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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

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Comfort

Will Graham x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: talks of murder, mental health issues, spoliers for hannibal

Author’s Note: Writing for Will is not only fun but its therapeutic and also everything I write for him seems to be him being comforted and happy because its what he deserves

Summary: based around season 1 episode 10 mostly Wills health

Genre: angsty fluff

Song: the night we met by lord huron

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

“Can I speak with you?”

You looked up at Hannibal who was giving you a look that you didn’t like. You weren’t a fan of that face. You could tell that something was wrong and the only thing you and Hannibal really had in common was your boyfriend Will. Which made you extra worried when he asked to speak.

“Sure.”

You stood up from your seat, leaving Jack and a few others who were in a conversation. Will had gone to the bathroom which gave Hannibal an out to talk to you alone without raising suspicions. You were all having dinner at Hannibal's home, celebrating a win on a case that had been particularly hard.

You followed him into the kitchen and he leaned against the counter.

“You know that Will is sleep walking,” You nodded stiffly, mentally preparing yourself for anything that you didn’t know about Will that you were about to be told.

“Hannibal if this could break patient confidentiality I don’t-”

“It doesn’t.” You nodded and clutched the ends of the island, your knuckles white.

“I’m worried about his state. I figure you know enough about his behavior to know that what Jack Crawford wants from him is not something he is prepared to give, mentally.” You nodded.

“I’ve tried to talk him out of it-”

“I’m leaning on the edge here but I need to show you this.” He grabbed a notebook on his counter and brought it over to you, opening it to a specific page. “I asked him to draw me a clock.”

You looked down at it, number strewn, nothing in the right spot inside the circle. You put it down carefully, staring as though you couldn’t quite understand even though you understood perfectly.

“Hannibal…”

“I’m telling you this because he trusts you.” “He trusts you too,” you muttered.

“He trusts you more than anyone else. He trusts you to live with him. He trusts you to be there when he comes home. If anyone can cushion his time until I figure out how to properly deal with the problems it’s you.”

You shut the book slowly and nodded. The two of you simply stood there for a moment in secret as though you had shared a big secret and you supposed he had. The real truth on what you knew Will was going through.

You handed him the notebook back and walked back to the dining room. Will had returned and he looked fidgety, not having you or Hannibal there. Something was bothering him but the second you and his friend walked back into the room. You gave him a smile and he gave you a strained one back.

You walked over and sat down beside him, putting your hand on his knee. He placed his hand on top of yours and you squeezed.

“Wanna go?” you whispered. He nodded. He had only just told you that he was losing time and often you wondered if in the moment you were beside him he was on autopilot. The way his eyes were now, you knew he was with you. He just wanted to be gone.

“Lets,” he muttered.

You gave Hannibal a look and he nodded, smiling at Will.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded.

“7:30 on the dot.”

“Of course. It was nice seeing you too Y/N,” Hannibal said, shaking your hand. You nodded and in your eyes you thanked him for the information he had shared.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

It was a long drive back to Will’s but you spent most of it in silence, the music from the radio playing softly in the car. Will watched the trees as you drove up to his house. You were both quickly greeted by the dogs whom you petted softly.

Both of you started to get ready for bed but it was itching at you. Wondering where he was.

“Will?” You peeked your head into the bathroom where he threw on a shirt.

He gestured for you to come in and you did, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. He relaxed into your touch as you stared at each other in the mirror.

“You feeling okay?” you whispered. He scoffed.

“Sure.”

“Really.” He escaped your grap and walked in the bedroom, sitting on the bed. You followed him but stood a few feet away, against the wall.

“It’s been rough. In my head,” he told you. You nodded.

“Is there anything I can do?” He shook his head. “You wanna talk about it?” He took a deep breath and you walked over to him, putting your hand on his.

“I lose track of time, like I told you. I just don’t know how to…” He tried to find the words. “Feel stable.” You nodded. “Sometimes I see the bodies and wonder if I did it. I know I didn’t but it feels like I did.”

You turned to him and grabbed both his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It isn’t your fault,” he told you, fidgeting.

“I just want you to know that you’re my best friend and I’m sorry that you ever feel that way.” He put your head on his shoulder and you put an arm protectively around him. “And I love you and I will do anything I can to make you feel stable,” you whispered.

He buried his head in your neck and breathed heavily. You thought he might cry. You put your feet up on the bed and held him for a moment as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. Stability.

Will Graham was in desperate need of stability.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“You won’t go? Even if I’m..” he thought about his wording, “..wrong in the head.” You shook your head.

“I would never.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on you.

“Let’s sleep,” he whispered. You nodded and brushed his hair out of his face before getting under the covers. Usually because of his dreams the two of you weren’t near each other when you slept but tonight was an exception. Stability.

Will outstretched his arm and you rested your head on it so that your faces were level. You smiled gently at him and he kissed you gently once.

You both closed your eyes shortly after, tangled in each other falling asleep.

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines

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anotherbeingsworld · 4 years

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Beach Days

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC

Summary: A beach day with words of wisdom and memories for them to remember.

Characters: Bryce Lahela, Casey Valentine and Keiki Lahela.

Tags: @bitchloveskcbaseball , @storyofmychoices @jaxsmutsuo , @mvalentine , @princess-geek , @lahellacute , @kacie-0156-deactivated20200905 , @this-person-is-busy , @annekebbphotography , @brycelahel, @mrsbhandari , @dcbbw , @choicessa , @choices-confessions , @aylamwrites , @fantasyoverreality98 , @drakewalker04 , @baltersome , @ofpixelsandscribbles , @thundergom @starrystarrytrouble, @ohramsey , @kelseaaa , @rookie-ramsey , @bratzlahela , @ohvamsey , @choicesficwriterscreations , @soft-for-drake , @lalizah , @drethanramslay , @arcticlumineer , @choicesstan1 , @aveeiro

A/N: Hi everyone, it’s me and I am back with a short drabble. It was a short one since uni has been very very hectic and, my life is just... a lot. And, its been a rough week, I wasn’t planning on writing much except trying to finish up some wips. It’s just.. one of the worst weeks ever? But, its a new one right. So, I present a short fluffy fic, that was inspired from a beach trip I got a chance to take with my family, and... I love beaches so much, and that is maybe one of the reasons why I am attracted to Bryce? (Well, no regrets honestly!) But, I hope all of you enjoyed it since its kinda.... rusty of me when I wrote this and I haven’t had the chance to edit it. It was a hec, and enjoy! <3

LINK TO MY MASTERLIST

“Bryce, c’mon we are going to be late for dinner!’ Casey shouted with an urgency in her voice.

He stood up along with Keiki, as they were searching something among the sands. Casey felt herself gave us, as she dropped herself back on one of the lounge chairs.

‘Bryce, have you found the perfect one?’ Keiki’s voice piped through the search, as the Lahela siblings were scooting down the sand, as they were searching for a pirate’s treasure. Casey stared at them, with a curiosity in mind as she observes from afar.

After what felt like an eternity, Bryce lets out a squeal of happiness as he was holding.... a stick?

Keiki dusted herself from the sand, as she stands up with happiness on her face. Curiosity clouded her mind, making her stand from the coziness of the lounge chair. She walked to the Lahela siblings, as they were huddling on the sand. Making something, maybe creating a sandcastle.

“What are you both making?’ She asked, as she peeked through the circle between the siblings.

‘Making words out of sand!’ Bryce said enthusiastically as he is finishing up some final touches on his ‘masterpiece’.

‘....okay?’ Casey just nods, as she watched Bryce tracing the words with the stick, with full concentration which is somehow... hot? The sun above them, is almost setting, as the canvas behind him was shining in bright orange. Somehow, a view she longed for a while now. After everything that has happened the last few months at Edenbrook, she knew she needed this vacation and, the beach is one of her first choice.

‘It’s like a tradition, we did it every time! It was very therapeutic, sitting down and just write whatever comes in mind.’ He said before standing up, as he admires the ‘masterpiece’.

Keiki lets out a squeal, taking the stick from Bryce as, she wrote several times. One of them includes, a quote from a favorite tv show of hers, a drawing of a kite, and... the final one which is ‘Bryce and Keiki’ in cursive. It somehow, made her smile. One of the smiles that can be seen by children at Disney Land, or as one took a bite on their favorite food. The sincere one, the one that made Casey smile as well.

‘It’s time for the judge to do its work!’ Bryce announced, as Casey disguises herself as a judge with a make-believe clipboard, and an imaginary whistle alerting the ‘competitors’ as the time is up!

Casey studied the ‘masterpieces’ carefully, as she gets into her judge mode. Examining, studying every inch of the masterpieces making both of the Lahela siblings burst in laughter. She turned to the so-called competitors, with a smile on her face.

‘....After exactly 30 seconds of judging, the winner is..... Keiki Lahela!’

The applause follows, as Keiki run forward and pulled Casey into a tight hug. A smile on her face, as she sticks her tongue out at Bryce, who laughs at the reaction.

‘I finally beat Bryce in something! This is a momentous occasion every one! I finally defeat Bryce in something after all these years!!!’ Her voiced boomed through the empty beach, as the sun is ready to set.

‘Heck yeah! We got the power Keiki!’ Casey high-fives the younger Lahela, as Bryce pulls both of them in a hug aswell.

‘I will let it slide this time, but... next time, I am going to win.’ He said, as the group move forward to check out the ‘masterpiece’ once again.

Casey grins at the familiarity of the quote, that still lingers in her mind till this day. One of Bryce’s favourite mantra’s.

‘Don’t Cover up your Greatness!’

She pulled him for a kiss, as the memories with Bryce from her intern year followed through as she glances at the quote. One of the little things in their relationship that she held greatly in her heart.

Bryce took her hand in his, as they made their way to Keiki’s side of the masterpiece.

He stops in his tracks, pulling Keiki into a shoulder-side hug.

‘Bryce and Keiki , like good old times?’ He questions with a hint of excitement, as his free hand was balled up into a fist-bump.

Keiki, fist-bumps back at him as Casey captured the small moment of the Lahela siblings. One of the good momento’s since they were tear apart from each other.

‘Like good old times...’ Keiki said glancing at Casey, with an all knowing look on her face. She scoots down, and took the stick once again. Adding Casey’s name in the chain too, somehow making herself satisfied by the results.

‘Maybe, with a small upgrade.’ She stood up after finishing up her ‘masterpiece’ and winks at her, causing both of them to blush at the comment as they were making memories together. As a small family of their own, it was unexpected but... they wouldn’t have it any other way.

THE END.

#playchoices #bryce x mc #bryce lahela #keiki lahela #casey valentine #anotherbeingsworldwrites #fics #its a bit rusty #but #i hope all of you enjoy it !!#<333

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lutrain2020 · 4 years

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Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission: I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media: Tumblr: @sky-squido AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"

#Meet The Creator #lutrain2020 #linkeduniverse #lu

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ariddletobesolved · 4 years

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Coming of Age

Fandom: Frozen

Word count: 2,370

Summary: As Prince Hans turned twenty one, numerous thoughts about how his future would be began to swirl in. Being a Prince has its perks, but would that be enough?

Sometimes, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles couldn't believe his luck. He might be the youngest of thirteen sons, but never once did he encounter such thing as bad luck. Okay, perhaps never is a strong word, because he could recall at least three unfortunate experiences in the past, and the day he broke his left arm during a sparring with one of his brothers was one. But overall, with whatever life threw at him so far, he considered himself lucky, grateful, and blessed—you name it. Not so many children are blessed with a caring and loving family, he thought.

King Ruben and Queen Vivianna, the reigning monarchs of the Southern Isles, are both great rulers and wise parents. Raising thirteen sons was never easy, yet they were considered as succeed in doing so. The princes were given equal treatment, and they all were taught about respect, the value of hard works, and many other qualities. Perhaps that, as well as their known kindness and wisdom, was why the people adored the royal family even more.

Dismounting from his stallion, Sitron, he glanced at the view before him. The cape near the palace was one of his favourite places, and he often came there just to think or to escape from a private tutor. Not that he didn't enjoy all the tutoring, but one of his brothers, Njal, told him that it's okay to skip lessons once in a while. And instantly, Hans got the bitter aftertaste for following an advice from the troublemaker among the thirteen.

'It's quiet today, isn't it, Sitron?' He gently stroked the horse's nose, as the stallion nuzzled him, as if he was agreeing with his master's words.

Hans let out a sigh, green eyes were gazing at the open ocean. A small smile played on his lips. Sometimes, the serenity was all he needed, especially after all the commotion he had to go through that morning. It seemed as if people around him: his parents, his brothers, even the servants and the commoners he bumped into, were more excited in celebrating what's supposed to be his day.

What's so special about turning twenty one?

The question had been lingering for a while, ever since her mother, Queen Vivianna, announced that there would be a huge ball in celebration of his birthday. He did utter his complains, saying that there's no need to invite other Kingdoms to attend for it's just a birthday celebration, yet the queen disagreed.

'Actually, Hans, darling, you are the last one of my sons that is coming of age. Do you really think I'm going to let it be just another celebration?'

And he knew better than arguing with his dear mother.

'Being a prince is something, Sitron.' He began. 'You probably don't understand, but being the youngest, I sometimes feel like my life is going in no direction.'

It was true. He could think of many things he could grow up to be, when he was young. Having seen some of his brothers joining the navy or the army, while some others were marrying to the throne somewhere, Hans knew that his time would come soon, when he should marry either a princess or a duchess of Somewhere Far. Gustav and Rorik were right, coming of age can be terrifying.

Unlike Lars, who had an avid interest in History, or Jensen, who was known for his talent in music, Hans was something else. He loved the sea, the feeling of the salty breeze against his face, as well as sketching and writing. At times, he found himself drawing people—characters, while also adding some backstory to it. Needless to say, it was a therapeutic experience for him.

'I knew I'd find you here.' He heard that familiar voice, followed by footsteps.

'Jorgen.' Hans spoke, as he turned to see one of his older brothers. 'Are you here to say happy birthday, like everyone else?'

'Is that how you greet the brother you haven't seen in three months?'

Prince Jorgen of the Southern Isles was a tall, lanky man, with red hair, hazel eyes, and a perfectly angled nose—a trait that every Westergaard Princes seemed to possess. His hair was trimmed neatly, the style was almost similar to that of his youngest brother. He approached his little brother, with his horse trailing behind.

'Sorry,' Hans smiled, patting his brother's back. 'How is married life?'

'Wonderful!' Jorgen beamed. 'And soon you will have a taste, little brother.'

Hans scoffed. 'Nah, my turn will come after the twins got married, and judging from the slow courting they are doing with their significant others, it would take years. For now, I want to enjoy my freedom, maybe joining the navy for good.'

'And you think Mother will let you go to the sea?' Jorgen raised a brow, eyeing his brother. 'If anything, she will try to keep you on the land, to marry first. Oh, I heard she has invited princesses from our neighbouring Kingdoms.'

Hans still had his gaze on the horizon, where the sky meets the see far away from where he was standing. Of course he knew this beforehand. His mother would find any opportunity to try playing matchmaking with some princesses he had no interest in. Not that he disliked those girls, who would bat their eyelashes around him, but he simply disliked the idea of getting married so young. There were so many things he would love to do, figuring out his life purpose was one of them. And once you enter married life, there's no going back.

'She can do all she wants.' The youngest Prince muttered, before turning to his brother. 'But she can never stop me.'

Hans knew he was right—or not. By the time the king and queen proposed a toast for his birthday, and having all the guests' attention directed at him, he knew he couldn't escape his mother's plan for the night. Once the music began, Queen Vivianna practically dragged her son aside, and gesturing at a chestnut haired princess in a soft blue beige dress, who stood nearby on her own.

'Hans, that princess is the one I told you earlier.' His mother murmured closely. 'Ask her to dance.'

'But, Mother—' but before he could protest, the Queen sent him a stern look, definitely not giving him a choice. 'Fine.'

And so, he asked Princess Angelique of Hallstatt to dance, in which the Princess complied with pleasure. Though he'd scored himself a great dancing partner, it was still hard for him to enjoy the company, for Princess Angelique gave him dreamy looks that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

'Oh, my little Hans is all grown up!' His mother's words from earlier echoed in his mind. 'Soon, you will find yourself a bride to marry and give me some adorable grandchildren.'

Hans almost grimaced at the thought. That would certainly need to wait. Once the music ended, Hans sighed in relief, before quickly excused himself and flashed the princess his most polite smile.

Taking a glass of champagne from the passing tray, he began to observe his surrounding, from his spot in the corner of the room. The guests seemed to enjoy themselves, dancing and talking—or gossiping, yet something seemed a little off. His brothers were nowhere in sight.

Where are they? He wondered quietly, finishing his drink with a big gulp. Just when he put down his empty glass on a tray carried by a footman, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He was already preparing a speech for whatever plan his mother had for him, but when he turned around, Hans was greeted by number eight, Prince Bjorn.

'I thought you're mother.'

Bjorn let out a chuckle. 'It seems like you're trying to avoid her.'

'Oh, please, she is planning something and I don't like it.' Hans stated. 'I mean, she pushed me to this princess' direction to dance with her. And the whole dance she was staring at me. I enjoy attention, but having someone staring at you like that, no thank you.'

'Like what?' Bjorn motioned him to follow. 'Like she's gonna eat you alive.'

Hans raised an eyebrow. 'Not really, but quite.' Falling in his brother's steps, he wondered out loud, 'Where are we going?'

'You'll see.'

Well, that didn't answer his question, but nonetheless, he still followed him, exiting the ballroom. As he walked down the deserted corridor, all he could hear was the faint music from the celebration, and the fountain that stood in the middle of the garden. They were making a slight turn in one of the corridors when they heard footsteps came approaching from the opposite direction. A man wearing a teal uniform emerged from the darkness, making Bjorn stopped abruptly.

'May I help you, Sir?' He asked the frantic looking man.

The man in the uniform nodded, 'Ah, yes. I would like to request an audience with the King and Queen of The Southern Isles.'

Hans eyed the strange man suspiciously. His green eyes were glaring at the teal coloured uniform, with a golden crocus medal attached to it. An audience with the monarchs? Is he out of his mind? It was clear that neither his mother nor father expected this man, who seemed to be a foreigner.

'I'm sorry, Sir, but there's a celebration going on. Whatever business you need to discuss with the King needs to wait until tomorrow.'

But the man was persistent. 'Please, Sir. I have a very urgent matter to discuss.' He began to pull out a sealed envelope from his leather bag. 'I'm from Arendelle, you see.'

Arendelle? Why would that kingdom send a messenger to the Southern Isles?

The two princes stole brief glances at each other, before eyeing the golden crocus seal upon the letter. Bjorn, who knew immediately that something was up, nodded at the man.

'Follow this long corridor, then turn left. There, you will meet Henrik, a Royal Advisor. Tell him the urgency and ask for an audience with the King and Queen.'

'Thank you!' And with that, the man quickly walked away.

'Did Father invite a representative from Arendelle?' Hans asked his brother as they resumed their journey.

Bjorn frowned. 'Not as far as I know.'

'Well, if anyone from Arendelle is stepping on our soil, it means that they are facing a huge problem.' Hans muttered.

'Or it could be completely something else.' Bjorn added, before tapping his brother's back. 'Let's not think about it. It's your birthday.'

Once the brothers stepped out of the gates, Hans knew where they were heading. The docks. He was sure of it, as he breathed in the familiar salty scent of the ocean. And a few moments later, in the most secluded side of the harbour, stood eleven silhouettes.

'Little brother,' a tall brunet greeted with a rather wrinkly smile. From the feature, everyone could tell that he's the oldest. 'We were worried that you would get lost.'

'Don't call me that, Stefan.' Hans said, before breaking into a smile. 'As for the delay, sorry, we were bumping into an Arendellian on our way here.'

'So that's why the Arendelle flagship is in our harbour.' Jensen, number two, murmured more to himself, before turning to Bjorn. 'Strange, don't you think?'

'I suppose,' Bjorn nodded, 'but don't let it stop us from celebrating our brother's coming of age.'

'Hansy!' The youngest prince almost rolled his eyes at the nickname the twins gave him. 'Once again, happy birthday!' Marten and Mikael, number eleven and twelve, said in unison.

'Thanks, again.' Hans replied. 'You do know how to annoy me, don't you?'

'Oh, you wouldn't say that after you see what we got for you!' Karl, number six, came approaching, handing him a bottle of rum.

Confused, the number thirteen raised an eyebrow, as he glanced at his brothers one by one. Each was bearing what seemed to be an excited smile, and Hans couldn't remember the last time he saw his brothers acting this strange. 'What is it?'

A slight push on his back, urged him to take a step closer to the edge of the docks. He turned to see Oskar, number nine, giving him the gentle push. And right before him, Lars, Gustav, and Rorik were standing by, seemed ready to unveil something big—quite literally.

Nordstjernen

The word was the first thing he noticed. North Star. Then he realised what it was. A sail boat. A perfectly crafted one, majestic. It led to a conclusion: they knew about his love for sailing. He was only standing there, glued to the spot, as his green eyes slowly took in the view before him.

'Happy birthday, Hans!'

One by one, the brothers began to engulf the youngest into an embrace, and as much as the gesture annoyed him, he didn't mind. He was grateful that he had twelve big brothers who cared for him, and a set of wonderful parents. Here, surrounded by a family, at last. Hans knew that somewhere out there someone grew up in an abusive household under unfortunate circumstances. And for that reason was he feeling very fortunate for his life.

With Nordstejrnen, he could explore the waters in his Kingdom, maybe he could take his sketchbook along with him. And he would make sure that nobody could stop him from doing so, not even his mother. Being a prince has it's perks, he thought, and it will never be enough for me to not use this opportunity to the fullest. Besides, he had had his naval training, and it would surely help him.

Coming of age could be terrifying for some people. It might be full of unexpected events. But for the youngest prince, it would be one that's full of adventure.

Yes, Hans knows that turning twenty one means that his life is about to change. If he only knows what the future has in store for him.

—

Note: This was originally written for Hans Week 2020, alas, only recently did I get to finish it. Also, this story may or may not be continued in Helsa Week 2.0. That's why some feedbacks and criticisms are very much welcome. Thanks for reading! X

Reposting because the first one didn’t show up in the tags.

#prince hans #hans #hans westergaard #fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #Mary's writing #coming of age #coming of age au

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-03-12

I have been told only a few things about the upd8 that just landed, over Discord by two people:

upd19 feat. 4,901,157 read it. now. note: the featuring note is accurate if in a different base than what you might be expecting

What the fuck does that even mean.

Okay Pretty good chapter.

...from another friend who VERY dislikes HS^2? Oh shit.

I also glimpsed a post that may or may not have been about Homestuck at all at the top of my Tumblr feed for an instant that said “YES YES YES YES YES” in huge bold print. I have no idea whether to be excited or nervous.

Okay, it’s not a Bonus update... let me comb through from an earlier page to be careful not to get a spoilerlook at the pagecount...

...huh. That seems... like a conversation that would be up my alley, but not necessarily unique so far or worth all this crowing about. I thought we were about to get Dirk-aliens with a full Horschestra backing... are we getting something else?

> CHAPTER 6. A Conversation Regarding Relevance

Hmmmmmmmm. With the contrast between their reactions and this ominous buildup, there’s got to be a serious fun-twist coming. Right? --I’ll stop with that talk for the moment though.

space is vast. an unproductive statement, almost a tautology. [...]

Alright, that and the starry background are riffing the fuck off Star Trek. Nice homage to Andrew’s roots.

the lives of the many are far too volatile and instinct-driven

Alt!Callie what the fuck are you doing. This is intentional now. You can’t play this off as “what’s a Star Trek”.

tautologies are, in general, reserved for stories. for narrative device. for finding new and inventive ways to tell an audience that which they already know.

God damnit she’s still doing it

neither of us ever able to convince the other of the righteousness of our stance. we were never meant to agree. it isn’t in our blood.

Blah blah overanalyzing classpect blah

when they scoff at my tautology ‘space is vast’, what do they really know? nothing. as far as any of them have experienced, space does not exist.

It’s still nice to see some real personality leak through on Alt!Callie. We definitely know from her other self that she can develop quite a relatable and colorful one. Have the years helped?

> ==>

dramantic pouse... ........

Also,

-look at that collar. Damn, Callie, that is a collar

very few have stood and looked into the abyss, the true gulf of nothingness that spreads out around the single point of consciousness adrift in a constellation. all the combined weight of sentient endeavour would quail underneath that sheer, irresistible truth. the realization that they are so small, that the universe cares about their puny lives so very little. sitting in the glowing light of the stars this becomes even more apparent

In the official aspect quiz I never took the time to analyze, the aspects were put on a wheel where Space was a neighbor to Void, if I recall correctly. I wonder how much those aspects engender feelings of goddamnit I’m doing it again aren’t I

...

are we out of orange juice?

Yesss let more personality Alt!Callie bleed through, more of it~

Wait, does Alt!Callie even taste through Jade? Isn’t this remote control? Is she vicariously drawing pleasure from Jade’s not-just-meat-or-candy mostly-human taste buds or?

> ==>

JADE: are you talking to me? JADE: because if you are i would like to remind you that i hate!! orange juice!!

OH FUCK YES!!! SHE’S IN THERE AND AWAKE!!! SHE STILL HAS AT LEAST ENOUGH AGENCY TO BE PRESENT AND ARGUE WITH CALLIE! YESSSSSS

no you don’t.

JADE: well i guess i never really had a strong opinion on it before JADE: but now i cant stand it!! JADE: its all you drink!

i like the pulp.

QUIT INADVERTANTLY FORCING SHIT ON JADE WITH NARRATIVESPEAK GIVE HER A BIT OF LEEWAY ALT!CALLIE YOU CONTROLLING--

JADE: its my body and i dont want orange juice! JADE: i hate pulp, and i didnt just make that up to spite you JADE: who wants strings in their juice?

i do.

JADE: ughhhhhhhhh

I have had friends hopefully fantasize about and/or therapeutically roleplay this exact situation with Jade breaking through and arguing with Alt!Callie’s control to make this all a fair bit more palatable but I didn’t dare to hope we’d get even THIS much

Maybe the HS^2 authors DO care about not leaving us wallowing in hopeless witness to the characters’ constant torture and existential turbosuffering!!!! :#D

i realize that jade’s situation is less than ideal from a characterization perspective, but i still politely point out that nobody likes a whiner.

Fuck you, this isn’t CALIBORN you’re trying to repress you asshole! Leave Jade some AGENCY!!!!! She deserves it!!

JADE: fuck you rude calliope inside my head!

YES EXACTLY

JADE: why dont you try being possessed by the spirit of some other version of a good friend of yours, and floated around a spaceship full of people you love JADE: unable to affect anything or say hello to anyone! JADE: then tell me about whiners!

i killed my brother and consumed him.

JADE: sounds like a you problem

Compromise and give her some agency finally come on compromise and give her some agency you red-text twatwaffle

i suggest to the witch that i have spent untold eons in the void between universes, waiting for the moment i would be needed to prevent the dissipation of reality as we know it. her appeals to emotion will not help her. i will remain unmoved.

Oh god damnit.

JADE: well i had to watch my boyfriend and my brother die in front of me on a tiny scaled version of a world that i shrunk for them! JADE: and then spend the next three years talking to myself, wracked with guilt that id killed them!

Oh. God. Damnit. This had better not be where the Suicide trigger warning was coming from. Are there going to be any characters left who DIDN’T emerge from this mess feeling suicidal?!? (I mean if there were any understandable case it would be three years alone on the golden ship Jade but-- I mean COME ON, we have to discuss that in our FIRST GLIMPSE at her since the epilogues?!?)

> ==>

i remind the witch that my time was in the void, which is far darker and lonelier [...]

Oh fuck you don’t compare suffering as an excuse to COMPLETELY body-enslave and squash the agency of someone when you probably don’t have to. You’re just doing what’s COMFORTABLE alt!Callie admit it. There’s a way you could give her some leeway, I’m almost positive.

JADE: even if i had the powers of a first guardian, my brain still worked in modules of human pattern recognition! JADE: three years is a long time for a human teenager, i dont care how many of her molecules are made of a god!

(i love it when jade talks smart, that bit of the epilogues was a treat too, plz reveal more of the big brain on jade)

It seems Jade can’t see or quite understand the full import of there being a “narrative”. Or THINKS she cant, because she still says:

JADE: your voice is impossible to read and i cant see your face

If she’s “reading” alt!Callie’s remarks, that means she’s breaking through to understand the narrative to SOME extent. She might be one of the ones who learns to do that a little more and better in the future, especially with alt!Callie almost unintentionally training her to see it.

> ==>

Oh, good. So A!C’s not above being considerate. That’s a step in the right direction.

> ==>

D’aww, Jade conceding and trying to empathize like her usual self. I appreciate it. :) --but Alt!Callie’s definitely in the wrong here.

JADE: but i think it is a very natural thing to be silly when you are used to being able to control your own body, but now cant

i will allow that, yes.

Thanks. Learn some damned reason.

jade smiles. dave and karkat will always be a source of pain for her, a low ache somewhere in her center of gravity, but she is happy for them. she knows that there is really no other alternative for how to be. they chose each other over her, and they always will. they are the two people who matter to her the most in every universe, and that will not change, no matter how much she wishes it would, no matter how--

JADE: do you actually know that?

pardon me?

Oh, shit.

JADE: do you actually know that im doomed to pine over dave and karkat across every iteration of reality? JADE: like, can you actually see that? JADE: because youre a space player, like i am. JADE: i know that you are more powerful than me, but i dont think you can see other timelines any better than i can JADE: so i think you are just being dramatic JADE: for the “audience”, whatever the heck that means

i experience a moment of unease as jade looks at me. keeping her out of my thoughts is proving to be more difficult than i had first assumed it would be.

That’s a damned interesting question. I was giving the narrative the benefit of the doubt, but given everything the Epilogues warned us about when it came to the narrators and alt!Callie’s occasional slips into her own bias, I really should have known better.

i had begun confident that i could keep her consciousness sleeping peacefully inside the shell of her body, tamed and quiescent, but she has proved to be more irascible than i initially gave her credit for.

JADE: heheh JADE: i have never been particularly tamable, and my consciousness is huge!

This might end up playing out more like my friend’s Jade-breaks-out roleplays than I initially assumed. (What does she mean “huge consciousness” though? Superpowered due to part-First-Guardian, like she alluded earlier in the conversation? That never got much play before, so it’s great to see that potential realized here a bit...)

> ==>

...I’m a fucking idiot. Of COURSE “huge consciousness” and the whole line around it was just an unsubtle double-entendre. A small part of me actually wondered if it was and dismissed it as a clumsy reading in an instant. How stupid am I? Jade is the best.

If only this sort of thing worked on Cherubs.

> ==>

Yeah. It really doesn’t.

...Alt!Callie, you are a fucking war-criminal for bottling all these double-entendres up where none of the others can appreciate them.

> ==>

JADE: you are a pretty tough crowd, evil callie JADE: but yes, i can hear most of what you are thinking to yourself JADE: it took a little while to separate it from my own thoughts, just like it did with dirk JADE: because thats what he was doing the whole time, wasnt it? JADE: controlling our thoughts JADE: making us believe things we never would, things he thought we SHOULD believe

Fucking excellent. She’s definitely training herself on this shit. The more people who have a harder time getting fooled by this nonsense the better.

jade knows all of this, i don’t have to tell her. she is a very bright girl, and even if she didn’t have partial access to my thoughts, she is good at compiling data and using it to fill in gaps. as she herself had rather licentiously mentioned, her brain is quite large.

and all of these reasons are why i know i can count on her to be reasonable and realistic about her situation. i need a body to continue interfacing with this timeline, and her body is the only one that will do.

Dammit. Trying to get her to logic her way back into keeping Alt!Callie in complete control. That’s a tactic that will probably work. :(

what about [kanaya], jade? she is a space player, it is true, but her powers are nothing compared to yours. for one, she isn’t god tier, and for two, she is dead. a living dead, but dead nonetheless.

Hm. Are you saying she maybe has less relevance, less of an effect on her surroundings because she spent some of her “cred” on unconventional partial resurrection? To the extent where she’d make a less influential vessel? Hmm.

For that to even matter, you have to be planning to use Jade’s Space powers too. Taking a far more active role in things than narrative beacon.

and a sylph’s specializations lie on a different end of the spectrum from my own. a witch is a far closer match.

!!!!!

Sounds like details of the classpect system that we don’t know will have relevance in HS^2, and we’re indeed gonna possibly get some actual new, clearer details about the system Andrew invented unlike the dearth of new info the Epilogues brought us. That is... promising.

no, jade understands and sympathizes with my assurance that her body, and her body alone, will do for my purposes.

JADE: um...no i dont!

YES. Jade is now officially immune to absolute command! :D :D :D

she does. after all, she would not wish this sort of state of being on anyone else, and especially not on one of her friends. jade may have undergone a lopsided number of narrative hardships in her life, but at least she is used to them. why spread that suffering to another?

What the fucking shit??? You’re using that on her? You think it’ll WORK?!

jade understands and accepts her place in the story, which has always been to enable events to play out around her, just as it has been mine.

..........yeah Jade’s gonna bust the fuck out on the very next page, isn’t she.

What the fuck is Alt!Callie thinking, here? Wasn’t the other Calliope the one to let us know that the Witch is one of the most active classes there is?? ...what exactly does a Witch officially do anyway, for Alt!Callie to think saying such a thing wasn’t dead wrong? This sounds MUCH more like the sort of statement someone might make after breezing through Homestuck and confusing the old Jade (cough) for the person she grew up into.

And the fact that you’re phrasing this as a narrative command to try and make her forcibly THINK this way deserves you a smack in the non-literal depictive face. Let’s see if you get one:

> ==>

Oh wow, no smack yet?! That’s some restraint!

because what is a story, truly? nothing but a series of misadventures and connections, actions spurring reactions, tumbling into one another, over and over and over. with so many competing interests, clearly the story cannot account for all perspectives, for all threads? it would be laughable, childish, even selfish, to demand that they do.

in other words, not everyone will achieve a happy ending. this is a truth that jade had come to grips with a long time ago.

JADE: wait. JADE: stop. JADE: why are you saying all of this?

Ohh. Because she still had even MORE smackworthy stuff left to say, to make the smack even SMACKIER, didn’t she. Alt!Callie you asshole. If this gets you kicked out of her almost entirely and jeopardizes the crew as Jade struggles to combat Dirk’s narrative influence on her OWN, then I’m fucking blaming YOU! Do you realize how horrible it’ll be if Dirk gets to almost singlehandedly write the whole story around her and the others for the first section of HS^2 with only one or two characters aware and trying to mentally avert it?? We already TRIED that in the Epilogues! It was awful!

jade’s body is my vessel, and it is through this realization that she will understand her true role in the story. her true relevance.

Go fuck yourself, Alt!Callie. Read the audience a bit!

if i released my hold on her consciousness, there would be no guarantee that i would be allowed in again. therefore i cannot permit her the control of herself that she so desperately craves, and she understands that.

THAT’S your reasoning your used-to-surpressing-Caliborn ignorant--!??

JADE: wait. so...you could give me my body back, and then just hop back in when you need to?

in theory, yes.

JADE: then what the hell callie!

because i don’t trust you to cooperate when the time comes.

MotherfuckerTheMusical.mp4

(or real existing equivalent that’s just off the top of my head)

JADE: why not? JADE: i thought you said i was a reasonable girl with a huge brain!

you are, to an extent.

she is. but the truth of the matter remains that humans are capricious and emotional. and even jade herself can admit that she hasn’t been the most...committed example of her species in the last few years.

Oh my fucking god. I know they’re trying to make this more satisfying when she actually DOES take control in a few panels, but, Alt!Callie, seriously, get more on your other self’s level!!!

> ==>

Yes, please >:O some more

moving from lover to lover, job to job, interest to interest. over the last few years jade had found herself listless, unable to settle and unwilling to commit to anything or anyone. she knows there’s nothing wrong with that on a moral level, but on a personal level she’s always believed that she could be more, could do better. be better. and now, because of this, she realizes that sacrifices must be made.

and that she, as a space player, is uniquely built for sacrifice.

JADE: yeah JADE: i guess youre right JADE: i have been such a silly little slut! JADE: hey callie

yes, jade?

JADE: oh my god, whats that!!!!

You are so fucking screwed Alt!Callie.

this space is utterly under my control. jade could control it too, if she had any access to her own powers. but with my grip around her cortex, there is no chance of that.

(Wait, there’s an extent to which this space is “real” and not imaginary? Or does holding her space powers in check also mean keeping her imaginary space powers in check?)

Anyway, here comes the smack. And, though Alt!Callie deserves this, I hope Dirk isn’t let in too often amidst the others as a result.

> ==>

Yup, poising to pounce...

> ==>

I thought there was a weird infinity symbol underneath them but it’s just two spotlights and a shadow cast by her head.

and here i make my first mistake.

No you made your first mistakes WAAAY earlier in this conversation. And what you did to Jade in general. She’s a hero/player for a reason, she doesn’t take stuff lying down forever.

but bringing her into a place where we can both physically manifest has left me, foolishly, vulnerable.

First, physically manifest? This isn’t pure imaginationspace? And second, she’s going to blame her polite concession to Jade for this and hold on even tighter the next time, isn’t she. God damnit, not looking forward to that. Alt!Callie won’t learn her lesson til the end, will she? :(

her fingers tear at my throat, trying to find purchase. she won’t be able to kill me here, but it is certainly unpleasant, and not to mention slightly repetitive. we just saw this in the previous chapter, although this particular fight will not end as amorously as the last one did. so don’t get your hopes up.

JADE: who! JADE: are you talking to!

I really hope Jade ends up with full narrative powerOOOOOHHHH FUCK THEY COULD GO FOR THAT HUH

Dirk was able to become an Ultimate Self in his own body because it was the uniting of an irrepressible “self” that he always unbreakably represented. The others had more trouble.

But Jade

has a BIG PART-GOD BRAIN as reinforced in the narrative repeatedly!!

Meaning that later, SHE could Ultimate Self without ANY PHYSICAL CONSEQUENCE. :D

I was hoping Jade would end up with full narrative-dictating-and-reading power when she wants to use it, at some point, but I might’ve been aiming too low! :D :D :D

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay

Now all the playfully-horny omnipotent Jade fanfics are true, what that totally isn’t part of why I love this go ahead and admit she doesn’t deserve it

> ==>

Yesss flashy gif struggle against control! (Though, not as elegant as one of Andrew’s might’ve been. Gotta say.)

> ==>

Blinky-eyes about to resolve normal-Jade-colored....!

> ==>

Wait, what? I thought Jade was about to snap in and--

during the ship’s trip through space, there have been numerous experiments; modifications to the nutrition output of the various machines designed to create sustenance for the various species on board. i myself have been content with orange juice and synthetic proteins, but dave and roxy have both expressed longing for various ‘earth snacks’, and so the trials and errors began.

What the fuck? I don’t even know where this is going if it’s punways.

Is there like a dog treat somewhere that’s gonna push her over the edge? Where is this headed even.

> ==>

Wh...

WHa??????

the results were mixed. as roxy told us in a previous chapter, alchemized food all sort of tastes the same, although the visuals really help to bring about the flavor. and at the end of the day, isn’t it the journey that is more important than the destination? the stories you tell as you create the strangely flavored nutritional paste?

JADE: ????????????

Um?? What’s even going on.

so far, everyone’s favorite attempt has been a vaguely peanut-butter and chocolate flavored creation called "Rices'". nobody eats them really. they just sit in a bowl on the counter.

i’m not actually sure what the witch is trying to accomplish here.

Is Jade trying to humorously gross Alt!Callie out of her body with a candy she doesn’t like or? But, “suicide threat”? Why joke--

JADE: you dont? JADE: really?

i don’t know what she is trying to accomplish, because surely she would not be doing what it appears she is trying to do. making such a meaningless threat.

JADE: meaningless? JADE: do you even know anything about the body you stole? JADE: shouldnt you have run some sort of psychic physical before you possessed it? JADE: its definitely what i would have done!

Oh SHIT. You mean Jade has the same peanut allergy JOHN does?!?

> ==>

jade must know that i am well-aware of her family-wide peanut allergy. a story thread that has been extremely important and weighed in on in multiple parts of the narrative. how could i have forgotten such a key detail?

...yes, she totally forgot, but more than that.

I’m betting John is the ONLY one with a peanut allergy. That Jade is USING that fact to bluff like hell. :D

(Allergies aren’t usually inherited that way you alien!)

there is nothing remotely just or heroic about dying from self-imposed anaphylactic shock in the throes of a childish tantrum. at the most i’ll get a relaxing few minutes of sleep.

Is Alt!Callie bluffing now? Even a resurrecting death could throw her off.

> ==>

FUCK YES JADE.

JADE: do you really want to risk it?

what are you talking about, jade? i just said--

FUCK YES JADE, BE A HUGE WITCH

(i say in the most witch-connotatively and non-classpect-related way)

JADE: i dont know, callie JADE: ive never really understood the rules that govern the death of a god tier, have you? JADE: it seems pretty arbitrary from where im standing JADE: who makes the decision whether or not something is heroic or just?

...that’s unclear. but it certainly isn’t you.

JADE: right, of course not JADE: but are you so confident that youre a good guy? JADE: are you sure that the alpha timeline WANTS you to be here?

...what.

JADE: youve done some stuff, callie JADE: im only saying you shouldnt be so quick to assume that me killing you wouldnt be just JADE: and that taking my own life to do it wouldnt be heroic

Even with JUST this one fucking situation Alt!Callie put her in, throwing off her control forever by dying would be shortsighted but HELLA JUST. What Alt!Callie is doing to her is a crime.

Oh shit!?!?

> [S] ==>

What is this, HTML5? *clicks play*

...for a second, I thought this was gonna launch into a huge thing with that clock ticking song from the Felt album.

Having Rose and Dirk’s colors competing here really reinforces that... Prospit vs Derse vibe that was feeding the whole this-is-the-basis-for-the-game’s-structure-and-the-birth-of-Paradox-Space theory more earlier.

> ==>

i don’t let the witch manipulate me. i refuse to falter in the face of her whispers. without my careful planning and swift action, the prince would have taken full control over this timeline. none of my friends could even begin to imagine the turmoil.

In the end, you’re ignoring what’s right and brave in this instance to instead do something EXPEDIENT, to the exclusion of trust and compassion when things COULD work out just as well without taking the worst actions -- which is textbook villainous.

> ==>

JADE: they arent your friends!! JADE: you took them from me!

Now isn’t THAT a way to put it. :D :D :D

Alt!Callie is sinning almost as badly as Dirk, here. Viewing everyone else as characters in a story, the only way she’s ever viewed “friends”, and her as the not-so-humble narrator doing what’s best for all of them. If she’s going to win against Dirk -- or if that victory is going to MEAN anything -- she will HAVE to realize that she needs to be different.

JADE: you keep saying that youre doing all of this for my own good, but youre just lonely! JADE: i know you are, because so am i!

Ouch.

Will Alt!Callie force her to swallow it?

JADE: you said that being a space player is all about sacrifice JADE: well

> ==>

JADE: bet

...I guess she really might have an allergy.

> ==>

Aaaand the candy drops. A W A K E ! ! ! !

Yaaaaay Jade is BACK and we’ll get to see even more of her!!!

...please tell me on the next page she grabs the candy, noms it, and mentions she doesn’t have a peanut allergy after all. That would be sweet.

> ==>

...

Nope, you just leave us on a sad. Dammit, why do you gotta be all adult and showin’ us both sides in a moment of triumph, HS^2. Shucks.

Anyway, YAY JADE! C:

I am happy by this, if slightly too emotionally-rollercoastered by the past 24-hours to give this the full-rejoicing it deserves. That, and worried about the openings Dirk will get because of this... joy now for potential frustration later, even if Jade tries her best to let Alt!Callie back in in-time.

See y’all next time! And, uhm. I guess I’ll comment on whatever other asks I promised to comment on another less-eventful day. Keep reminding me and holding me to it though!

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #(yes the past 24-hours includes witnessing everyone's despair at realizing the president is going to get our family members virus-killed)#Jade Harley

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[RF] Grandpa

** This is a long submission. It is incomplete and a work in progress. I suspect it will end up being about 7000 words when complete. This is by far the most complex short story I have attempted, and includes a number of sub plots and the most characters I have tried to use at once. Some of it is very much based in my real world experiences, with characters based on real people and family members. This story is therapeutic to write and deeply personal. Having said that, I REALLY want feedback on it.

As it is a long story, I will be forever grateful to anybody willing to read it in its (current) entirety and offer me feedback and their thoughts. There are bits I am super happy with, and bits I don't like at all. In case anybody has read any of my stories before (I have deleted the ones I have posted in the past I think), the third part of this story has already made an appearance on here before. After writing it, I decided to turn it into a much larger story, particularly utilising feedback from another member. Super thankful to this community for being such a constructive group!

I will of course return the feedback favour. Thank you. **

“It’s okay, Lis,” Jordan said, keeping his eyes planted firmly on his wife. “We’ll figure it out.” What he couldn’t tell her was that he didn’t believe it himself. His stomach churned at the thought of burdening her with such pain. So, he lied with his eyes; begging her to heed his words.

“I know,” Lisa said.

“Just think good thoughts. We’ll get there.” Jordan reached out and took his wife’s hand, squeezing. They were cold; lonely. Her thumb nails were chewed and uneven, the result of an old, nervous tick rearing its head. All he wanted was to reassure her; make her believe it would all work out. He never intended to be the source of her pain, in fact, it was supposed to be his role to comfort her; to protect her. He was supposed to bring her joy, but lately that seemed to be the one thing he couldn’t do.

“I’m just scared that when I get the test, it’ll be bad news.” Lisa looked at Jordan. The creases around the edges of her eyes were deeper than usual and her nose was red. This had become a regular occurrence, but Jordan wasn’t desensitized. If anything, the more he saw her cry, the more it broke his heart.

“What if they say never?” she asked. “What will we do then?”

Jordan’s insides screamed. It took everything he had not to throw a dining room chair across the room and into the mirror. He wanted to watch it shatter into millions of pieces and scatter across the room so that he could walk on the broken glass. It seemed like the only thing painful enough to distract him from reality. Staring into Lisa’s eyes, he felt his mouth hanging open, unable to speak. Words seemed suddenly unattainable, blurry and just out of reach. Then, the phone rang.

Jordan looked down to see his mobile vibrating on the table. The caller ID read: Dad. He saw his chance to escape the conversation and gave Lisa an apologetic smile. She nodded, giving him the okay to answer and squeezed his hand before leaving the table and disappearing into the kitchen. Jordan collected the phone, swiped the green button to the left and lifted it to his ear. “Hey, Martin,” he said, hoping his dad would take the bait.

“Don’t call me that.” His dad’s voice was uneven; rough. There was no banter, no jokes. It wasn’t right.

“Sorry, Dad. What’s up?”

“Matey, it’s Grandpa.”

Jordan furrowed his brow and inhaled before responding. “What about him?”

“He’s not okay. Cancer.” For the second time in two minutes, Jordan found himself lost for words. It didn’t make any sense, he thought. His dad always used to say his grandpa was fit as a fiddle made of steel. The man ate germ meal and steamed broccoli for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It didn’t make sense.

“He’s having an operation to remove a large tumour from his brain,” his dad continued. “We should visit him before he goes in.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jordan stuttered through his response. “When?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll see you and your brother at four o’clock outside the Wesley.”

“Do you need me to call Kurt?”

“No. It’s done.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, matey.”

The phone disconnected and Jordan stood in stunned silence. The world felt quieter; less chaotic. But, much darker. His grandpa was lively and charismatic in his old age; the life of the party. That image immediately began to fade, only to be replaced with hollow stillness.

“What was that?” Lisa called from the kitchen.

“That was Dad.” Jordan tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it only seemed to get larger. “Grandpa’s sick. You’ll have to get the test on your own tomorrow.”

Lisa reappeared from the kitchen. “Is it serious?”

Jordan turned to look at her and nodded slowly.

***

Outside the Wesley Hospital, Jordan watched his brother take a long draw from his cigarette. Clamping it between his fore and middle fingers, he pinched his eyebrows together in what looked like intense concentration, before blowing out the smoke and gazing into the distance. It was funny, Jordan thought, how all smokers seemed to suck on their cigarette in exactly the same way.

“So, cancer,” Kurt said, “that’s shit.”

Jordan frowned and let out a small chuckle. His brother always had a knack for thoughtless thoughtfulness. It was charming in a way. Reminded Jordan of the beauty to be found in simplicity.

“Yeah. It’s shit,” he agreed.

Jordan had always found it difficult to talk with his brother. An ocean of difference separated them, often too expansive to swim and too murky navigate. Kurt had always been into heavy metal and horror movies, while Jordan was more interested in sport and politics. They were brothers, but they’d never really been friends. Of course, it hadn’t helped that, growing up, they fought like brothers.

Jordan had always been good at poking the bear, like the time he found one of Kurt’s cigarette filters on the floor of the living room and, even though he knew exactly what it was, decided it best to pretend otherwise and show it to their mum. Jordan marvelled at his own genius that night, taking great pleasure in his brother’s admonishment and indefinite grounding. The look in his mum’s eyes had always stuck with him, though, as he was sure it had with Kurt. Looking into them was like being pulled into a black hole, lost forever within an expansive and ever painful nothing. He’d thought it best to make sure those eyes were never directed at him.

But, like any self-respecting older brother, Kurt would reciprocate to Jordan’s provocation. One time, after Jordan had stolen his Play Station controller, Kurt chased him under the house and guarded the only exit with an enormous stick. Too scared to get close and too stupid to apologise, Jordan had cowered in the corner of the room until their mother had gotten home. Thinking he was finally saved; Jordan screamed for his mother at the top of his lungs. Ironically, it was then that he faced that which he’d feared so much.

They were both grounded.

A stiff breeze forced Jordan’s hands into his jean pockets. Looking at Kurt, he was both jealous and impressed by his brother’s ability to ignore the cold. There they were, standing in ten-degree weather, and Kurt was wearing a black tank top and cargo shorts, tapping his foot to an imaginary beat as he smoked his Winny Blue. His nonchalance was awe-inspiring.

“So, how’s up north?” Jordan asked, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence.

“It’s fine,” Kurt said, taking another draw from his cigarette. “Hot. Sticky. My air-con’s shit.”

“That sucks.”

“Oath. Mining work’s tough too – two weeks on, two off. I can never quite get settled.”

“Sorry to hear, man. I’d hate that.” Jordan scrambled for another discussion point. “How’d you get down so quick? Dad only called me yesterday afternoon.”

“He got onto me about ten in the morn’ yesterday. I flew down early today. Had lunch in the city.” Kurt took one final draw from his cigarette before dropping it to the cracked pavement and stomping it out. Then, without pause, he pulled the pack from his back pocket and lit another. “How about you?” he asked, “How’s Lisa?”

Jordan gave his brother a quick smile, doing his best to mask his apprehension toward the topic. “Yeah, she’s good. We’re good.” Kurt looked at him as if to say, that was convincing.

“Good to hear, mate. Did you know about Grandpa?”

Jordan was glad his brother had moved on. “Nah. Didn’t even know he was sick. You reckon Dad’s known for long?”

Kurt took his last draw from his cigarette, dropped it to the pavement next to his first, and stamped it out.

“We can ask him ourselves. Here he is.” He motioned behind Jordan.

Their father walked towards them. His posture was slouched, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hollow smile was worn thin and a five o’clock shadow painted his jaw in grey. It looked wrong; incorrect. Martin Alexander was a man of rigid, unwavering routine. Every morning he got up at six, brushed, shaved and showered in that order. He ate the same breakfast every day; one whole orange, sliced in half, one cup of coffee and two slices of wholemeal bread with vegemite. Whenever he left the house, he had to check that all the windows were closed, all the power points turned off and every door was locked. Twice. The man was like a machine. Programmed to perform the same tasks in the same ways every day. Seeing just one of these routines broken made Jordan feel uneasy. Martin Alexander with facial hair didn’t look like Martin Alexander; rather he looked like Bizarro Martin. Dark Martin. Martin from another world. Another reality. A reality Jordan didn’t want to know about because it was obviously darker than this one.

“Hello, boys,” Martin said as he approached. The brothers glanced at one another before hugging him.

“He’ll be right, you know,” Martin said.

Jordan and Kurt looked at each other and grimaced. “Yeah, Dad. We know,” Jordan said, placing his hand on his father’s shoulder, and giving it a light squeeze.

“He’s got a lot of life left in him,” Martin continued.

“That he does,” Kurt said.

“He’ll have the surgery and be-” Martin paused and looked past his children’s heads, avoiding eye contact, but refusing to cry. He continued, “He’ll-”

Jordan interjected, “Dad. We-”

“He’ll be up and at ‘em again soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jordan watched as his dad tried desperately to control the uncontrollable. He’d always been like that – determined to keep everything in order. Like a marching band. Organised and predictable. Most of the time he was successful, but Jordan sensed that today would slip through his fingers.

“Dad,” Jordan said. Martin turned to look at his son in the eyes. “We know. Let’s go in.”

***

The room was white; oppressive; sterile. Jordan hated it. The walls were pristine; not because they'd been prepared for visitors, but because they'd been meticulously cleaned with bleach - or some other nauseating chemical - time and again. He could smell it in the air. Their sheen was a sombre reminder of what happened there week-in and week-out. People went there to die.

The sun spilled through the small window and into the dark room, trying desperately to remind everybody the world outside was still bright. Dust danced through the light and, presumably, settled across the room, decorating it in filth. Jordan chuckled to himself. It was ironic, he thought. A place kept so diligently clean was still unable to escape dust.

Martin was standing next to him with his head down and his eyes closed. His arms were a straitjacket across his chest, folded so tightly, it looked as though he was struggling to breathe. Kurt was by the window, reading some medical poster that was hung on the wall. It outlined the circulatory system or the lymphatic system or some system. He was still tapping his foot to an imaginary beat.

A cough from behind them disturbed the solemn silence, and they all turned in unison to stare at the bathroom door.

"You okay in there?" Martin called; arms still locked. There was no reply. "Dad?" He tried again. "You okay?" He looked at his sons, frowned, and exhaled.

"Be right out, mate," Grandpa called. His voice was hollow. Sick. but still full of unrestrained enthusiasm. "Just dealin' with the toot!"

Jordan put his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh and turned to look at his dad. A smile was haphazardly scrawled across Martin’s face and he was slowly shaking his head back and forth. "That's Dad," he said and shrugged.

“He used to call me Kurtle.” Jordan look at his brother, his eyebrows raised, imploring him to continue. “You know, like a turtle.”

“You loved them as a kid,” Martin said, shifting his weight on the spot.

“Yeah. Still do. None up north, though.”

“Not even in the desert sand?” Jordan asked, his tone sarcastic and his smile exaggerated.

“Nah, too dry,: Kurt said, straight faced, before turning back to his poster.

Without warning, the bathroom door flew open and a frail eighty-two-year-old walked out in a blue hospital gown. His grey cheeks and thinning hair were juxtaposed against his wild smile and starry eyes.

“Check it out fellas, they’ve got me in a bloody nappy!” Grandpa shrieked.

With no other warning, he yanked up his gown to reveal a large, white adult nappy.

Jordan’s eyes widened and, unable to contain his laughter, he turned away from his grandpa to look at his dad.

Equally amused, but twice as embarrassed, Martin protested, "Jesus, Dad! Put your gown down." His arms unlocked and he waved them in front of him, as if to say we don't need to see that!

Jordan looked back at his grandpa. Martin Senior couldn't have given two shits, wiggling his hips from side to side in some kind of dance. His eyes were wide and mischievous and the wrinkles on his face creased as he smiled. Even in the face of death, their grandpa was full of life. It pained Jordan to think that he couldn't remember if he'd always been this way; if he'd always been such a kid. He hung his head, unable to recall when he’d last spent meaningful time with his grandpa.

He cast his mind back as far as he could reach, but all he was able to pluck from the ocean of memories, were a few sporadic moments in which he’d ignored the man who only wanted to know him, in favour of video games, alcohol, and anything else.

Jordan made his way to a chair in the corner of the hospital room and sat down. On the periphery of his vision, his dad struggled with his grandpa, fighting to get his gown down, with Kurt watching from the sidelines offering unhelpful commentary and egging his grandpa on.

Jordan exhaled, pushing what remaining life was left in him out into nothingness. He could feel his muscles growing weak and his eyes becoming increasingly heavy as tears welled. The world wrapped its icy tendrils around him, pulling him in for the kill. His head pounded as it played over every moment he'd missed to actually get to know the man standing just a few feet away.

“Alright, Dad. Now just sit there, will you?”

Jordan looked up. His dad had managed to convince his grandpa to sit down. Studying the bed, Jordan noticed a small jug attached to its side about half-filled with yellow liquid; urine. A plastic tube hung loose; disconnected. The catheter was yet another visual reminder that, even though the nappy was funny, and it was good to see him laugh, his grandpa was in a world of pain.

“Will you stop fussing over me?” his grandpa said. “I get enough of that shit here as it is.”

Martin looked unimpressed. “Dad, this is serious. You need to be careful and look after yourself before the surgery.” Jordan watched his grandpa shoo his dad’s concerns away like they were nothing. This, of course, bothered Martin to no end. He did little to hide it.

“Kurt, mate,” Grandpa began, “how’s up north?”

Kurt began to answer him, but Martin interrupted. “Have you thought about accommodation when you come out, Dad?”

“Jen’s set the basement up.”

“What about care?”

“I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Dad, look, you need t-”

“Dad,” Jordan interjected. “Calm down. Leave it be.” He looked directly into Martin’s eyes. They were wet and red, ready to burst. You can’t control this, he thought, trying to telepathically communicate the sentiment to his dad. Just leave it.

And for a second, he thought he’d been successful in communicating his message as Martin’s expression appeared to soften. For a second Jordan thought that maybe his father might accept that he was unable to control just one thing. Then his phone rang, breaking their telepathic connection and breaking Martin free from his calm.

Jordan looked at his phone. Lisa was calling. He felt immediately guilty that he’d forgotten where she was. What she was doing. Without him.

Sighing, he said, “I’ve gotta take this.”

As he left the room, Jordan heard his father’s berating continue and he shook his head to himself.

Jordan closed the door. He looked in both directions, making sure nobody else was in the hall. Nothing but still silence. He didn’t really know why he had to be alone to take this, but for some reason, the notion of a stranger hearing potentially life changing news felt like a violation. Looking down at his phone, he took in a deep breath and answered.

“Hey, Lis. What’s the go?”

Nothing.

“Lis?” He could hear muffled sobbing on the other end of the line and his heart dropped. He tried again. “Lisa?”

“I don’t know.” The words spilled out her messily.

Jordan softened, “So, why the crying?”

“I’ve just got a feeling, Jord.” She took a deep breath and phone fell silent once again.

“Lisa, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“What feeling?”

“Jordan-” She took another breath. “-what if we never get pregnant?”

- TO BE CONTINUED -

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#Blogger #Story

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alexandrasadmissionportfolio · 7 years

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IOANA-ALEXANDRA OROIAN

TÂRGU-MUREȘ // ROMANIA

T: (+40) 754 980 166

E: [email protected]

P: http://alexandrasadmissionportfolio.tumblr.com

Dear Members of the Admission Committee,

My name is Ioana-Alexandra Oroian, I’m a 20 year old girl from Romania, and I wish to apply to your Bachelor Degree’s Program in Graphic Storytelling. But most importantly, I truly wish to become a comic book artist.

My journey with art began when I was a young child and I could hold up a pencil in my hands. Most of my family describe their earliest memories of me always being with my nose in a coloring book, lost in a world of my own. At the age of 5, my curious nature led me to an old dusty cardboard box my parents had kept from their teenage years. There I would have found my first comic book which was Rune Andréasson’s ‘Bamse’. That discovery ended kindling a long lasting passion for the genre. Although I couldn’t properly read yet, I was so fascinated and amazed how I could still easily understand what was happening through the pictures.

After starting up school, like most children, I loved drawing and would engage in it in my free time as well, but unlike most of my classmates, my drive never faded and I didn’t put the pencil down. During middle school, I stumbled upon the Japanese anime and manga, especially through Masashi Kishimoto’s ‘Naruto’ and Rumiko Takahashi’s ‘InuYasha’. My style has been heavily influenced by their work. During this time I started nesting a love for literature as well, which would let me start writing short stories. My biggest influences come from the fantasy genre, with the likes of J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘Lord Of The Rings’ trilogy or G.R.R. Martin’s ‘A Song Of Ice And Fire’ saga.

Unfortunately I grew up and still live in a small town, where the ‘starving artist’ mentality still prevails heavily. Because of this, I have always been pressured into picking a safer route in life and was persuaded into thinking that my passion for art remain at a mere past time. Due to lack of encouragement and being afraid to admit what I truly wanted, I chose not to attend a high school specialized in arts. However, even in a normal high school, my identity as the ‘art kid’ never left me; moreover, it found ways to return to me. As Jeff Goldblum’s famous quote from Jurassic Park goes ‘life finds a way’, in my case art found a way to slip back within the cracks.

My high school years ended up shaping me and introducing me to the world of graphic storytelling. In the 9th grade, I was honored to participate in a workshop held by one of Romania’s pioneer in the comic book industry, Puiu Manu. It began with a very basic introduction to figure drawing and story-boarding, and ended up with a regional contest called ‘Festivalul Benzilor Desenate’ where I managed to place first. As a result Mr. Manu advised me to pursue my passions, something I ended up wishing I would’ve followed more thoroughly. After that experience I started digging into the Romanian comic book scene, where I ultimately found ‘HAC!’ a monthly magazine that uses the beloved story of ‘Harap Alb’ as its starting point. The story deeply routed in our national folklore and the beautiful artwork of Andrei Moldovan and Daniel Rosa Durán still inspire and motivate me greatly.

Among other works that I hold dear, I would definitely include the following; the movie ‘Pan’s Labirynth’ directed by Guillermo del Toro for its breath-taking scenic atmosphere, beautiful music score and the tragically bitter-sweet story of Ofelia; the video game ‘Life Is Strange’ developed by Dontnod Entertainment for the way it made me conscious of the consequence of my actions in a way I think no other media can make you aware of. I especially related with Kate’s story line since I personally have personally been struggling with mental health issues as well. Finally I would mention Alan Moore and David Lloyd’s graphic novel ‘V for Vendetta’, as I loved the whole orwellian feeling the universe gave me and to this day I’m very fond of the complexity of its characters and the way the story line unravels around collective consciousness.

On the other hand, there are also a few works that I haven’t particularly resonated well with. I believe hate is a rather powerful word to describe it but I was never pleased with the creative risk and liberty the developers of the 4th installment of Heroes of Might and Magic took, namely the changes in game play, story line and graphics. In my opinion, the developers deviated too much from the original universe. Here I may also add the movie adaptation of the Max Payne game series, directed by John Moore. I believe the movie subtracted important story line plots in favor of more action scenes that were poorly executed to begin with and ultimately didn’t do the original video game any justice.

In the summer between the 10th and 11th grade I participated in a student exchange program at the University College London, for a period of two weeks. It was by far one of the best traveling experiences I have ever had and it hugely fueled my desire to study abroad. It helped improve my English speaking skills and I learned how to take care of myself on my own, considering it was the first time going abroad without my family or friends.

However, the biggest turning point for me, when deep down inside, I knew that being a comic book artist was my path in life, was when one of my good friends from high school got sick. Seeing her so miserable prompted me to do something, and I did what I do best. I drew her a short silly comic strip with our favorite characters from a video game we were playing at the time. I tried making the comic humorous and eventually ending on a sweet note. I handed her the drawing, and I watched her reactions closely. Her eyes started to glimmer; she laughed for the first time that day, and ended up thanking me with a big smile on her face. Until that point I’ve never felt a greater satisfaction. Knowing that something you crafted ended up brightening someone’s day. The fact that even for just a little bit I managed to make someone go through a cycle of emotions is a feeling I can’t describe in words but I know it’s the closest it can ever get to real magic.

However, by the end of the 12th grade I sadly got diagnosed with clinical depression and social anxiety. I am writing this as I believe it was a great factor that influenced and dictated my course of action the following years after I graduated from high school in 2015. No matter how much everything was prompting me to pursue a career in the art industry, I was not ready to take a leap of faith. In my then mental state I decided to take some time off before my big step, in order to put my life together. At first I was frustrated and confused, and to a certain degree lonely, as most of my friends moved out of the country or to other cities to study. I ended up retreating to a world of my own, in the silence and comfort of my drawings. No matter how sparsely I did it, for me, drawing always added an irreplaceable healing factor. But as time went by I realized that I either take the risk of trying to be happy or remain sorrowful for not allowing myself to even try.

I began by getting a job as a bartender to learn to be more responsible and earn something for myself. Then I wanted to prove that art was still worth it for me. I created a social media account, on Instagram, without telling any of my friends or family (to avoid any subjectivity), too see the genuine reaction complete strangers have. Overwhelmed by the positive feedback I got, I became fueled by a strong motivation to pursue my dreams and finally take the next step forward.

I began searching for universities and colleges around Europe, since in Romania there is no such specific degree that can cater to my needs in a professional matter. I then came across The Animation Workshop, which I immediately felt like it’s the place where I could learn how to master the craft of graphic storytelling and discover new people and a friendly ambiance I can prosper in.

My biggest wish and aspiration is to become a comic book artist that can make a difference in people’s lives. Either by freelancing or working for a company, I want to remind people with my through my art or characters, that life is worth living and hope for the better is something invaluable. I am very interested in investing in the therapeutic side that art can provide, and I believe the genre is one of the best media to achieve something in that regard.

The way I see it, as time goes by, the comic book industry will become one of the biggest pinnacles for freedom of expression, being able to tackle any kind of subject, be it purely fictional or even real, raising awareness of everyday social and political matters. For me this is very important as I believe in the beauty of diversity and the importance of art in our everyday lives.

Regarding my skills, I am currently very comfortable with working in traditional media, especially with materials such as COPIC markers, watercolors and colored pencils. I invested in a small Wacom Bamboo tablet in order to begin taking small steps in the digital area as well. It feels very overwhelming but by using online tutorials, I reached a beginner to medium level in Photoshop CS6. Being a self-taught artist has it’s limitations, as I’ve come do find out. I’m aware of the fact that I lack a solid foundation, and my style does not leave my comfort zone, but I am willing to learn and adapt, and most importantly, for everything that I’m missing I can guarantee that I will do my best through perseverance and hard work.

To finance my studies, I’ve saved up some money from my high school graduation, and most of my salary from my current job goes to my university fund in order to be able to pay for my expenses if I were to move to Viborg. If I’ll still be struggling with money I have my family’s financial support as well.

In the end, I believe the above letter will help you discover what kind of individual I am, and why I believe The Animation Workshop is where I can begin my career and follow my dreams.

As such, I sincerely hope, from the bottom of my heart that I can be part of your Graphic Storytelling Class of 2017.

Yours truly,

Alexandra

#Letter of Intention

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