#Maybe one day I'll actually finish something more than a sketch. we don't know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taradactylus · 27 days

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I wrote this little one shot idea after Lunar killed Eclipse, just never finished it. So decided to share it here. I don't care about any of the mistakes because this is literally just copied out of my "Unfinished works" drafts. I don't think I'll finish it, so just enjoy this sketched out idea I had!

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, hallucinations, mentions of death, mentions of suicide attempt(?)

Just a step. Nothing more is needed. Making a hard decision always needs a bold, first step towards the goal you wish to reach. Everyone has a goal, no matter how benefitial or morally acceptable that goal is. We have goals we share with the world, steps we're not scared to take. Or maybe we're scared, but we take the step either way. Most of the times, as we slowly go on the labyrinth of decisions just to taste victory for a moment, wether to go on further after that or not, we can step back. Or just look back how far we've come, what paths we chose to reach our beloved destination.

Sometimes, when we're too scared to take steps forward though, the time as we stay frozen in place can be long. Sometimes, it's because we overthink the unknown, or the possible outcomes. Theories upon speculations, poured into worry, anxiety, and fear. Being aware how fragile the path we're on, too frightened to mess it up, so we drown in our desperate attempts in getting an actual answer before we make the decision.

But sometimes, the reason we stay frozen in place, thinking and waiting, is because we know what's coming with this decision. The consequences, the outcomes, the reactions. The knowledge of what's hand in hand with such a hard and drastic choise makes us stay in place usually. Maybe even pretending we are taking steps, but truly, we are not getting any closer to the goal we long for. Everyone has their reasons why they wouldn't take the step, why stay in place as everybody goes by. Why watching and waiting until the ones we started our journey with are long gone. Everyone has their reason.

For Sun, he was aware he won't be able to step back, or look back afterward. He knew how deep he was in the maze, and how lost he was. There was a path he knew he could take, a victory too tragic yet welcoming he could easily reach out to, but he refused. He hated to admit to himself how much he longed to take that step, how much he wanted to reach a goal not everyone would understand. Would anyone ever understand actually?

Why would they? They didn't even care to see if he is okey. They only reached out when they needed something from him. And sure, it was fine logically, there was enough of a mess around this family, he understood why everyone was dealing with their own problems, but it still hurted.

Sitting alone at home all the time when he is not in the daycare seemed like therapeutic from the outside view, everyone thought Sun was simply relaxing with his cats and having fun. But as Sun thought one night, during a lonely dinner because Moon was busy with Solar: "Everyone is blind to see the signs until it's too late. Not like I'm trying to show it," he said quietly to himself as he turned the tv off that night, petting Thunder on his lap with a sad smile "but I know my act sometimes slips. Yet here I am, and no one sees through my clear act. Nevermind it though.."

The truth is, that every day was a fight. A constant battle with emotions, nightmares, hallucinations, things he was glad didn't go on the channel anymore. The editor was probably too focused on everyone else that's more important than him. Him, who is technically the name of the channel.

He couldn't lie to himself, he was jealous. Mad too, and depressed day and night. Everyone was slowly moving forward in their lifes, yet he felt like he was stuck in place, and nobody cared enough to look back and see if he is still on their side. Why would they care after all? He is just Sun. Sun, the stupid one. The weak one. The clumsy one. The replaceable one. The one who watched everyone either die or be tortured and changed. The one who started all of this, yet no one seemed to care.

"Why would they care about a murderer?" A voice echoed in Sun's head, a way too familiar voice he couldn't get rid of no matter what. He thought it got better, and sure, he didn't see Bloodmoon every time he heard him, but it was still so hard to focus on anything when that bloody maniac was there, one way or another.

Sun just finished putting the cats down in the basement, and he locked the door. He didn't remember much of it, too deep in his own thoughts. But now that he stood there, his task finally done, he realized how... heavy everything felt. He was tired, yet almost fully charged. His hands were shaking, and when that voice spoke, it made things worse. Sun closed his eyes, sucking in a bit of air to not loose it just yet.

"Don't.." talking was harder than Sun thought, he surely had a headache, but the mental weight on his frame just didn't seem to make this easy for him "Don't make this harder..." Sun muttered, at the edge of crying, as he leaned his forehead against the closed door. He heard his cats meow and hiss in worry, definetly sensing Sun's breakdown, which just made Sun feel more guilt than he already was.

He had something in his head this morning. The lingering thought of the lighthouse being high enough for something he wished for so long. A step he could take into the thin air, feeling free for at least a moment, and ending this every day battle with himself. He didn't want to keep doing this. He could've just went up there any day and end this, but he knew no one would understand. He knew how guilty Moon would feel.

As much as depression tried to convince Sun nobody cared, Sun knew at least his brother would care enough he'd blame himself for Sun's decision. Depression's answer was always Solar and Earth, who seemed to be closer to Moon than Sun, which left an ache in Sun's code, but he knew Moon would still feel guilty. Solar and Earth could help him move on and cope, but he would still hurt Moon. This tiny, fragile thread of guilt and fear of hurting his Moon again gave enough strength to Sun to continue this never-ending battle. But this morning, something seemed to snap in him.

Appearantly, Lunar killed Eclipse. This was the first messages Sun was greeted with this morning. Granted, this was a horrible situation, and Sun was aware how damaging killing someone is. But... Lunar killed for revenge. Out of pure spite and hatred, in a situation where he wasn't even in danger. It was all on the YouTube channels.

Sun watched the two separate videos over and over again, not even bothering to dress up and get some coffee just yet. He had a day off, and planned on relaxing and playing with his cats, which seemed to all shatter when he saw the videos. Lunar enjoyed killing Eclipse. The only reason he seemed to feel some short of guilt was because Earth freaked out and left. But that guilt wasn't towards Eclipse. He saw how Solar scooped up and helped Lunar away from the scene, but there was something in both videos that made Sun feel an amount of different feelings he couldn't handle. His hands were shaking, and he didn't even realize how bad the videos affected him until heavy oil tears dropped on his phone screen.

Lunar killing Eclipse is okey?! Everyone seemed to be so calm about this situation and supportive towards Lunar. Why were they so supportive? Lunar JUST killed somebody! This wasn't even the Eclipse who killed him and hurted him!

And the worst part is, when Sun wanted to kill Eclipse, it was bad. The moment he tried to help his family, he was 'becoming just like Eclipse' as Lunar said. And now .. now its okey to kill Eclipse.

Why wouldn't it be okey for the family's favourite brother after all? The one who's trauma was recognized, taken care of. The one everyone was tiptoeing around to make sure he was fine. The one who had the opportunity to seek for help, get a second chance in life, have time to heal, and constantly distract himself. The one who became family the moment he turned his back on Eclipse, the one who only had to endure one hit in his life before getting blown up, the one who dared to say Sun is just like Eclipse for WANTING to kill him-

Sun snapped out of his thoughts when his phone shattered loudly against the wall. Did he just throw it away?

#tsams #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams sun #sams #tsams moon #tsams eclipse #sams sun #sams moon #tlaes lunar #tlaes earth #laes lunar #laes earth #the lunar and earth show #lunar and earth show #quick one shot idea

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 months

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Chortle headlines.

Some of these are interesting. I don't know if it bodes well if Paddy Young is the absolute best rookie comedians in all of Britain, but he definitely had a good show last year (that got streamed on NextUp from Edinburgh). I have trouble believing anyone wrote a show that's better than both Paul Foot's Dissolve and Ahir Shah's Ends, but to be fair, I haven't seen John Kearns' show and he is very fucking good at these things, makes me hope even more that he'll be doing something in Edinburgh while I'm there. Alex Horne got an award for Taskmaster being an outstanding achievement, not quite sure what that means but I think it's accurate. I think if you look up the definition of "breakthrough act" you'll just find a note that says "see Sam Campbell's career throughout 2023", so that couldn't really have gone any other way. I've heard Kiri Pritchard-McLean compere a bunch on NextUp things, she is in fact very good at clubs. I haven't seen any of the other nominees but I'm still sure that James Acaster deserved to win that best tour one. I couldn't stomach the amount of Celebrity Glamour in Joe Lycett's new show but he is a great comedian and he is definitely made to be a TV comedian, which in some ways could be an insult but I really mean it as a compliment, he's great at that, good for him. Munya Chawawa posts highly amusing song parodies on YouTube. Fern Brady's is one of the best comedian books I've read. Three Bean Salad I was unable to get into, but maybe I'll give it another shot sometimes, after I finish with the winners of that radio award, John and Elis - well done to them for getting over ten years and not completely falling apart. I usually find it hard to get into sketch comedy (or anything that isn't straight stand-up) but Lorna Rose Treen made me laugh with character things last summer, so she probably deserves that one.

Those are my unsolicited opinions on that. The existence of Taskmaster is definitely an outstanding achievement for all involved.

This a special feature that happens every once in a while, called "Chortle publishes the contents of Daniel Kitson's mailing list". I find it gets funnier the less it sounds like Steve Bennett knows about the news items beyond the contents of the mailing list email, and in this case, that is clearly fuck all. But anyway, it's a great show and exciting announcement, anyone who has the opportunity should go see this tour. He said in the email that he might try to get something going in NYC later this year, which would be incredibly logistically difficult for me to get to (8.5-hour drive each way if I can borrow a car from someone, which would be tough, 14 hours on the bus otherwise, I've been told I can't take any more vacation days in 2024 because I used them on the London/Edinburgh trip), but still, I have found myself wondering how I might be able to make that work if he actually announces it.

Fucking hell. I can't believe this. My local comedian Facebook group is going pretty wild in response to this news. That's fucking huge, a massive amount of stuff is centred around this. To be honest I'm still not clear on the scope of this news so I won't go into it too much, I'll just say, fucking hell. Truly shocking. That's like a sport just canceling its national championships halfway through the season.

Excellent. Everyone should read this. His 2023 show (which I think he's still touring) is one of my favourite comedy shows ever. And the one before that, which inspired this book, is also very fucking funny, though not as good as his latest one.

Also, I am up for a trend of one comedian per year writing a book about their relatively recent autism diagnosis. Who do we think it'll be in 2025? I have approximately four to five suggestions.

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wigglebox · 2 years

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hi, i see you draw and post fairly regularly. i love your art SO much. i love doing art too, but i struggle with continuing or posting because it never feels finished enough for me. how do you combat getting “obsessive” about the details being just right before you feel comfortable sharing a piece with others? (if this has ever been an issue for you, i mean.)

henlo!

thank you very much! that's very kind of you to say

so i'll be honest i don't fully have this problem to I think the extent you're describing but i think we can work through this together!

so idk what kind of art you do, but I think the first thing that happens is that we have to take a step back from it. if you know you passed the finish line and now just can't look away, just put it away. you may be eager to share it now but you're also having conflicted feelings and can't decide if there's more work to be done so the best thing to do is to put it away, work on something else, take a walk, something, at least for a few hours. get it out of your head! get allll of it out of your head and then come back to it. sometimes it may take a day or two. i usually find working on something else when I'm getting stuck even on the sketch helps because then my focus is on this other thing and I'm slowly forgetting my mental image of the previous drawing I'm stuck on.

so once you've stepped away, ask yourself maybe why you feel like you can't leave the drawing alone. are you afraid people are going to nitpick it? criticize it? ignore it unless you put a hair just in the right spot? are you nervous about posting it in general bc you're not used to showcasing your art? are you someone who always puts your art up but still hold your breath every time because what if this time no one likes it? I think as artists we have this underlying need to have our work appreciated [even though if you're like me, you're actually bad at conveying how thankful you are for those kind words lol]. and I think sometimes what holds me up is being worried just... no one is going to like it. no one is going to say anything. no one is going to reblog or retweet or comment — and I'm going to feel like a failure! and that's no good.

so with that i think ask yourself if you're still fixating on every detail because you want a reason to not post, and then try to reconcile with yourself what that reasoning is.

sometimes also, we don't want to finish a project because the process of drawing was more fulfilling than the actual end product. i have this issue a lot with crocheting and knitting actually. i like making the product, but I don't care about finishing it. sometimes, especially if you're doing like, portraits or really detailed stuff, the challenge of the drawing itself is what gave you good mental stimulation. and now, once it's done, you have to start from scratch on something else which is a very long process sometimes depending on what you do. so you both don't want to start anything because the project will now seem daunting, and you don't want to finish your current piece because then that means that journey is complete and you don't want it to be yet.

so i guess when it comes to that I guess just be honest with yourself. are you adding more details because you're nervous? stalling? or are you adding details because you don't want to finish because the journey was so much fun and the new one is too daunting? or are you nitpicking at it because you've just been staring at it for 32094802938 hours and you keep thinking something's off and in reality you just have to get yours eyes off it?

i think that's maybe a place to start if it's truly becoming an issue and you're becoming frustrated with it!

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Text

Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area… is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

#uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul #uta x human reader #uta x reader #tokyo ghoul x reader #uta tg #tokyo ghoul oneshot #tokyo ghoul re #tokyo ghoul anime #anime #one shot #request

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 3 years

Text

COLORS

A/N: No smut, sorry. Written for @princessstevens if she's silk still on tumblr. Based on this picture

"Kellan, call me when you get this," I say hanging up before walking into my building.

He never checks his voicemail so I send him a text too asking him to call me. We go to different schools, he's in the Bachelor's program at Brandman for Business and I'm at Alan Hancock for Art. I know he's probably driving right now or doing something. I remember when I met him, three months ago at Target of all places. I typically don't even shop at Target, I go to Walmart, but I was in there and so was he with his cute ass. I fell in love in the hair section. I was actually stalking him on my way to the body wash, but he was standing in the hair aisle getting conditioner for his thickass curly hair. We were a match made in heaven.

"Hey mama," I greet on my way to the kitchen to cook the pack of chicken sitting out in the sink.

"How was school? Take that trash bag out for me," she says before I can respond.

I look in the trash and change the bag, taking the old one to the chute before washing my hands in the empty side of the sink. The moment I rip open the pack of chicken and start washing it, Kellan calls.

"MAAAA, CAN YOU GET THAT?"

She wanders over fast and answers it having her own conversation with my man as I clean chicken. It sounds like they're talking about how his week has been, his classes, and something that's got ma laughing up a storm behind me. I didn't know Kellan was such a comedian. Something about this seems reversed. I keep waiting but I never get the phone so when I heat the oil and start dredging the chicken, I decide to butt into their conversation and ask.

"Uh, ma, can you put it on speaker so I can talk to him, he called to talk to me!" I start putting the chicken in the hot oil.

"Oh hold on, Kellan, my daughter is here getting her knickers in a twist," she mutters putting the phone on speaker. "I think she wants your attention now all to herself."

Kellan snickers. He and my mama are always teaming up on me like it's funny.

"I know you not laughing," I threaten at the phone, dropping chicken in the pan. "I've been trying to talk to you all day because I missed you but you wanna talk to my mama for-" I look at the time, "Five whole minutes."

"Awww, this baby.. she jealous," Kellan chuckles. "I think she mad you like me more than her."

"Keep acting like you tryna take my Mama from me, nigga. I ain't down with no incestuous shi-stuff," I pause genuinely mad. "You ain't finna be my man and act like my brother, I got a brother. That's nasty."

I don't know why I get mad, but I do. I love my mama. She's mine, not his.. I love Kellan, but he be annoying me for real with that shit because my mama gets too into it like she's not playing. She really does like him more than me. He doesn't understand that and keeps rubbing it in my face.

"You got one more time and you ain't coming over here no more."

"That's our mama's decision," he jokes. I cringe.

"Exactly," she adds.

I put the tongs down and walk out going to my room and shutting the door. I was gonna tell him about COLORS and invite him to come with me but he's pissed me off and now I don't want to talk to him. My mama doesn't even bring my phone right away, it's two more minutes of them still talking. When she brings it, I yell that I don't wanna talk to him. "Well finish the chicken," she directs. I do it.. but I'm still irritated.

"And then when he finally calls me back he doesn't even wanna speak to me. Too busy playing mama's boy to a woman who's not even his mama," I vent at the table watching Yaya's thinned lips stretch in silent judgement across from me. I know she doesn't agree with me, but she's not in my shoes.

"You gotta understand he's just getting comfortable. Your mom's probably trying to be accepting. He's your boyfriend."

"No." That's not it, it's not that simple. "He will dead call for her and ignore me. She doesn't care what I do in a day and I can't get her to look at my art for more than two seconds but he gets her undivided attention. He's only known her for three months."

"That's how it is sometimes," she shrugs. I shake my head.

"No. That's not how it is, and if it is I can't be doing this. No, ma'am."

Her finger raises and I shut up as she takes a call. I didn't even hear a ring, but based on her face she's not liking whoever it is on the phone or what they have to say. She has that stank face that she gets when someone's got her twisted. Meanwhile, the waitress pops back up.

"Ready to order or do you guys need a few more minutes?"

"You must got me fucked up," Yaya blurts causing the server's brow to raise as she looks from Yaya to me. She only asked what we were ordering.

"We're ready to order," I smile. Quickly she takes her pen from her pile of blonde hair.

"I'm not working Friday after I already said I needed that day off," Yays waves to me to order for her since she's on the phone. I know what she'd order. The server looks from her again back to me readying her paper and pen.

"She'll take the fried chicken with mac and collards. I'll take the house cheeseburger with fries.. thank you," I nod as she walks away. I take a sip of my iced tea, wiping the condensation from the glass onto my dress and leaning forward with my hands in my lap.

"Right, but I said it back in July so you'd know I'd need this Friday off. It's in writing, do I need to pull it up," Yaya threatens to whoever is on the phone. I wonder what's going on on Friday. "Yes, pull it up and look at the email.. uhuh.. Yes, so Fri-day I will NOT be there," she enunciates. "Correct… Uhuh, buh-bye!" She rolls her eyes and hangs up shaking her head at me and I know the frustration well, we work at the same Michael's. It's awesome, but our manager is very manipulative. I sip my tea thinking about it.

"You need to be the manager." I wish she were the manager.

"Pur!.. and Dean needs to go," she laughs sipping her coke. "How's your Fiverr going?"

"Oh girl I got some gigs, I've made about $110 from it so far."

"Okay! I'm on Upwork I made about $200."

"Damn. Well I'm looking at working at the Children's Museum for more money."

"True, I saw that position too.. but don't overextend yourself. I'm not.. because we still need to finish with these classes and get our art portfolios together and we ain't finna graduate late-tuh!"

I know, but I also need money.

When our food comes, we get refills on our drinks and that's when she comments on the restaurant, after she bites into her chicken. It's both of our first time coming in, but it's right near our college which is why we decided to give it a shot for lunch. It's called Urban Hangout and that's exactly what it looks like, a coffee shop to hang out in and just sit. The food is really good too.

"So what you got going on Friday," I ask dipping and shoving fries in my mouth one by one.

"Tuh, Friday? Nothing I just needed a day to myself and that's the day I'm taking," her lips pout when I laugh.

"That's smart! I'm glad you ain't let Dean try to sucker you like he be trying." I lean in. She's curling her finger like she needs to tell me something. "He's famous for shit like that -What," I whisper quickly. She waves her hand aggressively for me to stop talking.

"Meg.. you know that guy over there," her eyes flicker to my left. My head stays still but my eyes briefly follow hers to a quiet looking guy sitting at a table alone with an art pad and a beanie on covering his ears and eyebrows, eyes focused down as he draws.

"Mm-mm, no.. Never seen him in my life.."

"Well he keeps looking over here at you, I think he drawing you." She bites her chicken and sips her coke as I stare.

Me? Why he couldn't be drawing her, why does she assume it's me? I take another look at the guy but turn my head too far and end up making eye contact when he looks up. He looks different than I thought he would now that I can see more of his face. He blinks like he's waiting to see what I'm a do so I get up and sit across from him. He's really cute, though I got a man. There's nothing wrong with being nice, I tell myself.

"You go to Alan Hancock?"

The corner of his mouth lifts as he looks straight at me. He has long eyelashes and pretty, full kissable lips. I sit a little straighter. If I weren't already three months deep in a relationship I'd give him my number. He focuses back on his artpad, sketching, his eyes moving back and forth between my face and his paper with new energy. I look over at Yaya wondering if she sees what I see and she's smiling like she knows what I'm thinking. She knows my type, brown skin and bearded. He looks like he has a nice build under the loose shirt. And he draws.

"You speak..?" He doesn't respond. I'm starting to think he's deaf and cute. Maybe he can read lips, both sets. I wave and when he looks up, I point to my lips. "What's your name?" He only and smiles, his eyes creased at the corners, still sketching away.

I decide to just sit still and wait until he's done to see the picture, curious of his skill level. If he doesn't go to Hancock for art, then dammit he should.

Suddenly he stops, looks his page over seriously, and hands me the artpad across the table. He watches me for my reaction. It's a full rendering of my face in great detail and he's made me look beautiful. He's even got my negro nose with the piercing down to the shape of my eyebrows. My locs are accounted for and he put texture on them. Next to that is a full sketch of me sitting at my table, leaning onto the table with the straw in my mouth to drink. He's even got the print of my dress down. Only thing is he's added a realistic looking flower behind my ear in both pictures and I'm not wearing a flower. I look up briefly, curious.

His smile returns as he sees my head tilt with a question in my eyes about the flower. Going into his backpack beside him, he gently pulls out a lively bright golden yellow flower handing it to me. I look to Yaya, who looks equally surprised while I show off my flower. She's fawning.

"Is this how you pick up girls," I smirk smelling it. It's real and I'm geeked. I tuck it behind my ear like suggested by the drawing. Taking his pad, he writes a message on the page and hands it back to me.

24 hours of silence in memory of black women killed by police brutality. My older sister was one and she loved daffodils. I've been giving daffodils to black women all day. This is my last one.

I look up at his warm eyes but now I see traces of sadness.

"When did she die," I whisper unsure of whether to speak or write now. He takes the pad and writes.

2 years ago today.

My heart breaks for him and I hold my heart looking over at Yaya who has no clue what's going on. I'll have to fill her in when I get back over there. In the meantime, I do my best to communicate that I'm truly sorry for his loss.

"Can I have this," I point to the paper. He frowns comically shaking his head and takes his pad back writing again.

I'd rather keep it. I like how it came out.

Can't say I don't understand him as an artist because there are times when you look at your work and love it too much to let it go. Still, it is my face. He smiles seeing my disappointment. I nod deciding to let it go and stand to head back to my table. By the time I sit down, he's up with his things and leaving the cafe. I let Yaya into the loop and she sympathizes looking over to the space where he previously sat.

In class, my eisele faces the window and I start my under painting which is a wash of the background.

"How did you get yet another picture in the hall," I turn to ask Yaya after thinking about it for a good few minutes. She grins with her tongue out between her teeth.

"I keep telling you, taking outside classes and going to workshops really helps you develop in realism."

"I keep saying I'm going to," I sigh as I plop my brush in water. She sweeps her brush across her canvas back and forth.

"You're lazy. That's why you haven't had anything in the hall."

"No, but why can't I just practice and learn from the classes I'm already paying for," I groan. "Otherwise why am I paying?"

"Because you can't, suck it up. You want to be in the hall or you wanna be average?"

"I wanna make $200 on Upwork."

"Up your skill set and you can," she points to my canvas with her detail brush adding insult to injury.

"Bitch, I'm trying!" Honest, I am. I've improved on my own a great deal but I've still never sold like she has. Her art is in THE HALL.

At Allan Hancock College, only the best student work lines the white brick walls of the art halls. The best of the best make it to the glass display. Every visitor to the building had to pass through the art hall and without meaning to, they stop to admire the art almost without fail. Sometimes the art sells for prices upwards of $300. Colorful portraits, hyperrealistic paintings of still life and everyday objects.. Needless to say, the hall is the goal of every art student and the golden standard to aspire to.

"That's pretty," Francis smiles in passing on the way to his easel. He's referring to my self-portrait. I started with the background and now I'm painting my skin tone. Glancing over to his station, I move from my spot to take a look at his canvas.

"Aww, look at Gravy lil fat self!" He's painting his lil fat French bulldog. "Wait a minute... Francis, you got better!.."

"I went to a painting workshop this past weekend, it was a bring your dog paint and sip night. You should've seen all of the puppies! I met a few new people too, 100% reccomend."

"You talkin bout COLORS," April jumps in from behind. Instantly I look at Yaya and she looks at me.

"I love COLORS, I'm telling you, I go there all the time. I've learned so much skill-wise and every day they have something different going on," Francis says. "You ever been?" The question is to me, but before I can answer, April cuts in.

"Y'all need to go on a Saturday night," she smirks.

"I went Sunday, it was fun. Had a lil wine," Francis adds.

"Exactly, no.. Go Saturday Night it's portrait and figure drawing night but there's always a live model and 9 times out of 10 they're always fine." She goes to her portfolio and pulls a painting of a nude black woman. Her strong features are in great detail I notice as I appraise it. This could be in the hall too if she were serious.

"Damn, I been going the wrong day, sign me up," Sheena cuts in. I ain't even see her behind me. "I wanna go, but I wanna paint a woman," she says causing Francis to look back playfully.

"We know."

"Look, I'm going this Saturday night if y'all wanna meet me there," Yaya announces as she focuses on her picture reminding me that I need to head back to mine. "Let me know and I'll get us a table. Just everyone chip in since I'm using my card."

It seems like everyone plans to go. "I'm going too," I say not wanting to be left out.

"Oh I know you are," Yaya's brow raises. I turn my lip up playfully. Kellan would've been bored there anyway he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. He's like my mom, not interested.

Cutting the engine on my mama's car, I exit the gps and call Yaya.

"Hey. Where you at, I ain't see your car?"

"I'm coming. I'm a few minutes away, wait for me."

"I see Sheena and Francis standing outside. I can claim our station, it's fine. Just meet me inside," I tell her and on entering the urban paint bar with Sheena and Francis directly behind me, the walls are dust free and eggshell white. The overhead fixtures bring white artificial light. The floors are a light sandy wood, finished for easy clean. It looks way better than the outside, bigger too.

Francis leads the way to the desk/register/information center and I grab a brochure advertising a gallery showing that's supposed to happen.

"Hey we have a reservation for five under Yaya. 8PM," he states and we're escorted to a warm white brick space with finished wood floors easy for cleaning. Still there are plastic tarps. There are three other small groups with clustered easels signifying a division, each group with a corresponding table. Our table is table three and we order a bottle of red wine which comes around the same time as April and Yaya. We're all here and ready.

April and Francis take control since they've been to COLORS. They secure our palletes, paints, and brushes.

"Let's make it a competition," April suggests.

"You're on," Yaya points. We're all in, prepping our canvases before the model arrives and when the door reopens we all look up. "IT'S HIM," Yaya gasps echoing my thoughts. He looks just as stoic and reserved as the first time we saw him. I wave catching his eye and jog toward him stopping with my hands on my hips.

"You gotta be an art student," I gape up at him realizing he's taller than I remember. "You everywhere we be!" His lips pout in the tiniest smirk and I wonder if he's still not talking. "My bad, yes or no questions only. Nod for yes.. Are you an art student?"

He shakes his head no.

"Wow wow wow, you in school?"

He nods.

"I really wanna ask you where I'm about to start guessing schools."

Raising a finger to say wait, he proceeds to lightly grab my upper arms and shift me from his path like I'm in the way. I'm offended!

He heads to the middle point of the room which houses a small platform with a few props.

"Ohh," I mouth watching him pull of his thin but loose long sleeved purple vneck. "Dayum!"

I head back to my easel and my group has the same expression. This man looks like a gym rat. I suspected as much but you really couldn't tell through the shirt and that seems to have been on purpose. He's not like me, I flex hard af when I know I look good.

"Professionalism," I remind my classmates. "Y'all seen a naked body before. We are artists, we do not ogle... We respect the human form."

I'm half joking because I know it's normal to have a reaction, but they take me seriously and go into mature mode. Then the man takes off his ripped skinny jeans revealing strong, long, lean calves and solid, defined thighs. He's standing in burgundy briefs that expose that he's working with a monster. Big boy status in those briefs.

It's not like I've never seen a penis, Kellan's is not small. It's not as girthy as this guy's.. but it's similar in length. I'm glad he's not hear to see me damn near simping over this model. That could've been extremely awkward.

I look at the other groups and they seem to be really mature about it. I watch their eyes to see if they're faking composure but quickly change my mind and mind my business. It's a good time to grow up myself.

Then the briefs come off. I keep my face neutral but I see from the corner of my vision that the big boy is hanging. It's been a whole strip tease, I'm almost nervous to look up because my poker face is too fragile. Instead, I start with his face and upper body and jump to his legs based on my view of him. His side is turned to me. I mix my colors for the tonal differences in his skin, accounting for shadows and highlights. I want this portrait to look as good, no.. BETTER than the one he did of me in the cafe. I also want to win this little painting competition. I work on getting the color placement blocked out and accurate and then I follow up with blending and details. His hair is one of my favorite things to paint and I'm confident no one's touching me on that.

He moves around every so often to give the ones who request it a closer look. I don't mind it because he's good at returning to his mark and exact position. Also the lighting doesn't change.

I get his whole body down nearly, left with the gap between his v-cut and his thighs. It's childish but instead of drawing his penis, I start painting in the props. I paint the blue vase and the small stand holding the half full water bottle he keeps taking little breaks to sip from.

"Anyone else hot," I whisper blousing my shirt to give myself air underneath. April takes it as a sign to walk around our easels to look at our canvases and we do the same with each other's. Instantly I realize my painting isn't as good as I thought it was and that I can do better.

"You missed a whole part," she comments inspecting my painting carefully. She's looking at the way I painted his locs. I definitely succeeded there. "You just not gonna give him a dick?"

"I'm not done, I couldn't really see it from this angle," I lie. "I'm just gonna paint a modesty leaf."

"That'll ruin your pretty picture, I've seen your leaves," Francis grimaces. "It's a small part, you can finish it we have time."

I wanna tell him it ain't that small. That thing is big. Instead I pick up the brush to deliberate.

"Hey, could you come just a little closer, please? She's trying to see from the side," April points to me and when he comes closer, I have no excuse.

"Helps to paint it if you look at it maybe every once in a while," he deadpans. I freeze momentarily to look him in the eye. He thinks he's clever.

"Oh you talk now," I smile sarcastically. His small answering smirk shows no malice, purely teasing.

"I like to let people talk who like to talk."

"Yeah aight." I have to look. I start filling in the missing part of his body and when I glance left, Yaya is smirking at me. It's subtle, but I know her and I ignore her.

Kellan wouldn't understand me standing up here sipping wine and drawing dicks with a naked man so close to me. I don't think I'll tell him. That's not something I care to explain and I don't have to, it's art not sexual. I make sure I copy the smooth transition from brown to pinkish-brown on the tip of the dick. I get the healthy shine and the light pull of the balls which are big. He's clean shaven or waxed, I don't know which. When I've got the gist of it he returns to his original position.

"What's your name anyway," I call out. I can't be the only one curious.

"What importance is a given name? The universe will mold us into what we're truly meant to be."

"Erik. His name is Erik," a girl from table four says with a humored sigh. "Ignore him, he's a troll."

"That's a label you've chosen for me. You're a white woman, you are not the universe. Only black women can attempt to perceive me."

"Shut.. up," she groans. It's hard to tell but I'm starting to see he likes mixing his genuine responses with satire. It's confusing. He could be a hotep or he could be fishing. But why would hotep be a nude model? Are there hotep nude models who hand out flowers and draw in cafes?

"Let's compare," Yaya announces and we all vote on the winner with feedback from the other groups who actually consist of nice people. Yaya wins, no surprise there. I'm still proud of my painting. It's my best so far. I wish I could show it to my mama and my man without them viewing it as something perverted.

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #black panther killmonger #colors

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fio-violet · 3 years

Text

Fluffy help (part 1)

Throughout the day, the Killer did not behave normally. He looked tired all day, and it bothered him a lot. He couldn't compose himself, couldn't remember the script, got confused in words, and got scolded for it. It was obvious that he had been distracted just today, and at the wrong time, they had a lot of work planned for this day, and he could not collect his thoughts.

"- Hey, Kill -" knight shouted, "- You're a little confused today, are you all right? -" Nightmare asked with a little excitement, this behavior is strange for his boyfriend, usually he is collected when they are on set.

"- I don't know, I've been feeling tired all day, -" the Killer replied, rubbing the back of his head with his hands. "- And now I have a little stress because of the huge number of failed takes, the Director is clearly not happy with me today -" he looked calm, but who knows what is on his mind now.

While the two actors were talking in the other corner of the stage, a timid trainee entered the hall and began to approach the workers who had previously asked the Barista for a certain coffee. Surprisingly, our coffee boy remembered what kind of coffee one or another employee ordered. Now he had gone through almost everything, and there were only two glasses of coffee left on the tray, intended for the monsters he likes.

Ccino had noticed during his rounds that the Killer and Nightmare were talking about something, and to his surprise, it was the Nightmare who took the initiative, and usually the Killer tries to get Him to talk. "- Is something wrong? -" it flashed through his mind as he approached them. He decided that he would definitely ask them about it, but probably later, but for now he tries to smile, and not give away a certain embarrassment and confusion.

"- Hi guys -" a little timidly greeted the two actors, the Barista.

"- Oh, hi, Ccino -" Nightmar said, smiling slightly as the Intern approached them.

"- Hello, baby- " the Killer tried to act natural in front of another favorite monster.

Ccino tried not to show his embarrassment at the Killer's response, but the flush on his cheekbones betrayed it.

"- Y-your coffee. Knight you asked for your regular coffee without additives. And the Killer asked for an espresso with a double dose of caffeine, right? -" of course, he is sure that he remembered everything correctly, but always clarified.

"- Yes, thank you, Ccino -" said Nightmer, still smiling slightly as he took his drink from the tray.

"- That's right, thank you -" the Killer also kept up with the Night and took his glass. Then they simultaneously moved closer to their trainee and kissed on the cheeks from different sides. Ccino, who had not expected such actions, started at first in surprise, and then, as it dawned on him, his face flushed again, and he froze in place, trying to recover himself.

"- Heh, you're so embarrassed again, you should get used to it by now, -" the Killer said with a light laugh, taking a sip of coffee. "-But you get even nicer at times like this -" he continued after a short pause. Nightmare just grinned, as if agreeing with his second boyfriend.

" -B-by the way, -" Ccino said, still looking at the killer in confusion, "- You usually drink coffee with additives, but today you decided to drink the same coffee as Nightmare, with double caffeine." He tried to change the subject to one that bothered him more. "- I noticed that you are silent more than usual, in conversation the Nightmare spoke more than you, something happened? -" Ccino was already looking at his boyfriend with concern.

"- W-wow, you're really observant -" the Killer was actually confused and pleased to some extent, the idea that his boyfriends noticed his condition, even though he tried to hide it so that he could focus on work.

"- I said it was noticeable -" Nightmare said with a grin.

"- Hey, I'm worried about you and the Nightmare, of course I'll notice the changes -" he managed to confuse both himself and the two actors at the same time, but Ccino wanted to know what was going on with the Killer today, maybe he got sick or something.

"- Ccino, the Killer probably overworked recently, this is the result of the actor's hard work -" said the still slightly confused Nightmare.

"- So...are you tired because of stress? -" the barista asked.

"- Most likely -" the Killer replied with a slight smile, finishing his coffee, the drink should help him relieve fatigue until the end of the working day, and then the wave of fatigue and drowsiness will cover him with a vengeance. By the way, Nightmare had almost finished his coffee.

"- Have you thought about taking the day off? -" Night threw the empty glass in the trash and looked at the slightly cheerful Killer.

"- I can't, there's a lot of work, have you seen the script at all? -" a little indignantly asked the Killer, remembering how many times today he forgot words or dialogues until they finished shooting, it was some kind of show.

"- Then you can rest in the evening -" the Nightmare continued after the Killer's response.

"- We can spend this evening together, -" the Intern suddenly suggested. There were slightly surprised looks at him, but he continued, "- I mean, we could help the Killer relax and de-stress this evening, so that he can have a good rest and go back to normal work tomorrow. -"

"- Hmm, this idea could be tried, -" Nightmare was more interested in how it would come out and what it would lead to. "- What do you say, Killer? Would you like to spend the evening with us? -" he was smiling maliciously.

"- Tempting offer -" in response, he also smiled maliciously. "-It still depends on what we will do -".

"- We can spend the evening at my place, my apartment is small, but I think that's enough for us -" it seems that at the moment Ccino is not embarrassed by his own proposal, but who knows if he will regret it or not?

"- Are you sure? -" the Killer asked doubtfully.

"- Yeah, it's all right. I will enjoy your company. By the way, you haven't really been to my house that often, have you, Killer? -"

"- Well, Yes, it is -" he said.

"- I have animals at home, cats -" on the word "cats" the Killer perked up a little "- I think they will help you to relieve some stress. As far as I know you like cats too -"

"- Yes, it is. Only now I'm envious -" the Killer replied, slightly offended.

"- It's starting -" Nightmare said softly, a little irritated. The Nightmare does not allow the killer to bring home animals, especially since it is a big responsibility, and they still need to take care of this animal, and they do not have time for all this. They disappear all day at work, they come home almost at night, with this mode, the Nightmare doubts that the animal will survive with them.

They were saved from even more questions by the Director's voice calling for them to return to the set.

"- Well, we're leaving, they're waiting for us -" the killer said in a more cheerful voice, throwing away the empty сup of coffee he had drunk.

"- Yeah, it's time to get back to work. -" Nightmare agreed.

"- Well, I'll see you tonight, baby. -" the Killer said, and gave Ccino a quick peck on the forehead. Nightmare also kept up and gave the Barista a quick kiss on the nose.

Ccino stayed where he was, feeling his face start to burn again with embarrassment. He was happy, there was no doubt about it, but he also wanted to cheer up the two guys who were already walking away from him and talking about something.

"- I'll regret this -" Ccino thought. - "Hey!", he shouted, running up to them. They turned and looked at him in slight surprise, about to ask something, but the trainee silenced them with a quick kiss on the lips. When they realized this, they were at first slightly shocked, they did not expect that their coffee boy, who was always embarrassed by any kisses and words, would climb up to them to kiss himself.

"- T-this is to c-cheer you two up when you're on set -" Ccino tried to explain his action quickly and confidently, as it delays them, but with each word he blushed more and without saying anything else quickly left the set.

Nightmare and the killer only looked slightly surprised as the trainee left, then went to the set in high spirits.

"- You're a bad influence on him -" Nightmare said.

"- As if you don't like it when I do it or he does it -" the Killer replied, laughing a little.

"- Fuck you! -" nightmare exclaimed in embarrassment, quickening his pace.

"- Come on, I love you -" the killer exclaimed, catching up with the nightmare and giving it a quick kiss on the temple.

"- Me too... -" he replied, calming down a little, and the Killer's smile widened.

Well, the evening promises to be fun.

(To be continued ???)

I finally finished this part. I really worked on it, and I hope someone likes it. Please excuse the mistakes, my English is not so good. (QwQ)💦

I was inspired by these people: @zu-is-here , @help-im-a-gay-fish , @yuriyuruandyuraart , @kotikaleo , @jann-the-bean .

Thank you for your inspiration and for loving this ship. ( UwU)✨💜💜💜

Killer!Sans by @rahofy-sketch

Ccino!Sans by @black-nyanko

Nightmare by @jokublog

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wann-der-lusst · 3 years

Text

Cliché Drawing Sesh

By: Margareth Angelique Asico

"How do you decide on which reference you're going to draw next?"

"No one has ever asked me that before, well... I guess I just draw what I like. Why ask such a

question?"

"Nothing really. Just curious"

The sound of the pencil lead brushing through the paper, the sheer sunset filling the classroom, the sound of the birds chirping and the boy sitting in front of you was enough for you to get lost in your own world. It made your heart flutter on how much you're enjoying the scenery that your orbs are witnessing as you continue to draw- it was perfect you thought. You asked Joaquin to be your reference for your art project which took you by surprise that he actually agreed on such a sudden request. A chance like this doesn't happen every day so grabbing the opportunity of you not having to give excuses why your sketchbook was filled with his face would be great.

"Oi Santiago, someone's calling"

Instantly snapping off of your peaceful paradise, an immediate rush of adrenaline was released as the thought of him seeing your wallpaper made you quickly grab your phone in Joaquin's hand like your life depended on it.

"Ah yes, Hello?"

You answered the phone while glaring at Joaquin who was absolutely confused on your previous action since it was out of character of your usual self who is calm and composed. Nevertheless, you just saw him shrug it off which made you relax a bit.

"In front of the water fountain? The vending machine there? Why?"

"No, it’s okay, we'll be heading there anyways. I had some work to do so..."

“Right I'll see you"

Closing your sketchbook, you gave him an awkward smile as you began packing your things. He stood up from his seat- getting the idea that your drawing session has ended. You slid the door open exiting the classroom while Joaquin walked beside you.

"You're acting a little strange today" You chuckled with the sudden question.

"Am I?"

"Yeah"

Not being very expressive towards people, observing surroundings is much more preferable- to you at least. You figured that people tend to approach you less since they find you a bit intimidating. But given the circumstances, Joaquin never failed to surprise you on how well he can see through your reserved expressions which made you feel warm- important somehow. It made you feel as if someone's actually interested not only for your physical attributes, but for what's actually going on inside your mind and how you feel despite not being able to express it much.

The walk was quiet but relaxing, you were taken away from your thoughts as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder.

"Oh right, that's my friend... She was the one who called a while ago"

You walked towards your friend who seemed to have a companion whom you are not much familiar with. She leaned into the guy whispering something, giving you a smirk while raising her eyebrows before sneakily leaving. The boy looked incredibly nervous giving you the idea on what his intentions would be.

"Right, I'll get going for practice for the swimming club. Good luck to you two"

An intense, yet awkward atmosphere filled the place as the both of you stood there waiting for something to happen which actually took quite some time.

"Uhm, Santiago. I-I've been wanting to tell you this but I never had the courage to do so. I was... I was wondering if you would like to go out with me-"

Your attention dividing as a familiar scent went past through your direction observing him with your peripheral vision as he slowly disappeared from your sight.

"Hey uhm, as much as I want to... I'm sorry but I'm actually interested in somebody else..."

His expression immediately turns into a frown as soon as he hears you speak...obviously hurting from your response. You tried to comfort him as much as you could just so that it can lift a bit of the weight you've caused him which was not much of a help. He started walking away from you as soon as the conversation ended with sadness radiating his aura. You couldn't help but feel sorry but you were sure you already have someone to lend your heart to.

"Well, you seemed to be pretty popular around the boys." Joaquin exclaimed, coming out of nowhere.

"Aren't you supposed to be practicing for the swimming club?”

"I thought so too, but we were just called for a meeting."

"Is that so? Well, to be clear I am not in any way popular with the boys"

"You are Santiago, you are."

"How are you so sure?"

"Santiago, how many guys have confessed to you? How many of our classmates tried to take you on a date? If anyone's blind here, it would be you. I don't get it why you wouldn't date any of them though."

"Well, it looks like I'm not the only one who's acting strange today. Also, I have to finish the sketches so I wouldn't have to bother you from your next practice."

"Right, we can stay at the gym if you like since it'll be cold here."

You started sketching as soon as you've pulled out your art materials from your bag and once again, lost in your own little world. You were focusing on Joaquin's eyes - those brown eyes that looked as if they were shining, you wondered how he would look at someone he admires. His

proportions are outstanding, his build may be slim but the muscles which are gradually developing from his swimming practices are showing.. It would probably feel great to cuddle with him. His hands are perfect, his fingers are slender and you wondered how it'll feel like if you were to intertwine your hands with his. You thought to yourself how fortunate you are to have this chance to observe how beautiful this man is built, it is more than enough. Every imperfection seemed perfect when it’s him, it's unfair how incredibly handsome this man is and how he swiftly catches your attention. You drew every angle of his face as if you're drawing the final piece, you didn't want to mess up anything. You wanted to capture his amazing features; he surely is one of a kind. How can someone be so salty towards others be so considerate when it comes to you? Someone who doesn't give full attention to something he's not involved with will be so attentive when listening to your stories. How he notices everything that unease you despite your almost-emotionless face… Maybe he cares for me? You thought. Maybe I have a chance? Should I tell him how I feel?

You were once again, brought to reality with your phone ringing. A hand swiftly taking the phone

away from you making your heart jump from nervousness that you didn't even have the chance to see who's calling you.

"GIVE IT BACK"

A smirk forming on his face while holding the phone above his head

"Fine, reach it then"

"That's too high!"

He began to tease you by giving you your phone but immediately pulling it away once you're close.

"I didn't even get to see who was calling!"

"Really? I'll answer it then"

"This is so unlike you.."

Fear takes over your body as you watch his fingers tap on the answer button, knowing that you'll

lose him the moment the call ends. You were trembling as if you've never been this scared all your life. You tried to desperately snatch the phone while he was talking but it was no use.

The call has been going on for a while and you had no interest on what and who he was talking to. You were about to snatch the phone but failed when he wrapped you into a tight hug with his arm.

He is way stronger than you leaving you no choice but to give up on not being caught. You were

contemplating on how you should react when he finally saw what you've been hiding. Every second that passed was like hell for you that you couldn't even enjoy how close you are to him…

"Okay, bye"

You didn't even bother looking at him despite knowing the call had ended. You wouldn't want to remember how he looked when he finally saw your wallpaper of him candidly eating his strawberry shortcake in a café which you secretly took the first and only time you hung out together outside of school.

Eyes looking down, you took a deep breath accepting what he'll eventually do. His grip lessened, releasing you from the hug. It felt like you were drifting kilometers away from each other. He placed his hand over your shoulders, putting your hair at your back as you feel his fingers trace your jawline lifting your chin up. You look at him teary eyed, wondering if this will be the last time you'll see him this close.

His eyes deemed, he never looked this serious before making your heart leap from the sudden change of expression. His other hand finding its way to your back forcing you to come closer to him making you jolt. He was leaning in front of your face, he was so close that you could feel his breath tickle your lips as you felt your heart racing.

"So is this what you meant when you said you draw what you like?" He said as his lips curled for a smirk.

"uh uhm uh”

Cutting you off, he pressed his lips against your forehead enabling you to process the situation. He pulled away so slowly that you felt every part of his lips losing contact with yours. Your body not being able to move, you tried to at least calm yourself just enough to be able to process the

situation.

"Joaquin...."

Your ears are tingling from the permission granted to you. Face now tinted red from everything that has happened, he pulled you into a back hug digging his face onto your neck sending shivers down your spine.

"What the hell came into your mind to do that?"

"Nothing really. I was just curious"

"Si-since when did you know?"

"I didn't, I was the one who called you on your phone. Turned out better than I expected. Couldn't ask for a better outcome."

"You jerk"

"I love you too"

#short stories

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justrandomselfships · 3 years

Text

Little steps- my self insert Fic (S/I POV) with a bunch of silly illustrations! Oh did I mention that this involves Kaeya? Well he's the main focus here even though Lisa is mentioned shit ton of times! Might write something for her focus too someday.

I finished it ages ago but I was afraid to post it- I'm not anymore and also✨ it's my birthday ✨

Ever since I joined the knights I decided to write in a diary, it helped me keep track of time. Lisa told me that it can help me in various ways, like for example remembering names of the other knights, or checking my personal progress. Now that I think about it, it was long since I checked my old entries. Nothing interesting happened today anyway so I might as well read some. I don't really remember anything that was going on when I started so I suppose I could refresh my memory.

Today Lisa wanted to introduce me to someone- she probably wanted to help me by looking for training partner for me, however I had to refuse. You probably remember why was that, I got scared of meeting someone new again. I couldn't get that mess on her shoulders when she has so much to do as it is! And there was no way I'd meet them alone it'd be too akward for both of us!

I remember the exact moment I tried to come up with an excuse for future me... It kinda made me giggle how stupid I am sometimes, but let's look at something else...

I've never felt as lonely as I do now, I don’t even know why. I don’t miss anyone nor I ever craved any interactions... But to make that feeling go away I thought about talking to Amber but when I left the house she was talking to Noelle and I got scared to approach them... Instead I decided to sketch something and stay inside for the rest of the day.

I immediately looked at my sketchbook, I don't even have to look inside, I was drawing what's outside my window like always. Maybe I'll find some better memory if I keep looking?

During my patrol I got a bit lost... It was scary... But I wasn't alone, an Adventurer found me... However he got lost too. It was a bit unlucky day since I picked the wrong maps, we also got attacked a few times by monsters. I kinda feel bad for him since he tried his best to cheer me up but I stayed silent. It should've been other way around a knight shouldn't le

Bennett! How could I forget his name when I was writing this? He was such a sweetheart I obviously had to mess it up and make him feel uncomfortable... But I did make up for it! Maybe I'll finally read something positive? I somehow can't remember how exactly that went... Or if I was daydreaming about apologizing?

I decided to bake something for Bennett as thank you and apology for acting so cold towards him. But I had no idea on how to find him... Or what to say... So after thinking for few minutes I decided to talk to Katherine and ask her to give it to him. After "talking" to her I locked myself in my room out of embarrassment, I messed up again. I just said "Bennett" placed my pastries and left. Now I probably won't be able to face her for at LEAST two months.

I cringe at the memory... Gosh now this will keep me up at night for sure... I finally forgot about it and now it'll haunt me.

Wait a second... Did I really not made any progress at all!? I was trying so hard to socialize with others and get out more but I seem to still not be able to do it right. No, it's impossible. I'm good friends with Lisa! So I definitely made any progress... Or is she just so easy to talk to? Time to take a final look at something recent for a change...

Capitan Kaeya Alberich wanted to talk to me outside work... It might not sound like a big deal but somehow I just froze... I wasn't able to respond properly and he probably guessed what I was going to say, not that he ever can't do that... I might be too predictable. Either way I feel bad, my behavior was really disrespectful and I knew better than that to just ignore someone like him. I still have much to learn and I'll need to properly apologize for staying silent.

I only ever failed... There is no mistaking it. Great way to note down progress huh? Too bad there is none.

Think, what do I need to do to finally do better? I am the problem for sure but what do I really need to change? Maybe I should just start observing how others act... After all I never bothered to do that. It might help in one way or another...

Obviously there's only one place where there is a lot of people and I won't look like a total creep if I'll just listen in the conversations and look at random people... It's no other than the tavern. I'm scared to go there alone... But I don't have to!

Lisa would be willing to go right?... Then again I rely on her a bit too much and going out like this could be an opportunity to break the ice with someone else...

Jean is always busy, Amber will be way too distracting and we might end up somewhere else, Eula is too scary, Venti... I don't even know why I'm considering him.

Maybe that offer from capitan Kaeya still stands? It's from bearly 2 weeks ago so maybe if I get lucky and he happens to still be interested, I can actually go...

What am I even thinking!? I didn't even apologize for the last time... But being around so many drunk people is terrifying... However I can't bet on the fact that he won't drink too much... On the other hand he seems to handle people and I'll definitely learn something.

Screw it. It might be scary but I need to do it. Tomorrow I'll ask him! That's for sure! He's the most respectable and trustworthy person who isn't always busy and will not distract me.

~⏳

I'm scared to do it but I have to! I need to... Did I really say that I'm gonna do it today? Or should I just pretend that I never thought of it. He's probably busy today. Yup definitely that no need to feel stressed.

I haven't seen him back at the headquarters nor did I see him around town when I was coming back from my patrol- that's a good sign. It's still pretty early but I don't think that I'll see him today... What a relief!

Before I left the headquarters after finishing some paperwork I hear a voice that belongs to a beautiful librarian I am lucky to be able to call a friend.

"Hey there cutie, are you okay?"

"Just a little bit nervous that's all, nothing new haha"

"Do you need me to pass a message again?"

"No need! It's something I need to say myself..."

"I see..."

"But if you happen to see capitan Kaeya it would be nice if you could tell him that I was looking for him" out of habit I grab my hair and begin to play with it. Lisa's warm soothing voice blessed my ears as she said "No worries darling, I'll let him know" before she left and giggled to herself...

Wait... Oh no.

Why did I say anything!? Is she that magical that I can't say anything but what's on my mind.

If she happens to meet him my request will be unavoidable! Even if I tried thinking of something else Kaeya will know that I'm lying. I can't avoid him either... Can't waste his precious time...

How do I even ask him!? Do I need to change from my work clothes before I go? What should I do...

I didn't realize that I started walking in circles before someone approached me.

"Heather?"

I turn around and see the man I was thinking about all day. Dammit... I have to say it. I can't think of an excuse and staying silent is now unacceptable.

"Oh-uhm... Greetings Capitan Kaeya"

"Lisa informed me that you were looking for me"

"Oh right!... That... Haha..."

"I don't want to rush you, however I do have some business to attend to"

"I'm so sorry! I mean- since you're busy then my silly request is irrelevant"

"Come now, I believe that I should be the judge of that" his smug look made it ever so slightly more challenging to say anything.

"I just... Ugh..." I took a deep breath "Look as you know I was trying to loosen up recently and well I realized that I wasn't making any progress at all. So I remembered that one time you asked me to go to the tavern with you and I refused... I mean ignored you, which I am VERY sorry about but now I think that it was a mistake and today I wanted to ask you to accompany me but since you're busy let's just forget about everything" I felt relieved getting that off my chest.

"I don't think that will do, in fact I was heading towards the tavern so if you really want to I suppose you can join me" Oh right... I forgot about him gathering some information there from time to time. So it might work after all! He won't pay too much attention to me and I could investigate without tons of distractions.

"Let's get going then capitan" I say before he smiles softly in response "Wait do you want to get going now or-"

"Yes" he cut me off, which was fair and I'm glad he did it before I said something dumb.

We're almost there. Before we get closer I suddenly stop.

"That reminds me!" I realized I spoke out loud, as he looked at my direction my confidence dropped dead "I've never actually tried any alcohol so would you be so kind to recommend something for me? I figured that since I'm already getting out of my comfort zone might as well try something new" I said under my breath but he definitely understood what I meant judging by his facial expression and well... response.

"Absolutely" my heart skipped a beat. I desperately tried to start a conversation topic... But choosing alcohol might be something I'll regret...

Kaeya started listing few drinks I could enjoy his words were poetic as he described the beverages, however the names of the drinks went over my head. It wasn't that bad but I just felt stupid over how clueless I was. He definitely knew what he was talking about and I'm more than interested in hearing more. The more he talks the less likely I am to say something I'll regret.

"Obviously since I don't know how much you can handle I won't be forcing you to try too much too soon" he paused "Your father probably wouldn't be happy either if you returned drunk" he said teasingly. It invited me to respond less seriously.

"Oh no! This means that we'll have to do it again, how awful"

"We didn't enter yet so you can feel free to leave now before you regret spending time with me of all people" his voice was now suddenly much more hostile... Did I mess it up!?

He laughed softly "I'm sorry did I go too far? While I don't want to force you to do anything, I won't lie... I'm a bit curious to learn something new about you tonight"

We were still outside standing right in front of the entrance to the tavern if not for chatting we could hear from the inside there would be total silence.

"I'm sorry for being quiet again! It's just that you caught me off guard haha" I look away "There isn't much to know about me so I feel like I'll only disappoint you"

"I'm not so sure about that part"

"Wait... Did my father tell you anything about me!?"

"Look let's just get inside, We'll discuss it later"

Nervously I followed him yet again. The atmosphere was warm and I could see different kinds of people all over the place. We sit down.

"So did he tell you anything?" I ask immediately.

"Relax, he didn't" he seemed amused by my desperation to know. It's understandable... And I'm probably overreacting anyway. I collect my thoughts "I'm sorry"

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm just making this into some big deal for no reason. Maybe the reason is the huge amount of respect I have for you that makes me freak out"

"I see, well I don't see the reason to be so formal now. We aren't working after all" his soft smile was enough for me to calm down.

"Thank you" Maybe it was all I needed to hear, after that everything went smoothly.

I start feeling proud of myself... Maybe I can change after all? Either way it only shows that I have to write it down! And once I was back home I did just that.

Today I had enough courage to take a step in right direction! I went to a tavern with capitan Kaeya. It was fun and for the first time in years I wasn't that scared. It wasn't totally perfect but it was definitely worth it.

#❄️ frozen in tide 🌊#selfship #self insert #oc x cannon #self ship #my self insert #self shipping #my f/o #kinda self ship related #my self ship #kaeya x oc

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fanwarriorfictions · 5 years

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One-

A Stranger Things Fanfic

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers

Seraphina Wheeler sat in her room, running her fingers across her wrist, where a small, black tattoo had rested her entire life. She was thinking, not about anything specific, just any thought that came to her mind. Her mind traveled through multiple things, happy and sad memories, painful and terrifying ones, all of them, of which she could actually remember. One stuck out like a sore thumb, but she kept her thoughts away from it, from the anger and sadness that came with it.

That thing festered in her mind, and she knew that it wouldn't be long before it consumed her. She had locked it away a long time ago, not able to handle that pain, the feeling. She was good at locking away her emotions, but one day, she won't be able to hold back anymore, and she'd break.

A knock sounded at her door, she jumped a little, her mind coming back to the present, "come in."

One of her little brother's friends stood there, Dustin, "Hey Phina, since Nancy just refused the last slice of pizza, do you want it?"

She smiled at him, "sure Dustin, just set it on my desk. You guys done for the night?"

"Yeah, your mom is kicking us out," he said, slightly sad, walking over to the desk and setting the box down, "we didn't even get to finish!"

"Wow that sucks, you guys have been planning this for two weeks," she shouts, a small frown on her lips.

"Yeah," Dustin huffed.

"I'm sorry Dusty," Phina smiles at him, "come on, I'll walk you out."

Dustin nods happily, he'd had a cute little crush on her for the longest time, and she knew that, she thought it was adorable. She had babysat him when he was little and ever since then, he had the cutest little puppy dog crush.

The two walked down the stairs, talking about the campaign. Dustin told her about the Demogorgan and how Will had used fireball.

"He should of used a protection spell," Dustin whined.

"I don't know Dusty, if it were me, I would've used fireball," Phina smirked, knowing a double meaning behind her words.

Dustin shook his head, "and I thought you were the smart Wheeler."

Phina laughed loudly and smacked his shoulder, "I am the smart Wheeler, and that says something about my siblings."

Dustin laughed and opened the door to go into the garage, seeing his friends grab their bikes. He follows suit, turning to Mike.

"There is seriously something wrong with your sister," Dustin said to him.

"Ouch," Phina mockingly says, holding her heart as if she had been hit there, "my ego Dusty.".

"Oh you know I meant Nancy," Dustin laughed, "well, maybe it was just a little bit about you."

"Oh whatever Dustin," Phina playfully scoffed, "you know you love me!"

"What are you talking about," Mike asks.

"Nancy's got a stick up her butt," Dustin answeres, blushing a little because of Phina's comment.

Phina snorts loudly, both at Dustin's blush and because of what he said about her sister.

"Yeah," Lucas agrees then adds, "it's because she's been dating that doucheage, Steve Harrington."

Phina's smile falls and turns into a hard scowl at the mention of Steve Harrington, "damn right it's because of Harrington."

"Yeah, she's turning into a real jerk," Dustin nods.

"She's always been a jerk," Mike scoffs.

"Nuh-uh she used to be cool." Dustin starts to ride away on his bike. "Like that time she dressed up like an elf for our Elder Tree campaign."

"Four years ago," Mike shouts back.

"Just saying," Dustin says.

Phina chuckles at them, earning a small glare from Mike. She raises her hands in surrender, but continues to smile.

"Later," Lucas shouts.

"Be safe boys," Phina yells at them.

Dustin waves his hand in the air dismissively, "yeah yeah, whatever!"

Phina shakes her head and yells, "don't be a sarcastic ass Henderson! That's my job!"

Will stays behind for a second and turns to Mike, "it was a seven."

Mike looks at him, confused, "huh?"

"The roll, it was a seven. The Demogorgan, it got me," Will explains, "see you tomorrow."

As Will turns and rides off, a chill goes down Phina's spine, something felt a little off about what he said. The lights flickered a little and she looks at them a little wide eyed. The feeling did not go away, only pierced deeper into her.

"Be safe Will! Tell Jon and your mom I said hi," she yells after the boy, almost wanting to tell him to come back and just stay the night, but she knew her mother wouldn't let him stay on a school night.

"Okay!"

Phina shakes her head, trying to tell herself that she was just being paranoid.

She puts on a fake smile and turns to Mike, putting her arm around his shoulders, "did you have fun?"

"Yeah, it was one of our best campaigns yet," he says excitedly.

"Well good," Phina smiles at him and pushes him inside, "now go get ready for bed."

"But," Mike begins to protest.

Phina lifts her hand, "ah, don't argue with me Micheal."

He huffs, crossing his arms like a pouty child. Phina chuckles and ruffles his hair. She pushes him towards the stairs and he complies, swatting her hand away, laughing.

Phina smiles at him as he runs up the stairs and turns around. She goes to shut the door, but a cold wind blows into the house, surrounding Phina. She shivers, the creeping feeling in the back of her mind sends a deep chill through her. She shuts the door and shakes her head, staring at the door.

"You ok sweety," her mom asks.

"Yeah, I'm ok." Phina jumps, turning around to give her mom a fake smile. "Just tired, I'm gonna head up to bed."

Karen smiles at her, "ok sweety, goodnight."

"Night."

As soon as she was in the comfort of her room, she locked her door and closed her curtains. Phina did a mental checklist in her mind, making sure she was not going to be seen. Once she had checked off everything at least twice, she sat in the center of her bed, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

In the house next door, a small girl looked out her window, and towards the Wheeler's house, almost every night, the same thing happened. A golden glow emitted from the window, but the girl could not see what it came from.

The girl watched in awe, the light was beautiful, swirling and flickering in the night, almost as if someone was making a shadowy story for the little girl to see. The magical light was the girls favorite part of bed time.

The light went out, and back to the normal light of the room. The girl left her window.

Phina walks down the stairs of her house, dressed in her normal outfit, dark denim jeans, a black long sleeve shirt and a red flannel over it. Her long, blood red curls flowing down her back freely. She sat at the table, where her family had already started eating breakfast.

Mike pours syrup all over his foom which gets a look from Nancy, "that's disgusting."

"You're disgusting," Mike snaps back.

Phina smiles at the two bickering, but the smile vanished when she hears her mother pick up the phone.

"Hello..... oh, Joyce, hi."

Something happens with Phina's siblings and they start yelling. She doesn't spare them and attention. Their bickering was normal, and, unless it escalated, she wanted no part of it.

"Will? No no no, it's just Mike.... no, he left a little bit after eight. Why? He's not home?"

A sickening feeling settles in Phina's stomach, the same one from the night before. Karen hangs up and looks over at Phina, giving the empty plate in front of the girl a look.

"Are you going to eat?" she asks.

"No, I think I'm gonna head to school early, I have to meet up with a project partner," Phina lies, not at all hungry.

"Ok sweety," Karen nods absently, though her tone says she isn't happy about it.

Phina stands from the table and grabs her jacket, bag, and keys, before heading out to her motorcycle. She threw on her black leather jacket and then her backpack. She hopped on her bike, started it up, and drove off quickly towards the school, all the while, the sickening feeling settling deeper into her stomach.

Phina drove into the schools parking lot, people jumping out of her way as she sped past them. She parked in her usual spot, which was relatively close to the door. She noticed a few people standing by a car, watching her. Steve Harrington and his group of asshole friends.

Phina wanted to snap at them, but that would cause more harm than good. She avoided looking at them, but that didn't stop Carol from harassing her like normal.

"Watch out everyone, the freak of Hawkins is coming," Carol said loudly.

Phina didn't even pause, her mouth moving before she had time to even process what she was about to say, "watch out everyone, the slut of Hawkins is out spreading STDs."

The sound of Steve's sharp laugh, and Carol's cry of anger, made Phina smirk. She continued into the school not bothered by Carol screeching and calling her a bitch.

The crowds parted slightly as Phina made her way to her locker. She had a reputation at the school, and that made people very hesitant of her. Her, I dont give a shit attitude and her history of fights certainly kept people away. She kept to herself, only ever talking to her best friend and her younger sister.

Phina got to her locker and opened it, grabbing the things she would need for her first few classes and putting them in her bag. Then she grabbed her sketch book and her pencil case and shut her locker. She turned around and was met by the face of her best friend, Jonathan Byers, who had his hand held out like he was about to touch her shoulder.

"Shit Jon, you scared me." She jumped, then noticed the look on his face, distressed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Will, he didn't come home last night. My mom called your mom but he wasn't at your house," Jonathan explained.

The feeling in Phina's stomach began again, almost painfully present, but she kept calm, for Jonathan.

"I'm sure he probably just stayed at Dustin's," she tried to reason with him.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he sighed.

Neither of them believed her.

-1771 words-

#strangerthings #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthingsfanfiction #stranger things fanfic #strangerthingsfanfic #Steve Harrington #steve harrington #steve #steve harrington x oc #romance #slow burn #One

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frogsandfries · 2 years

Text

Finally

I actually had a really great day today, for a change. Got up, put the diamond painting on the wall in the closet in the office, since I'm still working on it and not ready to mount it yet. I did a bit of work on and in the original sketchbook. I was reminded why I went back to making my own sketchbooks:

Since I'm using the ATC format to keep my art kind of in check, I like to mark two frames onto each page. In the Walmart sketchbook with the nice actually art paper, I can have the pages front and back, which is pretty cool. However, since it's a pre-existing book created to be entirely blank, it doesn't have my frames, I have to draw them in. There's no way that I'm aware of to print them into a pre-bound book. So I kind of end up wrestling with the sketchbook so I can put my frames in. This is fine, I've already bought it, I'll use it till it's full. That's actually quite a tall order since it's like 100 sheets or something. I did tab every five pages but I haven't been using it lately, so I don't remember exactly. I do know it comes out to about two hundred sides, or about four or five hundred frames--that'll be almost two whole issues!

The point being that I have to wrestle to mark like four hundred frames onto these pages while the book wants to do book things, like flip pages or flip entirely shut on me. So I'd like to get that done, and then, tracing these templates, I don't always close the corners--I didn't realize what trouble that would be. And then, I'd marked some frames in pencil, the thought being that I would mark them in pen when I was finished inking the art inside the frame. However, I didn't have a template at that point, so those penciled frames were all the wrong size. Good thing you can't get pencil back out of this paper. That's the only bad thing.

After I'm done filling this Walmart sketchbook though, I'm just going to stick with making them myself. That way, whenever we get a printer, I can even upgrade to actually printing the frames on the paper. Maybe one day, I'll get so fancy, I use sketchbook paper to make my sketchbooks lol

After trying to do a little more setup and cleanup on the sketchbook, I cleaned up some of these new frame thumbnails so I can read them better, and I finished out sketchbook day by making a few pages of new sketches.

I like having the sketches done roughly. If I want to, I can kind of absentmindedly build them up like during work, or more deliberately set aside some time for them. Then I can just relatively quickly get a bunch inked. I'd like, once I've worked through the old thumbnails, to have a really solid chunk of new thumbnails to look through to keep continuing with the story. If all this set up means that I can mostly just ink, all the better.

I have a long, looonnngg way to go with even making new sketches from the old thumbnails, never even mind tightening the rough sketches and heading in to inking. There's still about two hundred or so old thumbnails, and that's not even counting the ones that I notated needed clarifying and some of the clarifying frames I'll be making as I really explore the way the frames flow. I'm estimating that I have about two more issues to go before I need the new thumbnails. That could be about two years. I think I'll be really grateful to have that material and maybe slow how much my style ends up naturally changing. I hope with the new art program I'm using, it will be less than two years. I'd be really excited if it took even ten months to complete each issue. I've recently gotten like six frames done in two weeks, which is solidly better than I have done--taking into consideration that I haven't been able to spend as much time as I have in the past. For example, in my last training period at my money job, I probably spent most of the eight hour shift coloring frames, and then work got extremely busy toward the end of this period. It's been exhausting. But I'm heading into a new training period and of course, I'll be keeping my tablet nearby for notes.

If I could work full time on this graphic novel, I could probably do two frames over three eight-hour periods, or one text-heavy frame in about fourteen hours.

I experimented with making my handwriting into a font, but the font maker I was using was.......I dunno. I'd have ended up either spending further weeks perfecting the font to usability, or spending about the same amount of time resizing and repositioning letters as I presently do. I made a valiant effort to save myself some time somewhere, and maybe I'll try again at some point, but it looks like lettering is just going to be a time-suck. It took so long to get the letters right in the first place only for them to not fit together the way the guides in the program led me to believe. Maybe I'll try afresh with a bigger pen size........but then..... I'd have to get my letters as a transparent object so I could get them the right color and position them...... ugh.... never mind.....

Edit to say, I was really really groggy while writing this, like falling asleep, but basically, it felt good to get so much work done on the graphic novel. The end of issue one feels so close, which is leading me to try to do a ton of prep work for issue two and beyond. I know this project is going to be pretty huge, at least a couple hundred pages by the end.

I'm looking forward to getting a ton of work today, since I'm not working again today.

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159potterhead · 3 years

Note

I used do something like this too I'll imagine I'm in a talk show and I'm the guest and I'll vent about things in front of imaginary audience, crack a few jokes and those people loved me😅

It's okay. If you ever feel low let me know I'll be always around lurking over here I'm also I was thinking about setting a camp in your ask box if you don't mind I mean the place is huge and we can be neighbours. We can hang out all the time. Invite each other over dinner 💖🤩

(I listen to all the new song you put in here. It's a lovely song. You have a great taste in music✨)

Yeah I remember. (I'll get to the writer thing but since you asked I should tell you this) I also used to do painting and I get crazy while doing it, I'm kinda perfectionist about doing things so I don't do things unless I'm the best at it (coz I'm not good with handling criticism and anxiety is a real deal) I used to do sketching and canvas painting and it was like a do or die situation for me coz I don't let myself eat or do anything else unless I get it right and perfectly done and during that time I used be cranky for few days. It's been more than a year and I really wanna do something but yeah I don't have that kind of energy anymore. And yeah I write too although I'm new to the writing thing. I started writing like 2 years ago and those fics were only meant for me. I had a lot of ideas so I wrote a few things and wip and I never had courage to post them coz there are many great people writing better stories and I never planned the ending of any of the fics so I never posted them. I write mainly destiel so a few months back in December I was mad at the show of course and few other things and I was like screw it I'm gonna post the thing. No one's gonna read it anyway. It's this fic I wrote in 2019 and I never planned ending to it and that's the first one I posted and people really liked it I've got like 86 comments so at first I thought they were being nice but now I think they really like it so I've to plan some ending to it I can't abandon it. I've posted around 11 chapters to that one. God! I've to write more. I can shoot you up with link I would love to know your opinion but I think you will recognise me coz I have similar username there.

Lets play a game called who am I. Give me your top guesses if I'm one of them I'll shoot up the link. (Have you heard that fall out boy song; Let's play this game called "when you catch fire I wouldn't piss to put you out")

And I'm assuming you also write fics you've done a great job earlier. Do you write Harry Potter or destiel or anything else? What's your favourite trope?

🎶I'm an angel with a shotgun fighting til' the wars won I don't care if heaven won't take me back I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe don't you know you're everything I have? And I, wanna live, not just survive, tonight🎶

omggg I am so sorry!! I don’t know how long this has been sitting here! I didn’t receive any notifications from you since yesterday so I thought I’d check my inbox and boom, tumblr didn’t send me one for this ask! I feel so bad for making you wait so long! (I hope it wasn’t long tho, since idk when you sent this)

saaame😆 oo you have fans I see;)

thank you🥺 and you too btw, if you ever feel low or you wanna vent or rant, hit my inbox. a camp? baby i’ll build you a mansion<3 and yesss we could have dinner at each other’s house and sleepovers that’d be so fun!!😁💞

(aww you do?☺️ and thanks, I know😎 my taste in music is the only thing I’m confident about lol)

woooah my gf is a painter too?? jeez, get you💅😌✨ and wow that doesn’t seem... healthy😬. but I suppose the end results would have to be incredibly amazing right? I’ve seen your ask stories and they’re chefs kiss, so I bet your actual fics are even 10x better! ooo that’s great!!! I wanna read it so bad, but i’m afraid it’ll blow your cover😭 aah yes that’s what I thought! we’ll have to find a way.

ooooo that’s exciting. I sorta wanna know who you are but I’m also liking this anon vibes to be honest😫 and I secretly don’t want this to end. but okay let’s give it a go. hmm. I’ll try to guess your blog but not who cause honestly there’s a lot ahah. (and yess I love that song!😆)

you’re definitely a spn blog that’s for sure.

idk why but I feel like your url must have something to do with lotr since it means a lot to you.

you don’t post that much, and when you do it’s often reblogs. maaaybe some rants here and there but they’re usually no biggie.

you don’t have your pronouns in your bio, idk why i’m guessing this.

maybe i’m reading too much into this but I feel like your theme is either earthy or pastel.

I mostly write ow, and I have never completed anything in my entire life thank you very much. everything’s just wip💀 it sucks cause I could be only one page away from the ending but procrastinate and end up working on a new story. the cycle never ends sigh.... but I’ve been meaning to finish this one story that I’ve been writing for about two years lol, and I would like you to read it! I will let you know when I actually finish it;) and hmm idk what my favourite trope is honestly, if it vibes it vibes yk. what’s yours?

🎶no matter where I go, I'm always gonna want you back. no matter how long you're gone, I'm always gonna want you back. I know you know I will never get over you. no matter where I go, I'm always gonna want you back. want you back🎶💕

#my beloved ily<3 #thee lover anon saga <3

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