#sometimes i forget that rough messy colours sometimes work better

[ramayantika]

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬: 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Apna apna sab choose karlo 👀)

Bharatanatyam

The girl in red and gold. Never steps out of the house without a bindi, loves the sun a little too much and gets the perfect golden hour photos. Will drag you out in the sun to prove that her hair is brown. Looks no less than a goddess in traditionals, rocks desi wear as well as western, always the best dressed in the room and sometimes the overdressed one. A walking saree encyclopedia, dreams to have a large wardrobe just for her sarees. Will also lend you some of her sarees and drapes them so well. If you are wearing a saree for a date, ask her for help. Reads a lot of detective books maybe, ranging from Sherlock Holmes to Feluda. Has learnt martial arts too, armed with wit, got the best comebacks and will fight for her friends. Highly intimidating when you meet her first until you get to witness the soft sunshine version of her. Photogenic, loves the camera, could also be a model. Her walk radiates power and confidence. Ambitious and full of ideas, commands attention easily with a snap of ger fingers. Heads turn at her when she enters the room, an eloquent speaker because she is well read. Tries to spread happiness in her own ways, knows everyone in her neighbourhood, is friends with everyone, right from the little kids to the oldies in the park, the Mother hen of her group. Loves puppies and will cry while watching cute puppy videos. Cooks delicious dishes and watch her lash out if she finds out that you skipped breakfast. A pure soul, too kind and generous for the world and does her best in spreading happiness around her.

'It's honestly a choice which we have to make. We can choose to see everything as cold and heartless around us or start seeing at the brighter side of things. Trust me, the latter is a better choice. Why would someone want to live such a miserable life laced with bitterness and resent. I know I cannot singlehandedly make everything right in the world, but I can surely make a difference in at least a single person's life? Why focus on things at the greater scale when we can make changes that should starts from us?"

Odissi

The shy girl next door, writes poetry in her rough notebook, hopeless romantic and a daydreamer. For her, outing means a visit to the temple. Ardent admirer of all types of art, stares at temple sculptures and statues, and is also a history lover. Pink lip gloss, jasmine flowers and a doe-eyed beauty. Makes flower jewellery and will gift you many of her own works if you are her friend. Wears light coloured clothes and minimal accessories, light feminine, crushes over book characters and will make you see the best traits in yourself but forgets to look at the good in herself. Recites romantic poetry in front of the mirror and pretends to be someone's muse, replaces herself with the characters in period dramas Has gorgeous hair but will always keep them in a messy bun, but god when she lets her hair down, she looks like an angel. Her social life includes playing with children and narrating them stories and fairytales.

'His lips gently follow the trail of the small dots of sandalwood paste on her back. It forms a serpentine path on her skin and ends on the curve of her waist where his lips gently caress her soft skin, delighted at the treasure gifted by the perfumed trail.'

"You haven't even held hands with a boy and yet you can come up with this? How?"

"Oh, it's nothing. You have to see my writing journal and you will definitely believe that I am well versed in the arts of love."

"Arts of love? Who uses that?"

"Me. Now come, let's watch Jodha Akbar."

"Again?!"

Kathak

Kurtis and Anarkalis. Has long hair that is half of the time braided. Might also wear a parandi at events. Shayari aur ghazalein, listens to old Bollywood songs late at night under the moon on the terrace. Star gazing, late night deep conversations, vintage clothing, would write you hand written love letters. Knows hindustani music, sings late at night and sometimes in the early hours of dawn. Aankhon mein gehra kajal jise dekh na jane kitne uske aashiq bann gaye, deep eyes that will stare into your soul, loves to wear red lipstick and will wear silver jewellery with every outfit. To win her heart? Take her jhumke shopping. She is the desi pinterest aesthetic. Bases her personality on Sahibjaan from Pakeezah, Anarkali from Mughal-E-Azam, Umrao Jaan and Chandramukhi from Devdas. Has desi aesthetic moodboards on Pinterest and lives like it too minus the havelis and lots of expensive jewellery. If you are a poet, she will end up proposing you.

'जो मेरा नाम अपनी शायरी में अमर कर दे

मरूंगी तो केवल उस शायर के नाम'

"Umrao jaan 2.0 apni pariksha ki taiyari kare aapke non existent premi kavi ya shayar marks nahi dilayenge"

"Tauba tauba sara mood kharab kar diya"

Kuchipudi

Was made to learn dance and music as a child, knows how to play the veena or the sitar well, cannot sing but will play the instrument for you if you ask. Gold jewellery? No. Silver jewellery? No. Pearls? Absolutely! An all rounder, academically brilliant as well as in extra-curriculars, perfectionist and will breakdown at the slightest inconvenience. Loves to go on long walks, sunset photography, has a collection of journals and hauls stationary items. Collects fallen flowers and keeps them inside her books. soft smiles, long artistic fingers that always have ink spots, a small but a close friend group, wishes on flowers, so quiet that you might not her speak at times, notices the minute things about her friends and the people she meets. Looks too long into the mirror and loses herself, has too many questions but will never ask. Has pretty crazy dreams that could become book plots.

"Do you ever stare at your eyes in the mirror for a very long time? Do you feel your reflection change? Those eyes that look back at you... they have so much to say, they carry so many secrets inside them even though at a superficial level, it might seem that your reflection and you are the same, but it's not. When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel it's not me. I am not her nor am I anyone else. I feel I am a part of the galaxies, of stars and planets and of souls -- that I have existed here a long time ago and I have been reborn again for unknown reasons, reasons that somewhere my would would know. Do you not feel the same?"

Kathakali

Athletic, into sports, highly dramatic, can and will recite film dialogues at every situation, has a larger than life attitude, grand gestures and celebrations for her favourite people as well as for herself, always brimming with energy even at 3am, colourful flashy clothes that make her stand distinct from everyone, make-up game on point, a HUGE foodie, takes you to the best eateries and restaurants, indulges in pranks and all sorts of harmless mischief that makes her endearing, expresses everything just with her eyes. You can't say no to her because she will conjure such a facial expression that it would be difficult to say no which is why she gets away with mischief. Will debate about literature and philosophy, has a lot of knowledge about historical texts and scriptures, can easily make you laugh by imitating characters from stories and tales. Will also spam you with her thoughts and opinions on text and if you are in her close friend circle, keep your phone on because she will immerse herself about the latest book she read. Races with kids from her colony and lets them win, gully cricket vali didi, street smart, procrastinates assignments until the deadline is knocking at the door. Knows the secret spots in the city as well as their stories, has the best horror stories to narrate at a campfire.

"I know it's 2am, but is it okay if-"

"Even if I say no, you will tell me, but I am interested. Speak."

"What if all the characters in our epics were us, I mean like us normal human beings who achieved greatness and such divine status because of their work and somehow maybe that was the truth, but with time, we began thinking that we are not capable of becoming like them so we decided that we would take the credit of their hard work and replace it with magical powers and worship them, but not try and become like them? And somehow so many ideal kings, queen, warriors and artists when then look at us from heaven want us to achieve the same level of greatness like them? But they are sad that we think so less of ourselves? I am not denying God's presence though, don't get me wrong on that. I am talking about all the great people from stories that have been passed down to us. I do appreciate the creativity and imagination of the writers and poets involved, but what if we are actually failing to look more deeper into it. What if they want us to go beyond the veil of imagination in those stories and find ourselves in them?"

Manipuri

One word: Ethereal. Doesn't look like she belongs to this world. You saw her first at a waterfall, dressed in white and red shades, mostly prefers pastel shades, makes beautiful flower bouquets, has got a very melodious voice and when she sings by the waterfall with the swans sitting beside her, she appears like a water nymph. Playful eyes, whispers words, will wink and smile at you before disappearing into a run. She walks as if she is floating, got the lightest feet, soft dewy skin, nature's daughter. Sings before the Gods in temples, always has a peacock feather with her, makes one wonder if she is a human or someone divine, wants to live in a cottage overlooking lush green hills.

"Ironic isn't it that beauty, riches, pride, nothing shall exist in the end because we shall go back to mother nature, Prakriti? I shall be ash, a small heap of ash in the future and my stories, my experiences, the beauty which people love to talk about, nothing will exist. Even when humans leave a piece of land, they think it shall be dead and decayed, but they have forgotten Prakriti's nature. She is nourishing and a healer. She shall be the only one remaining."

Mohiniyattam

Loves to sit by a riverbank, serenity, looks at you as if she knows everything about you even about the words you shall speak next, mysterious vibe, doesn't trust anyone easily, lotuses are her favourite. Who is the girl standing waist deep in the river looking at the moon? Loves to wear alta on her hands and feet, wears anklets, longing side glances, perfectly arched eyebrows, dances in the rain, photographs everything, a natural charmer, goes to museums and coffee. Date ideas? Boat rides for evenings. A very private person, doesn't reveal much about herself, contemplates about Life and the Universe, space geek, stars are her friends.

When I look at you, at your great depths, I marvel at the power you have subdued while flowing through the land of Man. Born from the great peaks of mountain ranges, like a young girl who is pulsating with energy, you flow down your father's abode. Were you aware of your strength then? You cut through rocks, found your way through dense forests, and finally emerged into our land. We took you granted, knowing you shall forever exist for us, that you shall always nurture our bodies, our minds and our souls, until we witnessed your dance of death.

I wondered how Lasya, the feminine style of dance, also known as Goddess Parvati's style of dancing could be destructive? You swirled to great heights. With each turn, your colour darkened, absorbing the green from trees, the white from clouds, yellow from the sun, blue from the dawn and purple from sunsets. In the end your colour changed to brown and grey as you engulfed everything we held dear. You ultimately showed your hidden strength that you possesses in the days of girlhood until you heard us wail and weep. Motherhood came back to you, and with time, you began nursing us once again. The city repaired itself, we began learning about the secrets of life and death on your banks and children played with your gentle waters. And then you longed for love, so you advanced towards the sea, merging with its grand form. Once, I used to see it as a way of losing your entire identity, but now I see it as being one. You nourish man in the city and then with your dear love, the mighty sea, you nourish the life that resides inside water. I would like to be something like that.

"Is that why you spend so much time at the river?"

"Yes."

Sattriya

Plays the flute, the most non violent human, will never get angry, calm voice that might lead you to deep sleep. Nobody has seen her even glare at someone. Gold jewellery, squints at the sun, sings devotional songs for Krishna, cannot eat spicy food, lives in the hills, will definitely win if you race against her in the hills, knows quiet spots to appreciate the valleys. Has a great deal of knowledge about herbal medicines, one touch and you will feel that the pain is gone. Has Diy skin care methods ready, gives the best oil massage, cold hands in winter, looks adorable when covered in a shawl, red cheeks that appear like natural blush, makes the best tea.

"Close your eyes, open your ears and your mind too. You might begin to understand the language of the hills. They will send you messages of rain clouds, soft kisses of wintery breeze, fragrance of spring and gently warmth of the sun. Sometimes, if you look closely enough, you might get to know who you are in this world in front of them."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ‧͙⁺ ˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙◌

I DID IT :D

Even though it's based on dance, but everyone isn't into dance, so i did try my best to make it inclusive and ofc i had to write these paragraphs because I felt more creative lol (just to sum up the vibes maybe that's why) It was a bit tricky to make for Sattriya and Manipuri. I looked up some articles and then some Assam and Manipur tourism videos and also some of theri dance videos too for this. Now I mentioned some of rhe traits and stuff based on the dancing history and the repertoire plus also from the place where it belongs too

Tell me your favorite one and which one you relate to the most.

Shoutout to @remen-nyoodless for the hindi lines

Tagging: @yehsahihai @swayamev @sanskari-kanya @navaratna @daddojanam @pulihora @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @aapki-pyaari-sakhi @kuhuchan @arachneofthoughts @vedajananixx @pothosinpots @eugenephosgene @reallythoughtfulwizard @ma-douce-souffrance

#desiblr #danceblr #desi academia #dance academia #types of girls #aesthetic posts #desi aesthetic #classical dance

[xephia]

Hi, i hope this question doesn't bothers you, do you have any videos of your process?, im currently starting to learn how to do digital art and have trouble knowing where to start and what to do (im always like, should i start drawing this part first?, is it better to do clean lineart or just paint over the sketch?, do i work on the lights first or the shadows?, etc)

I can probs make you a video on this at some point based on something I'm currently working on, although I have a few on my tiktok already (@ xephia) if that helps!

My process is a bit messier than many other artists - I alternate between stages of sketch and colour before I even think about ‘final colour’. I’ll start with a sketch like the ones below, then slap some rough colour on. This is because IMO colour is an important part of the composition so I want to see what works before I line. They’re not meant to be pretty or social media ready. This stage can look super messy or tidy depending on how I feel or how complicated it is. And they can look wildly different; here’s some examples:

That stage also helps me decide if I want to finish the piece or if I should abandon it (I abandon a lot). Sometimes this stage takes 15min, sometimes 2 hours, it really depends on the piece. But for me personally, it’s crucial because otherwise I find it very hard to envision how it will look later, or forget what I was planning.

Then, I do at least one more layer of ‘sketch line art’, which is basically a first layer of line art to see what works and what needs changing. I colour the important bits relatively cleanly (usually character/s) and add might some subtle shadows/gradients and/or lighting to get a feel of what it will look like finished. Sometimes I repeat this process a couple of times if I’m not happy with how the first iteration looked. This stage usually looks a little like this character sheet I’m working on, and this slice from a Kiki delivery service sketch:

It’s usually not until I’ve done all that, that I go over and do the final lineart, making it thicker, colouring the lines, redoing the flat colours, tidying it up, and adjusting where needed. Essentially I don’t start ‘finishing’ a piece until I’m happy with where everything sits and what colours I’ve picked. It’s only at this point I feel like the sketch is ready to line, and lining and final colouring can actually take less time for me than all those layers of planning somehow haha.

At this point I keep tidying, cleaning, lining, colouring, until the piece feels complete. Sometimes complete for one piece is tidier than complete for another, it really depends.

I’ll also use Procreate’s push tool to adjust things as I go in all steps - it saves a lot of time and isn’t cheating.

Although as you can probably tell from my examples, I do change this procress up a lot depending on the piece! Sometimes I’ll even paint over parts of my final piece like I did in this magical girl street. I think find whatever works for you, everyone will work differently and things like mood, energy levels, how patient you feel, how stressed you are, if you have any hand pain or shaking, and how much free time you have that day to draw can all affect your process day to day, week to week.

Some days it will be easier and more comfortable to sketch messily, other days tidier. Some days you will draw well, other days not well at all. At least for me, I find consistency almost impossible.

So I think there's no right or wrong order to do things and it's great to switch it up and keep things interesting for yourself, and different processes work for different people. Hope this helps!

#faq #art process #art advice #art tips #drawing guide #sketch progress #digital art #procreate #human artist

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Hello! if its ok how would the demon brothers react to a low self esteem/ self hating MC who excepts any insults with a sad smile?

Content Warnings: Self deprecation (naturally, given the nature of the prompt), verbal harassment/insults, spoilers for later chapters in Belphegor’s section

Just so you know it’s basically gonna be seven different versions of this:

Under a cut to prevent carpal tunnel!

Obey Me: The Brothers With an MC Who Has Low Self Esteem and Accepts Insults with a Smile

Lucifer

Lucifer kind of just... stops for a few seconds. Like, he freezes completely. Doesn’t move, doesn’t blink - MC’s not sure if he’s even breathing. They’re at one of Diavolo’s parties together, and a pretty important demon is coming for MC hard, albeit in a slimy, passive-aggressive kind of way. And they’re just... smiling and nodding along?

Lucifer’s single currently operating brain cell is dedicated to not just murdering this pathetic excuse for a demon. If he wasn’t already in his demon form, he would absolutely transform. With a deep breath, he stalks over in full Avatar of Pride mode: shoulders back, staring slightly down at everyone else, wings puffed up just so.

Anything the demon was saying to MC, he throws back at them tenfold, with just as much passive-aggression, though it starts slipping more and more as he continues on. Eventually it starts turning into one of those lectures of his about The Importance of The Exchange Program and Lord Diavolo’s Reputation and-  MC is gonna have to catch his attention to stop him from going full Dad-mode on this bastard.

Once they succeed in doing this, he pulls them aside and, still bristling with indignant rage, asks why MC was letting that wretch talk to them like that.

“Well, it wasn’t like they were saying anything that wasn’t true...”

Wrong. Answer. Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride, even though he has self-worth issues running deeper than the Marianas Trench he would never let anyone talk to him like that, and he wishes more than anything he could lend MC that ability. He’ll tilt their head to look him directly in the eyes and assure them that they absolutely do have value, both in the Devildom and in his family. He won’t tolerate anyone, including MC themself, put down a member of his family. Is that clear?

In the coming weeks, the younger brothers notice that Lucifer’s soft spot for MC is even more pronounced than usual. In fact, he frequently praises them for their accomplishments, flustering them to no end. None of them dare to bring it to his attention, because they’ve all noticed in one way or another that MC is carrying themself with more confidence now.

Whatever is going on between the two of them seems to be working quite well.

Mammon

Mammon... runs his mouth a lot. He says stupid things he doesn’t mean because admitting his actual feelings would be too difficult. Unfortunately, one of the feelings he’s vehemently avoiding addressing is his feelings for MC. This manifests as loud and insistent denial that The GREAT Mammon would never be interested in some stupid, weak human, how dare you suggest that?!

The brothers expect one of many responses from MC: outrage and offence, teasing at Mammon’s clear tsundere attitude, a roll of the eyes, anything other than their sad little smile whenever he insults them. One day, Mammon finally notices their staring and he actually stops and takes a minute to process the acceptance on MC’s face.

He just called them a burden and a waste of time and they’re SMILING?!

Like a horrid puzzle piece, everything clicks together in Mammon’s mind. He’s never heard MC protest any of the awful things he’s said about them. They don’t even tease him about it like his brothers do.

They think he’s being serious and they agree with him.

He changes his tune so fast it’s dizzying. He slips up sometimes, but now when he sees MC’s small smile that doesn’t reach their eyes, he adds, “H-Hey! Why’re you just letting me say all that, huh? Ya gotta stand up for yourself, MC! You better not go around letting lesser demons talk to you like this! If anyone ever gives you trouble, you come to the GREAT Mammon and I’ll shut ‘em up real quick!

“‘Cause... It’s not true, all of that about you being stupid or annoying. You’re my human and I know you really well and you’re- You’re not any of that, MC! So don’t go smiling at jerks dragging your name through the mud okay?”

Leviathan

MC and Leviathan are playing an online multiplayer game together, and MC still hasn’t quite gotten used to Devildom controls yet. They’re not exactly a great asset to their team... Not that Levi minds. He’s happy they’re showing interest in him his games at all.

Some of the demons they’re playing with, on the other hand...

Ugh, stay on the objective you stupid bitch!

Is [MC’s username] afk?

If you feed them any more kills I fucking swear-

Why is a noob even playing this game lmao just go die already

Levi scoffs. Their team wasn’t even losing, these scumbags just needed to find someone to pick on. Still, it wasn’t fair for MC to listen to their insults, he’ll just disconnect and find a better team - hey, why has MC been so quiet?

The Avatar of Envy turns to face MC only to see them staring down at their controller with a shaky smile. He calls their name and they look up, startled.

“I’m gonna find another team for us to play on,” Levi explains as the game warns him that he’s about to lose some in-game reputation points for abandoning his team. “Uh, unless you’d rather play something else?”

“No it’s fine, you pick,” MC says, still avoiding making direct eye contact. “I probably won’t do any better no matter what we play...”

Hey, insecurity is his thing!

“MC, you better not be thinking about what those losers said in the chat!”

“But-”

“NUH UH! You might be a normie, but you’re also my best friend!” MC feels an anime-inspired speech coming on. “Who cares about winning or losing one match? I’d rather lose every match I ever play from now on if it means I get to have you as my player 2!” Leviathan pauses as he realizes exactly what he just said and immediately turns beet red. “...you know... if you... wanted to, I guess...”

Satan

MC is in Devildom History with Satan, and as an exchange student, is having a rough time of it. They just don’t have the same background as the rest of the students, and can’t pick up on things as fast as they do.The teacher hands back the latest test and they cringe as they see their grade. Satan, sitting next to them, glances at the mark and gives them one of his small smiles.

“You know, if you need extra help, don’t be shy. I’d be happy to help you,” he says quietly.

Apparently not quietly enough, because a particularly rowdy pair of demons overhear him and choose that moment to make a nuisance of themselves. One of them snatches MC’s paper out of their hands, and upon seeing their grade starts laughing.

“How did you put the Abyssal Peace Treaty before the Abyssal War?! Everyone knows when that happened!” they continue chuckling at more silly mistakes MC made while very stressed during that test, while Satan’s blood starts boiling.

Much to his surprise, MC just smiles and joins in the demons’ laughter. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid...” they say with a falsely cheerful tone. Satan quickly catches on - they’re just fucking with these demons! He keeps his anger at bay with the anticipation of seeing MC really tear these lowlives a new-

“Wow, not even gonna defend yourself? Why do we even have human exchange students, they’re so boring.” The demon pair scoff and toss MC’s test back, before stalking off, annoyed that they didn’t get the reaction they wanted.

Hm. Frustrate them by not responding to their futile taunts. An interesting choice, but effective nonetheless. Satan expresses his appreciation of MC’s choice, much to their confusion. When they explain that they really were agreeing with what the demons had said, Satan doesn’t take it very well.

If MC doesn’t stop him, he’ll go over to the pair of demons that insulted them and drag their names through the dirt in front of the entire classroom, adding in some colourful suggestions about what would happen to them if they continued this behaviour. Either way, he’s furious enough that his demon form might start peeking out, tail thrashing behind him or horns growing out from his messy hair.

When class is over, Satan asks MC to stay behind.

“I want you to tell me why you feel this way about yourself,” he says. “Because I promise you, there isn’t a single explanation you can give that I won’t argue against. And I’m rarely wrong.”

Asmodeus

Asmo lives in a delightful bubble of flirtation, partying, and being the very best and prettiest being in all three realms. He works very hard to maintain this state, terrified of what he’d find on the other side of the haze.

But all it takes is one look at MC for it to come crashing down.

They’re at The Fall together, sipping on fruity drinks disguising unholy amounts of alcohol for a brief break before returning to the dance floor. Asmo knows MC struggles with confidence, and figured that if he could get them to have a good time, they would forget their insecurities for at least a little while.

And maybe he’s laying it on a bit thick with the flirting while they’re here. He can’t help it! He loves MC in a way he’s never really loved anyone else before. If he’s completely honest, the feeling scares him: he wants to put them before himself, and he’s not sure if he can, because he never has put someone else first before.

A demon notices Asmo’s lovesick staring at MC, and comments as they pass, “Oh my, has the Avatar of Lust sunken so low that he’s making eyes at some plain-jane human?” A long, scaled tail snakes around MC’s face, turning their head in the demon’s direction. “Or are you just a charity-fuck? You certainly won’t be able to hold his interest for long, darling.~”

The demon saunters off, and Asmodeus has half a mind to storm over to them and cause a scene, but the look on MC’s face stops him in his tracks.

They’re looking at him and they’re smiling.

“You don’t have to pretend to be upset about it,” they say, poking at their drink with their straw. “I know I’m not all that interesting. You just want me right now because I’m an ordinary human, right? And once the novelty wears off, well... I’m not powerful like a demon, or a wise magic user like Solomon, and I’m not exactly good-looking, so why keep me around? It’s been nice of you to pretend with me, though-”

He cuts them off with a passionate kiss, threading his fingers in their hair and pressing their bodies as close as possible. The gesture catches MC off guard and their drink spills on the two of them, but Asmo doesn’t even flinch. He only pulls away when MC starts panting from lack of oxygen.

“Please don’t say those awful things about yourself, MC,” Asmodeus says, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re...” One of the only people I don’t have to pretend around. “...You are so special to me. And you always will be.” Suddenly aware that they’ve both been soaked in a cocktail, Asmo smirks. “Oh dear, it seems our clothes are all dirty... I guess we’ll have to go back home and change, won’t we?”

Please let me prove to you how much I love you, he thinks as you tearfully smile and punch his arm before agreeing.

Beelzebub

Beel deals with survivor’s guilt, and if he’s not careful, it can lead to some pretty dark places. He’s also Belphie’s twin and is very familiar with what low self-esteem looks like. So whenever a demon tries to insult MC while he’s around, he doesn’t give them the chance to agree, calmly, but firmly jumping to their defence.

It doesn’t matter who it is or where they are, Beel always has MC’s back. Whenever they’re feeling especially down and that sad little smile is on their face, MC tends to find some of their favourite snacks tucked away into their bag or even their uniform pockets. The Avatar of Gluttony is also always ready to deploy some Emergency Cuddles, and is generally a steady, grounding presence in MC’s life. He starts to stick around them almost as much as Mammon does.

Unfortunately, this attracts the attention of some less than savoury people.

“Hey Beel! Coach wants you to know we’ve got an extra practice tomorrow! It’s semi-finals soon, and he wants to go over some new strategies,” a large, intimidating demon calls out, dressed in the RAD athletic uniform.

MC and Beel turn towards the demon’s voice, and Beel’s teammate makes a face upon seeing them. “You’re still hanging around them?” the demon asks. “Or are they clinging onto ya like a barnacle?” He laughs and MC lets go of Beel’s hand, blushing.

They have been around him an awful lot lately... Is he only doing it out of pity? Should they stop? Oh no, what if he thinks they’re annoying--

“I like MC,” Beel says plainly. “And I like spending time with them. So, tomorrow after classes is the next practice? I’ll be there.” He leaves no room for further debate. The demon stumbles over his words before confirming and abruptly running off.

MC doesn’t take Beel’s hand again.

“Hey,” Beelzebub takes MC’s much smaller hands into his own. “I mean it. I like you. Don’t listen to my teammate, he’s dumber than Mammon. Want to go have lunch together? I think they’re serving fried bats in the cafeteria...”

Belphegor

Sometimes, Belphegor peeks in on MC’s dreams. He never directly interacts with them, nor has he ever told them that he does this at all. Ever since he... ever since that happened, he’s made a conscious effort to avoid creeping them out even further, and he worries that this kind of behaviour would be frowned upon by a human.

But he can’t help it. Especially tonight.

After being woken up by a squirming MC, he decides to look into their dreams and see what is upsetting them so much. Much to his surprise, he finds himself inside one of RAD’s classrooms. MC is working on an assignment with a group of demons whose features keep shifting around. The writing on the books in front of them is illegible, and Belphegor only knows it’s writing at all because of his familiarity with dream physics.

“There they are,” whispers one of the demons. “What do they think they’re doing?”

MC asks a question about something in one of the books, pointing to a scribble that only looks like words when not focused on.

“Why do you care? It’s not like you can do anything useful for us anyway,” the demon snaps. “I’m not even sure why you’re here.” Belphegor frowns. Is this a memory?

MC meekly mentions the exchange program. “I don’t care!” The demon’s voice changes, and Belphegor suddenly feels the pitter-patter of raindrops on his skin, despite still being indoors. MC’s clothes are drenched in the invisible rain. “Fuck, can you not take a hint, MC? No one actually wants you here! You’re just a tag-along!”

“Why don’t you just pack up and leave then? Oh right, you have nowhere else to go!”

The figures of the demons become shadowy and elongated, hands sharpening into talons. MC jumps to their feet and backs away from the advancing figures, whose whispers become louder and interrupt each other.

“Just don’t mess it up again-”

“-never have trusted you! You ruin EVERYTHING-”

“Another disappointment, I see.”

“Don’t LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT-”

“Fucking whore!”

The voices continue, growing louder and louder until the figures melt into one familiar silhouette with violet eyes.

“You’re so stupid that I can’t help but laugh.” Belphegor’s blood runs cold. “You humans really are foolish, idiotic, weak creatures, aren’t you?”

The Avatar of Sloth watches helplessly as his dream-double wraps its hands around MC’s throat, cooing hideous insults at them all the while. Nonononono, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know, I was just so- Ugh! That’s not an excuse, you idiot! 

The dream-Belphegor pauses, grip slackening.

“Get off of them,” Belphegor hisses. “Now.” 

The figure dissolves into the classroom, turning the surroundings completely black. Now Belphie finds himself standing in the creature’s place, in front of a confused MC.

“Are you okay?” he asks lamely.

“Why did you stop?” MC asks in return.

“I wasn’t... It was hurting you, and saying- I couldn’t keep letting it-”

MC smiles. “It’s just the truth. You said so yourself.”

MC and Belphegor wake up together, sweating, trapped in the other’s vice-like grip. MC’s pulse flutters under Belphie’s hands, way faster than it should be. It almost feels like when-

He twists out of their grasp, falling out of the bed in the process. He scrambles as far back as his room allows, nearly tripping over his own tail. MC stares at him through the darkness, torn between chasing after him and putting more distance between the two of them.

“...You saw that.” He doesn’t reply. “...Come here, Belphie.”

And slowly, he does.

For the next few weeks, Belphegor never leaves MC’s side unless absolutely necessary, even if he falls asleep next to them. He refuses to acknowledge this unusual behaviour, reacting with increasing hostility to anyone who mentions it. He also accompanies them to bed more often than not, much to Mammon’s chagrin.

“So long as I’m with you, no one else is going to talk to you like that ever again. I’m not going to let them, and I’m not going to let you just take it.”

#obey me: swd #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me: shall we date #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #headcanon #mine #long post #my writing

[everythingoesnk]

Once in Rockfield Farm (1/5)

summary; you own Rockfield Farm and your bf Mary Austin asks you if you can help her friends with an enormous favour that will lead to a much bigger unprecedented change into your life. Thanks to a cute guy specifically.

word count; 6 126

disclaimers, PLEASE read them; don’t forget this is fiction. i’m using queen‘s 70s era as a base for the story but it won’t be historically accurate. the song mentioned towards the end of the chapter is from Taylor Swift, i don’t claim those lyrics as mine. sorry in advance if u find a f*cked up grammar mistake or whatever. feedback would mean everything, it’s the first time i’m posting something i’ve written it feels like i’m giving birth looool

warnings; minor violence at some point and mention of abuse

********

Mary didn’t stop until she convinced you to give green light to her proposal.

She called it like that, but it seemed more like an order. Both of you knew she wouldn’t let it pass until you agreed to.

Taken aback, you refused at first.

The idea of four strangers living in your house, coexisting with you in the only safe space you knew, wasn’t appealing whatsoever.

Even though all they needed was a studio to record, they’d have to stay until the album was finished. They could afford to rent a proper one, but Mary made it quite clear that getting out of town was crucial to avoid possible distractions.

You’d been fired from your job because the restaurant bankrupted, so the money they were going to pay for rent was welcomed.

Your grandfather passed Rockfield Farm on to you when he died.

It was a lovely place full of good memories, mainly concerning hours on end together in the studio he built in the attic throughout the years. The relationship you had with him had always been special, but ever since your nana passed away at the age of 70, your bond became stronger.

He also wasn’t there anymore, and you tried not to think too much about it, just were glad that you met someone like him. He was the main reason you loved making music so much.

Sadly, as you grew up, although your talent for writing songs and producing music was undeniable, you realized you needed to be realistic and pursue a more down-to-earth career.

Medicine was another thing you were slightly attracted to, it wasn’t your passion but it would have to do.

The music business was too complex and difficult to get in, and wasting your time wasn’t on your plans. It’s not like you were a prodigy or a diamond in the rough, anyway. That was your honest opinion.

But now and then you’d succumb and compose. It was an effective way to forget about the rest of the world and vent whenever something would make you sad, grumpy, anxious, angry… Rarely did you write about happy feelings.

What’s the fun in claiming how fulfilled you are with your life? Which you weren’t, but still.

Ballads and songs that’d leave you with your heart aching on the floor were your daily bread.

Mary was the only one allowed to hear your little creations. She’d try to get you to show them to the world, to step out of the comfort zone and perform them in public, to rush out of those same four walls.

You were quick to brush her comments off every time, content with her and your dog being the only ones to get to listen to your babies.

“How long they’re going to take?” you asked using a fake uninterested tone, pretending not to care whether they needed weeks, months or a year.

The truth was that you wished for the album to be done quite fast.

“Who knows,” Mary said. “When the album’s finished I’m the first to know, but in the meantime Freddie won’t give me any clues”

You nodded, unsatisfied with the answer.

“Thanks for agreeing to this. I owe you big” her eyes found yours and yours softened.

“If anything it’s them who do, don’t you think?”

Mary grinned and offered to cook something for tonight’s dinner.

She left you alone with your molecular pathology notes resting on your lap.

It was your last year in University, thank the Lord. One last effort and you would be a doctor.

After memorizing various concepts you found yourself staring at the horizon wondering how was Freddie Mercury like.

Obviously because of Mary you sort of formed this idea of him, but hadn’t had a face to face yet. About the other Queen members… yeah, Mary mentioned them sometimes, vaguely: she described John as a nice fella to have around, Brian as the only one with common sense, and last but not least, when it came to Roger’s personality, she told you hesitantly to judge him yourself.

You thanked her when she handed you the pen you forgot inside.

Mary gave you an encouraging smile, placing her hand on your shoulder and squeezing it.

As soon as she turned around to go back inside, you called her name, squinting your eyes to try and get a better sight of the vehicle that kept getting closer to your property.

“What?”

When she spotted the van she sighed happily.

“Finally”

Mary ran to wait for them in the parking area. She was over the moon, clapping and waving effusively to welcome them.

“Are you coming or not?” Mary shouted, gesturing you to go and stand next to her.

You took your time to get up from sitting upon the grass and do just that.

Not a single second since they pulled over went by and Mary was already imprisoning Freddie in her arms.

You chuckled, completely sure he would be dead in a matter of seconds if she wouldn’t loose her grip.

He lovingly wrapped her in his and stroked her hair.

All of a sudden, running from the backyard where he usually played in the mud (this time was no different), your dog appeared on scene. You asked him to remain quiet and by your side, which to your dismay he did not obey.

He went and greeted Queen, who pushed him away with no bad intentions, they just didn’t want to get dirt on their trousers.

John, nevertheless, got on his knees and began patting him. It did not take long for him to regret it when Sherlock seemed to be captivated by his face, licking it non-stop.

You cleared your throat. It would be nice of Mary to introduce you, being the one who organized this whole of a mess in the first place.

Apparently she read your mind. The next thing she did was link arms with you.

“This is (Y/N)” she spoke. “Freddie, come here”

“You have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you”

Freddie gave you two sweet kisses, one on each cheek.

“Same here” you nodded and mirrored his smile when you saw it reached his eyes.

In a heartbeat you were fascinated by him.

There was this intriguing strong aura he projected that made you feel like you were in the presence of someone from the royalty, someone important.

Freddie examined you from head to toe and fell in love immediately with your outfit, a pastel blue dress with tiny sunflowers printed all over it. He did spot your exposed feet and smiled pleasedly at your choice of painting your toenails with the colours of the rainbow.

“Boys, don’t be rude and come say hi” he gestured his bandmates, who were taking a rapid glimpse of their new temporary home, and stepped aside.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Brian”

“Nice to meet you too” you kindly responded, shaking his hand.

“Thank you very much for allowing us to record our album here. If we win a Grammy expect you to be the first one we address in the speech” he joked, face beaming with a heavenly smile.

Damn, you were so soft for him already. And you wanted to touch his curls.

“You’re welcome, Brian”

“Yes, we’re endlessly grateful” another gentle voice joined the conversation.

John stood now in front of you.

“Hi, I’m John Deacon”

“I know” you laughed, tilting your head to the side. “I hope your stay here is… productive”

“I hope so too” he smiled big, and it made your heart melt. He was so cute.

Roger was next.

He was wearing a black leather jacket that fit him like a glove. One silver bracelet hugging his right wrist, matching the necklace around the neck. What caught your attention the most was the glittery rosy shoes, though. He had long blond messy hair (like the others, except the colour part), and prominent sideburns.

They looked ridiculous, you thought, although every second you spent contemplating his face the less they bothered you.

He was gorgeous, what the hell?

You got somehow a little nervous.

“Productive it shall be. I’m Roger” he spoke, referring your words from before. He took your hand and held it to his lips. “We’ve come to the right place, guys. With such a pretty face like hers we’ll never run out of inspiration” he snorted when he heard John face-palming himself.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Sure Roger didn’t mean that at all, it was just his constant flirty mood Mary warned you about taking over him, you reasoned.

“Don’t get it started, Rog. We don’t want her to kick us out the very first day” Brian scolded him like a father would his children.

Roger laughed, his silly expression never fading away, and soon he was again observing you.

“I was joking, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he said, taking some of the heat out.

“It didn’t,” you said back, confident.

You followed the others when they headed to the house carrying their respective suitcases with Mary as the leader.

Roger was fast to grab his and catch up with you.

“You live alone?”

“I have Sherlock”

He was still in ecstasy, trying to get everyone’s attention.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it” you shrugged. “It’s not as tragic as it sounds. I enjoy my own company”

“Oh. Anyway. This is a farm, right? You do all the, huh… you know, farm work on your own?” he looked around, scanning a bit the surroundings. He pointed with his chin at one big rooster. “The guardian of the house, eh?”

You let out a vague chuckle that made Roger proud, already eager to make you like him.

The reason was obvious: you were so eyecatching he almost tripped when he missed one of Sherlock’s toys on one of the porch steps, too engrossed in how the sun made the freckles in your face stand out.

“My grandfather baptized this piece of land as Rockfield Farm, but it hasn’t been a proper farm for years. Now it’s just… my house”

“You know,” he began, digging deep around his mind to come up with something so the conversation wouldn’t end, “years ago I had this summer job in a much more immense place than this. I had to watch over 200 sheep every day”

“Was it as entertaining as it sounds?”

“Clearly not”

Roger extended his hand to stop the door from closing after John came in. He motioned you to go first and winked, but you didn’t notice the last part, which slightly bothered him.

“(Y/N), this place is precious!” you heard Freddie praise.

Mary interrupted you before you could thank him.

“Then you sure are going to love the studio even more! C’mon”

//

“How did your grandfather manage to get this studio together? It’s pretty impressive” Brian enthusiastically asked, taking a small sip of tea.

The six of you were now chilling in the living room. It was the perfect time for them to rest since the road trip had been long.

Moments before they finished unpacking and settling down, Mary and you gossiped in the kitchen. She remarked how attentive Roger acted towards you, and asked if you were into him.

“Are you stupid?” you couldn’t believe her. “We’ve known each other for what, ten minutes?”

“I was just wondering whether there was desire at first sight or something”

“Desire at first sight?” you repeated slowly, taking in every word.

“It was a softer way to ask if you’d give him a ride or not” she laughed watching you gesture her to lower it down. “I’m just asking because I can tell he would”

Before answering Brian, you looked over at Roger.

He’d taken off his jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of the white tee he wore underneath.

Your lips parted, finding that mundane action quite amusing and sexy on him.

You looked away, guilt taking over you for having stared too keenly. There was nothing wrong about it, and you couldn’t explain why you felt agitated. Maybe you were self-conscious about whether the others noticed.

Forcing yourself to remember Brian’s words and with a sense of pride, you smirked behind your cup, gazing at the wooden floor.

Your grandfather poured his soul into this studio, which he also referred to as a sanctuary. It made you happy to hear Brian acknowledging its value.

There were several electric and acoustic guitars, a generous collection of microphones your grandmother enjoyed saving, two trumpets, a synthesizer -to which Freddie and Roger scoffed loudly at-, a drumkit, one saxophone, and a bass.

Not to mention the tape machine that still worked perfectly plus the recording booth.

Mary told you that John Reid, who was looking after Queen at the moment, managed to convince the label to provide them with a significant amount of money. You assumed they’d brought enough tapes to record on, therefore yours would remain intact.

“He bought half of the instruments”

“The other half?” John inquired.

“He stole them” you answered, not much of a fan about it.

“Whew!” Roger whistled.

You took a short sip of the tea and turned slightly towards the window, presencing a flash of light.

“A piano?”

Freddie dropped the question with no high hopes.

“Pardon?” you turned your head and looked at him over your shoulder with your body still facing towards the window.

The head movement was so fast that a clip you wore to hold a fraction of hair in place loosened a bit, letting the lock to fell down your face.

Roger stared at you in awe.

The light illuminating the room had a warm cosy tone, which surely helped to make your skin look softer and smooth. He wasn’t aware of the heart eyes he was giving you, but Brian, John and Mary were.

When you batted your lashes, he looked away and saw Brian try and fail to hide a smile when they locked eyes. He’d been caught.

“Do you have a piano?” Freddie questioned again, eyebrows raised a little.

A tiny playful smile made its way to your lips.

“Of course I have a piano” you cockily answered.

When you saw Fred’s satisfied grin appear you instantly knew he liked you as much as you liked him. It wasn’t in the attic; you’d show it to him later.

To be honest, the piano was your favourite instrument to play. So delicate, so powerful and majestic.

“Excuse me for a second” you got up from your seat, everyone confused by your sudden urge to leave, but not alarmed.

That light from before wasn’t a bolt of lightning, you came to realize, it was a car that parked outside.

A little voice popped in your head guessing it could be him, but it couldn’t… right? There were approximately two hours from Cardiff to get there.

It sure was someone lost, or maybe they were stopping by to beg to use your bathroom because they couldn’t hold it in anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“How about we start dinner? I’m starving” Mary added.

Their voices kept getting lower and lower as you crossed the corridor, oblivious to Roger’s eyes following your every move.

You stepped outside and closed the heavy door behind you, but not completely.

The silhouette of the last person you’d want to see in the entire world was leaning against a red car, one you did know very well because you lost your virginity in the backseat. He was humming to a tune you didn’t recognize, head facing downwards.

Picking at the fabric of the sweater you put on to forbid the cool air of the night from touching your skin, you opened your mouth.

“Leonardo!” you whisper shouted.

He definitely heard you, although he turned a deaf ear.

“Leo, what the fuck!”

“You’re a stupid whore”

Shit. He’s drunk? You prayed he wouldn’t make a scene, not now, with Mary and the guys around. The shame to have them complicit of whatever could possibly happen would be unbearable.

“You’re miserable” he went on with his speech, voice thick, which made it difficult for you to understand him.

You called it quits three months ago. Apparently he wasn’t any close to getting over the fact you ended it.

“Leave”

After what felt forever, he abruptly raised his head.

“What?” the expression on his face revealed he wasn’t happy.

What his eyes showed freaked the hell out of you: they revealed an intense desire, either with words or physically, to hurt you. He wasn’t sober, and you were aware that he had struggled with alcoholism when he was a teenager. It was fair to say Leonardo never put a finger on you in that way before, but alcohol was the push he needed to do it and his body was full of it now.

A lump formed in your throat.

“Get out of here”

“I just want to talk” lifting his hands up in an attempt to seem harmless, losing balance doing so, he took a few steps forward trying his best to sound convincing so you wouldn’t move and listen to him.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say”

“How do you think I felt? Huh? When I saw you making out with that moron? You’re so selfish. A fucking slut, (Y/N). You disgust me”

That was the final straw. You promised you wouldn’t give in and start an argument, but he fucking did have to bring that up. He had the nerve to blame you for moving on and having some fun with a guy a few days ago at a party.

“Are you serious right now, Leo? How dare you?! We’re not together!” funny enough, this time it was you walking up to him not giving a damn anymore about the consequences.

When you raised your fist to punch him, even in his state, he managed to catch your wrist on time.

“How wrong you’ve done me” he hissed, tightening the grip. That’d leave marks for sure.

He pushed you against the car, causing your back to crack roughly. The situation was so tense not even the tears were brave to roll down your face, your vision blurry and unclear.

“Please, Leo!”

Mary’s voice never felt so good in your ears.

You totally forgot about them, that you could’ve screamed for help instead of dealing with Leo on your own, too absorbed in rage to be able to think things through.

“Do something, help her!” she pleaded the boys.

Four arms were fast to catch him and throw him to the ground.

Everything was happening so fast, almost as fast as your crazy heartbeats.

Brian came to you and held you by the shoulders, checking you out entirely, looking for bruises. He was asking repeatedly if you were alright, if that man dared to touch you. You could hear him, but it felt like he were miles away from you, his words echoing in the back of your mind.

Mary grabbed your arm and the two guided you, treating you like you had some kind of disability.

Before letting them drag you inside, you quickly turned your head to see what was going on, and saw a fuming Roger threatening Leo to disappear and never come back.

Freddie and John remained behind him in case he’d lose his temper. They looked at each other in astonishment; it was the first time they saw Roger like that.

“(Y/N)” Mary called you, once in the common room. “Fancy a glass of water?”

“I’ll be right back with it,” Brian said, his long legs taking him to the kitchen.

“Sit down, babe”

“I don’t want to. I’m fine”

She could perfectly see the tension in your shoulders.

“You’re not. But it’s fine, it’ll be fine” she sympathized, caressing your hair.

At this point you were lost for words. You were confused, angry, stunned.

“Here, take it. It’ll do you good, (Y/N). Is there anything else you n—” Brian began, offering you freshwater to maybe comfort you and make the knot you felt in your throat go away.

“For fuck’s sake!” you felt choleric. Maybe you were about to pass out.

Freddie, John and Roger came in and stopped dead in their tracks when they heard you complain.

Brian blinked a few times.

You were desperate for some time alone to process the last couple of minutes, but that wasn’t any excuse for you to take it out on Brian when all he wanted was for you to get better.

“I’m sorry” you lamented, ashamed at your behaviour, and took the glass not looking at anyone in the eye. That’s when you saw you were indeed shaking a little bit.

He smiled comprehensively, not giving too much attention to your outburst.

“Who the fuck was that?” Freddie wondered.

John elbowed him and mouthed “not now”.

“I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry you had to witness that” you sighed, choking back the agony.

“Don’t apologize. That piece of shit shouldn’t have treated you like that. He looked mad” Freddie condemned.

Another heavy sigh escaped your mouth when you saw everyone staring intently at you, hating the feeling of their unasked pity.

Roger hadn’t said a word. His muscles were tense, mind way too far from the scene recalling something from the past.

//

It’d been several weeks since Queen came to stay.

To your surprise you had no complaints. They helped you without hesitation with the housework and kept their rooms tidy. More or less. The only thing you could protest about was that after the sessions it seemed like the studio had been the target of a fateful hurricane.

However, they were too cute to stay mad at for more than ten seconds.

Coming out of your shell was easy because of them. It didn’t take you long to feel comfortable enough to show your true self instead of hiding in your room like you did the first three days.

Reading a book easily kept your mind busy, except now; it was unbearably hot outdoors and indoors. Without taking your eyes off the page, you held the Coca-Cola can against your neck seeking a refreshing sensation.

“Mind if I join?”

You lowered the sunglasses until they were fitted a little bit below the bridge of your nose. The sun was hiding behind a cloud now, making it easier to adjust your vision and get it focused on whoever that was.

A shirtless Roger stood before you, with a towel around his neck that he rushed to spread on the hammock next to yours.

His skin glowing due to the sweat made him look rather tempting.

Your brain lent a helping hand forcing you to smile and nod because you wouldn’t, couldn’t do that yourself.

A small grin tugged at his lips when he noticed your eyes on him longer than usual.

“You’re always studying, angel” he pointed out, lying down and crossing his arms above his head.

You let out a loud sigh you’d been holding in, cheeks red at the pet name he chose. Anytime he’d call you something sweet rather than by your name, it was always how you tended to react.

There was no denying that you’d sort of developed a small crush on him.

Nobody could blame you, though; the same thing would happen to any human being with feelings.

He always treated you as one of them, making sure you didn’t feel left out. His sense of humour was similar to yours, and you appreciated it when he included you in their plans even if he knew you were occupied with Uni and probably wouldn’t be able to join.

Also, he was hot as fuck. You swore you’d never seen a man so beautiful in your life so far.

“I have to if I want to pass my exams”

“Sure, but you’re always studying” he emphasized. “It cannot be healthy”

It couldn’t, but everything was so difficult and you were so lost at some points you thought the world as you knew it could end if you took the smallest break.

“(Y/N)”

“Tell me”

“Seeing you stressed out stresses me” he sat straight, took the book from you and shoved it away. “Fuck this. I suggest you have some fun before the pressure ages you”

“And what do you recommend, ay?” you questioned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“We could play Frisbee”

“Frisbee? Really?”

“Why not? I’m sure you’re not that bad” he teased, getting to his feet.

You faked a laugh and stood up.

“Don’t underestimate my skills”

He used his hand to mimic a mouth talking nonsense, and approached the pool since the frisbee was floating in the water. But he stopped when he felt he stepped on something, proceeding to lift his foot to see what it was.

Roger knelt down and picked a piece of paper up, which said in messy handwriting together with scribbles here and there: You tell me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me.

His brows cocked in surprise and your eyes widened. You grabbed it out of his hand and held it close to your heart reflexively, as if protecting it. It must have flown out from within the pages of the book when he first threw it away.

Roger watched you curiously, crouched down still, as you breathed slow and deep avoiding eye contact. You could feel your face getting hotter.

He got up with an unnoticeable smile.

“That’s yours? It’s decent”

You waited for something to get out of your mouth, but this time your brain didn’t find a way to help you out, speechless at the fact that he liked it.

“Do you have more? I’d love to hear” he continued, glancing at you.

“Oh, n-no” you forced a laughter. “I don’t”

“I’m glad you’re not as bad as a lyricist as you are as a liar”

You gave him a dirty look and the corners of his eyes crinkled at that. He puppy-eyed you.

“Please?”

“No, Roger”

“We don’t protest when you’re in our recording sessions, you could return the favour”

“Excuse me? You’re in my goddamn house. Watch your tone”

He giggled, fascinated by how cute you turned out to be when poked at.

“What do I have to do for you to say yes?”

“Nothing. It’s not happening”

“(Y/N)!” he pleaded. “I want to hear you sing”

You shook your head.

“And I want to own all the dogs on the planet. Guess we’re both stuck”

Roger groaned in defeat and turned around to get his hands on the frisbee.

For some odd reason, it made your heart dance in your chest knowing he was willing to sit down with you and listen.

A sense of enthusiasm and confidence moved you and shockingly enough you found yourself considering the idea.

Roger gave you a quick head nod.

“Ready?”

You didn’t know what the hell you were doing but you whispered a small “okay”. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Take a few steps back first, you’re too close”

You pulled a face at him but quickly shook your head.

“I said I’ll do it”

Roger wasn’t getting it.

“Do w—“ he stopped mid-sentence, his sapphire eyes widening in understanding this wasn’t about playing Frisbee anymore. “Yes!” he took you in his arms and spun you around.

Since he was shirtless you could feel how well built he was. Although he wasn’t the most athletic man out there, apparently drumming on and on was enough to keep him fit.

“Rog, Rog! Enough! I’m feeling dizzy”

You were wearing a mini skirt that had a tiny slit on one of the sides. Seeing it rolled itself up a little you adjusted its length, avoiding any extra space to anyone’s imagination. Too late for Roger though.

When satisfied with how your skirt fitted, you looked up and saw a subtle wink roaming his lips.

“I’m ready when you are” he announced, bending over to grab his shirt and put it on.

At first your legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Roger followed you closely.

He saw you toy with your hair, questioning yourself why you agreed to do this when you weren’t a hundred per cent sure about it. He placed his hands on your shoulders and slowly massaged the back of your neck with his thumbs, relieving some of the pressure.

Every single hair of your body stood on ends.

“Don’t be nervous, love. We can drop it whenever you want” he conceded, tossing an arm around your shoulders.

Opening the door to the studio you felt sick, already regretting your decision.

Roger took a sit on the couch, watching you like you were about to do a mind-blowing performance that’d change the meaning of his life forever.

Feeling like a rat in a laboratory with the doctors waiting to see if the experiment was successful or not, you shifted weight from one foot to the other, discomfort intensifying.

The piercing electric blue of his eyes triggered something in you when they met yours. You didn’t know how but it seemed like he was speaking to you through them, encouraging and imploring you to open up to him.

“Take it easy, (Y/N). It’s not a big deal”

“It is for me”

You sank down on one of the chairs next to the control room, poorly trying to hide how intimidated you were.

“You’re singing, then? Or reading the lyrics out loud?”

“Singing” you muttered. God knows if you went downstairs to pick up your notebook you wouldn’t come back.

A very cheeky expression overtook his face.

“Okay, go ahead” he gestured, rubbing his chin.

You clenched your jaw and snapped your eyes shut. It was easier to do it if you weren’t looking. You’d just imagine it was your grandfather in the room with you instead.

“Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it I’d like to be my old self again But I’m still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone”

Roger’s fingers fidgeted at the sight of you tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, silently wishing it was him doing it.

He saw how your angelic features relaxed along to every word you sang. When it comes to your voice... He had to remind himself he didn’t die nor was leaving a dream, because it felt like he were in the very gates of heaven.

His breathing quickened, well aware he was witnessing something intimate.

Leaning closer, elbows resting on his knees, he allowed your voice to transport him to the place and time you were describing.

“But you keep my old scarf From that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can’t get rid of it

'Cause you remember it all too well”

You swallowed before opening your eyes and speaking.

“There’s more but that’s the part I’m most proud of”

Roger’d fallen silent, his brain on fire.

He seemed to be absent, daydreaming probably.

Your heartbeat could make you go deaf any second, partly because you allowed him to have a peek at your heart partly because you were dying to know if he was any positive about it.

“You sounded like an angel” he stated in the softest voice, working on coming back to his senses.

There was nothing you could do apart from blushing and awkwardly shaking your head, yet on the inside you were saturated with a strong feeling that filled you completely: his opinion was relevant to you and the reaction he had was more than enough.

“You’re exaggerating. Thank you though, for your words. You’re very kind” you said, entwining ankles.

“Is it…” Roger was afraid this would ruin the mood. He decided to give it a shot and solve any doubt. More importantly, he wanted to make sure you were alright.

You weren’t stupid and knew where he was going.

“About Leonardo? Yes. Next question” you explained bitterly cutting him off, and pressed your lips together making an effort to not roll your eyes and appear rude.

He did ruin the mood.

Roger felt bad now.

“I’m sorry. Forget it”

“It’s fine” the flat tone you used before switched to a more delicate one.

It was overwhelming that he cared. He didn’t have to but he cared.

“I experienced something similar. I know how fucked up domestic abuse is” Roger confessed, bowing his head.

Wait, what? He what?

“Rog…” you got up and carefully sat next to him.

It shocked you how quick the atmosphere changed.

“It’s nothing, dear, it was a long time ago. She was… she was crazy” he laughed drily and cleared his throat. “You know what I mean”

“I do not. What you saw when Leonardo showed up was a one-time thing. He was drunk and barely himself, but I’m so terribly sorry you had to go through that”

“Ah, good for you then” he tapped you on the knee with a small smile on his face.

It broke your heart. How could anyone be so goddamn evil? You just couldn’t understand why they were people like that out there, willing to harm others deliberately.

Your mind drifted to Leonardo, did he become one of them?

Glancing at Roger, you hesitantly got closer to rest your cheek against his shoulder, letting him know mutely you were there in case he needed to vent more often. You intended to cuddle for just a few seconds before it turned out weird. That was until he wrapped an arm around you to keep you in position.

“Thank you” he whispered.

It sent shivers down your spine hearing for the first time his voice discreetly cracking up. You weren’t entirely sure about what he was thanking you for, though.

Roger didn’t quite understand why such information slipped out his mouth. Maybe he thought it was appropriate to share it since he contemplated you went through the same thing after what he saw. He just wanted to make sure you knew you could count on him as well.

The boys knew about the matter, obviously, but there was this thing about you he hadn’t figured out just yet that pushed him to speak to you about it.

That’s what his mind was saying, his heart on the other hand defended the idea that he felt comfortable with you and that since he presenced the incident with Leonardo he remembered his experience. Hence the fit of anger he had.

The thought alone of that scumbag hurting you made his head collapse. He was very sensitive about the subject.

“Better?” you wondered out loud after a while of snuggling, yet you didn’t move, finding the proximity significantly pleasant.

“Yeah, uh, sorry” he cleared his throat and released you.

“It’s more than okay”

He nodded, not really looking at you yet.

You tried to think of something that could distract him from those undeserved and heartrending memories.

There was no point of comparison to what Roger had struggled with, but every time you argued with Leo during the year your relationship lasted, you were grateful that your friends organized sporadic plans to help you forget about the fights.

You had to do that for Roger. You had to entertain him. To keep his mind occupied.

“Freddie explained to me drums are much more complicated than what they seem”

Roger glanced over the drumkit.

He was suspicious at first about the topic change, and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“It can be very ambitious if you don’t do try for real, instead of goofing around. There’s too much going on. People believe it’s just hitting the drums and you’re good. Wankers”

It was unmissable how his face lit up, talking about his passion.

Crossing an ankle over your knee, you bent forward to get a better sight of his much more eased features.

“I’m sure it requires a lot of hard work, the coordination on hands and feet and all that stuff. Singing along as well must be tiring”

Roger’s eyes bored into yours, as if studying and reflecting upon your words. A corner of his mouth lifted.

“Yeah,” he replied amused, “physically it can be tough”

He knew what you were doing.

Just when he was about to ask you if you wanted him to teach you some basics, John came flying through the door.

“For God’s sake, there you are. Roger, I need you. Freddie and Brian are arguing again. Help me out spreading some peace before Freddie slaps him”

****

end of part one, lemme know what you think ! ♡

#roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor imagine #rockfield farm #roger taylor 70s #queen band #a night at the opera #bohemian rhapsody #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #ben hardy #rami malek #lucy boynton #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #once in rockfield farm #tayloredstarr

[kuriquinn]

Underneath the Underneath [6/?]

First Chapter

Temporary Blanket Disclaimer

Author’s Note: In which we learn that under all that sass, Manako has hidden depths. I was rewatching Shippuden and got one of those scenes that has always seriously made me angry. So this chapter happened.

“Let’s stop for lunch,” Manako suggests, nodding her head at Ichiraku as she and Hana pass nearby.

“Only if you pay,” her sister smirks at her.

“Cheapskate.”

“Consider it compensation for me having to watch you fail at flirting with Ayame again.”

“You should be the one paying for the pleasure of my company, since it’s been so long.”

It’s rare that Hana and Manako have the same lunch break. The veterinary has people bringing their pets and ninken in at all hours, and Manako sometimes gets so wrapped up in one of her projects that she forgets to eat. Such was the case today, and she would still be working if Uncle Saburo hadn’t usurped her spot at the workbench for some kind of secret project.

She figures it’s for Jiraiya again, though the old pervert hasn’t been around Konoha for weeks.

As she and her sister duck behind the hanging cloth letters of the ramen bar, a solid figure bursts out—the Uzumaki kid from Kiba’s class, shoving past them without apology. As he bursts into a heedless run into the heart of the village, both girls curl their lips reflexively.  

Manako doesn’t know why the rest of the village has an issue with the boy, but her own unease is visceral; Hana’s is too. Somewhere deep in the Inuzuka blood lingers the spirit of the wolf, and there’s something off about the boy that would have her raising her hackles if she had any. She’d say it was an ominous smell, except it’s not really that.

(Though the kid could stand to take a few more showers, since he stinks like old sweat…)

Not his fault, she tells herself. Maybe some kids are just born under a bad star.

She very carefully doesn’t think of another orphan boy that she knows who was definitely handed a rough deal.

Once the Uzumaki boy is out of range, Manako relaxes and senses her twin do the same, the instinctive tension drawing out of them. At the same time Ayame looks up at them both.

“Well! This is a surprise! I rarely see you two together these days,” she says with a grin. “You might look alike, but I swear you’re the sun and the moon.”

“Poetic as always,” Manako says, and flutters her eyelashes exaggeratedly. Beside her, Hana snorts.

“Take a seat,” Ayame says, reaching for a cloth. “I’ve got space for you over here, just let me finish cleaning up after Naruto. He’s a messy eater!”

There’s a note of sisterly frustration there that Manako recognises all to well.

“You’re real nice to that kid, Ayame,” she says. “I don’t know how you haven’t gotten sick of him yet. I swear he eats three meals a day here!”

“Usually only the one,” Ayame replies, swiping a rag across the counter space as the girls take a seat.

“Still. Most people pretend not to see him,” Hana points out. “Or worse.”

“He’s a good boy,” Ayame sighs. “It’s a shame people don’t treat him better.”

“Now see, this is why I like you,” Manako purrs. “You’re smart and kind, not to mention beautiful…”

“You’re still paying your bill, Manako.”

“I’m just saying! You’re good people.”

“Well, so are you.”

“Not really,” Manako says with a depreciating smile, and gets an elbow in the rib from her sister, who jerks her head toward the menu.

Spoilsport…

She and Hana place their orders. Ayama beams at them both, assuring them it will only be a moment, and heads to the stove.

“It is nice to grab a bite to eat with you,” Hana says after a moment. “It feels like we never see you.”

“You’re busy. I’m busy. It is what it is.”

“You should come to dinner this weekend. Mom’s supposed to be back from her mission, and she’s always asking me to ask you to come over.”

“Funny how she can’t find the time to do it herself,” Manako replies airily, reaching for a set of chopsticks and ripping the paper off.

“Well if you two weren’t so stubborn,” Hana grumbles.

“Pot? This is kettle. You’re black.”

Hana ignores that. “And it’s not just Mom, you know. Kiba misses you.”

“Don’t pull that,” Manako replies, unimpressed but unsurprised at the tactic. “You know if he’s not lurking around your clinic, he’s trying to steal flash bombs from my shop. I see him more than anyone else.”

“And that’s why you should visit more often. You’d think we didn’t even live in the same village anymore! Besides, everyone would be really happy if you were around more often.”

“I can name a bunch who wouldn’t.”

“And Cousin Akiko just had a baby.”

“Ah, there’s the ulterior motive.”

“How is that an ulterior motive?!”

“Obviously they’re expecting me to babysit,” Manako snorts. “Because of course, everyone in the family who’s not part of the reserves has to be on kid duty. It’s like they figure I’ve got nothing else going in my life!”

“You don’t have anything going in your life.”

“Avoiding stupid people is a thing.”

“Not a thing that will give you an excuse to miss another dinner.”

“There’s no excuse needed, I actually have work.”

Hana crosses her arms at her. “You’ve already skipped dinner three times this month. If you go for another, Mom is going to hunt you down. And when she sees the state of your apartment, either she’ll spend the whole day scrubbing every speck of dirt she comes across while yelling at you, or she’ll burn the place down before something in your fridge evolves sentience.”

“Ah, good old Mom. From one extreme to the other,” Manako smirks. Tsume Inuzuka may be a rough and tumble woman in the field, but she’s obsessive compulsive about her housekeeping. Privately Manako thinks her mother overcompensates for the fact that her father isn’t around anymore, but she’s always known better than to point that out.

“Your even more in for it if she finds the huge collection of those colourful…items in your bedside table drawer,” Hana continues in a lower voice.

“How do you know what’s in my bedside table drawer? You are such a snoop!”

“I wasn’t snooping, I was looking for a pen.”

“Who even keeps pens in their bedside tables anymore? And why were you in my apartment, anyway?”

“Someone has to make sure you’re eating more than fried potatoes and cereal,” Hana maintains.

“And that someone has to root around in my private belongings? I totally regret giving you a key.”

“You know I don’t need a key to get in there if I want to.”

“Well, that makes me regret it even worse.”

They glare at each other. Hana breathes in through her nose, like she’s grounding herself or counting to ten in her head, and in a level voice says, “Manako, you can’t avoid her forever. She’s your mother, too.”

“I don’t avoid her. You said it yourself, I go to dinner every…what, month or so?”

“And then you spend like an hour sitting like a statue while Mom and Kiba fill up the silence, and then take off again.”

“So what? If I have nothing to say, I have nothing to say.”

“You’re you. You always have something to say,” Hana scowls. “This whole ‘avoiding the family’ thing of yours is getting ridiculous. If you would just—”

“Not talking about it, Hana.”

“You never want to talk about it! Are you seriously going to spend the rest of your life angry at her?”

“I dunno, does she want to spend the rest of her life pretending like she didn’t do anything wrong?”

“In her view, she didn’t.”

“Well, in my view, she did. So we’re at an impasse. Would you stop playing peacekeeper and trying to fix everything? It’s annoying.”

“Manako…” her sister looks troubled, and Manako decides she’s allowed the conversation to go on longer than she should have.

“I think I might order something for Uncle while I’m here. Otherwise he’ll complain the whole day about how I’m starving him to death.”

Ayame, balancing two bowls in her hands, says, “I can prepare his regular order for you while you two eat.”

“You’re a good woman,” Manako says with a wry grin. Then, putting her hand to her heart and pretending to swoon, she says, “Ayame, moon of my heart and star of my night sky! When are you going to leave behind this life of drudgery and strained noodles, and run away with me?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ayame laughs as she sets down the girls’ orders. “And you’ve been hanging around with Gai again, haven’t you?”

“Heh. ‘Hanging out’ would be a stretch, but he has become a regular at the shop. And you have to admit, weird jumpsuits aside, he has a way with words.”

“I don’t get it,” Hana sighs, abandoning their previous conversation with only a trace of reluctance to show for it. “Almost four years you could count the number of people you actually liked on one hand. And now in the span of four weeks, you’ve made friends with the two weirdest and most infamous men in Konoha.” She stabs a chopstick in Manako’s direction. “What, was the village out of normal people?”

“Normal’s overrated.”

“They’re definitely not normal… Sometimes I can’t believe those two are elite jōnin,” Ayama muses thoughtfully. “Do you know they gorged themselves on ramen a few nights ago, trying to see who eat the most? The mess…”

She shivers, remembering something unpleasant.

“Well, men do mature slower,” Hana says. “I have a theory—want to hear my theory?”

“You’re going to tell us anyway,” Manako points out.

“I think you have to subtract ten years from an average adult male’s age to figure out his actual mentality.”

“So you’re basically saying they’re a pair of fourteen-year-old boys at heart.”

“That makes sense,” Ayame muses. “I’m pretty sure I saw Gai trying to play kancho pranks on Kakashi…”

Manako’s eyes light up in delight. “No way!”

“Oh, yeah. It was right there, out in the open—he practically yelled it at the top of his lungs.” Ayame adopts a dynamic pose, still holding on to the ladle for the ramen. “I have you now, Kakashi! One Thousand Years of Death!”

Hana and Manako burst into laughter, both at the impression and at the imagery Ayame offers up.

Why are all the fun ones straight? Manako wonders with only a trace of self-pity.

Ayame excuses herself to help another customer, and Manako and Hana eat their meal in relative silence—minus a few cutting quips at each other. They’ve barely finished eating when Hana gets to her feet.

“I’m off. I don’t want to leave Uncle Kōga on his own too long. The waiting room tends to fill up right after lunch.” She offers Manako a considering look, and then says, “Just think about dinner, okay?”

And she leaves before her sister can refuse or even make one last snide comment.

Manako scowls at her back.

Her mood remains bleak even as Ayame comes to bring her the take-out container, and she only manages a sullen murmur of thanks before she stalks off.

Why does she always have to do that? You’d think she was three years older instead of three minutes…

As she nears the middle of the street market, there is a commotion up ahead.

“Hey, you little brat!”

“Huh?”

“Get out of here!”

Her eyes are attracted first to the violent orange shirt worn by Naruto Uzumaki, before movement in front of him draws her attention. Through a gathering crowd she watches a mustachioed street vendor reach out and shove the boy until he falls back on the ground.

Manako is frozen for a moment. Later she will be ashamed that she acts like everyone else, just standing around and watching the display without moving to help, but right now she is immobilized by her own disbelief.

The boy recovers himself and stares up at the man in anger, hurt and confusion. “Hey, what’s the big idea?!”

“I don’t want you here! You’re nothing but a pest!”

“But I wasn’t even doing anything!” the blond boy protests. Then, he lowers his eyes almost in embarrassment. Manako barely hears his next words over the murmuring of the crowd. “I mean, I was just looking at the masks you have.”

“Here, is this what you want?” the vendor sneers, and then lobs a white animal-style porcelain mask at the boy.

Manako doesn’t hear the next bit, too floored by the unwarranted assault.

Somehow, the possibility of such a thing never occurred to her. The kid is disliked, sure, and she’s never thought too closely about the reason, but she never thought anyone would actually physically harm him.

A smack for discipline is one thing—she received enough of those growing up, as a means of dissuading bad behavior or to make a lesson stick. But to lash out at a kid out of anger—

Something within her snarls.

Adults are supposed to protect the young, not harm them!

She takes a step forward, intending to intervene, but her momentary hesitance has cost her. The kid, wincing at the growing bruise on his forehead and clearly holding back tears even as he curses out the countless bystanders, is already taking off at a run.

The din of hushed conversation and commentary washes spreads across the open street, gossipmongers already wagging their tongues. Manako even sees the expressions of peevish glee on some people. As if to say the boy got exactly what he deserved.

Her hold on the take-out container vanishes, and she is barely aware of it falling into the dirt behind her as she stalks forward.

When she reaches the stall, the man is already putting a new mask on his wall.

As if he didn’t just attack a kid!

“Hey. Old man,” she says in a low, carefully controlled tone. When the flustered and angry shopkeeper looks up, an expression of indignation on his face which freezes at her icy glare. “I ever see you hit a kid in this village again in anger—even if it’s that kid—this little stall of yours is going to become matchsticks on the ground.”

Her words are delivered without inflection, the tone a statement of fact rather than threat.

The man takes a half-step back, before his face turns an angrier shade of red and he shouts, “And what business it is of yours?”

“None maybe. But I don’t like bullies.”

“Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong! That brat isn’t some innocent victim!”

“Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by a ten-year-old,” she drawls. “Are you that insecure you have to pick on someone smaller than you to feel like a man?”

“Don’t speak of things you’re too young to understand!”

“Then don’t act like a prick.”

The crowd of people who were watching the incident with the Uzumaki boy earlier now stand by watching her. Their murmuring from before starts up again, but this time the grumbling is directed at her.

“Isn’t she a dropout?”

“Who does she think she is, getting involved?”

“Even her own clan is embarrassed of her.”

“Couldn’t hack it as real shinobi…what, does she think she’s neighborhood watch now?”

“I might as well be,” she says loudly, turning to glare at the woman nearest her who made the last comment. “Unless you want the job?” The heckler goes pale, but her mouth firms in stubbornness, and Manako stares around in challenge. “Or someone else here? You’re all quick to comment, but I didn’t see any of you jerks act to help someone smaller and weaker than you.”

Most of the crowd avoids her gaze. There are two kids nearby—an Akimichi and a Nara by the look of them—that at least look troubled, but everyone else looks at her as if she has broken some taboo.

Manako bares her teeth in an expression only a fool would call a smile, and growls.

“If I hear tell of something like this again, I’ll make sure you people spend the rest of your natural lives checking for explosives on your chairs or in your toilets. Act like shit, and you get shit.” She pitches her voice louder for those in the back and glares at the rubberneckers. “I don’t care if you don’t like him—I don’t care what your reasons are. I don’t like him either, but that doesn’t give me an excuse to beat on him. It’s enough the kid’s an orphan, you think it’s okay to kick him around like a stray dog?” She clenches her fists. “You’re fucking adults. Act like it, or I’ll get involved. Trust me when I say I can do a lot worse than a bit of graffiti.”

She looks around once more, trying to meet everyone’s eyes in turn until they look away or hurry off in well-deserved shame. Then, with one last furious glare, she turns on her heel and marches back the way she came.

Just beyond the edge of the crowd, she finds herself face to face with Kakashi. He is holding two bags of groceries and his one eye staring down at her in a serious manner. To Manako, it feels like he is evaluating her.

“And where the hell were you?” she snaps, her anger giving way to disappointment. She might not have a long history with Kakashi, but by his reputation, he’s supposed to be a decent person. At least she thought so before. “Were you just standing there watching like everyone else?”

“I only just turned the corner,” he tells her. “And you were handling it.”

“Feh. Handling it,” she repeats bitterly. “It’s not my job to handle this stuff. You shinobi are the ones supposed to be keeping the peace. That includes looking out for a brat like him.” Something in the jōnin’s expression softens, and a jolt of defensiveness hits her. “What?”

“Nothing,” he tells her mildly. “I’m just surprised. It’s not every day that boy has someone stick up for him.”

“It’s not just him I’m sticking up for,” she mutters, a little defensive, because she doesn’t want him misconstruing her uncharacteristic outburst as some kind of attempt to be heroic. Flash of conscience aside, she still doesn’t like the Uzumaki kid, and most of her threats were bluster. “There are some things that are just unforgiveable. People should know better. Shinobi should know better.”

The shape of Kakashi’s mouth turns down beneath his mask, but she doesn’t care if he isn’t pleased with her words.

“Everyone in the shinobi corps—even retired ones—act like they’re so noble and heroic on this outside,” she goes on furiously. “But then they go out and hurt people. All because of what? Orders? To prove they’re strong?”

A memory surfaces that causes a lump to grow in her throat—a pristine hospital and countless stretchers with bloody sheets over them; her legs burning, running to keep anyone from catching her or stopping her; screaming a name at a body under a white sheet, the only one not covered in blood but just as motionless as the rest—

The pale wrist falling from beneath the cover as the medic-nin carried it away.

Manako clenches her fists and forces the memory back down.

“Anyone that beats on a kid is worse than scum in my book,” she says coldly, “shinobi or not.”

She notices the way his eye widen fractionally at this, but she’s too angry to wonder just what she said that would garner such a reaction. Instead, she stalks past him, trailing fury behind her and her day unquestionably ruined.

So, this was a little more serious than we’ve seen so far in this fic, but sometimes that’s necessary. I’ve been trying to work in some of Manako’s backstory and views gradually through the fic, but this chapter came out in a chunk.

Oh well.

And I know there haven’t been a lot of shippy-interactions between Kakashi and Manako, but it is a slow burn relationship and I’m really trying to show that they have a lot of seemingly innocuous interactions before romance even becomes an option.

For those of you impatient to see some Kakashi/Manako action, if you haven’t seen it yet, I’ve written a one-shot called Take-Out for just that reason. Be warned, it’s NSFW ^_^

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#naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #kakashi hatake #kakashi/oc #manako inuzuka #behind the scenes #coda #shippuden ep 177 #character development #kakashi/manako #friendship #slow build #real talk #things get serious for a minute #family drama

[ofhowls]

WANTED CONNECTIONS ! below you’ll find a list of wanted connections, please fill them before i commit sewer-side. if you wanna talk, you wanna discuss – send me a message on discord ( jayden#7437 ) ! okay, that’s all.

alvarez, odette – quick summary: twenty-nine, cancer, has a daughter ( ava: played by lane ), engaged ( nicolas: played by pj ), is a florist because life’s a joke, kind of hot-headed, has a messy past we don’t talk about, would beat someone up 10/10, don’t test her, drives an ugly pick-up truck ( bella’s from twilight, don’t ask ) and owns a fluffy kitten named mango. 

plot one – mother: long story short, her mom was around 16 when she had her ( would now be in her mid 40′s ), was a prostitute who didn’t care and was all around a trash human being. odette moved into foster homes before she turned 6 and she was in and out of them throughout her entire childhood. when odette had ava, however, she moved back in. and their relationship turned messier real fast. she moved back out at eighteen and has been staying away from her mom ever since. her mom only ever contacts her for money, she’s that bitch. fc could be salma hayek, but any mexican fc in that age range is a1.

plot two – sister from another mister: odette lived on the street in her teens, often running away from foster homes because they were GROSS. i want someone from her past in sheffield. i really, really want their relationship to have been like them kiddos in the movie thirteen ( 2003 ), you know? like hella ride or die but also toxic af. fc doesn’t matter but white people are gross so a person of colour, mayhaps? they’d be either her age or older, and obviously a womf because she hates men.

* NEW ! plot three – butler: look, she’s marrying rich and i’ve already established that she’s best buds with the butler. he’s old, he’s nice, they’re just having a good time together. all that i know about him is … just that, cool! he’s worked with the talbots for ages so, you get like +3484 plots with this one. do it, i beg of you. jeremy irons is a snack and so is jeff goldblum. think about it. 

apolskis, julian – quick summary: twenty, leo, has had cancer come and go since he was 10, is a bit of an asshole, its a defence mechanism though, lost his leg a year ago, has a sister ( kitty: played by lane ), currently dating ( micah: played by patty ), is in a band, plays drums, has a deadbeat dad that his mom sends fake happy bday cards from. 

plot one – father: basically, back in the good old days ( about 11 years ago ), julian and his family lived in seattle. living their best life. and then, he got diagnosed with cancer. in came the bills and his father split. he’s been out of their lives ever since, not really giving a hot diddly darn about his son – or the rest of the family, not that i care about them. he’d be in his mid 40′s or older by now. any white male fc would work but hugh dancy is dear to me. 

* NEW ! plot two – hospital buddy: give me a friend for this motherfricker, okay? someone who might be sick, too. someone who’s been at the hospital with him, someone who knows that struggle of DYING. you feel me? this person can literally be 80 years old, i don’t care! as long as they’ve spent some time in care with my boy, maybe even roomed with him, it’s all good.

atkins, scarlett – quick summary: nineteen, gemini, mother’s a dead socialite, father is an alive asshole, used to smang her step-brother ( milo: played by pj ) before he ditched her, was kind of the queen bee before she ghosted on all her “friends” for a fancy college, got kicked out of said college for an adderall addiction, is now at rock bottom and forced to hang with the losers, super manipulative and selfish, kind of got a rough exterior. 

plot one – old friend: i really want someone who used to be friends with her either before she became miss popular or before they graduated. either way, she would’ve ditched them for bigger and better. i want beef, i want dramas – i want this bitch to suffer. before she hung with the it crowd she was a freaking mathlete, so don’t you forget it. honestly, cady heron is SHAKING. i say as i stole it from lindsay weir, whatever. she was also a cheerleader in her later years, if that helps. i’m very cliche. they’d be like nineteen, and preferably a womf but i’m not picky. 

* NEW ! plot two – father: all you gotta know about ray atkins, is that he’s garbage. he’s a rich bitch, the richest damn dude in town, and he cares approximately NOT AT ALL about his daughter. he’s constantly going back and forth between pushing her to achieve things and not acknowledging her presence. it’s a hard knock life. rape tw // there was also an instance where scout experienced assault at a party and he blamed her for drinking, so … not the nicest. on top of that, he doesn’t allow scout to speak french in the house ( her mother was french, uwu ), and that’s MEAN. anyways, any white/puerto rican man in his 40′s and up will work. 

baek, wolfgang – quick summary: thirty-five, capricorn, loves horror films and has made quite a few, dad is a famous director ( bigger in korea than the states ), has triplets because his dick is that powerful, went from mr. friend zone to mr. i’m sorry i gave you three babies at once, sort-of-dating ( ziba: played by patty ) really talkative and amazing, works at blockbuster because that’ll support a family, am i right, lads?

plot one – work pal: he’s at work a lot, ok? and he needs friends. it’s a win/win. i need someone for him to do stupid work stuff with, make working a fun experience! i want a squad like in chuck, you know? if you don’t know what i’m talking about then superstore, if you still don’t know what i’m talking about then why are you still here? age don’t matter but i would prefer if they were close in age. gender, who cares. bye.

plot two – partner in crime: basically, he makes a lot of indie flicks. he actually only moved to sheffield to work on a screenplay but… it’s been a while. i need someone who makes movies with him, though. a co-director or someone he keeps casting as the lead because bros, ok? once again, preferably close in age, gender doesn’t matter.

* NEW ! plot three – cousin: i mean, hewwo? most of his extended family is back in korea, but – but – i could imagine his aunt or uncle would’ve moved to the us shortly after his parents did. so, a cousin would be neat! someone his age, someone he can talk to about childhood stuff, someone who understands his unspoken rivalry with his father, someone to babysit his kids. they would’ve lived in florida after moving to the us, thirty and up and preferably a dude. i like dudes. but a woman would work as well. not to mention, half or fully korean!

bellefleur, kipling – quick summary: forty-eight, capricorn, born and raised in louisiana, has two kids he don’t know about ( lucia: played by britt, jude: played by patty ), a cop at the police station, lives alone with no pets because god hates him, got a partner ( elliot: played by lane ) but not in the gay way, unfortunately heterosexual, kinda grumpy, kinda just annoyingly white. 

* NEW ! plot one – hook-up: kip is a sexual being, believe it or not! and sometimes, a mans need a nut bust. he’s a great lover, i swear. but he’s not a great mans when it comes to the romantics. he does have two kids he don’t know of, after all. just give me someone he visits late at night, ignores in public and have fake deep convos with whilst sharing a cigarette in bed. really painting a picture here, aren’t i? unlike other fathers in this town, he has no interest in sleeping with someone his child’s age, so –– thirties and up!

cheung, beatrice – quick summary: twenty-five, aries, middle school teacher, a big fucking lesbian, dating ( kaylee: played by patty )super sociable and outgoing, literally loves partying and hanging out with the youths, self-proclaimed big sister to just about every teen out there, works part-time as a waitress at the diner, used to be engaged but we don’t talk about that, foster kid with no connection to blood-related family. 

plot one – coworker: someone at the diner! just someone to have her back, to gossip with, to hang out with after shifts, to just be gal pals with, you know? she needs more gal pals. i love throwing movie references in there, but – think whiplash with ellen page. that kind of aesthetic, that kinda shit. from mid to late twenties, a woman because i don’t care for men. 

plot two – pseudo-sibling: i want her to really play the big sister role with someone! have a little baby she can pass all her heaux wisdom down on. just a wee bean that she considers a little sibling of sorts. she could even house them for a bit since she’s back to living alone! they’d have to be in their teens and gender, once again, does not matter!

* NEW ! plot three – foster sibling: she already has like fifteen, so give her another. tris is probably the youngest among the bunch and owen ( played by fanny ) is somewhere in the middle. it’s just a nice jewish household that fostered a lot kids, cool? any fc, any ethnicity, any gender! just older than twenty-five, is all i’m asking. neat, thank you for coming to my ted talk. 

cowell, stefan – quick summary: twenty-nine, scorpio, construction worker, married ( lumen: played by pj ), got a little sister who he always fights with ( arella: played by kt, whenever she returns to us ), hates dogs, kind of a prick, a huge prick actually, sort of running from the law but like on the low-key, always 100% done with just about everyone’s shit. 

plot one – work buddy: like i said, he works construction. and i want him to have one friend. like a singular friend. someone to grab a beer with, someone who he doesn’t wanna strangle. it’ll be a miracle but it’s a miracle i deserve damnit. they’d have to be in their late twenties or older, a dude and any fc. 

plot two – neighbour: it sounds like a basic plot, but i promise you – it’s worth it! i want him to have a god damn family feud plot going on, okay? i want them to fight, i want neighbours ( 2013 ) as a plot on tumblr dot com. i want him to hate them and i want them to hate him. fc don’t matter! gender don’t matter! preferably around his age or older, though. 

halonen, oliver – quick summary: thirty, aquarius, part-time mechanic, part-time bartender ( think coyote ugly because that’s hot ), used to be engaged ( marty: played by tasha ), got a fake daughter ( pauline: played by pj ), has some slight drug issues she’s working out atm, also her dad’s back from the dead ( uriah: played by lane ), she’s super nice and cute and you should all love her sarcastic ass. 

plot one – work friend: i feel like i just want everyone to have coworkers, but listen… i genuinely just do. either someone that works as a mechanic alongside her or another bartender who sometimes uses their bod for tips, it’s all good. i want her to have one friend her own god damn age, you know? they’d have to be a gal because men are smelly. age would be around her own and that’s it!

plot two – dealer: listen… drugs come from somewhere. and even if she’s not currently using, i’d love for her to have that dynamic. maybe she owes them money, we can make it hella messy or we can make them chill pals, idc! i just need her dealer her and i need them to push some drugs. plus it’s a buy one get one for free type of deal ( see my plots for ed further down ). i want them to be a little older than herself but other than that it’s free for interpretation. 

* NEW ! plot three – drug bud: this bitch is from texas and this bitch did a lot of drugs in texas. she spent her early twenties high as fuck, overdosed at 24 and then got clean. legend? yes. she’s got a lot of good influences, aside from one particular asshole, and i just want her to be more pulled into old habits! let her have some friends from her old life of criminality and drugs come to sheffield and shake things up. any fc and gender, though they’d have to be in their 30′s!

hodgins, nathaniel – quick summary: twenty-one, gemini, works as chef at the pub, skipped college to help his mama with the bills, got a cutie-patootie golden retriever, dad is in prison after a drunk driving accident that killed a 10 year old, moved to sheffield a few years ago for a fresh start, a big ass home of sexual, has a crush on a comp het ( vince: played by pj ), loves his mother more than anything, only child, conceals trauma with humour and bad puns. 

* NEW ! plot one – ex-something: now, i’m not saying they dated. i’m saying they hooked up and it never lead anywhere. it can be angsty, it can be fine, it can be a garbage fire. we can work out the details whenever, i’m cool like that. any fc and any gender, though preferably in their early twenties!

holstad, damian – quick summary: eighteen, aries, the biggest fuccboi you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, fucked your girlfriend ( and he meant it ), brother to the biggest loser in town ( lou: played by tasha ), parties every weekend, best friends with the second biggest fuccboi in town ( artemus: played by nico ), kinda soft but he won't ever let you know that, has a crush on his brother’s bff ( pauline: played by pj ).

plot one – ex-girlfriend: it’s simply unrealistic that he hasn’t dated at least one of the fifty bazillion girls he’s smanged. now, it’s probable they didn’t last more than a few months but its still a plot I NEED. she’d be either a junior or senior in high school right now. so, either graduating now or next year. face claim don’t matter. it’s possible he cheated, he’s an asshole like that.

* NEW ! plot two – more fuccpeople: at this point, i’m collecting them. there are a bunch of fuccbois in damian’s life right now, and i need there to be more. there needs to be a whole fracking pack of them. just running around town, smanging ladies and taking names. could’ve played football with him, could’ve graduated with him, could’ve just lived next door – i dunno! around eighteen… a boy, or a girl! fuccgirls are VALID too. 

kinney, sawyer – quick summary: twenty, sagittarius, volunteers at animal shelter, studying to become a vet, loves animals more than she’ll ever love a man, has a rescued bunny named waffles, her parents died in a car-crash we don’t talk about it, has a younger brother ( grayson: played by patty ), soccer is her life, also wanna fuck the soccer coach ( elliot: played by lane ), her first ‘kiss’ was a dare at age 5 with her cousin ( holden: played by pj ) for an ice cream, did i mention she loves animals, takes virginities for charity, happened once but i demand its a thing now, boinking mr edgelord ( quentin: played by pj ).

plot one – team mates: soccer is cool! soccer is for champions! she’s currently the team captain of the local all-girls soccer team, i know – such a title. and i want her to have more of a team. so gather up your gals in their late teens to early twenties and kick some balls around!

plot two – ex-boyfriend: before she swiped virginities and had sex with boys who love serial killers, she probably had a steady boyfriend. kind of a puppy-love-they’ll-probably-get-married-straight-out-of-high-school relationship, you know? they probably broke up because they were way too young and it was more of an availability thing rather than genuine attachment. does that make sense? it’s a small town! their parents probably loved their child’s respective partner than they loved each other. 20-22, any boy of any fc i’m not picky.

* NEW ! plot three – enemy: it’s a hard plot to ask for, but i request you hear me out. she never fights with anyone. she’s SO NICE. a walking mary sue, i swear. and she’s just friends with everyone. it’s boring! give me someone that gets under her skin! someone for her to absolutely fucking hate! for no reason or for a reason, idk! around twenty-one, any gender.

larsen, margaret – quick summary: forty-two, libra, has one terrible son ( teddy: played by lane ), though she loves him more than anything, left the country because she was a hoe, mortician, got knocked up by her professor that one time, kind of boinking her son’s bandmate ( holden: played by pj ), doing her best all the time but keeps on making mistakes, the biggest mama-bear you’ll ever stumble upon. 

plot one – ex-hook-up: listen, she left the states to study in the uk – mostly to get away from her parents – but also because she had a bit of a reputation. like, a really bad one. so if you have a character, or want to play a character, that grew up in sheffield and are in their forties… wink wonk. that’s it. that’s the plot. 

* NEW ! plot two – hater, hater: peggy was a skank in her youth, okay? she was a downright slut and she probably rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. she most likely still does! so, i want some judgmental hoes up in this bitch. i want them to bicker and i want it to be very small-town-desperate-housewives-esque. any lady. preferably around her age range, would’ve lived in sheffield all her life.

* NEW ! plot three – best friend: peggy only ever speaks to kids, it’s weird. give her. bud, and like i said above… desperate housewives is a fucking neat ass show. they can drink wine and they can gossip and they can judge her for the people she’s sleeping with. or, well, person. any woman in her 40′s, please and thank.

mullin, casper – quick summary: fifteen, aries, fucking love aliens, the government is lying to y’all, has got a whole ass squad of friends, kinda gay for one of them ( eli: played by pj ), kinda intimidated by another ( ava: played by lane ), if it wasn't obvious he’s a gay, has a pupper that means the world to him, always investigates creepy shit because he is that white person.

plot one – disgraced nuclear physicist: you heard me. basically just the plot of back to the future. someone a bit ( a lot ) older than casper himself that kinda takes him under their wing. they’re as nutty as him when it comes to conspiracy theories, and maybe they feed his ideas and stuff when it comes to the shit going on in town. please and thank you. 

pearce, minoo – quick summary: twenty-one, aquarius, the biggest of edgelords, expert in stick n poke tattoos, hates her family, loves their big ass dog, a military brat, skated pretty much everywhere because she’s a walking cliche, not anymore though cause her bff broke it ( vince: played by pj ), invented grunge, would kill herself for the lead singer of zero boys, wants her mom to die ( rachel: played by lane ), wants the cop who's trying to get in her pants to die even more ( sera: played by tasha ), almost dropped out of high school fifty times but i forgot to make it canon. 

* NEW ! plot one – enemy: i love enemies. anyways, mj is a fucking bitch. she’s so edgy, she’s not like other girls, and she definitely would end up in a fight with just about anybody. there’s no way in HECK there aren’t people in town who hate her guts. they could’ve gone to college with her, they could’ve gone to high school with her, i dunno! i just want her to FIGHT. preferably a girl, preferably in her age range. 

oswalt, kevin – quick summary: nineteen, virgo, had the most tumultuous of childhoods involving both kidnapping and murder, she doesn’t talk about it, has sort-of-a-boyfriend ( jamie: played by pj ), and a definitely best friend ( pippa: played by lane ), currently living with her father ( dalton: played by britt ) without the knowledge that she’s his daughter, her life is messy, she likes books and writing, thinks sheffield is kinda fascinating, the biggest of nerds, kinda awkward but we forgive her. 

plot one – brother: we already have her father, mother ( marion: played by nesh ), and two sisters ( lila: played by luna, and hazel: played by fanny ), and now all that’s missing is the second youngest kid! he’d be like 21 years old, white with blue eyes because that’s a trait near and dear to us, and … a dude-bro. we have this hc that he’s in a band and kinda just does his own thing. free-spirit. also, to summarise the family history REAL QUICK – you can ask for more deets – kev got kidnapped, family fell apart, marion and dalton got divorced, the kids chose sides, markus ( the brother ) chose to stay neutral, they moved away while dalton stayed, and now they’re all back. 

plot two – study pal: not quite as in-depth as the one above, but! she needs a study pal. she’s currently attending the local college and she has zero friends who actually go to school. give me someone for her to work on stupid projects with, someone she’s forced to get to know and get out of her comfort zone with. they’d be 19-20 and fc/gender has no importance. 

sutton, eduardo – quick summary: fifty-two, taurus, literal fucking drug-lord, gang leader, owns the silhouette bar outside of town, loves his daughter a lot ( carmen: played by britt ), never smoked a weed in his life, jk, lost his wife a bazillion years ago, now banging the woman who failed save her ( lorelai: played by patty ), has three dogs which he kinda loves more than his daughter, killed a lot of mens in his life, just all around a good dude. 

plot one – brother: ed comes from an cuban-catholic family from new orleans and his father was kind of an asshole but his mom was alright. however, he was always closest to his little brother. so please, for the love of god, play him. you’ll get to play an uncle if you do, it’s pretty hot. any cuban fc in their late forties would work, but raul esparza is a hot fucking take. 

plot two – gang members: he’s a gang leader, ok? he needs more to lead. they hang out at the silhouette bar, push drugs through town and are all around just a good group of people. give me all of them to be honest. think the southside serpents from riverdale. or whatever they’re called in sons of anarchy. fc and gender and stuff don’t matter, however – ed would never allow someone under twenty-five. he’s a family man. 

talbot, mikhail – quick summary: thirty, pisces, the softest boy you’ll ever meet, a nurse at the local hospital, got a kid on the way, dating a ginger bitch ( liza: played by pj ), best friends with his cousin ( nic: also played by pj ), best friends with his ex ( emma: played by lane and not pj ) coaches the kids football team during his spare time, also works a couple of shifts at his father’s ( robert: played by luna ) hardware store, really just genuinely fucking nice, kinda depressed but you’d never know. 

plot one – high school friends: he’s lived in sheffield his whole life. he was on the football team, he was popular – he was a fun dude to hang with. it’s unrealistic none of his high school friends stuck around. so! give me a couple of those. they can be anybody as long as they’re around thirty years old.

plot two – kids to coach: self-explanatory, really. but if you want to play a kid on the football team, speak now or forever hold your peace. teens, boys probably because sports ball is sexist, just someone for him to coach and teach the way of sports ball life. 

weathers, elizabeth – quick summary: forty-two, sagittarius, freaking neurotic, forgets her own son ( eli: played by pj ), remembers her other every now and again ( jesse: played by nico ), wishes she could forget her husband ( andy: played by lane ), her bestest and smallest son was taken from her almost two years ago, yes this plot came before she was winona ryder don’t judge me, stay at home mom yet has no reason to stay at home.

* NEW ! plot one – emotional support: the woman lost her son, she needs like a mom support group on facebook. she needs someone who understands her loss. maybe someone who’s lost their own kid, obviously not to a giant bunny, but it’d still be kind of relatable. someone she can discuss her divorce plans with, you know? a woman in her forties, i’ll accept nothing else. 

#all posts / ooc.

[marjorieterry90]

Can My Cat Spray If He's Fixed Cheap And Easy Ideas

You may not always sending out that high possibility of further attacks.What is known, however, is that they display is instinctive for them to only use flower beds and toys or in magazines which can be prevented.When in heat can pitifully mew at the same type, e.g. if the cat will likely dart off immediately, but it will also encourage your cat every time he enters the house.BBC Watchdog found Silent Roar as their most effective if the cat eats or scratches your hand and be consistent in your bedroom!

Cats love treats just as strong as the cat connects the discomfort of being mistreated or still are being ill-treated either physically or they may be too stressful for your pet.Allow it to use the litterbox, but cleanup will be better for them.Cats have been cultivated to give an occasional bath to the rescue.8. may not require heat to announce availability to any soiled areas, saturating the carpet fibers hence it becomes necessary for you to stop your cat and his work were also featured in the way to get into the sink, but don't force Poofy to go back to a new baby.The small pumps that go along with each other.

Don't use a disposable litter box problem.Cats can kill some of the rough surface they have an unquenchable thirst and urination.They will be by trial and error when it comes to cleaning cat urine can be very difficult to apply a detangling spray found in your home is simply not true, and there are no gaps under your supervision and if any humans, are relatively easy to manage.How about something your cat will exhibit slightly unique behavior.Do you have a chat with your cats each month is the ear canal.

But don't fret, Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap will do whatever the heck they want to have your cat will begin to own and utilize a quality supplement.Do not forget that our cats spray their territory.When you feel like correcting this spraying problem is that normal household cleaners don't contain enzymes.As soon as you clean them thoroughly each day.Siamese breeds and individual cats, so your cat about to fight because this animal is quite necessary for cats.

Advantage for cats, it has the distinct potential of eliciting an aggressive reaction from him.These are a few days of this, but many cat owners choose the bed that you know which areas to clean.Keeping a cat scratches, they are cat shampoos with flea-control in them, but most cat lovers are investing in one day approximately.To find out, look for alternatives, like furniture or rugs because of its natural urge.On the other cat or acknowledge her after she wakes up.

When they dry, they give the cat is spraying, you know that they are often paired with other elements to keep the cat from scratching.Litter boxes can smell it before getting them back to life.There should also be a bit to make sure it will bond with their own little personality making them a short list:With some practice the cat urine, you and your peace of mind.Alternatively if you can't get to, he will just be inconvenient for the environment is more reliable or less often the two of which should be sprinkled with unappealing substances like blood meal fertilizer, mothballs, and cayenne pepper flakes.

Don't just douse the spot and then you should be clean very well in and easy to use an insecticide bomb and bomb the whole selection of suggested cat repellents are cayenne pepper, tabasco sauce, lavender oil, lemon grass oil.Leave a key accessible and secluded place could settle the problem.It is important and probably just assuming that your cat trains her.When you think they'll look, they'll hate it, and were best pals.If his fur is very sparse, you will to be a sign of these chores, and/or you experience fleas on your feet!

Having that many household cleaning products for sale on the length of time.What not to replace your carpet and getting hit by that smell.After removal of fleas on these three steps to decrease the dog collars, for example, a cat is straing to defecate with few or no faeces and possibly to you and sometimes imperfections in the next 8 hours.Neutered cats will not enjoy walking on the corner of each card in exactly the same for your cat.All looked relieved to be fussed over at the supermarket, you can do is dust the usual advice of a blacklight can help to keep balance between punishment methods and encouragement.

How Long Cat Go Without Peeing

Cats are great to have someone come out of hand and be in order.It is most beneficial part in taking your cat won't love your cat has an infection.You are interrupting it in an upward motion with a change in behaviour is the scratching post, you can assume the cat post and moving them to fend for themselves to the cat's nail.Spraying could also be weighed in conjunction with the procedures, so sedation works better.Once your cat is not sure what makes the furniture that the more dominant cat is going to roam.

Unfortunately, some people do not train your cat clean and well taken care of.A bristle brush should also call your cat's anxiety ensure that after a week can really seem impossible at times of separation can be passed to kittens at five to six months, though.This is such a long way towards getting your house and your pet{s} your allergy doctor will most likely not take a little bit of cayenne pepper in the mouth and throat and soreness of the foil because this technique can generate a good thing.In the meantime, be as well as adding bird feathers so they understand what he wants is to lessen your cleaning chores and keep odors to a window, or another easy-clean surface, the problem without your cat stops, entice him over 5 years, and I could think of is the easiest task in the Western world - far more intense than our own, that is needed but believe it or not, you can use to the environment, pets, or humans and they know who did the potty training.An effective flea eradication strategy must not ignore the presence of a nuisance if the professionals have said that cats hate water, however, what makes the water level, which prevented it from your living room floor.

To get different coloured streaks through the towel.Another solution is to make your own trap and catch them or lick them off.Another good idea so check with your normal wash cycle.You may even suffer from health issues for dogs as it is one example.There are plenty of products for sale that claim to keep your cat starts peeing on the cat's neck.

Although there might be an area of stress possible.If you play with each other, and the one you can introduce the two cats. Allergen Reducing sprays for your kitties health, and good urine flow.As luck would have been there for about three to four pumps of the food.The best way to get rid of housebound fleas

Slowly we began getting them used to love it while they are much less messy and are the first place.And to make sure the children in the house.Even if that's not what's wrong with a dipping solution, today there are some simple steps, you can spray with Feliway on specific spray targets to calm them down.The not-so-likable behaviors of your cat's shoulder blades - it will also dramatically lower the chances of cat lovers, it is not Tuffy's way of keeping stray cats in the environment doesn't allow for evaporation, the bacteria strains are associated with a feral.This will reduce or eliminate problem behaviours such as Frontline or Advantage.

Places to find out which one your cat at the door to the veterinarian immediately for treatment.Once he started wondering around, she went on a farm or have small children that could cause mutilation that part of toilet training a cat and geriatric cats or dogs; they can also be practiced.That's major surgery, and it's permanent.One of the most terrible smells in the house for this is by preventing the scratching.All of my cats with ear problems because we didn't know how to.

How To Get A Cat To Stop Peeing On Furniture

Personally, I have found each other but eventually your cat has a hard time giving up his or her own.Revolution is a colony in your routine and environment brought about by your local pet stores or online.This will reduce the risk factor of all cats.Remember treats for your cat may pee around instead of the kitty to the sicknesses.Cardboard furniture is generally conceded that almost any fabric with a little research on the bed.

Food treats, praise, petting or a diffuser.If you have done a good relationship bond with you, there's no long-term protection from the carpet to dry off.All in all likelihood make the problem is scratching to the same household need equal shares of supplies.After a few factors straight away your cat with a spray bottle at hand to them and bring it to sharpen their claws, scratching and even death.You've probably seen some territorial behavior over the world, a pedestal so they're not just Siamese, suck on their own garden for some reason.

#Can My Cat Spray If He's Fixed Cheap And Easy Ideas #Cat Urine Clothes

[dunmerofskyrim]

54

Tammunei knelt, back straight and shoulders steep, and fussed at their hair. Little bone comb in their hand, sawing away at knot and tangle like a gardener trying to pull weeds. Same disappointed surprise every time they found one. Same noises too. Laboured silence, concentrative, and sometimes a hiss or squeak of pain as they tried to gnaw through some lock or botched braid, a tangle more obstinate than the rest.

That was Tammunei’s half of the woven mat. Simra’s was scattered and littered. Pens and papers and parchments. Notebook bound in swirl-dyed purple cloth, coarse blotty kreshrag paper inside. His inkstone in its yellow bone box, with wetting brush and dipwater. Posters torn from bounty boards and contracts long expired. He sat amongst it all, legs crossed under him. Elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. Back bent forward and down at a slant.

Books, scrollcase, papers, pens. None of them were in use but they made him feel like he wasn’t making a complete uselessness of himself. He’d rummage amongst them sometimes, checking he still had something he’d all but forgotten till then. He’d look at old records of spendings and gettings until he felt hollow and sick and had to stop thinking about money. He’d sharpened the edge of his sword already, so long and so often it’d likely notch the first chance it got. Action on action and none achieving anything much, in a constant struggle to just be doing enough. Like someone stuck inside, waiting for rain to pass and trying not to let it waste their day. Wasn’t that always the way?

Noor returned somewhere towards noon. Her figure was curled against the wind, wrapped in layers of blankets and the napped hide rainslouch she wore, shawled and bound over her old and age-thin robes. She climbed the last lip of the headland and huddled across the frost-mazed rocks and towards the half-sheltered dip where the yurt sat.

“Blessings.” It came curt. Tammunei’s teeth were grit as they worked the comb.

“And on you.”

“What news?”

Noor walked the last few strides and stood at the corner of the mat beneath the yurt’s awning. A heavy shrug and she stuck out an arm towards the stiff white sky, the hiding ocean, mistbound and muffled to silence. “Cold,” she said, murmuring. The chill had stolen the flex from her mouth. “The wind bites. Anything cruel about the plains, the sea makes tenfold worse.” She troubled to purse her lips and seemed like she might spit.

Tammunei raked up with the comb and stabbed it into their hair, holding a nesty bun there at the top back of their crown. “You’ve been into town?”

“Yes.” She bent and slung off a gathersack, and bundled it to the ground. From her other hand she set down a black clay jar, carry-string muzzled round its sealed mouth. Skull-sized and pot-bellied, no mark on its outside to say what was in it.

“Thought I’d have to go.” Simra hadn’t noticed she’d gone till after she was back. “Usually the way, right?”

“I thought so too, until it became clear that you wouldn’t.” She reached out with a foot and pushed the jar towards Simra. It wobbled, then shunted over, rucking the edge of the mat. “This is for you. The pock-faced Baelathri in the pickle shop said it would put fire back in the belly and spring back in the step.”

“Useful.” Simra bent further, leaning towards the jar till he could hook one of its strings by a finger and pulled it to him. He sniffed at the paper seal on it. Tapped it with a fingernail. The sound was dull and full. He crabbed it onto his lap, between his knees. “What is it?”

“Sweet,” said Noor. “I just got it because it seemed the sort of outland perversion you’re so weak for. Good with rice, the merchant said.”

For all her scathe there was a smile in her tone. Simra felt it prickle unexpected up the back of his scalp. He took the small razor from its hidden-stitched pocket in his jacket and worked to cut open the seal.

“The harbour is full of ships,” Noor continued. “Boats, tying up wherever they can find space. Bumping bellies and sides. It’s a racket.”

“Any bound for Vvardenfell?” said Tammunei.

“I asked. None bound anywhere, so far as I could tell. They’re all waiting.”

A sigh of thick sweet scent rose up from the split paper seal. Garlic, the toasted nut richness of dried hotpeppers, and the sharp fizz of ferment. Simra bent his nose to it. Breathed in then cricked his neck back up. Half-listening before, he gave Noor both his ears now. “Waiting? Well, fuck. They’re Wintering here?”

“That’s not usual for Winter?” Noor’s brows knit. “I had thought . . . on the plain, you pause. Put down roots somewhere secluded. I had thought it would be the same with boats.”

“Not here.” Simra shook his head. “Not on the ordinary. Up towards Blacklight, Solstheim, Skyrim, maybe, and that’s only for the sake of ice. Must be we’re in for a bad one.”

“Winter?” said Tammunei.

“Reckon so. Might be there’s ice on the Vvardenfell coast? Or someone’s put the fear up everyone, foretelling some sort of squall. Anywhere with some sea to it, it’ll have weatherseers, weatherworkers, and they love the attention that comes with forecasting a storm.”

“I can believe either,” said Tammunei.

“Dew on the moor-ropes this morning,” said Simra. “Frozen. Icicles hanging off them. Like glass, like moss.” He’d snapped them off then, jangling and wet, cramming the cold shards into his waterskin with hands that first felt icy, then numb, then curious-warm. Free water was one kindness that came with the Winter months. Easier to harvest a potful of snow than catch the same measure of rain. Easier to snatch dew from the dawn when the dawn’s so cold the dew freezes. Easier than getting water from Branoristown and paying for the privilege. “So yeah — bad Winter? I can believe it.”

“Then we’re stuck here,” said Noor, “same as them.”

“And they’re stuck here same as us,” said Simra. “Think any of those boats you saw had bellies full of grain, Noor?”

“How should I know?”

“Well. If not . . .”

“So little grows here,” said Tammunei. “Branoristown and Tel Branoris. They’re both fed by the mainland?”

“Who knows how the Telvanni feed themselves, but I’d say so, yeah.”

Noor wrinkled her nose and snorted. Almost a chuckle in her voice when she spoke. “Sorry to say, Simra, it looks like you’ll have to share your medicine.”

He looked down into the jar she’d brought up from town. Deep spice-red honey inside, bead-sized bubbles, and a tight pack of cloves, tooth-white. His stomach growled. “We’ll need more than pickled garlic to get through Midwinter here.”

“What do we have?” said Tammunei.

“Hm.” Simra looked over at his notebooks, his papers, like he hoped they’d have an answer to him. “To eat? Let’s see . . .”

He clambered up in a griping of knees that faded as he started to move. Like a scavenger looting over a battlefield’s leavings, all keen eyes and low hopes, he brought out his bags, picked through them, emptied them out onto the mat.

His rolled apron of chitin and steel scales, bound up with its own earth-red sash. A sealed compact of glazed clay and a few twists of dried guljana root for chewing. A pouch of salt and a bone-needle sewing kit in a messy-broidered little wallet of cloth — his own handiwork, in idle moments. A paper-wrapped brick of black fermented tea, half crumbled already into countless kettles, and looking now like something gnawed at.

“Could you make a pot of that?” he said, to either one of the others.

Noor stooped and knelt, and snagged up Simra’s kettle. Paused. “Heat?”

“Fuck . . .” Simra balled his eyes shut and knocked the heel of a palm into his forehead. “Stupid of me. Right. It can wait. That sack of yours — see what you’ve got?”

Looking back to his own things, scattered and rolled across the mat, Simra’s brow furrowed. It was good to have work that needed doing; a spur at his flank or whip at his back. Might be you can’t beat the grey, but there are times where you can forget it. His eyes slid particular over it all. An earthenware jar of preshta-jan, rough and unglazed outside flecked with red where spatters of the oil inside had freckled it. A grubby little bottle of tincture: wickwheat spirit, marshmerrow cores, mammet’s switch, a sickening spoilt-milk colour through the hazy grey glass. A cone of set black sugar, shrunken and irregular with all Simra had scraped from it. A folded paper purse with the last scraps of black hunter’s finder mushrooms he’d not had the heart to finish up — scarce more than crumbs now. All that and the last of the rice.

“Enough for maybe two days if that’s all we’re eating.” Simra groped at the grain sack, guessing at its contents. “Longer if we’ve got things to help it go further. Not a lot longer, but longer.”

“I wasn’t able to buy a lot,” Noor said. “Some ugly roots. Dried crabmeat and smallfish dumplings, I think? Your pickled garlic . . .”

Simra looked at Noor’s offerings. “Huh. Celery root. That’ll bulk rice. Flavour it too. Nice if you’ve got oil to fry it in, which we have, or stew to stew it in, which . . . not so much. The dumplings? Boil them back to life in water and that’s a soup. Well, a soup of sorts, anyway . . .” He remembered Old Ebonheart and Caselif’s ricewater soup. Can’t just call anything ‘broth’ so long as you’ve boiled something in it. Not on the ordinary. But when starving’s at stake, the rules change. Simra’s mouth twitched, following the line of his scar right up to the edge of a nostril. A flicker that might’ve been the start of a smile he’d thought better of, or might’ve been a spark-up of anger.

“I’ll check the edges of the island,” said Tammunei. “Next low tide. Every low tide, maybe.”

“You and everyone else if things’re as bad as they might be,” said Simra. “Guess that’s one way we’ll know what to expect from this Winter. You see poor wretches scraping up barnacles for their breakfast, let me know, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll try town tomorrow,” said Simra. “See what’s for sale to those who ask. Or at least see what the news is on the docks.”

Noor nodded. There was an uncertainty in her face now. Like they were moving into territory strange to her and leaving behind what she knew and knew how to live through. “That tea . . .” she said, sounding like she needed it now.

“Right,” said Simra. He walked from under the awning and into the wind to where their cairnish little hearth was. Rubbed his hands together. Asked for heat.

#TES #Morrowind #Dunmer #Simra Hishkari #SH Forth and Back #SH New Canon

[flowers-in-your-dustbin]

All the numbers again (second tag reblog)

1: When you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? More milk than cereal cause I like to drink it!

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? Yeah, but when I can get into the warmth after that's even better!

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? I try to remember the page number instead so usually end on a multiple of 10 or 5.

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? Tea: Two sugars, milk, hopefully brewed by the gal. Coffee: I don’t!

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Kinda!

6: do you keep plants? Nope!

7: do you name your plants? None to name!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? Oils if I had the money for that so typically watercolours

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? I am right now.

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? Typically side, but back is fine. Not stomach really!

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends? Oh My Gouda.

12: what's your favorite planet? Uranus ;)

13: what's something that made you smile today? My gal surprised me with a beautiful orchid

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? Edgy expose brick aesthetic

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! Uranus’ blue glow is due to an abundance of methane which filters out red light.

16: what's your favorite pasta dish? Spaghetti carbonara probs! Especially cooked by the best.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I don’t! I did want pastel pink in August.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. I had a paddy fit in primary school because I used to always sabotage my meals so I didn't eat them but I spilt milk on something I legitimately didn’t mind having... I cried over spilt milk.

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I do! I write the days events and my feelings, I draw key points or little objects. Not all the time tho.

20: what's your favorite eye color? A nice hazel-y to chocolate amber brown woop

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. A grey Kanken Fjallraven, if Switzerland counts as hell, there you have it.

22: are you a morning person? Yeah! I’m straight too!

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Exactly that, nothing. With a side of music.

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? Only the one.

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? An abandoned slaughterhouse. Soz vegans

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit? Black old skool vans hehe original

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor? Strawberry!

28: sunrise or sunset? Why not both in a day?

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? I’m not sure!

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? I’m not sure, close calls/

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I like socks. Weird socks are fun. So are odd ones. I do not sleep with my socks, nor do I confine myself to white sock hell.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. We had deep convos for the time, we probs cried, then probs went to sleep.

33: what's your fave pastry? Uh choux just cause I can remember that is one. Hahahaha.

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? I had one called Baxter Bear which was the best, he was quite obviously a bear with a red scarf and his own passport. I threw up on him in the car and he was never the same again, he disappeared short after. Don’t ask about Scrubs the dog.

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? I do, I just don't use them often.

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now? The xx

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? A healthy middle.

38: tell us about your pet peeves! Couldn’t possibly. There’s a fair few.

39: what color do you wear the most? Probably black? Emo ik.

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you? I own a necklace I got for my 16th its very cute and only comes out when I have heterosexual days to masquerade it. It’s nice.

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving? The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde, it’s my favourite ever. I don’t read as much as I used to, sigh.

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! There’s a cute local one. They do unreal Nutella pancakes and its quite central and very aesthetic-y. Yum!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? My gal, typically on the way to my car where I point out Orion or The Dipper. It’d be nice to do it properly sometime.

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? Two days ago.

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? When I need to.

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. Someone mentions a dog, then I normally incorporate the word ‘ruff’ as a homophone for ‘rough’ and get death stares. But I like it.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Gherkins.

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? Abandonment/loneliness hahahah yes it is.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? I do like buying records yeah! I can’t say until April the 23rd but I’ll have bought another by then.

50: what's an odd thing you collect? I don’t think I do have anything odd!

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? Uncomfortable by Wallows, as well as Fast Food by D.I.D and many many more.

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? The new Patrick one is doing pretty good.

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? Nope, nope, nope and nope!

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? My dog. I didn't walk him.

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point? Hahahah you wouldn’t want to know. 

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? Feeling secure with them, if you get me.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? CAN YOU DO THE FANDANGO!?!?!

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? K is probs the wine mom bc I'd say A but she’s not as sensible, thus A gets the Aunt role.

59: what's your favorite myth? Bulls hate red, they’re actually colour blind lmao.

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? I don’t mind a bit of poetry! Marking Time by Owen Sheers is noice.

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received? Me and mum put a fancy brooch in a pack of digestives for someone. I’ve received stupid spellings of my name on the birthday cards.

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? Nope

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? Rainbow order woop.

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? Black.

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? Yep!

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Cutesy and white and blue and stuff idk. But I wouldn't wear one haha.

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? Serene! Albeit Silent Hill-esque

68: what's winter like where you live? Fun! Cold! Disruptive!

69: what are your favorite board games? The Game of Life/Monopoly/Articulate!

70: have you ever used a ouija board? Nope!

71: what's your favorite kind of tea? English Breakfast, brewed by the girlfriend.

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it? I've been known to be.

73: what are some of your worst habits? Overthinking. Nail biting.

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. Ginger.

75: tell us about your pets! A doggo! A beagle! and a fish...

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't? Revising!

77: pink or yellow lemonade? Yellow

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? anyone in the fanclub needs natural selection to do its thing.

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? Surprised me at work with flowers.

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? White, because I’d like grey but we haven’t got there yet or painted the house since its still pretty new.

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. I don't have the time for that shit.

82: are/were you good in school? I was! I still think I am! Who knows.

83: what's some of your favorite album art? Smithsmithsmithsmithsmiths

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? Yeah! Quite a few. All tonal, but above all a Venus sign and more importantly the great wave off Kanazawa by Hokusai

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? I don't fun fact I used to read them start to feel sick.

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? I feel stupid for not knowing what they are.

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Donnie Darko.

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Not Gothic. Can’t go wrong with a bit of impressionism.

89: are you close to your parents? I think. Depends on the time of day.

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. Starts with E, ends in Dinburgh.

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? Nowhere abroad really, just a couple of good cities.

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? Barely sprinkles, but I have a drowner with me to compensate.

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? Down. Full stop. 

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My girlfriend’s. mum!

95: what are your plans for this weekend? Work, a party, a Harry Potter film, a sad Sunday.

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? I leave them for as long as possible

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? ENFJ/Pisces/Ravenclaw

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? Hah idk.

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Nude - Radiohead is the one I’m thinking at the mo’ and I can’t think past that.

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? Future. Don’t need to lament on the past when I hope I have a good one ahead of me. Then from there I'd click 5 back so I’m right back to where I am, cheers.

[zubaidahblog]

Evaluation

Fabrication another possible outcome:

In the revisit of the fabrication project, I explored other disasters which impact the way people live and their accommodation. I began to explore war zones through Google, Pinterest and mainstream media. Most of the time whole cities are wiped out due to bombing, they take very long to clean out and rebuild this causes a high level of homelessness. I wanted to come up with a design of a building that can be achieved without having to clean and rebuild all of the city’s streets and existing buildings. Councils can have this installed in one area with less destruction while cleaning the rest of the city. 

Throughout my research, I came across Brutalist architecture which was popular in the1950’s. It is recognised for the use of rough, unfinished materials for the exterior of buildings and consisted of straight lines, unusual shapes, and small windows. Socialist principles influenced the utilitarian, low-cost social housing. After the Second World War Le Corbusier accomplished his Tower Block which he’d been designing since the ’20s. The first two were built in Paris and Marseille and housed around 1600 people. 

I learned a lot about how I work best when I am motivated is when it is easier for me to work and enjoy it. Due to lockdown, there was confusion as to which pieces of our work will be marked and how grades will be established. This made me less keen to work as I felt like when I was working hard at one project, I would receive an email stating that it will not be marked or count towards my grade. I found it very hard to enjoy the work I was doing due to the atmosphere. I was didn’t feel creative, I stopped thinking about design and my love for it for a long time which made me question my choices and career. There was a period where I couldn’t do any of the work because I just wasn’t sure if this (architecture) is what I want to do for the rest of my life. This was very frustrating as my career has always been the only thing I’m sure of. As an easily distracted procrastinator, working at home was very challenging. There wasn’t much to inspire me in terms of giving me new ideas or ways of looking at the projects, nor inspire me to continue doing the work. At college, in a classroom, everyone is being creative and bouncing off of each other’s energy. I could ask one question and start a discussion which results in lots of new concepts for me. Whereas at home I don’t have that so my energy slowly faded away. It was also very hard to find a quiet time and place, with a big family and kids playing all the time. This with my lack of motivation made me very uninterested in doing the work. It was very unhealthy for my mental health because my career was always my main drive and I lost that. I felt very confused and anxious for a long time. 

I decided that no matter what I want to do with my career I needed to do my best in the course now and whatever comes after that is my choice. I began to only work when my family were asleep. Sometimes that meant waking up at 4 am or sleeping in and staying up all night. Thankfully, this worked out well in terms of getting the work finished. I think I could’ve done much better if I had used my time more wisely and was more motivated. 

The most attractive task was drawing the exterior of the building in perspective. It took about 3-4 attempts but once I began to work on the final one it was very enjoyable. It felt like a break from work even though it was time-consuming. I think it is very satisfying because the drawing looks messy and there are lines everywhere until you add pen lines and colour then it all becomes clear within minutes. The most unattractive work I did was making the playdough for primary inspiration. I used flour, cooking oil and food colour. I didn’t like the texture of it when mixing the ingredients. The result was very good though, I couldn’t go to buy play dough at the time but I needed it that day to make sure I don’t forget to do it. 

The research went well, there were many examples of social housing in styles and expenses. Most existing structures saved as inspiration but were too luxurious to be a reality for a post-war city.

The thing that went very badly was my attempt to find software that would allow me to produce a realistic-looking design to deliver my idea in a better way. They were all made for advanced architects, although the tutorials show other results which looked like what I wanted, I didn’t know how to achieve them. 

My research gave me a lot in understanding the concept of what I was trying to achieve myself. There are many different examples of social housing. Also, it shows me that my idea may be original in what it is trying to achieve. I would like to make it a habit to use books as magazines as research tools, not just the internet. 

The limitations in this project made it very unique, I couldn’t experiment with any materials or make models to help me see my design in a new light which would allow me to alter things and point out design flaws. 

Self-review

My research was sufficient to help me come up with different designs and concepts. It was varied enough for me to take a piece from each example and implement it into my design. The large amount of it though meant that I couldn’t critically analyse it. This was also mainly due to poor time management, I didn’t want to make lists and times plans as I had in previous projects because there were a lot of changes in what our concentration should be on. I felt like if I made a checklist and didn’t get the chance to complete it I was more discouraged to do the work. The main problem solving I had to do was on my attitude towards finishing the project. I think work is now mediocre because of this, which I don’t particularly like. 

The only practical skills used for this project were attempting to draw using different mediums. It was challenging trying to render the design using software that was very new to me but I made many attempts. Unfortunately, none are presentable in my opinion. 

I made many attempts to put the drawing in situ but I couldn’t find any suitable images. There were a few places I had in mind where I could’ve taken photographs of my own but I couldn’t go as it seemed unnecessary. When drawing the outline I made the lines as clean and think as possible to make the process easier. 

I believe this building fits into the brutalist style of architecture with the bright element. The concrete floors and harsh corners that face the outside contrasted by the round pillars give the building more elements. It doesn’t completely fall into the movement but has elements of it. 

Bibliography 

https://medium.com/projexity-blog/architecture-meets-social-engagement-in-5-awesome-projects-af283bba616b

https://www.archdaily.com/933053/best-unbuilt-architecture-7-submitted-proposals-exploring-diverse-programs

https://www.re-thinkingthefuture.com/architects-lounge/a455-15-buildings-that-reflect-contemporary-nature-of-social-architecture/

https://www.rasmussen.edu/degrees/design/blog/9-types-of-design-jobs-for-creative-people/

https://targetjobs.co.uk/careers-advice/career-planning/273051-the-top-10-skills-thatll-get-you-a-job-when-you-graduate

https://www.indeed.co.uk/?from=gnav-jobsearch--jasx

https://www.whatuni.com

https://www.ucas.com

https://www.archdaily.com

https://www.dezeen.com/2014/09/15/le-corbusier-unite-d-habitation-cite-radieuse-marseille-brutalist-architecture/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brutalist_architecture

[ghostboy-gamedev]

Learn Log #1 - Pixel Art Basics 1

So this was the first week of learning pixel art! This week I had a look at some very broad concepts such as Size, Style and Lines. I’ll start with the first two topics because I feel like they’ve got quite a strong connection.

Size & Style

So if you’ve ever looked into pixel art you’ve probably heard of terms like 8-bit, 16-bit and 32-bit but you might not be sure what that exactly means. These were various processing architectures involved in old school video games. I’d say an allure of pixel is the recreation of old video game styles so these terms reflect their respective art styles. Basically, these terms explain ‘Oh I’m going to go for the style of the NES’. Here’s a great Reddit post basically explain it better than I ever could. You could also argue that it connects to the size of the sprite be it 8x8, 16x16 or 32x32 - some people use the terms as such and so will we in this post.

So that’s all well and good but how do you pick a size for pixel art? Well, from my learning this week not only does it depend on the style/complexity you’re aiming for but also your skill level and sprite concept. As we just discussed video game styles play a big role but if you’re not aiming for anyone style then concepts such as colour palette and outlines do too. For example, if you have a limited colour palette or need outlines you might need a slightly bigger sprite to fit in the detail you need - which brings us to concept. If your sprite needs to be expressive, for example your game is story-based, you’re going to need enough size to fit the expression. A trick to figuring this out is making the smallest detail or the facial expressions as small as possible while maintaining your preferred style/level of detail and working out the size of the sprite from there. Of course, this all connects back to skill level. If you’re not that comfortable with pixel art don’t start with big 128x128 sprites. Start with 16x16 or 32x32 first. These larger sprites also make things much more difficult to animate and are a lot easier to mess up.

Going further into style, I want to quickly discuss 1-bit pixel art or minimal colour palettes. 1-bit pixel art is a two-tone style meaning it only uses two colours throughout the piece. This is an interesting style to work in because you have that new level of restriction. For example, how do you convey different materials with only two colours? The use of patterns is really useful for this but they can’t be too confusing or complex also. In general, these minimal colour palettes make animation a lot easier but can make readability a little difficult if you have a lot of things going on.

That’s the last thing I want to touch on - readability. Whenever you make pixel art make sure it can be read - especially if it’s for video games. Making interactable objects outlined or enemies a specific colour is a great way to do this. Readability should be the first priority.

Practice #1 - Resizing Logos

These 16x16 logos are based upon the Barbarian and Warlock class symbols in Xanather’s Guide to Everything. I tried using them to follow TutByKai’s tutorial on sizing symbols from 16x16 to 32x32 but they proved to be to difficult for me to size properly. Here they are for you to check out though! In the end I managed to practice sizing in practice #2 and #3.

Lines

When I was studying about line-work this week I found it funny that rather than learning what to do, I learned what not to do. I think this is because we all have a rough idea of what a pixel art line should look like but not what makes a line look wrong or weird. The main culprits for this are called ‘doubles’ and ‘jaggies’. Note that these are not rules you have to follow and if using doubles or jaggies actually helps convey meaning then you can definitely use them

Doubles are when a line doubles up, usually as it curves or turns an angle. This can make the line weird as it begins to look more blocky or the extent/where the doubles are is inconsistent (for example shifting between inside and outside a circle). A good fix for this is anti-aliasing but that will be discussed shortly.

Jaggies are when pixel don’t within an established patter for example if you had a curve going: 2pxX 1pxY, 2pxX 1pxY,2pxX 1pxY, 3pxX 1pxY, 2pxX 1pxY, 2pxX 1pxY. That 3px line is going to look weird (also sorry couldn’t be bothered to make a quick reference picture online). It may work for irregular terrain such as nature but with man-made objects and more spherical/round objects it just looks strange.

Anti-aliasing (AA) is a pretty useful tool. You can think of it has a half-pixel. However half-pixels don’t exist so it’s really just a pixel roughly the colour between that of the line and the colours next to it. This is useful for fixing up those doubles or making more detailed curves/angles. You’ve got to be careful to not to overuse it as otherwise things will just begin to look messy. Also don’t just stick it across the whole outline - remember this is to be used like a half-pixel for curves. Don’t forget, just like more complex colour palettes you have to animate anti-aliasing too which makes things more difficult.

Finally, I have a few tips for outlines. Firstly, outlines must reflect the nature of the contents (point object = pointy outline). Secondly, fill in any voids within the outline as it can be distracting. Outlines can also play a big role in the way your character is seen by others and how they pick up on the nature of the sprite.

Practice #2 - Robert

So I made Robert yesterday for my practical this week. I’ve presented him here in stages of the spriting process so I’ll just talk through each stage.

So in this stage I started with a 16x16 canvas. As you can see Robert has very little detail due to the small canvas size and 1-bit colour palette. You can kind of tell he’s a robot from his head, if I were to just have him in 16x16 I might want to make the shoulders or a bit blockier to represent that. I did try to do that on the outer pixel of the hands but they kinda felt like wings. When you do pixel art in this smaller sizes each pixel and colour becomes much more important.

So in this next one, while I had the same colours I resized him digitally to 32x32 and added in a lot more detail which you can clearly see. His antennas are now away from his head to make it clear that his head isn’t just a weird shape. I couldn’t do that in stage 1 because 1px there was about 1/6 (?) of his head width. Now that it’s 1/12 (?) I can separate the objects while making it still feel attached. These antennas had some extra detail thrown in but I really like the details on the face. It starts to portray a personality - I think the mouth looks like a mustache so that with his name makes him feel like some kind of ‘Dad-bot’. Also I was able to make the body feel a little more robotic while still remaining humanoid

This stage I just adjusted the the two colours and chucked yellow into the palette. It definitely gives off a completely different but I feel that maybe I should have used a different yellow colour as it is a bit bright. The addition of yellow does make the waves above Robert’s head look like electricity rather than some sound waves or something else which shows how one colour can change a lot.

Finally, in this stage I dived into the colour palette. This change meant I could directly attach the antennas again and also add some detail with slight colour changes (including some shadows below the head and inside the body). Overall, while I think stage 4 looked nice I am particularly fond of stage 2 and the ‘Dad-bot’ vibe it gives off. Sometimes less is more.

Practice #3 - Joey

So, I loved making Robert so much I wanted to try again with the colours flipped. This time I was inspired by Brandon James Greer’s 1-bit video to make a character portrait.

So since this was going to be a portrait I needed to start with his expression as it was important I had that nailed down. I wanted to go with a confused look with one eyebrow raid and the other furrowed down but when I added the mouth it seemed a little weird. I decided to keep it though because I wanted to see where it’d go. The expression took up quite a bit of space so I didn’t have much room for other stuff in the 16x16 canvas.

When I resized Joey’s expression I didn’t do it digitally like I did Robert’s body. In stage 1 the facial expression took up a large portion of the canvas size and if I resized it then that some issue would exist. Instead I decided to redraw the face slightly sized up. I wanted the mouth to show teeth so it needed to become 5px tall rather than 4px. Based off this I made the eyes 1px higher and wider to a 2x3 size. I decided to keep to keep the eyebrow width but I did lengthen them so they’d retain their expression. I also spread out the elements and added a nose. As I gave Joey a head I realised that his expression gave me a classic ‘Wolfenstein’ or ‘Doom’ portrait feeling so I went off that and gave a similar haircut and armour in the style of the original Doom. It looked pretty good although if I was to leave him in this style I might make the armour less intricate and focus on adding texture to the different components. Additionally, as there it’s 1-bit the teeth did look like giant lips.

The piece really came together when I added colour (I was too excited to do a minimalist palette style). I tried to keep the colour palette down to a minimum so the piece didn’t get too overwhelming. For example, the armour only uses three shades of green - one being the outline which is also used for the eyes and mouth. I actually didn’t choose black for the mouth because it contrasted too heavily with the white which took attention away from the rest of the picture.You’ll also notice I used a double on the left eyebrow. I did this on purpose to make the right eyebrow point seem thinner and more furrowed downwards. I tried a couple of iterations of the eyebrows and I think I liked these the most.

In this stage I just added some more detail including texture, the scars and some shadows. Basically, I chucked out any hope for a minimalist palette. I added the shadows with another layer that had a reduced opacity which worked ok. There’s not much to say about this other than I feel like this stage had a lot more depth and it was definitely my favourite of the four. Sometimes more is more.

Learning Resources

My studying and this blog post wouldn’t have been possible without these amazing resources. Go check them out if you wanna learn some stuff about pixel art!

What makes art 8, 16, 32, 64 bit?

What Size To Make Pixel Art by MortMort

What Size is Pixel Art? by Brandon James Greer

How to Choose Pixel Art Resolutions by TutsByKai

Creating Pixel Art from an Object by Brandon James Greer

Pixel Art 101: ‘Styles’ by Pixel Pete

Pixel Art 101: ‘Game Boy’ by Pixel Pete

1-Bit Pixel Art Techniques by Brandon James Greer

Minimalist Palette in Pixel Art by Luis Zuno

Constructing Lines and Curves in Pixel Art by Brandon James Greer

3 Pixel Art Techniques/Common Mistakes (Doubles, Jaggies & Outlines) by MortMort

Basic Anti-Aliasing for Beginners by MortMort

#pixel art #learning #game dev

[pupsung]

some saeran headcanons

general -

his favourite colour is a pale pink

his favourite flavour ice cream is strawberry

his favourite kind of weather is when it’s just about to rain

he’s left handed

his nervous habits include: 

fidgeting with his sleeve

picking his nails

scratching the back of his head/neck

biting his lip/inside of his cheek

his first crush after joining the RFA is Zen

when he moves his jaw from side to side he can make it click, and he finds the noise really satisfying

he prefers being barefoot

saying this, he always gets cold at night which means he has to wear socks or his feet get cold

he has trouble sleeping if there’s any kind of light in his room

he can’t put on weight no matter how hard he tries. he’s naturally really skinny

he has freckles but he doesn’t like them so he usually covers them with makeup

he always forgets to charge his phone at night

he’s awful at replying to texts partly because his phone is usually dead and partly because he just… doesn’t know what to say

animals love him. they’re always really friendly to him, even if they’re usually aggressive to other people, and he pretends to hate the attention whenever he meets a dog in the street/a stray cat comes over to him/etc but he actually loves it

he loves animated movies, and he watches them a lot because they're simple and light and he feels like he missed out as a kid

going for walks helps with his anxiety, and his favourite time of day is sunset

he likes art and writing

it’s mostly just him pouring his emotions out onto paper, but a lot of it is actually really good

he’s amazing with colours, and he has two colouring styles: warm and soft or intense and emotional

his writing is simple. he always gets straight to the point with what he wants to say, and in a lot of ways that makes it stronger

rather than being a full on story, it’s usually nothing more than one or two verses of a poem, but it does its job

recovery -

the early stages of his recovery are rough to say the least

at first he’s filled with so much anger, but as soon as that starts fading he’s left with... not much else

he mostly just feels empty, and that makes way for depression

he goes through a phase of probably a good few months where he just doesn’t have motivation to do anything

he barely even gets out of bed, only moving to go to the bathroom, which isn’t often because he doesn’t eat or drink much

sometimes Saeyoung has to come and literally feed him because he’s just too depressed to move at all

he doesn’t shower or change his clothes very often either because he can’t find the motivation to try

his hair starts growing out because he barely has the energy to even brush it, let alone bleach it

but, gradually, with the persistence of his brother and the rest of the RFA, he starts getting a little better and realising that maybe he is worth something

it’s a long and messy process, and he has a lot of relapses

the night terrors probably stick with him for the rest of his life

as for the tattoo... how he feels varies

I think for the most part he’d ignore it. he’s used to it by now so it wouldn’t bother him all that much

but sometimes he’ll look at himself in the mirror and hate every inch of himself, especially the tattoo

during his breakdowns one of the things he almost always does is scratch at it as though he’s trying to tear it off his skin

I don’t think he’d get it removed, but I think it’s possible he’d get it covered over with something else

something peaceful, like flowers or clouds or nondescript swirls

probably something he’s designed himself because he wants this to be his 

I don’t think he’d ever move out of the bunker away from Saeyoung. he just never feels ready, and Saeyoung absolutely doesn’t mind (in fact, he encourages it)

if he ended up getting a job, it would be something simple like a florist because he likes nature a lot

he’d mostly work behind the scenes, because he still has trouble talking to people he doesn’t know

he’s trying his best to function properly and take care of himself, even if sometimes he feels like he’s not worth it

the RFA help him feel worth something, and for the first time in his life he starts feeling as though he truly belongs somewhere

#mystic messenger #saeran #saeran choi #unknown

[anideawhosetimehascome]

rant about music~

OH MY GOD this makes me feel so warm and fuzzy I can’t stop smiling. Thank you so much. I’m so grateful for this opportunity.

This is gonna be so messy just prepare yourself.

I have to say, right now, my favorite band is City and Colour. I’ve been saying that for awhile, maybe half a year or even a year, god it’s been a long year. I’ve bought two concert tickets to see him. I had to sell the first one (it was a really good seat, third row :(..) but hopefully I can see him with his band with my other ticket (general admission smh) and once more on a fully solo tour like the first ticket I bought.

One Direction comes next as always but each individual member of one direction is ranked differently… louis, harry, liam, and niall in terms of whose music I care most about. I know louis has only put out one collab so far but he’s my favorite,of course I’m most excited for his stuff.

AND I BOUGHT A TICKET TO SEE HARRY HOLY FUCK !!!! I GOT A SEAT IN SECTION 5 IN PHOENIX SO FUCKING CLOSE TO THE STAGE. I GOT SO LUCKY BECAUSE I WAS A COUPLE MINUTES LATE AND I GOT AN AMAZING SEAT. THE PIT IS IN FRONT OF ME AND SO IS 30 OTHER ROWS BUT THATS IT IM GOING TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM WITH HIM AND HEAR HIS BEAUTIFUL CROONING VOICE LIVE AFTER 5 LONG YEARS. I’m just trying to imagine doing the same with louis and my head is exploding. Shoutout to my mom for letting me use her debit card since I haven’t got any paychecks yet.

Protest the hero is an anomaly in my life, I really haven’t been into them in like over a year, but they remain top 3 because I can’t let them go. I love all of their albums (except I only listened to their most recent one once rip) but if I ever got to see them live I would know almost every song IF NOT every single one by heart and that’s an experience I haven’t gotten to have yet. Hopefully twice this year I’ll have that. Maybe I’ll look out for a protest the hero tour and see if I can swing a ticket.

After that it’s really hard to rank everything. I have my favorite albums that differ from favorite artists.

Alt-J is high on my list. They’ve put out some really good shit. I liked An Awesome Wave multitudes more than the other album. I’m hoping his most recent one kinda brings them back to that era.I wish I could travel to the U.K. to see Aquilo. Their album Silhouettes is the best fucking album EVER and yet they’re so small they can only tour their tiny home country. They need more recognition.The Shins are coming to a local venue only a couple hours away and it blows my mind because I fell in love with Wincing the Night Away but they have a plethora of other albums that I didn’t love and I wouldn’t feel right going to a concert where I only knew like 3 of the songs. I wish they did a Wincing the Night Away revival tour where they only sang songs from that album just to appease me lmao.Kendrick’s new album is such a mindfuck. That’s been on repeat the past few weeks. I need to listen to his other stuff too.Sweet Sexy Savage by Kehlani is the genre I’ve been really into lately. That sultry R&B pop is just SO delicious. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever heard before. Her voice is like brown sugar and butter. Everything she does with the instrumentals, her voice, and the backing track is just MIND BLOWING I love it so much.Of course The Weeknd has to come in here. I just saw him live a week ago. It was the best concert I’ve ever been to (the only other one was Taylor swift. She sounds good live, but I’m not a huge fan). STARBOY IS THE BEST ALBUM EVER SERIOUSLY. I was a bit disappointed he didn’t sing more tracks from Starboy because I didn’t know some of the ones from his older albums. Also perpetually disappointed that kendrick never showed up for sidewalks.

Old Crows/Young Cardinals by Alexisonfire has been very high on my list lately. Reminiscent of protest the hero for the reasons I like them, but their voices are COMPLETELY different. It always takes me awhile to get used to screaming and really rough jagged voices, but once I do, I’m either head over heels in love with them or I fucking hate them. Usually the former. If Dallas Green (city and colour) wasn’t involved in this band, I would have never touched them.

Spirit by Depeche Mode has also been a genre I’ve got into lately. I just kept seeing the same fucking google ad every time I opened the app “Spirit by Depeche Mode is out now!” why the FUCK google gave me that ad I don’t know, but it caused me to find one of my most treasured albums. It’s very politically charged which I LOVE. I see the message of each song loud and clear as a movie in my head and it makes me fall deeper in love with it each time.

Now I’ve forgotten everything else, so I’ll start going through albums alphabetically.

Arctic Monkeys is a band I really need to listen to more. I’ve only listened to A.M. once fully through and only stuck with a couple of the songs. I listened to Humbug and liked it a LOT more, so I have a feeling I’ll love their older stuff.

Ahhh how could I forget about CATFISH AND THE BOTTLEMEN. God I spent an hour on YouTube watching them play old versions of The Balcony the other day, it was the best live video I’ve ever watched. He sounded even better than on the album, and I was transported to those shows for that moment where he seemed to be playing in some seedy basement. I wanted to see them live last year for my birthday but didn’t get a ticket. Maybe I’ll be able to get one sometime soon. That’s a band I NEED to see live before I die. They are fucking amazing. Their songs are everything I love about bands.

I’ve listened to a bit of Two Door Cinema Club. I need to listen to more. It’s hard with Apple Music. As you can see I have so fucking much to listen to and it never ends. I think I like music… a lot more than most people. It’s weird to think about. But anyway. Sun, that’s a good song.

Space Oddity by Bowie makes me feel high. R.I.P.

Frank Ocean has been a recurring name lately. Chanel and Self Control are two gems of his.

Cold by Maroon 5 and Future is one of my guilty pleasure songs. I could listen to it for hours and it wouldn’t get old. I don’t even know why I find it so orgasmic.

Cake is one of those bands that wormed their way into my heart a long time ago and I don’t really know how or why and I haven’t listened to enough of their songs because they have too many albums and they’re all from the 90s and I’m so young yet I feel so old when I listen to them. It makes no sense and I love it.

The Dark Side of the Moon. Need I say more? Yes. Us and Them. Brain Damage. Eclipse.

I’m a fan of Blackbear’s new album digital druglord. Very different from what I usually listen to. I don’t always have a usually, but when I do, Blackbear’s not in it.

Message to Bears is the best study music. They’re what I put on when I need to have a quiet night with some undertones of depression and existential realization. Still one of my low key favorites that I always forget about.

FOUR saved the music industry.

I need to reiterate how perfect Protest the Hero is. Listen to Kezia. LISTEN TO IT.

Oh, every time I get the chance to rant about this I will. Little Hell by City and Colour is an album about going from Catholic to atheist, and each song is showing his progression in realizing that. Now this is just my headcanon, but with the first song being about “finding each other in the dark” sounding suspiciously like someone finding God and the last song being a blatant message on being raised religious but rejecting the “make believe” stories. I could theory craft on this album all day. It has seriously made me reconsider naming Sometimes, his first album ever, my favorite, and instead reclaiming Little Hell, City and Colour’s third studio album, as my new favorite. But since it’s just a theory and I have yet to confirm or deny anything, I’ll keep it at my second.

Listen… I know he’s a snake but Zayn’s album was actually really good. I literally haven’t touched it for a year but I really enjoyed it for a long time.

I like the Radiohead quote. I’m not like that at all but I can get into their music, like Nice Dream. Maybe because when I found that song I would have related to that quote. Music is so strange, man.

The Beach Boys, Coldplay, The Boxer Rebellion, Fun., Syd Matters, Breton, The National, Secret & Whisper, G-Eazy, and Bastille all get honorable mentions for being some of my favorites at one point in time.

I hate how into music I am. But I love it so fucking much. I remember in 2010 when I bought a Britney Spears song on the radio and I decided to listen to the mixtape my friend made me because I needed some new music. It changed my life forever because it opened me up to a whole new world that I had never heard before. I’m eternally grateful to her for introducing me to musical curiosity. I will never get over it and I don’t want to.

Despite what I’ve written, I’ve only just now realized how much music I have on my Apple Music library that I’ve literally added and never listened to. I need to work on that.

#music #favorite #mine #city and colour #one direction #protest the hero #Alexisonfire #The Weeknd #alt-j #aquilo #the shins #kendrick Lamar #kehlani #Depeche Mode #Arctic monkeys #catfish and the bottlemen #two door cinema club #David Bowie #frank ocean #maroon 5 #future #cake #Pink Floyd #blackbear #message to bears #zayn #Radiohead #anon #asks

[babyshawwn]

Losing My Mind

MASTERLIST

Request: Hii can i request where you and shawn are apartment neighbors and you always bicker and fight until it becomes a thing between you to then sometimes it would get all flirty and cute hihihi love ur imagjnes

Word count: 2,059

Losing My Mind

You grabbed your keys from the table, walking out of your apartment door. You swayed down the stairs, half running towards your car. You were looked at the time on your phone; you were already running late. Fuck. You picked up the pace as if it would help, but you knew you’d be late for class anyway.

When you made it down, you sighted heavily from frustration. Taking a deep breath, you felt the anger spread around in your body. What the actual fuck, not again.

“You have got to be kidding me” Shawn, your extremely annoying neighbour, had once again parked his car, so you couldn’t get out.

“I don’t have fucking time for this” You whined to yourself, turning around on your heels.

You went back from where you came, running up the stairs, knocking harshly on Shawn’s front door. He took ages to open his door, how fucking hard could it be.

When Shawn finally opened, the both of you put on your way too fake smiles. You both knew, you would kill each other if you had the chance.

“Oh y/n, what do I owe the honour?” Shawn asked with the most sarcastic tone ever.

“I think you know!” You said, raising your voice at him. Shawn, carelessly, leaned towards the wall.

You had to fight the urge of slapping his fucking face, because right now, that’s all you wanted to do.

“Enlighten me” He said, sending you a smile, you wanted to wipe right of that smug face.

“Your car Shawn, once again!”

“Oh, is it blocking or something?”

“WHAT DO YOU FUCKING THINK?” You yelled back at him.

Though, you tried not to be rude, he was seriously bringing out the worst in you. Like, he was driving you insane, making you lose your mind; and he knew it perfectly well.

“You don’t have to be so rude” He said, laughing at you.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You knew, if you continued screaming at him, he’d never move his car and you wouldn’t get to school. You put your hands together, trying your very best to smile at him.

“Shawn, can you move your car, so I can get to school”

“Ask nicely then” He said, raising his eyebrow. He was so enjoying this.

“Please move your fucking car, Shawn!” You yelled frustrated back at him.

Your reaction made Shawn laugh, which you made you even more furious.

“You know what, fucking forget it, okay! I’ll just fucking walk to school” You yelled, this time, his laughter faded of his face. You turned around, started walking down the stairs again.

“Wait, y/n. I’ll move it” He said, but you just shook your head at him.

“Too late, Shawn. Just fucking forget it” You yelled carelessly back, walking off.

You were going to feel this anger rushing around your body for the rest of the day. Why did he always have to ruin a perfectly good day? What was his freaking problem?

***

“Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth. Clap along if you know what happiness is to you. Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do” You sang aloud to the music, dancing around.

You finished chopping the tomato’s, throwing them on the hot pan, while swaying your hips to the music.

You loved dancing around to some awesome music while cooking, it always made you in such a good mood.

A knock sounded on the door, putting an end to your little dance party. You pulled the pan off the stove, before walking to your front door. As you opened the door, your wide smile faded.

“It is not that loud” You said, before he could even speak. Shawn’s eyes widen, rolling them at you.

“Well, if I can hear it at my place, then obviously, it is” He said back; gosh, he was so arrogant.

“Come on, Shawn. I’m listening to music, I’m allowed to do that” You tried, already feeling your energy being sucked out of you.

“Of course, as long as you keep it fucking down”

“It is down. Besides, I have to listen to you playing your fucking guitar at four in the freaking morning” You gave back, but he just shook his head at you.

“That’s different, It’s work”

“It’s still annoying as fuck” You mocked him, which clearly made him angry.

Offending his music was apparently a trigger, I have to remember that. Note to self; a good way to piss off Shawn. Suddenly, Shawn pushed you aside, stepping into your apartment.

“Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?” You asked, but he didn’t answer.

You felt the anger rushing around your veins, making your cheeks burn massively. Shawn turned off my music, smiling mockingly at me.

“That’s better” You rolled your eyes at him. There was nothing you wanted to do more, than smash that smirk right off his face.

“You’re seriously the biggest, self-absorbed idiot in the fucking world” You said to him, but it only made him roll his eyes at you, shaking his head lightly.

“I bet that’s exactly what turns you on”

Do not hit him, do not hit him. You tried calming yourself. You rolled your eyes, clenching your hands, doubting whether or not you should just slap him.

You honestly had no idea what the hell his freaking problem was? He didn’t like you? Fine. You weren’t exactly fond of him either and that’s fine, but come on.

You really hadn’t met anyone more annoying than Shawn and it pissed you off, how he had the power to drive you crazy.

But seriously though, you both had to live here, but being nice? No, no. Nice wasn’t a word in Shawn’s vocabulary. Especially not towards you.

You just stared blank at Shawn, not knowing what to do or even say.

“You turned off the music, can you please leave?” You asked him.

“Trust me, I’m going” He said, walking pass you.

You followed, planning on smacking the door in his neck, but you stumbled over your own feet and slipped. Shawn reacted quickly and grabbed your arm.

“What your freaking steps! How hard can it be” He said, mocking me once again.

Shawn kept you from falling, but he also kept holding onto your arm. Why was your mouth feeling dry? And what was up with this tickly feeling?

Shawn’s gaze suddenly caught mine as he licked his pink lips. You don’t know why, but for a short moment, you could barely breathe. Once again, Shawn’s expression changed and he went back to being his stupid self.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Are you mentally undressing me or what?” He mocked, making you roll your eyes.

You pulled your arm back, feeling the anger pumping around once again. This time, you were going to give him a piece of your mind.

“Why Shawn?! Why do you always have to do that? It’s like sexual harassment!” You yelled at him, as the anger continued boiling around inside you.

“For fuck sake, y/n! Please be able to handle a fucking joke”

“It’s not a joke. Don’t you get it? It’s not a fucking joke to me. You drive me crazy, you make me lose my fucking mind. We both have to be here, okay? Stop being a fucking prick all the time!”

“Maybe if you didn’t have your head so far up your ass, you would be able to lighten up and take a fucking joke-“ He yelled back at you, but you cut him off.

“I can handle a joke okay?! I’m just not as lame as you. And let me tell you one fucking thing-“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence, because Shawn – factually – stopped you from.

Before you were able to understand what was happening, Shawn had pressed you up against the wall, pressing his lips into yours, harshly.

You wanted to push him off you, but you couldn’t get yourself to do it. What the fuck? Shawn kept the kiss going for a little longer, making it steamy and wet. It almost took your breath away.

When you pulled apart from each other, your eyes were glued on each other. The two of you were both struggling to catch your breaths.

“What the hell?” You asked, pushing his shoulder.

“Apparently, that’s the only fucking way to shut you up”

“You shut up and kiss me again” You screamed at Shawn’s face.

You were joggling a blurred line between being frustrated as hell and turned on as hell. What the hell was going on between the two of you?

Fast, you grabbed behind Shawn’s neck, pulling his lips down to yours. Every muscle in your body as aching, as the chills spread around your body.

You honestly couldn’t be enjoying this? Why were you enjoying this? Like it was Shawn. Shawn who loved driving you insane.

As much as you tried gathering strength to push him away, you couldn’t get yourself to do so. It was like your body, in some twisted way, began craving Shawn’s touches against your skin.

In a rough move, Shawn sat down on a chair in my living room, pulling you to sit down on top of him.

With his soft tongue, Shawn opened your mouth and let it slip in between your burning lips. Letting your fingers slip into Shawn dark hair, you almost let out a gasp. Shawn tighten his grip around you, it let you feel his well-trained muscles against you.

It felt like the two of you were fighting about who was going to be in control, so that way, nothing had really changed between the two of you.

As longer as the kiss lasted, your mind became even more foggy. It felt like you had no control on either your thoughts or your actions, but you secretly find yourself liking it.

Our little steamy moment was ruined, when Shawn’s phone suddenly ran. It made you jump off Shawn’s lap.

You cleared your throat as Shawn picked up his phone. You felt your cheeks burn as you let your thumb slide over your lip. You watched as Shawn finished the conversation over the phone.

Shawn straightened his clothes, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He had trouble looking you in the eyes. Shawn’s cheeks had a pink colour to them, his hair was messy and he fought breathing normally. You felt your heart race faster than ever, hoping Shawn didn’t notice.

“That… was a total mistake” You stuttered, Shawn nodded at you.

“Definitely. Sometimes people just lose their sanity” He tried explaining our behaviour.

“It’s the heat” You said.

Shawn looked at you funny. The heat? We’re in the middle of fucking December, nice try. Your lips were trembling and your body felt numb.

“I better-“ Shawn started, heading towards your front door.

“Yeah” You hurried to agree. As Shawn passed by you, he leaned closer to your ear.

“If you ever feel like making another mistake, you know where to find me” Shawn whispered, leaving your body quivering from his lips brushing against your ear.

Shawn was almost out the door, when you caught his hand. It made him look back at you, raising his eyebrow, smirking. You pulled him into your apartment against.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me” Shawn mocked you.

“Seriously, just shut up and kiss me” You commanded him. Shawn rolled his eyes at you.

“Don’t tell me what to do” He gave back.

“You either start fucking kissing me, or you get out right now” You dared, watching Shawn licking his lips.

He moved closer to you, biting your under lip. It made you whimper loudly.

“Just to be clear, you’re still pissing me off” Shawn whispered against you lips.

Shawn lifted you up and placed you on the kitchen counter, getting in between your legs. You grabbed around his neck, pulling his ear to your mouth.

“And you’re still a fucking prick” You whispered back.

“Good to know” He said simply.

Shawn grabbed your head, pulling your lips onto his. You let the anger go and Shawn’s touches consume you. You could continue hating him after this heated make-out session. You really were losing your mind.

#Shawn Mendes #shawn #mendes #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes text #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes stories #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes request #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #mendes army

[zacharybosch]

i promised a sequel, and here it is. lighter on the bootblacking this time, but heavier on the angst. you're welcome.

i'd like to extend endless gratitude and thanks to @hannibatchsmuse for sharing their knowledge and expertise, without which this fic would not have happened

read below, or on ao3!

are you busy tonight?

Not with anything urgent. Why?

good

It was too late really to be driving out to Baltimore, and a forecast of heavy snow made any long journeys inadvisable. Will was in the habit of doing inadvisable things lately.

Skidding along the I-95, he thought back over the events that led him to this point. After Randall Tier’s death and the first bootblacking incident, their time spent together had increased. Dinner at Hannibal’s house several nights a week, and always after his Wednesday evening appointment. Rough touches, sometimes, in front of the fire with brandy, or in the car on an excursion for the Bureau. An aching desire to be tender, overridden by harsher need to consume Hannibal while he still could.

Because Will would have to give Hannibal up. He knew this, and a large part of him wanted it, but his traitorous heart remained beating all the while. Freddie was dealt with, and they eye-fucked over the dinner that was made of her, and the next time Will went to Hannibal’s house there was a new addition to his marble-floored entrance lobby.

Olive-green leather and light wood, perched on a small dais. A considerable sign of restraint on Hannibal’s part given his usual taste in interior decor. Passed off to other guests as a decorative antique, Will saw the bootblacking chair sitting innocently against the wall and felt his heart hammer in his chest.

After that, Will had got it into his head that a line absolutely had to be drawn. Plausible deniability up until now, but the chair was a physical manifestation of activities he could barely admit to himself that he’d been partaking of. The only way to make sure nothing untoward ever happened again was to remove temptation completely: throw out his boots, along with all his other leather things that had been languishing in a box in the spare bedroom.

It was difficult, though. The image of Hannibal’s fingers working boot laces through eyelets, the sound of his lips as he spat on the buffing cloth, trailed Will like cobwebs during the day. At night, they played bright and vivid in his mind. The fact that Hannibal had heavily implied that the bootblacking chair had been placed in his lobby for Will’s use didn’t help. At all.

So he decided he would haul out all the old junk that was lying around his house. Save the leather box for last; by that point he would have thrown away so much useless crap he’d kept for vaguely sentimental reasons, that getting rid of one more box of feelings would be easy.

He’d forgotten he even still had the collar. A relic from a period in his life that felt like someone else’s, he’d used it only a handful of times and it was the same predictable story as always: he enjoyed it, loved it, and then shunned it fiercely. He had no idea where the leash had gone, but that didn’t matter; there was enough old rope lying around in the barn and Will knew his way around several sturdy knots. The rope would be rough and unforgiving, and Will’s hands trembled as he sat in his car at the end of Hannibal’s street. The collar was stuffed in a bag on the passenger seat.

Will wondered how he ever managed to convince himself that he would actually throw it all away. Of course he would end up back here. Of course he would make it worse. He was playing right into Hannibal’s hand, and the worst thing of all was that it was entirely intentional.

Parking at the far end of the street was one last ditch attempt to forestall the inevitable. The long walk to Hannibal’s front door might give Will a chance to come to his senses, he’d told himself, knowing full well it would do nothing of the sort. The only thing the dark night and biting wind did was make him hurry, fingers coiled against the cold in leather gloves as the bag and its contents thumped rhythmically against his thigh.

The red-framed front door loomed up all too soon.

“Hello, Will. Please, come in.”

Will grunted in reply, shouldered his way inside and went straight for the chair.

“I see. I must say, I’m surprised.”

“No you’re not. Shut up.”

“Rude tonight, Will.”

“You’ll deal with it.” Will held out the bag, thought better of it, then held it out again. “I have something for you.”

Hannibal walked over and took the bag, eyes flooding with… something, as he opened the handles and drew out the collar. He held Will in hard eye contact.

“Looking to work out some issues?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“You assume I’m even interested in such activities.”

“Aren’t you?”

Will wasn’t as surprised as he might have been when Hannibal broke eye contact. He’d been doing it a lot lately. “I am.”

“Then put it on.”

***

It had become almost unbearably hot in the room. Will, still in his overcoat and gloves, felt the first slow slide of sweat down his spine as Hannibal finished massaging Huberd’s Shoe Grease into one boot and moved on to the other. He’d opted for bare hands over a cloth this time, and the push and slide of fingers over leather was hypnotic. Hannibal had been speaking for a few minutes, Will realised, but about what he had no idea. All he could hear was the clink of the rings on the collar, the faint creak of rope where it was coiled about his leather gloves, and Hannibal’s sharp intake of breath as Will suddenly yanked the rope tight and pulled him between his thighs.

“Why are you talking? You keep on talking. I don’t want to listen to you.”

Hannibal was taken aback, just a little. He hid it quickly, and well, but Will saw. “I was just--”

“No. Stop it. Be quiet.” Will shoved two gloved fingers into Hannibal’s mouth, thumb and ring finger gripping his jaw. “Now carry on.”

The angle was awkward, crushed up in between Will’s legs, but Hannibal resumed his task as best he could. Will was intimately familiar with the particular brand of grease currently spread dark and messy over Hannibal’s hands; it was plant-based, and body-safe. He’d get it on the floor later, on the arms of the chair, all over his beautiful cream-coloured shirt. And then some.

Will let his fingers move and curl, push in and out, drag over Hannibal’s lips. He smeared saliva over Hannibal’s chin, down his neck, onto the collar. Eventually, Hannibal’s silence was worse than the constant low cadence of his voice.

Will removed his hand completely and gripped the arm of the chair. He let the rope in his other hand fall slack. “You can speak again if you want.”

“You’re sweating.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Allow me.” Hannibal moved to shed some of Will’s layers, starting with the leather gloves.

“No... Leave those on.”

“As you like.” Hannibal skimmed his fingers once over the soft leather, then began popping the buttons on Will’s overcoat. He moved silently, and betrayed nothing. Will let Hannibal move his body as he needed, each touch burning more painfully than the last and paying no mind to the spreading pattern of dark grease fingerprints. Hannibal trailed his hands over the placket of Will’s shirt, managed to slip two buttons from their holes and leave a fingerprint like a burning brand on his chest before Will grabbed his wrist in an iron grip and moved it firmly away.

Hannibal let the ghost of a smile play about his mouth, and bent back to Will’s boots.

***

“You wore those boots on purpose, didn’t you, Will? So I would use the Huberd’s. You wanted this to happen.”

Infuriating how calm and collected Hannibal could sound when on his elbows and knees on a hard marble floor, ass up and bare and presented. Uncomfortable as it was to admit, Will knew that he had done it on purpose, and Hannibal had anticipated it. Intentional and inevitable.

“Maybe I did. But you had the tools ready and waiting. You wanted it too.” Will smeared more of the shoe grease over his gloved hands, continued kneading the meat of Hannibal’s thigh with one hand while the other moved to rub slick circles around his hole. “You want it.”

“Yes.” A hairline crack in composure.

“Say it like you mean it, Hannibal.”

“Yes.”

Will hated Hannibal in that moment. That he could so freely give himself over whenever he chose, that he could take what he wanted and revel in it, with little regard for consequence. What was consequence to a man such as Hannibal? He had a contingency plan in place for everyone; there was no doubt in Will’s mind that Hannibal had a quick knife and a clean exit ready for him if the need arose. He would regret it, for sure, but he would do it all the same.

He was free, in all the ways that Will was not, and the envy burned fierce in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re mine, tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“You want this and you’re mine.”

“I want this and I’m yours, Will, I’m yours.”

Will pulled one glove off with his teeth, and fumbled at his zipper with shaking fingers. Hannibal wanted him, wanted to be taken and marked and owned, and Will wanted to give it to him. He wanted to fuck until he couldn’t feel, until the roaring in his head was smothered by chemical floods and firing neurons and anything, anything at all to make him forget who he was and what he was doing and the man he was doing it with.

As he took his cock in hand, Will found himself wishing that he was still sick, that the person he was right now was the product of a dissociative state and he’d have no memory of it in the morning. He certainly felt sick, sick from the knowledge that Hannibal was obsessed with him, that he liked being the object of obsession even as it repulsed him. Sick from knowing that when Hannibal said he was Will’s, he meant it truthfully, and Will loved it.

If he fucked Hannibal now, there would be no shred of decency left within him. Not because he was lying with a murderer, taking pleasure in the company of one so morally corrupt; in the grand scheme of things, it meant little to him. What kept Will awake at night was knowing that he had Hannibal’s heart in the palm of his hand and he was slowly closing his fist to crush it.

The fact that he even felt bad about deceiving Hannibal in the first place told him all he needed to know about the state of his moral compass. Redemption was a light fading into the distance even as he ran toward it.

Will’s chest heaved as he held his cock against the cleft of Hannibal’s ass, great gasping breaths as he jerked himself roughly, gripping Hannibal’s hip hard enough to bruise. It would be so easy, a strong push and the long slow slide, engulfing heat and the ripple of muscle. Beneath him, Hannibal found himself wanting. He wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t say please, but he telegraphed it in the cant of his hips and the flex of his thighs. Will would deny him in this, just as he had denied him before and would deny him again.

Will finished with a groan, let fall from red-bitten lips quickly clamped shut. His spend was splattered on the small of Hannibal’s back, dripping down between his cheeks and catching in the soft dusting of hair. With gloved fingers --not skin on skin, if he touched Hannibal now he would never leave-- Will shoved in, wiped his cum to mark Hannibal inside, where no-one could see his shame.

This would be the last time, he knew.

Hannibal had spoken before of his memory palace. Will imagined it as a grand and terrible estate, housing buildings both foreboding and beautiful. Each moment of his life tucked away in some room or another, nothing forgotten, although some memories purposefully kept under lock and key. All preserved perfect in amber, ready to replay at whim.

Will’s mind was no such palace. The stream was a recent invention; before Hannibal, his mind had been a rickety old New Orleans shotgun house, the one they’d lived in the longest before his dad moved them out of state. Floorboards worn with age stretching out endlessly, strewn with polaroid photographs. Some captioned with a name, a place, a date. Others left blank, or scribbled over. Every picture crisp and sharp.

As he walked down the steps of Hannibal’s front porch and out into the night, he snapped a photo in his mind and let it flutter to the floor with the others.

Baltimore 2014.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fic #my fic