though. Not her, really, it’s just–

‘Argh!’ Shigezane lifted the brush off of the page again. Balancing the book on his knees, he drummed his fingers on the floor as he tried to gather his thoughts.

‘Why is this so hard?’

It wasn’t as if this was his first love. There have been others– many others –so why was this so foreign?

He thought, perhaps, that it was because he had been down this road before, and that it usually ended in heartbreak. That didn’t stop him from hoping that this would be the time that the road would fork in a different direction, though.

Still, Shigezane struggled with how to move forward with her, the concept of exactly how to strike her fancy seeming incorporeal and elusive. It had no depth, and no borders, and although he had wooed others before her, each one dancing out of his grasp for someone else, he was reluctant to use the same methods that came to him so easily before.

I don’t know what to do to get her to notice me. The me, underneath it all.

If I weren’t the lord of this castle, would it be any easier? Does she only talk to me because she thinks she has to entertain me? When our eyes meet, am I just seeing what I want to see?

There’s this gardener– a new guy. She seems to talk to him as easily as she talks to me.

I don’t know if I should take a step back and not get in the way of anything, or step forward and reach out for her. She…might not reach back.

–After a little while

We went into town together!

Shigezane’s bold strokes spread out across the page, and he hums as he recounts his day.

Not exactly a date, but when we went to the tea shop, she sat on my side of the bench. I carried her parcels and we talked about nothing, all the way back to the castle.

I can’t last against that smile of hers.

She said that she saw me on my horse the other day and that she had never ridden herself. I kind of want to take her riding with me, now.

Would that be a kind of date?

I want to ask, but I’m so nervous!

–Later, still

Shigezane stomps down the corridor to his room, each thunderous footfall causing the floorboards to groan.

With a hard yank, he causes the door to jump up and over the track, throwing it off on the bottom and leaving it jutting awkwardly at the top. Impatiently, he fiddles with it until it’s fixed.

Cursing under his breath all the while, he manages to get the door back the way it should be, and forces it open just enough to squeeze into his room, before shutting it behind him just as hard.

Shigezane pulls his diary from the shelf, an errant book to each side flying out with it.

It’s not the gardener that I should have been worried about.

He takes the brush from the page and dips it into the ink pot once, then twice, wetting it again and again even though it has more than enough ink already.

It would be easier if it were the gardener.

I could fire him.

Noticing that the words are smearing together from the too-soaked brush, Shigezane taps some of the ink off on the rim of the pot, and tears the page from the book to start over again.

Masamune wants her.

This time, he didn’t lift his brush away, but continued to write, each stoke connecting to the next in fluid succession, filling page after page where it once took him several minutes just to write a few words.

Well, not that way– or maybe that way –it’s Masamune we’re talking about.

It could only ever be someone he trusts, for him, and he wants her as his cook.

Who knows if he’ll try to be thrifty about it, and have it both ways.

‘I don’t want that…’

Shigezane chuckled darkly, remembering how he had stood in front of her without a second thought, blocking her from Masamune’s line of sight, so incensed that he didn’t even have a reply to his cousin’s demand.

‘I won’t let you.’

He could feel her hands curl into the fabric at his back, and he stood a little straighter, the tremor in her hands emboldening him.

In truth, he was more than a little scared, having never defied his cousin’s orders before, but he didn’t feel right about backing down, either.

‘We were finally getting to know each other!’

Off to the side, Kojuro’s eyes flicked to her hands before looking at them each in turn, and although his face remained impassive, Shigezane had the distinct impression that Kojuro had ascertained that there was something between them, even if he didn’t know how much.

Shigezane wanted to refute it, because it wasn’t quite true, but at the same time, he couldn’t puzzle out why she would cling to him this way, either.

He loved her, but she wasn’t promised to anyone.

Being sussed out still irritated him all the same, and Shigezane spun on his heels, storming straight out of the castle, realizing dimly that her hand was in his, but not knowing who grabbed the other’s first.

Shigezane came back to himself when heard the drip drip drop of the ink on the page, and realized that he had been sitting there lost in thought with the brush suspended over the book.

Just as he touched the brush to the paper once more, there was a knock at his door and Shigezane jumped from the unexpected sound. He slammed the book shut, knowing full well that the ink had yet to dry, and that it would be an unreadable mess.

Shigezane dove toward his futon instinctively and tucked the book under the pallet, jamming it in any way it would fit, some of the other books spilling out in his haste.

Shuffling them all together in a good-enough heap, he tossed the futon over it again, haphazardly, and threw himself bodily away from his bed, snatching the first book off his shelf that his hand landed on, in an effort to look as if he were just casually reading.

“Come in,” he took a breath to settle his frazzled nerves. He didn’t pause to look up, assuming that it was just Hiromasa or–

Rather than his most trusted retainer, his lady slid the door open by degrees, and the book that he was holding tumbled from his hand.

“I wanted to talk with you about the other day.”

“Of…of course,” somehow Shigezane’s heart was set racing at a faster pace than when he faced down his cousin, refusing to hand her over.

It would be a lie to say that he didn’t fear Masamune drawing his sword in the heat of the moment. He had seen him do it countless times, for more minor infractions.

“Thank you,” she shifted on her feet, looking down, but not at him, “for what you did. I–”

She paused here, knitting her brow in thought, and for half a minute Shigezane thought that she was going to say that she had a change of heart.

“I’ve heard the rumors, you know,” she continued, sweeping her gaze across the floor, but still avoiding where he sat, “N-not that I believe them! I just mean that I’ve heard of them!”

“It’s okay,” it was all that he could manage in the moment, the sudden thought that she was standing in his room– in his room –pushing out anything else.

“It’s just that I have someone that I like, here,” her voice took on a calm measured tone, as if she had made up her mind to say something, her previous nervousness forgotten, “and I didn’t want to leave him.”

Shigezane tore his eyes from her, though, like a broken connection, his gaze falling to the floor like a lead sinker.

‘Again…’

Her, too, huh?

Yet another in an unbroken string of heartbreaks. With so many, he no longer felt a sting of rejection. It was more like a dull ache, settling between his shoulders. A knot that couldn’t be worked out.

“I see,” he had tried to make it sound upbeat, but it came out noticeably flat and atonal, a mirror of how he felt, the energy in his limbs seeping out with each breath he took.

“Look at me, lord Shigezane.”

Something in her voice, soft yet commanding, pierced right through his mood and had him lifting his eyes to meet hers as if they were on some kind of pulley.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she tried to sound casual, but there was a slight tone of nervousness just under the surface, “I just want to look at the person I like.”

He looked back at her in shock, not daring to speak, and in the silence, she gave him a shy smile.

“That is, if you don’t m–”

“I don’t mind!” he half shouted, springing up from where he sat, and crossing over to clasp both of her hands in his.

“I wanted to stay here with you, lord Shigezane, but more than that, I wanted to know,” he stopped her there, pressing a finger against her lips, shocking even himself.

“Can I say it?” he asked, letting the hope that he had denied himself so many times bloom inside of him once more.

She nodded, peering up at him through her lashes, with a downward tilt of her head.

“Can we,” Shigezane started, giving her hands a gentle squeeze, “start as friends and get to know each other?”

“I’d like that,” there was that beautiful smile of hers once more, and Shigezane bounced on his toes a little, in spite of himself.

“So you like books? I didn’t know that,” she slipped a hand from his grasp to indicate his book case, and Shigezane walked over to it, still processing what happened.

She looked through them for a little bit, and the two talked cheerfully, the buzz of awkward nervousness between them distilling by and by.

Having selected a few books that interested her, she sat down and leaned against his futon, fluffing it a little bit to make herself comfortable.

The two of them flipped absentmindedly through his books, chatting excitedly all the while.

It felt good, getting to know her in this way, and letting her get to know him, as well.

In the private setting of his room, they had more time to talk than the snatches of conversation they would have been afforded when they saw each other on occasion, her going to and from the kitchens and him coming from the training grounds.

Shigezane made up his mind to tear out the section in his diary that he had just written.

It wasn’t that he was looking forward to bidding her good night for the evening, but he was eager to write about this turn of events in his diary.

He couldn’t very well do it with her sitting there– something about being watched while he wrote put him off –but he wouldn’t mind if she read it.

“You…draw?” she asked suddenly, her intonation dripping with curiosity.

Shigezane turned from picking up another book on the shelf to face her, giving her an easy grin.

“I guess you can say that. I doodle from time to time.”

“It’s…um,” she paused, “quite…detailed for a ‘doodle.’“

Shigezane’s eyes snapped first to the book she was holding, and then to the crop of books which had spilled out from underneath the pallet, and he realized immediately that it was the last thing he wanted her to see.

He tried to dash forward and grab it, but she danced out of his way with a giddy laugh.

“To think, lord Shigezane has a thing for waitresses.”

—

Thank you for reading!

As for my favorite NPCs, it would have to be these buns:

Kotarō tops my list of NPCs that I want a route for, like yesterday! You know how I am with backstory and character development!

I knew, I just knew that there had to be something more than just a fanboy obsession to this character, and his first event, Moments Stolen in Shadow has had me hooked on him ever since.

Caught between what he has to do and what he wants to do, he’s an adorably complex take on a Mitsuhide x Mitsunari combo, when you think about him.

I love him!

Kageie caught my eye back when I first started playing SLBP. Kenshin’s route was the second route I did (the first was Nobunaga’s) and the more I played Kenshin’s route, the more I was hoping Kageie would show up. Mixing berserker and ninja skills, Kageie’s dry wit and cantankerous attitude keeps things interesting and mysterious.

Reliable Shigezane is always there to help out his family, and keep the mood fun and easy. Although he’s very much a pampered young master, he still manages to radiate a down-to-earth nature. By keeping the focus off of himself, he makes others feel special, even if it’s at the expense of his own feelings. He gives off the feeling of wanting to protect others, but still needing someone to protect his own heart.

I love Hotaru’s style! From the nail polish to the rings and piercings, to the asymmetrical top, he just looks cool! And underneath it all is the most innocently curious personality that ever there was. Plus, he cranks tf out of the beast switch, when he’s in the mood– which is thankfully often. Attaboy, tiger.

I like how Tadakatsu gives no f*cks about hiding who he is. No matter where he goes, he stays true to himself.

Little lord Kojirō is the most adorable thing that I’ve ever seen. He’s so precious, pure and angelic! And yet, despite all of that, he still invented brocon. I don’t know who has it worse, Kojirō, Hotaru, or Yukimura.

I also love lords Katsuie and Tadatsugu! So nurturing! Hanzo, Toramatsu and Kansuke also interest me.

Does anyone else think that Toramatsu is a berserker? He’s got those eyes!

#q&a #samurai love ballad party #date shigezane

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aspthetically-gentle-spirit · 7 years

Text

Pretty like a picture

Word Count: 2,256 Warnings~ swear words~

Summary: You go to the same shop everyday and sit and drink coffee. One day you decided to try and draw some of the other regulars. You find that it’s a frustrating yet nice things to do, so you continue doing it. You’re looking for your next target when in she walks-

Pairing-Maria Reynolds/reader

The first time you saw her was a wednesday morning. She had come in on the day you were looking for your next art project. She was captivating, she ordered her coffee and took a table nearby. At the angle that her table was at you had the perfect view of her profile. Your fingers itched as you stared at her, the urge to draw her unwavering. She was a simple one time customer, this was the first time you had seen her and you spent most of your mornings in the shop. She didn’t feel simple though, she drew you in and all you wanted to do was learn more about her.

You looked away from her and scanned more customers in the coffee shop but no one drew your attentions like her. Giving up the search, you doodled shapes onto the book in front of you. The phone tucked in your pocket vibrated until you pulled it out.

“Hey! Can you come in early today?” Peggy your boss asked over the phone. “We got swamped with all these orders and I could really use your help.”

“Sure Peggy. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’m a few blocks away at the coffee shop.”

“Thank you so much, see you when you get here.” with that she hung up and left you to make your way to her bakery. You picked up the cup of coffee, downing the last of it and throwing it out. Picking up the sketch book you glanced once more at the beautiful girl before leaving the coffee shop.

As soon as you got home that night you were kicking you off your shoes and throwing your body against the couch and pressed your face into a pillow. A deep breath in and you moved your head to stare a part of the wall. Completely unaware of it you slowly fell asleep in the most uncomfortable position of the couch. It was sure to leave you stiff in the morning.

She was there again the very next day, this time she had arrived before you. You collected the coffee from the counter smiling at the barista who nodded and worked on the next one. You sat down in your regular seat and tried not to stare for a bit. You felt it again,the itch to draw her, to put her beauty onto a piece of paper so that you could prove to yourself that you had actually seen it. After glancing at her and then down at your coffee you sighed, you really didn’t have any self control. Moving the coffee aside you ruffled in your bag until you found the book, you flipped to a empty page.

You looked at her now trying to find the best place to start drawing her. You took in the way her hair fell in curls and how nice her skin was. You took in the slight fidget of her body as she scrolled on her phone and drank her coffee. You needed to stop gawking and instead look at her like a painting and where it would be easiest to start. You could do the outline starting at her shoulders or you start with her gorgeous eye. Her gorgeous brown eyes.

Wait. You couldn’t remember once seeing her eyes, sohow did you know what color they were? Oh. Oh shit, she was looking at you. Your mouth fell open as you realized you were still staring into her eyes. You face turned slightly red and you looked down at the table. Glancing up again to see her still looking at you and giggling. Luckily for you her phone vibrated and moved her attention from you.

Picking up the pencil next to you you felt a sudden excitement at drawing her. You smiled down at the paper and moved our hand ton to it. Then, nothing. Nothing came, not an outline or even the smallest pencil mark. It’s safe to say at this point you wanted to slam your head against the table. How could your brain be so excited about drawing this lady but not have a idea one how to do it.

Your inability to draw her lasted for the rest of week. Your brain couldn’t even wrap around how to draw her, it was like in that moment you had suddenly forgotten all knowledge of art. You couldn't even bring yourself to draw somebody else. It had been one the most frustrating thing to ever happen.

Which is how you found yourself here, face planted on the counter of the bakery you worked at. Peggy standing in front of you just staring you down.

“Okay we probably won’t be getting anymore customers so what’s up?” Peggy pushed herself up on the counter next to you.

“I can’t draw her. I can’t do it, everytime I try it turns out wrong or it doesn’t even turn out.” you banged your head against the counter and Peggy just gave a pat to your head.

“Then draw somebody else. The world isn’t going to end if you don't draw her.” you groaned and she hit you with the towel in her hand.

“I can’t do that either.” you met Peggy gaze. “I mean it. I can’t draw her but she’s the only thing I want to draw. The world is ending Peggy, my world. She’s just so and I just need to draw her.”

“Oh. So you can’t get her out of your mind, you’re completely awestruck by her beauty and you’ve been losing sleep because you can’t stop thinking about her. I know the problem.” Peggy slipped off the counter and you could only guess she was facing your behind. “You like her.”

“Peggy I do not like” you stood up from leaning on the counter ready to give Peggy a piece of your mind about how you did not like the really cute coffee shop girl. “Oh my god you’re right. Peggy what do I do?”

“You talk to her build a nice relationship and then ask her out.” Peggy smiled like she had just made a master plan.

“I can’t do that.” you walked around the counter to the other side and started pacing.

“What? why not?” Peggy said.

“Peggy I can’t talk to her.” the look she gave you demanded more of an explanation. “She’s pretty.”

“Okay. That’s it the dumbest and cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Try talking to her at some point.” Peggy looked at the clock then back at you. “You can head home if you want. I don’t think anyone else is coming in. Try talking to her.”

“Not going to happen but I will head home.” you left the shop feeling a little better than before.

The next day the shop was extra busy, most tables were full and it was even louder than before. She hadn’t been there when you first arrived and with the all the people you could spot her coming in through the door. Something felt different today, you felt refreshed, the air felt cleaner. So it was only a little surprising when you sat down and you felt like you could draw again. Not wanting to chase away the feeling you didn’t try to draw her, instead you settled on drawing small flowers all over your paper.

You were so lost in drawing you didn’t see her enter. She ordered her coffee and turned to find a seat. Her normal seat was taken by a couple who was probably on a date. The only other empty seat being at your table, where you happily sat, doodling away.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you stopped what you were doing at stared at her. Many thoughts ran threw your brain the main one being, Oh shit. Unable to form words you simply nodded and tried to go back to doodling. Unfortunately for you the cutie seemed very keen on talking to you. “My name is Maria.”

“I’m (Y/n). It’s nice to meet you.” you looked at her up close now. How could someone's eyelashes be so pretty and long? How in the world could one person have such a contagious smile? She seemed to be taking in your features as well

“It’s nice to meet you too. FInally I can put a name to a face.” she stopped and smile sheepishly at you. “I didn’t mean that in a weird way. It’s just you’re here everyday and you’re always drawing. The last few days you look so stressed you know? Also at one point you kept rubbing your neck and I thought oh that poor thing, So I was just worried about you. It’s just nice to put a face to the case of my worries. That didn’t sound any better did it.”

“Oh yeah I was a little stressed. No need to worry.” she looked nervous but curious now.

“Why were you stressed?” she rested her head on her hand and stared at you. Having her full attention was a little nerve wracking.

“Well,” there was no way you could tell her it was because you didn’t know how to draw her. That would be weird. Your best option was to keep it as vague as possible. “I was trying to draw this girl, but every time I tried I couldn’t get it right.”

“Who were you trying to draw? Was it your significant other?” she put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay. Not my significant other, I’m single.” with that her smile seemed to grow a little wider.

“I’m single as well. I do have my eyes on somebody though” she winked at you.

You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed as you talk to Maria, she was so fun to talk to. She wasn’t very shy and shared her thoughts and feelings with you. SHe also asked a lot of questions about you. What school you had gone to? Where you worked? DId you have any siblings? . Before you knew it it was time for you to head to work, you walked to the door together and said goodbyes.

Peggy noticed the difference when you walked through the door of the bakery. She spent the rest of your shift begging for details between the time you guys were serving customers. Closing time was drifting closer and you were in the bake sweeping up when the bell chimed. Peggy was up front so you didn’t think twice about it as you continued your sweeping.

“(Y/N)!” Peggy burst through the swing door to the kitchen. She had one of her biggest smiles on her face. “Don’t freak out. You know that girl you were talking about I’m pretty sure she’s outside the store right now. She opened the door saw me and turned around. I think her friends are trying to get her to come in again.”

Before you could processes what Peggy was evening saying she was pushing you out the door into the front of the store. She wasn’t lying, Maria was outside the store some guy talking to her and gesturing inside the store. She nodded along and turned around, she walked into the bakery, her head down.

“Hello! Welcome, what can I get you today?” she jumped slightly at your voice but smiled.

“Can I get one of the chocolate cupcakes? And” she moved to look over the treats next to the counter in the glass case. You saw Peggy peeking out the door from the kitchen, you made a shoo motion at you but she just stuck her tongue out at you “a coffee date?”

You stopped motioning at Peggy and turned around. She was staring at you in the most innocent way. You must have heard her wrong, but you could have sworn you didn’t.

“I’m sorry I think I heard that last part wrong.” you cleared your throat.

“I asked if you wanted to go on a coffee date.” when you didn’t reply right away she quickly added more. “You don’t want to do you? I’m sorry I just, this morning was so much fun and I thought. I’ve made this awkward now didn’t I? I’m sorry, I don’t even know if you liked me. I’ll go.”

“Wait.” you climbed over the counter before she could go anywhere. “You’re asking me on a date?”

“I was but now you’re not interested I’m trying to leave.” she stood there face slightly flushed. She was still beautiful, prettier then any picture you had ever seen.

“I’m interested.” Maria eyes widened and she broke into a smile. SHe pushed her hair around and glanced out the window of the store.

“That’s good. So how about a coffee date? Tomorrow? Same time and place as today?”

“That sounds great.” Maria nodded and walked past you to the door. Before leaving she glanced over her shoulder at you and then rushed out. You watched her run to her friends and watched as they walked off Maria talking excitedly. You smiled happily at the idea of a date with her and started to get lost in thought. That was until a certain schyler sister jumped on you screaming about the fact that you had a date.

“You have a date! How does it feel? You weren’t lying when you said she was pretty. Pretty like a picture.” Peggy smiled happily at you. She seemed more excited about the date then you did.

#maria reynolds imagine #hamilton imagine #okay writing?#Maria reynolds x reader #hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #maria reynolds fic

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