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siverwrites · 3 years

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Trick or Treat Letter 2021

AO3: Siver

Thank you for taking this on! Here there are some general prompt details if you want them and if you already have some idea of your own, awesome. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.

Note sometimes I have some specific prompts for some characters while other don’t. This has nothing to do with priority or preferences. They’re just ones I happened to some specific thoughts for. Of course they’re only ideas and you’re free to ignore them!

All requests are for fic or art.

Art: Interactions of some sort: emoting at each other, talking, sharing some activity, taking a walk, hugs are always welcome, soft things, whatever suits the pair/group. I’d much prefer the character(s) doing something over just standing around looking cool.

Likes: fluff, hurt/comfort, found family, sickfic, fandom crossovers or fusions between requested fandoms, angst with a happy or at least bittersweet end, bonding, cuddling/hugs/holding, banter, mutual care and support, loyalty, pre-canon, post-canon, missing scenes, slice of life, supernatural stuff, mystery, adventure, world-building, creepy or unsettling atmospheres

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), non-canonical permanent character death

Any combination of character tags within each fandom is cool. I have specfic pairs and groups listed at points but those are only for ideas. Heck, any crossover/fusion between any of these fandoms is welcome too, go nuts.

For treats: you can’t go wrong with fluff! Friendship, familial bonds, found family, romance for the few ship possibilities listed here.

For tricks: I like it atmospheric. Unsettling atmospheres. Unresolved mystery. Making use of the stranger environments canon may already provide. The surreal. The strange. The supernatural. Much prefer a subtler creepy factor over ‘jump scares’ and gore.

Ghost Trick

Alma

Cabanela

Jowd

Sissel

Kamila

Lynne

Missile

Pigeon Man

Lovey-Dove

Mino

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), non-canonical permanent character death

Ships I’m good with: Alma/Jowd/Cabanela, Alma/Jowd, Cabanela/Jowd (where the focus is there but without infidelity to Alma), Alma/Cabanela (again no infidelity just where the focus is)

I love this game, its characters and pretty much everything about it, so whatever you want to do will be great I’m sure. New timeline mysteries and missing memories are always welcome where it makes sense. Alternate timelines and what-ifs are cool to explore. Fluff, comfort, family found or otherwise and friendships are always a go. Spooky ghost shenanigans, mysteries in the night.

Any combination of these characters is more than welcome too!

Any combination of Jowd/Cabanela/Alma or Jowd & Cabanela & Alma is always welcome.

Always down for various combinations of Pigeon Man with Cabanela, Jowd and/or Kamila. Or PM with someone less expected like Alma! Or Sissel! Or Missile! The Jowd family expands and you cannot escape. In other words found family with Lynne or with Pigeon Man (or both of course).

Animal shenanigans on their own or with each other and fluff is great.

Sissel settling into the Jowd household and the shenanigans that ensue from having a ghost-powered cat.

Mino: What is Mino? Who is Mino? This is trick or treat, go weird, have fun.

Alma: We just need more of our girl honestly. Sweet relationship or family stuff. Go supernatural and consider Alma ghost either during game or temporarily post-game before being rescued by Sissel (Maybe helping Sissel save herself in that situation?)

Final Fantasy VI

Celes

Sabin

Chocobos

Valigarmanda

Mog

Phantom Train

Gogo

Relm

Interceptor

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore beyond canon typical, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), Gogo as Daryl, non-canonical permanent character death

Valigarmanda: I just want to know more about them (she? he? your pronoun of choice). What led to them frozen in Narshe? Do they still hold some form of awareness in that state? Do the moogles look after at all? Some form of communication between them? How did they feel joining the party as magicite? What exactly took place between them and Terra? So many possibilities or something else entirely.

Mog: I just like moogles okay. Throw him at anyone here in the above list and see what happens. Or a moogle adventure in Narshe or elsewhere. Sky's the limit, dance's the limit?

Chocobos: I just like chocobos okay. Throw one or more at anyone here in the above list and see what happens. If you want something more specific I will never have enough serpent trench travel with Sabin and Celes in the World of Ruin. Give them chocobos and off they go. Figaro chocobos are also good. Chocobo anything.

Phantom Train: I have no particular thoughts here but what better exchange than Trick or Treat for the Phantom Train itself? Exploring more about it whether it's just it or throw characters at it. All cool.

Celes and Sabin: as stated I'm an absolute sucker for world of ruin travel with these two and anything more is good. That said if you want to focus on just one of them or one of them with someone else that's great too. I've only lumped them together for sake of convenience. Sabin in Figaro? Sabin with another here? Celes travels in the saved world?

Interceptor: Does he interact much with any of the rest of the party? Or... dog and chocobo... Or just you know can't go wrong with Interceptor and Relm things ever

Relm: Any interaction with anyone here. Leaning on her Sketch ability would be cool. Mimic paint off with Gogo?

Gogo: Gogo's just neat. More of them good.

Carto

Carto's Puppy

Granny Maldpo

Shianan

Shianan's Puppy

Storytender

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), non-canonical permanent character death

I just want to see a little more of these characters and this world. The game was so cute and neat. More travel or stories or some sort of cute moment with Carto and Maldpo, and puppy if post-game, on their airship! Granny Maldpo is so cool! Explorer pilot grandma hell yeah! A little adventure for her? More exploration of Shianan (and her puppy!)? A reunion with Carto again?

The story chalet was also just really neat so doing more with it and the Storytender is absolutely welcome. What does an average day for him look like in an ever-changeable library with books writing themselves?

The Last Guardian

The Boy

Trico

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), non-canonical permanent character death

Give me all the cat-dog-bird fluff/shenanigans/playfulness/warmth/coziness. Anything while they’re together. Barrel feeding, snuggle time, riding, flying. Sweet or silly (Trico has his moments for sure) or something else. I adore Trico. I adore the boy and Trico’s companionship.

Alternatively something in the future. The boy grown up reuniting with Trico. A flight with Trico. A temporary willing return to the nest. Meeting Trico babies!

Metroid

Samus

Chozo

Baby Metroid

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore beyond canon typical, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), reliance on manga knowledge, spoilers for Metroid Dread, non-canonical permanent character death

While I don't have anything particular in mind here, I'm all about the mood for Metroid and would appreciate really leaning on the atmosphere and environmental aspects--either more lush areas (eg Brinstar, Tallon IV landing area) but still isolating, or the darker more tense places. I'm particularly fond of Super Metroid and Metriod Prime.

Any singular focus on one of the above three or some combo is good.

Regarding the manga: I know next to nothing about it, so light referencing without needed knowledge is fine; anything deeper than that please avoid?

Monkey Island

Guybrush Threepwood

Elaine Marley

Murray

El Pollo Diablo

Feral Chickens

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), Escape from Monkey Island, angst, non-canonical permanent character death

Silly pirate-y shenanigans. Guybrush and Elaine team-up on something actually in one place? Any interactions with Murray are always a treat and we’ve never gotten to see those with Elaine in the mix.

Explore the legend of El Pollo Diablo in some way. What do the chickens get up to now they roam free across Puerto Pollo? What oh-so-nefarious schemes is Murray up to now? A feral chicken demonic skull team-up?? I mean, that’s kinda close to El Pollo Diablo right???

This is coming off as Curse of Monkey Island-centric (it is my favourite) but it doesn’t have to be. It’s just because of the chickens… and Murray. But mainly chickens. Anytime from the previous games, or future or off to the side is good too.

Bug Fables

Kabbu

Leif

Chompy

Elizant II

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), non-canonical permanent character death

I love the group dynamics! Party fun times while they’re travelling would be good. Really interested in more with Leif’s situation because that is a Lot and open to more introspection and dealing–Kabbu support go? Attempted Vi support go? Chompy being the best plant she can be? Snuggle that plant during hard times?

Exploring that lab more and cordyceps is welcome for the creepier end of things. Same with the Giant’s Lair and what IS that giant eye?

There’s also an interesting connection between Elizant II and Leif I’d be interested in seeing more. Leif’s out of his time but holds memories of Elizant I. Elizant II is a more direct connection he’s otherwise lacking and it’s nice to see how his opinion of her shifts and grows as she grows.

The Legend of Heroes

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity, explicit gore, modern AUs (college, high school, coffee shop etc), spoilers for Hajimari or Kuro, Agate/Tita, Olivier/Schera, non-canonical permanent character death

Trails in the Sky

Estelle Bright

Cassius Bright

Lena Bright

Kloe Rinz

Alicia von Auslese

Celeste D. Auslese

Olivier Lenheim

Mueller Vander

Ragnard

Any combination of any of these characters could lead to interesting things. Some combo ideas:

In Phantasma, Kloe and Celeste talk... Estelle, Olivier or Mueller could be interesting too though... Or simply more about Celeste and the Hermit's Garden by herself.

Bright family time will always be welcome. And more love for Lena. Kloe and Estelle sister/best friend time.

Kloe and Olivier have a lot of potential for interesting interaction in how they parallel each other but are so wildly different at the same time. Kloe and Alicia family time!

Olivier & Cassius: I’m just really interested to see more interaction between these two whether while they’re still planning or something before Olivier goes back to Erebonia after Sky SC. Cassius can’t help himself when it comes to giving advice…

Olivier & Alicia: Royalty matters, knowing who Olivier actually is. Last meetings before he goes back to Erebonia?

Olivier&/Mueller stuff is all good

Ragnard: cool dragon is cool. Either something about him individually in the past? Or what he's up to now? A look at interaction between him and Cassius? Ragnard and Auslese (any of them)...?

Crossbell

Lloyd Bannings

Randy Orlando

Tio Plato

Elie MacDowell

KeA Bannings

Alex Dudley

Zeit

Sergei Lou

No ships here please.

Bonding and found family is the name of the game here! Tio and Zeit spending time together. Lloyd and Randy having bro time or Lloyd trying to remind Randy that he does indeed belong with SSS. KeA and “Uncle” Sergei time! What might they do together, or what does KeA get Sergei to do with her? Lloyd and KeA spending time together, Lloyd spoiling KeA, KeA being a comfort to Lloyd. KeA turning on the charm on Dudley. Dudley and Sergei interaction. Any combination of any of the SSS related characters is great if you want a bigger SSS gathering. I love them all.

Anything exploring KeA's powers is very cool too.

Trails of Cold Steel

Alfin Reise Arnor

Priscilla Reise Arnor

Olivier Leheim | Olivert Reise Arnor

Mueller Vander

Valimar

Mint

Alfin, Olivier, Priscilla: The Arnors have it rough dammit. Some soft moment for any combo of these three? Reunions after Olivier comes back and isn’t dead? We were deprived! Entertaining sibling times. A Priscilla bonding moment with Olivier when he was still getting used to living in the palace. And of course individually they’re interesting in their own roles and I’m always down for more.

Mueller: Of course anything with Olivier is good in my books. I’m running under the assumption that since he shows up with Olivier in the triumphant not-dead return, that he wound up at Valleria while Olivier recovered and I would be very soft for any moment taking placing during that time period. But when it comes to those two sky’s the limit. I’m good with platonic or ship. Mueller having some interaction with either Priscilla or Alfin would be great too!

Valimar: Given his history and knowledge it’d be interesting to see a conversation with Olivier or Alfin given also their family name Cedric’s positioning and, well, all the history there. Alternatively I love his interactions with Mint and how respectful of her he is, so anything between those two yes please. Or just something exploring him by himself in some way would be cool too.

Mint: I’m particularly interested in her during CS III and IV times and with Valimar as above. However, any Mint shenanigans is a fun time. She’s doing her best!

#trick or treat #trick or treat 2021 #letters

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casualmaraudering · 4 years

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hey fel, hope you’re doing ok! feel free to ignore this but would you ever consider writing a small fic to go with that drawing that you made as your header?? the wolfstar one in the bedroom. i’m just soooooo obsessed with it and am dying to know more about them!! or maybe just some headcannons lol that picture just gives me so many feelings 🥺🥺 i love it! keep on sharing your art. also, BEAUXBATON SIRIUS FTW!!!!!!!!

ahh thank you so much anon! i’m really glad you like it, it’s honestly my pride and joy, like, out of everything i’ve ever drawn, this takes the cake as of right now (it’s even my laptop wallpaper rn sfjksdfds) so thank you!

and YES BEAUXBATONS SIRIUS I LOVE HIM-

and yeah i’d definitely consider writing for it! writing has been tough lately for some reason, plus i have some responsibilities that need to be taken care of, but i do adore writing silly teenagers in love, so i’m definitely adding it to my list <3

and when it comes to headcanons, here are some that i thought of when drawing certain details of that art, just for you

the switch: they have animal crossing dates. Sirius draws their characters holding hands if he happens to be bored in class. Sirius’s island is decked out in rainbow flags, & Remus’s is kind of chaotic but in a nice, aesthetic way. Sirius ships villagers together

the pin board: there’s photos of Remus with his friends. post it notes. a silly love letter Sirius wrote as a joke one time (think a Victorian love letter but less posh) but Remus always held onto. a sketch of Remus Sirius once drew in class.

the stars: Remus put them up way before they started dating, because sometimes he can’t sleep at night and likes to have some light in his room rather than the dark, which just makes him more anxious. Sirius likes to say they were meant to be together cause Remus is clearly drawn to stars

the backpack: Remus always carries a spare pen for Sirius, because he knows that Sirius will sometimes rush out of his house so quick, he’ll forget to take anything with him. Sirius slips little notes into Remus’s bag - sometimes they’re doodles, sometimes they’re little love notes; Remus has them all saved and glued into an album he’s hidden in his wardrobe. Remus has a bunch of pins and decals on there - including a bi flag, which is the only pride item he owns because he’s not out to his parents. Hope knows, but she waits til he’s ready.

Sirius: he paints his nails black. always wears a rainbow bracelet (unless he’s home - his parents wouldn’t approve, of course). all the ear piercings he has, he did himself. wore eyeliner once, but his skin turned out very sensitive and he’s allergic to a lot of products, so that was the only time he did it. all of his notebooks have a page on the back dedicated to him drawing a bunch of “S+R” and lots of hearts. listens to Queen and punk pop and rock but also musicals and Ed Sheeran and sappy love songs. had a 1D phase

Remus: lots of anxiety. slit his eyebrow on impulse but kept it that way. would dye his hair if he had enough of a breakdown. likes to be alone, which Sirius sometimes doesn’t get. briefly dated Lily and she broke his heart (he got over it, though). watches football practice only to ogle the team. never brushes his hair but knows how to do braids. has regular conversations with Regulus about literature. insecure but trying his best. a gamer. listens to movie and game soundtracks and alternative music but also Ariana Grande and a lot of pop.

#thank you for your ask anon!#i'm always so happy when ppl like my art uwu #and i'm always happy to talk about the boys!!#ask tag #anon tag #headcanon tag #my tag #quick edit with some music changes lol #the world needs to know Sirius stanned one d #Harry was his favourite obvs

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thestudyfeels · 6 years

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How To NOT Be Depressed.

(Or If You Prefer — How to Be Substantially Happy About Life.)

WARNING: This is one rollercoaster ride of a post. Proceed with extreme caution. For some, the staggering levels of insight may induce true purpose and re-establish their warrior spirit. For others, side effects may include grammatically incorrect hate or aloof eyerolls. We advise exiting if the said group includes you, for we're very tired of cleaning vomit off the seats.

Step aboard at your own risk.

If you’re one of the brave souls who stayed back to join us, I congratulate you for even I am scared of how crazy this post truly is. Alrighty then, kick back and relax folks, today we’re having a mature, adult conversation. Merely another cheery afternoon spent talking about life and its realities. Not too bad, eh?

Before we begin, spoiler alert! For those of you already turned off by the mention of 'depression’ and packing their bunnies to leave, sit tight. This ISN'T really about depression. This is about HAPPINESS. No clickbait. That got your attention, right butterfly? Nice, now stay.

A welcoming, maybe demanding A/N: Do me a favor and read this in one go. Maybe even plug in those headphones and listen to the songs dedicated to each part as you read. It's long, you have the new Riverdale episode to catch up on, but don't hop away just yet because (I had a couple moments writing this, alright) it's life changing. You'll prolly cry a few tears of realization, nod all nod-able body parts in agreement, beat your chest at random instants 'cause the hype’s too real, and perhaps, if it isn’t too much to hope for, finally go change your life for the better. In case you've forgotten, this'll remind you that there’s always hope, that you're a born conqueror, and you were made to THRIVE, not survive. Convinced? Kay, roll the cams.

To clarify first-hand, no, I'm not depressed although I’ve experienced mild depression for a period before. Glad to say I'm out of it but I still struggle with tackling what I'm about to detail next.

Insert bitter voice, it’s this: My life is nowhere near I want it to be. Though I know vaguely what I wanna do, I haven't yet figured out how the hell I’m supposed to get there, or how my dream life is to be sketched out. It’s all a blurry mess. Which, to put it bluntly, hurts. I HATE feeling powerless and worthless, roaming about aimlessly.

There are many such moments where I hit the brakes to wonder why I’m not living THE Life already. There have been several times when I curl up and cry a frickin’ Amazon. There are horrible nights where I'm shaking with emotions, but they won't release, leaving me choked. (…not in that way, you hoes. Um, just ruined the dramatic mood with a lame dirty joke, sorry.)

They say talking helps and that's why I figured I'd drop in. But perhaps more importantly, I wanted to hang because no matter how unfocused the lens may seem at my future, I don't consider myself a dopey loser incapable of the crazy dreams or wild bucket lists I fantasize about– and I thought I'd skip along to remind you that neither should you. (Or maybe I just came to sniff the new appetizers, who knows?)

PS: I also broke a sweat listing six ways to get outta depression– alternatively, to be more of a conqueror– because y'all are always pestering me with asks that go “how do I conquer omg send supplies” (Like, imagine a conqueror saying that! Oh, the crime, the atrocity!)

So yes, you're welcome. Have a feast with this litness.

The main reason behind people being so frightfully sad, I’ve found, is a huge lack of fulfillment. We don't do what we love, for either— [ 1 ] we aren’t living life the way we want to (since we keep doing things we feel we're supposed to do) OR [ 2 ] because Mama, Papa and Mrs. Carter next door feel that struggling is the only way, and project their traditional beliefs onto us. Either way, whether or not we consciously realize this, subconsciously, we're all hurting because of it. Badly.

That lingering feeling of emptiness never seems to leave. You feel drained every night when you drop into bed, not because you gave it your all, but because you couldn't. And so, we do the next best thing. Drugs. Maybe not literally, but figuratively. We numb out this subconscious pain by binge watching Netflix shows. We deaden ourselves to that discomfort by reading smut in the bathroom or by playing dumb video games all day. We try (and fail) to extinguish this feeling of not ‘being enough’ by having silly flings or fake friendships.

And ultimately, we NUMB ourselves out to LIFE for we can't bear to live the way we're living. There's a reason why “How to Stop Procrastinating” posts are so popular (they’re a blogger’s most foolproof way of paying the month’s rent, and yes, even I'm guilty of a couple). We’re constantly having FOMO and tuning into others' highlights on social media– completely missing out on our own lives in the process. We fail to realize that the culprit is lack of genuine purpose more than zero self-control (or maybe it’s both, but that’s a tale for another day).

[On a side note, obviously I did generalize a bit– video games can be a passion for you, watching shows a way of winding down. But for most, they’re only DISTRACTIONS, just another way of ignoring the calls of life by hanging up the phone.]

And here's the bitter truth about depression: The longer you wait to start living authentically, the more you start tuning out the inner cries wanting change, the faster your dreams start to ebb away, and the more you'll want to become insignificant. And to me, that's the scariest part of this journey to my dream life.

Nothing frightens me more than knowing that the moment I stop pushing, the very moment I give in to distractions and fears, my goals will stop manifesting themselves and I'll be stuck in this small town with its small people eternally. And THAT, I'm certain, won't be any more fun than working your way through a soggy ham sandwich, ironic as soggy is what life has become. (Yes, I have a thing against soggy sandwiches. They were a kid's worst lunch nightmare.)

If you relate, and I’m sure you do (it’s probably why you stopped scrolling through cheesy fanfic for ten minutes to read this, I know you amigo) — here are six ways to NOT be depressed. Or more accurately, to gift wrap yourself some sweet ol’ happiness.

You're a Samurai and the Following Be Your Katanas —

Hol’ up. The second you reach the End Card, I want you to drop your Cheerios and implement at least THREE of these six strategies. Just follow the Takeaways, I've made this really simple. And as a rule, one of them has to be this one. (Look, don't whine. If you wanna climb outta that dark hole, you gotta put in some effort. So pop that booty, and let’s get down to business!)

Here’s the most truthful, though cheesy thing I’ll ever say: I would be nowhere I am today without this blog. If not for it, I would most likely be weeping in a dug-out hole somewhere, drowning in my salty little pond of tears and chiming every loser’s favorite words (“there's no point”). Creating this blog gave me a definite purpose – putting out fiery content, dipping myself deep into my newly found passion for writing and influencing, and connecting with other conquerors on the platform.

I meet a lot of folks, whether at Sad School, Mouldy Mall, or Boring Bus stop, who always seem to be in a state of death-inducing boredom. When asked about their favorite thing to do, they’ll mumble “sleep” or “food” like Siri narrating your cat’s evening routine. And then you see adults, dragging through life mindlessly. Utterly clueless, floating like a piece of driftwood in an ocean bubbling with life. My sympathy quota gets overdosed everytime I think about it.

To spell it out, find something to do. Anything! Learn a language, try some ballet, take pictures of your neighbor's rose garden, make an art piece and show it to your mom, stitch buttons onto shirts for fun, heck, make an entire shirt out of buttons, take a break from reading smut to write your own, frutify your farts, WHATEVER, just get up and move.

And here’s why – nay, not to keep you engaged or make you feel less worthless, not that bullcrap. It’s to put in gear the journey of figuring out what is the shite that you love doing. Too often we get stuck thinking about what our oh-so-great passion is. Get this, passion is energy. A spark for something. A magical fortune cookie which, when cracked, seems to explain everything, gives you the very reason for being alive. You can only feel that fire, that wild love, when you actually do it. So get cracking is all I’ll say!

Takeaway:

Attempt something. Nah, scratch that, imagine you’re in a sweet shop with shelves lined with free samples and try everything. Pick up that Polaroid cam, take that dreaded history course, buy that children’s cooking kit– in short, start working. Pull out all the stops, get curious, and get creative. In the process, if you promise to try hard enough, you WILL (money back guarantee) find out what makes your little heart burst with mad happiness and would willingly do for free, if needed, because you really are that crazy about it. And that, my dear, will be your oh-so-great-indeed passion. Have no doubt, you’ll never be “bored” again.

Real talk, having a dream is a big deal. And unfortunately, I’ve witnessed, rarely anyone has one to begin with. They’re either more dead than the cheap skeleton I bought for Halloween or believe they have a dream, but in reality, it belongs to mom, dad, or Uncle Sammy. Listen, doing something for someone you love (my Uncle Sammy used to supply me with cold cash whenever he came around, loved that guy) is great! YET, if you’re willing to throw away your life to fulfill others’ expectations, convincing yourself it's because they love you, even when YOUR lonely heart craves bigger things than just a marketing job, then you, my friend? Are the biggest fool. Don’t get offended, we both know it, this girl needn't ramble.

Recently, my relatives were over (nope, sadly not Uncle Sammy) and my cousin and I had a chat about life (correct, I grab every opportunity to do so). It wasn't very exciting I must say, he kept staring off into the distance (I wonder why), but what he SAID is what I'll talk about. After I’d gushed about my dreams, he asked skeptically if being an influencer would still be an ambition two years from now when I graduate. I raised my eyebrows, mock hurt, like eff you son, I ain’t giving up on my dreams! But that question got me thinking.

Life is wild. Unpredictable. An unexpected call, a single person, a random BLOG POST (cough) – can turn your life upside down, sometimes in the affirmative, other times not. This variability of life isn’t uncommon, and everyone experiences some part of it– unpaid student loans, failing startups, talent and art going unnoticed in industries dominated by wealth and connections, you name it. If all of that doesn’t make you run for the Himalayas and abandon any dreams, throw in a quick side dish of dysfunctionale famiglia with a sprinkle of self-image issues.

It ain’t easy, darling. The world is one cruel headmistress; it loves slapping awake the daydreamers and wishful thinkers. That hasn't ever actually stopped the dropouts and class clowns from building castles in the air though. And the common blueprint you notice they follow? Let me introduce you to… Madness. Obsession. Maniacal obsession, to say. (Yes, I'm done playing with my words.)

I struggled writing this point. A pestering voice in my head kept mumbling – They'll go back to doing the same sad shit anyway. Um, does anyone even read your posts? Lol, call yourself an influencer, hun. Hesitation started creeping in. Then the irony of the situation struck me. I laughed, shook my head and got back to typing.

We ran out of juicy gossip weeks ago, so here’s your tea served cold: insecurities and self doubt WILL get in the way. That whiny voice was just a mild version of what you face when you go all in. Fear traps you in its cage, and those who prattled behind your back now progress to talking shit in your face. Criticism and self doubt resurfaces, so unless your defenses are strong, you'll be crushed. Destroyed REAL quick.

When hell breaks loose (oh honey, and it WILL), your self defense comprising of maniacal obsession must be well learnt. Let them attack, mock, heck, drag you away from the desk and hurl you at the top of a damn mountain, but you better STILL hike back down, show them the middle finger, and continue working. That's how bulletproof you've gotta be. That's how madly do you have to love your dreams. And if you really think this will be a cake walk or want to continue complaining about Stuart being born with a silver spoon, hop off the train already. Your destination isn't on the tour list.

Look, my dreams terrify me. But they certainly make me feel more alive than complying with what every parent said about getting good grades and holding together a roof on my head. My ambitions set me free, give me a reason to fucking live. And yet, every now and then, something makes me question them. A fear engulfs me, some doubter proclaims I suck, someone I love is so blinded they can't see my vision. And that's okay. My defenses are way stronger. The next day rolls round, and you'll find me hustling again, thriving again. All because I know that even if no one reads my posts (the worst case scenario, I know y'all love me lol), someday in the future, someone will. I know that even if I’m not an influencer yet, if just one reader becomes a conqueror because of my words, it would be a win. A big win. I'd have done my job. All because I’m wildly, yes maniacally, obsessed with my dreams.

So hey, cousin? This influencer thing? This will be my dream long after I've graduated. Till the day I die, and maybe even then I'll rise from my grave to give a dead pal a lively pep talk. My watchtower has just been upgraded, so thank u, next.

Takeaway:

“General, we've arrived!” Finally! Position those cannons, Martha, let’s talk them through the defenses. All aboard? AHOY MATEY! (wait, that was one for the pirates). Step one, dare to create a dream in your mind’s eye. The bigger, the crazier, and the scarier, the better. Doesn’t matter how impossible it is, don’t care how many voice their opinion against it, just imagine, keep a million possibilities in mind.

Once you see the life you truly want (you’ll know, everything will seem to zing)— have a sip. Become OBSESSED for that life. Thirst after that vision, itch to manifest it, and pine for the satisfaction that’ll come to your soul once it’s made a reality. Fall madly in love with the process and how magical it feel when you do it. And THEN, bellow a loud war cry and charge headfirst into battle, shields held high at all the criticisms. We conquerors never cared much for them anyway.

(play ♬) Picture this: forehead stamped with beads of sweat. Calloused hands working their fingers to the bone and eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Conjure an image where powerful beats are pulsing hard in your ears, synced with your own elevated heartbeats, and you’re thriving. Performing. Winning. Guess the secret to that? Preparation. Champions prepare. You can’t throw anything to the winds or rely on ‘luck’ or chance to conquer.

Tough days are in everyone’s calendar, be it your extra cheerful neighbor, Sally, or lone wolf classmate, Derrick. We’ve all found ourselves sulking over an awful situation, scooping into mint ice cream to forget mistakes, errands, and ghosting exes. Yet guess what? The solution isn’t the proclaimed “be positive!” or “It all happens for a reason, don’t you worry” - the key is coming up with a method to dodge the discouraging effect these hiccups have on us.

So every bad day, I bring out a mason jar containing a knot of chits and one secret letter which is, on most days, kept hidden on the top shelf of my cupboard. I make myself comfortable on the bed, read all my bits of paper carefully, including the letter addressed to yours truly, close my eyes, and mentally fight back whatever’s bringing me down.

A short while later, I get up, now a warrior, and go slay the rest of the day like it was my last one on this planet. That jar is my jar. A Conqueror’s jar. One look at those powerful reminders, and I’m grounded once again, the beast within me now unleashed to kill.

Takeaway:

Honey, go get yourself a jar. Along with some papyrus and ink. Then start jotting down. Document past victories, future visions, fears that mean zilch to the person you’re about to become, batty goals you’ve still gotta chase, reminders that the majority will never understand what it is you’re tryna do here, and how that’s perfectly alright 'cause you'll find your conquerors, your squad one day. Create your victory jar. And then go knock ‘em down dead. Bad days stand no chance against you. You’re a winner, a fucking rebel. Go take what’s yours.

Y’know, I’m perfectly aware that many muggles reading this will whine that dealing with depression ain’t no piece o’ pie and it’s hella hard to get up and take the crown when you feel like a pile of dino dung.

Stop it. Get some help. (See what I did? Like Michael- ok ok, calm thyself.) For real though, and I’m tired of repeating this with my kitten stamped microphone (but I’ll keep at it ‘cause it’s that significant) – whining is WORTHLESS. It saps up precious energy that could be used to make life a scrumptious smoothie. (Loothie? As in life + smoothie? Right, yes, I’m shutting up.)

And even THEN, we find denizens complaining about slow WiFis and thin crust pizzas and how the market’s down and the government’s incompetent. Because blabbering makes us feel important. Heard. But keeping yo’ trap shut and actually doing stuff? Hustling for your dreams when nobody’s watching? Actually walking the talk? C’mon, Emma, don't be naive, ain’t nobody getting recognition for that.

Trust me, I get it. The world is yet to become a feminist, turns out your boyfriend was cheating on you while you were looking up wedding dresses, mommy’s a drunk loser, and idiots are being voted into office. It’s a lot to handle. But thanks to our immense and ever increasing population (we folks really love our rumpy pumpy, can you tell) — there will surely be one chum, facing exactly the same misfortunes as you, but still turning up at every party and bulk-spamming his friends with puppy pictures while you sit and wail. (One Moaning Myrtle is enough, thank you very much.)

Look, I’m not undermining your worries or obstacles. I’m only reminding that you have the marvelous choice of positivity. To CHOOSE hope and a better future when others won't. To FIND (and it's always possible) something to look forward to even when the to-do’s a big snore. To KNOW, deep inside, that you're a magnificent conqueror, no matter what mess you’re in at the moment, and that the world dances to your rhythm. Realise that it's up to you to let yourself be happy. At any moment, you have the very say-so to get up and start rocking. Dumbledore said it himself, “It is our choices, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” So choose better, and you’ll unconsciously do better as well. And yes, that being said, this is the last HP reference, don't fret. Be positive instead. (Edit: Ha, look at these quips, the girl's all grown up now.)

Takeaway:

Your new occupation is to be a sunflower. If you think back, you'll probably recall Miss Honey rattling on about phototropic movement in AP biology. No? Me neither. Point is, sunflowers always face the sun. Put them ANYWHERE, hide them in the dungeons, throw them in a trash bag and shoot it off to the moon, they’ll still turn around and face the sun. No matter what. And taking inspo from that, you too can stop scripting creative soliloquies for being depressed. Happiness is YOUR right, YOUR priority, don't let anyone take it away from you or diminish its importance. DON’T let sadness ruin your vibe, do what you've gotta do to protect yourself. Track happiness in yo’ journal, set 84 reminders on your phone, and tattoo “Long as you’re beaming up at the sun, all the shadows will be left behind” on your boobs. Do whatever, just don’t turn the corners of your mouth down. You’re so pretty this way.

The other day, I was doing the deathly Plié Alternative Heel Lifts (these names, I swear) and my legs felt dead. Gone. Put to sleep like the Wicked Witch of the East. Now obviously, the timer wasn’t not even halfway done yet, but my cheeks were already flushing red like dear Santa, and NOT because I was high on choco chip cookies. I sighed, and at that point, I was so over giving up. All this while, I’d been whining and protesting because my muscles felt sore, but in that moment, I made up my mind. I bit my lip and kept going. On and on. Keep pulsing, you got it, don't stop, was the mantra I kept chanting.

Won’t sugarcoat it, I honestly hadn’t died this much since that time Miss Honey buried me alive with trig assignments. My legs were now basically Play-doh and I was shaking, fighting for balance. A few seconds in though, something crazy happened. My legs went numb. My grumbling mind quietened and the pain vanished. That evening, I had the upper hand, not my physical perceptions of myself. I was powerful. Flawless. (Hey Santa, do you even lift bro?) Real talk, I was in the Zone, bitches.

I’m not sure if that was the result of excessive pain or because Wonder Woman’s spirit possessed ma bod, but staying loyal to my love for metaphors, I’ll use the experience to explain what I’m tryna get at here.

Look, here’s the real deal — if all of the greats gave up the second things got frowny, we probably would have no one to worship. Nix role models, nix inspirations, none to stalk on Insta - we’d all be bumbling about like Sad from the even sadder Emoji movie (no shade, emojis be lit).

And that'd be very sad (pun definitely intended). Hence, cue some tangible ways to boosting your grit, so that you can be your own superhero:

1) Get yo’self a goddamn motto,

2) Know your “Why,”

3) Repeat the cycle till it’s in your blood. Btw, Shawn, if you here, I’m still a single pringl—HEY PAL I SEE YOU, DON'T SCROLL.

Seriously, don't brush these prime steps aside. We're always going for the advanced modes, and deeming these basic levels a waste of time. Well guess what, compadre, YOUR LIFE IS A GODDAMN WASTE O’ TIME IF YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR BASICS RIGHT. Excuse my outburst, but listen. You can’t do a hundred bicep curls on your first workout if you haven't lifted anything more than a crisps packet. Likewise, if you simply jump into Life one day, and decide “ok, here it is, 12 habits to build, sleep schedule to fix, man to ask out, let's go,” you ain't getting nowhere, chum. Start small. Take baby steps. It's clearly not as fun (definitely negates the bragging on Facebook part of it) but it'll stick. You’ll create a consistency that not even Grandma's cake batter can achieve.

1. Talking mottos — For context, a motto that I always mutter (my mom thinks I'm cursing, oh what a bad child) every time I spill milk while making coffee is “Do more. Give more. BE more.” Not only does it help me stay right on track for the rest of the day but it helps me clean up my mess, figuratively and otherwise, or I’d just be sitting in a puddle of spilt milk, cursing adulting for real this time and with more laundry to do.

2. Why you need the Big Why — Owning up, I’m guilty of attempting to learn Welsh for less than 48 hours because I hadn't a single reason to speak the language. A similar thing happened with half of my 2018 resolutions, which had a bunch of rubbish like “Floss daily”, something my eyes got trained to skip because, um, who the hell flosses every day?

Lame humor aside, I still workout almost daily because I have my Why straight. 1) I want to feel good about my body and get closer to the confident badass I envision my future self to be, 2) I simply HAVE to sustain my health to live to build my legacy and fulfill my dreams of opening a bakery at 90 and 3) Because I’m an influencer, and want to walk my talk and be the inspiration people need. Those are the reasons as to why I turn up to my yoga mat everyday, shut my jabbering mind, and keep on pulsing. This “Why” strategy applies to everything. Wanna get outta depression? Why? Wanna lose 20 pounds? Why? Wanna listen to your dentist’s desperate pleadings and floss already? WHY EH? Unless you know your intentions, you’ll give up at the first chance you get to not act on your goals. And watch out, because there'll be a LOT of those.

For me, leaving a legacy behind means more than having a slice of cake or missing a workout because there’s a fun movie playing. Find what's important to YOU, make it your why, and go marry your goals.

3. And then, Repeat — Bear in mind, if you're not living your best life yet, there are NO weekends. NO work-shy days. No weak days, no pick-me-up days, no eat-candy-do-nothing days. Everyday is a damn Monday. EVERYDAY is life or death. Every holy day you wake up is a chance to push your limits, challenge your mindset, and see how far you can go. And every 24 hours, when the cycle starts again, it’s your mission to race to build a stronger, wiser and crazier you.

And who knows, perhaps one day, you and I will just be casually sipping tea in our dream home, laughing at how the milk is still being spilt but knowing, proudly, fiercely, that we’ve come so far, even though there’s still more left to do, more to give and so much more to be.

Takeaway:

Quit quitting. You're, guaranteed, 20x stronger than you think. I doubted I could go through with the workout, it seemed beyond my present physical capabilities. But I did, because I treated it as life or death. Understand this, the second you start making excuses, for being depressed, for taking an unnecessary day off - you give away your power. You are a very powerful being. You're limitless, capable of everything.

I'm not throwing these words around to make you feel cute, I actually mean AND believe them. There’s so much that's been done already— the iconic four minute mile by Roger Bannister, invention of the light bulb, cars, toothpaste and other junk, people who lost both legs and climbed Mt. Everest, we sent a man to moon in frickin’ 1969 (50 YEARS ago), some ran a 26 mile marathon with zero training, love and hope is still strong in this world, oh let's also add coffee and motivational music— and YOU think you can't finish a workout or get outta depression or meet your idols or marry the man of your dreams or become the artist you wanna be? Ridiculous. Don't give away your power that easily, this ain't no charity shop.

(play ♬) Having personally dealt with unwelcome yet familiar feelings of emptiness quite often, I’ve now reached a point where each bad day is simply a reminder of how long my journey ahead is, and just how badly I want to reach my destination.

We finally near the end of this novel of a post (thanks for sticking around, bud), and my best advice would be this: Rather than wallowing in self pity and throwing one-man parties because your life is so awfully dreadful, know that even when life throws you to the floor, long as you can look up, long as you can read an entire book about defeating depression (cough)– you can GET UP too. Let those emotions of sorrow and frustration blaze up into a roaring, crackling fire that doesn’t consume you, but instead, urges you, fuels you.

Lately, no matter how much shit I go through, how many arguments I tumble into, or how barren my dreams look sometimes, I don’t break down. And no, it wasn't always like this. I never even had aspirations to name two years ago. Six months back, it had become a night routine to cry. Not anymore.

Now, every setback and every failure only pushes me to be stronger and give more than I ever gave. The day I made the decision to Conquer (truly, madly, deeply, with all of my heart) was also the day I said a big, loud ‘fuck you’ to every resistance that was to cross my path. I had finally understood that life was nothing but a battle of WILLS, that it was all in or nothing, and I made up my mind once and for all to NEVER give in to depression, or to society, or to anyone who tells me I cannot make it.

I had conquered depression. There was no looking back now.

Takeaway:

Here’s something no one will tell you: the key to bringing depression to its knees is seeing it positively. Pretend that it's a friend continuously sending strong, aggressive signals urging you to be happy. And what do you do when a caring friend throws some holy light? You listen, push past your ego, and follow accordingly.

And if that parallel seems unconvincing, here's another one (sup, DJ Khaled. This post is turning musical, sorry): it's scared of you. Depression is scared shit of you. Y'know how bullies are, right? Majorly insecure, self-loathing too perhaps, hardly fans of self love, and always trying to numb all that subconscious pain by inflicting pain on others. Depression has the same instruction manual. Your fears and doubts are your (pathetic) bullies, and depression is the big ol’ crony who does the dirty work for 'em.

Whenever you decide shit this is it, I'm going for it, they go paranoid and try stopping you because they've seen no better. And if they succeed, BOOM, you're depressed, paralyzed, your qualms reigning over you again. Don't let them in. I'll say it a thousand times if I gotta because I want (HAVE) to see you conquer – you're so much stronger than you think you are. You can do so much more than you think. It's all in your head! Don't just sit there, click away, and go back to living a sad life. You’re better than that. DO better than that. You’re meant to freaking CONQUER, straight-up dominate, my pal. Pay heed to that voice craving freedom. You got this. And you better know it.

One thing’s fixed like the (beloved by all) proportionality constants in Physics, you will come across depressing mornings and sluggish evenings even in the future. I assure you. Lots o’ bad hair days in the calendar, sis. But here's what you’ll do: you'll deactivate the miserable thoughts, keep a cool head, remind yourself that this is yet another test (better, rap your new mantra) and USE that hurt, pain, and anger to create a fervor and passion that wreaks havoc on its obstacles and drives you to accomplish EVERYTHING you've ever wanted to do. The easy choice would be to just give up, bellyache about the situation, and want sympathy for your worries. Yet, what you'll never do is… exactly that.

Rule 1) NEVER give up. Stand your ground. Have faith in your strength. Know that you'll have your way soon enough anyway. Rule 2) NEVER complain. All it does is drain your energy, that precious fire you could to high jump your way into the clouds. Makes you a pathetic wimp too, definitely not something you want on a warrior’s resume. Lastly, Rule 3) NEVER seek validation. From anyone. It sure feels nice to be acknowledged and encouraged, but grasp this— this is your journey. YOUR life and YOUR vision. Validation won't get you anywhere, for there'll never be enough of it.

Cuz Marty, if you're tryna bring something new, different, and authentic into this world – you'll most likely be hated on badly, before you'll be loved madly (hi, me a rapper). Learn to invite hate instead—IMPORTANT: hate from others, not yourself. Sounds counterintuitive, but this is the real tea: hate is good. It means you're standing up for something, refusing to fit like a puzzle piece in society, and being UNAPOLOGETICALLY yourself. And it’s certainly a sign that you’re on the right path if you can ignore that hate and stick your tongue out at it.

Yet another reason to never seek validation is simply this: you have to fight for yourself. In order to meet your own expectations, reach the doorstep of the best version of you, and transform this world, you'll have to go wildly IN. Toil and hammer away. Shut out all the haters and non-believers, listening only to your gut. Importantly, learn to accept the rejection slips, validating yourself not with what Molly says about it being okay, but with the reminder that your time is coming soon. Depend on yourself. Validation will NEVER be enough.

I get it, it's a lot of homework, but perhaps you already realize that it’s THIS work that'll change your life forever. Not “how to not procrastinate, Jesus take the wheel” or “HELLO, life's a mess so here are ten things to do (you won't believe number four!)”. Clickbaits don't work, stop believing that a fancy planner is going to be your savior. There is no rule to making your life a masterpiece. You'll have to get to know yourself and your dreams (journaling, meditation, silent pondering), build the work ethics and the mentality needed (lots of work in this one, yet no strict framework to go about it) and GET GOING.

AND with that firework, I'll begin to slip away now. Again, I won’t say it’s easy, that’s cock and bull. Life’s no fairytale. You will never feel ready to start bringing your dreams to fruition. But, my darling (I’m being so nice yo, follow me), you must. You must force yourself to work for the future you want till it becomes a habit, an obsession. The world badly needs heroes; confident people who can stand for themselves so that others can stare at first, maybe even hate a little, but then follow because they seem unstoppable and are, truthfully, having the most fun at life. YOU'RE one of them. No validation, just plain facts.

You see, conquering is a LOT of blood and sweat (K-pop, anyone? BTS? Lmao, this is me tryna clickbait y'all to read). Even getting up will seem huge when you're just starting out, and this is one long road, dear pal. Still then, I have enough faith in you to hope you don't give into your fears, I hope you willingly chase discomfort, and I hope you find the courage to do all that you want to do, while that heart's still beating.

I hope you conquer. I'll do too, and I'd really like to see some familiar faces during the ride.

Peace, amigo.

A loud ass A/N: And now, we come the most important part of this post. WAKE UP Luke, stop snoring, and take some notes. Remember kids, I won't accept anything but an A.

If you couldn’t identify yourself throughout this post and currently are scoffing like um woman, that's not really why I'm depressed, hang in there a sec. Yes, you can stop singing It Ain’t Me now. You've a very nice voice by the way.

I'm not a doctor, and I don't have enough exposure to know why so many earthlings are depressed today. HOWEVER, by talking to many, following their stories, watching and reading stuff – I do know with firm conviction that a majority suffers from severe unfulfillment. Don't believe me? A study shows 85% of the working class worldwide hate their jobs. Do you realize what that actually means? EIGHTY-FIVE PERCENT of the THREE BILLION PEOPLE employed today, hate being employed in the first place! They do it for prime survival, to sustain themselves. And that's just jobs. I won't scare you, but 50% (yes, HALF, you heard that right) of students HATE going to school. Kids waste SEVEN hours of their life every day going somewhere they dislike, doing something they hate. Who's singing now?

People find themselves trapped in golden handcuffs, taking the paycheck despite the passionless job. They push aside the art and business they love, to become a slave of good ol’ cash. Several surround themselves with negativity and get frustrated when unable to escape the choking (no, not THAT kind again, hello someone pour holy water over this post) atmosphere. An innumerable are forced into taking up courses that they don't care about under parental pressure. The reasons are endless, and I don't think I'll amuse myself listing all the sad excuses.

This has always been the story. Hundreds of influencers have preached the same words I’m tryna put into your head here and you’ll yourself say you’ve heard this a million times. YET, you’re dissatisfied. YET, you feel like crap everyday, feeding yourself the same lie that the next day will be better, that you’ll get up tomorrow– while you let life beat the shit out of you.

That’s why, all of my words, everything you’ve read today - all of that boils down to just one single question. A difficult but necessary choice. Will you let this happen to YOU? Will you, seriously, even after this wild ride together, go back to doing nothing and being nothing? Will you, for real, continue deceiving yourself, sacrifice your happiness for the sake of pleasing everyone else, and remain a statistic on a website?

(play ♬) If you’re not sure of your answer, read: Look, making you feel guilty is not my intention, because that’s not how this works. I need you to understand instead. Guilt wears off, it’s only understanding that brings about change. So, just for old times’ sake, I’ll rant a bit more (ik, just can’t seem to leave y’all).

You’re so, so young right now. More than half of your life is yet to be experienced. None of this probably makes much impact right now but it will the day you die. Remember, on your deathbed, you won't EVER look back and say, “Damn, wish I'd spent more time at the office. Saved up just one more dollar. Could’ve got that promotion before Amy.” Nay, it won’t even be on the calendar. That day, one foot in the grave, you'll reflect and wonder why the heck you didn’t let yourself be happier. Why you took up that lacklustre, soul-sucking architect job when all you've ever wanted to do is keep laughing. Why you didn't ask your crush out, why you were so afraid to walk up to that audition, because dammit, you could’ve been running your own comedy show by now. Why you dragged around a karaoke machine all this time instead of singing your own song. Why you couldn’t love yourself. Why you submitted. Why.

And the moment you realize that you hadn't lived a life for you, you’ll be crushed. Broken. The arthritis in your grannie joints won't even compare and neither will the mild dissatisfaction you’re feeling right now. Those whys will haunt you, they'll terrorize you, break you. It'll hurt tremendously to know that there isn't a single thing in your long life that you could call completely your own.

With every death today so many dreams are left unachieved, crazy things left unchecked on the bucket list, and unique potential left unexpressed.

DON'T let that be you. Please. I'm still a mess myself, struggling to reach class on time and studying subjects that aren't exactly fun, when all I want to do is create content (read: fireworks) that is at a level of insanity, influence folks to do better, hold crazy world tours and meet-and-greets to give hugs, and get an adorable puppy so I can create a dogstagram (yes, I'm that mom). Sure, I could declare it's too hard, hang onto small-minded and negative people who whine endlessly, and follow the crowd, getting lost in it, with ease.

But I won’t because I can’t take the burden of those regrets. That painful unrest and discontent that nothing could cure, not drugs, alcohol, buddies, not even true love. For then I’d be just another drone, my controller in the hands of society, forcing me to see the world through its eyes. I can’t give in because I’m scared, terrified even, of wasting away this one life doing the bidding of others- folks who won't even notice when I’m gone.

It’s easy to be depressed and crib your entire life. It’s easy to think you’re worthless and that trying is pointless since nothing ever goes your way.

But perhaps, if you rise, if you simply DECIDE to have the audacity to fight for what you believe in, if you work and focus on becoming better, things will go your way. Life will bend to you, in awe, at your incredible relentlessness. Life will take one look at you, wonder who the fuck is this person? How the fuck are they so incapable of giving up? And back right away. And then perhaps, life will be such a blast for you that depression would become the past you never had.

I know you can get there, conqueror. It’s time you knew it too.

🌚🌝 Further reading? 🌝🌚

Last Post :— How To Get Back Into The Creative Process – For you, if you're in a creative rut. Get outta it and go create magic!

5 Reasons Why You're Unhappy — To help you identify & cut out CURRENT sources of sadness so that you can spice up yo’ life with some happiness instead. Definitely recommend reading AND implementing.

The Bubble Trap & How To Get Out Of It — One of my classics. Everyone is in one of these 'bubbles’ till they consciously do something about it; that's just how it is. Are you still in one? (Someone teach me marketing, lmao.)

The 5 Biggest Regrets of The Dying (from Greatist) — I LOVED reading this. Pretty much all you need to cut the crap and do meaningful stuff. Read it, memorize it, work it.

++ Want to request a blog post? Leave your request in my ask box! I'll get back to you with a reply, along with the average time I'll need to birth that magical idea.

Thanks for dropping by! It was a pleasure to have you around. If you wish to stick for a bit, I'd suggest picking one of the related posts mentioned above.

If you wanna check out my blog, here's a little something about me (y'all know I love the attention). What do I write about? Three arenas I dominate, Work, Lifestyle and Life, they are, my mate! Take your pick!

I post new blog posts bi-weekly, and my wins, & journal entries throughout the week, so follow me if you're into conquering life, leaving a legacy and being the baddest badass you can possibly be. I'll be your side pal, cheering you along.✨

And that was it, it's a wrap! Martha, shut the cams, Henry, pause the audio, and Nandita, I know you're pretending to be deaf, but Mom's yelling something about doing the dishes. Better skip along.

And you, fellow conqueror? Keep slaying life, doing the work and making it count. I hope you're well, stay strong and go conquer life. ✧

I'm sending you so much love, see you soon.

— Nandini 💌 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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carnistcervine · 5 years

Text

Invader Zim self-insert?

Invader Zim self-insert.

I call her Astra “WingDings” Umbra, she’s a tired and sad bean who is madly in love with Membrane(and he has no idea lol), and I want her hair IRL. Side note-I’ve been experimenting with just coloring over my sketches instead of properly cleaning them up with smooth lines, and I like how this looks a lot better than my cleaned up art. _(:D」∠)_ Full bio under the cut~!

Name: [REDACTED] Pseudonym: Astra "WingDings" Umbra Title/Honors: PhD in (IHAVENTDECIDEDYETRIP), Bachelors in Game Design Species: Human(Technically) Ethnicity: Irish/Native American/African American(mixed) Age(depicted): 30 Gender/Pronouns: Female-She/Her Sexuality: Asexual Family: Thug Life*TM*(Her cat), Zephyr Umbra(her sibling) Residence: Earth Allies: Thug Life*TM*, Zephyr, Dib, Membrane Alignment: Earth(It's where she keeps her stuff) Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Personality: Highly intelligent but has a propensity for being silly, lonely, a romantic coward, a little bit mad, loyal, can come across as cold and uncaring but is deeply loving, highly existential, very empathetic, doesn't anger easily(with the exception of her berserk buttons), seems calm but is actually tired and anxious Strengths: Highly perceptive of others, is good at knowing when to be serious Weaknesses: Not emotionally open, tends to come off as cold or unfeeling, easily flustered by romantic interests, highly empathetic but doesn't know how to help/reach out to others Fears: MANNEQUINS(seriously, fuck them), trypanophobia, bathophobia, Dolls(particularly porcelain ones), well preserved dead bodies, automotonophobia, agoraphobia

Personality In Depth: Astra is extremely smart and quick witted, but is easily underestimated due to how silly she tends to act. She's rather lonely, but also tends to isolate herself. She is easily flustered by her romantic interests or crushes, and cannot for the life of her just say she loves them to their face. She's rather "eccentric" and strange, this is exacerbated by the trauma of being flung through a wormhole and nearly working herself to death. Astra is very loyal to the few who earn her trust. But if you betray her, she'll not only hate you forever, she'll make it her mission to destroy you. She's about as emotionally open as a brick and tends to come off as cold and uncaring, but deep inside she's actually highly empathetic and loving. Of course, she also doesn't know how to reach out to others emotionally and is generally kind of an awkward bean. Like she genuinely cares very much for those around her, but doesn't know how to express it well. Astra usually comes across as calm and cool, but she's actually just shrieking constantly on the inside and is generally an anxious mess. She usually doesn't anger easily, but she's pretty scary when she's angry. She gets pretty murdery when she's angry to be honest. Astra has endless amounts of existential angst. You'd think this is the result of her jumping realities, but she's been that way since she was a teen. She's just naturally existential.

Theme Song: "A Complete History of the Soviet Union, Through the Eyes of a Humble Worker" by Pig with the Face of a Boy Song Quote: "Pointless work, for pointless pay... This is one game, I will not play!" General Quote: "The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long..." - Tyrell from Blade Runner Character Quotes: -"Finish that sentence. Go on, give me a reason to re-arrange your face." (To someone who was about talk shit about her cat) -"I want to say that I'm hangry, but honestly? I'm not even angry. Just hungry and tired." -"God? If you can hear me, please strike me down right now."

General Notes: -Unusually sturdy. -Has the strength of ten men. -Can speak fluent french. -Familiar enough with the wingdings font to write in it. This is where she got the nickname "WingDings" from. -Suffers from PTSD as well as multiple phobias. -Considers her cat to be her baby. -Don't talk shit about her cat, it's her berserk button. -Science deniers are her other berserk button.

Backstory: Pre-Wormhole- Born to a very poor family, raised by her single mother along with her sibling. Applied herself 110% to her schooling and got straight "A"s. She finished High School at 16 and went straight to college, right around this time, her mom died and instead of grieving, she dedicated herself to full time schooling. She adopted a kitten named Socks to fill the hole in her heart. She made herself content with life by pushing her sadness down into a dark corner of her psyche where she would confront it later. She managed to get plenty of merit scholarships and went through college getting straight "A"s. On her second to last quarter of schooling, a strange object crashed into the Earth. The object is called the Space Machine and it ends up in the hands of very dangerous criminals. The object has the power to distort the very fabric of reality itself. As reality becomes warped by the object, Socks turn into a cat-girl. Astra, Zephyr and Socks all work together to stop the criminals from destabilizing the universe in the name of becoming all powerful. However things come to a head two weeks before Astra's graduation, and the Space Machine destabilizes, threatening to collapse the whole universe. The trio fight there way through to where the machine is hidden and manage to find it minutes before it begins to implode. Astra tries her best to stop it, but she doesn't understand enough about the mechanics of the universe to do anything. So they all hold each other and prepare for the end. When Socks gets an idea, she tearfully tells Astra that she's the best friend she ever had and sacrifices herself to safely de-construct the Space Machine. This opens a wormhole that sucks in everyone in the immediate area.

Post-Wormhole- Astra awoke cradling the broken Space Machine to her chest. It didn't take too long before she and Zephyr realized they had been dragged into another reality entirely. In a world not her own, Astra swallowed the grief of losing her only friend and being so far from her true home. Feeling that her friends death and near collapse of her home were her fault, Astra dedicates herself to science and the study of the universe. She manages to make it into a university, earns a full-ride scholarship, and even ends up with an internship at MembraneLabs. She earns straight "A"s and continues to shove her grief down into the depths of her psyche to confront later. Astra ends up spending her every waking hour, either on classwork, intern work or trying to fix the Space Machine. However, she only becomes progressively more and more run down. Astra gets good grades, and her boss is proud of her, but she is unable to fix the Space Machine and her relationship with Zephyr takes a nosedive. Zephyr feels like they are being ignored and cast aside by their sister and does their best to try and convince her to just take a break and smell the roses for once. It doesn't work and Astra continues to dedicate herself full time to her work, neglecting her sibling. Of course, Astra's grief comes right back to haunt her as she continues to fail at fixing the Space Machine. Astra slowly and quietly spirals into hopelessness and madness. She adopts a cat that she names Thug Life*TM* in a poor attempt to fill the growing hole in her heart. Shortly after finally getting her PhD, Astra gives one final attempt at solving the mystery that is the Space Machine. Unable to fix the machine to take her home and save her lost friend, Astra violently throws the machine aside and locks it in a box. She's given up. Astra gives up on going home and saving her friend. She figures that it simply isn't worth the effort when she's only trading one crapsack world for another. And besides, she actually has a good job and friends here, there's nothing left for her at home. After all that trauma, she went and got her bachelor's for Game Design.

Because staring at the unfinished game prototypes sitting on her laptop makes her sad.

#Invader Zim #self insert #OC #CarnistCervineArt #I do seriously want her hair tho #pony-hawk for the win

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littleoldrachel · 5 years

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Eleventh chapter is up! Read it here on ao3, or here on ff.net, or under the cut.

100 Ways to Say I Love You Summary: In which actions speak louder than words, Sirius and Remus sort of fall in to a relationship, and even though neither of them have said those three all-important words, they both know it anyway.Or: 100 Ways to Say I Love You by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Previous | chapter 11/100 - “You can have half.” | Next Based on this post by p0ck3tf0x Tw for grief, anxiety, hints at depression, a use of the f-word, mentions of child abuse.

Against James’ wishes, Remus’ advice, and Akilah’s concerns, Sirius returns to work just a few days after the news breaks. Having lost four days to his grief, his schedule is tighter than ever, but the pressure is a blessing in disguise - because he plunges headfirst into his projects, and just… does not surface.

Time loses all meaning, now that he's spending every single second in the office - sketching, programming, editing, it's all time-consuming work that requires Sirius’ utmost attention.

His friends bring meals to the office and his colleagues force him outside once in a while for some fresh air, but without his graphics tablet in hand, he's a shell of a person, aimlessly fidgeting and tugging at his clothes. He needs to be busy and productive because otherwise he's just the waste of space his parents always claimed he was, haunted by memories and longing for relief - but nobody seems to want to accept that. He begins to sleep at the office, but with no semblance of a schedule; he crashes beneath his workstation whenever exhaustion gets the better of him, and wakes to expressions of concern, aching shoulders, and the feeling of bone-deep fatigue that no amount of sleep can solve.

His grief is a current that keeps pulling him away from the work he's trying so hard to focus on, and every time it's a little harder to propel himself back to it. It tugs and claws and drags at him, and no matter how firmly he tries to embed himself in the sand, his pain is relentless.

But so are his friends in their compassion. Lily brings him his medication, and texts him reminders to actually take it, you silly angel. Frank cooks his favourite comfort foods, and doesn't complain a jot when Sirius cannot manage more than a mouthful. Kingsley makes him drinks by the gallon - some alcoholic, some not, some piping, some ice-cold, depending on how sad he looks at that moment.

Alice sends him videos of animals doing stupidly adorable things that thaw his frozen heart like nothing else can, and bakes him cookies and cakes that go largely uneaten. Peter seems to be the only one who understands Sirius’ need to be at work, because he enables him like the rest of the group refuse to - taking him to work, bringing him fresh clothes, asking him about the projects, and it's refreshingly normal where nothing else is. James encourages him to talk about his feelings, takes him to therapy, and doesn't get mad ever when it all gets too much and Sirius screams at him to fuck off, Prongs, I'm fine. Every time Sirius thinks James has peaked as a best friend, he goes and pulls something like this, which just reminds Sirius how utterly indebted he is for this friendship.

Marlene gets in touch with a promise to chase up the issue with Alphard leaving Sirius everything. Sirius wants to shout that he doesn't give a fuck, he wouldn't touch a penny if he could just have Alphard back, but he knows that she feels guilty she can't be there physically, so he lets her do what she needs to without arguing. On top of all of this, there are well wishes and messages of love from school friends he hasn't spoken to in years. It's a lot.

(It's too much, and every day, more and more messages stack up in his inbox that he simply doesn't have the energy or the will to respond to).

And then there's Remus.

Lovely, soft, understanding Remus, who comes to the office just to sit in silence and be with him because he somehow knows that the memories are a little less intrusive with his presence. Who brings him flowers just because Sirius’ shoulders slump a little less with the sight of them. Who stops him from torturing his heart with a caffeine overload. Who witnesses every single panic attack and anxiety attack and supports him through them no matter what he's supposed to be doing. Who never asks for anything from him but gives and gives and gives, and Sirius takes it all greedily, because God knows he's earned the right to be selfish.

(Sirius cannot comprehend why he's spiralling when he has literally the best support network he could ask for, but he hates himself for this perceived flaw in any case. And this self hatred only shoves him harder into his work - he doesn't spare a thought for what he's going to do when he's finished because all that is keeping him going right now is the fact that he needs to get these done).

His therapist tells him that the way he's responding is normal and expected, and he wants to yell fuck off in her stupid face, because if it is normal to be this angry and numb and depressed and overwhelmed, he is uninterested in ‘normal’ and ‘expected.’ He tries to channel this frustration into his art - because healthy outlets are important, she also reminds him, but there’s just… some kind of barrier? Blocking his emotions from the blank white page? He wants to fucking smash something - because fuck healthy coping mechanisms, fuck it all.

Of his two projects, the most pressing task is a double page spread in the next month's issue, which will introduce a character of Sirius’ own design, complete with costume, backstory, and a personal article. He has enough free reign that he barely needs to ask Akilah's guidance at all (which is a blessing because the thought of talking to anyone brings him out in cold sweats and ragged breaths).

His character is one he's been perfecting since his Final Project at university, and perhaps this makes it such an easy task despite the fogginess of his brain. He pours his tattered heart and battered soul into first the paper sketches, then into the tablet, his eyes aching from the attention to detail. What he ends up with actually stirs a feeling of something in his stomach, and he clings to the thought of something that isn't grief-related like a lifeline.

Ember, a trans woman of colour whose 'real job’ is in chemical engineering, can manipulate shadows to travel through the world, and she's, in Lily's words, completely fucking awesome, I love being bi. Sirius maps out her afro with painstaking strokes, referencing and counter referencing her features to ensure he's doing this right, and by right, he means don't be a racist fuck and make her nose all like a white person, in Frank's words.

The comic strip of her origin story involves an unhappy childhood, a found family, and a journey of self-acceptance that is so close to his own, it's almost embarrassing, except he's so in love with Ember, he doesn't give a single shit. Her superpowers come about from an experiment gone-wrong at work, the product of enthusiastic conversations he'd had with Gideon about the plausibility of this incident all those years ago. It’s nostalgic in just the way he needs - living in the past, a past in which Alphard was alive and well and thriving, means that he can pretend, however briefly, that the ground hasn’t collapsed beneath him.

The final section - the personal article - presents the greatest challenge, and he half-heartedly bashes out a few paragraphs on the importance of representation that make him wince in their detachedness. It takes almost a full bottle of whiskey late one night to actually allow the emotions to spill out, into sentences about how works like Queerllustration’s saved his life, how the realisation that people like him could be heroes too meant so much to anxious, closeted twelve-year-old Sirius. It’s cheesy and personal and possibly too-much when he sends the article to Remus to edit, because as gifted as Sirius is with pictures, it's Remus who's best with words. Remus sends an edited version back within a few hours, and Sirius loves him for it - both the eloquent way he's rearranged Sirius’ syntax and the speed with which he's turned a diamond-in-the-rough shiny.

The end result is one that, even in his grief and frustration, Sirius is proud of.

(He thinks Alphard would be too).

(If only he were here to see it).

The second project is one that Sirius had been so excited to be commissioned, because the idea of a mural for a children's ward sparks the sense of adventure and hopefulness that he sorely needs. Fresh from the adrenalin of churning out his first project, he refuses all offers of time-off or an extension, and ploughs onwards, ignoring how flat and empty the world outside his sketchpad has become.

Remus comes to the office at eight o'clock at night one day, and watches him work for a while in silence. He’s been working on the mural mock-ups for hours by now - a fact, he knows by the ache of his shoulders and the sting of tired eyes. Eventually, Remus shifts from his spot in Sirius’ swivel chair, and crouches before him, cupping a hand to his cheek and forcing Sirius to meet his gaze.

“Please come home,” Remus says softly, and the vulnerability in his eyes almost breaks Sirius. He almost caves. Almost.

“I have to finish this section,” Sirius mumbles, reluctantly removing himself from the warmth of Remus’ palm, and turning back to his designs.

Remus says nothing, and Sirius cannot bear to look back at him, for the disappointment in them will be unbearable. When Remus gets up and leaves, Sirius feels his already-broken heart shrivelling, and he forces himself to breathe through the pain of it, concentrating as hard as he can to distract from the ache in his chest.

But then -

The door clicks open once more, and Sirius jerks around in surprise. Remus is standing there, his expression heart-rendingly kind. He’s got a blanket wrapped about his shoulders and arms full of take-out containers.

(Sirius wants to sob at the gesture - at how good Remus is, and how much he cares - but he can’t seem to remember how. Or rather, there’s something that doesn’t allow the tears to come, they’re somewhere inside him, but trapped).

Remus sits beside him, and Sirius tucks against his side, huddling into the blanket that Remus drapes between them. When Remus pops the lids on the various containers, the aroma of Indian food hits his nostrils, and for the first time in weeks, the smell doesn’t nauseate him. He manages more than a few mouthfuls, listens to Remus natter about his day, allows himself this hour to just be.

Because then it’s back to the grind, and no amount of pleading from Remus will persuade him to cut himself some slack.

(Why should he take it easy when Alphard cannot take anything ever again?)

The finished design is pretty fucking epic; superheroes will decorate the wall, clad in brightly coloured costumes and masks, but these superheroes are special, because some are in wheelchairs or on crutches or missing limbs, some have Special Needs, some have no hair, some have oxygen tanks. In other words, they look like the children he’s seen on his visits to the ward, all with various illnesses and injuries, all far stronger than anyone their age should have to be.

(And if there’s a hero in there who’s older, with crinkles around his grey eyes and a wild mane of platinum hair, whose features make Sirius’ chest pang, then what of it?)

The commissioners are utterly thrilled with it. The children are delighted, the families are admiring, the medical staff appreciative. Congratulations, interview requests, and thanks come pouring in at an alarming rate. Plans are made for it to be painted the following month, and the attention it attracts funds a second commission in another section of the hospital. All Sirius hears is how well he’s done, that he’s a rising star, that this is only the beginning of a bright future. And of course, he’s grateful, these are things he’s dreamed of hearing his whole life.

But it’s too much.

Of the people clamouring his brilliance, there are none more enthusiastic or proud than his friends, all of whom photograph it from every single angle, save any and all mentions of his name in the local paper’s coverage, are more supportive than he deserves.

And Sirius -

Does not register any of it.

It's almost like he thought that finishing these projects and making a name for himself would feel like enough - would counter the horrible, unacceptable truth that Alphard is gone.

But nothing has changed.

Alphard is still gone.

And logically, Sirius knew that completing these projects and pretending things were normal wouldn’t change this fact.

But he still feels like a failure for it.

When the paint is dry on the walls, Sirius leaves the hospital, nodding at the nurses he’s come to know by name, and… walks. He walks past the tube stop he needs to take if he’s heading back to the office, past the stop that leads home, past the buses that he could catch to Peter’s - and he just keeps walking.

The sun drifts lower and lower in the sky, until the Christmas lights are flickering on and Sirius is low-key shaking with the cold the evening brings. Businessmen shove past him impatiently whilst tourists amble in front of him, and no matter where he positions himself, he is in the way, a burden, an annoyance, empty, empty, empty. Catching sight of his reflection in the shop windows is a nasty surprise; he barely recognises himself in the heavy bags beneath his eyes and the downwards twist of his mouth, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

By the time his nose is running from the cold air and his limbs are well and truly numb, the crowds have thinned out, but he doesn’t stop walking. His mind is oddly blank, and his feet keep carrying him, as though each step might shake off the incredible weight of grief he’s shouldering.

(It doesn’t).

He’s not sure at what point the tears start coming. In fact, it’s only when an older gentleman leaving a mosque stops him in concern that he’s even aware that he’s crying. He accepts the tissue the man is pressing on him, but waves off any other questions, dabbing his leaking eyes and forging onwards.

It’s ironic that the harder he cries, the more people avoid meeting his gaze. The tears are streaming and his vision is too-blurred to see straight - he’s a complete fucking wreck, and nobody cares enough to help him.

(Except that’s not quite true).

(Because there are friends who would help him only a phone call away, and it would break James’ too-generous heart to know that Sirius was walking the streets alone and devastated).

(As it is, it’s Remus’ door he ends up at).

(Because of course it’s Remus. It’s always been Remus).

He’s trying to pluck up the courage to knock on the door, when the man himself comes round the corner. Remus is wearing his university sweater - the one that Sirius likes to steal and curl up in because it’s huge and carries Remus’ scent better than anything else - and has his earphones in, a carrier bag swinging loosely from his fingers. Sirius hasn’t been spotted yet, which gives him approximately five seconds to arrange his features into something a little less distressing, and wipe his eyes.

Then, Remus looks up. The second his eyes meet Sirius’, he’s running - and Remus doesn’t run - but he makes the short distance down the corridor in record time, and presses a hand to Sirius’ cheek.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, but Remus’ eyes flit frantically over Sirius’ face, before he loops his arm around Sirius, and tugs them both inside his apartment.

(Were he in a better state of mind, Sirius would be concerned over the fact that Remus doesn’t bother with a key, because his lock’s still fucking broken).

Winky hops down from her perch on Remus’ countertop, and purrs as she winds through their legs, following them to the sofa. Remus pulls Sirius down beside him, and Sirius goes, willingly, hugging as closely to Remus as is possible. The tears, which have momentarily eased, return again in full force, and Sirius is racked with sobs as he arches into Remus’ lap. “W-why am I - crying - again?” Sirius manages, and Remus runs a soothing hand up Sirius’ back. “Why can’t I stop?”

“Because you’ve repressed this for too long,” says Remus so gently that Sirius doesn’t even flinch at the blunt honesty of it. “Because you pushed through it, and didn’t let yourself grieve.”

Sirius screws his eyes shut, the pain in his chest mounting with every ragged breath he draws. “It hurts, Moony.” He claws at his chest vaguely, though hurts doesn’t even cover it - it’s all-encompassing, all-consuming -

“I’m sorry, love,” Remus whispers. He twines their fingers together, rubbing his chest in circular motions. It does nothing to ease the pain, but it’s a reminder that he’s not alone in this hell-hole, and it’s Remus.

“Hurts,” Sirius repeats to himself.

“What can I do?” Remus says, the desperation seeping into his tone.

Sirius shakes his head, has to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping something like bring back my dead uncle, and murmurs, “just hold me?”

“Of course,” Remus whispers, tugging Sirius even tighter against his chest.

Eventually, Sirius’ flow of tears ceases, though this has more to do with dehydration and exhaustion than because he’s nowhere near done feeling terrible about it. From that point, the intense cuddles morph into something more relaxed; the tv is left on a Netflix show they’ve both seen before, Remus reheats some leftovers, and Winky settles down in Sirius’ lap. Sirius looks blearily at the menorah in Remus’ window - it’s electric, because anything else in a flat so poorly-built and badly-designed seems too risky - and watches as Remus lights another of its candles. He looks so beautiful in the candlelight - all soft edges and warm golden glow - and he ducks his head self-consciously when he catches Sirius’ staring. “Happy Hanukkah,” he says.

“Happy Hanukkah,” Sirius returns, trying to ignore the thought of is Remus missing Hanukkah with his family? Is that because of me?

“Where do we go from here?” Remus asks, what must be several hours later, judging by the temperature drop in the room. Sirius, almost cozy and comfortable in his nest of blankets-safety-Remus, takes an anxious breath, because he knows what he needs, but it’s not what he wants.

“I think… I need to sign off work for a while. But like, properly this time.”

Remus squeezes his hip where his hand is resting. “I think that sounds like a really smart idea. I’m proud of you.”

“I love you,” Sirius says quietly, and one day, when his head is less grief-heavy and his heart less broken, he will be able to say those words with the full significance of everything in his soul. But today is not that day.

Remus replies at once, and the words bring a warmth around his heart that is the most feeling he’s had in far too long. “I love you too.”

And so begins a true healing period. One in which Sirius lets himself sob when he feels his heart re-shattering, scream when everything feels so unfair dammit, smile when something pleasant happens - because lovely things do happen, and he doesn’t have to live the rest of his life feeling guilty for it.

(Or so his therapist says. He’ll get there eventually).

In other news, he’s sort of living at Remus’ now? For the time being at least? The first night he’d slept over, Remus had had to go to work the next day, and Sirius just… didn’t leave. And then he continued to not leave. He spends the time Remus is working hanging out with his friends in their various workplaces, or binge-watching shows with Winky, or sketching for fun, not for work, I promise, Prongs. It’s the first time in forever that his mind has been able to just be, and he can feel the weight lifting a little with every day he spends waking up to the sight of Remus bashing his alarm clock in annoyance.

That’s not to say it’s easy - it’s not. There are days where getting out of bed is Far Too Much, and he cannot breathe for panicking. There are times when he remembers that he’s probably really overstayed his welcome at Remus’ and works himself into a tizzy about burdening his best friend.

But there are also lazy Saturday mornings with pancakes and syrup, late-night excursions for ice cream, tug-of-wars with Winky, outfit-selecting for Remus, phone conversations to Remus’ family… it’s all so fucking domestic, and it makes Sirius’ heart ache for what could be. The thing is, living with Remus is safe and warm and comfortable, and Sirius wants it all, all of this and so much more.

(“Is it helping?” James asks him one Wednesday evening, when Remus has a bar shift and it’s just the two of them in the flat. Sirius feels guilty for the wistfulness in James’ eyes as he nods, but his heart flutters as James admits, “you seem so much better these days. Remus is so damn good for you”).

In Sirius’ incredibly unbiased opinion, he’s inclined to agree, because days later - days? weeks? months, even? - he opens his eyes, takes a breath, and isn’t bombarded with painful memories. And a little while after that, he wakes up and finds that his chest isn’t a gaping hole - it’s more like there’s the skin covering the wound is thin and fragile, but healing. He’s healing.

Before Sirius’ colossal and overwhelming breakdown, Marlene had promised to help him with the Will Situation, because an official-looking letter arrived from his parents’ lawyer that had made him burst into tears without even opening it. He kind of assumes she’s got better things to do, until one day, he gets the following cryptic message:

Marlene: ahem, bow down before me, underling, for I have worked magic and it is finally time to recognise my brilliance

Sirius: ????????

Sirius: i kno ur brilliant i don’t understand

Marlene: true, true

Marlene: but no seriously, I’ve dealt with your shitty family and the will money is yours. They can’t touch it, or you.

Sirius: ??????

Sirius: !!!!!!!

Sirius: are you for real???

[Sirius is calling]

“Marls,” Sirius half-sobs the second she picks up, “Marls - thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Marlene’s voice - usually full of the fire and justice that make her such a successful lawyer - is soft, but no less protective. “It’s amazing what you can achieve with accusations of child abuse and neglect.”

Sirius winces, because she’s right, but the truth hurts. “I love you,” he says, and Marlene makes an mhm sound that Sirius knows is accompanied by a hair flip. “I - I don’t know how to thank you enough -”

“No seriously, don’t mention it. You’re my friend and I would do anything for you, yada-yada-yada, let’s not get sappy.” Marlene’s briskness has returned, and Sirius can’t help the fond smile his lips curve into. “I’m gonna send you over the details of emails between me and their fuckheads - I mean lawyer scum - and the form you need to sign, and then the money is yours.”

There’s a pause, in which Sirius exhales, trying to process everything all at once, and Marlene softens her tone again: “And Sirius, love?”

“Mmm?” Sirius says vaguely, still too affected to deal with more.

“It’s a lot. The money, I mean. He’s left you everything.”

“I don’t care about the money - as long as I don’t have to face them again, I couldn’t care less about-”

“You will, when you see it.”

(Despite Marlene’s efforts to warn him, waking up one morning with an extra two digits on his account balance is a shock, to put it mildly. Once he’s finished logging in and out of his account, refreshing the page, and even contacting his bank, it finally begins to sink in that Alphard has given him everything. And the implications of that generosity are huge).

Because, here’s the other thing: Sirius knows that Remus is poor. Living with Remus had been like a brick in the face at university, because he’d never had to worry about where his next meal was coming from, or choosing between paying the gas bills and paying for school textbooks. But Remus did have to, saved and scrimped every penny like it was goldust, and got terrifyingly annoyed at the rest of them if they were ever wasteful. But somehow, in Sirius’ disgusting throne of privilege, since university he’s sort of forgotten what it looks like to be poor. It’s only as he watches Remus cut open toothpaste tubes to scrape off the remnants, or mix his toiletries with water when they’re half-full, or save potato peelings for homemade soups, that he remembers. (And he’s completely disgusted with himself that he ever forgot).

He watches Remus’ pile of bank letters grow, watches the way Remus’ wrinkles deepen and his shoulders climb higher and higher with tension whenever he’s opening his bills. He watches Remus’ gaze skip straight over the Tesco Finest selections, to the reduced to clear and everyday value ones. He watches Remus wear through the sole of his shoes, shrug and continue wearing them, because what choice does he have?

And his door’s still fucking broken.

Sirius thinks it’s this last thing that causes the spark of inspiration in his brain, and once it’s ignited, it’s unstoppable.

“We should move out and get a place together,” is what he proposes over dinner that night, his heart hammering and palms sweating.

Remus raises his eyebrows, forces a laugh, and says, “very funny, Padfoot.”

“No, I’m serious -”

“So am I,” Remus says, laying his fork back on the plate. “We’ve talked about this before. This place is a shithole but it’s also the only London property in my budget.”

“Not if we were living together.”

Remus pauses, and for a split-second, Sirius thinks he’s going to agree. “You and I have wildly different budgets,” he says eventually, taking a sip of his drink, and not meeting Sirius’ eye. “And besides, I thought you were saving up for your own place?”

“Just listen to me, for a second,” Sirius says, reaching across the table and wrapping his hand around Remus’ wrist. Remus looks at him, but says nothing, and Sirius takes this as a sign to continue. “I’ve researched this properly, Moony. This place is awful, and I hate the thought of you living somewhere like this… but if we joined forces - well, with the money from Alphard, we could get somewhere together - somewhere nice and safe.”

Remus has stiffened, and Sirius feels the anxiety creeping up his spine like a serpent.

Fuck.

“I don’t want your money, Sirius,” says Remus tightly. “Or Alphard’s. Let’s drop it.”

“But it could help us find somewhere to live,” Sirius protests, his anxiety making him clumsy and insensitive, but also unable to stop his efforts. “You could live somewhere with a landlord who’ll fix your door, and where you don’t get faggot written on your mailbox, and where-”

Remus stands abruptly, taking his bowl to the sink, and scrubbing at it harshly. “Drop. It.”

“Just explain it to me then!

“I just did, you’re not listening.”

“If this is about the money, then you know I don’t care -”

“Exactly, you don’t care about it,” spits Remus, whirling back around to face him and - oh, he’s pissed. “Because you’ve never had to. You look at a place like this and think, oh what a dump, and throw your money around, but for some of us, this is as good as it gets, okay?”

He’s not quite shouting, but this is no longer a conversation, and Sirius feels awful and shaky. “But I’m offering you a way out of that,” he says in a small voice, even as he digs himself further and further into this grave.

Remus closes his eyes, presses his fingers against his mouth, and says, “I don’t want your money. I’m really happy that Alphard’s left you enough money that you’re able to offer this, and I know this comes from a good place, but-”

“You can have half,” is what spills out of his mouth, and he knows how it sounds - it may have come from a place of utmost care and concern but right now, it just sounds privileged and classist and awful. “I-”

“I don’t want your money,” Remus repeats. His face has shuttered off, and Sirius feels a swell of annoyance because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Stop being so bloody proud, I just want to help,” Sirius snaps back, hating himself even as he’s ruining everything. “I love you, and I don’t want you to live like this.”

Remus laughs, but the sound is wrong-wrong-wrong, miserable and cruel and so un-Remus-like that Sirius flinches. “If you really loved me, you would understand that you’re being a massive dick about this.”

Silence falls. Winky looks between them, at the shattered remnants of their friendship/relationship/whatever they are to each other. Sirius’ chest hurts once more, but this is an entirely different type of heartbreak, one that he’s not sure he’ll survive.

“You can go.” Remus won’t look at him.(Sirius has ruined everything).

#littleoldrachel writes #writing #fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #100 ways to say i love you

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 6 years

Text

Glitch in the System - New Ink

Some new art happens.

By E.

“Do you have an appointment?”

Sombra looked at Widow as the woman tensed - she didn’t appreciate being questioned, or any implication that her plans might be compromised. The tattoo artist behind the counter didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary in the taller woman’s rigid stance, fingers hovering expectantly over the holographic display of the digital pad before them.

They didn’t have an appointment, though.

“No,” Sombra answered, smiling. “Behold the dreaded walk-in.” She gestured at a sign by the front door that proclaimed WALK-INS WELCOME in thick, chunky text. The shop logo was a smiling bulldog with perked up ears, the words New Tricks Tattoo under his face.

“Oh, yeah, that’s not a problem!” the artist replied, and Sombra felt Widow relax beside her. “Saves me from having to sift through my boss’s terrible bookkeeping.” Flipping the holopad off, they stepped out from behind the counter. “Come on back! I’m Tiger.”

“Sofia,” Sombra replied, “and this is Danielle.” Sombra glanced at Widow and they followed the artist, down some stairs, and over to a long black table. Several lights floated alongside, and Tiger pushed them away to sit down on the stool by a large trunk containing another holopad and an antique-looking box. There were bottles of all sorts of color arranged on a shelf above the chest, and the station was decorated with paintings and sculptures Sombra could only assume were the artists’ own work.

“So,” they said, leaning forward and gesturing for Sombra and Widow to sit in the chairs by the wall. “What were you thinking of getting?”

“Um,” Sombra paused, not sure why she was surprised to have the question asked. Widow looked at her expectantly, and she blushed. It wasn’t often she felt out of place, but sitting here between Tiger and their artistically covered skin and Widowmaker with her macabre French scrawlings across her arms, she felt, for the first time in a while, like a complete and total outsider.

“I was thinking, I don’t know - a take on the tragedy and comedy theater masks, except maybe more...skully?” she stumbled, not sure how to describe the image in her mind. As she spoke, the artist began sketching on their holo pad, nodding for Sombra to continue. “Less silly, more anatomical, I guess,” she summed it up. The artist drew furiously for a minute or two more, pursing their lips and furrowing their brow as their pen raced across the holopad’s surface.

“Like this?” they said eventually, flipping the pad around to show a new take on the theme, with a grimacing skeleton behind a grinning one in the forefront. “It’s just a sketch, but that’s the image I got as you were talking.”

Sombra blinked, impressed. “Yeah that’s pretty much what I had in mind.”

“Perfect,” the artist beamed, setting the pad down. “Let’s get you prepped and we’ll get to work.”

“Aren’t you going to draw the final copy?” Sombra asked, worried. Widowmaker was silent, eyes on the stairs in case anyone came down them that she didn’t like the looks of.

“I certainly can,” the artist nodded, “but it might take me a little bit. Would you like to schedule an appointment for later in the week?”

Sombra looked around at the art hanging on the walls. She’d seen the artist’s work - it was why they’d come here in the first place - and she certainly didn’t feel like waiting.

“No, I mean,” she hesitated, sweating a bit, “you’re the professional. I trust you.”

The artist beamed. “Awesome. Honestly I work best when it’s a sort of collaborative, free form exercise like this. I’ll let you know how it’s going along the way, too, so if you want to add anything, we can.”

“Cool,” Sombra said, less nervous about the quality of the artist’s work and far more about the impending hour of pain she’d signed up for.

Standing up, Tiger began wiping down the table, giving Widowmaker a closer look as they did. “Where’d you get your skin work done?” they asked. Sombra could feel her nerves jumping all over in time to the buzzing of a tattoo needle somewhere else in the shop. It was a high pitched keen that grated against her already rising anxiety, and she hoped it wouldn’t be so bad when it was happening to her directly.

“Quoi?” Widowmaker replied, unprepared for the question, and even Sombra was perplexed as to what they were asking.

“Is it grafts or cybernetics?” they pressed, still making small talk as they applied the sketch of the design to the small scanner on their wrist.

“Grafts,” Sombra said, at the same time Widowmaker said “Cybernetics.”

“Cybernetics,” Sombra corrected, at the same time Widowmaker amended with “Grafts.”

They looked at one another, a thin blush creeping over Widow’s face. That tattoo artist simply shrugged and laughed.

“Trade secret?” they asked knowingly.

“Yes,” Widow replied, pulling out a book and opening it on her lap, patently ignoring Tiger’s stare. Sombra looked at them and shrugged.

“Are you ready to get started?” they asked, pulling out a thin laser device. “I just need to shave your shoulder blade where the tattoo is going to go.”

“I have hair on my shoulder?” Sombra asked skeptically, but leaned over obediently against the soft cushion Tiger had positioned for her comfort.

There was a short beep followed by the brief sensation of pressure. “Not anymore!” they chuckled. “Back in the day we had to use soap and razors for this sort of thing.”

“That feels uncomfortably intimate,” Sombra replied, stretching out on the chair, arms folded under her chin as she wrapped her legs around the single metal pole holding the chair in place.

“Not as intimate as we’re about to become.” Tiger raised the scanner at her wrist over Sombra’s shoulder, and the hacker looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind them as the device slowly imprinted a purple ink version of the sketch onto her freshly-shaven skin. “Look good? Placement ok?” Tiger asked.

“Yeah,” Sombra nodded before turning her head back forward. A moment later, she heard the sound of a tattoo gun whir to life right behind her. She jumped, and chastised herself immediately for doing so, glad it happened before needle meant flesh and not after.

“You ready?”

Stealing a peek back, she noted briefly that despite being surrounded by new technology, the machine itself must have been decades old. It was a rich red mahogany etched with pictures of flowers, clearly something used for its own inherent aesthetic value as well as the tradition that came with it.

“I guess,” she said, turning back around.

Sombra exhaled sharply, wincing against the pain as the weight of Tiger’s hand was followed by the ragged pull of sharpness. It was not the worst pain she’d felt in her life, but in the grand scheme of sensations she enjoyed compared to ones she did not, this was falling a lot more firmly into the latter category.

“Ohhh, fuck,” Sombra hissed between clenched teeth. “It feels like someone’s letting Toulouse have at my scapula. How long is this going to take again?”

“An hour or so. More if you keep squirming.”

“A complete cybernetic overhaul and this is what affects you?” Widow asked, one eyebrow raised in symmetry with the quirk of her mouth. “A needle?”

“It’s not a needle, it’s,” she hesitated, looking back at Tiger.

“Seven needles,” they replied without looking up.

“Seven needles,” Sombra echoed petulantly. “And it hurts.”

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Widow offered in amusement, eyebrow raised over her book.

“Yes.”

Chuckling softly to herself, she reached out and took Sombra’s hand, squeezing her reassuringly as the machine buzzed on.

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

#spiderbyte #sombramaker #widowsombra #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #sombra #Olivia colomar #Widowmaker #amelie lacroix #Amélie Lacroix #Overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #glitch in the system #glitchfic

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sadrien · 7 years

Text

prince of cats

chapter five: to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss

on ao3 || on ffnet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

hey everyone, how was your week!

posting wise, we've passed the halfway point of what i currently have written (i have through ch9 written at the moment). i'll hopefully write most of the rest of the fic in august, just at the moment my productivity writing wise is down because i've been drawing a lot and listening to taz!

enjoy!

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess just letting u kno that i hate my boyfriend

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Thats a lie and you know it Whats he making you do

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess >:( hes making us go out to dinner with his moms

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Oh THIS dinner

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess yup

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful First of all I talked to Nino about it last time you brought it up and its just a normal dinner His moms just want to spend time with you two From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess ur sure From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Absolutely Alya you love Ninos moms Theyve basically adopted you

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess ur right im just tired ninos really excited so i was worried im missing something or am gonna be surprised by something

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful As far as I can tell its just a normal dinner No surprises just Nino being Nino And the answer is to take a nap when you get home from work Did you not sleep much last night?

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess nah i was working on a project until like 3 cause i hate myself nino had to drag me to bed

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Thank god for Nino

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess yeah he haaated me last night speaking of cute boys tho

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Alya oh my god

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess im sorry uve been friends w adrien for how long now?? 3 weeks??? more than a month?? literal years!?!!?!??!?! u talk about him all the time when r we gonna meet him

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful Eventually!!!!! I promise I just dont want you scaring him away

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess nino and i r great we dont scare ppl

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful uh huh

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess shut up also get me his last name

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette puts down her sketch book. “Let’s go to the store.”

Adrien looks up from his laptop in surprise. “What?”

She’s gotten used to weekends with Adrien. He doesn’t expect her to look nice or even all that presentable, and she doesn’t expect him to, they just sit on the couch or in the kitchen and do their own thing. Adrien usually works, because he literally never stops working, and Marinette designs. She forces him to watch her favorite shows with her, even if it means that she has to explain to him who every single character is and the entire plot. In return, he’s managed to get her to watch some of his favorite movies. He randomly shows up throughout the week if he needs something from her kitchen because he always seems to be short something. Marinette is genuinely considering giving him a key to her apartment. Even if it’s just so he can steal from her fridge and cabinets.

“The store.” She pulls her hair up into a messy bun and grabs her purse off the back of her chair.

Adrien stares at her like she’s grown another head.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want, but if you need anything, you should.” She gestures toward the door.

“What do you need?” he asks, apparently having found his voice.

“Fabric,” she says, ticking things off on her fingers, “some thread, ribbon, watercolor paper, brush markers if they have any, and pizza.”

He laughs and runs his hands through his hair. “I do like pizza.”

Marinette picks up her keys. “So are you coming? Because if you aren’t I should probably kick you out.”

“What?” Adrien asks as he stands. “You don’t trust me?”

“You might steal my Jagged Stone poster,” she says with a shrug of her shoulder.

“Fair enough.” He pulls on his coat. “Show me the way.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette opts to walk to most of the stores. She asks Adrien if he minds and he just shakes his head and pulls his phone out of his pocket, sending a few quick texts as they make their way down the stairs and out of the apartment building.

“Where are we going exactly?” Adrien asks, pulling the door open.

“Fabric store first,” Marinette says, stuffing her phone into her purse.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you have fabric at work?”

“Yes, but you’re missing the point— turn here. I don’t have fabric at home. At work, I do stuff for the head designer and my boss. I have much more creative freedom when I’m at home.”

“Huh.” Adrien flips his phone over in his hand. “Interesting. I know nothing about fashion so…”

Marinette smiles. “I sort of figured.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know much about how any sort of normal jobs work. I’ve got it relatively easy.”

“Working from your apartment and living off of take out?” she asks innocently.

Adrien rolls his eyes. “Yes exactly.”

Marinette elbows him lightly. “You’re very lucky you have me to teach you how to bake.”

It’s a nice day, not too hot and not too cold, without too many people walking around the streets. She finds herself wishing that she had more free time to spend outside, that she still had a balcony like she did when she was growing up. She misses having time to herself, where she could garden and sit outside and sew. It’s too nice to be stuck inside all the time.

Adrien accuses her of taking the long way and she doesn’t defend herself.

She holds the door open for Adrien when they get to the store, letting the far too cold airconditioning billow out onto the sidewalk.

Adrien wanders around in a sort of daze as Marinette pulls out her sketchbook and meticulously looks for the exact shade of blue that she needs.

“You needed ribbon?” Adrien asks, suddenly popping out of nowhere.

Marinette squeaks and jumps back with a start, dropping her sketchbook in surprise.

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly before bending over to pick up her sketchbook. He hands it back to her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She takes a few deep breaths before taking the sketchbook from him. “It’s fine, you just surprised me. Easy to do when I’m concentrating.”

“What are you looking for?” Adrien asks, leaning closer, tilting his head to look at the page she has her sketchbook flipped open to.

“A blue,” Marinette murmurs, pointing to a swatch of fabric she stole from work and taped onto the page. “I mean obviously I have a type of fabric in my mind, I’m just really desperate for this shade of blue because—” Well…she doesn’t actually have a reason. She’s just attached. And that’s silly.

Adrien hums to himself. “Okay,” he says after a moment. And then he vanishes into another aisle.

Marinette stares at the space he was occupying for a long moment before shrugging and moving on. She decides she’ll find the blue later and starts looking for white lining. She pulls a bolt from the shelf, feeling the fabric between her fingers. It’s a little heavier than she would like, but if she can’t find anything else, she can make it work.

Adrien steps out from around the corner. “Would this work?” he asks, holding out a bolt of blue fabric.

Marinette blinks and takes it from him, running her fingers over the satin-like fabric. “This is…this is perfect, actually.”

He shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets. “I have a lot of experience with lots of types of fabrics.” He ignores the confused look Marinette gives him. She has questions, but mostly she’s just glad she doesn’t have to rethink the entire color scheme of this outfit.

Adrien watches over her shoulder as she chooses ribbon and nods as she rambles on about what she’s making. He doesn’t look like he understands what she’s saying to him, but he’s listening and that’s enough.

Marinette estimates how much fabric she needs and Adrien hums to himself as they get the fabric cut and check out.

“What did you think?” Marinette asks as he pushes the door open for her.

Adrien blinks in the bright sunlight and glances down the street before looking back to Marinette. “It was nice,” he says. “Overwhelming, but strangely calming.”

Marinette laughs. “That sounds about right.”

“Where to next?” Adrien asks with a tilt of his head.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Know anything about art?” Marinette asks as she pulls open the door to the art store.

“Hardly,” Adrien says with a crooked smile. “I don’t know anything about most creative things. I know music and that’s kind of where my creative talents end.”

“Music?” Marinette asks. He’s never mentioned anything about music before, though he hasn’t mentioned many hobbies or talents in general.

“Piano,” he specifies. “Took lessons for years, my parents insisted.”

Marinette leads him toward the markers and paints. “So you must be pretty good, huh?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Nowhere as good as my father would like me to be, but I’m passable.”

She rolls her eyes. “So that means you’re fantastic.”

“It really doesn’t,” Adrien says with a laugh. “But thanks for your faith in me.”

Marinette studies the brush markers, trying to decide what brand to get and how much money she’s willing to shell out today. Adrien amuses himself by uncapping some of the markers and trying out the testing markers while she Googles reviews on the internet. He’s flipping through an anatomy book when she decides on a set of markers and moves on to paper. She’s running low.

Marinette wanders further down the aisle where the sketchbooks and papers are. She feels someone’s eyes on her, but when she looks up, she sees a worker at the entrance. Marinette picks up a pack of watercolor paper and hums to herself. She still isn’t sure if she likes this paper, but she has very few options she can afford.

Adrien holds up a copic marker. “Why is this seven euros?”

She blinks at him. “Because it is?”

He squints at it. “It’s just a marker?”

“It’s a copic marker,” she says, like that will explain everything. Judging by the expression on his face, it doesn’t help at all. Marinette takes the marker from him and puts it back with the others. “It’s alcohol based and fancy, that’s why it’s expensive.”

Adrien looks at the case of copics in wonder. “Why would you spend so much on a marker?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette says. Adrien raises his eyebrows and she just shrugs. “I don’t usually use them. I don’t need nice markers and I don’t exactly have a lot of money to be spending on things I don’t need.”

“Fair enough,” he murmurs. He narrows his eyes at the copic. “That better be one magical marker if I’m paying seven euros for it.”

Marinette snorts. “Lucky for you, you’re not.”

Adrien gives her a lopsided smile. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m no Picasso. I think the best I can do is a stick figure.”

She elbows him lightly. “I’m sure you draw beautiful stick figures.”

Adrien laughs and for that moment, Marinette’s world gets a little brighter and her heart starts to sing.

✦ ✦ ✦

“Have you ever had pizza here?” Marinette asks as her and Adrien wait in line to order.

“Mostly I just get whatever will deliver,” he admits.

“You don’t leave the apartment much, do you?” she teases.

Adrien rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t usually need to.”

“Do you know what you want or do you just want the same as me?”

“Let’s go with the latter.”

Marinette orders her usual and pays before Adrien can offer, rejecting it when it does come. “My treat,” she says with a smile.

They sit in a booth by the window with their pizza and bags.

“Careful, it’s hot—” Marinette warns, just as Adrien burns his tongue.

“Ahhhh—” He sticks his tongue out and makes a pained expression.

She hides her smile behind her slice, but Adrien catches it and glares at her. She just shrugs. “I tried to warn you.” As she picks up her slice, someone catches her eye.

They’re watching her and Adrien out of the corner of their eye. They make eye contact with her and quickly go back to whatever they were doing on their phone. Adrien hisses in pain, bringing Marinette’s attention back to their table. “That was a mistake.”

Marinette opens her mouth to reply. The strange feeling of someone’s eyes on her passes through her and makes her freeze up and she looks back to the person who was watching them. They’re packing up their things and heading out the door.

“What is it?” Adrien asks.

Marinette shakes her head. “Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew. I was wrong.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Been there, done that. I’ve walked up to people thinking I knew them before. I did not.” She winces. “It was incredibly embarrassing.”

“I can imagine,” she says, taking a careful bite of her pizza.

Adrien eyes her. “Am I going to burn my face off this time?”

Marinette snorts and lowers her slice. “I think you’re okay now.”

“If I die, my blood is on your hands,” he says seriously.

She rolls her eyes. “Pizza isn’t going to kill you, I promise.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Adrien trails behind Marinette on the stairs, writing a quick email and carrying one of her bags.

“Come in for a minute?” Marinette asks as she pulls out her keys.

“Hm?” Adrien asks. He glances up from his phone. “Oh! Oh yeah, sure. I left my laptop on your table, anyway.”

She shakes her head as she unlocks her apartment. “You have to have more of your stuff at my apartment than your own.”

“It’s called minimalism,” Adrien says seriously.

Marinette frowns as the door swings open. She glances over her shoulder to Adrien. “I didn’t leave the TV on, did I?”

Adrien shakes his head. “We didn’t have it—”

“Hey!” Alya shouts from the couch.

“—on…” He trails off and hangs back by the door.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s one of my friends. Trust me, I regret letting her have a key to this place,” she stage whispers. She shuts the door once Adrien has stepped inside after a bit of hesitation. She leaves her bags on the table before joining Alya, and apparently Nino, in front of the TV.

Nino pauses whatever show they’re watching and returns to the Netflix home screen.

Marinette crosses her arms and leans over the back of the couch. “Why are you in my house?”

“Apartment,” Nino corrects lightly.

Adrien snorts from where he’s standing awkwardly in the kitchen. He puts Marinette’s bags down on the counter and closes his laptop before holding it to his chest.

“I’ve got a present,” Alya sings, holding up a box.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Is this payment for breaking and entering?”

“It’s not breaking if you have the key,” Nino points out. He continues to flip through Netflix. “Can’t argue the entering though.”

Alya smiles brightly at Adrien, but Marinette doesn’t miss the way Alya’s eyes sweep over him, taking in as many details as she can. “Hey, stranger!”

Adrien lifts a hand awkwardly, still hanging back by the door.

Nino leans back and nods at Adrien. “Yo, join the party.”

“I should—” Adrien gestures to the door.

Alya jumps up from the couch and hops of the back. She grabs Marinette’s arm as she breezes by, dragging her over to Adrien.

“Alya,” Marinette hisses, attempting to dig her heels into the ground as Alya pulls her along.

“I’m Alya!” she announces, holding out her hand to Adrien. “Marinette’s best friend.”

Adrien hesitates for a long moment before he shakes Alya’s hand. “Adrien. Marinette’s…” his gaze slides to Marinette before snapping back to Alya. “Her neighbor.”

Marinette tries to keep her blush from burning too brightly.

Alya shakes his hand eagerly. “Great to meet you!”

“Nino!” he shouts from the couch. “But I was working all day and I’m tired so sorry, dude, I’m staying put.”

“It’s fine,” Adrien promises. “I really should be getting back. Plagg needs to be fed.”

Marinette nods and pulls away from Alya. “Yeah, of course! Let me just— I’ll show you out.” Alya puts the box into Marinette’s hands winks. Marinette gives her a little shove toward the couch as Adrien pulls open the door.

“You didn’t have to show me out,” Adrien insists as Marinette quickly closes the door once they’re in the hallway. She leans against it so Alya can’t look out the peephole. “I’m sure I won’t get lost on the way home.” He gives her a small smile.

“I wanted the chance to apologize for…them.” Marinette waves at the door behind her. “Mostly Alya, but both of them. They can be a lot.”

“They seem nice,” Adrien says, and Marinette still can’t read him well enough to know if he’s being sincere or not. “What did they get you?” He gestures to the box Marinette is awkwardly holding.

“Pastries. They’re from my parents’ bakery,” Marinette says quickly. “Tom and Sabine’s— they’re my parents. That’s me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom and Sabine.” She swallows and glances down at her feet. That was a little too much rambling.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien repeats softly. “You have a beautiful name.” He’s smiling when Marinette looks up at him.

She bites her lip. “Th-thank you. What about you, what’s your last name?”

“Kersey,” Adrien says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk. “Adrien Kersey.”

“A nice name,” Marinette says, running it over in her mind. Alya will kill her if she forgets it, but Marinette is fairly certain it’s burned into her brain forever.

“Thanks, my parents chose it,” Adrien jokes. “I’m just stuck with it.” He pushes open his door. “You’ll have to take me to your parents’ bakery sometime. I bet it’s great.”

“Sounds good,” Marinette murmurs as Adrien lifts a hand and disappears into his apartment. When the door clicks shut behind him, she sags against her own door and lets out a sigh.

She really doesn’t know how to handle this boy.

Alya and Nino are staring at her when she reenters the apartment. Marinette feels her face burn as she closes and locks the door.

“Not a word,” she says, putting the box from the bakery down on the kitchen counter.

Nino mimes zipping his lips shut.

“No words?” Alya asks. “Are you sure? Because I have so many words.”

“Yeah, he’s hot,” Nino says.

Marinette glares at him. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

“Alright, now that we are saying things,” Alya says, twisting around on the couch, “where were you? You don’t leave the house without us.”

“I leave the house!” Marinette protests.

Nino raises his eyebrows. “To have fun?”

Marinette turns away to put her keys back.

“Oooo,” Alya drawls. “Silent treatment.”

“It wasn’t fun, anyway,” Marinette says. “I had errands to run.”

“That you decided to run with a cute boy,” Alya points out.

“That sounds like fun to me,” Nino muses.

Marinette glances over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side here?”

Alya gives her an offended look. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“I’ve known him longer.”

“Touché, Dupain-Cheng,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

Marinette sighs. “Speaking of last names…”

“You got it!” Alya shouts, jumping up from the couch. Nino tries to shush her, and she grabs a pillow and covers his face with it. “Tell me tell me tell me— I want to Facebook stalk him.”

Nino pulls the pillow away. “Who uses Facebook anymore?”

Alya turns to Marinette with wide eyes. “Is he secretly a wine mom?”

Marinette stares at her for a long moment. “Why are we friends.”

Alya throws the pillow across the room.

Marinette bats it away and says, “If you want Adrien’s last name, maybe you shouldn’t be throwing things at me.”

“She has a point, babe,” Nino agrees.

Alya sticks her tongue out at him before patting the cushion next to her eagerly. “Come on, Mar! I’ve waited a literal month for this.”

“Hm…” Marinette taps a finger against her lips. “Maybe I should keep you waiting.”

“Marinette!”

“Fine!” She drops down between Alya and the arm of the couch. “His last name is Kersey.”

Alya yanks her phone out of her pocket and starts typing rapidly.

Nino leans forward to look Marinette in the eye. “How long do you think she’s going to be at this?”

“A long time,” Marinette admits.

“Wanna see what Disney movies are on Netflix?” he asks, picking the remote back up. “We put some takeout in your fridge for later tonight.”

“Sounds good to me,” Marinette says. “I need to do a lot of nothing before work tomorrow.”

Nino types in Disney and starts scrolling through the results. “Are Zoé and Dorian still arguing about that thing?”

“If you’re talking about that jacket thing from a few weeks ago, they’re over that. If you’re talking about fake leather, they spent like an hour ‘debating’ that on Friday.”

“Fake leather,” Nino says in wonder. “Why were they debating that? I thought this collection was all like…dresses and stuff. Flowy soft things. What does fake leather have to do with that?”

“Nothing.”

Nino stops clicking through movies for a second. “I don’t understand you people.”

Marinette sighs and sinks against the back of the couch, pulling a pillow to her chest. “Neither do I,” she murmurs.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #my fics #proc ml #prince of cats ml #hello

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dioskourixx · 6 years

Text

In The Blood Ch.9

“So...how was you guys’ Spring Break?” I asked. Raven, Sophie, and I had met up for lunch in between classes the first day back. Himchan and Yongguk were kind of AWOL, so it was as good as time as any to talk with just us girls. Sophie was the first one to respond, speaking in between small bites of her pepperoni Hawaiian pizza.

“Mine was great actually. I had so much fun in Tennessee. Oooh! You guys should definitely come with me next time! My uncle wouldn’t mind at all. And the animals are just so darn cute! The horses are so big now since last time I saw them. Oh! And I got to see a couple of the ducklings hatch. It was so cool!” Rae and I laughed softly at our bubbly friend.

“Well then,” Rae started as she picked around her spaghetti. “Sounds like you had a rather busy and adventurous break. I’m glad you had fun. I just mostly shopped around Washington and slept in. You know, catching up on my beauty rest and what not.” She chuckled as I rolled my eyes at her last comment.

“Wait a minute. I thought you and your parents were going to go to New York. What happened?” I asked, remembering how excited she seemed for the shopping trips she was bound to have in the big city. I heard her groan.

“You know that my dad is a history geek right? Always spouting off random facts and whatnot. Well, for some reason, he felt like New York was just a place for people to become mindless zombies of sales, and figured Washington would be more enlightening and beneficial. I, of course was not happy. Mom was kind of neutral.” This time Sophie spoke up.

“Well if it’s history he was seeking, you could've tried to persuade him by mentioning the Harlem Renaissance. Lots of history and art with that argument.” Sophie sipped her drink in a matter of fact manner as Raven groaned into her hands, muttering to herself that it would’ve been genius.

“Ugh! Enough about me,” Rae declared as she stopped wallowing in self pity. “How was your Spring Break Haze?”

“Not much, actually. I mostly just sketched and read.” I could already see the disappointed looks they were giving me.

“Don’t you do that on a regular basis, Haze? Is that all you did?” Sophie was the first to speak. I took another bite of my food before I told them that I also went to see a movie.

“The one you and Yongguk were supposed to go see?” Raven asked. “How’d that go by the way?” I looked down at my plate.

“I didn’t go with him.”

“Oh really?” It was Sophie’s turn. “So, you went by yourself?” I bit my bottom lip.

“I went with Ethan actually.” Immediately there was eyebrow wagging and “ooohs” from both of them. Raven spoke up after having her fun.

“How’d that happen? How did it go??” So, I ended up recounting the whole thing. Starting with meeting him coincidentally at the sandwich shop and him tagging along with me to the sci-fi movie.

“....then he walked me back to my dorm and he kind of...kissed me.” A confused Raven looked back at me.

“So? What’s the big deal? He’s kissed you before hasn’t he? On the first date? Unless this kiss was more on the hot and heavy side. If that’s the case then I need details miss.” I scoffed at her.

“What? Of course not. It wasn’t like that. It was on the forehead.” This time Sophie spoke up.

“Then, what’s so special about this kiss Haze? I’m confused.”

“I’m not sure Sophe. It just felt different. His demeanor was different. Instead of being shy like how he was the whole night, he seemed more...confident. More bold. I’m honestly confused myself. I can’t really pinpoint him just yet.”

“Well aside from all of that, it seems like you two are getting along well.” Sophe said in between small sips of her coke.

“Yeah...it seems so.” I caught a small smile play on Raven’s lips at this revelation as she took another forkful of pasta.

I saw Yongguk the following day in class. As we prepared to start taking notes on the lecture, my phone let out a soft buzz from my back pocket. Fishing it out, I saw that I had received a text message from Ethan.

“Good morning Beautiful :)” I felt the familiar smile I seemed to get lately find its way on my lips. I quickly typed out a “good morning” back, turned my phone on mute, and set it down on my desk. The teacher had just started talking about the midterms we had taken before Spring break. Apparently she wasn’t finished with the grading, but promised to finish soon and have the grades posted by the end of this week. My phone’s screen lit up briefly, before it faded to black once more. Another text message.

“How’d you sleep?” I responded with a simple “fine,” and asked him the same. The teacher began lecturing as I placed my phone back on my desk. Yongguk proceeded to get his pen out, ready to take notes and I followed suit, taking a sip of my morning coffee I bought before class. The teacher’s voice droned on as I tried to pick out the key concepts of the lecture. About ten minutes passed by before my phone lit up again. Ethan.

“I slept fine.” Before I could type out a response, another message popped up on my screen.

“So...I sort of have a problem. Maybe you can help me.” Now this definitely piqued my interest. My fingers started dancing across my keyboard before I had time to stop myself. I mean, I was in class after all.

“What kind of problem?” I placed my phone down on my desk, once more, only this time it was face down. Hopefully, by me not seeing my phone brighten whenever I get a text, I’ll be less inclined to respond immediately. I will say, that I managed to go a good twenty minutes before I couldn’t help but to snatch my phone up and read Ethan’s next message. I managed to jot down a few notes before then though. One glance at Yongguk’s paper though, told me that I missed a good bit of key points. Bright Screen.

“So there’s this really pretty girl that I want to invite for dinner this week, but I’m a little nervous. :/” A small burst of giggles left my lips as I read the message. Is he being serious?

“Well, why are you nervous?” I typed back. I went back to try to take more notes. God knows that I missed a huge portion of the lecture. The screen lights up again.. Only this time, I ignore it. The information seems really important, and I already don’t have sufficient notes as it is. No. I need to focus. That message will be there at the end of class, but for now, I need to take notes.

I’m not exactly sure, how many minutes ticked by, as I struggled not to let my curiosity of what Ethan sent back, win. Concentrate Haze. Stop looking at the damn phone! It was only a minute after chastising myself, that I rolled my eyes in annoyance towards myself and simultaneously picked up my phone to read Ethan’s reply.

“Well, it’s because I want to cook for her, and I don’t want to mess it up. Plus, I’ve never cooked for a girl before. What if she doesn’t like it?” Why was he being so...adorable right now?

“Lol. I’m sure she will be happy with the fact that you’re even trying to cook for her. Girls tend to appreciate the effort given. As for what to cook...what does she like to eat?” I exchanged the phone in my hand for my pencil as I was about to take notes...again. That is, before I saw what time it was. There was only seven minutes left. There was absolutely no point in trying to jot down the remainder of the lecture. I just hope Yongguk pulled through this time around. Bright screen.

“I’m not sure. :/. Let’s say that you were the girl I was planning on cooking for...hypothetically speaking, of course, what would you want to eat?” I didn’t have to ponder for long.

“Pasta and salad. It’s simple, easy, and hard to mess up.” As I sent my last message, everyone around me was packing up their belongings and headed for the exit. I followed suit, placing my notebook with my half assed notes and barely used pencil inside of my backpack. Once Yongguk and I were on the outside, safe from the herd of students, I turned to Yongguk wearing what I imagine looked like a sheepish expression.

“Soooo….Any ch-” Yongguk began shaking his head in amusement and laughed at me.

“I already know what you’re about to ask me and the answer is yes. I do have good notes this time, and yes you can copy them down.” I let out a relieved breath.

“Thanks Yongguk. I was somewhat distracted today.” A wide smile found its way on his lips as he nudged me in the arm.

“Yeah, I noticed. Was it this Ethan guy? You know, I’m not sure if I can approve of him, if he’s already hindering your school work young lady.” I playfully rolled my eyes at him.

“Come on. I’ll treat you to breakfast while I copy your notes.”

“Deal. But I’m buying.” he proclaimed. I shrugged at his offer.

“Fine by me. Let’s go ‘Dad.’” I said with as much sarcasm I could muster up.

A few moments later, I was nibbling on a piece of French toast while copying the final page of Yongguk’s notes. Yongguk sat across from me, grumbling about the amount of people that asked for his tutoring help. After a while, I guess he figured out that I wasn’t wholeheartedly paying attention to him. It wasn’t until he brought up the movie he had missed, as I finished writing the last bit of notes, that I finally looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I had to miss it,” he said, but I just waved him off. It wasn’t really a big deal after all.

“It’s fine Gukkie. I ended up going with someone else, so we’re good.”

“Oh, so what you mean is that you replaced me with some second rate being. Alright, who was it?” I shook my head at his silliness.

“I went with Ethan, actually.” I looked down at my plate of French toast, as I waited for Yongguk to say something.

“Oh really? Wait, I thought you said he was going to be out of town until the end of the break. How’d that happen?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I was just as surprised as you are. We met as I was getting food before the show. It was pleasant coincidence.”

“Hmmm...Pleasant huh? Sounds like I’m already getting kicked to the curb.” I couldn’t help but laugh as he started to pout.

“Oh shush you big baby. No one is kicking you to the curb as you like to put it. Like I said, it was a coincidence.”

We continued to talk as we moved on from the subject of Ethan. I was in the middle of laughing at some corny joke Yongguk had told, when I noticed him stiffen in his chair. My giggles died off my lips as I regained my composure. I started to ask what was wrong, until I heard a familiar voice behind, saying my name. I turned back to see Ethan standing behind me, looking casual in his plain jeans, but still handsome.

“Ethan. Hi. You remember Yongguk don’t you?”

“Of course. Nice to run into you again.” he said smoothly. Yongguk gave a quick nod.

“Yeah...you too.” Yongguk started packing his belongings and stood up from the table. Before I could ask where he was headed too, Yongguk spoke first.

“Haze, I’ll see you later, okay? I gotta get this tutoring schedule in order and stuff. I’ll text you alright?” But before I could respond, he had already started walking towards the doors that lead to courtyard outside.

“So,” Ethan began. “When’s your next class?” I looked at my phone for the time and realized that time had gone by quickly and that my next class started in half an hour.

“Then can I walk you to class? I’m not busy with anything.” He looked at me expectantly.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

With ease he picked up my bag after I had packed it and carried it while we walked.

“So, how was your break?” I asked after walking for a couple of minutes.

“It was alright,” he stated. “A little weird though. It felt like I was being watched most of the time.”

“Watched?” I asked, clearly puzzled. He laughed at my worried face.

“My dad was in the military and sometimes his PTSD and paranoia consumes him. He was very...watchful during the break. Another reason why I left earlier. But enough about that...How about dinner? At my place? I’ll cook.”

I pretended that our little text conversation hadn’t happened earlier and feigned surprise. I let out a small gasp.

“You cook?” Ethan gave me a sideways smirk before he answered.

“Sweetie, I’m full of surprises. Stick around long enough, and you might get to see them all.” Okay. To say that I was unnerved...again, would be an understatement. I don’t understand how he can go from cute, shy, and dorky to...well, this. I found myself flustered before I was able to respond.

“Oh really? I might just have to take you up on that offer.” Ethan flashed his white teeth in his signature smile.

“Good. You won’t be disappointed. Now, come on. We gotta get you to class,” he says while slightly picking up the pace.

#In The Blood #Fanfic #supernatural #Yongguk #college au

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maryeemeeh · 7 years

Text

Wolves of Manhattan

SUMMARY: He is the rich kid from the Upper East Side with a troubled past and a dysfunctional family. She is from Greenwich Village who is pulled into the world of the rich and famous when her parents receive promotions. When their paths cross, a spark is ignited and the tables are turned when they learn they are far more connected than they thought. AU.

A/N: My apologies for taking months to update. You might want to re-read the previous chapters to refresh your memory.

Originally posted on fanfiction.net

CHAPTER EIGHT

Everyday seemed to get worse.

His parents were arguing again and he was sitting on the back seat of the limo trying to not hear them. He didn't bother to care what it was about this time. It was always the same meaningless argument. They mainly fought about business, their crumbling marriage, and most of all, Lucas.

He looked out the window and watched the buildings and people on the street pass them by. What was going outside was far more interesting than the argument.

"I'm just saying, our son deserves to play in the championships, don't you agree?"

Lucas heard his mother released a heavy sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the headache that was starting to form. Thanks to his father who seemed to drive everyone around him crazy.

"Lucas," his father addressed him. "Don't you think you should play?" He simply shrugged his shoulders, keeping his eyes out the window. "Son, you have every right to be on the field with your teammates. They wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"But they did." Lucas retorted, annoyance nipping at the edge of his words. "I missed a couple of games, and they got to the finals without me."

"Are you saying you don't want to play?"

"Of course I want to play, Dad. But I messed up, and I'm paying for it as I should."

Mr. Friar regarded him carefully. "I can speak with the Dean on your behalf."

"Dad…"

"I can reason with him."

Lucas shook his head and sighed.

"Lucas—"

His eyes trailed to the streets ahead of him when he suddenly spotted her. Brunette hair curled back behind her ears and cascading over her shoulders, with a radiant smile that reached her brown eyes as she passed by other pedestrians.

Seeing her made him forget everything else. She made him smile and his heart do funny things on his chest. And when they actually became friends, he could only remember how happy he was spending time with her.

"Son, are you even listening to me?"

They were a block away from the high school when Lucas signaled the driver's attention from the rearview mirror. "Andre, pull up here." He demanded.

"Lucas."

He ignored his Dad as the driver pulled up to the side of the road.

"Bye, Mom!…Dad."

Lucas hastily opened the car door and stepped out, not looking back as he rushed towards her down the sidewalk.

"Hey, Riley." He greeted, catching his breath upon reaching her.

She spun around and smiled brightly at him. "Oh hey, Lucas!"

He naturally fell into step with her, both not saying a word for several moments. As soon as their high school building approaches, Lucas peered at her from the corner of his eye and smiled. The sun was shining brightly around her, highlighting the pink patches on her cheeks and making her hair appear lighter. She was utterly beautiful in a white short sleeve blouse and uniform plaid skirt that made her legs look like it can go on for miles. She wore a little make-up; a clear gloss that coated her full, pink lips and a touch of liner that brought out the softness of her brown eyes. Her strawberry vanilla scent was filling the small space between them at an alarming rate, infiltrating his senses as he took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

"So…are you planning to see Auggie at practice today?" He asked, breaking the comfortable silence as they ascended up the stairs to the school's main building.

"I wish I could be there, but I'm tutoring."

"Tutoring? Since when?"

"Since my Dad found out I went to Missy's party."

Lucas raised a brow at her in surprise. "You lied to him?" He wore a confused expression on his face, which fell slightly when Riley nodded sheepishly. "Why? You're so much better than that."

She shrugged it off and sighed heavily. "I've been following the rules all my life, Lucas. For once, I wanted to let loose and do something that is unexpected of me."

They stopped at the top of the stairs, staring at each other longer than they should. "Look, I get it. We're in our rebellious teen years and we are going to get in all sorts of trouble. But...you're different. You're good. It's what I like about you. And I wouldn't want you to change who you are."

There was a bit of hopefulness in her eyes as the pink hue in her cheeks made him smile wider. "Really?"

He released a short chuckle, amused by her reaction that made her look even more adorable than she already is. "Yes, really."

She pressed her lips together, her brown eyes searching his green ones. Suddenly she was aware that his face was only a few inches away from hers as she drew in a nervous breath. "I wouldn't want you to change who you are too, Lucas."

The softness of her gaze brought a flutter to his stomach. They fell silent, their eyes locked on each other. They were too far off in their own world, they didn't hear anyone approach them.

"Hey, guys." Zay greeted from behind as Lucas and Riley both jumped at the sound of his voice. "Oh um…was I interrupting something?" He asked, staring between the two with a silly grin.

Lucas and Riley exchanged nervous looks, unsure of what was happening—unsure of the warm fuzzy feelings lurking in the pit of their stomachs. "No, we were about to head to class." Lucas answered, clearing his throat to steady his voice. She looked down and smiled shyly, which only served to frazzle his mind even more.

"I'll see you guys around." Riley said cheerfully before walking past them. Zay's curious eyes watched Riley until she was out of sight.

"So…were you guys having a moment?" Zay grinned, looking at Lucas with a slight raise of his eyebrows. "Because it looks like you two were having a moment."

Lucas stared at the ground, trying to hide his smile before he muttered, "Shut up."

It was the first break period and the scorching heat in mid May brought many students outside. With the air conditioning down and maintenance currently working to fix the problem, students found some relief from the ungodly heat. By the time she stepped outside, the shaded areas were already occupied as Riley Matthews sat on the stairs in front of the school, getting more agitated as the sun was beaming down on her relentlessly. She rapidly fanned herself with a notebook when she heard running footsteps rush past her. Riley glanced up ahead of her as the blonde, blue-eyed female she recognized from Missy's party dropped a notepad at the bottom of the stairs with its contents scattered on the steps.

"Shit. Really?!" The blonde cursed under her breath in frustration. Without hesitating, Riley stood up and began picking up the loose papers as she makes her way down the steps, staring at what appears to be beautiful works of art. From sketches of New York's finest landmarks to portraits of people hand drawn in strikingly vivid details, the drawings were really pretty and realistic as Riley stared at them in amazement. "You don't need to do that." She snapped, making Riley jump in fright as she turned to her with a polite smile.

"I know, but I want to." She said cheerily, handing her the pages that fell from the notepad.

"Thanks."

"Maya, is it?" Riley's voice broke through the brief silence as the blonde nodded absently.

"Yep."

"I'm Riley."

"I know who you are." Maya smirked. "We met at the party."

"Did you draw all those?" Riley asked curiously causing Maya to roll her eyes.

"Why? Is it really that hard to believe?"

Riley's gaze widened a bit, realizing she was easily misunderstood. "No, of course not! That's not what I was—" She trailed off nervously and sighed. "I was gonna say...you're a really great artist, Maya."

She was looking at Riley with a thoughtful and surprise expression gracing her features. She then weakly smiled, her tone doubtful and wary. "Thanks…do you draw?"

"Yes. Terribly."

Maya raised a brow at her for a brief moment and chuckled. She could see everything Lucas had said about her. From her over-the-top bubbly persona to her infectious charm—she was the kind of person Maya would normally get annoyed of. But it was not hard to see why Lucas was instantly drawn to her. She was kind, genuine and surprisingly funny with an upbeat personality that was refreshing and sincere. She was unlike most girls in the school who tried their hardest to fit in, and often used their high society status to get by.

"But I do appreciate fine art when I see one." Riley added as Maya could feel a blush creep up underneath her cheeks at the compliment. Even though her best friends often praised her for her artistic talents, hearing it from someone outside of their close-knit group meant so much to her than she'd imagined.

"Thanks..."

Her blue eyes looked at her kindly and Riley smiled. "You're welcome."

Another moment of silence followed before Maya spoke again. "So…um…is your friend Smackle okay? She was pretty tipsy that night."

"Oh yeah, she's fine. She swore never to drink again." Riley said with a giggle. Maya broke into a wide grin when movement from the corner of her eye drew her gaze. She spotted Thor, in his letterman jacket and uniform khaki slacks, heading in their direction as her soft expression turned to one of irritation. 'Great.' She thought.

"Hey, Maya." He approached her with a smile. "How's it going?" She glared at him as his eyes trailed to the invitation that was sitting on top of her artwork. He reached out to grab a copy. "Summer Masquerade Ball…" he read, admiring the calligraphy with raised eyebrows. "Wow…you outdid yourself this time, Hart."

"What do you want?" She asked, his presence already making her nauseous.

"What? I can't say hello?"

Maya skeptically furrowed her eyebrows, studying him carefully. "Hi…?" She didn't know how to answer him as he quietly chuckled at the uncertainty in her tone of voice. He then flickered his gaze over to Riley and she noticed his expression brightening at the sight of her.

"Hey, Riley!"

"Hello, Thor." She beamed.

"Guess who aced their history exam?" He exclaimed, a wide smile breaking across his face as he showed her the test results. Riley briefly scanned the paper before looking back at him with wide eyes.

"That's great! I knew you could it." She praised happily.

"Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."

Maya fell silent, momentarily puzzled as she stared between the two of them.

"Anyway, just wanted to thank you for all your help. I guess I'll see you after school? Same time?"

"Yep. I'll see ya."

Thor turned his gaze back to Maya, her blue eyes wide and troubled with confusion. "Later."

The blonde nodded mutely as he carried on and walked away.

"Riley, what are you doing with him?" Maya asked with a more serious tone. "He's bad news."

"I'm just tutoring him." She shrugged, a tinge of annoyance coloring her voice.

Maya sighed. "Just be careful, okay? He's not exactly the nicest guy to be around. I mean, I would know."

Riley furrowed her eyebrows in bewilderment. She knew the kind of person she was dealing with, but she still harbored hope in her heart that Thor was an inherently good guy despite the things he had done to make others think otherwise. "Why is everyone telling me to be careful?" She asked. "Does this school really have that bad of a rep of how people treat each other?"

Suddenly, the bell sounded, indicating the end of break. Maya placed her hand on top of Riley's shoulder, moved by her unwavering faith and optimism in others, which would only disappoint her in the end. "Sadly, yes." She said as she turned around and retreated back to her classroom, leaving Riley's curious mind to ponder.

The excitement on the boys' animated faces was enough for Lucas to realize how much fun he was having. Never mind having to miss out on playing for the state championship. If this was Mr. Matthews' idea of a "punishment," he'd be happy to do it all over again.

The sun was beginning to set as the heat of the afternoon sun gradually subsided. It was another successful day of coaching as Lucas, Josh and the entire Little League baseball team headed over to Topanga's to cool off. Tables were joined together as they occupied half of the entire space. The boys chatted amiably as Lucas and Josh discussed the starting line-up and various plays for the little league season opener next week. They waited until their smoothies arrived when Lucas felt the vibration of his phone from his back pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. His mood changed instantly when it was his father checking in for the third time, asking about his whereabouts and demanding him to head on home. Lucas ignored the messages and the missed calls as he threw the phone in his backpack and released a heavy sigh.

"Is everything alright?" Josh asked worriedly, stirring him from his thoughts.

"Yea, man." Lucas forced a smile as he reached forward to grab his drink from the table. His enjoyment faded even further when he suddenly looked up and spotted Riley and his nemesis seated in the corner of the room, buried in textbooks.

His lips were parted and his face remained impassive, but inside, he was seething. "Excuse me, I'll be back." Lucas stood up from the table with clench fists. He mentally prepared himself for what was about to come. He didn't want to let his anger take over his body, especially in front of Riley. And he certainly didn't think it was worth getting in trouble for over a guy like Thor who has tormented him for as long as he could remember. But when it came to his friends, and someone like Riley, who he cared about and grew fond of for the past few weeks, he knew he had to keep her safe, no matter how she felt about it.

"Thor," Lucas said sternly as he approached their table.

"Lucas," Thor replied, expecting to be in this situation. He knew at some point Lucas was going to confront him about the whole thing.

"May I have a word? Outside, please." He demanded.

"Lucas…"

He glanced over at Riley and saw the concern in her face. He simply smiled at her, hoping to ease her worries.

"Just to talk." He reassured her, putting his hands up calmly. "I promise."

Riley believed him as she nodded her head nervously and watched the two of them exiting the bakery.

"This thing between you and me needs to stop." Lucas spat as soon as they stepped outside, turning his body to face him. "I'm done fighting with you. I'm done trying to reason with you. I'm done being mad at you and I'm done getting in trouble because of you." Lucas finished, his tone revealing just how serious he was.

"I agree."

Lucas gritted his teeth. "Then what the hell are you doing with Riley?"

"Nothing!" Thor almost choked on his own spit as he stared at him in confusion. "Dude, she's tutoring me."

"She's tutoring you?" He scoffed in disbelief.

"Yea…I was assigned to her." Thor responded firmly.

Lucas stared at him with blank eyes. Thor took his silence as a cue to continue.

"Look, I didn't know you two knew each other. So if you think this is just another one of my stupid schemes to get back at you…it's not. I'm done with all that."

Lucas' gaze hardened with a glare. He knew he shouldn't; he knew that he had no reason to trust Thor; after all this time; for the past 2 years, all he's done was make his life a living hell. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Thor shrugged, letting out a sigh. "I guess…someone made me realize a few things about myself that's all." He answered, remembering what Riley had said to him at the tutor center as her words resonated with him.

They stood in silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts and waiting for the other to speak. "I'm sorry. About everything."

Lucas blinked, not expecting an apology. Thor looked back at him and he could see the guilt in his eyes. Lucas had been expecting to be told off, or to be fed some bullshit line. He never thought he would apologize. And for the first time in a long time, Lucas could see the guy who was once his friend, whose bond he thought would never break, slowly become himself again.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better I'll ask for another tutor."

Lucas shook his head. "No, don't do that. Riley is great. You won't find anyone better." Thor nodded, a small genuine smile forming at his lips. "And I'm sorry too."

Another moment of silence followed as the two stared at the ground.

"Anyway, I should head back inside. Riley is probably in there freaking out."

Lucas quietly chuckled. "Yea."

Thor turned back around to head inside, but stopped halfway before reaching the door.

"Oh and Lucas?"

"Yea?"

"Do yourself a favor and ask her to the dance." Thor smirked, pressing the invitation onto his chest before walking back inside the bakery.

Lucas stared at the invitation in hand, his breathing suddenly going quiet and deep. He looked up and peered at Riley through the window, his mind racing, wondering how the hell he was going to find the courage to ask her to the dance.

To be continued...

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Next chapter is when a lot of things will go down. Stay tuned!

#rucas #rucas fanfic #rucas fandom #rucas fanfiction #gmw #gmw fanfiction #girl meets world fandom #riley and lucas #lucas and riley #riley matthews #lucas friar #riley x lucas #lucas x riley #liley #liley fanfic #rucas squad

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sundoodle · 7 years

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@dragonbloodn7 replied to your post “@dragonbloodn7 replied to your photoset “i can’t believe i made a...”

Haha I tell you, the stuff you come up with is �� awesome. Seriously, how do you manage to not get artist/writers block? I'm working on this Azurrin au (inspired by a prompt ''^_^) and I just keep ignoring it :p

aww ahah thanks!

I mean. I get creative blocks. I have so many wips and projects and ideas that are sitting around but haven’t managed to escape my brain yet. Or not fully. Anything I actually plan out takes me forever to get around to because I have to sit down and do it, most of the art I publish on here is more impulse ideas that I just felt like doing at the time I thought it up and had my tablet near by. like those two cherry comics were just because I was listening to Blow at the time of the first one, and then i was thinking about the second as a bedtime story before I tried to nap today and the idea wouldn’t leave me alone before I sketched it out. (bedtime story creativity is both great and hell. great bc hey creativity and ideas. hell because lol there goes sleeping)

like it’s been a month I posted anything from an idea that didn’t occur to me and then I immediately drew it that day or something, and that wasn’t even anything serious, that was just cleaning up some sketches from an idea from three weeks before I posted it.

when it comes to longer things I have planned I....let myself ignore them lmao. I just do this for fun. So when the idea becomes fun, which it can sometimes take a year to do, I’ll do it then. I let myself take art hiatuses. If art isnt coming to me, like my hand doesn’t want to draw it or I’m just not in the right mindset to write, i go read or play video games or do whatever responsibilities i have until I feel like doing something creative again. Which can be from half a day to a week to a couple weeks, but my art bug always comes back to bite me at some point.

If it’s something you want to work on but just can’t get your hand or words to work, try just doing some offshoot doodles or sentences? even if they’re silly and messy. like even if it’s the only thing you did that day, you did at least one thing, you practiced, even if you think its awful and shitty, you did do something. Sometimes i just draw busts aimlessly until i get bored. short sentences can be a lot of fun to get an idea down but not want to write a whole scene.

Deadlines that mean something also help. I wrote a one shot over the course of oh, mm 7 months? just because I wasn’t feeling it and only finished it because I really wanted to despite having 0 motivation and a lot of anxiety about it, and I set a deadline as March 3rd because that’s when BotW came out and was Azura’s birthday, so it counted as my “thing” for her bday and also I was going to disappear into zelda land for the forseeable future and it would take even longer to get that one shot done.

and friends! friends are great to help get through a block. bouncing ideas off of them, they can come up with ideas or prompts that will inspire you, it’s fun to just go super silly with everything and then feel motivated to make something, even if its a dumb joke. Also, when new people like you come by and actually show interest, it usually sparks my ideas back up again because people still care! and find it funny! though that takes a long time to build up an audience for hah, but it’s kept me drawing and writing azurrin through the like 3 times I thought i ran out of motivation to do anything else with them.

tl;dr so....i don’t know??? accept you have a block and just chill and do something else until you feel like or if it’s something you seriously want/need to get done, set a deadline that actually motivates you to get it done before then instead of just a random date, or just goof around with friends and toss ideas around, even if they’re silly. especially if they’re silly.

#dragonbloodn7 #reply #dt #art block #creative block #i dont know if this is a good answer pfff i dont really think about my blocks very often #i just go do something else #i am not drawing 24/7 #i just do it when i want to

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uncannycreativity · 7 years

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How do you become a prolific artist? 8 secrets no one says outloud

Last month I attempted my first plein air painting in Montrose Park in Washington, DC. I was very nervous and had a lot of doubt: “I’m supposed to be an artist! I have a degree in art! I work as an art director and I’m a good painter. Why is this scary?!”

Whenever we’re doing something new, it’s still a test of wills. The same lessons come back to us every time. No one tells you it’ll be easy, yet they don’t exactly proclaim to you how hard being an artist can be. Here’s the final painting which is no masterpiece and at the same time I learned a ton and felt proud about it:

First time trying plein air! Learned a ton while doing it!

A photo posted by – Brian E. Young (@sketcheeguy) on Apr 12, 2015 at 6:53pm PDT

1. It’s okay to procrastinate

Prolific artists procrastinate. Procrastinating is a form of thinking. You’re doing one thing like watching tv or playing video games, and you’re distracted thinking you could be painting or drawing. It is okay to procrastinate. You’re still thinking about your art. Use whatever you’re doing to find inspiration. Write down any thoughts you might have.

I thought about plein air painting for years. Even had planned to last fall at a plein air painting event. It started to become a big deal in my head. I thought I needed the right supplies, the absolutely right event, the right motivation, and the right place. It turns out all I needed to do was go outside.

Try this: Write down your goals and ideas. While you’re procrastinating, while you’re in the super market, while you’re at work just stop for a split second and jot down the note such as “I want to paint trees.” “I want to sketch people.” You can use a cellphone app or tweet it or text it to all of your friends. Next time you’re finding yourself free and tempted to reach for your television remote, you’ll be more likely to know that you really would rather sketch and paint.

Read this: Awesome Secrets to Super Inspired Procrastination

“You can’t just turn on creativity like a faucet. You have to be in the right mood. What mood is that? Last-minute panic.” Bill Watterson

2. It’s okay to be be messy

Prolific artists make messy sketches and thumbnails. I use stick figures in my thumbnails to quickly get ideas down. Stick figures are a cute and fun way to draw out an idea and not care if it’s a masterpiece. Even though I’m a trained artist with a degree in art and a job in art, I still use stick figures. These poses can be further developed into bigger and better drawings later. Once I see an idea as a concrete thumbnail, it really helps me to get excited about it.

When I worked on my first plein air painting, I quickly was disheartened by the composition I chose. I didn’t really think about it much. I didn’t do any planning. I just looked in a direction and started making marks with paint. That’s okay! I learned something from that! Next time, it would have been smart to take 60-seconds to scribble down a few different compositions. There is no mistake if we can’t learn from it.

Try this: Take 60 seconds to create 3 thumbnails before making anything “real”. You’ve heard this and yet you still don’t do it. I preach this for years and I still didn’t do it. Practice it, make it routine. It’s just a fun way to break the ice. Don’t look at it as a must, an obligation, or as pressure. This is the fun part where you get to be a child and not care about the result. Make them and ignore them. Make them and learn from them.

Read this: Acrylic Painting Tutorial: How to use thumbnails for inspiration

“We all have 10,000 bad drawings in us. The sooner we get them out the better.” Walt Stanchfield

3. It’s okay to fail

Prolific artists are persistent when facing failure. It’s only a failure if you give up without learning anything. Don’t give into your fear and doubt. Be persistent and decide on the next step. Be nicer to yourself.

After a night of painting, I often will feel discouraged. The painting didn’t look exactly how I imagined it could. The next morning, in the light of day I will look at it and say wow that actually looks pretty cool. It’s different yet something about it works. I’m ready to take last nights failure and make the adjustments needed to get the painting finished.

There is a lot I didn’t like about my first plein air painting. The composition is centered and uninteresting, the colors are brighter than I wanted, and I wish it had more depth. How do I know this? I know it because I tried. I tried and now have something physical to look at. Through those experiences, I’ll have a better idea when I try this again. And I will try it again.

Try this: Fail at something you’re afraid of. If you’re afraid to paint, then paint. I used to be afraid of asking for help at the grocery store. I know it’s silly, there are people there to help you and they’re friendly. Still I was afraid of it. Then I just learned to ask anyway. Whenever you’re afraid and you have all of the reasons that failure is possible, just do it anyway.

Listen to this: Face The Fear of Failure in 6 Steps: The Uncanny Creativity Podcast, Episode 31

“First forget inspiration. Habit is more dependable. Habit will sustain you whether you’re inspired or not. Habit will help you finish and polish your stories. Inspiration won’t. Habit is persistence in practice.” Octavia E. Butler

4. It’s okay to take breaks

Prolific artists take breaks and then just pick up where they left off. We retain information better when we have space away from it. Ever have trouble remembering something? The best thing to do is to stop focusing on that thought and return to it. What happens is that we focus on the idea that we can’t remember so much that we can’t actually process the memory. We often find things when we aren’t looking for them.

When we’re focused on the thought “I forgot”, “I feel guilty for forgetting”, or some variation, it just makes it that much harder to remember and reinforces our “I have a bad memory” persona. Let go of that! You walk away from that guy at the gym who’s name you forgot, then remember it that night while doing dishes. Yes, this has happened to me.

When I was painting outside in the beautiful park in Washington, DC, it turned out to be insanely helpful to just say to myself “Wow, this is a beautiful day and I’m lucky to be here.” See all that was around me and know that I’m inspired by it all. The memory of that is a good one. Practicing a bit of gratitude can help fix any situation or problem. There’s always a lot to be thankful for, don’t miss it!

Try this: Focus on one task for a block of time. Then take a break. One study shows the best in their field only practice for 90-minute blocks (PDF link). If you are going to return to the task after the break, try to take at least 20 minutes focused on anything else. Do your best to focus on your new task. If your mind wanders back to work, be nice to yourself and bring your attention back to what you’re doing now. If you’re taking your lunch break, you might just focus on the taste, sound, and look of your meal. If your break is another type of work, try to give it your full attention.

Listen to this: Picking Up Where You Left Off: The Uncanny Creativity Podcast, Episode 30

��Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future. Jobs, family, employers, and friends can exist one day without any one of us, and if our egos permit us to confess, they could exist eternally in our absence. Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for. Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us.” Maya Angelou

5. It’s okay to have hope

Prolific artists are positive. Optimism boosts creativity. One of the easiest ways to find a silver lining is to understand what we are grateful for. Yeah somethings in life suck and you’re okay for feeling that way. At the same time, those bad things don’t have to outweigh the good things. A realistic approach is ultimately healthy and positive. Reaching an understanding on how to balance the good and bad thoughts you might have will put you into a better place to make decisions and not cave under pressure.

Now I have a better understanding of how my thoughts and feelings play out when I’m painting in a more public situation. I’m used to painting at home, by myself. The only critic I deal with there is me. Now I understand that the critic even when there are others in the park asking about my work is still just me. Only I give their words any meaning. Most onlookers in a park are probably wishing they were bold enough to be there. By painting, I’m already brave enough to do something that many people never tried. By even reading this article, you’re contemplating ideas that many people would be too afraid to even consider.

Try this: Learn something new. Look at a situation or experience you found challenging and use this as a chance to learn something new. Next time you’re in a similar situation, what will you do differently? The past can’t be changed and the future can.

Read this: You’re not an innovator and you never will be: 7 Reasons

“Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the impossible.” – Albert Einstein

6. It’s okay to have bad ideas

Prolific artists create first and judge second. Put an idea down, try it out, see what happens. It’s okay to be average. Your first idea is rarely your best. This is why we sketch (see number 2) so that we can work out the best idea. Even if your best idea was your first one, creating a few bad concepts can solidify your choice and help you feel stronger about your final drawing.

Try this: Brainstorm without judgement. Write down all of your thoughts as a quick list before starting on an intimidating or time-consuming task. The thoughts might be completely related or really stupid. Make a point to include the ones that usually feel very uncomfortable. Facing that discomfort and writing it down is part of the fun. It’s now just words on paper without any meaning.

Read this: 5 Steps to Having More Creative Ideas

“The way to get good ideas is to get lots of ideas and throw the bad ones away.” Linus Pauling (Nobel Peace Prize winner)

7. It’s okay to improvise

Prolific artists make it up as they go along. We give up the idea of how we once thought it “should” be and move on to how to make things work. Every brush stroke is a fresh start.

I painted my trees, even as I realized the composition didn’t work. I could have left or just started over. Those would have been great ways to improvise too. I just chose to continue and that made all the difference.

Try this: Finish what you start. No matter how you are feeling about a project, rather than give up find a way to complete it. It might be as simple as signing your name and calling it done. Your usual next step doesn’t have to be the next step you take. Do something that isn’t obvious.

Read this: Can Improv Teach Us About Graphic Design?

“In the long history of humankind (and animal kind, too) those who learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed.” Charles Darwin

8. It’s okay to ask for help

Prolific artists are part of a team. You have a support system, friends, family, coworkers, and a professional network who you can rely on. They may not even be part of your art, they just may help you be a whole person. The people in our lives help us by inspiring us, by helping us with conversations, by showing us love and affection. Having confidence in more parts of life helps us realize our abilities. Be prepared to not get the help you want and still be happy that there is someone who will listen to the question. Ask for exactly what you want and need.

By now you’re probably tired of hearing about how I created that painting. I didn’t do it alone, I am lucky enough to have someone in my life who enjoys painting as much as I do. We went to the park together and created very different work. It’s really nice to just spend time with the people you care about. At the end of the day, it wasn’t about painting at all. That day was about a new experience. Create experiences, not just things and not just images.

Try this: Reach out to someone you love. Provide help, a listening ear, or a fun night out and give them everything they might need. You’ll see how much others love your help and create friendships that will be there when you’re in need too. The idea of reciprocity isn’t to just trade, it’s to give. Create a generous experience together with those you care about. When you’re genuinely interested in others, there is a beautiful impact on those around you.

Read this: 6 DOs and DON’Ts for Killer Creative Teams: Confession of a bad team player

“Life’s most persistent and urgent question is, ‘What are you doing for others?” Martin Luther King Jr.

Brian E. Young is a graphic designer and artist in Baltimore, MD.

How do you become a prolific artist? 8 secrets no one says outloud was originally published on Uncanny Creativity

#creativity #imagination

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