#fun fact: I was listening to Hozier while drawing this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ivory-sunflower · 3 years

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Arty Art Things ✨

Hellooo!

I've decided to post some of the arty things I've done either recently or in the last few years, well the pieces I'm somewhat proud of at least. All my posts tend to be a lot more wordy than they need to be but hey it's what I do here!

Conchúr White

Anyone one who's been on this blog for a bit will have probably have seen me talk about this lovely Irish fella. The pencil drawing is actually a year old as of yesterday, I only know that because screenshots of me flipping out about Conchúr following me on twitter popped up in my memories yesterday. I think I'd sent it to him at about 3 in the morning (I was not in a good head space at that point in time), so probably not what he was expecting to see when he opened his phone in the morning aha

The biro version is much more recent: I got bored while sat at my desk and doing research about university courses, saw a biro, saw my old drawing of Conchúr, had an idea. I revisited my GCSE art techniques and here we are. Again, I put this up on Twitter and now (at the the time I'm writing this) when you google "Conchúr White" it's the third top image of him which is a bit mad really. I think I spent all of about 20 minutes on Conchúr but another 45 minutes on the words behind him. The words are the names of the songs on his EP 'Bikini Crops', he doesn't just really love the idea of Channing Tatum driving him around at night in a daisy print bikini... Well maybe he does but what he does in his spare time is none of my business...

TechDif

So I mentioned that the pencil drawing of Conchúr came from a rough patch in my mental health and this one is no different! In fact this one came from an even worse circumstance so we love to see it. I had a bad, bad time in July and this started as a way of distracting myself from what was going on in my head. Without it, I can't honestly say I'd still be here so even if the final product of this had been a terrible mess I would still love it for keeping me alive. However, it did not turn out to be a terrible mess!

Now that the origin of this is out the way, where do I start with TechDif? Unlike Conchúr, I haven't really talked about them on here (unless you count one brief post about Citation Needed) before so I guess I'll do it here. The Technical Difficulties are a wonderful group of 4 British fellas who have had their fair share of fun online and even before. They did a radio show at university together, which went on to become their Reverse Trivia Podcast, later moving on to a panel show called 'Citation Needed': and a game called 'Two of These People Are Lying'. All of which I would thoroughly reccomend, they're one of my go to things when I'm having a rough time. All 4 of them are excellent! Tom Scott (red top, blue jeans on the picture) has his own YouTube channel which does content aside from TechDif. If you're quite nerdy and like science, linguistics, computers, or any number of other things you may enjoy Tom's channel. He is probably best described as "The Moderator" of the group, much like a tired teacher he tries desperately to keep everyone on track with what they're meant to be doing, but usually it does not end well for him. Then we have Matt Gray (space top, holding an ice cream) who also has a channel away from TechDif stuff, he does techy electronic things and has a series called 'Will it Soft Serve?' where he puts all kinds of strange things through a soft serve machine. Matt brings a very specific energy to TechDif and I can't fully describe what that vibe is but I love it. Matt and Tom also share a YouTube channel where TOTPAL is posted and they had a series called 'The Park Bench'. Moving on to everybody's favourite Gary Brannan: Gary Brannan (SATIRE hoodie, glasses) and can I just say, what a fella he is! He's just excellent! He is the one that will argue and rip into Tom the most (not in a malicious way) and hilarity ensues. There are some episodes where he is absolutely on it, getting all the points and others where he very clearly has no idea and that's where some of his funniest quotes come from. Given how badly I was doing at the time I made this, his response to it on Twitter was so so lovely. I specifically remember one tweet where he said I'd made him happy and although it was probably a flippant comment, it just made feel alright for a bit. Yeah I might be feeling awful right now, but I've made someone else happy so that's a nice feeling. Then last but certainly not least, we have Chris Joel (buffalo check shirt, beard)! I would be lying if I said he isn’t my favourite... His sense of humor is the one I vibe with most, he can get rather dramatic in parts and can chat bollocks like a champion. He has absolutely no online presence away from TechDif and, like Rens from Temples, I fully believe he’s a cryptid and lives off in a tree somewhere.

The picture took me about 4 days to complete, well 4 nights because I did most of it between the hours of 12 a.m. and 7a.m. - I remember watching the sun come through my window each morning. It’s made up of lots of little pieces, all cut out and stuck on; even the sky and hills are made of separate pieces of paper. Nothing was actually drawn on the piece of paper it’s all stuck on, it’s not how I usually do things but if I messed up one little but I could just redraw it rather than ruining the whole thing. The most tedious parts to make were Chris’ shirt because I had to draw each square individually and then join the as well, and cutting out the ban-hammer in the bottom right was surprisingly hard. Every single detail of the picture is a reference to the podcast/shows, I still have the plan sketch and reference list knocking about somewhere. I listened to a lot of true crime videos while making it to the point that certain parts remind me of different cases: the brandy now reminds me of Peter Tobin, and the big spiral thing reminds me of Tim McLean (very harrowing case) - sorry that fact is a bit morbid but interesting nonetheless.

I did post this for a little bit back in July, but I received some rather awful messages so I took it down. Generally, Tom Scott/TechDif fans are lovely but there’s been a few that have taken a disliking to me for some reason so I’m hoping they don’t resurface again. I’m in a better head space now though, so even if they do I’m more equipped to deal with it this time.

Hozier

This was a quick sketch I did in April, I was getting bored with lockdown and decided to summon the bog man himself. There’s not really much more backstory than that, no poor mental health story, no fun twitter story - he’s just here. He’s vibing. I will say I’m particularly proud of his nose, I just think it’s one of the best noses I’ve ever drawn. His hand is okay, but I think that the hands on my Conchúr drawings are better. So there is the Hozi-Boi...

The Corpse Bry

I’ve talked about Bry on here before as well, I love him, he’s excellent, top lad. He is a living Tim Burton character, he’s 6′6, very skinny, and his legs are longer than my will to live. I was watching ‘The Corpse Bride’ a few weeks ago and suddenly had an idea and so ‘The Corpse Bry’ came to be. I gave him a little panda friend because the panda has always been his animal - he used to wear a panda beanie all the time and his album had a panda on the cover. Again, there’s not really a fun story behind this one, I guess it’s somewhat fun because it’s the first art I made after finishing my psychology exams in October so it was nice to actually have the time to draw.

James Bagshaw

Ginger talking about Temples for the third post in a row? it’s more likely than you think! I did this one last week, I’d had a bit of a wobbly day and had group therapy on Teams in the evening and I just couldn’t concentrate on what was going on and I ended up doodling Mr James E. Bagshaw, the glitter crying fraggle man himself. It’s a bare-bones drawing that I could definitely work into more but I’m happy with it as it is to be honest. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit and add the individual bits of fringe to his jacket, just thinking about doing that makes me tired. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing the whole band at some point...

Alice in “Wonderland”

This one is from about 5(?) years ago, it’s not my typical style and was a “study” based on another artists work (basically i just had to copy this fellas work). I’ll be honest, this one has a sketchy backstory that I won’t go in to because it’s not exactly a nice one, and because of that I also won’t say who the artist is that it’s based on. Despite this, I’m still really proud of this one and I’m so sad that I never got this piece back after I got taken out the class. I’ve considered trying this style again, I’ve even joked about doing another Conchúr drawing in this style as a nod to my progression through GCSE art, eventually leading to Conchúr drawn in ink on music manuscript and stained with neon paint and dyes - it would be quite the project!

So this has been quite a lengthy post so apologies about that but life goes on. Similar to the vinyl post, I’ll probably add to this as and when I make more art. Even if no one is reading these posts, I’m enjoying making them so that’s the main thing. It’s just nice to document things and the feelings that go with them. 💕

~ Love Ginger xx

29/11/2020

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littlelittlebear · 3 years

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Congrats on getting so many followers!!! I'm new here, but I can already tell that you've earned it! Could I get Narnia Ship please? 🥀

I’m a Bisexual girl, but really quite the Tomboy. Most of my friends are boys, so I’m more comfortable joking around with them, but whenever I see a pretty girl I can barely speak tbh. I’m a really good writer, and decent at drawing too. I love Video Games like Breath of the Wild, Older Music and Animation, but also some newer stuff too. I love Studio Ghibli, my favorite kind of music is Indie and Irish Folk (I LOVE Hozier and The Oh Hellos). I’m pretty witty and spry, but I’m also very flustered and soft around people I like. I’ve often been called “wise beyond my years” and people have said that I have “Sibling Vibes”, so I can be pretty mature but also still know how to have fun. I also have quite the rebellious streak, but I still know when to follow rules and when not to. I’m a very strategic thinker. I love Witchcraft, Mythology, anything Esoteric really, and I love nature and can be pretty frugal at times. I’m kinda muscular because I like to stay active, but I’m really short (4’ 11”) with long fluffy brown hair, glasses, blue eyes and really pale skin covered in moles and scabs and such.

Sorry this was so long, I really hope you don’t mind. Thanks so much, and again, congratulations!!

😌😌(i too, love the oh hellos)

i ship you with... SUSAN PEVENSIE

- you two are like the dark academia couple

- you’re chaotic academia and she’s gentle ;) academia

- you’re both witty and tend to get in little spats but its never anything serious- just some pop culture related fight

- you’re like her ride or die and she trusts you with EVERYTHING

- secrets? who is she?

- you two just hang out in her study and listen to music and she reads while you right- maybe you ask her for inspiration or ask her to fact check something you wanna include and she would get RIGHT ON IT

- you two met at a soccer game, you came to see one of your guy friends play, susan came to see peter play (whos on the opposing team)

- your friend wanted you to sit in the front row and peter asked the same from susan

- the two of you sit next to each other accidentally and you IMMEDIATELY find yourself incapable to talk

- “pretty girl pretty girl pretty girl pretty girl pretty girl” -your brain

- susan noticed you too, but shes much better at composing herself (cuz like, queen ya know?)

- she really really loves your eyes

- she tries to break the ice by asking who you came to watch then just striking up conversation

- you’re really trying to “yes, and” this but its coming out all flustered and stammery and you were so embarrassed but susan just thought it was really cute

- by the end of the game she pulled out her felt tip eyeliner pen, gently grabs you arm, rolls up your sleeve, and now you have an eight digit number and an ‘xoxo’ on your arm

- basically, in the beginning of you relationship your dynamic is flustered mess x cool as a cucumber but the longer you date it turns into chaotic x indifferent and its beautiful😌😌

#hero's 100 follower sleepover

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dolphin-enthusiast · 4 years

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Matchup? Thanks. I'm a short, straight, cis, white, female from America. I'm a lil bit chunky, well, half of it's chub and the other half is muscle. I enjoy going to the gym and working out, it's pretty great. I started going to lose weight because I used to be obese but I decided to make the change I wanted to see in myself. Yeah, I lost 60 pounds. I'm pretty proud of myself. I'm very confident in myself and show myself a lot of self care because I used to have a lot of self-esteem issues. 🐉

"But now I'm proud of the young woman I've become. I'm 23 and a half and in college. I'm trying to become a clinical psychologist. When I was a kid I wanted to be a psychologist because I have (and have had) ADHD, depression, anxiety, and chronic insomnia. I work at Starbucks, my favorite thing is drawing things on customer's cups, they think it's really cool. I enjoy art, but I still love psychology the most. It's my favorite thing. Most days, I'm a generally nice person. 🐉

I'm laid back and willing to go with the flow. Other days I'm a McGremlin with Mean Hoe Fries on the side. When I don't get along with people, I tend to try to ignore them, but my fuse is shorter than I am. And I am really short. I get aggressive and it is NOT a pleasant sight. When I was in middle school I slapped a kid and told him to tell his mother she was a beautiful woman because he was telling me and a few of our shared friends (he was an acquaintance, my beat friend was his friend) 🐉

how he called his mom a bitch and I slapped him and told him to apologize. I've always respected people who earned it. Even then, I still respect people's lives, but there are some people that only get the bare minimum of my respect. Those tough single moms have all of my respect tho... Another thing about me is that I prefer having male friends than female friends. Why? Some girls like to cause drama. I have a lot of guy friends because I have a really Tom-boyish personality. I love running. 🐉

I do it a lot. I did track in highschool and I still enjoy watching it on the Olympics. I also enjoy martial arts, karate, judo, jujitsu, taekwondo, boxing, and kung fu. I do all of those please help I have a martial arts addiction. I am obsessed about learning. It's amazing. I enjoy learning about new cultures and trying new things. I love books too. I'm currently reading a really good detective one at the moment. I also love the TV show Sherlock, with Benedict Cumberbatch. 🐉

I always try to be the best human I can be??? I'm very bold. Oh! I'm an ENTP Gemini, but did you know, some scientists believe that the MBTI test might be faulty- 🅱️lz don't listen to me I'm annoying. Anyway, my friends describe me as: laid back but energetic at the same time, smart but also lacking in common sense, reckless, brave, caring, hardworking and ready to fight for the people I care about. I guess I would say I'm like that. 🐉

I describe myself as: ambiverted, fun-loving, and indecisive. In a partner, I look for someone who can make me smile, someone who will have my back while I have his. Ya know? Mutual trust and communication, any kind, is valued in a relationship to me. Whether it's sign language, talking, or leaving notes, I need communication to know what he wants. My favorite animals are cats. My favorite color is red. My favorite shows are JoJo and Sherlock. My favorite book is probably the Lord of the Rings.

My favorite band/singer are Lord Huron and Hozier. My favorite character in Sherlock is the man himself because of how blunt and straightforward he is. My favorite JoJo character is Iggy, not because I am a dog person I am a cat person, but because he has an attitude and when I'm grumpy I understand hating everyone. I like rainy weather, but only when I'm inside. I enjoy children, but I will decimate brats with my viper tongue if needed. 🐉 (last time I forgot the dragon!)

My favorite foods are fried chicken and chicken fried steak. Who do you match me with Father Morgyorgy? Pt. 1, 2, or 3 plz."

I match you with...

JOSEPH!

Where do I even begin...your vibes and overall energy instantly attracted him to you. The fact that you're so fun loving and have a strong sense of justice made him be absolutely smitten. He l o v e s energetic people that aren't afraid to stand their ground and that also stand up for others when needed. The fact that you're willing to kill for those that are close to you is something that he can also relate to. When you told him about the efforts that you made to lose weight he was extremely proud of you and told you that you're always beautiful no matter what of course. He's only glad that you're now happy with yourself though.

Just like you he is usually a go with the flow person and is normally chill but he also has his more meaner days and a rather short temper (and much like you when he does pop off for real then it's fucking O N.) While he is a very determined and hardworking person he too can be reckless and lack common sense sometimes. As for what you look in a partner don't worry for he will ALWAYS have your back and will never fail at making you smile. Mutual trust is included too since it's like you two have a language of your own and understand eachother at all times.

He really LOVES your tomboyish personality and actually admires the reasons behind you wanting to become a psychologist. The fact that you also practice so many martial arts is pretty damn amazing to him and he'd often be joking around that you could easily yeet him over your shoulder or immobilize him in two moves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #battle tendency #joseph joestar #jojo headcanons #matchups #anon

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scattered--pages · 4 years

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Nothing Broken, Nothing Thrown (1/?)

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Characters: Luka Couffaine, Anarka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine, Couffaine Dad, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Additional Tags: Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, character backstory, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Family Issues, Childhood Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Abuse, Family Abuse, Will be followed with lots of comfort and support by Mari as the story progresses I promise, But there's a heapload of pain and trauma in between, just as a warning

Ao3 link: here

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING !!! Unfortunately, this fic is going to get quite dark at times. It talks about how I envision the Couffaine family history. From their life with their father to how Luka and Juleka, as well as Anarka, ended up dealing with the aftermath of getting away from him. In between, there will be sweet moments of Marinette comforting Luka through each step of her finding out more and more about his past, but in between, this might get a bit too much for you if you are triggered by mentions of: family abuse, alcoholism, violence, self-harm, self-destructive behavior. Part of this was written based on some of my own painful experiences from the past.

Please everyone, stay safe and do not read this if you're worried that a mention or a description of any of these might trigger any negative feelings or responses in you.If you do decide to read through, you'll get a view into how I see what made the Couffaines what they are now, ultimately stronger, happier and more free and basically the entire last chapter will be Lukanette Hurt/Comfort fluff.

As always in my fics, music inspires a great deal of my writing and the writing of this first chapter was very much accompanied by Suzanne Vega's "My Name Is Luka", as well as Hozier's "Cherry Wine", both tragic but lovely and utterly amazing songs, and listening to them while reading might complete the experience. ♡Once more, stay safe and I love all of you. ♡

Summary:

"There is something very true about that saying that talks about how the happiest and kindest people often hurt the most inside, or how they've at the very least been through such hell that you would never guess that all of that was some time ago hidden with great effort behind the ever-smiling, protective, compassionate face that they always seem to wear flawlessly. And Marinette had no idea just how heartbreakingly this was true for the boy she cared for."

There is something very true about that saying that talks about how the happiest and kindest people often hurt the most inside, or how they've at the very least been through such hell that you would never guess that all of that was some time ago hidden with great effort behind the ever-smiling, protective, compassionate face that they always seem to wear flawlessly. And Marinette had no idea just how heartbreakingly this was true for the boy she cared for. For the happy, ever-supporting and bright boy for who she has now finally without any more hesitation started to develop incredibly strong feelings for. And she suddenly felt incredibly selfish and blind when she realized that there was a reason he was somehow always her shoulder to cry on and her biggest confidante lately, to such extents that even Alya could no longer compare. Because there was something so soothing, warm and accepting about him. Something that melted her in his hug every time, making most of her worries and troubles just naturally untangle themselves right in front of him, only for him to support and listen and hold her tight through it all. But he never did the same in return. In fact, as close as they were becoming, Marinette failed to realize how little she actually knew about a huge aspect of his life or his past. And perhaps, somewhere in the back of her mind, she just convinced herself that he just didn't have anything to let out as she did, that this was why he was as he was, it only made sense. But now, her heart shattered in face of her own ignorance. Now, this was what was suddenly obvious the entire time. The sheer amount of emotions, pain and trauma that one boy had to learn to suppress and move on from.

And how did she find out? By being too nosy for her own good and taking a peek at a tattered notebook that was hanging from the pile of things they had to move to the upper deck where a former ship drawing room was being re-modeled for a new room that he could have all for himself, much to Juleka's quite equal joy who now had the entire lower deck room for her own drawings, designs and horror posters wherever she wanted them.

But one old, tattered notebook put a sudden halt to a happy moving event on the Couffaine ship. Because, as Luka, Juleka, Anarka and a few of their other friends were helping with painting the room above, Marinette was clutching at her mouth, trying desperately not to alert attention to herself, trying desperately not to sob.

The old, tattered notebook with blue and green action heroes drawn all accross the front page – was a diary.

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"January 7th, 2012

Today, we went back to school. I’m kind of happy about it, though. I get to see my friends again. I get to secretly buy Juleka and me a candy bar each day on our way from school with the change money mom sneaks to us. I know dad doesn’t like us spending money when there’s not enough for all the bills, but mom convinced us it’s okay if it’s just one candy bar. That’s why I usually just buy Juleka one and maybe steal a piece. I’m worried about mom, though… Her recording studio is only booked from the end of January and dad doesn’t go on his tour til February… I hope she’ll be okay. I love mom and Juleka. I love dad, too. Even though it hurts a bit to love him in the past couple of years. But he says he loves us in spite of everything and says sorry and smiles after every time he does something bad. Mom says he just has ‘bad dad’ days and that he’ll get better once he stops taking those weird pills and drinks. I really want to become a cool musician like dad one day.

Luka”

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Snow was falling delicately against the cold Paris ground. The after effects of Christmas holidays could still be felt in the air all around. Most of the decorations haven’t been removed yet across the city and they made this chilly winter day enveloped in fog seem just a tad bit warmer. In one apartment, however, the interior didn’t match the fancy structures covering the modern building on the outside, nor the still-loving atmosphere left behind everywhere by Christmas and New Year’s Eve. This particular fancy apartment was a mess. Instruments and bottles laying about everywhere, even though Anarka cleaned them up just the night before. The air seemed to be icier than the one outside, even though you couldn’t feel it that way on your skin. But, all things considered, today’s dinner was going by fairly peacefully. Something she was very grateful for.

“Luka, Julie?”, Anarka’s cheery voice broke the silence, “How was your first day back at school?”

The raven haired little girl looked up behind her long bangs, but seemed to be too shy or perhaps too reluctant to speak. Her father noticed that and frowned. Immediately, Luka spoke up.

“It was fun”, he fiddled with his spoon around his plate and mustered up a small smile. “We’re having a talent show in two weeks organized at school”, his eyes carefully moved up to his dad, his smile still intact, and now quite hopeful, “I was thinking about applying as a contestant.”

Gaspard’s looked up and huffed out a chuckle. “To do what?”

The little boy’s smile dropped slowly. “To… Play guitar.”

Another grim chuckle.

“Don’t embarrass yourself, kid…”

“He won’t embarrass himself!”, Anarka interjected, her face baring anger and hurt that she’s been keeping down for so long that it was now slowly seeping through the cracks each time it rose up again. “He’s really good, Gaspard!”, she reached out across the table to place a gentle hand across Luka’s. “You’ll be as good as your dad one day, won’t you?” His mother’s proud smile lured his own back onto his face, but only for a moment.

Another snarky laugh. “Merde!”

“Gaspard! Not in front of the kids, again!”

His spoon made an angry clang against the ceramic before his fist met the table. “If you wanted a fucking sweet rural gentleman for a husband and a father of your kids, Anarka, you should have stayed in the middle of fucking nowhere by the southern coast and married a fucking fisherman!”

“Dad, NO, it’s okay, you’re right, I-I… I’m not good, it was a stupid idea, I won’t sign up for the competition…!”, Luka nodded, trying to stay calm and convincing even though, underneath the table, his hands were trembling. Juleka just kept staring at her plate, face down, long black hair hiding her from the world.

Seemingly satisfied with this outcome, Gaspard smirked and continued to calmly eat his soup, like nothing had happened.

-------

“January 16th, 2012

I’m a bit scared of dad these days. He got angry at Julie for stepping in his way when she was playing and swung his hand over her, but I managed to run in front of it and took the blow instead. She’s much smaller than me and it would have hurt her really bad. It didn’t hurt me a lot, just that my cheek was a bit purple for a couple of days, but it would have really, really hurt her. It was better this way. Dad never hit Julie before. He hit me occasionally, when he was really, really angry or drunk, and a few times he hit mom. But never Julie. He seemed to have felt bad when he realized what he almost did, it was really obvious, and he even apologized. He seemed really shaken. He even knelt down to hug us. I think he was close to crying. I was kind of happy, it was closer to how dad was a few years ago, it’s a shame Julie doesn’t even remember that dad. The fun dad. The hopeful dad. Dad’s been really, really bad since his band reunion didn’t work out and he stopped getting revenues from their music because of some issues that I didn’t really understand… I know dad can be better, if only he can stop worrying over his producer so much and if he stopped drinking. I know it. Deep inside, he’s a good dad, he really is. He gives us toys. He’s always sorry when he hits me and mom. He’s just going through a rough time, because his band isn’t as popular anymore, that’s at least what mom says. She says he’ll get better one day. I hope so too. Because sometimes I’m worried that mom is only saying that cause she’s scared of him. And my mom is never scared of anyone else, except him. I’m a bit more scared than usual, too. I’m not being very good, because I decided I really want to sign up for that talent show anyway and I’m going to get mom to get dad there by saying it’s a teacher-parent meeting or something. Cuz I really like playing the guitar. And if I show to my dad how good I am, he’ll finally be proud of me, too.”

-------

“I will not hear any of that, last month we had enough money, what the hell are you doing anyway?!”

“I only start recording in ten days, I’ve been practicing and gathering enough songs and material until that day comes, Gaspard!”, Anarka was collecting the pile of unpaid bills that she organized on the table an hour ago in preparation to talk to her husband, although now they were thrown astray. “Gaspard, I love you, but you need to realize we’re not young anymore, both of us, we can’t afford this place, we can’t afford this whole lifestyle! We can’t afford your… y-your…”, she faltered, her lower lip quivering in regret of even letting that slip out. Because sadly, nothing good will come of it. Nothing ever does.

Her husband advanced towards her and the usually brave and bubbly woman in front of him now instinctively took a shaky step backwards.

Gaspard smiled a wicked smile, twisted in the terrified irony of him being almost happy that she was able to make him mad again. Another release, another situation to explode in order to make himself feel better. “No-no, Anarka… Sweetie… Finish that sentence…”, he cocked his head in faux inquisitiveness as he continued quite literally backing her into a corner. “My? What? My d-d-drugs…?!”, he mocked the way her mouth quivered, too terrified to know if she should speak or not. “My booze?!” His hand slammed against the wall next to her. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”, his voice quieted town but the venom that dripped from it now seemed thicker. His head whipped back at Juleka holding her doll and her knees against her chest on the sofa, “All of you do!!!”, he bellowed, his voice filled with rage, breath filled with gin and head filled with complete disbelief of how his entire family could be so vicious and not see that he was, in fact, the real victim here.

“You!”, he pointed at his wife, “You were just Jagged’s lost little groupie when I found you!!! ‘Nanarky’…”, he imitated Jagged’s voice like a child imitating that one kid they really didn’t like, “Give me a break! And now he is being a superstar and I’m being a failure, I’m being forgotten?!”, he laughed, but it sounded so wrong that it filled Juleka’s eyes with tears, “Were you fucking him before me, Anarka?”, he tilted her chin up, “Is that why he even placed you in his band?! You were his whore, I know you were!!!”, he was screaming again and the shaking woman in front of him was suddenly filled with gust of courage as she pushed him away, whiping the tears off of her eyes in one swift movement before she faced him again.

“I will not let you insult me or my children anymore, I will not let you talk like that again!”, she roared and, for a second, he seemed genuinely shocked by the sudden shift in the usual way she reacted to situations like this. He could usually control her, no one else could, but he could. And he really didn’t like that he didn’t succeed in doing that now. “I was a good musician, a great one, you were the one that made me leave the band, you were the one who made me believe you actually cared about me…”, the tears started rushing in again, her voice breaking but not faltering, “That you wanted a family with me, that we could do this together! YOU are the one who ruined us all!”

Suddenly, she collapsed into a chair next to her and started uncontrollably sobbing into her hands. Tired, desperate, scared, and hopeless. For a minute, there was no sound other than those heart-wrenching muffled sobs, echoing across a living room far too big for the financial status of their family lately, and the wind outside. Gaspard leaned against the table, his head in his hands. It was so quiet. Too quiet. Because it was quiet enough for one sound to finally be heard in the other end of the apartment…

His fists clenched.

“I fucking swear…”, he turned towards the hallway, “If that is a guitar I hear… That boy is dead…”

“GASPARD, NO!!! YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM, YOU WILL NOT HURT LUKA AGAIN!!!”, Anarka all but screamed as she flew after him, chasing his raging footsteps as they stormed down the hallway, grabbing at his shirt to pull him back, “You can’t be jealous at your son, Gaspard, he is your son, you can’t hurt him again, y-!” – a loud thud was heard as he flung her across the narrow space into the wall behind them and slammed open the doors to Luka’s room.

There, on the floor, sat the little shaggy haired boy, guitar in his lip, frozen in fear.

“D-Dad, I-I didn’t mean to, I-I…”

Gaspard took a deep breath and took a much calmer tone, “Give that guitar… to me, boy…”

“Dad, no! I-!”

“You will OBEY me, you little shit, or you’ll become a worthless piece of shit like your mother there!”, he pointed back at Anarka, her hands covering her mouth, eyes staring at Luka, afraid that if she moved, she would doom her son even more.

Luka stood up. Jaw trembling and eyes filling with tears, but his shoulders were straight and his head tilted up. “No.”

“Luka…”, Anarka let out a horrified whisper.

“What… did you say to me, boy?!”, the old rocker let out another one of those chilling laughs before it stopped as abruptly as it began its bellowing and in one swift step, he took a step forward, snatched the guitar roughly from his son and turned to the side, holding it by its neck and swinging it above his head.

“DAD, NO!!!”, the little boy cried out, and Anarka used the chance to run over to him and take him in her arms, “NOO, PLEASE DAD, PLEASE, I WON’T PLAY IT AGAIN!!!”, he tried in vain to try to wrestle out of his mother’s arms, “DAD, NO, PLEASE, IF YOU JUST HEAR ME, YOU’LL BE PROUD OF ME, AND IF-IF NOT I’LL NEVER TOUCH IT AGAIN JUST DON’T, DAD, PLEASE IT I-“

For a second, it seemed like everything turned completely quiet and still... Until a deafening sound broke the eerie silence, loud, sharp, violent.

Hundreds of splinters flew across the room.

CRASH.

The strings held the remains of the broken pieces, sticking at each side like ruffled hay.

CRASH!

Luka’s whole body went loose in his mother’s arms as she held him even closer to her, sobbing into the back of his head. He could feel wetness gathering in his eyes, but somehow, felt completely numb and empty in that moment. His one escape, his one love, the one thing he was good at – was destroyed.

The old rocker dropped the wooden remains and ran a finger through strands of course long, half-grey hair and left the room in silence.

And Luka playing the guitar was never mentioned again, at least not in that apartment.

-------

“February 18th, 2012

I don't talk to dad much anymore. He doesn't like me talking much anyway, I annoy him all the time and it makes me sad that I can't do anything good enough so I kinda stopped trying for awhile. I wish we could be happy. When we were younger, Julie and I, it was better than now. Things weren't perfect, but we were kinda happy. Happier than now. Dad was happier. And mom wasn't crying all the time. I wish dad still loved mom. And mom him. I wish dad loved us. I don't really think he loves me at all. I feel really empty and sad... Teacher asked me if I'm okay because my grades aren't really okay anymore. They've been going bad for awhile now, but I actually failed a few tests lately. I begged her not to tell my mom and dad and she seemed really worried, maybe because I cried, and she promised she won't, if I try to make those grades better. She asked me if I was okay. I said I was and smiled. But really, I don't really think I am. I kind of just want to disappear all the time lately.

Luka"

-------

The once fancy and happy apartment on the second floor was more messy than usual. But not the kind of creative mess that Anarka liked. And neither did Gaspard, even though he was mainly the one who caused it, proceeding than to attack his wife for why things aren't tidier around here. However, oddly enough, the air in the apartment was a bit calmer these days, but Luka and his little sister still had trouble sleeping every night so Anarka re-started the tradition of reading them bedtime stories. They would all huddle up in Juleka's room in the evening, wrapped up in a blanket on each side of Anarka as she quietly told them stories about her hometown by the French coastline. About the ships there, about how there was a legend that it was built by pirates long ago after a very powerful and successful group plundered so much throughout their journeys that they decided to settle down here and after generations and generations, their families and descendants still live there. About how her father taught her how to tie sailor's knots and how to perch up a sail when she was about Luka's age, and about how the sea was always a place where she felt the most free and peaceful. How when you're in the middle of the blue water, lulled by the quiet murmur of the waves, you don't need lullabies or bedtime stories, it is so serene and perfect that it can ease your soul into a blissful sleep within seconds on calm, starry nights. Eventually, she started promising them how, if things ever get even worse, she would take both of them and they would sail away, like her ancestors, and they would fight and plunder evil people, overcome even the worst storms because, when the waves get so high and dark that you can already feel the salt suffocating your throat before it even hit you, than, in that moment, is when every true sailor can use their inner strength to its fullest and find a way to take control of the sea and survive. Because there is no storm that a pirate can't defeat. And they are, after all, pirates. So no storm can ever do them any harm.

A lot of the time, Luka and Juleka's father wasn't even home these days, and when he came home, he was cold as ice, but at least he was mostly quiet and unphased. He didn't like them bothering him, he didn't really even want to see them occasionally, and occasionally, Luka would even see him cry and then, for a moment, he would hope again, just briefly, that maybe, just maybe, he still cares. Maybe there's still a way to reach to him, to fix all of this. But Luka never tried, and he didn't even know how. Somehow, these moments only made him feel even more miserable afterwards. And then he would lock himself up in his room, he'd crawl under his blankets, he'd push away his action figures and notebooks and he'd cry as well. Sometimes for a very long time. Sometimes he wasn't even sure why. But he did feel a bit better, from broken to numb, when the rush of tears was over. He started re-telling their mother's stories to Juleka, convincing her that truly, one day, they really would all escape all this, sail away from Paris, and then everything would be okay. Because the sea fixes everything. And because they can beat any storm, because they're pirates, mom said so.

One of these evenings around a very tension-filled mid-February, things seemed like the usual. Or at least what 'usual' meant lately. Outside, Paris was still decked in bright, crimson colors, snow covering happy, bright Valentine's day decorations strewn across every cafe veranda and against many windows in the city centre apartments. Inside their apartment, once again, it was just cold. And not much else. This time, the chill reached both figuratively and literally into the tenants of the large apartment on the second floor of the condominium complex. They shut off their heating a few days ago because Anarka couldn't pay their heating bills anymore, but a kind neighbour borrowed them two moveable electrical radiators that they mainly used in their bedrooms and in the kitchen in the morning when she made them breakfast. It had to be plugged into electricity, which they still had, but it never went outside of Anarka's mind that next month, she won't have enough for electricity either, third month in a row, and then, she didn't know what she would do and how she would keep her children warm. But their lives now were lived day by then, built on promises of everything somehow getting better, on enduring everything like they did so far.

Gaspard, however, wasn't as happy with this. But he didn't really have enough will-power to do anything about it, which only fuelled his rage, making him spend the little they had on alcohol and colorful tablets that Luka thought looked like bonbons but he knew how dangerous they were and had to keep Juleka from accidentally eating them a few times, thinking they were candy. Because Gaspard no longer cared enough to at least hide them or keep them away at all. They were strewn all over the place, just like the bottles, clothes, dishes, and the pieces of their family that seemed to never have been quite whole at all.

One night, Anarka made sure Luka and Juleka washed their teeth and got ready for bedtime, one of the radiators, a bit old but practical and doing what they were intended to do, was buzzing idly in the bathroom as she helped Juleka get into her pyjamas. It got so cold that they all slept in one bed in her room. Gaspard usually passed out in the living room, fully clothes, wrapped in his coat, so he didn't mind anyway. Sometimes, he wouldn't even come home for days at a time. But today. He cared. Or minded, to put it better. The last resort he had to feeling alive and fine with this whole situation was an abundant combination of brandy and those colorful tablets, but there wasn't enough money left for him to steal from their savings anymore to buy as much as he needed and slowly, but dangerously, Gaspard was breaking along the edges.

"Anarka!", he bellowed from the living room, his voice laced with alcohol - 'fortunately' for him, that, was still fairly cheap to obtain, so his solution was to simply replace the role of pills in his daily concoctions by just consuming a double dosage of liquor in whichever shape or form he could find and buy it. "It is fucking FREEZING here!"

His wife adjusted her glasses shakily and peeked from the bathroom doors, gesturing for Juleka not to come outside. Luka peeked from their bedroom and instantly slid back behind the door frame as well. "We didn't have enough for heating this month, Gaspard", she said carefully, "You know that."

"How?!”

“Gaspard… There hasn’t been enough money… I got my pay for the recordings I did, but… Your revenues still haven’t started coming in again and this apartment costs a fortune just to maintain and-and…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, that doesn’t answer my question!”, he spread his arms wide and turned around, looking around the place with a murky gaze, “I’m the guitarist of the world famous Dark Concords, we should be able to afford double as big of a place than this!”, he stared of into the distance, eyes focused on an unidentifiable spot on the wall. Anarka’s eyes teared up.

“Please, mon cher, you’re not well, you’re not sober…”, she sniffled quietly, weary of any noise she was creating, any annoyance she may be presenting. “And you haven’t been a part of the Dar Concords for a few years now, mon cher… You know th-“

“ I was a STAR, Anarka, I was bathing in money, we had enough for CENTURIES, what did you buy, where the fuck did it disappear suddenly?!"

"It's been disappearing for awhile now, Gaspard...", still calm and cautious, she attempted to muster up a brief explanation, like she was talking to a dangerously disobedient child that she didn't want to upset again instead of to a husband who, when he was sober, already knew all of this all to well, "I didn't buy anything out of the ordinary, you know that..."

"HOW is that possible?! Where the fuck did it go then if you didn't waste it?!", he advanced towards her, arms clenching

"Gaspard, please... We-We've been over this... We'll talk about this again when you're not like th-"

"Like WHAT, Anarka?! You don't like me like this, I KNOW that, I know that you've started abandoning me ever since things went even a BIT away from picture perfect!", his eyes almost seemed teary, but the way his frame shook was so violent and terrifying that wasn't capable of awakening any sympathy. Anarka gently pushed Juleka inside the bathroom as the little girl with the long black hair scuttled behind her to peek out. Her mother made sure to quietly but securely close the door to keep her away from what was happening, again, on a night she really thought would be able to pass through without this.

"You know that's not true, Gaspard...", her voice broke, tears rolling against the corners of her lips, "You can't claim that, you know it's not true...", her voice was gentle, almost forgiving, "You know I would give everything for our family, I'm still here...", she nodded her head, "We all are... We all want you to get better and come back to us..."

"Better?", his lip quivered in a way that sent shivers down Luka's spine as he carefully watched from the barely opened door of the main bedroom. "BETTER?! After everything I've done for you, I'm still not good enough for you or the world, huh?!", his voice thundered and Anarka extended a shaky hand towards his cheek, "Gaspard, please..." -- but it was all she managed to say before her body was flung against the hallway cupboard, the side of it breaking under her as she slammed against it, blood pooling beneath the skin of her eye and cheek on the side where she was struck, blood pouring out from her nose, deep crimson as it smudged against her pale skin. Luka couldn't take it. Not anymore. No more forgiveness. No more trying. No more hoping.

"I hate you...", he hissed through clenched fists, face dark as the face of a child his age shouldn't be capable of being. "I. HATE. YOU!", the boy screamed, a second before patters of bare feet started violently running against the cold tiles in front of him as he basically charged at his father in full speed. What followed happened so fast that, within a second, an angry hand pushed back, full force as well, but this time coming from a much bigger and more dangerous source, just a small shove, a throw for the man, a movement that almost seemed easy from how quick and effortless it was, but the damage it left proved a stark, chilling contrast to this. All that could be heard in one moment was the loud, shrill smashing of broken glass of the door leading from the hallway to the living room, before a sharp metallic smell filled the air. Red soaked his teal pyjama shirt in such amount that made it quickly started cling to his skin like a wet tissue, pouring from his head, side side, his back, it was horrifyingly difficult to tell.

"LUKA!!!", the scream of a mother, broken, was shrill and so engulfed in pain that it would break even the hardest heart. Her own pain didn't matter anymore because, somehow, she was by her son's side in a flash, trying desperately to cradle him as carefully as possible in her arms, not minding the shards, but minding not to make them stick into his skin even further. "No, no, no, no, no... My baby boy... My sweet, brave little boy... My angel, no, no, no, what did you do... What did you do?!", her words were dragged along with her sobs, directed at the man now holding his hand in his hands, suddenly confused, dazed and afraid as his family had never seen him. He tried to say something, mouthing words akin to 'I'm sorry' over and over, but Anarka couldn't even look at him, she just cradled her boy and repeated the last words she said like a torn mantra a few more times, before she snatched the phone from the broken cupboard and dialled the emergency services.

Her husband didn't stay to wait for her to finish the call. He backed away into the entrance door, opened it shakily and ran outside aimlessly. In that exact moment, Juleka rushed from the bathroom, shivering as she jumped down into her mother's arms, sobbing, whimpering, stretching out a small, shaky hand to clumsily but tenderly smooth it against her brothers dark hair, wet with blood, as he mumbled out words they couldn't understand... to her? To his mother? Was he even conscious? Were they pleas for help? The sounds were so disfigured that Juleka thought her brother must have forgotten how to talk from the blow of the fall, but she still tried to make him feel better, tapping at his hair with her little hand like their mom used to do when she would put them to sleep every night. Slow, calming, humming.

It was an aching image of love, tragedy and family in the worst, most wrong way possible, hurting and seeping at the edges, tearing apart. Of three people trying to make each other safe when they couldn't even protect themselves any more at this point. And so they remained, the three of them, together, until the emergency workers tore them apart and placed Luka's screaming, desperate, terrified mother into one van, a kind nurse administering something that she kept promising would calm her down, they wrapped Juleka in a blanket and placed her beside her mother on the stretcher in the first vehicle, as they rushed Luka into another, bandages, panicked personnel and I.V. tubes blocking the view at the boy's broken frame. As Juleka watched them closed the door, for some reason, a sheer surge of terror coursed through her and she felt this incredibly strong fear that she may not see her big brother any more after this and immediately broke into tears again, this time even louder, more terrified, her quiet voice suddenly spilling into screaming, gut-wrenchingly painful sobs that out-voiced even the muffling, loud roar of the red and blue sirens of the emergency vans that were rushing them away from the hell of broken glass, broken promises and a home that seemed to have never really been a home at all...

-------

The last few pages was Luka writing up what the nurses, his sister and mother told him about the whole event after he woke up a few days later, with a lot of stitches, an arm broken in three places, hip fractured, head throbbing, his small body heavy and tired, and skin still ghostly pale and aenemic from the lack of blood that still didn't quite fix itself back to normal even after a couple of days of transfusions and I.V. treatments and horrible headaches that couldn’t pass from even the strongest medications that they were able to give him. But he was alive, and they all said it was a miracle that he was after how his tiny frame smashed through those doors. He was concussed and hurt and broken, but alive. And he will be okay. For Anarka and Juleka, this was enough, and the poor woman started yelling at the doctors when they offered to explain to Luka himself the state he was in. Instead, she was intent on somehow making her children forget all about what happened. She said one of the boats stationed at the Seine’s shores is being sold and that her family will borrow her some money to buy it. They’ll finally have their boat, they’ll finally be pirates, free and happy and away from everything bad, taking life as it is, never staying at one place for too long and never having to worry about anything. She assured them of this. And Luka thought that, perhaps, she was just trying to shelter them, or at least to distract and shelter him from remembering all that happened that night, but in fact, she didn’t even need to try too much, Luka didn't remember a single thing from that day. At least at that point when Juleka secretly told him about everything, with teary eyes and hands that clutched at his hand on the bed so tightly that he thought she would never let him go. But he didn't ask her to. If all he could do now to make her feel better was to let her hold his hand for as long as they let her, he didn't mind in the slightest. And if all that helped calm his mom down was to avoid the topic of what put them in this mess in the first place, well that wasn't a difficult task either.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking part of this particular entry though, and the conclusion of the entire journal, was the final note about how he wondered, still, after they've told him about all that transpired, if his dad will come to visit him. Because he missed him...

"Marinette...?", a soft voice with only hints of panic woke her up from her trance. It was only than that she realized she set there on the floor, the notebook in her lap - which Luka most definitely recognized - hand over her quietly sobbing mouth, tears pouring for what could have been an eternity after she finished that last page.

Hesitant and careful, Luka stood at the entrance to the room on the boat that he used to share with his sister, in times that marked the beginning of much happier years than those whose end was described in that small journal, written in that large but cold apartment further uptown in Paris. He wasn't sure how much she read of it and it was as if he didn't know how to react. Of course, deep inside, in a way, he felt exposed, embarrassed, as one would of someone, especially someone he cares about discovering a darker side of his life that he tried very hard to hide and bury deep, deep into the past, but more so than any of the self-consciousness he might have felt, he was worried at the state that diary left Marinette in.

But just as he parted his lips to say something, the small, shaken figure on the floor sprung up suddenly, closed the distance between them and leapt into his arms, holding him more tightly against her than she ever did. If this was in any other circumstance, he might have blushed, he might have chuckled, but right now, the only meaning this embrace had was a consolation and validation of how horrific the things he went through were, as well as of how, in spite of them, he was still here, someone knew about this, or at least about a part of it, and they still loved him and accepted him instead of judging him or feeling sorry for him. Because that wasn't an embrace of pity. It was of support, of love, something he never got outside from Juleka and his mother because he never dared tell anyone about this, his 'new' life completely replacing his 'old' one in a way that he didn't even dare mention it in fear of ruining everything. Maybe people would have even judged him for how broken he got after it all because maybe other people had it even worse.

But someone else knew now.

Someone finally knew, and they accepted it with love and, for the first time in forever, Luka was the one being cared for, consoled, cradled in someone's arms, instead of it always being the other way around. And he didn't mind it being the other way around, hell he made sure it was always mainly the other way around but, god. This gripped him to his core and brought him back into the state of mind and emotion of that little boy, standing at the entrance of his room, scared and excited whenever he would see his dad come home, broken and hopeful, persistent until he became angry and terrified and heartbroken and nothing more.

"Marinette...", was all he managed to whisper, voice cracking against her hair, arms wrapped around her pulling her even closer, nearer... The girl who now exposed all of his cleverly hidden and masked broken pieces while instantly managing to hold them together and patch them up, bit by bit, teardrop by teardrop as they cried in each other's arms, second by second of desperate hands clutching at each other, unwilling to part as if they were holding onto one another for dear life.

And if a single punch, a throw, could have broken him so thoroughly, physically and emotionally, as that one did more than seven years ago, than this one embrace was enough to stitch together years of suppressed pain, fears and loss, blissfully, fiercely, all at once.

“Do… Do you want to know what happened afterwards?”

Gently pulling away to look at him, Marinette blinked her tears away and nodded firmly.

“Tell me everything, please.”

#lukanette #luka couffaine #lukanette fic #juleka couffaine #anarka couffaine #dad couffaine #angst #tw: family abuse #tw: violence #tw: alcoholism mention #mine

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euphoriecs · 5 years

Text

11/11/11 tag !!!

thank u sm for tagging me @yikescomma, @buckaroowrites nd @yikeskimi !!!

rules: answer 11 questions, write your own 11, tag 11 people !

under the cut bc its a Lotta questions KSKSKSHK

yikescomma’s questions!!

1. what’s your favourite place to write?

oh this is ?? kind of a tough one bc i feel like i never Branched out in my spaces when it comes 2 being productive,, like a lot of my work is done in my bedroom just bc my desk is there and it’s the most convenient,,,, honestly im jus gonna say my favorite place to write would be from . my desk . bc it faces the window :-)

2. which character(s) from your wip(s) is your favourite?

since i only have wtsf confidently worked out ,, i’ll use those ocs !! but i think , quite Honestlie ,,, that wendy is my favorite character !! im rly in love with how she progresses as a person nd also she’s jsut . she gets it u know .

3. what are some inspirations for your wip(s)?

I TALKED ABT THIS BEFORE but b/ts’ hyyh series, my neighborhood, spring day by b/ts are a few inspirations for wtsf !!!

4. how did you start writing?

my dad got me hooked on reading when i was really really young !! and being able to read abt all these huge worlds nd being given an opportunity 2 fall in love w them rly inspired me to want to write worlds of my own . plus , i watch a lot of different shows nd animes that feed into my daydreams nd sometimes im like ‘yo,,, that was a good daydream,,,,, time 2 story it’ .

5. which of your ocs is most difficult to write?

uHGHHGHGS ARTHUR ...... trying to capture this like . enigmatic feeling while keeping close 2 his reasons for acting That way is actually ,, rly hard?? hes a tough cookie 2 crack but i will crack it .

6. what aesthetic do you associate with your wip(s)?

for wtsf ,,, quiet towns , lonely beaches , sunset nd sunrise ,,, running through the streets ??

7. do you like planning?

YEA !! i see it more as like . being able to explore ur wip and what directions it can take nd its also jsut rly helpful to have a solid foundation .

8. what is your favourite quote from your wip(s)?

i pulled this from my drabbles but: “Slow down.” Wendy grabbed Arthur’s wrist, pulling him down to sit on the sand. “This world can’t keep up with you.”

9. do you like to listen to music while you write?

yes and no ?? im very particular to the kind of music im listening to nd more often than not, i write in complete silence ,,, but sometimes i’ll find a song that i feel rly fits the vibe of what im writing nd i just put it on repeat HGSHJK

10. what do you like most about your own writing?

i think i like the descriptive aspects of it ?? like how i describe places nd feelings ,,,, :-) !

11. what are/were/would be your ocs favourite subjects in school?

everyone except piper in wtsf is graduated from high school but ,, wendy liked english class the best bc it was fun nd she got good grades !! rafael definitely loved psychology nd took it at an ap level ,, arthur liked math nd chemistry .. chemistry he liked More bc he got 2 blow stuff up SKKSKSEH and piper likes world history!! tho shes not good at it . but she likes it!!

buckaroowrites’ questions!!

what is your favorite subgenre to write? to read?

i lov urban fantasy and low fantasy JGHDSHGJKS like its my favorite to write nd read bc like .. o heck ?? ghosts nd ghouls nd just overall supernatural stuff irl ?? that’s the way 2 go

if you had to be trapped on a desert island with any of your ocs, who would it be and why?

if i had 2 be trapped on a desert island ...... i’d probably choose rafael . honestlie he just seems like he always knows what’s up nd my chances of survival would increase w him JHGJKSJKS

what is your favorite medium to write?

definitely novels !! its a format i’ve pretty much grown up w and im more comfortable w this medium than any others GHSHJKS but i’d love to explore like ,, screenplays nd see where that takes me

who was your first oc?

HYLLY SHITTTT THIS BRINGS ME BACK SJHJHJGJKS i used to draw a lot back when i was younger nd so i had this oc JHJS his name was ian and he was meant for the maximum ride universe but he was a dumb dude who was 2% cat . nd he had an adopted sister ,, i forgot her name but she was part bird .

what was your first wip about?

world end club is supposed 2 be abt a group of teens who work together 2 take down a corporation that wants 2 essentially control the artificial island they live on thru engineered soldiers . ITS A CONCEPT ,, nd it requires a little Too Much for my one brain cell to think abt

thoughts on shakespeare?

uhhh no thots bc i never read his work in high school i jus know macbeth is cursed .... wow i rly dont know anything abt shakespeare huh .

poetry or prose?

o this is TOUGH i rly adore both .......... im gonna . im gonna go w prose . i lvoe poetry so much sometimes there are lines that just rly fucken punch u in the face but im gonna go w prose bc its familiar !!

would you ever co-write a story?

nO ..... i wouldnt b able 2 compromise i’d jus b like oH ACTUALLY SKSKKS MY IDEA’S DUMB LETS JUST DO URS

write what you want to write or write what you want to read/watch?

oh . fuc .... i feel like its important to have a good balance of both but . honestlie im very partial to what i want to read/watch ..

do you like to write violence?

i dont Like 2 write it but its In My Wips !

what is your favorite trope?

oH ,, probably ‘fire forged friends’ or like . mutual pining ... i have too many favorite tropes nd somehow im gonna incorporate them all .

yikeskimi’s questions!!

Tell us about the main character(s) in your current WIP!

oKAY SO im gonna try to not make this too long SJKHJGS !! wendy is a very like . prickly character . shes like a cactus . nd she’s not too fond of letting ppl get close, but the ppl who do manage to get close to her are happie 2 learn she would actually die for them . loyalty is a Huge Huge part of her character, and she cares very deeply abt the people she calls family . shes also v sarcastic nd like . ‘open ur eyes dummy’ .

arthur is a kind of person who lives heavily on false pretenses . like he projects this image bc its an image that he can control nd he jsut Rolls w it , but hes actually someone who likes 2 tease his friends nd be friendly to them ,, hes got Issuez nd is very much the type of person to be like ‘o lol im ok :-)...’ nd prioritize the needs of others

rafael is , in all honesty , just babey . he studied a lot during high school nd rly pushed himself beyond his limits bc he wants to be able 2 go 2 a good college on scholarship nd get a job 2 support his family , nd hes just ?? very responsible nd sweet but that can also manifest into him taking on more than he should nd burning out .

piper is a very ,, honestlie kinda sad character kjHGJSJ she spends a lot of time just trying 2 appeal to other ppl bc she knows her interest in the supernatural make her a ‘weird’ person nd she wants to be able 2 have real friends ,, but when she learns 2 let go of this she’s very silly nd always making jokes During The Right time ..

Do you have an all time favorite OC? Tell us about them!

hMMMM i dont think i do ??? my memory of my ocs is rly bad JHSJ so more often than not i just ,, rip i dont remember them </3

If you could be best friends with one of your OCs, who would it be and why?

ms piper chaiyathan !!!! shes a very open nd kind individual nd i feel like our humor nd joking style would match V v v well !!!

Last line you’ve written in your WIP?

Wendy, unlike her brothers Adam and Nate, had inherited her father’s rough touch, and that made them both unwanted in the high stakes setting of a diner kitchen.

If you have a chosen title for your WIP, were there any titles you considered before it? And if not, what are some titles you’re thinking of?

when the sun falls went through SO many titles nd i actually have them all here: where the sun goes / fever dreams / above the sun / where the sun follows / the drowned sun ... as u can see the sun was smth i Needed .

What is an important element in the world your WIP takes place in?

uHHHH the supernatural element is . Very important but i cant be too specific about it but i will tell u it involves a dead tree on the beach .

Tell us an out of context spoiler.

arthur gets a cool new set of eyes.

Any power couples/ships in your WIP?

wendy nd arthur babey ,,,,,, bat nd molotov cocktail duo ,,,, last name central until the important moment nd THEN they use each other’s first names ..

Any music you like listening to while you write?

uHHHH specifically for wtsf i listen 2 a lot of hozier, lorde, conan gray, khalid nd halsey :-)

What would your main character(s) favorite song be?

oH okay i got this in the BAG ... wendy’s favorite song would Absolutely be work place by hozier or more than sorrow by a-lin ,,, arthur would definitely b listening 2 like . free spirit by khalid .. piper, since she p much spent all of middle school nd 2 years of high school in thailand ,, i think she’

Which character in your WIP could you relate to the most?

honestly? all of them !!! a lot of the characters in wtsf have little bits nd pieces of me bc thats how all my ocs come into existence nd theres no One character thats like “oh,,, das me”

and here are my 11 questions !!

Which one of your OCs do you think could survive a zombie apocalypse? Why?

What’s something you’ve been itching to write about?

Share the last paragraph you wrote!

Do you prefer coming up with plots or characters? Why?

Do you have any abandoned WIPs? Tell us about them!

What are some favorite themes/tropes to write about?

How do you get into the zone for writing?

Tell us a random fact for any of your OCs !!!

Are you someone who needs a visual for your WIPs?

What are some influences to your writing style?

If you had to be a character in one of your WIPs, which WIP would it be and what role would you play?

i’m gonna tag @babyreeds @holotones @alejandroistyping @noloumna @faerisms @omniawrites @aslanwrites @ashesconstellation @thegrievingyoung @glittcrpeach @syposium !!! no pressure to do it if u dont want to tho <3

#tag game.#AAA this was fun :-) !!!

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dregstrash · 5 years

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Zoyalai- In a Week by Hozier??? -wafflesandkruge

Hey there friend! Thanks for the ask (and for feeding the Hozier + Zoyalai addiction). Everyone give my lovely mutual @wafflesandkruge a follow.

Fun fact: the location of this alcove is based on a real life place and its my favorite place in the world

Tagging: @kestrel-of-herran

We lay here for years or for hours

What do you get a man who takes controls of armies? What do you buy him when he has a country? What do you give him when he insists that he doesn’t need any presents?

It was a conundrum that has circulated through Zoya’s mind for months, and now that Nikolai’s impending birthday party drew closer she was getting rather desperate. Out of all the men that have proposed to her, she just had to say yes to the man who was impossible to get a present for.

She couldn’t buy Nikolai anything. She couldn’t paint or draw him anything. Maybe if her pride wasn’t made of iron, she would have asked Genya for help.

Nikolai was even less helpful.

“I know exactly what you can give me.”

He smirked and made a point of sidling up to her. She flicked his forehead out of annoyance.

The lacy lingerie was obviously a given, but she’s also never had a chance to get anyone a real present before. And she wanted to do it right.

Two days before the party, Zoya managed to have a complete list of things that everyone else was getting him (an engraved watch from David, a golden brush in the shape of a fox from Genya, a book of poems from Tolya, a bow and arrow set from Tamar, etc.), but still she had nothing.

Up until she looked out into the waves and saw in her mind’s eye the ship with its sails sailing into the horizon with its three stars charting its course.

For the next forty-eight hours, she was nowhere to be seen. A fact that only caused Nikolai to worry and for Genya to fume (she was getting really tired of Zoya disappearing when there were important party decisions to be made).

The morning of Nikolai’s birthday came, and the king himself was woken up by a fully dressed Zoya.

“Good morning,” She said brightly, “Get dressed.”

Nikolai blinked up confused, but did as she asked. He stumbled into some pants, and made the quick observation that it was still dark outside.

“Where are we going, love?” Nikolai mumbled as Zoya tugged on his hand. His brain was still lingering on his warm sheets, and the rather pleasant state of sleep.

“It’s a surprise.” Was the last thing she said. Her silence was pointed and by the time Nikolai was conscious enough to start to pester her, she had pushed him onto his horse, and she led her own stallion at a pace that discouraged conversation.

The cold morning air woke his senses and he breathed in the country side as they rode further away from the castle. Except for the thundering sound of horse hooves, all was still and quiet. That is until the coast came into view and bobbing with the waves was a small boat, its sails drawn out and looking ready for a voyage.

“Zoya, what is this?” Nikolai said as he dismounted his horse. He stared in awe at the beautiful dark wood that made up the hull, the beige sails that flapped gently in the winds, and even more his mouth hung a little more open when he noted the name painted on its side: The Clever Fox

“I can’t sail this by myself,” She said ignoring his question, “I’ll guide you where you need to go.”

Too mystified by the boat and the strange determination of his wife Nikolai just agreed.

The breeze he felt when he as riding was nothing compared the sea air that whipped through his clothes and his hair. The sharp scent of salt and fish filled his lungs in a sweeping familiarity that felt like home. The rocking of the waves was a dance he knew well, and with the rough wood of the wheel under his hands Nikolai felt a forgotten elation bubble to the surface of his heart. He hadn’t had much occasion to sail with everything that was going on, and he almost called himself a fool for not doing it sooner.

It took Zoya dragging him out of bed to get him to the water, and his happiness only swelled twice its size when he watched her from the helm. Her hair pushed back in a rush of wind. Her eyes closed, soaking in the sea spray and the rising sun.

“Where to?” He called out to her. His voice almost pitching to his Sturmhound persona.

“Follow the cliff wall until you see the stars!” She yelled back with just a hint of a smile.

Nikolai wanted to prod and question further. He wanted to point out that the stars were fading with each second they were sailing, but there was something delicious about the mystery of it all, especially when that mystery was being orchestrated by his wife. He wanted to relish in all of it.

He followed her direction. Enjoying the challenge of avoiding coral reefs, and hidden sandbars, all the while guiding the small boat along the curved cliffside. They must have been sailing for half an hour when he spotted the stars.

Or at least the three stars etched into the rough stone. Nikolai’s eyes widened as he noticed the small tongue of land that led into a small and secluded cove.

Before Nikola could change the boat’s course, the water seemed to do it for him, and the wind that was filling the sails seemed to change direction on its own. He laughed as he watched Zoya manipulate the boat to dock safely.

He hopped off the vessel and caught Zoya in his arms before settling her down on the rocky shore.

“C’mon.” She urged, grasping his hand and leading him to a cave that was directly under the carving of the stars. If Nikolai thought that the surprise of the out of sight alcove was enough, he was not ready for the spread laid out before him when he ducked his head and entered the secluded space.

The alcove had another opening to the ocean and the waves lightly lapped against the rocky shore. Further up was a blanket, and a basket of food.

“Happy Birthday, Nikolai.” Zoya said smiling up at him. The light that was filtering in through the opening made her glow warmly. “I-I couldn’t think what to get you, but when I was younger my aunt and I used to say we would follow the stars and get away from everything and I thought--”

She was cut off when Nikolai brought her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers. Nikolai didn’t need the explanation. He didn’t need the reason of why she didn’t buy him anything. He just needed to tell Zoya his gratitude in a way that words couldn’t properly express. He poured everything into that kiss. He told her how beautiful he thought this present was. He moved his mouth sweetly in to convey the depth of how much he loved her at this very moment. He kissed and kissed and kissed until he couldn’t breathe, because that’s how she made him feel: breathless and overwhelmed.

“Thank you, Zoya. I love you.” He exhaled, his mouth still on her lips. “It will take a thousand lifetimes, if not more, for me to convey that sentiment.”

She laughed, and pulled away and tugged him towards the blanket “I’m just glad you like it because there was no way I could top the present Kirgin was planning to give you.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes and groaned playfully as he pulled Zoya down beside him, “Please tell me it’s something tasteful and won’t further prove how much of a rake he actually is.”

Zoya reached over him to the basket at his side and pulled out fruit and sandwiches. “This is Kirgin we’re talking about.”

He laughed at that, and allowed Zoya to lay their breakfast out before pulling her on top of him and kissing her soundly.

He didn’t know how long they stayed in that small sanctuary, away from everyone and everything. In between the food, the small talks, the comfortable silence filled with the push and pull of the ocean, and the sweet kisses exchanged, he felt like the whole world could have ended in this space.

Nikolai used the basket as a cushion for his head as he lay down, and Zoya curled into his side with her head on his chest. The pair of them content to listen to the ocean for days, for hours, for forever.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x zoya #king of scars #kos

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