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#i have neglected to post so many sketches on here oh god
ninadove · 10 months
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Why did Kagami seemed annoyed at Adrien acting silly, but seems fine with Felix?
I think it was never really about Adrien being silly, per say! The cousins’ antics are a microcosm or everything that went wrong, then oh-so-right in their respective relationships with Kagami, and her drastically different reactions are a testament to how she feels about them both.
We’re shown throughout Lies that Adrien is constantly forced to hide things from Kagami and abandon her in the middle of their dates. It’s not his fault, of course, but Chat Noir systematically takes precedence over their relationship and she understandably feels neglected.
On top of that, she knows there was someone before her. She wants Adrien to pick her over his secret crush for Ladybug, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to her that she’s always going to be second best.
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It all comes to a head in the sketching scene.
Ever since their introductions, Kagami and Luka have heavily paralleled each other, and these similarities are at an all-time high in Truth and Lies. It stands to reason that art is to Kagami what "inner melodies" are to Luka: a way to access people’s souls, and understand who they truly are.
(More on this here, but BE WARNED: the post contains spoilers for the finale!)
The problem is that Kagami cannot seem to capture Adrien’s essence through her sketches. She’s been conditioned to fall for this perfect, but inauthentic image of him, and when she tries to put it on paper it simply Does Not Work. That’s just not who he is.
When she points it out, Adrien tries something a lot more Chat Noir-like, which could have been this very nice moment of vulnerability between them. But it is so radically different from what Kagami thinks she wants that she snaps. She forces him into a pose that reflects what she believes her partner should be like — only to widen the distance between them.
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MEANWHILE FELIX
This boy, I swear to God Edelgard. I could talk about him for hours on end.
Let’s get it out of the way: Felix is a liar. Everything he’s done up until Emotion has been to manipulate others in order to achieve his own goals, and he’s done such a brilliant job of it that a huge part of the fandom still refuses to trust him to this day.
But the thing is, Felix does not want to lie and isolate himself from the rest of the world. Like many abuse survivors, he was forced into it in order to preserve his own safety, and it’s preventing him for forging and maintaining the connections he so desperately craves.
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Felix cannot stop lying until he feels safe.
The Diamonds’ Dance is the last place you’d expect him to drop the mask. He’s surrounded by his enemies and just about to put his masterplan into action — surely he can’t afford to be vulnerable now, can he?
Yet he realises that this (extremely pretty) girl he had already noticed at another of Gabriel’s Awful Terrible No Good parties is facing the exact same challenges he is, and has been hurt in the exact same ways he was. So he lets himself be open with her, and when he does, he learns something terrible and magical: she is consumed by jealousy, just like his father was, but she refuses to let it harm the people she loves.
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This is something different, something he’s never seen in anyone before, and from this moment on he feels safe enough to tell her everything. Pretention puts so much emphasis on how desperate he is to have someone to confide in about their shared struggles. It’s fitting that Kagami, who hates lies (or more exactly, being lied to), would fall for the character who immediately spills his entire heart out to her and her alone.
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And of course, he makes her a priority, always. He loves her enough to give up the fight of his life and to reach out to Ladybug, even though he still doesn’t trust her. Kagami was always Adrien’s second choice; but she is Felix’s everything.
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It all culminates in the play they perform together in Representation, the same way Adrigami’s relationship was summed up in the sketching scene. Felix is finally dropping the mask (literally and figuratively) and revealing who he is to the world — a version of himself Kagami has not only accepted, but fallen in love with. So it’s only natural that she helps him tell his story in a way that makes him feel safe, silly as it may seem.
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These two, I swear. They’re so beautiful.
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mikarons · 3 years
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hi there
helios belongs to @piipstachio
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the-gay-prometheus · 3 years
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AU Segment - “Try” (rewrite)
Frankenfandom is asleep (not really I know but seems p inactive right now lmao), time to post my rewrite of “Try”
Rewrite complete! Finally! I’m actually somewhat (somewhat) happy with how this turned out. I realized that my first version of this scene was so ridiculously out of character, especially on Henry’s part, so I really took the time to focus on making sure I got the characterizations right.
Important Warnings for this one!!!! There is a brief mention of a needle, brief mention of violence, and discussion about death/dying in a general sense.
There is some important background info for this one: This takes place long after ‘What’s in a Name’ and a few months before ‘We’ve Got Work To Do.’ By now, things have really mellowed out between the three of them. Victor and Henry are officially ‘married’ and now husbands (that’s a scene for a different time when I’m writing more happy things instead of angst again), Agape (the creature, for those of you who are new here) is their well-loved son. Not all is entirely well, though. Victor has recently been plagued by nightmares, though he won’t explain what they’re about. On what he swears is a completely unrelated note, he’s been dabbling in science again, and at his request, Agape has built a new section onto the cabin as a laboratory for Victor to work in. Victor spends most of his days in there, Agape usually accompanying him either to learn or to assist, as well as staying there alone well into the night, but recently Victor has been starting to neglect himself for the sake of whatever it is he has going on behind that door...
As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind (including constructive criticism!) are much appreciated!
Rain steadily tapped on the roof, the only sound to be heard other than the scratching of a pen as Henry wrote by the light of the last lit candle in the bedroom. The gentle scratching stopped as he read over what he wrote, followed by one final scratch and the gentle snap of his journal as he shut it and set it on the bed stand closest to him. He stretched with a yawn, absentmindedly reaching over to the other side of the bed before suddenly snapping his gaze over. In his deep concentration of writing, he had failed to notice that Victor had still not yet come to bed. Slipping silently out of bed, grabbing the burning candle on the bed stand and walking out of the room as quietly as possible. He passed through the common area, embers still glowing softly in the fireplace, and walked down the short hallway on the other side. The door to Agape’s room was slightly ajar, and, curious, Henry gently pushed it open further and peaked inside. Sure enough, Agape was there, sleeping soundly in bed. With a sigh of relief, he pulled the door mostly shut and continued down the hall to where the door to Victor’s makeshift laboratory was located. 
He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped in carefully, gently closing the door behind him. “Victor?” he called out softly, walking past the rows of shelves and tables, each covered in a mess of tools, beakers, and jars, weaving through them along the familiar path. Toward the back wall was a softly glowing light emanating from a nearly spent candle upon a messy table covered with beakers that glinted in the light. Sitting slumped over in front of it all was the silhouette of the exact person he was looking for. As he approached, the light from his own candle further illuminated the workbench, revealing various tools he didn’t recognize, a mess of papers, and a large beaker filled with a grimy-looking dark fluid sitting atop what had likely once been a lit burner. “Oh, Victor,” he whispered softly with pity in his voice. He set his candle down and reached out, gently placing a hand on his sleeping husband’s shoulder. Victor awoke with a start, nearly falling off the stool he was sitting on as he jumped at the touch of Henry’s hand. Henry couldn’t help but smile as Victor looked back at him, his brown hair a shaggy mess, his goggles crooked on his face. “I thought you were coming to bed,” he mused quietly as he lifted the goggles up off of Victor’s eyes. Victor squinted as his goggles were lifted, raising his black-gloved hands to rub the sleep from his eyes - only pausing to realize that maybe touching his eyes with gloves he had just been handling dangerous substances with wasn’t the best idea. He yawned as he slipped one glove off and rubbed both eyes before tugging the glove back on.
“I am,” he muttered, speech somewhat slurred as he turned back toward the table. “Justg.. Just gotta, finish- this…” He rolled a hand in the air, then dropped it back down to his lap. “..thing.” Henry chuckled softly - it was amusing, albeit concerning, to see Victor so loopy.
“I think this thing can wait until you get some proper rest, love,” Henry replied, smoothing Victor’s messy hair with his fingers. 
“Mm.. nooot really,” Victor answered, sorting through the various tools and beakers strewn about the table as though he were looking for something, then finally settled on one beaker that looked to have once held some kind of dark liquid in it. The scientist picked it up, inspected it closely, took a few long, slow blinks, then tilted his head back to look up at Henry. “...I needm… more coffee,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile. Henry gave him an odd look.
“More? I just brought some back for you two days ago.”
“Well that- that was… that was two days ago and this is now.”
“Please tell me you haven’t finished an entire tin in two days, Victor.” Victor groaned and set the beaker down.
“More like finished half in two days and half in… maybe one night,” he muttered, slowly starting to wake up more. “It’s all a bit of a blur, really.”
“This is why you need sleep,” Henry pointed out, running his hand from Victor’s hair back down to his shoulder.
“No, no. No I don’t need sleep,” Victor replied, starting to sound much more like himself. “I need… I need um…” He glanced around, his eyes falling on the beaker full of dark grimy fluid on the unlit burner. “Gah- nonono- noooo…” he grumbled, nearly knocking over the beaker that once held coffee as he fumbled for the one on the burner. He grabbed it, took one whiff, then unceremoniously dropped his head onto the table. Henry jumped slightly, gently nudging him as he was somewhat concerned that the smell of the concoction had somehow knocked him unconscious.
“...Victor?”
“I’m fine,” Victor grumbled. “Fine I just. I have to start this over.” He set the beaker down on the floor next to the table and slowly stood, somewhat wobbly at first, before wandering off to grab another one.
“No, I think you need sleep,” Henry called to him, turning and leaning back slightly on the table as he watched Victor grab a new beaker along with various jars filled with substances he couldn’t recognize. 
“I am- I am a god, Henry; gods don’t need sleep,” Victor called back to him with a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he plucked the ingredients he needed from the shelves. Henry chuckled and shook his head.
“Oh, silly me. How could I ever forget,” he mused, rolling his eyes. “Of course you’re a god, darling.” He turned out of curiosity to look at what was on the table, his eyes catching sight of something that Victor had been obscuring while he was sitting there. It was an odd thing, or the makings of an odd thing anyways, just barely started. There were gears and a crank connected to them, a tangled mess of wires - some attached to the thing and others lying nearby, various empty vials with tubes dangling from their cork caps, and sitting directly beside it all was a frighteningly large hollow needle. He leaned in closer to inspect the device. “Since when did you start tinkering?” he asked as he looked at how each gear was connected.
“Since I needed to for this project,” Victor answered as he sifted through more jars to find exactly what he was looking for. “Agape has been a big help. You’d never guess it but he’s got a knack for that sort of thing. Tinkering and such, that is. Well… he’s got an interest in all of it but he can be a little careless with the chemicals,” he continued, suddenly realizing he didn’t have enough hands to hold everything he needed and placing the beaker in his mouth to hold it.
“Can’t imagine where he gets that carelessness from,” Henry muttered sarcastically as he glanced back to see Victor on his tip-toes sifting through jars with one hand while holding far too many other jars in his other and a beaker between his teeth.
“I’s a real ‘ys’ery,” Victor answered sincerely with the beaker still in his mouth. Henry smirked and shook his head.
“Sure is.” He turned back toward the table, his eyes catching sight of an open journal, dark-stained pages covered in writing and sketches. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he picked it up and moved further into the candlelight to read as Victor returned and carefully set everything down on the table. “So is this what the two of you have been working on?” Henry asked as he flipped back a few pages to start reading closer to the beginning.
“Oh good god no,” Victor answered as he refilled the burner with oil and lit it using a match he ignited from his own nearly spent candle. “I’ve just been doing simple things with him. Common chemical reactions, a few lessons in physics, electricity, etcetera.” He began filling the new beaker with some of the ingredients from the jars he had grabbed. “This is more of a… personal project.” As he continued, he paused once he opened one jar, thought for a moment, then began rummaging around the table, searching for something. “Henry, you haven’t happened to see a journal lying around anywhere have y-” He cut himself off as he turned to see Henry standing there, journal in hand, a look of somewhere between shock and horror on his face. He felt his heart skip a beat as he froze.
“You’re…” Henry began, his voice low and quiet. Victor lurched forward suddenly, snatching the journal from his hands, though Henry still held his hands as though the journal still lay between them.
“What did I tell you about touching my things,” Victor snarled, holding the journal behind him. Henry didn’t acknowledge him, instead staring straight ahead almost unnervingly.
“You’re making another one…” 
“And you just broke my most important rule,” Victor remarked, eyes narrowed. Henry swallowed hard and took in a deep, shaky breath.
“...You’re right. I apologize - I shouldn’t have taken it without asking but-”
“But nothing, Henry. Go back to bed and let me work,” Victor snapped, flipping the journal back open and scouring the pages to find the correct amount of the ingredient he was working with.
“Victor-” Henry reached out to him, placing his hand on Victor’s arm gently.
“Just-” Victor started, voice raised in anger as he knocked Henry’s hand away. He paused, seeing Henry was clearly emotionally upset, and sighed, returning his eyes to his work, as he muttered, “leave me be.”
“No, Victor. We need to discuss this,” Henry managed to mention softly.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Victor growled, pulling his goggles back over his eyes as he placed the beaker over the burner and began stirring the contents with a glass rod. 
“Then at least talk to me,” Henry suggested, sitting on the floor beside him. Victor ignored him, choosing instead to continue his work. There was silence between them except for the twisting of jar lids and the clinking of scooping tools against glass, only broken as Victor held out a small piece of cloth to Henry.
“Cover your mouth and nose with this until I say so,” he muttered, his voice muffled behind a cloth that he had tied around his own mouth and nose like a bandana. Henry didn’t question him and tied the cloth around his face, peeking up over the table as Victor carefully poured one substance into the heated beaker, which immediately began to furiously boil and bubble while emitting an eerie green light. Even through the cloth Henry could smell something atrocious, and he did his best to hold back a gag while Victor simply sat there observing as though this were something he was entirely accustomed to. After a few minutes the smell dissipated and the light dulled, at which point Victor held his hand back out - which Henry interpreted meant he could remove the cloth, so he did. “I have my reasons, you know,” Victor mumbled, taking the cloth and setting it on the table along with his own.
“I have no doubt about that.”
“Then why is there anything to discuss?” He turned toward Henry, looking down at him though his eyes were masked by his goggles.
“I feel I should have a say in this matter,” Henry replied. “None of this is just about you or me anymore. It’s about us together.” 
“I don’t dictate what you do in your own daily life or what choices you make, why should you dictate mine?” Victor countered, turning back to continue to work on the solution he had started.
“There’s a difference between choosing whether to spend my time writing or climbing, and choosing to create an entire living being that we both will be responsible for,” Henry pointed out.
“I never said you would be responsible for it.” Henry sighed, realizing this conversation was getting them nowhere.
“Did he ask you for this?” he asked, changing his direction. “Has he decided that this is still what he wants even after all this time?” Victor didn’t answer, instead paying close attention as he measured out a powdered substance on a small scale. “Victor-”
“No, Henry. He has nothing to do with this,” Victor interrupted with an exasperated tone, scooping the measured substance up and pouring it into the solution, which instantly swirled into a dark red hue as he stirred it in. He tapped his stirring rod on the side of the beaker, then dropped it into a dirty yet empty flask nearby. Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned forward and raked his fingers through his hair, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth before exhaling harshly. “Not directly, that is.” Henry reached up, placing a hand on his back, which Victor responded to with a silent shudder.
“Then why now? Is it…” He paused, wondering if he should press further with his question. “Is this related to your nightmares?” There was no reply, other than that Victor raised one foot slightly off the ground, his leg bouncing - a typical nervous behavior of his.
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“It does concern me. I’m concerned about you, Victor. You’re withdrawing yourself again, and I’m… I’m frightened for you. I want to help you, but I can’t do that unless you let me.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Then why am I still here?” Silence. Victor put his foot down, suddenly all too still. “If you really didn’t want my help, you would have chased me out by now. I know you, Victor, and you know that.” Henry leaned over, resting his head against Victor’s leg and reaching upward. Victor slowly removed one glove, his hand slipping down from the table and falling into Henry’s outstretched palm.
“I don’t have a choice, Henry,” Victor said quietly, his voice cracking slightly as though he were on the verge of tears. “I have to do this. For his sake- I-” He sucked in a shaky breath, tilting his head upward. “This is all my fault.”
“What is?” Victor squirmed his hand out of Henry’s and began sifting through the clutter on the table until he found a piece of paper covered in messy handwriting, some words smudged and bled as though water had been dropped on the page as it was being written, and handed it down to Henry. 
As Henry read the writing on the page, Victor removed his goggles and set them off to the side, taking his ungloved hand up to rub the tears away from his eyes. About halfway through reading, Henry slowly stood, moving behind his husband and wrapping one arm around him while he continued to read. Victor practically collapsed into him, leaning back and nestling his face into Henry’s arm in need of some comfort. “Victor…” Henry whispered his name, tears dripping down his cheeks as he set the paper down and wrapped both arms around him, clinging to him tightly. “I’m so sorry.” All at once, everything made sense. The way Victor would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of each night in panic - sometimes running out of bed and and returning moments later with a sudden need to be as close to him as possible, his sudden reinterest in science, the way he’d lock himself away in his laboratory for hours on end, his sudden need to spend as much time with Agape as he could and to teach him everything he knew, how he had suddenly insisted on tucking Agape into bed each night even if he himself wouldn’t come to bed until hours later… all of it made sense. Victor removed his other glove, turning in his embrace and holding Henry with as tight a grip as his exhausted body could muster. Henry held him tighter with one arm, lifting his other hand to gently run his fingers through Victor’s hair. “I know it seems so real, and I know the pain it’s causing you is very real, but it’s still just a bad dream, Victor. It’s not going to happen and- and it concerns me that you would go so far as to make such a rash decision like this based on a recurring nightmare,” he explained softly. Victor looked up at him, eyes red from tears and a lack of sleep.
“But it is real, and it is going to happen and I-” He paused, voice breaking. “I can’t let it happen Henry I… I can’t just pretend everything will be ok. Everything isn’t ok. Everything won’t be ok. Not until I fix this.”
“Victor, you can’t fix something that hasn’t even happened yet- or that likely never will happen, for that matter.” Victor pulled back, looking up at him pitifully.
“But it will, Henry. If I don’t do this, it will.” Henry hushed him quietly, holding him tighter.
“How can you be so sure?” he asked sincerely. Victor trembled, clutching tightly at the back of Henry’s shirt.
“Because someday he’s going to be alone.” 
“Most children lose their parents someday. He’s just… going to have to learn how to cope, like any other does.”
“No child is alone for eternity, though.” Henry glanced upward, pausing the movement of his fingers through Victor’s hair.
“Eternity?” Victor buried his face into his chest.
“He will never die of old age, Henry.” He heaved a deep, ragged sigh, pulling back and shakily rising to his feet. Henry watched with worry as he began to pace. “All because I was too… too careless to think before I actually made him.” Henry almost wanted to say something, but he kept quiet, realizing that it would probably only make things worse. “I was so caught up in proving to the world that alchemy is a viable science and-” he paused, spinning on his heels and looking at Henry directly, “it is a viable science, I think I have proved that well enough by now.” Henry nodded along with a half shrug, signaling for him to go on, and Victor continued his pacing. “I just- I didn’t stop to consider what actually using it to create an entire new life would fully entail. I mean I- I knew that using the elixir of life on something already dead would never work on its own. It was just a matter of starting the heart. One beat is all it takes, Henry - just one beat and so long as something has the elixir coursing through it veins, it is alive.” He slowed, coming to a stop and standing with slumped shoulders. “What I hadn’t thought about was that the elixir also provides everlasting life, even to something once dead.” Despite his hanging head, he raised his gaze to Henry. “So long as there is blood in his veins, so long as his heart is able to beat, so long as his brain can still function… he will never die.” A crack of thunder sounded from outside, rattling the glasses in the laboratory and causing Victor to jump and cringe with a yelp. He began to shiver, wobbling where he stood as anxiety and exhaustion began to consume him. Henry ran to him and caught him as he collapsed, holding him tightly as he slowly brought him down so they were both sitting on the floor.
“Take it easy, Victor,” he uttered softly, resting his head against Victor’s. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” Victor clenched his eyes shut as he steadied his ragged breathing, and pressed himself closer to Henry. “I’d like to think that… maybe after all we’ve done with him, all we’ve done for him, it won’t come to that. Maybe he could be content just to be alone,” Henry murmured, trying to be optimistic.
“Not after what I’ve done. Not after what he’s been through. I-” Victor curled up slightly, hiding his face away. “His fear of abandonment, his need for companionship, both far outweigh any of the progress we’ve made. He may survive for a few years and cope with the grief after we are dead and gone, but it won’t last, Henry. He’ll go searching for friendship and only find hatred and violence.”
“Perhaps we could start trying to find him a friend before it’s too late,” Henry suggested, running his fingers along Victor’s back. “Then we could be sure that he won’t be alone without worrying about what may happen if he tries to find one on his own.” Victor shifted and looked up at him, eyes red and puffy with tears.
“And then what? What happens after that friend dies? Who does he turn to then?” Henry went quiet. Although he was ever the optimistic one, Victor was right - this would be a never ending cycle, and who could possibly know how long it would take for poor Agape to finally cave under the pressure of it all. “If I… if I can manage to create a second one like him, perhaps even perfect my original experiment and create one even…” He hesitated. “...Not better, necessarily, but… more like my original concept, I suppose - if I can do that, he will never have to be alone again, and maybe - just maybe - I could prevent him from making such a decision.” Henry sighed softly, moving his hand up and gently wiping away Victor’s tears.
“We can’t even be sure another one would turn out anything like him, though. And there’s no guarantee that they would get along. I know you’ve thought this through and it all seems very reasonable in your own mind but… Victor there’s more to it than what you’re saying. For example… it could turn out to be inherently violent, unlike him, and wind up hurting him, or us, or others as well. Their personalities could clash - there’s no telling that they would even stick together for their entire lives. If anything it’s more likely they would have their own separate hopes and desires, and need to go their own separate ways. And even if they did manage to keep each other eternal company, why would you want to bring another being into such a lonely existence?” Victor sniffled, glancing away from him.
“I… I can’t guarantee that any of that won’t happen but…” He wrapped his arms tightly around Henry. “If there’s even some semblance of a chance that I could ease the pain for him, enough to stop him from causing his own destruction, then I have to take it. I have to try. I’ve sworn responsibility for him, and thus have sworn responsibility for his future regardless of whether I am present for it or not. This is my mistake, all of this is my mistake, and I intend for this to be my greatest solution.” A sudden hiss and pop caused him to snap his attention to the table, where the substance in the beaker over the burner sat smoking, now looking entirely like that which had been in the beaker that was there when Henry had arrived. “No- NO!” Victor shoved Henry away and scrambled to his feet, leaning onto the table and staring at the ruined solution with wide eyes. Henry stood and walked over to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as he suddenly broke into sobs.
“Victor-”
“Henry this has to work! It has to!” Victor managed to cry between sobs. “It has to…”
“I know, love. I know,” Henry reassured him quietly. “Come on… you can try again tomorrow but… for now, you need rest.” Victor trembled as he tried to calm himself, standing frozen as Henry blew out the flame from the burner as well as the nearly dead flame from the candle Victor had been burning for light. “I’m not going to stop you from making preparations,” he mentioned as he turned Victor away from the table and began helping him unbutton his lab coat. “But you need to promise that you’re going to take care of yourself, and that we-” He paused, lifting Victor’s chin and looking him in the eyes. “-and by we I mean all of us, including Agape-” Victor shakily and slowly nodded as he slipped his coat off and set it to the side. “-will have a very thorough conversation about the actual details of it before you go through with anything. Am I clear?” Victor nodded again, embracing him suddenly and tightly. Henry held him close, gingerly kissing his cheek. “Thank you. I’m here for you, Victor, and I know he’s willing to be there for you too. Just, please - don’t shut us out.”
“I love you,” Victor managed to whisper, shaking as Henry released him and took his hand.
“I love you too, Victor,” Henry breathed in reply, bringing his hand up and kissing his wrist gently. Taking the candle he had brought from their bedroom with his other hand, he began slowly leading the way toward the door, Victor stumbling along with him. Just as they reached the exit, Victor hesitated, glancing back over the laboratory one more time. Another rumble of thunder sent shivers down his spine and he gripped Henry’s hand tighter. “Everything will be ok,” Henry reassured him as he pushed open the heavy door and helped him to step into the hall, being careful to close the door behind them gently. “He’s going to be ok. We’re going to be ok.”
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sirescumbag · 3 years
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"northstar anon" aka "anon a star who [you] hypothesize has a most radiant laugh" here!
Unfortunately, my brain is currently only at around 12% functioning capacity so I do not have the brainpower to craft an ask as lovely as the one I wish to send :(
Thus my message today is simple: welcome back and thank you for the beautiful, lovely art! <3
Aww, anon!!! My my, I have many of your asks now, what a treasure to behold :,)) You are now a familiar face of sorts, with rather dashing sunglasses, if I may be so bold to suggest :DD
My ask box has been sadly far more neglected as of previous months due to life having me in its nasty little claws but rest assured I received your words in your last ask and always value your presence! It is very kind of you to muster the energy to speak with me despite struggling with your own issues, that must have been difficult. Ohh god no no, no need to worry about the message!! I appreciate the effort above all! You anons always amaze and flatter me with your timeliness as soon as I post compared to my extended absences between posts. It is incredibly touching to know that you have reserved time to speak to me so soon after posting! And now?? even when you're tired?? :,,,,,) I am very blessed to have someone like you, anon my star, who has such a generous heart to choose to expend a bit of that time on me! I've got to step up my game, you guys have been and are incredible, seriously
I'm afraid I can't promise that I will be here regularly, as I, too, am not capable of fully functioning as of late due to healing from some wounds, but I will post shitty, not yet rendered sketches in the meanwhile :,, ) I don't mind taking drawing requests for a while or answering some asks, just struggling with restoring my creative juices and time constraints for now! Drawing or no drawing actually you guys have been incredibly sweet, I love to interact with you guys, long heartfelt messages or reading your colorful tags or shitposts, it's all great. Started out with just planning to post my art and now I am a softie and this is 3 paragraphs now oh no
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bettsfic · 4 years
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Hey! I was just wondering if you would soapbox a little about your creative process. I absolutely adore your writing advice but was wondering a bit more about how your ideas form and how you choose which to pursue and do finished products look like you want them to? What's a bad habit you're trying to break? No obligation to answer, especially cause an anon is like tell me your secrets! But thank you for all you've written, you are so helpful and kind
thanks for the great question anon! i wrote a bit about my drafting process here but that doesn’t encompass the idea building side of things (also i’ve made some changes to the process so i was thinking about writing a more cohesive, updated version at some point).
i tend to think of project ideas as piles of aesthetic, and usually i only begin writing once the pile has toppled over and i can’t not write it. that’ll make more sense in a moment. 
i’ll walk through 2 examples of my idea generating process, from how they started to where they are now. 
1. Vandal
Vandal is a novel i’m working on that i really have a lot of hope for. i’m about 60k words in right now and 75% finished. it’s about a teenage girl (sierra) who casts a spell on her hot, helpful neighbor (frank) to bind them together. the spell ends up working but backfiring when he becomes her foster father. then, in his custody, sierra gets jealous and casts a spell on his girlfriend (jenny) to break them up, but that backfires too: sierra gets taken out of frank’s custody and placed with a manipulative and abusive foster brother (leo). frank more or less kidnaps sierra and they have to Run From The Law. throughout the novel, sierra is inwardly battling Vandal, an immortal archangel that has possessed her and is trying to get her to kill herself so he can break free of the prison of her body.  
the idea for that story has a looooong breadcrumb trail and a huge aesthetic pile. since i couldn’t manage to get Baby traditionally published, i had a lot of that dynamic i could adopt into something else. i wrote at length about where that idea came from but i can no longer find that post (UPDATE: here it is). it’s somewhere in my training wheels tag. in short, i spent an entire summer watching/reading age gap stories and the male perspective in them bothered me a lot, so i wanted to write a story from the younger party’s perspective, and do the reality of those situations justice. i wrote that story, though, so i didn’t want to rewrite it. 
then, in december 2019, for reasons i don’t remember, i started reading snape/hermione fics. i really liked the dynamic, but it was a little too angsty for me, and none of the fics gave me the catharsis i was looking for, which was basically Grouchy Soft Boy Takes Care Of PTSD Weary Girl. being unable to find anything that fit the exact no-conflict, angstless dynamic i was looking for, i decided to write it myself using an A/B/O reylo idea i’d been kicking around for about 8 months but i could never land on, because i didn’t know if i wanted ben or ren. that fic turned out to be Reclaimed.  
to answer one of your questions, Reclaimed didn’t turn out the way i wanted it to at all, and i’m still kind of shocked by the traffic it has. i felt bad about writing it, because i was setting down so many other things to work on it, and it was a struggle from start to finish. at the time (and this is a major theme of my process), i thought it was a waste of energy.
but it opened a very important thematic concept to me, which is the idea of voicelessness and trauma, and recovery through finding one’s voice.
fast-forward to february, i’m headcanoning with @star-sky-earth just days before i have to head to nebraska for a writing residency. she and i are talking about a certain male celebrity who shall not be named, flirting with his younger female costar who shall not be named, and i said something along the lines of, “wouldn’t it suck to get a crush on a dude like him, only to find out he likes you back, and then you realize he’s actually kind of shallow and boring?”
i remember distinctly saying, out loud, “god fucking dammit,” because, right then, an aesthetic pile had toppled over, and an entire novel unfolded itself in my brain. i pound out an outline. it’s garbage. i play around with a vocal gauge. it’s not quite right. then, two days later, i write an opening scene that i don’t think is great but i send it to some people and they’re like, oh this is fire. 
the aesthetic pile looks like this:
lolita, where dolores is the one in control
delusions of grandeur born from a major traumatic event
obsessions with fairy tales and the escapism they provide
the consequences of extreme neglect
forced voicelessness as both a theme and a major structural constraint
a lot of wolf imagery
non-chronological timelines
i proceed to spend the next two days driving across the country brain-writing. by the time i reach nebraska, i hit the ground running, and write for basically 30-40 hours a week for 5 weeks. then, because pandemic, i decide to stay 2 more weeks, but i hit a snag. i write about 14k of really boring drivel and realize my outline has failed me. i toss the 14k and re-outline and try again. then, my attention is rattled by a crush on a composer who has no interest in me. 
i go home and fall into my annual summer depression and i lose focus. so, that’s where i’m at. i really miss vandal but it’s gotten super dark and i’m finding it difficult to manage darkness with everything going on. which brings me to my next aesthetic pile that has recently toppled over.
2. Eden
that’s not the title but it’s the project name. i’ve begun writing a YA sci fi comedy with an ensemble cast. this aesthetic pile took years to build before it toppled. it started with Elixir of Erised, hands down the best fic i’ve ever written by a huge margin. i reread it this past winter and was kind of amazed i’d written it. 
i really liked the idea of a potion showing you your deepest desires, but until recently have not had the patience to build an entire world around it. so, for the past 3.5 years, i’ve kept a document of “if i WERE to a YA SFF book with the themes of EOE, what would i want to include?” over those 3.5 years, here’s what the list became:
dark academia vibes
heist plot
soulmates
that list is not really conducive to an entire universe, and i never had the motivation to sit down and think through it. 
then i watched breaking bad, and a lot of things started clicking. at the same time, i was talking to my buddy kyle about my fallen knight archetype schematic, and i began fleshing out all the archetypes that went with it. i came up with 12. i built a database. i thought, wouldn’t it be cool to write something with ALL 12 ARCHETYPES?? haha but who would be dumb enough to do that?
me. i would. 
with breaking bad as the missing plot piece (which introduces the idea of conflict around the MANUFACTURE and DISTRIBUTION of addictive substances, with an ensemble cast of morally grey characters, which leads to a war), i had enough to get started. 
i wrote an outline. i wrote another outline. i wrote a third outline. i stopped to write some histories of this place i’d built. i wrote a fourth outline. gdocs became a mess so i downloaded scrivener and taught myself how to use it. i wrote a gauge of the first chapter and landed the voice on the first try. then i did a rough sketch of how a trilogy would go. then i outlined each book in the trilogy to make sure my character trajectories were on point. then i did a lot more worldbuilding. now i’m working on my fifth outline, which breaks the entire novel down scene by scene. 
and for Reasons, i’m tasking myself with writing the first draft in 6 days across two weekends. it’s a high-stakes adventure story with a very tight timeline, so i think it’s conducive to being written quickly.
which brings me to another question you asked, which is, what bad habits do i want to break? i always, always slow down at the halfway mark. sometimes i even give up. i have no idea why. no matter how much preparation i do, no matter how solid my endgame is, at the halfway mark i either slow to a crawl or set the whole project down and pick up something new. i do this with reading books, too. i can only ever read the first half of books. then i either skip to the end or put them down forever. it’s definitely something i have to figure out because at this rate i’ll never finish anything.
okay this took way longer than i thought it would to write but i hope it answers your question. tl;dr i follow aesthetic and thematic interests until they lead me to a point where i can’t not write the stories that develop from them. 
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Give Me a Try Chapter 14
Surprise, surprise, Next chapter already! I made you all wait so long, I figured I would just post as I go along.instead of waiting at set times. Please enjoy.
@linseykalynn @alyss–in–wonderland @primaba11erina @autumnslovex
Chapter 14 - Excuses
I realize I was being irrational, crazy even. I mean, who has a fit over ice cream? I don’t know why he affects me so much, or why I keep running into him. It’s some weird, sick joke. Like I need another distraction, I need to focus. Yeah yeah yeah, I keep saying that don’t I?
I didn’t even look to see what I grabbed before I rushed off and threw my childish tantrum. Now I’m stuck with raspberry ripple, and goddamnit, I hate raspberry. I need to get this article finished, so I can get him off my mind, for good. And I did just that. The article, not the latter. Unfortunately.
I spent a few days busy at work, as usual, I asserted myself for once, and had a meeting with Noreen and Justin. I wanted them to know I appreciated everything they’ve done for me, and I am happy to continue, but I need to know that there’s room for me to grow. I ranted, raved, and pleaded my case for more meaty work. I knew being an intern, there wasn’t much of a guarantee in anything. They talked to Melanie, and she agreed to a meeting with me. Again, I went over everything, I practiced everything I wanted to say so many times in the mirror, I knew it by heart. 
Melanie seemed impressed, she deemed my article regarding the play, and the interview, worthy of being published, and assigned me a probationary column, about art, lifestyle, small events. I could not have been more excited. It not only gave me a chance to show off my writing, but to be able to get out more and enjoy the culture and happenings around my neighborhood. 
My weekends were finally a bit more relaxing. I took a walk down the street, to a cafe I’ve passed many times, it looked cozy enough to relax and get some work done, and scribble down some ideas and plan out some events to hit up. 
I was enjoying some music filling up my ears, eating a bagel, scouring facebook and the local lifestyle paper for goings-on, jotting them down in my calendar, when my eyes met with his. Seriously? Is he stalking me? I thought maybe he came to find me about the article, but that isn’t out until next month, closer to the opening of the play. 
I guess I should be glad he hasn’t come talk to me. I wonder why. I mean, I don’t know what I mean. His smile was distracting me, even if it wasn’t directed at me, but some fluttery girl babbling on to him. I got nosy, and had to take a pass by. She was asking him out. I tried to seem oblivious, still with my earbuds in, but the music had stopped. I felt a painful twist in my stomach hearing her speak and seeing the smile plastered on his face. I’m chalking it up to the cream cheese on the bagel. Or the coffee. Coffee never agreed with me. 
I felt strange. I just wanted to bolt. I couldn’t be there. I made a detour back to my table and escaped as fast as I could. I didn’t want to stick around for the outcome. 
My Saturday afternoon seemed a wash. I went home, and just sat on my futon staring at the wall. I don’t know why I feel like this. Yes I do. I just don’t want to admit it. I fought it with every single molecule inside me. I made excuses to myself, I’m probably going crazy. I needed some social interaction. I took a nap instead.
 I felt slightly better when I woke up, I made myself a real meal, I took a shower, and without even thinking I was getting dressed for a night out. My neglected eyeshadow palettes were put to use. I almost didn’t recognize myself, I don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. I remembered a band with a cult following was playing tonight a few blocks away, besides enjoying some music, I could collect some article info. A few drinks wouldn’t hurt either. 
The band was decent, typical alt-rock, nothing to write home about. I never considered myself a music snob, but I tended to sway toward the more obscure and unique. I threw back a couple drinks, jotted down my thoughts, and felt a strange loneliness. I looked at my phone, but realized I didn’t really have any friends here, or anywhere really. My friend in the states was so busy, we barely spoke. I don’t know if I could consider my work colleagues friends? Maybe. But I don’t think I could text them just to gossip. 
I did chat with a few of the band’s fans, getting their thoughts and what they liked so much about them. They were sweet, and after a few minutes, I decided I'd hit my threshold for the night and carried myself back home. 
I was hoping I’d be tired enough to sleep, but no dice. I picked up my abandoned sketch book and hoped for inspiration. The last thing I had attempted were hands. His hands. Sigh. 
I spent the rest of the weekend watching old black and white movies, and eating too many snacks. 
Having a column was pretty awesome, I’m not gonna lie, even if I haven’t had anything published yet. I was given enough freedom and time to get things together, so the lesser time making phone calls and yelling at people, the better.  But that also freed up time to think more. Not so sure that was a good idea. 
I ventured to a bookstore to see about finding some inspiration for my sketching. That would at least curb the thinking/feeling nonsense going on. All the books I needed were, of course, on the highest top shelf. I wasn’t tall by any means, and there was no ladder in sight, nor anyone to ask for help. I took it upon myself to do a little climbing, only the bottom shelf, standing on the very tips of my toes, my arm stretched as far as it would go, my short fingers trying to just reach a corner to pull it down. 
I felt my legs start to shake, I was extending myself too much, I tried to clutch onto anything in my grasp. Before I could hit the floor, something, or someone, had caught me. 
“Oh god, thank....” I shouldn’t be surprised, really. He must be stalking me.
“You.” 
“Me.”
“Are you stalking me?” 
He chuckled, shaking his head, obviously amused. 
“Sweetheart, don’t flatter yourself.”
“Funny, I see you everywhere I go.”
“How do I know you’re not stalking me?”
My eyes rolled involuntarily. His smile was starting to get on my nerves.
“Sure, I have absolutely nothing better to do than follow a…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence, because I really had nothing to say. My annoyance had no reason, not really. His presence just gets to me, and he totally knows it. He’s so, so, so...UGH!
His eyebrows were raised, an expectant look on his face, waiting. “A what?”
I shook my head. My mouth was closed, my eyes just boring into his. 
His gaze didn’t break either. It seemed like an eternity. The book I was so desperately reaching for was in his hands, tightly gripped.
“Can I please have that book?” I tried to use my most calm voice, even though inside I wanted to yet again, throw another tantrum.
“Only if you tell me what I apparently am, I am dying to know, come on then, out with it” He was definitely still entertained, his sly, irksome, stupid smile still spread across his face.
“Ugh! You’re so infuriating!” I couldn’t do this anymore, these feelings were getting stronger, and I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to choke him or throw myself at him. Maybe a little of both. The kiss flashed in my mind, and my eyes moved to his lips. I felt hot. I needed air. I couldn’t look away. My mouth watered. If I didn’t force myself out of here, this situation...I have to go.
I turned on my heel, attempting to just leave. I was caught by his hand gripping my arm. It set me on fire. Just that small touch. Fuck. 
I turned, facing him again, unsure of what was about to happen. 
He handed me the book, nodded and walked away.
Why did I feel so disappointed?
Chapter 1 - The London Underground
Chapter 2 - Theater
Chapter 3 - The Agenda
Chapter 4 - The Shoot
Chapter 5 - Back to Business
Chapter 5 ½ - Sketchy
Chapter 6 - Tired
Chapter 7 - Drinks
Chapter 8 - Temptation
Chapter 9 - Close®
Chapter 10 - The Interview
Chapter 11 - Strange Birds
Chapter 12 - Exhaustion
Chapter 13 - Mint Chocolate Chip
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randomoranges · 3 years
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ok so i’ve had this idea for ages. it was og meant as a pre-amnesia/post-amnesia thing. you know the type. but, if you squint real hard it could just me some rando au where they meet when they’re in uni and grow old and happy together.
find yourself a weirdo if that’s your thing :) 
Sushi for Two
 Message from Étienne (Roommate)
Questions: 1. Do you like sushi? 2. Are you coming home tonight?
 Edward is locked up in some study cubicle, nose deep in a myriad of textbooks, trying to get a head start on his never-ending pile of homework and assignments, when the message comes in. He thinks of ignoring it, but to be honest, he’s been on the same problem for the past thirty minutes, he’s been at it for the past three hours and he really should take a break. Therefore, he puts his mechanical pencil down and picks up his phone to see the message.
 Message de Édouard Answers: 1. Yes? 2. Yes??
 Étienne beams from his roost on the kitchen counter upon getting the answer. He keeps swinging his legs as he taps out an answer for his roommate and then steals another sushi piece from the half-empty plastic container on the counter beside him.
 Message from Étienne (Roommate)
Excellent! I may or may not have ordered too much and figured I could share. However, if you want any, you better get home soon, or I might just finish it off by myself. (There really is a lot.) (Please save me from myself.) (Why the fuck is sushi so goddamn good?)
 Edward can’t help but chuckle. His roommate is – odd at times, but he always means well. Étienne’s good for a laugh and to be honest, he likes hanging out with him.
 His stomach growls at the idea of free food and he figures he might as well head home. He can get another hour or so done after supper. He ran out of snacks anyways.
 Edward packs his bags and then heads out, letting the cold winter air wake him up some from the stuffy study cubicle he had been in.
 --
 Edward makes it home in less than thirty minutes and lets his bag fall to the ground before removing his boots, jacket, scarf, tuque, and mittens. Of course, there’s already jazz music playing and he’s not even surprised. He’s come to associate the music with Étienne and more often than not, Edward has come home to hear it playing from some speaker, be it the one from the living room, or from Étienne’s computer in his room. It’s even gotten to the point where Edward can recognise some tunes and he’s even asked for the name of at least two songs that he actually really enjoyed. (Étienne had looked ecstatic. He’d even let him borrow the album.) (Edward hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he hadn’t liked the other tracks on it.)
 Étienne lowers the music once he sees him and waves him over to the prized container of sushi.
 “Were you expecting people over?” Edward says when he sees the multiple plastic boxes of sushi littering the counter. There are at least five and two are empty, while a third one has a decent dent in it.
 “I was really hungry and I just ordered all my favourites,” He sounds apologetic and half-guilty, like a child scolded trying to make their case for their actions. Edward laughs, amused by Étienne’s antics, and rolls his eyes. This must have cost a small fortune, but he supposes that’s not his problem.
 “That’s the worst way to order food.” He admonishes gently.
 “Do you want free sushi or not?”
 Edward mimes zipping his mouth shut and Étienne nods, pleased, and then hands over a container and motions for Edward to join him on the counter.
 Edward isn’t convinced by the idea and gives his roommate a questionable look, “You know we have perfectly good chairs and a very sturdy table. I’m sure it can hold your mountain of sushi.”
 “Shut up, Murphy; this is the only way to eat take-out sushi.” There’s a teasing grin to Étienne’s retort and Edward rolls his eyes and hops up onto the counter. Étienne seems tremendously pleased and Edward figures there’s at least that.
 “Lemme guess, you want me to eat with my hands like a heathen?”
 Étienne scoffs and nudges the chopsticks out of Edward’s reach. Edward sighs, rolls his eyes, and then picks out a sushi piece, before popping it into his mouth. He likes the variety of textures and flavours, even if he has no idea what’s in it. It’s good, is what matters, and it hits the spot.
 They eat this way for a while, tranquil, sitting on the kitchen counter, Étienne’s legs still swinging wildly, and Edward comes to agree with the fact that perhaps this is the best way to eat sushi after all.
 “You know,” Edward starts to say when they start picking at another box, “I always liked to eat the leftover sushi on the day after. When it’s a little bit hard. Is that weird?” He says it softly, as if confessing to some deep, shameful secret, but Étienne gasps and looks excited by the shared secret.
 “Me too! My sister said I was weird! I sometimes got extra just so I could have hard day old sushi!”
 A laugh bubbles out of Edward’s chest that takes hold of Étienne and they both laugh at this shared absurdity.
 “I once ordered sushi specifically to eat it the day after,” Edward ads.
 “That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I ever think of that?!”
 For as much as Étienne is a bit of an oddball, he’s also relatable to a fault at times and Edward has found a kindred spirit in him in the few months he’s been in the city.
 “There’s a place back home that’s really good. Like – really, really good. I go there every time I go back home. If ever, for some absurd reason, you’re in town, I’ll take you to it.” He knows he sounds a little hesitant and shy, but the idea of someone like Étienne coming out west to Alberta for any reason whatsoever always sounds odd to him. Étienne seems as though he’d fit best in some bohemian city and not someplace like Edmonton. Still, he can’t help but imagine, if only for a moment, what it would be like to have his friend over, but he rids his mind of such thoughts before they get the best of him.
 “Absolutely! You better! Plus you need to take me to your Butter Dish Palace and Talus Valley.”
 Edward near chokes laughing and has to hold himself from falling off the counter, “Oh my God – it’s – it’s the Butterdome and the Talus Dome. Then there’s the River Valley. They’re just silly landmarks though... well – ok the River Valley is legit, but –”
 Étienne cuts him off before he can go off, “Listen, you’ve shown me photos, you’ve mentioned them forty thousand times, I’ve brought you to the silly landmarks of this city – it’s only fair! I want to see these places with my own eyes! And then you can take me to sushi. It’s the way it’s gotta go, Murphy. I keep bringing you to bagels and other food.”
 Edward wants to argue the point, but Étienne is right. In any event, he highly doubts Étienne will actually ever come out to visit him. Still – Étienne is an unpredictable fellow, he might just surprise him.
 “All right, all right – hand over the other container now.”
 --
 Message de Eddy
Questions
1. Do you want sushi?
2. Do you plan on coming home at some point?
 Étienne looks away from his easel when he hears his phone chime. He puts down his paintbrush and stretches, before walking over to the worktable where he’s abandoned his phone. It’s been one of those days where he’s locked himself up in the studio and lost all sense of time. He’s been working on a new painting of his – something for his latest series and figured he’d use the day to get a head start. He’s been at it for hours now and his stomach growls in hunger at the idea of sushi. He knows he could use a break. It feels as though his head has been swimming in turpentine, so maybe a change of air is good.
 Message from Teddy <3
1. Always.
2. Only if you’re there as well <3
 Edward grins to himself when he gets the message from his spot on the kitchen counter. He taps out an answer on his phone and tries to rein himself in from stealing yet another piece of sushi from the already open plastic container. He could eat the rest and pretend there weren’t as many containers, but he knows better.
 Message de Eddy
Perfect. I may or may not have a large amount of sushi and I figured I could be nice and share, instead of stuffing my face in it, since you’ve been ignoring me for the past several days. Therefore, if you want any, you better get your butt here. Or I will finish these off by myself. You know I can. (Please, don’t let me do that again. It’s not worth it.)
 Étienne laughs; his partner is a gift, honestly. Edward is always good for a laugh and always knows when and how to pull him out from his intense work periods when he somehow or other manages to neglect all basic needs such as food and sleep. It’s as if he has a sixth sense for these things.
 Étienne rinses off his paintbrush and tidies up a bit. He figures he might as well take a break and call it a day. He can drive Edward crazy and work on some more coloured sketches instead, just to get a rise out of him.
 He shuts the lights and then heads out, letting the change of light and air wake him up some from the smell of paint and turpentine he had been in. (Ventilation only went so far at times, even if it hadn’t been that bad and the patio doors had been open.)
 --
 Étienne makes it home in less than three minutes and lets himself fall to the bench by the door before removing his shoes and slipping on his slippers. Of course, there’s already jazz music playing and he’s not even surprised. Edward is a giant softy and likes to set up these things for him. He’s come to associate a nice night in with the playlist of jazz music Edward has collected over the years and more often than not, Étienne has been surprised by the rather large collection Edward has garnered with time. It’s even gotten to the point where sometimes, Edward will surprise him with news about a jazz band that he used to follow once upon a time, as if Edward has kept up with them over these long years. (There have been times when Edward has informed him about bands that he no longer cares about.) (Étienne hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he didn’t follow them anymore. Edward had looked ecstatic. Étienne didn’t want to ruin that.)
 Edward hops off the kitchen counter and comes to greet him instead, before helping him over back to the counter.
 “I didn’t know we were having people over,” Étienne says as he accepts a hand from Edward to get onto the counter. There are at least six containers of sushi and one has at least a piece missing from it.
 “I just ordered our favourites and I figured you’d appreciate lunch tomorrow.” He doesn’t sound apologetic and neither does he sound guilty. Instead, he’s defiant, daring Étienne to call him out on his brilliant plan. Étienne rolls his eyes, amused, and fond by Edward’s antics. This must have cost a small fortune, but he supposes that’s not his problem.
 He shakes his head for good measure and Edward gently shoves at his shoulder.
 “Do you want free sushi or not?”
 Étienne answers by reaching over for one of the containers and offers first pick to Edward as a peace offering. Edward nods, pleased, and takes a piece he’d been eyeing since the container had arrived. He then motions for Étienne to join him.
 There are no chopsticks and there is no need for much conversation. There’s a perfectly good set of chairs and a very sturdy table they could use, but the kitchen counter makes it all the better, especially when they’re sitting at it. They’re tranquil, pleased in each other’s company and the whole setting helps enhance the flavours of the now very familiar sushi. It’s good, still, and it hits the spot.
 Étienne still swings his legs out of habit and Edward stills it with his foot for a moment, before leaning in close. Étienne stops and lets him have the moment for the time being. Even after all these years, this is still the best way to eat sushi, in his humble opinion.
 “You know,” Étienne starts to say when they start picking at another box, “Forget lunch; I’d rather have these for breakfast with you tomorrow morning.”
 Edward looks at him for a moment and then grins, soft and pleased, “There’s just something about leftover sushi on the day after.” He adds. Étienne nods and steals the next piece, before Edward can get to it.
 “Weirdo,” Étienne says, mouth full, grin wide.
 “Your weirdo.” Edward corrects.
 Étienne smiles at him, soft and sweet, and oh so very pleased. “My weirdo,” He agrees.
 “We make a good pair of weirdoes.” Edward says after a lapsed moment of silence, once they’ve slowed down on the intake of sushi.
 Étienne leans his head on his shoulder as an answer and they fall quiet once again in the knowledge of the statement. They remain seated on their kitchen counter, sushi boxes littering the place for a while longer, before they’ll get stacked away in the refrigerator, and then eaten the following morning at that strange but delicious consistency they both like. They’ll sit beside the Butterdome butter dish Edward had brought back from Edmonton that one winter and will remain hidden behind the refrigerator door filled with magnets of all the strange but wonderful landmarks of both Montréal, Edmonton and all the other wonderful and sometimes strange cities they’d visited over the years.
 It doesn’t matter what Étienne’s sister thinks, but when they’ll next head over to Edmonton for a visit, Edward knows Étienne will find another magnet to add of his favourite “Talus Valley.” They’ll stop by Kyoto, the place Edward had mentioned ages ago, like they always do when they visit together, and they’ll order too much sushi, like they always do. They’ll say they need to try other places – Étienne will go so far as to find all the worst rated places they could go to, but in the end they’ll stick to their tried and tested. There’s just something comforting in the knowledge of familiarity that they’ve both come to love with time.
 FIN
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hailey-with-an-i · 4 years
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i made a lams one shot a while ago and i figured i’d share it here :)) in which laurens is a caricature artist and he meets alex by chance !
John Laurens hated his fucking job. There was no way to sugarcoat it. He simply couldn’t stand it: the early mornings, the late nights, the large crowds of people… it really wasn’t his scene. Besides, regardless of how big the crowds were, he still only managed to earn close to minimum wage, despite standing in the bitter cold for several hours on end.
This wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. He was supposed to get out of college, make a living selling his art, then get married and have two kids. Technically, he had graduated already, but selling caricatures on the side of a New York City boardwalk was certainly not what he meant by “making a living.” After all, he was still sharing a small apartment- which, keep in mind, was certainly not meant for three people- with his best friend, Lafayette, as well as Lafayette’s boyfriend. He was also still single, but admittedly, that wasn’t the worst of his problems. He was only twenty-three; he knew he still had time.
He didn’t even quite understand how he got into the situation in the first place. Sure, he remembered coming out to his father and getting kicked out of the house, and he remembered begging Lafayette to let him stay with him. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember how he came to work at this stupid pier. If he’d known what he was getting himself into, he would’ve never even considered applying for a job there, or coming out to his father. At least then he’d still have access to his trust fund.
Maybe that was why he despised working there so much: maybe it was because he got to see all the happy tourists and families come by and make memories that he knew he’d never have the opportunity to make. Or maybe it was because he knew that, even with his many years of experience in the field of art, drawing caricatures was probably going to be the height of his artistic career. Nevertheless, he knew that he still had to get paid, so...
“I’d better be getting paid extra for this,” John whined, leaning his weight against the cotton candy booth next to his. It was run by a constantly hyper Peggy Schuyler, and her older sister Eliza. They had a third sister, too, but she was off in law school while her sisters were still in college. John never quite understood why they worked there, as they were stupidly wealthy, but he also didn’t want to question it; he enjoyed their company anyway.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, which provided no real source of warmth, and let out a shaky breath. “It’s fucking freezing,” he continued.
“Come on, Jackie,” Eliza retorted, “you know George isn’t gonna be happy if he sees you away from your post.”
“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck George. Why do I have to sit there looking stupid when there’s no one even stopping by?”
Peggy joined the two and giggled, beginning to tangle her fingers into John’s wild curls, which were pulled back into an attempt at a ponytail. “He’s got a point, ‘liza,” the younger girl added.
“Don’t encourage him,” Eliza said, shooting her a look, then directing her attention back to John. “You’ve gotta stop cursing, too. You never know when there’s gonna be kids nearby.”
He sighed. “I know. It’s just frustrating.” He turned on his phone to check the time, then groaned when he realized he still had an hour before he could go home. He trudged over to his own booth and sat down in the wooden stool.
In all honesty, even though he wanted to go home pretty badly, he didn’t mind this part of the day. It was the time of day where things slowed down exponentially. And while that wasn’t good for his wallet necessarily, and it was uneventful at times, it also meant that he could rest his cramping hand until he could go home.
John pulled his phone back out of his pocket and looked on social media, absentmindedly liking the photos in his feed. Each picture was almost identical to the last, so he found himself liking them to occupy his time, not because they were actually interesting.
He smiled when he realized that he’d successfully killed time for thirty minutes. That meant that there were around thirty minutes until he could go home and go to sleep.
“Hey, are you still open?”
John’s head snapped up at the sudden voice, and he was visibly startled. He was getting ready to say, “no, actually,” but he quickly bit his tongue as the man looked at him curiously, a timid smile on his face that made John’s heart skip a beat.
“Yeah, yeah, come have a seat,” John said, gesturing to the stool in front of him. He complied, setting his things down on the ground beside him. John quickly reviewed the script for what he said to customers mentally. He thought it was weird at first that there was a script, but he learned that it actually helped him, especially when he didn’t know what to say… which was a lot.
“Would you like it to be colored or just black and white?” he asked, and watched as the man’s expression turned pensive.
“I’ll just have black and white, please,” he responded. This was fine by John, after all, he wanted to be done as soon as possible.
John reached into his pencil case and grabbed a pencil and a black marker. “So, what’s your name?” John questioned, studying the other man’s face for a second before going to sketch it.
“My name’s Alexander,” he said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, “-Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.”
“Oh, nice! My name’s John Laurens.” An painfully awkward silence loomed over them.“Are you from New York, or are you visiting?” he asked.
Alexander shifted uncomfortably in the stool. “I guess you could say I’m visiting,” he explained. “Is it obvious?”
John shook his head frantically. “No, no, I just wasn’t sure.” That was sort of a lie. He could tell he wasn’t from New York because of the amount of layers he was wearing (sure, John was cold, but Alexander had to be wearing at least four jackets), and because of the slightest hint of an accent in his voice.
“Well, I just came here from the Caribbean, so I’m just trying to find somewhere to live.” John nodded, and decided that he had talked enough for the time being, and that he should focus on finishing the caricature.
As he continued to examine his face, he could help but notice that the man was actually fairly attractive.
His smile was bright and welcoming, that somehow made John feel warm inside despite the freezing temperature. He also took note of the fact that he had wide dark brown eyes, flecked with hazel and gold.
“You have pretty eyes,” John said under his breath. He hadn’t even realized that he’d said it until he heard Hamilton laugh lightheartedly at the comment, and John could feel his face darken with embarrassment. That was definitely not in the script. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“No, it’s okay. Thank you. I think you have pretty eyes, too.”
“Oh, uh… thanks…” John wanted to end himself right then and there. He really needed to learn how to filter himself.
“So, how long have you been drawing?” Alexander inquired, and John was thankful that he changed the subject.
“For as long as I can remember,” he told him. “I’ve always loved it. I just love the concept of it, you know? Being able to put something in your brain onto paper.”
“I never really thought of it like that,” Alex shrugged. John grinned crookedly at the man, putting away his pencil and uncapping the black marker to outline the sketch.
“What about you? What do you like to do?”
“Nothing interesting,” Alex said, almost mechanically. “I like writing, and debating, and reading, of course.”
“Why wouldn’t that be interesting?”
Alex stared at the ground awkwardly, running a hand through his thick locks of hair. “I don’t know. Being able to write well isn’t the same as being able to draw well.”
“I’d argue differently,” John replied. “Sure, they’re different categories of hobbies, but I can’t write for shit. I’d give anything to be a good writer.”
“I’m sure you’re just being modest.” John raised an eyebrow at him.
“I barely passed English in high school because I was so bad at writing. That, and I was so focused on art class that I kinda neglected my other classes, but that’s a different story.”
“You should give yourself more credit,” Alexander said. He checked the time on his watch. “I thought these things were supposed to take, like, five minutes? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re dragging this out on purpose.”
Once again, John felt his face burning bright red as he’d realized that he was right. He hadn’t even noticed that he put slightly more detail than he usually did, or that he’d even started to color the picture with crayons he hadn’t even realized he’d taken from his bag.
“Aw, shit,” John whispered, clutching his hair in his hand.
Alex raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, calm down. I was just joking,” he said with amusement. “You know, you’re cute, John Laurens.”
He was almost angry at the beautiful stranger. How dare he make him flustered and tongue-tied with a simple remark? In less than fifteen minutes?
“Thanks,” he choked out, unable to think of anything else to say. “I, uh… I’m pretty much done.”
After a few finishing touches, John was finally satisfied with the way the caricature looked. He put away his art supplies and turned the canvas around to show Alex his caricature.
His heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he was met with Alexander’s awestruck expression. “This is so cool!” he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.
John felt a strange sense of pride, but also relief at the Caribbean man’s reaction. He typically never had to worry about people liking his drawings, but this time felt different. This time, he felt like he had to prove himself to this man that he’d never met before.
“You even made my nose look good! Incredible!” John raised his eyebrows at him.
“What’s wrong with your nose?”
“It’s just so… there. I don’t know.”
“And you said you’re a writer?” John teased, earning a glare from Alex.
“What I mean is that it’s so… protuberant. I hate it.”
“I actually happen to like your nose, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Alex fished into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, placing it into John’s hand.
John stood up from the stool, only to be stopped by Alexander. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, I’m just getting your change. Don’t worry, I’m not charging you for the coloring… that was my bad.” Alex shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
“No, no, that’s not necessary.”
“But… it’s only ten dollars. Didn’t you see the sign?”
“I saw it. But I want you to keep the change.”
John hesitated, before finally saying, “Are you sure?” Alex gave him another unamused look. “I’m just saying, if you need extra money for a hotel or something, you’re gonna regret giving me extra.”
“I want you to have it, okay?” Alexander clearly wasn’t going to budge, so John gave in and slipped the money into his pocket.
“If you say so…”
Alex stood up and brushed off his clothes, then picked up his things off the ground. “It was really nice meeting you, John.”
“You, too, Alexander.” John felt himself smile at the way his name rolled off his tongue, sweet and smooth like caramel.
He waved goodbye to him with a disappointed frown. His stomach dropped as he watched him walk away, then completely disappear into the crowd of bustling New Yorkers, eager to get home after a long day just like John was.
He wanted to smack himself.
He should’ve asked him on a date, or asked him for his number at least- because there was no way in hell that he would be able to find Alex again.
He didn’t have time to wallow in his own self pity, because he then saw the two sisters walking by his booth.
“Hey John! Get any more customers?” Peggy asked.
John nodded slowly, pulling the wrinkled twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and showing it to them.
“Twenty, huh? I guess today’s your lucky day.”
“I guess,” John mumbled, going to put the money back in his pocket. As he was doing so, he saw a small piece of paper fly out from in between the folds of the dollar, landing on the cement. He furrowed his eyebrows, bewildered, and bent over to pick up the piece of paper.
It was a sticky note, John had suddenly realized. He unfolded it reluctantly, unsure of why his heartbeat accelerated so much, only to see a set of digits- that he could tell were hastily scribbled down- next to a name.
“Alexander,” he whispered inaudibly, a wide smile growing on his face as he stared at the messily written numbers on the sticky note.
It was then that John concluded that maybe his job wasn’t as bad as he thought.
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resbang-bookclub · 5 years
Text
AMA Transcript: Unrequited
Next up, @infantbluee, @kallie-flower, @nori-wings and @thiefofblood (Souly on Discord) came to answer questions and spread the love for their Resbang, Unrequited! Here’s some of what went down:
Q: How did you guys come up with this idea? I remember you threw a ton of ideas around and settled on this one. Can you take us through the process? >:)
kallieflower: Oh god. We went through SO many different ideas. We wrote like what? 40k for our first idea before we scrapped that?
b l u e: Then like 30k for the next one that we also scrapped.
kallieflower: WE KEPT TRYING TO WRITE SHORT THINGS BUT IT DIDN’T WORK. Soma just does not work as shortfic.
b l u e: Even our final bang ended up being a 40k two-shot lmao.
Q: So what was it about this final idea that made u guys decide, YES, this is it???
kallieflower: The first idea was a Madoka Magica AU that exploded into a mess because magical girl worlds take a loooooottttt of work. The second fic also exploded into something big.
b l u e: We were going to stick with it though. We were. We had it all ready for check-in and everything. But then like two days before, kallie went, "okay so I love our fic idea and all but what about this." Me, on three hours of sleep: "I effing hate you." Then we stumbled through our first 3k and sent it to the mods like the gremlins we are.
kallieflower: We didn’t expect it to get so big either but c’est la vie. Chloe almost killed me like 48293783 times during the process but I think we managed alright.
b l u e: You're lucky I love you so much.
Q: Did you guys start writing straight from the beginning of the fic or did you write a specific scene first?
kallieflower: Actually we didn’t start from the beginning haha! Or well, our idea didn’t start from a plot. We just wanted to write Maka cursed. We wanted to write her with no inhibitions in love, like she might’ve been had she not been so hurt by her parents’ separation. And since there are witches in the SE universe, we had fun with that instead of making it an AU.
Q: Do you write linearly at all or did you jump around a lot?
b l u e: Surprisingly yes. Aside from my dream sequences.
kallieflower: Your dream sequences were our pit stops. We just had to actually do the writing to get there.
b l u e: Hahaha our writing process was.... Unique.
kallieflower: That’s one way to put it lmao.
nori-wings: It was a mess, but we love it.
b l u e: WE are a mess so it's just us in fic form.
kallieflower: God yeah. For one thing, this fic was like 90% chloe with me just making her do crazy things I wanted to happen.
nori-wings: And 5% of what the artists wanted to happen.
b l u e: YEAH hahaha that was kallie too tbh. She was like, "me as a witch would not understand anything about my magic at all and would curse people for kicks, so let's do that."
kallieflower: We would have a general plot of how we wanted to go and what points we wanted to hit. Chloe would start to write it, but then I would be like “WAIT WHAT ABOUT THIS.” And then she would pretend she thought I was a total nuisance but we all know she’s too soft and sweet to ever say no to anything. Also our artists were such a LOVELY help too.
b l u e: We wanted as much of their input as possible and we wanted to make this as much of a collab as we could. The train scene at the beginning of the third chapter was all nori because she was mad at us for only torturing Soul and wanted Maka to cry too.
Q: Nori/Souly did you have a favorite piece of art to make?
the monkey chain (soul): The skating scene was my fave. I also accidentally changed the part in the fic with the skating since I didn't ask what kind of skates they were supposed to be kfljgdf.
b l u e: LMAO it's our fault though!!!! We were Too Slow.
nori-wings: Black*Star dragging Soul and Maka is my favorite, it was super fun to draw.
b l u e: When you sent the first wip of that, I think I cried for days. It was better than my dreams. You were both so fast GOD, it takes me seventeen years just to sketch a pic.
kallieflower: For real tho. We don’t deserve artists.
nori-wings: They are exaggerating, it was a quick sketch that I made on a post it lol. It took me a week to draw it in digital.
the monkey chain (soul): I had free time since we moved and were without internet for a night so I had a ton of time to finish my pic.
Q: Did you have trouble meeting the deadline?
kallieflower: Trouble is putting it lightly lmao. We died. Many times.
b l u e: I don't trust fast writers. Clearly they are superhuman. It wouldn't have been hard if we didn't spend so much time drowning in memes and shitposts that we neglected to write.
kallieflower: I blame the internet.
Q: Were there any scenes that you guys really struggled with writing?
b l u e: The beginning, definitely. Everything else flowed out pretty quickly, but the beginning made us want to cry into our pillows and smash our keyboards.
kallieflower: I think there was a period of time where Chloe was like, “I will physically pay you money to write this scene so I don’t have to.” But yeah, the beginning scenes were definitely hardest to write. I think we rewrote them like a million times.
Q: Nori and Souly, was there a part of your art that was trickier to do?
nori-wings: I think painting Soul and Maka's kiss, because I wanted to use as few colors as possible and I played a lot with shading, or at least I tried haha.
the monkey chain (soul): Uhhhh not really for me? My pieces were relatively simple and probably the most issue I had was drawing Maka's skates and figuring out what Soul would be wearing.
b l u e: I cried when we got paired with souly.
kallieflower: Chloe literally fangirled to hell over getting souly as our second artist. And we were very lucky to get nori as our artist too because we already became really close friends through the zine and talked all the time. Our resbang just gave us an excuse to move all our blabber to a personal server lmao.
nori-wings: Yeah, they asked me to be something like a beta but I ended up being their artist.
kallieflower: We joked about it beforehand too and were SO happy it happened. We were so blessed with support and love this year. We never would’ve finished without the help of our artists and betas.
nori-wings: They are making it sound nice, but we wouldn't let them drop out.
kallieflower: LMFAOOOOOO. Nori likes to be sassy but she’s one of the softest of us all
b l u e: We legitimately would've dropped out if not for our artists.
kallieflower: “Do it for our artists” was our mantra through the whole process when we wanted to quit. Peer pressure makes diamonds, maybe.
b l u e: I mean, it didn't feel like that when we were bullshitting our way through our next 5k before each deadline, but it be like that sometimes.
Q: What was your favourite scene to write?
b l u e: My favorite to write was definitely the nightmare demon scene.
kallieflower: Because she’s a sadist and likes angst. Chloe likes to make people feel pain so her favorite scenes were definitely the angsty ones.
b l u e: FDSJFKDSF
Q: For errbody: what do you feel like you improved/grew in this resbang, writing and arting-wise??
kallieflower: For me, I definitely grew in writing skills even though I didn’t end up writing much of this bang (chloe, bless your soul for carrying me this year lmao) because chloe is SO GOOD at writing that it made me want to be better, learn better, do better.
b l u e: Kallie made me work harder than I ever have my entire life and it paid off SO MUCH. I very much only ever write ventfics.
the monkey chain (soul): I feel like I Peaked with Maka's outfit in the skating picture, like I don't pride myself in outfit design much these days but Maka's outfit came out so good. I didn't expect it.
Q: Were there any parts of Unrequited that really pushed you out of your comfort zone?
b l u e: Writing with someone else was such an experience.
kallieflower: We definitely had to compromise a lot in terms of writing. Like I wanted Soul to walk in on Kid touching Maka’s scar and Chloe immediately said “fine, but only if we make Kid a gardener” and if that isn’t a super fair trade off, idk what is. Chloe and I work so well together so that was easy. And we like a lot of the same things.
b l u e: There was a little adjustment [with adapting to different writing styles] but not much, because despite what kallie says, she's actually so freaking smart and talented it actually makes my eyes water.
Q: If you had the time to do something differently, what would you do and why?
b l u e: Everything. Jk no but really. There's just a lot I wish we could've elaborated on. And more suffering to be had of course. I just wish we had more time to elaborate on Spirit and Maka's mom.
kallieflower: Oh god yeah. Maka did not get enough of a backstory in the manga or anime and that makes me sad always.
Q: What made you both decide on the outcome of the curse? Did the witch know how it was going to affect Kid?
b l u e: We actually knew the outcome from the very beginning when we decided what kind of curse it was.
Q: Okay SO one last question for the crew. What is next!!!! >:)
nori-wings: Next collab is me writing and Chloe as my artist. (She just doesn't know it.)
b l u e: FDHDJFKSDDSF
kallieflower: OMG PLS HAHAHA. I’d be all over that collab. Chloe is working on a soma longfic she won’t let me beta because she’s Secretive. And I am trying to work up the energy to use my keyboard again after the hell that was finishing Resbang.
Thanks to the crew for stopping by! Stay tuned for more transcripts!
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lovesdarkness · 5 years
Text
Playlist CH-01
Paring: Thor x OC
Summary: After losing someone close to him, Thor goes to the Avengers to try and escape his grief. While there he makes a new friend who makes it her mission to help him heal.
Warnings: Slight angst…eventual NSFW.
Word count: 3302
Feedback and comments are appreciated. If you wish to be tagged when new chapters are posted please let me know.
Chapter 1 - The Story
All of these lines across my face 
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
*
Having returned to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base from a mission with Natasha, Phoenix walked off the Quinjet with her gear slung over her shoulder. She signed off on some essential paperwork before heading out of the hanger, nodding to a few agents she knew as she walked past. Feeling a buzz from her phone she stopped to read the message she had been sent. A smirk spreading over her lips she gave her head a shake as she pocketed her phone and kept on walking.
Her stomach let out a grumble as she made her way to the cafeteria to grab a few things to eat, she was always hungry after missions, and made sure to grab a few things for Mia as well before making her way down to the tech labs. She had a feeling that her friend had been holed up in the lab for days working on something and most likely had neglected to eat much, which was common for her.
Walking into the labs Phoenix saw Mia huddled over a keyboard furiously typing code for some new S.H.I.E.L.D. weapon onto it, completely oblivious to the world around her. “Oi, Labrat.” she called, a thick Irish accent slipping from her lips as she threw a package of Goldfish crackers at the back of Mia’s head before walking over, dumping her stuff on the floor, and sitting next to her. “When was the last time you left this bloody room?” She asked, opening a bag of chocolate covered pretzels and popping some into her mouth.
She laughed a little as Mia cast a glare at her, pushing her glasses back up her nose as she straightened up in her seat and stretched her arms over her head. “Honestly I have no clue. I have to get the schematics for this weapon done so I can get to making it.” she said reaching for the package of Goldfish and opening it up. “And I need to have some real food...not this shit.” she sighed as she dumped a handful out into her hand and shoved them into her mouth. “So...how was the mission? You were gone for a while, the facility must have been well hidden and well guarded. Not that that would ever stop you.”
“Yeah it was guarded well, but Nat and I still kicked ass and took names. The bad guys ran, we chased after them. We shot at each other and then we beat the crap out of them.” Phoenix said as she popped a few more pretzels into her mouth.  “The one guy I fought was pretty cute. Too bad I had to put a bullet in his head, otherwise he might have made a nice fuckboy.” she shrugged a little as she ate more of the salty snack. “Norway was gorgeous though. I'd like to go back in my free time and have a better look around.” She shrugged her jacket off and tossing it on top of the rest of her things. Leaning over she looked at the computer screen her friend had been working on moments before reading over the program.
“Yes well you can count me out of that trip any time soon.” Mia said, shoving Phoenix out of the way so she could get back to work. “I need to get the final work ups for this thing done yesterday...or else Fury is going to have my head. Now get out of my lab so I can get to work please.”
“Ah, I guess you haven’t checked your phone then. Fury sent us a message, he wants to see us in his office. Apparently we’re being reassigned.” Phoenix said as she pulled out her phone and showed the message to Mia who in turn furiously searched her desk for her own phone, finding it under a stack of concept sketches she had drawn up.
“Huh? What the shit!” she hissed, throwing her phone down and reaching up to rub her face. “He can’t do this to me now...I need to get started on this damn prototype…I don’t have time for this shit...” she grumbled as she shoved the papers around trying to get them organized.
“Well you’ll have to make time, cause he wants to see us right away.” Phoenix said as she moved to grab her bags from the floor and slung them over her shoulder. “I mean I’d love to go take a shower right now to wash all the mission sweat off me but I’ve barely got time to dump my stuff back off at our room.” she muttered as the two of them headed out of the doors. They headed back to their quarters quickly so Phoenix could dump her bags before making their way to Fury’s office. As they walked down the brightly lit hall their footsteps tapped against the polished floor and echoed down the corridor as a few other agents rushed past them with important tasks of their own. They took an elevator up to the top floor of the base, where Fury’s office was located. When they reached the tall, ornately detailed mahogany doors Mia opened them and the two entered the massive office of the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fury looked up from the papers on his desk when the two of them walked in and trained his eye on them. “Ah Agent Masterson, Agent O’Connor. You got my message, thank you for coming.” he said as he got to his feet and motioned for them to sit. “Now I…” he started, but was quickly interrupted when Mia started ranting.
“Look Nicholas let me just cut to the chase here.” she said, green eyes blazing as she stood cross armed in front of Fury’s desk. “I really don’t have any time for your silly games here. I have some very important work I’m doing here and time is of the essence. I don’t have the time to pack everything up and jet set willy nilly to whatever place you plan on relocating me to. I have a weapon to develop, a job that you so graciously bestowed upon me and unless this place you’re sending me to provides me with a better lab to speed along my process…”
“That’s precisely why you’re being relocated.” came a voice from behind them and when Phoenix and Mia turned to see who it belonged to Phoenix had to snort back a laugh as her friend started sputtering uncontrollably. “Avengers tower has the best state of the art lab on the planet, we have all the best and newest equipment so it would be the perfect place to work on your little project.”
When Phoenix looked over at Mia she saw that her face had flushed red and she was holding her breath, something that often happened when she grew excited. Rolling her eyes Phoenix gently elbowed her and she sucked in a breath. “Tony Stark...I mean...Mr. Stark...it’s an honour...a pleasure. I can’t even…” Mia stammered excitedly as he walked over and shook her hand.
Rolling her eyes at the scene Phoenix let out an annoyed little huff. “Mia be cool...you’re embarrassing me.” she hissed softly before turning back to Tony and smiling. “Hey Tony, nice to see you again.” she said, tossing her long raven hair over her shoulder.
Tony gave a charming grin as he reached out to take her hand. “The lovely Phoenix, always a pleasure.” he said with a wink as he kissed the top of it. “Now, I’m sure you’re both utterly confused as to why we called you here.” he said, turning quickly on his heel and heading over to Fury’s desk and sitting on the edge, hands clasped in his lap. “Mia I’ve been following your work and quite frankly some of your latest designs are brilliant, and I think the Avengers would greatly benefit from your talents.”
Phoenix glanced back to Mia to see the stunned expression on her friends face, green eyes wide and mouth ajar in shock, clearly speechless that she was being offered the opportunity to work with the tech genius. She couldn’t help but bite her lip to stifle a giggle at the the woman’s starstruck reaction to the offer. Phoenix had interacted with the Avengers a few times so this was nothing new to her, but Mia still had never met them and had idolized Tony for years. Once again she elbowed her friend to remind her to breathe and Mia sucked in a breath and laughed nervously.
“Oh thank you…” she breathed, her face flushing dark.
Tony chuckled softly and shook his head as Fury turned to Phoenix. “As for you, Agent O’Connor...the Avengers have a series of missions coming up that we feel could use some of your expertise.” he said as he walked over to stand in front of her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Natasha was singing your praises during your last mission together, so it’s come to the conclusion that you’d be a great asset to the team. You’ll be assigned to Avengers tower for the time being.”
“You mean until Steve Rogers decides he can’t stand me even more than normal and sends me back?” Phoenix asked with a derisive snort, earning a stern look from Fury. Not taking the hint she continued, looking over at Tony. “Is this really about a mission or does Tony just want some fresh faces and better company around the tower?” she asked with a playful grin, making Tony laugh. Fury gave her another stern look and she rolled her eyes. “I’m just kidding. Sounds like we’ll have lots of work to do. Which means we should get back to our quarters and get packing.”
With a nod Fury dismissed them and the two women went back to their room. Wanting to wash the mission grime from her body Phoenix showered quickly and dressed before pulling out her luggage and starting to pack. Mia had already finished by the time Phoenix stepped out of the shower and was sitting on her bed reading a book, so Phoenix had to work quickly. As she was working on folding up some shirts her phone buzzed and she made a face after checking it.
“Ugh, thank God we’re getting out of here for a while. That Billy guy I fooled around with last week is wanting to get together again and he just isn’t getting the hint that I don’t want it anymore.” she said, tossing her phone down on the bed with disgust.
Having just turned the page in her book Mia looked over at Phoenix, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? Same guy?” she asked, wondering how the woman was able to keep track of all her partners, while simultaneously having a tiny grain of jealousy. Phoenix was tall and strong and beautiful and attracted men left right and center, where Mia for the most part was fairly invisible when it came to attracting the male gaze, but then again Phoenix was an outspoken flirt who lived to party, while Mia was a raging workaholic and rarely ever left her lab except for when Phoenix dragged her out. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“This guy is so...clingy and needy. I don’t do needy.” Phoenix said with a shudder, making a face as the phone buzzed again and she silenced it before shoving it into her pocket. She sighed, going back to folding her shirts and stuffing them into her suitcase.  “Maybe if I ignore him he’ll go away. If I’m all the way in New York he can’t bug me...right?” she asked as she looked back over at her friend.
Mia let out a laugh and shook her head. “Something tells me that’s not how cell phones work sweetie.” she said as she marked her place in her book and stuffed it into a bag. Getting up she walked over to help Phoenix fold her clothes and pack them away. “I really can’t blame you though. ‘Needy’ is rarely a good trait for a guy, especially by the sound of him.”
“Can’t I just find a guy who likes to screw around a little? No strings, no feelings, no attachments. Just...lots of sex. You’d think there’d be more of them around.” Phoenix said with a sigh as she finished packing and reached up to rub her face. “After a while they all end up being needy. And honestly none of them really does it for me anyway. Probably because I can beat the shite out of them so easily.” She continued as she walked over to her closet to pull out a black leather jacket and slipped it on. There was a sudden knock at the door and when she went to open it Tony was standing on the other side, flashing them one of his charming Stark grins.
“Ladies.” he said as he pulled his sunglasses off and winked at them.
Phoenix smiled and shook her head, turning to face Mia. “This one is one of the neediest.” she joked, jerking her thumb at him before bending down to grab her things.
With Tony helping Phoenix with a couple bags the three of them headed towards the hangar and boarded Tony’s jet taking off shortly after. The flight didn’t take very long and a couple hours later they landed at the tower and once they had gathered their things and left the plane, Tony gave them the grand tour. He pointed out the living area and the kitchen should they get hungry, then proceeded to show Mia, who was struck speechless, around the the labs where she would be working. Lastly he showed them where the workout and training rooms were. They said their hellos to the other inhabitants of the tower before Tony finally showed them to their rooms.
“Alright, take the rest of the evening off to get settled in and what not. Cap says to be up early for a meeting in the morning.” Tony said, laughing at the groan Phoenix let out before leaving them be.
*
Phoenix was not a morning person at all. She never had been. So when her alarm went off at what felt like the crack of dawn to attend the meeting that Steve had called she was not exactly thrilled. Taking a cold shower did nothing to help wake her so she headed to the kitchen to get the one thing that might help. Coffee.
She was sipping on her sixth cup as she sat at the table with the rest of the Avengers and Mia going over a plan. The room the meeting was held in was bright and spacious, the walls were floor to ceiling windows so the whole room was lit up with sunshine flowing through. She noted the bar over in the corner, realizing Tony also used this as a party room for entertaining, and that there was a door that led outside to some sort of platform.
“We’ve been looking at the data Nat found during that raid of the Hydra lab up in Norway.” Steve said as they looked through photos and reports of the mission Natasha and Phoenix had been on. “We think there is one Hydra cell that is working on a top secret experiment involving genetic modification in humans, and another cell developing high powered weapons in order to attempt a hostile takeover. The problem is that we don't know where else they've set up shop. We need to figure this out fast. Nat and Phoenix, being the two who worked on that mission the bulk of this may fall to you. We were hoping the two of you would be able to figure out where their next area of operations would be located.”
“Yeah I’m sure we’d be able to find something.” Natasha said, with Phoenix nodding in agreement as she took a sip from her coffee.
As the group moved on to the next topic of discussion the bright, sun-lit room suddenly darkened. They all paused to look out the windows to see dark clouds billowing and the sound of thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance. Tony and the other Avengers knew what the thunder heralded, and a moment later there was a flash of lightning and Thor stood out on the landing pad. Though instead of immediately coming in to greet his comrades, he remained outside, looking solemnly out over the city. Everyone could instantly tell something was wrong, his whole demeanor looked like that of a man broken.
Tony frowned as he watched Thor a moment before turning back to the group. “Newbies, you stay here please.” He said to Phoenix and Mia before nodding to the others to follow him out to check on their fellow Avenger.
Phoenix cast an annoyed look at Tony for telling them to remain behind as she and Mia watched the scene. Quietly they got up and walked over to a window to get a better view.
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen Thor.” Mia breathed as the two of them watched the group gathered together outside. The girls watched as they got caught up in a heated discussion with Thor that wound up with the men patting him on the shoulder and Natasha giving him a hug.
“I’ve seen him in pictures but...in person...wow.” Phoenix said with a soft laugh. She swallowed and bit her lip as she felt a knot form in her stomach, her eyes wandering up and down his  impressive form. “Jesus look at those arms. They’re far nicer than any guy I’ve been with.” She sighed before turning to Mia and smirking. “I wanna lick him...alllllll over.”
“Phoenix!” Mia gasped, her head whipping around to look at her friend as she let out a laugh. “Are you seriously sexually objectifying a Norse God?” she asked and rolled her eyes as Phoenix gave her a wicked grin. “Yeah...I guess I should have expected that from you of all people. You’re a horrible perv.”
Phoenix just laughed and stuck her tongue out at her friend before looking back out the window. She was silent as she watched the scene, observing the thunder gods body language and when he turned she finally got a look at his face she saw the immense grief in his eyes. She knew that look all too well and knew exactly what must have happened. “He lost someone.” She murmured softly. As he turned to follow Tony and the others inside she once more saw the pain and grief in his eyes and it broke her heart. She didn't understand why but part of her wanted to take him into her arms and comfort him in any way she could. Biting her lip she turned back to Mia and grabbed her arm. “It looks like they need some privacy. Come on let’s go.” she said, nodding her head towards the door. Mia nodded and the two of them hurried towards the door.
Hearing voices enter the room as they were about to exit Phoenix stopped a moment and looked back, watching Thor with sympathetic eyes. He happened to look over and as their eyes met she gave him a small smile. His hollow eyes held hers briefly before looking back at his comrades, and with a heavy heart Phoenix left the room.
It’s true, I was made for you
I know that it’s been a while since I updated, I promise I’m still working on chapter 2. I’m sorry it’s been so slow going...I’m going thru a lot right now.
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rubidium91 · 6 years
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A Woolly Encounter
forgive my stupid ass title - a gift for @friku8706 based on our conversation last night following their post about Wooly rescuing people from the cold. This ended up at a whopping 2094 words oh my gosh xD Hope you like it!
As he trudged through the frozen wastes, knee deep in snow, Zero silently cursed his own stupidity. How could he have been so careless? Blinded by excitement, he had neglected to fully prepare for this excursion, and now he was hopelessly lost, shivering uncontrollably, teeth rattling from the sheer cold.
              Icejins, of course, were adapted to living in rather cold conditions. This place, however, was something else entirely. The biting wind cut right through him. His skin felt like it was on fire, as he was pelted with snow and ice. It shamed him as a scientist, how he had completely underestimated just how harsh this icy wilderness really was. Had he done his research properly, he might not have ended up in this mess.
              Back when he had first heard of the mysterious tribe of icejins that supposedly lived in this region, he had set his heart on studying them. Not much was known about them; there wasn’t even concrete proof they existed. But Zero was determined he was going to be the one to find that proof. After days of scouring the libraries of the greatest cities, he at last found small references to the nomadic tribe. Images of tribal markers and paintings found in remote locations across the galaxy. Several different sets of primitive markings, all with something in common. It had to have come from the same kind of people. He eventually tracked them to this frozen planet in a corner of the galaxy. Packing his things, he immediately rushed off to board the next SpaceTrain that would bring him here.
              ‘Idiot. You damn idiot.’ He muttered to himself. He wore a long, padded winter trench coat, but he might as well have been naked for all the difference it made. The winds cut through to his bones. Hands clasped tightly to his body, he slowly continued; in which direction, he had no idea. Visibility was getting low rapidly. He thought he hadn’t gone far from the SpaceTrain station. Surely, he couldn’t have gone far? He remembered that mountain range after all, a visual marker he’d made for himself should he lose his bearings. Or was it that one there?
              Oh gods. He was lost.
              Panic set in, as Zero realised he had lost all sense of direction. Snow was up to his waist now, and it was getting increasingly difficult to move his legs. Why didn’t he just stick to the path? It was bright seemingly only moments ago, yet now it was pitch black. He couldn’t see any mountains or landmarks anymore, only swirling white winds clouding his vision. How could he have let this happen? Could people even survive here? What a stupid, stupid decision this whole trip was. He had let his excitement cloud his judgement, and now here he was, freezing to death in this snowy wasteland.
              ‘Must. Keep. Moving.’ One step. Another. Then another. Each step took every inch of willpower in him, every ounce of strength.
              ‘It’s hopeless.’ Said the voice in the back of his head, that logical part of his mind, gloating at his foolishness. ‘You stupid boy. You’re going to die here. Nobody will even find your body in this vast wilderness. When the SpaceTrain comes back, will they even realise they’re missing a passenger?’
              ‘No!’ He screamed at the gloating voice, emptying his lungs in despair. He made no sound, however, his cry carried away on the mountain winds. And as that last pitiful wail left his mouth, he collapsed into the snow, heaving with exhaustion.
              He lay there shivering and sobbing, tears freezing on his cheeks as they fell. Not like this. He didn’t want to go like this. How pathetic he must look right now, curled up in the snow, a sad and dying animal. Every inch of him was numb, and his mind was cloudy from the pain. As he lay, he realised he could no longer feel the cold and he had stopped shivering. He left almost content. He had heard of this phenomenon, the wash of euphoria one feels as one is dying of the cold. He almost chuckled at his own misfortune.
              ‘Maybe it’s best to just stop fighting. Close your eyes and go peacefully.’ That wasn’t a bad idea he thought. Was it really such a bad way to go, surrounded by the sheer terrifying beauty of nature, the snowy winds creating dazzling, flashing displays in front of him? It really was spectacular. What a pity he could never write about it, or recount his adventure to others. And now his last memory was going to be here in the tundra, watching the snow swirl around him as he lay dying. His vision fading to black, he swore he saw a shadowy person like shape above him. But that was impossible. People didn’t survive this place. It was merely a hallucination conjured up by his dying mind to make him feel like he wasn’t dying alone. Yeah, that was it. He smiled one last time, and closed his eyes.
              Warmth. Zero’s fingers and toes tingled madly as sensation returned. He flexed his fingers, and gasped at the sudden jolt of pins and needles. He focused on the pain. If he could feel pain, did that mean he was alive? As he moved, he felt wrapped around him a soft kind of fur. Wool like almost. Oh gods, it was the softest, most heavenly warm experience he’d ever felt. But what was it? He also realised he could not hear the vicious howling of the mountain winds. Where was he? He tried to open his eyes but could not muster the energy. Instead, he let himself float back into restfulness, caressed by that divine warmth, soothing him back to sleep.
              As he awoke again, Zero stretched out like a cat, savouring being able to move his body once more. The soft, warm sensation was gone, and this time, Zero managed to open his eyes and sit up. He rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in some sort of cave. A fire was lit nearby, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Faintly he could hear the howling gales in the distance. He was still on the planet then. But how did he get here? And what was that soft warmth from before?
              The answer came just moments later, as a faint shuffling made Zero look around. The source of the noise was a curious looking, woolly creature, an icejin, undoubtedly, yet Zero had never seen anything quite like this. He was very tall, and thick white woolly fur covered several areas of his body, from his chest, around his neck, along his arms and legs, and parts of his tail. He stood feet away, berries and nuts clutched in his arms. Zero blinked several times. Did this creature bring him here? This was, he realised as his mind started working properly, that this must be one the creatures he had come here to study in the first place. They did exist, and here was one right in front of him! It must have been this icejin’s woolly coat he could feel as he slept. Was it keeping him warm? Confusion, excitement and fear collided in his mind, so he just stared numbly.
              The woolly icejin approached, and placed the haul of foraged foods down by Zero’s feet, before sitting next to him. It took a berry, ate it, then offered another to Zero. To eat. For you. Clearly, that was the message. Zero took a plump, juicy looking red berry, and nibbled it. It was sweet and delicious. How could fruit grow here? Never mind that, he thought, and sampled more of the food, carefully watching the icejin next to him. It didn’t seem hostile, rather it just sat watching him eat, smiling gently. Several minutes passed, yet still it didn’t speak. Clearing his throat, Zero decided to make the first move.
              ‘So er… You saved me from the blizzard I take it?’ But the icejin merely looked at him blankly. Zero tried again. ‘Thank you for saving my life, my name is Zero. I can’t thank you enough, honestly, I wouldn’t know how to repay you. I know you’ve done so much for me already, but do you think you could help me get home?’ He was met only with silence. Okay, this is awkward, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was stopped by the icejin, who merely pointed to his mouth, then to his ears. Ah, so this icejin was either deaf, or couldn’t understand what Zero was saying, which made sense for an isolated tribe of people; they probably had a whole language all to themselves. Speaking of which, Zero wondered whether this icejin was here alone, or if there were more of his kind somewhere. He couldn’t wait to write down his findings and make doodles of this wonderfully curious icejin.
              The icejin pushed more food toward Zero. Eat more. Zero ate, and looked around for his satchel. Miraculously, it had made its way safely here too, and was placed on top of his coat, folded neatly on a nearby rock. He went to it, pulled out his books and pencils, sat back down and started furiously sketching the woolly icejin and making notes, talking excitedly all the while. To the woolly icejin’s credit, he sat placidly, smiling as he watched Zero work.
              Zero had never been so excited. He could sit here for hours, studying this mysterious creature. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to know! They sat long into the night, Zero scribbling away, picking at the fruit now and then, until eventually, sleep called once more. They bedded down for the night, the woolly icejin curling his tail around Zero as they lay, holding him close, keeping him warm, Zero’s face burying in that sumptuous fur.
              As he lay there, Zero wondered. He supposed he would have to go home soon. He’d checked the time (miraculously, his watch still worked), and the next SpaceTrain would be arriving in the morning. He almost didn’t want to leave this place, with his new woolly friend. He still had so much he could learn. He knew he couldn’t stay however, and it filled him with a pang of sadness. Trying hard not to think about it, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
             Morning came, despite Zero wishing it wouldn’t. Silently, he packed his bags, put on his coat, and together, he and Wooly (as Zero now called him), left the cave. It was glorious outside; the sun shone brightly, and the winds had completely died down. It was only now, as Zero looked around, that he could truly appreciate the sheer beauty of this place. He cursed himself for not bringing his camera; another oversight in his rush to set off on his journey.
              It seemed Wooly was used to seeing the SpaceTrain arrive every couple of days, as he led Zero deftly to the station, knowing exactly where to go. As they stood there waiting, Zero suddenly didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to leave his new friend. The SpaceTrain arrived in the distance, and as it made its way to the station, Zero found himself wishing Wooly could just come with him…
              Why couldn’t he?
              Zero turned to Wooly, looked up at him and said, ‘You could come with me, you know?’ Wooly stared blankly so Zero pointed at Wooly, ‘You’, then to the train ‘come’, then to himself, ‘with me?’ Luckily Wooly seemed to understand, as he smiled sadly and shook his head. Zero expected that at least, but it still made him sad. They hugged each other and Zero boarded the train. Looking out the window, he saw Wooly waving at him from below as the train sped off. Zero suddenly was overcome with emotion, and choked back the tears that threatened to fall. He wondered if he would ever see Wooly again. Would it be better to leave this solitary icejin alone, he thought? He wouldn’t want more people coming to this place to gawp at him like a freak show or zoo animal, after all. Maybe at the end of it, he would keep his research to himself, maybe even destroy it. That might be the best thing to do. Besides, he would still have his memories of him, and nobody could take that from him.
              And he would see Wooly again one day, he promised himself. He would.
(abrupt ending cos I didn’t really know how to tie it up xD Sorry <3) Also, tagging @coldphoenix , love to hear your thoughts!
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metazensae · 6 years
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Hi there! you know? A long time ago, I used to draw a lot. but for some situations, I stopped doing it. Now I do not even know if I still know how to draw, but I think it could help me improve my mental health a little and I want to thank you because you are one of the main people that motivated me to start over. Could you give me some advice, now that I want to draw again? 🌻
Hello!!!
I’m so glad to hear you’re interested in picking up the pencil/pen/marker/pen tool/what-have-you again! THAT’S SO EXCITING!!!!!! It is never too late, and just thinking about all the wonderful things you’re going to bring into the world next is making me giddy!!!
But also - you know what? Same Hat! 
 I drew LITERALLY every waking second of my life until I hit 17 and - WHOMP WHOMP-  got Real Depressed(tm). I had a near decade of depression where I couldn’t draw much, or well, or even at all, so I feel you very hard on this. I started drawing again about 3 years ago, and started over from scratch, and now you see what I can do - WELL! That’s you! You’re where I was standing just a short time ago. You GOT this and I believe in you.
But it’s not going to be easy, that’s for absolute sure. 
BUT DON’T GIVE UP!!!
I can’t really tell you what to do bc it really depends on you, your interests, and your end goals. But what I can tell you is to make sure you’re having fun with it no matter what. 
The goal is just to add happiness back into your life, right? 
But I’ll still give you some advice from my own personal experience:
Don’t care. About ANYTHING. Just do what you love and do it apologetically and with it with abandon. You need to start drawing something at all before you can fix it, and just focus on the specific content that you like to create. That should be your priority.
I hear a lot of people (and myself included) are just afraid to make mistakes. Like what if i mess this up or what if I can’t do it well or what if people don’t like it;;;;; And I have to just say - fuck that noise. MESS IT UP. MAKE THOSE MISTAKES. That’s how we learn, and we get better thru trying over and over and over again.
Also, I hear people obsessing over whether or not they have a style, and tbh, sometimes? They don’t? Bc they haven’t drawn enough. Style comes with time and style is just the culmination of how-you-do-things and it will change and grow and develop the more you draw and learn about how to draw. Don’t. Worry. About. It.
As for how to stay motivated? Think about what motivates you? For me, it’s sharing my work with people and seeing their reactions, and joining a fandom has been?? A great experience with that, but initially, I had a small group of artists/writers/creators here on Tumblr whom I shared my stories and characters with. I invested myself into the success of their works and they so graciously returned the favor, and it did SO MUCH to push me to make more and share more and toss love around. I personally wanted to make comics, so I found drawing fun Q&As way more interesting to do than flat character studies and gesture drawings. Fundamentals are so important, but remember - having fun with it? and finding some sort of reward in it? WAY BETTER. Find a way to work on fundamentals while doing things that are entertaining for you and you’ll have a much better time of it.
Thirst also motivates me. I just draw hot demons all day believe me.
Also, very Very VERY important. Finding media and other artists whose style gives you that fucking spark and drive to create. I call these Masters, and I have 3 - Dana Rune of the Arcana Game, Tess Stone of (so many works, but most recently) Not Drunk Enough, and Erika Petra Nordlund of Prague Race and Tiger Tiger are my style heroes. Their art speaks to my very soul and I feel a strange sort of resonance with their works - like THAT’S who and where I want to be and I hope to achieve that one day. You need Masters because they guide you gently into the worlds they’ve created and show you how they render the different things you want to bring into your craft. You borrow from them and reanalyze it into your own thing and then you’ve made something new and beautiful and you learn that other people have started looking at YOU as a master and then you get all weepy and write posts like this and oh my god;;;;;;;;;;;
When I’m having a shit art day, I put on some atmosphere music and just let the music take me to a far away place and it helps me focus. 
Usually my shit art day is bc I’m putting too much pressure on myself to be good at whatever that is, so I just? do something else? Go change it up. Go draw something you’ve been neglecting or do some gesture drawings, or like draw some fun art for someone else? I do that. A lot? 
Also, warming up is important too. 3 years ago, I didn’t know about this? I would sorta get all worked up trying to force myself to draw, but sometimes you need something silly to just get the anxiety out of the way, so do some shit silly loose sketches before you GET SERIOUS (tm).
Finally, sometimes shit art days just come to you that you can’t do anything about, and the reason is bc there’s a gap of knowledge between what you want to be able to do and what you’re currently capable of doing. When that happens, you actually need to go out into the world and do some observation. Your brain hasn’t analyzed the thing ENOUGH for you to be able to draw it and that’s fine. Just do the work. Look long and hard at something - look at negative space and contours. Lighting. Coloring. Idk. But go observe. And it will make you that much better. 
Use references? That’s so important. Like. You can’t draw the thing if you don’t know what it exactly looks like. But also, exactly replicating something is shitty, so only do it for self practice!
Anyway, I gotta go to bed now, so I hope some of these can resonate with you. And I’m always happy to share my experiences? So if you have further questions or need more explanation on this, feel free to ask!!Again I’m super excited for you and looking forward to seeing your work in the future!!!
Good luck!!
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ladyinthebluebox · 6 years
Text
WIP meme
Rules: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on.
This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets - anything at all!
I was tagged by the two awesome individuals - @joufancyhuh & @joz-stankovich - thank you very much! 
My WIPs? Oh, gods. There are too many both writing and art ones... But let’s give it a try. Maybe I’m not actively working on every single one listed but I really want to come back to all of them soon. 
An ME:A AU story filed under the working title On a sword’s edge that follows me for quite some time wherever I go. I have a sort of an explanatory prologue written and something for a first chapter + some snippets of scenes that spontaneously start to haunt me. We will see if anything comes out of it (if you ever see a ‘rebel yell au’ hashtag under some of my posts - that would be an inspiration for this story).
Valentine card for @joufancyhuh (it will be a late one, I’m so sorry about that in advance... I won’t make excuses here,tho);
Loooooooong overdue drabble for the ‘three words prompt’ (I feel so bad about neglecting iit) & the other I’m still a bit anxious to publish, so instead I keep torturing myself with reading it over and over again and editing some fragments without end;
Two reyder one-shots which I really need to finish;
20 years ago I started a Scott/Sara card-ish drawing (similar to the one I drew for Reyes/Sybil); I’d probably need to redraw it and this time actually finish the thing.
My crypto-tarot-ish digital wips for both Sybil and Andromeda Shepard that sit patiently in my art folder but soon start to beg for my attention.
Another quilling thing, this time dragon age-y and this time for myself - I have it sketched, I painted the frame, now I just need to start working on the papercraft itself.
And probably Many Mornings in which I want to explore the development of Syb’s & Reyes’ relationship from the perspective of their mornings - mostly those spend together (although my idea for it shifted a bit lately soo... x.x).
I probably have like 99 other wips, but that would be ‘the best’ of them or at least the ones I really want to come back to & finish. There are so many, and so little tiiiime!
Whoo to taag, damn it. I’ve seen so many people have already done this... Usual suspects? @bitter-stella  @monochromenyghtmare @obvidalous  ?? Only if you have/want to share anything of course ^^
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sending-the-message · 6 years
Text
My Brother Ben, Who Was Adopted by TheEhhhGatsby
Every couple of years or so, I try to draw my brother from memory. I draw in ink, and it never turns out well. I think the lines I sketch look good, but when I wake up the next day, I have a headache and they’re just lines. No replacement for Ben. No actual semblance. I have a hard time remembering his face, and once I look at the unrecognizable scribbles from the night before, I go to Craigslist. I send a message to the ether:
Username: Mark.
Subject: My Brother Ben, Who Was Adopted
Ben and I didn’t grow up in a great home. I don’t think we actually had the opportunity to grow much. CPS was called to the house a few times. Not because we were slapped around or we showed up to school with bruises - I didn’t actually have the opportunity to start school, since we were split up when I was four - but that there was never a car in the driveway, there was a funny smell coming from the house, what have you. Ms. Star next door was nosy, but a good woman. Our parents would always come back, though. Take the newspapers that had collected on the stoop and put them on the stack inside.
Ben looked after me, as best he could, but he was five. Even when our parents had told him, “It’s your job to keep Mark safe,” he stuck to it. “Make sure he gets a bath.”
He had a protective instinct that was… second to none? That might just be my nostalgia talking. At the age we were separated I had no concept of self or of protection.
Ms. Star called CPS for the last time about twenty six years ago. The service showed up to find me in a bath, crying. I had been stewing in my own filth and garbage for at least five days. My parents were in their bedroom, wrapped in a lovers embrace. Both were cold to the touch, their skin ivory, as the crime scene pictures I found later showed.
CPS tried to keep Ben and I together. When they came, I clung to him tight. I wouldn’t let go of him. I screamed and I cried, but they pulled and they pried. Eventually, he was adopted by a caring family. As was I.
Before I lived with my new family, I’d never actually had hot chicken soup before. As I grew, I learned that Campbell’s Concentrated was meant to be diluted with water. Not dropped into a hungry mouth with a dirty spoon and without a care.
I was a problem for most of elementary school. I did not have the faculties to process the neglect I had endured, and so I lashed out. Not quite ‘Jeremy’ levels of drawing pictures of mountain tops, but close. I would routinely cry out for Ben. Counselors suggested that I journal about it. Try and capture my emotions, to find an outlet. Xanga, baby.
Every year of middle school, every year of high school, I would imagine walking into a new classroom and seeing him, sitting, book out, and our eyes would meet. He’d knock his desk over standing up to race to me, and I’d barrel past my new, bewildered teacher, and we’d hug.
I dropped that fantasy in college. I worked hard, and eventually graduated with a degree in graphic design. Makes the shitty pictures I draw of Ben that much more frustrating. But...
Two weeks ago, my friends.
Two weeks ago, I received an e-mail.
“Mark, I know I caught this message a few days after it was posted, so I hope I’m not too late. But if you’re the Mark that lived in Westing, Connecticut, with the… grody parents, with Ms. Star next door, let me know. It’s me. Ben. Your brother, who was adopted.”
I took two days off work to process this. I… stewed, I think, a bit. Probably more resentful than I should have been.
Day One: Oh my God, oh my God, ohmyGodohmyGodohmyGODOHMYGOD
Day Two: Hey champ, could have tried a little harder to find me.
I sent the e-mail back with my address on Day Three. My roommate had just bounced to move in with his girlfriend, so I had a spare room with an inflatable mattress, and if Ben turned out to be not who I imagined him to be, I could always call the cops. Considering I lived about three miles from the nearest precinct, this was a careful, calculated risk.
I’d scheduled some vacation time from Five Star Graphics a few months ago - it didn’t coincide with Ben showing up, but they were flexible and let me shift the dates a few weeks back. So I cleaned the apartment, I swept the walk up, I raked the leaves in the front and back yard, and I sat nervously on my recliner. And then the doorbell rang that night.
I opened the front door. Ben was back-lit by the streetlights, almost in complete silhouette. When my eyes adjusted… a flop of curly, black hair, the same crooked nose I knew from my childhood, the same wry smile. I could take or leave the flannel he was wearing, but I don’t dictate how people dress. He had a gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Holy shit. Mark.”
“Holy shit. Ben.”
We both grinned like we were set to eat the moon, and then we hugged. It was the tightest embrace I had felt in quite some time.
I showed him to his room, and he unpacked as best he could in James’ space. Without a dresser, he laid his clothes out on the floor in neat stacks; shirts, folded, undershirts, folded, boxers, folded, socks, paired, all neatly against the wall. The Ben I remembered was a little less… type A, I guess? But we were kids then, and every day that we wake up, we’re not the same person that we were yesterday.
And twenty six years is a lot of yesterdays.
I had been meaning to replace the halogens in the dining room with LEDs for a while, but never got around to it. Ben cooked, setting the plate gingerly in front of me with a small flourish - some sort of pesto pasta that tasted great, considering I’d fallen to eating cold pasta out of a can recently - and we had a couple of craft beers.
“What’s life been like?” he asked me.
“Not terrible. Caught a loving family. Kind of excelled once I put you behind me, to be honest. This is… kind of taking me back, a bit.”
“Who the fuck you telling,” he said, taking a swig. “I go on Craigslist to find fuckin’ furniture, not a lost relative, and then, wham-bam-there-you-am,” he took another swig. “And then you goddamn replied to the e-mail. Fuck, Mark.”
“Before this, did you try to find me?” I asked.
“Yeah. Both my new folks passed away before I could think to ask them about the adoption agency. And they were packrats. I wouldn’t have been able to find the form even I’d been granted as many seconds as there are grains of salt in a… salt mine. Fuck, I thought I’d find the metaphor, but it got away from me after I started talking. You?”
“I did try to find you. Due to an agency screw up, they couldn’t find your file.”
“Can you imagine how much sooner this reunion would have happened if we’d had electronic records back then?” Ben said. “I work in the e-record field. Usually for hospitals, but I do some scanning on the side, and it's goddamn invaluable.”
“Nice,” I said.
Ben’s smile faltered for just a second.
“Yeah, nice.”
I tried to cram as much childhood as I could over the next few days, knowing this would never last. It was weird, and abstract, but we went to playgrounds, he pushed me on a swing, I pushed him and he would launch out of the swing at the apex and do a Wonka-roll when he hit the ground. We played ski-ball at the boardwalk and he used his tickets to buy me a novelty eraser - ‘For Big Mistakes’ stamped on it, “Like you,” he said - and on the third night, we sat down on the beach, overlooking the water.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at me, but staring over the crashing waves.
“For what?”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I know how much you needed me, and I…” his voice faltered. “I didn’t… I, fuck, Mark, I was five. I thought you would be fine.”
“I am fine. Fine and dandy like sour candy. Fine as red wine, as chill as strychnine. I’m so fiene my first name should be Ralph. Like -”
“Ralph Fiennes, yeah. That was a bad fuckin’ joke, Mark,” he said, his voice low.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not,” he said, staring at the sand. “Maybe soon.”
“Well, I am now. Hey, remember the song Mom used to sing? When she was around? ‘Turning off the belt line weatherworn and running low. Scent of the shore pine; evidence I'm home…”
“Mark… shut the fuck up. I don’t want to remember any song Mom used to sing. I don’t remember it. Let's go home, and let’s eat.”
Seemed like the only thing he knew how to cook was pesto pasta. But this is what brothers do, right? Wear on each other? Not… not understand the song our Mom used to sing us? It used to calm Ben down, but now…
He didn’t set the plate gingerly in front of me. No small flourish. He placed a wine glass in front of me, and filled it near to the top with one of my reds. He did the same for himself, before taking his seat.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a bite, and a sip of wine. “Don’t know what’s gotten into me. This wasn’t like I thought it would be. I think you inviting me here may have been a mistake.”
I took a bite of pasta. He did change it up a bit - there was a bitter hint.
“Nah,” I said. “I won’t hear that. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Ben. Do you remember when Dad used to talk about the weeping willows and why they would weep?”
Ben slammed his fist on the table, rattling the silverware. He stared down into his pasta. Without looking at me, he raised his wine glass to his lips and chugged almost all of it.
“No,” he finally - there was a buzzing in my head - said, “But give me a minute, and maybe,” he picked up his wine glass and took the last sip.
I - clouds now, in my eyes - took another bite of pasta. “He said they wept because -”
Ben slammed his fist on the table again.
“I said GIVE ME A MINUTE.”
I tried to. Honest to God, I did. Should have replaced the halogens. Should have done it sooner. Ben was turning into a shadow. And I could see him smile. Oh, he smiled so big, his teeth so shiny, the only point of light in room now.
“Because they can’t walk around and it gives them cramps,” I said. All I could see were two pinpoints of light now, both starring Ben.
He stood up, and walked along the table. He gripped my hair, pulling my head back, leaning in close, and chuckled, “Craigslist? You’re not my first, Mark. Found out about you, your brother, and your folks through your stupid fucking blog. I wanted this to last longer, but… wait. Wait, what the fuck did you do to me?” he started coughing.
“You’re not my first Ben.”
Blinding lights. Agonizing. A hangover from hell. I… I couldn’t move. I turned from side to side until the feeling came back to my limbs.
A bathroom. My bathroom. Sink, pristine. Mirror, pristine. LEDs installed. In the bathtub, Ben.
As soon as I tasted the pasta, I had known. Rohypnol. Not what I would have chosen, but hey, nobody’s perfect. My memory came and went. I had collapsed onto the floor, and Ben… he collapsed shortly after, knife in hand. He had laced my pasta. I had laced the wine. He was a drinker. I had pegged that from the first night he stayed here.
When I was four and Ben was five, our parents put him in charge of giving me a bath. I hated baths. To this day, I still do. I fought my brother, but he got me into the tub. I grabbed his shirt as he walked away, and… he fell. He fell into the tub with me, hitting his head on the faucet.
By this point, our parents were dead in their bedroom.
Ben drowned in four inches of water, and I couldn’t save him. And I didn’t want to let him go. So I sat there, for five days, until Ms. Star called the police.
Currently, I lean over the tub and stare at the form in the tub, face down in four inches of water, and climb in with him. After five days, I’ll take the nameless shape and put him under the yard with the others. And then I’ll try and remember Ben’s face.
I draw in ink, and it never turns out well. I think the lines I sketch look good, but when I wake up the next day, I’ll have a headache and they’re just lines.
So I think I’ll head to Craigslist and send a message to the ether:
Username: Mark.
Subject: My Brother Ben, Who Was Adopted.
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mydumpster · 4 years
Text
By Rubidium
A Woolly Encounter
forgive my stupid ass title - a gift for @friku8706 based on our conversation last night following their post about Wooly rescuing people from the cold. This ended up at a whopping 2094 words oh my gosh xD Hope you like it!
As he trudged through the frozen wastes, knee deep in snow, Zero silently cursed his own stupidity. How could he have been so careless? Blinded by excitement, he had neglected to fully prepare for this excursion, and now he was hopelessly lost, shivering uncontrollably, teeth rattling from the sheer cold.
             Icejins, of course, were adapted to living in rather cold conditions. This place, however, was something else entirely. The biting wind cut right through him. His skin felt like it was on fire, as he was pelted with snow and ice. It shamed him as a scientist, how he had completely underestimated just how harsh this icy wilderness really was. Had he done his research properly, he might not have ended up in this mess.
             Back when he had first heard of the mysterious tribe of icejins that supposedly lived in this region, he had set his heart on studying them. Not much was known about them; there wasn’t even concrete proof they existed. But Zero was determined he was going to be the one to find that proof. After days of scouring the libraries of the greatest cities, he at last found small references to the nomadic tribe. Images of tribal markers and paintings found in remote locations across the galaxy. Several different sets of primitive markings, all with something in common. It had to have come from the same kind of people. He eventually tracked them to this frozen planet in a corner of the galaxy. Packing his things, he immediately rushed off to board the next SpaceTrain that would bring him here.
             ‘Idiot. You damn idiot.’ He muttered to himself. He wore a long, padded winter trench coat, but he might as well have been naked for all the difference it made. The winds cut through to his bones. Hands clasped tightly to his body, he slowly continued; in which direction, he had no idea. Visibility was getting low rapidly. He thought he hadn’t gone far from the SpaceTrain station. Surely, he couldn’t have gone far? He remembered that mountain range after all, a visual marker he’d made for himself should he lose his bearings. Or was it that one there?
             Oh gods. He was lost.
             Panic set in, as Zero realised he had lost all sense of direction. Snow was up to his waist now, and it was getting increasingly difficult to move his legs. Why didn’t he just stick to the path? It was bright seemingly only moments ago, yet now it was pitch black. He couldn’t see any mountains or landmarks anymore, only swirling white winds clouding his vision. How could he have let this happen? Could people even survive here? What a stupid, stupid decision this whole trip was. He had let his excitement cloud his judgement, and now here he was, freezing to death in this snowy wasteland.
             ‘Must. Keep. Moving.’ One step. Another. Then another. Each step took every inch of willpower in him, every ounce of strength.
             ‘It’s hopeless.’ Said the voice in the back of his head, that logical part of his mind, gloating at his foolishness. ‘You stupid boy. You’re going to die here. Nobody will even find your body in this vast wilderness. When the SpaceTrain comes back, will they even realise they’re missing a passenger?’
             ‘No!’ He screamed at the gloating voice, emptying his lungs in despair. He made no sound, however, his cry carried away on the mountain winds. And as that last pitiful wail left his mouth, he collapsed into the snow, heaving with exhaustion.
             He lay there shivering and sobbing, tears freezing on his cheeks as they fell. Not like this. He didn’t want to go like this. How pathetic he must look right now, curled up in the snow, a sad and dying animal. Every inch of him was numb, and his mind was cloudy from the pain. As he lay, he realised he could no longer feel the cold and he had stopped shivering. He left almost content. He had heard of this phenomenon, the wash of euphoria one feels as one is dying of the cold. He almost chuckled at his own misfortune.
             ‘Maybe it’s best to just stop fighting. Close your eyes and go peacefully.’ That wasn’t a bad idea he thought. Was it really such a bad way to go, surrounded by the sheer terrifying beauty of nature, the snowy winds creating dazzling, flashing displays in front of him? It really was spectacular. What a pity he could never write about it, or recount his adventure to others. And now his last memory was going to be here in the tundra, watching the snow swirl around him as he lay dying. His vision fading to black, he swore he saw a shadowy person like shape above him. But that was impossible. People didn’t survive this place. It was merely a hallucination conjured up by his dying mind to make him feel like he wasn’t dying alone. Yeah, that was it. He smiled one last time, and closed his eyes.
             Warmth. Zero’s fingers and toes tingled madly as sensation returned. He flexed his fingers, and gasped at the sudden jolt of pins and needles. He focused on the pain. If he could feel pain, did that mean he was alive? As he moved, he felt wrapped around him a soft kind of fur. Wool like almost. Oh gods, it was the softest, most heavenly warm experience he’d ever felt. But what was it? He also realised he could not hear the vicious howling of the mountain winds. Where was he? He tried to open his eyes but could not muster the energy. Instead, he let himself float back into restfulness, caressed by that divine warmth, soothing him back to sleep.
             As he awoke again, Zero stretched out like a cat, savouring being able to move his body once more. The soft, warm sensation was gone, and this time, Zero managed to open his eyes and sit up. He rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in some sort of cave. A fire was lit nearby, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Faintly he could hear the howling gales in the distance. He was still on the planet then. But how did he get here? And what was that soft warmth from before?
             The answer came just moments later, as a faint shuffling made Zero look around. The source of the noise was a curious looking, woolly creature, an icejin, undoubtedly, yet Zero had never seen anything quite like this. He was very tall, and thick white woolly fur covered several areas of his body, from his chest, around his neck, along his arms and legs, and parts of his tail. He stood feet away, berries and nuts clutched in his arms. Zero blinked several times. Did this creature bring him here? This was, he realised as his mind started working properly, that this must be one the creatures he had come here to study in the first place. They did exist, and here was one right in front of him! It must have been this icejin’s woolly coat he could feel as he slept. Was it keeping him warm? Confusion, excitement and fear collided in his mind, so he just stared numbly.
             The woolly icejin approached, and placed the haul of foraged foods down by Zero’s feet, before sitting next to him. It took a berry, ate it, then offered another to Zero. To eat. For you. Clearly, that was the message. Zero took a plump, juicy looking red berry, and nibbled it. It was sweet and delicious. How could fruit grow here? Never mind that, he thought, and sampled more of the food, carefully watching the icejin next to him. It didn’t seem hostile, rather it just sat watching him eat, smiling gently. Several minutes passed, yet still it didn’t speak. Clearing his throat, Zero decided to make the first move.
             ‘So er… You saved me from the blizzard I take it?’ But the icejin merely looked at him blankly. Zero tried again. ‘Thank you for saving my life, my name is Zero. I can’t thank you enough, honestly, I wouldn’t know how to repay you. I know you’ve done so much for me already, but do you think you could help me get home?’ He was met only with silence. Okay, this is awkward, he thought. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was stopped by the icejin, who merely pointed to his mouth, then to his ears. Ah, so this icejin was either deaf, or couldn’t understand what Zero was saying, which made sense for an isolated tribe of people; they probably had a whole language all to themselves. Speaking of which, Zero wondered whether this icejin was here alone, or if there were more of his kind somewhere. He couldn’t wait to write down his findings and make doodles of this wonderfully curious icejin.
             The icejin pushed more food toward Zero. Eat more. Zero ate, and looked around for his satchel. Miraculously, it had made its way safely here too, and was placed on top of his coat, folded neatly on a nearby rock. He went to it, pulled out his books and pencils, sat back down and started furiously sketching the woolly icejin and making notes, talking excitedly all the while. To the woolly icejin’s credit, he sat placidly, smiling as he watched Zero work.
             Zero had never been so excited. He could sit here for hours, studying this mysterious creature. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to know! They sat long into the night, Zero scribbling away, picking at the fruit now and then, until eventually, sleep called once more. They bedded down for the night, the woolly icejin curling his tail around Zero as they lay, holding him close, keeping him warm, Zero’s face burying in that sumptuous fur.
             As he lay there, Zero wondered. He supposed he would have to go home soon. He’d checked the time (miraculously, his watch still worked), and the next SpaceTrain would be arriving in the morning. He almost didn’t want to leave this place, with his new woolly friend. He still had so much he could learn. He knew he couldn’t stay however, and it filled him with a pang of sadness. Trying hard not to think about it, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
            Morning came, despite Zero wishing it wouldn’t. Silently, he packed his bags, put on his coat, and together, he and Wooly (as Zero now called him), left the cave. It was glorious outside; the sun shone brightly, and the winds had completely died down. It was only now, as Zero looked around, that he could truly appreciate the sheer beauty of this place. He cursed himself for not bringing his camera; another oversight in his rush to set off on his journey.
             It seemed Wooly was used to seeing the SpaceTrain arrive every couple of days, as he led Zero deftly to the station, knowing exactly where to go. As they stood there waiting, Zero suddenly didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to leave his new friend. The SpaceTrain arrived in the distance, and as it made its way to the station, Zero found himself wishing Wooly could just come with him…
             Why couldn’t he?
             Zero turned to Wooly, looked up at him and said, ‘You could come with me, you know?’ Wooly stared blankly so Zero pointed at Wooly, ‘You’, then to the train ‘come’, then to himself, ‘with me?’ Luckily Wooly seemed to understand, as he smiled sadly and shook his head. Zero expected that at least, but it still made him sad. They hugged each other and Zero boarded the train. Looking out the window, he saw Wooly waving at him from below as the train sped off. Zero suddenly was overcome with emotion, and choked back the tears that threatened to fall. He wondered if he would ever see Wooly again. Would it be better to leave this solitary icejin alone, he thought? He wouldn’t want more people coming to this place to gawp at him like a freak show or zoo animal, after all. Maybe at the end of it, he would keep his research to himself, maybe even destroy it. That might be the best thing to do. Besides, he would still have his memories of him, and nobody could take that from him.
             And he would see Wooly again one day, he promised himself. He would.
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