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chipper-smol · 3 years

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Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Babysitter SL

Prompt: Shade (lord) is in the midst of final exams and they’re more stressed and tired than usual while babysitting. They accidentally fall asleep in the middle of a calm spell and the god babies become worried. The next time Shade comes over, all of the god babies present a gift they all made together!

By @minnesotamidian-blog

Shade barely noticed their surroundings as they entered the nursery playroom. Plastic clattered and they sighed as Radiance yelled at the top of her lungs. At least she wasn't screaming. Yet. The scene was set: Unn was still in a crib and chewing on a bar, Root was climbing slowly onto a chair. Radiance was knocking over plastic blocks as Grimm cackled away. For once, Wyrm was playing peacefully with a kick toy, batting at it with his tail. Root got onto the chair and squealed, raising her arms. "Big Root now!" The little blue-eyed godling squeaked out.

Shade picked her up, hugged her to their chest before holding her out. "Now you're a flying Root."

She screamed laughter as Shade tiredly walked her around the room before setting her down near some of her favorite toys. They made sure nobody else had claimed the chair and took a seat, bending over to pick up the fussy moth. "Ancient enemy!" Of course she bit their hand.

Shade winced and just ran a hand over her fluff. "Are you hungry for something that isn't void?" They spoke tiredly.

"Oranges!" She yelled out.

The teen sighed as he went to the mini-fridge with snacks and found some miracle of miracles! pre-peeled oranges. Shade pulled them out and put her in a high chair with one at a time so she wouldn't be tempted to throw the extras at them.

Finals were here and they were really taking it out of the gangly god. Why did they have to know stuff about inorganic chemistry? Why did they have to know about history nobody cared about? There were some fun subjects, but the finals seemed to even suck the fun out of those classes, going over notes and studying everything just in case. They'd been pulling long nights and the night before had been an all-night cram session-and they still had to come to work, they couldn't afford not to. They'd underlined all the stuff the teacher had said was important to remember and had written down stuff from the last finals about each teacher's usual tests.

It made narrowing down what to study from impossible to I'm totally toast. They groaned as they set down a calmer Radiance the opposite side of the room from Wyrm. She found toys that interested her, at least. Root wandered over to Wyrm, who was really into knocking at the kick toy and purring. Root settled nearby and burbled as she hugged and gnawed a plushie.

The teen couldn't help it. The kids were calm for once; their head started to tilt forward, eyes heavy. They were exhausted. Shade's eyes closed and their breathing deepened. At first, their toys were too interesting to notice their babysitter's state; but it didn't take long for Grimm to get bored enough to fly over and notice. "...Shade? Shade's eyes are closed." They landed and the four children not in a crib headed for the batlike godling.

"Is Shade dead?" Wyrm sounded worried.

"Don't be stupid, they're having a nap!" Radiance huffed.

Root looked up and swayed before patting Shade's leg. "Grown-ups don't have nap times." She was tearing up.

"Nuh-uh, they're having bad dreams and it's tasty!" Grimm clamored onto their lap.

The others joined, Radiance grabbing Unn to join them on the sleeping teen. Grimm rested between Shade's horns, Unn was on one shoulder, Radiance on the other, with Root and Wyrm curled up together on Shade's lap, Wyrm purring for once.

When Shade woke up, they were surprised by the weight on their body and forced themself to look down and around before moving. "Uh oh, I fell asleep… sheesh, I'm glad this place isn't a fiery disaster." They picked the godlings up. "You're not dead!" Wyrm exclaimed.

Root burst into tears and even Grimm joined in on the crying spat. Shade sighed and spent the rest of the time comforting them until meal time and settled them down. Time to go home for them all!

But the worry didn't leave the heads of the little godlings. "We should make something for Shade. If they're having nightmares, they might be sad." Radiance sighed. "But that doesn't mean I feel bad for my ancient enemy!" "What do we make?" Root twirled around, slowly turning in place until she fell onto pillows in her dizziness.

"Something of clay! I can burn it dry!" Grimm hopped around.

"But there's no clay." Unn spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "But there's crayons and paper."

"Oooh. We can make a pretty picture for Shade!" Wyrm waved his head happily. The group went for papers and each started to draw on the paper. "You're taking up too much paper!" Wyrm whined. Radiance complained in turn, pointing at the color he was using. "I want that color!"

Wyrm growled and argued back. "I had it first!"

They started rolling around over their drawings, biting and clawing. Grimm gave a solid scream that startled the two. "You ruined Shade's pretty pictures!" He yelled.

The two looked at each other and hung their heads. "...sorry." Radiance muttered. "-'m sorry." Wyrm looked away from the moth, skulking. "Start again? You can have the crayon, Radiance…"

Radiance took the crayon and they all picked up the last piece of paper. "I think this is better." Root spoke cheerfully.

It was three days later, once Shade had a solid night's sleep and finals completed that they'd returned to work. A large construction sheet of paper in grey covered in scribbles and rough names and messages was waiting for them.

Feel better soon Shade

Love you

Best babysitter

Tastiest nightmare!

Not the worst anciant ancient enemy.Shade could only feel warmth and laugh, hugging the drawing to themself. There were some days the job felt like the best thing in the world. ------------------------------- By @tomatotimes

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By @loud-whistling-yes

"No."

The kids protested louder. Shade lifted the TV remote higher up, now above their head.

"Screentime's over, I said no."

Wyrm attempted to crawl up their leg in what was a rather pathetic attempt at stealing the remote, but was promptly shaken off. Grimm tried next, flying overhead to snatch the controller. Shade ducked and grabbed him by the tail before he could send himself flying straight towards the ceiling fan for the third time that day.

"Find something else to do," Shade said as they stuffed the remote deep into their pocket, much to everyone else's dismay. "Look, as much as I'd love to shut you guys up for the whole day, you've all been staring at the TV for hours now and I don't want to get in trouble with your parents."

Louder complaints.

"No, no, no. I am not cracking this time." Shade announced as they pulled Radi, who was hissing like an angry cat, off their jeans and pulled their phone out. "You guys got me last week, never again. No more TV for you, we're doing something else before I lose my money for tonight. Google almighty, what is your suggestion."

activities to do with children

fun activities to do with children

activities to do with toddlers

what can I do with kids that isn't a major headache to deal with goddamnit

Go to the park? Shade took about half a second to consider the thought before wondering why they even thought it was possible anyways. Five kids from the deepest depths of hell, outdoors? No. No park.

Finger painting? A pain to clean up, but better than outdoors. Then they looked up from their phone and considered the idea with greater thought. Grimm's wings, Radi's legs, Unn and Wyrm's… er…. Body?.... Nevermind.

Play pretend? …. If they hear the name Hallownest one more time they might just go insane.

Hide and seek? No. No no no no no. No more hide and seek. Shade was utterly sick of hide and seek. If they had to spend another second stuffed inside the closet or trying to get Radi off the roof they'll probably quit the job right there and then.

Baking?

… That might work. Sure, cleaning up is gonna be absolute hell but it's the only thing Google suggested that they haven't tried yet without horrible results.

Shade stuffed their phone back into their pocket and made a getaway to the kitchen, everyone else following, probably still trying to get the remote back. Butter, eggs, flour, sugar, oh, even some chocolate chips…

"Well then," They declared, pulling every ingredient out of the cabinet and fridge. "We're making cookies! And no, no one is allowed to touch the oven when it's hot. If you guys behave we'll have cookies in like, an hour or something like that."

The kids watched in confusion as Shade ran around the kitchen, pulling out bowls and spoons and a bunch of other utensils while typing furiously on their phone.

Cookies recipe

Cookies recipe easy

Cookies recipe for beginners

Cookies recipe for kids

"What do you guys think about chocolate chip cookies?"

Multiple chitters of approval. "Chocolate chip cookies it is then."

Step one: sieve the flour. Oh wyrm, first step and it's already gonna go to shit.

"Okay, you guys can watch this but for the love of the holy wyrm, do not touch it." Shade measured the correct amount of flour before scooping Wrym and Unn off the floor onto the table so they could see while Radi pulled herself onto the chair. The Lady had already clinged herself onto their sweater and Grimm was doing just fine flying nearby.

“You guys get one chocolate chip each if you guys behave and don’t get flour everywhere.” Shade added. “Now, Lady, hold still and don’t move, I gotta keep my hands steady for this…”

************

"Okay, chocolate chip time." Shade popped open the jar of chocolate as the kids cheered. "Actually, we’re not supposed to be eating this plain, cause it's going into the cookies. But no one actually does that so you guys get five chips each for not setting the kitchen on fire so far."

"The recipe says a cup of chocolate chips but we all know that's a lie." They added while shoving their phone back in their pocket and grabbing a handful of chips before mixing the batter together. "I'm probably not someone you should take life lessons from, but here's one thing I can guarantee you should take to heart: never follow the recipe when it comes to chocolate chips, you count that with your soul."

Final step: oven time. The oven was preheated earlier, and the only thing left was to get the cookies into the tray and into the oven. "Now, who wants to make heart-shaped cookies?"

****************

Three deformed stars, five mutated trees, two malformed cats, several irregular hearts, a couple handfuls of chocolate eaten straight from the jar, and one (1) perfectly round cookie later, the cookies were on the tray, in the oven, and in a surprising turn of events, no one burned themselves… yet. Shade grabbed everyone and made sure no one was in a five-meter radius within the oven before picking up all the dirty bowls and utensils. “Cookies will have to sit in there for about 15 minutes, we’ll be cleaning up in the meantime.”

“Don’t look at me like that, and no whining, if you want cookies you gotta deal with the mess afterwards. That's the payoff, unless you're a wizard who has a passion for baking. Then that's fair, I guess." They dumped all the used utensils they could find and turned on the sink. The sief, three bowls, tablespoons and teaspoons.. Oh wait.

"Radi, the big wooden spoon, please?" Shade called, sponge in their hand and bowls being thoroughly rinsed.

Radi, of course, was not willing to help, because she's basically a feral house cat that just so happened to grow more legs than the average feline. Shade sighed and moved on to finding the next helper they could find.

"Grimm, I know you're touching the oven, stop it. I'm pretty sure you're immune to fire but not everyone else and you're setting a bad example for them. Get me the spoon please."

“Lady, here’s a cloth, help me dry the bowls up. Wyrm, … i have no idea how you can help, no limbs and all but uh, could you go get Unn? I have no idea where she went. Thanks.” The last sentence was to Grimm, who flew over with the mixing spoon and dropped it into the sink while Wyrm scurried away to find Unn, wherever she’s napping at.

"Radi? Radi, I know you're right behind me, stop pretending that you can't hear me. Lady has an extra cloth with her, you're on table wiping duty."

*********

“See? That wasn't so bad,” Shade sent the last of the bowls back into the cupboards and closed it shut. “And the cookies are pretty much done.”

“Also, no. You may not eat the cookies the moment I pull them out of the oven. These rules also apply to Grimm because it's unfair to everyone else.. Don’t look at me like that Grimm, I know you’ll eat them all before they cool and leave us nothing.”

The cookies smelt delicious, and were left on the dining table to cool. “Now that it's cooling down, it's naptime.”

A chorus of groans and wailing.

“It’ll be ready when you guys get up. Up up up, sleep time.”

**********

If you’ve been anywhere near toddlers before, you’d know that getting them to nap in their bedrooms is a near-impossible situation. And Shade was not a person who deals with near-impossible situations well. So following the months old custom, Shade turned on the tv, remote miraculously not pickpocketed, collapsed onto the couch, and waited for everyone piling on them to fall asleep before moving them into their bedroom and pretending they managed to wrangle them all into bed.

And it all goes to plan, the Lady and Wyrm were sound asleep on their lap, Radi and Unn were dozing off on their shoulders, and they're pretty sure the snoring from the top of their head was coming from Grmm. Now, step 2: get everyone off them and onto the beds.

… Or maybe later. It's been a long day, and the couch is pretty comfy. Yeah, just five more minutes, nothing wrong with that…

And if the parents came home to see a cleaner-than-expected kitchen, a tray of chocolate chip cookies, and five kids snoring on top of their babysitter, also sound asleep, then that’s nobody’s business.

And if the originally completely full jar of chocolate chips was pretty much empty, then that’s no one’s business as well.

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By @astronomicartz

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By @hollow-kin

Shade lord wanted to take a nap. They are sooo tired, but they are babysitting 5 baby gods for 5$/H. Grimm is a brat, Radiance his sister is also a brat. Unn was ether eating or seeping, same with grub1. Lady was, well sweet and cuddly. they needed to find a distraction for the kids, what would work?

Would tv work, would cartoons work? They had dinner already. Tv had to work or grub and radiance would destroy the house. They needed to take a nap. Now what to watch was a different question, they would have to ask the kids. “so, what do guys want to watch? “Movie!” well they were all in agreement, what was good. “What kind of movie do you guys want to watch?” “Fire!” “dath” “animal” “tree” “ok. No, we are NOT watching fire.” “awww” “i do not know what dath means so no. So nature show it is then.” they go over to the tv and turn it on, then select the world around us. Lady was quick to fall asleep, on their lap. Shade lord slowly fell asleep, and grub nested between grub and shade lord. Grimm climed up to shade lord's head.

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By @hawaiianbabidoll

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By @neoliberalsatan

A gentle darkness surrounded the shade lord. He finally felt at ease. "finally", he thought, "rest." it didn't take long after that before the darkness started to take shape and a whole new world created out of shadows sheathed him.

But the happiness of the shadows didn't last long. A new and a new sound drowned out their world and all the animals and plants took to hiding back in his head. The shade lord felt the distressed creations stir inside his mind and woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He rubbed his lowest eyes and accepted the call

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Oh sorry dear, i know it's terribly late but we got an unexpected call and need to leave. Since you've babysat Unn multiple times we assumed she would like to stay with you. Is it okay for you? Can we bring her to your place?" The shade lord thought for a moment and decided he could use the money. "Yea it's fine, she's always such a pleasure to babysit." The voice on the other side sounded relieved. "Thank you. You're a life saver. We will make sure you're compensated accordingly."

Feeling a bit more awake after the phone call he started to prepare for having baby Unn over. After a while her parents arrived and after some greetings he was home alone with the baby. He walked with her in his arms towards the living room and placed her gently inside the crib. She opened her eyes for a moment after losing the feeling of someone holding her, but then closed them again and fell back asleep.

The shade lord decided he couldn't sleep anymore and made some popcorn and decided to put on a movie. It didn't even take 20 minutes before he got called again.

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Oh yes finally someone who answers. Sorry but you're our last hope. We were going somewhere tonight but our babysitter called off. Do you think you could babysit our lovely Radiance? She's very good behaved and won't cause you trouble." "yea, no problem. You'll just need to bring her to my place if it's no trouble"

Not even 5 minutes later the parents showed up and dropped of their larva. Shade lord looked at it a bit confused but didn't get the time to say anything because the parents left as soon as they handed her over. He closed his front door and gave the larva a good look. She was white and had a fluffy appearance. She had 5 pairs of legs and yellow-orange eyes. She started to writhe a little bit and shade lord made sure to hurry to the living room. He took a pillow and placed it on the couch and softly laid her on it. She seemed at ease and rested on the pillow all stretched out

Shade lord continued his movie, which was finally starting to get interesting, but as usual the commercial break hit. He was in the kitchen making more popcorn when he got another call.

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Hello, is this the babysitter?" "Yes, that's the one you're speaking with." "Great, a family member had an accident and i need to be there for them so do you think you could babysit for me?" "Yep, totally." "Thank you, can we bring him to you?" "Oh yea, no problem."

A few minutes later his doorbell rang and he hurried towards it. The father carried his toddler in what could only be described as wing-esque appendages. The shade lord extended his arms for the man to put his toddler in and felt a gentle brush of the leathery membrane. He shivered lightly before feeling a sudden warmth light up in his face, like someone has started a fire. When he looked back up the man was gone and he closed the door. The creature he was holding in his arms was unlike anything he had ever seen. 2 horns sprouted from its black head. The face was as bleak as white linen on a summer day. It seems she likes make-up because she had already 2 black lines running from her cheeks towards her eyes, eventually fading into the darkness of her head. She had the same membranes as her father and no limbs besides it.

He wasn’t even in the living room before he heard his front door being was under siege. He put the weird creature down and opened the front door. Immediately he was assaulted by Hollow, a very energetic child. He was wearing a green cloak today and it finally seemed he was starting to grow bigger than a hand. His horns has also branched into the inside. Immediately after Hollow jumped on his he could hear Pale complain about his unprofessional work attitude. Although he was bigger than most it seems he wouldn’t grow much anymore. His tiny stature didn’t discourage him from being bossy. Finally White entered. By far the biggest of the bunch, she was also the most introverted. Her roots slid elegantly over towards him and even managed to stop Pale from talking for a moment.

He took them inside the living room only to find that somehow the larva and the winged creature had somehow gotten into a fight and now both were in hiding in opposite sides of the room. Normally he wouldn’t make such a big deal out of this if somehow his couch wasn’t full of tiny needles and a chair was on fire. He rushed to the tap to fill a bowl of water to extinguish the little fire. With the attention being diverted Hollow managed to slip from the watch of Pale and could now be found in the corner Radiance was hiding. The larva figured out quickly he liked to play games and had soon enough set up a plan to make him betray Pale.

In the meantime White had climbed the couch and started pulling out the needles while Shade lord had figured out what the membrane between the appendages from the weird creature were for. Namely, for flight. And now she was attacking his horns and he couldn’t reach her. As if her flying was not good enough alone, whenever he raised his arms she would back off and launch a little fireball All this commotion woke up baby Unn who slowly started to slither away from her crib to find food.

The shade lord finally had enough of the little fire hazard and rushed towards the pantry to get a kettle. Once he had found it he peeked around the corner only to find that fire hazard eating his popcorn! All caution was thrown aside and he grabbed her by the guts and put her inside the kettle. She tried to heat it but he added some water to it. While it evaporated quickly it was apparently enough to bring over the message. Now he could focus his attention back on the larva again, only she could’ve produced those needles, which White was making great progress with removing them as a quick glance told him.

Now back to Pale and Radiance who were apparently having a fight (Darkness, that larva really has a talent to provoke others). They were arguing near the coffee table, because apparently they wanted a fight so bad they just ran to each other and met in the middle. Hollow was climbing one of the legs of the table, but wasn’t noticed by the shade lord because he was too occupied with the other 2. He tried to separate the arguing pair but they were at each other’s throats. They even had summoned a needle and a tiny dagger to fight each other. The shade lord obviously didn’t count on this tiny factor and had soon enough one in each hand. He screamed, trying not to curse, barely not failing miserably, and Pale managed to escape. In any other situation this wouldn’t pose a problem, but Hollow, after eating some popcorn, found himself at the right edge of the coffee table and pulled out his tiny wooden sword he got from Pale. The larva, Darkness curse her, used this to her advantage and made the sign to Hollow to betray Pale. The act of betraying Pale involved jumping off of the coffee table and hitting Pale as hard on the head as possible. Naturally, all of this went according to plan and even brought some extra spectacle. After Hollow had hit Pale on the head he wasn’t prepared for the recoil of the wood and ended up hitting himself in the face.

All of this lead to 3 crying children (1 of them from laughing, the others from pain) and 1 very angry young adult. He put the larva on the couch and took care of the others while White held a close eye on the damned 10 legged thing. After Pale and Hollow weren’t crying anymore he took the little fire hazard out of the kettle and continued his movie, which was getting to an end.

After the film ended a documentary started and had all the kids hooked. He went to check on Unn only to find an empty crib. He could however see a slimy trail lead up his wall and onto the ceiling. It went through the door into the pantry where he kept his food and toys for the toddlers. He looked up on the ceiling only to find a sleepy Unn with a letter block in her mouth. Suddenly Unn started to make a very weird noise and fell from the ceiling onto his face. He swiped her off of his face onto his shoulder and then washed it.

He returned back to the tv to watch the documentary that was still playing and plopped down on the couch. Not long after he was asleep with White on his left shoulder, Unn on his right shoulder, the little fire hazard on the same arm and Pale curled up in his lap. Radiance and hollow were still awake but occupied with the documentary instead of causing trouble. After the documentary ended they crawled up against his sides and fell asleep.

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By @constantlost

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By @bugbeee

Exhaustion seeped into Shadelord’s body, limbs weighed down by a heaviness they hadn’t experienced in a while. The smatter of godlings that lay around them on the couch, or on them in Radi’s case, was enough to convince them that they had died and that this was the Eternal Void that was created to punish them for cheating on that test in the 8th grade. In their defence, it had been on rock sedimentation.

Wyrm continued his grumbling from the corner of the couch, still infuriated by the attack on his person only moments before. Root, the aggressor, looked remarkably pleased with herself. Shade knew they should probably punish her further in some way but... well, to be perfectly honest, they simply were not paid enough to do so.

They really should have charged more. Fifteen dollars at least per tiny demon they had to look after rather than the whole bunch. Fifteen dollars was not enough to encourage discipline. It was enough for them to make sure none of the godlings killed the other. And they had thought they had come up with an ingenious plan to secure some peace and quiet.

After much wrangling, they had finally managed to set up two separate playpens, each far enough away that the godlings wouldn’t start screaming if one of them saw their rival. Wyrm and Root in one pen, Grimm, Radi and Unn in another. It was a gamble, but one that thankfully seemed to have paid off. Radi was still exhausted from the tussle she had just had with Wyrm, and Grimm seemed content to chew off the heads of the plastic Garbies they had found. Unn continued to watch, and occasionally helped Grimm execute a Garbie in a spectacular manner. It was both reassuring, and beyond disturbing. Root and Wyrm meanwhile were cheerfully ignoring each other as they both played with their own toys.

It should have been foolproof.

Unfortunately for Shade however, they were dealing with infants instead of fools.

For some damned reason, Root had decided that now was the perfect time to act up, instead of being the sweet little darling she had been so far. Her target, much to their dismay, had been Wyrm. In all fairness, the godling had probably deserved it in some way; most likely he had tried to worm too close in order to steal some of the grubpaste and mushroom sticks Shade had left out as a snack. Root had seen this theft as a cardinal sin, and had subsequently decided that Wyrm deserved nothing less than absolute annihilation.

The momentary doze Shade had managed to fall into was abruptly interrupted by loud shrieking and wailing, resulting in them vaulting over the couch to hurriedly find out which one of the godlings was being tortured.

The scene that greeted them was... well, it wasn’t any less ridiculous than some of the other stuff the little goblins had pulled before.

Using her flexible tendrils, Root had seen fit to wrap them around Wyrm, and aggressively dunk him into the bowl of grubpaste he had attempted to steal from. His shrieks and hisses had woken up Radi and drawn the attention of the other children, who were now cheering on Root’s attack on Wyrm’s person.

“Enough,” Shade declared, shooting a glare behind them, “Root, let him go.” Root looked up innocently.

No, she seemed to say with her eyes, justice must prevail.

“Justice won’t get me my fifteen dollars,” they hissed out in return, and they could have sworn that Root shrugged, turning away from them to dunk Wyrm into the bowl yet again.

“No!” they cried out, quickly whipping down to grab the poor child before he could be further humiliated. After finally being saved from his vicious tormentor, Wyrm decided it was time to go into hysterics, lashing out with a sharp tail to fully show his displeasure. Root simply watched impassively as the rest of the children cheered.

Shade wondered if fifteen dollars was even worth it at this point.

“Alright, alright, enough! Root, you go in time out. We do not waterboard our fellow godlings in grubpaste. Wyrm, calm down, it’s just grubpaste- Settle down!” they yelped out, flinching as something heavy settled onto their head. The soft fluff revealed that Radi had decided to fly out of her pen and taunt Wyrm in person. Shade wanted to sob with frustration.

The door cracked open, and Ghost peered in, head tilted curiously.

Need help? they signed, and Shade wanted to collapse in relief.

“Please,” they begged, and their sibling nodded grimly, even as amusement danced in their eyes. Shucking off their school backpack, they quickly headed over to the other pen and signed to them, bobbing their head up and down in a soothing motion. Grimm and Unn were entranced. Radi less so. She remained seated on their head, but at least seemed to have finally stopped provoking Wyrm.

“I’m just going to clean him up,” Shade explained uselessly, watching as Ghost simply nodded and waved them off.

With a tired gait, Shade wandered into the kitchen and turned on the tap, listening as Wyrm’s panicked yelps grew louder at the realisation of what was going to happen next. Radi snickered softly, before leaping off and gliding back into the living room.

Bath time, according to the godlings, was a fate worse than death, and something to be avoided at all cost.

Unfortunately for both Wyrm and Shade, it was a necessary evil. Wyrm disagreed. Loudly. And with claws.

He howled furiously as Shade slowly lowered him into the warm water, softly scrubbing at the now-dried grubpaste sticking to his skin. Despite his attempts, Wyrm failed to prevent them from continuing his bath. He turned to pathetic pleading instead, making soft mewling sounds as though he was nothing more than a poor innocent child who had done nothing wrong, ever.

Shade, who remembered the little bastard knocking a glass ornament onto their head, was not convinced. Ultimately there was no escape, and Wyrm reluctantly gave in to the soft scrubbing, though he made sure his rumbling complaints were known.

“Yes, yes,” Shade said quietly, “I truly am the worst. Close your eyes so I can rinse you.”

Wyrm, in a dumb act of defiance, did not close his eyes. The hysterics started again, and Shade contemplated drowning themself in the half-filled sink. Fifteen dollars, they repeated. Fifteen dollars.

Grabbing a tea towel, they quickly dried the godling off, carefully teasing out water droplets from soft scales. He child gnawed on their fingers in revenge. “I’m done,” they announced, wandering back into the living room with a now clean, and furious, Wyrm.

Ghost looked up from their position on the floor, back leaning against the couch as they played with Grimm. Radi immediately perked up at the sound of Shade’s voice, and quickly flew over, making herself at home on top of their head. Unn seemed to have decided to undertake the momentous task of scaling up the back of the couch, leaving a thick trail of slime behind. Root, still stuck in her pen as punishment, let out a wail, demanding to be let out.

Shade was all out of energy to fight back or deal with a tantrum.

“Alright, alright, out you go,” they muttered, depositing Wyrm on the couch before reaching down to lift out the petulant child from her terrible prison. She clung to them desperately until they finally collapsed on the sofa. She quickly wriggled out of their hold and instead plonked down beside them. Wyrm had hissed at the sight of her, and slunk to the other side of the couch to sulk.

Grimm let out a raspy cackle at the sight, before diving down to nip at Ghost’s fingers.

Unn finally made her way to the top of the couch and waved her eyestalks victoriously. All Shade could do was give her a tired pat.

They sank into the couch, the exhaustion creeping back in. It should have been foolproof.

Fifteen dollars.

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By @arandoskeleartist

youtube

#telephoneknight #hollowknight #hollow knight #BabysitterSL #shade lord #pale king #radiance #nightmare king grimm #unn #white lady

158 notes · View notes

blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

pink cherry blossoms.

pairing: changbin x (gender neutral) reader.

genre: high school au ; fluff.

�� warnings: none, changbin is Y/N’s high school pen pal + bf + and she’s a foreign exchange student uwu. 🥰

word count: 1.4 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Seo Changbin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @pinkchcn (requests for this are closed now!)

!!!; bold italics indicate Changbin’s letter.

↯ note: hhhhhh so the story for this comes from when I first read your url, I read it as “pink chicken” siudhyuegfw I’m so sorry if has a deeper meaning I by no means meant to mock it I swear. 😭 Hope you enjoy this blurb tho, this is in no way comparable to your awesome writing you queen but I tried. 😔 Happy reading! <33⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: Okay now that tumblr officially fucked with my self-esteem + the tags I am glad to announce that this is officially the worst fic ever Kai I’m so sorry I made you read this. 😭 I’ll go boo at myself now bye :(( ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Y/N-ah, you got mail.” Your roommate chimed in Japanese, throwing the envelope on top of your sleeping form. You groaned, shuffling under the mess of sheets. It was a Sunday, of all times! What reason did your friend find to wake you up early? You didn’t take the intrusion of sleep well.

“What?” Grubbily, you straightened up from the lower bunk of the bed, rubbing over your eyes as you squinted to look at your friend, who was silently giggling at the way your hair looked like a bird’s nest, all poofed up and sticking out in random places. “You got mail.” She repeated, tucking back her neatly combed hair behind her ear, before plopping a small parcel in front of you. “The letter was attached to this.”

“I know that.” You asked, throwing the blankets over your torso, snuggling into it’s warmth. “What could be so important that you had to wake me up for the mail?’ A soft huff from your lips and you rubbed over your eyes, trying to push away any remnants of sleep. “Couldn’t you have just left it on my table?” Shoving the envelope to the side.

“It’s from your boyfriend~” Your friend in a sing song voice, laughing when you lit up at the little admission. “Have fun reading it! I’m gonna go to the park. You need something?”

“Get me some cherry blossoms.” You stretched your limbs, any last signs of grubbiness gone with the wind. It was officially spring, which meant that the whole city was coated in pink, cherry blossoms of varying shades everywhere, and you loved the scenery they provided — especially from your balcony.

“Are you gonna send them to Changbin?” Your friend asked.

“Oh gosh, are you gonna keep asking me questions or are you gonna go?” Grabbing the pillow behind you, you chucked it at her head, laughing in victory when she was unable to dodge it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “See you later.”

Deciding it as a good time to get out of bed, you quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face and tied your hair into a braid before staring at the envelope strewn on the bed. Your two other roommates were both outside already — you could read the letter in peace.

Plopping yourself onto the soft mattress, you covered yourself with the blankets once again before turning the envelope in your hand. Your address was neatly written in his handwriting, followed by three hearts and one winky face. The drawings warmed your heart as you unwrapped the package that came along with it.

It took you a while, but you eventually had the box opened and the tore the envelope, revealing a small piece of paper that had been crookedly folded in half, as though in hurry. Knowing Changbin, you knew better than to just assume that the letter was short, because that man had the tiniest handwriting you’d ever seen — being his pen pal meant you’d have to basically become a human magnifying glass.

Grabbing your reading glasses, you let them hang over your nose as you squinted, trying to read the letter.

Dear Y/N,

Hi^^ hope you’re having a lovely time there, darling~ it’s been going quite okay here. >w< Binnie misses you a lot-

You bit your lip to stifle your laughter. The fact that he’d actually bothered to draw emojis and use aegyo in his letter made you melt in warmth. You sunk back into the plush cushions as you continued reading his letter.

-and I sure hope you’re missing me too okay !! >:( don’t forget about me !! Anyways, it’s starting to get cold over here and mom forces me to pull over that dusty jacket that only makes me sneeze. Honestly I wish you were here, I miss your cuddles :(( But how’s everything going on there? Are you eating properly? Are you getting sufficient sleep? You better or else I’m gonna revoke my cuddles and hugs when you get back here after two months !! Remember to eat, drink water and sleep well okay!! That’s an order!! Or else. >:(

By the time you reached this part of the letter, you were already melting at how adorably concerned he sounded, even through writing. Your giggles were taking no name to stop as you clutched your letter. Feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks as you sighed, in love. You loved how he could make you forget everything around you and drown in everything Seo Changbin, and Seo Changbin only.

Anyways, I sent something for you!! Open the package !! ^^ It reminded me of you so I hope you liked it.

You tilted your head to the side as you flipped the lid of the box open, looking at one of those customizable “summer greetings” card (which was weird, considering that he’d just said it was getting colder)… and, a chicken?

You scowled in confusion as you picked up the plastic object, examining it thoroughly i your hands. It was colored in the usual hues of a normal chicken, but it nonetheless confused you. It reminded you of one of those plastic toys Changbin’s niece owned — in fact, you were almost 85% sure it was his niece’s.

“This reminded him of me? What the hell!” You glanced at the letter with a pout on your face, eyes searching for answers. For some reasons, butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach, producing a jittery sensation. Ignoring that, you continued reading, noticing a portion of the letter remaining.

Okay keukeukeukeu now that you’ve probably opened it you’re most likely confused and mad at me, and to that I say it was a prank :D That was’s Hyunae’s old toys keukeukeukeu hope you got fooled though. >:) Remove the cloth from the box and see what’s underneath now^^ Promise it’s not a chicken keukeukeuekeu >w<

You narrowed your eyes at the piece of paper, and then the box, noticing the cloth that seemed like it covered something underneath. Reaching out for it, you placed the box in your lap before holding your breath, gently taking the fabric out. You couldn’t be blamed for being nervous, okay? You just received a toy chicken as a souvenir from your boyfriend! A chicken, out of all things!

But, however, your suspicions were put to rest when the cloth was lifted. What you saw inside the box, was by far and most easily, one of the most beautiful gifts you’d ever received, and you felt a slight pang in your heart as your jaw dropped in awe.

It was a dark metal hairband, but the thing that was pretty about it was the tiny cherry blossoms that were arranged on top of it — just by looking at it, you could tell Changbin had spent hours making and coloring those clay flowers, let along moulding and placing them so perfectly. Small, shiny pearls placed in the centre of each flower shined in the light, and you internally swooned at hoe pretty it looked. Nothing could compare to anything you’d bought from the store, ever.

So this was his gift, huh?

“Wow,” You mumbled to yourself, gently and carefully sliding the headband onto your hair. It was heavy, but not that heavy and comfortable enough to wear frequently, you continued reading.

Aaaah i really hope you like it !! I spent about three days making this in craft class, and even the teacher said it came out well (also this reminded me of you please don’t be mad keukeukeuekue), I hope you like it darling !! ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ Remember to write back to me okay !! I love you !! take care darling, bye~

With love

your boyfriend Seo Changbin. ♡ ♡

You smiled when the letter ended, almost (almost) tearing up with how touched you were. Changbin had immense craftmanship indeed, but this by far, was one of the most beautiful pieces he’d ever made, let alone gifted to you.

“Wow, that’s pretty! Did Changbin send that?” You snapped up to look at your friend, who gazed at your headband in awe.

“Yeah!” Covering your mouth, you giggled. “Did you bring it?”

“Mhm,” Your friend carefully handed the delicate flower to you, and you quickly rushed to your cupboard, getting the little journal you’d made over the three months you were here. Once you sat back down on the bed after grabbing a pen, you opened the page titled ‘Spring’ and cautiously taped the cherry blossom onto the page, closing the book shit so it could be pressed into paper. After that it was the obvious, you quickly wrote him a note, smiling to yourself as you ran your hand across the flower crown you adorned on your head.

And of course, when Changbin opened the package two days later to receive the moderately fresh, pressed flower along with your stories and your note, a smile pulled at his lips in an instant.

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor at least this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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honourablejester · 4 years

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Ideas for Dragons (D&D)

Or rather, thoughts on characters-who-are-dragons-in-(sort of)-disguise. Assuming that all ancient dragons have the ‘change shape’ option, metallic or otherwise, because it’s more fun that way. Sprinkle secret dragons everywhere! Why not? Also, bit lenient on the alignment here.

White

Keywords: feral, primal, vengeful, with long memories

Thoughts: Whites in disguise will be independent forces in the world. The wilderness dragons. They’ll have personal goals and points of pride. They’ll be your lone ranger seeking vengeance against a hated enemy. Your fearsome druid seeking to drive out invaders from their pristine wildernesses. Or, perhaps, your barbarians, warrior kings and queens, carving out their own territories. Quite likely to only nominally be ‘in disguise’, unless they’re really trying not to draw attention to their weakness/enemy. The pirate/whaler queen based in an iceberg shanty town, the proud spear-fisher challenging strangers to beat her, the capable outlander in a western. Heh.

Gold

Keywords: aloof, grim, reserved, dedicated foes of evil

Thoughts: Weirdly, I’m kind of liking gold dragons for rogues? Spies and spymasters. ‘Rarely does a gold dragon in disguise reveal its true form’. What I’m getting here is that golds in disguise are professional about it. They go undercover to hunt out evil. I know golds are usually seen as paladin material, and they definitely work as weary knights, but I’m liking the lawful rogue here. Add in aloof, grim, and you’ve a lovely set up for the stoic spymaster sending people to live and die in tyrannical empires and evil cults, or the grim spy going in themselves. Golds are the dragons you meet when you’re chained in a dungeon, or the one you’re taken to meet when you escape.

Green

Keywords: cunning, manipulative, ambitious, intelligent

Thoughts: I’m guessing it’s the association with envy that makes green always the cunning ambitious colour, but hey, we’ll work with it. Greens in disguise are your wizards, your courtiers, your merchant princes, your ‘legitimate businessmen’. Your Petyr Baelishes. Anyone in a position to pull strings and topple dominos and thrive on chaos. La Voisin. The courtesan, the poisoner, the palace physician. Also, greens feel like they’d have multiple disguises on the go at once. What people think are four separate NPCs are actually one, and she’s gently wheeling five or six factions into her grasp, for good or for ill. Honestly, greens are great.

Copper

Keywords: cautious, tricksy, miserly, hospitable

Thoughts: Couple of directions coppers can go, depending on whether this is a whim or if they have an enemy. They’ll either be the once-off, amusing-to-aggravating encounter, enough to tweak some noses and teach some lessons, in which case they’ll be much louder and more cheerful about things, OR they’ll be in much deeper cover and likely covering a long game with humour and a more subtle disguise. Bards and rogues. They can play spies as well as greens and golds. But I like the hospitality as a defining feature. A copper undercover as the most dangerous gang lord you ever saw will still have impeccable manners. (Coppers are basically fey)

Blue

Keywords: dramatic, patient, methodical, vain

Thoughts: Aristocrats to the core. Blues strike me as basically vampires? Lestat de Lioncourt. Patient, fond of the high life, dramatic as a thunderstorm when riled. When you look at a blue, you know there’s something off, something predatory, but not exactly what. Blues will be regal, noble, well-connected. Smart about alliances. Like whites, they’ll have a list of people who’ve ticked them off, and they’ll take their time returning the favour, but unlike whites blues will be indirect about it. Ambush predators, and dramatic ones. They’ll set up something truly notable. Patient and dramatic. The worst sort of enemies. But excellent friends if pointed at mutual foes.

Silver

Keywords: friendly, benign, fond of history, prone to attachment

Thoughts: Innkeepers. Back alley healers (the ‘helping the poor for free’ kind, not the ‘shady as hell’ kind, though you never know). The uncle or auntie in the village that everyone knows and no one is entirely sure of the age of. The lovely, nice, friendly old lady who would never hurt a fly but wicked people who come to the village tend to walk away rather thoughtful after sitting down to tea. Or, you know, don’t walk away at all. The librarians, teachers, bakers, healers. The most normal-seeming, right in the thick of it, but often slightly forgetful when it comes to how long their ‘disguises’ are supposed to be able to stay alive. Ah. Oops?

Black

Keywords: paranoid, brutal, survivalist, ‘do unto others before they do unto you’

Thoughts: Guerrilla warlords. We’re back out in the wilderness. Run and hide and strike where your enemies are weakest. Disguise yourself to find out where they’re weakest, who is your enemy now and who will be your enemy later. Rebels and outlaws. I like the link to crumbled civilisations. If you want a more ambiguous black, you can have them championing a dead kingdom against a foreign invader (for given values of ‘foreign’ depending on how many centuries on this is). Blacks are your outlanders, unwilling to accept any dominion but their own, hardened and vicious when maintaining their independence, paranoid about where the strike will come. Blacks are hard-edged, the allies you really need to work to keep good, the enemies you need to hit hard and hit now.

Bronze

Keywords: daring, warlike, nautical, rebels in search of a cause

Thoughts: Well. Rebels, to start with. Again. Consulting heroes. Les Amis from Les Miserables. Odysseus. Though bronzes can be patient and like to be fully sure who’s done what and when and why before they start swinging, they really don’t hesitate from that point. So, like whites, often they’ll only nominally be ‘disguised’. They’ll be bold and daring and in-your-face, unless they’re actively on a mission that needs secrecy. I feel like they tend to use whatever form is most useful for the moment, and don’t tend as much towards long-term covers. They’re good students of history, though, and effective at what they do. If a bronze is well-established, they’ll be a respected leader.

Red

Keywords: proud, territorial, explosive, obsessive

Thoughts: Reds are very … wizardy. Classic tower wizards, I mean. Isolated, explosive, unhappy about conversing with inferiors. Etc. But they’re also curious. They don’t want to be left behind, or become obsolete. So they’ll disguise themselves as something well-respected, important, unlikely to be challenged. Nobles, yes, but also academics, emissaries, foreign dignitaries. Historians. Treaty-makers. Archmages. Reds want to be the linch-pins, the fulcrums around which the world turns. They can be very valuable if you manoeuvre them into the right places, but don’t put them anywhere you wouldn’t be comfortable putting sweaty nitroglycerine. They will go boom eventually.

Brass

Keywords: curious, gregarious, conversationalist, craving stimulation

Thoughts: Merchants. Straight away. Peddlers, merchants, coffee house proprietors. Innkeepers, too. Anywhere that’s gossip central. Anywhere that sees objects and curiosities from around the world. Certain stripes of academics as well. Brasses won’t be spies like greens or golds, even coppers or blacks, they won’t be collecting things for a cause, but they might sell information afterwards for their own amusement. Collecting whatever’s shiny, passing it on to whoever’s interested. Might play cheerful games of one-upmanship with other information brokers. Assets to everyone, but beholden to no one. Reactive if tricked or feel like they’ve been used badly, though. Brasses make good neutral, independent, ambiguous contractors.

Just … throw in lots of dragons. Dragons are always a fun surprise! Ancient, wily serpents steering the world or local events in varying directions. Have a world where anyone you meet could be a dragon! Dignified nobles, fearsome rebels, motherly innkeepers, travelling merchants, tired functionaries, annoying children, proud survivalists, touchy emissaries, old soldiers, cunning brothel keepers, the gossipy old biddy on the corner …

What is life without the idea that just about any of them could suddenly sprout wings and breath weapons and a lot of teeth very suddenly in your face? Heh.

#d&d #dnd #dragons #disguises #long post #secret dragons #or not so secret #what is fantasy without lots of surprise dragons?

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redteabaron · 4 years

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The three gods and their lots - (three heads of the dragon)

Contains meta below the cut as well as possible interpretations and theories and speculation. I feel like I should also add a disclaimer that no, I don’t think Targaryens are gods incarnate, this is just examining mythological aspects in their stories and characters and finding commonalities. (I only respect one mortal turning into a god and that is Bran)

The major three gods of the Greek pantheon were: Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They drew lots and shared dominion over the world - Zeus was god of the sky and king of the gods, Poseidon was god of the sea, and Hades was the god of the Underworld. Three dominions, three gods.

“The dragon has three heads.” - Daenerys IV, ACOK

Aegon/Zeus

“I have. Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me...in Westeros.” - Aegon, The Lost Lord, ADWD

The lesson began with languages. Young Griff spoke the Common Tongue as if he had been born to it, and was fluent in High Valyrian, the low dialects of Pentos, Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys, and the trade talk of sailors. … Geometry followed languages. There the boy was less adroit, but Haldon was a patient teacher…” - Tyrion IV, ADWD

“...Yandry said we ought to throw you back, but the lad forbade it.”

The prince. - Tyrion VI, ADWD

Upon his birth, Zeus had to be spirited away from his father, Cronus, who had swallowed his siblings and hidden so he could escape the fate of his siblings. He would later grow, revolt against his father, and regurgitate his siblings. After drawing lots, Zeus would be given dominion over the sky and be named king of the gods.

Zeus was affiliated with protection, authority, righteous rule, battle, and justice. He was considered a fair protector and ruler, but not above petty jealousy or anger (or amorousness).

Aegon, in what little we have seen from him, is actually groomed from a young age to rule. He doesn’t have the hands-on experiences several other characters are thusly put through in the books, but it is very clear he knows what is expected of him, has the knowledge required for the position, and has a good claim to the throne - one that is seemingly preordained, as Zeus’s was foretold before his father swallowed his children.

Aegon’s connection to the red comet seen on the day of his birth can be loosely traced to Zeus’s mastery over the sky itself (where the sky reflects a point of significance to both Zeus’s temper or demands, so did Aegon’s birth seemingly coincide with the prophecy of the prince that was promised).

“Young Griff”/Aegon had similarly been spirited away as Zeus had during a time of catastrophe when his claim would threaten another (where instead of a stone wrapped in swaddling, Aegon’s escape was tendered by Varys switching him with another baby) and raised in secrecy, despite being the rightful heir of a kingdom. It’s not Cronus he was hidden from or his actual father, but Robert Baratheon who is hellbent on wiping out the entire line of Targaryens, even agreeing to Tywin’s methods (whether or not he ordered the Mountain to do what he did to Elia and the children doesn’t matter; he was the Mountain’s lord, and so at best he just insinuated ‘do what you want’ very well knowing what Gregor was like). Not so different from Cronus, who, desperate to keep his power, swallowed all of his children.

In text he’s shown to be a little impatient in his desire to be taken seriously and not be coddled by Griff (but honestly he’s 16 and every teenager everywhere in the history of anybody can be impatient and a little overdramatic; Tyrion is briefly reminded of Joffrey when Aegon throws a tantrum over cyvasse, but Tyrion is shown to not like a lot of people for various reasons, so). However, he has a fantastic grip on his studies, in particular language and history, and we can infer that he has an interest in ruling that goes well beyond ‘it sounds like fun’ (Robert Baratheon’s quote that he never felt so alive as when he was winning the war, and never so dead after it was won comes to mind), at least from what we know from Varys and Griff, and a bit from Tyrion.

But aside from the impatience we see from him, he shows compassion and an unwillingness to forget kindness when he refuses to let Tyrion drown after Tyrion saves him from a stone-man. From the Tyrion chapters in ADWD, we see Aegon laugh quite freely, is at ease among people of a different station from him; we actually get the idea that even if he can be a little immature, he shows a lot of promise for rule and justice.

One of the more interesting connections between he and Zeus is the fact that there is some debate as to whether Zeus is the youngest or the oldest of his siblings since he was never swallowed by his father (who technically, after he regurgitated them, also gave ‘birth’ to the swallowed siblings) - and there is understandable debate as to whether Aegon is really Aegon. It could go either way; they are Schrödinger's brother and represent a puzzle, a possible paradox (I do actually believe Aegon is the real deal; if Ned can smuggle out a secret-baby from a tower across a battlefield with only his buddy from the swamps, Varys could certainly have arranged a switch).

And associating Aegon with justice, imo, isn’t a stretch - particularly when we’ll get to see him gain some traction outside of Jon Connington’s influence (who just likes to hate on the Martells because he’s a Rhaegar fanboy don’t @ me) and we see him meet Arianne. Jon C only sees Rhaegar in Aegon because all Jon C can ever see is Rhaegar; once we move beyond Jon C’s immediate and constant influence over Aegon (and him trying to shape him as Rhaegar 2.0) we’ll see Aegon have the opportunity to connect directly with his Martell side. I believe there’s a good chance we’ll see Aegon seek out, and speak about it, justice for his mother and sibling especially given that he’ll have a positive Martell influence at his side. We just haven’t had the opportunity yet. (And Zeus was always associated with righteous authority and justice).

It’s not a huge hint, but there is also the connection Zeus has with gryphons; in a translation of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus, Prometheus has a warning for Io “Beware of the sharp-beaked hounds of Zeus that do not bark, gryphons”. Gryphons/griffins are also said to pull Zeus’s chariots. Jon C is undoubtedly the guard dog that stands ready at Aegon’s side and manages to ‘carry’ him in a sense to Griffin’s Roost (poor influence on him notwithstanding, I can’t really cast aside the fact that he is loyal to Aegon, regardless of the reasons why).

Admittedly, Aegon is definitely much milder than Zeus with his flaws microscopic compared to the king of gods, but I think a lot of mythology references aren’t word-for-word, and in asoiaf they sometimes pull through less obviously. Casting Aegon as Zeus works specifically for this because of the rule of three, and who I ended up going with for the other two in this meta/theory.

Zeus was not without his share of flaws and while he was king of the gods, his rule never went unchallenged - chief amongst them to instigate things was Poseidon. Aegon similarly won’t be unchallenged for it.

Daenerys/Poseidon

“The Dothraki sea,” Ser Jorah Mormont said as he reined to a halt beside her on the top of the ridge. Beneath them, the plain stretched out immense and empty, a vast flat expanse that reached to the distant horizon and beyond. It was a sea, Dany thought. - Daenerys III, AGOT

“...I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.” - Ned, Eddard VIII AGOT

The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind...The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much. - Daenerys III AGOT

“...I know that somewhere upon the grass, her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet.” - Tyrion VI, ADWD

Poseidon was lord of horses, god of the sea (and all that it entailed). Upon drawing his lot, he envied Zeus his position as rightful king and challenged him for it several times (conspiring with his siblings at some points), and would often needle his sibling. He was a key deity to pray to for protection, mostly travelers and sailors. He was associated with the sea, storms, earthquakes, and horses. In some stories, he too was smuggled away from Cronus, in others, he was swallowed like his siblings.

Poseidon’s temperament was known to reflect the sea and storms; he was unruly and seen as a rebel against authority that existed both in the divine realm and the mortal realm. Him being lord of the sea, storms, earthquakes, and horses, reflects a wilder nature.

While Aegon is seen as the rightful heir to the iron throne (and consequently has the Golden Company with him, lending a further air of credibility to his right since the GC are ‘honorable’) and has a shared mastery of the sky with Zeus (referring to the day of his birth and its connection to the red comet), Dany has been ‘given’ domain over the sea. The Dothraki sea, at any rate, and the Dothraki themselves (who are also known as horselords). While her temperament hasn’t shown itself to quite the extreme Poseidon’s has shown in his tales, she has a connection to the foreshadowing of a storm, of bringing a storm (her name, the day of her birth, repeated connection with the unruliness of her largest dragon Drogon, and indications of her possibly forming an alliance with Euron Greyjoy in the future etc).

No squall could frighten Dany, though. Daenerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside, a storm so fierce that it rippled gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father’s fleet to kindling. - Daenerys I, ASOS

It’s an interesting connection that Dany has with the sea and horses, imo. She’s shown to love the freedom of the sea, of sailing, and she loves horses. Both are associated with freedom to travel and journey, as we see her ecstasy on the back of Drogon flight gives her a similar feeling. It is, I think, reflecting the fact that she isn’t shown to enjoy ruling, but she does enjoy power and victory (and conquering although it’s not so cartoonishly overt). The fact that Ned says there’s nothing to fear so long as the Dothraki never learn how to cross the Narrow Sea on their horses was setting up that they will ‘learn’.

Dany, cast under Poseidon, as lord of horses and the sea (and journeying), gives them that “opportunity” (one they don’t want or need, desperately).

While all the gods of the pantheon were guilty of petty meddling and warring with each other and having rivalries, Poseidon was infamous for having disputes with other gods for supremacy and control of other countries. At once point, when Athens chose to follow Athena over him, he flooded them in his outage. Some believed that his anger roused storms, caused earthquakes, and floods. (Again, he was far from the only god to do petty things like this, but he was held up as the one who was infamous for it even as he was also viewed as a protector).

Dany doesn’t summon any of those things, but there is a buildup of her anger/frustration in the books. Her justice is biased (to say nothing of her hypocrisy in dealing with slavery, in one breath claiming it is abominable, in the next allowing it to happen and partaking a portion of the profit just as the slavers she had ousted did) when she corrects herself to demand that the wineseller’s daughters be questioned more harshly, rather than gently (implying there is torture to follow in the interrogation).

We see that temper rear its head when she burns Mirri, a victim of the Dothraki who was taken as a slave after being assaulted a number of times, after Drogo dies, when Jorah’s duplicity is revealed to her and she sends he and Barristan into the sewers hoping they’ll die, etc, (not necessarily to say her anger in some of these moments isn’t warranted, but gradually over the course of the books, her frustration becomes more obvious and her solutions bloodier and less focused).

Poseidon, despite having his own dominion and having drawn the lot for the sea, challenges Zeus for his. He loses, but it isn’t the only time he challenges Zeus, or any other gods, at times enacting terrible vengeance on them or their favored humans.

Dany and Aegon meeting is pretty inevitable, but there is foreshadowing that they will be at odds. Maybe they’ll meet with the united idea that the Lannisters/Baratheons have to face justice for what was done, but Dany’s idea of a legacy is wrapped up only in the legacy of the Targaryens, and she refuses to consider any other elements that occurred during the Rebellion (her father going mad, why the Starks and Baratheons rebelled, what Rhaegar was at fault for, etc). Aegon at least is implied to listen to Tyrion - he isn’t only blinded by what Jon C undoubtedly has told him - meaning he’ll likely hear Arianne out too, and Jon Snow. Dany has one truth, passed down from Viserys, one legacy.

Like Poseidon, Dany already isn’t satisfied with her lot, warring over other countries (or conquest, claiming Meereen for her own after Astapor falls to the butcher). She will challenge Aegon for a lot that belongs to him, but I believe that unlike Poseidon, she’ll actually win against him.

Jon/Hades

Casting Jon as Hades is something I’ve already written about in this meta, so this is just a summary with bits added on.

When I compared Jon to Hades, I also compared the Night’s Watch being the place when men went and died, metaphorically, they died in the eyes of the realm (no wife, no sons, no land, no glory, etc). I believe that Jon is being groomed for rule in a different way, that is, holding domain over the condemned or forgotten.

When Aegon and Dany inevitably clash over the throne, the aftermath is going to look like a hellscape. King’s Landing is repeated through the text to be the seat of power, the center of Westeros, multiple times, and with another Dance building up, I think, leads to foreshadowing that it’ll be ruined or on the brink of ruin at the end. It’ll still need someone to rule it, whether through the infant stages of an elective monarchy (it sounds like they’ll need something more than that or it’ll just invite more chaos as though rule can only be achieved through conquest of some kind, particularly for a monarchy) or otherwise.

Jon has already fallen into an unenviable position. Sure, he gets to be Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch - an order that vows to remain at the Wall, against a horde of undead, with no support besides Stannis, with ‘dead’ men as his subjects.

Some myths meld Zeus and Hades into the same being existing on different plains. Hades is also known as “Other Zeus” or “Infernal Zeus”; here, where Zeus is the god of living mortals, Hades is the god of the dead souls.

Aegon is meant to take the Iron Throne and be the ruler over the Seven Kingdoms, in King’s Landing, a place of power, wealth, bounty from other kingdoms, etc. Dany will be his end in the Dance of Dragons and turn that bounty, or its possibility, into a wasteland. I don’t doubt people will still be alive, but it’ll be a place of ruins, and so will quite a few other places. I think Jon will likely kill Dany after the fact, for kinslaying and being a threat to the north and the realm, and thereby becoming a kinslayer himself.

The gods of Westeros punish kinslaying. Jon, at this point of finding his family and being murdered for being Lord Commander and spending time under threat with the free folk (even if they do get along now) will probably just want to go home. Punishment for kinslaying will be for him to hold another position no one wants; the throne. Where when Aegon is set to take it, the kingdoms are in chaos, he’ll seem like a bright spot with hope, we might see him pay attention to food issues, the chaos, logistics, etc. And then he dies. And then Dany dies. And all that’s left are the survivors - those seemingly forgotten and condemned to this place afflicted by war and famine -, and Jon. His punishment for kinslaying (and maybe making mistakes with Dany) will not be able to go home, or be made to take up a post at the Watch; he’s condemned, once again, to the people who’ll seem more dead than alive after everything that’s occurred.

Jon’s duty was, and will continue to be, to the condemned.

#jon snow #aegon vi targaryen #anti daenerys #anti daenerys targaryen #jon snow endgame #the targaryens are a greek tragedy and a comedy #the targs are all of the greek tragedies and comedies at once #king's landing will be a mess #good thing bran is going to be the god-king of spring #aegon in this is meant to be the promise to the living that there'll be a stop to the ruin and chaos #him dying means that jon is left with a ruin no one wants and is condemned to take it for the crime of kinslaying #not fully comprehensive #if i did that it'd be too long lbr

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tazzykiki · 4 years

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I’m tired, angry and bored so here we go! A messy list of fucked up Public School Things that may or may not be a universal experience:

The Lunches were a mix of good and horrible:

I was usually fine with the lunches because they were pretty decent and, like, yay food! But looking back they were just, so wrong????

Like in my middle school lunches AND breakfast were a mess. I got food poisoning like once or twice from the breakfast and the lunch was pitiful. At one point they just stopped cooking the pasta and left a bunch of uncooked, powdery noodles in a plastic box like anyone was gonna grab them and be like “mm yes! my favorite! hard noodles!”. Like what the actual fuck.

The pizza was also in a box, none of the toppings were labeled so it was a gamble on what type you would get, and most of the time they were burnt. In HS the pizza was fine but it tasted fake as hell and I’m pretty sure they just took some rubber and put cheese on it.

My HS lunches were better but even then it was just, really concerning how limited and odd the food was. Luckily we didn’t have to pay except for like cookies and stuff smaller than your hand that costs like $2 cuz they want to “promote healthiness” despite feeding us what is basically prison food.

The class sizes were horrifying: I’m sorry but what person can teach 30+ rowdy kids and be perfectly fine??? Not to mention this was the norm the whole day! Imagine grading all those papers, keeping track of every student, and making sure they all shut up long enough to teach. And that’s just for the teachers who actually care.

Like a class size should be a max of 20 with a few exceptions. Do you know how stressful it is for everyone involved? Not to mention, 30 kids was considered SMALL!! Some classes had 40, even 50 STUDENTS!!!! WHAT THE FUCK.

We never had enough books, or supplies, or anything. Usually by the half point of the year, half the books would be missing or destroyed and it was a mess. In HS the Drama and Music teachers had to deal with like, one class of 10-20, and then like 5 classes of 40-50(all mixed grades too). And you know what’s even more fucked up? There was only one of each teacher.

There was one drama teacher. Who btw deserves the world and legit cares about her job and students. I honestly hope she quit and went somewhere better. She had to put up with 40+ screaming kids, grade all of those assignments, deal with insult and harassment(she was plus-sized and white. So she couldn’t talk back, would get insulted, and more.The only white people allowed to be sassy in that school were funny white men that were laid back), and had barely enough supplies to get by.

There was one music teacher. Who also deserves the world and legit cares about her job and students. She had to deal with 40-50, almost 60+, kids. The majority of them being sophomores and freshman, with bits of seniors and juniors. She taught music, taught band, and organized events and performances. She is, I believe, the first and only music teacher in that school and that’s just so fucked up. Like imagine being one person and having to manage hundreds of students like that.

There was only one digital arts teacher but I have no idea what they did since you can’t choose what class you attend. I just know it was constantly crowded, never really applauded, and they weren’t involved in a lot of things.

Oh yes how could I forget the art teacher! Yeah no there was no art class that involved drawing and painting. Apparently that class was scrapped years ago and has now turned into a JROTC locker! :D Speaking of JROTC:

JROTC and Sports had too much support and that’s a serious problem:

Hey maybe it’s because I’m an art kid and I hate exercising(because every attempt to do so was met with laughter, humiliation, and the ridicule of my body even though I can’t control how my body grows and changes), but man did JROTC and sports(specifically football) have way too much attention.

We had not one, not two, but FOUR ENTIRE JROTC CLASSES! Classes training you to be in the military, specifically Air Force. Classes you HAD to take unless you wanted to be in gym(never had the class but from what I’ve heard, there were about 50-70 kids, mostly male, filling up that class and they didn’t do anything but play ball or whatever. All of course, taught by one guy).

Somehow this program had enough support for uniforms, 4 different classrooms, supplies, several teachers(all of whom were in the military at one point[they were chill except for the freshman teacher who called you a whiny baby for being in pain]), and more.

Not to mention, every so often military people would come by with pretty pamphlets and fun little strength tests and have kids to sign up to newsletters and shit and ask them to join the military when they graduate so they can get free college and happy fun times!! :D

Football was given way too much attention, even over the other sports, and I absolutely hate it. Every month was about football, football, football. So much money went into football, so much support went into football. Yeah yeah yeah follow your dreams or whatever the fuck they tell you on Disney Channel, but there was too much support on this one sport that involved kids breaking their heads open.

Please please give me ONE valid reason why this irritating-ass sport had so much attention while art students, craft students, theater students, music students, students who want to work in literally any other field that doesn’t involve science or sports had to fucking scrape every tiny little chance they could from the crumbs that were left behind. PLEASE tell me why I had to join a completely different program that was hella exclusive and restricted to Juniors and Seniors that had a certain skill-level just to have a proper arts class while football players got a cool fancy bus, a shit ton of gear, and praise every single day(seriously their pictures and trophies were everywhere).

Why is it that they get scholarships and full rides for throwing a ball around and bashing their brains open while I had to fucking destroy my hand and scramble around for some shit like $200 which I wouldn’t even get because I don’t have the skill to paint the mona lisa or whatever. Anywayyyy~

Hey what the fuck was up with the rules? Sorry kids but if you’re reading this, everything they tell you on tv about high school is a lie. Unless you watched the Dora the Explorer movie, then that was actually pretty accurate.

Hey is it weird we had metal detectors and legit police officers(who were armed) in our school? Is it weird that we had to wear plastic, see-through book-bags, that weren’t even given to us for free and were so weak that they had to get rid of that rule because they would break after like 2 months? Is it weird we were all stuffed into a nasty, sticky, pest-ridden, staircase right in front of the main doors in the morning because we weren’t allowed all the way inside for whatever reason unless it was for a club(i.e. sports)? Is it weird that we were all trapped in the lunch room by security guards because they didn’t want kids roaming the halls even though they already did? Is it weird we weren’t allowed to go to the bathroom and were always told “you should’ve went your last class” when your last class didn’t let you? Is it weird we weren’t allowed to use the bathroom and were always told that “you should’ve went during the transition time” even though the transition time was only 4 minutes and the hallways were so crowded that it’d be time for class by the time you’d get there?

Is it weird that when we were allowed to use the bathroom, all of the bathrooms were locked and only one on the other side of the school was open, and the majority of the stalls were broken? And they kept the bathrooms locked, even after school, because they didn’t want kids skipping class even though they still did?

Is it weird that if you didn’t have a belt(if you were male), or a part of your uniform, you would be prevented from going to class if there were no more temporary uniforms?

Is it weird that if one kid did something bad, the entire class would be punished and class time would be wasted and the point of punishment would be lost because the teacher wanted a taste of power or whatever?(hey one time in 8th grade, both classes had to stand in one long ass line for about half an hour because someone was talking and it was treated like it was a joke. this took up our breakfast time too)

Other Shit: One time my HS got like $20,000 and instead of using it to fix at least one thing, they wasted it on useless flatscreen tv’s and SAT “tutors” that taught us 3rd grade english & math, how to annotate(I swear to fucking god one more person try and teach me how to underline a motherfucking sentence---) and did absolutely nothing to help us. Meanwhile the football players were living like kings.

We had a strange assortment of teachers, ya’ll know about my junior and senior english teacher. But did I ever tell you about the freshman JROTC instructor? She was so much fun~ I remember one time!!! ooh this is a good one :DDDD!!!! that I was in so muuuuuch pain that I was crying and couldn’t move! and guess what!!!!???? ooh! ooh! guess! She called me a whiny baby and said I was overreacting!!!! omg? She was so right tho, I was totally overreacting to being in immense, insufferable, pain that no one even attempted to be concerned about~~

Oh here’s another good one: I used to cry a lot! It was horribly embarrassing and not fun~ I was either sick, on my period(which according to the multiple doctors I had to be rushed to, was normal and the intense pain was hereditary), or having an emotional breakdown~ This lasted from 5th grade to Senior Year of HS! :D

One time I was in a lot of pain, 7th grade I believe, and cried for a whole hour straight. What did my teacher do? Have me sit in class while everyone went to like social studies or whatever, talked with some teachers, and then complained about how I “cried and cried and cried for an hour straight” with no concern whatsoever. BTW the nurse was never there and even then she was kinda useless.

Don’t even get me started on the several times I was on my period and was actually screaming in pain and was still looked down on because a student screaming and hollering in pain is no cause for concern obviously~ Really surprising how a lot of the male teachers and staff were more concerned then the female ones, especially the science teacher who has a uterus, has multiple daughters, and the audacity to say I’m ~overreacting~. I’m so happy our teachers and schools have our priorities in order.

Note: If you’re horrified by this. Good. You should be.

More misc things: My HS had a shit ton of roaches, water bugs, and whatever those long disgusting things that walk around on the walls and fall off once you see them. Art meant nothing to them. Teacher sanity meant nothing, student sanity meant nothing. The principal was great and I blame whoever’s “funding” schools and working behind the scenes. I know this was more about personal stuff, but like a lot of things like large classes, lack of supplies, lack of empathy from teachers, constant pests, horrible food, stupid rules that hurt us more than helped, really weird exposure to cops and military, and too much focus on one subject is super common in public schools and I really really want it to stop.

#tazzykiki #long post #public schools #here's that rant i promised #honestly greg was smart not sending steven to school #not telling what could've happened #cuz look at this shit #okay to reblog and even add on #plz tell me im not the only one

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houseofvans · 5 years

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ART SCHOOL | IN SESSION WITH ROB SATO

From vibrant rainbows to familiar yet alien landscapes occupied by strange beings, LA based artist Rob Sato’s works are filled with creative energy in a loose minimalistic style. From watercolor, digital medium to acrylics and oil, Rob’s artworks and illustrations have been shown in various galleries from Giant Robot 2 to the Oakland Asian Cultural Center, where recently his original paintings for a comic called 442 were exhibited. We’re excited to chat with Rob about his work, his various collaborations and what he’s got coming up for the rest of the year. Take the Leap!

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself Hello, my name is Rob Sato. I’m an artist, illustrator, and writer. Something people might not know about me is that I was a kid I was so fanatical about the Oakland A’s that when they lost in the World Series I threw a tantrum so big that I destroyed my bedroom and after that I felt so stupid I quit following baseball. Also, I’m told I have maybe one of the great poop stories of the world. It can only be related in person, so ask me about it sometime if we ever meet.

How would you describe your work and style? Eclectic? Kaleidoscopic? I’ve never had a concise answer to this question. I tend not to pin myself down because I think if I did, I’d stop making things.

Art is my outlet for the cryptic and obscure as well as the gushing spillover of foolish idealism and wild fantasy. It’s the only place I’ve ever found where you can healthily play with unhealthy thoughts, where you can explore undefined emotions, things that lurk out in the corners of consciousness that may be embarrassing or uncontrollable.

I love to make entertainment and decorative work, things that tend to be obvious, that communicate very clearly and reveal all their cards, but I also love to make work that hides things, that actively resists easy understanding or recognition and risks being super personal or unrelatable and strange. This can make things difficult, especially in the ongoing deterioration of attention spans, but I can’t help but pursue things outside of a pop sensibility and logical thought. I have to be, much of the time, in mental wildernesses. It’s hard to get there, hard to be there, and hard to come back, but it keeps me going.

Tell us about how you really started getting into art, and how that turned into what you do now? Was it something you always intended to pursue? I’ve drawn every single day for as long as I can remember. I never really thought about it. It just seems to be what I do. It’s how I have fun, how I solve problems, how I think. I’ve wanted to pursue other things like make movies or write books, but I always find myself drawing. Before I know it, it’s time for bed again.

When you are working on a new piece or upcoming exhibition or show? What’s your process like? What themes do you find yourself taking on? I explode. I used to plan things in a very directed way, but lately I’ve just let my brains spill out everywhere. I make a ton of drawings and paintings, and try my best to be fearless and open. Most of it produces failure after failure, but it shows me what might be worth building on, plus many exciting surprises reveal themselves in the process. As a show nears I start seeing what things fit together, what needs to be edited out, and how it all might form a cohesive exhibition. Sometimes the subject matter is the glue that makes everything stick, other times it’s the aesthetics. Alongside the explosion I usually have 2 or 3 pieces going at any given time that I’ve had long term plans for. These pieces can take take months or even years.

Thematically I’m all over the place. War and peace, realism and surrealism, grim realities and escapism, sober observations and dumb jokes.

What are some of your go-to art making materials? Are there mediums you want to explore that you’ve yet to get your hands on? I feel pretty comfortable with anything you can use to make a mark on a piece of paper. I’ve mainly used watercolor and various drawing tools for the past several years. I’m been having fun with acrylics and oils again, and I’ve started to play around with photography a little. I’ve had ideas for sculpture and film for years that I’d really like to finally get to. What I really want to get my hands on is more time.

Where do you find inspiration? What kind of things or people inspire what you make? Watching someone pick their nose listening to headphones and singing softly to themselves in line at the grocery store. Just watching my cat live her weird life. Even though the final artwork may not really show it, these places are usually where my ideas originate. Art has also been a place where I can put memories that have some abstract need to be recorded.

I made this series of drawings called “Bad Hands”, which started out with me laughing at these dumb hands I was drawing with academically incorrect anatomy. Abandoning correctness felt so good. In the process it triggered a memory from High School. I had been forbidden from drawing in one of my classes, so I was contorting my hands into different shapes at my desk to amuse myself. There was a hysteria over gang activity in the school at the time and the teacher freaked out thinking I was throwing gang signs and I ended up getting sent to detention.

At detention I was talking with a friend and made fun of the teacher for her mistake. A kid who was in a gang overheard and then HE misunderstood and thought I was making fun of gangs or something. On my way home from school he and a couple dudes punched and kicked me for a bit while I tried and failed to explain. I think it’s funny.

So embedded in that piece is this tumbling series of misunderstandings, these multiple layers of hands being perceived as bad, speaking in an absurd language that communicates different things to different people. I know people aren’t going to see all those layers in the final piece, but that’s where it comes from and I hope it at least sparks some thoughts about talking with our hands, and where else can you follow this kind of train of thought except in art?

I get inspired by artists who seem to approach art as an intuitive discovery process rather than a pursuit of mastery, that play is one of the more important aspects of making things. My wife, Ako, has been a huge influence on me in this respect. She’s continuously playing with various materials around her at any given time and finding out what she can do with them. Everywhere she goes she abandons a nest made of fresh creations she’s manifested out of mud, string, packaging, plants, uneaten rice, her used drinking straw, lint and whatever else was within her reach

You’ve done a lot of collaborations with companies, museums and art galleries. Do you have a favorite collaboration, and what about the collaboration do you enjoy the most? I’ve recently been collaborating with Tiny Splendor, an indie publisher and printer who have studios in LA and Oakland. It’s been really great working with them, Cynthia Navarro in LA on risographs, and with Max Stadnik, who runs the print shop in Oakland.

Max has been returning to lithography, my favorite traditional printing medium, and he printed a piece of mine inspired by mushrooms called “Growerings". It’s a full 5 color print, which means it took five separate plates and each print had to go through the press 5 times. It turned out more beautifully than I could have hoped for. Litho is a super difficult but also very fun process and the results are so rich.

I think I particularly love this collaboration because the image fits the medium so well, and the combination of the two elevates the final piece of work, When it works, the artwork and the print become more than just an image on a piece of paper. It’s more alive in some undefinable way.

Since we’re called Art School, we always ask the artists to give us their favorite art tip? Never force the thing you think you want, you’ll probably miss out on the really interesting thing that’s happening. Also, don’t drink too much coffee. I have trouble taking both of these pieces of my own advice every day.

What do you enjoy doing when you’re not making stuff? How do you chill out? I read and run. I love coffee and I love gossip and talking nonsense with friends. Also, I cannot stop watching Terrace House.

What is the last art show that you went to? What artists should folks keep an eye out for? I recently went to the Velveteria in LA’s Chinatown, which is one man’s collection of paintings on velvet. A very entertaining and very fucked up experience. I went to a life drawing session at Subliminal Projects and got to draw surrounded by Chad Kouri’s fun abstracts. I’m actually typing this interview inside an art show right now.

I’m here at my wife, Ako Castuera’s, show “Soil” at the Weingart Gallery at Occidental College. We’re here feeding worms. She sculpted this beautiful ceramic vermiculture composter for the show. It’s a grand temple for worms. The show is an act of gratitude for the exchange we have with the soil which provides the clay for ceramics, and for the worms who turn decay into healthy earth to grow new life in.

She sculpted a menagerie of creatures out of the worm poop that also populate the show. Super fun. Speaking of Ako and Subliminal, her show there with Hellen Jo and Kris Chau this past December was one of those once-in-a-lifetime powerhouse gathering of forces. That may have been the best show I’ve ever seen.

What advice would you give someone thinking about following in your footsteps? What’s something you learned that you want to pass along to art making newbies. Don’t listen to advice if it is extremely quotable. Pay no attention to it especially if it accompanies a photo of a famous artist and fits perfectly into an instagram post. If it’s easy to remember then it’s probably empty, crap inspiration. Those things are entertainments and not words to live by.

If you’re interested in making art you’ll keep making it. It takes day in, day out patience and exploration and mutation to discover how you really work, not some idea of how an artist works.

Sometimes it will be very hard, sometimes it will be so breathtakingly easy you think that your problems have been solved forever. Neither situation ever lasts, but cultivate and nurture your curiosity and what you love, and you’ll find ways to make it through the rough times and keep on making things one way or another.

Who are some of your favorite artists to follow and/or see in a show? Lately I’ve been really enjoying the work of Nathaniel Russell whose work makes this great space where funny, grounded matter-of-factness and sweet nothingness sit comfortably together. His drawing also reminds me of Ben Shahn, my all-time favorite drawer.

I really like Amy Bennet’s oils, these intimate studies of isolation in suburbia where mundanity overlaps with quiet drama and melancholy. Her work obliquely reminds me of Edwin Ushiro’s work, though his stuff is the opposite of melancholic. He captures almost incidental but haunted moments from growing up in Hawaii and infuses them with warmth, and it’s in a style influenced in a super personal way by animation. It reminds me of Satoshi Kon’s movies in its well observed, slice-of-life elements. Edwin’s sketchbooks are a treasure too. Esther Pearl Watson’s recent autobiographical paintings, Hellen Jo’s latest badass watercolors, Amber Wellman’s funny, playful oil paintings, and Matthew Palladino’s watercolors are also favorites.

Megan Whitmarsh’s work is some of my favorite to see in person. Her installation with Jade Gordon at the Hammer’s “Made In LA “ show was maybe the funnest work I’ve ever seen and interacted with. I went to see the Ai Wei Wei show at the Marciano Foundation, which I thought was impressive in scale and execution but still somehow lame, but I stumbled on a Mike Kelley installation/ video piece I’d never seen before in the upstairs collection and loved it so much, but I can’t remember the name of it at the moment.

It’s 2 videos shown side by side of the same guy wearing a cape singing almost the same song simultaneously, but each version has different words at different points. It’s a love song but one version is more bitter and mean and one is sickly sweet. Anyway, highly recommended!

What do you have coming up the rest of the year that you can share with us? For just a few more days there’s a show up at the Oakland Asian Cultural Center with a bunch of my original paintings for a comic I illustrated about the 442, the Japanese American Army unit of World War II. Plus it has some personal work about Japanese American Incarceration and images from my family’s experience in the concentration camps. My grandfather was incarcerated in the Arkansas camps, and he was a soldier in the 442.

Next up, I’m in a slew of group shows all happening within a few weeks of each other this month. Poor scheduling on my part as usual, but it’s nice to be invited to so many. I just sent off my piece to the “Seeing Red” show curated by Jeff Hamada of the BOOOOOOOM art and culture blog. That show will be at Thinkspace in LA. Giant Robot has been kind enough to host another solo show for me in September.

I’ve been busy experimenting with some more 3d stuff that pushes the more narrative side of my work which I hope to show there. We’ll see how the experiments turn out. I’ve also been working on a ton of prints and ideas for books. This year I want to focus on working in print, making zines and comics, and writing a lot more.

FOLLOW ROB | INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE | SHOP

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Rob Sato #Art School #painting #interview

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simone-garnett · 5 years

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title: strawberry kisses word count: 9.2k information: high school au. dedicated to @thatkillervibe bc i promised them i’d finish my high school au when they posted theirs and you should read it bc it’s incredible guys. it’s just unfair. also bc their reviews make me wanna cry.

ao3 // ffn

Caitlin isn’t quite sure how Iris convinced her to help out in the kissing booth of her school fair, Caitlin didn’t even attend that school. But Iris with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts and a way with words that could convince an army general to turn on their country had turned up her charm, sweet talking Caitlin into agreeing, the girl helpless to refuse the pleas of her close friend, the squeal of joy from Iris and the hug almost make it seem worth it.

It helps that she would likely never have to see any of these people again, Caitlin’s own school over two hours away, a selective school that her mother swears has the best science department in the state.

Iris goes on a million miles an hour, thanking her for the assistance, promising that nothing would happen that could hurt Caitlin, swearing the customers would wear blindfolds if it made her feel more comfortable doing it, the people not able to recognise her if they don’t know what she looks like.

Caitlin had already agreed, but it was sweet of Iris to try and protect her, the girl going on about how it would add an extra level of mystique around it. Caitlin nods, smiling as Iris gives her the date and details.

And then it is too late to change her mind, Caitlin unaware of the impact this one day would have on her life.

Nerves like butterflies in her stomach erupt as the day draws near, the mere thought of it enough to distract her from her studies, chemistry and biology playing second fiddle to the maelstrom of emotions inside her, playing havoc with her brain and heart. It is difficult to squash them down, but even at a young age she has mastered the skill, allowing herself a minute to wallow in its intensity before squashing it down, drowning out the noise with chemical equations and precipitation reactions and science. Because science was easy, it was comfortable, it wasn’t scary in the slightest. It becomes a struggle to ignore the feelings when it is only a few days, a few hours away, Caitlin giving up on trying, throwing herself on her bed, praying for sleep she knows won’t come.

And then it is here.

It is a nice, summer day, the school grounds of Central City High an eruption of colour and energy, the atmosphere buzzing from the excitement of students and parents and teachers alike, families and friends and couples walking through the grounds, smiles and laughter filling up the air, lifting up the spirits of everyone there.

Caitlin arrives early - she arrives everywhere early. She walks around, smiling softly to herself as she glances around. She walks around alone. It isn’t really anybody’s fault; Iris was running around, making sure everything was operating like a well-oiled machine, and Barry was trailing along. She knew no one else. And it showed. Showed to others, and to herself. Because everyone had someone, everyone but her. There was loneliness scratching at her heart, the small tickle enough to remind her that there was no one to enjoy it with.

It feels strange enjoying the carnival with no one else to share it with, so she relaxes, people watches until it is time for her to take her shift in the kissing booth. It brings a smile to her lips, imaginary lives created in an instant, the happiness of other - even imaginary - something that Caitlin enjoys. She is silly and out-there with the fictional lives of the students she’s never met before, and she can’t help but laugh at it all. There are some odd looks thrown her way, strangers confused as to why she was laughing by herself, and she doesn’t blame them. But she doesn’t care.

She catches sight of someone, a crowd of someone’s really, but he stands out, wide smile, soulful eyes and long hair that blows freely in the wind. It causes her to stop in her spot, Caitlin struck by his presence, breath catching in that moment. She feels like a cheesy cliche, the way she can’t look away, a flow of electricity through her veins, but it’s real and true and she can’t tear herself away.

Not once did she think he’d notice her standing, staring.

He does.

His was mid sentence, mouth moving a million miles an hour, hands gesticulating everywhere. It is an animated discussion at best, an argument at worst. But his attention flickers away from the guy with the glasses he was talking to, looks around. And he stops, mouth agape. The thought of ducking, of averting her gaze and ignoring him entirely floats through her mind, but she can’t find the strength to, not when he is watching her the way he is. It is indescribable, the feeling fluttering inside her, the spark the crackles between them. She feels is, is surprised by it, and the temptation of crossing the distance between them, of introducing herself to the cute boy and a smile with enough power to run a generator, passes through her mind. And judging from his reaction, she thinks - she hopes - he is thinking the same thing.

But her phone rings.

It breaks her trance, Caitlin ducking her head on embarrassment, red tinting her cheeks. And how she maintains a steady voice when speaking to Iris she has no idea, her friend calling to plead with her to start fifteen minutes early. The fear returns then, a rock in her stomach, slowing down her mind and movements. And she forgets about the cute boy, Caitlin forcing herself to move toward the tent where the booth was, time speeding up around her.

Iris is waiting outside, pacing around, her face lighting up as she sees Caitlin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squeals, arms thrown around Caitlin’s neck in a hug. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that? I owe you girl, big time.” Relief was coming out of her pores, Iris slipping her hand into Caitlin’s, tugging her into the back of the tent and pushing her into a seat.

“Wait -” And Caitlin’s heart is beating hard, the girl unable to deny reality for any longer. “What are you doing? What’s - what’s happening?”

“Lippie.” It is a simple answer, Iris leaning over to the table beside Caitlin which the girl hadn’t even noticed, rouge lipgloss in her hand. “Okay and pout.” Iris holds her face still, Caitlin sticking out her lips as bright red lipgloss is placed on her lips. It only takes a few moments for her to complete the job and Iris caps the product, placing it in Caitlin’s hand. “Strawberry flavoured, to give them something to crave later. Just remember to refresh regularly,” Iris reminds her, eyes sparkling like diamonds as she smiles at her friend. “And have fun girl. Who knows who you’ll meet in there.” The wink is a bit much, Caitlin thinks, as Iris spins her around and pushes her to where Lisa is standing, Caitlin stumbling before she finds her stride, unsure and hesitant.

The older girl is oblivious to her entrance, Caitlin having to tap her on the shoulder in order to get her attention. She spins around, lipstick smudged slightly, hair like a Maybelline commercial. “You’re replacing me?” At Caitlin’s meek nod, Lisa sighs in relief, shoulders falling. “Thank god. Damn Len owed a favour to her boyfriend. Can’t wait to ditch this place.” She pauses, gaze flickering up and down Caitlin before smirking. “Might come back on the other side though.” The words are smooth and red colours her cheeks and she stammers for words even after Lisa flounces out of the tent.

Wait, isn't Iris with Eddie? How is Barry her boyf-

Her thoughts are interrupted by the first person, a boy her age shuffling in, holding on to the rope that lead him from the entrance of the tent to the exit. He stops when he finds the knot to indicate he was beside her, the guy turning to his left where he was told she would be. It is a small peck on the lips, chaste, but not quick enough for him to feel cheated out of his money. It takes a few attempts for her to get the timing of it right, and she internally sighs in relief, the process not as nerve wracking as she imagined it to be.

There is a throng of people, both guys and girls, that line up in front of her tent, Iris bouncing as she sees the crowd of people waiting for a moment with Caitlin Snow, this mysterious beauty no one had yet to catch eyes upon. Curiosity and hormones can be a dangerous mix, but in this instance, it is only a profitable one.

One by one they come in, receive their kiss, and then slip out, the clock’s hand slowing down for her, the afternoon taking forever. She checks her watch frequently, quietly counting down the hours and minutes until it is all over and she can resume her life outside these fabric walls.

She glances at the time, relief filling her as she realises there is just five minutes left of her shift, five more minutes until she can leave the tent and not look back. She figures that there is either five more customers, or that she can attempt to hold the first one for as long as possible to avoid the line. The school funds wouldn’t miss out on the money and the other’s wouldn’t miss out on their kiss, another lad or lady waiting to take her place while she relaxes and enjoys the fair.

She calls for the gatekeeper-slash-money collector to send in another person.

And they do, a guy slowly feeling his way into the tent, stopping at the knot in the centre.

It’s the boy from before.

Her heartbeat picks up at the sight of him, a blush colouring her cheeks and she hides her face before realising that they couldn’t actually see her. He didn’t know who she was.

... It leaves her a little disappointed.

Words get caught in her throat, Caitlin opening her mouth to say something, anything, but she can’t. It would be difficult dragging this on when she can’t form words around him.

But he beats her to the task. “I’m sorry,” the guy rambles, standing there awkwardly, the blindfold over his eyes. The shirt is unique, Caitlin muffling a laugh as she reads the science pun on it, smiling brightly at the joke.“I’m not usually like this. It’s just that I lost a bet and this is the result and I’m so sorry.” He stresses the last words and she isn’t sure how to respond to it.

“I like your shirt,” she offers sweetly instead.

He pulls a face. “Really?” It is followed quickly by a wince, as though he realises how it sounds out loud and regrets it immediately. “I’m not saying you don’t understand it, because I’m sure you do. But everyone in our Science Club thinks it’s the corniest thing ever. And, I mean, they are so wrong, but I figure consensus there would be reflected in the real world, so....” He drifts off, hand lifting from the rope to rub the back of his neck in nervousness, Caitlin watching as the bottom locks of his hair got caught up in the action.

“It’s cute.” She sounds a little different and gosh, she hopes he can hear the subtle changes in her voice.

He doesn’t seem to, a smile stretching across his lips. “Okay, but would you wear it?” He is joking, but it doesn’t stop the image flashing through her mind. Couples stole each others clothing, she thinks. Or at least, she stole Ronnie’s jumpers when they were dating. She wouldn’t mind taking his shirts.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, realising he couldn’t see her nod in the affirmative. “I would.” The tops of his eyebrows come out from the blindfold and he is definitely sceptical. “Okay, not all the time,” she amends, “but I would wear it.”

He chuckles weakly, rubbing his exposed bicep as the silence between them draws on. “Sooo.... we’re doing this aren’t we?”

“You did pay for it.”

He nods at her words, but he doesn’t make a move. But then quietly, “I’m not sure what I should be doing.”

“Just stand there.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. She caves to her feelings and plays with his hair, twirling the soft locks around her finger. Caitlin may be in love with the way it feels. “Is this okay?”

He gulps, voice strained. “Yep.”

And she is definitely affected by her little crush, voice soft as she leans in close, her eyelids fluttering closed. She stops when they are only an inch apart, hot puffs of air against her lips. “And is this okay?”

He nods, apparently losing his voice. His hand flexes beside his side and he itches to hold her.

Caitlin closes those scant centimetres between them, capturing his lips in a kiss.

The kiss is soft and gentle, Caitlin leaning into the guy in front of her more firmly as she feels warmth flood her being. The electricity from before shoots through her, and she likes the sensation, smiling against his lips as she lingers in the embrace.

The kiss is soft and gentle, until it’s not.

He lets go of the rope, choosing instead to hold her, hands on her waist as he tugs her closer, the boy deepening the kiss. It takes her by surprise, but she leans into it easily, hands moving from his shoulders, one cupping the back of his neck to hold him to her, the other carding through his locks. And she would feel embarrassed at her moan if he didn’t growl in response, the vibrations shooting through her, his fingers digging into her skin, the rope uncomfortable between them.

They pull away breathless and she considers pulling off his blindfold, wonders how he’ll react to seeing her. “That... was unexpected,” he chokes out.

“You’re telling me,” she sighs, slightly in love with the rasp in his voice, with the effect she had on him with just one kiss. And Caitlin is a hopeless romantic, already imagining the sound whispered in her ear as he tells her how perfect the kiss was, how he can’t wait until he gets to do it again. And she imagines the hands on her waist, strong and tight, imagines them holding her hand, holding her close, imagines those lips on her neck, lightly peppering kisses as he tells her how he missed her, how he wants her. It sends a hot flush through her and she has to force a cough out to disguise the whimper that leaves her at the thought.

His face freezes at her words, the smile falling fractionally. “Wait - unexpected in a good way or a bad way?”

“Unexpected in a I-wouldn’t-mind-doing-that-again way.” She rushes out the words before she could second guess herself, Caitlin’s eyes widening as she realises that yes, she actually said them out loud.

He looks surprised at the words, but it fades away, face lighting up with a grin. “You have a nice voice, you know that?”

She bites back her own smile, looking at him through her lashes. “That... that’s a new one. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he beams, pausing only to lick his lips. “Is that... strawberry?” A snort of laughter escapes her, Caitlin covering her mouth to muffle the sound, but he catches it, a smile, sweet and genuine, stretching on his face. “So I was wondering, do you wanna, I don’t know, grab some Big Belly Burger sometime?” He sounds nervous. She thinks it’s cute.

“Are you asking me out?” she asks coyly, a teasing smile on her lips. “But you don’t even know what I look like.”

“I don’t need to.” He says the words so confidently, so sure he wouldn’t care, and she feels the butterflies returning, a swarm of them inside her stomach, fluttering around and leaving her feeling dizzy with a feeling she couldn’t identify.

There is a disturbance at the back of the tent and Caitlin can hear voices coming from the direction. She thinks she hears Iris, thinks she hears her name. Caitlin turns to the mysterious guy, a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

He nods at her request and is only then that she rushes off, slipping out of the tent to answer questions for Iris. The girl relaxes at the sight of her, the young guy that was with Iris pushed inside. ”I’m so sorry,” Iris apologises, taking her hand. “Brad was late and I couldn’t find anyone to take over. Oh gosh, girl, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much.” A smile stretches across Iris’ expression, more relaxed than she had been most of the day. “And now you’re finished.” She loops her arm in with Caitlin’s, “so lets go have some fun!”

The reluctance from Caitlin to leave is obvious, the girl looking back to the tent. And she eventually breaks away from Iris, the girl turning her head to look at Caitlin quizzically. ”I - I left something inside there,” she says. It’s not exactly a lie, a boy was left inside there. “You go ahead and I’ll catch up.” Iris nods slowly, a look in her eyes that tells Caitlin she hadn’t quite sold herself. But she does go and Caitlin rushes back in the tent, an apology ready on her tongue.

But when she goes back, the guy is gone.

Caitlin can’t stop thinking about the guy from the kissing booth, thinking of his smile and laugh and the way he kissed her so thoroughly, urgent and insistent as though she were the best thing his lips had ever touched, the way his hands were on her hips, the way they slid to her back, he made her feel like a goddess. And late at night she fantasises about him, those biceps where she could feel the strength underneath her fingertips, the hair that was longer than her school would allow him, the urge to run her fingers and touch it one she couldn’t resist.

He is a distraction she never anticipated, never thought she’d have to fight. But he pops into her head when she revises her AP Physics, her mind drifting from the formula to the pun on his shirt to his face, his mouth, his smile. It isn’t good and she’d been caught more than once in class daydreaming, the blush a permanent fixture on her face as Professor Wells calls her out.

He ruins her for other guys,

and she never even got his name.

It isn’t good, just how much time she accidentally devotes into thinking about the boy, and she wonders if she could make up another excuse to visit Iris at her school, to attend Science Club meetings and carnivals until she bumps into him and gets his name. And number. And maybe another kiss. She shakes her head, laughing at herself, as she refocusses on her work. It would be obvious and desperate on her part, and there was no way that he would still be single, not for this long. Not him.

It isn’t healthy Caitlin tells herself eventually, isn’t good for her to daydream over a boy she’s likely to never meet again, isn’t good for her to get so distracted from her school work, not when she needs the scholarship for college. And so she tries to forget him, forces herself to. Her energy is directed to the state science competition approaching in a few weeks, Caitlin a core part of her school’s team. Succeeding would be an incredible achievement and a highlight on her application forms.

It would be just what she needs to get out from under her mother’s shadow and show the world that she, Caitlin Snow, was a scientific genius in her own right.

And she succeeds in forgetting him.

Mostly.

The next time she really gets to spend time with Iris is at the State Science Competition finals. Not that Iris was competing; she was involved in the school newspaper and student council, but science bored her more than anything else. She however, was a wonderfully supportive friend... for Barry.

The boy was a part of the Central City Stars and as Iris’ official best friend she had gone to support him.

The sight of the competition shouldn’t have relaxed Caitlin, she knew how intelligent Barry was, the guy able to read at superhuman speeds and absorb the information just as quickly. He was the enemy, but he was also her friend. So she approaches them, Barry yelping as Caitlin bumps his hip with hers, surprising him. He glares at both her and Iris as the other girl start laughing, Barry crossing his arms in mock annoyance. “That’s it Cait, no more Mr Nice-Guy.”

“Barry I don’t think you can change. That’s definitely a part of your molecular structure.” There is confusion as to whether she was teasing him or complimenting him and he chooses to bite his tongue. She smiles widely at him, sliding her arm around his shoulder, giving him a one-armed hug. It is enough to crack his mood, Barry pulling her close, a whisper of good luck against the side of her head. “Glad to see you’ve come to support me Iris.”

Iris hesitates and Barry’s face falls at the sight. It is enough to have Iris cave, a smile on her face as she loops her arm with Barry. “Sorry girl, here for my school.”

“So what do I need to bribe you with to have you switching sides Iris?” she teases, Barry looking put-out as Iris pretends to ponder it over.

“A cute guy would be enough.”

Caitlin grins at her, turning her head to search the crowd. “Hey Oliver!” And they watch as a boy lifts his head, turning to her, a quizzical look upon his face. And Iris hums in approval, gaze flicking over the man before smirking at Caitlin. The other girl shakes her head, and he goes back to whispering with the blonde beside him.

“You thought about that?” Iris whispers, eyes dancing in mirth.

She laughs. “Of course, I’ve got eyes.”

“I’m right here you guys,” Barry complains, crossing his arms and pouting at the pair.

The synchronised ‘we know’ is enough to have them erupting into giggles.

it is also enough to steal the attention of the blonde beside Oliver, the girl squealing and dragging him along with her to the group.

“Caitlin!” Felicity almost stumbles into her, letting go of Oliver to pull her into a hug.

“Guys this is Felicity and Oliver, Felicity, Oliver this is Barry and Iris.” They all wave (most wave, not Oliver, he just watches, teases of a smile on his lips) and she hopes they get along, her best friends from school and her best friends from her childhood some of the closest people Caitlin had in her life. They exchange pleasantries and Barry looks at Oliver in awe, the boy so much bigger up close, questions on his diet and exercise regime rolling off his tongue. Caitlin and Iris try and muffle their laughter, to varying degrees of success, and Barry glares at them before turning back to Oliver.

The boys go off on their own, and Caitlin is almost positive that, despite Oliver’s apparent reluctance, they would be fast friends.

It leaves the girls together, Felicity rambling on about her revision on the developments of superconductors and microchips. It worries Caitlin, isolating Iris by talking science when she wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“You’re -”Iris starts and Caitlin holds her breath, unsure how Iris will react. Because while she teases Barry and Caitlin about their nerdiness, they grew up together, Felicity - she wouldn’t understand, not when she was teased incessantly in Vegas, no one able to understand her genius. “- Incredible,” Iris finishes, breathing out in awe. Her words have Felicity lighting up in pride and Caitlin could kiss Iris for that reaction, for the way it has Felicity stumbling over her words, denying the impressiveness of her knowledge.

“It’s not too late to jump ship,” Caitlin teases and Felicity laughs and this, she thinks, this is perfect.

But then she sees him. The boy from the the kissing booth. With his long, soft hair and wonderful smile and shirt with another ridiculous pun, it can’t be anyone else.

And of course he is, she thinks. He was a part of his own science club, he had told her that before. So of course he would come to the competition to represent his school. But she hadn’t thought that she’d meet him again, hadn’t thought it would be in this environment, surrounded by these people, this pressure on her to not get distracted. He catches her staring at him, his brows furrowing at he stares back.

And her shift in behaviour is slight, but its obvious, Felicity stopping mid sentence, mouth pulled into an ‘o’ and frowning in concentration as she watches Caitlin, gaze sliding across to where the other girl was focussing. “Is that him?”

The question has Caitlin jumping, eyes owlish as her gaze darts between the pair of them, Felicity smirking and Iris almost vibrating in excitement. “No. What? Who?”

“Okay girl, if you plan on lying to us, you really need to work on that. So -” Iris strains her neck, looking side to side to catch a glimpse of the mysterious guy. “Who is it and how did you meet?”

“The cute guy she made out with at the kissing booth ages ago.” Felicity adjusts her glasses, swaying to the side to bump shoulders with Caitlin, the girl now stiff. “And the main star of all her fantasies.”

Iris turns to her quickly, eyes sparkling like diamonds, the smile on her face enough to weaken most people. “You never told me you met someone at the kissing booth Cait! You know I would have tracked them down for you.”

“Felicity, remind me never to tell you anything again. Ever.” The words lack much bite, Felicity looking too proud of herself to show any remorse for revealing that information to Iris.

“You should go over there, say hi, grab his number.” Iris nods like it is the obvious thing to do, like approaching the person you’ve been fantasising over and saying hello is an easy and simple thing to do. Which, maybe for her it is. But she was the hottest girl at Central City High and was dating the hottest (and sweetest) guy there so Caitlin takes her advice with a grain of salt.

“Are you insane?!” she hisses, Caitlin blushing at the mere thought of it. “I could never do that.”

“Cait, babe, you need to go for it.” And she thinks Iris is far too perceptive, her gaze softening as she takes Caitlin’s hands between her own. “You’re an incredible girl and he’d be crazy to reject you. Don’t - don’t do this to yourself.”

It is sweet, but strikes too close to home, the walls around her heart struck with the vibrations from the words. Because he already had. He left. She asked him to wait and he left, left her.

“He’s still competition Iris.” The girl nods, but Caitlin can see the cogs turning in her head. And she finds herself watching Iris as the competition nears its start and the groups congregate, Iris sidling to the Central City Stars, pulling Barry to the side. Caitlin knows she should be paying attention to her own group, but Iris’ face is lighting up and Barry’s is even worse. Her stomach swoops when they both turn and meet her gaze, the twinkle in their eyes unnerving her. Last time Iris had looked at her like that Caitlin had been roped into the Kissing Booth.

It is Ronnie who gets her attention, a hand on her shoulder and a concerned look on his face. She offers him a smile, forcing herself to forget about the conspiratorial look between her two friends. She turns back to Professor Wells, the man finishing his talk, the team walking to their table. Felicity sits at the head of the table, the leader of their team, Caitlin in between Lily Stein and Ronnie Raymond.

She turns her head, Barry at the top of his own table, Wally - Iris’ younger brother beside him, the pair discussing something. And then she sees him, the boy from the kissing booth having a much more heated discussion with the guy in glasses beside him. She thinks they might be arguing but it stops suddenly, the guy looking up and catching her watching them.

It has her ducking her head, Caitlin letting herself get caught up in Ronnie and his easy going demeanour, lets its wash over her, lets it help her forget the pressure of the competition, the nerves over a guy who had no idea who she is. He is relaxing, Lily and Felicity joining the conversation easily. And, when the adjudicator signifies the beginning of the competition, Caitlin feels as though she can take on the world.

The first round is general science questions, each team given a set of questions, the four allowed to discuss before the team captain answered. The timer for each question does heighten her nerves, but Caitlin is surrounded by her best friends and it is easy to forget that this isn’t a mock challenge set by Professor Wells.

They don’t miss a single question, but then, neither does Barry’s team.

The second round commences after a slight break, the rules changing. A buzzer is before each of them, the questions addressed to both teams, the points going to whichever school had the student answer it correctly. The questions were more specialised, choosing different branches of science and also mathematics. The initial questions were physics related and, while she was exceptional at the subject, Ronnie... he was a class above. He was doing spectacularly, though the other team had multiple individuals who also seemed to specialise in that area.

But then the boy hits the button and time all but stops for Caitlin.

Her heart rate picks up, the organ beating hard and fast, trying to escape from its confines in her chest. And it’s him, she knows it when he speaks, the same warm timbre, same softness and joy, even in this scenario. And she can’t tear her gaze away from him, can’t muster the strength to. He catches her, he always seems to catch her, but it isn’t enough.

He looks confused, but meets her gaze all the same. She doesn’t know what’s going through his head, assumes he thinks it is a method to throw him off. But she can feel the electricity, even if he can’t. And she’s crazy, she must be, to feel an intensity between them when he doesn’t recognise her. But she had spent months dreaming about this moment, and now it is happening, it doesn’t seem real. So she stares,

and he stares back.

Physics questions exhausted, they move on to biology, her speciality.

Caitlin moves without conscious thought, hitting the buzzer, her lightbulb flashing, indicating that she had reacted fastest. Her voice is crisp as she answers that it is mitochondria which is the powerhouse of the cell, gaze still locked with the mystery boy as the words roll off of her tongue. And she can see it, can pinpoint the very moment realisation hits him. It isn’t immediate, his brows furrowing as he struggles to place why the voice is so familiar, but then his eyebrows rise and his jaw drops, lips forming an ‘o’.

Only then does she have the strength to break the connection between them, Caitlin staunchly avoiding his gaze throughout the rest of the round. She can feel it, feel the intensity of it burning against her skin, his gaze unwavering. It licks at her skin, and she can feel it across all of her, Caitlin biting back her feelings, her need to look at him. Because if it is disgust in his gaze, if it is disappointment... she wouldn’t be able to handle that.

The Lily and Caitlin duo answering the majority of questions in chemistry and biology, though Barry does pose a challenge. Mathematics is Wally’s strong suit, and Felicity has a challenge facing the other two members of Barry’s team when it turns to technology. The race is too close to call, the weighting of questions varying depending on difficulty.

It is then that there is a break called, the teams disbanding to wait for the reveal of the final, the members jittery with excitement. Ronnie pulls them all into a group hug, the boy so sure they won against the other team. Caitlin isn’t quite so confident, but he had always been the voice of optimism when they were dating, it was one of the endearing things about him, even if it was the cause for more than one argument, and she remembers why he is universally liked.

Lily spots her parents in the audience and rushes off to him, Ronnie and Felicity lingering with Caitlin in the sidelines of the stage, discussing how they thought they went and ways they could improve. They are joined by Lily and Mr Stein, the small girl dragging her father to the group, the rest of them soaking up his advice and commendations. But there is a lull in the conversation, something distracting Felicity, and it wasn’t Oliver.

“So kissing booth cutie is staring at you,” Felicity says with a delighted smile, looking over Caitlin’s shoulder before waving at him. It has her stiffening, Caitlin determined to not cave in and check whether that was true.

“What?” Ronnie doesn’t sound sad or disappointed, merely curious at the descriptor and, for the millionth time, Caitlin is pleased that their breakup went as smoothly as it did. Mr Stein however, he looks sharply at the other team, a discerning eye on them as he scrutinises the boy.

“Nothing,” Caitlin says in response to Ronnie, burying her head in her hands. “And we are not calling him that!” It is a harsh whisper to Felicity, but she brushes it off. Professor Wells congratulates them on their effort in his own way, stiff and formal, with an undercurrent of genuine care and fondness for them all that has them beaming anyway. Mr Stein, he is more affectionate, pulling the girls into a hug, tells them that he was proud of them whether they win or lose, tells them they all have bright futures ahead of them. To Ronnie he offers a brisk handshake, the boy rolling his eyes, even as he smiles and accepts the handshake.

The bell rings indicating the break is over and a winner had been determined. So she turns to walk back to their table, Caitlin catching Barry watching her and smirking, while conversing with the boy from the kissing booth. She hates that she blushes as the look Barry gave her, plans her revenge, as he keeps on looking at her, wavering between the two. He gives up all pretence of having a conversation with the guy, especially as the kissing booth cutie (and damn it Felicity, she will get revenge for that) wasn’t wavering - he was most definitely staring at her.

They win, and she can’t help the smile and laughter that escape her when they pull aside and it finally hits her. They all walk off with a cheer, Ronnie pulling Caitlin into a hug and spinning her around. She laughs, her heart light and smile easy, the pair of them joined by Felicity and Lily, the group basking in the glory of their success. But then Ronnie goes off with his family, Felicity with Oliver. Caitlin looks around, almost hoping that the win would summon her mother, with arms open and words of support and pride spilling forth.

It is a fruitless dream, but she’s content. She has Mr Stein pull her into a hug, tears in his eyes as he tells her and Lily that he is proud of his two girls and he knew they would be special. It is nice, and Lily ribs him about Caitlin being his favourite daughter that has wet laughter coming from Mr Stein and half-hearted denials. He’s not her dad, but he is just as much her parent as her mother, Mr Stein there for her since her early childhood, the man a rock when her dad was sick and passed, Lily the sister she never had.

They offer her a ride home, but she shakes her head, Caitlin already having organised a ride with Barry and Iris. She leaves the Stein family in search for her friends, searching the crowd for the opposing team’s student support group. She finds Iris easily, the girl throwing her arms around Caitlin’s neck in a strong hug. “I knew you could do it girl!”

Barry huffs from her side, crossed arms and mock anger. “And here I was thinking you had my back Iris.” He breaks easily, pulling Caitlin into a hug of his own. “Congrats Cait, you guys were really incredible.” He whispers it against the side of her head, and there is no disappointment or envy in his tone.

Her smile almost splits her face as she squeezes him just that bit more before letting go. “Thanks Barry, you did pretty spectacularly yourself.”

“Yeah well,” and he beams at her words, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he becomes shy at the praise. “We’ll get you next year.”

It is enough to elicit a scoff from Caitlin, a rebuttal on her tongue. But it dies immediately, Barry and Iris exchanging looks, the pair communicating without words, the girl’s eyes widening. “What is it?” Caitlin sounds suspicious, she is suspicious, but it isn’t going to go well, she knows it.

“Well,” Iris starts, dragging the vowel along. “Remember how I promised to take you home for the weekend, well, I promised Barry I’d take him out for dinner to celebrate so I organised another ride for you.” She rushes the words out, the pair preparing to run.

“Well I can come along for a celebratory dinner, especially since I won.” Her voice has an edge, her arms crossed and Iris winces at her choice of words.

“Did I say celebratory? I meant conciliatory. To make up for the fact he lost - you being there, it would be like salt in the wounds. Don’t worry, you’ll like Cisco.” And they make a run for it, leaving Caitlin confused and alone.

She uncrosses her arms, pouting at where her friends used to be standing, muttering to herself. “Who the hell is Cisc -”

She turns around and there he is, the mystery boy from the kissing booth. Right in front of her. “Oh.”

He offers her a wave, a shy smile on his face. “That would be me.” And she’s left speechless. Because he’s right in front of her. Talking to her. She hadn’t prepared for this, there were no binders on this scenario. “So you’re Caitlin?” She can only nod mutely, wide eyed as she tries to process it all. He seems to be handling it better than her. “Well, congrats on the win. You guys were the better team, though Hartley would object to that.” He barks out a laugh and Caitlin finds herself falling that little bit more with him.

“I like your shirt.” It is a direct callback to their conversation from before, Caitlin more shy now open and vulnerable. “It’s cute.”

He sucks in a breath, and yeah, he definitely remembers her, remembers their last encounter. The butterflies return, fluttering away in her stomach, each flap of their wings forming tornadoes inside her.

“Okay,” and his voice is hoarse, Cisco taking a step closer to her. “But would you wear it?” They are closer now, so much closer. She can see the shine of his hair, the slight stubble across his jawline. She can hear the inflection in his tone, the fear of her response.

And Caitlin is almost breathless. “Yeah.”

He’s staring at her like she is a vision, a masterpiece that he is trying to memorise what she looks like, like she’s a mirage that would disappear if he were to reach over and touch her. It sends her heart into overdrive, the awe shining in his eyes. “What?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a small smile on her lips.

“I knew you’d be beautiful.” His voice is warm and she melts at the words, at the sincerity infused in his tone.

But still she rolls her eyes, determined to keep this light. “And you could tell by listening to my voice?”

“Your voice, your personality, your laugh. You were so beautiful and sweet and I knew, no matter what you looked like, it would be beautiful.” And well, crap. Because she was determined to keep it light and he went there, baring his heart out to her, Caitlin drowning easily in the emotion of those few words.

“Then why did you disappear?” She sounds so small asking the question that had haunted her for so long. “I said I’d be right back and when I returned you were gone.” There is a vulnerability in her tone, and his smile flickers and falls.

“The other dude showed up and your lipstick was all over my mouth, so I couldn’t really lie and say I was waiting for a kiss. I had to go.” He sounds so sad, voice low and soft and she’d drop it if she didn’t need answers so desperately, these thoughts plaguing her during the darkest nights, when her memories of their kiss morphed into nightmares of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘why’s’.

“You could have waited at the exit, I went around the tent three times hoping I’d just missed you.” There is an embarrassment which tints her confession, a secret she had cradled to her chest, not even admitting it to Felicity.

“I guess I was scared. There was a beautiful, smart, funny girl who is, by the way, an incredible kisser. I didn’t get why she’d be interested in me.” His head drops and she misses it already, misses how his eyes shine and how his laugh makes her heart skip a beat. The self deprecation kills her, Caitlin reaching out for him, her hand on his cheek, lifting his head back up.

She thinks he sees her emotion, her acceptance, in her eyes, Cisco covering her hand with his own. “She was.” It is a croak, Caitlin choked up by her feelings. At the way his eyes dim, she amends herself, “She is.”

There is a spark of hope and she wants to stoke it, wants to see it grow, see it consume them both. “I mean, you have complete permission to slap me or stop me, I won’t fight you or be upset, but I’ve been dreaming about this since I first got to kiss you and I’d really like to do it again.” And again, he is able to render her speechless, his eyes, so dark and beautiful, darting between her own, looking for any sign of reluctance on her part. She can only nod, lips separating in anticipation. And it is her which makes the first move, leaning forward, nose skimming the skin of his cheek, but it is Cisco who closes the distance, a gentle hand on her chin, tilting it closer to him as he takes a breath before pressing their mouths together.

And it is just as glorious as she remembered.

It is different than before, the kiss gentle and soft this time, no urgency, no fear of the other person disappearing. It is almost fragile, the soft brush of lips together, once, twice, thrice. It is then that Caitlin can’t stand the teasing, lifting herself on her toes to press the kiss more firmly. It has him smiling against her, his hands settling on her hips and she can only hope that the rest of their kisses leave her like this. They break it slowly, Caitlin opening her eyes, sight blurry, until it focusses on him. Giggling isn’t something that she would accompany first kisses, but it isn’t their first, even if it feels like it.

“I’m pretty sure I owe you Big Belly Burger. Remember?” He sounds so unsure, as though she hadn’t replayed his voice for months, hadn’t stared at him all afternoon because she wanted him to recognise her, to mean what he had said. As though he hadn’t stolen her breath with a simple kiss. But still, it is enough to bring out a blush, Caitlin suddenly fascinated with the ground below, the toe of her shoe swiping lightly over the floor underneath it.

“Yeah, I remember.” She steals a glance through her lashes, confidence growing along with his smile.

He offers her his hand, a shy smile on his face. “Well come on then, I gotta make this the best first date ever, and we can’t waste daylight.”

Her heart skips a beat at the words ‘first date’, and she cannot believe this is real life. Her hand slides into his perfectly and she feels like it was made to hold her own, Cisco running his thumb over her knuckles. It is calloused and she knows there are stories she doesn’t know, stories she’ll enjoy learning about.

And she follows him without resistance as he leads her to his car, as he drives down to Central City where the best Big Belly Burger was located.

She follows him without resistance as they both fall deeper in love with each other.

Seven years, two PhDs, two Masters and a doctorate between the pair of them, Caitlin and Cisco were still going strong. It had been difficult, with different universities and streams of studies, but they had survived the distance, had thrived in their new environment and grown stronger as a pair. But they had been brought back together, and by Professor Wells of all people. When he had started STAR Labs he had wanted experience, but he also had wanted passion and innovation and youth. He had convinced Caitlin to come back to Central City and she convinced him to hire Cisco.

(There was no convincing needed, he was already on the list).

It was exciting, finally being in the same city, in the same apartment, in the same bed. The flutter of butterflies hadn’t disappeared, not in all the years of dating him. All she needed was a smile from him early morning when the sun bathed him in a golden glow, all she needed was a hand on her shoulder at work when she was struggling through the chemical composition required to trigger a chemical reaction. All she needed was a look, a touch, a smile, and she was right back to being a teenager on her first date, to the girl manning the kissing booth, unaware of the impact it would have on her life.

He means everything to her and so, when she hears from Professor Wells that Cisco had taken a half day without telling her, she grows concerned, Caitlin counting down the minutes before rushing out the door, heading immediately to their apartment.

It is with shaky fingers she tries to out the key in the door, Cisco having not responded to any of her texts. A sigh of relief leaves her as it finally, finally, slips into the hole, the door swinging open.

And she’s left standing at the entrance, shocked still at the sight before.

There is a booth at the entrance of their apartment, red fabric forming a tent, blocking off everything else except for the neon sign in front of her.

Fiancee booth. Entrance fee: your heart.

Caitlin fails to stifle the gasp that escapes her, hands moving belatedly to cover her mouth, breath hitching as the magnitude of what is about to happen hits her. It has her heart thundering in her chest, and she can’t get it under control, can barely make herself inhale oxygen.

She drops her stuff by the door, trembling fingers pulling the curtain aside so she could enter the tent. There are tears before she ever sees him, electronic candles around the structure, setting the atmosphere. And there he is, kneeling in the middle, Cisco dressed up in a tuxedo, an open velvet box outstretched in his hands, an anxious smile on his face as her gaze falls to the diamond ring in the box.

“Cisco.” It’s all she can manage, Caitlin left a blubbering mess at the sight before her. She drops to her knees before him immediately and so easily, the need to be closer to him, to be right by his side one she had accepted long ago. And he drops the box to his side, hands lifting up to cup her face, thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, calloused finger pads sending shivers through her. He’s shaking, thumb stuttering in its movements, even as she leans into his touch, Caitlin soaking everything about the moment in. He only stops to wipe his thumb against the thighs of his pants, Caitlin catching the glitter of water on his skin from the glow of the candles.

And oh, she thinks. I’m crying.

“Welcome to your fiance booth Cait, you enter alone and leave with a fiance.” His voice trembles and his eyes are shining.

“Should I be worried about the line that was behind me,” she jokes, a weak smile on her face.

But it is enough, Cisco relaxing, a chuckle leaving him as he shakes his head at her words. “It’s only for you Cait, my heart is only for you.” His voice is more steady and she can’t help herself, Caitlin tilting her head, a lingering kiss pressed against the inside of his wrist. She holds her lips there, the feeling of his pulse underneath her skin sending chills through her. The tears start to well up once more, the sight of Cisco blurring before her, and she whispers her confession of love against his skin.

His other hand strokes the other side of her face, Cisco tucking the hair behind her ear so that he could continue. And she wants to pause moment, wishes it were possible just spend her life as happy as she was in this singular moment of time, her heart threatening to burst from joy.

She mourns the loss of contact, Cisco eventually letting go of her face, Caitlin no longer crying. And he picks up the box. There isn’t a question of her response, she had known it for years now, had only waited for the right time. The temptation is there to nod, to say ‘yes’ and slide the ring on her finger in that moment, the seconds going by without her being his fiancee almost agonising. But she knows Cisco, knows he prepared this night for so long, and she can’t fathom interrupting him in it.

"I love you,” he breathes, and crap, crap, crap, that’s all he needs to say for the tears to restart, the adoration evident in his voice. She wipes the tears away desperately, paws at her cheeks, cursing her emotion. Because he pauses and she just wants him, wants him to ask the question, wants to tell him yes, wants it all now.

“I love you too Cisco,” she sniffles, a smile on her lips and the tears finally stop, her vision to Cisco, just Cisco. She can see his nervous grin and she wants to kiss it all away.

“I’ve loved you for so long Cait, ever since I kissed this incredible girl at a kissing booth and she thought I had a cool shirt. I knew then there wouldn’t be any one else who would come close to you.” She whimpers at his words and she knew it too, knew her life wouldn’t be anywhere as incredible if she didn’t have him to share it with. Her heart aches for him, for the tremble in his voice as he tells her these words. “I never thought it’d be possible for you to like me back, to love me back. But by some miracle you did, you do, and I thank God for that every single day, thank Him that you’re the first thing I can see in the morning, the last thing I see at night. I thank Him because you’re my soulmate Cait, there isn’t any one in the world I could love like I love you. You make me happy Caitlin Snow, so very, incredibly happy and you have my heart, my soul, you have all of me.” It hurts, physically hurts, to stay still and listen as Cisco talks, Caitlin itching to hug him, to pepper his face with kisses, to show him just how happy he makes her. He had always been more eloquent with matters of the heart. But she doesn’t, forces herself to wait for him to ask that question with bated breath, her heartbeat stuttering as he opens himself up to her. “I’m yours, I always have, always will be. I’m just hoping that you’re mine -” She’s already nodding at his words, the smile spreading across her lips, “ - and that you’ll be okay making it official.” He proffers up the ring to her, Cisco offering her a smile that makes her fall in love with him all over again. “Will you marry me Cait?”

She nods, laughs in glee as he slides the ring on her finger, Caitlin pouncing on him, pinning him to the ground as she hovers above him. She takes the moment to pause, to absorb this and him and she hadn’t seen it coming all those years ago when she agreed to help Iris with her fundraiser. He looks so beautiful she thinks, memorising the sight of Cisco on his back, hands by his head, fingers interlocked with her own. He looks up at her, smile splitting his face in half, and she can’t contain her sigh. “Do you think that we would have got together if we didn’t do the kissing booth?”

The words slip out absentmindedly, Caitlin unaware she was even thinking it until she hears the words come from her mouth. Cisco tilts his head, the hair splayed against the floor underneath him. “I dunno Cait, I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t. There’s no point in torturing myself like that because I have you. God, I still can’t believe you said yes,” he chuckles, awe and adoration in his gaze. “I don’t think there is a universe out there that doesn’t have you and me together.” He says the words so simply, but the force of it against her heart, it is overpowering.

He’s beautiful and he’s smart and he’s sweet and he’s kind. And he’s mine.

It is a fiance booth, but they still got their kisses.

No blindfold necessary.

#killervibe #caitlin snow #cisco ramon #the flash #the flash fic #ruthie writes #y'all this was fluff okay #i wrote fluff #it's a damn miracle #fun-fact - this was supposed to be my entrance for the 'free day' on killervibe week last year #i wrote 4-5k and missed the date and never got back to the fic #.... prolly cause its fluff and i struggle with that #title is the song 'strawberry kisses' by nikki webster #also THIS SONG WAS MY JAM IN 2003 AND EARLIER #I LOVE IT #literally edited the fic so i could use that as my song title #im sorry about cisco's proposal btw #the hell if i knew what i was going on about #killer vibe

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uselessnocturnal · 6 years

Text

Lifeline

olivarry week 2018 | day two | mythology

summary; Oliver would argue that Barry is no ordinary soldier. He is not a minor character. He is not a figure in the backgrounds, hidden by Oliver’s shadow. He is compassionate and loyal with a courageous and gentle heart who deserves better than what life throws at him. He is Oliver’s whole world. His lifeline.

Seduced by the promise of a glorious victory, Oliver chooses to fight against the Trojans to rescue Helen of Sparta. Barry, out of love and fear for his friend, follows Oliver into war; little knowing that the following years would test their steadfast friendship and their deepening bond.

notes; it’s seven am in the morning i have not slept and i got way too into this and i feel like i’m going to be at least a day late every day now ughh. I actually had so much fun writing this? It’s so long though you might be better off reading it on ao3. It’s heavily inspired by the song of achilles with touches of percy jackson.

read here on ao3!

In the midst of the blood and war and shouts, Oliver mourns.

It’s not a quiet mourning. Oliver sobs openly – gut wrenching sounds that mix seamlessly with the cries of war. He cradles a man, limp and cold, against his gold-plated chest, staring into his unseeing eyes and shouting at him – pleading with him – to wake up, please, I can’t do this without you. He prays to his mother, Thetis, and to Hermes, a god who favoured the young man Oliver held and yet there is silence.

The gods are busy. Or they don’t care.

If anyone paid closer attention to the greatest demigod of the ages, they’d be surprised. Why this desperate grief? Why mourn a man with such a shocking intensity? Whose death must it have been to undo the mighty Oliver?

Oliver would argue that the man was no ordinary soldier. He was not a minor character. He was not a figure in the backgrounds, hidden by Oliver’s shadow. He was compassionate and loyal with a courageous and gentle heart who deserved better than what life threw at him.

He was Oliver’s whole world. His anchor.

Barry.

In the age of Heroes, there is always one that seems to draw the short end of the stick. Barry was a disappointment to both his father and his kingdom. When other boys were going on their first hunt, Barry could barely raise a spear. Whilst other boys were adorned with laurel wreaths, Barry stood away from the competition. At the age of eleven, he had been taken in by King Robert of Starling Kingdom and lives there, an unwanted shamed prince, under the shadow of the king’s golden son, Oliver.

Oliver, just a year older than Barry, is everything that Barry is not – strong, beautiful, the son of the goddess Thetis – and under normal circumstances their paths would never have crossed. Turns out, this wasn’t normal and for reasons still unknown to Barry, Oliver takes an interest in him.

When he finds out Barry skips training, Oliver starts bringing him to his classes as an excuse. Turns out, Barry can’t carry a tune on the lyre to save his life. When Oliver’s tutor offers him a lyre and he attempts to play it, Oliver’s electric blue eyes stare at the younger boy with a mix of confusion and laughter, “I never thought anyone could make the lyre sound bad.” Oliver confesses, faux-wonder in his tone.

It’s a different feeling to the burning humiliation when he’s teased during training and, though he can feel his cheeks warm, laughter bubbles out of his throat and before long they’re just two boys giggling uncontrollably with an exasperated teacher sitting by helplessly.

Their tentative connection falls into a steadfast friendship. Barry starts spending a lot of time with Oliver, often invited to events that would usually be exclusive to the royal family. Throughout the years, they only grow closer, spending almost every waking moment with each other.

They lie together on the floor by King Robert’s feet as he weaves a tale of gods and creatures for them. At fifteen, Barry’s reached that stage where everything is growing and now he’s just a bundle of awkward limbs that seem to stretch out everywhere. Oliver, on the other hand, has grown into his body extraordinarily well all broad-shouldered and tanned muscle. Barry would complain that it was incredibly unfair if he didn’t secretly think that Oliver was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Barely listening to the king’s stories anymore, Oliver nudges Barry with his foot grinning like he’s just played the perfect joke. Barry rolls his eyes, hoping the darkness of the candle-lit room conceals his quiet blush, returning the smile with one of his own, kicking Oliver back eliciting a short laugh from him.

Robert, sensing their fidgeting, sits up straighter in his chair and lets a fond expression (albeit slightly disgruntled at the interruption) cross his face. He rises, gesturing the two to follow as they leave the room to the corridor. Barry stands to the side as they share a quick, private conversation. Robert points at one of the slave girls down the corridor and he’s not quite sure why but his heart drops to his stomach and an uneasy feeling overcomes him.

It’s around this age that both the boys would be starting to bring girls back to their bedrooms. Barry knows for a fact that the other boys Robert fosters have as they brag about their conquest the next day. As far as he was aware, though, Oliver hasn’t had anyone in his room and it seems that the king was getting concerned.

Having finished his conversation, Robert bids the two goodnight and returns to his chambers. The two stand silently for a moment, two silhouettes in the darkness.

Barry plays with his fingers for a moment before meeting Oliver’s striking eyes (even though he’s a year younger, he’s fairly sure he’ll be taller than the demigod) before asking quietly, “What did your father say?”

He can just about detect movement as Oliver shakes his head and responds in a low voice, “He told me that the girl has been staring at me the past few days. He says she’s intrigued.”

“Are you- are you going to bring her to bed?” Barry chooses his words carefully, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He almost can’t hold back a sigh of relief when Oliver shakes his head again.

“My father…” Oliver starts hesitantly, “he said my mother wants me to go and train with Chiron the Centaur and…I want you to come with me.”

Barry’s head spins. This conversation has just taken a complete one-eighty and though the thrill of going somewhere – leaving the palace – with Oliver (!) instructed by a goddess is overwhelming, there’s something about the statement that makes the whole situation seem almost forbidden.

He nods numbly, eagerly and still he asks, “Will your father be okay with it?”

A mischievous grin lights up his face, “Definitely not. You’re going to have to sneak out.”

“You’re joking.” Barry splutters, “I can’t do that!"

Oliver places his hands reassuringly on Barry’s shoulders, “You can,” he takes a step forward so they’re only an inch away from each other and he’s back to staring at those beautiful blue eyes, “I believe in you.”

The idea excites Barry more than it should. He’s barely prepared and he’s doubtful he’ll be able to pull it off but Oliver believes in him.

It fills him with a hope and pride that he’s never actually experienced. He spent the night going over a plan in Oliver’s room until they were pretty sure it was foolproof and he feels almost prepared.

He stands next to the king as Oliver kneels in a goodbye, his father looking on in pride. As Oliver rises and comes over to Barry, Barry can feel his heart clench at the mere thought of Oliver leaving. It’s a ridiculous reaction, especially since he knows he’s literally going to be chasing after than man in a few hours.

“I- I’m going to miss you,” Barry admits as Robert leaves the two alone in the courtyard.

“Me too, Barr,” Oliver confesses, unaware of the butterflies he had released in Barry’s stomach with the new nickname – how much of it was for show, Barry wasn’t sure. He’s not sure where the instinct comes from but he moves in to the man, arms outstretched for a hug. He can see the hesitance in Oliver’s eyes before something like screw it crosses his mind and they embrace each other tightly.

“I’ll see you around.” Oliver breath tickles Barry’s ear, his voice holding a secret only the two of them understand. He pulls away from the hug, cheeks dusted pink, turning sharply with his pouch over his shoulder, sword at his waist and venturing out of the castle and towards Mount Pelion.

King Robert seems to pity Barry, giving him the rest of the day off, leaving Barry with nothing to do until he sets his plan into action. The few hours without Oliver is harder than he’d thought it would have been. Without his company, there isn’t much Barry could do…it had honestly been a while since he felt this lost.

The plan starts after nightfall. It’s a simple plan really – the two had just decided to complicate it to entertain themselves. All Barry really had to do was take his weapons (of which he had little to no skill in using) and just run out of the gate. The hardest part is memorizing where to go. Thankfully this plan harnessed Barry’s few and greatest talents – speed and memory – so it really isn’t too much of a problem.

Running away from the palace is exhilarating. Ignoring the calls of guards who he knows will give up soon enough, this is the best feeling in the world. He can feel the air, the wind on his face and the ground beneath his feet, lifting him up and pushing him forward. The adrenaline pumps through his veins and he’s never felt more powerful before – running towards Oliver.

In the blanket of night, Barry’s hurtling through the jungle at the speed of light until he crashes into Oliver. The two of them fall to the ground and somehow they both know it’s each other. There’s no resistance as they tumble together across the dirt and leaves. Barry laughs breathlessly, flushing, as they roll to a stop, Oliver on top, a small but exasperated smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Barry breathes, “I was just…running.”

A small chuckle escapes Oliver, “It’s okay.”

Oliver’s weight eases off him and he offers a hand to Barry, “C’mon, we’ve got a long trip ahead.”

Barry grins and takes his hand.

It’s a few days until they reach where Chiron’s meant to be. They’re both exhausted and sweaty from the journey and all they want is to collapse. Because, yes, Oliver’s a demigod and he has a ridiculously high stamina and Barry can definitely hold his own but it’s more out of the comfort zone than they had both expected.

“We should be close.” Oliver announces, breathing heavily. Barry nods, a jerky motion, choosing to save his energy about ready to take a break. They both freeze as they hear a rustle in the trees. Oliver’s sword is out in a second and he shoves Barry behind him. A shadow looms over them and they’re met with a centaur…except he wasn’t quite.

Barry couldn’t help but stare, mouth slightly agape, at the human legs molding with the body of a horse. Chiron was different in that aspect, having two front legs that are human whilst other centaurs had the whole body of a horse. Though Barry had heard the rumours and seen the images, he was both fascinated and astonished by seeing the Great Chiron in real life. Chiron looked down on the duo, his dark eyes analytical and stern with a dusty grey beard that reminds Barry how old the centaur is and how much he must have seen. As the centaur towers over them Barry realises: This is what true power is.

“Son of Thetis, Prince Oliver of Starling,” Chiron’s voice, when he speaks, is rough and commanding, leaving no room for questions, “I have been expecting you.”

Oliver bows deeply and Barry scrambles to copy his movements, what were they to do in the presence of someone who has seen it all?

The centaur gestures them to rise and turns to Barry, “Bartholomew,” he starts, noting how Barry stiffens at the use of a name he hadn’t heard since he was exiled, “You are not supposed to be here.”

Quickly, Barry is reduced to nothing but a fumbling mess and crazy hand gestures, “Well- I –uh –just…” The words that leave his mouth are incoherent and he knows it, his cheeks flaming red.

He’s silenced by Oliver’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly and with the eloquence and confidence of a king responds for Barry, “He’s with me, Chiron.”

Chiron regards them silently, “and if I choose not to take him in?”

“We’re both coming,” Oliver’s confidence wavers at the question, “I –I’m not going without him.”

A knowing look crosses Chiron’s face, fleeting but definitely still there. Barry’s not sure if Oliver notices but puts it out of his mind as Chiron faces Barry once again bending down to him. “So, Bartholomew, this question is for you,” he directs, holding Barry’s gaze, “do you want to train with me?”

“Uh –it’s Barry,” he corrects without thinking, “and…yeah I’d be honoured to be trained by you.”

Chiron nods, seemingly pleased with Barry’s response. He gestures to his horse back, “Climb on and we will begin your training.”

Training with Chiron is hard, even for Oliver. Whilst they spend a lot of their time training with weapons like swords, spears and bows (a weapon which Oliver quickly grows attached to), they discover that Chiron has a lot more to offer than just combat training. The centaur pushes them to keep adapting and changing. He teaches the two simple medical practices – lessons that are not all that interesting to Oliver but something that Barry thrives at.

Often they’re left alone in the woods for a day. A test, Chiron explains, to practice adapting and survival skills. Together, they manage to make it through mostly unscathed, stretching Oliver’s hunting skills and Barry’s medical ones.

Even though they’ve both found something that they’re good at and want to practice further, Chiron forces them to keep up with all the training. Even if it means an exhausted Barry struggling to keep a bow in place and somehow hitting Chiron (who was behind him!) and if it means Oliver just accidentally killed his fake patient by giving him a poison instead of an herb.

It’s tough but together they endure it. They’re bond deepens until the word ‘friends’ can’t describe it. It’s more than that. They’re partners – they have each other’s backs, they understand the other without having to say a word. A connection like this, Chiron muses as he observes the boys (men – Oliver has just turned eighteen), it is something precious and rare and he hopes that the terrors of the future will not ruin that.

There’s a prophecy, you see, that Thetis revealed to Chiron a few months back. Oliver has two fates: to gain glory and die young or live a long and uneventful life of obscurity. Chiron barely had to take one look at the man and know which Oliver would choose. It isn’t that Oliver craves glory, but that he seeks to save his city. And Barry, Chiron is sure, will follow Oliver in a heartbeat wherever the man went. Regardless, they would both find themselves on a battlefield.

So when the announcement reaches the hills of Mount Pelion, Chiron doesn’t hide it from either of them.

“This is from King Menelaus?” Barry confirms brows furrowed in thought, though he knows that this is primarily Oliver’s decision.

“King Agamemnon of Greece, actually,” Oliver corrects distractedly, skimming the paper Chiron had passed to him, “Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped by the prince of Troy.”

Helen of Sparta. Now, there was a name Barry could remember from Robert’s stories. She is supposedly the daughter of Zeus and the most beautiful woman in the world. She had married Menelaus and now, for some reason, has been kidnapped by Paris, the younger prince of Troy. The situation itself seemed straightforward enough. Attack Troy. Rescue Helen. Do this by recruiting the greatest heroes of their time.

Barry can tell by the light in Oliver’s eyes that he’s intrigued or more likely, that he’s already decided he wants to go. Chiron had told Oliver in confidence about the prophecy and Oliver had of course told Barry (why did Chiron even attempt to keep it a secret he himself wasn’t sure). There was nothing more Barry wanted to do but just keep Oliver here – safe – at least for a little longer. At the time, as they rested in the comfort of Chiron’s cave upon a bed of emerald moss, the thought of war had seemed so distant.

“I’m going.” Oliver declares, leaving no room for argument, though he looks towards Barry slightly uncertainly.

Barry offers up a small smile and nods his encouragement, “I’m coming with you.” There’s an obvious relaxation in Oliver’s shoulders as he turns to retreat into the cave to pack, leaving Barry alone with Chiron.

“What troubles you, Bartholomew?” Barry supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by Chiron’s intuition or his persistent use of his full name, for that matter.

He shrugs, half-heartedly, “Is there any other way we can protect him?” he asks, letting a touch of desperation leak into his words, “I just-” Barry bites his lip, “I don’t want to lose him so soon.”

A despondent expression decorates Chiron’s aged face, “Fate has a funny way of working out…” he hesitates, “there is one way he can be better protected. But you should be warned it is a risky move for him.”

Barry swallows the lump in his throat but nods, waiting for Chiron to continue. To his surprise, he calls Oliver back. Barry looks at the centaur questioningly but is ignored.

“There is one more task I need you to fulfill.” Chiron instructs, “If you want to survive longer in this war, you need to bathe in the River Styx.”

Both pairs of eyes widen. “I thought the Styx was a myth.” Oliver states, questioningly, “Would I really become invincible?”

Chiron gives them both one of those I know all looks that they’ve grown accustomed to. “Maybe in a couple of millennial, people will think you’re myths,” his eyes sparkle for a moment but darken once again as he continues, “It will be a difficult journey. That you’ll have to take alone.”

Almost immediately, the men’s eyes jump to each other as they exchange a silent conversation until they reach an agreement. It’s almost amusing how they seem to instantly jump to each other for support, Chiron marvels; it has been a while since he has seen a love so strong.

“I’ll do it.” And with those three words, Oliver seals his fate.

Barry has to wait at Mount Pelion. It’s an agonising wait, especially since he doesn’t know whether Oliver is alive. He finds himself fretting about the man day and night. It’s almost like it physically pains him to be away from Oliver. He figures out early on the real reason why Oliver has to carry out the quest alone.

“You separated us on purpose, didn’t you?” Barry accuses Chiron on the cliff outside his cave, sounding more resigned than angry.

The wise centaur shrugs, facing the overlooking lake, “Why exactly would you think that?”

“Because we rely on each other too much. We’re too close?” Barry’s not entirely sure what the reason is, “Together we’re weak?”

At this suggestion, Chiron turns sharply towards Barry, “That is entirely false. I believe that together you are both stronger.”

He leans closer, his beard almost tickling Barry’s face “I also believe that you two have a loyalty towards each other that – if left uncontrolled – could lead either of you with a tough choice: to save the world or Oliver.”

Without sparing Barry an answer, the centaur gallops down the mountain and into the greens below. Logically, Barry knows he should save the world. That’s what a hero does after all. But in his heart, he realises that he would do anything to save Oliver even if it did mean bringing the world down in his wake.

He also realises that he loves Oliver. It’s a fierce love that Barry had never nurtured before but he had brushed it aside, thinking it may have just been a childhood crush. They had kissed and touched each other a few times whilst they were at Mount Pelion (usually when Chiron abandoned them for the night – it kept them warm!). Nothing more than that and although the feeling left both of them warm and buzzing with the heated touch of the other, it had never developed into something deeper.

Presumably, their love wasn’t just about the physical aspect. It was obvious in the way they move closer together when they were uncertain and confide everything in each other. It was obvious in the way they looked at each other when the other wasn’t looking and how they’re minds always jumped first to the protection of the other.

Barry doesn’t need to wonder if Oliver loves him. He knows that he does – it’s just that maybe Oliver hasn’t realised it yet. And even if he does, neither of them will know where to go from there. Although not frowned upon, most couples in Greece were of a different sex – and that was mainly for childbirth. If Oliver had been any other man in the city, it would not matter that he doesn’t have children. But as a prince, the eldest and only son of Robert no less, it was absolutely essential for him to bear a son to be the next in line to the throne.

He forces the thoughts out of his mind. There is no use in worrying about something that may not even happen, especially with the war coming up and the fact that Oliver still isn’t back yet.

Oliver returns a few days later, his strides are more confident and Barry can almost see a certain aura around him that screams powerful demigod. Yet, there’s a slight darkness to his eyes, a weight on his shoulders dragging him back. When he sees Barry though, his eyes brighten and he breaks into a jog towards the other man. Barry, grateful to every god and goddess that Oliver is alive, is already running towards Oliver for a very much longed for hug.

He gets something better.

Barry barely has his arms around Oliver when the stronger man picks him up so Barry ends up straddling Oliver, his legs wrapped around Oliver’s waist, he’s pressed up against his bare chest and his face is only a few inches apart.

“What was that–” He’s cut off as Oliver’s lips crash into his – it’s a desperate, hungry kiss mixed with blood and salt. A kiss more passionate than either of them had ever shared.

When they finally pull away from each other, lips red and swollen, Barry’s hazel-green eyes stare into Oliver’s a question evident.

“I’ll tell you later,” Oliver promises, “I just know that…I don’t want you to leave my side.” He mumbles, letting Barry slide down and pressing a kiss to the younger man’s forehead.

A flush spreads across Barry’s face, coupled with a smile, “I’d never leave your side, Ollie.” It’s not the first time Barry’s used that nickname and yet it sets Oliver’s heart on fire because it’s the first time it means something more.

Later doesn’t seem to come. As the two pack their sacks with their sparse belongings and some food for the journey, Oliver seems to delve into a spot of quiet consideration. Barry chooses not to push, trusting that Oliver will tell him when he wanted to, but worries silently by his side, hoping that no matter what happened, they would face it together.

When they reach Troy, the war has already gone on for five months and is in full chaos. There’s no way to tell which side is winning – there are high casualty counts on both. They’d like to believe that the Greeks are at an advantage with great heroes to help them like Heracles and Odysseus. And now, Oliver.

Barry feels like it’s obvious when Oliver joins the war. Even without prior experience, Oliver seems so…at ease with war. He makes fighting seem like a mesmerizing hacking art. His spear moves faster than the eye can follow, never stopping, ever-changing. It whirls, flashing forward, reverses, then flashes behind. On the battlefield, it is Oliver who leads men into victory, even though he is not the commander. It is Oliver who slays more of the Trojans than all the other Greeks do in total. He seems to be an unstoppable force and the Greeks love him for it.

They shower him in praises at the campsite; raise him on their shields as they return from their most recently won battle. The tent that Oliver shares with Barry soon becomes crowded with loot and other spoils of war. Everyone wants to talk to the greatest demigod of the ages.

Oliver, whilst civil in front of the soldiers, seeks solace after every battle with Barry. They keep their relationship quiet, sneaking kisses between battles and stealing touches every time their paths crossed. As the Greeks slept through the night, Barry and Oliver would bask in each other’s warmth, savouring each and every short moment they could share together.

At first, Barry is uncomfortable at the prospect of war, hesitant because there must be another way rather than killing. He had brought the worry up to Oliver once and the man had looked at him strangely. There is no other way, he’d said, not unkindly, he kidnapped a king’s wife. Oliver hadn’t laughed at him but he had been concerned and almost tried to stop Barry from going on the battlefield – worried that it would be too much for him to handle.

It took a lot in Barry not to snap back that he could handle himself. He may not be the most skilled, but gods help him if he sits by in Oliver’s tent as every other man goes out and fights for his country.

The war stretches on longer than they expect. What starts out as a couple of months turns into a year, which extends even longer to six years. There are heavy losses on both sides and yet neither side appears to give. At this point, Barry wonders if anyone actually knows what the Greeks had started out fighting for. If they still remembered Helen of Sparta who could be locked away in her ivory tower, watching as men still fought and died for her. It must be a difficult existence.

Barry spends his time either on the battle, barely scraping death, or in the Greeks’ temporary medical bay of the day. He does admit he likes it there more than he ever did on the battlefield. Here, he heals people with the skills Chiron taught him. He learns their names, faces and of their families back at home and listens to how much they misses them. This war has gone too long, men would often complain after thanking Barry, I just want to go home.

Home…Barry muses. Unlike these men, he has no connections outside of the battlefield. Yes, he misses Mount Pelion with its groves and rivers and Chiron always watching. But for him, home was wherever Oliver was.

Their relationship was still going strong over the course of six years. It was difficult to keep the façade, especially when King Menelaus keeps questioning why Oliver won’t take a slave girl for his pleasure when Oliver seems to capture so many of them. It wasn’t just because of Barry that Oliver wouldn’t keep the slaves.

He’d confided in Barry one night, “I feel powerful on the field…like I can do anything. But every life I take…I feel like I’m trading away…little pieces of myself…everything that makes me good.” He had hesitated as Barry squeezed his hand encouragingly, “I thought, if I didn’t keep the slaves…at least they wouldn’t have to look at the face that captured them in the first place.”

Barry had nodded in understanding, and drew the man into a kiss and capturing his cheeks with his hands as he pulled away. “You have nothing to compensate for,” he’d said, “You would not have come out the other side of this as a hero, if you didn’t have a light inside of you.”

The words had brought tears to Oliver’s eyes as he had let the younger man draw him close and rested in his protection.

A few weeks later, Oliver brings a girl to their tent. She’s dark-skinned with brown wavy hair and chocolate eyes. Barry and Oliver can barely communicate with her, only just getting across their names and receiving hers in turn – Iris.

Even with the communication barrier, Iris is incredibly talented with healing, making her useful in the med bay. As they treat the men, Barry manages to teach her little pieces of Greek and in turn she teaches him Latin, making it so that they could have basic conversations with each other.

They grow close. It’s a nice feeling to have an actual friend to talk to. They talk about anything they can, heavily avoiding the topic of war (to be fair it’s not in either of their vocabulary). Only after Oliver storms out of the tent upon seeing Barry and Iris laughing together does Iris bring it up.

“Oliver…uh…upset? Why?” She asks in her broken Greek though Barry gets the gist of her sentence even before she has to ask.

He hesitates for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, “I- He might be…jealous?” He tests the word, meeting her eyes to convey his message. He’s fairly sure she doesn’t understand the actual word but she already knows why Oliver’s upset.

“You two are…happy.” She states, smiling widely at him, “I go.” She points to the tent flap, as Barry stands up frantically, waving his hands in a panic.

Laughing at his concern that he’d hurt her feelings she puts her hands out to pacify him, “I help.” she punctuates her sentence with a wink, leaving Barry in a state of realisation as she leaves him alone in the tent.

Sure enough, Oliver returns seconds later, simmering with barely controlled rage.

“Ollie, what’s wrong?” Barry asks, concern colouring his tone.

Oliver shakes his head, “Look, I just… I need to clarify. Are you…doing anything with that girl?”

“Iris,” Barry corrects automatically, “and no, of course not!” I love you lingers on his tongue but it just seems too soon.

Oliver bites his lip and doesn’t meet Barry’s eyes, clearly not completely at ease.

“What else happened?” Barry pushes gently.

He sighs before delving into an explanation, “King Agamemnon captured a daughter of a priestess of Apollo and refuses to give her back even though Apollo has threatened,” Oliver clenches his fist, voice hardening, “to send a plague throughout our camps. I’ve tried to reason with him – to talk some sense into him – but he refuses unless-”

He hesitates, meeting Barry’s eyes carefully, “Unless I give him Iris.”

Barry’s world seems to stop for a second, glitch and then carry on, “I’m sorry –what?”

Oliver purses his lips and drops his gaze, nodding once more.

“No. No.” Barry repeats, coming up close to Oliver, “you can’t do this. There has to be something- ”

“There isn’t anything!” Oliver all but shouts in his face. Barry stares at him for a moment stunned as Oliver closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “The plague is already spreading. Soldiers are getting sick. They’re going to the medical tent. That’s where you are.”

He swallows and raises his eyes to the roof of the tent, closing them and then looking Barry straight in the eyes, “I can’t – I don’t want you to get infected.” Oliver’s eyes are glistening now and Barry understands now, why Oliver wants to do what he’s going to do.

“Look, the king promised he wouldn’t harm her and I just thought…”

Barry nods as Oliver pulls him into an embrace, “I understand…just let me talk to her.”

The conversation with Iris is a quick but tearful one. They convey their goodbyes in long hugs and he wishes her luck as Oliver takes her away to King Agamemnon.

Barry hoped everything would have been resolved in that moment. His heart plunges when Oliver strides back in to the tent and sits himself on their bed, fuming in quiet rage. Barry doesn’t ask questions this time. Instead he waits for Oliver to open up to him. There’s a long almost suffocating silence in the tent.

“I’m not fighting anymore.” Oliver states, his voice quiet and even. The proclamation startles Barry out of his spot on the cushions.

“What do you mean – What? Why?” Barry splutters. He can’t be serious. The Greeks – we – can’t win without him.

Oliver shakes his head stiffly, “Agamemnon – the king – he’s taken my honour.”

“You’re going to let the Greeks lose because the king wounded your pride?” Barry demands, infuriated. This is absolutely ridiculous.

“The Greeks aren’t going to lose.” Oliver growls, “He’s ruined my reputation! Everything I’ve built up over the years is overlooked now because he took my slave from me unwillingly!”

“You’re reputation?” Barry questions incredulously, “Oliver, you can easily get that back up within a battle. Nothing has been taken away from you! And Iris, she isn’t some object to be tossed around! She’s a person!”

“You can’t just abandon us because of something as petty as this. We need you.”

“When did it change from ‘the Greeks’ to ‘us’?” Oliver snaps, “When were you suddenly such a supportive member of their cause? You told me yourself: You didn’t think this was right.”

“And if you don’t help them, they’re going to die, Ollie. And you don’t want that on your conscience.” Barry’s voice breaks slightly as he stares into his lover’s beautiful, broken blue eyes. He can tell he’s gotten through to Oliver because of the flicker of regret that dances across his eyes.

A horn sounds in the distance – the signal for a battle about to come.

The two of them stare each other down in the doorway of the tent, Barry urging Oliver to go and Oliver wanting to go but hesitating to nurse his pride. Sighing Barry gathers Oliver’s armour.

“Just this once, I’ll go out in your armour,” he compromises, not letting Oliver speak, “we can’t let them lose any of the battles when we’re so close to defeating the Trojans.”

“Hopefully, just seeing your armour alone will scare people away.” Barry shrugs, “Even then, I should have enough skill to manage myself.”

Oliver looks doubtful at the idea, concern written across his face and yet, still too stubborn to take up the armour himself. One day, Barry swore, Oliver’s pride would be his downfall.

“I’ll lead them well,” Barry reassures Oliver, adjusting the straps of armour to fit him a bit better.

“I know you will.” Oliver murmurs, pulling the man into a final kiss before he left. It’s a soft and quick kiss before Barry moves away, smiling at his best friend and lover.

“Come back to me,” he pleads, “As soon as you beat the Trojans back to their ships bring the armour back and I’ll take over.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to.” Barry promises.

He takes to commanding with a surprising amount of ease. With people already believing he was Oliver, it isn’t difficult to have the sway he needs to convince them to attack. Though his technique is not as swift as Oliver’s, Barry is able to disarm and injure many of the Trojan army. He understands now, why Oliver is so involved in fighting. There’s a tiny taste of power every time a man falls, coupled with a bitter taste in his mouth that quickly diminishes the euphoria. It does give him that tiny boost of confidence, though.

Barry had been involved in enough battle plans to know a good strategy and he managed to push the Trojans back almost, dare he say it, easily. It makes a further attack all too tempting.

In a split second decision, he continues the fight, leading the Greeks towards the already weakened Trojans in an attack that Barry is almost sure they can win. He knows he’s smart enough to pull it off.

As they’re charging to attack, Barry stops suddenly. His mind completely blank – wiped clean – so that he can’t even remember what he’s doing, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. A single name sits on his lips as he tries to shake off the disorientation and remember what he is doing. It’s important. It’s a mission. I was doing it for…for… the Greeks no…for Oliver.

And it’s with Oliver’s name that the disorientation clears and his wits return to him. Barry can barely understand what just happens but he doesn’t have time. He needs to find Oliver and –

a sharp pain blossoms from the middle of his stomach. He clutches blindly at the shaft of a spear, searching for the end of it until – oh – it’s inside him. Barry stumbles backwards, for a battlefield it’s surprisingly empty until he realises he’s no longer on the field.

He must have chased the man – Hector, prince of Troy – around the walls unknowingly. But how did that happen? Surely, Barry couldn’t have been stupid enough – the gods. A god must have cursed him – taken his wits in that moment – weakened him so that Hector could finish him off.

Barry is no longer wearing Oliver’s armour. Hector must have taken it before he retreated. “Oliver,” he mumbles half-deliriously, “I need to get the armour to him.” A face hovers over his, blue-eyes but Not Oliver because this man does not have the same chiseled jaw as Oliver. Voices are swimming in his head, blending together so they don’t make sense.

There’s just one voice he wants to hear. “Oliver.”

The man, King Menelaus, protecting his body nods and in a moment of clarity Barry hears, “I’ve sent someone to get him.”

His body relaxes in relief. Oliver is coming.

The spear sends a last pulsing, shuddering throb throughout his body. Barry’s eyes close. A final, trembling breath leaves his lips. And then, as Oliver sprints across the field calling Barry’s name, Barry lets go.

In the midst of the blood and war and shouts, Oliver mourns.

He had run straight into the midst of all the chaos with only one man in mind – Barry. He finds him soon enough or rather his body, protected by King Menelaus and Ajax. Barry is laying so incredibly still, a spear buried in his stomach, a small pool of coppery blood watering the ground beneath him.

He gathers the man up in his arms. He’s so cold – nothing like the warmth Barry radiates the moment he steps into a room. It’s so rare to see Barry still – there had barely been a moment where the boy hadn’t been moving. He was always fidgeting with something or other or even when he was standing still… it felt like he was flittering.

It’s not a quiet mourning. Oliver sobs openly – gut wrenching sounds that mix seamlessly with the cries of war. He cradles a man, limp and cold, against his gold-plated chest, staring into his unseeing eyes and shouting at him – pleading with him – to wake up, please, I’m sorry, Barry please, I can’t do this without you. Barry. He prays to his mother, Thetis, and to Hermes, a god who favoured the young man Oliver held and yet there is silence.

The gods are busy. Or they don’t care.

Oliver would argue that Barry was no ordinary soldier. He was not a minor character. He was not a figure in the backgrounds, hidden by Oliver’s shadow. He was compassionate and loyal with a courageous and gentle heart who deserved better than what life threw at him.

He was Oliver’s whole world. His anchor.

Barry. He’s crying now, choking on his grief, tears mingling with the sweat on his face and dampening Barry’s tunic as he holds the man closer to his heart.

Barry was more than a lover. He was Oliver’s best friend and closest confidant. They were partners who held each other on a special level of trust. Barry had been the first person he had thought of when

the nymph of the river Styx had said, “You need a mortal point.”

“A what?” Oliver had asked. A mortal point for an invincible body? That sounded ridiculous.

Styx, had calmly uncreased the folds in her dress, sighing as though she had heard this kind of incredulity all before. “You need to stay anchored to your mortal life.”

When she’s met with even more confusion she rolls her eyes, “Imagine a spot on your body that will remain vulnerable. This is where your soul will anchor your body to the world. If you lose sight of what keeps you mortal, the River Styx will burn you to ashes. And you will cease to exist.”

Oliver had stared at her for a moment and then at the river. Thinking carefully before he chose, he concentrated on a small spot under his left armpit. It was unlikely that anyone would aim a weapon there and, with armour, it would be relatively well protected.

Closing his eyes to brace himself, he imagined a string like a bungee cord connecting him to the riverbank. Without thinking, he jumps.

It’s a terrifying moment when everything burns and he can’t control his muscles. Every nerve was dissolving, screaming in pain. This was one of his first real battles. And he was already losing.

Oliver could feel his soul literally burning away, being ripped from his body. His hands and feet felt like they were melting into the river. He wanted to give up.

But he couldn’t.

“Oliver! The cord!” Oliver could hear a voice through the murky water, “Remember your lifeline.”

Oliver focused on the cord, imagining it thicker and stronger, ignoring the pain and the oh gods, what’s my name. He felt a tug through the cord and looked up.

Barry stood on the bank, smiling down at Oliver, “Hold on, Ollie! I’ll give you a hand.”

Barry’s voice was clearer now. Oliver could feel himself stop dissolving.

“Come on,” Barry says, a light in those beautiful hazel-green eyes, “Take my hand.”

Memories came rushing back, sharper and clearer than before. Memories of him with Barry in the palace in Starling, plotting to escape together, tasting the sweet fruits of the forest Chiron offered. The current stopped pushing him down. His name was Oliver. He reached up and took Barry’s hand.

He had emerged from the river, gasping and spluttering, scanning the area for Barry even though Oliver knew he shouldn’t be there. It had seemed so real. No one was there but Styx, relaxing on a rock, looking only mildly impressed that he’d survived.

The pain had subsided. He wasn’t sure if it had worked but…at least he was alive.

“Thank you, Lady Styx.” Oliver bows, not entirely sure how to treat a river nymph.

Styx shrugs indifferently, “You’ve just committed yourself to a lifetime or hardships.” She hops off the rock and rises to his height. “I’ll give you a piece of advice though.”

“Whoever you saw…whoever pulled you out? He is your real lifeline. You have to protect him because without him, you’ll lose all sense of mortality. It won’t be a fast process but his death will weaken you. Do not, under any circumstances,

lose Barry. Oliver had lost Barry.

Barry, who on his journey back, Oliver had realised he loved with a burning passion.

Barry who only wanted the best for everyone.

Barry who Oliver had tried so hard to protect just for his arrogance to get in the way and now…

Barry was gone.

#olivarryweek2018 #ancient greece au #olivarry #oliver queen #barry allen #song of achilles #barry as patroclus #oliver as achilles #angst #lots of it #but also fluff #i hope for your sake that the line break works #lyss writes #arrowverse is whack #greek mythology au

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nyutheatrepractices2020 · 4 years

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The Shell and the Fortress

Aaron (of skirt throwing infamy) here.

“You’ll have to keep quiet today because we’re not really supposed to be here.”

These foreboding words bring us into El Cascaron de la Luna--“The Shell of the Moon”. It’s a beautiful white space, with walls covered in art. A brown, wooden platform serves as a central stage. Big doors open up to a patio in the back, letting in light and air. It’s quite literally a shell for creation.

Like Casa Taller, where our mask workshop is housed, El Cascaron is a regular building on a normal street. Even though the facade is painted brightly--our hosts later argue that it is either the color of “an egg yolk” or “baby vomit”, the building blends in perfectly, and you would never know it is a theater space. Its art is created in secret.

Here, in the “Shell of the Moon”, I cannot escape the imagery of working covertly at night, shielded by the cover of darkness. There is something sneaky about what we are doing, something subversive. But if that’s true, we are working in the moon itself, so in that way we create light, and thereby create hope.

This imagery feels fitting for what we have learned about the various Puerto Rican artists we have worked with so far. They seem to be engaged in something akin to guerrilla warfare for the soul of their island and the spirit of their people. They talk often about oppression and how they choose to fight it with their art. It usually seems that if they think there should be a piece of art, then they just make it. This process can sometimes feel simple, but not in the bad way. They don’t need a big theater, or government funding, or approval. Instead if they want to create, they take to the streets, they put on a large festivals, and they trust that people will join them. The idea of a gatekeeper does not seem to exist, but when you are trying to topple the walls of oppression, it makes sense why you wouldn't use the door.

Rosa, the founder of El Cascaron, who joins us today, is currently involved in a legal battle to keep the space alive. I think she will win. The night cannot be without light.

We start the day in a discussion with Javier based on this quote by Augusto Boal before moving into physical work:

Theater is a form of knowledge; it should and can also be a mean of transforming society. Theater can help us build our future, rather than just waiting for it.

After the discussion, we partner up, creating letters with our bodies, before splitting into two groups to create full words. One group makes the word “Hope”. The other, “Fart”. One group does well. The other stinks. (Yes, that’s the kind of joke you think it is.)

Later in the morning we meet the amazing artist Antonio Martorell, who has traveled up from Ponce to work with us since we are unable to visit him in his studio due to the earthquakes. A lot of the art hanging in El Cascaron is his. “Tonio”, as our other hosts refer to him, is the definition of “a character”. Rosa says he used to be human, and became what we see today. He studied diplomacy at Georgetown University to please his mother before he decided to pursue a career in art, which he got into by drawing “beautiful sweethearts and making them even more beautiful.” He tells us he must wear his hat to draw. I believe him. Like our Bomba teacher, Awilda, Tonio also speaks about the joy he finds in his work. He is now 80, though it easy to forget when he jokes about the ground shaking during the recent earthquakes. He tells us that his art has kept evolving over time because he kept being interested in things that its previous forms could not handle. Rosa keeps referring to him as a “producer”, and it is clear that he is also a role model for the younger artists we have been working with. He embodies this spirit of creation, this “minuteman” fighter, and he has brought many portfolios of his work to show us, which make the breadth and life in his work crystal clear.

Shari is then selected by a raffle to have her portrait drawn live by Tonio. (We are excited, but you can feel in the room that the rest of us are disappointed not to be picked. Tonio tells us a story about when he did this same thing with a large group of inmates, and each of them went back to their cells with a work of art. I guess we are less threatening.) I find it interesting that Shari is selected, though, as earlier in our discussion with Javier she talked about a need to be seen and about rejecting many roles in theater that she didn’t find to be full enough. She wasn’t interested in being “just the maid.” It feels perfect that she is now the subject of a portrait by a famous artist.

Bidding goodbye to El Cascaron and Tonio and Rosa, we move back over to El Bastion--”The Bastion”. With names on my mind, I think about how this place is a fortress, a place of protection, and also a stronghold of art--both for Puerto Rico, and our group. Max, the founder of El Bastion, won the building from the government to create a place where art could flourish, and the work we have done there has certainly been helped along by the wrought iron gate, the tall plaster walls, the heavy wooden shutters that slam closed in a storm, and the imposing checkerboard floor. The work we have done in this place so far is broad and heavy and intense. I am thankful for what the shell held and what the fortress can withstand. It is a place of safety. Birds fly in today to seek shelter from some rain. We’re happy to share.

The afternoon involves more Applied Theatre work with Javier. We play a variety of physical theatre games, diving a little deeper into Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed by using Image Theatre to picture oppression. We find ourselves in passionate conversation about teaching. Everyone stands up for their ideas. There is clear unity in our desire to create good. We bid goodbye to Javier, since this our last session with him. Hugs and photos. Then off to a quick dinner break.

In the evening, Max and Jose from El Bastion run a circus workshop for us. We split into two groups. Half of us start by making and playing with juggling balls, while the other trains a little on some aerial silks. Neither is easy, but both are incredibly fun. It’s a great way to end a long and challenging day.

I think about the new ideas from our work together that we are juggling--they are probably different for each of us in the group, but no less difficult to keep in the air with our old ones. Some of us will probably drop an idea and choose not to pick it back up again, while others will be worth figuring out how to handle. I also think about the fearlessness with which each of us pulls ourselves into the air on the silks. Everyone in our group launches themselves into the work each day, and we laugh and play, even if the work is not always easy. We are interested in changing the world and making art, and we are becoming better at seeing it everywhere around us. As Echo points out earlier in the day, inspired our word creations at El Cascaron, art is in everything, even a f(art). We leave El Bastion tired.

Back at the hotel, we hold a birthday party for Clear on the roof where we first all met each other. It’s a windy night, but we don’t notice during a rousing game of Heads Up!. As I leave the party to go write this blog, Clear gives a little speech (which she claims she will do for everyone as they head out...guess I’ll have to follow up tomorrow). She says I have a “nice face” and look way younger than I actually am. I laugh really hard. It’s a good way to leave. I’m thinking about having her make my exit speeches at all the parties I attend. (Which isn’t many, so she might be up to the task.)

This will probably be the closest thing I do to an Instagram takeover in my life, so I hope you enjoyed it. Tomorrow we split into our studios and go from there. Who knows what’s next?

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jbhenwiler · 4 years

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David and the Crystal Gems in... Return to Henleaf Town

Autumn in Beach City… David is watching the news while Steven is making dinner for himself, David, and Amethyst.

TV Announcer: In other news, an artist who was missing for the past day has been found. However, he has a very strange story to tell. According to the man, who goes by the name Daniel Rost, he was attacked by what could only have been described as a monster.

David immediately perks up upon hearing this.

David: Hey, guys! You should probably come see this! (Everyone comes over to the TV)

TV Announcer: What I’m about to show is Daniel’s depiction of the monster. Take a look.

The “monster” walked on four legs, appeared to resemble a wolf, and the drawing even showed a clearly defined gem on its head.

David: You thinking what I’m thinking?

Pearl: A corrupted Gem… How many of these people did we miss?

TV Announcer: The sighting was reported to have happened in the forests west of a small town outside Empire City, Henleaf Town, and-- (Camera pans to David; David is dumbstruck)

David: Wait a minute--WHAT!?

Steven: Isn’t that the name of your hometown back in your own dimension, David?

David: Darn right it is! I always wondered if this world had a copy of my home, but it’s actually there!?

Pearl: And on top of that, there’s a dangerous-looking corrupted Gem in its vicinity. We should head out and neutralize it before it does any harm to the humans there.

David: I thought we got all the corrupted Gems?

Pearl: I have a theory.... (Pulls up a holographic map of Earth from her pearl, dots it with the locations of all the warp pads, and puts the rotating globe in front of David) Where on the globe is Henleaf Town, David?

David: (Points to its location southwest of Empire City) There. Hmm… There aren’t any warp pads anywhere near it!

Pearl: My thoughts exactly. It’s likely we couldn’t find this Gem because we couldn’t easily get to its location.

Steven: So that means there’s only one way for us to get there.

David and Steven in unison: Road trip.

David: It’ll be a tight squeeze fitting us all into Greg’s van.

Amethyst: Ehh… We’ve done it before.

Pearl: It’s a little too late to be going out, especially that far from home. We should make preparations and head out tomorrow.

Steven: I’ll call dad and ask him if he’s OK with us doing this with him. (The food in the oven starts sizzling loudly) Oh man, our dinner’s overcooked! (Rushes to the kitchen)

After saving the dinner, Steven got on the phone and informed his father that he was needed for a mission. Then they got together and began to plan.

Pearl: Henleaf Town is far enough away that we will likely have to spend the night there.

David: If this is indeed an exact copy of Henleaf Town from my world, then there’s going to be a chain hotel right outside of the town limits. It’ll be perfect for us.

Amethyst: Look at you, our little inside man!

David: (Kinda blushing) Well I did live there, after all.

Pearl: We should also pack supplies for the trip. Steven, Greg, and David will need extra pairs of clothes, as well as comfortable shoes for the long hike through the forest--

David: I’ve been through that forest before, Pearl. We don’t need to get that carried away with preparations. It's not that inhospitable of an environment, and there's trails running everywhere so it's not quite as easy to get lost in as the Beach City woods.

Steven: Wait, are we bringing dad along for the ride in the forest? You know, where the monster lives?

Pearl: Absolutely not. Greg is too vulnerable. He’s human.

David: Excuse me, I’M human, and I can hold my own in battle just fine!

Pearl: I didn’t mean you, David. You’re not like most humans. That being said, don’t forget to pack your sword.

David: I haven’t had the chance to use that thing since I fought the scorpion. I should probably refresh myself with a training exercise before we go.

Pearl: Good idea, David.

David goes out onto the beach and draws his sword, feeling a little giddy at using it again. In his mind he imagines a Quartz soldier in front of him. David takes a deep breath, counts to three, and begins practicing. A few minutes later, Pearl comes down from the porch and observes his moves.

Pearl: Your technique is spot-on. Your world's version of me must have been just as good a teacher as I am.

David: (Training stops) I don't know how you train your students, but my Pearl was a maniac. Her idea of "training" was throwing me into a forest clearing with a whole army of Holo-Pearls. Those things hunted me down like a pack of wolves! Then again, I guess that really helped me learn how to fight. Nothing like mortal danger to get someone to learn.

Pearl: (Somewhat distraught) Well, there's training, and then there's putting your student's life in jeopardy. I'm not sure if I'd approve of her methods, even if it was effective. What happened when you lost to the holograms?

David: Oh, Pearl'd shut them down if they got too close to killing me. She knows that Rose would never forgive her if I died in her care. She took her time doing it though. By the time the Pearls would fizzle out, their swords would be inches from my neck.

Pearl: Anyway, you don't seem to be too rusty. Why don't you come in for dinner?

David: Sure. What does Chef Steven have in store for us tonight?

Pearl: From what I've seen, it appears to be vegetarian lasagna.

David: Ugh. I respect Steven's decision to become vegan, but I wish he didn't impose that stuff on me and Amethyst.

Pearl: It feels like seconds ago the boy was obsessed with hot dogs and fry bits. But I guess that was the point of Rose having a son. She adored you humans' ability to change and grow.

David: You're talking to a person who knew her. I've heard that spiel from her so many times.

Pearl: (Laughs) I guess it's nice you had a bond with her as well. I've learned to move on from Rose Quartz, but sometimes I still miss her... Living with humans did something to Pink Diamond that the other Diamonds never could. Humanity matured her. She became such a strong Gem.

David: I only knew her as Rose anyway. And at that, the Rose I knew was a psychopath. She pretty much locked me in a cave all day. If it wasn't for Pearl, I'd have been dead weight with no weapon or fighting experience.

Pearl: Your world was such a dangerous place that I suppose it would harden any being's heart.

David: It's still Earth though. It has its beauty.

Pearl: Yes indeed. Let's go inside.

David and Pearl go up the stairs to the porch. David drops off his sword in his hut, hanging the scabbard on a set of hooks on the wall above his television, and then walks to the main house. The living room is permeated with the smell of fresh pasta and marinara sauce.

David: (To himself) Ok, I'll admit, this does smell good.

Steven: Hey, David! How'd your brush-up training go?

David: Let's just say I'm ready to take on anything.

Steven: Cool. We could really use some extra muscle on our team.

David: Don't flatter me, kid. I'm not that strong yet. (Looks at his arms, which are still stringy)

Garnet: True, but as a human, you can always get stronger.

David: Yep. Yes I can! Anyway, let's eat!

Steven: Help yourself.

David takes a serving of plant-based Italian food and walks to the couch, and begins to dig in. Despite not containing meat, the food was delicious.

David: You've really outdone yourself, Steven. This is good!

Amethyst: Eh. It really needs beef though. I miss your hot dog diet.

David: It's his choice, Amethyst. If you want to chow down on animals, get your own food.

Amethyst: Aw, man! You're no fun!

Pearl: We should start planning for tomorrow. Steven, did you let you father know about our mission?

Steven: Yep. He's okay with it. He'll drive his van over here at 9 AM tomorrow morning.

David: (Now finished with his food) I'll go pack my bags.

David goes back to his hut and turns on the lights. He takes a duffel bag Greg had given him for trips and sets it on his bed, and then opens his dresser and takes out an assortment of clothing, including jeans and a hoodie. He also packs a charger for his phone and hygiene supplies like shampoo and deodorant.

David: That should be enough. We're probably only going to be there for one night.

The next morning, David made himself breakfast and met up with the other Crystal Gems.

Pearl: David, you know the area better than any of us, so you're going to be our guide in this mission.

David: Very well. Hopefully this universe's Henleaf Town isn't any different from mine.

Steven comes downstairs.

Steven: Everyone ready? (All nod)

David: I'll go bring my bag and my sword out. (Leaves)

Steven: Oh, right, I need my duffel too! (Leaves)

A few minutes later, both David and Steven return with their luggage.

David: Hey, there's something that's kinda nagging me. Henleaf Town isn't as familiar with Gems as Beach City is. We might attract unneeded attention if a bunch of oddly colored humanoids show up.

Pearl: Hmm, you're right. Any ideas how to blend in?

David: Come to think of it, around this time of year Empire City has a Comic-Con event. We could just say that you guys are cosplayers.

Steven: Great idea! We'll be the Crystal Gems from the epic fantasy television show, Steven Universe! (Instrumental theme song plays in the background)

David: (Having a strange feeling) A little on-the-nose, don't you think?

Steven: What, want me to be any more creative?

David: No, it's just that there's something familiar about this.

Steven: It's the best I can come up with right now. Anyway, dad's almost here. He says he's booked a room for us in that chain hotel you mentioned, David.

A horn honks outside.

Steven: Never mind, he's here!

Everyone leaves the house. Greg's signature panel van is outside. David, with his scabbard in one hand and the duffel in the other, approaches the vehicle.

Steven: Your first official Crystal Gem mission, David! How do you feel?

David: I'm not feeling so much of the mission part as the fact that I'm going home. (Gets into the van)

Everyone else gets in.

Greg: Hey, David? I'm not entirely sure how to get to this Henleaf Town of yours. Could you help me with directions?

David: If you can get to Empire City, I can direct you from there.

The van takes off across the beach. It drives through Beach City towards the local northbound highway. Miles and miles later, they stopped for lunch at a fast-food restaurant.

Greg: We'll eat here.

Pearl: Us Gems will stay in the van.

Steven: Does this place offer salads?

David: I've been to one of these places before. They've got everything: burgers, sandwiches, and yes, salads.

Steven: Cool.

David orders a burger combo, Steven gets a strawberry salad, and Greg decides on a ham sandwich. They quickly eat their meals and go back to the van.

Pearl: Everybody ready? (Everyone nods)

Greg: Let's go. (Turns over the engine on his van)

Several miles later...

Amethyst: Hey, guys, does anybody think that there might be another David in our world's Henleaf Town?

David: (Eyes widen with shock) Oh my gosh, you're right. I can't imagine what would happen if there were two of me in one spot. What would happen to the space-time continuum?

Steven: Well, there was that time a bunch of mes from different timelines met up in an underwater temple. Nothing bad seemed to happen to the universe then, other than the fact that we started fighting.

David: (Is struggling to come up with a response to this) H-how did you even do that!?

Steven: With a Gem time machine.

David: You people are crazy.

Amethyst: Don't deny you love us!

David: Well, you're definitely not the most normal family around, but to be honest, I'm honored to be a part of it.

Amethyst: Haha, you do love us!

David: I never said I didn't!

Everyone laughs. Soon they reach the Empire City limits.

Greg: Okay, David, where do I go from here?

David: (Looks out the window) Uhh... There should be an exit onto Route 11 a mile ahead, take the left ramp.

Greg took the ramp, and soon he saw a sign reading: "Exit 31, Henleaf Town, 5 miles."

Greg: Okay, I see where I'm going now.

Four miles down the road, a shift in the environment occurred. The highway was soon surrounded by trees enveloped in pure shades of orange, brown, and yellow. Everyone is transfixed.

Greg: Look at this gorgeous fall foliage! Did you really grow up here, David? In your world, I mean.

David: Just wait until we're in town; the trees alone were something I missed the most when I lived with Rose.

Soon, they were there. Greg drove through the center of town, where a sign read;

*Henleaf Town: The suburb nestled in amongst the majestic trees of an ancient forest.*

Surrounding the town were massive, tall trees crowned with fall colors so vibrant they almost could hurt a person's eyes.

Steven: You weren't kidding, these forests look amazing!

David: Mom would always take me on long hikes through the woods here...

They drove to the edge of town where a 3-story chain hotel by the name of RestInn awaited them.

Greg: We're right on time. Let's get ourselves checked in.

The interior of RestInn's Henleaf Town location was plain and simple in design, without looking too generic. Dominating the lobby was a large painting above the reception desk of Henleaf Town's famous trees, in all their splendor. At the center of the painting was a stone monument. Greg walked up to the counter and began to talk to the receptionist, who gave him two card keys, while looking with a somewhat bewildered face at the odd assortment of guests that the middle-aged man had been accompanied by. Greg then walked back to the team.

Greg: We're on the second floor. Follow me.

David, Greg, Steven, and the Gems all crammed into the hotel's single elevator, and ascended one floor. Out of the elevator, they walked down the hall to their room. Inside the room were two queen-sized beds, a large flat-panel television, a desk, a window overlooking the parking lot, and a small, basic bathroom.

Greg: Well, there's not enough beds for all of us, but that doesn't matter anyway 'cause most of us don't need to sleep. Let's get settled in and then you guys can plan your Gem stuff.

The group sat down in various locations. Greg, David, Pearl, Steven, and Amethyst sat down on the beds, while Garnet sat down on a small wheeled office chair in front of the desk, looking comically too big for the seat.

David: Sooo... Where do we start? I'm still not familiar with how these Crystal Gem missions work.

Pearl: I suppose we should start by locating the corrupted Gem. Garnet, just like before, your Future Vision should give us an idea for where the Gem is.

Garnet: Hmm... I see that the wolf Gem is constantly moving. That will make it difficult to find. It does seem to be following a pattern though. Give me a few hours, I may be able to figure out its movements.

Steven: Aw, man... I don't want to be crammed in this room for that long!

Amethyst: Then let's not! We can go out on the town!

David: Are you sure that's a good idea? You saw the look the receptionist gave us; we're not exactly the people this town's used to. But, I guess there's also our little cover story. You know what, let's do it!

Steven: David, lead the way!

Pearl: I'll come with you! Someone has to keep the group together.

Amethyst: You mean keep us from having fun?

David: (Grabs one of the card keys) Greg, you coming?

Greg: Sure, why not?

David, Amethyst, Pearl, Steven, and Greg all left the hotel room, went down the elevator, and left through a side entrance out into the parking lot.

Pearl: David, we're going to have to rely on you to get around.

Amethyst: Yeah, this is your home turf after all!

The group walked for a few minutes until they reached the town square they had passed through on the way to the hotel. At this point, David finally succumbed to nostalgia.

David: (Head swiveling, looking mystified) This is freaking surreal... I-it's like it was never destroyed...

Steven: This is a parallel universe, after all. The Gems never invaded, so the town was never burned down in the first place.

David: Doesn't make it any less weird. Last time I saw this place, it was a pile of ash...

Pearl: I'm more concerned with running into this world's version of you, David. Or anybody who could recognize you, for that matter, like your mother.

David: Even if such a thing wouldn't cause the universe to explode, it would certainly confuse everyone and cause a ruckus.

Amethyst: So let's just find that Gem and get outta here then!

David: Let's not hurry too much, though... (Head still swiveling, a distant look in his eyes)

Steven: This place holds so many memories for you... You must be overwhelmed right now. Am I right?

David: There's so many places I could show you guys. The restaurants I ate at. My old school. You guys were so good at showing me around Beach City, it's only fair I give you a tour of my town too.

Amethyst: I guess we have SOME time… Why don't we go get something to eat?

Steven: Yes, let's! What do you recommend, David?

David: Well, my favorite restaurant is down the street from here. I'm not sure if they have any veggie dishes though. I hope you don't mind, Steven.

Steven: I can always go somewhere else later. Like Amethyst said, this is your home turf, David. We'll go wherever you want.

David led the team to a homey-looking eatery.

David: This is Maxwell's. It's kinda like a diner. Man, this place never fails to get me salivating. Let's go in.

Everyone goes in. David looks around, both taking in the sights and making sure no one who knew him was there. After finding no people who could recognize him, he approached the check-in counter.

David: Table for five, please.

Waitress: Right this way.

The waitress led them to a large circular table in the back of the restaurant. They all sat down.

Waitress: So, you guys on your way to Empire City Comic-Con?

David: (Surprised that she had already guessed their cover) Yeah, we are. We're cosplaying characters from our favorite TV show.

Waitress: I heard this year's Con has a great lineup of special guests. The place is going to be packed. Anyway, what can I get you?

David: I'll have the house special.

Waitress: Meatloaf OK with you?

David: (Trying not to act like he knows that the meatloaf is the best dish Maxwell's offers) Sure, that's fine.

Steven: (Sees a veggie burger on the menu) I'll have the Amazing Meatless Burger.

Greg: I'd like the fried chicken.

Pearl: Nothing for me, thanks.

Amethyst: I'll take the chicken quesadilla.

Waitress: Okay, that'll be right out for you. (Leaves)

Amethyst: So... This place isn't bad.

David: ...This is the restaurant I was eating at when the Gems attacked. (Sighs) My last few seconds of innocence were spent here.

Pearl: You probably shouldn't dwell on those memories too much.

Amethyst: Yeah, everything's okay here. We're going to go catch that corrupted Gem and everyone in this town will be safe again.

An elderly man, appearing to be in his 60s, approached their table.

???: (British accent) Excuse me, may I speak with you?

Everyone startles and looks at the man who just spoke to them.

???: My name is Daniel. Daniel Rost. I'm an artist based here in Henleaf Town.

David: You're that guy on the news who got attacked by that corr-- By that monster in the woods!

Daniel: Indeed I am. I notice your companions have a feature that resembles the creature who stalks the forest. (Everyone looks uneasy) May I ask; are you related to it?

Steven: Guys, should we trust him?

Pearl: It's not like he's a threat. He's just an artist.

David: Daniel, we'd love to talk, but maybe we shouldn't do this in public.

Daniel: Very well. (Reaches into his pocket and pulls out a notepad and a pen, and writes onto it, then tears off the page and hands it to David) This is my address. Come visit me, if you desire. (Leaves)

Amethyst: ...That was weird.

David: That guy must really have a sharp eye. He was able to make the connection between the "monster" that attacked him and you guys just at first glance.

Just then, their food arrived. David takes one look at his food and is immediately overcome with a mix of nostalgia and happiness. David, Steven, Greg, and Amethyst chow down.

Amethyst: Mmm, this is soo good! No wonder you love this place, David!

David: The house special meatloaf is their signature menu item. I'm so glad we were able to come here on a day they have it on.

Amethyst: You hear that guys? David's food is special! (Swipes a forkload of meatloaf from David's plate)

David: Hey!

Amethyst: (Goes star-eyed) You weren't kidding. This is the best meatloaf I've ever tasted!

They eat their food, and Greg pays the bill. They then leave the restaurant.

Steven: So, what should we do about that artist?

David: Well, Daniel has a first-hand account of the corrupted Gem. He could have vital intel about the wolf's behavior.

Pearl: That is a great idea, David! Where is the address he gave you?

David: (Takes the slip of paper out of his pocket) 18 West Market Street... Wait a minute... That's literally two doors down from my mom's house!

Pearl: That could be a bad thing. We shouldn't be getting too close to places where you're commonly found around here.

David: Well if we want to meet this guy we don't have a choice. In any case, it's the middle of the afternoon right now. Other Me should be at his/my job right now, and my mother is probably in Empire City doing her job.

Steven: Then we're good. All agree?

Everyone: Yes.

David: Let's move out.

The group went down the street through the square, down several roads into a residential area lined with autumn-laced trees. Soon they passed a one-story house that David's heart practically burst with emotions for.

Amethyst: (Sees David staring intently) That's it, isn't it. Your place?

David: ...I just wish I could talk to mom... I know that in this universe, she isn't MY mom, but still... I'd give anything to see her again...

Pearl: I suppose that's Mr. Rost's house over there? (Points to a Tudor-style bungalow down the road)

Amethyst: Sheesh, that place screams "I'm more cultured than you."

David: Interesting... In my world, that house wasn't there. Where I come from, that property was home to a more modern-looking building.

They approach the house. David rings the doorbell, and it is answered by Daniel himself.

Daniel: Ah, you came. Please come in.

Inside the home...

Daniel: Come to think of it, one of you bears an uncanny resemblance to one of my neighbors. I don't suppose your name is David Heatherson?

David: (Realizes his cover's blown, and struggles to formulate a response) Well, it's a really long story, and one that's kinda hard to believe. Long story short, yes, I'm David Heatherson, but not the one you're familiar with.

Daniel: After what I recently experienced in the forest, I am ready to believe anything. Please tell me your story.

Everyone sits down in the living room.

David: First things first, the creature who attacked you in the forest is indeed related to the beings who are with me here. They're called Gems, and they come from another galaxy. I personally am a parallel version of David from another Earth. You following me so far?

Daniel: Yes I am.

Steven: We're attempting to capture the wolf Gem so we can restore it to its real form.

Pearl: And any details on how the Gem you encountered behaves would be greatly helpful to us.

Daniel: Well, I noticed that it appeared to be looking for something. What it was searching for is beyond my knowledge. Perhaps you could find out for yourselves.

David: Not to insult your age, but judging on appearances, you definitely wouldn't have been able to fight off that Gem. How did you survive the attack?

Daniel: That is another thing that fascinated me about the "Gem" you speak of. It made motions to attack me, but none of its moves hit me. I ran as fast as I could, and eventually I lost the creature.

David: It almost sounds like a territorial display rather than an actual attempt at hurting people.

Pearl: Good observation, David.

Amethyst: Is there anything else you can tell us, like where exactly you found the Gem?

Daniel: You're aware of the Forest Guardian's Shrine deep in the forest, correct?

David: Of course! I've been there so many times.

Daniel: It is said that in times of old, festivals were held there to worship a being believed to have guarded the Henleaf Woods. I often make trips to the shrine for artistic inspiration. The painting in the lobby of our town's hotel is my work.

David: "Those who dare to permeate the glades of Henleaf with violence, beware, for Our Guardian will hunt you to the end of time." It's a legend handed down among some of the older families here.

Greg: Wow, we're not even that far from Beach City, and it's like this place has its own culture.

Daniel: When my family immigrated here from England, we heard many stories from locals regarding the being said to be the Guardian. Most agree that the Guardian takes the form of a huntress, a lady of boundless grace and poise, ever ready to jump into action to defend Henleaf and all who inhabit it. Her bow was said to fire arrows of pure light that could pierce the thickest of armor.

Pearl: I wonder if the wolf Gem is tied to the shrine?

Daniel: The wolf did appear to be guarding something there. Who knows, perhaps the wolf is an incarnation of the Guardian herself.

David: It's pretty well-established that the wolf is a Gem. Maybe...

Amethyst: The Guardian of Henleaf Forest was a Gem!

Pearl: It does make sense. After all, Opal does wield a bow with light arrows.

David: You've given us a great lead, Mr. Rost. Thank you.

Daniel: I am glad I was able to be of assistance.

David: If I can ask a favor, Daniel: Please don't let anyone else know who we are, especially the other me or my mom. I don't want the David of this Earth to know that there's a parallel version of him running around with aliens.

Daniel: Your secret is safe with me.

Pearl: I think we have all the information we need. We should go.

Steven: Okay. Thank you, Daniel. (Everyone gets up)

Daniel walks the team to the door.

Daniel: Farewell. And good luck on your mission.

David: Goodbye! If I ever come back here I'll make a point of visiting you.

Back at the hotel room...

David: Garnet, we're back!

Garnet: And I already know you've come back with knowledge of the Gem we're looking for. Great job, everyone.

Steven: Did you find any information on the Gem's movement patterns?

Garnet: It seems that the corrupted Gem is following a trail surrounding a local landmark deep in the forest.

David: That's the same thing we found out from Daniel. The Gem is guarding the Forest Guardian's Shrine.

Garnet: We have our Gem in our sights. We depart tomorrow.

The next morning...

Following David, Greg, and Steven's breakfast in the lobby of RestInn, the entire team set out for Greg's van, taking the side entrance so the people in the lobby wouldn't be unsettled by the fact that David was wearing a huge sword on his back. Inside the van, Steven took the wheel, as Greg was staying behind at the hotel. They drove through town, and beyond, until they reached a gravel parking lot at the mouth of the forest. A sign read: HENLEAF WOODS STATE PARK. Steven parked the van, and everyone got out.

Steven: This is it, David. Be ready to fight.

Pearl: And whatever you do, DON'T shatter the Gem. Be careful where you slice.

David: I understand.

Garnet: Crystal Gems, let's go.

-Henleaf Woods-

The Crystal Gems were completely surrounded by blazing oranges and yellows. It was everywhere, on trees and on the ground. Birds were tweeting. Bushes were rustling. The forest was teeming with life.

Amethyst: I'm honestly jealous you had a place like this to hang out in as a kid, David! Why can't Beach City have some super-awesome forest like this?

David: ......... (Reminiscing)

Garnet: In his world, this forest is no more.

Amethyst: Oh, right. The Gem invasion in David's universe. Man, it's so sad to even think of a place like this burning down.

Steven: How much longer until we hit the shrine, David?

David: If we follow the yellow trail, it'll lead us straight to it in about a mile.

The group reached the shrine fifteen minutes later. The Forest Guardian's Shrine was a medium-sized stone structure with wooden benches surrounding it, dominated by a statue of a woman clad in a loose-fitting gown, the lady looking skyward, her bow stretched taut in her hands as she aimed her weapon towards the sky. The hood on her cloak covered most of her face.

Amethyst: She certainly looks like a Gem. Only I can't see any gem on the statue. I wonder what type she is?

Pearl: If the Forest Guardian is a Gem, than she had to have been a Crystal Gem. Why else would she be protecting life here?

David: The Forest Guardian earned enough of the humans' respect in this area that they worshiped her as a deity.

Amethyst: If she was such a big fighter in our movement, how weren't we aware of her?

Pearl: The Crystal Gems were a planet-wide organization comprised of hundreds of thousands of Gems. We weren't in contact with everyone at all times, and certain sectors were cut off from the central movement. This Guardian may have been a lone fighter comprising her own zone of protection.

The animal noises abruptly stop. David notices this, and a chill runs down his spine.

David: G-guys?? I think we're being watched.

Garnet: Crystal Gems, battle formation! (The Gems summon their weapons; David draws his sword)

The camera flies a wide field around the Crystal Gems. All is silent.

Pearl: Get ready, everyone.

Out of the forest jumped a large gray wolf, adorned with a shining opalescent gem on its forehead. The corrupted Gem moved with a frightening agility, running circles around the team. David tries to stay calm, but his arms holding his sword are shaking.

Steven: Stay cool, David! You can do this!

Garnet, with a battle cry, launches after the wolf. However, to her surprise, her gauntlets went straight through the "Gem's" body. The wolf flickered and disappeared.

Garnet: Drat! It's an illusion!

Three more wolves jumped out of the bushes. Steeling himself, David swings his blade at one, only for the sword to cleave through air, and that wolf flickered out as well.

David: Oh my gosh, this is just like my training!

Pearl: (Holding a wolf hologram at bay with her spear) Is this really a good time to be talking about that!?

David: Just hear me out! Imagine that these wolves we're fighting are Holo-Pearls, and the real Pearl, the real corrupted Gem, is hiding somewhere on the sidelines!

Steven: Wait a minute, that's it! The real wolf Gem is hiding somewhere at the edge of the battlefield! Garnet, any clues?

Garnet: (Holding off several wolves) I can't focus! There's too many of them!

David fought his way to the edge of the clearing, his sword mowing through the fake Gem-wolves, who now covered the area like a gray carpet. Then a wolf got through his defense, slashing claws slicing through his t-shirt into his stomach, leaving shallow but painful cuts, causing David to cry out and lose some of his resolve.

Steven: David!

David regained his focus and continued pushing to the edge. The other Gems got his strategy and also started fighting towards the edge of the clearing. The number of wolves in the fight totaled around twenty. David looked around the canopy, and soon he saw it: a solitary wolf, whose form was noticeably more detailed than the other wolves.

David: Guys! Up there!! (Rapidly points to the wolf)

Pearl: Garnet! Throw me up there!

Garnet throws Pearl straight up thirty feet into the canopy. Pearl collides with the Gem before it can react and they both fall from the tops of the trees. The Gem's focus lost, the other wolves instantly dissipate. Now the fight is just between the real wolf and the Crystal Gems. Garnet throws her gauntleted fists at the Gem, but it easily dodged her attacks. David ran over from where he had been standing, bleeding from the cuts on his belly, and joined the final clash.

Steven threw his shield at the wolf, but it misses. Amethyst also fails to get a hit with her whip. Garnet continues to attempt to land a blow on the wolf and eventually succeeds. Her fist collides with the wolf-Gem's mouth. This stuns the wolf long enough that an opening occurs. Pearl stabs the wolf through the chest, causing it to snarl in pain. Everything then goes silent, and the Gem finally poofs. Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief.

Garnet: Good job, everyone. We got her.

Steven: (Sees David's injury) David, you're hurt!

David: Yeah, I know! I wasn't any help in this battle at all!

Pearl: That is absolutely not true! If you hadn't made that connection between the wolves' fighting patterns and your old training regimen, we would have been fighting those holograms indefinitely!

Amethyst: Yeah, kid! You totally rocked it!

Steven heals David's cuts.

David: Yeah, you're right! I guess I did help! Yay for us!

Steven walks up and bubbles the Gem.

Steven: Let's head back. I'd like to uncorrupt this Gem as soon as we can.

Back at the hotel room...

In the bathroom, Steven takes the three bottles of Diamond essence out of his duffel bag, and goes through the process of turning the bathtub into a de-corruption pool. He drops the bubbled Gem into the tub and in moments, the Gem reforms.

Out of the bathroom came Steven and the newly recovered Crystal Gem. David perks up when he instantly recognizes the form the Gem had taken. The cloak, the pure pearly sheen of her Gem, the graceful manner in which she carried herself: David was in the presence of the very being who defended his hometown thousands of years ago. The only signs of corruption left over were patches of gray fur on her body.

David: F-Forest Guardian! It's you!

Guardian: (She has a chirpy Scottish accent) Please, human, call me Moonstone. Thank you all for freeing me from the Diamonds' curse. You have my heartfelt gratitude.

Steven: So, where are you going to go from here?

Moonstone: What has happened in the time since I was struck?

Pearl: The Gem War is over. We have made peace with the Diamonds and Earth is now a free planet. Before you is Pink Diamond's half-human son, Steven, who was responsible for un-corrupting you.

Moonstone turns to Steven.

Moonstone: Pink Diamond's... Half-human son? I'm not sure I follow.

One story later...

Moonstone: So... Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond all along...

David: How do you feel, Moonstone?

Moonstone: To be honest, I feel somewhat relieved. To know that all this time my Diamond really cared for Earth just as I do is a weight off my gem.

David: You're certainly taking the news better than I did.

Moonstone: How do you know Rose Quartz, human? I saw through my corrupted eyes that you took damage while fighting my holograms. Why do you fight alongside these Gems?

David: That's kind of a tough question for me to answer.

Another story later...

Moonstone: I see, so our fight could have ended a lot worse... I would presume that in your plane of existence, I went down with my forest. Such a shame... And it could only have been destiny that brought you here to our world.

David: Do you plan on staying here in Henleaf?

Steven: We have a community of Gems living near Beach City. You could join them, if you want.

Moonstone: I appreciate your offer, but my place is among the trees here. Someone needs to ensure these stands stay vibrant for millennia to come.

Steven: Oh, okay. If you ever change your mind, our doors will always be open to you. We'll drive you back to the woods.

With Moonstone delivered back to her home, the Crystal Gems checked out of the hotel and drove home to Beach City, with David vowing to visit again someday.

A few days later...

Daniel Rost was on a stroll. He arrived at the shrine, surrounded by fall leaves. Out of a bag strapped to his shoulder he pulled a sketchbook and a pencil. Sitting on the ground in front of the shrine, he began to draw the monument. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of silver dart through the treetops. Instantly recognizing the blur, his heart filled with gratitude.

Daniel: Thank you, Crystal Gems, for returning our Guardian to us. Thank you dearly.

Episode end.

#steven universe #steven universe fanfic #steven universe fanfiction #pearl steven universe #garnet steven universe #amethyst steven universe #greg universe #RFADW #D&CG #David Heatherson

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doodlewash · 5 years

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My name is Dominik Neuffer, and I’m from Germany, but I currently live in Switzerland. Maybe you know me from the Urban Sketching Group here on Doodlewash. I started sketching as a kid. My mother was a textile designer and I could learn a few things from her, like our daughters are currently learning from me, by watching and trial and error, of course.

Later, when I was older and more experienced, I also could help my mother every now and then. However after trying to study landscape architecture and lots of drawing and breaking up with it after my mother died, leaving me with a whole bunch of responsibilities, there followed a long hiatus over the years, where I did not sketch very much.

When I started to study computer science and successfully finishing it, I did computer graphics. But, I barely picked up a pen during the best part of ten years. Finally when our oldest daughter told me in 2015 she’d liked to start sketching seriously, I thought, well, that might be a good opportunity to reboot my sketching habit.

Since 2017, also thanks to World Watercolor Month, I’m back at a daily sketching routine. I think I’m a mixed media type. In school, I scribbled with pencil and fountain pen. I also liked crayons. After dabbling a bit on the iPad, the first sketches, I made again, were ink and color pencils. But, I was very fascinated by wet media and soon I bought my first watercolor set from Winsor and Newton.

Currently I’m most of the time sketching directly in document ink and adding washes of color. For ink, I use Sailor Jentle Kiwa Guro ink or Platinum Pigment ink in a Kaweco AL-Sport or Lamy AL-Star, because they‘re sturdy, not too expensive and easy to clean. I also like adding highlights in white with gel pens. Sometimes I throw the good old crayons in the mix or even use brushpens or ballpoint pens.

For brushpens I have a Tombow Calligrapy pen and a few identical Pentel brushpens, I refill with Kiwa Guro as well. The Akashiya Sai color brushpens are also nice for a change. For water soluble black ink for a broad stroke I recently discovered the Pilot Sign Pen.

For ballpoints, just a cheap pack of Bic Cristal from the supermarket. I also use Pelikan Skribtol directly out of the bottle (caution not for the faint of heart) With gel pens I had good experiences with the Jelly Roll and Uni Ball Signo in broad, but a Pentel Correction Pen can be fun as well (also not suitable for control freaks).

As for watercolors, I started with Winsor & Newton Cotman, switched to Prima Marketing and Van Gogh, but am currently most of the time using Schmincke Horadam because of their quality and availability. Also, The Schmincke work well with the old Schminke Gouache I have left from my mother which are still workable after 20 plus years. Sometimes I also use Kuretake Ganzai for plain color wahes.

Paper and sketchbooks, I’ve used a phletora. I really can recommend Seawhite of Brighton Mixed Media, they‘re affordable and can take a few washes of watercolor, but I have used so far with no complaints: Moleskine watercolor (good but expensive), Sennelier, Canson, Talens, Field Artist, Khadi and Pentalic.

For more watercolor work and loose sheets, I currently work with Arches Hot Pressed (satin) which I also use for bookbinding, but I‘ve also had very good experiences with paint on à grain from Canson. I‘m currently still searching for the perfect paper to combine ink work and watercolor or mixed media with crayons.

It was really eye opening when I realized that I’m a sketchbook person. I’m not that good with single sheets of paper. That doesn’t mean I don’t use them at all, but generally not much. I like to keep my visual notes, as I call them, in a bound book. Seeing it filling up day by day is something I find extremely satisfying. Also, keeping the mistakes and looking back at them later is really helpful for getting better, accepting and working on your shortcomings at the same time. As sketching became a daily routine, the motive of the sketch became less important.

If I wanted to get better at sketching, I realized, I had to sketch and not to be picky about what to sketch. The subject of the sketch doesn’t really matter. So, some sketches are really done for the purpose of sketching alone and that can be satisfying on their own. Basically, it really doesn’t matter what you’re sketching when you get immersed and enter the meditative sketching zone.

Most of the time, I like to catch moments and memories, though. For that I set the bar not very high. I like trivial things that become interesting the longer you look at them. Abandoned places, people on the train, old cars, I like to collect as I spot them. Also, living in Bavaria, the typical Swiss architecture is interesting to me. Most locals just fade it out. Since I’m doing this on a daily basis for 18 months now, I’m getting bolder. I’m sketching in restaurants, bars, at reunions and meetings. Just starting with a little scribble can be very beneficial as it opens your eyes and sharpens your senses. All of a sudden you’re starting to see motives everywhere around you.

Most of my work is done on the go. On the train, during lunch break. I enjoy jotting down the things I encounter on a daily basis. For example, when I was taking a short walk after having a quick bite for lunch, heading into a direction, I haven’t been yet, I discovered an old tower from 1542, which served multiple purposes throughout the centuries (prison, storage, sleeping place for soldiers). A nice motive for the 20-30 minutes I had still left of my lunch break.

When sketching from life, I first define the shapes with quick strokes in ink. Sometimes I start with pencil. After that I lay down a few washes of watercolor to define the basic shapes of the composition further. As finishing touches, I often add a few highlights with a white gel pen. When sketching on the go, watercolor is a convenient medium to add color.

For the composition itself, I feel free to move around things or leaving them out. That’s one of the benefits when sketching from real life. It’s more easy to distinguish between the interesting and uninteresting stuff. When looking at a photograph, for me, making that distinction is not as easy. Generally, I try to work my way from the foreground to the background and trying to keep everything in between balanced and interesting, leaving details out where there isn’t my main focus.

I use too many sketchbooks. I’m trying to get the numbers down this year, but there isn’t the perfect sketchbook – at least not for me. Also last year, I learned how to bind my own books, that multiplies the possible combinations of papers and formats. It’s easier than it looks and it can be also a satisfying occupation on its own. You should absolutely try it.

For me, it all started with a sketchbook. I made myself on out of paper, my aunt gave me. Heaps of it. And since I’m not good with loose sheets, that was the perfect moment to plunge into bookbinding. The paper was decent, but nothing great, just right for quick visual note taking without worrying about wasting expensive paper.

When I have more time to sketch, I use better paper, preferably 200 gsm or higher. That’s when I bring at least three sketchbooks with me. Then I might draft the basic shapes with pencil or watercolor pencil as guides for filling in the colors. I also might use a pencil or graphite stick or even a black brushpen or diluted indian ink for adding value before coloring.

After the washes of watercolor, I add contours where necessary with fountain pen and black ink, highlights with a white gel pen and more contrast with crayons if necessary. Sometimes, however, I like to change things a bit and use ballpoint pens or red document ink for the outlines. Also sketching directly with water soluble ink before coloring can be a wonderful and freeing experience.

In 2018, I collected lots of memories that can be revisited by flipping through my sketchbook pages. Like the guys I sketched on the train and showed them the picture afterwards. An especially nice couple, even made a Polaroid of me as a gift in exchange. Another very particular and treasured moment is meeting three retired teachers in San Francisco and being invited by them on a day trip, because they enjoyed seeing me sketching.

Also in 2018, was the wedding of my cousin. During the festivities, I made 12 sketches of the event. That was my present for the newlyweds. For myself, I made five sketches on top of that to remember it. Being the “official” sketcher in addition to the hired photographer, I had a really great time, chats and drinks of course.

Besides that, the most treasured moments when it comes to sketching are the sketching ventures with our six year old. Kids of that age totally immerse themselves into the drawing. Usually, I can only get a quick sketch in while we’re out together, but I do enjoy having a memory of our shared moments.

Then, of course, there is the chatter you sometimes have with likeminded artists who spot you sketching or people who want to try sketching for themselves or start it again. I try to be very supportive when it comes to that, knowing how it made my life more colorful.

Then there is of course the “OMG, you’re so talented, I couldn’t do it” comment. I like to disagree on that with a soft but distinct statement. Because I don’t consider myself as very talented. Kids are naturally talented, but most of us stop sketching when entering adulthood. It’s all about practice and actually doing it.

I’m a fan of grinding. Back in the day when I was playing computer RPG games, grinding meant killing the same small monsters over and over to level up. While playing computer games didn’t teach me much about drawing, one thing I learned was that there can be quite a bit achieved by grinding. Or like the Japanese proverb says “Even Dust, When Piled up, Will Become a Mountain.”

Same goes for drawing. Constant practice makes you better and confident. Don’t venture out and attack the level boss first. Fight the smaller ones. If you’re overwhelmed by complexity, break it down into digestible bits or try something easier. I usually try to start as easy as possible.

Everything mustn’t be great, everything can’t be great, but by sketching regularly you eventually will get better and end up with a few good sketches, even great ones, you can be confident about and show with pride, because you deserve it. You don’t always have to share it. The sketchbook is yours, you can keep it all alone for you and keep it private. But, my advise would be to share at least some of your pages. It’s totally worthwhile.

Don’t try to judge yourself by the work of others. Only you can sketch like you can. Your line work is unique to you. Have fun and sketch often, then you’ll get better inevitably. While sketching from pictures can be good practice and I do it also as a second choice – preferably from pictures I made myself, going out and sketching from life is best in my opinion.

Also working with limited timeframes can be liberating. Knowing I cannot produce a masterpiece in 20 minutes can be a delightful experience. For me that means, getting a scene into my book without having the time to fret about mistakes. And that shows. Some of these quick drafts have a boldness that is hard to replicate when having all the time that would be needed.

Look forward and from time to time look back to see your improvements. Experiment to broaden your knowledge but also come back to the things you love and improve them. That way you’re building a solid foundation and confidence. Always carry a sketchbook with you, because the moment you’d like to catch probably won’t be waiting for you to be ready.

The new year is still young and now is a good time to start a sketching habit. As for my “resolutions”, I’m trying to get the number of my sketchbooks, that are in use, down as I’m trying to complete as much as possible before starting new ones. Also this year is all about reviewing and refining my style.

I’m also very interested in your goals. Let me know about your goals in the comments!

Dominik Neuffer Doodlewash Instagram YouTube

GUEST ARTIST: "Collecting Memories" by Dominik Neuffer - #doodlewash #usk #urbansketchers #urbansketching #watercolor My name is Dominik Neuffer, and I'm from Germany, but I currently live in Switzerland. Maybe you know me from the…

#doodlewash #drawing #featured #sketchbook #Sketchbooks #sketching #Urban Nature #Urban Sketchers #Urban Sketching #watercolor #watercolor sketching #watercolour

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