#this is why solo graphic novels take so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Moonbeam (Ezra x Reader) [smut] {Werewolf AU}

Title: Moonbeam Rating: Explicit Length: 6,000 Warnings: Non-graphic description of bodily injury and smut (cunnilingus, doggy style sex, mentions of masturbation). Reader Details: To the best of my knowledge, there are no references to Reader’s physical details, beyond being a bisexual woman. I tried my best to keep it as vague as possible. Notes: So, this is the second lengthy Ezra fic I’ve written this month, but the only one that will see the light of day. Shout-out to @rzrcrst for pre-reading this for me. Werewolves are my niche and I’m absolutely incapable of writing them without creating the lore around their existence. Ezra exudes big werewolf energy (P.S. Javier exudes big vampire energy) and since I’m not really in a fandom until I write a werewolf AU, I present you all with my very own version of space werewolves. Depending on audience reactions, there might be more of this story to tell.

Taglist:@princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @pedrospunk @maybege @chews-erotically @katlikeme @lose-eels @youmeanmybrain @theindiealto @irishleesh93

You had heard the rumors, but never once had you believed that they were true. A werewolf living on a moon? Werewolves were the stuff of fairytales. They weren’t real.

They weren’t real.

But someone who had come before you had clearly considered the potential. Why else had someone thought to set up a cleverly concealed steel trap?

The pain was overwhelming. Worse than anything you’d ever encountered before. You were lucky your leg hadn’t snapped in two — your heavy coveralls were your saving grace.

You howled out in pain as you dropped to your knees, trying in vain to pry the trap off your leg. The sharp teeth had bit through the fabric of your coveralls and the dark stain forming told you everything you needed to know about your future. If you didn’t get the trap off soon, you were going to bleed out.

And then you’d become a smorgasbord for whatever creatures lived on this moon. There had to be something terrifying in the forest that had convinced everyone to believe in werewolves.

“Kriff.” You swore, your arms throbbing with effort as you tried yet again to free your leg from the trap. You dropped back onto your ass, before sinking down onto the soft mossy ground beneath you.

At least the stars were out. You could see them through the bareboned trees as they swayed above you in the evening breeze.

The pain wasn’t so bad at a certain point, most likely because of the blood loss. That would do it. That woozy, tingling sensation that had your vision blurring at the edges.

A branch snapped nearby, sending a dull spike of nerves through you. You hadn’t made a study of the flora and fauna on the moon — but that certainly didn’t sound like a small creature.

“Please don’t eat me.” You mumbled, tilting your head to look in the direction of the sound. The filtered moonlight from the crescent moon above barely illuminated the forest around you and your flashlight was just out of reach.

You heard the sound of another branch snapping under foot, “Hello?”

All men are beasts in their own right, but the man that stepped into your line of view seemed an unlikely candidate.

“I do believe that trap was not set to ensnare one such as you,” He drawled out with a honey-sweet cadence as he moved towards you.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” You offered weakly, trying to sit up as he knelt beside you, but your vision blurred harshly and you sank back onto the ground.

“How fortuitous you are that I take my evening stroll through this very copse of trees.” He mused, effortlessly freeing your leg from the steel trap.

“How—“

“You have lost a considerable amount of blood, little lamb. I would be most obliged to offer shelter and succor. These woods are no place to remain alone. One can never know what creatures fresh blood may attract.”

You exhaled shakily as you stared up at the stars above you. He was right — you’d never make it back to your transport alone on your leg. “Promise not to kill me?” You cracked, tilting your head to look at him.

He flashed you a toothy grin, “I promise.”

“What is your name?” You asked as he hoisted you into his arms, with surprising ease.

“Ezra.” He told you, looking down at you. “And what is your name, little lamb?”

“Ezra.” You repeated softly, resting your cheek against his chest as he carried you through the forest. You gave him your own name, feeling a strange warmth wash through you when he repeated it back in that beguiling tone of his.

“Am I right in my assumption that you are the occupant of the transport that arrived just two nights ago.” Ezra questioned quietly.

“Depends on who is asking.” You jested lightly, “I am. Reconnaissance mission for a mining program.”

“Ah,” His grip on you seemed to tighten. “Another greedy venture to strip the moon of its precious lunaxium?”

“I can only assume.” You glanced up at him, “Above my pay grade.”

“You should leave within the week.” Ezra remarked, keeping his sharp gaze focused ahead of him. “It won’t be safe for you.”

“You don’t believe in that stupid story, do you?” You questioned, “Isn’t that just a tale to keep prospectors from coming here?”

“I once believed that.” Ezra muttered, before falling silent for the remainder of the journey to his humble abode.

You had so many questions for your serendipitous savior, but he tended to your leg in relative silence and then left you to rest in his bed.

From what you could tell, Ezra had fashioned a home for himself out of a crashed transport vessel that you could only assume had been his own at one time. Perhaps he’d been like you once upon a time, a drifter picking up odd jobs and landing in bad situations.

Ezra was handsome. The moonlight hadn’t tricked you into thinking that — in the garish light of his bedroom, he was still just as striking. Warm eyes, long lashes, a mess of chestnut hair with a shock of blonde, and a wiry frame.

How long had he been living on Lykaios? Had his vessel crashed on a wayward venture and he’d had no one to come looking for him? Not that anyone would come looking for you either.

Maybe Shiva. They would’ve probably come looking for your corpse just to get what was owed to them.

It was a damn miracle that Ezra had stumbled upon you. How had he even found you? The woods all looked the same.

Sleep came slowly and fitfully. Despite the shot Ezra had given you, your leg was agonizingly painful if you moved at all. Fortunately, there were books within reach — well-loved, with worn pages. You wondered if they had been Ezra’s to start with, or if he’d found someone’s abandoned transport.

He had excellent taste.

You hadn’t seen a stack of Chaucer since you were much younger. His copy of Canterbury Tales had been opened so many times the spine wilted in your palm.

Ezra announced himself with a short knock, before sliding open the durasteel door. “I expected you to be asleep. You had quite the evening, little lamb.”

“I tried.” You made a note of the page you were on before closing the book and sitting it aside on the bedside shelf. “I got distracted by… your collection of novels.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “I see you’re getting acquainted with my old oppo Chaucer.”

“I’ll have you know, Chaucer is my friend.” You quipped, drumming your fingers against the cover of the book. “It was nice to retrace old lines.”

“He’s an acquired taste,” Ezra tucked his hands behind his back and stepped into the room. “Youth may outrun the old, but not outwit.”

You smiled a little, “Earn what you can since everything’s for sale.”

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “And how true that is.” He gestured grandly towards your leg, “But oftentimes it comes with folly.”

“Is that how you ended up here?” You questioned, “I wanted to ask you last night, but with everything...”

He shrugged, dragging over a trunk and perching on the edge of it. “Five years ago I stood where you stand. They were looking for a new form of clean energy — lunaxium seemed like the answer.” Ezra pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking away from you then. “This place is filled with hidden dangers. Once you can put weight on your leg, I encourage you to leave.”

“You could come with me.”

Ezra’s gaze snapped towards you, “No.”

Your brows furrowed together, “Alright.”

“I need to change your bandages,” Ezra exhaled heavily as he rose from the trunk, he turned his back to you as he moved to retrieve the roll of gauze from a shelf.

Your eyes widened as you spotted a twisted scar that ran up the back of his neck into his hairline and vanished down the back of his shirt. You hadn’t noticed it last night while he fussed over you.

“Ezra, why can’t you leave?”

Ezra sighed heavily as he sat down on the foot of the bed, drawing your leg into his lap. “It’s home.” He answered simply, unwinding the bandages. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this—“ He gestured around him. “It’s mine.”

“And you haven’t gone stir crazy after five years?” You questioned, grimacing as he prodded at your wound. “I was gone for two months on a solo mission once and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to Shiva again. Even if they did rob me blind during liar’s dice.”

“You get used to solitude.” Ezra glanced at you briefly, before turning his attention to the task at hand. He cleaned the area around the wound, before wrapping fresh bandaging around it. “Once or twice a year, someone like yourself arrives and…”

“And the mythical werewolf eats them?” You jested, sinking back against the mattress as he laid your leg back down on the bed.

“Something like that.” He offered dryly, eyeing at you warily. “There’s a full moon in eleven days. I would advise you not to wait around to discover whether or not it is simply lore.”

Your brows knit together and you sat up, arms curled around your waist. “You say that like there’s a chance it is true. You’ve been here for five years… What have you seen?”

“I have things I must attend to away from here.” Ezra said abruptly, “Rest and I’ll return in a few hours to escort you back to your transport.”

Ezra did little to assuage that sinking sensation that told you that maybe just maybe there were werewolves on Lykaios.

“Before you settled here, what did you do?” You questioned, leaning into Ezra’s side as he kept a firm hand coiled around you for support. “Your transport didn’t offer many clues, outside of your exquisite taste in literature.”

Ezra chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was a harvester. A damn good one, at that. But seasons get hard, tides turn, allegiances bend. Fell into a bit of a snare with an associate and had to dig my way out.”

“I think we’ve all been there before,” You shook your head. “I enjoy gambling. Nasty habit.” You admitted. “I wasn’t meant to be the one to come to Lykaois. My friend — the one I mentioned before — had been assigned to this mission. They lost it in a dicey bet with me.”

“Dicey?”

“What gambler plays honorably?” You countered. “I cheated.”

“And this friend of yours was meant to come here instead?”

You nodded, “Tried to win it back right up until the moment I took off.” Shiva had been furious that they’d lost and even more furious knowing that you hadn’t played fair. “I’ve heard the stories about Lykaois and I wanted to find out if they were true.”

“One shouldn’t go looking for the stuff of myth.” Ezra drawled out. “In my erstwhile profession, I had a certain predilection for danger. It can be damning.”

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but… is there a reason you can’t leave?” You stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly. “My transport has life support for three. If there’s someone else you’ve got here — if that’s why you don’t want to leave.”

You could feel Ezra’s gaze bore into your skin.

“I’m not leaving.” You told him, when he made no attempt to answer your question. “I’ll take a day or two to rest, but I’m finishing what I’ve started.”

“It’s not safe.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” You pushed back. “If it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you trying to leave?”

Ezra worked his jaw slowly, before looking towards the sky and sighing heavily. “I’m not the only inhabitant on this moon. Some have been here for much longer than me and they…” He shook his head slowly.

You curled your fingers around his forearm, turning to stare at him. “They’re what?”

“Little lamb, be glad you were found by me and not one of them.” Ezra gritted out, holding your gaze. “Consider your luck and leave before it runs out.”

He wasn’t going to relent. Whatever secrets Lykaois held, he wasn’t going to reveal them to you.

“Will you at least let me give you a few of my books?” You questioned, squeezing his arm tight as you used him to support your weight.

“Depends on what you’re offering.” Ezra retorted, “But we need to keep moving. You need to get your leg up.”

Ezra was entranced with your small collection of books. Like a man starved, he snatched up every book — flipping through its pages with reverence. You couldn’t imagine spending five years without getting your hands on a new book.

You thought he would abruptly leave once he had you safely tucked into your transport — but he lingered.

“Nothing in the world is single; all things by a law divine in one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?” Ezra read, the words falling from his tongue with a richness that your mind had never been able to give them.

“Shelley?” You questioned, tilting your head to try to get a look at the book he was holding.

“Indeed.” He closed the book and held it to his chest. “Our dear friend Percy had quite a way with words. Overshadowed — and rightfully so — by his beloved wife.”

“I haven’t been able to get my hands on Frankenstein. Not since I was maybe fourteen.” You admitted.

Ezra snapped his fingers, “You should’ve spoken up, little lamb. Mary has kept me company on many lonely nights.”

“I will part with Percy,” You told him, hobbling towards him on your wounded leg. “But only if you are willing to part with Mary.”

He hummed thoughtfully, still clutching the book to his chest. “I will have to consult with her.” Ezra told you with a soft smile, “I have no doubt that she is as tired of my company as anyone would be.”

You reached out and covered his hand with yours, “I will let you reunite the couple for just one night. But you have to promise me that you’ll bring me Frankenstein.”

Ezra’s gaze lowered to where your hand was on his, a faint color rising in his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll leave once books have been exchanged.” He covered your hand with his other hand, squeezing gently. “If you stay, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Me.” Ezra breathed out, his dark eyes setting on yours. “I will bring you lunaxium that you can take back to whomever hired you. Warn them from this place and forget it.”

“It’s not that simple.” You found yourself leaning into him for support, “I have to complete testing and analysis. Reports. I can’t just take back a lump of lunaxium and hope for the best.”

A growl like sound rose up in the back of his throat, “Then I’ll do the reports for you. I know more than I ever cared to know of lunaxium and this godsforsaken rock. You are not to venture beyond this transport.”

You pulled your hand away from his, “I’ll do as I please, thank you.”

Ezra gritted his teeth, “Do you have a death wish? Now isn’t the time for obstinance. Not this close to a full moon.”

You blinked at him, “Are you…?”

His expression faltered, fingers twitching against the book before he held it out to you, “Keep it and leave tonight. Please.”

“No.” You shook your head, “I want to know.”

“Among these stories,” He gestured to your shelf of books, “I’m afraid it’s an unimpressive tale.”

“I’m always looking to hear new stories.” You told him, grimacing as you put too much weight down on your leg. “Shit.”

“Please sit,” Ezra urged, moving swiftly to curl his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the makeshift sofa you’d made from a weapon crate and oversized pillows.

He sank down onto the opposite end, hands covering his face as he let out a heavy sigh. “Five years ago, I was just like you. Starry-eyed, devil-may-care.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Yes.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I came here looking for lunaxium like every ill-fated prospector before me. The rumors, the legend, the myth — they made for a tantalizing adventure.” His expression sobered as he stared straight ahead. “It’s painful. Muscles tear, bones shatter, skin stretches.”

Your heart clenched and your stomach roiled at the thought.

“They say the first was a corruption. There are wolves among us, lurking beyond the trees — fearful in their own right of what looms above them. Someone played with fate and made a monster that even Shelley couldn’t have imagined. Lunaxium has no effect on humans, but it calms the beast for awhile.”

Without even thinking about it, you carefully shifted onto your good knee, letting your leg rest over the side of the sofa as you leaned towards Ezra. “This scar.” You said as you gingerly brushed your fingers over the back of his neck.

He tensed, fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. “I was attacked on my second night here.” He confessed, exhaling slowly. “Forgive me, little lamb. It has been a right smart spell since I have felt another’s touch.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Ezra.” You whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Isolating yourself… Maybe there’s a cure.”

“I can’t leave Lykaois.” He admitted, closing his eyes as he relaxed under the gentle touch of your fingers. “We’re reliant on the lunaxium and whatever this moon is cursed with. I would go mad.”

“Has anyone ever tried to leave?”

“There are stories.” Ezra turned to look at you. “I appreciate your offer. If it weren’t for what I’ve become, I would accept it without hesitation. But I would rather perish in the solitude of my transport than lose my mind somewhere among the stars.”

You trailed your fingers from his hair, along the curve of his jaw. “I could come back.”

“And put yourself in danger twice over?”

“I put myself in danger every time I venture out on a harvest with a ragtag team that might turn their weapons on me. Life is a risk, Ezra.” You held his gaze as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. “I can be your connection to the world you’ve lost. Name it, anything — I’ll bring it back here to you.”

“It’s dangerous.” Ezra seemed compelled by the offer. “The others… they’ve been here long enough to lose what’s left of their humanity.”

“Then protect me.” You brushed your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead.

“There’s so much I miss,” He admitted, his expression matching the way his voice broke as he held your gaze. “Five years… it’s a lifetime to spend alone.” He curled his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of your palm. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me.”

“I’m not afraid.” You told him, and as foolish as it was — you weren’t.

Ezra’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips and your breath caught somewhere in the back of your throat when he started to lean towards you.

He wasn’t the only one who had gone years without knowing a lover’s touch. You played things close to the chest, avoided anything that could ensnare you — except for him.

For all of his warm charm, there was an underlying current of danger that had you feeling like a moth to the flame. He was a monster. A creature made from a curse you hadn’t even believed in.

“Ezra.” You breathed out, leaning in until your nose brushed against his.

He petted his fingers over your cheek as his breath mingled with yours, “You’re hurt.”

“It’s just my leg.” Your lips were a hair’s breadth away from his, “I think we both need this.”

Ezra curled his fingers around the back of your head as his lips crashed against yours. You groaned against his lips and his tongue took the opportunity to slip into your mouth, curling against yours.

He kissed like a man possessed, desperate and all consuming. He hauled you into his lap like you weighed nothing, his hands clawing at your back, your ass, your arms — anywhere he could reach.

He was starved for a connection like this. You had sensed it in the way he gravitated towards you, the way he lingered, the gentle touches as he mended your leg.

You hissed softly as you shifted your weight in his lap, trying not to put pressure on your leg, but it was hard not to in that position.

Ezra cupped your cheek, drawing your focus to his face as his other hand curled tight around your hip. “Do you trust me, little lamb?” He questioned, waiting until you nodded before he started to guide you back lengthways on the sofa.

You scraped your fingernails over his scalp as you slid your fingers through his hair. His knee slotted in between your thighs as he draped himself over you.

Greedy hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal new skin to touch. He was touch starved. Every brush of your fingers against his untouched skin made him rut against your thigh.

Ezra’s mouth worked down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping as his tongue darted out to taste your skin. His own hands sliding under your shirt, skimming over your ribs.

You’d missed the feeling of large, rough hands against your skin. It had been more than a few cycles since you’d fallen into bed with a man. A year, maybe two, since you’d been with anyone at all.

“Ezra.” You breathed out as his mouth moved over your covered breast, his tongue seeking out your nipple through the soft fabric.

His eyes snapped to meet yours, pupils blown with arousal as he let out a ragged breath. “I can smell you.” Ezra murmured, his tongue flicking out to tease the peak of your nipple, the fabric darkened from his mouth. “You’re soaked, aren’t you little lamb?” He questioned, a hand wandering down your side, curling around your thigh.

You felt your chest and cheeks burn with a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment. You were slick. You could feel your underwear clinging to your cunt, desire fueled solely by the man crowded onto the sofa with you.

“In my bed,” Ezra whispered, untangling the hand you had in his hair. He brought your hand to his lips, inhaling deeply before wrapping his lips around your first two fingers.

An unabashed moan escaped you, your hips lifting off the sofa as you ground yourself against his knee. You should’ve been ashamed — he had known that you’d tried to put yourself to sleep by burying your face in his pillow and your hand between your thighs.

Ezra released your fingers with a wet pop, his nostrils flaring as he held your gaze. “You didn’t come, did you? Did la petite mort evade you?”

“Yes.” You whispered, tracing your dampened fingers over his scruffy cheek. “I was so close, but it wasn’t enough.”

He smirked at you as he pressed his knee firmly against you. “May I?”

“Please.” You nodded, sinking back against the sofa as Ezra moved down your body. Skilled fingers worked at the fastenings of your pants, peeling the heavy fabric down your thighs before tossing them aside.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of you, “Sit up, little lamb.” Ezra told you, sinking onto the ground in front of you. “Look at you.” He drawled as your thighs parted, your injured leg draped over his shoulder.

You gasped quietly as he stroked his thumb over the damp spot on your underwear, barely brushing over your clit — but even that mere touch was enough to make you tremble.

“Did you think of me?” Ezra questioned, peeling the fabric to the side, sweeping his fingers between your slick folds.

“Maybe.” You retorted, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him lick your arousal from his fingers.

A quiet growl rose up the back of his throat as he leaned in between your thighs. He held your underwear to the side as he lapped at you, his tongue sweeping between your folds.

Your fingers slid into his hair, grip tightening as he traced the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“Do you need these?” Ezra mumbled, tugging at your underwear.

“No. No.” You shook your head, pitching your hips towards him.

Ezra effortlessly tore away the crotch of your underwear, his mouth descending upon your tender flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, thrusting into your slick core. He grabbed at your thigh, holding you steady as he turned his attention to your clit.

You cried out as he wrapped his lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves. He sucked lightly at it, swirling his tongue over it as his fingers pressed into your cunt.

He didn’t let up, his tongue working over your clit as he worked his fingers in and out of you. His fingers were deliciously thick, dragging in and out of you, brushing over that sweet spot within you that made your entire core quake.

Ezra was good.

His name was heavy on your tongue as you shattered, your inner walls clenching around his fingers, thighs trapping his face between your legs.

“I need…” You panted out, breath hitching as he curled his fingers within you. “Fuck!” You shouted, nearly ripping his hair out as you felt a dam break as your vision blurred from the sudden burst of molten desire. Ezra was undeterred, his tongue sweeping up every drop of you.

“More.” You urged, writhing beneath him. “Ezra, please.”

“I might hurt you.” Ezra warned you, dragging his hands down your thighs as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “I don’t… I don’t know if I control myself.”

“Forget about my leg,” You tugged at his hair. “And fuck me.”

Ezra squeezed your hip and barked out, “On your knees.”

You waited until he let go of you before you gracelessly flopping over on the sofa, knees planted firmly on the cushion as you grabbed at the metal shaft that made up the back of the sofa.

“You smell so fucking good like this,” Ezra breathed out, hands sliding over your bare hips as he crowded close to you. “It’s been so long.” He pressed his lips to the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Same.” You laughed breathlessly, reaching behind you to grab at his hair. “I don’t break easy.”

“You’ve never fucked a werewolf before.” Ezra murmured, curling his fingers loosely around your throat, keeping you pinned back against his chest as his cock slid between your oversensitive folds. “Have you?”

“Not yet.” You gritted out, curling your fingers around his forearm, thankful that he was able to keep you upright. He was strong, but the fingers wrapped around your throat were gentle.

The head of his cock caught against your entrance and Ezra’s hips bucked forward, pressing into you.

You moaned, completely caught up in the sensation of his thick cock filling you. The stretch was just this side of too much — especially in this angle.

Ezra pulled back, his cock nearly slipping from you entirely before slamming back into you. His thrusts were brutal — all that strength and power that was hidden in his wiry build. He was reaching spots no one else had ever hit.

He released his tight grip on your hip, slipping his hand between your thighs to stroke your aching clit. You clenched around him in response, making him feel even thicker as he drove into you. Again and again.

Your nails bit into his forearm, leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as you clung to him. You were so close, perched right on the precipice of another orgasm.

“Come.” Ezra’s fingers curled around your jaw, his lips close to your ear. “I want to feel you come. The sweet clench of your cunt around my cock.” He mouthed a row of kisses down your neck, growling against the crook of your neck as your body obeyed him.

He didn’t relent, even as your body pulsed around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunted out, his teeth scraping your skin.

“Ezra.” You moaned out, your eyes falling closed as you basked in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking into you.

His grip loosened at your jaw as he started to slide out of you, but you reached behind you, grabbing at his ass — desperately trying to keep him right there.

Something snapped. Some frayed cord of control that he had been clinging to.

You grabbed at the back of the sofa for support as he roughly grabbed at your hips. He bottomed out once, twice, three times before he growled out your name and came.

Ezra curled his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to him as he rearranged the two of you. He kept the softening length of his cock buried within you as he sank down onto the sofa with you resting back against his chest.

“You’re very strong,” You mumbled, scratching your nails through the hair on his forearm as you looked down at the arm he had tightly curled around you.

He huffed, a throaty chuckle escaping him as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “One perk of this damnable curse.” He brushed his thumb over your stomach gently.

“Is the sex a perk too?” You questioned, closing your eyes as you leaned back against him. “Because, I’m not sure I want to leave at all now.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ezra kissed your shoulder. “I’ve kept my distance. From the others.” He sighed heavily. “You don’t want to become like me, little lamb.”

“I never said that I do.” You pointed out.

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” He shifted beneath you, whispering a quick apology when you whimpered at the movement.

“I’m okay.” You promised, trailing your fingers up the side of his thigh. “Overwhelmed.”

“Two days.”

“Hmm?”

“You can safely stay for two more days, but then you must leave. It gets harder to maintain this the nearer we draw to the full moon.” Ezra told you, nuzzling at the crook of your neck.

“Two days.” You agreed solemnly.

Ezra returned just after nightfall with a stack of research notes and his well-loved copy of Frankenstein.

“Did you know she dedicated herself to getting her husband’s works published.” You mused, looking up from the notes on lunaxium to watch Ezra as he consumed Percy’s book of poems.

“Hmm?”

“Mary.” You explained. “As accomplished as she was, she also worked to ensure her husband’s writing would be read.”

“Indeed.” Ezra tucked the red ribbon into the page he was reading and sat it aside. “I believe their romance blossomed on her mother’s grave, no? A rather odd pair.”

“His works are dreadfully romantic, for such a macabre couple.” You pointed out, flipping over another page of notes, copying down a comment on your own notations.

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” Ezra recited, drumming his fingers against the cover. “I had forgotten that was dear Percy.” He sank back against the wall, pushing fingers through his unruly hair. “I miss the sea.”

“I’d bring it back in a bottle if I could.” You told him, chewing on your bottom lip. “I meant what I said before. I can come back.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, moonbeam.” He let the word slip off his tongue like it was sugar-sweet. “You will grow bored of the to-and-fro.” He pursed his lips. “Though I am much appreciative of the offer. You should go back to your friends.”

“I have one friend in this galaxy Ezra and oftentimes I’m certain they want to ring my neck.” You shook your head. “You deserve to have a friend too.”

“I will never be able to leave,” He reminded you. “And you can never stay.”

“There’s still an in-between.” Your brows rose hopefully. “A new moon, perhaps? When the moon is there, but not visible.”

“You’re persistent.”

“I’ve been told that before.” You smirked a little. “What would you like me to bring back when I return after the full moon?”

Ezra exhaled heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I would be forever indebted to you if you might get your hands on a copy of War & Peace. Dreadfully long, but I hunger for some longevity in my literature.”

“Done.”

He snapped his fingers, “Cheese.”

You arched a brow. “I have cheese.”

“Real cheese?” Ezra corrected. “That wretched aero cheese is nauseating.” He blanched, watching you as you rose from your seat.

You hobbled out of the room, into the corridor where the hyperfreeze unit was mounted in the interior wall beside the coolant system. You returned moments later with a block of Reggianito.

“You’re in luck.” You said, sinking down onto the floor beside him. “I have a hook-up on Sector Block G7.”

Ezra broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, sinking back against the wall with a satisfied moan. “It will be safe for you to return in a fortnight.”

You slapped his leg playfully, “You’ll let me return if I bring cheese?”

He grinned and continued. “If you come then, you’ll have a fortnight to stay, should you choose to.”

“That should give me enough time to find War & Peace for you and settle my debts.”

Ezra took another bite of cheese, before passing it back to you. “Do they still make those honeysticks?” He questioned. “Little tubes with honey collected from…” He squinted, “I can’t remember the planet.”

“I can look.” You wrapped the cheese back in the cloth, before sitting it aside. “How will you be when I return?” You questioned.

“A little worse for wear,” Ezra shrugged a shoulder, resting his hand on your thigh. “The lunaxium helps.”

“Is it… is it like a drug?”

“I suppose.” Ezra dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “There’s this hunger,” He explained, knocking his fist against his sternum. “This clawing sensation. It gets worse closer to the full moon. I lose my mind.” He shook his head. “I tried to wean myself off two years ago. Just to feel something.”

“What happened?” You rested your hand over his.

“It triggered the beast.” He answered with a frown. “Middle of the cycle and violent.” Ezra tilted his head to look at you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You shook your head slowly, interlacing your fingers with his. “Maybe this will be good for you. Help you keep your humanity.”

“How so?”

“The others, the ones that were already here.” Your brows furrowed together as you turned to stare at him, “Did they lose their humanity because they lost touch with other humans?”

Ezra blinked, “You, moonbeam, are a clever one.”

“I read a lot.” You smiled at him, “And you’re in luck — I have always loved monster stories.”

#pedro pascal x reader #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#ezra (prospect) x reader

363 notes · View notes

fictionbyafangirl · 3 years

Text

Tundric Heart

Most shifts that Jill worked were uneventful. The co-workers that she shared shifts with were always the same. Clark was the cook, and if need-be, the bouncer. He was a large, middle-aged man that had served in the army for a few decades. Burly when he had to be, he could be intimidating, but to Jill, he was just the sweetest. Typically, the waitresses had around an hour or two of overlap, which usually meant Trina, a woman who worked three jobs while finishing up college. She was honestly an inspiration and Jill admired her hard work. Trina always set the brunette up for a successful shift. Her regulars were there nightly, without fail.

“Can I get you gentlemen a refill?” She’d usher coffee to Glenn and his brother, Jack, as they wrote up itineraries for their senior’s club right at the bar. The eldest brother, Glenn, preferred his coffee black and straight up. It was amazing how he could swallow the piping-hot liquid just as soon as it was poured. Jack, on the other-hand, liked a bit of sweetness and cream to his, a stack of half-and-half cups usually towered next to his saucer that housed his brew.

“Maybe one more before we go,” Jack mused aloud before placing a sticky note down in his planner. “It seems like a chilly night and I’ll need all the warmth I can get when I leave.” He was cheeky, and Glenn’s chuckle showed that he agreed. Jill topped their mugs off with her customary smile before saddling the pot once more to make her rounds.

“How are you doing over here, Miss Bernice? Need any refills or can I put in a to-go order?” Bernice, and her binder of papers scattered all across the table, did the books for her local church congregation. She had been born in the city and lived her entire life, practically knowing everyone that lived in the area. Her strawberry blonde hair had shifted to a pearlescent white over the years, with one streak of her natural color still weaving its way through.

“You know, I would love another glass of sweet tea, if you could, dear?” Bernice was sweet, grandmotherly in her nature as she smiled with her whole face, her eyes nearly disappearing behind the pleats in her matured skin.

“You got it,” Jill winked before departing from the table to her station with the glass in hand. With ease she punched the addition to Bernice’s order before finding the massive pitcher of sweet tea that Trina had stored in the fridge at the end of her shift. Within a minute, she had the refill back to the woman, glancing to her next table to tend to.. “All set, dear.”

Holliwell, or as she would become known as: Holli, would sit in her booth, solo, to work on her graphic novel. She wasn’t much of a talker, but was kind enough. Jill and Holli mostly stuck to a series of nods and hand gestures, particularly a thumbs-up, for their communication after initially serving her what she normally ordered. The gang of college guys that lived together always had their dinner at the diner, and they always were Jill’s source of entertainment. The group consisted of Matt, Jerome, Steven, Jared and Paul. They were lively, comedic and good-natured. The young men were roommates that rented a house a few blocks from the diner. As typical, collegiate bachelors go, they weren’t blessed in the culinary department and often found themselves at their usual spot with two tables pushed together. They inflicted some harmless flirting onto her, to which she respectfully declined and they would carry on with their stay.

The night would always entail the same, expected things and Jill was comfortable with that as opposed to the opposite. She had worked in a rowdy bar once while trying to make ends meet in her own school days. Between sports nights and events held at the bar, she was constantly having to take care of conflict. She had been thankful for bouncers and speedy policemen before she couldn’t handle the chaos anymore. Simple and quiet suited her as she grew in age, and nonetheless, she loved the relationships she had built with her regulars. Whether it was hearing about their prime or just simply what they had done that very day, she was a welcome ear to chat at. That evening that she worked, everything had been happening like clockwork, that is, until he walked in.

The moment he walked through the door, Jill couldn’t help but to keep an eye on him, subtly watching him take his seat. She hadn’t been the only one who’s attention was grabbed by him. Instantly, Bernice’s watchful eye was on him the moment she heard the chime of the door, casting her eyes back to the array of numbers she balanced, though occasionally checking on him. He was clad in all black like a walking mystery shrouded in secrecy. He was a mixup from her typical shift. Since he shielded his face with his hat, she wasn’t sure if she should approach him, but her better judgement told her to treat him as if he were any other customer. Jill topped off Glenn’s coffee, almost forgetting to pay attention as her focus was pulled elsewhere.

Thankfully, she regained her rights and made sure her current customers were taken care of before making her way to the mob of young adult men who were particularly rambunctious this night. She overheard garbled conversation of advancing to the state playoffs which filled in all the gaps she needed to know. With her order booklet ready, she made rounds. They typically didn’t venture from what they frequently ordered, which made Jill’s life a tad bit easier.

“Hey Jill, when are you going to let me take you out of this place to a real restaurant?” Paul smirked at her, having given similar variations of the same line to her in the past. The blonde man with brown eyes was a football player for the local college, hoping to make it big. In fact, they all played for the football team. Paul had always been the most vocal about his flirting, clearly having not been turned down in his hometown very often. Jill didn’t know if his jaw could drop any faster than it had the very first time he asked her out and she declined. He recovered quickly and played it off as though he had only been half-serious, but she could see he had been slightly jilted with the word ‘no’.

“When you can afford me, so… never?” She was quick and clever when it came to shooting them down. The boys had never gone beyond playful, to which she was thankful for. “So, who is next? Who’s gonna shoot their shot now?” Jill gestured for the next grab, though it was evident that she was being lighthearted with them. All were hysterical, always prompting laughter from the waitress’ lips. They varied in the degree of their attempt, Paul usually being the worst and Steven being the gentlest. Matt was from the Northeast with his evident accent that he swore he didn’t have. Jerome was from the south, vowing to make his mother proud with his grades and athletics scholarship. Jared was from the Northwest, a country boy that tended to the family farm but broke off with bigger aspirations in life. Steven was a lean Asian man that defied his family to play football. They had planned his life for him, which he didn’t dream of. Jill was proud of him for standing his ground to live his own life. He was, by far, the sweetest of the bunch with his pickup lines, which the waitress surmised was just to fit into the situation. Everyone else was doing it, so he figured he would, as well. It almost made her want to accept his proposal just to mess with his friends, but almost wasn’t enough to convince her of doing so. She addressed each one, waiting for the playful pickup lines before shutting them down with grace, poise and a smile on her face. It was flattering that they found her attractive despite having ten-or-so years on them. She took pride in how she kept herself together, applying extra effort when need be, but she took care of herself and apparently it showed.

As she jotted down each meal order, Jill couldn’t help but to feel as though she were being watched by a spectre in the corner. He had been so silent, so still the entire time. It was eerie, yet she wanted to see his face, which was beyond her. She wanted to find out the reasoning behind the masking. She wasn’t sure what to expect beneath the hat, nor did she know if she’d even get that far. Finishing with the young men, she took a minute to go pin the checks to the order wheel, momentarily shielded by the walls that formed the cook’s alcove. Using a small mirror, she used her fingertips to give her hair a tousle and re-apply her lipstick, a warm nude color, rubbing her lips gently together. The man was new to the diner and it was her job to ensure he had a pleasant time to return. Jill’s boss had confided in her the troubles the diner had hit so any customer was a step toward keeping the doors open.

Jill drew in a long breath that rooted itself in her stomach, her chest raising and falling as though weighted down with an anxious feeling before walking out toward the table that sat the cloaked gentleman. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was so curious and intrigued about him. For all she knew he could have been a homicidal maniac just moments from breaking out in a murderous rampage. Yet something nagged at her, drawing her interest to him as her feet, quite literally, brought her physically closer to him. Each step was heavy in its placement, a specific destination lying ahead of her. The diner was typically kept at a pleasant temperature, with the exception of days with colder weather, such as the evening she was working, that the staff would dab the thermostat up a bit. With the cook’s ovens and burners constantly blazing and the hot coffee brewing into stainless steel carafes all day long, Jill always found the climate within the diner to be suitable for how she dressed. She had chosen the comfortable flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up after checking the weather before her shift, though she noticed as she neared the lone table against the glass that she seemingly became colder, a chill dancing atop her flesh. Bringing her hands briefly to rub over the top of the sleeves of her shirt to warm herself, Jill continued on her path.

The waitress pulled a deep, reassuring breath through her lips before approaching the table. The bill of the man’s hat had been pointed in the direction of the opposite side of the diner, never moving once he settled in. Without thinking, Jill took the few extra strides to move in front of his view, her hands moving to perch on the curve of her waist before speaking as she smiled though his face never once glanced up to acknowledge her. She could practically feel Bernice’s prying eyes boring into her back, shielded by the waitress.

“Hi, there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name’s Jill and I’ll be your waitress on duty tonight. What can I get you?” Jill added a bit of pep to her voice, her one hip subtly cocked out to place most of her weight on the corresponding foot. She tried, for the life of her, to figure out why she wanted to hear what his voice sounded like so badly in that very moment. Perhaps it was the classic trope of the good, innocent girl and the bad, mysterious boy but he was such an enigma to her. Her eyes followed his hand as he fumbled with the menu provided, but still, he didn’t move his head a single inch. She anticipated hearing him speak. She could see from his nose down to his chin and neck, which from what she saw was more than appealing, but he remained in the shadow of the bill of his hat. Jill wasn’t sure if hearing him speak would alleviate her curiosity or add to the mystery, but she still waited to hear him.

“Green tea. Iced.” His voice was low, yet smooth. A mixture of a whisper and coarseness. Jill felt every hair on her arms raise in reaction, her flesh prickling as a small shudder swept over her. His voice was far different than what she had imagined in her mind, but it wasn’t different in a bad way, based on her body’s involuntary response to three simple words. Yet, those three words, watching them leave his mouth, watching the details of his lips as he formed them was enough for her to forget for merely a moment where she was and what she was doing. Blinking hard to bring herself back to reality, Jill fumbled with her hands to grab her order pad and pen, giving one blunt nod before scrawling down his request.

“Iced green tea, coming right up. What’s uh… a name I can put on this order?” The waitress hoped she recovered nicely to not expose her nerves. Why on earth was she so timid and coy when it came to this man that she didn’t even know? Confusion didn’t even begin to touch the way she felt inside, knowing that this elusive man was simply another customer, yet still, there was a strange, baffling draw toward him. Jill’s teeth found the inner-edge of her lips, gnawing as the tension of the moment flared. At least she’d have a name for half of the face.

“Brian.” Faint and subdued, just as before, though she did detect a hint of an accent. More curiosities swirled around in her brain as she then began to wonder about where he was from, what brought him here, of all places. What he did. She just simply wanted to know him… though finally, she had a name. She thought of asking more, but instead, she kept her professional distance. If he had the capacity to peek inside her mind he’d surely be out of the door in an instant. Still, she wasn’t a moron as he definitely made it known through his demeanor that he surely didn’t want to be bothered.

“Right. Iced green tea for Brian, coming right up.” Jill held the book of paper and pen to her chest before twisting around on the balls of her feet, her hair swinging listlessly as she made the turn. Despite her wanting to keep in his company and continue asking him whatever popped in her mind, his disposition made her better judgment kick in.

Jill found herself at her work station, entering her credentials into the kiosk. She gripped the edges of the table and bent over to release a long, shaky breath as it loaded the program on the screen. Her eyes closed briefly, unable to pinpoint exactly what in the hell was up with her that night. She never lost her cool, and more importantly, never felt so compelled to a stranger. ‘Get a grip, Jill. Snap out of it’. She was glad her brain still had a semblance of rationality. Bringing herself back, she lifted her head to punch in the order for the table before suspending it to make the tea. It wasn’t ordered often in the diner, but the task had seemed simple enough. She placed the tea bags into the cup, pouring half of the water from the heated spigot to allow it to steep. While she waited for the essence of the green tea to infuse with the water, she prepared a saucer with an array of sweeteners and a straw, making sure each placement was precise and to her liking in a circular fan-shape. She couldn’t figure out why on earth she was putting so much thought into it but still, she strived to make a good impression. Once the tea was ready, she added the rest of the cold water and ice to top it off. She placed the glass in the center of the display of paper packets and ushered it over to his table, swallowing hard as the distance between them closed.

“Enjoy, Brian... “ Jill smiled as she sat the tea down on the table beside him, though he couldn’t see her expression through the thick material of his hat, opting for a slight nod instead. Jill lingered for just a moment before pacing backwards slowly away, turning on her heel to check in with Holli, then next Bernice, and finally to check on the group of guys, occasionally casting a glance Brian’s way in hopes to catch a glimpse of his full-face. He was stoic as he sat, his hand only moving to take idle sips of the tea, opting to drink it plain. She hoped she had prepared it well enough to his liking.

He never ordered anything else. The entirety of his stay he nursed that tea and made it last throughout it. Jill had said her goodbyes to Glenn and Jack, sending them off in their usual manner before closing their tab and setting aside the same allocated tip they always left on their bill. It wasn’t much, but it was a nice gesture. The meals of the college students were ushered out swiftly. Next came her duties of refilling condiments, prepping for the next shift that would relieve her. It was all about helping out. She cleared Holli’s table after she had left, though Holli only ever ordered appetizers, keeping her table free of obstacles as her pencil was constantly on her sketch pad.

“Anything else I can get for you, or are you packing up for the night?” Next was the bookkeeper’s turn as she helped Bernice gather her things and return them to her orderly nature. The bookkeeper was growing older in age and appreciated all the help she could get. Jill crouched down to the elder woman’s level as she leaned in close, one defined brow among her wrinkly complexion arched in suspicion as she glanced toward the massive pane of glass.

“No, I’m doing just fine. But have you seen that fellow over there? I don’t know about you, but he seems up to no good… So very odd.” The woman’s voice was gravelly, yet quiet. Her deep, blue eyes fixated on him as though she were the watch-person for the diner. Truth be told, she was a nosey woman who loved to impede where she could. Shifting on her feet, still crouched, to cast a glance at the man in black. She couldn’t help the chill that trickled down her spine in the most exhilarating way. She captured her plump lower lip between her teeth, gently biting down in thought before turning back to the matronly woman.

“Oh, stop that, Bernice,” she said teasingly to her customer. “That doesn’t seem very becoming of you to judge someone you don’t even know. Besides, he’s probably just passing through and you’ll probably never see him again. Maybe he’s waiting on a car repair and has nothing but time to sit and relax? You just don’t know.” Jill was right and Bernice knew it. Her pride made the older woman turn her nose upward, her chest puffed as though she would rather appear courageous in her accusations than recoil in defeat. Jill gathered up the clutter after assisting the woman, though after Jill’s remark, she managed to finish cleaning up her things on her own. Pride could be unbecoming for some.

Jill brought the dirty dishes to the back to throw in the washer in her off-time before it was time to close out the group of friends and their order. She collected all their payment methods and returned with their corresponding receipts. They had always been kind tippers, despite being college students. Their mothers would be proud. She said her goodbyes, wished them safe travels and told them she’d see them the next night, just as though it were second nature. Her smile was bright as her eyes followed them toward the door, noticing Brian had left already without a trace. Jill’s eyebrow quirked as she made her way to his table to clear the untouched saucer and glass. He had finished the beverage completely. Lifting each item, she noticed the bill tucked beneath the condiment holder. He had left a fifty dollar bill to purchase a two dollar drink with free refills. The edges of Jill’s lips twitched upward in a smirk as she picked it up. She was more than flattered but knew she was undeserving of such a tip. As her eyes lifted to peer through the glass into the dark and rainy evening, they settled on the abandoned building outside, seemingly in a daze of hoping she’d left a good enough impression that he’d return.

Jill put the remainder of Brian’s money into an envelope to stow in her locker in the employee’s break room. If he’d come back, she’d kindly remit it back to him. She’d give it a month before accepting his generosity, though it was hardly something she expected with how impersonal he had been with her. Despite that, she still looked forward to his presence, should he show again, more than she should have.

9 notes · View notes

peace-coast-island · 3 years

Text

Diary of a Junebug

Rock and roll the night away!

What better way to escape than getting lost in music? Headphones on, thoughts off - nothing like some good bops to help get you through the day.

KK Slider's been looking into expanding his musical repertoire so he's been playing around with different genres in hopes of creating a brand new sound. And that's how rock and roll night came to be!

Joining us on this musical adventure are Sonja, with her siblings Robbie and Tiffy, and cousin Bubba. It's been ages since Daisy Jane and I have last hung out with Sonja so it's nice that she and her fam dropped by for a visit. I've hung out with Robbie and Bubba a handful of times while this is the first time I've met Tiffy.

Sonja's been meaning to stop by the camp for a while but life has gotten busy. She also wanted her dad and stepmom to come along too but then something came up so they were unable to make it at the last minute. Same thing for her grandma, though to be honest, camping isn't really her thing so it's probably for the best that she didn't come.

Old Thelma Lou may come across as a cantankerous old lady but she really is a nice person once you get to know her. Underneath that rough exterior is a protective, dedicated, and tough mother figure who wants what's best for you, even if she kinda has a hard time showing how much she cares about you. We video chatted with her before the concert and she's still the same old Thelma Lou, keeping an eye on her children, grandchildren, and their friends in her own unconventional ways.

We also chatted with Buzz and Skeeter, both who are doing well. The reason why they weren't able to join us at the camp is because Skeeter's pregnant again. She and Buzz were going to have a boy last fall but there were complications and the baby was stillborn. So far things are moving along smoothly, but to be safe, Skeeter's on strict bed rest. In about four months, Sonja, Robbie, and Tiffy will have a little sister!

Sonja has been busy working on her graphic novel, which she plans to release in the fall. She's a freelance graphic designer and illustrator, known for posting relatable and funny comics online. I love her art - it's got a sketchy and loose style that's sorta minimal yet super expressive. When I got into digital art, I took some inspiration from Sonja's work by using pencil brushes for line art and the gouache brush for coloring.

After working in the studio for hours on the book over the past several weeks, Sonja felt she could use a change of scenery - which was the main reason why she wanted to come to the camp. She also wants to get back into using traditional mediums like painting so she brought along some canvases and paints. The great outdoors is perfect for finding inspiration when you're in a rut!

Robbie runs a fix-it shop in Elmstown with two of his friends. His specialties are clocks and anything that has a lock thanks to his grandma and dad - Thelma Lou likes collecting clocks and Buzz's a locksmith. He's the reason why the family saves so much on repairs - Robbie and his friends can pretty much fix anything! Elmstown is pretty far but I'm keeping his business card in case I need something fixed like my computer since that'll be more cost effective than sending it to the store where I'll probably get overcharged.

It's a good thing we have Robbie here to help KK Slider with the equipment. He had some old amps and guitars that he'd been meaning to get fixed but since they were custom made, it's hard to find parts that need replacement. Thankfully, Robbie never leaves home without his toolbox and with his magic, we were able to improve the stage setup.

Bubba's still living with Thelma Lou, though he's in the process of moving out to his own place. He's not leaving Rayetown though, just moving to the other side of town so he can be closer to the post office. Along with delivering packages for the citizens of Rayetown, Bubba's also a drummer and occasional lead singer for The Cogwheels, a local band that regularly performs at the Chili Bowl.

Thelma Lou and Bubba have a sweet relationship. He's the oldest of the Harp grandchildren through Thelma Lou's daughter. His parents pretty dumped him on Thelma Lou's doorstep when they moved halfway across the country, which wasn't very nice of them. His mom and grandma have a stormy relationship so that explains why Thelma Lou's kinda overprotective of him, and in return he respects her a lot. Recently though, Bubba and his mom have been keeping in touch sporadically - thanks to Uncle Buzz and Aunt Skeeter. As for his dad though, since he walked out on his mom, he hasn't heard from him in years, which he feels is probably for the best.

And there's Tiffy, the youngest (so far) of the grandchildren. She's seven and a half years old and likes to sing and dance. This is her first time being away from home for a couple days so she's pretty excited about it. Plus, she gets to spend time with her siblings, something she always looks forward to since they live far from home. By the time she was born, Sonja and Robbie had already long moved out of Rayetown. Up until Tiffy came along, Sonja and Robbie rarely visited home, a deliberate choice that they both kinda regretted but at the same time felt it was necessary.

Tiffy's looking forward to the new baby - and she's absolutely certain that things will work out this time. She was really bummed about what happened with her brother, especially since she always wanted a little sibling. Buzz and Skeeter had been trying for years to have another kid - they didn't have Tiffy until about six years into their marriage - and that was after being told many times that they missed the boat. It's a good thing they didn't give up or else Tiffy wouldn't be here today!

While helping KK Slider set up for the concert, we also went sightseeing outside the camp. Now that the weather's warming up and the sun's staying out longer, we can venture further out. The first place we went was the mountains, where Sonja was inspired to pull out her canvases and paints. She's been working on landscapes and backgrounds so it was the perfect opportunity. Since she had a lot of fun doing that, I figured we could do the same in other places outside the camp like the woods or the meadows.

As they were testing out the equipment, KK and Bubba were jamming out while Tiffy danced. She definitely inherited Buzz and Skeeter's dance skills! Tap dancing and ballet are her favorites and she definitely wants to branch out to other forms of dance. Her parents are looking into more dance classes for Tiffy, which she's excited for. One of the reasons why she's looking forward to having another sibling is so she can have a dance partner in the future. Imagine, Tiffy and her little sister, dancing together!

Later, Robbie joined in on the jam session, playing the bass. Apollo, Static, and Cherry joined in as well, and before we knew it, all of them were writing new songs that eventually became the setlist for the concert! Sonja later got into the jam session after Daisy Jane showed her around the cabin and her studio. I sense a collaboration between the two in the near future...

Around 5 we finished setting up for the concert and began preparing for a barbecue dinner. By the time all the food was set up, it was time to rock and roll! I have to say, KK and the campers really outdid themselves with the stage setup. It was a mix of performances by KK Slider and jam sessions by us. The concert was an awesome experience!

In the span of one hour, Bubba and KK wrote Road Ode. KK came up with the intricate melody that's a perfect fusion of his signature sound along with elements of classic rock. Bubba came up with the lyrics, taking inspiration from his relationships with his mother and grandma. Easily one of the highlights of the night.

Apollo sang lead on a number he co-authored with KK Slider titled Old Man Blues. It's a bluesy rock and roll tune with a catchy guitar riff that's stuck in my head as I write this. The light show visuals really add to the vibe of this song, elevating it to another level.

Static and Cherry performed Heavy Metal Ballad as a trio with KK Slider - another song that was just finished today. The song was actually three different compositions that merged into one. Cherry has been playing around with a cool heavy metal beat for a while. She had a good thing going on but had trouble turning it into something, so she put it aside in hopes of finding the right spark to kick it off. Static came up with lyrics for the chorus, originally through a little ditty he called Lightning Muses. And like Cherry, he had something but couldn't figure out what direction he wanted to take it. Then along comes KK Slider, who saw the potential in these two wildly different compositions. Somehow, with his verses and additional melodies, he created an instant hit!

In an unexpected surprise, KK Slider got Daisy Jane and I on to perform a new KK original as well as a couple songs from Lilac and the Cadillacs. The new song, Sky Blue Twilight, is a collaboration between me, Daisy Jane, and KK Slider. It was something we came up with a while back, and I had almost forgotten about it until today. I'm pretty rusty from songwriting but working on this piece was pretty fun! I really should get back into writing music...

Sonja, Robbie, and Tiffy also joined Bubba on stage for another new song, titled All That Rock 'n' Roll. Tiffy sang lead vocals with Sonja on the keys and Robbie on bass. Along with being a fantastic dancer, Tiffy's a great singer! I filmed the whole thing for Bubba so he can send it to Thelma Lou, Buzz, and Skeeter. I have to say, KK Slider and Bubba make a great songwriting team!

Another fun song is Violet Blaze, an upbeat rock and roll tune by KK Slider, Candi, Kabuki, and Spike. KK Slider really outdid himself on that guitar solo! With riffs like that, there's no other song fitting to be titled Violet Blaze. What one can't put into words, music expresses it - one just has to listen and feel.

And of course, in between the new songs were KK Slider classics, but remixed. It's amazing how changing up the genre can give well known songs a fresh makeover! That's what I love about KK Slider's music - the versatility. In terms of reinventing his sound while staying true to himself, I'd say KK Slider succeeded with flying colors!

Aside from Tiffy and the early risers, the rest of us have been rocking and rolling way past midnight. I'm still a bit buzzed from the concert, which just ended less than an hour ago, so I'm gonna unwind for a bit before going to bed.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

2 notes · View notes

cryptocorvid · 3 years

Text

rules: answer these 30 questions, then tag 20 people you’d like to get to know better I know nobody on tumblr yeehaw

name/nickname: lance/corax/medoh depending on where you know me from

gender: trans masc

star sign: pisces

height: like 5’5”

time: 4 pm give or take a few

birthday: march 7th

favourite bands: you me at six, mother mother, my chemical romance, fall out boy, twenty one pilots, bastille, marianas trench, the wombats, starset, pvris, all time low, I’m probably forgetting some

favourite solo artists: I’m a taylor swift stan first and human second, I also love patrick stump’s solo stuff and uhhhh there’s definitely more but I’m stupid

song stuck in my head: I saw a tweet about shake it by metro station three days ago and have been unable to think of anything else since

last movie I watched: GENUINELY I DO NOT REMEMBER ITS BEEN OVER A YEAR..... I think it was into the spiderverse but there’s a strong chance it was frozen 2

last show: the last airbender, also over a year ago

when did I create this blog: uhh sometime in 2020 I think but I started actually using it early this year

what I post: mostly just my art here

other blogs: @fine-with-my-spite for fandom shenanigans

last thing I googled: I have accidentally had my browser on incognito and this question is what made me realise this but APPARENTLY the last thing I googled was how long chickens live and I really have no answers for why

do I get asks often: not really but not surprising bc I’m not super active/this account is relatively new

why I chose my url: for that sweet sweet consistent branding babey B) it’s my handle literally everywhere else, it comes from a lot of suffering and wanting something that I wouldn’t get tired of with shifting interests, so. birds and cryptids. that about sums up everything I love.

following: 64

followers: 22

average hours of sleep: honestly like 2,,

lucky number: 7

instruments: I played recorder for like five minutes in primary school and it was literally as bad as it sounds

what I’m wearing: mbmbam t shirt and pyjama bottoms bc I don’t want to get dressed properly dabs

dream trip: one day I Will road trip and meet all my online friends

favourite food: coconut ice

nationality: british (derogatory)

last book I read: I don’t remember but I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it was one of the taz graphic novels

top 3 fictional worlds I’d like to live in: uhhh this is actually hard because most of my fav fictional worlds are mid/post apocalyptic hell.

I gotta say pokemon even though if I saw a venomoth in real life I’d shit my pants to death. specifically I’d love to live in olivine city. I want to live near the sea and also ampharos.

my heart says botw/taz balance but preferably post calamity/hunger. can’t deal w the stress of actual impending doom. I just. clenches fist. love this specific portrayal of fantasy.

also post pacifist route undertale. basically any of my favourite fictional worlds after all the bullshit and misery happens and things are chill.

favourite colour: green and purple. I can’t choose you won’t make me.

as said above I know n o bod y so feel free to do this if you wanna and say I tagged you hjkkkds

#not art

3 notes · View notes

atamascolily · 3 years

Text

lily reads “Aftermath: Life Debt” by Chuck Wendig

This was one of the first nu-canon novels to come out in 2016, meant to fill the gap between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens. So far, all of the nu-canon stuff has been readable (unlike, say, some of Legends’ more memorable failures) but I was pleasantly surprised to find that Wendig’s writing is the most exciting and engaging I have encountered to date.

The problem is, of course, that he keeps using it to accomplish things I disagree with, but I am sure he did the best he could within the constraints Disney gave him and I don’t take it personally.

Anyway, I had to skip the first Aftermath book because it’s AWOL from the library right now, but fortunately, Wendig is pretty good about explaining How We Got Here without huge infodumps, so I got oriented pretty fast.

This book is written in present tense, which also surprised me. Even though I have read several pro-published novels that use present tense, I’m still not used to seeing it outside of fanfic, and it feels delightfully novel. I like present tense because it encourages concrete verbs, as well as a sense of immediacy and groundedness in the action (which is one reason I use it in fics). Present tense forces me to be a better writer precisely because it doesn’t come naturally. But I also enjoy it as a reader.

Life Debt is set immediately post-Battle of Endor in 5 ABY. Leia is a few months pregnant. Luke is name-dropped a few times, but never appears. (Sigh.) Han is upset that the New Republic is dragging its feet on liberating Kashyyyk and he and Chewie decide to take matters into their own hands. When things go wrong, Leia asks Wendig’s OC Nora Wexley and her crew to bring him back.

Nora Wexley was one of the Y-wing pilots at the Battle of Endor. Now she roams the galaxy hunting Imperials for New Republic bounty, with a motley assortment of beings. There’s Sinjir, ex-Imperial and gay; Jas Emari, a Zabrak bounty hunter; and Jom Barell, who didn’t have any defining personality traits that stuck in my mind outside of his on-again, off-again friends-with-benefits with Jas;. There’s also her teenage son Temmin “Snap” Wexley and the refurbished battle droid he built as a personal bodyguard, Mr. Bones. Mr. Bones is an unrepentant murderbot and utterly delightful, especially when he tries to “blend in” by being more human.

More backstory: Nora joined the Rebellion after her husband Brentin was imprisoned by the Empire and presumed dead. Nora and Wedge have a thing as well. Mon Mothma is chancellor of the New Republic, and Leia is... I’m not sure what her official title is.

Meanwhile, on Team Empire, there’s Grand Admiral Rae Sloane, ostensibly in charge of a large slice of the Imperial Remnant, but who is being manipulated--to her deep resentment--by a man named Gallius Rax with ties to both Palpatine and Jakku. Sloane tortured Wedge in the previous book and Nora is frustrated she didn’t kill the Grand Admiral when she had the chance.

There’s also a hilarious sequence where the guy running Coruscant tries to surrender and Mon Mothma and Leia refuse because he doesn’t have anything they especially want.

In addition to the main plot, there are also short chapters titled “Interludes” showing various doings in the wider galaxy. I think a lot of these are supposed to be tie-ins for other material because they mostly don’t have any relevance to the current storyline. There’s one about a Vader-inspired death cult on Corellia, a pirate queen named Eleodie, Alderaanians mining asteroids from their former homeland and arguing about politics, Twi’leks freeing Ryloth, Malakili the ex-rancor-keeper gets a new job training a baby Hutt (?? - would have liked to hear more about that one!). I like the one about Maz Kanata’s castle, even though it still makes NO SENSE in terms of world-building.

I like Sinjir’s relationship with his slicer boyfriend, and I like that from his perspective, it’s not that the Empire particularly cares about homosexuality per se, (as long as you’re discreet about it), but the Empire uses relationships to manipulate and control people, so being open about them is a form of weakness. Just brings home the point that the Empire is a piece of shit (which is why it’s so hard for me to care about Rae Sloane or any of the scheming on Team Empire).

I don’t think I like Sinjir as a person, mind you, but he is certainly interesting, and he has no illusions that he’s a good guy, even though he’s now working against the Empire.

Also, there’s a bounty hunter named Mercurial Swift, which is the most metal name ever, and cameos from Brendol Hux, who ran some sort of boarding school, and whose bastard son is name-dropped occasionally.

No one will be surprised that my favorite scene is Leia meditating next to a sanctuary tree sapling on Chandrila she grew from a seed that Wicket gave her, and she touches the Force for the first time, and realizes that her child is a boy. Nice.

Anyway, Nora and her team find Solo--Chewbacca is a prisoner on Kashyyk when their rebellion attempt failed--and they sneak into a prison called Ashmead’s Lock on Kashyyyk, which happens to be where Nora’s husband Brentin has been this whole time! The prisoners have been stuck in stasis pods and mined for energy in a Matrix-like scenario that really should have been explored more, but they bust out, with Nora taking the prisoners home and Han and Chewie continuing to lead the rebellion.

Time skip! Brentin is distant and has PTSD, Snap is angry and acting out, Nora feels guilty because she’s attracted to Wedge and she isn’t able to connect with her husband anymore. Wedge is, of course, heartbroken.

Sloane comes to Chandrila for peace talks, and Leia leaves to go after Han on Kashyyk when Mon Mothma refuses to back her up. She ends up getting Wedge to come with her for back-up, and her pilot is Evaan Verlaine from the comics (nice to see you Evaan!)

Meanwhile, the Empire continues to be a piece of shit on Kashyyyk, and it’s way more graphic than I expected this book to go. They get what’s coming to them eventually, when Han and his team disable the chips that are keeping all the Wookiees prisoner.

The peace talks turn out to be a trap engineered by Gallius Rax--all of the prisoners from Kashyyyk are brainwashed to start murdering people at the big ceremony and Mon Mothma narrowly avoids assassination at Brentin’s hands thanks to Nora’s quick reflexes. Sloane escapes, is super-pissed about being manipulated yet again by Rax, and she and Brentin (who also wants revenge) go to Jakku to follow up on a lead about Rax’s past.

Han ends up stealing a Star Destroyer, and Leia saves the day, and they finally kiss and make up and it’s lovely. Han leaves Chewie behind on Kashyyyk to be with Leia. Norra and her remaining team members go after Sloane.

But the biggest disappointment, of course, is the New Republic’s inability to liberate Kashyyyk, which I think epitomizes the difference between Disney’s version of Star Wars and Legends for me. In Legends, it was never a question that our heroes would liberate Kashyyyk; that was important and the entire point of the Rebellion. Even though it happened more or less off-screen, it was mentioned and cited as proof of the New Republic’s victory and triumph. So to see Mon Mothma and Ackbar trying to dissuade Leia from this is just... wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Like I said, I think Wendig’s hands were tied on this one, but it just... lands wrong. It will never not feel wrong. Is it grittier and more “realistic” this way? Maybe, but what is the point?

Overall, this is an action-packed adventure, with lots of good moments and funny bits that feel very much “Star Wars” to me. The interludes range from fan service-y to “hey, that’s neat, tell me more!” to “wow, is there going to be a payoff for this years down the line?” In general, I find Disney Star Wars depressing as hell, but despite the downers I enjoyed this book much more than I expected. Like I said at the beginning, this is probably the best nu!canon thing I’ve read to date outside of the Shattered Empire comics.

I came to like most of Wendig’s OCs, even though I’d really rather read about characters I already know--like, say, Luke! Imagine that!

(I don’t know why Disney thinks we’re not interested in what Luke’s doing, but tbh they write him so poorly when they bother that I’m not really sure I want them to.)

#star wars #book reviews #WHY DISNEY WHY

11 notes · View notes

a-charm-of-witches · 3 years

Note

Andromeda, Aries and Lupus, please.

Andromeda - Describe your main characters

HMMMMMmmm well. I wanna save the big descriptions for the RO profiles, so let’s go with short descriptions this time.

RIVER: A punk rocker with a heart of gold who’s done a lot of work on their anger management issues.

VALENTINE: A cheerleader who tries really hard to pretend that nothing matters to make themselves feel better about the fact that they don’t matter.

NATSUKI: A garden punk who learned a long time ago to stab first, question never, and always, always shield their heart.

HENRY: A older sibling (of way too damn many) who wears their heart on their sleeve because maybe then someone will acknowledge that there’s more to them than being their parents’ enforcer, or their siblings keeper.

Aries - Share a line that you’re proud of!

This is already in the demo, but honestly, this moment:

"Werewolves?" I yelp, jerking backward and looking around immediately. "Don't worry, Kiddo," Alice says as she scoops up my bag and drags it inside for me. "They only bite if you ask real nice."

Lupus - Have you abandoned other WIPs? Tell us about some and why you abandoned them?

Oh lord. Well... that depends? Or maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better by pulling hairs. So here’s the thing.

Do I have any abandoned IF WIPs? No. This is my first solo game attempt. I actually have a pretty decent track record for games, though part of that was writing for an actual game studio. Deadlines, producers, and paycheques make finishing a thing a lot easier. You aren’t allowed to “baby” the story as much as you might otherwise.

That said... My WIP list is long when it comes to fanfiction, including more than a few abandoned WIPs, and I technically have two novels I keep pulling on and off the backburner. There was also one spectacularly failed web graphic novel from... holy crap, was that a decade ago? Maybe. So let’s talk about them.

(And I’m going to put everything past here under a cut because it’s long)

The graphic novel is probably the one I regret the most, and also the hardest to talk about so it’ll go first. It was called Wind Spirits, and if you google it (and actually manage to find it) be prepared for blood and nudity. While nothing in the comic itself was sexualized, it was a fantasy world based in a climate similar to African savannahs and the majority of the cast didn’t really do clothing. This turned out to be a mistake, to some degree.

I briefly mentioned this in another ask, but along with the whole “I don’t know what attraction means to most people” thing, I also don’t and have never understood the concept of nudity as something that’s inherently sexual. People’s bodies don’t bother me one way or the other, and my training as an artist only emphasized this. So it never occurred to me that simply depicting characters in the nude, in a way that was clearly meant as naturalistic and non-sexualized, would garner a fair amount of “omg this is adult!!” reactions, as well as a LOT of unwanted sexual comments from viewers. Not until I started receiving intimate details of my viewers, uh, fantasy lives that I was in no way comfortable with. It wasn’t just comments, either, but seeing people sort the pages of my comic into “spank bank” folders on DeviantArt, submitting them to fetish groups, etc.

Now, if I had been choosing to write something erotic, this wouldn’t have bothered me. I have since written soft core porn for a living, and have seen comments made about said writing without taking it in the same way. But context matters, right?

And for a little more context, it especially made me feel A Way because, well, the larger reason why I ultimately walked myself back from the project: 99.9% of the cast were black. Which isn’t a problem, in and of itself of course. It’s just that...

I’m a white woman from the Southern USA. And while I deeply enjoy and love the world that I built for Wind Spirits (one that I’d been designing since I was about fourteen), well, mistakes were made. It wasn’t just the weird optics of being a white woman drawing a bunch of naked black characters, which I only really became aware of during the process, but also some deeply rooted racist beliefs I’d been holding onto that I hadn’t worked through, and hadn’t begun to even recognize as a problem until I was partway into the thing.

It was when I started learning about and unpacking these things that I realized I couldn’t keep moving forward with Wind Spirits as it was. Keep in mind, this was around ten years ago. I didn’t know about, and hadn’t worked through, even half as much as I have now, and couldn’t begin to fathom how to fix the problem. So while I don’t believe I publicly posted anything that was terribly racist on the face of things (at least, no one has ever called me out on it, if I did,) I knew the direction the project was heading at the time, and that it was a message I no longer agreed with, or felt comfortable putting out into the world.

There’s a tiny possibility that I could salvage it one day, rework it into something better. In fact, I’ve toyed with quite a few outlines of story directions that would do that, but I’m not sure it’s actually going to happen. There’s just too much history there, for me.

...

OK, so on a less heavy note, the other big issue with abandoned WIPs are fanfiction stuff. Those are my biggest downfall by far, but a lot of it has to do with... I tend to write really heavy AUs that don’t get a lot of traction in the fandoms they’re for, probably because they’re heavy AUs. (or just not that good.) I might hyperfixate on a fic for months, but ultimately drop the ball because life threw too much at me at once and, hell, it’s not like there was anyone engaging with the fic, anyway.

Or, in the incredibly rare instance there were people commenting regularly, it just has to do with time and with the feeling that I’d rather be making this into something that’s mine, and mine alone. That I’m wasting really great original fic ideas by making them AUs of a property they don’t resemble in the least anymore (another reason why they don’t get much traction.)

So yeah. If y’all’d like to hear more about the two original novels I have on the burner I can also go into that. This just seems like it’s really long already, and I kind of feel like I just wrote a callout post for myself, so. Yeah.

#asks answered #tw: mentions of racism #not sure if that's really necessary here but just in case #meme response

4 notes · View notes

sineala · 4 years

Note

Hey! Since you're one of the sources of comic knowledge, I have to ask. Has Marvel ever permanently killed a superhero? Also what are the chances that Marvel would be willing to kill Tony or Steve? Bc your fics among others made me curious about reading the comics but I don't wanna get into that if Marvel is just gonna end up killing my fav character (I've heard a lot abt the current Tony being not real??). I have had enough of that from mcu

Hi there! I am glad you are curious about comics (and sorry to hear about your MCU-related sadness), and I'm sitting here trying to think of a good way to answer your question, because I think you're presuming something about comics that isn't really true. It's not really like other fandoms.

Basically, the deal in comics is that you should never, ever expect anyone to die permanently. But the corollary to this is that comics have been around for so long that it may take a while for someone to get brought back, but eventually it's probably going to occur to someone at Marvel that their story would be a lot more fun if only So-and-So Man were in it, and then they contrive a way to get him back. Take Bucky as an example. The saying used to be that "nobody in comics stays dead except Bucky, Jason Todd, and Uncle Ben," and, well, two-thirds of those people came back. No one thought Bucky was ever coming back, until Ed Brubaker started writing Captain America, and he'd apparently wanted to bring Bucky back since he was a kid, and well... that's what he did. (And then he killed Steve, but I'm pretty sure no one thought Steve was going to stay dead.)

Even heroes whose death has been given a lot of weight still get to come back. Take Mar-Vell. He got an entire Death of Captain Marvel graphic novel, very tragic, very moving -- and yet, they've still brought him back at least twice. He's currently dead now, but I'm sure if they wanted him alive, they could bring him back again.

So when you ask if they've ever permanently killed a superhero -- I mean, sure, there are characters who have died who haven't come back yet, but given how the comics universe works, there's nothing saying Marvel can't eventually come up with a way. I think non-powered characters are more likely to stay dead; for example, Happy Hogan's been dead since Civil War, and there are no signs he's coming back any time soon, but Marvel can always surprise me.

Both Steve and Tony have died more than once each, but they are popular enough -- they've both had an ongoing presence and their own solo (and/or shared with each other) comic since the 60s, enough that I think it's really, really extremely unlikely that Marvel will kill either of them off permanently. They've been in comics for decades and I don't see why they'd stop now. I am pretty sure there's going to keep being Captain America and Iron Man comics, because they keep selling. (You can contrast this with a character like, say, Doctor Strange, who has gone long periods of time without a solo book or even any book.)

However, the other thing you should know about comics is that sometimes... there will just be a lot of comics you don't like. And that's okay! It is the case now that most of Steve/Tony fandom, as far as I can tell, is generally not enjoying much about Avengers, Captain America, or Iron Man. But there are always old comics to read and write about (don't worry, no one expects anyone else to have read them all), and I suspect Marvel is going to end up totally ignoring or writing around "Tony Stark isn't real" after Slott leaves the book (because, seriously, it makes no sense) and the promo art for the Empyre event shows what is probably him on the team as Iron Man anyway.

Being into comics is about learning to pick and choose the parts of canon that you like and ignoring the rest, because honestly there's a lot of it and it all contradicts each other. You can generally expect to see continuity within one writer's run on one comic; if you are very lucky, the people writing the comics at the same time will talk to each other and make sure everything lines up, but unless an event is happening, mostly they do not. This is why (1) Steve and Tony are both current active Avengers, (2) Steve is currently on the run and hiding from the law because he broke out of prison, and (3) Tony is currently on the run and leading the robot revolution. Somehow all of these things are true. Comics are a mess. Don't let it bother you. But if any storylines sound fun, feel free to hop on board and try reading some. There are actually plenty of fun comics out there!

#shitistanstank #replies

25 notes · View notes

max--phillips · 3 years

Text

30 questions

I got tagged by @mandoinevarro and @hdlynn!!!

1. Name/Nickname: We’ve talked abt my “real” name but Tori is technically a nickname?? But honestly I’ll respond to whatever

2. Gender: the concept of hot, fresh bread in a small local bakery

3. Star sign: scorpio !

4. Height: 5′10″! I am tol

5. Time: 8:45 pm and it feels like the middle of the damn night

6. Birthday: November 19th!

7. Favorite bands: uhhhhhh do I listen to music? The Chicks is the only band coming to mind right now

8. Favorite solo artists: Lady Gaga, Sara Bareilles, Jewel

9. Song stuck in your head: the main theme from The Mandalorian and this has been the case for the past week

10. Last movie: Triple Frontier 😞✌

11. Last show: The Mandalorian!

12. When I did create this blog: This specific blog was made in 2018 sometime, but I’ve been on the website in some capacity since 2012

13. What I post:

14. Last thing I googled: “justin mcelroy its trash gif”

15. Other blogs: @dirtypedrocharacterconfessions, @onehellofanaskblog, and my (more explicitly) nsfw @spacegaynsfw!

16. Do i get asks: ye!!! Quite a few tbh, mainly for the confessions blog but yknow I take what I can get sdklfjg

17. Why i chose my url: idk its just some name I picked out of a hat /s

18. Following: oh god. 1,967, but who the hell knows how many are inactive

19. Followers: uhhhh 1,083 here, 173 on the ask blog, 464 on the confessions blog, and a whopping 24 on the nsfw blog sdfhgsdkfj

20. Average hours of sleep: well lately it feels like 0 but usually 8 or 10

21. Lucky number: I don’t really have a lucky number per se but my favorite number is 23 (which is, coincidentally, my age)

22. Instruments: I can play flute!

23. What I’m wearing: baby yoda socks, fleece pj pants, some random t-shirt, and my max phillips was right sweatshirt

24. Dream job: I simply do not dream of labor (idk probably a curator at some museum or something, but I would also love to own my own shop of some kind)

25. Dream trip: one of those crazy, multi-month cruises that stops at ports all over the world

26. Favorite food: Yes? All of it? Food? I love pasta tho

27. Nationality: American :/

28. Favorite song: uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh do I HAVE a favorite song??? I listen to too many podcasts

29. Last book: fuck me I haven’t read a real book in so long I just don’t have any idea. Probably one of the TAZ graphic novels if that counts

30. Top 3 fictional universes I wanna live in: Mass Effect, Star Wars, and probably Prospect tbh

I’m not gonna tag anyone BUT you should do it if you see it!!!

#tori says things #about me #tag games

2 notes · View notes

rael-rider · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on GotG #4

It’s far from perfect but I liked it. Juan Cabbal’s layouts are interesting and creative and it’s something I love seeing in a comic because usually we just get static boring panels and cut and paste scenes. But the transitions from panel to panel and page to page were good. Like the scene with the planet and Rich’s scarred chest, the scenes with Noh-Varr making his mind known to Rich, or pretty much everything to do with Noh-Varr. The pages between the two Moondragons. I’m not to keen on how Juan Cabbal draws Peter, Noh-Varr and Rocket but his Rich is gorgeous and his Phyla is beyond hot.

I know these 2 issue arcs are pretty short and while I would at the least make them 4 issues long I do appreciate that Ewing is not dragging the whole story to a 6 or 12 issue arc where nothing of note happens for like 4 issues and I forget what the story was about because of how long it is. I really hate the unnecessary “wide-screen” decompression style with modern comics because writers tend to be lazy with it and I don’t think they work well outside of completed Graphic novels.

As for story and characters: Rich has woken up and he’s already feeling guilt about Peter’s death and he keeps being paranoid about the shit hitting the fan on this new mission and keeps warning everyone about taking precautions and how things can go wrong. Also the panel where he reminds everyone to “Ask Peter” and Rocket thinks Rich is blaming him for Peter’s death says a lot. Rich clearly blames himself (Ewing already confirmed it) for asking him for help but Rocket also blames himself for not being able to save him.

That scene with the spine implant also reminded me of that time Rich has the United Front bombard him in Annihilation and you find out through the narrative that he lost his right leg because he’s in a hospital with a medic growing said leg while Peter debriefs him.

I also liked seeing Rich take on a more leader role and calling the shots even from the pink bacta tank like thing. He’s probably frustrated that he can’t go with the others but I liked seeing him in a leadership role. Rich can be a good leader but he's not always the best teammate and prefers to do things solo and with Peter’s death and him constantly reminding everyone of how things can go wrong you can see why. As a matter in fact him being benched is why he’s asking the others to answer the distress call and it’s probably frustrating to him.

In the latest interview with Ewing that I posted he said Rich was benches in this mission but it remains to be seen if he will put himself “back on the meat grinder” or take things easy but honestly I don’t think he can take it easy considering how the Galaxy is. I don’t see him taking it easy at least until positive things start happening to him, so Peter definitely has to come back and he needs to have some resolution with what happened with Robbie (which I’m still wondering when they’re going to resolve that stuff).

The scenes with Phyla and Rocket being the distraction were fun, it also had a reference to the GotG movies without being obnoxious. Other things I liked in those panels was seeing a kite flying a human and “Rum the Space Knight”.

Noh-Varr’s panels were probably my favorite because his powers are just so WTF and weird and I like that Ewing is taking that character back to his Morrison roots after everyone else forgot that aspect of him. I already talked about how much I liked the art in this comic and the best was with Noh-Varr.

The Rick Jones/Captain Marvel switch that Noh-varr does with Herc was also pretty cool, it’s been awhile since we seen characters do that.

Also I just realized Rich has been in three teams with three Marvel Boys.

Gamora still isn’t thinking Peter’s death well (and I think she also has to come to terms that Peter chose to do what he did and that he didn’t want to settle down but I also think her anger is valid because he went behind her back to the mission so there’s a lot she and Peter have to talk about when he gets back), I just loved how friendly and kind Herc was towards her and I hope it wasn’t for anything. I’m liking Herc in this comic and I hope he stays as a Guardians.

Also Alt Heather vs 616 Heather and the fricking Dragon of the Moon is back oh boy. 616 Heather has always been such a complex character but she was also an awful, awful,( and I cannot stress this word enough) awful person who had to hit rock bottom and face the consequences of her actions to get to the point that she is now. Her facing a much more heroic version of her who is married to a perfect and heroic version of our Phyla is definitely messing her up. But still no matter how both Alt Phyla and Alt Heather are growing on me I still like 616 Heather and Phyla better and I want to see 616 Phyla back.

Oh yeah there was also that Prince of Power guy, I guess that’s a new character I don’t know what’s up with him.

So yeah that’s about everything I guess.

#wednesday spoilers #ewing cates #my two cents

4 notes · View notes

houseofvans · 5 years

Photo

ART SCHOOL | INTERVIEW WITH ARTIST KATHY AGER

Originally studying graphic design and illustration, Kathy Ager left the world of ad agencies and design studios to pursue something she’d had the bug to do back in design school–painting. Making 2 to 3 paintings a year, Kathy’s art career began to take off: Her Baroque-style still lives with a modern and personal take began to get the attention of collectors and galleries alike. We’re excited to find out more about Kathy’s artistic journey, process and about her upcoming solo show this summer, opening at Thinkspace Gallery in Culver City.

Take the leap!

Photography by Kea Mowat

Introduce yourself? And where you’re from or currently residing? I’m Kathy Ager, an artist and graphic designer. I’m originally from Vancouver, and just recently returned to Vancouver after living in Amsterdam (and a little bit in Barcelona and Lisbon) for the past 9 years. I originally moved to Barcelona – I’d visited a year earlier with my then-boyfriend while he was shooting with the Canadian skate team and fell in love with the mystery of the place. From there I hopped over to Amsterdam where things fell into place. Now that I have representation in LA and a lot of shows happening around North America I’m back in my hometown of Vancouver. Being back is definitely a trip! It’s a bit of a Twilight Zone experience — everything is the same yet nothing is the same.

Tell us a little about your artistic journey–from graphic designer to painter! We read that you only started painting about 3-4 years ago? How did this come about, and did you pick it up naturally or did you find you had to change your approach vs. the way you had made art prior to it as a graphic designer? I originally went to school for graphic design and illustration. I worked for many years in ad agencies and design studios both in Vancouver and Amsterdam. I’ve always hated having a boss and eventually I went freelance which was way more my style. There came a point when I was a graphic designer where I just didn’t feel like I was doing what I was supposed to do. I’d been a graphic designer for years and I still like it, but it just wasn’t enough. There was way more I wanted to say. I discovered painting back in design school and was especially encouraged by my teacher Kiff Holland. But I’d always been one to “do the right thing” and I followed the more solid path of graphic design. Finally, I found myself sick at home for the good part of a year – partially stress-induced I’m sure! That’s when I got back into painting.

It was a slow process of getting into it. I would fit it in between my freelance graphic design work, maybe making 2-3 paintings a year in my spare time. I had no agenda other than to just keep going with it.

In the fall of 2015, I went to Lisbon for a couple months just to paint. It was the first time I showed up in a new place as an artist, not a graphic designer. That was big. The response and the welcome I received there was a big thing for me. It was the third time I’d dropped myself into a new city where I didn’t know anyone or speak the language. But this place was magical. I met some amazing artists and champions of my work and it’s become a sort of second European home, including a spot at the table with Portuguese grandparents for Sunday lunch. Portugal. It’s a dream.

In the last year and a half things have really picked up in terms of interest in my paintings and the response I’ve received is mind blowing. Sometimes I wish I’d come to the art game earlier, but I’ve always been a late bloomer — I mean, I looked like I was 12 until I was 20, for god’s sake! I don’t think I was ready to say anything at a younger age.

How would you describe your work to someone who is just coming across it? I’d describe my work as Baroque-style still lives with a modern and personal take.

Why the interest in realist still lives and the way of the Dutch masters? What do you absolutely love about them, and what are some of your favorite still life paintings? I originally started with just painting cityscapes and random images I liked. Safe things that I could practice with. At some point I painted a still life image I liked and it struck me how much of a story could be told with objects and light. The first couple of still lifes I crafted myself were so personal and revealing, I was too embarrassed to show them to anyone at first (Lonely Hearts Club and Can’t Get High Enough). I’m a pretty happy person on the outside (it’s no secret that I love a good laugh), and these paintings were exposing something no one knew I had in me. But the process of crafting these messages and selecting the right combination of objects and titles gave me such a laugh and a feeling of empowerment that it felt like I was on the right path.

Who and what were some of your early artistic influences? What artists inspire you these days? I came to painting mostly unaware of other artists. I didn’t go to fine art school and had little knowledge of art history. It’s only in hindsight that I see the influence of the art that surrounded me – the Dutch, Spanish and Portuguese masters from the Golden Age. As I became more brave with the content of my paintings, I found it inspiring to discover artists like Christian Rex van Minnen and Sean Norvet who were doing things even more fucked up than I was. It was amazing!

Take us through your artistic process? What’s a typical day in the studio like? How long does it take you to complete a painting from start to finish? My process always starts with either a title or message I want to convey. I love music and books and I get a lot of ideas from lyrics and titles and beautifully written sentences. They’re these magically articulated truths and observations that just hit me so deeply. From there I usually sit on the idea for a while, working on how to solve it visually with objects I encounter. Some ideas might stew like that for up to a year. Once I have the idea set in my head, I visualize it through my own photography and also collaging from images online until it seems right. Only then do I start putting it on canvas.

I treat my painting process like a job. A day in my studio is typically 4-10 hours hunched over my easel. It’s not glamorous! My ideas come more organically, but the production process requires a lot of self discipline and stamina.

A painting takes 1-4 weeks to complete, depending on the size. But the amount of thought that went into it before that can be months.

What are your essential art tools and materials? I keep my materials minimal so far. A couple brush sizes and 5-6 colours of oil paint. I mainly like to mix my own colours from the primaries because I like to know exactly what goes in to each colour.

You’ve been preparing for an upcoming debut solo show that opens in June at Thinkspace. Tell us about the work going into the show, and what you hope folks will take away from it! This is my first solo show, so it’s going to be the first time a larger body of my still life paintings will be out in the world. Before this I’ve only had a handful of paintings in group shows. All the paintings are deeply personal, but I love crafting them in a way that’s universally appealing. I hope people will get a kick out of it as much as I have. It’s dark, but it’s also meant to be beautiful and funny and I hope that comes through.

The title of the show is Golden Age. It’s a reference to the style of paintings I’m referencing from the Dutch and Spanish Golden Age, but also a comment on our current times, my own personal experiences, and how we survive it all as sensitive beasts.

Is there a favorite piece you’ll be presenting at the show, and if you could, tell us a little about the piece and why it is so special to you? I think my favourite piece is the first one I painted for this show. It’s called The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, after the novel by Carson McCullers. Although the meaning of the painting has nothing to do with the book, I loved how perfectly this title described my feelings of loneliness and discouragement when navigating the current world of dating. One guy’s opening line to me on a dating app was “How are you enjoying this internet dumpster fire?” And he couldn’t have been more spot on, sadly. It’s a jungle out there – stay strong and bring enough snacks. The female bust in this paintings just gives me such a kick. She’s so fierce and strange. I love having her in my studio.

What are five favorite things you love painting in your still lives? Are they books, items from pop culture? Or is creating the composition of the painting more enjoyable? Books from my bookshelf, flowers (although I have a love/hate relationship with them), sneakers, the tattoos of ex lovers, and random objects belonging to lovers and friends. I’m aways telling a specific story about a person, feeling or event in my life and I love the intimacy and sort of inside joke it creates.

What has been the most challenging project or work you’ve battled through? How did you overcome those obstacles and what did you take away from it? Definitely making the work for my upcoming solo show has been the biggest challenge! I went from painting a couple paintings a year to making 12 paintings in 10 months. I’m getting through it by just doing it. There’s no easy way around it. I’ve had to learn to have a continuous stream of paintings on the go and to trust my abilities.

When you’re not painting or working on projects, how do you unwind and unplug? Music is a big thing for me. I just feel it so much. So listening to music and dancing are a big thing for me. Reading and travelling are also amazing. I’m just so curious about people and places and hearing as many experiences and adventures and ideas as possible. I’ve also been getting back into snowboarding and skateboarding after being away from the Westcoast for 9 years. Vancouver is amazing for random outdoor adventures with friends!

What advice would you give someone who wants to follow in your footsteps and pursue art? Just do it! There’s no way around it. Put the time and effort in every moment you can, even if there’s no one watching. It’s not glamorous. Sometimes I wonder where all the parties and rock and roll is. But if you’re putting in the time, if you’re making art for yourself and not what you think others will like, you’ll find yourself in the right place, attracting the right attention.

Also, there’s never a perfect time for anything. Most of my paintings before this year were created alone in a tiny apartment, mostly fit in between design projects. Just ignore the discomfort and keep going. Oh and don’t quit your day job until you feel you’re getting momentum. It’s like surfing – you’ll just know it when you’re catching that wave and you can pop-up. Until then enjoy the space that’s created when you’re NOT focussing on art all the time.

What’s your best Art School tip that you want to share with folks? I’ll give you some very specific painting advice as told to me by my only painting instructor, Kiff Holland. I still feel like these are responsible for my painting success: 1. Paint what you see, not what you think you see. 2. Paint dark to light. Sorry if you’re not aiming to be a realist painter and find this completely irrelevant ;)

What are your favorite style of VANS? Right now I’m liking the CHIMA PRO 2. It’s the first pair of shoes I bought specifically for skating, so it has a special place in my heart!

Anything you can share that is coming up? Other than my debut solo show in LA this summer, I have a bunch of group shows in cities including New Orleans, London and Miami. And more big things coming in 2020 which I’ll announce in the future on my instagram!

FOLLOW KATHY | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Vans Girls #Kathy Ager #Art School #Painting #Studio #acrylic #Portrait #Still Life

483 notes · View notes

elopez7228 · 4 years

Text

Scenic Route 7/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

It was the tempting smell of coffee that roused Rey from her slumber.

It took her a second to realize where she was and why there was a dog curled up against her sleeping bag. Stretching her neck and shoulders, she unraveled her hair and looked up at Leia. She had placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the tiny kitchen table.

“Mind if I take a quick shower before I leave?I don’t know when I’ll get another chance on the road...”

With Leia’s approval she found herself in the minuscule bathroom, where she washed her hair as economically as possible. Not a drop of water wasted—after all, she wouldn’t want to freeload off of a kind woman evidently already on a budget.

Afterwards, she checked to make sure that she left nothing behind (oil? Check. Water? Check. Music? Check. Phone? Charged up and ready to go. BB8? BB8...? Rey looked over to see her taking care of business in a nearby alley. She ran back soon enough with her tail wagging happily. Leia paused to hug the dog one last time and Rey could have sworn her eyes were glistening. Rey waited for them a few meters away, standing by the doorway as she gave them time to say goodbye. After plenty of hugs and scratches, Leia put a slim red leather collar around the dog’s neck. Attached to it with tiny hooks, a small metal plaque engraved with the words “Please Call Luke Skywalker 909-667-5721”.

She then handed Rey a piece of paper with Luke’s address in San Francisco. She had also written his phone number, even though the collar ostensibly took care of that. Rey entered the number into her contacts anyway and put the paper away in the glove box.

Rey opened the car door and gently ushered the dog into the back seat.

“BB8, in the car! Come on, in! Inside, let’s go! That’s right, good dog!”

BB8 had jumped into the car with puppy-like enthusiasm, rediscovering her blanket and her basket of toys. Rey gave her a pat to assure her that everything was fine before closing the door. It was time to leave.

Rey approached Leia, who was wiping away a tear with the back of her hand.

“You sure you’ll be okay without BB8?”

“I’ll still have Artoo, even if he doesn’t do much besides eat and nap. We’ll be fine,”

Rey realized she was taking about the cat. She conceded, smiling.

“Look, thanks for everything Leia...the road is a lot less frightening with BB8 by my side. I promise to take care of her,”

“Be careful out there. Send me an update now and then.”

“I will, promise.”

Leia opened her arms and Rey hugged her tightly—it was a little awkward at first but it transformed into a warm embrace. Rey felt a particular tenderness in this gesture, it was the hug of someone who hadn’t hugged anyone in a very long time.

Rey looked up suddenly, breaking the hug.

“I’m an idiot, I forgot to buy a GPS!” She exclaimed, realizing she didn’t know which direction she would be driving in.

She put her hands on her face in exasperation, chastising herself for being so distracted and trying not to let the panic take over.

“Right, no use in beating myself up, I didn’t have enough money left to buy a new one anyway. I’ll have to find a state map. It’ll be all vintage, like the car.”

Luckily, she didn’t have an exact itinerary. She knew that she wanted to get to Yellowstone, which would take a while. The park wasn’t merely a stop, it was as large as Yorkshire and equally difficult to miss.

She looked up a petrol station on Google maps, ironically so that she could buy a physical map for her journey. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to a start.

Rey waved one last time to Leia through the open car window, who looked lonelier than ever standing alone out on the porch of her little cottage.

The car emitted a cloud of dust as it left the trailer park and started a long journey. BB8 scratched at the back seat nervously, worried that Leia had disappeared from view. Rey extended a hand to pet her reassuringly.

“Everything will be fine good girl, we’re going home now,” she said gently.

The weather was gorgeous that third-of-July morning, as Rey took I-25 toward Cheyenne, Wyoming. With the breeze in her hair and a smile on her lips, her whole being felt lighter. It seemed like she was looking at the world through new eyes, reveling in an optimism that she hadn’t felt in weeks.

She basked in the beauty of the land, the winding plains dotted with crimson outcroppings, the glistening skyscrapers which formed the city’s spine and slowly gave way to the mountains in the west, whose snowy peaks overlooked a red and white prairie speckled with farms.

As she bypassed the city, she spotted the a few buffalo roaming peacefully on a nature reserve. She also saw camels, two deer on a ridge, and what appeared to be antelopes (or whatever those pale deer like creatures with tiny horns were called).

A biker on a Harley Davidson sped past her, hair flying and engine roaring in equal measure. In the distance, a freight train of unimaginable length whistled by. Everything was new to her, every sound, every color. She was glad to leave Denver behind. She was tired of the crowd, and the fumes, the noise and the pollution.

BB8 was still lamenting her fate in the back seat, whining now and then. Rey felt her heart constrict. How could she get across that they were going home to see Luke? Preoccupied with these thoughts, she completely missed the exit to Wyoming, which was supposed to be the second leg of their road trip.

In hindsight she would look back on this moment and regret not registering the symbolism of it all.

Around 9 AM she skirted Cheyenne and began the 400 kilometer trek, due west, to the park. It slowly dawned on Rey that she was finally alone with her thoughts—something which hadn’t happened since she left London, since the breakup.

Before, she had purposefully kept busy in order to stop thinking. All action, all the time, running full speed ahead. First she had cursed Finn to hell and back, then she had cried a river on Jessica’s shoulder, taken that flight, wallowed in that hotel room, confronted Ben Solo, met Rose, attended that concert, wandered those museums...it was time to slow down.

Facing eight hours of transit, alone amidst the steel and asphalt with no one but a dog (who was finally calm) for company, Rey let her thoughts run free.

She did not try to repress them, she did not try to smother them. She was no longer afraid of her unconscious, no longer afraid of regrets, remorse and tears. She would have to bring Finn's stuff back: his clothes, his records, his films and his books.

She did not seen Poe coming, waltzing into her life narrative. Or did she? Had she always seen this coming? Finn and Poe met in high school. They had been on the same football team. They had essentially been friends for forever. When Rey entered Finn’s life, it had been through a hypocritical turn to dating apps. They had bonded over a mutual love for Terry Pratchett novels and Poe had even become her older brother of sorts. Poe had no bitterness, no animosity toward her, there was just a unique brotherhood between the two men that seemed to make Finn happy. Should she have seen it coming, then? In his eyes? In his nonsensical rambles whenever he got drunk? And how could she have ignored the signs all these years, of the feelings Poe had harbored for the man who had been part of his life for so long?

She had finished her degree in graphic design, and right after getting her diploma, she had moved out of Jessica’s to start living with her brand new boyfriend. He was an engineer who was three years older than her and already making a living.

Rey considered that she had never been alone. Before moving in with her ex-future-husband she had lived with Jessica for most of her adult life. What was she afraid of? Being abandoned again? Getting bored? Wasting away? Was she always going to live in the shadow of others? Didn’t she have any ambitions or goals for herself?

This trip was a first, after all. The first time she did anything alone, the first time no one took her hand, the first time she was ever truly free. Still on the highway, her eyes widened at a passing sign: “Smallest town in America, Bufford, WY. Population : 1". Behind it, a little shack, boarded up with wooden planks and metal sheets.

Beyond, rolling plains, dry and arid masses tinted with yellow and ochre, and not a single tree. On the highway drove an endless parade of monstrous chrome-plated trucks, cars hauling camping trailers, and bikers wearing bandannas instead of helmets. And all the fauna of this strange landscape seemed to ignore the ever-present six-by-four posters lining the highway. Not the one touting MacRoy and associates Laramie attorneys, nor the other claiming “God exists, call 1-800-FOR-TRUTH”.

BB8’s groaning derailed Rey’s bitter train of thought, and she glanced at the back seat. The dog was rolling around restlessly and yes, Rey thought now was a good time to take a break. It would be too early for lunch but at least BB could stretch her legs. Rey kept an eye out for the next exit, or the next petrol station. She used her turn signal to get off the highway at Elk Mountain, a rural outpost sleeping under the desert dust like a cat lounging in the sun.

It was almost a ghost town. A few rusted pickups, a red-brick general store that could have come straight out of the Buffalo Bill era, and half a dozen wooden shacks, in true American spirit. They looked like they couldn’t even stand the first winds of a storm. There must be storms here at some point, she thought, in the winter at least.

How did these people live? Effectively two hours away from the nearest civilization, at that? Rey shrugged. She wouldn’t want to question anyone, if there existed anyone here, that is. Rey parked her car (yes, it was hers now, for the time being) on the side of the road. She opened the door for BB8, who was clamoring to escape. But Rey had predicted this, and she blocked the door with her body as she leashed the dog before letting her out.

She would have preferred to let BB8 roam, but she couldn’t risk it. What if BB ran away across the desert to join Leia Skywalker in Denver? What if she chased after grasshoppers onto the highway, and subsequently fell prey to one of those gleaming trucks on the highway? She would flattened like a pancake. Both of them had to tame each other in a way, and that would take time. Meanwhile, Rey filled the dog's bowl with water and let her drink up. She covered up all the supplies in the car to avoid theft and locked the door.

They took a short walk. BB8 began sniffing at everything on the ground, tail bouncing and ears perking, until she paused to relive herself against the tire of an old truck. Rey looked around, expecting the owner to come up, a rifle in one hand and a cowboy hat in the other, threatening to shoot both of them.

But no, everything was silent, or as silent as it could be amidst the ceaseless chirping of the cicadas.

Eventually, the heat was overwhelming and the arid wind left Rey parched. Time to go back.

Gingerly walking back to the car, Rey hesitated. It had to be fifty degrees Celsius inside, the car was a suffocating metal monstrosity whose only upside was relative speed. She could feel the sweat drops running down her body.

Yet another hour's drive took her to Sainclair, a city huddled around a monstrous refinery, whose black, smoking towers rose to the sky like Isengard in Lord of the Rings.

"The whole bloody city must live in this factory," Rey thought, as she made herself comfortable inside Penny's Diner, a chrome-clad hole-in-the-wall with a decidedly vintage feel to it.

#reylo #fanfiction #modern AU #scenic route

4 notes · View notes