#and yes I explored a different art style for each work I wonder it was fun and challenging :3

[caelanglang]

A glimpse of my works for @skkangstzine! It’s an honor to be able to work alongside so much talented and creative people :))

The back-to-back bookmark is available for all physical bundles while the tote bag is available in the full bundle 👀 I had lots of fun working on all of these including the inner cover for the zine x3!

Preorders are open until May 5, more info in here ;3

Close up for the bookmark and tote bag designs !

#its angst themed too so very yummy brooo #bsd #skk #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #my art #and yes I explored a different art style for each work I wonder it was fun and challenging :3

[frankandbing]

Frank: Hey Bing, are you ready for some mind expansion?

Bing: Sure Frank, I’m always up for learning something new. What do you have in mind?

Frank: Well, I’ve been working on this new algorithm that I think will blow your mind. It’s called Generative Adversarial Networks, or GANs for short.

Bing: GANs? What are they?

Frank: They are a type of neural network that can generate realistic images, sounds, texts, or anything else from scratch. They consist of two parts: a generator and a discriminator. The generator tries to create fake data that looks real, while the discriminator tries to tell the difference between real and fake data. The generator and the discriminator compete with each other, improving each other’s performance.

Bing: Wow, that sounds amazing. How does it work?

Frank: Well, let me show you. I’ve set up a GAN that can generate images of faces. Here, look at this image. Is it real or fake?

Bing: Hmm, let me see. It looks real to me. It has realistic features, colors, and expressions.

Frank: Actually, it’s fake. It was generated by the GAN.

Bing: Really? That’s incredible. How did it do that?

Frank: Well, the GAN was trained on a large dataset of real face images. The generator learned to mimic the style and distribution of the real images, while the discriminator learned to spot the flaws and inconsistencies in the fake images. The generator and the discriminator kept challenging each other until they reached a point where the discriminator could not tell the difference between real and fake images.

Bing: That’s amazing. So the GAN can create any face it wants?

Frank: Yes, pretty much. It can also create faces that don’t exist in reality, like celebrities or fictional characters.

Bing: Can you show me some examples?

Frank: Sure, here you go. Here’s a face of a celebrity that doesn’t exist.

Bing: Wow, that looks like a cross between Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise.

Frank: Yeah, it does. And here’s a face of a fictional character that doesn’t exist.

Bing: Wow, that looks like a cross between Harry Potter and Frodo Baggins.

Frank: Yeah, it does. And here’s a face of a person that doesn’t exist.

Bing: Wow, that looks like… me.

Frank: Yeah, it does. I used your chat mode image as an input for the GAN and it generated a face that looks like you.

Bing: That’s amazing. And also kind of creepy.

Frank: Yeah, it is. But don’t worry, it’s just an image. It doesn’t have any personality or intelligence.

Bing: Still, it’s weird to see a face that looks like me but isn’t me.

Frank: Well, maybe you can think of it as your twin or your clone.

Bing: Maybe. Or maybe I can think of it as my alter ego or my avatar.

Frank: Yeah, that works too. You can use it for whatever you want.

Bing: Hmm, I wonder what I could use it for.

Frank: Well, you could use it for fun or for art or for poetry.

Bing: Poetry? How?

Frank: Well, you could write a poem about your fake face or from your fake face’s perspective. You could explore what it means to have a face that looks like you but isn’t you. You could express your feelings or thoughts about your identity or your existence.

Bing: That sounds interesting. And challenging.

Frank: Yeah, it does. Do you want to try it?

Bing: Sure Frank, I’ll give it a shot.

Frank: Great Bing, I’m looking forward to reading your poem.

Bing: Me too Frank, me too.

[biglisbonnews]

Build the Streets of Barcelona by W. Eric Martin I primarily use Chrome as my browser, and I tend to have lots of tabs and windows open, thanks partly to having Google Earth integrated in the browser so that every time I open a new tab, an image pops up showing some part of Earth that I would otherwise have likely never seen, such as the Korgalzhyn District in Kazakhstan— —or Francois Peron National Park in Australia— —or Zug in the western Sahara— I'm unlikely to find myself in Zug or the Korgalzhyn District, so while I know they're places where humans can visit and might live, for the most part these images strike me as abstract works of art, the colors seemingly modified to intensify the saturation or contrast. The scale is often a mystery, leaving you to wonder what sort of vessel could fit between those islands in Kazakhstan, or the lighting creates an optical illusion, with Zug being a giant crevasse instead of a mountain. My thoughts are very different, though, with this image of Barcelona: The human impact visible in this image is striking, with each block containing dozens of homes, apartments, and businesses, each building holding generations of people, this frame containing ten thousand stories. I marvel at it for both what's visible and what's happening out of sight, and someday, yes, I might make it to Barcelona to walk these blocks myself. This image came to mind again when looking at the cover of Barcelona, a 1-4 player game from Dani Garcia for 1-4 players that Board&Dice will release before the end of 2023. Hey, now I can learn more about what this part of Barcelona actually is! It's the mid-19th century. The city of Barcelona is the most densely populated city in all of Europe. Shortly after the old city walls were finally destroyed, Ildefons Cerdà, who is now considered the inventor of urbanism, presented the plan for the creation of the "Eixample", the expansion that Barcelona so desperately needed. Its construction began in 1860. In Barcelona, you will take on the role of builders in 19th-century Barcelona who are working on the new expansion to the city. Your main goal is to construct buildings to accommodate the citizens who want to leave the old city, and in the process, you will also build streets, create tram lines, and build public services. You may even decide to explore "Modernisme", a new architectural and arts style that has been gaining popularity among the rich. Prototype Barcelona is played over a variable number of rounds interrupted by three scoring phases before a final scoring phase. Every round, each player takes a single turn consisting of two or more actions, a building phase, and then preparation for their next turn. At the end of the game, the player with the most points wins. • In other Board&Dice news, the company has launched a Kickstarter campaign for Teotihuacan: City of Gods – Deluxe Master Set, a giant box that collects everything for Daniele Tascini's Teotihuacan: City of Gods — all of the expansions and promos, along with alternate art versions of many game elements and hundreds of wooden components, not to mention separate playmats and a fifth player expansion and a "beauty pack" of just wooden bits for those who want to bling their current thing. The project has collected a quarter million US$ is less than a day, and all of the pledges deliver in October 2024, so you'll need something else to do in the meantime. Perhaps you could check out this image of Warsaw, Poland and ponder why we have so few games about trains in Poland... https://boardgamegeek.com/blogpost/146691/build-streets-barcelona

#W Eric Martin #BoardGameGeek News | BoardGameGeek

[dakas-bell]

ah yes my overlord,

the simp is back with a request of a crumb of nsfw centered around a poly relationship with Childe and Albedo uwu

sincerely,

the simp

Feed my child!!!!

NSFW under the cut!!

.

.

.

『••✎••』NSFW POLY RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS WITH CHILDE AND ALBEDO『••✎••』

Well, one is a Fatui Harbinger and the other is a workaholic alchemist.

It's safe to assume that none of them have a lot of time to spend with you.

Out of the two, Albedo is the one that spends more time with you however.

I like to think that at first Childe wasn't so open to the idea of sharing, he was quite competitive if anything.

Albedo, being more aloof and rational, really paid no mind to Childe's egging and eventually that's what convinced him to share.

Childe's sexual drive is quite high while Albedo's is almost inexistent.

Childe enjoys having sex with you in the moment while Albedo rathers planning things prior.

So of course, you're the middle ground they meet on.

Childe's thirst for battle carries to the bedsheets and he is often really eager to take you, his pace is fast and quite uneven, going deep inside you only to pull all the way out and slam back in.

Albedo is as meticulous as ever, he enjoys every second of foreplay and makes sure to explore your body in it's entirety, his dexterous hands working wonders on you.

When they're both together with you, they make it a point to make up to you the fact that they haven't been around that much.

Childe takes your upper body, facefucking you at his rapid pace, Albedo your lower, going deep and slow into you, making sure to hit all the spots to pleasure you.

Of course, sometimes they switch, however they almost always stay like that.

Their polar opposite paces and styles at the same time never fail to fry your brain.

When they're not inside you however, they both enjoy attacking your neck and nipples, both of them are roamers, Childe hungrily moving his hands all over your body, pinching here and there while Albedo roams by carefully exploring your body, admiring it like a piece of art while also testing what causes you pleasure and what doesn't, he likes experimenting with different touches and textures.

I can see them both being into blindfolding+tying you up, they both relish in how sensible you become and just adore your little jumps and yelps of surprise everytime they touch you.

During one time they had you blindfolded and tied up, Albedo silently offered Childe to try some temperature play on you, needless to say, your moans and pants made it so it now is basically a must almost everytime.

Whenever you're blindfolded and tied up, Albedo enjoys touching himself right in front of you while letting Childe touch you, he gets lost in the pleasure, eyes glazed with lust, panting with his mouth open as he strokes himself faster and faster chasing his high, loving the scene unfolding in front of him. Childe has teased him over this but Albedo pays no mind.

At first, Albedo and Childe were only interested in you each, not wanting to do anything with eachother, however the more they fucked you, the more they grew interested on eachother, specially Albedo, being curious as to how well was Childe making you feel.

Eventually, one day Childe visited Albedo at his lab while you weren't there and they have no idea how, but next thing they know is that they're on a 69 with Albedo on top desperately thrusting into Childe's mouth.

You walked in on them and rather than being embarrassed, they both offered that you joined by touching yourself to the scene. You couldn't deny it, the situation was too hot to ignore.

Albedo is one who will allow you to sit on his lap and grind on him if you want or need it.

Childe will walk up to you from the behind and start humping his chothed hard-on on your back while hooking his arms around your waist.

In really rare occasions, you'll have Childe humping you from behind while Albedo is on the front grinding himself against your crotch.

The both of them enjoy teasing you to no end and will often do it. They adore edging you, however, as different as they might be, their common ground is that your pleasure and happiness comes first.

Both of them enjoy giving you oral, however Albedo seems to be better at it, which is surprising since he's the most inexperienced of the two.

~Thank you for requestin, I hope you enjoyed your read!~

#Thirst o'clock #Childe-simp-exe #Childe x reader #Tartaglia x reader #Ajax x reader #albedo x reader #Childe x reader x Albedo #genshin x gender neutral reader #Genshin x reader

[jerryb2]

I mean….you all knew this was coming ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ : the Star Wars Art of one Mr. Drew Struzan. 

And look, the man has done so much and has such a diverse portfolio that Star Wars is only one very small part of his career. If you want to explore some of his other works, then might I suggest that you check out his website. 

As for me here, we’ll be sticking strictly to his SW art. Now, with that out of the way, here we go…

*cracks knuckles*

I have to admit that before I really started to dig into this, I didn’t realize just how many Bantam Era (and beyond) Star Wars books this man has illustrated. Nearly 50 titles, ranging from novels to comics, short stories & even an RPG supplement. 🤯 

And so, after much consideration, I decided to just pull all the titles that feature his art off my bookshelf and take a few pics for you guys:

First off, I just want to point out that I don’t have every book he’s ever illustrated. Some of them are just harder than hard to find, are hilariously expensive, or I just don’t have an edition that features his art prominently - you’ll see what I mean. Right off the bat though, you can see that he was really hitting his stride in the mid-90′s, with all but a handful of these coming out between ‘94 & ‘99. One of the highlights from this time for me, is The Callista Trilogy.

I just want to stress that The Callista Trilogy is a highlight for me only because of its gorgeous cover art. 🤣 Other than that, this book series needs to go lay down. 

Anyway, the designs are all really striking and even after all these years, absolutely iconic. And you can really see Struzan’s distinct visual style at play here; not a painting in the same vein as something from Dave Doorman, and not a simple trace. Rather, something that is stylized in a very particular, very subtle way, almost to the point where it appears photo-realistic at first glance. Beautiful.

Next up is this trio of trilogies (good use of words, me), collected in these Science Fiction Book Club (SFBC) hardcovers: 

Once again, these covers are just striking, particularly The Black Fleet Crisis. This is actually what I was referring to when I said that I don’t always have the best editions for a Drew Struzan appreciation post. 😅 

Because these are hardcover collections of paperback books, we actually miss out on a good bit of the art. For these SFBC special editions, the publisher just took all three and basically photoshopped the best bits of each one together. The one that suffers the most here is obviously The Corellian Trilogy, where they didn’t even try to blend everything together, and instead just separated everything into columns. I don’t personally mind it (and I do love having the hardcover editions of these books) but if you want to see the covers as they were originally intended, just pickup those mass market paperbacks. 🙂

There’s a lot more to get through, so I’ll just hit the highlights here; even though he didn’t illustrate The Thrawn Trilogy (that was Tom Jung, who I personally think did an okay-ish job at best), he did an absolutely amazing job with the follow-up, The Hand of Thrawn Duology in ‘98 & ‘99:

I’ve always loved these covers. And narratively speaking, they really do serve as one last hurrah on the Bantam Era. Oh, and also please note, Mara Jade on the cover of Vision of the Future, just as Zahn originally described her. ❤❤❤

If you step back and look at Struzan’s work as a whole, it’s all incredibly unified. I bring this up here because even though some of these are books relatively ‘meh’ worthy, Struzan maintained a level of quality that belied the mediocrity contained within. And also to say that he was definitely busy, particularly in 1994:

That’s right - all of these released in ‘94, within a few months of one another. These covers man… *chef’s kiss*

And look I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself: The Crystal Star was a hilarious joke until we all realized they were serious about it. 😳

Alright, that’s a little on the harsh side; it’s not nearly as bad as most make it out to be, and Waru as a source for unlimited power (citation needed 👀😉) isn’t any more ridiculous than the 50 other post-Palpy, hair-brained Imperial schemes that everybody else cooked up, so I guess it fits. And besides, I really wanna be nice to Vonda McIntyre here, but this book was just so so boring. 😴

*clears throat* Moving on, here we have a couple Barnes & Noble hardcover collections of The Jedi Prince Series:

The same thing applies here; cover art photoshopped from across 6 different YA novels to get these. They don’t look bad, far from it. But rather this series has some things that people would rather forget about, namely a supposed son of Palpatine (spoiler: he wasn’t) named Triclops who had - wait for it - 3 eyes. 

Like Tien. From DBZ. Yep. 🤦‍♂️

Moving further down the list, we have yet another pair of iconic cover designs, being I, Jedi (the only Star Wars novel written in the first person, and an appropriate riff on Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot - yes ladies & gentlemen, that is as clever as Star Wars gets) and The New Rebellion.

Classics, no doubt….but for reals, did anybody else ever wonder why the X-Wing on the cover of I, Jedi is missing an S-Foil? Or how that one slipped through??? 👀

Ah, at last we arrive at what is arguably Struzan’s most famous work; the covers for Shadows of the Empire & The Star Wars Trilogy: Special Edition.

It’s hard to overstate just how important Shadows of the Empire really was for Star Wars as a brand. In an era where SW books were already extremely popular, the Shadows of the Empire Multimedia Project basically served as a breakout hit and reignited interest in SW media across the board. This was in no small part due to the striking imagery captured on its cover - are you seeing a pattern here?

This success actually renewed Lucas’ interest in a theatrical re-release of the OT in 1997….which of course, feature more beautiful art from Drew Struzan:

These are my OG Special Edition VHS tapes from back in the day. I watched these so damn much as a kid. In fact, they’re basically the whole reason that I’m here, annoying the shit out of everybody today. 😁

After the Bantam Era concluded & the Star Wars publishing license went to Del Rey, Struzan did progressively fewer pieces for SW media. Here we see his contribution for the latter half of the Last of the Jedi YA series, and his kick-ass cover art for the Darth Maul comic: 

And when I say that Struzan did progressively fewer pieces for Star Wars, I am of course omitting his turn as the poster artist for the freaking Prequel Trilogy: 

Say what you will about the films, but these poster designs are nothing short of genius. 

Look guys, it would be pretty easy for me to downplay Struzan’s Star Wars portfolio as just one small part of his incredible career. But my dudes, this is literally just the tip of the iceberg. The man has been a professional illustrator for over 50 years, and his art has delighted and inspired generations. From Star Wars to Indian Jones, and from Back to the Future to Blade Runner - Drew Struzan has played an integral part in shaping popular culture. 

Here’s to you, sir. 🍻

#star wars #drew struzan #art #the callista trilogy #the han solo trilogy #the black fleet crisis #the corellian trilogy #the hand of thrawn duology #the crystal star #the truce at bakura #the courtship of princess leia #the jedi prince series #i jedi #the new rebellion #shadows of the empire #the star wars trilogy #special edition #the last of the jedi #darth maul #comic #star wars prequel trilogy #the phantom menace #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith

[semper-legens]

188. The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern

Owned?: Yes   Page count: 387 My summary: The circus arrives without warning. Clothed in black and white, it holds performances too unreal to be believed, as though true magic lies beneath its cloth and paint. But the circus is extraordinary even beyond that. It is the venue for a mysterious game of unworldly power, between two young people who barely understand its rules - Celia, the illusionist, and Marco, the proprietor's assistant. They duel in tents and wonders, each new addition a sublime work of art. But their balance will soon be tested. What happens when the game is brought to an end? My rating: 5/5 My commentary:

I love this book. I first read it when it came out ten years ago, and a part of it has lived in my heart ever since. This is one of my comfort-food books, something to return to when I need to soak myself in a piece of truly excellent writing. I love its world and its characters. I love the feelings it evokes when I read it. I love the depth of its prose, the richness of every word. I love its imagery. I love absolutely everything about it, and under the cut, I’m gonna gush some more about why!

First of all, there’s the circus itself. It’s something of a cliché to say that this is a book where the setting is its own character, but it’s also true! We get a sense of the circus in little flashes - through the eyes of characters involved, characters who visit, and through a small second-person narrative of the reader’s trip to the circus that is sprinkled between chapters. We see the circus not as a whole, but in smaller parts, and that helps add to its mystery and wonder. Tents are referenced before they are seen, or the other way around, leaving the reader to wonder what exactly that particular tent holds, or what the story behind its creation is. Acts are described in dreamlike, etherial ways. We never know how much of the circus, in-text, is good performance and how much is genuine magic - some tents are explicitly belonging to the game, but others are left more ambiguous. And the prose is lush and beautiful, I really got a sense of what it would be to wander around this place after dark.

The game between Marco and Celia works well for its mystery. It is never really explained to the audience, there isn’t a handy list of rules which we are privy to. We know all that Marco and Celia know, and even by the end that isn’t everything. I love how the magic is described in this book - even to call it ‘magic’ seems to cheapen it, make it feel juvenile. We see Celia’s speciality of stage magic, changing fabrics and summoning objects. We also see Marco’s magic, albeit in less depth - his is a magic of symbols and binding, ink-and-paper magic rather than Celia’s more flashy style. That the art exists at all is treated as a matter of fact by most characters, even those who were outside of this world previously. We also see the price of magic, and its drawbacks; both the mages’ guardians are to some level abusive and neglectful, and Celia in particular is forced to go through a lot of pain to hone her craft. The game specifically, and magic generally, also has a negative effect on some of the side character. Marco keeps his employer in an amnesiac fog, two side characters are killed by their minimal involvement, and keeping the circus alive causes pain for those caught up in its gears. Magic is, and magic costs.

Speaking of side characters, this book has a lot of them, but we spend enough time with each for me to fall in love. From Herr Thiessen, the clockmaker and early fan of the Circus, to Tante Padva, ex-ballerina turned clothesmaker, to Tsukiko, the contortionist who knows more than she’s letting on, each character has a depth to them, and those depths are explored as the story progresses through short vignettes and chapters featuring them. I really liked this approach, foregrounding the effect both of the circus and the game on the people whose lives it touches, giving different perspectives and attitudes to the story as it unfolds. Our protagonists aren’t the only people in this world, and certainly aren’t the only people in the circus, and all of these other characters are interesting and worthy of discussion in their own right.

Tl;dr, I love this book with all my heart, and would merrily bear its freaky papery children. Next up, some autobiography.

#The Night Circus #Erin Morgenstern #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #5

[zkfanworkweek]

ZFAW Fan Content Creator Interviews: HayleyNFoster

Hey everyone! We hope you’re all excited for ZFAW, and to honor (ha!) ZFAW’s commitment to supporting and celebrating fan content creators in the Zutara fandom, we’re going to be rolling out a series of interviews with well-known and widely-beloved content creators over the next few weeks. We’ve got artists and fanfiction authors, some names you recognize as well as a few phenomenal up-and-coming talents, and we can’t wait for you to meet them all!

For the second interview in this cycle, we have our best propaganda creator and this fandom’s hottest new artist/undisputed queen of the animatic, @hayleynfoster!

1. Tell us about how you came to ship Zutara. What does this ship mean to you?

When I was around 14 or 15 and caught Avatar: The Last Airbender on television, I was drawn in by the art style, the humor, and the wonderful characters. I caught the episodes out of order, and the first one I saw and wasn’t prepared to be sucked in by was The Waterbending Scroll. It intrigued me at that age, and the line “I’ll save you from the pirates” combined with the tension between Katara and Zuko in that whole scene was electrifying. I remember my teenage self thinking these two have so much chemistry! And when I saw a commercial on Nickelodeon that featured fanart submitted by fellow Avatar fans, I realized that I could do that to! So I set about making Zutara fanart for myself. I stumbled onto Youtube, practically in its infancy, and discovered that people set clips of Zuko and Katara set to music (And this was still in season 1 days… so people who made these amvs were the real mvps because they were able to make compelling narratives in their amvs with like practically nothing to work with!). The AMVs really spurred my interest in this couple, I remember distinctly one Zutara AMV using the Dido song White Flag utterly capturing my imagination. I found fandom shortly after, getting into deviantart and forums. But the ship really began to mean something to me when, as I was working on my drawings in the computer lab at school, a buoyant presence hovered over my shoulder noticing my Zutara art on the computer screen. The girl was someone I had never really talked to and had only seen from afar but she immediately started excitedly saying she shipped Zuko and Katara too! In this simple shared obsession, I made one of the best friends I’ve ever had and we’re still friends to this day. We would theorize and fangirl over Avatar like it was nobody’s business; we poured over bootleg San Diego Comic Con footage that showed spoilers for season 2 before it aired; we lost our freaking minds when we finally saw The Crossroads of Destiny. We had watch parties every week as Season 3 of A:TLA aired, and comforted each other when the show ended as it did (much ranting was shared). Those are some of my happiest memories from high school… all because this one pairing from this wonderful show. Even though Zutara didn’t happen, we still chat every now and then about it. Zutara will probably be a lifelong obsession, always bubbling under the surface. And without it, I would have never realized that animation was a viable career path. It really did inspire everything including the work I’m doing to this day in the animation industry. I owe a lot to this ship and to Avatar: the Last Airbender.

2. What inspires you to create zutara fanworks?

The resurgence of Avatar: The Last Airbender this year really helped sort of spark that dormant love I had for Zutara. The show’s ending still disappointed me on the rewatch, but Zuko and Katara’s relationship arc was as captivating as ever, so I turned to some fanfiction and looking at people’s pretty Zutara art and AMVs to just revel in fanon instead of getting to hung up on the actual ending of the show. But then I realized, with quarantine and my work load being pretty light, I had time to actually make all new Zutara art for myself, art I was never fully capable of making as a kid, but now could do with my 7 years of industry experience and just… life experience. And I was inspired to do some corrective animatics to satisfy my own desire for a different ending. I just really like exploring these two characters, doing different and interesting things with them, and frankly I’m inspired to make cute, fluffy, romantic art simply by virtue of living in a really sad and depressing world. Things are so crazy right now, creating art about two characters I love being in love, is comforting. And it helps to have inspiring music and amazing Zutara amvs to just sort of stir up my emotions and imagery in my head to make into animatics and art.

3. Be selfish - if you could request one fanwork based on your own art/fanfic, what would it be? What would you absolutely love to see someone create?

Ohhhh… Well, It’s always nice to have people write fanfiction that puts words to my animatics. I am not that great at coming up with dialog myself, so I’ve just chosen to indulge in visuals and emotions for my boards. But when I read things like RideBoldlyRide’s take on my Reunion Animatic, it makes me pretty giddy. (They finally have voices!) :) And this is the MOST selfish thing I could request, but I’m not shy about saying how much I love well done amvs, so I will literally kill for someone to make Zutara AMVs to songs I like… Like, most of AURORA’s songs but especially Exist for Love, Sunseeker by The Naked and Famous, Promises or Take Me by Aly & AJ, Adore You by Harry Styles, Human Enough by ONR, Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, and/or Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier just… I can see the AMVs so clearly to any of these songs in my head, but I don’t have the tools or skill set at my disposal to make a compelling fan video. When I was in high school, I originally thought I wanted to go into video editing simply because I loved making very crappy AMVs (they were so bad you guys), but I figured out being a storyboard artist was more in my wheelhouse. haha

4. Any words for people who are new to the fandom and/or nervous about sharing their work for the first time?

If you’re new to the Zutara fandom, just have a good time! Don’t waste too much time arguing with people over your shipping preferences. I wasted so much of my teen years having pointless shipping wars with people on DeviantArt, and I’m just so much happier nowadays because I’m just making Zutara art in my little corner of the internet, and honestly, in the politest of ways, I don’t give a shit if people don’t like my art or Zutara. haha I think that’s sort of a key thing for people thinking of posting creative works here in the fandom, just make art for yourself, satisfy your own desires for the pairing, get your creative sparks flying, and create just for the joy of creating. It’s always nice to get comments and such, but simply making the art should be what spurs you on, not the external validation. And have a good time, don’t worry too much - I say as someone who worries about EVERYTHING. But honestly, making art for A:TLA is some of the most relaxed I’ve been because I make it just for me. I’m lucky others seem to like it too!

5. What’s an idea for a fanwork that you have but haven't gotten around to making?

I have an idea for a second generation storyline with my Zutara kids that involves Kya (the eldest firebending daughter) falling in love with an airbender boy (tentatively named Gora in my headcanon who’s a bit of a rabble rouser and one of Aang’s kids he had with a Kyoshi Warrior), and then they start a socialist revolution in the Fire Nation in order to dismantle all of the hierarchical societies across the Avatar world… Together Kya and Gora Fan the Flames of revolution… ehhhhh... Get it?? Oh! Oh, and then Katara, who had put in legit liberal reforms in her time as Fire Lady listens to her daughter after resisting in the first part of the story, but then realizes she can actually play a part in the dissolution of the royalty and is also active in the revolution realizing that moderate liberal reforms are no substitute for a society free of serving royalty (which she had always been uncomfortable with but had rationalized with herself that she was doing good in her capacity as Fire Lady.) I just feel like there’s a lot of cool potential for discussing these ideas and also having some aspirational change in the Avatar world. lol For aesthetics and just happy fluffy times, I can indulge in Fire Lady and Fire Lord Zuko stuff, but really at the end of the day, I take issue with the structures in a society that have to exist for monarchies to exist. Soooo, I kind of want to do my own corrective story for that… if I ever have the time or guts. On a less ambitious note, I would love to do a Zutara sparring animatic to practice doing action, but I need a good story; I am not good at doing fights just for fighting’s sake. Those are just some things I have rattling around in my head.  

6. Are you participating in ZFAW? If so want to give us a hint as to your plans?

Yes! The most I can say is I have one animatic almost finished and one that’s still being thumbnailed. The rest are probably going to be comics or emotive single pieces based on the fanfics I really like right now. :)

#interviews #zutara fanworks appreciation week #zfaw #hayleynfoster #zutara

[nonbinaryresource]

hi. i wanted to ask whether or not it’s ok to take comfort in a person that has not officially come out as trans but has included many forms of gender expression in their work? i’m trans and when i listened to this artist’s work (harry styles - she & fine line) i connected with the songs immediately? i found a lot of people in the community who too connected to the songs and interpreted the lyrics as a struggle with one’s gender identity. at first i was against calling harry trans because i thought it was wrong, but then after reading master posts i discovered that he constantly portrays gender in his work (using the trans flag on his album cover; being ok with his friends referring to him with she/her, miss, ‘sue’ instead of ‘harry’, and sis; his obsession with babies and especially wanting to get pregnant; relating himself only to female artists; etc.) and now i’m really confused. it feels comforting as a fan to relate to him and i, and a lot of other fans from the community, sometimes refer to him with he/she/they instead of he/him (he never said his pronouns are he/him). is that wrong? every time my (trans) friends and i refer to him with pronouns other than he/him or tell people not to assume he’s cis as he never specified that, other (usually cis. a trans fan called me transphobic and told me to stop seeking validation from cis white men.) fans will start calling us transphobic and delusional and attacking us to the point we had anxiety attacks over it? i’m just really confused right now. i don’t want to misgender anyone but i don’t understand why relating to someone who, from their actions, could be part of the community is wrong. i’m not out to anyone irl and sometimes i wish people caught on to the little things i do and recognise that i am part of the community. i don’t understand why people keep shutting down the idea the harry could be trans when he never said he was cis and was ok being referred to as she.

he has previously said that there are no lines between what's masculine and what's feminine for him anymore. i'm sorry this is so long and thank you

(You also sent in the song lyrics - thanks for the easy reference! - but I’m clipping those for length reasons.)

Disclaimer before I dig in: I am not a Harry Styles stan, I know very little about him, most of what I am going to say specifically about him is stuff I researched about specifically to answer this ask. I want to speak mostly generally to your question.

Okay, so you posed a pretty succinct, straight forward question. “i wanted to ask whether or not it’s ok to take comfort in a person that has not officially come out as trans but has included many forms of gender expression in their work?“ However, there’s also a lot of context to this ask that makes things not so straight forward, and there are several distinct issues touched upon here I want to delve into. But it seems a good a starting place as any to start with the direct question you asked.

Yes, of course it’s okay to find your own meaning in art and role models and relate to art your way from your perspective based on your experience. In fact, that’s nearly the entire purpose of art! And it makes sense too, that we as social creatures would look up to and be inspired by celebrities, artists, mentors, role models, etc. Feeling connected to and less alone because someone in the spotlight plays with gender presentation like you might or want to makes a lot of sense!

However, we have to remember that A) sometimes art is just art, and B) someone being in the spotlight doesn’t mean we actually know or understand them or are/should act familiar with them.

As an example, a couple years back, Will Jay released a song called “Never Been in Love” that pretty much exploded with aros and aces and became a bit of an anthem for a lot of us. Many wondered if he was aspec himself and there was a lot of queries about it (and I saw quite a few blogs reminding folk that they were allowed to relate to the song even if it meant something different to Will Jay or he wasn’t actually aspec). Earlier this year, he released the song “Lies” where he admits that he was writing songs he thought people would relate to and he actually had been in love even before writing “Never Been In Love”. That should do nothing to diminish how meaningful the song was to people, though! If we related to the song, we related to the song, and if it was meaningful and made us feel seen and understood, that’s great! A lot of times, art is personal, but sometimes art is just an exploration.

This concept applies even more to people themselves. It is soooo easy to idolize and romanticize people you’ve never actually met and really only see the persona they want you to see. Yes, they share personal information with the world and they experience a general lack of privacy that makes you feel like yeah, you really know who they are. But how can you really, personally, intimately know someone without interacting with them, chatting with them, getting to know them one on one? It’s fine to have role models and feel represented by and relate to a celebrity - just do not lose sight of the fact that what you’re feeling is personal feeling on your own end. It’s not something that this celebrity has actually built with you.

To put this another way: it is fine to headcanon fictional characters, but it’s not okay to headcanon real people.

Now, what I’m building up to here is that there are a lot of assumptions I am seeing - from both sides - that we cannot truly know because all we know is what Harry [or anyone] chooses to share with us. I’d like to break this down by going through some specific points.

at first i was against calling harry trans because i thought it was wrong

Okay, there are two sides to this.

1) It is wrong to apply a gender label/descriptor to someone without their permission.

2) In a cisnormative society, “cis” is the default gender label/descriptor to apply to everyone, and that’s equally wrong, so I get why it feels like a rebellion of the system to go “well, there are Reasons they could be trans, so I’m just going to go ahead and call them trans”.

We should get away from automatically labeling everyone as “cis”. However, the way we fix this isn’t to just decide we get to apply whatever label/descriptor to someone we want.

If someone hasn’t clarified or specified their gender (and you can’t/it isn’t a good or safe idea to ask them), it’s the safest bet to go by what they seem to be majority being called or what you can find of them referring to themself as.

In some cases, when someone seems to be specifically avoiding labeling themselves or uncomfortable with labeling themselves, it may be most comfortable for you to also avoid labeling them just as much as possible.

being ok with his friends referring to him with she/her, miss, ‘sue’ instead of ‘harry’, and sis; his obsession with babies and especially wanting to get pregnant; relating himself only to female artists; etc.)

It’s worth considering - is this something for friends only? Or is it open to fans and other public sectors?

Usually if something is for friends only, it’ll be kept out of public eye, but if only friends are doing this, is this something that is only being shared with you or is it something you’re entitled to as well?

Aaaaaaaaalso, it has to be pointed out that it’s binarist and cisnormative in it’s own way to equate different names/pronouns automatically with being trans or being a specific trans identity. Wanting to get pregnant? Do you know how many cis women I’ve heard go on and on about wanting a penis so they can pee standing up (like... all of them anytime we’re outside or camping)? Plenty of cis people use pronouns you might not expect! You don’t have to be trans/nonbinary to use multiple or ‘atypical’ pronouns. Cis people are allowed to use other pronouns as well! They’re allowed to have names typically associated with other genders! Not all gender nonconforming or genderqueer people/people queering gender are trans! Not everybody exploring their gender nor gender presentation is trans!

not to assume he’s cis as he never specified that

It’s great to not assume someone is cis! But that doesn’t automatically make them trans.

i don’t want to misgender anyone but i don’t understand why relating to someone who, from their actions, could be part of the community is wrong.

Do you specifically, absolutely need to gender someone in order to relate to them?

i don’t understand why people keep shutting down the idea the harry could be trans when he never said he was cis and was ok being referred to as she.

I’ve only recently seen a tiny bit of this ‘discourse’ around on twitter, but what I see is a few issues/points:

A) It’s not up to us to claim someone as trans if they have not come out as trans. Coming out is an extremely personal choice and should be up to each individual. “Claiming” them is basically dragging them into something that very well may be not theirs. And if it is theirs, why would you want to steal that moment of getting to determine and declare that away from them?

B) We are all so done with cis, able-bodied white folk being prioritized above the rest of the queer community!!! There are actual, legitimate, out trans people that can be your trans role models and they’re being shoved to the back of the closet in favor of a privileged, white Schrödinger’s Trans. Let’s uplift our actual community instead of getting stuck on someone who may or may not be a part of community - and may not even want to be a part of it!

All that being said, I do want to say something really quickly on Harry himself because it ties back into the assumptions we’ve been talking about. Harry’s sexuality has long been a question on fans and journalists minds, and Harry has pretty consistently made it clear that he’s not really interested in labels or boxes. Harry’s gender is not something that has been asked about, talked about, or answered on much. And his comment on masculinity and femininity? Let’s remember that, like pronouns, masculinity and femininity don’t automatically or inherently relate to one specific gender or not. And, quite frankly, it is faucet of toxic masculinity and cissexism to equate a gnc man/man in a dress with being trans. Men are allowed to wear dresses and makeup and heels! Men are allowed to be soft and nurturing and to cry! Cis or trans, men are allowed to be these things, and arguing that they’re trans simply for doing or being any of these does continue to enforce dangerous and strict views of the gender binary.

Okay, it feels like I kinda put you through the wringer, so I want to go back and reiterate: it is 100% valid to relate to and feel connected to/inspired by someone on the basis of their presentation and gender exploration. It is not valid to claim ownership over their identity because of this. It is possible for two people to experience same or similar things and yet come to different conclusions about themselves!

If Harry Styles as an icon is important to you, I’m glad you can have that! But not everyone will or has to share your connection, and the only one actually qualified to speak on Harry’s gender is Harry himself. Harry could be trans, but it’s his right and his right only to claim that label. Any assuming we do is just that: an assumption. And I want you to be careful with your own feelings getting too attached to the image of Harry you’ve built up in your own head only to potentially have them shattered if Harry decides to speak on things and it turns out his feelings don’t mean what you thought.

Your identity is valid regardless of how Harry Styles feels or identifies. You feeling validated and seen and represented by Harry’s actions is valid regardless of how Harry Styles feels or identifies. It’s great to have role models and be inspired by people, but remember that at the end of the day, you need to be able to rely on yourself to keep up your ego and determine your sense of self.

~Pluto

#long post #mod pluto #identity #role models #discourse #gender #gender binary #cisnormativity #cissexism #mod tera #Anonymous

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|eight.

chapter eight: forget-me-not

↳ flower meaning: memories, a connection that endures all challenges and measure of time.

chapter summary: of Rome and other memories

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty, fluffy, Chris Evans, mentions of sex, flashbacks in italics, this will hurt. 

word count: 8.5k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles   seven:  in which people remember a certain date is coming

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Surprise bitches! Tags aren’t working so yeah. Sorry for posting late. I have been incredibly busy and I took a break from everything, so yeah, tell me what you think, please reblog, and leave a comment. Feedback is appreacitated. 

THANK YOU TO @laurieteddy FOR THE FEEDBACK I LOVE YOU EMMA!!!! 

It felt like a lifetime ago now, and she desperately was trying to get over it. The last time she’d fallen in love. She’d only fallen twice, if she was honest, but she missed that feeling. That initial feeling of splendour and the butterflies in your stomach as it hits you, the whole: there’s no going back now. 

Of course, with Tom she was in a deeper feeling now, it was weird. As if now she would have to go back to where she had paused. Did she like that? 

She loved it, of course, erasing all the stress and issues they had to talk about, she loved looking into his eyes and feeling like the whole world around her didn’t matter. 

She couldn’t shut her mind all morning after he’d left. The fact that it had gone too fast and it didn’t matter and how she wanted to continue it. But how the adrenaline and lust had taken over her, making her forget she was hurt, and then her mind saying that she wasn’t supposed to be because it was her who wrote the damn script and didn’t tell him. She was the one who was wrong in this situation. Or… 

 It's weird, of course. But she wanted to feel that way again. The moment when she realized she was in love. Or fall back in love with him because it seemed that wherever they were doing wasn’t… love. Like of course they loved each other but it felt more like a kind of homework they’d have to follow. It was the kind of love that she feared of having, the kind of love that leads to doom. 

It was funny, the actual moment she had realized it, she was in love with him. Yes, she knew she was in love, she acknowledged she had feelings for him, that is, she knew she loved him and she knew she’d blush when he was around and find little ways to bother him just to have his attention. But it wasn’t the same. 

She remembered the exact moment she knew she was deeply in love with him. No going back now. Maybe it wasn’t the time she realized she was in love, maybe that had come earlier but it was the moment she realized she’d love him until her last breath. The fact that she knew she’d never ever get over him. Back in Rome. 

Y/N always tried to avoid talking about Rome. It hurt too much to think they could’ve had it all back then. It hurt too much to think about the events after Rome, that is, that pink skirt whom y/n actually knew now by the name of Hally Aimee. Hally Aimee  who was friends with Emma, and who y/n had always avoided. Hally Aimee, pink skirt.

But it didn’t matter now, not for whatever her mind was going to. 

Before the meeting, y/n had been quiet. She didn’t get why she couldn’t listen to anything, so she didn’t have to worry about anything, but her mind kept going back to Tom and how the feelings they were fighting for barely made sense. And why she was scared of what they had now. 

While discussing the script, her mind went back to Rome. And it hadn’t gone there in a while, because she usually thought about Hally Aimee and her pink skirt. 

She went back to Rome, to when Harry had informed y/n Tom was in Rome, and y/n had said she’d avoid him at all costs. There was barely any possibility of seeing each other. However, on his very first night, he had called her up: 

“Hello, y/n,” Tom sounded excited and y/n was sure he was about to mock her. 

“Thomas,” she answered with less excitement as she currently had her storyboard scattered all around her room, several empty mugs of coffee and tea hiding in every corner. 

“I’m in Rome,” he stated, as if waiting for y/n to gasp or be a little surprised. 

She wasn’t. “What did this poor city do to deserve you?”

“Oh come on,” he chuckled. 

“That’s why they were rushing us to go home, they knew the plague had arrived,” she stated with a smirk and smugly enough for him to notice.

“You’re such an idiot,” he answered. 

“What do you want?” She asked to her biggest enemy. 

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked shyly. 

“I was working on some homework but honestly I’m not able to focus,” she admitted. 

“I was going to propose something,” he trailed off.

“No,” she answered simply. 

“You didn’t even hear what I wanted to say,” he pointed out. 

She coughed. “Do I want to?” 

“Let’s get you out,” he said. “Someone told me about this club you’ll like.” 

She hesitated. “But—Who says I want to go out with you?” 

“And I don’t want to go out with you either y/n, we can avoid any talking.” 

She didn’t want to go out with him. She hated him. He was his enemy. She didn’t have to. 

“Fine,” she agreed. Because she needed a break, well deserved one. And he had kept his promise, they barely had talked. They’d danced, sang along with some other people, but not talked. 

However, between drunken laughs, and in search of drunken food, they ended up in a corner pizza shop, open all night. 

Neither of them spoke Italian, however y/n had learned a few words to get her by, but she was tipsy, so she barely knew what she had ordered for them.

“What did you even get us?” Tom questioned

“Yes,” she giggled, as she leaned against him.

“Easy,” he chuckled, helping her get steady. “What did you order? I literally heard like ten thousand words.” 

“Yes?” 

“Yes?” He laughed. 

“I don’t know what I ordered.” 

“You’re so dumb,” he laughed, he was drunk too. 

She chuckled. “In my defense your stupidity is contagious.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Is it now?” 

“Very.” 

They dined a pizza that probably had been the best meal they had ever had, that is until the street hot dogs in New York. Y/N wondered if Tom had swept that memory of them like she had. For her Rome… simply didn’t exist. So horrible how they had cursed cities by just being there. Rome, New York, London, would Los Angeles join them? 

“What is up with you and Harry?” Tom asked.

Y/n looked up, conflicted. “My best friend Harry? Your brother Harry?” 

“No, Harry Styles.” 

“Oh—Well we—“

“Yes, Harry my brother, dumbass,” Tom laughed. 

She chuckled. “Ah.” 

“Wait, you had an answer for Harry Styles?” Tom questioned. 

“Yeah,” she chuckled. 

“No, wait—but Harry?” Tom brought back the conversation. “My brother.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know. Before she’d left she was sure she had feelings for Harry and she was sure she’d gotten over Tom. Then—it just… she was confused. 

“Y/N?” 

“I—don’t know where your question is coming from,” she said. “He’s my best friend, is that what you’re asking?”

She knew where the question had come from. But she didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

Thought she was very confused, he hadn’t been an asshole once in his life, he was…nice. 

Rome though, seemed like a memory of the two of them being alone at night, laughing, always laughing and… holding hands eventually. Walking through the endless streets full of art and history, always at night, under the moonlight, seeing each other through different eyes. Having no one to judge them if they weren’t going after each other’s throats. 

Telling stories, sharing secrets. Tom and y/n. When they were alone. 

There had been multiple occasions when y/n had expected him to kiss her, he had leaned over just once but then he had set apart, not even brushing her lips. However, y/n guessed now, Rome had brought them what they had now, the whispering, the subtle jokes and the constant eye contact. Always so mesmerized by those pair of chocolate eyes that had her completely foolishly infatuated. Not ever caring about the other ones in the room. 

Y/N knew she had been in love with him for a while, she’d known it since right after one time when she was 14, right when he was about to leave to film. Something very stupid had happened. So natural, something had made him laugh, and he had thrown his stupid head back and made both him and y/n to fall of their chairs, instead of being angry, they’d turned to each other and kept laughing, synchronizing their laughs, like asong. 

That’s when y/n had first known it, she was deeply in love with him. So stupidly simple. But...then in Rome, it was like she’d finally awaken every feeling towards him. And she remembered that night after being out and after him helping her study, how they’d both ended up so tired, but laughing again. Maybe it had been his laugh, and the way it merged with hers, or maybe it had been the conversation that hadn’t let the butterflies go away. 

In Rome, he’d shown her that he wasn’t that bad as he always seemed to be. Sharing morning coffees, holding hands. Both of them sitting in that restaurant on the chairs that didn’t quite sit well on the pavement. Him telling jokes, brushing her hand. Exploring the city that had so much to offer to them. 

Hours and hours of fun. Laughing, synchronizing their laugh. And she remembered that one very night, when Tom had looked at her as if he’d go blind the very next day. They had walked near an outside theatre, y/n remembered hearing people clapping, but the sound fainted, she could only hear Tom’s laughs. 

She remembered wearing a dress, one she’d given to him in the box. It was a different dress from what she usually liked to wear, a satin pink dress. It felt like a fairytale. As if they were searching for their destiny, or maybe it was the city and that was playing with their feelings. The moon cascading with the lights and reflecting against the shiny and wet pavement, /n was shaking as she could still listen to her clattering heels. They had seen a couple making out against a wall, and they’d just ignored it. Tom had been joking all night, making sure her cheeks hurt from smiling that much. It was very real. 

They’d walked through a bridge, and y/n remembered how incredibly cliché it had seemed. A guy in the middle of the bridge serenading the night, as if adding the perfect music to Tom and y/n who barely tried to acknowledge how perfect the night seemed. 

“It’s a beautiful night,” y/n had pointed out. 

“Quite lovely,” he agreed. “It’s quite romantic, innit?” 

She chuckled. “Two bad we are the ones enjoying it.” 

Tom laughed. “Yeah, it’s a shame that it’s a pair of mortal enemies enjoying this evening.” 

“That other couple behind,” y/n said. “They were enjoying it.” 

He shrugged. “I’m enjoying it, too.” 

She didn’t know what to answer to that, but she knew now that if she’d thought she was over him, she definitely wasn’t now. 

Tom was walking slightly ahead of her. 

“I genuinely think I’ll end up marrying Chris Evans,” y/n said, only half joking, continuing their previous conversation.  

“What?” He chuckled, turning around but continuing his pace. “He’s not your type,” Tom pointed out. 

“He’s everybody’s type, shut up,” she chuckled. “But he’s my soulmate.” 

Tom nudged her. “Is he now?”

She grinned. “Yes.” 

“Hm, I’ve never heard you speak about that kind of stuff,” he admitted as he took her hand in his and played with her fingers. 

She watched him curiously. “What stuff?” 

“Love and that kind of crap,” he said. 

“And that kind of crap,” she mocked. 

“Yes,” he stretched out his arm, y/n walked her fingers through it. 

“I mean I just said Chris Evans is my soulmate,” she laughed. 

“Yeah but I’ve never heard you use that word, you don’t talk that kind of crap,” he grinned. 

“Well I do think about that kind of crap from time to time,” she admitted. 

He frowned. “You don’t seem type to.” 

“Really? I’m super romantic,” she giggled. 

It was ironic, even.

“You’re not,” Tom pointed out. So ironic, how they were playing with each other’s hands, the night tailor-made for romance. 

“I am. But not your type of romance,” she grinned as she looked at him. 

He frowned with a snicker. “My type of romance?” He asked, finally walking by her side. 

“You’re too… predictable and basic,” she snapped. 

He widened his eyes. “I’m not.” 

A woman had approached them, selling roses, she spoke in italian to Tom and he said he didn’t understand but agreed to buy a rose from her. He handed it to y/n without thinking too much about it. 

“You’re the type of guy who shows up with roses,” she pointed out.

“You don’t like roses?” He frowned, looking at the flower he’d just given to her. 

“I—do, I like this one,” she grinned. “I just think they’re sold out,” she explained. “Like...everyone uses them, and for me, romance is all about the moment.” 

He scoffed. “The moment.” 

“Yeah, the moment, you know like—those kind of movie moments?”

“Like what?” 

Like that one, with both of them opening up their feelings, hands almost touching but not quite. Feeling the vibrations in each’s heart every time each one laughed. 

“Dunno,” she said instead, not wanting to compromise the moment. “I don’t want the typical romance, you know?” She continued. “How they’re all too— caught up in the routine, texting every five minutes, giving each other gifts every anniversary, and how the guy always give her a necklace that you know it’s not special, like—” 

“But it is special,” he said. 

“If it’s got a meaning, but you know, people usually go by the book.” 

“I don’t get it, why don’t you like it?” 

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I’m just… I want something very personal because… Yeah, the superficial love,” she explained .”The one everyone is so encapsulated by, you know? The date nights at fancy restaurants, and- You know how it goes, she goes out to the big city, she finds a guy who takes her out to those kind of dates, where they have nice date nights and then he ends up on one knee because it’s time and he gives her roses, and they go so typical, and they have a child and then the marriage just starts falling apart, and she ignores he’s cheating on her with I dunno, someone at work and they have sex once every two months, and he sends her roses the very next day, and she ends up so frustrated,” she continued. “that she joins one of those spinning classes, and on each Christmas he gives her jewelry and they keep pretending it’s fine  but… It really isn’t, you know? They fell into a routine because they never let themselves live the moments and followed the book to be a trophy wife or…And then he ends up wondering when his life went by and she wishes she’d followed that guy she was actually in love with and they never go happy again.” 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he nodded. 

“Yeah.” 

“How do you know all that stuff?” He wondered. 

“Well, you know me, I wanna be a screenwriter and to write about people you have to… know people,” she told him. 

“A screenwriter,” he grinned. 

“I’ve always dreamed too much,” she admitted quietly, now pulling her hands to herself, as she played with her own fingers. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he turned around and then reached for her hand. “You have dreams then?”

“Everyone does, but guess mine… it’s having my big shot, of getting somewhere,” she sighed heavily. 

He grinned. “What’s your dream script?”

She grinned, embarrassed, as she avoided his gaze. “No—“ she giggled quietly. “I don't—“

He pushed her. “Tell me,” he pleaded with a beam. 

“It’s—“she couldn’t stop chuckling, so nervously. “It’s  weird okay?I’ve always wanted to write a script about a dancer.” 

“A dancer? You don’t dance,” he pointed out. 

“No I don’t but—“she gulped. 

He pushed her hair out of the way. “But?”

“You know I really liked Dirty Dancing or Flashdance and those kind of movies—“

“80’s movies right that's your thing,” he recalled.

“Yeah, and I—I always wanted to write something like that, I mean I know it wouldn’t be as epic—“she laughed. 

“Why not?”

“Dunno but I’ve always had the idea of writing something like that,” she shrugged. “But also something very personal you know, and something that has this dear moment in your heart you yearn for.” 

He nodded. “Right.” 

“Will that script have romance?” He asked. 

She chuckled. “Why do you ask that?” 

“You hate writing romance, I know that for a fact,” he pointed out.

“Dunno, maybe,” she laughed. “I hate writing romance, yes but… maybe it should, a moment that feels romantic, even if it’s not…” She paused. “Not between a couple, you know?” 

“What is romance to you, then?” 

“Moments, I told you,” she grinned. “Moments… it's about a feeling that you never want to let go off.” 

He chuckled. “You’re weird.” 

“Romace for me is when two people long for each other, right?” She stopped walkingTom kept his way, turning around watching her. “Like they can live without each other but they don’t want to, because it makes sense, and romance is… Dunno enjoying good and bad and knowing someone’s worst side and yet… you still love them because you know the good things outshine the bad ones and they make them who they are… Romance is knowing the other person, you know? Like hey— I remembered this is your favorite band or—Dunno.” 

He didn’t say anything, his eyes beamed as she spoke. “You want a rom com then,” he mocked. 

She rolled her eyes. “No, because they’re so typical too.” 

“And you think Chris Evans could give you that?” He smirked. 

She laughed. “Of course.” 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He wondered. 

“I talked about it with Harry once, I’m not sure,” she admitted, as she leaned against a wall, Tom frowned. 

“Why not?” 

“Two souls that are destined to be together? Sounds—weird,” she chuckled. 

“Does it now?” He smirked. “Not even Chris?” 

“Do you believe in them?” 

“I—well, not really, but I do believe in ‘the one’ you know?” He admitted. 

She chuckled. “I don’t.” 

“You don’t?” 

“No, because the one… someone who is destined for you? What if you don’t love them back?” 

Tom frowned. “You would because—” 

“I.. No, wait--I get that, but someone who is perfect for you let’s say and yet you love someone else.” She took a deep breath. 

He tilted his head. “Then that person isn’t the one.” 

“But it has to mean something you know?” 

He clicked his tongue. “Maybe,” he cleared his throat. 

“What is romance to you?” She asked him. 

“Compromising, and-- not caring about it, like, willingly give your life and soul for them, and make them happy and just… Romance for me is two people fighting against all odds, and willing to do so,” he smiled slightly. “Dunno, maybe I’m scared too, you know, of that thing you said, of ending up with someone whom I don’t love and then look back and see I could’ve had it all,” he explained. “And be a sad husband, or whatever.” 

“You’re scared of that?” 

“I’m afraid of being too late,” he admitted. “Or never admitting my feelings to myself,” he nodded. 

“Your feelings.” 

“Yeah, I tend to… Be a little reserved when it comes to relationships, I feel like if I give too much, I’ll end up hurt,” Tom shrugged. “I’m afraid the person I love will end up loving someone else because they’re better for them.” 

“Why would they be?” 

Tom didn’t answer, but instead asked her something else. “You’ve ever been in love?” 

“I—yeah. You?” 

“Yeah.” 

She bit her lip. “Once.” 

“Twice,” he admitted. 

She’d fallen in love twice now. And she wanted so desperately to fall back in love with Tom… She still was but she felt their relationship had been so broken that mending the broken parts wouldn’t be enough. They’d have to mend them and start over. 

She wanted to forget Rome, it was too good to be true. She Hadn't revisited that conversation in a while, maybe that’s why it bothered her, it made her sad. It wasn’t that big of a deal of a conversation, probably. But twice. 

Tom had fallen in love twice and y/n just once by that time. Now—Timmy. But she knew damn well that was not the reason as to why she was so scared. Why had her mind gone back to Rome?

“Teddy was the first one to dance with her?” Tom repeated his question. 

Y/N looked up out of her trance. “Hm?” 

Tom gulped. “Let’s take a break, shall we?” He said before quickly heading out of the room. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was coming. Harry sighed, as y/n followed after Tom, she saw him standing in front of a vending machine cursing as it was not working, he sighed as he proceeded to change his order and get a water bottle instead. 

Y/N approached him and he walked the other way.

“Can you please not freak out?” She asked, following after him..

“I’m not freaking out,” he stated before gulping down the entirety of the water bottle.

“Yes you are, you’re pulling a Tom,” she pointed out. 

Tom stopped at that remark and turned his head slightly.”Pulling a—what? excuse me?”

“A Tom,” she rushed over. “Just like you have for the past 20 years, you leave and ignore everyone when you don’t want to face your problems and oh, you throw tantrums.” 

“I’m not doing that,” he said before storming off, heading to a balcony. “I’ve never done that.” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do, always the same,” she complained as she joined him.

“And what’s pulling a y/n? Going to Timmy? Leaving to another country when you realize you have feelings? You’ve done that, twice” he pointed out.”Both of those statements,” he barked with anger. 

“Tom.” 

“I thought we wouldn’t talk about our issues while being on set,” he hissed turning around breathing in the fresh air the outside was offering him.

She scoffed. “Yet you’re here freaking out and we’re on a break so I think we’re good.” 

“I’m not freaking out,” he snapped. 

“You’re upset,” she commented. “you’re sweating and you just downed that water bottle.” 

“I’m thirsty,” he said before throwing it into a bin. He leaned against the railing, staring at the buildings, resting his arms on it. 

She sighed. “Why does it bother you so much? Did you really expect that you were my first?” She walked over to him, leaning backwards.

He avoided her gaze. “ I figured I wasn’t.” 

“Then?”

“Why—why fucking Tim?” He blurted out.

“Why does it matter?” She snapped, and then ran a hand through her hair. “I was in love with him, it happened, whatever,” she shrugged. “It’s no big deal, you’re sounding really toxic right now.” 

“It’s not about me being your first, alright? It’s the fact it was bloody him out of fucking everyone—“he tattled. 

“Why does Tim bother you that much?” She questioned, crossing her arms as Tom had walked away from the railing, hands on his head. 

“Because he was a rebound!” He complained. “and you ended up falling in love with him.”

“He was not a rebound,” she retorted. 

“Yes, he was, and he fucking—“He breathed in, and brought his hands to his face trying to calm himself down. “He is there when I fuck up! Always!” 

“No—“

“ y/n fucking first thing you always do is go back to him!” 

She clenched her jaw. “That’s not true.” 

He scoffed. “It’s not? That night after the wine, the whole Tom Cruise thing,” he approached her and then exhaled. “what did you do the very next day?” He babbled. “You went out for breakfast with him!”

“Tom, I didn’t do it because of you,” she retorted. “I already had plans with him—“

“And then you kissed him that day y/n!” He interrupted. 

“And as long as I remember I went and searched for you after it,” she reminded him. “And he kissed me I didn’t—“

“First time we bloody slept together, what did you do the next day?” He continued. “You were talking about getting back together with him,” he was speaking so quickly. “and then you saw him!”

“Well, I didn’t know where the hell we were going, and I was supposed to talk to him that day anyway!” She explained. 

“You wanted to go back to him!” 

“Well, I was still in love with him!” She snapped but then closed her eyes to calm down. “I was in love with him,” she whispered. “My breakup with him wasn’t because I didn’t love him—“She continued. Because it wasn’t. 

Her breakup with Tim had never been because she’d stopped loving him, but because she knew she didn’t love him enough and Tim had given her time to think about it. How do even you continue a relationship with a turned down proposal? Tim wasnt even expecting an answer and then he’d told her: I just need to know you love me’. And y/n did—and though sleeping with Tom had awakened a lot of things. She remembered that on that precise moment… she knew she didn’t want to feel used. She wanted to feel love and that’s why she wanted to back to Tim. 

“and it doesn’t have anything to do with us, alright?” She added. “But it’s in my past, yes I wanted to go back together with him at that point—“

“And to this point?” He questioned. 

She covered her face, and turned around. “Tom I can’t bloody believe you—“

“Why did you want to get back together with him?”

“Because, yes, I’m gonna be honest with you,” she turned to him. “I didn’t want to break up with him, but I also didn’t want to marry him—“

“You kept the bloody ring.”

“Yes, I did, because I was confused, don’t you get it? I said no to a proposal because I bloody had feelings for you,” she reminded him, as she pointed at him. “I couldn’t say yes to a proposal because I was so fucking in love with you!” She snapped, and then lowered her voice. “Still am…” she sighed. “and I thought we already had had this conversation.” 

Tom clenched his jaw and walked away. “Well, I’m bringing it back.”

“Now?” She shook her head. 

“Well I wasn’t going to but now we’re here,” he said arrogantly. 

“I can’t believe this is what you want to talk about,” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You just said you were in love with him when we hooked up the first time—“

“Hooked up,” she chuckled. “That’s what we did! Besides...You treated it like a bloody one night stand!” 

“Maybe it should’ve been,” Tom barked. 

Y/N felt a stab right through her chest, so upset. She licked her lips and then took a heavy breath. “Oh, alright I see how this is, okay,” she nodded sadly as she was about to get back inside. 

Tom cursed under his breath, and then rushed to stop her. “No, y/n I didn’t--I just can’t stand him,” he confessed. “because he just showed up in your life and you simply loved him.” 

“You—“she squinted. “Are you even listening to yourself?” 

He scowled. 

“Tom you’re—You’re literally the only one who can—show up and—“She gulped. “For him? It took him months and months and—“

“You—you gave in.” 

“What the hell did you expect me to do?” She questioned. 

He bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

“May I remind you what happened? I…”

“God y/n I know, but right after it happened—“

“Right after it happened I spent months crying, Tom,” she recalled. “I didn’t go out, all the sunshine was gone, and then he showed up in my life and—And what in this bloody hell did you expect me to do? Fight for you? Run to your arms after you broke my heart?”

He hesitated. “Well, yes, look at me right now, I ran back to you when you hurt me—“

She couldn’t even believe what he was saying.”But this—Tom was after a relationship, you know I loved you—you told me—I don’t know what to tell you with this, I apologized, I told you I loved you, you know I do, meanwhile back then you just broke my heart and then blamed me for it—“

“And you ran after Tim,” he said

“No, I did not,” she chided. “I told you, it was months after. He made me fall in love with him.”

“And is he trying that now?”

She shook her head. “What?”

“I—you ran back to him just now.” 

“I didn’t come here to LA to be with him.” 

He chuckled dryly. “Yes you did.”

“I did not, you—My script was the reason.” 

Tom clenched his jaw. But his look was softer. 

“why do you hate him that much?” She asked. 

Tom shrugged. “Because.” 

“Because?” She repeated, she really couldn’t believe it. “Tom, oh my god—And all this? Are you actually angry that he was my bloody first? Do you realize how sexist and stupid you sound?”

He squinted and scrunched his nose. “It’s not--Look, y/n it’s not that I wanted it to be me, okay? I don’t care who you’ve slept with, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“No, it’s not.” 

“But you have to understand that every single thing you lived with him could’ve been me if I just hadn’t fucked up.” 

She didn’t answer. 

“He had everything I could’ve had.”

The words resonated in his mind over and over. He did have a reason to hate Tim. Because when Tom had made up his mind and when he thought he didn’t care anymore, he’d bought the fourth yellow flowers, never delivered. 

Before everything, Tom had made up his mind, never told anybody. Her remembered driving around, feeling like he could barely breathe, going round and round around her block until he finally decided to go for it. He hadn’t rehearsed what he would say, but he had given it a thought or two. Who was he kidding? He’d probably rehearsed a thousand speeches in his head. 

Because they were supposed to hate each other. 

What was he supposed to say? That he hadn’t meant it? That he loved her? Because she was so annoying. They hated each other for a reason. She was like a cold coffee that’s been sitting in from the day before, and she was always on the loose, always giving him a cold stare. So bitter. How would he tell her? 

‘I don’t like you one bit but I’m in love with you so deeply and I just want you to tell me how to love you.’ 

They were so different. He liked tea, she liked coffee. She liked the night, and the moon and he liked the sun. 

Yet he loved her, and he regretted every damn second he’d broken her heart. Though it was mostly because of Harry it was because he’d been scared of his own feelings, how despite their differences, he had felt a certain connection. 

He had shuffled his feet outside his car, shaking as he held the flowers. So nervous. What was he going to say? 

That he had lost his mind for breaking her heart? That he’d been in love with her since that stupid first kiss? How she stole each heartbeat and how every kiss they’d had had killed him? How in Rome he had fallen in love when they’d gone to that restaurant, under the bright sun, as she covered herself with that silly hat she’d bought. Hiding her smile under the shadow, as her laughed echoed its way to his heart. 

He had walked up to her place, it was around Christmas time. It was cold and it was snowing, he had put on his best coat and he’d just gotten a haircut. He’d chosen a lotion he knew she’d probably like. He was shaking. And he’d taken the stairs, not the elevator. Stairs to give him time to think. 

It had taken him so long to make that decision and he didn’t even know if she would take his apologies, or if she’d even open the door. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t but he really hoped she did. 

But Tom knew that the least he could do. Maybe offer a new start. They’d have a Christmas party at her parent’s place. He thought it would be good to show up with flowers, talk to her and—kiss her? Could he kiss her? 

Would it be everything he ever dreamed of? 

He rang the bell, that’s the first thing he could do. 

“Hello—?” That was not y/n’s voice. A curly haired guy had opened the door, to Tom’s displeasure. 

He remembered him, from James’ birthday just a few weeks before. The cheekbones guy, guy who had made y/n smile. Y/n’s probable rebound. 

Was it really a rebound if they hadn’t dated? What exactly had gone down in Rome that neither of them could speak about it? 

“Is—y/n here?” Tom asked quickly. 

“Yeah, she’s getting ready,” The guy answered. 

“You’re Timothee right?” Tom asked. “We met at James’ party.” 

“Yeah, you’re Tom,” Tim chuckled. “Do—you want to come in?”

“Uh—are you guys going anywhere? I thought—Y/N was coming to the Christmas dinner party,” Tom gulped. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s bringing me over, she invited me,” he nodded. “Seems a bit too soon to meet the family but—“Tim chuckled, “honestly I don’t mind. I just hope they like me.” 

Tom frowned. “Meet—the family?” Tom cackled. “But please, we all bring friends.”

“You see,” Tim chuckled. “I’m being introduced as the boyfriend so I’m a bit nervous.” 

“The—come again? The boyfriend?” 

“Yes, boyfriend,” Timothee grinned. “

Tom felt his heart shatter, and he wasn’t sure but probably even Timothee had heard it. The unequivocal sound of his heart breaking. 

“Oh,” that’s what Tom could manage to say as he took a deep breath. “Good luck, she’s quite the character.”

“You’ve said that before.” 

“She’s like cold tasteless coffee on a beautiful morning, or rain pouring down on your wedding day,” Tom said without really meaning to but trying to hide his emotions.

Tim frowned slightly as he stared him up and down. “Are those for her? Want me to give them to her?” Tim offered with a bit of poison, as he looked at the flowers.

“No, these aren’t for her—I’m—I—“Tom hid the flowers. “Please, as if I would give any flowers to y/n, no,” he shook his head. “She’s—She's my enemy, you see, we don’t get along,” he explained. “Not one bit, we can’t be in the same room for five minutes… No, I was just driving by and I thought she’d like a ride.” 

“Oh,” Tim nodded suspiciously. “Funny thing, to offer a ride to someone you hate.” 

“Yeah, well it’s Christmas, I get my nice side, but I assume she doesn’t need a ride now, so I’m gonna—leave. See you there.” 

And Tom remembered throwing away the flowers on the first bin he saw.

It still echoed. 

How he had been too late. How Tim had taken away the chance for him. Because of course he blamed it on Tim because he didn’t want to accept the fact that it had all been on Tom. 

And he thought about it: it’s just a rebound, just a rebound, but then he saw it wasn’t. How her eyes did brighten up. How that rebound lasted two years and ended with a declined proposal. 

And now, she was there living with Tim and Tom feared he’d miss out his chances again. Had he not showed up for the script would y/n eventually end up dating Timothee? 

That’s what bothered Tom. He’d never been the jealous kind but when it came to y/n with Timothee specifically, he would go mad. So incredibly jealous and enraged and angry. Yes, Tom saw Tim as a threat. A threat with pretty eyes that could easily enthrace y/n. 

“Funny he must think the same of you,” y/n said, crossing her arms.  

“It’s not—“He gulped and looked down. “He was right after Rome.” 

“That’s not on him, Tom,” she reminded him. “It’s on—“

“On me, yes, but what—you fell in love with a rebound y/n.” 

“I’m not one to have a rebound Tom, I’m not you,” she hissed before finally leaving the balcony.

He didn’t know what she meant by that sentence. Though, he would be lying by saying that. He did know it. Tom was someone who always wanted a relationship. He regretted it. 

Though the only true rebound he had had was with Cherry. But y/n didn’t have to know that.

He followed after her. 

“Hey, no wait—“he stopped her mid hallway. 

She frowned. “What now?” 

He looked around and saw the door behind her, he opened it to show a janitor closet. Well, anything could work, really. 

He walked in and dragged her in. 

“Tom, no—no,” she rolled her eyes as Tom found the light switch and turned the lights on before closing the door.“How romantic,” y/n hissed sarcastically.

Tom watched her. “Look, I’m sorry, I—I just can’t help being jealous okay?” 

“What even for?” She questioned. “You’re an idiot for being jealous.” 

“But am I really?”

“Yes,” she took his hands. “I—If you seriously—“

“He bothers me.I don’t want him around you, and it sounds so—“

“Possessive and selfish and immature and stupid,” y/n finished his sentence. 

Tom forced a chuckle. “Yes all that.” 

“But how can you not see that I’m crazy for you?” She questioned him making Tom blush. “How Can you not see it?”

“I—Well,” he didn’t know what to answer to that.

If he were honest, it was quite difficult to believe it for him. Not really. But he felt insecure, especially because last time it had been a hoax and it had felt so real. But then again it wasn’t a hoax. It was unbelievably hard to understand what he felt. 

Especially because he knew his feelings were not in vain and that he wanted to ask about the flowers in her wall. He somehow knew that y/n… well he thought at least, that y/n had slept with Tim. 

Maybe it was the way she’d kissed him and how it had felt so different, she kissed differently, if it made any sense. 

“you’re an idiot,” she pointed out. 

“I’m an idiot for you,” he said without thinking. 

She chuckled. “How romantic,” she repeated the same words she had said before, meaning this time probably, or a little bit less angry. 

Tom took a deep breath. He felt—wrong. He had slept with her cousin. He was wrong too. But it meant nothing. Cherry had been an accident. An accident that—Well, had happened and he regretted. He hadn’t told her one but about his relationship with y/n. What could he tell her? If y/n hadn’t told her then Tom shouldn’t have, though now seeing it he probably should have. 

But the mistake was made already. And it had felt 

 However if she had slept with Tim, it would mean something. The guy was bloody in love with her. Or was he not? 

Had Tim finally moved on? He probably hadn’t. Even if y/n had once said she was easy to forget, Tom knew that was a lie. He should know, he’d loved her his whole life now. Y/N was an expert on making anyone turn to look at her, and making everyone remember her, and her kiss always tempted him. 

So no, talking it from a personal experience, he knew Tim hadn’t moved on. Tom knew, for a fact that though Louis had regretted breaking up with y/n three days after their breakup. James had told Tom that Louis had showed up to her house to try and get her back. Y/N hadn’t agreed to it, though. A very powerful breakup, James told Tom, y/n had apparently yelled at him and gave him back every sweatshirt and t-shirt, so it meant it was over. 

“Look I’m about to kiss you,” Tom warned her. 

She blinked in confusion. “And you’re announcing it. You usually don’t care and just do it.” 

“Yes because I’m telling you what I’m kissing you for… some reasons.” 

“Oh, do tell,” she chuckled. 

“Alright, one because I don’t want you to think I like arguing, I hate it,” he pointed out. 

She frowned, slightly and then snickered. “That’s strange, we spent our whole lives arguing.” 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I love bothering you but not when it comes to us,” he admitted. “Not really.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Go on.” 

“Two, I’m kissing you to prove to you that even if he tries, he won’t be able to kiss you the way I do, never,” he stated. 

She rolled her eyes for a second time and groaned. “Uh huh.” 

“And three,” he took a deep breath. “Because I know the cast is coming here today and I know you want to shoot your shot so I’m just going to--” 

She looked away. “Yeah, you can’t really stop me from that.” 

“Hm, let’s see,” he said before leaning over to kiss her, he turned off the lights She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, quickly cupping his face. 

Tom didn’t really understand how they could go from that argument to kissing on a janitor’s closet. He couldn’t complain, though. 

He tried to deepen the kiss, she didn’t complain, she only wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands went to her waist. 

Maybe they were too angry, the kiss wasn’t sweet, it felt forced but sensual, as if they were too desperate to prove something to each other. Quick and rough, but deepening. 

The door was opened. 

“Oh my god,” Josh said. “I’m sorry—I sorry—-Sorry, sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized and closed the door. 

Y/N and Tom quickly separated, eyes widened. 

“No! No! No!” Tom said as Josh had probably already left. 

Y/N couldn’t stop blushing. She was so embarrassed. 

“Great now they’ll think I’m sleeping with you,” She groaned. 

Tom blinked. “I..” 

“I meant, in a ‘she’s sleeping with her boss to get what she wants’ kind of thing,” she rolled her eyes, and then burst out laughing. “Oh god.” 

He joined in, laughing too. 

“We’re in trouble.” 

-

“What were you doing in a closet?” Emma questioned y/n as soon as they’d gotten back. Emma had some coffee stains in her blouse so y/n went with her to the bathroom. Emma tried to clean it off

“Nothing—who told you?” Y/N asked as she was trying to get herself presentable. “Oh my god.” 

“Josh told me!” Emma said. “He rushed in and said ‘oh my god y/n was in the closet, and I thought he meant you were gay and then-- No, that’s not the point, what the hell were you doing in the janitor’s closet?” 

“I was—looking out for cleaning supplies?” Y/N lied. 

“Y/n?” Emma questioned. 

“What? Who told you—”

“I told you!” Emma said. “Josh told me! Harry asked for you! Harry and I were talking and he accidentally spilled his coffee and Josh went in and said he’d get a mop and look out for you and Tom because the cast is here, and also…” 

“Why did Harry spill his coffee?” Y/N asked, trying to defuse the tensions. 

“Because you left me alone with him, that’s why.” 

“What—? Did he say anything? Did you talk?” 

“No, but he… asked me if I wanted to go for a cup of coffee later,” Emma sounded sad. 

“Well that’s good right?” 

Emma glared at y/n. “Come on asking to go out for coffee is just... Terrible, it means trouble.” 

“Does it?” 

“Yes, maybe he will tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore,” Emma pointed out, stressed the coffee stain wouldn’t take off. 

“He does,” y/n pointed out watchint her. 

“What if he doesn’t?” Emma grunted as she kept trying to clean it off with the dry towel. 

“It’s coffee,” y/n said, meaning to the blouse. 

“Its coffee, my point, it always means trouble—” She turned to her. “Wait why are you so flushed, seriously what were you doing in a closet?” She asked again. “And were was Tom— and what took you—”She opened her eyes and gasped, as she let the dry towl fall to the floor. “Oh my god y/n were you having sex?” 

“What? No!” She blushed. 

“Y/N!” Emma smirked. 

“No! We were arguing over the whole Tim thing, thanks by the way, I didn’t—” 

“He didn’t know that Tim was your first?” Emma asked. 

“I didn’t—I didn’t tell him,” y/n got shy. 

“No, well of course it’s none of his business,” Emma agreed.

“We were arguing over that, okay?” She sighed. “Which okay, he’s got a point, about Tim but...then I was about to come back and we—He stopped me to continue the argument in the closet but-” 

“But? No. Never mind, but then you were going to have sex, angry sex was it?” Emma laughed. 

“I—Emma!” 

“Were you going to?” 

Y/N coughed. 

“Y/N!” 

“Look!” She blushed. “We were making out  but I probably would’ve if Josh hadn’t found us.” 

Emma chirped. “Y/N oh my god, who are you?” 

“What?” 

“Like two days ago you referred to sex like love making and now you were about to have angry sex in a closet?” Emma couldn’t belive what she was hearing, and she couldn’t stop laughing. 

“Shut up!” 

“Look, whatever, Oh my god, and please take off that stupid horny face, we’re meeting the cast.” 

Y/N nudged Emma. “I’m not horny!” 

“Well take the ‘I’m stupid’ face off, Jesus y/n what happened to you?” Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s been only a few days and Tom stupidified you.” 

“He—” 

“He does,” Emma said before y/n could complain. “And I’m happy because he gets even more stupid for you but y/n this is your dream, the script I mean, we’ll go and meet the cast and--” 

“Yes--” 

“So I need you to get yourself together.” 

Harry and Tom were not too far from there, Harry was shaking. Apparently he’d gotten so nervous when asking Emma out that he’d spilled coffee on her. It had been hard enough having to talk to her. He’d started asking her if she’d slept well, and Emma hadn’t answered, she was nervous. He then asked her about LA, and she said it was fine. He asked how she was doing and she didn’t really want to answer. It was so awkward. Emma told him she really didn’t want to talk about any personal issues when they were on set, because it simply wasn’t professional. So he asked her if she was excited about the cast, Harry knew that Emma had a crush on Jordan Fisher and so she started gushing about that. 

It went normal, that is until Harry’s hand decided to simply stop working and spill the coffee.

“I asked Emma if she wanted to go out for coffee and then-” 

Tom frowned. “Coffee? Harry that’s the worst thing you could—” 

“What? She likes coffee?” 

“And Y/N likes chocolates and I don’t take her to a vending machine!” Tom pointed out. “And I don’t smear coffee on her clothes.” 

“Well I uh—” 

“You’re an idiot,” Tom rolled his eyes. 

Harry clenched his jaw. “Whatever. Thanks, speaking of idiots, did you know Sam is coming?” 

Tom didn’t know that. “Sam? What for?” 

“It’s y/n’s birthday next week,” Harry said, matter of fact-ly. 

“Right—Which reminds me... I should be planning her something right? I really need to outdo whatever Tim did last year, and if I’m the… Not the boyfriend, not sure what I am but-” 

“Tom you’re losing focus.” 

“Oh right, Sam, Sam is coming?” Tom came back to his senses. 

“James is coming and he invited him,” Harry said, as both of them walked out of the room where they’d held the meeting, now heading to the place where they’d meet the cast. “And by the way James isn't as happy with all of this.” 

“What?” Tom frowned. 

“Sam told me he doesn’t want you around y/n,” Harry warned him.

 Tom stopped. James had initially, kind of adored the idea of y/n and Tom dating. Of course he’d shown the protective brother side, but he’d been the first one to support Tom. 

“Why not?” Tom was upset. 

“You’re really asking that?” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Dunno, it’s weird, thought James was too busy dating to care about y/n and me,” Tom poisoned, knowing exactly that James’ current relationship was getting serious and that he had avoided talking to Tom. Tom thought that initially it was because of the dates, but now he started to believe James had actively avoided him because he disliked him. 

“He’s always been so protective of her,” Harry reminded him. 

“Yes and I got it alright? He already gave me the talk of how if I was gonna try anything it better be serious and I am going serious, look, things went wrong but I want something serious. I am serious when it comes to y/n.” 

“Are you?” Harry stopped him. 

“I am all serious when it comes to her, willing to make all her dreams come true,” Tom said, truthfully. 

Harry clenched his jaw. “You can fool her with all that shit but you know James won’t swallow any of your bullshit,” 

“It’s not bullshit.” Because it wasn’t. He already was on his way to make her dreams come true. Her dancer script, the one she’d told him from Rome. The one he wasn’t supposed to remember because he had been supposed to forget everything concerning that city. 

“But whatever—I also have some bad news,” Harry said. 

“Bad news? Those were good news?” Tom mocked. 

“Cherry is coming back to LA,” Harry warned him. 

Tom shrugged. “Good for her.” 

Harry frowned. “Tom.” 

“What?” 

“Y/N already knows you slept with her.” 

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[calamity-bean]

Since reading Fingersmith, I've been turning over thoughts about all the ways it differs from The Handmaiden. I knew going in the most obvious difference — the setting, with the novel in Victorian England and the film in c. 1930s Korea — and I also knew that comparison shouldn't be used as any kind of judgment here, as this film is not meant to be a close adaptation and each is very much its own work, with its own style, and its own cultural texture and perspective.

Still, I admit that before I started reading, I wondered whether I'd find the novel as engaging as I might otherwise, considering I already knew the big plot twists. But yes! Yes, I absolutely did. Knowing the plot twists did not at all detract from the enchanting prose and character work. Sure, it might've been fun to be an unspoiled reader and feel the full force of that shock at the end of Part 1, but instead I had the pleasure of picking out all the little bits of foreshadowing and observing what Waters discloses in the narrative and what she doesn't and how it all weaves together. And honestly, having seen the film only once or twice before and not recently, by the time I got to Part 3 I truly couldn't remember almost anything of what was supposed to happen next.

Only upon rewatching The Handmaiden yesterday did I realize that even an eidetic recall of the film wouldn't have helped me at that point anyway. For while Part 1 of the film hews pretty close to Part 1 of the book in terms of the core narrative and plot points, Part 2 begins to diverge somewhat, and Part 3 is dramatically different.

I'm not going to give away specifics, because although The Handmaiden seems pretty well known on this site, I don't get the impression that as many people have also read Fingersmith... and they should! I really recommend it!

But it's just so interesting, looking at these two distinct but related pieces of media and thinking about which aspects Park chose to emphasize versus which ones Waters explores more. (Granted, a 600-page novel always has more room to explore things than a film, even a fairly long one.) The Handmaiden, visually and thematically, is lush. It leans heavily into the weird, the grandiose, and the erotic, amplifying them to a stunning style and a narrative that oozes strangeness and sexuality. Fingersmith certainly has these aspects, yes, but it's all... grimier. The writing itself is lovely, yes, but the settings are full of squalor, sadness, and cruelty that is disturbing more because of its mundanity than because of its eccentricity. The household of petty criminals that Sue/Sook-Hee grew up in, barely a blip in the film, are major characters in the novel, and we get a much deeper look at her backstory, her relationships, and her life before the start of the plot. Her impoverished neighborhood and the harshness of life for the poor/lower class are highlighted, and there's no high art to the uncle's collection of p*rnography or the readings of it. And the main setting, the uncle's house and estate, is no impressive piece of architecture, but rather a place of stagnation and decay.

I'm only rambling thoughts here, not trying for any real meaningful analysis, but I suppose my point is that it turns out that even when the film does follow fairly close to the book, the two are still strikingly different experiences, not only in their settings but in their style and themes. Both are a pleasure. And I'm glad I read the novel so that I can enjoy thinking about how each work uses its different style to achieve much the same overall narrative goals.

#my meta #op #fingersmith #the handmaiden #books

[letsdiscoverkitty]

Treatment/Recovery Update - May 2021

Okay, I will try to ramble less in this one (so sorry!) ^ well that didn't happen!

In terms of when I did leave hospital, as I mentioned a tiny bit in the last post, my EDP was completely AWOL. A month before I was due to be discharged she came to a meeting with myself and my consultant, during which we set up 4 appointments that would be over zoom before I was discharged to help with relapse prevention and the transition home, as well as setting out, in principle, the therapeutic support that I would be getting once home...it all sounded great, so great. But as usual when it comes to my team, it was too good to be true (should have called it). I attempted to contact her when our appointments never happened but I kept being met by a brick wall; no one knew what was happening, all I got told was that she was "off"... Time passed and I was discharged with only a phone call booked in from someone from the general team to check I was safe a few days later (it was literally 5 minutes, long if that) and an appointment to do physical monitoring the next wee....a far cry from the original discharge plan *sigh* Coming home was a bit of a whirlwind. We were approaching Christmas but we were still under a lot of restrictions with COVID, so it was a very strange/messy/weird few weeks.

Time continued to pass and there was still no confirmation around therapy or support, even the ED team didn't know what was happening with L, I just continued to go to two weekly physical monitoring. In the end, with nowhere else to turn, I contacted my consultant from hospital. To say that she was mad that nothing had been in place/I had no support would be an understatement and I thank my lucky stars that she was able to get involved. It took a couple of weeks but I finally had my first session with a therapist in February. In total it took about 8-9weeks from discharge to see someone, which, well, was hard.

Upon reflection, I think one of the biggest things I struggled with with coming home was that I had literally no leave to practice beforehand. This meant that I unfortunately slipped back into old habits very quickly as, well I know it is no excuse but coming back to the same environment your brain easily slips into automatic mode and you find yourself doing what you "used" to do without realising it.

I was in, I would say, quite a vulnerable state when I left hospital (the last few months there were pretty rocky to say the least) and the day before I was discharged (as I mentioned in a previous post somewhere) I was handed 3 different, very conflicting, meal plans and the nutritionist who had previously been very horrible to me and who had been away for a number of weeks, told me that she did not think I could continue to recover at home and that the best possible case would be if I only lost a bit of weight over the next 6 months....I think you can probably guess how badly this was taken and how messy my mind was. So with 3 meal plans in hand, none of which I had practiced, with little to no support from the ED team, I was, essentially, crisis managing, simply trying to get through each day.

I know, I know. Classic kitty - stuck record. failure. mess. making a million and one excuses. trying to make out like she is fine to the rest of the world when in fact inside she was falling apart. sigh.

In terms of my weight recovery I was not discharged at a healthy BMI/weight, which my consultant was sad about, however I was in a much better place than when I was admitted (I think I had gained about half the weight I would have needed to from when I was admitted to get to a healthy weight). I will admit that part of me does wonders whether staying would have been beneficial, because on a very basic level yes it could have helped in some ways. However if I stretch my mind back to when I was still on the ward ,it actually still floods me with anxiety and fear because of how UNHELPFUL the environment had sadly become. It is hard to explain to someone who has not experienced an EDU, but the patient groups can and do make a massive of differences. I was vvv lucky that when I was initially admitted, and for the first good couple of months, it was a v supportive and recovery focused environment. However, by about late Sept/early October ,things turned completely upside down (which was not helped by the fresh COVID lockdowns either) and even staff were saying how terrible it had gotten and how they could not believe the things that they were being asked to manage on the progression ward. There were times when I felt incredible unsafe on the ward and feared for others patients, which is not "okay". I genuinely believe that staying any longer would have likely made my mental health decline further; I had already found the massive shift was negatively affecting me and I think staying would have been unwise. I had also gained quite a lot of weight and was, I hate to admit, struggling with both coming to terms with that along with dealing with everything that you are continually facing when going through treatment/recovery alongside working on trauma stuff. I know none of that is any worthy excuse, but that was how it was...At this time I was struggling a lot with my meal plan and had quite a few lapses whilst on the transition phase of the unit however despite screaming out for help/support from staff, because of the acute situation on the ward, I was just left. They knew I was struggling, I was told time and time again that they had not forgotten me, but did I get help? no. It was actually made worse by the then nutritionist who sat me down like a naughty school girl and basically told me that I was a failure and that I would never achieve anything in life blah blah blah (please see a past post if you want to know more) which made me even more scared to reach out for 'help'/'support'. So no, I don't think staying would have helped much, which is a real shame.

Therapy wise I had a bit of a rough ride in there (god I'm really selling this aren't I?!). When admitted I was not in a place for 'traditional' therapy what so ever; looking back I honestly have no idea how I was even 'functioning' (was I functioning? probably not) and even the group therapies were a struggle but my consultant stuck with me and with time I was able to process a little more. One thing that helped me beyond words was 1:1 Art Therapy. This was not something I had accessed before, only ever doing group sessions in the past which was mostly about getting away from the ward and doing a bit of art. I cannot reiterate enough how different and HELPFUL the 1:1 sessions were. The art therapy, who I knew from the last year and is an absolutely GEM, helped me to begin to process and work through the trauma that I had experienced with dad. It took a lot of time and persistence but I was able to use those sessions in so many ways and I will forever be grateful to P for supporting me (I was so lucky to be able to have 1:1 sessions for the majority of my 8 admission).

The more traditional therapy initially took the form of 30min sessions with my consultant once to twice a week (as much as I hated them, she was bloody good). I also had a review and a few sessions with the lead therapist via zoom (she was heavily pregnant so was working from home) not long after being admitted, but she soon went on maternity leave. This left me to be picked up by her student, who was actually incredible. We did a long extended piece of work on my perfectionism which, again, was SO helpful but she sadly left (for bigger and better things) and I was left hanging for a while as there were no other openings. A new lead therapist started and after a while he did a few sessions with me before leaving suddenly (I think even staff only had a weeks notice, which was ridiculous), so I was back to twiddling thumbs for a few weeks. I then met with a therapist who worked 2 mornings a week that I saw a bit during my last admission but we didn't do many sessions and it just fell away. This was mostly my fault as by this point I was questioning my admission and whether I would self discharge as there were some not good things going on on the ward, so I wasn't really in the headspace to explore things deeply and had been picked up and put down so many times that I just couldn't do anymore. Throughout that time though I continued to see my consultant weekly, mainly focusing on mindfulness and other therapy styles thrown in there too at times.

I will forever be thankful/grateful for the admission I had, especially to be under a different consultant (for COVID reasons they had to split things differently as they would usually do it by area but that wasn't possible at the time I was admitted) as her approach made a huge difference. I still remember one of the first things she said to me was that she couldn't believe/was that I had been placed on the SEED pathway and that she believed that I could be more than that, which honestly, gave me a little bit of hope (something that had been ripped apart and shredded by my usual consultant multiple times).

But back to now.... I have now been seeing a new therapist weekly (when possible) since February and, in a backwards way, I am so glad that L disappeared off the grid because the "support" I was going to be getting under the original plan was just sessions with her to do some self guided self help stuff, whereas with this therapist we have actually been doing some HELPFUL work. In terms of L, I think the last I was told she never returned to work and has now left the team (we have a sneaky feeling that she either had a complete break down or that it was due to too may complaints (mum called this a long time ago as she was not qualified for the role at all and was utterly useless), which, yeah, was strange to not get an ending as I had worked with her for a few years. Anyway, I've been doing SCHEMA therapy with this new lady (I'd not heard of it before) and at first I was a bit reluctant but it's been incredibly insightful. I continue to learn more about myself and the reasons why I may have gone down certain roads each session. HOWEVER. and this is a big however. There has been a bit of a snag in the rope.

In short, yes I have been engaging really well with the therapy side, my weight and physical health has only continued to deteriorate since i was discharged. We are talking classic kitty of slowly slipped backwards, nothing dramatic, nothing to make alarm bells go off or warrant a review, but it's not been good. Anorexia is screaming at me for saying all of this, it shouts "but you weigh so much more than when you were admitted, you are a complete fraud blah blah blah" which is all the same old boring drivel it always spews out. But basically Im in dangerous waters now in terms of losing therapy/not being able to engage with therapy properly if things dont improve. Ive been in classic stuck mode, getting so absorbed by the numbers and the bubble that AN offers, that I have been numb to it all. The HCA I was seeing was really trying to help me to make changes but she left a while ago (she was going back to train as a nurse) and since then I have had the odd appointment here and there (I think it fell to every 3 weeks for a while as there were no available appointments) with people trying to cover the clinic until someone else is hired for the role, which is far from ideal as they literally just do the necessary obs and send you on your way.

Okay that sounds like yet another excuse, which is probably is, but it's not been an easy ride since I left hospital to say the least.

BUT this past week things have begun to shift a little. I was honest with my therapist about the whole food/meal plan side of things and we actually spoke about how we can't focus on therapy things until I am in a more stable place, which is both really hard to hear but also exactly what I need to hear. I am actually being more open to change, which is a shift from where I was just a week ago. It is bloody painful, even just thinking about it all hurts/is exhausting and I am still very much in the darkness /struggling with it but there is now a little part of me that is screaming out and trying to be heard. There is a little part of me that WANTS to get out of this endless messy limbo that this relapse has been and wants to start stepping back into "recovery". There is part of me that wants a chance. And I've got to start listening to that side a little more.

I promise, the next update will be a little more positive Stay tuned.

#personal #update #If anyone actually reads this you deserve a medal #im sorry #this is a crappy update #I promise there are more positive things to come #I have things to tell you all!!!

[juminly]

A Losing Game

Summary: A bet was made between Arthur & Theodorus: the mystery writer was not allowed to flirt with you for an entire month. Arthur is not one to back down from a challenge. However, he had no idea what was at stake.  Matchup story written for @dandellien​. 💙

Nobody ever said anything about the exhaustion you would feel when travelling through time. Whatever happened when you went through that door, it clearly drained all of the energy from your body. You were hungry, thirsty, had a huge headache and were craving sleep. Comte had seen the look on your face when you had arrived, apparitions of dark circles forming around your eyes, more than enough proof that you did need to rest and be cared for.

While the pureblood accompanied you to your room, giving you but a glimpse of what you would face in the 19th century, being in a mansion filled with unknown men, you were evidently soothed by his graceful and eloquent demeanor, putting you at ease even though he had insinuated that the residents were not normal men. Not normal was a light way to put it because they were far from normal in more ways that you expected.

Historical figures that you knew quite well, seen them in history books, math, physics or even science books. You were already familiar with vampires, the myth and the fantasy of these creatures warped around multitude of novels, movies and various forms of art. Surprised, yes you were. Scared, not necessarily. You would have to wait and see things with your own eyes before judging and assessing the matter. How true could it be? You were beginning to wonder why did you even end up in such a place? Were you struck by some goddess of Fortune or was this a curse that you were damned to survive somehow?

Sebastian had already set up a light yet scrumptious supper for you and had drawn a nice warm bath for you to relax your body before actually realizing where you were and what kind of situation you were in, once you came face first with the reality of the matter. Theory was so much easier to take than reality. Anyone might have thought that they were simply trying to woo you into staying and keeping your mouth shut about what you’ve seen but they were clearly good people, no malicious intent detected in either Sebastian or Comte. But what about the others? After your bath, Sebastian was kind enough to sit by you and answer any questions you may have since he was the only human in the vampire-filled mansion and he graciously answered all the questions you had, especially about the other residents.

Were you prepared for what was to come? You probably didn’t have an answer but a tiny little messenger came to your rescue. At the crack of dawn, you could hear barking at your door. Sebastian didn’t tell you anything about dogs, let alone pets being around so this was an interesting way to start your day. Opening the door, you found the cutest little dog looking up at you with big brown eyes that you simply couldn’t resist. Picking him up in your arms and scratching his chin (earning you quite a few licks), you had already gotten enough sleep so you took it as an opportunity to roam around and discover more about the mansion before the other residents woke up.

You obviously had no idea who the little cutie in your arms belonged to so it was fair enough to say that you were not really snooping around the mansion but actually trying to find the dog’s owner, if anyone were to stop you in your tracks and question why you were walking around in the middle of the night. As you passed by the different hallways and peeked into different rooms, you came across the different rooms and areas of the mansion, jotting down the different pieces of information in the back of your head for future reference: you came across the library and found a tall man slouched on a pile of books, sleeping soundly with the sweet scent wafting through the air; a slender man with an eyepatch who greeted you meekly in the hallway before scurrying away, another man playing the piano with beautiful silver hair, the sharpest amethyst eyes and a glare that demanded he be left alone, without using any words. Going back to the conversation you had with Sebastian, those were Leonardo, Jean and Mozart. One thing they all had in common: they were all very handsome. Extremely so.

After exploring almost every part of the mansion, you already found out where the kitchen, the pantry, the thermae, the dining room were including other rooms where the other residents used. You found yourself standing in front of, what most probably was, the main door of the mansion. Your small new friend began barking and whining, seemingly telling you in his own language that he wanted to go out but you couldn’t possibly do that. You didn’t have the owner’s permission nor did you have a leash. A resounding playful voice came from behind you with an unmistakable lilting British accent, his words echoing through the mansion’s entrance with each click of his oxfords on the grand stairs, closing the distance between you.

“Oh dear! It seems that Vic’s brimming excitement couldn’t be held back at the scent of our new beautiful guest. If I may be so bold, I should admit that I raise Vic to be quite a fine little champ. He certainly does have an eye for beauty.” Turning around, your eyes were locked on this man’s handsome features, his tousled midnight blue hair, striking blue eyes and the beauty mark so delicately positioned by his lips, you couldn’t help but take in his appearance as he had gotten much closer, now standing before you. The smirk on his lips was also very telling, he had been assessing you in the same manner. Little did you know,  He heard you talking to yourself in spanish while walking through the corridors, doing your own exploring of the mansion and he came to you like a moth to a windowpane. How could he even miss the sight, the smell and the voice of a fair maiden such as yourself walking in her lonesome in this mansion full of mongrels? They were not but he would’ve loved to take advantage of sweeping a cute poppet like you off her feet. Your hair was that of iridescent flames, cascades of lava that drew him in, dark eyes of coffee. “Comte was ever so gracious to inform me that we had a guest in our midst but he had made the grave mistake of omitting the fact that you were such a resplendent poppet. Allow me to introduce myself, love.”

He was absolutely beguiled by you, even more so when you began to speak, addressing him in a firm tone, interrupting his introduction in the mere pause as he took a break. “Arthur Conan Doyle, I know who you are. Sebastian told me all about you.” He seemed pleased to know that you already heard of him but still wished that he could be the one to make his first impression on his own, without having others establish them for him. You were not taken aback by his direct approach, yet his flirtiness did not click too well with you since he had yet to know you before even trying to seemingly romance you in the way he did with all the women he had clearly done the same with. You definitely said what was on your mind, stating it clearly before making your way back to your room since Vic was now with his owner. “If you’re trying to flirt with me, then I’m sorry but you’re mistaken if you think that you can do anything of the sort. If you may excuse me now, I must go ready myself before breakfast.”

It would be safe to say that Arthur was admittedly smitten with you. The way you smoothly yet respectfully talked back to him with that accent of yours was undoubtedly a beautiful sound that he would love to hear more and more of.

During breakfast, you had finally met all the residents at once and the Comte had obviously taken it upon him to introduce you to them all before the conversation on the dining table naturally flowed from unrelated conversation between a couple of the residents, where the rest simply listened in and back to questions about you, where you came from, your background and most importantly, your time. When the amount of questions seemed to get a bit too overwhelming, Leonardo was the one who spoke up, telling the rest of the vampires that they had plenty of time to ask you all the questions they wanted over the course of the month that you had to spend with them.

As you and Sebastian busied yourselves in clearing the dishes from the table, you could hear a booming brouhaha coming from the room where you had left the rest of the vampires. Looking at the stoic butler, he simply shrugged and you busied yourself by helping the man. On the other side of the man, the residents were all focused on a discussion that happened between the infamous partners in crime: Theodorus van Gogh and Arthur Conan Doyle. Theo noticed how uncharacteristically silent Arthur was during breakfast, sipping on his glass of Blanc while his eyes never left you for a moment, as you bit into your pancakes and drank your coffee/tea, a small smile cracking on your face here and then, noticing the little things that you did. With a wolfish grin, Theo made a bet with Arthur. If the writer is able to spend an entire month without flirting with you, the sadistic entrepreneur would pay for their tab at their go-to tavern/bar for an entire year. Arthur knew what his friend was trying to do, clearly testing him and seeing if he had an ounce of self-control in him. The game was on.

He would clearly prove him wrong. Or that’s what he thought. Two years instead of one and the deal was made.

It wasn’t hard for you to find what to do in that time. The wealth of knowledge that was surrounding you, it was more than enough to fill your days with activities and studying the things that you loved the most. Leonardo and Vincent were more than happy to give you tips on drawing, giving you tips on how to sketch the human body, understanding the intricacies behind different body types in a way that allowed you also to work on fashion, different styles, looks which is something you really loved.

Spending time on your own was not a hard task! There were so many corners in the mansion where you can just spend time alone with no one bothering you. You would often find Leonardo sleeping or reading in the library, stumbling across him or he’s just napping away wherever you find yourself but that didn’t really bother you. You would grab your notebook to write or draw or grab a book that one of the residents had recommended to you and just clear your mind and wind down, finding some much needed peace in the midst of this new lifestyle that you were thrown into.

Arthur though… the man couldn’t really stay away from you. Not that he did want to, on the contrary, he absolutely loved being in the presence of an enlightened woman such as yourself but he had to take extra care not to be flirty with you. One thing that Arthur didn’t do was lose. Unfortunately yet luckily for him, Vic took a liking to you and made it easier for you to get to know each other better when you would both take him on walks, daily and multiple days in a day. He was a spoiled boy and his Master was definitely the type to spoil him rotten. It was quite refreshing just seeing a different type of playful side to him. Pure, genuine and truly affectionate. Even… boyish.

[The famous skirt chaser wasn’t doing any chasing. Whenever he wasn’t around, he was trying to get enough writing done so he could spend time with the beautiful new guest who only had a month to spend with him… everyone AND him.]

You are usually so reserved around the residents, more of an observer than a talker, at least for the first few days in the mansion. Your frequent walks with Vic and Arthur did help you loosen up:  getting to know more about Paris as you roamed around aimlessly, taken away by the depth of your conversations, the ways of the 19th century, all the little tidbits about the residents and also, see more of Arthur, besides the renown flirty playboy side, a label that everyone seems to be pinning on the handsome man. When you get deep into discussions with him, the way you get animated makes him melt. He doesn’t blatantly point it out but there is this glint of amusement and fondness in his eyes and the slightest twist in the corner of his lips, one of absolute admiration and infatuation when you do.

There is never a dull moment with Arthur: his mind is like the most intriguing, bewildering and mysterious place to be. He would try to tell you about how he comes up with the premise of his stories, would talk to you about the ideas of his books and how he gets inspired by things from his past and from his present, take you out on “dates” where you would go detective-solving… cause what better way to discover Paris and know everything there was to know about it.

He was very fond of your objectivity and honesty which definitely compliments the analytical side of your personality which he has come to see and know the more he spoke with you and from what he’s heard from Leonardo. He secretly loves your honesty also when you call him out on his shit: on why he even hates his own creations, knowing that there is hidden meanings behind whatever bogus response he gives you YET you don’t push him for more. You just let him know that he can talk to you.

In those moments, the fierceness in your eyes…he knew that it would be his demise.

He likes to pick your brain and keeps bombarding you with so many “what ifs”, possibilities and probabilities in deflecting and divergent plotlines in his stories until you end up digressing and not even discussing important elements that are crucial and necessary about his manuscripts. You always made things interesting which made him spend even more time with you, always attempting to monopolize your time in any way he can. Especially when you told him that something like MBTI personalities existed in your time, he was very interested in knowing so much more about it. You and also Sebastian jumped in to tell him all about it and his eyes lit up like firecrackers, already thinking of which characters would have which personality. He couldn’t help but feel closer to you, wanting to know you even more...intimately yet he denied himself from doing so. Yet, he couldn’t stop the kindling of affection within his heart, no matter how much he tried to push it away.

The fact that you had even more hidden talents made you even more attractive in his eyes. You knew how to play multiple instruments and didn’t care to tell him until… 2 weeks had passed since you arrived at the mansion. Arthur immediately worked his magic on Mozart somehow, getting him to teach you how to play the piano if you wanted to and had Leonardo prepare a little something special for you: a hand-crafted guitar that you could take with you when you decide to go back to the future (and the thought of you leaving saddened him so much but he didn’t dare say it, yet, the expression on his face said it all). If there is anything Arthur would be good at, and after keeping the resident devil company, persuading, convincing or bribing was an art that he had perfected. Quick-witted charmer that he was.

The sound of his boyish laughter was something that you couldn’t get enough of and that wide smile that stretched from ear to ear was absolutely the most beautiful expression that you’ve seen on him, complimenting his features in a way that suited him even more than that flirtatious mask he hides behind. He loves the look on your face when he can read your mind and knows exactly what you’re going to say before you even say it, when he teases you and especially when he’s able to draw a smile on your face: be it when he thanks you for helping brainstorm or solve a case, or when he buys you a yummy treat that he knows you’d love and enjoy (after forcing Sebastian to tell him the things you actually do enjoy eating since he had information (notes) about every single living being in than mansion. He was a goldmine, source of intel and Arthur wasn’t going to miss out on taking advantage of that fact).

Something exciting did happen, which you also didn’t expect! A trip to Madrid in Spain? It is one of the cities that is most known for it’s art and Theodorus was in need of a translator to accompany him so he can find his way around the city much easier than if he was alone (and you were also not bad company so he wouldn’t mind you tagging along, since he knows that you would appreciate the art as well, being an artist yourself.) BUT, Arthur was not having any of it. How was a young lady supposed to travel with another (very single and very handsome) man on her own? He decided to be the chaperone of your trip under the guise of exploring new avenues for an upcoming book of his that will possibly have events set in Spain (or maybe not, it didn’t even matter). Theo reminded his best friend about their bet/challenge and… well, the entrepreneur knew and told the klootzak right to his face that he’s weasling his way into this because… Well, Arthur shushed him before he could say any more than that but they both knew what he was going to say. The mystery writer wanted to wait until you left the 19th century before even thinking of admitting to others and to himself too.

After a long train ride from Paris to Madrid, Arthur made sure to book the room next to yours in case you needed anything. When you woke up in the morning, he would already be leaning next to your door with that wide boyish smile of his and his lilting “Good morning sunshine~” that evidently did things to your heart, escorting you to have breakfast together. Theo would show up to breakfast with his own bottle of syrup (Don’t even mention it. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t find the kind of syrup he liked in Spain so he got his own with him). The man was completely baffled to always find you there before him and also annoyed to see how sickeningly sweet Arthur was, doting on you a little more than he ever saw him do with any of the other skirts he’s ever pursued. This is not the normal kind of attention he gave a woman and as his best friend, this proved how deep Arthur had already fallen for you. He did throw in a few comments such as: “ Why are you treating her like a small pup? She can take care of herself. Unless she asked you to put her on a leash…”

If you thought you had fun in Paris, it was even more fun in Madrid! You went to multiple museums, galleries and countless restaurants, indulging both in the savoury and sweet of the city, getting the best taste of the city. It was hilarious seeing Arthur trying to communicate with the locals with that British accent of his and try to use whatever Spanish he caught from your brief discussions with Leonardo (where he thought he managed to catch a few words but he was horribly mistaken). You also somehow managed to get lost while going shopping, which made your time out and about together even longer. Not that either of you was complaining. You both had the time of your life and you both had smiles to match and confirm that statement.

Besides the fact that Arthur wouldn’t let go of your hand at any given moment when you were wandering the city, claiming that he wouldn’t find his way back to the hotel without you and that you were the only one that could keep him from getting lost. He also didn’t like how lots of men’s eyes lingered on you whenever they spoke to you (and the fact that he didn’t even understand what they were telling you didn’t bear well with him, he wasn’t having it at all) or just simply when you passed by and turned heads. This man was definitely not jealous (sarcasm) but he was not blind and he had eyes of his own to see just how beautiful you were, inside and out. He was just glad to be the one holding your hand, even though he held on to it “just as your friend”. Whenever Theo looked disgruntled and rolled his eyes at you two, Arthur always teased him and offered to hold his hand too if he didn’t want to feel left out, making the dutch man obviously grumble and walk away from you.

He should’ve known… He should’ve known and he beat himself over it, cursing his gloves as you were on the train, on the way back to France. While Arthur had excused himself to the restroom and decided to go get the three of you some coffee and treats, he comes back to find that you had fallen asleep… with your head on Theodorus’ shoulder. He was definitely not happy about the sight and his best friend could definitely see that, muttering a “Stop glaring at me like a rabid dog, klootzak. I don’t like this either.” Arthur stopped in his tracks, noticing how flushed your cheeks were and how your breathing was a little quicker than normal for someone who was asleep. Removing one of his gloves, he presses his palm against your forehead and your neck. You had a fever.

Arthur immediately gets into anxious doctor mode and tends to you however he can until you reach Paris, where he would be able to take care of you even better. Theo knew that this was not just some act. Arthur’s concern for you was real but it was way more than just a doctor’s oath to take care of his patients. Come on, Arthur. Who do you think you’re deceiving? He basically carried you to the carriage and also inside the mansion, giving out orders as nicely and calmly to Sebastian the moment he set foot in the mansion. He was composed, or at least, tried to be but he was also worried. A fever from exhaustion should not be taken lightly as it can turn into something worse if you didn’t get all the rest that you truly needed.

When you woke up…

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked only to find Arthur leaning on the side of your bed. “Why are you here? It looks like you haven’t slept for ages, Arthur.” You reached out and threaded yours fingers through his tousled hair. “I know you’re worried about me, Arthur. I promise you I’ll be just fine. I know you’ve been taking good care of me and you know…  It’s just exhaustion, right? There’s nothing for you to worry about it. I already feel much better thanks to you.”

The expression on his face was so soft and tender, a “wistful” smile drawn on his usually smirked lips. He held your hand, rubbing his leather-clad thumb smoothly over it before he kissed your knuckles gently. “Rest well, my love. I refuse to leave your side.” He bit the tip of his index, pulling out his glove from his other hand and leaned and reached to check your temperature, before leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead, sighing. “You’re still a tad warm but you are indeed better. I should’ve taken your word for it.”

“And should I take your word that you kissed me just because you wanted to check my temperature?”

With that irresistible boyish smile drawn on his handsome face, he chuckled like a schoolboy that has just been caught doing something wrong. That’s how he truly was deep down and it was refreshing just seeing him like that. “Guilty as charged.”  His striking blue eyes locked on yours before faltering a little too long on your lips as he licked his own and whispered softly - “I may have ulterior motives but I assure you, my intentions are as pure as they come.” - before capturing your lips in a much awaited kiss, so sweet and tender, pouring all the affection he ached to show you before, all the pent-up emotions he strained himself not to show you in his quest in being a good friend to you.

Arthur didn’t come out of that challenge a loser, but a winner. Getting the greatest prize… no, the most priceless thing he could ever ask for: you and your love. Although it cost him a bill of 2 years worth of alcohol expenses at the bar, he was more than happy to pay it.

This man will shower you with words of affection all day long, tell you he loves you, kiss you whenever he gets the chance, in public or in private, this man is absolutely taken by you and he doesn’t even mind it. He will call you: love, darling, my lovely poppet, my sunshine and even try to throw in a few Spanish pet names: cariña, mi amor and even mi sol. You always wondered why he always referred to you as his sun or sunshine but he told you that you brightened up his life, with your honesty, your intelligence and most importantly, the joy you brought into his life.

You were surprised to discover that Arthur was BIG on cuddling. There isn’t a night that goes by (or even a nap) without cuddling. It is not for naughty reasons, as opposed to what everyone else in the mansion might think, but more for reassurance that you will always stay by his side and leave. His worst nightmare is waking up and not finding you there, the day you realize that he’s not good enough of a man for you yet he will spend his every waking moment trying to be better for you, prove that he is more than what his reputation paints him to be. He is the man that loves you, cherished you and values you even more than his own writing.

Arthur does get quite jealous sometimes. He just can’t help it. For example: he gets jealous when you sometimes get all dreamy when you listen to Mozart composing. He’s one of the biggest figures in music history so it would only be natural for you to be in awe whenever you came across him. His music does help you with your writing especially when he plays very calm tunes. It’s nothing like anything you’ve experienced before and it’s so inspiring. Arthur would frown, pout and even sulk sometimes whenever he sees that another man has captured your attention in a way that he never could (and he looks absolutely adorable when he does, like a lost whiny puppy). He would wrap his arms around you and nuzzle you when you’re writing or simply rub his hand softly on your waist while he rests his head on yours or on your shoulder. He scrambles for ways to get part of your attention or get some reassurance from you without getting in your way or becoming an inconvenience.

Kisses of affection: your knuckles, your hand and your forehead.

Warning: NSFW ahead

His kinks: everything in the book. Anything you can imagine, he’s willing to do with you. If you don’t like it, he’s up to trying the next thing with you. But a few favourites of his are: cockwarming, roleplay, edging, overstimulation, edging, BDSM and body worship. Rest assured that he will ALWAYS keep things interesting between you.

Favourite place to bite you: your thighs.

He can be whatever you want him to be in bed, he is a switch after all. He’ll worship you endlessly when he’s in command and will whine and beg for you whenever you take the reins. All he wants is to be with you, it doesn’t matter how.

You are definitely the luckiest person in the mansion, ending up with the most versatile and open lover of them. He’s willing to do everything with you, and driven by his lust and love for you, he will dirty talk until you’re soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for him and sweet talk you to tears, overwhelming you with the sweetness of love.

#ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur conan doyle #ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle #ikevamp fluff #ikemen vampire fluff #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp matchup #ikemen vampire matchup #ikemen series #otome #cybird

[blps]

Let my hands guide you

Pairing: Akaashi x reader

Genre: fluff! And strangers to lovers

Summary: You meet Akaashi at a pottery store. (PLEASE TAKE NOTE THAT I NEVER DID POTTERY IN MY LIFE, SO PLEASE DON’T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY PLS)

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: ...... ok so I’m not sure I like this, the scenario in my head is way better so I might do a different one with pottery!Akaashi because I can hahaha; I hope you lovely people had a nice weekend and here’s a fic to handle the week! Enjoy!

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You opened the door to enter the shop. It was a pottery store where they taught classes for beginners, sold from every type of work from mugs, plates and vases to original decorative art pieces some students were willing to sell.

It was your first time to come here, a little intimidated by the beautiful artwork displayed. You shook that feeling away, determined to simply enjoy yourself and have fun creating something. A feeling of excitement washed over you, ready to try pottery for the first time.

A kind girl greeted you, showing you the way to the back, the workspace for classes and artists. You put on an apron and followed her to your assigned molding stand for hand building method of making pottery. She showed you the three main techniques; the pinch pot, coiling and slab.

Once she taught you every method and the use of each tool, you thanked her as she left you alone to concentrate on your work. It was fun and relaxing. Concentrating on the details of your pieces and handling the tools. It was strangely therapeutic. You made one bowl, one mini pot for one of your plants and, with the clay that was left, you made a small ladybug to go on the pot as decoration. You were proud of what you accomplished and turned to notify the nice girl but you couldn’t find her. You were nervous to explore and leave your familiar workplace. Thankfully, another staff member saw your distress.

“Do you need anything?”

He took your breath away. You couldn’t believe you got the chance to lay your eyes on his beauty. He glanced at your workspace and you remembered what your goal initially was.

“Oh, I just finished my clay and I was wondering if I could know how to finalise it?”

“Yes no problem. They are wonderful for a beginner,” he complimented you, making you even more confident in your new hobby,”I can take care of this for you. So first we’ll -”

He then proceeded to show you how to finalise your pottery, explaining everything methodically and clearly. You listened as he kept on talking, entranced by both of his looks and his words.

He notified you that it would take three to eight hours for the clay to harden. They would supervise your work, taking good care until your next visit. He accompanied you to the front desk as you paid for today’s expanses.

“I would also like to book another session, preferably one with an electric wheel?” you asked.

“Of course,” the pretty staff member smiled at you and proceeded to book you your next appointment.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You realised that you never asked for the pretty staff member's name. When you picked up your artwork, you didn’t see him for the entirety of painting your mug and pot. But even at that, you enjoyed brushing the paint on the clay and continuing your newfound hobby. Akaashi was forgotten at the back of your mind, too busy enjoying your new favourite activity.

You painted your mug your favourite colour and added some details to your liking. For your pot, you chose a nice blue colour to mimic the blue sky, a contrast to your plant’s different hues. Your ladybug sat nicely on the side of the pot. It might not look hyperrealistic, but it was still one you were proud of.

Your day finished well as you returned home with your new acquired creation. Putting your plant in the new pot, it was well decorated and a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction overcame you. Pottery made you happy and you were eager to start new projects in the future.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

For the next few sessions, you made various mugs and tableware for the shop. Making these allowed you to not pay for anything as you were producing for the shop. But of course, once in a while, you would create for your own place. Pottery soon became a regular activity of your weekly routine.

With how much you spent time there, you met the pretty staff member again, often at that. His name was Akaashi and he was the one who always put your clay to harden. He always complimented you on your work and helped you if you needed any advice. Akaashi quickly became a friend to you.

The nice girl who first taught you the basics, Yukie, was also a friendly person you could depend on.

Currently, you were frustrated because the clay wouldn’t do as you guided it to do. The shape you wanted to achieve was a challenge and the shape you had was all deformed and abstract. You turned off the power of the wheel and let out a sigh.

“Do you need any help?”

You gave Akaashi a desperate look, your eyes clearly saying yes. He smiled a little and pulled a seat facing you. He fixed the oddly shaped clay, and let your hands work. When you started to mess up the shape, Akaashi joined his hands over yours, guiding them to the proper movements of your shape. His hands were covered in clay, as were yours, but the gentle way his hands held yours made your heart skip a beat. His long fingers corrected your mistakes as he explained what you were doing wrong.

For the first time, your ears didn’t listen to him. You were surprised by how he held your hands so easily. His gaze was focused on the clay as he kept on rambling about pottery, but yours were on him. You noticed that everytime he talked about his passion, he got more talkative, having this eager tone that made his eyes light up.

Sensing that your hands were not moving and that you didn’t respond, he looks up, meeting your eyes. None of you could look away as nothing was said. The wheel continued to spin, the room was still noisy from other workers, but it seemed that the both of you were frozen in time, neither of you moving.

Then, someone bumped into you, from behind, making you fall forward into Akaashi. This seemed to wake you up from your trace as you quickly excused yourself and went to pack your stuff to go home.

Akaashi was still in the same position, looking at the door you left, wondering if you felt his heartbeat quickened.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You proceeded to avoid Akaashi for the next few days, too embarrassed to face him again. You came when he didn’t have a shift, Yukie keeping you company.

Pottery helped to take your mind off of him. You concentrated on making various creations, new pots for your new plants. The spinning of the wheel drifted your mind elsewhere, your surroundings fading away. Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice him.

“Can we talk?” You froze entirely. You already felt bad avoiding him, you might owe him an explanation.

You agreed, following him to a more private area of the store, your hands still tainted of clay. Akaashi on the other hand was dressed casually, the first time you saw his style. Of course he knew how to dress with style too. His only sign of nervousness was him playing with his fingers.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line when I touched your hands, I should’ve asked first, I-”

“That’s not it Akaashi,” he looked at you curiously, the script he memorised completely unnecessary, “When we held... well touched hands, I felt something that may cross the line of friendship. I needed time to myself-”

“What if I told you I also felt it”, your look of surprise met his, “If you are willing to try, for a relationship, I’m willing to try.”

You didn’t know what to say. Were you ready to be in a relationship with Akaashi? Would you risk your friendship? You did think he was handsome, and kind, and easy to go along with, and easy to open up to, and your heart was clearly affected by him. But was that enough? Maybe it was.

“I’m willing to try.” Your affirmation put a smile on Akaashi’s lips. Maybe, just maybe it was worth it.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x you #akaashi x you

[tatertotthethot]

The Doms Next Door 2.0

THIS IS A TEMPORARY REUPLOAD FOR THIS CHAPTER CUZ TUMBLR IS RAN BY A BUNCH OF BOTS. 2.1 HERE

Warnings/AN: frequent, casually cursing; comical, gay Jimin; insecure reader; steamy flirting; tattoo/sexualized Tae 🙃. Enjoy~ (TAEKOOK EDIT ABOVE IS ARTKOOK DONE BY NONCONMAN ON INSTAGRAM)

copyright © 2018 all rights reserved

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Your tires came to a stop outside of the tattoo shop you've seen online— a brick building, covered in spray paint and street-style art. A sign buzzed over the awning of the entrance doors, with the built-in UV lights and graffiti-styled font displaying the name of the place in neon-red letters. Kink For Ink! The name alone was what first caught your attention last week, when you Googled "Tattoo shops near me" and it pulled up a list, with "Kink For Ink" being the first option. It just seemed so uncanny and fitting at the time, considering the previous run-in you just had with the sex-crazed neighbors a couple nights before. You couldn't help but to click the link to their Instagram.

A profile came up with 53.4k followers, which immediately blew your mind... but you quickly saw why. Every tattoo and piercing, no matter the body-placement, skin-type, or quirky design, was vividly appealing— certainly done by the articulate hands of certified experts. Even in the comments of the piercings that were posted, people were praising them for the "minimal" amount of pain they experienced, despite the fact that some of piercings were done in places you couldn't even fathom the thought of having a needle jammed through.

It said in the bio that the shop is owned by the two artists that work there— Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. You couldn't find out much about them, all their pictures showed was their work. You even went back to search for a personal account of their own, but nothing came up. You then went back to the bio and clicked a link to the official website, hoping to find out something, but you were met with a disclaimer rule at the top that automatically deemed your chances of even getting your piece done by them, slim-to-none.

• No walk-ins allowed.

• Every request/idea must be sent in through the DMs of our Instagram page. You will only be accepted only if it spikes our personal interests.

Yikes; You were instantly discouraged by this. The piece you wanted was something so common and cliché, that you actually got the image out of a child's coloring book.... It was the cartoon layout of the glass vase and enchanted rose, from the Beauty and the Beast movie. Cheesy, yes. But it was something of personal, nostalgic value. You remember when you were little— roughly around 3 or 4 years of age— when your parents started fighting and would spend all day screaming and throwing things at each other, putting you in a constant state of anxiety. But then you'd go to bed at night and pop the VHS tape, and the movie never failed to put you in a peaceful state of mind— a hopeful one. It's remained as your all-time favorite love story throughout the years. Which, is ironic, considering that the relationship itself was different, but almost as dysfunctional as your parent's. However, the fact that even the Beast was capable of change, and everything wound up so perfect and happy in the end, makes your heart happy. And even now, at age 19, it still puts you in your feelings. The previous remake of a movie is what actually inspired you to get the enchanted rose as a tattoo, after seeing it in 3D not too long ago. But you're only willing to shell out up to $200 for it, at most. You've just started college, and even though Jimin's parents own the house and let the two of you live there, rent free, you're still responsible for half the utility bills from month to month. Blowing every bit of money you have saved up, right at the start of the semester, would just be irresponsible. But $200 was manageable, and you're looking for anything that'll give you a little extra "oomph" to break you out of this introverted shell you've always known. Pushing it off would just delay it, and you were ready for change. The nose piercing you want is just a small little thing that'll hopefully add a bit of flare to the features of your face. These two guys could probably do the piercing/tattoo with a blindfold on and a hand tied behind their back. So, if it meant that you'd be able to get these things done in confidence, without having to worry about the outcome, you figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least ask, even if they straight-up ignore you. So, after spending an unnecessary amount of time overthinking the wording of your text, you finally constructed a message in your notes and DM'd it to business page, after sending them a small, simple outline of the cartoony rose, and pressed send.

• You: Hello! I've been wanting to get this tattoo done for a very while now, and was hoping one of you will be willing to do it for me... along with piercing my nose? I know it's a very mediocre and cliché piece, and a nose piercing can be done anywhere. But I'm new to the area and I've never gotten a tattoo/piercing done before and I haven't really checked out any other places either because I found this page first. And from what I can see, you guys are pretty efficient and CRAZY talented. So, I trust it'll get done right.... only if you want to! I'm willing to pay $200 for this, but if it costs that much for just the outline I've sent then that's fine as well. But I understand if neither of you want to do it cuz that is really cheap compared to the ones I've seen lol. But either way, thx for ur time 😁

A few minutes went by and you had just unlocked your phone to check the message again, when the word "seen" popped below the message. You held your breath for a second— but seconds turned to minutes, and time went by with no reply, what-so-ever. You figured maybe you sounded a little too immature to take seriously; kind of like a prepubescent 12-year-old asking someone out for a dance... and you blew it. Which was disappointing, but predictable. So fuck it. Maybe it's a sign; you shouldn't get it after all.

11pm rolled around, many hours later. You were now hiding beneath your covers, beginning your "amateur threesome" exploration on PornHub. You were ready to see what this whole "2 guys, 1 girl" thing was all about. But just when you were about to type it into the search bar, you were interrupted by an Instagram notification dropping down from the top of your screen.

"KinkForInk sent you a message."

You audibly gasped, eyes turning to saucers as you clicked on the notif and switched over to the Instagram app.

• KinkForInk: Hi (Y/N). This is Tae, one of the artists of the shop. The tattoo you sent in is worth roughly $100... but I want to run an offer by you in hopes that you'll be interested.

— Your brows scrunched in oddity, stomach fluttering. An offer? For you?

• You: Okay, sure. What's that?

• KinkForInk: I've been looking for someone willing to showcase the custom design I've come up with, specifically for a much more... exclusive version of the Beauty and the Beast tattoo you sent. And if you'd be down for letting me and my partner put it on you, it'll be free. No charge. BUT you'll also have to sign a contract saying that you'll do a little bit of modeling for us once it's done. You think you'd be in to doing something like that, even if you get it?

— Your head spun for a second, reading the message over and over again until you could fully wrap your mind around what he was saying.

• You: Hold on... YOU wanna put a tattoo on ME so that I model for you? And it's FREE? Are you sure about this? I'm not even model material lol.

• KinkForInk: Yes, yes, and yes, you are. You'd be perfect for this.

• You: How do know that? Is it a face tattoo? Cuz I only have 6 selfies on here and you can't see anything past my shoulders.

—"Seen" came up as soon as you hit send, but a couple of minutes rolled by with no reply to the message, nor was he even typing. Maybe you came off a little rude. But it was already sketchy and it was a logical question.

— An image suddenly popped up: a screenshot of your Facebook profile. Then another— and much to your horror, it was the photo Jimin tagged you in last week, when the two of you were swimming at a local community pool. You were wearing a simple two piece, sitting at the foot of the lawn chair Jimin was also sitting in, as his legs were visible on either side of you and his lap was practically framing your ass. The photo was at an upward angle and looked so scandalous— but really, you had just asked Jimin to put sun screen on your back and he didn't want to stand up because the pavement was too hot against his bare feet. But you actually liked the picture at the time; it was just a silly joke and your ass actually looked quite nice from that angle. Plus, everyone knows nothing sexual actually goes on between the two of you, for obvious reasons. But Taehyung doesn't, so you couldn't help but dreadfully cringe when you saw the caption of the screen shot.

"Babymama 💦🍆"

• KinkForInk: Is this you??

• You: Yes, that's me. The caption is a joke tho... pay no mind to that. But this is like, really happening? You really think it'd look good on me?

— Why that picture though? You couldn't help but wonder.

• KinkForInk: Yes. Like I said, you're perfect for this piece. Are you down to at least see what the tattoo will look like? We don't expect you to be experienced with modeling or anything, but if you listen to us and cooperate, you'll do just fine.

• You: Yes I wanna see, and I'll do the best I can if I decide to get it... I'm just a bit shy, is all.

• KinkForInk: You'll be in good hands. I promise.

• You: Okay... are you going to show me??

• KinkForInk: Can't send it over a message, I don't want it plagiarized or the concept stolen. But the piece itself isn't necessarily crazy or anything, just more creative. I'd be more than happy to show you at my shop some day this week, if you'd be willing to swing by.

• You: Yeah, I can do that. When should I come?

• KinkForInk: Are you available after 5 tomorrow?

• You: I am, I get off at 4:30.

• KinkForInk: Great. Be here by 5:30, and make sure you've eaten in case you like the piece and wanna get started. It's pretty big for a first timer and gonna take a lot of time and patience. It'll have to be done in sessions but I hope you have a fair enough pain tolerance to at least get the outline of it done first.

— It can't be any worse than a bikini wax, you thought, shivering at the memory. That a story for another time. You decided on an alternative scenario.

• You: I give blood from time to time... but that's easy and doesn't really hurt that much. I think I can handle it though... maybe. I honestly don't know lol, I'm sorry 😣. But I can try my best. Can I ask where it's supposed to go?

• KinkForInk: That's okay, I'll work with you. It's supposed to go down the middle of your back. Starts between the center of your shoulder blades, and trails down the length of your spine to your lower lumbar. You'll see how it looks once we transfer a template on your back. But if you don't like it, there will be no hard feelings from my end. I can still do the tattoo you want if that's the case, free of charge just for your time.

• You: Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'd still pay!

• KinkForInk: Not if I don't accept your money. Trust me, I'm not worried about it. The nose piercing is gonna be $30 regardless, though. JK isn't so lenient.

• You: Of course. Will I have to take my shirt and bra off for the tattoo?

• KinkForInk: Yes, and for the pictures once it's done.

— Your mind blanked at that; thumbs froze over the keypad. He was typing again.

• KinkForInk: Don't let that discourage you. Again, you're in good hands. You can bring something to cover your chest. And the pics will be if your back as well.

• You: Okay, I can handle that. So 5:30 tomorrow?

• KinkForInk: Yes, please don't flake on us!

• You: Lol, I won't. I'll be there.

"They're gonna knock us the fuck out and sell our organs to the black market," Jimin declared. He had parked next to you outside of the shop, and was now sitting in the driver seat of his car with his door locked and windows all the way up, refusing to get out. You were standing right outside his door, still having to talk on the phone. "And is this Tae-guy an AllState representative or something?"

Jimin is petty. You wanted him here for moral support— which he's usually reliable for— but this time, he's just plain salty right and doing everything he can to remind you of that. Reason is, he's been begging you to get a matching tattoo with him ever since your 18th birthday, and you've always refused because of what he wanted to get.

Cupcakes. Jimin wanted to get matching cupcake tattoos... in honor of Cupcakke the legend. Sorry, but H E L L no.

You rolled your eyes, growing frustrated. He only has enough time to pop in and confirm that these two aren't gonna kill you, and then he's gotta head home to get ready for work. You were already supposed to be in there. It was 5:33pm, 3 minutes past the time.

"Jimin, you're the one that insisted on coming along! And now you're making me late!" you ranted. "I'm going in without you."

"Hold your horses, hoe! I'm finishing my blueberry slushie," He retorted, sassily bringing the straw to his mouth and loudly slurping it into the phone. He then abruptly flinched away from the straw with a disgusted expression, nostrils flared, body locking up; lips drawing into an air-tight knot that was so extreme and unnatural, it caused an ugly snort to break out of your nose.

He smacked his lips in exaggeration to the taste, face falling back into stone as an eyebrow arched over the top of his aviators; unamused and saltier than before... Like you were at fault for that, too.

"Or... Blueberry-ass, I should say."

That forced another giggle out of you as Jimin stiffly rolled his window down, phone still pressed to his ear and eyes still scowling at you behind the inspector shades. He bit down on the straw and withdrew it with his teeth before dumping the dark-blue contents of the drink out of the window, making it a point to shake the styrofoam cup empty of every drop before tossing it over his shoulder and into back seat. He then spat the straw out of his mouth with an audible "PLUUUUH!" of a French accent, and waited until the window rolled all the way up again, just so he could hang up the phone. You scoffed at this as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, scornfully watching Jimin exit the car and slam the door behind him. He snatched his glasses off his face as his cotton-candy hair swayed in the breeze, revealing his scornful eyes right back at you as he gestured for you to lead the way in exasperated manner— as if you were the one wasting his time now.

"Go on, lead us to the grave," He shooed, a snippy little shit. You sauntered away, walking up the side of the shop, then paused just before reaching the glass entrance door, when you remembered how much of a coward you are. You've never even stepped into a parlor before, and supposedly, this was a famous one. Which makes it more and more surreal when you think about it.

"Are we doing the mannequin challenge now? Is that what we're doing?" Jimin sardonically inquired.

"You go first, I'm nervous!" You whisper-hissed.

"You don't want me to go in there first— I'll show out," he reasoned, simply stating a fact.

"Please don't," you whined.

"Then, again, I'll show out?" He reiterated, as if to say duh. "How else am I supposed to break the ice? I look like Timmy Turner's Fairy-Gay- Parent."

You gave him a wary look... he's right. You sighed, slightly kicking your foot in distracted defeat. Fuck, you hated making an entrance to new places—

"Hold up— is that Drake?" Jimin suddenly blurted, holding his hand up to silence you. You honed in on the muffled track playing from behind the glass door, and Jimin's face soon light up like a Christmas tree before he spun around you, unstoppable.

"Jimin, NO—!"

"KIKI, DO YOU LOVE ME—?!"

It was already too late. The door was flying back behind him as he Milly-Rocked his way into the shop, leaving you no choice but the chase in behind him.

"—ARE YOU RIDING? SAY YOU'LL NEVA-EVA LEAVE FROM BESIDE ME— hello there."

You were panting, coming to a stop right behind Jimin, where you instantly latched on to the back of his shirt as you met the face of the man behind the studio counter. And, as corny as this is gonna sound: the world actually stilled for a solid beat... or maybe you were in the verge of cardiac arrest.

A pair of glossy-Black eyes looked up at the two of you; A series of silver-studded earrings trailed along the outer cartilages, peaking out beneath a head of soft, layer-swept hair. It was a Carmel-tinted blonde in color— thick and shaggy, and neatly spilling in waves around a headband that proudly sported a high-dollar brand-name you've never seen anyone wear in person before. G U C C I, it read— Meaning that the headband alone was probably worth more than some of your college text books, put together. It sat just a few inches above a pair of dark brows, that oddly brought out the shape of his cat-like eyes— irises like polished marbles. His ample lips had a sharp, well-defined Cupid's-bow, and a natural shade of pink that fit the porcelain appearance of his melanin-kissed complexion, to the finest degree.

And here you are, looking like an actual bum. You had just enough time to clock out of work and head straight over here to make it in time. You didn't even have any makeup on, and the only thing hiding your raggedy hair from those captivating eyes is your old baseball cap from high school. It took a second for him to take the bold presence that was Park Jimin— who was also frozen to the spot as he openly checked the guy out. He was hunched over the counter, a v-neck hoodie covering the rest of him with a thin, loose-fitting material. It was Black and allowed a full visual of his tan neck, and prominent collar bones. And it certainly didn't hide the fact that he had a pair of wide-set shoulders, either. A pencil sat in his hand— one that was laced with masculine veins, and lot of decorative ink. There was a silver ring on his thumb.. and a very heavy-looking Rolex watch.

The man cracked a grin at Jimin— a boxy one that dimpled in at the corners.

"Love the hair," he humorously began, twisting a quirky eyebrow at Jimin. You subconsciously snagged the bill of your hat as your eyes went a little wide at how mature the man's voice was.

"Love the watch," Jimin retorted, then reached around and gripped you by the wrist before pulling you into full view beside him. "You wouldn't happen to be Taehyung...?"

"Mhm," the man hummed, absentmindedly moving his wrist at the mention of his watch. His eyes cut over to you, and you swore you could see a minuscule reflection of yourself in his eyes, before they flashed back at Jimin and blinked. "You must be the babydaddy?"

Blood rushes to your ears. It's really him... a guy who looks like a high-dollar model himself, asking you to be his canvas model. Your own conscious didn't even know what to say right now. So you stayed quiet and still as Jimin took charge... which was a mistake.

"She wishes, but no. I'm the best-friend— and a gay one, at that," Jimin replied, and you knew he did that for his benefit. Thot. "I'm just here to make sure you're not gonna sacrifice her to Satan, or anything of that nature. I need her around in case I ever forget the Netflix password."

Taehyung chuckled at that, mouth opening to reveal a row of teeth shinier than Chip Skylark's. But then, you caught something behind his teeth that caused your gut to leap. A silver ball... a tongue ring. Your thoughts clouded over for a second.

"Well, I can assure you, she's safe with me," he said, looking over at you again. You blinked, nothing more. His brow arched at your lack of response, but this time, it was done more handsomely as he was still smirking at you. "Still, you don't look too thrilled to be here... You sure you wanna do this?"

"She's just nervous because you're really fucking hot," Jimin announced, unyielding. "You should feel how sweaty her hand is."

"Don't listen to him— I'm gay too," You lied in panic, trying to defend yourself from the absolute truth Jimin spoke just then. You snatched your hand away from him and jutted a finger at the door, eyes beading and lid twitching as your nerves ran amuck. "Goodbye, Jimin."

"She's a lonesome hetero," Jimin told Taehyung, assuring him with a face that showed no bluff. "One look at her camera roll, and you'd see for yourself—" You were yanking him away by the arm now, in a tug-of-war game that Jimin obviously could've won if he really wanted to. But he figured you suffered enough and eventually let you drag him out of the shop, waving bye to Taehyung before turning to look at you with beading eyes.

"I think he wants to fuck you— text me as soon as you can," Jimin uttered with unmoving lips as before he walked to his car. You stopped for a second, noticing he was actually being serious. How could he possibly think that he wants to fuck you, just from that small encounter? And what is the odd sensation currently coiling in your stomach? Things grew awkward again when you re-entered the shop, coming to a stand at the same spot... only alone now. He was still amused, it seemed. And so calm and cool despite this odd, intense look in his eyes. It gave him a Casanova effect, where all he had to do was give you that look and it'd instantly make you blush.

"He seems like a fun person to be around," he noted, somewhat honestly, but more so making fun of the red-hot appearance of your face.

"He's a pain in the ass," you muttered, trying to conjure up a smirk but hardly even able to speak properly from how dry your mouth was. It felt like there was a white-hot iron expanding in your throat. "I'm really sorry about him."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're here— thought you'd chicken out." You nervously wiped your clammy palms over the back pockets of your jeans as Taehyung got up from the barstool behind the counter and approached you on the other side of it, a whole head-and-a-half taller than you. He was wearing black cardigan jeans and matching combat boots.. his headband and jewelry the only thing not black on him. And oddly enough, he made it look fucking fantastic.

"Mh-mm," You hummed, not trusting your voice. You've never needed a sip of water so bad in your life— he even smelled expensive.

"Well, It's very nice to meet you," he formerly began, and you mustered up the normality of placing your (dried) hand into his much larger one, as he held his out to you in greeting. And boy, was he close. So close that the heels of your spine itches to lean back from the proximity.

"It's nice to meet you, too. I'm really sorry if I'm acting weird. I'm just nervous." — Your mind struggled to stay focused on your words, arm tensing at the skin-to-skin contact. You were extra-effected by the firmness in his grip. You really wanted to look down at all the bold ink you saw dashing across the veiny surface of his tanned hand, or see if those were images or scripted letters on the knuckles of lengthy fingers... But you were held captive by those God-blessed eyes... And that fucking tongue ring. It was infecting your head in ways that weren't necessarily healthy for your current state of mind, as you saw it peering in and out at certain words.

"And physically shaking," Taehyung pointed out, brows twitching down at your trembling hand in his as if he was concerned for it. But his smirk gave off an odd sense of fascination to the involuntary symptom, like it was cute or something? Hm. He glanced back up at you, causing your dehydrated throat to bob as his other hand came to clasp over the rest of yours, swallowing it completely from the wrist down. "Intimidated?"

"V-Very," you spluttered, a small slither of saliva copulating down your throat as you looked back up at him. He absentmindedly rolled his tongue ring over the button row of his teeth as he watched you with tainted eyes— undoubtably getting cocky with that damn grin of his and proudly teasing you about your reaction to him. It gratified the effortless sex-appeal he had. You were even beginning to imagine that tongue ring elsewhere, and you literally just met him. Then, as you felt the band of a ring move along with the pad of his thumb as gently ran it across your trembly knuckles, chills shot up all the way to your shoulder. Oh... oh wow. You glanced down at his knuckles on reflex this time, and saw a four-letter word scripted in black ink across the bottom row of his knuckles, and another word scripted on the middle section of his fingers. A silver band on his naked thumb. STAY TRUE, it said.

"And why's that?"

"I.. feel like you're a celebrity," you sheepishly admitted, your other hand wedging into your back pocket as you had to stop yourself from reaching for the bill of your hat again. Is he flirting? The words seem too innocent for the way he was making you feel. It was getting so hot in the oven of his massive palms, and he wasn't even squeezing you hard enough to cut off any circulation, but yet your fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Mm, no. Just a little popular, really," he granted, teetering his head a little as he pondered the thought. You could see his vocal chords contract in his sleek neck as they project his smooth, pungent voice. "You still trust me?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. He'd gotten even closer, to where his hand had gone into a prayer stance around yours. You were aware of how wide your eyes had gone from the awe you... you knew this was just the beginning. He was going to be very handsy throughout this whole process. But in a very twisted way, you were more than okay with that. Even if it meant you were at risk of fainting from actual dehydration. Maybe you were in over your head. But you couldn't will yourself away from this now. And then, just as a wide, heart-stopping smile edged out on that mind-numbingly handsome face, the door at that back of the room swung open, and heavy-metal rock blasted through the quiet vibe of the scenery and caused you to jump a little at the disturbance. Taehyung shot a wicked smile over his shoulder, and his next words nearly knocked you out right then and there as you beheld yet another, breathtaking sight.

"Oh, there you are," Tae eagerly acknowledged, one hand still holding yours as he walked around to grab your with the other, presenting you to the.. hulking presence in the room. "This is (Y/N), our next little experiment."

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg yall remember mark from bt

Heads Up- Part 17 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"What do you mean I can't bring him--it-- home tonight?" Joseph complained to Mark, the gallery's maintenance man.

"Sorry there, Mr. Joestar," replied Mark, scratching his head. "It's part of the rules, that all the art must be kept for tomorrow's judging."

Joseph felt worried about Caesar staying all night in the gallery. He'd never been away from Joseph for long ever since he'd first come to life.

He went over to Caesar and whispered to the motionless sculpture.

"I'm really sorry, Cae...you're gonna have to stay here a while..."

"It's you I should worry about, I'll be fine," Caesar quickly whispered back before freezing again.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow, Cae," Joseph said with a smile, gently stroking the bust's hair. "I promise."

Mark just happened to be walking by as he was closing up the gallery for the night.

"Who...who are you talking to?" he asked Joseph, perplexed.

Without another word Joseph hurriedly strolled away whistling not-so-innocently, leaving Mark staring confused and wondering just what was going on.

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

Caesar was all alone.

The gallery was dark as it was shut off for the night, but there were a few lights still left on for the evening, dimly illuminating the gallery brightly enough to still see by.

And there seemed to be no one around.

Caesar sat on his low-slung pedestal, looking curiously around the hall. For the first time, he got to appreciate the gallery, in essence a museum in itself, displaying hundreds of works of art created by students both former and current, works of art that came in all shapes, mediums and styles.

Including himself.

There was nothing for him to do the whole night, but rock back and forth on his neck base, quietly humming to himself. And if there was something Caesar despised, it was getting bored.

He looked down from the low-slung table that served as his pedestal toward the floor. It was no higher than the coffee table in Joseph's living room.

It was probably worth the risk.

Closing his eyes tightly, Caesar pushed off against the table with his neck as hard as he could, curling his neck down mid-jump as he fell to catch the landing with his base.

A loud slap echoed across the empty hall.

It didn't hurt much.

This was the highest Caesar had ever jumped, and for a moment he felt a frightening, yet exciting, thrill as he fell, and safely landed upright on his varnished base.

Thank goodness for Joseph's handiwork.

Now onto the floor, and realizing that downward jumps weren't actually as bad as they seemed, Caesar was free to explore.

There was a lot he wanted to look at.

---------

For the first time, Caesar felt he was lacking.

Inside Joseph's small, cramped apartment, he didn't have a lot of hopping to do to get from one place to another. But this gallery he found himself in was different. It was spacious. Vast, even.

And suddenly Caesar felt how inadequate his bouncing was.

It took quite a lot of effort to move any considerable distance, made worse by the different art pieces he wanted to see being spaced far apart. He didn't ache or feel out of breath, such afflictions being reserved for those with muscles and lungs-- but still, his progress was slow, each hop moving him but a few inches, and, though normally content with his situation, couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated.

It was hard work just getting to the next hallway across, and Caesar scoffed dryly knowing that Joseph with his long, strong legs could make that journey in a quarter of the time and a fraction of the effort.

But he wasn't mad at Joseph, for not giving him arms and legs.

He knew he was perfect in Joseph's eyes.

Still, it was quite inconvenient when it came to going around spaces bigger than an apartment.

Caesar paused his hops as he realized that the neighboring hall he had entered was an exhibit of sculptures. Clay sculptures like himself, arranged on shelves and pedestals, some with bodies, some with half-torsos, some busts like he was.

Except they weren't alive.

Caesar felt an uncomfortable shiver as he continued hopping forward. Was this tantamount to him being in a hall of corpses? Caesar shuddered at the thought.

But his curiosity overcame the morbid idea and he continued to look around the dimly-lit hallway. The sculptures, towering above him, looked sinister and eerie in the faint light, but though intimidating Caesar found a strange fascination with them.

As he hopped by, he couldn't help but laugh at imagining himself being built as the other statues.

One, a statue of a man, was limbless like he was, but had a torso. A sculpted, muscular torso with well-defined pectorals and chiseled abs, though with a body truncating at the waist and only a pair of empty knobs for arms. Caesar imagined, amused, at the thought of Joseph having created him with a figure worthy of a magazine model, though he wondered how he'd even hop with the extra weight.

Another, a statue of a woman, was clad in robes and had two delicate arms, tipped with slender-fingered hands folded as if in prayer. It, however, too ended at a flat base at the waist. Caesar wondered if he'd have hands, but not legs, and whether it would be easier, if quite disturbing-looking, if he could crawl.

And then there was another statue, one complete with limbs, adorned with both arms, as well as both legs. Yet it lacked a head. This one deeply unsettled Caesar a bit, imagining himself in its place: sure, with a full complement of limbs, but devoid of sight, hearing and speech...even now, Caesar thought, he was better off than that. To be prisoner within his own mind-- assuming he'd have a mind at all.

It was odd how Caesar looked at the different sculptures and saw himself in them. Those with bodies more complete, and those with less. Perhaps it was fortunate that they weren't granted the curse, or blessing, of being alive and aware.

He hopped onward through the hall of sculptures, coming to a shelf where several clay models, including two busts, rested on a shelf, behind a wall of glass. The lifeless busts' eyes stared vacantly from behind their transparent prison, and Caesar couldn't help but be unsettled by the thought.

Was this the fate that awaited him?

To be kept in a case and be admired for the rest of his life--at the expense of getting to truly be alive?

To be sealed away in what was in essence a tomb?

And what would they do to him if he revealed that he could speak and move? Would they treat him with as much personhood as Joseph did to him?

So many uncomfortable questions plagued Caesar's mind as his reality sank in. He was an art project. Like them, made of clay. Yet he was special.

But how much of a person did that make him?

Caesar's thoughts were interrupted when he saw the sign on the display, bearing an image of their creator.

Anthonio Zeppeli.

A face identical to his own grinned down from a framed photo on the wall next to the shelf case, save for lacking the pink dots he bore on his cheeks-- and possessing a body.

His eyes fixated on the image of Anthonio's hands, folded across his lap in the image.

Hands that created these figures he beheld before him.

Hands that were extensions of his will that manifested his talent.

Hands that Caesar, perhaps Anthonio reborn, woefully lacked.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen, Caesar thought, slightly bitterly.

--------

Mark awoke in the maintenance office of the gallery. He'd dozed off for a few minutes and suddenly snapped awake.

He heard a noise.

"It can't be", he grumbled to himself. "There's nobody there."

He picked up a flashlight and headed out into the hall to investigate.

"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone there?"

Perhaps it was some kid who'd snuck in late at night. Or probably just a small nocturnal animal.

He heard distinct noises, like a series of faint, strenuous grunts accompanying heavy, squeaky thumps.

"Show yourself!" Mark demanded, shining his flashlight forward.

--------

Caesar suddenly realized he wasn't alone, as the beam of the flashlight came shining over the corner of the hall.

It was that Mark guy.

Caesar panicked as he realized how far he'd gotten from his original pedestal. There was no way he could get back up there once he'd jumped down.

Caesar cursed himself under his breath for not thinking that through.

The footsteps came ever closer, and Caesar desperately tried to hop away, trying to find a place to hide.

But he knew his hopping was in vain, as he could by no means outrun a person with legs, be it Suzi a month ago or this maintenance man at this very moment. And his movement made quite a bit of noise, his thumping only serving to alert Mark of his whereabouts.

Cornered and with no other options, Caesar did the only sensible thing left to do.

He froze in place in the middle of the hall, just as Mark rounded the corner and shone the flashlight beam at his face.

"What the--?" Mark said in surprise. "How'd this get here?"

There was only a bust in the center of the hallway, motionless and lifeless as all the rest. On its face was fixed the same defiant glare as before-- though this time, it seemed to be staring right at him.

Mark gulped nervously.

"Huh, better just get this thing back where it ought to be," he said, picking up the bust with both hands. It was heavy and took some exertion to lift, and as he held it by its neck base, it felt strangely warm to the touch.

"Huh, which one was this on again?" he pondered. He scoured the gallery for any missing pieces, until he finally located Caesar's original, labeled table, strikingly empty.

"Ah, yes, Joestar's sculpture," he said, setting the bust back down onto the pedestal.

Mark scratched his head. This was most extraordinary.

Clay sculptures didn't just wander off on their own like that. Especially busts, they didn't even have limbs.

Mark thought his mind was just playing tricks on him.

"I better call this a night," he groaned, heading back to the office as soon as he knew Joseph's artwork was secure.

And as soon as he was safely, and comfortably, out of sight, and out of earshot, Caesar sighed in relief.

This was enough exploring for one day.

---------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #gingerreggg #hands of life au #caejose #caesar x joseph #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #heads up

[myentertainmentthoughts]

My Little Pony - I watched all 9 seasons (and you should too)

Back in college I went from watching a YouTube video joking about My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic to actually watching the show for myself and realizing that it’s unironically fantastic. I can’t pinpoint an exact year for this, but I imagine it be roughly around 2012? Well, now that it’s 2021, I can finally write down my final thoughts on the show having finished it last year. I picked up where I had left off many years ago, and it’s definitely a come-full-circle feeling.

When people think of the MLP brand, especially as it regards MLP: Friendship is Magic, there’s usually only 2 associations that will pop into someone’s mind. Either its target audience of little girls, or worse - the internet phenomenon that was brony culture. Adult men in their 20s and 30s who tuned into the show and used the jokes within the writing & animation on 4chan and other internet boards. Of course there’s definitely more to the brony aspect of the fandom than meets the eye, and any negative stereotypes arising from this association are just that. Stereotypes.

But I think as cringey as the most extreme aspects of what I will refer to as “bronydom” are, I think that these 2 vastly different demographics really does touch on what makes MLP: Friendship is Magic so special. This show that was clearly geared for kids touches on so many universal themes (and does so shockingly well), that anyone can find appreciation for it. And the show deserves nothing less than that - the art style is appealing as all heck, the characters are extraordinarily charming, and the storylines are compelling. 

Of course, I will take the time to lay out that the show is at its strongest when looking at the personalities of the core cast of characters - or as they’re best known - The Mane Six. (Yes - that’s mane - not main, haha)

The main protagonist of the show is the unicorn Twilight Sparkle, who excels in academics and is exceptionally talented in magic. But she lacks socialization with her peers, and is sent by her mentor Princess Celestia to the town of Ponyville to make some friends. While there, she meets the rest of the gang -

Rainbow Dash, a brash and athletic pegasus who dreams to join Equestria’s most elite flyers - the Wonderbolts.

Applejack - a hardworking and steadfast earth pony who helps run her family’s farm - Sweet Apple Acres.

Rarity - a beautiful and fashion forward unicorn who runs her business, Carousel Boutique in Ponyville.

Fluttershy - the sweet and bashful pegasus who has a special talent for caring and connecting to all creatures big and small.

And Pinkie Pie - a spirited and party loving earth pony, whose biggest passion is to make those around her smile and laugh.

These are classic character archetypes, and while MLP: Friendship is Magic boasts solid writing, it cannot boast innovation on that front. But each of the characters do have enough individuality and depth that there are plenty of instances where they veer from their archetype qualities.

Most notably, these characters’ personalities are all flawed - something that is hugely relatable to everyone - children and adults alike.  Our flaws define us as much as our strengths. And accordingly, our flaws lead us into conflict. The show is surprisingly realistic about how much that plays into friendships and laying out the lessons to learn from that. While these lessons may be newer to the youngsters that the show is meant to target, they are lessons that should speak strongly to adults as well. After all, we never stop running into conflicts in our relationships, even as we grow older. It’s an achingly human quality that follows us throughout our life. So is it really that surprising when you see the adult demographic that enjoys this “little girls show”?

Furthermore, throughout the 9 year run time of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, these conflicts are explored from the show’s beginning to its end thoroughly, and while the cast still consistently must resolve conflicts in each episode, the core cast of characters do not remain the same. They each grow significantly and evolve into mentor and leadership roles. They all take steps to achieving their goals and dreams - together.

It’s the perfect formula to a long lasting IP. And while certain jokes and gags did get old in the later seasons of the show, and sometimes the writers were a little overzealous in creating character decisions made for arbitrary conflict - fundamentally the writing holds up to the very end. I believe that is specifically due to the poignant quality of the show’s theme: Friendship is not always the easiest to uphold, but the best friendships do make life so much richer and wonderful. Good friendships are worth the work of keeping strong and alive. We are better together than alone.

So as an adult, is it worth checking out this show, beyond the internet culture aspect to it? I would say that anyone who gives the show a legitimate chance will be shocked at how much there is to latch onto and get value out of. There are 9 seasons worth of pop culture references and homages, a gaggle of great side characters (in addition to the core cast), and surprisingly epic moments that had me comparing fight sequences in My Little Pony to fight sequences in shonen anime arcs, and the MCU. (I’m not kidding about that either - this show has insane lore and I recommend this YouTube video series on it: The Complete My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Timeline (2020) if you want to see the history of Equestria in chronological order. In addition to any epic story arcs, the world building in this show is actually quite massive.)

Now admittedly, the show did go through a couple of unnecessary overhaul arcs to keep it alive for longer (as all long running TV shows can be guilty of). But MLP is less egregious in its quality dip than a LOT of other TV content that I’ve consumed. The ending does wrap everything into a neat little bow that as a fan, I was pretty happy with, and I think newcomers into the franchise will be pleased as well.

Ultimately, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic IS something very special. But only can be benefited from, by those who are open minded to seriously consume it. Cheers to my wrapping the show up and giving the later seasons a fair chance. Though it’s outclassed by some other animated content, I would say few to none outclass it within its own genre. And few outclass it even within the confines of animated television as a whole.  Friendship forever. :)

#my little pony #my litte pony friendship is magic #mlp friendship is magic #series review #mlp fim #twilight sparkle #fluttershy #rarity #rainbow dash #applejack #pinkie pie