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buck-nialled · 4 years

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A niall imagine about being inside with him while all This crazy is going on super fluffy

i dont know if you had a particular idea in mind but Y/N is a lil artsy in this one and it is fluffy per your request SO HERE YA GO ANON ENJOY :)) (oh and this also is based around niall’s 3-4hr live he did the other night on insta)

Charcoal Kisses - N. Horan Imagine

It was without a doubt the longest live stream Niall had done in his entire career on Instagram, but he was awake with nowhere to be the next morning along with most of his audience currently attending, so nobody had any real complaints with it. As he perused the song ideas his fans were listing which consisted of various numbers, you sat beside him in your shared bed, a sketchbook you had been meaning to break in for a while now lied in your hands, practically untouched. All the viewers could really see of you was your knee in the frame as you crossed both of your legs together. It was not until Niall readjusted his phone, leaned back and began strumming familiar-sounding chords and busting a rhyme here and there that most of your body was now in view of the twenty thousand people tuning in.

Of course, they begin freaking out, unbeknownst to you who was too caught up in peeking subtle glances now and then at Niall’s head, tilted down slightly. Once you paused your rough sketch to look up at him once more, though, his eyes were already locked onto you and it ignited a vicious fire in your cheeks. “Do ya want to say hi?” Niall questions, before he aims his chin directly to his mobile phone which had picked up every movement from the two of you.

“Oh,” how long had you been in that frame? “Hello,” you send a shy wave to the camera, as a new barrage of comments rolls down the screen. Some were asking what exactly you were doing with the book of blank paper and line of drawing pencils beside you. Though you thought the answer was seemingly obvious, Niall read one of these aloud, therefore making you answer anyway.

“Just drawing.” You were no Picasso, Kahlo, or Warhol by any means. But you did find the activity a relaxing one and have improved most on realism since beginning your venture into the artistic side of yourself. As expected, the comments kept asking what the subject of your sketch was, as if the concentrated looks you had been giving the side of Niall’s face all night weren’t big enough clues. Once again, he passes along the message and asks you himself, “yeah love what are you drawing?” His body leans in closer to yours as his eyes try to peek over the book and take a gander at your drawing. You refused to have him look at it yet, though, and defensively clutched the book to your chest as one of your feet, shielded with a fuzzy sock, comes up and pushes his torso back to where he was originally sitting. Niall decided not to fight it anymore after you rebuke “you don’t let me listen to a song before it’s finished.”

But toward the end of the night, after Niall and you shared a mini-reunion with Julia over the screen, with the thousands of people remaining, you were content with the product in your hands.

“Okay, I think it’s done.” Somehow, Niall still has not caught onto the fact that you were drawing him. Unless his poker face had gotten immensely more believable these past few weeks and you just have not taken notice. But some fans speculated it was him, and were correct, but you did not want to spoil the surprise for the other viewers and more importantly Niall.

“One, two, three!” In a deft move, the sketchbook is spun around in your grip to face Niall, who was looking back at his present-day self. A small gasp left his lips as they slightly parted, before squinting at all of the shading you paid particular detail to and displayed with the charcoal pencils at your disposal.

“Damn, babe.” He whispered, which of course got you smiling all giddy. Now you knew how he felt when you kept finding every possible way to word how much you loved each song on his new album on the day he finally played them for you. From the audience’s view, the angle at which you were holding showed them only a portion of the black and white page. However, it did not take long for the beloved fans to depict the familiar features of your boyfriend’s face, and not too long after even more messages of adorations floated along his phone.

SO BEAUTIFUL OMG

THAT’S SO GOOD!!!

PLS DROP A TUTORIAL RN

While all the fans were overt with their opinions right away, it made you wonder why the person who got a good look at it first and foremost was not saying a single word. Did he find it…bad? Repulsive?

“Is it….” Your voice trailed away, afraid to finish the sentence for him. The corner of his lips pulled up into a smirk as his eyes traveled from the portrait to your eyes.

“It’s like looking in a mirror.” He claims, before taking the book away from your hands to show the viewers the entire piece and it’s detailing. Because it was taking up almost the entire frame, save for his hands and part of his arm, he took the opportunity to lean in and place a sweet, soft kiss to their lips. “It’s beautiful, lover. You’re beautiful.” He mumbles. Your hands take hold of his warm cheeks and you pull him close to you to earn yet another kiss. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.” He whispers, before taking the drawing off of the frame to resume reading the lovely comments your work was receiving. As your hands abandoned his cheeks, they flew to cover your mouth to stifle the cackles about to leave you. Smudges in all different hues of gray coated the sides of Niall’s face, but he was too caught up in reading what his fans were saying.

“What?” He glanced at you peculiarly, still choking your laughs down and managing to let your chest have only a couple bounces from laughter. Upon turning back to the screen, he then saw the marks you had left on his face and furrowed his brows utterly perplexed. Fans then caught on to what exactly you two did behind the drawing when Niall held it up, but you were not ashamed by the fact one bit.

“What did ya do t’ me?” He turns his face to the side, observing his ash-colored jawline. Through your giggles, you informed it was from blending the charcoal in the paper. And just to agitate him further, you reach your dark thumb up to swipe the tip of his nose.

“Stop tha’!” He exclaims, encouraging more laughter to flutter from your lips as your stomach begins to cramp up. You then leave both the camera’s frame and Niall’s side to go wash your hands and also wet a washcloth for Niall’s tainted face. When you arrived back beside him, you took notice of the pout on his lips while he grumpily picked at the strings of the guitar.

“Aw,” you cooed with a smile overcoming your face, “did Niall make a mess?” you tease, bringing the cloth up to wipe away the cloudy gray among his cheeks. He just rolled his eyes and let out a huff in response, but did not interrupt you. You paused before the cloth could reach his nose, making him look at you with raised brows.

“You look like a goth Rudolph.” At the comment, Niall grew annoyed enough to snatch the washcloth away from you and finish the job for himself, grumbling something defensive at your teasing. All you could do was laugh along with the fans, who were taking in the entire scene with love for the two of you.

in need of more niall fluff? take a look at my masterlist! want my masterlist to be longer? put in a request of your own! :)

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thewolfmanslayer · 3 years

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Honestly the amount of people who say artists and writers should do stuff for free, or try to rip them off on comissions still royally piss me off.

I think the worst part of it is the entitlement, I dont want to make this too much about generations but a lot of commissioners are millenial/Gen z's who grew up on the "steal and pirate everything" mentality, take everything that you can because no one else is going to hand it to you. which I can get behind, when you are screwing over MULTI BILLION DOLLAR COMPANIES. NOT THE STRUGGLING ARTISTS AND WRITERS who are trying to keep food on the table as desperately as you probably are!

It's simple, you wouldn't walk into a restaurant, order food and tell the server "sorry I don't have any money, but I've got like a few thousand followers on social media, I can get your name out there, get the restaurant some exposure" NO! They don't need "exposure" they need you to pay the damn bill!

On top of that, most of these artists and writers ALREADY HAVE FOLLOWINGS. They already have thousands of people following them, waiting for the chance to get a commission, who are willing to pay for said commission, they don't need "exposure" when they're already out there! He'll even the artists and writers with a few hundred don't need it, they'll get more followers as time goes by, their skill alone will see to it.

And what is with people trying to get free art and writing? It's not going to work! You can't harass someone until they cave, trust me, you'll be long since blocked before you even have the opportunity. I don't do comissions, online anyways, but my own friends and family, people who actually know me STILL PAY ME whenever they ask for me to do art for them because they KNOW it takes TIME AND EFFORT.

How many times do we need to have this discussion???? Like when is it going to finally click that people who need to pay their bills just as much as you do AREN'T going to do this shit for free!?

Here's the thing about art and writing, that you've heard a billion times but still aren't getting; IT. TAKES. TIME. AND. EFFORT. TO. GET. DONE. the art isn't going to magically appear and the writing isn't going to suddenly write itself, if either were so convenient YOU WOULDNT BE ASKING AN ARTIST OR WRITER IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Look at that, you see that? The first picture I did back in 2012-13, the picture beside it? I did that TWO YEARS AGO. I didn't suddenly know exactly what to do, or had anything close to a god given talent for drawing (I'm not that talented). The first picture WAS THE ABSOLUTE BEST I COULD DO AT THE TIME THAT I MADE IT. In the time between these two drawings I admittedly took a break from art, but then I got back into it four years ago. EVEN STILL that was four YEARS of starting over from the basics, relearning everything, learning new things, wanting to actually improve my art.

Which, guess what, DID NOT HAPPEN OVER NIGHT. It was HOURS UPON HOURS of my limited free time as an adult drawing over and over and over and over again, every single goddamn day to get to the point that I was able to make that redraw look as good as it does in comparison. He'll, my art now puts them both to shame! Because I spent the time improving my quality!!

Now look at these artists doing comissions, they've probably put EVEN MORE of their time to get that good! They've put in LITERAL YEARS of sweat, blood, tears, frustrations and dedicated hardwork. Some did the same as me, self teaching and lots of practice, others probably had to go to school, which definitely wasn't cheap. But all of us put in that time and effort TO REACH THESE POINTS. Of being better artists, developing our styles, getting faster at drawing.

And maybe you think that this is super easy, right? That I or every other artist can just fire some art off and boom its good and done in like an hour?

FUCK. NO.

Even now it takes me several hours a day OVER MANY DAYS to make something exceptionally good! It doesn't matter how good an artist is, it still. Takes. Time.

Maybe the issue is that you don't understand how much actually goes into art, let me break it down for you, the steps that most people follow to finish ONE drawing.

-Rough draft: general character outline, get a feel for what I want to draw.

-Rough sketch: I start doing a bit of pencil to start filling in details like mouth, nose, eyes, hair, clothes. Ect.

-Penciling: I go over the rough sketch and clean everything up, maybe do some editing, this is when you can start making out all the details.

-Ink: I trace over the finished pencil with a pen tool and actually have the line art, everything looks clean, presentable, it actually looks like a character now. I'll spend time editing this and possibly redoing the inking many times over to get to a point where I like it.

-Flat color: I decide on which colors to use for skin tone, clothes accessories. Ect.

-Shading/highlights: I figure out where my light source is and how strong it is, I then apply the correct amount of lighting and shadows to the color to give it depth, I also have determine the texture of skin, clothes and accessories to make everything look real and natural.

-Blending: I smooth out the shading and highlights so that it looks more natural and isn't too hard (noticeable difference between color) so that it looks as natural as possible.

-Finish: I go over last minute details, finish any editing or corrections that need to be done. Once it's good I call it a day.

Each process is longer in length then the previous, with the exception of the final editing (as long as everything looks good) and even the rough draft can take some time. Over all this is SEVERAL HOURS of work for a SINGLE DRAWING.

So is it sinking in yet? How much is put into doing even a single character drawing? God forbid if its done with background. This isn't a "scratch a pen around and be done with it in ten minutes" kinda deal, no, this is SEVERAL HOURS OF SOMEONES LIFE BEING PUT INTO THIS

And if you still have the AUDACITY to try and wrangle free art from an artist then there's no helping you, you're just a selfish piece of shit, no question and I want nothing to do with you.

Someone might say "But I got free art/writing from.-" look I don't give a shit if someone did something for you THAT ONE TIME, these other artists and writers? Totally seperate and different people. You're one freebie experience does not, and should not apply to other artists and writers.

"But what if I really want this commission but don't have the money right now?" Well, that's tough shit. Save up and properly commission them when you can, it's not their problem.

"But what if I'm in a really bad financial situation and really want it?" That sucks, and I'm sorry, but again, not their problem. Chances are this is their only source of income and they need to make money so that they don't end up in a similar situation.

"They have a gift! They should share it!" What kind of cheap ass- LOOK, just because someone is talented or really good at something does not automatically obligate them to do anything for total strangers in anyway shape or form. These are living, breathing people, the same as you. They need to eat, they need to pay rent/mortgages, they need to pay vet bills, send their kids to college, do their taxes and everything else that YOU YOURSELF need to do. Asking anyone to spend their time doing something for free, when that something is how THEY ARE SURVIVING is beyond asinine. Not only that, this obviously isn't a hobby to them, it is very clearly THEIR JOB. Would you want to do a job where you didn't get paid at all? Doing a shit ton of work for absolutely nothing? No? Didn't think so.

"It shouldn't be about the money!" Well unfortunately, as with almost every other job, it is. We live in a world where we desperately need to make money in order to survive. That's the painful fact of the matter. If money never had to be an issue ever again then this would be a very different story. But it's not, plain and simple as can be.

Look, these people are just like you, artists and writers who are just trying to get by in a shitty ass world, using the one thing they have that let's them have an income. Leave them be, don't try and trick them, guilt them, or cuss them out when you don't get your way. Either properly comission or leave them the hell alone, plain and simple.

#artists #writers #art #writing #rant #comissions #people

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hopewritcs · 5 years

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that’s a lot of colors.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

word count: 2.3k

request from @gbadwal: “thor dating a fashion designer 👩‍🎨”

summary: y/n and thor have been together for a while, and she’s moved into the avengers tower out of his fear of her being in trouble. he may not be there always, but in their shared apartment she’s got her own makeshift fashion studio with the hopes of making it big someday.

notes: there’s set up to the story, but the main setting is post age of ultron.

marvel tag list: n/a

Of all things you could have pictured in your life, you’d never expected to be living with the world’s greatest heroes--or even that you were dating one of them. That you, Y/N Y/L/N, were dating a God, literally. Not just that he was just powerful and protective and looked like a fucking God, but the man was an actual real life God.

You’d been mentoring students at FIT in New York during the Battle of New York and had been saved by said God in question when, on your drive back to your apartment, an alien creature had used your car as a trampoline to jump from the ground and up one of the other buildings. The car had begun to spin, and your door had jammed. But the blond God had landed right by you, stopping the car with his own hands and ripping the door off. Which, after being grateful for the heroic save, all you could think about was the fact that your car was ruined and you weren’t sure how to explain aliens and Thor, the God of Thunder to the insurance company. In fact, you were quite certain that your policy didn’t cover the car being used in the middle of a battle.

Two months later, when the bill for the car came ( and you were right--insurance had refused to pay for any of the damages ) you’d marched yourself over to the Stark Tower and demanded to speak to someone about it. You were being jumped from secretary to secretary, your eyes wild as you refused to leave the lobby of the building. Eventually you said you’d speak only to one of the Avengers or no one at all, found a seat, and continued sketching your latest designs.

It was no surprise eventually, when they all realized you had made their lobby your new studio--papers and pens spread out both on the clear glass coffee table and the couch where you sat-- they called someone from the Avengers to come down and talk with you.

It happened to be the God himself, who immediately recognized you. But, being unaware with things such as car insurance and phony claims, he wasn’t sure why you were there waiting in the lobby.

And why you looked extremely pissed off.

Upon seeing him you jumped up, a flurry of fabric pens and sketch paper falling in your wake as you’d stalked to the tall God and began berating him for his utter lack of decency and the fact that now you were going to have to pay thousands in damages for your car to be fixed--or get a new car--and you had poured all your savings into getting your designs started and you were still six weeks from debuting them to the world so you didn’t have the money and you couldn’t afford everything.

And halfway through your wonderfully crafted speech somewhere between the lines “And you just ripped the door off the damn thing!” and “Do you even have any money here on Earth?” you’d started crying, the weight of everything falling on your shoulders.

Of course, the reality of it all was you were indebted to the God standing before you, the God who pulled you into his arms as you started crying and attempted to sooth you as you stilled in your ranting. You were grateful to him for literally saving your life. But you were torn by your emotions, feeling the fear of it all, the gratefulness to Thor for saving you, the panic of having to pay to fix the car, and the hours you were working towards making sure your upcoming fashion show was going to be perfect. You felt bad for crying on the God’s shoulder ( it was really his chest you were crying on, you were definitely not tall enough to reach his shoulder ) after having started off yelling at him for ruining your car.

Somehow you left the lobby with your things ( neatly packed up to the best of Thor’s ability ) in tow and were brought up to the living area of the tower. You wound up sitting to dinner with the rest of the Avengers as you calmed down, and left with Tony Stark’s personal information and his promise to pay for a brand new car due to “Point Break’s heroics”, and Thor’s promise to check up on you.

A few years later, you we living at the newly named Avengers Tower with Thor, when he was there. He spent a lot of his time traveling between Asgard and Midgard, but did make it a point to always come back to you. After everything you’d gone through during the Battle of New York, your friendship with Thor had blossomed. It hadn’t been long before he asked you out ( or, as you’d like to think you asked him to ask you out ).

You were working on a new collection, and the apartment you and Thor shared in the tower was covered in different fabrics. From sleek silks to patterns and taffeta. You were all over the place, the sewing machine going at all odd hours of the night as you ran back and forth from the designs on the wall to where the clothing rack you’d put up for the finished garments was.

“How can you even see where you’re going in this place? I feel like I’m inside a tutu, which is not where I planned to be tonight.” someone’s voice startled you, the measuring tape falling from its spot around your neck as you turned to the wall.

“Don’t you knock, Tony?” Your hands were on your waist as you turned to look at him, a pointed I’m in the middle of a possible fashion breakthrough look on your face. With JARVIS out of commission, Tony was still working on some bugs with the new AI. When he didn’t move, save to toy with the fabric sitting on one of the couches, you walked over and lightly smacked his hand away. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, it appears Point Break’s stuck on Asgard for some princely duties or other. So you’re going to come to the gala in his place instead.” Tony said, not looking up from the fabric he’d been looking at before. Your mouth dropped open and you were about to respond when he tsked at you. “Don’t argue with me, Y/N. I always get my way, and it’s settled. It’s still a couple of days away, that’s enough time to get us all fitted, right?”

“Excuse me? Fitted for what? Who all?” You dropped the fabric you’d taken hold of and looked at him, stuttering through your response.

“The rest of the team. I thought you were paying attention.”

“Anthony Stark, what the hell are you talking about.”

Tony stood up once more with a flourish and made his way back toward the door, “You’ll be designing our gala wardrobe. Remember, my signature color’s red.”

The door closed behind him, leaving you open mouthed and staring right through the door. You wanted to scream and argue with him. Less than a week to design something for each individual member of the Avengers? Stark must have lost his mind. Of course, it helped that you’d previously taken all their measurements just in case you needed them. But actually being in charge of designing gowns and suits alike? It was a dream, honestly, but you weren’t ready. You needed more time.

You really wanted to kill Tony.

It had been a day and a half since you’d seen Tony and heard what he wanted for the team. After meeting with the rest of them, and from knowing who they were, you’d spent the rest of that day sketching the new wardrobe designs. You cursed under your breath because damn it Stark this was actually a good idea. And it got your mind off of worrying about your latest collection possibly tanking as well as it was doing something for the people you loved. And hell the designs were great, not to toot your own horn or anything.

Unfortunately for you, cell phones connecting Midgard and Asgard didn’t exist yet, so you had to just stare into space when you were cursing your boyfriend for leaving you alone to deal with this mess. “At least if you were here I’d have someone to go with. But no, I’ll be with everyone else and they’ll be wearing my designs and there’ll be paparazzi there and everyone will be asking questions that I couldn’t possibly know the answer to and oh boy are you so lucky I can’t get to Asgard, Thor, because I can only imagine that Tony got this,” you held up the dress shirt you were making for Tony--red silk, with gold thread running through it--to the sky as if for emphasis for the invisible Thor you were scolding, “idea from you.”

You planned each outfit for each individual person, and included one for yourself at the insistent reminder from both Tony and Pepper that you would also be in attendance. You’d even made something for Thor, which was partially for him and partially for you. The design was much colorful than what you’d expect Thor would ever wear without your push. But knowing that he was likely the one who put this project on your shoulders, you wanted to make sure he had something too. It made you feel a lot better, if nothing else, since you knew he wasn’t going to be there to wear it. Hell, you’d even included your own cape for his outfit.

The day of the gala everyone had attempted to get you ready. You were rarely ever around for these kinds of events, so it was probably a way that they were attempting to calm your nerves. It felt a million times worse than when you’d debuted your first collection after you started spending time with Thor.

Your show had been flooded with the press, and almost half of them ( it was probably more ) had asked mostly about your connection to the God of Thunder. That wouldn’t have irritated you as much as it had, had it not been the big debut you’d been dreaming of with the collection of solely your own things under your own start up designer label. If it were someone else’s show, like the designers you’d worked for previously, you wouldn’t have been pissed that all the attention was the blond man on your arm for the better part of the night.

Tonight was different, it was all about the Avengers. You were the one tagging along. You piled into the limo with the rest of the team, awkwardly tapping at your legs and looking around as everyone made small talk on the way to the event.

You were ushered into the building through the back entrance, thankfully bypassing any sort of press in the front of the place. And everyone was surprisingly quiet once you all got into the building.

Before you could ask, you were brought into the main room and looked around. It looked as though it was set up for some kind of show, and you turned around but found yourself standing alone.

“Uh, hello? Where did you guys go?” You walked around a little bit, looking for wherever it was the Avengers had run off too, but you’d seen no sign of them. “Hello?”

“They’re backstage getting ready for the show.” A loud voice, the voice of your boyfriend startled you as you turned around. A grin on your face as you spotted him standing behind you. His long blond locks were pulled back into a bun behind his head and he was wearing the outfit you’d designed for. Even the color splatter patterned cape you’d made out of pure spite was resting upon his shoulders. “You know, Y/N, this is a lot different than everyone else’s clothes.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” You said softly, walking toward him and putting your hands up on his shoulders to give him a quick kiss in greeting, and then when you pulled back, you smoothed out his clothes and fixed anything that was out of place.

“And you still made me something?”

“I was kind of mad you’d suggested me going to a gala with everyone if you weren’t going to be there too.” You pouted, looking up at him. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t hate it.” He laughed, putting his arms around you as you raised your eyebrows at him. “I don’t hate anything you make.”

You downright awed at the comment, your smile growing as you looked up at him. “You’re too sweet, Thor.” You played with the collar of his suit as you looked up at him. “So how did you get back? I thought Tony said you were going to be busy and couldn’t come to the gala?” You turned your head slightly to look around a bit before looking back at him with a confused expression. “Then again, this doesn’t look like one of Tony’s usual parties.”

“I convinced Stark to help me out with something.” Thor said, spinning you around in his arms and leading you towards the center of the room, where there stood a long stage--a runway. But you didn’t get a chance to speak before he did, his head bent down to whisper to you, “I figured since the last show of your designs was ruined by me showing up, it was only fair that the Avengers threw the next showing.”

You spun back around to face your boyfriend, putting your hands on either side of his face as you pulled him towards you for a kiss. “You are the sweetest, kindest, best boyfriend in the entire galaxy.” You punctuated each adjective with another peck to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor x you #thor odinson x you #mcu reader insert

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thecandywrites · 5 years

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Isthantari- The Series- Kiara

Yo, so this is a commission for @jasura and their lovely oc Kiara who I’ve paired with Jarek, who is, again, a smooth as fuck Jika who thinks that she and her art are THE BEST THING EVER. IT’S SO SWEET AND FLUFFY. And I had a blast. Thanks for letting me do this for you @jasura. Enjoy.

Isthantari Series- Kiara and Jarek

You were in the park, sketching the flowers in the park when a shadow seemed to suddenly loom over you and when you looked up, something quickly flew just out of your field of vision and you were too slow moving your head trying to catch it before a figure suddenly seemed to pop into existence in front of you.

“Hello.” A deep, smooth voice greeted you as your head seemed to snap forward again as your eyes suddenly focused on a pair of knees on black and yellow stripped legs but the black had the most gorgeous sheen of purple to it, like some exotic beetle as your eyes got wider as your line of sight slowly raked up this figure, all seven feet of it to it’s face and if you had been standing, your knees would have gone weak. Holy shit, when did Jika get that handsome?

“H-hi.” You greeted back, it wasn’t everyday you felt dainty, small and delicate but sitting in front of this magnificent and outright regal looking creature, you did and then it’s mandibles moved so that you could see it smile and you swooned.

“I like your drawing.” It complimented you as it gestured to your sketchpad with one of it’s four hands.

“Thank you.” You thanked him, you always loved compliments to your art.

“And your tattoos are stunning.” He added as he gestured to your arms and shoulders as you self consciously touched them.

“Thank you.” You thanked him again. “Your coloring is stunning too.” You blurted before you wanted to face palm yourself.

“Thank you.” He thanked you as he stood a little straighter as his chest seemed to puff out a little as his wings fluttered a little.

“I should probably introduce myself, I’m Jarek Kizu.” He introduced himself as he held a hand out to you before you felt a force seem to pull you up to your feet as you put your things aside and shook his hand, his larger hands dwarfing yours but the exoskeleton on his hands was smooth like glass and surprisingly warm.

“I’m Kiara.” You answered as he seemed particularly pleased to learn that.

“Beautiful name, it suits you.” Jarek praised as your cheeks blushed scarlet as you were pretty sure your knees were going to be knocking together any moment.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked as he gestured to the bench.

“Oh, please do,” you invited as you gratefully sat down and scooted over to allow him to sit down, which he did, his abdomen tucking under himself so he could sit on it before you two had a lovely discussion about your art and your tattoos and you got to know each other as you two seemed to click instantly and before you knew it, he invited you out to have dinner with him as the afternoon turned into evening.

“Absolutely, where?” You asked as you looked around to see if there were any vegetarian restaurants nearby that you wouldn’t hate to go to, because you thought you knew that Jika were vegetarian.

“Actually there is a lovely seafood place nearby.” Jarek said as he gestured in a particular direction as you snapped your head back to him in surprise.

“Really? I thought Jika were vegetarian?” You asked, your voice becoming a little smaller as your confidence in that idea began to wane.

“Usually we are, but we love seafood, in particular shell fish. But I understand that some humans are allergic to it, are you allergic to seafood or shellfish?” He asked as he realized he should have asked that before suggesting it.

“No, I love it actually.” You smiled excitedly.

“Then let’s go.” He invited as he stood up and held his hand out to you.

“Um, my car is that way,” you pointed to your car.

“It would be faster if we flew, if you would permit me to carry you.” Jarek suggested as you eyes went wide in excitement before you seemed to remember that you were pretty thicc and the idea of anyone carrying you without hurting themselves had always been a factor before.

“Uh, I don’t know, I’m pretty heavy.” You grimaced.

“I sincerely doubt you’re heavier than what I can carry.” He reassured you.

“Well how much can you carry?” You asked him curiously.

“In human terms, about 40 thousand pounds, roughly two hundred times my own body weight, you look appear to be a very tiny fraction of that.” He answered proudly as he seemed to take in your body appreciatively, if not a touch salaciously and your jaw dropped.

“Yeah, you know what? I’ll totally let you carry me, I’d love to go flying.” You smiled brightly as you put your things in your bag.

“How would you like to be carried?” He asked. “I can either carry you with your back to my chest so that it will look like you’re the one flying of your own power or I can carry you, I believe the term is bridal style.” He offered.

“Like I’m flying please,” you giggled with glee as you changed your purse to go across your chest so that nothing would fall out of it as he came up behind you and wrapped all four of his arms around you securely.

“I’ll take off whenever you’re ready Kiara.” He practically purred in your ear which sent a shiver down your spine and you felt your panties go wet in your jeans.

“I’m ready.” You insisted before he lifted you off the ground and you couldn’t help but squeal in delight as you were suddenly flying above the tops of the trees as you looked around and took in the scenery, trying to get your brain to record this so you would have flying dreams in the future. This was the best feeling ever. You felt so free. True to his word he set you down right outside the restaurant and then opened the door for you and got a table for the two of you.

You watched as he ordered half the menu so to speak, and absolutely insisted you order whatever your heart desired and that money was of little consequence to him so you ordered what you wanted and really went all out on yourself. To your delight, he got a bottle of delicious wine which you two shared the bottle and when the food came, while he did like the flesh, you realized it was the shells of the seafood he was really after, so he traded a lot of the meat to his crab legs for your shells, or let you enjoy the oysters and mussels while he ate the shells and same went for the shrimp too which worked out well and both of you stuffed yourselves and didn’t have any left overs despite ordering what you did. When you were done, he paid for dinner and walked you back out only now it was a bit chillier than it was earlier as the sun began to set as shivered.

“Are you cold?” He asked you as he noticed the shiver.

“Yeah, I should have brought a jacket.” You stroked your arms.

“Well here, hang on,” he offered as he pulled you off the side of the building away from the crowds before he lifted your arms and then himself off the ground and the stinger in his abdomen disappeared and was replaced with a silk spinning gland and he literally spun a long hooded coat for you right there on the spot. It was warm and super soft and your smile got almost impossibly big because of how amazing this was as he buzzed around you, making sure it fit you perfectly and when he was done he landed and appraised his work.

“There? Is this suitable for you Kiara?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes! It’s perfect! I love it, this is amazing.” You beamed as you took the edges of it and wrapped it around you, practically melting into it’s warm softness. You would never want to take it off now.

“Good, then let me take you back to your car then.” He offered before he picked you up, bridal style this time. You didn’t feel any of the nip in the air even at altitude, simply to your face which was the only skin visible, the sleeves were long enough to cover your arms and hands completely, and the way it wrapped around you like a blanket meant that even your shoes were covered as you cuddled into his chest. You were not expecting Prince Charming to drop out of the sky but he had. And you didn’t really think of yourself as attracted to aliens but you were, to him at least.

He dropped you off at your car and you exchanged phone numbers and made plans for another date and then he kissed you. He meant to kiss you chastely, at least you were pretty sure he did, but god damn, that kiss seemed to only ignite something in you both before you knew it, he had you picked up and pinned to the side of your car and the kiss was deep and electric and what felt like an eternity yet all too soon, he slowed down to a stop, just enough to leave you breathless.

“Wow,” you both breathed as you both suddenly grinned wide.

“Jinx.” You giggled.

“You’ve met my brother?” Jarek tilts his head as his smile vanishes into a frown.

“What? You have a brother named Jinx?” You asked in confusion.

“Oh, are you talking about the curse ‘jinx’?” Jarek asked as he accessed the hive mind to get the information on the human term ‘jinx’.

“It’s not a real curse, it’s more of a silly game,” you corrected as he slowly and carefully put you back down and you feel a little panicked like you ruined the mood.

“Oh,” Jarek nodded in understanding.

“And you’re the first Jika I’ve met that had a name, other than a number.” You explained.

“Oh, ok.” Jarek nodded in understanding again as he seemed...actually very relieved to hear that as that seemed confusing to you before he departed from you pleasantly and made plans to see you again in a day or two.

However it wasn’t even 10 hours before he was with you again and for a week you nearly spent all day every day with him until today, you invited him to your place, showing him your tiny art studio as he looked at all your art in awed wonder. And practically bought you out. Thank god you had that card reader on your phone as he happily slid his card and tipped you a thousand dollars per piece of art. Which was substantially more than your art was priced for. He literally set you up for a year and now you could afford to go to the art supply store and buy whatever you wanted.

“Wow, you’re incredible! Really, really talented.” He praised as he looked it over excitedly while also holding your cat Tabatha who seemed very pleased to have three hands scratching her and petting her while one arm held her comfortably as you beamed happily as you walked around, the coat he made for you, wrapped around you like a robe, actually it was so soft you had slept in it naked and wore it constantly all week and it had been a dream, you had never slept so peacefully before, even silk sheets were nothing compared to this robe.

“If you like that garment so well, I can make you more.” Jarek offered as he noticed your affinity for it.

“Really?” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, as a non consort, I don’t have to reserve my silk for the queen, I can use it for whatever I wish. If it will make you happy and pleases you, I will happily make you whatever you wish.” Jarek offered.

“Non consort?” You repeated in confusion.

“Are you not aware of the Jika hierarchy?” He asked as you shook your head ‘no’.

“You should take a seat then,” he suggested as the two of you sat on the futon in your studio. “You see, I’m what the English equivalent is a prince. I was born in the royal batch, with the former queen, I was bred to be a potential consort to her, to mate with her as she wished, take care of her, surround her in a giant nest made from my silk and all the other silk from all the other consorts, my sole purpose of existence is to serve her. Take care of her physical person, feed her, clean her, surround her in comfort and take care of her and make sure that every need, want and desire she would ever have would be fulfilled. But a queen only needs so many consorts and the batch, as a precaution, is usually given a few dozen consorts so she is spoiled for choice to choose who she wants, in fact the first several years of our lives are spent growing up with her and learning her and what she wants and then another few are spent making her the most spectacular gifts in winning her favor. If she chooses us, we become completely devoted to her and she becomes our Isthantari and she uses her scent, the pheromones in her scent specifically to control us and our mind atrophies into that of a drone but we win the right that our genetics get passed on through mating.” He explained as your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped in surprise.

“So because you weren’t a consort, your brain stays developed but you don’t get to breed?” You asked, trying to make sense of that before he smiled with just a hint of mischief.

“Well, actually, I still can breed, I just don’t need to be as devoted to her as her consorts would be, instead I serve her by serving the hive, my job is easy and the mental work load is very light and boredom is my biggest enemy, what my batch mates, or brothers as you would call them, are finding is that we can actually have very fulfilling lives outside the hive and a few of my brothers have found mates, their very own Isthantaris, that are actually human and their Isthantaris are just as devoted to my brothers as they are to them, which is a relationship dynamic that is extremely appealing. You see just because a queen could choose me as a consort, does not mean she’s attached to me emotionally, she would use me to serve her, that is all that she would view me as. Never an equal, always a slave. But as a royal batch, I am no slave to the queen or the hive mind for that matter. In fact I am very relieved she didn’t choose me.” He explained.

“What does Isthantari mean?” You felt compelled to ask.

“It roughly translates to ‘one I am devoted to for life’, but isth, has two meanings, when in the whole word it means devoted, by itself it means sex or to mate with and the word encompasses both meanings.” Jarek explained.

“So is that what you’re looking for? An Isthantari to be just as devoted to you as you are to her?” You asked.

“Yes.” Jarek confirmed. “And you actually fit it remarkably well,” he smiled proudly.

“What?” You giggled as you felt your cheeks heat up as your heat fluttered in your chest.

“Yes, your scent, it’s extremely good, you smell like a queen, even your name is that of a queen, all queens, their names always start with the ‘k’ sound and when translated into English, always start with K and Kiara is very sought after name for a queen, there have been many great Queen Kiaras. But back to your scent, which is more important than your name, is what attracted me initially, I could smell your scent on the breeze a mile away and I purposefully tried to find you the moment I caught it and I was so happy to learn that you were single and that it is your wonderful, creative personality that has kept my attention and I’m finding myself enraptured by you. Your art is spectacular, your personality is everything I could ever hope for and what you may not know is the queen is supposed to be very, very large, like so large, she’s immobile and can’t move on her own and has to be carried if she has to be moved or stays put. Her exoskeleton is supposed to be paper thin, it feels like the membrane of those Tide pods, that kind of thin, your own epidermis is much thicker by comparison. In fact if she were to try to get tattoos, it would kill her because it would breach her exoskeleton and her innards would ooze out and she would die. In fact if I were to try to get a tattoo, the same could happen to me, the fact that humans have their skeletons on the inside and centers of their tissues is a wonder and the fact that you can have such amazing things as tattoos is...I’m very jealous, you could say. So it is also because you are a bigger female, is also extremely attractive and I’m finding my instincts to serve you as my Isthantari to be quite strong, stronger than they ever were for the former queen or even the current one. But I do not wish to scare...” he tried to tell you before you practically climbed into his lap and kissed him for all you were worth and smiled into the kiss when all four of his arms wrapped around you as he kissed you back passionately.

“You need to tell me to stop.” Jarek pleaded desperately as you realized he seemed to be in pain.

“Why?” You asked breathlessly.

“Because if you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to want to mate with you and I think you should probably get to know me better before you make that kind of...” He tried to point out before you were kissing him again and grinding yourself on his lap as you opened the robe like coat and pressed your body up against him.

“Tell me about mating.” You asked once you broke for air.

“Well, I know for a fact we’re physically compatible and the other Isthantari’s enjoy it very much.” He said as he stroked your body as you felt yourself melting at his touch.

“Can I see?” You asked hopefully before he scoot you back a little and finally let his genitalia become exposed, sighing in relief once they were out as they continued to engorge.

“Wow!” You said as you looked down in awed amazement at it. It was...beautiful actually before you slipped down to kneel on the floor so you could get a better view, his cock was the real work of art here.

“But, again you need to know something.” He tried to tell you as you reached out and started stroking his cock as you could tell he was barely hanging onto sanity.

“Hm?” You hummed smugly as you fingered the slit at the head and watched as his whole body shudder.

“If you were to become my Isthantari, it could be dangerous, the current queen, she is very strong but she is vicious, because you smell better than she does, she could take that as you being a rival, you could...oh...” He tried to warn you before you reached forward and licked the head and grinned when you tasted a fruity yet minty flavor coming from his pre-cum. Like some kind of gum, like a slightly minty twist to juicy fruit. It was actually very delicious, way tastier than any other cock you’d sucked.

“She could try to h-hurt you but I would protec-ct, you,” he vowed as you started sucking on it as your eyes flicked up to see a duct suddenly appear at the center of his collar bone and what looked like a mango puree came dribbling out.

“What’s that?” You asked as you pointed to it.

“My royal jelly, consorts produce royal jelly to feed the queen while mating, it’s unique among individuals, if she likes the flavor, she’ll usually mate longer and more often to us.” He explained before you stripped out of your clothes and crawled into his lap and slowly and carefully seated yourself onto his cock and moaned in delight when he stretched you perfectly before you leaned forward and licked it and you giggled.

“Does it please you?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes, very much so, it tastes like a cherry milkshake, it’s really, really good.” You told him before you closed your mouth around the duct and sucked and moaned again when more came into your mouth as Jarek grabbed your hips and started moving you with one set of hands while the other stroked and massaged your body which felt just as heavenly as his dick grinding deliciously in your pussy did. It was when he picked you up to kneel into the futon to let you rest your back against the back of it so he could drive into you harder that you nearly lost all control of yourself, fuck. He was good, he was a virgin and he was good. Like your toes were curling, your orgasm was quickly approaching you trying your best to suck down that downright addictive royal jelly in between wanton moans as you clung to him and he clung to you and you felt like delightful electricity was coursing through your body, giving you a delightful love drunk buzz. It was fantastic. And the more aroused you felt, the more you loosened up and the deeper he was able to drive into you comfortably and the tingly sensation his genitals gave yours only enhanced your own sensations and brought you higher in ecstasy than you had ever felt before, even being fully inspired and able to hyper-focus on your art didn’t feel this good. You were on the brink of being overwhelmed and were flirting hard with over-stimulation but you felt like you would die if you stopped having sex with him right now.

You felt the knot like base trying to stretch your entrance and you longed to have it pop inside, you wanted that knot more than your lungs craved air and more than your tongue craved royal jelly as you tried to spread your legs as wide as you could and open yourself up to it and just as he grabbed you by the waist and thighs and pushed you down forcefully, it popped inside and in place and it sent you over the edge and you were suddenly plunged into bliss as he emptied his seed into you as his royal jelly overflowed your mouth, the precious liquid escaping the corners of your mouth as your cheeks bulged full as you fought to breathe and gulp it down just as fast as it was flowing into your mouth. It took over a minute to gulp it all down before you pulled away to lick up the excess and pant to catch your breath and your teasing licks to his duct caused him to shudder and giggle while moaning at the same time as he pet your hair and his antennae tapped around your head gently.

“How do you feel my Isthantari?” He cooed to you as all four of his hands stroked you lovingly.

“Amazing, like, I’ve never felt this good before,” you giggled as you stretched out, still feeling the ethereal delight flooding your system and it was downright amazing before you looked down and gulped at your distended lower belly, like you were pregnant, but you didn’t feel any pain or discomfort. After a few long moments, his genitalia seemed to recede as the knot popped out and you felt like a gallon of his cum came pouring out of you. You should be in all kinds of pain right now but instead, there was a twinge of relief of not being so stuffed with disappointment that he wasn’t in you anymore. But his cum was actually very beautiful, he set you down on the futon next to it as you ran your fingers through it, giggling again at the texture of it and marveling at it’s holographic nature before you wondered what it would look like on a canvas as you suddenly scooped it up and spread it onto a canvas, noticing how the colors could change depending on how thick or thin it was against the white canvas before you put it on black paper to see what it would do and gasped when the most amazing colors seemed to glow off the paper before he informed you of the other benefits and applications that the other Isthantari’s had found from Jika cum and you giddily applied it to yourself and then he disappeared for a few moments while you continued to play with it.

“Jarek? You ok?” You asked as you left your studio to go into the rest of the apartment to find him applying a thick layer of his silk to your bed.

“Aww, are you making me a nest?” You cooed when you saw it.

“Yes, I hope that’s ok.” He admitted as he was making the built in blanket part of it.

“Of course it’s ok, I love it, it’s so soft.” You beamed happily as you came over and wiped your hands off on a rag so you wouldn’t get cum on it as you touched it reverently.

Over the course of the next few weeks, he practically moved in and made you a wardrobe, paid off all your debt, even your art school college loans and rent and when you met the other Isthantari’s, they were very welcoming as the ‘Isthantari Club’ got a little bigger as you showed them the art you made out of Jika cum as you got to meet Jarek’s brother Jinx and his Isthantari who introduced herself as Panda which considering her black and white hair, like Cruella DeVile, but she was perfectly awesome. Dr. Emily Kimble gave you all warnings about how to behave while on the ship and how to behave if you were to ever meet the queen and to wear lots of deodorant and perfume if you ever did too as she continued to compile the data on your relationships and used all of your collective discoveries on uses for Jika cum and flavors of royal jelly. It was epic and the foods cooked out of Jika foods were out of this world delicious as Sable and Lenore went over the Jika foods and their preparations which was exciting and you were so relieved and excited that you felt like you belonged to a family, but one that was more family found rather than blood related which was preferable to you anyway.

#Isthantari #exophilia #monster boyfriend #alien boyfriend #alien lemon #Isthantari the series #enjoy

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sholiofic · 5 years

Text

Er. So. First of all, I posted a de-aging fic for Danny a little while back, in which Danny is five years old but still has his adult memories (with all the trauma THAT implies). In the comments, @asofterhibou suggested de-aged Ward. Well, specifically:

I had the horrifying thought of what if Ward was the five-year-old the next day, but that is almost TOO heart-breaking. Like I can only imagine that the first half hour is just Ward curled up in a ball under the hotel room bed while Danny lies on the floor and talks quietly to him to get him to come out.

I swear I was just going to write a couple paragraphs of this, and then suddenly there was like 1900 words of it. (I’m not really sure if this is canon relative to the other fic; it’s more like a what-if spun off from it.)

Seeing Ward as a small child was almost too strange. Danny didn't remember him like this at all. Their five-year age difference had loomed impossibly huge in their shared childhood; his earliest memories of Ward were of the other boy being so much bigger that he might as well have been a grown-up, a source of both torment and protection, fear and comfort. Danny had been scared of him and admired him in equal measure.

It was an extremely disconcerting perspective shift to suddenly be the bigger one, the older one; it was hard to see Ward as a little kid and not see a ghost of the adult Ward superimposed over it, like looking at childhood photos of your parents.

Not that Danny had seen much of him yet, since Ward had been curled up under the bed for most of the last hour. He wasn't crying -- in a way, Danny thought it would have been less worrying if he was crying. At least it would have been more normal five-year-old behavior. Instead he was just curled up shivering. Ward's adult memories weren't something that Danny would wish on his worst enemy, let alone on a little kid.

Danny had given up on talking (much) and just decided to lie on the carpet next to the bed, with one hand stretched out underneath it and his hand on Ward's pointy little shoulder.

"You want to come out and have something to eat?" he asked. "There's a place down the street that has desserts and stuff. Ice cream. You wanna go have ice cream?"

Ward shook his head. Okay, Danny thought, a five-year-old turning down ice cream was a really bad sign.

He rolled over on his side and discovered that Ward was watching him, a flash of light-colored eyes in the darkness under the bed. Was Ward scared of him? he wondered.

There was no Hell in the Buddhist afterlife, and Danny wasn’t even sure what his own religious beliefs were exactly anyway (it was sort of a mishmash of all the various cultural influences in his life), but if reincarnation and karma actually did exist, he hoped Harold was currently reincarnating as an endless series of mosquitoes and getting smashed every single time. A few thousand years of that ought to be about right. After that, maybe Harold could graduate to rice weevils or something, and work his way up from there for the next few million years.

"I can also call down to the front desk and have them bring ice cream to our room," Danny said, pillowing his cheek on his arm. "There won't be as many choices, but I bet I could have some vanilla ice cream brought up. Vanilla with chocolate sprinkles, that was your favorite, right?"

He just wanted to drag Ward out from under the bed and hug the stuffing out of him, but he also knew that would be the worst thing he could possibly do. A Harold kind of thing to do ... well, minus the hugging, probably. The only thing he could do was try to show Ward that he wasn't that kind of adult.

"So I'm gonna go do that, okay? I'm just going over to the phone."

He made the call sitting on the floor where Ward could see him. He wasn't sure whether that actually was important, but it felt important. After that, Danny lay on the carpet again.

"Hey, Ward, do you want to see a picture of your sister?"

He thumbed through pictures on his phone until he found one of Joy. He didn't have very many of her due to ... well ... circumstances, but he did have a couple from last year, during that ever-so-brief period when they'd been speaking to each other and it had seemed, for awhile, that things were going to be okay.

"She's just a baby for you now, right? This is what she looks like when she grows up."

He turned the phone screen so Ward could see it. After a little while, Ward uncoiled somewhat and scootched over so he could see the screen better.

"Here's another," Danny said, flipping to a new one. This was Joy at her desk at Rand, giving him an exasperated look as he'd peeked into her office to take a quick picture of her to use as his phone photo for her. (He'd just discovered that you could set a picture to go with someone's phone number in a smartphone address book. He remembered being delighted about that.)

In a very tiny voice, not much more than a whisper, Ward asked, "Do you have any pictures of me?"

"Sure I do." Lots more than Joy, fortunately. Danny flicked to the recent ones. "Here, you're in most of these." Generally either ignoring him, or giving the camera (and by extension, Danny) assorted variations on his sardonic "why me?" expression while Danny took pictures of temples and markets and parks that also just happened to have Ward in them.

There was a knock at the door. Ward retreated back under the bed. "It's just the hotel people bringing us our ice cream," Danny said, and he passed the phone under the bed where Ward could keep looking through photos while he went to answer it.

He had to hand it to the hotel's restaurant: they'd done a nice job. Danny came back with two glass bowls, each with a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate shavings and a strawberry on each one. He set one down on the carpet and held the other. "It's gonna melt," he said, dipping his spoon into his. "I can put yours in the room fridge if you want it later instead."

There was a short hesitation and then Ward cautiously crawled out from under the bed, with the phone clutched in one of his hands. "That's me?" he said dubiously, showing the screen to Danny.

Danny was aware that he had no particular talent for photography, so it was a little bit off center and crooked, but it was actually a nice picture of Ward, sitting on a low stone wall with a sweeping vista of gardens and jungle behind him and a sketchbook in his lap.

"Yeah," Danny said, grinning at him. "That's you."

"I'm drawing?" Ward said, and frowned. "I'm drawing," he said again, thinking his way through it.

Danny remembered that part of what this was like: everything was overwhelming, and you got the most intense memories first and hardest (which had to be part of what was giving Ward such a rough time). But putting things in order or remembering anything specific was the hard part.

"Yeah! You like to draw. You're really good at it, too. Here, I'll show you."

He hopped up and got the sketchbook, which was stuck in the top of Ward's luggage, where it usually was. Danny also got out a box of Ward’s colored pencils. He figured it was Ward's sketchbook and Ward had an equal right to draw in it when he was five as he did when he was thirty.

When he came back, Ward had the enormous bowl of ice cream in his lap and a spoon stuffed in his mouth. He glared at Danny as if daring him to make something out of it.

It was really weird how much like his adult self he still was at this age. In a way, Danny thought, that was probably what had gotten him through all those years of Harold's abuse. Ward had a rock-solid core of, well, of Ward: prickly and angry and sarcastic and stubborn. It made him a real dick sometimes, and it certainly had when they were kids, but it had also kept him from being completely steamrolled by Harold, over the years. Danny felt a sudden intense wash of ... just, feelings: love and admiration and the intense desire to kick Harold's ass around the astral plane for awhile. Luckily Ward was looking at the sketchbook rather than at Danny's face, because hiding his feelings was something Danny really wasn't good at.

"See, here," Danny said, opening the sketchbook up randomly to a drawing of a temple carving. "You're really good at this. Here you go." He put the pencils next to it. "You can draw in it, if you want."

Ward touched the page hesitantly, then jerked his hand away when he noticed he'd left a smear of melted chocolate on the drawing. "I'll mess it up," he said in a voice that sounded small and fragile.

"No, you won't. It's yours. Anyway, it's already gotten wet and had coffee spilled on it and got trampled by a bunch of goats in Cambodia." Danny flipped to a fresh page and showed Ward a coffee ring on top of a half-finished sketch of Danny. "See? You can't do anything bad to it."

Ward shoved the spoon into his mouth, and said around it, indistinctly, "I'm bad at it. Dad said --"

"Your dad's not here," Danny said, more fiercely than he intended, and Ward quailed from the anger in his voice. Damn it. He gentled his tone down and got himself under control. It turned out that dealing with a traumatized five-year-old was better training at emotional control than anything the elders in K'un-Lun had ever come up with. "Look," he said gently. "You're awesome at it. At least, I think so, and I'm the only adult around here, so I must be right. Right?"

Ward looked like he was extremely doubtful about this logic, but he also had the ice cream spoon in his mouth again.

Danny flipped the sketchbook to a blank page and shook out the box of pencils in a heap next to it, noticing Ward's eyes following them covetously. Then he dug into his own bowl of ice cream.

After a little while, with the ice cream in his bowl mostly gone, Ward picked up a pencil.

Danny leaned back against the side of the bed and pretended to be interested in his ice cream and only his ice cream, and not at all in the slow relaxing of Ward's rigid little body as he got interested in the drawing. It worked that way for adult Ward as well, which had given Danny an extremely unpleasant (but plausible) theory that Harold had made him stop because it was something that made him happy that Harold didn't have control over; it was something that Harold could neither understand nor use to control him, and therefore it had to go.

Danny clenched the fist that had once been the Iron Fist until the metal handle of the ice cream spoon actually bent. Carefully, he pried his fingers off it and flexed his hand until the purplish imprint of the spoon handle had faded, and then went back to eating.

When he'd finished his ice cream, Danny picked up his phone and pretended to be absorbed in it, while keeping a subtle eye on Ward, who was now completely absorbed in his drawing.

And a little while after that, without saying anything, Ward picked up the sketchbook and his pencils, and crawled into Danny's lap, and spread the sketchbook on the floor and -- sprawling half in and half out of Danny’s lap -- went back to drawing in it.

#iron fist #ward meachum #danny rand #kidfic

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digital-arts-etc · 6 years

Photo

This Woman Reimagined Michelangelo's "The Creation Of Adam"

With Black Women * And It's Beautiful

Michelangelo who?

Posted on May 16, 2017 Michael Blackmon - BuzzFeed News Reporter

This is Harmonia Rosales, a 33-year-old artist living in Chicago.

"I was raised in a creative environment," she said. Rosales also noted that "artistic expression was floating in the air" in her household growing up. Her mother is an artist and her father, a musically inclined guy, played the congas.

Rosales credited her parents for sparking her interest in the arts. "Kids imitate their parents and my parents were great models for me. I repeated visuals of my mother hunched over her art table churning out illustration after illustration starting with a blank canvas and a vision of a full one. I often would crawl under my mother's art table and track her movements, her brushstrokes, her ideas, her illustrations. She would let me experiment with all her expensive oils and brushes, never once telling me what to paint or how, but letting me find my own style."

One of Rosales' pieces, which she calls "The Creation of God" recently went viral.

The piece is based on Michelangelo 's "The Creation of Adam," famously displayed in the Sistine Chapel. "I wanted to take a significant painting, a widely recognized painting that subconsciously or consciously conditions us to see white male figures as powerful and authoritative and flip the script, establish a counter narrative," she told BuzzFeed News, elaborating on why she decided to make reimagine the well-known work of art with black women.

Says Rosales, "White figures are a staple in classic art featured in major museums. They are the 'masters' of the masterpieces. Why should that continue?

Replacing the white male figures — the most represented— with people I believe have been the least represented can begin to recondition our minds to accept new concepts of human value. ... If I can touch even a small group of people and empower them through the power of art, then I've succeeded in helping to change the way we see the world. ... And when you consider that all human life came out of Africa, the Garden of Eden and all, then it only makes sense to paint God as a black woman, sparking life in her own image." "In the essence of Picasso, my whole life," Rosales said when asked how long it took her to create her latest piece. "Every skill, life experience, and emotion has led me straight to this particular piece and every piece thereafter."

And the way in which her ideas form, and the way she's acted on them, is a very organic process.

"I have an idea, it might not be fully thought out, but first the idea. Then I let it marinate. Often I'll place a blank canvas by my bed so that I may wake up and sleep to it. And, while I sleep, it speaks to me," Rosales said. She also said that she doesn't sketch her creations, everything happens at once on the canvas by which they are brought to life. "My subjects morph and their expressions change as they speak to me and reveal themselves to me. Sometimes I will go over an area multiple times until they virtually come to life." Rosales' work definitely has a recurring theme: women of color. "I paint women darker than me because I want no one to mistake who I'm representing. I paint what I know, who I identify with," she told BuzzFeed News.

We have been underrepresented and misrepresented for so long that I feel I should paint to empower us. We need powerful images for our youth to see." Her daughter is another reason why Rosales is passionate about the work she does. "I want my daughter to grow up proud of her curls and coils, her brown skin, and for her to identify as a woman of color, a woman of value."

What I do with my art contributes to the way she and all other little girls like her will come to recognize themselves."

Rosales' "The Creation of God" will be part of an exhibited series in the near future.

She also plans to work with fellow artist Aldis Hodge on a series about persecution that will debut at the end of the year. "This particular series will relate to the masses," she said.

Critics Disgusted With Artist’s Painting of God As a Black Woman

By: Seth D. Mills - May. 31, 2017

The painting (above photo) The Creation of God by artist Harmonia Rosales of Chicago has caused a lot of controversy throughout the last 3 weeks. Since it was first shared on Instagram, the painting has had at least 7,000 likes.

But some people on Twitter have called it a “disgrace”, while others stated that it was “cultural appropriation” and “disgusting”. In The Creation of God, Harmonia showed God as a black woman touching the hand of another black woman, much like The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo.

Harmonia said the painting was meant to show that “we have created God in our own image. So ‘God’ is whoever we want God to be, a representation of the ideal, of the divine, of wisdom and love and pure creativity.”

But not everyone agrees.

What do you think? Did she go too far?

http://www.wbls.com/news/d%C3%A9j%C3%A0-vu-afternoon/critics-disgusted-artist%E2%80%99s-painting-god-black-woman

Hannah Marie there are so many people in these comments that think they know what they are talking about but really don't. culturally appropriating something is taking something from another culture saying "it's mine i created it" profiting from and creating an entirely new meaning, while the (almost always) disadvantaged are left in the same position having their object devalued for the same things that are valued in said appropriated object. you can't culturally appropriate an image like this, it's literally impossible. if that was so then there are hundreds/thousands of images that have been by musicians, directors, artists, everyday people god damn photo-shopping themselves into images. why can't y'all just see the beauty and let it be ---------------------* James "Cultural appropriation is the adoption or use of the elements of one culture by members of another culture.[1] Cultural appropriation is sometimes portrayed as harmful, framed as cultural misappropriation, and claimed to be a violation of the collective intellectual property rights of the originating culture.[2][3][4][5] Often unavoidable when multiple cultures come together, cultural appropriation can include using other cultures' traditions, fashion, symbols, language, and cultural songs without permission" Its the definition of cultural appropriation. News Flash: You cant just make up your own definitions of things. ---------------------* Hannah Marie James Nino didn't make up a definition, i never said i defined what it was, i was giving informed examples. what did i say exactly that was wrong? ---------------------* Bon N Why can't you see the gross double standards at play ---------------------* Hannah Marie Bon Nord but why do you think it's cultural appropriation? just because it's got black people in it? (genuine question) ---------------------* Aaron L Hannah Marie-Nova St Jean maybe because she literally said white people shouldn't dominate classic art and then literally stole someone's theme for a piece? ---------------------* Hannah Marie Aaron Lonnergan and you think they should dominate???? seems bizarre to me as there are millions of people in the world and one race should dominate? and if you see the work of Warhol and other pop art artists you'll see there is a heavy tradition of using other peoples images and making them ones own while still referencing the original work (like she clearly has done) but the difference is that she isn't making millions from the work. and this image has been so widely used in so many different re-imaginations, where people make fun of and transpose whatever image they want on to it doesn't make sense for this image to be so contested as cultural appropriation when people have literally put Ronald McDonald in the position of god and an overweight person, there's a Simpsons version too i just think it doesn't make sense. people interpret and re-imagine images all the time, the issue comes when someone claims the work as their own, purely original idea. that's when issues begin to arise ---------------------* Nicholas S That last sentence right there - buzz Feed makes it nearly impossible. Last year one of their big topics was how a white girl with dreadlocks was stealing from another culture. And it's just idiotic. ---------------------* Pepe C Everything is cultural appropriation now so everybody might as well stop crying about it. Just like everybody is racist now these words have no meaning anymore. ---------------------* Igor R Yet another cultural appropriation, sure. Or is it a parody as a form of flattery? Celebration of the absent fathers, spending time in prison, while the girls are being raised by their mothers in the 'hoods? Brown skin and coils is nothing to be proud of, unless you think just an abundance of melanin is something to be proud of. But melanin is not the magic powder, not the midichlorians to make you into a Jedi. So far what I am seeing is one second-rate painter apeing the great and original artist of the past, with unintentionally funny results. ---------------------* Mathew B Isn't this just cultural appropriation? ---------------------* Daniel Z Apparently not, you know, Europe doesn't have culture apparently ---------------------* Danni T She gave credit to Michelangelo so no it is not. 😌 ---------------------* James N Danni Turner So if a bunch of white people in black face doing racist skits give credit to Bojangles then its not cultural appropriation or racist right? I mean they gave credit... ---------------------* Danni T It's racist for black face due to the derogatory comparison of said black person, but it isn't appropriating because it was made by Caucasians. So if anything, if a minority donned black face or made their face darker it would be appropriating idiocy from said Caucasian race lol. However, I would like to see you adorn black face in an all black neighborhood. It would be an exquisite scene to watch. ---------------------* Maximus Autizmus Fucking hilarious. A white girl can't braid her hair but blacks can "re-imagine" one of the most iconic European masterpieces? Double standard much ---------------------*

https://www.buzzfeed.com/michaelblackmon/god-is-a-black-woman?bftw&utm_term=.etzgENVRP#.ne0xA2KbZ

#Michelangelo's The Creation Of Adam #Harmonia Rosales

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