#i think it’s good to look back on old art for the affirmation of improvement except when i do it i just get anxious lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

Title: would you be so kind Ship: obikin Second: Ten years ago, Obi-Wan Kenobi met Anakin Skywalker, a charming young mage from Naboo, but as fate willed, they could not be together. A decade and thousands dead later, Alderaan’s High Court Sorcerer meets a Forger and his excited apprentice. AN: I forgot to post this on tumblr apparently, but here’s the first chapter of my second long WIP I am working on!

Then

The ship was crammed, filled to the brim with people clinging to one another, staring either at the home they’d lost or the home they hoped to be sailing to. Hundreds of ships had left Dromund Kaas already, carrying refugees across the ocean to safer harbors. The tension was high and sharp enough to cut as they sailed away from the doomed country and only relaxed when the pressure of the country’s shields finally left their shoulders.

“An awful sight, isn’t it?”

Anakin startled, instinctually pulled his coat around himself. Were he in a better shape, he would have lashed out immediately, winds, bindings, blood—

But the power flowing through his veins was too constricted, caged like a wild beast. Instead, Anakin just turned to look at the person who’d addressed him. An old woman with snow-white markings and long lekku stared at the dying country just as he had moments before, grief and resignation painting a sorrowful picture. “I never thought I’d leave this place. Did you?”

Wordlessly, Anakin shook his head. No, he certainly hadn’t thought he’d ever leave this place again. He’d been ready to be buried under the ashes of marble altars, not see this new dawn.

“I was born here, married too. All my children were born within the boundaries of this country and perhaps that is the reason they all left,” the woman continued. “I am glad that they weren’t here. If I think about what could have happened to them were they anywhere near the capital… I apologize; I hope you don’t mind my rambling. You looked like you needed company. Are you traveling to Naboo?”

He opened his mouth to reply, to give an affirmation, but stopped. He hadn’t quite thought where he’d go, except as far away from this place as he could. Naboo was certainly an option; Padmé would be glad to see him, he was sure. She’d take him in without asking a single question and defend him against the storms that were sure to come.

But Padmé was his friend and Anakin couldn’t allow her to shoulder his burden.

“No,” Anakin heard himself saying. “I’m not traveling to Naboo.”

“They are quite defenseless right now, yes, you are right. The fact that it’s the first stop of this ship is tempting enough for most to disregard what troubles might find them there.” The woman nodded in understanding. “I’ll be going to Alderaan myself. My eldest lives there, and in a country as strong as that, a tragedy like this can’t strike.”

She turned to look at the remains of Dromund Kaas again. The coastline used to be covered by beautiful large trees; his Master used to tell him how vital they were for its defense.

Now there was nothing but ash and darkness. Even here on the outskirts, where it had taken the longest for the remains of the catastrophe to reach, nobody was safe from it. Dromund Kaas had been in a pitiful state after the last war, which had made it an easy place to hideaway in. Alderaan might be stronger, the blooming center of magical education, but Anakin doubted they’d be able to defend against an attack like this. Nothing could save them from an attack such as this.

But Alderaan’s distance to this cesspit of disease was enough to provide a different kind of security.

Thousands of refugees would search for safety there, and Queen Breha was as cunning as she was kind. No one would be turned away and Anakin could slip in just right with them.

“I’m going to Alderaan as well,” Anakin replied.

The woman looked him over, then she beamed as if she were a young child and not already among the older members of her species.

Her smile was the first Anakin had seen in weeks. “Looks like we’ll be traveling companions then! You must tell me your name, young friend. I’m Raya Tano.”

She held out her hand and Anakin awkwardly shook it with his own left.

“My name is—”

Now

“Anakin Skywalker! Your automaton is ruining my kitchen!”

Sighing, Anakin let the spell sink back into the metal and settle into it. So much for working on his commissions today. A quick glance around the workshop told him that it was not one of his automatons running wild. Artoo was currently charging up and Threepio was keeping himself busy cleaning up. All the other small automatons Anakin crafted when he was bored were either asleep and charging or hurrying around the workshop, washing up the floors and putting away the tools Anakin had been using.

Anakin tugged off his gloves and threw them to a tiny and eager little automaton before picking up his softer everyday gloves. The leather was still quite resistant and had more runes stitched into it than most people dared to weave into one cloth, but they were nowhere near as excellently crafted as his work gloves. The dragonhide gloves were worth a fortune and so they never left his workshop unless Anakin had to. Anakin watched the little automaton put the gloves in their usual compartment until he could hear the click reassuring that the lock was in place. At first, that had only been a measure against thieves as he hadn’t had much to his name, but by now, it was a habit.

And it discouraged Ahsoka from stealing them for her own projects.

Anakin walked out of his workshop and crossed the courtyard to the small cottage he called his home, finding a kitchen in disarray, Raya standing on a chair with a small red automaton attempting to clean the floors.

“Look what a mess it’s making!” Raya said accusingly. “Instead of polishing my floors, it’s dirtying them!”

“I can see that,” Anakin hummed. He waited until the small automaton had reached his feet, then he bent down and pressed his hand flat on its small back, stopping it. Ahsoka’s handiwork was getting better; this little guy had kept moving for a while despite her absence. Anakin had no idea what the formal apprenticeship for forgers entailed, when they ought to hit what milestone, but he was willing to bet that Ahsoka was years ahead of her peers. Her spells were strong, her rune work fantastic, and very few actual weaknesses were left to explore in her automatons.

But Anakin was still a Master and Ahsoka only an Apprentice. Her work was not yet good enough to keep out foreign interference. Without much thought, he deactivated the automaton completely.

“This was your granddaughter’s handiwork,” Anakin commented. “She’s improving in leaps and bounds.”

Raya huffed and stepped from her chair. “I’m glad to hear that, but weren’t you meant to teach her control?”

“I am,” Anakin said, the argument an old and fond one. They returned to it frequently, mostly to annoy the young Apprentice. “And were she still as much of a mess as three years ago, she hardly would be able to craft such a fine automaton. Can’t do anything about her manners.”

Especially since she’d become a teenager. Anakin didn’t remember being as much of a pain as Ahsoka could be.

“And here I was thinking Masters were supposed to teach their Apprentices a medium of decorum.”

Anakin snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s what she has you for, doesn’t she?”

Raya’s expression softened. “That she does.”

Anakin sometimes wondered how Raya managed to stay so kind and calm when the world had taken so much from her. Her husband, country, her children— and yet she still stood straight, caring for the fellow traveler she’d never allowed to leave and the granddaughter that had been dumped on her with just a warning for Ahsoka’s generally explosive tendencies.

“Where is Ahsoka anyway?” Anakin asked, looking around the kitchen as if she would jump out in the open any moment. “I sent her on an errand earlier this morning, but she hasn’t returned yet.”

Unfortunately, Raya couldn’t tell him either. “I have no idea where that girl is running around—”

“Anakin!”

Speak of the dark and it shall appear. The door was thrown open and Ahsoka rushed inside, tracking even more dirt all over the floor, causing Raya to throw up her arms in defeat in a way Anakin knew meant Ahsoka would be left with all her favorite chores for the next week.

“Welcome back, Ahsoka,” Anakin said. “You’re late.”

“Yes, yes,” Ahsoka replied and rolled her eyes, obviously disinterested in what he had to say. “I got all you asked for and ordered the new metals, but look at this!”

Ahsoka raised her hand, revealing a ripped-off poster. It was tasteful in design, fine cursive writing on light blues, gold ornaments in the corners and, of course, the royal crest right in the middle of it.

Her Majesty the Queen of the Kingdom of Alderaan, Breha Organa, invites all Alderaani Practitioners of the Mythic Arts to attend the festivities in the capital of Aldera—

“Absolutely not,” Anakin said before he could even read the rest of the text. “We’re not going to Aldera to some festival.”

“Why not?” Ahsoka shot back. “It’s no summit, but it would at least be something.”

Her bitterness did not go unnoticed. Ahsoka had begged for months to attend this year’s summit. Every five, all magic practitioners gathered on Tython to exchange notes on their craft and pretend they were not also discussing the politics of their respective countries, forging alliances and the like. Anakin hadn’t been to the last summit, it having been just after Dromund Kaas, and the one before were tainted by the memories that followed, no matter how sweet the time had been. Ahsoka, of course, had begged to attend this year’s one, but it would only be foolish and reckless. He couldn’t just walk into the biggest gathering of mages in the whole continent and expect to get out of it without anyone realizing who he was, asking questions, concluding what he’d done.

Anakin had too much to hide, too much to lose, and he wasn’t going to risk his little Apprentice for it.

Not that Ahsoka knew any of that and wasn’t in the least satisfied with Anakin’s reply and immediately made her displeasure known.

“What would you even want to see there?” Anakin asked, trying to downplay how entertaining such an event was. “It’ll just be all the posh court sorcerers showing off with their fancy focusing crystals. It’s utterly boring and uncreative.”

“Like you wouldn’t use a focusing crystal if you had one,” Ahsoka muttered, arms crossed. “It’s just— there’s nobody else around here who can do magic. And all you ever do is work on machines.”

“Which requires a lot of concentration as it’s not just the manipulation of one aspect, but—”

“—but many, yes, yes, I know the speech,” Ahsoka said and dutifully listed all elements that went into their craft. There was a reason why not many forgers existed. Most mages lacked the talent, patience, and education to learn this craft, or were just plain afraid that they’d permanently damage their ability to use magic at all.

And with the speed technology was evolving and magic weaponized to terrifying new heights, not too many people still had use for forgers. Where two-hundred-years ago, you wouldn’t have gone out to hunt a dragon with a simple sword, but only with one crafted by a Master forger, nowadays you didn’t necessarily need one. Battle magic was on the rise again, especially with more and more countries growing uneasy, peace treaties falling apart. Combined with the threats from the northern continents, it was no wonder people cared less and less about expensive forgers when they could mass-produce and enchant simpler items.

“I just hoped you’d allow at least this,” Ahsoka finished. Her shoulders dropped. “Should have known better. I’ll go finish my readings.”

Ahsoka turned around, her shoulders still hanging, her head low.

Damn it.

Anakin knew that she was doing it on purpose. His Apprentice was cunning and had learned how to play into his every weakness. Slowly she marched into the direction of the door, dragging her feet behind her for effect and dramatics.

Raya raised a brow at him. She usually stayed out of Ahsoka’s tutelage, knowing next to nothing about magic herself, but even with his past being little more than a mystery to her, she could read him better than anyone else.

“Urgh, fine,” Anakin heard himself say. “Fine, we can go to the festival.”

Ahsoka turned around quicker than light and jumped up. “Yes!”

“But that means you’re not going to bring up the summit again!”

“Yes! Of course!” A moment later, Anakin had an armful of an apprentice. “Thank you so much, Master, you’re the best!”

Once she let go of him, she went to hug Raya and hug even her dirty automaton to her chest, still radiating happiness. “I need to go pack my bags immediately!”

“The festival is not for another week—”

Ahsoka obviously didn’t care. So caught up in her joy, she rushed upstairs, heading to her room to start packing. It shouldn’t surprise Anakin that she was so motivated. Ahsoka was a person who thrived on interaction, being surrounded by other people. While the people of their village were friendly, none of them were mages or even just sensitive to magic. It was one of the reasons Anakin had decided to stay without too much fight. But growing up so far removed from other mages had made Ahsoka twice as curious to meet others.

The thought made his stomach churn. He’d have to give Ahsoka formal lessons about their trade now, just if somebody asked questions that were too pointed. She’d also need a bit of the know-how on how you usually interacted with other mages and which pretentious bastards to call sorcerers before they threw a hissy fit. All these capital folks were much too sensitive about terminology after all. Anakin had never bothered to tell her the differences before, but Ahsoka would kill him if she accidentally embarrassed herself because he hadn’t seen it fit to instruct her properly. Forget teaching Ahsoka how to improve her automaton, the next week would be full of etiquette lessons. Skies, there’d be people trying to steal their spellwork too. Had he even mentioned that kind of theft before? Anakin honestly couldn’t recall.

“Already regretting it?” Raya asked, her voice just a touch amused.

“Just a bit,” Anakin replied.

“It’ll be good for her,” Raya said, convinced and confident enough for the both of them. “And good for you as well. I’ve known you for years now and you’ve never even brought a friend over. I’m not going to be young forever, you know. I do expect to be introduced to your future spouse at some point.”

“And this is my cue to go packing as well,” Anakin announced and followed Ahsoka up the stairs with Raya’s laughter following him.

He had no intention of being with anyone, ever, unless he could find glamours that held up even when majorly distracted. On his way up the stairs, Anakin caught a look of himself in the window, saw black vines curling around his neck, inviting someone to take a closer look.

It was better this way.

#obikin #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #fanfic

49 notes · View notes

alderaani · 3 years

Text

Embers

summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

taglist // @nelba @leias-left-hair-bun @simping-for-fives @iscream4clones @bad-batch-of-fics @battletales @majorshiraharu @dom-i-nic @snippytano @missinashkin @808tsuika @eries45 @lussyyung @whatanoof // join here

#clone trooper waxer #clone trooper boil #original clone characters #clone oc potshot #commander cody #212th attack battalion #the clone wars #star wars #the clone wars fanfiction #alderwrites

77 notes · View notes

closer-stars · 3 years

Text

Gut Feeling (8)

Member: San Genre: Fluff, Feel good stuff Word Count: 10k (I’m SO SORRY) Content: food. Reunion. Tying loose strings. #Maturity. I think I provided enough hints as to where this is going Note: FINALLY FINISHED PART 8. there’s only two parts left. :D This went through a lot of stuff because of writer’s block and a thing called a short attention span. I’ve proofread this a number of times but I’ll continue to do so, especially once i update this with links in 24 hours. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @yeotlny @seoultraveller @shinyddeonghwa @frankenstein852 @miniyeo @hwaberrykiwi @jeongyunhoed

Part 7

San’s gaze stays glued to you, unwavering, as he takes in your visage. Your new hairstyle accentuates your cheekbones, you look healthier, happier even. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing better without him.

“Hello!! Surprised to see me, Manager Bae?” You ask in a playful tone. Your attention shifts to the eight boys who look at you with slack jaws and wide eyes. “Surprise?” You say softly, a bit of embarrassment rushing to your cheeks. Guilt washes over you when you remember you never said your goodbyes.

A few moments of heavy silence sinks in on everyone and it was Yunho and Wooyoung who break the silence, tackling you into a hug. “We miss you so much!” You weren’t sure who exclaims it, you just knew the hug and the shrill pitch shocks you. This breaks the rest of the boys from their daze and they start to whine at you for leaving them with no warning, some asking you how you’ve been.

Maybe things haven’t changed.

You laugh, hands reaching to pat their heads, just like how they liked it when you worked with them. “Guys, we can catch up during your down time. Right now I need to introduce you to the director then bring you to your dressing rooms.” Your eyes skirt over to San, giving him a double take.

He’s changed, matured, and he looks a lot like a man now. He always looked like a man but there was something about him now that had your gaze lingering at him for a moment. You snap yourself out of it and bring them to the director. After the formalities and quick rundown of the process, you bring them to their dressing rooms. San is the last one to enter as he lingers around you for a moment.

You’re at work, you remind yourself. “Yes? Is there something I can help you with?” You ask, and you kind of hate yourself for your voice changing in pitch, your default customer service voice as you’d like to call it.

It’s how even your work voice makes the corner of his lip twitch in amusement. He looks at you properly for a moment and his lips break into his bright grin. “I’m alright, thank you.”

You hate yourself for your heart fluttering at his smile but you thank yourself for keeping your composure. At his words, you nod and let him enter the dressing room. You stay with them in the dressing room, because you know the boys well enough to know that when they have questions, they’re persistent.

Hongjoong was the first one to speak up. “You never told us you did production too!” He could’ve asked for your help in his music if he knew earlier. You never really mentioned your experience in production, all you did tell them was that you’ve been in this field long enough to know a little bit of everything.

You watch his make up artist work on his eyes for some time, then shift your attention to the rest of the boys. Seonghwa asks you about how the production work will be while adjusting his clothes for the first set. Black really did suit him. You look at your clipboard, flipping through the papers for his script and art direction. You decided to give everyone a rundown of the general gist of this shoot. You were sure they already knew of the story line, shit, you can actually pinpoint which parts of the story line were your suggestions during the meetings back when you worked with them.

It’s going to be a whole day shoot for the first day while the second day focuses on all the night shoots, all of which were going to be long days. Quite frankly, you feel a little bad that they’re filming at the wee hours of the day or end when the sun’s about to rise. It’s all part of the job, you get the good and you get the bad. It’s just a matter of how much you love what you’re doing or how much food you can put on the table.

One by one, you bring the members to their set, letting them discuss the scenes to be shot with the director while taking a few runs until both are satisfied with the final output. It takes several tries until both sides are satisfied with how the rolls come out. In between the planned shots were impromptu acting and dancing from the members, you wonder if this was San’s doing thanks to Answer.

Speaking of, San was the last to leave the dressing room, the other members were already retouching their hair and makeup for the next shoot. On the way to the director, he asks how you’ve been.

“Well, I’m doing better now.” You start. “We can catch up after the shoot, if you want.” You advise as the two of you get closer to the director.

“Same number?” He asks, his heart slightly racing. He wants to reason that it’s because it’s a new production house and nerves.

“Yep.” You affirm casually. “Let’s get to work first?” You gesture, switching to formal speech as you approach the director first. You introduce him to the director, letting them do a quick runthrough of what the director wants from San for this scene.

Once all of that is done, he’s about to step onto the set before he looks back at you. “Are you going to watch me?”

It takes a moment for you to reply but you don’t hesitate this time. “Just like old times, Sannie.”

Something about that makes him flash a bright smile, a complete contrast to his darker, mature look. He stays where the director tells him to first. Once he gets the cue, he starts to move, getting into character a lot quicker than you thought before the staff could even use the slate.

Heeseok, the director, notes that you’re lingering around to watch San do his thing. “You can stay, you know.” He muses. His words make you look at him in surprise. You haven’t been with this production house as long as most of them have so you’ve kept to yourself for the most part. “I’m serious. You’ve worked with these boys before us right? At least, let yourself loosen up around them. It’s been awhile after all.”

You wonder how lucky you were when it came to finding a work environment as understanding as this. At his words, you take up the offer and step a little closer, watching San with and without the help of the monitor.

He’s improved greatly. He clearly has the experience to back up his professionalism. A gaze sharper than a dagger, colder than ice was given to the camera. You can’t help but have your breath taken away by how intense it looked. The shock wears off when you see how mischievous Wooyoung becomes next to you as he tries to make San break out of his character.

Things haven’t changed.

You watch Wooyoung pull the weirdest antics that would’ve made San probably want to punch the other. “You really think the boys would break after all these years?” You ask him, incredulous. The male looks at you, grinning ear to ear.

“Of course! It’s fun pulling all sorts of tricks to see which one makes them break. The last time was Yunho when I started dancing to one of our earlier covers while I was wearing a multicolored outfit.” He explains. You have a rough estimate of when that would be. Even if you left your job to be their manager and their publicity team, you still watched them from a distance. You still buy their albums too.

You shake your head, still entertained by his antics, before shifting your gaze back to San. He approaches the two of you and you figured that he was going to review how his performance looked on screen while the stylists retouch his makeup and dab his sweat away. “How did I do?” San asks the two of you as he takes a sip of water.

“As expected, you did great.” You return without missing a beat. Wooyoung agrees too but in his typical fashion of a praise mixed with sarcasm.

San catches onto Wooyoung’s antics and scoffs, unfazed by the other’s jokes. The two of them monitor his performance closely. Already, San takes note of which ones he needs to fix in the next shot. Now that they were busy, you thought it would be a good chance to slip off and check on the other members.

When San straightens up after watching his performance closely, he spots you about to leave. “Are you leaving me with Wooyoung?” He asks as if miffed by the fact he would be left alone with his own member.

You look over your shoulder, surprised at how bad he wants to have you watch him. “I want to check on the others, to see if they need anything..” You explain, unsure of what to make of this situation.

He has to admit you have a point but he wanted you to watch him still. Despite that, he let you do your work; you aren’t their manager anymore.

--------

The music video shoot goes on for the entire day, and will continue to do so in the next few days. You assume that the earliest you’ll finish is in three days, this being based on how the boys have been working earnestly. But like any other shoot, no matter how hard you work or how smart you work, delays still happen. The three days eventually turned into six days due to unforeseen delays along with everyone needing rest. Thankfully for both sides, the work didn’t seem to feel like too much of a burden.

In between the shoots, the photographer managed to take a few shots for the album’s photobook. A lot of b-rolls but that was fine, the more the better especially with how lore heavy this comeback seemed to be.

By the last group shot, the director finally yells cut. “Cut! Good job everyone! We’re finally finished.” Heeseok bellows out much to the relief of everyone on set. In response, the boys return the same phrase, bowing to everyone in respect and gratitude. Everyone slowly starts packing up, those who have been on their feet for hours on end find somewhere to sit to rest their weary bodies; you included. You find a corner to drop yourself onto, your hands gently massaging the knots on your legs.

You look at the time. You won’t be able to get home until sunset you assume, as you find yourself feeling guilty to even consider heading home now while everyone else is helping each other pack up the equipment. Once feeling returns to your legs, you pull yourself up to help out in packing away the equipment.

You were already done with half of the stands when your higher ops realize you were still on set, cleaning up. “What are you still doing here?” Hwayoung asks you, eyes wide with an array of emotions behind them.

The surprise and concern makes you feel a little anxious, wondering if you did something wrong. “I wanted to help pack up…” You return softly, rubbing the back of your neck after keeping the last light stand away.

“You should be home by now!” She chides. “You’ve been on set the entire time, leaving late and arriving on the dot. You need to get some rest!” She continues, patting you on the back.

“But, what about you guys..?” You ask as you look around. The bigger set pieces were going to be dealt with in the following days as it’ll still be used for the jacket photos if you remember right.

“Leave it to us. We’ll be alright, go home and get some rest. You’ll be needed back on set after tomorrow.” She reassures you. You look at your co-worker who agrees with her, echoing her sentiments about how you’ve been on set day in and day out. You really couldn’t fight them regarding their points. Somewhere along the way, you went from wearing jeans to joggers for the ease of moving around. With that, you nod at their argument.

“I’ll get going now. Please take care too!” You say, bidding them goodbye before heading to where your belongings were.

On your way out of the staff’s room, you figure you should bid goodbye to the boys. It only seemed proper after your surprise departure from the company. You knock thrice on their door, peeking in carefully. Thankfully they were already dressed in their regular clothes. “Hey, just wanted to drop by and say that I’m heading out.” You state as soon as the boys catch sight of you.

“Do you want to eat with us?” Hongjoong asks. It takes all of San’s control to not trip over his own bag at Hongjoong’s offer. Not only do old habits die hard, so do old feelings.

At his invitation, you raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you guys tired after the continuous shoots?”

“Well, we are but..” Wooyoung trails off, taking the chance to stretch. “... food after a long day always tastes great.” He had a point there.

It takes a while for you to decide, it has been way too long and you’re sure the boys have a lot to talk about with you. That also depends on how awake you could be in the midst of everything. “Are you guys free tonight?” You ask. You know yourself better by now: eating while sleep deprived isn’t a good idea and the way home can be an issue.

“Yeah, their entire schedule for the next few weeks is just centered around the upcoming album.” Manager Bae returns as he hoists his bag up over his shoulder.

“If you guys have the energy later tonight, we can eat dinner together. I don’t think I can last long enough to eat with you guys for lunch then head home.”

“Then it’s settled, we can meet later tonight for a meal.” Hongjoong returns, clearly excited to be able to bond with you and the rest of the members. Just like old times (sort of).

-------

The ride back to their place was bustling with energy. The members were exhausted yes, but the fact they got to work with you again overrode the need for rest.

“Hyung! Why didn’t you tell us that they’d be there too?!” Mingi whines. He was one of the few who took your departure a little harder, if not just as hard as San.

Manager Bae flashes an apologetic smile, though it can’t be seen by them, they hear it in his voice. “Sorry guys, they told me to keep it a secret.” He explains how you were the recipient of the PR team’s email along with how you did everything you can to make sure this deal pulls through. You even contacted the managers (as friends) to make sure that they told the members nothing about you yet.

You were also aware of how they took your departure. Though this part wasn’t from the managers, rather from Seonghwa.

“If we can’t have dinner with them, can we at least have a meal with them one of these days?” Wooyoung pipes up. The eldest members knew that one way or another, you’d make sure to have a meal with them. You confessed how much you missed them in the months following your leave. They understood why you had to leave too. They can’t hold it against you.

“It’ll happen. They have a soft spot for you guys.” Manager Bae returns with a chuckle. The nine of them arrive outside their apartment and decide to catch up on sleep before grabbing something for dinner tonight.

--------

[ You to Hongjoong ] Are you guys still up for dinner? It’s on me.

Hongjoong looks out of his room and the boys were already getting ready to eat out. “Boys, dinner with them tonight, yes or no?”

[ Seonghwa to You ] Everyone’s ready already. Where to?

You send them the address, along with the menu. As you wait for their thoughts, you walk around the area.

[ Hongjoong to You ] See you in that restaurant! The boys are excited LOL

Somehow you can picture just how excited they were, and how chaotic the apartment was since the invite.

[ You to Hongjoong ] hehe, see you in a few then.

--------

You wait outside the restaurant, occasionally looking up from your phone to look for them. They never really said what time they’d arrive. A part of you wonders if they moved elsewhere now, it would make sense if they did, especially with how big they are now. You’re stuck in your thoughts again, staring into space despite looking as if you were looking at your phone. You hear a familiar voice call out to you and that snaps you out of your thoughts.

You look up from your phone, blinking a few times to regain your surroundings. You’re greeted by a Mingi that’s already speeding towards you. Fortunately, you were quick enough to catch him in your arms this time. “Oof--! Hey there Mingi.” You greet carefully, patting his back lightly.

Despite him being the more laid back member, he was more vocal with his emotions. You were glad to see him looking better than before. “We missed you!” He exclaims, pouting slightly at you.

An apologetic smile graces your features at his actions. It sometimes slips your mind that they were still kids when you met them. At least in your eyes they were, even with the close proximity in age. “Let’s continue the talk inside? You guys are probably hungry.” You raise, as you let them enter the premises first.

“They didn’t even eat prior to this.” Hongjoong quips with a snort. You look at them then at him in mild concern.

“Did you eat though?”

“He didn’t.” Seonghwa cuts the conversation as he drifts inside, walking past a dumbfounded Hongjoong. “It’s okay, I forgot to eat too.”

“That makes all of us then.”

--------

The dinner goes without a hitch. For the most part it was you and Seonghwa who were cooking the meat over the grills.

There were times where when you put the cooked pieces of meat on their plates, some of the pieces you cooked would appear on your plate. “Huh?” you mumble, when you catch the culprit’s hand under your line of sight. You’re able to catch the direction of where the hand retreats. It’s San. You look at him while keeping track of the sizzling meat over the grill. “Did you at least eat?”

“Yeah but you haven’t.” He shoots back, gesturing to the cooked meat on your plate.

“Let me cook this time.” Yunho offers, he doesn’t take no for an answer as he takes the tongs from your hands. Now that you were empty handed, you could finally sit and get some food into your system.

San says something that you don’t catch so you turn to San’s direction, only to be greeted by a small ssam in front of you. You stare at him for a moment, opening your hand for it but he pulls back at such action. This puts a confused frown on your face which doesn’t faze him. “I said, ‘say ah’.” He even goes the extra mile by opening his mouth for you to mimic.

Stubborn boy.

You roll your eyes but appease his wish to have him feed you. As expected, the food in this restaurant doesn’t disappoint. The other members glance at San, somehow amused at how he acts despite the time apart. None of them were caught by you, too busy eating your share after a long day.

The rest of the night goes like that, just eating and drinking (non-alcohol because of their schedule) with the boys as they tell you stories of what you’ve missed.

“Seonghwa doing rock climbing? Again?” You repeat, incredulous and rather concerned for his safety. You stare at the male at the other side of the table who looks at you as if he heard nothing. Of course he looks unfazed, the other members were praising him for having gotten through it despite his phobia. He says nothing to your question, instead taking his sweet time eating his sherbet. At his lack of a reply, you just snort at him and continue to eat your ice cream.

It’s hard to deny that he didn’t have feelings anymore. Not when he looked at you with warmth as you recount what has happened since you left. Yunho and Seonghwa could clearly see how he felt about you but say nothing except to snap a few shots to tease him with later. Maybe this explains his lack of interest in dating.

You did your best to tell them your experiences and how things have been after everything. The few months of just you being on your own, doing side jobs to keep supporting yourself as you did some reflecting. The succeeding months of landing the job you have now. “I feel happier here.” You admit, while managing them was a lovely job in itself, the fact you get to help create visual ideas into reality is something you can’t replace. “Despite all that, I still bought your albums.” You add, showing them a photo of their albums still on display at your place.

“Oh you moved?” Wooyoung notes.

Sharp boy, you thought. “Yeah, I moved elsewhere for my job, easier to get there too.” You confess. San leans a little closer looking at your photo to see how Wooyoung noticed such a detail. Though it’s not much, he could definitely tell you had plans of staying in that apartment for a longer time. The walls were decorated, their albums were on shelves, proudly displayed their achievements, even some of your jackets were resting over your chair too. It just looked so you.

Hongjoong looks at the time, “Guys, it’s getting late..” He hated having to cut the fun especially with a dear friend. The two of you catch the dejected looks on their faces. Looks like it’s up to you to save the situation.

“We’re still seeing each other for your album jacket shoot.” This slightly lifts their spirits but it’s still not the same as being able to hang out with them as friends. “We can have another dinner after the shoot. Celebratory dinner for finishing something big, y’know?” You admit.

“Is the dinner on you?” Yeosang cheekily asks.

“What are you talking about? I already paid for this dinner.” You return with a snicker. As proof, you raise the receipt up to their eyes, of course, you cover the price from them otherwise they’d pester you to no end.

“What?! How did you--” San asks, clearly not remembering you leave the table to pay for the meal.

You don’t reply to his confusion, opting to just shoot him a wink at your stealth. He shouldn’t have felt his heart skip at that but he did. Now that all of that is out of the way, you, Hongjoong and Seonghwa stand up, getting ready to leave, much to the dismay of everyone else.

San takes his time to stand up, shrugging on his blazer after he stretches. “Looks like you ate well.” Your comment catches him off guard, doing nothing but confuse him. With how lost he looks, you take a piece of tissue and wipe his cheek. Just like old times. “You had a bit of sauce that somehow landed there.” He wishes he could walk you home like old times.

Now that all of you were outside, goodbyes and hugs were exchanged with you. The amount of times you had to reassure them that you haven’t changed your numbers was insane that the two eldest members had to show proof to back you up. “Gah! You guys need sleep more than I do! I’ll see you boys in a few days' time.”

They wait with you until you manage to hail a taxi before they make their own way back. While everyone was recounting the stories you told them and the stories they failed to share, San was in his own thoughts.

[ San to You ] Thanks for today. Everyone misses you.

[ You to San ] I missed you guys too, really. Get some sleep okay? You guys deserve it.

[ San to You ] Got it! Sleep well too ^^

His last message makes you smile at your phone, even at his mature age, his eye smile never seems to change. He hasn’t lost his optimism either it seems. You let yourself absorb the good energy from tonight for a few moments before keeping your phone away, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding this entire time.

Maybe hanging out with them outside work wasn’t such a bad idea.

---------

The past few hours leading up to the shoot had the boys teasing San. “Guys, come on. I don’t have feelings for them anymore.” He shoots back, half heartedly. He still does.

“San, my guy, you had honey dripping from your eyes during dinner with them.” Yunho points out before sipping his coffee.

“I didn’t!”

Seonghwa just brings out his phone to show the photo he and Yunho took that night. It was obvious and there’s no denying from San about it. At the sight of the photo, he shuts up and eats his meal. Hongjoong watches his members act like young kids again but he holds no tension in his body this time. They’ve hit the point in their careers that any romantic relationship they have won’t heavily affect them. “San, just give it a shot this time.” He suggests carefully. This causes the former to look at him with wide eyes. The look prompts the older to explain himself. “San, you still have feelings for them. You know why they turned you down back then. Now that the two of you are in your respective fields-- and have grown, why not give it a shot? If they still say no then,” he shrugs. “Let them go. If they say yes this time, at least you gave it a shot right?”

San’s ears are burning at this point. He wanted to ask you out, properly this time. He didn’t want to regret expressing his feelings but he didn’t want to be selfish about it either. Was Seonghwa right all this time?

“For everyone’s sake, San just ask them out after the shoot. I don’t think I can handle you whining about them any more.” Wooyoung snips. His words though sounding rather sharp, held no malice in them. They genuinely just want him to be happy beyond their passion to be on stage and perform.

“Fine, fine but if it doesn’t work out?”

“Hongjoong hyung and I will take ten shots of soju.”

“I didn’t agree to that!”

--------

The boys enter the venue, now brightly lit as compared to their music video shoot. Their creative team always pulls through with these ideas and seeing your production house make them into reality is mind blowing.

On one side of the building is lit up with various plant life and neon lights, very reminiscent of their older eras. A few meters away was another one, just as well lit though a little muted compared to the other. To the boys, they knew what this set was a reminder of, it would only mean that it would take a few hints before the fans understood what part of their concept this would be. The last one seems to be unfinished, the backdrop still rolled up with the spotlights still switched off.

“Crap, how many versions are we selling this time?” Yeosang asks, dumbfounded by the amount of set designs in front of them.

“Four versions this time.” The answer shocks all of them, surprised to see you behind them. “Did you guys get some good sleep?” You ask as you try to hide the snicker from their fright. Once they get over the initial fright, you gesture for them to follow you to the dressing rooms. There you’ll give them a rundown for today’s agenda. “If you noticed, the third set isn’t done yet. It’s easy to assemble but we wanted to know your opinions on it. The last one is ideally a free-for-all type of thing. Considering that this album’s going to be released near your fanbase’s anniversary, this is more visually very relaxed, just have fun. This version of the album also will carry the heaviest lore so…” You shrug. Their marketing team really knows how to rake in the cash. “We can have the set be up for today or we can save it for once all of you are done with the first two sets.”

The members look at each other, merely communicating their opinions with raised brows, shoulders and the like. “Can we save it for after the first two sets?” Hongjoong asks. Their politeness never really went away even despite being seniors in this industry.

With that said, you nod. “Consider it done. Now get changed. The clothes in the back are labelled depending on which set they’re for.” You gesture to the back. “The photographers have the mood boards with them for visual aid for you. I’ll wait for you guys outside the dressing room.” With that, you bid them goodbye for now before leaving the room to talk to the teams for the agenda.

Now that the boys were left to their own devices with their stylists, they looked through the clothes. They decided to just split into two teams, just to make it easier for everyone. It seems that even their stylists weren’t surprised with their decisions as they immediately got to work.

---------

One by one, the members trickle out of the room, leading them to their designated sets as they get to know the photographers. Some members were already restless inside the dressing room when they visited the others who were having their photos taken.

There was music playing overhead to fill in the silence along with making sure to keep the productivity going for everyone. As Seonghwa has his photos taken in the muted set, San and Yunho are by the side, singing and dancing goofily, just to see how strong his control is. If that doesn’t work, they would look at how his photos come out, even helping out the photographer by giving advice to Seonghwa. As expected of the member, the photos come out well, even the candid ones, much to the pleasant surprise of the photographer.

On the other set is Mingi. He somehow still manages to pull off the look while being with various plant life and neon lights. Hongjoong monitors his photos while Jongho is off to the side, taking photos of them as well. From time to time, Mingi would ask the photographer how the photos were coming and how he should position himself. While the photographer has no complaints, Hongjoong asks if he can try to suggest something. The former allows it so Hongjoong asks Mingi if he can try opening himself, instead of curling in this time. The members know the overall plot of their concept but Hongjoong knows it the best without spoiling anything to the fans.

“What do you think so far?” Yeosang asks you as he’s the last to leave the room. You look over at him and you can easily tell that he had just woken up from a quick nap.

“Good sleep?” you return lightly. “So far so good: Yunho and San joking around, Jongho taking photos, Hongjoong monitoring closely… hey where’s Wooyoung?” You ask once you realize the missing member (and noise).

“Still in the dressing room, he wanted to grab a few more minutes of sleep.” Yeosang says. It’s only then that you realize how deep his sleep was from his tone.

“Looking forward to really push the doberman agenda huh?” You muse, once you take note of what he’s wearing.

He looks down at what he’s wearing then flashes a proud grin. “Of course, even until now the fans consider me a maltese.”

You walk with him to his designated set, keeping away from the camera their manager holds to grab some footage for their youtube. “Do you guys still bark for the fans?”

“Only Yunho and San do.”

That honestly doesn’t surprise you. “Anyways, I’ll leave you guys to it. Manager Bae seems to be recording for your youtube channel.” You say, patting his back, as you catch Yunho and Seonghwa talking about their album. You wanted to stay out of view, even though you knew they’d blur your face it’s for your comfort too.

“Oh yeah,” he starts. “San’s looking at us.” You shoot Yeosang a look to which he shrugs. “Best to talk to him before he starts bouncing around.”

At his suggestion, you steal a glance at the male who’s now pestering the two boys talking to the camera. Seeing that he wasn’t doing what Yeosang had just said, you return your eyes to the male, confused. He returns your look with his usual mischief. Goddammit.

Whatever, you tell yourself as you make your way to the photographer, checking in on the material he has and if he needs a break. As he shows you the photos, both of you are pleased with how they all come out. He even shows a photo of Seonghwa that he caught shocked by the propped figure behind him. “Yunho’s next but I can wait.” He tells you, stretching his sore shoulders and arms.

“You’re doing great. Hopefully we can finish the shoot in two days.” The two of you wait for Yunho to finish his thing with the members before calling him over for his shoot. Once you do, you linger around to make sure he and the photographer are on the same page. Just as you were about to head towards Wooyoung, you’re greeted by someone’s figure just behind you. “Holy sh--” you nearly shout, stopping yourself with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Whoa, it’s just me.” He returns, taking a few steps back to give you space. Once you regain your composure, he flashes a bashful smile at how you shoot him a deadpan look.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You mumble.

San looks at you with a confused light in his eyes. “What?”

You shake your head, changing the topic. “I’m going to check if Wooyoung’s awake. He’s probably right after Yeosang.” With that, you walk past him, gentling hitting his arm with your clipboard in retaliation.

He yelps at the sudden impact-- though it didn’t hurt. “What was that for?!” His tone tinted with faux insult by your actions as he follows you towards their dressing room.

“For surprising the living daylights out of me.” It gets tricky to keep yourself from smiling once you notice him catch up to you.

“I didn’t mean toooo.” He whines, stopping by the door as you peek inside the room.

There you see Wooyoung getting his makeup done. “Sorry!” He apologizes earnestly. You shake your head, not minding his apology. You can only imagine how packed their schedules are now as the preparations for the new music is looming around the corner now.

“All good, just had to check on you. Just come to the set once you’re ready okay?” You remind him. As he’s unable to move his face, he flashes a thumbs up. He catches San peeking over your shoulder, he says nothing to this but the look in his eyes results in San making a face at him. Now that’s out of the way, you turn your attention to San now. “So how have things been huh?”

“Been alright, felt weird that you left.” He admits. He just doesn’t beat around the bush anymore.

You look at the set for a moment, lively boys and music playing overhead. They won’t hear the two of you. “I’m sorry about that… leaving with no word from me.” Your voice is a little softer this time. He doesn’t mind your apology. You had your reasons after all.

“It’s okay, hey I get why you had to do what you did.” San quickly returns.

“Please know that I didn’t leave because of you.” You add before he could possibly start jumping the gun.

He stops there, surprised by what you had just said. Before he could even ask you to explain, Hongjoong calls him over to ask for his opinion on something.

“We can talk later.” Your tone leaves no room for arguments, heading over to the rest of the staff to check on what they need to attend to in the next few days. He watches your hesitant visage shifts into something more confident. Crazy how things change.

He watches you attend to your work before he heads back on set. Time to get back to work.

---------

“Thank you for your hard work!” The voices of the eight members echo through the venue. Their voices were returned with applause and cheering from the staff. You check on the photographers immediately after the words of praises have been exchanged. The photos have been backed up on the computers and hard drives. From there, you tell them that they can leave now, to leave the pack up to the rest of the staff.

With that, you keep the memory cards and cameras in a safe place, before stepping out of the office to help with packing up. By now, it’s probably night time. Truthfully, you didn’t keep track of the time, it only makes you more exhausted if you did. You pick up the tables first with your co-staff, carrying up somewhere out of the way but still easy to put back in pace for day 2 of the shoots.

The backdrops have been rolled up as well, all the heavy lifting were being dealt with by the other staff. You notice the lack of eight loud voices and check on the dressing room if they had to rush to another schedule.

You peek in and they’re still there, just now in casual clothes. “Sorry, had to check if this room was clear already or not. No rush!” You explain as you leave the room quickly, a little embarrassed. You get back to work, unclipping the gel sheets from the spotlights. At least you don’t burn your hands this time as you put them on the table next to you.

You finish folding or rolling the gel sheets into the containers. One on your hands, the other pushed forward by your feet. While you were strong enough to carry heavy duty gear, your hands can only carry so much. Additionally, you didn’t want to do repeated trips back and forth, spare mercy to your sore legs and back.

A man comes to your assistance and for a moment you thought it was one of your co-workers. “Ah thank y-- San?!” You look at the male in surprise, you thought they would’ve left by now.

“We figured you guys might want some help.” San explains as he hoists the second container in his arms. We? You look around and you see members helping carrying gears into the storage rooms or offices.

“You guys didn’t have to…” You mumble, one part touched and one part concern. They’ve worked so hard yet they’re here willingly helping out.

“We wanted to. You guys work hard too. that it would be good if you guys get some rest too.”

You had a feeling that he wanted to talk about something also, based on how careful his words were. This time, you don’t close yourself to what his thoughts are. Once you lead him to the storage room for the lights, you put the container on top of other crates. You made a mental note to make an updated inventory list with how many empty crates this room had. Once your arms are free, you take the container from San, propping it on the table. All that’s left to get were the lights.

Once his hands were free, he hid his hands in his hoodie’s pockets. “I, uh, was wondering, if you wanted to go out soon? Of course, when you’re free also..” San asks, hesitance slowing his words down. You have a feeling this outing has some sort of weight behind it but you don’t say anything for now.

“It’s just the two of us?” As if it was no big deal.

“I mean, if you want it to be with the members, it’s fine too.” San doubles back on his words, feeling embarrassed for feeling like the same kid a few years back.

You shake your head at the second offer. Maybe giving him a chance this time wouldn’t be so scary. “Sounds like a plan. You still have my kakao don’t you?” You ask, taking the container from his hands.

It was a good thing you took the container from him as he freezes up in surprise at your willingness. “Uh-” he clears his throat to regain his composure. “Yeah, I do! When do you want to hang out?”

“Next week? How does that sound?” He genuinely hopes he isn’t dreaming from this point on. “

“Sounds good.” He’ll clear out the day just for this.

You flash a smile at him as you let him leave the room first. “Awesome, let’s finish up cleaning so we can get some rest?”

When the two of you return, your higher op tells you to leave the stands where they are. For easier assembly for the next shoot.

“Next shoot?” You get a little nervous, unaware of this schedule. Did you forget about this?

“Relax. It’s an outdoor shoot for an advertisement. It’s just easier for everyone if it’s already out and ready to go.” Probably not one of your assigned projects then. With that, everyone bids each other farewell. The boys splitting from you and Hwayoung to head to their apartment.

Now that everyone else is out of earshot, Jongho breaks the silence. “I think Hyung asked them out.” The spaced out smile on San’s face is a giveaway to how the conversation goes. Yet, knowing the members, they wanted to make sure.

“What did they say?” Wooyoung prods.

“We’re meeting next week.” San simply states, and immediately Wooyoung jumps and shakes his friend gleefully. It’s thanks to Seonghwa that the dazed boy doesn’t fall over from Wooyoung’s antics.

--------

On the days leading to your meet up, the two of you agreed to meet somewhere away from the crowds. Now that today’s the day, you stroll around the area waiting for him. You weren’t sure if you’re expecting him to ditch due to schedules or hoping for him to come. This area feels new to you, one part of your mind stays aware of where you’re going and where you are while the other shuts off as you stroll and look through the shops that line your sight.

[ San to You ] Be there in five minutes!

You look at the message then at the time. Not a big deal, you supposed.

[ You to San ] Don’t rush. Just as long you arrive safely.

[ San to You ] You’re there already?

It looks like it’ll be a lengthy text conversation so you step away from the foot traffic, on the fence of either exploring some more or heading to the meeting spot.

[ You to San ] Yeah, I got curious so I explored for a bit.

Three minutes. You decide to walk back to the meeting spot.

[ San to You ] I’ll show you this new food place I found when I was with Wooyoung and Seonghwa.

You could actually picture how excited he was and you had to bite your lip from smiling like a fool at your phone.

Someone taps your shoulder and for a split second you think it could be a lost foreigner. When you turn on your heels, it’s San. This time he’s in loose clothes, an oversized white shirt tucked into dark blue slacks like bottoms. For once he isn’t in black.

“This is the first time I’m not seeing you in black, I think?” you comment, giving him a thorough look. Well save for his bag, he wasn’t in anything in black.

He flashes a pose at your words. “I wanted to change it up for once, does it suit me well?” He asks, spreading his arms to let you look at him properly.

There’s something about his outfit that makes you smile. “Yeah, I like it.” You shouldn’t have the urge to squeeze his cheeks upon seeing his dimples but here you are. Now that the greetings were out of the way, he holds on to your shoulders, gently steering you at the direction of this restaurant he mentioned in your text. “So what’s up with this restaurant that you like so much?”

Once the two of you are walking, he pulls his hands away from you. “Well, for starters, their stews are great. All of their ingredients are fresh.” He goes on about this restaurant that he’s been so in love with lately. A small part of you wonders if this is one of those restaurants he visited for his individual content. You guess you’ll find out eventually. With that, you let San talk excitedly about food, how he’s finally able to get away from the boys even for a few hours. He’s not one to talk a lot but when he does, he talks. With that said, you don’t mind listening to him, you spend too much time having to talk to others (for a living) that listening for a change isn’t so bad. Besides, you know for sure you’ll have to do your share of talking once you arrive at this restaurant.

He spots the restaurant a few meters ahead of you and he starts to bounce a little on his feet. “Do you see the restaurant with the red lettering with a crab?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that makes you walk a little faster, just for his sake.

“We’re going there?” You ask in return. He takes a few steps forward, already slightly ahead of you. You can tell he already wants to run towards the franchise, and you can already imagine just how good the food could be to elicit such a reaction from him. From there, you decide to just follow him to the restaurant, amused by his excitement for food.

The restaurant looked homey; wooden chairs and tables, with dividers per table for privacy, with some songs playing overhead. Some tables were occupied with what seems to be families and friends, tables covered with various stews and seafood that come in various vivid colors and flavors. It makes sense why San would love this place.

The two of you get settled down on a table a little further away from any eyes. You weren’t entirely sure of what to order either that you let San introduce you to the meals available instead. This of course, makes him beam even brighter. “Anything I should be wary of?” You admit to being wary of certain things; it’s not that you’re allergic but because you rarely have them. That alone gets his head working and already he knows what to order to share with you and for your solo meals.

As the two of you wait for your meals, your eyes wander around the place--, partly out of curiosity and partly because well… you’re a little shy of the mere fact it’s just you and him. The male across you lets you take in the interiors of the place for a few moments before speaking up. “So, how have things been?” It was a genuine question, one filled with wonder if life has been better for you.

This is probably your cue to fill him in on as much as you can without anyone overhearing the two of you. You fill him in on the months you were jobless, not because you couldn’t find a job but because you just needed to rest badly. You stayed on your own still but you were able to meet your friends in those few months, recharging and taking care of your health after who knows how long. You’re into new hobbies as well, making bracelets or keychains, which fortunately also gives you a bit of extra cash. At the mention of the crafts you’ve been making, you show the simple beads that wove around your wrist, along with the purple and green woven keychain that’s attached to your phone case.

“You learned all of that.. Over the months of no work?” San asks. Truth be told, when he’s on hiatus, he either just plays games, work out, or sleep. He learns things too for the sake of becoming a better performer but crafts never crossed his mind. “And yet, you know how to deal with production work?”

“I did tell you I knew a thing or two when it comes to the industry. My tolerance to things is just something I need to work on.” You admit as you keep your phone away. One by one the food arrives. It’s only when you’re greeted by the stew that you realize how hungry you are. “Fill me in on your life too.” You quickly add before the two of you get side tracked by the various dishes that slowly fill up your table.

As he hands you your utensils, he starts to tell you stories of their recent milestones and albums. The way he finds himself improving as a person and as an artist. He admits to some dips in self-confidence though not as bad as they used to be. After all, at the end of the day, he’s still a regular human with their ups and downs. He tells you as well of the acting gigs he’s been doing, even did a few radio shows on his own. In typical fashion, he even exposes some of his members, what they’ve been doing, what they’re planning, and the like. Were you surprised though? Not quite, in fact you can see a bit of Jongho’s influence in his mannerisms of exposing members. Those two were doing amazing in the drama scene after all.

“Oh yeah! Speaking of dramas, I heard from a little birdy that you were interested in taking up a horror thriller drama role?” You say before taking a small mouthful of noodles. This question flusters him slightly but he flashes a smile so bright, his dimples make an appearance.

“Yeah,” he starts as he looks for the crab meat in his meal. “If the director thinks I’m perfect for the role then why not right?” He lets himself eat for a few moments before continuing to speak. “Though, if Seonghwa-hyung gets the role instead of me that would be funny.”

“He still can’t handle horror?”

“Him and Mingi.”

That’s how the rest of the meal goes. The two of you sharing stories and jokes from the years you’ve been out of touch with each other. It’s a feat that San still plushies on his bed, some of which he had given away, some still with him after all these years. He’s just as amazed as you are for you.

It takes an hour or two before the food is finished. You’ve kept note of this place in your phone, wanting to come back here on your own in the near future. “Speaking of, did you feature this place in your individual content?”

“I have! It’s just going through post processing with the staff so expect it soon.” He chirps, beaming at how you remembered his individual content.

After he pays for the meal (which you will pay back through desert), the two of you walk around the area. He shows you where he gets his clothes, stuff Mingi has showed him as well. In some shops, he proceeds to complain about how some of his members have taste that’s too expensive for him. In response to that, you stare at his bag. You may not be as well off as he is, but you can tell a luxury brand when you see one-- his bag being one of them.

“This was a gift from Yunho!!” He tries to defend himself, which was pretty useless knowing how he had set himself up for that. Besides that, the exploring was fun. The two of you inevitably bought a few things. It was a little funny though, to see a foreigner try to flirt with San and seeing San try to shake them off by pretending to not speak any English. Once you two leave the shop, he immediately asks if the two of you could head somewhere for dessert.

“Even until now, huh?” You tease him.

“Sh..”

You don’t need to see him to see his red ears. You know him well enough for that.

Now you’re here in a bingsu cafe, sharing a strawberry and mango bingsu with him as rivers of people pass by beneath you. It’s a lot calmer now, the jitters of meeting up with an old friend having faded now. Your chats have mellowed down as well. Some topics seem to fit a night of drinking soju in the comfort of one’s home until the sun rises up. There were things that he needed your thoughts about certain things in his line of work. Not that he doesn’t get them with his own members but the unbiased approach you have also helps him in more ways than he can imagine. There are also things that the two of you needed to discuss, things that neither of you should be running away from.

“What you said in the set..” He trails off. You look up from your meal at his words, waiting for him to expound. “You didn’t leave because of what happened between us?” He asks, his eyes stay glued to the half eaten bingsu. There’s doubt in his mind that he’d be able to face how you look with this topic.

You do owe him an explanation. You set down your utensils first before speaking up. “San, I left the company cause I couldn’t keep up with the deliverables… it took a toll on my health.” It was an explanation that San kind of didn’t expect. While you didn’t delve into all the details, you gave him enough for him to understand the gravity. It only takes his expression for you to connect the dots. “You thought you were a reason for my departure?” San couldn’t really say much, only eating his share in guilty silence. “San, you weren’t a reason for that. Sure it was stressful but I can take on workmates having a crush on me as compared to deliverables that needed to be sent out at crazy times.” He still feels a little burdened, but you can’t really do much for that. It’ll take a while before the guilt really washes away, he carried this belief for so long, unlearning that would take a while. “You’re not a burden, I promise you that. Never were, never will be.” Truth be told, any shortcomings he’s had have been forgiven and forgotten. You truly believe he’s grown since you last heard from him.

He flashes a small smile, and you know it’s taking a lot of his strength to not cry. San catches the look of mild alarm in your face and beats you to it. “I’m not going to cry here, I promise.” As he says this, he proceeds to blink profusely to keep the tears at bay. You slipping a piece of tissue towards him catches his eye and he laughs lightly at the thoughtful deed. “Thank you.” He holds onto it to reassure you and to make sure he doesn’t cry in public. He’ll save the tears when he’s in the privacy of his own room. “Now, help me create a cave with this bingsu.” The man across you states, picking up his spoon again. You look at the half eaten bingsu and he’s right, for some reason he started at the edge then started digging downwards.

“San, this cave is going to fall.” You state, a little fearful of a possible mess that could happen if you indulge in his wish.

“Do you not have faith in me?” He asks, visibly hurt by your alarm now. Your gaze carries disbelief and you decide to indulge but on one condition.

“If this falls, you’re buying my coffee on the way home.”

“Call.”

--------

“Do you wanna do this again? Some other time?” San asks. It’s a little frustrating that the two of you don’t live under the same roof (technically) anymore but it does make the time spent a little more precious.

Your eyes widen at his invitation but soften up once it registers in your head. “Yeah, I’d like that. Message me?” You ask, raising your phone up. The train’s arriving soon and that means a surge of people. You take a quick sip of your nth cup of coffee for the day before you brace yourself for rush hour. You did reassure San that your coffee tasted sweeter because it was his money.

“Of course. Send me a message when you get home okay?”

The two of you quickly give the other a hug, just in time for the train to arrive. San stays near the wall, away from the incoming foot traffic from both ends of the station. He watches you enter the train, staying near the window so that you could still clearly see each other. Even at a distance, San pulls a few faces at you to which you try to stifle the laughter that wants to spill from your lips. The doors close and you wave goodbye to him. He does the same, his thumb and pinky outstretched as if to say to expect a message or a call from him soon. The last thing he sees before the train whirrs away is a thumbs up and your smile.

He lets the rush hour crowd dissipate first before making his way to his own train ride home. Somewhere along the way, he receives a message.

[ You to San ] I got home!

[ You to San ] proof.jpg

It was a photo of the clothes the two of you bought along with the coffee he bought for you, spread across the table in your place. A small air of laughter slips out of him at how you arranged the photo in your typical manner after a long day.

[ San to You ] clapping_ryan.emoji

[ San to You ] thumbs_up_apeach.emoji

It’s hard to shake the feeling that the members would annoy him about today.

--------

The door beeps a melody at his return, and already he’s greeted by some of the members playing video games in the living room. It looks like Mingi somehow managed to doze off on the massage chair despite the chaos in front of him. Yeosang who was just an audience to the entire thing notices his return and beckons him over to sit with them to watch. It was a tight match between Wooyoung and Yunho from the looks of the score.

“How was the date?” Yeosang asks before offering a piece of chicken to the now seated member. “It wasn’t a date.” San states, he wonders how many times he had to get this through their heads. Regardless, he takes the offered chicken pop. “Not the usual salt and pepper today?” He asks, a little surprised with the change of flavor. The other shrugs nonchalantly at the change. “Promo plus GC. You know I had to do it.” He looks at San with a raised eyebrow. “It looks like a date though.”

Somehow, San didn’t want Yeosang to expound on what that meant. It’s good to keep your hopes up but this is different.

“Are you going to see them again?” Yeosang asks, the two of them suddenly jumping when Wooyoung manages to score another point against Yunho. The entire room erupts into cheers. They peer over at Mingi and he’s still deep in slumber on the massage chair.

Now that they’ve mellowed down and Yunho has called for a round 2, San returns to their topic. “If we have time then yeah.”

-------

It wasn’t a matter of if the two of you have time. It was a matter of how the two of you will meet. By some strange feats of stubbornness and quick thinking, the two of you somehow manage to meet with each other still after schedules. Of course, depending on how tired the other is, it was usually just San decompressing at your apartment.

The two of you have grown closer than before. Not a day passes without either of you sending each other messages at the start or end of one’s day. Today, San asked if he can stay for the night after a CF shoot. Even though you’ve said before that you don’t mind him coming over just as long as he gives you a heads up, he still asks.

Now, he’s spread eagle across the floor, relishing on the cool feeling of your flooring after such a long day. “San, I’m pretty sure your massage chair might be more comfortable than my floor.” You say, as you set down some snacks on the table.

“We may have a massage chair in the dorm but we don’t have a Lily.” He states. Lily’s your pet ragdoll that’s been with you now for half a year. The little one was also resting on San’s abdomen. The image in front of you makes you laugh.

“I guess so, but will Lily really help with your muscle knots?”

“Her purring can.”

You roll your eyes at how weak he gets for cats. “Go get washed up. Your spare clothes are in my room. I promise, her purring will feel much better when you get out of your work clothes.” Before he says anything to stay put, you already got Lily’s favorite toy ringing clear in the room. The dainty bell already catches the feline’s attention and she hops off of him before he can say anything.

“Fine, fine.” His voice is tinged with an exhausted whine but you’re right; loungewear after a long day does feel nice. With that, he pushes himself off the floor and makes his way to your bathroom.

Now that he’s gone, you tire out your little zooming companion for some time, playing catch with her as she bounces around the room, catching her favorite ball over and over. In the course of throwing the ball repeatedly and tiring out your favorite girl, thoughts run in your mind. You’ve talked about this with Jiwoo recently but you never got to talk about this with Seonghwa or Hongjoong. With Lily still whacking at the small ball around, chasing it around the room, you decide to send Seonghwa a message.

[ You to Seonghwa ] Hey remember that question you asked me when you and Hongjoong visited me?

[ Seonghwa to You ] Yeah, what’s up?

The bathroom door unlocks and it’s sudden enough for you to jump out of your seat. You couldn’t think of a reply to make yourself look busy when San comes back after a shower and in a fresh set of clothes. Adrenaline runs hot in your body now.

“San, I have a question..” Your voice is careful and it already puts San on edge, wondering what could be in your head to suddenly sound so hesitant. Just earlier, you were teasing him and playing around with Lily. He worries what could’ve happened in his absence.

“Yeah?” San returns, repositioning himself to listen closely to whatever’s bothering you. He sits across you, tearing open a bag of snacks.

“You still have feelings don’t you?”

“What if I do?”

This time there’s nothing that twists in you.

Part 9

#my writings #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #ateez san #san fanfiction #san fluff #im just saying but if some stuff here come true i'll deactivate /jk 1/2

37 notes · View notes

salemroleplayhq · 3 years

Photo

❝The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.❞

MEET…

Jillian Swann

Age: 30

Birthday: August 20th, 1991

Gender/Pronouns: Cis female, She/Her

Hometown: Salem, MA

Length of time in Salem: All of her life, except for the 3 years in which she was away for college and seven months in a mental health facility

Occupation: Freelance Artist & Muralist / Bartender at Rockafellas

Faceclaim: Laura Harrier

THEIR STORY

tw: mentions of major depressive disorder, anxiety, postpartum depression, suicide attempts, fire

An only child, since infancy Jill most closely resembled her mother, though the resemblance didn’t stop there. Her mother was also Jill’s namesake — Jillian — but to avoid confusion the nickname ‘Jill’ or ‘Jilly’ were the names deployed most often to give her a better sense of individuality. She was raised with little austerity. Her mother was a high end jeweler and her father was a therapist. She had a double bed adorned with silky materials of the highest thread count, took long hot showers in the mornings and lavish baths in the evening. Pressure was put on maintaining an orderly appearance. Manners instilled, always. With strict guidelines to be followed within and outside the home — she was a child, thereby she must listen to those above her. Their daughter was to be seen and not heard, not to speak unless spoken to. Whether or not Jill’s quiet disposition is a result of her parents’ ingrained teachings, or if it was in her nature to begin with cannot be determined for certain. To avoid any unnecessary conflict, Jill was cautious never to do anything reckless that would put even a single strand of her hair out of place.

Her family may have been affluent, but even though technology installments were in abundance around the house — from cable TV to being given a personal iPhone at nine years old — she always showed an inclination toward more tangible forms of entertainment. More often than not her spare time would be occupied with long-winded outings to the library, teaching herself embroidery or knitting projects or skipping rope tricks. As an only child, her imagination became her closest companion. Inventiveness kept her boredom at bay, but it also made it impossible for her mind to ever be a peaceful and silent place. She took a liking to fiction and poetry books and art the most. She was thrilled by the way the right set of words could miraculously make sense of the big feelings she felt but didn’t dare speak about. She thrived off of what was obvious; the practical and evidential. Situations with a clear cut beginning and end that couldn’t be mistaken for something else. With art, she was able to embody everything that she had felt inside — what words couldn’t appropriately convey. ‘I don’t belong here. Nobody wants me. I don’t feel normal.’ Accordingly, nothing frustrated her more than having no idea where to begin when dealt with something that wasn’t so readily apparent or visible ( more often than not this equated to one category only: her feelings ). Winging things wasn’t her style — planning and perfect organization was. With poetry and art — with the attractive rhythmics of prose, and the curved painted brushes — she could suddenly adapt to any moment, turning anything that felt too overwhelming into something small and manageable ( destroyable, even — much of her first personally works ending up shredded or burned in the fireplace ). It was a comfort to find that even if an explanation didn’t exist, she could simply make one up herself by inking it down on a fresh piece of paper. This was a hobby she kept private, though she was passionately devoted to it. Each night filling a page or two, whether in a notebook or a sketchbook, until every few months she had a full book and had to start a new one.

Growing up Jill was very level-headed and had a natural talent for leadership. She was never boastful or power-hungry, but taking charge of chaotic situations came like second nature to her. She wasn’t shy of being in the spotlight, not because she ever wanted the attention but because she sought to benefit the bigger picture always. If there was a recognizable error she’d often be the first to analyze it without a bias to intervene with her perception, making her able to step in to adjust it until perfect form was achieved. She was considered mature for her age by most of her superiors — teachers and parents alike — never giving way to thoughtless impulses and seemingly unable to be offended. A teenager who possessed a gift concerning genuine empathy and kindness. Jill and her ego seemed to exist on opposite sides of the spectrum. Critique and praise rolled off her back one in the same. She was a quick learner, always eager to have new content to peruse. She loved questions, for there was always an answer. It was safe territory. As curious as she was in pursuits of knowledge, as a whole she was very reserved and well balanced and not at all spontaneous. She became a safe haven for many of her lost high school peers, but nobody had ever seen the deep inner turmoil she had wrestled with all of her life; that emptiness, that sadness, those thoughts that told her she wasn’t good enough. Despite being plagued by anxious voices, she tried to push on, at times self harming when it felt like it was too much.

When it mattered most, art saved her — especially after the fire. She was a creative through and through, but it was the self portraits of a woman losing her mind that allowed her to look at herself in a completely different light. Though she tried not to think of it much ( she couldn’t remember what exactly had happened even when she consciously tried ), Jill was unsure if she was relieved to have made it out of the fire. To her own life, she was apathetic. Yet, when she finally met Lachlan she had put up a good front — “thank you,” said with a warm smile that failed to reach her eyes; she had recognized him from their school, “for saving me.” As a result, she fell more into her creativity and further away from the her peers. Jill’s artistic talents were obvious to anyone on the outside looking in, expressed in her handiwork in her talent for choosing attractive fashions and creating hair styles at the girl’s sleepovers. Indeed, Jill had a great talent for styling clothing, sewing and braiding her friends’ hair as well as any professional hair stylist. But it was a duty rather than something she felt in her heart. The need to look pristine, whispering urgent nothings at the back of her head. Writing and painting was what she truly longed to do, but making a profession out of something anyone who could hold a pen or paintbrush could do seemed impossible.

Once Jill honed her ability, she began to submit her work into local competitions. Being able to be a freelance artist as a job seemed far fetched, but it was all she enjoyed spending her free time on — using real people as her subjects, sketching what she really saw, and uploading her work in the hopes that it would sell. The inspiration fueling each canvas was endless.

Taking two years to herself after graduating high school — allowing herself to build up various art equipment, a growing portfolio, and history of recurring clients that helped spread her name around — at 21, for the sake of improved credibility, it was with bated breath and hardened determination that she finally felt she was prepared enough to dare to apply to local universities offering a BFA degree in art. When Jill received an acceptance letter from FIT, it felt like an affirmation the direction she was headed wasn’t purposeless. Though usually careful about keeping her emotions withheld, she couldn’t help be feel thrilled at having seemed to have found her true calling.

Until three years into her studies. The stresses of college had overwhelmed her, and she found herself swallowing a bottle of pills in her sorrow. When she awoke, she had been back in Salem, her mother by her side — and Jill had turned her head, letting the silent tears flow down her cheeks out of shame. Moving back with her family had been hectic. Her deep depression and suicidal thoughts lingering but she had promised her parents that she would never hurt herself again. Instead, she spent her days in various forms of isolation, to locking herself in her childhood bedroom for days, to sitting on the balcony quietly nursing a cup of tea. It was the first time that she had purposely avoided writing or drawing.

As all things, with time was supposed to come healing. Over the years, Jill kept up a regular notebook habit despite how pointless it seemed — it was a freeing outlet that calmed her anxious thoughts. Within those pages she catalogued original writings as well as jotting down lyrics, sayings, quotes, and eavesdropped phrases she heard whilst out and about. Clearcut beginnings and ends were her favorite thing. Anytime the she was confused or disturbed by the people around her, she’d retreat to process it silently on a page. Unless she was at work around those her age, she was surrounded by adults. Neither were particularly easy to make sense of, so many a notebook went filled. Though she still managed to maintain her “Jill of all Trades” persona for her relatability and kindness, people had still spoken about her as the deeply troubled young woman as a result.

Her depression left her deeply afraid, and she became somewhat of a recluse most times because she couldn’t bear the whispers. Then she met Gabriel, an older man who had stopped in Salem for business, and it had changed everything. The casual fling began and ended without much fuss. It was a stress relief, nothing different than the glass of wine or smoke she ingested when particularly stressed. Jill preferred living alone, in all aspects. Romance was never appealing, neither was having to belong to someone, or adhere to any sense of domestic behaviors. Long term relationships were foreign territory for her simply because of her deep depression, and it was always a relief to find someone on a similar wavelength. A couple months after their fling drew to a close, Jill found it wasn't as easy to shrug off as past exchanges when she discovered she was pregnant. Something within her knew she wouldn’t abandon the life growing inside, even if it threw off every perfectly crafted plan she had.

Nine months later Jill was the mother of fraternal twins, Gabe always by her side. For a while it seemed like they could make it work out — a possible bond and a growing love for each other. Then the postpartum symptoms had hit, and just like that, their blossoming relationship was thrown right into the garbage after Jill had attempted to take her life once more in the midst of a breakdown. Having been sent to a mental facility some ways out of town immediately after, Jill has just come back to her hometown after seven months — desperate to heal.

PERSONALITY

+ empathetic, personable, creative

- stubborn, perfectionist, naive

Jillian is played by CLEM.

#jillian swann #f #all #oc rp #town rp #city rp #lsrpg

3 notes · View notes

ginnyggginny · 3 years

Text

Francoise Gilot painted “Adam Forcing Eve to Eat An Apple” in 1946, the year she moved in with Picasso to become his young muse. In a New York Times article, Alexandra Schwartz quotes Gilot saying that this is no accident. The painting depicts a woman looking at the viewer with an apple forced into her mouth by an angry man with furrowed brows, and the Biblical title implies a sense of lost innocence and hindsight realization of her own unfortunate situation. The description of a “forced” act calls to mind descriptions of sexual assault, a nonconsensual penetration. Gilot is keenly aware of this connection, as she compares Picasso to the monstrous pirate Bluebeard, who

… didn’t cut the heads [of his wives] completely off… he preferred to have life go on and to have all those women who shared his life at one moment or another still letting out little peeps and cries of joy or pain and making a few gestures like disjointed dolls, just to prove that there was some life left in them, that it hung by a thread, and that he held the other end of the thread. (Schwartz)

Gilot clearly delineates the emotionally manipulative tactics that Picasso used, with his desire to keep all his women at arm’s length. Her description of him keeping his muses “hung by a thread” (Schwartz), which he holds in his hand, shows the way Picasso treated her and others as doll-like objects that he could use however and whenever he wanted, and that he had a sense of entitlement towards their bodies, due to a successful career and an inflated career. Even today Picasso is cited as one of the most famous artists in the world, with Guernica and Weeping Woman being some of his most well-known. It is worth noting that Francoise Gilot was a painter in her own right, and she became a muse in an effort to make connections within the art world that would improve her own career by association. She expected that working with Picasso would bring her artistic opportunities, though likely did not expect the mistreatment she received. And yet she is not famous. The tradition of the muse is named after the Greek goddesses who blessed men with inspiration, but it is most famously used referring to the women who posed for portraits, dating back to the Renaissance when classical-style realistic paintings came back into fashion. The essay “Sexual Violence: Baroque to Surrealist” by John Loughery claims that the proliferation of nearly-nude women in Renaissance painting, so ubiquitous in art museums, comes from a more sinister tradition, describing that the paintings “speak volumes about the power factor inherent in the post-Renaissance tradition of the female nude, and, with their riveting straightforward glance, they point ahead to Manet’s Olympia, Zola’s Nana, and an avalanche of prose and imagery that affirms women’s comfort with their own sexuality, or male projections about that level of comfort” (Loughery 299). This essay sees these centuries-old masterpieces not as ethereal works of art that transcend sexuality, but as works of pornography that were designed to titillate the viewer and bypass the highly religious era they came from with their classical setting. Putting aside the oil brushstrokes, Edouard Manet-- and Pablo Picasso-- are simply depicting the nude body of a young woman. While in many cases this situation may have been consensual, Loughery claims that it would be hard to put aside the inherent power dynamic. Like a high-ranking executive of a film company taking advantage of a young woman, a famous and well-connected artist would certainly hold sway over an ambitious young girl. It would be hard to ignore the age difference between the muse and the artist, the often married man and the often-underage ingenue. Also, the idea that “male projections about that level of comfort” discounts the assumption that the women involved would be comfortable with her depiction. Women are often expected to be beautiful and available, Andrea Pino-Silva argues in the essay “I Believe You, Como Eres”, with their “success determined by the boys we charmed at our quinceaneras, of the lengths we took to prepare ourselves to be wives (Pino-Silva)”. There is a clear gender division, visible in every situation from a muse sitting for a portrait to a girl in a ball gown at a quinceanera. The man is expected to have power, he is masculine, the one who asks the girl to dance, the one who moves his model into the position he wants to paint. The woman is just beautiful and must work to keep herself that way. Not only can the artist use his own power and position to take advantage of the muse, he can choose to make her appear however he wants, like a posable doll-- he can make her look like she deserves whatever attention she gets.

Nowadays, the world of artist-and-muse shows itself differently, as the prominent art forms have shifted with time. The familiar story of a man exploiting a woman for creative gain is now most often associated with the film industry, in particular with director Harvey Weinstein and his actress victims. In the case of Weinstein, this is put in a very sinister light with Salma Hayek, who wanted to star in a movie about the artist Frida Kahlo but was forced to include sexual scenes in order to appease Weinstein’s own sexual desires. The muse and the model are very similar, in age and in public perception-- being a beautiful woman paid to look good and inspire works of art. One such model/muse is Kaori, a sitter for the Japanese photographer Araki Hirohiko. During the time of the #MeToo Movement in 2018 and 2019, when millions of women came out with their stories of sexual harassment and assault, Kaori told her story to the New York Times, describing how the photographer emotionally abused her. She describes Araki as treating her “like an object (Kaori)”, when “he asked [her] to do abnormal things, and [she] did them as though they were normal. (Kaori)” Kaori described an incident in which the photographer took nude photos of her, and then published and distributed them without her permission, as described within the New York Times article . It is clear that Araki has taken advantage of his position of power, both as an elderly man in a patriarchal Japanese culture, and in his successful career as an artist allowing him to take liberties with the normal steps of asking for permission and consulting her. This is an extremely similar scenario to Salma Hayek’s experience with Harvey Weinstein, as along with his sexual harassment, Hayek endured extreme emotional abuse. Hayek states in her op-ed for the New York Times that “the range of his persuasion tactics went from sweet-talking me to that one time when, in an attack of fury, he said the terrifying words, ‘I will kill you, don’t think I can’t.’” Like Picasso pushing the apple into Gilot’s mouth, and treating her like a poseable doll rather than a real woman, Kaori and Hayek face emotional abuse from creative men. In fact, the distribution of Kaori’s images could be compared to revenge porn, in which images that have been captured with consent of the body depicted are released without permission, usually for spiteful reasons. Revenge porn is considered a Class A misdemeanor in many states and is considered a form of sexual harassment. The fact that this is such a widespread problem, to the extent where it has been banned by Ireland, shows that the idea of distributing non-consensual nude images has evolved far beyond the Victorian boudoir images of young women resting in nothing but a necklace-- the “male projections about level of comfort” that Loughery mentioned, where male pleasure in viewing a woman’s body is more important than her own comfort and consent.

Women throughout history are often disbelieved, ignored, and left to their own anger and rage. Francoise Gilot channeled her anger into her own Cubist paintings, following a tradition started by Artemisia Gentileschi among other underappreciated female artists who suffered from sexual abuse. Gentileschi is best known for the iconic painting Judith Beheading Holofernes, another example of a Biblical motif being used to convey another meaning. In this image, Judith is bent over the man’s helpless body, her sleeves rolled up over her elbows. muscles outstretched to drag the sword through his neck. Blood spurts out gorily, as Judith is attended by her maidservant. Though the woman in the painting is Judith, it is likely Gentileschi as well-- a woman who was raped by her father’s friend as a teenager, and who was subjected to a humiliating rape trial, according to John Loughery’s essay. The story of Artemisia Gentileschi’s life shows how little her life differs from that of a modern-day rape victim, although Judith was finished in 1621. The painting becomes a revenge fantasy, a way for Gentileschi to release her pent-up rage, visible catharsis as Holofernes becomes her rapist, and her maidservant holding the basket for his severed head becomes a metaphor for the women who unite over a shared enemy. Pablo Picasso and Gentileschi’s rapist were both artists who took advantage of their success and power, in addition to their position as creative men-- as art has been considered a feminine pursuit, creative men may compensate for their choice of career by acting with masculine bravado. Rebecca Solnit writes about the patriarchy’s discomfort with women, and desire to erase feminine attributes among men.

If emotion must be killed, this is work that can make women targets. Less decent men hunt out vulnerability, because if being a man means learning to hate vulnerability, then you hate it in yourself and in the gender that has been carrying it for you. Girl and pussy have long been key insults used against boys and men, along with gay and faggot; a man must not be a woman. (Solnit 30)

#stuff i wrote for shcool

16 notes · View notes

gamebunny-advance · 3 years

Photo

I feel like this was a pretty good year for me in terms of art. Lots of stuff that I really liked this year!

I put up pieces that I either thought were particularly good and/or noteworthy. Personal notes under the cut.

Jan: Not a bad start, all things considered. I don’t think I’ve drawn anything with the same energy as the Bootleg Pac-Man redraws since, but I hope to recapture it someday.

Feb: The SSB x Eizouken drawings were the only things of note I drew for that month. They really weren’t as “clean” as I would have liked, but they were still fun to do~

Mar: Another month with little note. I do think this is the best iteration of Galeem I’ve ever drawn though.

Apr: Nothing in my fanart for this month really jumped out at me, but I really liked this version of Carol that I doodled. I’ve kept trying to redesign him since, and he’s just never been as good as he is here.

May: I just could not pick between these two because I love them both so much. If I could make my art look like this more consistently, then I’d probably open commissions. The line work, the colors, the shading, I’m just so in love with both of those pieces. The GW doodles have a kinda cute and creepy look that I like to dip into now and again while the AC piece just about captures the tooth-rotting cuteness I want to draw the other 95% of the time.

June: And then I dropped like a truck. This was when I tried to abstain from drawing fanart to focus on my original stuff, but nothing great came out of it. Best I could find to put there was a sketch of the “Pack Rat” enemy for the RPG I stopped working on~ Not a great start to being 22.

July: This is another piece that I think really captured the kind of look I’m going for. I feel like I’ve been trying to replicate this specific look ever since, but to little success.

Aug: Another drop-off month. This was when I was really getting into the Mahou Smash Project, but I never finished anything for it because I thought the designs were all kind of lackluster. I do hope I find the confidence to come back to it though. I still really like the concept.

Sept: And thus the NSR-pocolypse began. In terms of actual art quality, this is probably the worst piece I’ve ever called “finished”, but it is the most notable work I made that month and its popularity has affirmed to me that even through the weakness of my art, if the writing is good, then it’ll still resonate. It really reinvigorated my confidence and I’ve been drawing a lot more ever since (even if it is mostly NSR). I always tell myself that I don’t need praise to be happy, but this is proof that it does motivate me at least~

Oct:This is the month where I think I was the most consistent with my style. There were definitely a handful of pieces that I really liked, but I think “Capsule Prison” is one of my favorites!

Nov: Another pretty clean month. Since the pieces were kinda consistent I don’t have much else to comment on, but I picked this piece because it’s one of very few totally original ones that I’ve completed in a while. (”Capsule Prison” was designed by my buddy Lex, so she’s only a semi-original character).

Dec: This is probably the month where I’ve made the most “complete” pieces, and that’s mostly due to the followers celebration. It was this month that I also decided to start actually using references in my work again. I think it’s working out for the better, and this one is a stand-out example for me. I still get kinda lazy about that kinda stuff and slip into my old habits, but I hope this will mark the start of me improving again instead of staying in this comfortable lull.

Overall, it’s kinda hard to tell if I’ve actually “grown” any, especially since I don’t have a comparison for last year, but I feel like I’ve been happier with more of my pieces, so I’m gonna call this an improvement. Maybe next year I’ll draw more characters facing right instead of left XP.

#gbunny draws #everything #2020

10 notes · View notes

blackfemininity · 5 years

Text

Cultivate Femininity Within | Black Femininity Series Part Three

“Femininity is an internal expression before it is an external appearance.”

Femininity is essentially about expressing the fullness of your unique womanhood. Cultivating femininity is an inside job before all else. It’s about being honest with yourself and living in your truth.

The Foundation of Femininity

To express your femininity, you must feel safe and secure. The foundation of femininity is security. When we feel nurtured within ourselves and our environments, we grow more confident in our self-image and femininity.

The Art of Connection

Become more secure within by connecting with yourself. To connect within, practice being present. In the present moment, you can connect deeper with yourself and your intuition. When you notice yourself spending too much time in your head, take a moment to reconnect with your body. Breathe slowly, root yourself within and become aware of your senses. See, feel, hear, touch, smell. Become intentional with your movements. Stand tall with confidence and poise. Speak calmly and clearly. Pause more often. Be aware of your thoughts and feelings. Embrace the now and flow with it.

Become more secure in your environment by making constructive changes that are in your control. Avoid spending your time being distracted, endlessly scrolling through social media and comparing your life to the lives of others. Be present in your own life. Fill your days with more meaningful connections, love, knowledge and laughter. Be mindful of what you allow into your inner and outer space. Choose things that add value to your life in all areas.

Confidence & Self Image

“A flower doesn’t compete with the flower next to it. It just blooms.” — Zen Shin

Avoid placing other people on pedestals. Be concerned with yourself, your life and your goals. Try to avoid comparing yourself to other women. It’s never a competition, it’s an opportunity for sisterhood. Affirm and build relationships with other women. Know that there is enough for all of us.

In terms of both romantic and platonic relationships, know your worth and carry yourself with respect. Don’t settle for less than what your worth. Increase your standards and raise the bar higher for how you should be treated. Be sure that your friendships and relationships add to your life, not take away. Be around people who support, inspire, love, nurture and care for you.

In terms of yourself, who are you really? Go on a journey of self-exploration. Begin learning about yourself down to the details. Find ways to express yourself and embrace your individuality. Don’t be overly concerned with copying trends. Instead, create and experiment with your own personal style. Femininity is also about being creative. To nurture your creativity, take classes to such as writing, dancing, painting, sculpting, cooking and playing an instrument.

Be Receptive

“She was created to be kissed, loved, and given flowers every day.” — juansen dizon

Develop an abundance mindset. Believe you’re worthy of a quality life. Believe you’re worthy of having your needs met. Believe you’re worthy of love, peace and respect. Only accept things that matches what you truly want for yourself. Think higher and bigger. Become mindful of your self-talk and speak affirmations to yourself daily.

Be receptive to your blessings. Learn when to act and when to allow. By leaning back and allowing, you cultivate trust and faith which then allows life to flow with ease. Be like a cup and allow things to flow into your life.

Allow yourself to indulge in life’s simple pleasures. Allow yourself to be taken care of. Learn to accept compliments, gifts and help. Express gratitude and say ‘thank you’ more often. Let yourself feel: be warm, inviting, kind, vulnerable, emotional, sensitive and soft. Eradicate the any false connotation you have about those words in conjunction with femininity. There is power in being feminine. Being feminine allows you to become more attractive in the sense of attracting more love, ease and abundance into your life.

Elegance & Sophistication

“Her witty sensuality, her dignity, her growing charm,” — Josephine Balmer

Cultivate elegance by bringing more relaxation and calmness into your day. Incorporate more leisure into your day. Avoid trying to constantly overfill your day with too much obligations and tasks. That’ll lead to burn-out. Let there be periods of time in your day dedicated to ease and quiet. Give yourself moments in the day to release and rest.

Become the best version of yourself by committing to self-improvement. Develop your inner charisma by presenting yourself in high value and alluring way. Sharpen your social skills by learning etiquette. Travel more frequently, whether it be in your own city or to another country. Surround yourself with art & culture. Have personal hobbies: read literature, attend plays, visit museums, learn a new language, start journaling, take pictures, etc. Become educated on more topics and expand your intellect. Delve into your interests whether it be fashion, science, art, philosophy, psychology, anthropology or other subjects. Expand your taste in all areas of your life.

Take Care of Yourself

“I am mine, before I am ever anyone else’s.” — nayyirah waheed

To nurture yourself, begin to prioritize self-care. Treat yourself like luxury. Take care of your health, your happiness and your energy. Create constructive habits in your daily routines that benefit your mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health. Habits such as eating healthier, exercising more, stretching, getting adequate sleep, taking deep breaths and more.

Be content in your solitude. Find validation and fulfillment within. Avoid looking to other people, places or things to fill a void within. Begin to see yourself as one of your main sources of love. Pour love, care and respect into yourself. Set healthy boundaries with other people. Be compassionate but don’t let others drain you. You can’t pour from an empty cup. When you pour into your own cup first, the overflow can then be given to others.

Put effort into your appearance and personal hygiene. When you look good, you feel good. Invest in quality perfumes and develop your signature scent. Fine tune your closet to clothing items that make you feel beautiful, feminine and confident. Add statement pieces and accessories to your outfits. Pamper yourself with face masks, manicures, pedicures, body exfoliations and more. Find skincare products that work for your skin. If you enjoy makeup, learn how to properly apply it to your specific skin tone and undertones. Work on presenting your best self daily until it becomes second nature.

Scan your personal space and begin to eradicate items that no longer add to your life. Let go of the old to create space for better. Donate, recycle and throw out old items that clutter your space. Add more beauty to your space. Decorate your home with items that make you feel good. Let your surroundings be a reflection of your personal vision.

Summary

Our femininity can be expressed when we feel secure within ourselves and our surroundings. We tap into our femininity when we feel nurtured and in tune with ourselves, our intuition, our senses and our environment. As we become more connected with ourselves, we’ll develop a more confident and positive self-image. We’ll become more receptive to the love, success and opportunity we know we deserve. We’ll create a quality life filled with abundance and substance. And we’ll learn to love and care for ourselves through it all.

#femininity series #femininity #confidence #self care #self love #series

2K notes · View notes

runin-reads · 4 years

Text

❛ under my umbrella ❜

— tendou x reader oneshot

W/C: 1.5 k

TAG(S): @mushfairy since this is a collab with her!

SYNOPSIS: “So what do you say, Sa-to-ri? You up for the challenge?

“You’re on”, he replies with a grin.

In which you jokingly challenge Tendou to perform in the up-coming talent show. You don’t think he’s actually going to do it, and Tendou is hell bent on proving you wrong.

Inspired by this song and performance

Breathe, you’ve got this.

Tendou is out backstage, waiting his turn to perform for the long-anticipated talent show. The other dancers, both male and female, are waiting alongside him, waiting with bated breath. The vocalists, the bands, and the stand-up comedians have already performed. There’s only one more performance from the martial arts committee to really get the adrenaline pumping within the audience. After they finish, Tendou and the rest of the Miyagi City Dance Crew would debut to the awaiting crowd.

He catches your eye from a gap between the curtains from where you’ve just been seated at the front row, and he thinks he’s not doing a bad job at facing your challenge.

“And up next, it’s the Miyagi city dance crew, dancing to singing in the rain by Gene Kelly,” the announcer declares.

Make the audience yours. Dance as if you own the stage and the complete attention of the people watching you.

There was a silence… and then the curtains were drawn.

There he is, Tendou Satori in the flesh, wearing a pinstripe suit and a smart, wide brimmed hat. The music playing was cheerful and vintage, the smooth, velvety vocals echoing through the stage as he skipped about with a spring in his step and hand on his hat. He knows this is just the beginning. He does a good job at spinning around and tapping his feet, putting on a show for all eyes to see. Underneath his hat, his eyes are shining. Underneath the grip of his hand, is an umbrella.

The music changes. It changes into a steady beat led by percussion that duels with breath-taking vocals, as lights flash and fellow dancers in black bodysuits come on stage from the sides. The song that’s playing now is Umbrella by Rihanna, and when Tendou comes out from behind a wall of umbrellas --that are held courtesy of his teammates-- his suit is off, he has the same umbrella in hand, and on his body? A fucking leather bodysuit that ends mid-thigh.

He looks like a hired dancer for a private show. Along his shoulders are thin leather straps attached to an equally as black tank top, leading down to shiny shorts that streamline his body and draws attention to his actions in a way that the old volleyball uniform fails to do; tight enough to showcase his figure, not enough to restrict movement. There are frills along the hem of the shorts that put emphasis on his legs, the same legs that are covered in fishnets that lead down to black ankle boots. The lingering stares he earns makes him feel like a palace courtesan from a time long gone, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Make the audience yours.

Tendou repeats the words in his head, and does exactly that.

The crowd is already cheering, high-pitched whistles and excited whoops that get drowned out by the music. Tendou starts strutting to the beat and steps into a new persona. Tonight he isn’t the ex- middle blocker of one of the best volleyball teams of the nation; he's just Tendou Satori, a red-haired dancer tasked with making the entire venue fall to their knees.

With the electrifying music that’s just the right blend of passion and longing, he turns his body into a weapon of well-practiced moves, a weapon of seduction set to kill. He doesn’t have time to contemplate the wide-eyes of his friends, or the way his movement made your jaw drop -- because whatever it is you’re feeling at the moment, he doesn’t think it’s disgust.

Instead, he throws himself into his dancing, as if he was part of the dance club he teamed up with, as if he was born to move for his lover, for you and only you. His legs strut to the music and his hips move like even Shakira can’t match his tempo. He’s constantly on the move, dropping down to run a hand up his leg, throwing his head back and moving his torso to do a complete body roll that’s directed towards flushed faces and parted mouths. He’s spinning the umbrella between nimble fingers, and holding that same umbrella between his legs as he sways his body to the beat.

He falls deeper into the mania of the performance. He dances in sync with the rest of the crew. The flashing lights and the roaring crowds become a blur once he really gets into it; it’s as if he’s in his world, it’s as if the only spotlight is on him and you and whatever lies in between. Tendou wants to cross that distance, and so he does.

“You can run into my arms

it’s okay don’t be alarmed

come into me…”

Rihanna sings with a voice that’s straight from the heart, and as if on cue he cat-walks to the edge of the stage where you’re sitting close-by, he does so with his head thrown back and his glistening neck on display. His arms are wide open as if sending an invitation:

Are you really that unaffected? Why don’t we find out, he seems to say, even with his mouth shut and in the form of a tantalizing grin.

He doesn’t look for an answer to this question. Rather, he drops to the ground, onto his back, and arches his back upwards in order to feel the burn of leather across his ribs. His eyes flit to your face, he sees the stiffness in your jaw, sees your knuckles clutching onto the armrests for dear life, sees your usual icy eyes and is faced with nothing but fire. He doesn’t glance at your face again, he lets you burn. He slinks back into the formation, and continues his performance. In the background, Rihanna continues her heartfelt singing:

“So gon' and let the rain pour

I'll be all you need and more…”

Following the bellowing voice, the dance becomes more intense and all of a sudden there’s water pouring down, supplied from the special effects team. Tendou uses the water to his advantage, splashing it forward using his hand, slicking his hair back with the streams running down his body.

He ends the routine with a forward flip onto his back that quite literally knocks the breath out of him and the people watching. There’s a definite roar as the audience responds, people screaming names, shouting their disbelief and throwing out compliments like it’s going out of style. He sits up as blasts of confetti are falling through the air, streams and whirlwinds of different colors obscuring his vision, yet the only color he can focus on is the red of your cheeks and your smile which may as well be a whole fucking rainbow on it’s own.

That’s enough, Tendou thinks. You’re all I needed to see.

Now that the performance is done with, there’s only one thing left to do:

He takes the umbrella that was lying on the floor, he opens it and holds it up his head. With a low bow to the audience, he links arms with his brothers and sisters in arms, and they saunter off of the stage. He feels eyes on the back of his neck and down the curve of his spine. Paired with the sweat on his back and water running down, it feels like he’s become one with the sky and rain. He sends one last lingering look towards you, and with a jerk of his head he manages to convey one simple message:

Meet me outside, I got something to say to you, and because the two of you are in sync, always will be and always have been, that’s exactly what you do. You meet him outside with butterflies in your stomach and your heart on your sleeve. When you finally spot him standing in a warm coat, comfy sweatpants and the same umbrella he used to perform in his hand. You move to make way towards him, only for Tendou to spot you first.

“Hey! So how was my performance, hm? Did ya like it? Did I blow your mind outta the water like I said I would?” he asks excitedly, and you watch with amusement as he waves wildly before making his way towards you.

“I did this for you, ya know. Now do me a favor and can you actually get to the part where you praise me?” The look on his face as he says this is proud, yet underneath you can see a genuine desire to hear your thoughts and words of affirmation.

“You did fucking great, Sato-kun. You fucking killed it and I doubt there’s anyone out there that thinks otherwise.” You say this with as much adoration as you can, and you stuff your hands in your pockets as he beams at the use of his nickname.

The two of you start walking home side-by-side, the sound of his voice being enough to drown out the rain. At some point, the rain gets heavier and Tendou’s only response is to use one arm to press you flush against his side. I could stay forver like this, you think, with a warm hand on your shoulder and a familiar face still buzzing with excitement paired with an umbrella overhead to keep you dry from the rain. In the background you hear thunder and you flinch, only for Tendou to lay a hand on your head to tuck you near his chest. From this up-close, you can hear his heartbeat grow steady. From this up-close, you can hear a familiar tune being sang:

“You can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh. Under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh-eh…”

A/N: what do you guys think? I spent a long time on this, so feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this, and what I can do to improve. Take care everyone!

- Trish

4 notes · View notes

beerecordings · 4 years

Text

thinking about how in the Marvin’s Cage au or in any version of “Marvin’s the one who traps JJ in the box and then when they find out Jackie kicks Marvin out and brings Jameson home” Jackie would be SO SO over-protective and highkey loving and affirming and spoil Jameson so much because

this little guy has been through actual hell and he’s a nervous wreck who’s never been loved before, of course Jackie’s going to smother him in affection

2. Jackie’s little brother was the one who trapped him so Jackie feels like he has to make up for Marvin’s cruelty and also he blames himself for not seeing the signs and saving Jameson sooner

3. Jackie misses Marvin so much and compensates for it by putting all of that missing love onto Jameson

(and it’s a little unhealthy (okay maybe really unhealthy at times) because he’s projecting his memories of the relationship he and Marvin had when Marvin was young and innocent and loved him so much and he can’t help but see young Marvin in this new little brother. Jackie really wants to protect and foster him so he doesn’t lose that innocence like Marvin did, because just thinking about having to kick out another brother or realize that they’ve done something horrible is enough to make him break down)

okay and then i just wrote like a whole damn essay on Jackie’s anxiety and relationship with JJ after he has to kick Marvin out so i’m putting it under a cut hahaha

He starts giving Henrik and Chase a lot of extra affection too, like suddenly he’s treating them a lot less like they’re just friends and more like they’re his little brothers, and even like they’re much younger than they are. Henrik gets irritated because Jackie is bossier in his caretaking now, insisting that he go to bed earlier than four in the morning and threatening to carry him there if he doesn’t - but Jackie also sometimes just comes and sits with him while he’s working and Henrik understands that this is his way of trying to protect him and allows it because he wants to see Jackie heal. Chase doesn’t mind the extra attention at all, suddenly Jackie is taking time off superhero stuff to stay home and do fun things with him and he’ll even cuddle up with him on the couch a little while they watch movies and stuff! it’s pretty great, but Chase can tell sometimes that Jackie is only acting happy to try and make him happy, because they both miss Marvin a lot. but nobody in the house talks about Marvin. they haven’t even explained everything that happened to JJ.

Jackie just spoils the hell out of him. he brings JJ presents every couple nights, anything from cute socks he saw or a cool rock to hot chocolate and bigger presents from stores like clothes and art stuff. Henrik keeps warning him not to spoil him too much, because JJ is learning pretty well that he can get whatever he wants just by pouting a little and Henrik knows it’s not mature, but Jackie can’t help it!! he wants to give him whatever he needs!!

when Jameson has panic attacks or nightmares, Jackie can’t be removed from his side, or at the very least he’s standing outside his door guarding him. they’ve never seen him quite this worked up about protecting someone!! usually part of the reason Jackie is comforting during anxious or depressive episodes is because he’s so calm and sure, but now he gets upset and weepy whenever Jamie shows the smallest signs of distress, because he can’t stop thinking about Marvin being the one who did this to him. he’ll sit up with Jameson long into the night and tell him over and over again that he’s safe, that he loves him, that he’ll never let anything take him away again.

Jackie has like. a thousand pictures of Jameson just smiling on his phone. he cried the first time Jameson smiled at him (he was the first one of them he did smile at and nothing makes Jackie feel more like a good big brother than that)

he teases Chase and Henrik about being shitty at things lol (”YOU SUCK AT MARIO CART HA”) but with Jameson it’s all this “no no no you’re doing so good buddy!! here i’ll teach you how to fix this one little thing!!” and Chase and Henrik are just like. “jackie we hate u” but it’s pretty funny really

he trained Chase and Henrik to fight - at least the basics - within the first couple months of their creation, but he’s much more cautious with Jamie. Henrik and Chase have to be the ones to teach him the first couple lessons just to prove to Jackie that he can do it and he won’t break. and then? Jackie trains Jameson harder than he ever trained the others, trying to make him as strong as he can, as skilled as he can, trying to make sure Jameson will be able to protect himself even if something happens to him.

Chase and Henrik are watching all this a little nervously. Jackie adores Jameson, melts for Jameson, dotes on Jameson - it’s pretty damn cute, but it worries them a little, especially because, as Jameson matures, he starts to act more adult around them and then reverts back to “i am tiny and need love :333″ around Jackie

it’s when Jackie has a complete meltdown in Henrik’s arms about how he’s constantly, constantly terrified for his baby brother that they realize there’s like... a real big problem going on here. they call up their old family therapist (they haven’t been going since Marvin... left) and they start trying to work this stuff out. Jackie has Jameson under his arm the whole first session, trying not to cry because this place reminds him of Marvin, anxious to have his little brother in a new place, constantly assuring JJ everything’s going to be okay - projecting his own anxiety onto his little brother and telling himself he’s fine, it’s JJ who needs help, it’s JJ who’s been through trauma, not Jackie... Jameson lets Jackie hold him and pats his knee comfortingly. by the end of the session Jackie is thinking maybe Jamie understands him better than he understands himself, and he’s overwhelmingly grateful that his little brother is letting him do what he feels like he needs to do to help himself survive this grief

they have to push Jackie to even allow Jameson to progress as an adult because he’s just so terrified of anything happening to his baby brother. he’s like that mom watching her kid try to leave for the first day of school like “do you have everything you need??? recite my phone number back to me. don’t talk to strangers!! hold your brother’s hand when you cross the street! I already called the school to tell them all about your allergies and to ask the teacher to be nice to you!!! wait give me one more hug!!! i love you!!!!!!!!” and Jamie’s actually really excited to go to the movies for the first time but Jackie’s all stressed and upset. Henrik and Chase are pulling him away like “MOM WE’RE FINE” and Jackie’s waving them goodbye from the door and texting them every fifteen minutes for updates... lol he loves him

and once he gets on board with Jameson growing up and being more independent and adjusts to it, he takes him to all his favorite places and to do all his favorite things because he just wants to share every part of his life with Jameson and give him all the happiness he can

it takes Jackie a really long time to learn to show any weakness around Jameson because he doesn’t want him to feel unsafe, but Jameson is so supportive of him once he starts opening up to him. Jamie is always trying to return all the love he’s been given and he learns all the best ways to take care of all his brothers when they’re suffering. Jackie thinks the world of him for that and tells him he has a really good heart

in the end they mostly just have to let Jackie grieve Marvin (healthy grief takes about six months) and adjust to someone new in the house, and after that he mellows out about it, but Jameson is still his little buddy and he loves him so so much and spoils the hell out of him hahaha. it’s good for Jameson to be mother-henned a little bit for the first few months and improves his self-esteem, really. no matter how he’s feeling he almost always believes that Jackie, at least, loves him and will never betray or imprison him like that bad man in the mask did.

about a year after taking Jameson in to the house, Jackie and Jameson are best of friends and see each other as equals. they both look out for each other when they’re sad or in trouble and love each other so so much. Jackie still brings JJ presents a couple times a month, and now JJ gets them for him too, and there’s nothing that makes Jackie happier.

#marvin's cage

31 notes · View notes

cleverangelwasteland · 3 years

Text

The story of X and social media

X loved to draw since they were a child . X bought pencils , coloring books when they were young and they did everything they can to draw everyday. X was happy . Also X was proud and showed people their work .

X’s work was far from good but still they were content . Then in 2012 a platform called amino was created. X was sharing their work and getting feedback . X was still happy. Later on that year an app called Instagram launched .X was skeptical but at the same time excited to use this new platform . X posted everyday , and even though they started with 10-15 likes they were improving . Fast forward to the end 2015, X is no longer very young and have a message they want to convey in art .X started to get criticism about anatomy which they took well and asked for help in anatomy . X and X’s sensei ( the helper they met online ) had body drawing lessons daily for the entirety of 2016 and 2017 . X drew poses , shapes , studied the anatomy of the body , the muscles , read books and watched many many videos . X even posed for the drawings to see if the pose works . X was happy they were learning something . Also X would repeat the same pose many times and would split the body to shapes and boxes and would practice along late hours along with schoolwork so basically X’s day was full with little time to sleep. X also memorized the muscles and read many anatomy books like the anatomy for sculptors . They also learned loomis method for faces and these 2 years were just practice to the point that x drew 300 drawings in a month between poses and copied work so X can get a better learning perspective.

Opposite to X’ s sensei’s opinion , X decided to recheck on their Instagram which they haven’t done in 2 years . Not even once. X drew something and posted it while being proud of their improvement but they got way less engagement than what they had before .X was still not discouraged and decided to try again so they did a drawing that shows everything they learned , using a full body pose with an angle and shading . basically everything they could do and spend a long time working on what they thought was their masterpiece .

X uploaded and got a comment , which they hastily checked . The comment said the following : “ You suck , I’ll go away to clean my eyes , your drawings should be used as memes .”

X was heartbroken , ofc they were sad and they discussed it with sensei who said that is why they were against reopening X’s instagram account . But X is so used to not getting their way in life , that they decided to go on with it . X posted a few things and some comments were “ your anatomy sucks , study anatomy .”X felt like someone punched them and said to themselves “ But this is what I have been doing for the past 2 years .” X thought : “ I quit here , I quit what I already had just to study anatomy and that is the result?!” Still one of X’s work was featured by a big page and got 1K likes.

Nonetheless X still got back to drawing . Sensei suggested that X draws more real life drawings so X started drawing from a show that was starting called “ game of thrones “ X drew women , men , creatures , objects , perspective and would still repeat it until it looks right and would ask their old art circle to fix-doodle on their work . X felt like they have a huge bag of knowledge and a 3D camera in their head . If X focuses and closed their eyes they could see the human body from different angle realistically . Sometimes that sumo wrestler X drew to broaden their knowledge on body types would haunt them in their nightmares.

X stayed like this till 2019 . Forgot to say X was bullied ( back in 2014 )at school , made fun of and always alone. X wasn’t liked and that is where X’s habit of pleasing everybody triggered . X did whatever everyone else wanted eventhough they weren’t included in their activities and was a cast out.

X cleaned the gym area. X picked up stray balls in sports class . X made sure to please the teachers . X signed up to everything just to feel a sense of achievement . X was unhappy and no longer had the time to draw. X then bought a digital drawing tablet as they can no longer carry their art supplies around when they were in college .

X drew everywhere . In the breaks , lunch break , just name it and they’ll be drawing. X even met someone who took a course in the art department and offered to do their art homework as the other party was struggling. The other party got a 96/100 and came back thanking X . X felt a bit of validation like maybe their work is worth something debunking X’s thought about maybe being delusional . X suddenly grew quicker on social media , Not so big but since 2012 to 2018 they only had 400 followers so less than a follower a week . X suddenly jumped to 600 affirmating to them that at least they are doing something right . Previously X joined a drawing circle in their local community . And they were treated as non existent so the notion of building an audience was something new to X . They never had friends or any kind of support and they didn;t believe someone would take the time to comment on their work . Still X was still getting more and more comments about anatomy making X wonder where did they go wrong , so they decided to go back to square one and have a new anatomy study month .X went to youtube , discord servers and reddit s well as more anatomy tutorials by established artists and more books .

X would get a skeleton and lower its opacity then draw above it all the muscles shapes ( not their name really ) from memory . X compared it with the scientific schematic and found it very similar . Later on that year and after 7 years +of actively drawing , X got their first commission , at first they refused to be paid as if they weren’t open for commissions but the commissioner insisted . later on X did a few commissioned work and a customer was so happy they paid extra . This kind of boosted X’s self esteem as they were having a hard time . Forward to 2020 X did many commissions but it is the year where everyone keeps commenting on X’s work “ Go study anatomy , you lack in the basics , you look like you just started “ . X felt a big stab in the back as during those 8 years they have been active in , X studied anatomy solely for a total of 2 years and a year in short term practices . X went back and forth to the basics so many times and didn’t skip a day of practice.

X’s mental health and self esteem quickly deteriorated as they would leave social media then realize they need it to make money and come back to it . X haven’t had a commission in a while which is another blow to their self esteem.

Also X refused a job offer to draw for an animation which will be broadcasted due to the blow to their self esteem.

Also X saw online many artists making so much money by selling art where there are clear anatomical flaws and they get all the love and positive comments unlike X . X started doubting their eyes , thinking “ maybe I am really delusional “ ... Some of those artists have edgy scribbled lines in their lineart , really high eyes leaving no space for the cranium , drawing side views without thinking of the thickness of the body and drawing ears way below the ear zone . sometimes far eyes so the eyes reach the “ forbidden ear zone” necks starting from after or before the ears , people not taking into consideration the the deltoid muscle is like a “ cap “ above the biceps and so on . But these people were more popular than X and made more money/ were very successful .

X didn’t understand why they were getting the anatomy comments and why these other people were not. X felt that they cannot use their knowledge anywhere but still felt that they know a lot .X feels like their knowledge deserves more and that all the pride they felt knowing this much doesn’t deserve this . X changed their style and anatomy 20 times this year and experimented with everything but they couldn’t please everyone and more and more people tell X their improvement looks a day old not years old when they post redraws.

X lost pride in their work and the joy in drawing because of how social media and the unfairness of its algorithms affect them , instead of making really good artists popular it made a message that you need to have luck and not really the basic skills and that you could get away by tracing or copying.

Now X sent this to this account as they are asking for help , they deactivated everything and are sitting there just with knowledge and 8 years of efficient hard work betraying them .X lost their friends , their family and all support they could have . X asked the mod to share their story so others are aware how social media functions for artists and how many people are quitting because of it . Send us your story so we could feature yours too for awareness.

#art #artist #art struggles #artstruggles #popular #story #confession #instagram #algorithm

1 note · View note

hoedameron · 4 years

Text

so i reread an old story of mine that i wrote two years ago but deleted it off my writing blog because it was just...not good. and reading it again today made me realize that my writing is SO mediocre, like it’s so amateur and undeveloped and it makes me realize that i simply do not posses the skills needed to write a work of art. my background is not in writing, i wasn’t a great essay writer back in college, and writing for me is more of a hobby than a living. i think due to my lack of writing skills and me not seeking improvement...it’s my biggest downfall.

i am not looking for pity here, i am not looking for words of affirmation, like i know y’all are my friends and want to stand up for me and my work but let me...have this moment of deprecation. maybe that’s why i don’t come back to writing...1) i’m not very good at it and 2) a lot of people seem to look down upon fanfiction and i get the criticism, truly, i do and i participate in the criticism as well. however, i think it’s getting to me where i’m just like...what’s the point?? anyways i tried playing the sims tonight pero the hair on my sim looked weird and the house i got is kinda ugly so imma just...bulldoze the lot and insert a house that doesn’t fit the town at ALL <3

1 note · View note

edda-blattfe · 5 years

Text

Twisted Wonderland: Academic Headcanons pt.4

(Last of part of these headcanons, yay! Btw, I am up for taking requests if y’all have any.)

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- Beauty is all that matters to this gentleman; shame the teachers can’t grade him on that. Vil’s grades are average, chemistry being the only exception, he is inexplicably talented in that particular discipline.

- Has mastered the art of multitasking, will study while also going through his morning routine; his textbooks may have a few smudges of eyeshadow or foundation along the pages. He’ll read through the chapter once, then go back and check on the terms. For chemistry, Vil will test the information himself in the lab. With Professor Crewel’s blessing, of course.

- All of his notes are written with the finest pen and in the most elegant cursive you will ever witness in the modern age; Vil claims it’s completely unintentional, but every compliment on his handwriting gives him an extra confidence boost (I can personally affirm that this does, in fact, happen, and it’s great). Each chapter has a heading to indicate the subject and terms are listed in a group dedicated to whatever that section of the book was discussing. His chemistry notebook has a periodic table drawn on the front cover and he keeps an ongoing list of formulas on the back.

- Is rather indifferent to study groups. There has to be a few conditions before he’ll accept; a) Leona can not be invited, b) gossip needs to be appreciated, c) he’s in charge of all experimentations, and d) Leona can not be anywhere near the location they’re meeting at. He’s not welcomed at the Heartlabyul study group due to his tendency to “constructively criticize” Riddle on his appearance and choice of decor.

- Prefers the show-and-tell method, assuming it’s chemistry you need help in. Vil will take position at the dry erase board, while you watch from the desks, answering your questions with flamboyant descriptions and a few visual aids. A firm believer in lab safety, he’ll insist you wear the appropriate attire. Expect to stay for the clean up. Over all, he’s a good tutor and knows how to simplify the lesson in a way you can understand.

Epel Felmier:

- Above average, but not so much that it catches attention. He’s a good student, but never calls attention to himself.

- Epel will usually read through the chapters a few times, and will make up little games to test his knowledge of the terms.

- His notes are short, to the point, and are written with a hard leaded pencil (the trail is light). There are small doodles of webs, plants, sometimes broken glass in the boxed off corners of his notebook paper. Occasionally he’ll write questions regarding philosophical arguments in the margins.

- He seems distant when socializing, which doesn’t give others the impression that he’d be fond of joining a study group. If anyone cared to ask, Epel would calmly accept the invitation. Most of the time would be spent merely observing the others while looking over terms.

- Like Ruggie, he wouldn’t enjoy tutoring you. Having him as a study budy might be a little uncomfortable at first, due to the lack of idle chatter. If you stick it out, though, you’ll come to appreciate the tranquil silence between you two.

Rook Hunt:

- Well, Rook is certainly not a boring student. He’ll often ask Professor Crewel if a substance is lethal; if anyone questions why he wants to know, he'll cheerfully reply with an unconvincing, "no reason." His grades are decent enough, and he always turns in his papers when they’re due, so it’s not like anyone can complain.

- Will flip through the chapter at the oddest of times, posing as if there’s a camera man hidden away somewhere. Sometimes he’ll take a page from Epel’s book and make some fun memory games....although, Rook’s games are rather-erm, unconventional.

- Refuses to use a notebook, instead he’ll write in the margins of his textbook or highlight the important parts. If he likes an underclassman, they might find one of his old textbooks conveniently left at the foot of their door.

- Also indifferent to the study group experience. If he’s required to study with someone, Rook would make an effort to get paired up with someone “beautiful”.

- Look, I’m gonna be honest. You should NEVER ask him for help, ok? Rooks idea of tutoring is putting an apple on your head and threatening to shoot an arrow at it if you get a problem wrong. He might be less severe if you’re a “beautiful” person, but really, is his knowledge worth the risk?

Diasomnia

Maleus Draconia:

- Valedictorian of his year, no doubt. Mal expects only the best from himself, and that’s exactly what he gets.

- Has a specific time and place in the Diasomnia common room, known as the “throne” to the members, where he’ll camp out with his textbooks, notebooks, and writing utensils. Everyone observers his study time, and will make themselves scarce before then. Maleus will typically page through the chapter, read it through, writes out everything he could recall from reading, then checks to make sure he got everything; afterwards he’ll look over his notes to solidify the information. Works every time.

- His notes look like a page out of a story book; everything is written in calligraphy, is evenly spaced along the lines, and the margins are adorned with elaborate decals. There’s a fountain pen that practically lives in his coat pocket just for taking notes.

- Most of his classmates are deterred by his intimidating aura, Other than Vil and the rest of the Diasomnia dorm, so he doesn’t get invited to study groups. Not that he minds, Mal is rather fond of his privacy.

- You actually had the courage to walk up and ask THE MALEUS for help? Kudos to you! He’ll recover from the initial surprise quickly and might actually agree as a reward of sorts. If you haven't visitedthe Diasomia dorm before, now is your chance. Mall will be lounging in his throne and insist you sit at the coffee table to remind you of your place give you something to write on, of course! He is a strict tutor and expects you to pay attention, refusing to explain anything more than once.

Lilia Vanrouge:

- Purposefully screws up his grades just to piss off the teachers. Everyone knows he could easily outdo Maleus, Lilia just doesn’t see the point in that. Besides, the look on Mozus’s face is worth it!

- No one has ever seen him study, not even Maleus. Some believe he doesn’t at all. He has yet to confirm this.

-Are those notes? No one can tell! Lilia writes everything in a language not found in any text in the library or on the internet. Maleus suspects it’s some ancient form of Sylvan, but even he is incapable of translating it.

- Lilia is well known for randomly popping into study groups without warning nor an invitation. He likes the look of utter shock on everyone’s face, along with their growing rage at his charming little insults. Before the volcano of unadulterated chaos bursts, he pops back out to only god knows where.

- The last thing you remember is the toothy grin on Lilia's face as you thanked that red eyed imp for agreeing to tutor you. Next thing you know, you’re smack dab in the middle of a mushroom ring at five a.m., cold sweat beading across your brow with no memory of the last thirty six hours. On the plus side, you know all of the answers to your next test! Worth it, right?

Silver:

- Silver is passing his classes, but that’s it. He’s not particularly driven to do well in school, his only goal is stay close to Mal until the right moment...whatever that means.

-Needs to study more often than he does. At the moment, Silv will only study when he can’t be by the side of the dorm master (So Mal’s mandatory study time is also his mandatory study time). He has terrible insomnia and will nod off while reading through the chapter.

- His notes are rather lacking. He’ll jot down some terms and their definitions but not much else. Some places have spot of drool from one of his unintentional naps.

- Refuses to join study groups after that one time Lilia drew on his face after he nodded off. Poor boy can never trust again.

- He’s not much of a talker, isn’t driven to study, and might nodd off in the middle of a conversation; there’s surely a better person to ask for help from?

Sebek Zigvolt:

- A straight laced student with the determination of a soldier, Sebek is determined to live up to Maleus’s example. He has a tendency to fall into a state of depression when he doesn’t do so well on his exams; Thankfully, he works hard to earn his good grades, so that isn’t common occurrence.

- He has a ruthless study regimen that soaks up a large chunk of his days. Sebek uses every study method under the sun to ensure his success.

- His notes are just as strict and obsessive as he is.

- Maleus-sama teach me your ways. Sebek is actually thrilled by the idea of joining a study group. Classmates working together to improve their academic careers is right up his alley! Too bad no one else appreciates his intensity.

- Don’t ask him to tutor you. Once you cross that line there is no turning back! Sebek will push you just as hard as he does himself, even after you fire him as your tutor! It’s kind of a sweet gesture when you think about it; he genuinely wants to help you succeed as a student.... Would be even sweeter if his methods didn’t push you to the brink of insanity; but what can you do, right?

#twisted wonderland #pomefiore #diasomnia #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #maleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver #sebek zigvolt #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons

100 notes · View notes

vvirgils · 4 years

Text

Chronicles of Straith #2-The Witch’s Dragon:Chapter 8

Chronicles of Straith #1-Fate’s Door///Chapter 7/Chapter 9//Masterpost

It was Roman’s second full day in Canea, and third day overall. They didn’t want this vacation to end, it was too perfect. Seeing Thomas, the feast, and Lilly’s stories about their mother all made Roman never want to leave. Were they not an actual king, Roman would stay for months.

Another morning of sleeping in, and Roman could appreciate being well-rested with less of the morning fog. Jessie woke them up, once again. Despite her youthful appearance, she was twenty years old and a full-time employee of the castle, as she explained when Roman expressed that they thought she was much younger.

She was a much more pleasant alarm clock than Roman’s annoying ticky thing in Straith. Roman’s morning improved even further when Jessie told them that the king wanted to spend some time with them. After meeting the king last night, Roman wasn’t too anxious, but they were incredibly curious.

“He said he wanted to show you some of your mother’s things,” Jessie said, leading a just-dressed Roman to where they were meeting the king. The clothes in Roman’s guest room fit them perfectly, and many of them were their mother’s. Apparently, Roman could take some home with them if they wanted, but for now, Roman was really digging this blouse. It was simplistic, a feminine style that fit them just the way they wanted it to.

“That should be fun,” Roman said, admiring the art in the corridors. How anyone could get used to this much beauty, they didn’t know. Their eyes lingered on the swan wallpaper that blinked and breathed. “Who did all the art here? It’s so pretty.”

“Lots of different artists, I believe. When the palace was built, they added lots of magic touches to provide jobs for struggling sorcerers. Specifically, the art sorcerers were becoming extremely undervalued, as increased paranoia over internal politics led to more people using magic to protect themselves instead of to add beauty to their lives,” Jessie answered, giving the wallpaper a passing glance. “That’s all the history of it, anyways. It’s not that interesting.”

“No, no. It’s really neat, I love history.” Roman wondered who had made the plant with a hundred different flower blossoms in front of them. “Do you know who made specific pieces?”

“There’s a record of them somewhere, I think,” Jessie said, stopping to knock on a door. “We’re at the king’s chambers, so have fun!”

The door opened before Roman, by none other than King Markus himself. He gave Roman a strong handshake, surprising his nephew.

“Roman, so good to see you! I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you earlier, but duty calls. How has your time in Canea been so far?” The king walked into what looked like a study room of some sort, and Roman automatically followed.

“It’s been wonderful so far, really,” Roman said, taking in the room. It wasn’t much to look at-a simple desk and a few bookshelves and cabinets, all in the same dark wood. Much different than Roman’s office back at home. They were almost scared to do work in there half the time, everything was so nice. “Jessie showed me around, and I got to meet Lilly. Dinner last night was great, too.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Mark replied, pacing around the room, clearly looking for something. “There’s some old things of your mother’s in here, it’s just been a while since I’ve been in this room. It’s a chest of some sorts.”

“Were you, um, close with my mother?” Roman asked, noting the change in the king’s tone when he mentioned Madeline. They looked around the room, wondering where a chest would be.

“Yes,” he responded, “She was my sister, and we fought sometimes, but at the end of the day we were in it together.”

There was an awkward pause of silence as Mark continued rooting through the room, and Roman watched. They weren’t sure what to say to that—it wasn’t like Roman had any siblings.

“Must be in the other room,” the king said, sighing and walking through another archway to a bedroom. “Sorry, I really do want to spend time with you and go through her things, but I only have a few minutes. I hope you understand, Roman.”

“It’s—it’s no problem. I have similar problems in Straith. The stress of being king can be difficult to bear,” Roman said, waving the apology away with their hand.

“Yes, I’m surprised you’ve managed to spend this much time away from your kingdom,” the king said, rooting around under the bed in a very undignified manner. “Ah! Found it.”

“I have, um, very capable advisors,” Roman said, remembering that they had essentially abdicated the throne with little to no warning. That thought quickly disappeared from their mind when Mark pulled the trunk out from under the bed. “What’s in it?”

“Lots of your mother’s old papers, diaries and letters. She kept a very thorough diary, and wrote to many of her college friends. So many pen pals— and many of them didn’t even know that she was the princess.” He struggled a little with picking up the trunk, heaving it in the direction of the office.

“Don’t you have servants who can assist with this?” Roman asked, surprised at how much Mark was struggling. “Here, I can give you a hand.” They held onto one side of the trunk.

“Thank you, Roman. I do have servants, but I wanted to speak with you in private. Besides, it’s good for me, with all the sitting I do all day,” Mark said, guiding Roman into the office. Together, the two kings set the chest down on the desk.

“Anything I should definitely look at?” Roman asked, already fiddling with the clasp of the chest.

“Oh, all of it’s interesting. Tell me what you find at dinner, it’s been a while since I looked through it all,” Mark said, helping Roman with the clasp. The lid of the chest flipped backwards, and Roman dove in immediately, grabbing a sheet of paper to read. “I wish I had more time to talk with you... We should have a real talk sometime. How long will you be staying?”

“Um, a week, I think,” Roman said, already skimming the letter. “Maybe we could tour the city together, or something.”

“I would love that. Now, I’ll send someone to get you for lunch,” Mark said, walking towards the door. “I hope the papers help you learn more about Madeline.” The door shut behind him before Roman could reply, leaving them all alone with a lot of reading to do.

The king seemed nice enough, but Roman really didn’t care about him when there was a whole treasure chest filled with their mother’s handwriting in front of them. Starting with the letter in their hand, Roman sat down in the chair and read. The chair appeared to be wooden, but Roman could swear it felt cushioned.

Just another touch of magic in Canea, they supposed. But Roman soon forgot about their chair as they read further in the papers. Madeline Elthren’s life unfolded before them, the world of an intelligent socialite living as part of the ruling class of Canea. She loved magic, and mourned the fact that she wasn’t a sorceress. In one letter to Lilly, she recalled playing “sorcerer” as a child. Roman found the paper hard to read as tears welled in their eyes at the thought of Madeline loving Virgil for her powers.

Past college, the letters changed their tone. They weren’t to friends anymore, but to important members of the court. Roman was confused when they saw the first letter addressed to someone within the Canean court, but the person wasn’t on vacation. The story unfolded from there, and Roman couldn’t believe how…callously she talked about Epos.

It wasn’t like Roman hadn’t said similar to their friends, but this was the man she eventually married. Yet there was another twist — letters about Epos’s corruption—and how marrying him could be the only way for Canea to infiltrate and neutralize the threat Epos presented.

Counselor Alexa

I understand that we should not interfere in affairs that are not our own, but the more news we receive about Epos’s reign and how it is harming the people of Straith, the more scared I become. He could cut off trade with Canea, and then where would we be? Their imports of coal are vital for our economy—he could cause a complete collapse—and as much as I absolutely hate him, marriage might be our best bet. It’ll forge an alliance, if nothing else.

But I cannot allow assassination to take place with my knowledge. As queen, I will have enough power to hold sway over their government to hopefully keep anything too terrible from happening. Once I produce an heir, I’ll be vital enough that no one will be able to dismiss me in court. I hate that it’s the only way I’ll gain respect in Straith, but we can’t change everything overnight.

I have sent a letter to Epos with an affirmative to his proposal. I hope we can work together on this, though we have different views.

Love and victory,

Madeline Elthren, Crown Princess of Canea

There were more letters than just the one, but this was the one that Roman gripped hard enough to wrinkle the paper. A loveless marriage. A refusal to assassinate. Respect, gained through an heir.

It wasn’t surprising. Roman had always wondered how someone would fall in love with their father, especially when their stepmother had only married Epos for his money. She’d disappeared after Roman took the crown, there for their coronation and gone the next. Roman supposed she was with her family, happily working on the family business of mining. They’d never thought to check, but her apathy towards Epos made the letters between Roman’s mother and the former king more shocking.

Dearest Madeline

It brings me so much joy to know that you will take my hand in the sacred bond of marriage. I don’t say these words to merely be courteous, but because I am happy to be marrying for love, not politics. You have listened to me when no one else would, and taken sympathy in the plights of a jaded king when many would scorn me for my status. Truly, there is no one like you. Your wit lights up a room, and I cannot wait to see it grace the halls of Straith’s castle.

Thank you for your kind words since the death of my father, and may they continue every day. I await your visit with much anticipation, and if there is anything you desire for the wedding, say the word and it is yours. I am so glad to have found an ally in my vision for Straith, and to have that ally at my side in court.

With all my love,

Epos Theularus

Roman didn’t realize how much their father had loved Madeline. And how little their mother loved Epos. Her words felt fake in the responding letter, the tone completely different from her other correspondence. The manipulation was obvious, every syllable a betrayal to the idea of a loving person that everyone at last night’s dinner had built.

Beloved Epos,

I am counting down the days, this is truly a dream come true! I believe we will be excellent rulers together, and companions in the most intimate of ways. To join you, not your country, but you, in marriage is the highest honor I could imagine. There is no visionary I would rather follow into a new world. Your intelligence and foresight is one that I admire, and it is a privilege to listen to your innermost thoughts.

I wish I could write more, but it is late and I fear someone will notice me grinning over a letter in the dead of night, loopy with love and giggling to herself. For the wedding, I wish nothing but to have you by my side.

All the love in the world,

Madeline Elthren Theularus

They read on, despite the sting of their mother’s lies. There were so many letters to and from the nobility of Canea, some describing how Madeline should seduce Epos in so much detail that Roman couldn’t read them all the way through. Even Markus was in on the secret, telling his sister to make her “intentions more obvious to the moronic monarch you married. Alliteration!” As much as Roman wanted to be mad at her on their father’s behalf, they couldn’t blame her. Even in youth, Epos was a downright terrible person, and he’d grown into an awful king who cared more about his fragile ego than the people he was supposed to be serving.

After years of being forced to conform to Epos’s idea of what a “son” should be, Roman knew that it must have taken guts for their mom to subject herself to his rule every second of her life, willingly. If you had asked Roman, at fourteen, if they wanted to live with Epos or literally anywhere else, they would have chosen anywhere else in a heartbeat.

During her pregnancy, she wrote about Roman. It was strange, the things she wanted for them. The way she talked about them as a hopeful future, someone she would bring up to be more like herself than Epos. It was sad, but Roman couldn’t stop reading. These were the only words she would ever write about them.

Lilly,

Epos keeps asking me if there’s any Canean sorcery that lets us know the gender before the baby is born, and I keep telling him there isn’t. Fortunately, he’s too stupid to know that there absolutely is (Straith’s library is a joke, honestly), and I don’t really care if it’s a boy or girl. Either way, I just want to raise a child that will rule Straith better than their father. Someone with a good heart, and enough patience to put up with their father because I could certainly use some.

Cravings are, well, interesting. I’m hoping I don’t get the urge for something magical, because every time I bring up sorcery, I get this look like I murdered everyone’s cat. I really don’t understand what about sorcery is as awful as cat genocide, but I’m almost afraid to ask. Perhaps my baby will somehow get this country to not have such a prejudice against magic. I’m pretty sure Epos would flip if he visited Canea, but he’s too self-obsessed to even think about it.

I hope all is well in Chanidy, and Mark isn’t too stressed over the training for monarchy. I remember being sixteen and terrified that I could literally kill people with a few words. He’s more anxious than I am, so make sure he’s ok.

Love and victory,

Madeline Elthren (technically Theularus, but not happy about it)

Well, at least Roman was able to bring sorcery to Straith. Their mother would be proud, certainly. Roman sat in that room, letting their emotions fill them to the brim, until Jessie brought them to dinner.

5 notes · View notes