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yukiobeyme · 4 years

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Hi! I saw your hc of the brothers reacting to a mc playing the harp. Do you think you could do hc with an skilled painter mc too? I study art, but due to a depressive episode i stoped painting, i started painting again a few days ago and remembered how much i enjoy it. Maybe due to the studys of the devildom she didnt have time for a while? Its ok if you dont want to or feel uncomfortable:)

Sorry, it took forever but hopefully, this suffices. It’s the longest thing I have ever written for Obey Me (5.6k words) The picture that is included is drawn by me, which is a painting that is featured in Detroit Become Human. It was in chapter 6 for Marcus, and the painting is human- hope. So, yea I hope you all enjoy and it’s just as good as the harp fic I did.

This is also like how the brothers try to help you with depression too because I need it lol. The first half is them noticing that you aren’t doing art anymore then you randomly paint then its the brother’s reaction though I don’t know if their reaction is long enough.

I am behind on requests but feel free to send stuff, I’m doing online classes so I have more free time and on my computer constantly. I think I’m finally gonna catch up on everything.

Trigger Warning for Depression and not necessarily Eating Disorder Otherwise Nonspecific but MC struggles to eat while depressed.

Art was something you always did. It was started as an innocent hobby, then you started to doodle on your assignments and notes. If there were paper and pencil around, there was bound to be one of your drawings on it eventually. In high school, you decided to take Art as your elective of choice, and during that time you learn what your favorite medium was and what your art style is. You found out you like paints the most; acrylics were the easiest for you, it was the most forgiving of the paints, watercolor you loved but it took work and concentration to do, and oil paint you practiced loved to hate. Oil was always so hard to work with, at first you always overworked the paint and left it looking dull and sad looking, but you were determined to get it right. Your final project was a huge oil painting, you took your time to plan and layout that painting. The topic you chose was the fall of angels, which you didn’t know much about. You knew about the Celestial Realm and Devildom, everyone does but it’s not like humans can walk freely in either of the realms. You debated back and forth if you should do a generic angel or if you should have more fun with it and recapture the fall of a true angel. Your research led you to learn about six brothers that fell around the same time. You recognized the first name easily, Lucifer; he was prideful and what everyone refers to the most powerful demon. He fell from Heaven after he became so impressed with his own beauty, intelligence, power, and position that he began to desire for himself the honor and glory that belonged to God alone. This pride represents the actual beginning of sin in the universe—preceding the fall of the human Adam by an indeterminate time. The other names, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor didn’t seem to ring any bells, but you took the time to try and research each on. You decided to capture all their falls in one painting, they fell in the order of power. Lucifer would be the furthest one down the canvas and that’s why Belphegor would be at the top still within the clouds. The painting ended up looking amazing and still hangs on the wall in your living room, it was the first decoration piece you ever put up.

Fast forward to when you were whisked away to Devildom to be an exchange student. They were nice enough to give you time to pack things, only 15 minutes to pack a year's worth of things. You grabbed random clothes and stuffed them in a bag, you grabbed your favorite stuff animal and went immediately went to your desk where you kept all your painting supplies. You made sure to grab as many different colors as possible, all different brush sizes and your two sketches that could handle the paint medium. You decided to grab your phone and its charger though you knew it probably wouldn’t work in Devildom. With one last glance around your house, you paused and looked at the oil painting before telling the demon that you were ready to start this adventure.

Much to your surprise, you were met with faces that were familiar. Though it wasn’t because you had met them before rather it was because you studied their faces and bodies to paint them. You were flushed the whole time they introduced themselves and was even more flustered when you realized you would be living with them for the next year. If they noticed, they didn’t say much about it. You knew they noticed your stares though. You were studying their faces, trying to recall if you captured them right, if your references were accurate or not.

You tried to do some form of art every day, from doodles or painting. Usually, you would sketch something during your breaks and paint them once you were back at the House of Lamentation. The brothers knew you painted but you always requested to be left alone. This was the time you played the music you wanted and get lost in the brush strokes. It was your stress release, something you found joy in, the way you reconnected with your body.

But within a month of being an exchange student, your RAD work piled up and instead of sketching during breaks you had to start studying and doing work to ensure you stayed on top of everything. The mix of stress and not taking care of yourself led you down a spiraling depression. You gave up painting and daily self-care was sparse and very little. You stayed up late and woke up early to get as much work done as possible, food was on the small side and on the go food.

You had gone shopping with Asmodeus and grabbed canvases, the now gathered dust in the corner of your room. Somewhere still blank and others left unfinished, but you could never push yourself to pick up your paintbrushes. Sometimes you would pull out all your material and just sit and stare at the canvas until you gave up and left it alone. Soon the brothers decided to make a schedule so that you never alone and offer you different types of support that were unique to them. They never pushed you to pick up painting again, though they tried to encourage it and encourage you to take care of yourself.

Lucifer:

Lucifer noticed how your habits changed, while he never saw your finished art pieces, he saw bits and pieces. He noticed that you like to draw what was around you, he had seen you draw the RAD, the House of Lamentation, and even sketches of his brothers and himself. When you stopped drawing in the morning, he just figured you weren’t as inspired, but then the dark circles under your eyes formed, skipping meals or eating too little, and how you sometimes drifted in class.

He thought it should be his job to help you, but he didn’t know how. For the first time in centuries, he felt powerless. He decided whenever you skipped meals, he would find ways to get you to eat. In the morning if you skipped breakfast, he grabbed a fruit and a granola bar to hand to you. Or when you skipped dinner, he brought the food to wherever you were studying. He made the time to sit with you, while you ate, bringing work of his own to do. He would try to brush off as he simply wanted to work in a different area when in reality, he wanted to make sure you ate.

Finally, Lucifer would ask if you had drawn or painted recently. Your grimace told him everything, “No, I haven’t been inspired recently,” you shrugged it off hoping he would drop it. But instead, he poked and tried to get more information from you. You broke after a while spilling all the struggles you have been facing and how the stress-induced depression, you assured him you been through it before and you would be fine but right now it just felt like loneliness and darkness.

While Lucifer didn’t show it, it broke his heart to hear you say that. He figured you were stressed, and you seemed down, but he didn’t know it was too this magnitude. He did his best to support and encourage you in any way he could, hoping that it would help somehow. He offered to tutor you and help you with homework in hopes to lighten your load. He knew he should tell Diavolo, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This felt too intimate to disclose to him, he felt happy and privileged that you shared it with him, and he didn’t want to break that. At least you were talking to someone.

Mammon:

Mammon was oblivious to how your schedule and habits changed. It wasn’t until Beelz mentioned that he hadn’t seen you eat yet today during lunch. Then it clicked how he hadn’t seen you as much or rather how he had to seek you out constantly to get the attention he deserved from you.

He started to pay more attention to you and something seemed missing from your stack of books but could never place it until he came to your room and say your sketchbook on the floor under all your books. It clicks he doesn’t remember the last time he saw you drawing or doodling.

He then noticed your tired eyes, your slow-moving, and you did skip a lot of meals or at very little. He totally increased how much he spent with you, even when you claimed to have too much work to do. He would simply sit at your feet and lean against you. You would occasionally drop your hand down and play with his hair. You noticed the increase of affection and time he spent with you and at first, you were annoyed with it but soon you enjoyed the quiet company. Once Mammon saw you were happy to have him around, he started talking to you about his random schemes; which never failed to make you smile and laugh. He soon made it his goal to make sure you were always laughing and smiling, he never wanted it to stop.

You didn’t disclose everything to Mammon, but you talked about your feelings to him. In some ways it was hard not too, having him so close but you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. He comforted you to the best of his ability, sometimes he said the wrong things, but he tried and attempted to fix it.

He would surprise you with small gifts, one day at lunch he managed to get a yakisoba bread and you were surprised when he offered you the whole thing instead of just wanting to split it. You offered to split it with him and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You both ate you halves outside, and you couldn’t help but cuddle up against him. When you finished your food, you gave Mammon a peak of the cheek. He flushed immediately and you hooked your arms together and walked to class with him. Needless to say, he bragged about it to the brother’s group chat and he was made fun of because of how he blushed for the rest of the day.

Leviathan:

Noticed the symptoms immediately, he had been through similar things. That there were times he stopped video games and anime or stopped finding the enjoyment from it. Though because he was constantly in his room, no one would notice.

He simply offered you silent support, making sure you were never alone or in one place for too long. He would try to drag you away for a quick game or anime or watch him play a game. You finally asked why he was spending more time with you and he would bashfully say while he didn’t know how you felt, he felt like he had been through similar things. It broke your heart to hear that and you pulled him into a tight hug. Later that night, you went to his room bringing tea for both of you and you both stayed up way too late talking to each other. It seemed like talking about it help life some of the pressure off you.

He said his door was always open to you, and while you didn’t always take him up on it, you occasionally when to study and watch him play whatever game he was currently playing. It was nice to have his company, even if you didn’t talk, it was comforting to be in the company that understood your feelings.

During class, he sat to your left while Beelz sat to your right. Levi made sure to nudge you if your attention seemed to diverge from the lecture and always offer you his notes if you missed anything. He also showed you places to hide in RAD, if you wanted to hide during lunch but his only request was you took food and ate it. He said he would prefer to hang out as well but respected your privacy if you truly wanted to be alone.

Would try and encourage you to paint or draw again. Asking you to draw him some character from his games or anime. You occasionally you would indulge in drawing whatever he wanted. Overall, Levi was your quiet support and you were grateful for it, to be able to sit in quiet and not to be asked what is wrong or must talk was a perfect escape sometimes.

Satan:

He was worried about you, he offered to take you to the library for a new place to study. He would read your textbooks to you. He would read it whether you were in his room, the library, or curled up on his bed. Though most times if he read to you on his bed, you would drift off to sleep listening to his voice. He would always smile whenever you managed to fall asleep, it comforted him that he was able to help you fall asleep.

Satan would find books about depression, but he was uncertain because it sounded to clinically and he doubted that it was really like how the book described. Though he continued to research, trying to find out ways to support you. Online forums and talking to the brothers about the things they were doing and what seemed to help you.

He would stumble sometimes but you couldn’t help but feel touched he tried so hard. When you say the help guide and books he had, you cried. You couldn’t believe someone would care this much about you and want to help you. He was there to comfort you and once you calmed down you thanked him and laugh, “I was wondering why your actions seemed straight from a self-help book, Thank you,” you kissed him on the cheek and gave up studying for the day to hang out and cuddle with him. He would ask what he could do to help, what things he did that helped or hurt you. You would drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.

When you weren’t reading together and Satan would play drama, especially Korean Dramas, something you introduced to him. He would play your favorite one, the one you have already watched together and that you have seen a million times, but still loved it and reacted to the story every time. Sometimes Satan would quote the show and act dramatically to make you smile and laugh.

But there were hard times with Satan, he was the Avatar of Wrath, after all, he would get annoyed at the situation, but never at you. He always made sure that you knew that, though occasionally he would say something that he would immediately apologize for it. He tells you; he feels worthless and helpless. He wanted to help you and make it all better, but he knew that isn’t how it works.

Asmodeus:

Much like Mammon, offered you comfort and affection. Whisking you away to get the newest coffee or tea at the café, shopping, bubble baths, and doing skincare with him. While you tried to protest, he was consistent, and most times was a success. He starts to offer to go the café to study for a change of scenery, offering to quiz you while you took the bubble bath, or doing face masks that you could put on and study for a bit while it dried.

“Stress isn’t good for your skin. Neither is not sleeping,” Asmodeus would tell you pointedly.

Never directly asked what was wrong, but constantly reminded you he was there for you if you ever needed him or wanted to talk. While you didn’t to it often, instead of talking to him you would seek him out to cuddle and of course, he never denied it. It was a guaranteed break for you and most times you fell asleep.

Whenever he took you shopping, he would drag you to the art store encouraging to buy art supplies, he ended up buying you new paintbrushes, paint, and canvas. Telling you there wasn’t any rush to paint anything, but it would just be there in case you hit inspiration. He would always joke that you could paint him or “paint him like a French girl,” and would flash you a cheeky grin. You would laugh and shove his shoulder.

Sat behind you in most of your class and whenever he had the change, he would give you affection. He would pass you notes constantly, sometimes it was drawings of his own. Sometimes they were beautiful and amazing other times he drew funny sketches. You quickly found out who drew Lucifer riding the unicorn and Diavolo in the dress. The funny sketches also included exaggerated drawings of the teachers or his brothers, which was so hard not to laugh in class so you could only turn around and glare at him, that didn’t last long before you broke out into a smile and shook your head at him.

Beelzebub:

Noticed you lack interest of food and lack of eating immediately. Was constantly bring you snacks and sharing them with you. He sometimes was sneaky with it, dropping it off fruit slices and sitting it beside you and leaving. Then coming back later to see the empty plate and he was beaming. Would study with you and sat near you in class, whenever he pulled out a snack, he would set it in between you, in hopes you would snack on his food.

Whenever it was his turn to cook, he would find out your favorite comfort food; whether it was something from Devildom or Human food. Trying to make sure the food was as appetizing as possible and mouth-watering in hopes to entice you.

Would always be proud whenever you ate and encouraged yourself to be a glutton sometimes. Beelzebub was also your teddy bear, always down to engulf you in a hug and study with you occasionally. He would also tell you stories and memories about Lilith, times in the Celestial Realm, or random memories that were simply used as a distraction or calm you down when you got too tense about your schoolwork.

Beelzebub would also be the one that read you bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep, it always made you laugh. He would do the voices and everything, as you cuddle against him. It became a normal thing to wake up to see Beelzebub leaning against you bed, he would admit he was checking on you during the middle of the night and decided to stay just in case you needed him.

He always checked up on you and while he was the Avatar of Gluttony, he indulged you in other things than food. He gave you a lot of praise and even small trinkets he found while he was out shopping.

He was just always there for you and he had his alerts on specifically for you. He would always reply with lightning speed. He was also the one that came up with the idea to not let you be alone too long and create the shifts between the brothers. While it was annoying in some ways you couldn’t help but feel touched by their efforts

Belphegor:

Consistently offered and told you take a break and naps. He would drag you to the planetarium to study and while he offered to study with you, he would end up dozing off at some point. It always made you smile. You would go snag his blanket and tuck him in.

He would constantly wrap you up in blankets and cling to you like a koala, trying to make sure you were as comfortable as possible as you study. He even would offer you to use his pillow that he carried around. While you were hesitant, but you adored how Belphegor smelled and often found comfort in that. He would be able to help you learn about the stars and constellations. He could talk forever about it and often did. He knew all the stories behind them, what they looked like and could point them out.

Sometimes you would count the stars with him to fall asleep. Belphegor was known to tuck you in, he would kiss you on your forehead and whenever he found you asleep, he would join you. It was the simple things that made you feel a little better and loved. Never forced you to talk about anything, but whenever he noticed you were staring off into space, he would begin to ramble about everything and anything. Trying to ground you and bring you back to the present.

He knew where to find you whenever you couldn’t sleep, and you weren’t in your room and he told the other brothers but always told them he would go and comfort and hang out with you. You were in the planetarium, it where he went when he couldn’t sleep or felt restless. He would sit beside you and sit in silence, he usually had a blanket to drape over the both of you. You would lean again him and rest his head on your shoulder, bringing in his smell and feel some of your tensions melt away.

Finally, one random day, you had inspiration hit you. Asmodeus had bought you a canvas and it was huge, and you knew the painting had to be just right. You decided to paint it outside, thinking maybe getting some vitamin D would help as well. You gathered your art stuff before you headed out. You ran into Satan as you made your way outside, you flashed him a shy smile and he offered to help you carry out your things. You were in the garden and you slowly set up; Satan helped you set up before disappearing. You grabbed your pencil and started to sketch out your painting. You heard someone approaching you and it was Satan though he was carrying a book before finding a place to sit near you in the shade. You gave him a soft smile before you went back to work. Before you knew it, you were loaded up your pallet with all different colors and started to paint. You allowed yourself to get lost in the painting. Letting your mind go blank and allowing your hand to take over the paint strokes. You didn’t notice the crowd that gathered behind you, you were completely lost in the joy of the painting. Your smile only continued to go the more and more you painted, you remembered how much you loved painting; the tension in your shoulders started to release and you felt renewed. Once you were finished you stepped back to see the painting in the full picture. You looked behind you to see all the brothers behind you, looking at your painting.

“It’s beautiful,” Satan said setting his book down and the other brothers nodded in agreement.

“Thank you… for everything,” you started and continued when you saw the brothers confused looks, “For supporting me and reminding me to take care of myself,” you flashed all of them a small smile.

“It’s inspired by all of you. That you reached out to me and reminded me of the hope that it gets better, even if it takes a while or doesn’t feel like it ever would.” All the brothers looked touched, but your words and it was Beelz that pulled you into a hug first. Soon you were getting hugs from all the brothers except Lucifer who gave a nod, you knew that later in private you would get a quick hug from him later.

Lucifer:

Lucifer had a sense of pride in seeing you paint again. Seeing you so engrossed in your work and how confidently your paint strokes were. He loved watching how the colors swirled together and how the painting slowly came to life. He realized he could watch you paint all day; he would later ask if you were willing to paint him something for his office. He would let you in his office and look around to get an idea of the mood of the room and how much space you had to work with. When you finished the painting, Lucifer hung it up almost immediately. He whenever he was stressed and tense, he would find himself looking at it, following the swirls of the colors to calm himself.

He also adored to indulge you in more expensive paints, which always took your breath away. He would allow you in his office to paint if you wanted. Most times Lucifer was working on papers, but occasionally he would play the piano, soft melodies that were soothing. It became a tradition that once a week, you would go to his office to paint or draw. Asking his opinions on sketches and if you should follow through with them or change it up.

Mammon:

He was taken back by how beautiful you looked as you painted. You were so carefree and happy; it took his breath away. He watched how your body moved as you painted, how smooth and elegant it looked. It was angelic, he was the only brother that dared to approach you; he would sit down on the grass and watch you.

He never formally requested any paintings from you, but you ended up painting him something anyway. You bought a copy of the magazine he was on the cover of and recreated it for him to hang up in his room. He was speechless when you gave it to him, you decided to do it more of an abstract with lots of colors. He hung it up on his wall and whenever he looked at it, he would smile and blush, it seemed so intimate that you painted him. That you probably spend a lot of time looking at his face to recreate it. He was greedy and craved watching you paint; for some reason, it was soothing for him and it made you happy so in turn, it made him happy.

Leviathan:

He watched in amazement, seeing you so shy and in a shy to being confident and standing tall. HE was in awe; his mouth fell open at some point. He felt like a child again, recalling how he has memories of having similar reactions when Lucifer did things. He followed you paint strokes, watching the painting come to life. When you turned around, he gave you the biggest smile, he was so happy to see you so passionate and happy with your work.

Even though the memory of being chased by Henry 1.0 was fresh in your mind, you decided to recapture him for Levi. So he could always have him hanging in his room. Levi was speechless when he saw it, he would whisper thank you to you. His smile made it so worth it.

Satan:

He found it super important to text his brothers that you were painting in the garden or about to start. The chat blew up with excitement. He grabbed a random book; he had no intention to read the book, but he didn’t want you to think he was staring at you. He sat underneath the trees near you and opened the book and started to pretend to read. He was amazing and honored that he could watch the full process of watching your painting coming to life. From the rough sketch, then the base paint, and then watching you add more and more color. When he saw his brothers come out, he raised one finger to his lips, to ensure they stayed quiet.

He didn’t ask you to paint him anything but asked if he could watch you occasionally. Which you mostly agreed to, though with more intimate projects you would tell him next time. You ended up painting himself something anyways. It was an old-world map, Fra Mauro map. It was made in Italy and even included the Garden of Eden. When he first saw it, he was speechless, he was excited though. This painting would go so well in his room, it matches the old-world library setting he had in his room. He was even more excited because he has a book about old-world maps that Fra Mauro is featured in it. The hug he pulled you into took your breath away, but you felt so happy because of his reaction.

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus was excited to see you painting again. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive to watch you get lost in your art. While he was watching you paint, he couldn’t stop thinking about what other things you could paint and wondered if you would be okay with painting him like a French girl. Soon he disregarded the thoughts and simply appreciate the art in front of him, though he decided that you were really the masterpiece here.

Instead of painting Asmodeus a picture on canvas, you asked him to take off his shirt and lay down on his bed. You had brought your paints and paint brushed, while he was confused, he complied.

“This is going to be cold, sorry,” you gave him a heads up before you painted the stroke on his back. Asmodeus love it, you were turning him into a piece of your art. It felt intimate and precious. Though it was cold, and he complained and shivered, he was excited to see the final product.

Once you were done, you took a picture of your painting on his and yours D.D.D. You told him you combined two of your favorite paintings by Vincent Van Gogh, Starry Night but instead of the yellow stars, it was Van Gogh’s sunflowers.

Beelzebub:

He was the most excited out of the brothers, he was so happy to see you painting again. Seeing it come to life right in front of him, gave him a new appreciation for art. He could have watched you paint forever, you looked so carefree and relaxed. He didn’t know how much he missed your smile. After you were done and the painting was dried, he would ask if he could trace the colors. He would pull you into a huge hug and spin you around, making you cling onto him and laughing.

Beelz would ask instead of painting him something if you could have a paint night with him. You decided to pull up a Bob Ross video and follow it together. The results were dramatic, yours look close to Ross’ but had your unique style, while Beelz tried his hardest and it did resemble the reference paint. You started to giggle at his painting and before you knew it, Beelz took his extra paint and flung it at you. You let out a shriek before joining in, in the end, you both ended up covered in paint and laughing at each other.

Belphegor:

Belphegor was napping when his D.D.D started going off like crazy, he was annoyed until he saw that it was about you were about to paint. It gave him a jolt of energy to rush out to the garden. He was the last brother to get there. Standing behind you, he watched how your brush danced across the page and how your body swayed. You seem in your element and lost in your work. It was so relaxing to watch you paint, how the colors swirled together and just seeing how relaxed and happy you were seemed to rub off on him.

You knew you didn’t have to paint Belphie anything, but you couldn’t help yourself. You knew exactly what you wanted to draw anyways. You set up in the Planetarium and went to work to capture the sky above you. Belphie ended up joining you, he grabbed his blanket and sat behind you before curling up and watching you paint. It wasn’t long before you heard his soft snores behind him. You chuckled at him before going back to work. When you were finished you saw he was still asleep, you couldn’t help yourself. You crept near him with a paintbrush in hand and touched his cheek with it. He woke up immediately due to the cold paint, you soon were fighting over the paintbrush. You didn’t stand a chance against him, once he had the paintbrush in hand, he gave your cheek the same treatment. You both began to laugh and once you had calmed down, you showed him the painting you did for him. He pulled you into a hug, rubbing his painted cheek against yours to smear the paint even more.

When it was time for you to leave Devildom, you gave the brothers the painting. They tried to refuse but you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Please, it’s a way for you to remember me. You inspired me to do and it’s a reminder to have hope that I’ll be back soon,” you told them a little teary-eyed. You knew you were going to miss all of them so much, but you had a renew sense and passion for painting and the brothers and Devildom has inspired a lot more pieces as soon as you got back to Earth.

#obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #belphegor obey me #Yuki Writes!#yuki writes

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twistednuns · 4 years

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October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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somethingpoeticiguess · 5 years

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Ohshc Au Idea

- Ohshc Au where they all go to art school (both performing and drawing and stuff y’know (is it called visual??))

- Sort of like the same vibe as that show on Netflix called Backstage

- The school would be one of those super prestigious art schools like the Juilliard of their universe

- Tamaki would obviously be there to study piano

- he’d spend hours in the practice rooms and all of the other pianists hate him because he’s got some sort of superhuman power when it comes to booking practice rooms before anyone else

- Kyoya would be vocal performance with a minor in Broadway type acting (help I don’t know the actual terms)

- here I go again rambling about my Kyoya can sing headcanon that I will go down with

-Babey boy would probably be known as one of those people who can sing anything throughout the school

- Everyone from school can tell his voice apart from everyone else’s

- like if they walk past a practice room and hear him singing inside they can tell instantly that it’s him

- like picture this: a senior is giving a freshman a tour of the college and they walk past the practice rooms and inside practice room 3 the Freshman can hear someone singing in the best voice that they have ever heard. The freshman says to the senior with starstruck eyes “Who’s that??” “Ahh” the senior says “That’s Kyoya Ootori, he’s kind of a legend around here”

- Hikaru would be a Shakespearean type actor

- Like he has whole ass monologues on the tip of his tongue at any given moment

- He’s a super good actor however he can’t sing for shit so he could never be in a musical

- He’s secretly jealous because Kyoya can sing so well

- They’re secretly jealous of each other

-Kyoya wishes he could act as well as Hikaru and Hikaru wishes he could sing as well as Kyoya

- Kaoru would be the one to take over their mother’s business and would study fashion and clothing design

- Even though Hikaru is the eldest he had no interest in the family business and decided to pursue acting instead

- Luckily for the Hitachiin family Kaoru took to clothing design from a very early age

- He makes clothes for the rest of the hosts on a regular basis

-He makes all of the clothes that the hosts wear for their performances and art galleries and whatnot

- The drama department loves him because he makes all of their costumes

- Mori would be a sketch artist, a painter, and a sculptor

- He’d basically do everything in the art department from drawing to welding metal figures

- he doesn’t talk much so he communicates through his art as cheesy as that sounds

- He constantly has either paint on his clothes, clay under his nails, or both at the same time

- People in the general public are slightly concerned when he opens his bag and they see a blowtorch inside

- His metal sculptures are littered all across campus

- Some of these sculptures include but are not limited to: A giant replica of Mary Poppins, Patti Lupone (Kyoya legit cried when he saw this one), and a giant metal spider that the students have so aptly named Kenneth

- Kenneth lives on top of the Art building

- Despite the fact that he’s an art student he really loves showtunes and gets really excited to see/hear Kyoya sing them

- Honey is a culinary arts student

- His specialty is (obviously) desserts

- He makes the prettiest cakes and the most delicious meals

- He has to stand on a step ladder to make those giant wedding type cakes

- He constantly smells like a bakery... like constantly

- Haruhi is a violinist

- she treats her violin like a baby. She even keeps it in the child seat part of the cart when she goes to the grocery store

- She goes to the school on a violin scholarship

- She plays a cheap violin she got from a small music store when she was ten with her birthday/Christmas money that she had been saving for years

- The way she plays that cheap little violin you’d think it was a super nice expensive one

- She’s mostly self taught

- When she was young she couldn’t afford lessons so she taught herself to play

- She only began to take lessons when she got to high school

- I imagine when she isn’t playing classical for school her playing sounds a lot like Ada Pasternak

- Ada Pasternak Video: https://youtu.be/YQSzk44hBmk

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- when they don’t live in the dorms they rent a fairly large house that they all live in together (like that house that Sam Golbach, Colby Brock, Corey Scherer, Aaron Doh, Devyn Lundy, Jake Webber, and Elton Castee lived in together)

- Tamaki has a whole ass grand piano in his room

- Nobody’s really sure how he got it in there

- He also has a keyboard that he brings around the house for jam sessions with the other hosts

- They have jam sessions in the living room

- Tamaki brings down his keyboard or he plays the little theatre piano that sits in their living room

- Haruhi brings down her little violin that she loves with all of her heart Kyoya would sing with them

- They’d do stuff like that Ada Pasternak video I put earlier in this post except instead of Haruhi singing it would be Kyoya

- Mori’s room legitimately would not be a bedroom

- It would be an art studio with a Mori sized bed in the corner and a theatre style clothing rack next to it

- he has like four easels all around the room and a desk covered in drawing pads, pencils, ink markers, colored pencils, oil paint, and random multicolored stains

- In the middle of the room he has a raised platform with whatever sculpture he’s currently working on sitting on top of it

- He has a shelf with all sorts of supplies in it

- He has like three different blowtorches, a huge array of paint brushes, different sharp things for his clay sculptures, hammers, a bunch of books on the history of art, and a dirty paint and clay covered apron with random burn holes in it

- Kyoya has like a whole arsenal of throat coat teas and herbal things in his room as well as a kettle and a hot plate

- In the corner he built a small room that only has room for one average sized person to go inside and coated the inside with sound proof padding and that’s where he practices belting and other different vocal techniques

- Kyoya absolutely loves their giant bathroom

- The acoustic qualities make him really excited he loves to sing in there

- Kyoya, Tamaki, and Haruhi sometimes jam in their fantastically acoustic bathroom because they are attracted to good acoustics the same way a moth is attracted to a bright light

- Hikaru has a whole library of scripts in his room

- like his bookshelves are just overflowing with scripts from all the plays he’s been in

- Some books on Shakespeare and the ins and outs of acting are scattered around the bookshelf too but it’s mostly scripts

- On his desk he keeps the script from the show that he’s currently in right in the middle of his desk with a pencil cup in the corner full of pens and highlighters

- He has a huge bulletin board in his room filled with pictures from different shows and different print outs of his favorite monologues and whatnot

- Kaoru’s room is similar to Mori’s in the sense that it’s barely a bedroom at all

- He has a small bed and a small dresser and the rest of the space is filled with his work

- He has a huge desk that is covered in scraps of fabric, scissors, and measuring tape

- He has a HUGE pin cushion in the corner that would be an absolute hazard if it fell to the ground

- Above his desk is a giant bulletin board similar to Hikaru’s except his is less of a collage and more of an idea board

- It’s full of sketches for new designs and has the occasional magazine clipping or inspirational quote

- Honey basically lives in the kitchen

- His room only has a bed and a dresser and a few ginormous bookshelves

- on these bookshelves are countless numbers of cookbooks

- 90% of what’s on these bookshelves is actually just regular notebooks and journal type things full of recipes that Honey has come up with himself

- The kitchen is HIS domain none of the other hosts ever use it other than to get the occasional glass of water or snack here and there

- They basically eat gourmet every night

- He cooks all of their meals and uses them as his guinea pigs

- Luckily for them 99% of the time his food is absolutely delicious

- Their house is full of just bits and pieces of what they do

- Mori’s artwork decorates the entire place

- The centerpiece for their table is a bouquet of metal flowers that Mori made

- His paintings decorate the walls and some of his sculptures sit as decorations in some of the different rooms

- There is sheet music literally all over the house

- nobody bats an eye when hey find the crescendo piece of a classical violin song on the kitchen table

- or when they find the lyrics to a classical opera song jammed in between the couch cushions

- Kaoru will often use Haruhi as his model for his dresses

- he’ll have her put on a tank top and bike shorts and literally build a dress onto her body and by the end she’s walking around the house in a whole ass Victorian style ballgown

- God help their house if Kyoya gets sick before a performance

- The amount of throat coat tea he consumes is absolutely unreal

- He has a little table with shelves behind it in his room with a tea kettle and a hot plate on it

- on the shelves behind it are boxes upon boxes of throat coat and herbal tea and a whole arsenal of mugs

- The house always smells like cooking food because Honey lives in the kitchen and is always cooking something or other

-When it doesn’t smell like food it smells like burning metal because Mori is always working on some sort of metal sculpture with one of his countless blowtorches

- This boy legit keeps a fire extinguisher in his bedroom in case he sets something on fire with said blowtorch

- Christmas season is absolutely wonderful in their house

- Tamaki and Haruhi are playing Christmas songs

- Kyoya is singing them

- Honey is making all sorts of festive dishes (You should see him on Thanksgiving he goes absolutely ham (pun intended))

- Kaoru is making festive outfits

- Mori makes each and every one of their Christmas decorations

- and Hikaru is practicing his lines for the production of A Christmas Carol that he’s in every year (This is his fourth time playing Scrooge!)

- But all in all this is a house where creativity flourishes and they all boost each other’s creativity to the max

- and of course they all graduate and become extremely successful and stay close knit forever

BONUS:

- Renge is also a vocalist she performs with Kyoya very often

- Kasanoda is a ballet student

- People are surprised he does something so graceful and elegant because he looks scary but when you really think about it it fits his personality

- Nekozawa is a poet (Edgar Allan Poe 2.0)

#ouran high school host club #ouran headcanons #kyoya ootori #tamaki suoh #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin #takashi morinozuka #mitsukuni haninozuka #ohshc au #art school au #renge houshakuji #ritsu kasanoda #umehito nekozawa #haruhi fujioka

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stressedlady · 5 years

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2,5k of god knows how to call this Enjoltaire fic...

The Portrait

He didn't want to be there. The light, the colorful dresses the ladies around him wore, the alcohol he had been practically forced to drink...he felt dizzy and slightly confused.

However, the blond wasn't going back home by any means. He had had a fight with his father and was not willing to give that bastard the satisfaction of thinking that he was dependent of him in any way.

How had Enjolras ended in that famous brothel? Well, in the second he told Courfeyrac that he couldnt return home for the night his friend dragged him and Combeferre to the Moulin Rouge. They stared for a while at the beautiful ladies dancing for a while, both of his friends were quite interested but Enjolras face expressed nothing more than indifference, deep resignation and anger.

"This is inmoral." declared the blond.

"That's what a priest would say, and you hate the clergy..." replied Courfeyrac with a wide smile.

"Well, my arguments are quite different, this poor girls are treated like objects to play with by those rich men because they need their dirty money to survive in this society who shames them as if they criminals. Some of them are probably being forced to work here and have to give the most of their earnings to someone else" He sighed. "And we are just contributing this injustice by coming to this place."

"Hell, now I feel guilty" snorted Courfeyrac, considering his friend’s words. But seconds later a man who was about their age approached them.

"Goodnight, Monsieur Courfeyrac" said the man with bright blue eyes and curly black hair. "I just came to say hello before leaving, I see you are in company, I don't want to bother you."

Saying this, his eyes went in a fast gaze from the lad he already knew to the one wearing glasses and to the blond. He smirked at Enjolras' serius face before turning his eyes back to Courfeyrac.

"Grantaire! Goodnight my friend. Don't leave yet, it's uncommon to see you out of your study, and sober..."

"Well, I wanted to take a break from all the comissions and projects, leave the oil paints aside for a couple of hours." He sighed. "But it seems that I've grown used to be alone or with very little company and now this much people and noise is overwhelming."

"Do not lie, you've never been a friend of crowds." He said with a grin. "Let me introduce you to my friends: Monsieur Combeferre, Monsieur Enjolras, this is Grantaire, one of the most brilliant artists of Paris."

Grantaire laughed "Oh, you are the one who lies to them. I don't even reach the rating of artist. Now I should leave to home and get drunk, nice to meet you..."

"Wait!" exclaimed Courfeyrac. "Would you mind to take my friend, Enjolras, with you?" The artist raised his eyebrows, and the blond one frowned. "He wants to do the morally right thing and leave this place but of he is left alone in the streets he will probably get killed by some robber, you are leaving and if you are not in company, you'll probably drink youself to death. Am I wrong?"

Grantaire looked at Enjolras again, trying to scrutinise his beautiful features with the dim light of the place. Then answered smiling "Not at all."

"Then it's done, Enjolras, you may go with Monsieur Grantaire." he said, practically pushing Enjolras off of his chair. "Wait, what?" sputtered Enjolras out of confusion.

"Just follow me, unless you want to stay here." Indicated the artist, with a smirk.

The atmosphere into the Moulin Rouge was really heavy, people flooded every single room and it was so warm that it was hard not to feel dizy. But the two young men went through and, when they crossed the main entrance and stepped into the cold empty streets, they sighed of relief.

"Would you want me to scort you home? This streets are dangerous at night and, without any intention of offending you, sir, you don't seem very able to defending yourself..."

"Being true, going home is the last thing I'd like to do tonight and, trust me" the blond boy raised slightly the lap of his jacket, showing the artist a small revolver he had in a inside pocket, his face turning serious "I'm not as naïve and helpless as I may seem."

"Good" replied Grantaire quite surpraised "Then, may I invite you to spend the night at my apartment? I mean, chatting and that stuff..."

"Won't I bother you?" Asked Enjolras a bit concerned. "You said you had work to do and, well, you look pretty tired."

"If I go back home alone I'll probably get drunk and stay awake until the alcohol beats me down which may happen around four in the morning...so I would be rather pleased to have company.” he smirked. “And more if it's company of a man who wanted to get out of a brothel because he thought it was inmoral." They had already headed to the artist's flat. "And, don't take me wrong but I'm dying in desires to paint you a portrait, you are really beautiful."

Enjolras blushed slightly but remained composed. “It’s okay for me...”

Grantaire’s flat wasn't the most luxurious or tidy place he had ever been into but, Enjolras thought, was much better than to stay at the Moulin Rouge. The flat was composed by two big rooms. The first one, in which you entered from the front door, was a kind of small and pretty precarious kitchen. There were a small table with two chairs, a wooden old cupboard in a corner and a firewood kitchen, everything surprisingly clean if you let the five empty wine bottles on the table go unnoticed. Grantaire guided Enjolras to the next chamber and inmediately mumbled something like "Sorry for the mess, I wasn't specting any visit tonight..."

That room was a bedroom, livingroom and studio all together. The funiture was composed by a single person bed in a corner in front of one of the big windows which pierced two of the walls, a desk which filled the space next to the bed and in another corner there was a old wardrobe. The rest of the stuff were basicaly art supplies. Big white canvases and stands were splayed across the place, paintbrushes of every sizes and textures and a lot paint could be found everywhere in that chamber. Some finished portraits and paintings rested in a corner against the wall and some others, unfinished, filled the stands.

Enjolras entered in the room, followed by his host, and after looking at the composition the previous elements formed, he drived his attention to the finished and ongoing paintings. Portraits of some men who, by the way they looked, would pass as what his father would call a 'respetable gentleman' and he would define as an 'elitist bastard', some still alives and one or two religion themed paintings.

"These are really good." said the guest as Grantaire setled the necesary material to paint the blond boy.

"Thank you, but those are mostly commisions, I actuallyi hate them. They are unoriginal, and ordinary, but is what rich people like to put in their walls covered with silk... and a man needs to eat." he sighed with a resignated smile, staring at Enjolras who had turned to him. He set a wooden stool which Enjolras had not even seen and approached the blond to take his jacket and hat and put them aside. But first he pointed at the jacket, smirking.

"Your weapon is still here, are you sure you trust me enough to stay unarmed?" Enjolras giggled in a way that made the other man grin sweetly.

"Keep that thing away from me, please. I would hate to fire that crap if is not for a really good reason."

"Okay, then I won’t give you any good reasons." said the artist with a smirk and pointed the stool. “Could you, please, sit here however you like and talk as much as you want?”

“Of course.” Enjolras hummed, doing as he was told, a bit confused but smiling pleasantly and watching the artist disappear behind a canvas of 1m x 50 cm "And what would you like to paint then?" The answer was simple, "Whatever the hell I want and however the hell I want. For example, now I want to paint you like the fine marble you seem to be combined with the impression I get of you as you talk."

" ...great" said Enjolras. The man of dark curls had awaken his curiosity.

"So, l'm curious, why would you think going to the Moulin Rouge is immoral, if I may ask?"

"Well, first of all..." he described a long list of reasons which could perfectly answered Grantaire's question: the public shaming and the terrible treatment fo the costumers to the women who worked there, the miserable pay they had, how ephemeral was their work and so on. He went on his ranting for a half an hour or so, the artist painting his features serious and quite focused. Was surprised that the boy was aware of the injustices of the world surrounding him and was not afraid to put them down in words. However, a sudden doubt crossed his mind.

"Okay, I understand, our society is hypocritical and unfair but..." he lifted his eyes from the canvas and set them on the boy's bright blue eyes. "why the hell should you care at all? "

Enjolras' expression turned serious, but not of anger or anoyance, but with the severity of a man who speaks of his beliefs. His blue eyes seemed to be filled with passion, and so did his voice. "Because I am unable to turn my back to the misery in which a big part of the french citizens is living, I can't spend a hundred francs in a coat while there are families starving in the streets of Paris, and will never think myself or anyone better or supperior because of how rich or powerful they are." His words were frivolous and he knew it, but were as honest as a drunk man's. Later he smiled, looking into the artist's eyes. "I believe that all men and women on earth are created equal and shall live in freedom, and I will fight for it."

Grantaires eyes were wide open, staring at the man in front of him. Enjolras wasn't a god or an angel like he had thought at first, he was something he felt more distant and foreign, an idealist with the will to change the world, to make it better.

"Yours is a lost cause, my friend." The artist finally said, hiding himself back again behind the canvas, sighing. "You know it, don't you?"

"Probably, but I don't care, I will defend it with my life." he replied. 'You'll die young, then.' Grantaire thought to himself, feeling a sharp sting in his heart.

The conversation went on quite normal, Enjolras told Grantaire why he didn't want to go home and why he had argued with his dad. The artist told him about the pedant rich old men, their arrogant wives and even more arrogant descendency who commisioned him and how much he hated them. He also talked about his younger sister and how smart she was. They enjoyed their time together and around six in the morning, when the sun had just started rising, painting the sky of beautiful yellow, orange and pink-ish colours and filling the room in which both young men were with a warm light, the portrait was finished.

"Done, come and see."

Enjolras stood up and walked next to the artist.

He looked at the painting and his eyes sparkled like stars, but remained silent. "Well, do you like it?"

In the painting, his clothes were quite different. He wasn't wearing a white shirt and an expensive vest, made with the finest fabrics, but some more modest, a plane white shirt with puffed sleeves and a red vest. There was a detail Enjolras loved and which made him smile warmly: in his chest there was pinned a cockade with the colours of the French flag. This was a common accessory for French revolutionaries and rebels, who Enjolras admired and respected. In the portrait he looked quite calm, with a smile, but his eyes sparkled with passion and decission. His blond curls and pale skin seemed to have their own light because around him, over the dark background, a light like the ones around gods and angels had in classicist paintings surrounded him.

"I love it, it's...perfect." Enjolras said out of pure joy. Grantaire observed him tenderly and felt his heart pounding in his chest when Enjolras set a hand on his shoulder "You are a really good artist, Grantaire."

"Thanks, and you a really good model." Answered his compliment. Both of them were slightly blushing, staring at each other. When he noticed this, Enjolras' cheeks turned completely pink and turned his sight to the canvas again.

"And how much will it be?" asked suddenly the blond.

"How much will it be, what?" Grantaire looked confused.

"The portrait..."

"Oh, you don't have to pay me."

Enjolras jumped in the place "No way, I can't have you up this late, painting me and later giving you nothing in return!"

"Of course you can, I'm doing this mostly for fun, and you have stayed there, awake, as I painted. I am not rich but I can afford to paint with no ecconomical profit in return."

"I don't care, I want to pay you." answered Enjolras stubbonrly.

"I won't take any money or anything material." said the artist with a smirk . "I swear the is no need to pay me, Enjolras."

"But-"

"Look, just come back, that will be enough. Come back, pose for me again... I don't know if you can tell but I'm a pretty lonely man and some company won't make me any bad. Only if you want, I mean." he looked quite nervous and embarassed by his own request. "You can't take your portrait with you yet, the oil paint takes a week or so to get dry, you should come to pick it next Sunday."

"I can come earlier if you'd like..." said Enjolras tentatively as he took his jacket and was scolted by Grantaire to the front door.

"Whenever you want, I'm always here."

"Is tomorrow okay? I have some work to do today but I'll be free tomorrow."

Grantaire smiled widely, noticing that the boy had liked him a bit.

"Yes, tomorrow will do."

Enjolras reached out to give the artist the traditional French kiss-on-each-cheek, which took Grantaire quite out of guard. "See you tomorrow, then." and he left.

Grantaire sighed, walked back to his bedroom and turned stood in front of the finished portrait, wondering if such a beautiful creature was real or that boy was just fruit of his imagination and the last hours had been a dream or a illusion. Maybe he had met an angel or a god, a son of Apollo, or Apollo himself, perhaps.

He put his hands into his pockets, before empty, and hummed when he felt four small heavy objects inside his left pocket. Grantaire took them and couldn't help feeling surprised as he looked at the four 20 franc gold coins on his hand. He rapidly deduced that Enjolras had put them there while giving him the two kisses. He smirked.

"That little motherf-"

#les mis #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #exr #enjoltaire fic #exr fic #1900 AU (?#fanfiction #I mentioned this idea in another post...#les miserables

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breadoffoxy · 4 years

Text

Changing Tides | 7

Summary: At a young age you thought you had your life all figured out. You would marry your crush and become a world renown artist. It was perfect. That is until a childhood friend, your clumsy cousin, an intimidating rival, a nosy neighbor, an art prodigy, a beautiful dancer and a perfectionist workaholic destroyed those plans for better or for worse.

Pairing: some f. reader x Hoseok, f. reader x Jungkook, and f. reader x Jimin

Genre: Slice of Life, awkward teenage years to college au, eventual romance, angst, fluff

Word Count: 1168

Warnings: Taehyung being a flirt (it wasn’t supposed to be like this),some vague and very brief mentions to sexual situations.

Prev | Next

The smell of oil paint fills the air despite the window being open. Despite the harshness of it, the students in the studio barely pay any mind to it anymore. It's grown familiar and somewhat comforting. You just don't want the strong smell in your home. After a couple of semesters frequenting the studio, the large classroom has become your second home. You practically live there more than at your apartment it seems like.

There are only a couple of students left in the studio at this time of day, with the rest of them eating, drinking, or slacking off. Honestly, you didn't understand why some people went to college if they weren't going to do the work. You have a corner of the room with your name on it. Supplies and food litter the table. It appears to be a mess but a trained eye can see the organization. At least it's better than the freshmen's desks. You worked hard to get the large setup space near the window. You set your paintbrush down with a sigh and massage your hand. It's been cramping up again.

"You know, you should get a brace for that soon." A low voice resonates from the corner of the room suddenly making you startle slightly. You see the other most beautiful man you know looking at you before moving his gaze back to his paining. Kim Taehyung is in the corner of the room with a large space dedicated to him as his work station. He's the best in your class. Hell, he's probably the best in the school. The man's dark, chestnut hair is held back by a bandanna. Under his painting apron is some brand name clothes, possibly Gucci. Your honestly too poor and fashion senseless to know, but it looks like something someone on a cover of a magazine would wear.

"It'll be fine. I've been here for most of the day now, so it's probably that."

Taehyung snorts in response, "And I've been here longer than you." He waves his paint brush at you. "Go take a break y/n-ie."

Moving your hand into another stretch you feel a tight pull. Resigned, you mumble out a "Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

Your feel your face heat immediately in reaction to his words and that smirk on his face. Your sweet classmate really was the devil. You trusted him like no other though despite his teasing ways. Having to face awful group projects with incompetent classmates brought you two solidarity in the late nights the both of you had to do more of your share of work. The two of you are also two of the few regular students who show up on the weekends to get work done. It's left a lot of time to get to know each other.

"How's your piece going?" You look over at Taehyung's canvas as you sit on your tall, metal stool.

"It's coming along. Just have to fill in these last few shapes. I feel like its missing something though."

You stare at the colorful abstract piece in front of you. Humming, you tap your chin in thought. While you could dabble in abstract unlike a lot of your classmates, your focus was on the human body and motion. "Maybe add more yellow."

Taehyung chuckles at your answer, "That's what you always say." Despite saying that, he cleans his brush off and dabs it lightly in his mixed yellow. He smears a line down the side of his painting, "But I think you might just be right this time."

Honestly you don't understand the mind of Taehyung because that is the last space you would have added any yellow.

"So, when do I get to meet your infamous childhood friend?"

"Infamous?" you trail off as you think of all the times you must have mentioned Jungkook. In your down time you've told Taehyung about your childhood and sure Jungkook came up a lot. You may have mentioned a few times how you were excited that your younger friend was starting classes this semester too. Despite being on the same campus you've barely seen each other due to the heavy classwork. Jungkook is a perfectionist and Hoseok is hardworking senior that pushes everyone to their fullest.

"He invited me to his dance practice at the end of the week. You can tag along too if you want."

"Ah, so we can go meet your other lover boy?"

"Please stop calling Hoseok that."

Despite being on the same campus as your crush Jung Hoseok you have also barely seen each other due to his work as well. He is always either in dance practice or working on verses with Namjoon and Yoongi. A frown comes to your face as you think of the older man. Your still hopelessly in love with the nicest man on campus, and everyone knows it too.

"Not to be nosy or anything," you roll your eyes at his leading statement. "but honestly it's time for you to confess or move on. He's basically playing with you at this point."

"He is not playing with me." Your tone gets a bit defensive.

"Honestly everyone knows your obsessed with him. Even he's not that oblivious."

"I'm not going to just give up."

"Then stop being a coward." His words hit you harshly and you recoil. You have nothing to say to that because it is true. You've had so many opportunities to tell Hoseok you love him. There are so many years shared between the two of you but you have always been too scared to take that leap. Your scared of rejection. Your scared of hurt.

Taehyung's posture softens as he can feel the defeat radiating off your form. He turns away from his painting to show the sympathy in his eyes.

"Just put some confidence in yourself. Look at me for example." Your eyes roam the artist as he points to himself. "I know I'm good looking. So does your neighbor." You can't help but snort in confirmation. "I know you hear everything that goes on his apartment, and you've definitely heard of my escapades." Yes, you definitely have.

"Part of what makes us so attractive to some people is because we put ourselves out there and don't care what others think. You need to stop caring about others opinions and realize how awesome you are. Go out there and get your man. Do you really think confessing to Hoseok would ruin everything?"

You avoiding eye contact with your lips tightly closed is your answer. "If everything breaks apart because you tell him how your feeling, then screw him. You deserve better than that."

Rubbing at your eyes that are now getting watery to avoid any tears, you quietly sniffle out, "Thanks Tae."

He smiles genuinely. "Anytime." He waves his paintbrush at you again with a playfully stern expression. "Okay, break time's over."

The sound of popping fills the air as you flex your dominant hand. "Aye, Aye captain."

#btsghostie #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #v fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #my writing #changing tides

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carmintros · 5 years

Photo

@ariwalters / ❛ ｡ ✩ ﾟ my eyes are probably playing tricks on me again, but is that really awsten knight? oh, wait, it’s just adrian “ari” lance walters. yes, that twenty-four year old drummer, who i am pretty sure is a visitor. according to the talk of the town, he is incredibly flighty & unpredictable, yet undeniably outgoing & adventurous. that is precisely why a playground at dawn, a carnival ride that just keeps spinning, chasing waves on a beach, laughing until you cry & jackson pollock paintings remind me of them so much, but then again you know what they say about leos, we’ll see how that one turns out ! penned by kit / mst & they / them

car crash tw, ptsd tw, alcoholism tw

Ari Walters

Age: 24

Gender: Non-binary, he/him

[Between the Bars] - “Haha, not totally sure why this one comes to mind but like everyone says it’s like me with alcohol and stuff but I don’t really see it, I think I’m fine.”

D.O.B: August 15, 1995

Why the name Ari?

“Oh! I was named after my dad ‘cept he was always called Adrian so they called me Ari so no one got confused or anything!! It always worked really good too!”

Ethnicity: white

Relationship Status: In multiple relationships “I fall a little in love with everyone, I think, because everyone is beautiful and wonderful. I’m kind of the classic definition of poly, lol. People underestimate how much communication that takes though!”

Sexual Orientation: pan “Like I said, I fall in love with everyone! I can’t help it, haven’t you ever watched someone go about their life and you can just tell if they’re gentle or rough, if they need love or if they’re loved, et cetera? I love it and I love them.”

Appearance:

Height: 5’7

Ari resembles a puppy with ADHD. He is constantly moving, constantly engaged with the world and constantly interacting with everyone around him. He has to be active. If he sits still he might fall asleep and he still gets nightmares of the wreck.

His signature ‘thing’ has been his dyed hair for years. He doesn’t think he would recognize himself without it at this point. He thought about dying it back to brown for April Fools day one year but realized it’s been so long since seeing his real hair that he didn’t remember what color to get to match his roots.

Ari has an almost compulsive seeming need to be the most colorful person in any space he’s in. He wants to stand out and he does so by being a walking color wheel. Strangely, he manages to make his outfits cohesive.

You can’t get too close to Ari without noticing how tired he always looks. His eyes are always a little swollen and bloodshot and his skin has the uncomfortable thin appearance of someone much older or much sicker than him. If he’s asked about it he jokes that he’s just ugly (though most people would agree he is anything but ugly).

History:

Ari can split his life into a perfect before and after the wreck.

Before. Ari had a perfectly wonderful childhood. He was loved and taken care of in his historical Boston home. His dad taught Marine Biology at Harvard, his mom was the perfect socialite and Ari and his sisters were happy

His days consisted of school and drawing and going to the beach with his dad to learn about the animals. If Ari was to assign an emotion to that period of his life it would be love. If he had to assign a color it would be pink.

His life before was like something from a 50s sitcom. It was perfect. He knows rationally that he’s seeing through rosy lenses. He thinks he remembers his dad having an affair. He knows his sister and he argued a lot and he was such a mischievous child it kept him in trouble a lot of the time. He knows this. But it feels different. It feels idyllic compared to after.

His entire world shattered when he was 13. His family shouldn’t have even been out. If only he hadn’t argued with his sister. If only he had just set the table then maybe his dad wouldn’t have suggested eating out. Maybe if his mom and little sister had been home instead of in California they could have told his dad no, it wasn’t their day for eating out and they would all be fine eating at the house. Maybe if his sister hadn’t forgotten her phone and made them turn back so she could retrieve it because she was so scared of missing a text from her boyfriend.

Maybe….

Maybe they wouldn’t have been crossing the intersection when the other driver plowed through it. Maybe they wouldn’t have spun out and hit another car. Maybe his dad and his sister and the little boy from the other car and the driver who caused it all would still be alive. Maybe…

After. Ari doesn’t remember the crash itself. He doesn’t remember seeing his father’s body crushed against the interior of their car even though he’s since been told he was trying to pull him out. He doesn’t remember his sister’s glassy, dead stare though he was told he screamed at her to wake up. He doesn’t remember the ambulance ride but he’s told he fought the paramedics to try to get to his family.

He doesn’t remember getting to the hospital and being admitted.

He only starts remembering sitting in that big hospital room alone for what felt like hours (he knows now that it was only a few minutes at a time) while nurses bustled past the door outside trying to focus on the lives that were at risk after the crash. Even still, the evening comes in flashes. A teary eyed woman with a heavy accent telling him his mom would be there soon and rubbing his back. A doctor, young and frazzled, bursting into his room to tell the cops to leave and stop asking him about it. The smell of oil and burning metal seared so strongly into his skin it made his head hurt.

He remembers the funeral. Closed casket, both buried at the same time. He remembers packing up the house and selling it and moving to New York. He doesn’t think he felt real during that time. He kept waiting to wake up and find out it was just a terrible dream. Part of him still hopes he wakes up.

–

His mom didn’t try to neglect his mental health when they moved. Despite having help from family she still had to take on two jobs, she had two children to raise alone and she had just lost her husband and little girl. It was hard to be everything Ari needed her to be too.

She did her best. He was sent to a mental health clinic and given regular therapy sessions for a while where he was diagnosed with PTSD and a trauma based phobia regarding riding in cars.

She put him in music lessons to give him an outlet. She enrolled him in an arts high school so he could find similarly minded creative young people and hopefully make friends in their new city.

It didn’t really work. You can’t throw a shattered kid back into society and expect them not to drown. And Ari drowned.

When he was almost 15 he tasted alcohol for the first time at a sleepover. The idea of it had fascinated him since the wreck. How could one liquid be so influential that it would lead you to kill other people? What did it feel like to slip into a haze that strong.

His first sip was revolting. It burned on the way down and he was convinced he could still feel it burning his stomach. He almost put the bottle up and gave up on learning its allure. Something about it still called to be explored and who was Ari to say no?

He snuck the bottle into his bag and drank a little more the next day after school. Just enough to feel warm again and for his brain to quiet and center just a little bit more.

The alcohol made everything better. He felt more human again when he was tipsy. It didn’t take long for Ari to begin to crave it just to function. He started stealing it from his mom’s cabinet and then from the sweet old lady who paid him to take her groceries upstairs. When he was caught stealing from them he started trying to steal it from stores.

He was caught right away, of course, but not by an employee. Instead he was caught by a tall, average looking man in his early 30s. The man, who Ari soon learned was named Sean, offered to buy the alcohol for Ari and invited Ari over to drink with his girlfriend Eliana. Ari agreed immediately.

That night he lost his virginity to the pair. The two adults offered to keep Ari’s alcohol supply always filled so long as he continued to sleep with them. Ari instantly agreed.

—-

After he started drinking he somehow managed to pull his grades up. He felt real when he was drunk. He felt functional. He could do his coursework and practice the drums and paint and even explore New York. He quickly fell in love with the city and learned how to navigate his borough on his skateboard. He learned what buildings he could sneak into and hookup with classmates in without being caught, all the best places for graffiti and where the coolest homeless people hung out.

As Ari progressed through his teenage years his ‘adventures’ got crazier. He broke into the zoo ones and barely escaped getting caught. He hitchhiked out of the city and spent a weekend far upstate before calling his mom from a payphone and getting her to pick him up. He smuggled paint into his homeroom and painted an abstract mural on the teacher’s desk.

Not everything was illegal. He once snuck into an early morning wholesale flower market and convinced a florist to buy him enough white roses to leave one on every grave in The Cathedral Basilica of St. James cemetery and even convinced some of his friends to help him distribute them. He raised money once and bought everyone at his school pizza for lunch so “the lunch people get a day off.”

When he was asked to play drums for a new band that was forming he had to say yes. It was just a chance at another adventure.

—-

He never expected them to get as famous as they did. He figured they would disband rapidly and he could go to college for marine biology. Like his dad. Obviously, that didn’t happen.

Miraculously for all of Ari’s adventures and alcoholism he didn’t have any major scandals during the bands active time. He left that for Jae.

Instead he tried to fly under the radar. He didn’t want anyone picking up on his issues. He maintained his alcoholism, adventured in the cities they toured through and focused on art when they weren’t making music.

—

Slowly he began to tire of not remembering as much of his life as he wanted to. People Ari had no memory of would come up to him as though they knew him. He got an STI without even knowing who it was from. He woke up in places he had never seen before. He destroyed things in his house and drove people away.

The catalyst came just before the band was put on hiatus and he was approached by an ex. Apparently during a drunken escapade he hadn’t used protection and had gotten the girl pregnant a few years ago. She’d had the baby and suddenly he was being asked if he wanted to be a father. He didn’t, of course, but he also didn’t want this to ever happen again.

Ari used the move to California as a chance to change everything. He swore he was going sober and wouldn’t return to the lifestyle he’d had before.

—

Now, freshly sober in California, he’s trying to figure out how to balance his new life. He’s still adventuring but it looks different without drinking. He isn’t sure if he likes it or not.

Personality -

“Ari is a rollercoaster. It could get exhausting except you don’t see him that often since he’s dating half the town at any given time. But he’s a blast anyway, especially when he’s sober enough to know up from down. You will have the most wild dates with him but you’ll have the time of your life. He rented a barn once and hired a band so we could have a ‘good old fashioned barn dance’ because he’d just seen one in a movie. It was insane. Best date of my life. That’s why it’s such a shame that he drinks so much. When he’s sober or only tipsy he’s amazing but the more drunk he gets the more the shine wears away. We actually broke up because he punched a hole through a mirror once and cried that he hated how he looked. I just… couldn’t do that. I hate it but I couldn’t.” Jessica B, ex-girlfriend.

Ari is the pinnacle of a yes-man. He agrees to almost everything so long as no one is hurt and he seems very morally grey. So long as no one gets hurt he’s down to try anything. He is high energy and always seems super cheerful. Ari is the kind of person who draws others to him just by how cheery and upbeat he is.

Ari is a romantic at heart. He says he falls in love with everyone and it honestly feels true. He sees something beautiful in everyone he meets and so he always dates multiple people at a time. It helps that he needs company all the time or the negative emotions he’s pushed away since he was a teenager begin to come creeping up.

He can never let that creep up. When it does it overwhelms him and he feels as scared and as lost as he did the entire year following the crash. He doesn’t talk about those emotions and he definitely doesn’t acknowledge that anything is wrong even when it’s exhausting to keep the smile. He doesn’t want to validate them and make them real. Ari will do anything to keep himself from ever feeling that sad and broken again.

It’s part of why he’s such an adrenaline junkie. His thrill seeking is one of the things he’s most known for in his fame. He has an adventure list a mile wide with everything from “Show up at an airport and take the next flight wherever it goes” to “scattering change along the city streets for people to find.”

Hobbies:

Art. Ari loves abstractivism and unconventional art. One of his projects that he was working on before coming to Carmel was saving every bottle from every drink he had over the course of a year so he could display it as a piece. He wasn’t sure about the title for it yet.

Exploring

Going on dates and adventures

He really wants to get a normal job because he thinks it would be hilarious to, say, work at a deli or diner because he’s technically a rock star.

Health:

Ari has PTSD. He doesn’t acknowledge it but it definitely impacts his ability to exist normally. He’s terrified of cars (he still doesn’t drive but he claims it’s because he would rather just skateboard everywhere) and he acts more recklessly to try to distract from it.

Physically he’s actually pretty healthy (aside from his chronic exhaustion). He eats well and works out, now that he’s quit drinking (besides a few relapses here and there) he is largely a super healthy individual.

wanted connections

Partners!!!! Ari is pan and poly so he is down for however many partners he has at any given time. He loves going on dates and hooking up. The more the merrier as far as he’s concerned, too!

Baby-mama. Ari found out he got someone pregnant and it was the largest catalyst for sobriety. They have a rocky relationship regarding the child because Ari really doesn’t feel ready to be a dad but I’m open to if they’re civil or uncivil outside of that.

Confidant. Everyone needs someone they can trust. Even Ari, who’s close relationships never seem to get past sleeping together and casual dating. This can be a friend, a friend of a friend or even someone he’s sleeping with.

#carm:intro

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three-houses-text-files · 5 years

Text

leonie/raphael

c-a support + paired ending

Raphael: Hey, Leonie! Are you just getting back? Whoa! What's with the bag? It's huge! Leonie: Oh, this? Ha... I thought I'd get all my chores done at once. Guess it got a little out of hand. L: Sorry to be a pain, but could you help me out? R: I’m happy to help! Where'd you go to get all this stuff? L: Well, first it was just the cloth scraps from the tailor, and then it was the used oil from a restaurant in town... L: After that, it was the books the scholars didn't know what to do with. I mean, that was just on the way. R: Whoa. It sounds like you did a lot of running around today. L: It wasn't so bad! I just figured it would save time if I did it all in one trip. R: You planned all that out? Impressive! R: What are you gonna do with all the stuff you got? L: The scraps will be good for dish cloths, and I can make soap from the oil. The books are just to help with my studies. R: You really can't let anything go to waste, can you? L: Nope. Can't stand the idea. R: Who knew you were so thoughtful! I mean, with actual thinking ahead. R: You’re so generous to everyone and always making me food. I never knew how much thought you must put into it! L: I cook to relax. And it's nice seeing how enthusiastic you get about eating what I make. L: Whatever I give away is just the stuff that isn't useful to me. I pick up all sorts of things when I'm in town. L: Giving things like that to people who need them, or who can actually use them, makes sure they aren't wasted. R: That makes sense. You've gotta use up the stuff you've got, after all. R: Hey, do you think you're like this because you didn't have much growing up? L: I guess times were tough, now that you mention it. The folks in my village definitely aren't rich. L: My dad had to go through a lot of trouble to get the recommendations I needed to attend the academy. L: That doesn't mean I've grown up to be stingy. It just means I don't like to squander. L: Anyway, enough of that. It's in poor taste to go on about your own hardships. L: I've always got time for a meal with a friend. And it so happens I picked up some choice meat today. Why don't we share it? R: Now you're speaking my language!

——————————————————————————————

L: Oh, it's Raphael. What's he doing at that desk? R: … L: Hey! Are you studying? I thought you'd given up on it. Nice to see you're... R: Waaaugh! L: What the?! R: Oh! Leonie! L: What's wrong? Why are you crying? R: I-I just got a thank you letter from my little sister! L: OK, maybe start from the beginning. R: My little sister lives with my grandpa now. R: She’s had to deal with so much since I decided not to take over the family business. L: You might have to back up a bit more before this starts to make sense to me. R: Our parents were merchants, but they died in an accident. We had some money saved at first, but... R: But Grandpa isn't healthy enough to work, and I'm not smart enough to work a job that requires... much thinking. L: That's really tough. Hard to make a fortune with just your strength, I'm sure. R: I had to sell all our valuables just to pay my way here so I could become a knight! L: Wow. That's a lot of pressure. R: My sister wants the best for me, but— R: She’s the smart one in the family! She's the one that should be here! R: When I ask if she needs anything, she always says she's fine. R: She doesn't want to ask me for anything 'cause she knows I'm having such a hard time here! L: She sounds like a great kid. So, what did the letter say? R: It said she's happy and thankful for all the study materials I sent her. L: That's good, right? Wait...where did you find extras? R: I couldn't find any, so I just sent her mine. It's like you said, right? R: It’s better to give them to someone who will use them instead of letting them go to waste! L: Um, don't take this the wrong way, but don't you still kind of need those? (pre-skip) L: Um, don't take this the wrong way, but don't you think you've still got things to learn? (post-skip) L: Well, I guess if it makes her happy, it's worth it. Maybe I can scrounge something up for her too.

——————————————————————————————

L: Hey! Writing to your sister again? R: You bet! Gotta reply to these things as soon as they come in! L: You had one last week too. It's great to see you're both so good about staying in touch. L: It's especially important when there's a war going on. R: Yeah. Oh! That reminds me! My sister wrote to say how much she loved the painting supplies you sent! L: Good. I'm glad gathering those pigments paid off. R: You even made her a brush! I really appreciate you doing all that for her. L: I was fascinated with painting at that age. L: I was a pretty artistic kid, if you can believe it. Not a lot of time for it when you're hungry though. R: Sounds like you had a pretty tough time growing up too, huh? L: I guess so. We never thought of it that way. L: But it's true the children in my village don't usually get to choose their futures. L: Any one of us could have had the talent for artistic genius and never even noticed. L: I was one of the lucky ones. I only got to follow my passion thanks to my father and all the other folks. L: That's why, once I come into my own, the first thing I'll do is head back there and help the other kids. R: Oh, wow. It's like all the kids in your village are counting on you. L: Haha, no need to exaggerate it. L: Besides, it's not like I'm unique. You're working hard for your sister's future, aren't you? R: Yeah. It's like me and you are both carrying big weights. R: We should try sharing the weight with each other! You know, lighten both of our loads! L: Huh? R: If we share our problems, then we only gotta carry half the weight, right? It works out for everybody! L: It's...probably a good thing you didn't try to take on your family's business. L: If you take half of my burden, and I take half of yours, the total's still the same. R: Nah. That doesn't sound right. Everything's lighter when you don't gotta carry it alone. L: ... L: Hahaha, on second thought, you might be right. L: With the right attitude, and the right partner to share the burden, maybe it is only half the weight. R: Now you're getting it! It's a waste of energy to struggle alone when there's someone who can help you! L: That's true. And I do hate waste, as you well know. R: So when it comes to working toward the future you're after, you know I won't fall short. L: Great! And you should never fall short on sharing a big meal with me too! R: Deal!

——————————————————————————————

paired ending

Leonie took over the mercenary company formerly led by Jeralt. She ran out of money constantly, however, due to sending all of her earnings back to her village, and so developed a reputation for unpaid tavern tabs. When she came upon the inn that Raphael had been helping to run with his family, she was overjoyed to finally find a place that would trust her enough to open a new tab. In her years frequenting the establishment, she accrued such a massive debt to Raphael that the only way to pay him off was to work for him. By the time the debt was finally paid, she had moved in with him. They lived together happily for the rest of their days.

#fire emblem three houses spoilers #fe16 spoilers #fe3h spoilers #leonie x raphael #raphael x leonie

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eye-raq · 6 years

Text

Killmonger prompts: Imagine Erik Stevens being a handyman/mechanic

*wipes sweat off forehead, tossing wrench on the counter* reader: would you like something to eat? drink?” Erik let’s out a tired sigh, dimples slowly rising in the hollows of his cheeks. “ Erik: if that includes your pussy that I heard you playing wit in your bathroom then yeah.”

—————————————————————

“Ared look this is like my 10th fucking time coming to your apartment for a leaky ass pipe”

Reader: who said I called you here for a Leaky pipe? *slowly unhooks silk robe* Reader: I think it’s time you lay down the pipe instead of fixing one. * gives Erik a hungry stare, flicking tongue over upper lip*

————————————————————-

*Erik lays under your car fixing it shirtless*

Reader: “so your the mechanic I called about?”

Erik slides from under the car, sweaty with car oil stains on his smooth chest and cheek.

Reader: oh? *bits lip*

“Yeah, I’m Erik” *shakes hand slow giving you complete eye contact* “they didn’t tell me the client was gonna be this fucking gorgeous”

—————————————————————

*sits between his lap while he fixes a broken end table* “the trick to this is to make sure you get the nails in just...right” he whispered it in your ear while you hold out the many nails in the palm of your hand, chest rising with anticipation. “You see how I lined it up perfectly like that?” *takes your hand and runs it along the now smooth wood* “how does that feel?”

Reader: good as new *blush creeps up her cheek*

—————————————————————-

“FUCK!” Erik draws his hand back quick, blood forming from grazing a broken nail

Reader takes his hand in hers quick, “here I can stop the bleeding” *sucks on finger slow* “all better now?” Erik groans, eyes low, teeth grazing his lip, “fuck yessss, how does my blood taste?”

—————————————————————-

*slams you down on hood of car ripping your skirt off your ass* “you wanted this right? Coming out here with your little fucking skirts on and no fucking bra tryna tease me and shit” reader: yess daddy, I want it

*slowly slides dick inside you* “fuck...I can occupy my time with this pussy for a while that car engine can wait”

—————————————————————-

*tosses tool belt on top of car* “fuck that was some hard fucking work, I need a drink” leans on hood of car shirtless, back flexing*

—————————————————————-

“Baby, it’s so fucking nice and you made it all by yourself” *reader smiles up at Erik bright*

“Yeah you said you wanted a new dining table right?” *comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist* “I was thinking I could dick you down on it? Test how durable it is”

—————————————————————-

“Kinetic energy is the type of energy the body posses while it’s in motion” *reader stares at Erik in awe* “I’m a kinetic engineer so that means that I supply heat transfer and process equipment for industrial use” *Erik smirks slowly up at reader, eyeing her down* “this shit is turning you on isn’t it?”

—————————————————————-

*Reader fans her hot body while standing over Erik fixing her air conditioning*

“It’s just so fucking hot these days, thank you for coming all the way out here to fix my air conditioning” Erik looks up at you through his curtain of dreads, white tank top sticking to his glistening mocha skin “no problem shawty”

*stands up, stretching his muscles catching your attention* “now is there anything else you want me to fix? I got all day” Erik stares you down with allure. “Um... actually now that you mention it... the ventilation in my bed room needs fixing... you think you can help me with that?” * Erik chuckles low licking his lips* “anything for you miss”

—————————————————————-

*Erik runs his circular saw along the fresh wood in his work shop listening to Kendrick Lamar backseat freestyle, sipping on his glass of henny*

—————————————————————-

*reader runs outside because of loud banging*

“What the fuck?! It’s like 7 am why are you making all that noise”

*erik lifts his face shield, tossing his hammer in the grass flexing his arms on the banister of your steps* “well goodmorning to you too sexy” *steps closer on porch taking off his gloves* “you gonna cook a nigga some breakfast or something? I’ve been slaving out here for hours now”

—————————————————————

“That’s right take all your pinned up stress out on this wall” *reader pounds plaster wall with sludge hammer* “I sware I’m tired of putting up with his shit” *Erik walks up behind reader snatching hammer out of her hand* “I’m tired of you putting up with his shit too, wack ass nigga” *flips reader around pressing her into the broken wall* “if it was me you were fucking with I would cherish everything about you” *reader gasps lightly*

—————————————————————

“You came all the way to daddy job just to give me some pussy?” *reader spreads legs on Erik’s office desk* “you’ve been working so hard baby, fixing cars all day...I figured you deserved a treat” *Erik grunts licking his lips* “look at you, always thinking about what daddy likes” *flicks tongue over clit* “now don’t make any noise I don’t want any of the other mechanics to hear us”

—————————————————————-

*Erik pics up phone* “Hey baby, watchu want?”

“I know your busy renovating right now but I’m horny..” *reader moans* “oh yeah? What that pussy looking like?” * Erik puts down paint brush sitting on the incomplete floor, running his paint covered hand through his hair*

“It’s wet, and smooth...” *Erik hums in approval* “oh yeah? Go ahead and play with it, daddy will tell you what to do.”

—————————————————————-

@panthergoddessbast This was requested by you I hope it was a good prompt 💓💗💓💗

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lifeofbouyd · 6 years

Text

Soldier Freak

Dear Bouyd,

I hope all is well with you and thanks for giving me a chance to tell my story. I do hope you and your readers will enjoy.

Back in college, I was one of the most wanted girls. Thanks to my small waist, big ass and a pretty face who made it possible. Men and women perused me daily trying to get between my legs but I was more focused on getting an education than getting fucked or sucked by random people. I had my game all planned out until my father decided to he wasn’t gonna pay my tuition anymore. Where the hell did he expect me to get money from to pay by myself? He could have at least said he’d pay half. For one, I didn’t have a job because there was no need for a job and secondly, I didn’t have a man spending crazy money on me because that was my dad's job. Against all odds, no experience nor a known skill I started searching the classifieds for a job. Anything was better than nothing. Eventually, I found my calling, just when I was about to give up.

Ad:

Are you in need of quick cash? Have no experience but can read and write fluently? Currently enrolled in college? Earn up to 80k every month. Submit your resume to the email address provided below. We look forward to meeting you.

Call me greedy if you wish but I was not going to be a drop out. I drafted my resume and sent it off. Crossing my fingers and praying. It took only three days for me to get a response and to my surprise they wanted me to come in for an interview. I put on my “Sunday best” and headed for their office not too far away. They loved my jovial spirit and the fact that I really needed the job. Instead of placing me in the packing room for which I applied , they placed me in sales and inventory. That was 115k a month. Just like that I had made a way to survive. I was making enough to cover all my expenses and didn’t have to kiss my dad’s ass for a thing. On my way home I got a ride with a soldier dude, nigga claimed I was in a bad area and even the taxi men are rapist and thieves. I didn’t even think for a second before jumping in his military van. He was somewhat of a gentle man or at least he tried to be. He got us food and drinks before dropping me off and he didn’t even ask for my number which weird. I hadn’t seen him until about two weeks later. He picked me up from the same spot. He introduced me to his buds as his girlfriend and I played along because I wanted the free drive. He dropped them off then got us something to eat and took me back to my place.

Vybz: You wanna go out tonight? My friends and I will be hitting Taboo later on. You up for it?

Well, it was a Saturday night; no work nor school the next morn, of course I said yes. I got all dressed up and spent approximately an hour fixing my face. “Pretty on fleek” was my motto. His eyes stripped me naked the moment he picked me up. I could feel his eyes between my legs and in my bra. The feeling of him staring me down made me tingly. I reclined my seat and raised the sun roof, staring into the galaxy while sexual thoughts ran through my mind. I hadn’t had sex in a long time and I felt like I’d let him take me down if he made me have a good time. Henny, Red Bull, Campari and orange juice; an unorthodox lineup but that shit “lik mi chip”. I was super charged. I kept whining on him from front and back causing his shaft to stretch across his pants. The moment I realized how hard he was I turned around to give him a lap dance. I was showered with $100 bills. Call me greedy but I scraped it all up and tucked it in my purse. That was $7000 towards my expenses 😂. We left the party around 3 am and headed home. He touched my leg and I got soaking wet. “Mi oil did a ride mi”. I opened the sun roof trying to cool down but my body wanted something thick and milky. I reached over and pulled his zipper down to take his dick out and to my surprise it was already rock hard. I gently stroked it with my right hand while rubbing my clit with the left. Both my skirt and his seat were soaked with cum. I started climbing him while he was driving, causing him to pull to the curb. I shifted my soaked underwear to the side and sat on his pipe. Bracing against the steering with one hand on the chicken bar I started to ride his dick. He had one hand and my shoulder and the other holding my waist. In synchrony we made love. It was a shaking, squeezing, moaning, squirting kinda sex. I hadn’t felt so good in a very long time. He had me lay on my back with my legs almost touching the ceiling; deeper and sweeter he planted it inside me. Tears ran down my cheeks. He pushed me all the way to the back seat with my legs still raised. He started kissing on my already paralyzed from sex legs causing my heart to skip several beats while I gasped for breath. He slowly dragged his tongue all the way to my thong before rubbing his tongue all over it. Nigga’s tongue was at least seven inches long. He ran it up and down my clit then sticked it in and swirled it around inside me. I had to hold my mouth and close my eyes not to scream. I grabbed his head, I grabbed the seat, I slapped my pussy and did that on repeat. I vibrated like an alarming clock while I sprayed his face with hot cum. Vybz was no regular freak. He had a PHD in eating. He made me regret not fucking him the first day I saw him. I was so defenseless when he asked me to ride his dick; all I could do was ask him to take me home. I fell asleep long before he even drove off.

I woke up in a strange room. A big bed with expensive sheets. Curtains that matched nothing and a tv that seemed too big to be on the wall. I smelled something delicious coming through the door but I couldn’t help but look around as if I was lost. A big portrait hang on the wall. They had painted him as a god with a sniper rifle in his hand. That’s when I realized where I was, he had taken me to his house instead. He came through the door with a breakfast tray in his hand which was different from anything I’d ever experienced. It was a really nice gesture but I could help but noticing how sexy he was. Big arms, a muscle packed tummy, hard chest and muscle built thighs. He was smoking hot and he cooks. I had fallen in love with this man I had only planned to fuck once. I took a long warm shower trying to beat the feeling out my head but it only made me hornier. I came out with nothing but my towel on. He grabbed it off and kissed my waist. He squeezed my nipples and grabbed my ass while he ran his snake of a tongue over my legs, waist and belly bottom. I was dripping wet and shaking as if I was cold. He grabbed me by the legs and held me on his shoulders, giving him full access to my juices. His tongue created chaos. I came on his face at least five times before he held me on his manly hood. Him beat it , eat it, beat it then eat it again. I was weak to my knees. I just kept cumin. For months we had sex and it was awesome.

Good dick but great tongue. I tried avoiding him so many times but that tongue kept me coming back. He’d come by my work place to pick up to pick up supplies for the camp and on most occasions we had sex in my office. My boss decided we would have a Christmas party and we could invite our partners. He was the closest thing I had to a boyfriend and the only nigga I had sex with since the year started. I thought he’d never show up but eventually he did. He kept squeezing my ass and scratching my legs which made me super horny. I had him meet me in my office where he devoured me on the table before fucking me hard from behind. Just as he came on my ass my boss walked in. There was no covering it up.

Boss: Vybz, is this how you treat your wife? Fucking my employee at my party. Have you forgotten your wife is my sister? Venice, your fired. I gave you a job, a way to survive and this is how you repay me?

We just sat there. We couldn’t even answer her questions. He said he had a girl but he never mentioned marriage. I lost my job simply because I couldn’t keep my legs closed. On the other hand, he couldn’t keep his tongue in his mouth. He pellets a wipes from a pack I had on the desk and wiped his oats thick cum off. He slapped my ass and grabbed me by the throat. Bracing against my ass he said, “no matter what happens, I got you”. That was all the reassurance I needed. I pushed him back on the table and jumped him. With my hands on his shoulders and feet on the table, I danced on his dick like a crazy woman. I had already lost my job so why hold back. I packed my stuff as soon as we were through and he took me home where we continued where we left off. I had already paid for my last semester so I had nothing to worry about at that point. I even tricked him into paying my tuition which was already paid so I had a lot of cash sitting on. We dated for two years before breaking up and since then I ain’t ever had anyone do me like he did. I even had to hit him up a few times lately for a fix.

Good dick and great tongue. Never to be replaced. I just Regret is breaking up but I wouldn’t change a thing if I got the chance. Shoutout, Soldier Freak. You are greatly missed.

Yours truly,

Kim

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nocornersuns · 3 years

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Ever-so-helpful Art on a Cart tips and tricks!

This year, like many art teachers across the land, I've been displaced due to Covid restrictions. Once again I am forced to manage a days worth of art making onto four wheels.

Oh man, teaching art on a cart sucks. I've written about that before, but I never really explored the actual tangibility and organization that goes into actually teaching on a cart here on the blog. Here are my helpful tips and tricks from unfortunately many years of experience.

Things on my cart at all the time during Covid restrictions:

Pencils (if they need one I let them keep it)

Sharpies with two containers. They return them to the “used” container when they are done. I usually wipe them with a wipe when I need them again.

Tape

White Glue (This is mostly for my demonstrations since I hate glue sticks)

Glue sticks ( I have a million. I keep a box on the cart and if a kid doesn’t have glue I just let them keep it)

Scissors (I have adult scissors and an assortment of random kid scissors. Again, I have a million, so depending on the kid, I just let them keep them. So many times this year students will tell me they do not have glue and scissors. This is rarely the case. Usually their desks, backpacks, coats, and crates strapped to their desks are so full and such a mess that they don't want to look for them. My response lately is, "I guess you just have to sit there then" and miraculously they find them.

wipes/paper towels/Kleenex

Magnets

A few crayon boxes. (These are my plastic boxes of random crayons. This time of year they are missing a lot of colors. I will just give them the crayon to keep if they need it.)

Sorted Oil Pastels with two containers - like if we are using white, I pass them out then have them return them to a “used” bin to quarantine for a few days

A box of “Free Draw” paper. My kids have sketchbooks but since they have been with them all year in the classroom, they are mostly all filled up. I keep the shoebox of paper for early finishers.

Regular 80lb paper and some construction paper for projects. (I try to bring what I need, but in case of emergency’s I have extra on the cart.

Your computer, class rosters, water bottle. These need a place on your cart, even though they probably go with you. I got a water bottle with a pop up straw so I can just tuck it under my mask to drink!

I set up two carts at the school I'll be teaching at in April. One for upstairs, one for downstairs. Both of these carts are pretty small and not ideal, but we are hoping the situation is temporary!

Things in my apron

Over the summer I sewed an apron. I edited the template a little and made big giant pockets. It's been great, and now I realized I need another one for my other school beginning there art cart life... but I don't want to give up an entire day sewing another one. So, I got this one off Amazon.

Pencil

Notepad (for writing notes to teachers about stinkers, or more commonly writing words on if a kid needs to spell something 😂)

Bandaids

Sharpie

Hand sanitizer/hand lotion

White board marker ( I usually erase with a paper towel)

Magnets

Big rubber eraser.

Usually a pair of kid scissors too for easy access

Keys or ID.

My phone - my schedule is crazy. I literally set recurring alarms for every class for when it is clean-up time. Which, isn’t fun on a Monday when we don’t have school… But, it helps a lot. The kids know that means it is clean-up time and hopefully that gets me able to move to my next class in a timely fashion. Although, it’s impossible to end one class at 11am, when the next one starts at 11am. Especially when teachers are super slow coming back to the room.

Not to be a downer, because who knows how long this situation will last, but lots of people will try to convince you that art on a cart is fine. It's not. Delicately complain that your students are not getting a quality art program as often as you can.

Yes, kids can do amazing things while you are teaching off of a cart. No, you shouldn't just sacrifice your skills and decide the projects are going to be crap all year. However; you are going to make yourself crazy trying to do the same things you once did in your classroom off of a cart. You will be disappointed and frustrated.

Then you will get used to it. Don't forget though, this is not how it should be.

More tips:

I still have access to my art room - which is great! I do all my planning in there, eat my lunch, and use it as my home base throughout the day. I have taught on a cart where I didn't have a "home base". I would shove my coat and purse in a storage closet or weird filing cabinet in the hallway. That is definitely not ideal.

I use a plastic 10 x 13" sorting tray for each class to keep all of their project stuff in. I have a little alcove of supplies where I park my cart. If I’m not seeing that particular class, I will leave their bin in the alcove area. I also put some milk crate things there that hold the other supplies we’ve needed more routinely like sorted cups of (like warm and cool colors), boxes of colored pencils (I have enough so they do not have to share). I also have a bin with watercolor stuff that I can pick up and take to a room. It has my wc brushes, paint sets, a roll of paper towels, water cups, and a pitcher since we don’t have sinks in our rooms. This is also a problem when a whole class has dirty hands from pastels. I’ve been using the wipes and have them clean their hands then table with the wipes. If I’m out of baby wipes or Wet Ones - I have given them the Clorox wipes and said they were for “Fingertips” and tables since they aren’t supposed to be used to wash up skin.

If you do decide to water color paint - my best solution so far has been to pass everything out then walk around with the water pitcher to fill cups - like a waitress filling up drinks. When they are done I have them “carry their painting like a pizza” and put it on the dry rack I have in the hall. It is a small stand alone rack and I have it centrally located in the hallway outside the younger kids’ rooms. I let the big kids just walk to it when they are done. Then I can clean up their stuff. I dump all the dirty water back into the pitcher and stack the cups etc. None of my classrooms have a sink.

Passing out other supplies, or letting kids choose things has become pretty much nonexistent. I have spread papers out and try to call them up individually to pick a piece- but they touch everything. They can’t make up their mind, then they want to change it, etc…. With the little kids, if it’s random colors or something- I just past them out randomly. I don’t even let it be known that they have a choice. With the older kids I’ve walked around and made them tell me what they wanted and I gave it to them and tell them they can’t exchange it. For a few construction paper projects I’ve actually divided papers and things into baggies or clipped them, and passed them out like that. Then I know they all have the right sizes/colors.

Another not so flexible thing is if kids have been absent. I have more unfinished projects than usual because I may not have the supplies with me they need and there isn’t extra time for them to finish. My older kids who have had to quarantine have been good about doing their work at home since it’s on their google classroom anyway.

When I taught on a cart before, each classroom teacher had a box in their classroom for all of the projects we had been working on. Like a large flat portfolio box. This was nice because I could also keep resources and things in it and had a little more control with what was going on. I didn’t want to be touching or passing stuff out this year at all so I got the kids these 11 x 17” folders to keep next to their desks. They all have crates strapped to their desks to hold stuff since we are not using lockers. The folder fits good between the crate and desk. At the end of the year they will just take them home with all their stuff inside.

Because the desks are spread out you will probably not be able to wheel the cart into the room and you will probably not have any counter space, and everyone’s technology will be set up differently in every room.

And one last thing...If you haven’t been with the kids too much when they are wearing masks, you might find that you do not know who is talking to you- like ever. I still hear a question and look directly at the wrong kid to answer it. 🤷‍♀️

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#art #art education #artsed #arted #art teacher #education

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aestas-wishes · 7 years

Text

Prince!Wonwoo

this boy

so cool, like in the calm and serene way

it could be the hottest part of a desert but just being around him makes you feel cooled off

but like that’s only on the outside

his inner self is a super goofball

not on seungcheol’s level, but he’s up there

for example, he’ll be on his way for a meeting with some great important person. and he’ll just be mindlessly doodling or looking out the window

and when he looks out the window his driver sometimes thinks that he’s thinking about the future or some deep stuff

nope

he thinking about how good it would be to have some fried chicken right about now

because let’s be honest, we all need a constant supply of fried chicken

anyway, he’s a goofball, but only when he’s comfortable around people

otherwise he’ll just be silent and cool, reading his books and stuff

secretly thinking about chicken

okay, moving on from chicken

one day, wonwoo’s parents decide that it’s a good idea to paint a portrait of the crown prince, like all other crown princes before him

sooooooo they hire the best artist they could find in their kingdom

enter you, dear reader, best artist in the kingdom

you normally stay in your apartment on the outskirts of a nearby city, painting to your heart’s content.

when you get the message that you will be painting the crown prince, your heart skips many beat

you’re extremely happy, do not get me wrong, like for the first ten minutes you’re bouncing around and screaming like a madwoman

but then the anxiety sets in

like holy crap you’re painting the prince

what if you mess it up

what if you accidentally make his nose too big?

what IFFFFF

you spend the next five hours worrying about how much you might fail

then you realize that it’s pretty pointless to worry.

you still do anyway.

but you go to the palace anyway

because you can’t deny the prince or his family

you stumble in with your paints and palette and brushes

you brush a stray lock of hair out of your face

apologize for making them wait even though you’re perfectly on time

you take a look at the prince

wonwoo looks at you

and he just smiles

and you immediately feel a little calmer than you once did

he’s just sitting there on a stool waiting for you

“sit down, please, and set everything up,” he says as he stands up

you nod nervously and smile

you get everything set up and wonwoo walks over to your station, just watching everything being set up by your graceful and precise hands

his father told him just to wait to be painted, but he can’t help himself

he looks at all the different brushes

“whats all this?” he asks, honestly curious

you look up at him, surprised

he takes half a step back and smiles

“sorry, i’ve never seen tools like this before,” he says with a grin

you chuckle in surprise

“what? not even a paintbrush?” you ask

he laughs and you feel butterflies breackdancing minghaoing in your stomach

“no i’ve seen paintbrushes, just not this many different kinds,” he admitted, picking up a fan brush and stroking the bristles

you take the brush back and start mega info dumping about the brushes and different paints you brought with you

he just listens and kinda gently messes around with the mustache

“It looks like mustache,” he murmured, grinning

you roll your eyes,

when you’re finished, you look at Wonwoo

“so what are you going to do to paint me?” he asks gently

you take a look at the portraits of Wonwoo’s predecessors, all perfect oils and look refined and regal

you slowly wince, because you don’t think you can see Wonwoo as this way all the time

“i don’t know, maybe i’ll just paint you like your father was painted,” you sighed, and Wonwoo looked at his fathers painting as well

“paint me how you think i should be,” he said steadfastly, turning to smile at you

you feel your cheeks get warm but you nod, getting everything set up

for the next couple weeks you come in and paint Wonwoo while talking to him, making jokes and general smiling at each other

it’s all amazing

you take breaks and then wonwoo brings you to see his garden

and he’s just a goofy bean

and you can’t help but chuckle and do quick sketches of him

you find out more about each other, and about how clumsy both of you can be

but it all goes to heck one day

you’re in the middle of painting him when his father

the KING

comes in to see what you’re doing today

he sees so many colors and his son smiling in the painting

he just stops for a moment

the room is dead silent

you just stare in horror as disgust burns in his eyes at the painting

wonwoo is the first to speak

“father-”

“don’t try,” the king sneers, turning to wonwoo

fear is plastered on wonwoo’s face

“you’re my only heir, wonwoo. you carry our legacy.” he starts to speak, slowly and coldly

his voice is a frozen wasteland

“I expect you to act as such,” he continues, lecturing wonwoo

he turns to you

“please redo the painting in a more dignified manner.” he tells you before leaving

both you and wonwoo release a slow breath you didn’t realize you were holding

you looked at wonwoo

he looks at you

you can’t bear to hold his gaze

“i think i should go home for today,” you murmur

wonwoo opens his mouth to stop you but you’re already starting to pack up and leave

he does nothing to stop you

you leave the castle grounds and head back to your home

you fall on you bed and just stare at your wall for a very long time before you realize you were crying

you wipe your tears and stare at the portrait that the king hated so much

all you could see was the prince smiling at you, like he had just finished laughing at one of your jokes

it was almost taunting you

it confounded you

it really made you kinda PISSED

how could something this beautiful make the king so angry

needless to say you did not return to the castle for a very long time

weeks passed

wonwoo missed you more and more with each day

it was driving him crazy how much he missed you

even some minister’s mustache reminded him of you

the king noticed wonwoo growing more and more grumpy

he had sent letters to you, and wonwoo did too

but they all ended up on your desk, for you were too busy

busy fixing the painting, so that it was good for the king

it was he who was paying you after all, not the prince

you were barely sleeping or eating

you devoted all your time to that painting

which might i say is unhealthy!

quite! qUITE uNhEaLtHY!!!!

anyway

your hair is in your face

you’re sweating because you are so stressed, and you feel like this painting is worse than ever

you glance over to your desk

you pick up a letter, wiping your forehead

so, so, so tired

you read something about offering more money, triple what you were going to be offered in the first place

your head really hurts

pounding, throbbing, drums

wonwoo decides enough is enough

you pick up another letter

vision blurring

“please come up”

“i loved the painting”

“i loved having you around”

“i love you”

you hear a knock on the door, and you feel yourself hit the floor

then darkness

you wake up in your bed, and with a monster headache

the headache to end all headaches

your eyesight focuses and above you you see wonwoo, making sure your forehead is cool and you’re comfortable

“if i’m dreaming, dont wake me up,” you mumble, giving a breath of relief

you hear a soft chuckle in return

“i’m afraid that you are no longer dreaming” wonwoo smiles at you

finally you’re aware enough to know what is going on and you start pushing his hand away

“oh wonwoo, get out of here! i have to get back to work, your painting,” you started to protest and sit up

but wonwoo gently but FIRMLY pushed you back into bed

“no you’re obviously ill, even a prince like me can see that,” he responded, getting some food out of a basket he brought

“uuUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH”

“what?” wonwoo asks, looking at you concerned

“i just need to work on your painting!” you shout

“your stupid painting that I can’t ever get right and its horrible horrible HORRIBLE,” you start weeping

wonwoo just quietly holds your hand while you shake and weep

you calm down eventually after minutes of crying

“y/n, i know you’re porbably stressed-”

“prOBABLY?!?!?!?!!!!!” you screech

wonwoo blinked and shook his head

“you are VEry stressed, and i’m sorry about that. but please hear me when I say i love the painting you did, the first one”

“oh shut it.” you cover your hand

“no, listen, it was magnificent. almost as magnificent as you,” he murmured softly, stroking your hand.

you go still

“what was that?” you whispered

wonwoo took in a slow breath. he forgot that he had said that

it kinda fell out. whoops

but there was no going back

“y/n, please don’t think this forward of me, but i think i am… well… terribly in love with you,” he said quietly

silence fell on you both

“wonwoo,” you spoke

“don’t say anything, you’re sick, you silly,” he said quickly, going back to taking care of you

everytime you treid to speak, he shot you down

eventually he left

you got better

you began work on your painting once more

and a month later you sent a letter to the king telling him that you were coming back with a finished painting

he told wonwoo and he was ecstatic

the day finally came around when you arrived with a covered painting

the king gathered an audience for the great reveal

you went in front of them with the painting

you took a breath

wonwoo met your eyes and smiled

“this picture is the mage of the prince that will one day be our king. i hope you all like it.” you announced before taking the cloth off the painting

it was the original painting, finished proper

the king was flabergasted, but wonwoo couldn’t help but grining

“i love it!” wonwoo shouted, running to pick you up on his arms

he hugs you and sweetly kisses you on the lips

you are shocked but kiss him back

when you pull away you are smiling

“i think i love you too, your highness,” you grin

wonwoo chuckles and just kisses you

and its SOOOOOO CUUUUUUTE LET THE PRINCE HAVE HIS TRUE LOVE

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo scenario #seventeen scenario #prince!au #prince!wonwoo #btsastroand17wishes #member: wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios

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fatesinthenight · 7 years

Text

Dr.Iplier's Cold

You look up at the house nervously. You down at your phone at the email Dr.Iplier had send you. You reread it looking at the instructions for your position and the address to the house. It feels to real now that you are here standing infront of the house wondering how did it end up like this. Tugging your bag at your shoulder you take a step forward and ring the doorbell. Instead of a regular ding you hear a loud "Poof".

The door swings open and you are greeted by Google Yellow, Oliver. "Hello I'm Oliver. Are you (Y/N)?"

"Yes I am. Is Dr.Iplier here? He is expecting me." You try to sound professional but your tone is still nervous.

"O Doc is out right now but he will be back soon. You can come in though to wait for him." Oliver opens the door for you smiling.

"Ummmm are you sure I wouldn't want to bother anyone..." You shake your head.

"It's ok. I wouldn't want you to wait out here. He takes awhile to get back sometimes. Please come on in." Oliver's smile is so happy and bright it makes you feel good inside.

"Ok if you insist." You step in and Oliver closes the door behind you. You look around and see there is a siting room infront of you. There are pictures on the walls of the egos together but the largest one was a fancy frames oil painting of Wilford looking into the distance with his hand under his chin. "Well that's a fancy one."

"O yea that. A fan made it for Wilford and he said it had to be displayed so he hung it up there. He said he had to have the biggest portrait so our guests can see how great he looks." Oliver looks at it. "It does capture his good side. I can take you to Dr.Iplier's office if you want. You can wait for him there."

"That will be fine." You nod.

Oliver leads you through the house. You pass the kitchen and a flight of stairs leading to the second floor. As you go by you hear an audience applause from a room and it had a glowing green sign on top saying "On Air". That must be the studio you thought and looked to your right to see an open door. You get a fast peak into it and it is a full library with so may shelves and books staked on books on the floor. You turn down a hallway and get a cold feeling. Down the hall is a black door and a sign on the side that saids in a fancy print 'Office'. Oliver tugs you away from there and right at the start of the hall in the door to the clinic.

"Here we are. You can take a seat in his little office there." Oliver points to a separate office cut off from the clinic. "I will let him know that you are here. Maybe he will hurry up then." Oliver's eyes flash yellow. "There I just sent him a text. O he read it. He said he will be here soon. Do you need anything?" Oliver looks at you with kind eyes.

"Ummm can I have some water? Or should someone else get that because I don't want it to spill on you or something." You overthink that he will fry up if your water spills on him.

"Hahahaha no its alright. I am a droid but a glass of water isn't going to get me hurt. If anything I would have to be tossed in the ocean for that to get to me. I will get you that water." Oliver leaves laughing to himself.

You walk into the clinic towards Dr.Iplier's office. The front had a small waiting room with four chairs out and for some reason a toy kitchen set and blocks. You see four beds out for patients to lay on with monitors by each of them. There is a cabinet full of medication and a stock of I.V bags and other supplies. You also find one of those tables with the paper sheet on it for check-ups. You open the door to the office and find numerous file cabinets. Each one is labeled with the egos name on it. As you sit down in a chair you also see there is a file cabinet for Mark, Amy, Tyler, Kathryn, and Ethan. The Doc's desk is messy with papers and files scattered about it. His computer is still running and he has a plate on the side with a half eaten sandwich and potato chips. Your first thoughts are this guy really does need an assistant.

You hear the door open behind you and when you turn you have a chill go up your spine. "Good evening (Y/N). My name is Darkiplier. I see our doctor is late for his own assistant on the first day. How unprofessional." Dark smiles politely at you but you feel something more in there. He holds out a glass of water. "I was Oliver coming here with this and I thought I haven't met you yet so I suggested I hand this to you."

You hesitantly take it from him. "Thank you." You look down at your cup suspiciously.

"It's not drugged if that is what you are thinking." Dark sighs.

"How can I trust that?" You look at Dark with a raised eyebrow.

"I swear on my Darling's life. Does that make you feel better?" Dark give you a look.

You haven't met his Darling but you have heard that he really does care for them. "Alright." You still don't t drink the water though and place it on the desk.

"Already intimidating my assistant?" Dr.Iplier is at the door to the office. "Dark I allowed you to be here to sign (Y/N) off as safe to get you off my back. If you make them uncomfortable I will call you know who and trust me they will not be happy with you."

Dark glares at Doc. Even if Dark as loosened up he will still go off if he gets agitated enough. Sure enough his shell was cracking at the Doc's comment. "Remember who give you the money to get your supplies Doctor. It may just stop."

Dr. Iplier stiffens. He backs down and goes to his desk. "If we can get started then please tell me about yourself and how you know of the egos."

"O umm sure. Well I have been watching Mark for two years. It got me through finals for my medical degree. I am a new certified nurse and have worked at a clinic before." You try to sound confident but feel shy with both Dark and Dr.Iplier looking at you.

"Alright I have your file here with your background. It looks promising enough. Now tell me How you came to know me." Dr.Iplier leans back in his chair.

"Well I saw the skit where you first appeared and I found it funny. Maybe it was because you are a doctor and I was doing my studies to be a nurse that I liked your character." You blush slightly.

"What else did you find so appealing about me?" Doc tilts his head. Dark rolls his eyes knowing Doc just wanted to hear more about himself.

"Well I just like you as a doctor and ummm well when I saw you at the park that day I thought I would try to talk to you. And you said you were free so you took me to eat and you talked only about work. I can be a workaholic too but you really take the cake on that. But I can see that you care for the ones you take care of and take pride in your work. I admire that and I wish to be like that to." You admit feeling your cheeks go red.

"I see. And you didn't mind at all that I turned our outing into a job interview when you mentioned your work at a clinic?" Dr. Iplier studies you.

"To be honest I didn't mind the offer. I am very thankful to it. My job at the clinic was only temporary. I was just filling in for someone who was on maternity leave. Thank you for the opportunity to work beside you." You smile at Doc.

"You are welcome. I felt the need for one so here you are." Dr.Iplier looks at Dark. "Satisfied?"

"For now. Their head has no ill intentions from what I can feel." Dark had a shadow pressing at your head that you never noticed. "They do want to work here. I don't know why they have so much better choices than you." Dark walks out the office taking in the shadow but turns back to look at you. "Seriously you could have had higher standard than this guy. What were you thinking? I hope he gets rid of you fast so you can find a better doctor. Good luck. Your going to need it." Dark leaves.

"Still charming as ever..." Doc sighs. "I'm sorry for that. As much as he does not like to admit it he is the protector of this place and of us at times only to his benefit of course. So are you still interested in the position?"

You relax for a second and look at Doc confidently. "Yes I am!"

Dr.Iplier smirks at your eager response. "Then your shift starts now."

#dr.iplier #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #google yellow #google oliver #fanfic #dr. iplier x reader

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welcometophu · 7 years

Text

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 30

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 30

[ Previous | First | Next ]

It’s all hands on deck at the shop on Wednesday morning. Insurance is still processing the cars, but the ones that are too damaged to be fixed have been hauled off the lot, and the ones that need detailing and cleaning have been towed to another place. Tony parks the Mustang in the empty back lot, and Ángel moves Helga into a nearby space until they can finish working on her.

Tanner and Hayley come in to help, along with Maritsa and Cleto. Zita is there while her children are at a program for a few hours, walking through and barking orders while Gabi writes everything down.

Tony’s shirt is smudged with soot as he scrubs down the walls, the water running dark. Maritsa works next to him, stopping to look at her fingernails.

“You’re lucky I get my nails done next week,” she mutters. “I am going to smell like smoke for my wedding. Which is in one week, thanks.”

“It’s not Tony’s fault someone lit the shop on fire,” Cleto reminds her, moving in close while Tony moves several steps away.

Maritsa deflates, dips her sponge back into the bucket and wrings out soapy, dark water. “I know. But it’s terrible timing.”

Ángel bites his tongue, because this isn’t the moment to ask if there’s any chance that Tía could be involved, or anyone else in Maritsa’s family. He still doesn’t want to think that any one of them would go this far to destroy what Maritsa has with the Mollicones. With the Lince.

“Ángel, I need you!” Gabi sings out, and he hurries away from the floor. As he slips into the office, she hands him a sponge and bucket. “We can rescue some of this. There’s a service coming in, but we need to be able to see what’s trashed and what can be done, and they’ll be redoing walls, pulling out the dead furniture, bringing in new.”

“I thought you didn’t have the settlement from insurance yet,” Ángel says.

“We don’t.” Zita sits on top of the one clean surface—Gabi’s desk—her legs crossed at the knee, a clipboard balanced there as she writes. “But we have money, and we’re paying for everything now and we’ll just put away the insurance money when we get it. I don’t want to wait to get our business open again, and I have a feeling this case will linger. Insurance will want to know more about the arson charges before they pay out.” She taps her pen against the edge of the clipboard. “They might pay the car owners first, but for us, they want proof that we didn’t torch the place on our own.”

“You’d think that with how much effort we’re putting into bringing it back to life, they’d get the idea that it’s not our fault,” Gabi mutters, scrubbing at the top of a file cabinet. “But no, apparently they think we might’ve let it all go up in smoke to get improved equipment. But we liked our setup. And the computer’s fine, and that’s honestly the one thing I would’ve liked to replace.”

“We’ll replace it anyway,” Zita says quietly. “I’ll just get that new system we were talking about, and it’ll take you some time to transfer the records. It’ll be worth it.”

“How were the paper records when you went through them?” Ángel gestures at the empty file cabinets, then starts scrubbing at his own desk.

Not his desk. The desk he’s been using, and it’s probably Zita’s desk normally. Or Tony’s, or maybe Maritsa’s. Someone else’s desk.

It feels like his desk by now, though. He reaches down, opens a drawer and looks in.

“Did you leave clothes here?” Zita asks, leaning over to look.

Ángel shakes his head. “Never really got around to it, although I should’ve. Glad I didn’t.”

Gabi snorts softly. “I love the idea that you leave clothes everywhere we are. Like you can’t resist undressing around us.”

His cheeks go hot, and he doesn’t want to go down that road, not when he wouldn’t just be talking about temporary tats with Gabi, or cleaning up with Luca. “The records?” he asks again.

“Smoky, but pretty much everything survived,” Gabi says. “The fire burned out the drawer we keep spare shirts in, then seemed to stop before it got to the records in the drawer above it. The food that Luca stored in the cabinets for snacks ended up disgusting and I already tossed it on Monday. But we can bring back the history.” She smacks the top of the filing cabinet, black water running down the side. “These aren’t burnt, but… I think I’d rather replace them, Zita.”

“Noted.” Zita kicks her heel against the desk. “Clean these out. I’m bringing in all new furniture. The cleaning crew will be starting in here tonight, and they’ll work through the weekend in order to get the place back to us as soon as possible.”

She sets the pen down, leans back on her hands and looks at the walls. “I’m having them gut the place,” she says quietly. “Redoing the walls, priming everything to get rid of the smell. They’re going to be working quickly, but they said they can do it. Some of the equipment is going to make it out, and we’re cleaning what we can before it’s scrapped or donated. It’s up to us to get everything as good as we can tonight, before they come in to get started. You guys will be doing work out back tomorrow, if we have anything come in.”

“We don’t have a tow truck,” Ángel points out. “We don’t have a way to get anything back here.”

“I’m hoping to borrow one for a few days,” Zita says, her tone bland. “Calling in a favor, if they can manage to spare it. I’ve already made plans to pick a new one up next week.”

“We should get two.” When Zita glares at her, Gabi spreads her hands. “What? There have been so many times when I could’ve sent out two different calls. One for road repairs, one to haul someone in. Things get backed up with only one person on call. If it takes two hours for a road repair, that’s someone sitting around waiting for that long if they’re next in line, or it’s business lost if they call somewhere else.”

Zita huffs and makes a note. “You have a point.”

“Of course I do. This is my place too.” Gabi smiles, pleased with herself, and winks at Ángel.

“I’m not going to be around to go out for you after next week,” he reminds her. “I have to go back to school.”

“Pfft.” Gabi waves away his protest. “You’ll be back for break. Should I expect to see you in March for spring break, or do we have to wait for summer? Send me your finals schedule so I know when you’ll be in and I can get you on the board for work.”

“What if I—”

“You’ll be back,” she says, like that’s that.

Ángel had been thinking about doing research. Finding a project he could work on with Hayley, combining Chemistry, Physics, and Magical Studies, or branching out into something else. But he’d planned on staying on PHU campus, working there. Not coming back to Florida.

His gaze drifts to the door, and Gabi makes a small noise.

Fine, she may have a point.

“Hey, do you need anything?” Tanner pokes his head in, waves a piece of paper. “Luca gave me a list, and Hayley and I are going to go pick up Emerson and then stop at the store.”

Gabi coughs.

Fine. She may have multiple points, and Ángel will probably be back next summer, with Hayley. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to say it, though.

Zita slides off the desk, flips pages on her notepad, and starts listing items off for Tanner. Most of them are cleaning supplies, as well as paper, coffee supplies, and other things to take back to the house for now, along with a fresh stock of plain white t-shirts. Ángel notices that Luca’s snacks go on the list, along with stopping off at the office supply store to order Gabi’s computer and a new printer. Zita picks up the office phone, plugs the cable back in.

“Keep the phone,” Gabi says. “It’s been covered in fingerprints and oil all along. We’ll wipe it down, and a little soot will remind us that we’re not immortal.”

Tanner’s brow furrows. “Do you really need a reminder?”

Gabi and Zita glance at each other. “Sometimes we need a reminder that we’re not idiots when we try to be careful,” Zita says slowly. She picks up her purse, pulls a card from her wallet and hands it to Tanner along with two paint samples with colors circled and numbers written. “Pick up the paint while you’re out, too. Hopefully we’ll be starting that on Monday, so you might as well get it now.”

“Do you need help?” Ángel offers, and for a moment Tanner looks like he considers it.

Then he grins and shakes his head. “Nah, Hayley and I have got this. Emerson’s doing well, and we’ll get it all done and be back in a couple of hours.”

“I’m bringing food in for a picnic out back,” Zita offers, and Tanner’s expression clouds.

“Can’t,” he says. “Martin/Cruz dinner tonight.”

Oh, shit. Ángel forgot about that.

Tanner knocks into Ángel. “I’ll take you home, unless someone else is giving you a ride after we’re all done here. But thanks for the offer, Zita. If we didn’t have a family thing, we’d love to eat here.”

Zita waves him off. “Go. Get things done so you can get back and not be late for your family dinner.”

Gabi tilts her head, frowns slightly. “Ángel, why don’t you go out back and get started cleaning up.”

He thinks about offering to stay, but Gabi nods at the door, and Ángel takes the chance for escape. He walks Tanner out, gives Hayley a hug before they head off, then walks to the back and out.

Tony’s already there, a broom in hand, pushing at debris. He glances up as Ángel lets the door swing closed behind him, then straightens up, leaning on the broom. “What are you doing out here?”

“Gabi sent me.” Ángel looks around for another broom, and failing to find that, grabs a pair of work gloves and puts those on instead. He hauls over one of the trash bins and starts picking up debris to put in it. “She and Zita have everything under control in the office. I was just getting in the way.”

“Mm.” Tony starts sweeping again, pushing the largest of the mess toward Ángel while piling up the dust and dirt and ash in a separate space. They work in silence for a time, until Tony stops, leaning the broom against Helga so he can pull of his shirt, use it to wipe the sweat from his face.

Ángel takes the moment to lean against Helga’s bumper, patting her. “What are we going to do about Helga?” he asks quietly. “She still needs to be fixed. Did the parts go up in smoke?”

“I’ve got what I need to finish up with her,” Tony says. “We’ll get her back on the road before it’s time for you to leave.”

“It’s not that long.” It’s hard to think about that way, that the wedding is only a week away, which means Ángel and Hayley will be driving back to PHU the weekend after. So much has happened in the time since they came home. Angel’s pretty sure his life will never be the same.

“Yeah.” Tony balls up his shirt, stalks to the door. “I need to get a change of clothes.”

“There’s nothing clean in—” Angel’s voice trails off as the door bangs closed behind Tony. “Everything’s covered in ash, and it’s not like I mind seeing your naked chest,” he mutters under his breath. “But hey, run away while we’re talking. Because that went well.”

Ángel strips off the gloves, drops them on Helga’s hood. His car’s in good shape, relatively speaking. As good as the Mustang maybe—they’re both functional and not damaged by fire. Of course, they never finished the motor for the Mustang’s top, so they’d better get a new cover for it.

He walks over, runs his hand along the edge of the door. He flinches when the door to the building slams closed, turns slowly to see Tony walking toward him. Tony nods at the Mustang, and Ángel doesn’t wait for a second invitation; he opens the door and climbs in, settling into the driver’s seat.

Tony slips into the passenger seat, sinks down with his head tilted back.

Ángel lets his hands fall on the steering wheel, slides them along the pebbled surface.

“You’re not driving my ‘stang again right now,” Tony murmurs. He has one hand across his eyes, keeping the sun out.

“Didn’t plan on it.” Ángel drops his hands, crosses them to keep himself from touching anything else. “It’s just a clean place to sit.”

Tony tilts his head, gaze dropping from Angel’s head to where he sits. “I should tell you to go clean up before you sit in here.”

“You’re still shirtless and your jeans are a mess,” Ángel counters.

“My car, my rules.” Tony inhales, lets it out slow and even. “Let’s just sit still for a while. Where it’s quiet.”

The silence doesn’t last long before Angel’s phone buzzes. He glances at Tony, and Tony looks down at his hand, raises an eyebrow. Ángel takes that as an invitation to interrupt the quiet and pulls his phone out, frowns as he sees the message from Hayley.

Tony’s friend Daphne is at the store.

This might not be something to share with Tony. I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend, he sends back.

Girlfriend, Hayley sends. She’s talking to Tanner and Emerson about Emerson’s Talent. She’s being really nice.

She is NOT NICE. Ángel wants to make sure Hayley gets the point. She’s met Daphne, even if it was briefly. More than once, Ángel thinks. He starts typing, but doesn’t get to finish the thought before Hayley replies and Ángel sits upright, staring at the screen.

She’s got loads of ideas and knows a guy that Emerson can talk to. Someone who might be able to help with the seizures.

Tony’s shoulder presses against his. “She?” he asks, and Ángel just scrolls down to show him the earlier piece of the conversation, feels the way Tony goes tense against him. “Tell her it’s a bad idea,” Tony orders.

“I’ve been trying, believe me. I don’t like Daphne.” He looks over at Tony briefly. “Sorry.”

Take the names if you want but don’t take her advice. Daphne’s NOT NICE. She’s not even nice to Tony and they’re dating. Still. I think.

Tony doesn’t offer clarification before Ángel presses send.

Tanner’s listening, but Emerson keeps trying to step backwards. I don’t think he trusts her. And if you don’t trust her, I don’t trust her.

Ángel breathes more easily after that text. Good, he sends back. Good instinct. Don’t trust her. Pretend and get rid of her. Talk to Tanner later, okay?

I will, Hayley promises, and the phone goes silent. Ángel drops it on the seat, moving his hand when Tony picks it up to look at the conversation.

Tony blinks, then hands the phone back to Ángel again. “Sorry, shouldn’t have taken that without asking.”

“Well, it’s not like you thought I’d be talking about you,” Ángel mutters, face heated.

“No, it’s true. I told you before: she’s not a nice person, although she thinks she is.” Tony leans back, head tilted so he stares up at the sky, hand resting in the space between them. “And she hasn’t exactly been nice to me for a long time. In her defense, I haven’t been putting much into the relationship, either. I’m pretty sure she can tell. I did cut her out for New Year’s Eve.”

“You broke up with her,” Ángel points out. “Why didn’t you just stay apart?”

“It’s complicated. We’ve been together a long time.” Tony’s mouth thins. He lifts his hand slowly, crosses his arms, shoulders bunching with the movement. “Like I said, we got together young. There’s a lot of history, a lot of things we’ve been through together.”

Ángel reaches before thinking, touches Tony’s forearm. He pulls back when Tony flinches, but Tony shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Tony says, and Ángel flattens his hand, curls around Tony’s warm skin.

“Why do you keep going back?” he asks.

“How do you feel about Hayley and Tanner?” Tony asks in return, rather than denying that he does keep going back.

Angel frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks. When Tony gestures, Ángel sifts through his feelings, tries to find a way to put it. “Fine. I uh….” He tries to make sense of it, mouth twisting in frustration as he thinks. “I still love her. I mean, I probably always will, and we’re going to be friends forever—which I’m pretty sure is different from you and Daphne.”

Tony doesn’t deny it, just stares up at the sky.

“But I’m not hurt about her and Tanner anymore,” Ángel admits. “I’ve moved on. Mentally, I mean. I want her and Tanner happy, and I’ll be there to support her, and I really hope they work out because I think the magic had the right idea.”

“Do you think it’s forcing them?”

Ángel twists in the seat, hand against Tony’s chest as he shakes his head. “No, not at all. It can’t. It’s not a love spell, it’s just a way of bringing out what’s already there. Or I guess in this case what has potential to be there. But it can’t make them fall in love; they either will or they won’t, no matter whether the magic sees something perfect between them or not.”

“Did it scare you?”

It’s a strange question, and Ángel can’t read anything behind the mask Tony seems to wear, quiet and still. “Did it—maybe? I thought I knew exactly where my life was going, and suddenly it just… wasn’t. Suddenly everything shifted sideways and I was left feeling like the ground wasn’t even stable under my feet. And when I first found out, if I could’ve just gone back in time and had it all the stay the way it was, I probably would’ve. I knew how things worked then, with Hayley as my girlfriend, and Tanner as my best friend, and it all made sense. And for a little while there, nothing made sense, so yeah. I was angry, but maybe a little scared, too.”

Tony nods, licks his lips thoughtfully. “That,” he says slowly. “You were with Hayley for what, two years? I was with Daphne for eleven. And the first few were good. I mean, we had a few hiccups, but overall, they were really good. I’ve been with her since I was in high school, and even if it wasn’t perfect, I knew where I was going. Eventually. I wasn’t rushing to get anywhere, and when she started pushing, it felt—it felt like she was trying to force something that wasn’t actually there. That I knew wasn’t there, and maybe I’d known it for a while, and something—”

“What?” Ángel asks, when Tony just stops talking.

Tony inhales, holds it for a long moment before it slips out slowly. “Something made me look at things differently. And that terrified me.”

“Oh.” Ángel rubs at his wrist, realizes that Tony’s looking at him now, not the sky. He can feel the weight of Tony’s gaze, the strength of his regard, and Ángel looks away. “Maybe it’s time to break up with her again. Or stay broken up,” Ángel suggests quietly. “If she’s not good for you.”

“Maybe,” Tony agrees. He sits up, leans forward with his elbows on his knees, palms up and ink in view.

Ángel flattens his palm over his own ink, covering the cat from view. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Tony arches an eyebrow. “This wasn’t personal?”

Heat floods Angel’s cheeks. “Different kind of personal. Just for personal reference. Obviously you’re attracted to women—you’ve been dating one for more than a decade. Are you attracted to men at all?”

“You want to know if I’m bi?” Tony asks.

Ángel manages to nod, then Tony’s hand is on his cheek. Ángel goes absolutely still as Tony leans forward, mouth warm and lips chapped as he kisses Ángel. Time slows down, Angel’s heart thundering in his chest as his mouth opens slightly, invites the kiss deeper.

Electricity sparks and flickers explode around them, the Mustang starting with a violent rumble.

Tony pulls back abruptly, eyes wide. “Shit.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Ángel reaches for the steering column, sends another shock to stop the car, but it’s too late.

Tony’s already out of the car, the door slamming in his wake. He’s gone before Ángel can call out, stalking across the lot and into the shop, the door falling closed with a thunk.

Fuck.

Ángel slumps back into the seat, slides down until his knees are bent and squeezed under the steering column, and he can barely see over the edge of the door. Maybe he can just stay here for a while, at least until he has to go home. Because he’s sure as hell not chasing Tony inside, not after that exit.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

#welcome to phu #welcometophu #not your destiny #phu marked #marked

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mastcomm · 4 years

Text

This New Hudson Yards Restaurant Is Better Than It Should Be

Morbid curiosity along with a bit of masochism drew me back to Hudson Yards. Many of the restaurants that have been built there have seemed cursed on one level or another, but the latest one sounded uniquely inauspicious, starting with its timing. It opened in November — the 13th of November.

The Tavern by WS, as it’s called, faces west on 11th Avenue, offering a last nostalgic glimpse of the West Side railyards before they vanish beneath the second phase of Hudson Yards. (Yes, there’s going to be a second phase.) This winter, the restaurant’s front door has seemed like the most ferociously wind-battered part of the whole site, no small distinction. It’s such a forsaken spot that even the helpful greeters who roam the barren tundra between the buildings giving directions to despondent tourists stare blankly when you say you’re looking for the Tavern by WS.

Then again, it might be the name. To repeat, it’s called the Tavern by WS. If my instinct didn’t already tell me to beware of restaurants with bylines, past experience would. But an initials-only byline is even more suspect.

Who is this W.S., and why would he, she or they hide behind first letters? Is it Willie Sutton, the succinct bank robber? Will Shortz, the world’s only academically accredited puzzle master? Walter Slezak, the Austrian-born character actor? Watermelon Slim, the pseudonymous harmonica player? Wallace Shawn? Wayne Shorter? Whit Stillman? Wanda Sykes?

I won’t get your hopes up any further, because the real WS isn’t a person at all. The initials turn out to stand for Wine Spectator, a magazine whose publisher, Marvin R. Shanken, owns the restaurant together with Steven M. Ross, the developer responsible for Hudson Yards, and Kenneth A. Himmel, another developer, who built the mall across the tundra where David Chang and José Andrés have their restaurants.

Wine Spectator is probably best known for assigning scores to wines on a 100-point scale. Numbers in the 90s can be seen in screaming boldface print on “shelf talkers,” those hanging sales pitches that dangle in liquor-store aisles like socks on a clothesline. The notion that a drink produced by sunshine, rain, dirt, vines and yeast can be judged by how close it comes to perfection, signified by a 100 score, never made much sense. Now that many drinkers are turning to quirky, imperfect wines, the Wine Spectator’s numerals seem like artifacts from an earlier time.

Perhaps this is why the Tavern by WS looks as if its designer, Rockwell Group, finished all its drawings for the dining room around 1999, lost them, rediscovered them last year and decided they were still good to go.

The interior’s most prominent features are the wine walls. There’s one by the host’s desk, two behind the bar and more on a mezzanine that seems to have no other purpose. And catwalks, too, because what use is a wine wall without a catwalk? All that’s missing to complete the Vegas-in-the-Clinton-era theme are women in bodysuits zipping up and down on cables to collect a Screaming Eagle here, a Harlan Estate there.

For a magazine whose current issue has such cover lines as “Bordeaux 2017: What to Buy” and “2017: Another Great Vintage” (that one is about Oregon pinot noir), these walls seem almost inevitable. Any magazine like Wine Spectator is going to promote wine as a status symbol; this just turns the idea into architecture.

The Tavern by WS is very nearly another case of an aging brand getting funky on the dance floor to prove that the old man’s still got it. But somewhere in an unseen kitchen behind those walls, a brigade of cooks is working like crazy to keep that from happening.

They’re led by Eli Kaimeh, who worked for Thomas Keller for 13 years, ultimately as chef de cuisine at Per Se. He was there in 2015, when I reviewed the restaurant, and the cooking seemed to have lost its conviction. At this new restaurant, though, he has a clear sense of what he wants to do and how to do it. The menu is a laundry list of routine American restaurant dishes like grilled salmon, but they’re almost all made over in ways that improve them without becoming excessively fiddly, a fate that is never far away in Mr. Keller’s restaurants. Mr. Kaimeh has helped turn the Tavern by WS into a good restaurant, despite its owners’ efforts to make it look like the opposite.

The minestrone has tiny pasta tubes, two types of shell bean, two types of string beans and miniature fried croutons that stay crisp as they float on the surface of very pure and sweet tomato soup. Excellent olive oil has been spilled on top. This minestrone has been cleaned up in too many ways to count, but it still tastes like honest vegetable soup.

The Caesar salad looks like a cross-section of an iceberg-lettuce head, which it essentially is, except that every leaf inside it has been somehow painted with a gratifyingly sharp Caesar dressing. The top is golden with toasted chips of Parmesan bread crumbs and grated Parmesan; crisscrossed over this are two anchovies, battered and deep-fried, fish-and-chips style. I have tried telling myself I won’t eat the anchovies first, but I always do.

The single slab of Nueske’s bacon would be worth ordering even if it didn’t come with a subtly upgraded spinach salad. (The walnuts are freshly toasted and the shallots are fried.) Lobster ravioli may be a little overcomplicated, but who will complain when the complications include lobster inside the ravioli, outside the ravioli and in the brandy-spiked sauce Américaine?

Although he spent a decade cooking tasting-menu portions, Mr. Kaimeh has a knack for making main courses that are big without being boring. Sea bass gets an herb crust and a really lively vinaigrette of chopped green and black olives. The skin on spatchcocked chicken is good and crunchy, and the sauce suprême tastes a bit like skin itself, or at least like the golden drippings on a Sunday roast. A lamb shoulder is braised until it simultaneously holds its shape and falls to pieces; it has enough flavor to make up for the somewhat blah heap of cavatelli, which might also be helped by another big spoonful of gremolata.

Some stunts backfire. The cucumber jelly shards crumbled over salmon rillettes have a slight back-of-the-fridge taste, and one of the few vegetarian dishes is also one of the few things worth steering clear of: a whole honeynut squash that seems to have had brown butter pumped into it.

Stephen Collucci, the pastry chef, treats American desserts affectionately but not indulgently. If a better crust can be supplied, it will be, as with the very thin and crunchy Graham cracker layer under the coconut cream pie, or the tender shortbread holding the excellent lemon meringue tart in one piece. I don’t know what to make of the crunchy, underbaked apples in apple pie, but I know that I’d skip it next time in favor of whatever doughnut has captured Mr. Collucci’s imagination at the moment.

His department also makes the gluten-free bread, which you might want to ask for even if you eat gluten. You will get long golden ingots of rosemary cornbread, or something very like it, and they will be wonderful.

Michaël Engelmann, who is in charge of alcohol, put together a robust wine list, closing in on 400 choices. Wisely, he doesn’t treat the document as the Wine Spectator’s greatest hits. It’s got a few much-hyped names, but the large number of bottles for under $100 is really something, and nowhere on the list will you see a point score.

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oselatra · 6 years

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Vote, people

People under 30 are not voting in large numbers. I've heard some different reasons for this: They don't feel it will make a difference.

Vote, people

People under 30 are not voting in large numbers. I've heard some different reasons for this: They don't feel it will make a difference. Both sides are the same. It won't affect them all that much, being as low on the totem pole as they are. They feel insulated from politics and political ramifications.

When it comes to issues like polluted air, global warming and rising sea level, you can run but you can't hide. These issues will affect you no matter what. However, there is a bigger reason why you should vote. Trump is funneling billions of dollars into the military while purging their ranks of tens of thousands of troops he deems undesirable. He has a War Cabinet in place and is trying to pick a fight with both North Korea and Iran. If he succeeds, the military will have no recourse but to reinstate the draft — both men and women this time.

Bottom line, you can lather yourself with essential oils, eat Paleo until it comes out of your ears and stick a healing crystal in every pocket. If Trump calls your number, your butt will be in the sling. Get motivated. Register and vote like your life depended on it.

David Rose

Hot Springs

From the web

In response to the Times' Aug. 16 cover story by David Ramsey on Rusty Cranford, the lobbyist seen as the linchpin in the corruption recently uncovered at the state legislature that ended the state contract with Preferred Family Healthcare:

Great job, Mr. Ramsey! It still irritates me [that while] all that money was flowing at the top and at the bottom, those actually doing the work [at PFH] were not getting paid a fair wage for our position based on our education and credentials. We did not get paid for half the hours they required us to work, and we had to beg for supplies to be able to do our jobs — things like ink pens and notebook paper, locking files to keep private patient information protected, etc.

I cannot believe that Missouri, Illinois, Oklahoma and Kansas have not started to investigate PFH billing practices in their states! justcantbelieve

I saw Cranford in action at the legislature during the 2009 and 2011 sessions in his nascent stage, getting legislation passed that allowed him to get paid about $25,000 about a year later. Too complicated to explain here, but he was oleaginous then in how he talked to legislators. It was enough to forever disgust me on the legislative process. And, as Mr. Ramsey so well shows, Cranford was just getting started. The year 2011 was laying the groundwork for years of corruption.

Tucker Max

In response to an Arkansas Blog post suggesting people ask Congressman French Hill if President Trump and "junketing partner" Congressman Dana Rohrbacher (R-Calif.) will come to Arkansas to campaign for him:

French Hill and his friends like to invoke Nancy Pelosi in their battle with [Democratic congressional opponent] Clarke Tucker, but the question that I have is, "Will French Hill support Kevin McCarthy for Speaker if Hill wins and the GOP keeps control of the House?" McCarthy was caught on tape saying, "There's two people that I think Putin pays: Rohrbacher and Trump" and then agreed to cover up the issue for partisan reasons (Washington Post 5/17/17). I am not the biggest fan of Pelosi but what has she done that even comes close to such unpatriotic and corrupt behavior?

Pierce

In response to an Arkansas Blog post noting that the Family Council is campaigning against Issue 1, the ballot proposal to limit damage awards in lawsuits that is being challenged in Circuit Judge Mackie Pierce's courtroom:

I've been a little distracted lately so I might have missed it, but it seems like there's been a long enjoyable period of time without a mention of Jerry Cox and the Family Council. I thought maybe Cox had choked on a lemon and the Family Council had gone out of business. Sorry to hear this isn't the case.

My daddy has been dead for the last 35 years and I've decided I don't need any other daddies at this point in life. Our city daddies are about to drive us out of Arkansas. I don't need a spiritual daddy, sure don't need a Family Council, except the one in my own house, which has always been a 50-50 deal. In many cases a group of like-minded people can be dangerous. The Family Council needs to go back to the 1950s and pray over Elvis's swinging hips, silently. We're done with you.

We'll never be rid of the Trump Mafia unless our six turds in D.C. quit supporting him. Things will never get better in Arkansas unless our population wises up. Voting to take your own rights away is beyond stupid and Issue 1 is a toxic soup of poison for the 99 percent. If you hate yourself enough to vote for Issue 1, please find another outlet for your self-loathing ... young girls cutting in a quiet room is popular on our pay channels. Self-flagellation is a big deal in the Philippines around Easter.

If you want to hurt yourself, get after it, but please don't hurt the rest of us by voting for Issue 1! Save us, Judge Mackie Pierce!

Deathbyinches

We need to just face the fact Issue 1 is beyond any doubt the biggest POS that has EVER been foisted upon us Arkansans by the Arkansas legislature! We need to show those 135 self-centered idiots exactly what we think about their POS by voting against it. And I know I am painting with too broad of a brush here, because there are a few of those 135 legislators who actually voted against placing Issue 1 on the ballot and are actively working against it, thank goodness!

RYD

On the obituary by Ernie Dumas posted on the Arkansas Blog for former Arkansas Gazette editorial page editor Jerry Dhonau, citing Dhonau's reporting on the 1957 crisis at Central High School:

I was a brand-new copy editor on the Gazette news desk when Dhonau and [reporter Ray] Moseley were covering the story. Dumas' obit brings back those days in the newsroom, which was flooded by out-of-state reporters, many of whom were famous. They often cribbed the Arkansas Gazette articles when they filed their reports. Dhonau and Moseley were both consummate newsmen, interested only in getting the story right. It was kinda scary when they would come in after being at the school all day and relate what had transpired — a black reporter being beaten by the mob; the jeering white students; the dignity of the black students, and later, after the 101st Airborne had been sent in, a story about a redneck member of the white mob who made the mistake of trying to take a rifle away from a member of the 101st. You can imagine what happened. There are very few of us left who were on the Gazette staff at that time. It is a time in my life about which I have always been proud. Even though I had little to do with the coverage, I witnessed history being made.

plainjim

Scrubbing history

In a democracy, it is the archivist who stands on the first line of defense of a free people. Without archivists there would be no one to protect the documentation that affirms the truths about who we are as a people — warts and all.

Take the documentation of the country's struggle to pass the Equal Rights Amendment. In 1923, the Equal Rights Amendment was introduced. By 1982, 35 states had ratified it, needing only three more before the ratification could be recognized. Last year Nevada ratified it, followed by Illinois on May 31, 2018. Now, after 95 years of well-documented struggles, we are one state away from ratification. What then?

It's comforting to know that the archivist of the United States, as head of the National Archives and Records Administration, takes care of the administrative responsibilities of the amendment ratification process.

Before 1934, the role of national archivist was carried out by the secretaries of state (1789-1934). With the help of the American Historical Association in 1884, our political leaders were given a push toward creating a National Archives. It took until 1926 before funds were allocated for a National Archives Building. In 1933 President Hoover laid the corner stone and in 1934 FDR signed the national Archives Act. So, it took us 145 years to complete that little bit of governmental activity. But no matter how long it would have taken, those in the history field of the United States would never have stopped pushing.

We have had 10 national archivists since 1935 — all men, although we've had two women as acting archivist (1993 and 2008) for brief periods. Only one archivist, Mr. Don Wilson, seventh archivist, has ever certified an amendment; it was in 1992. And don't you know it had something to do with salary increases for members of Congress?

David Ferriero is our present archivist. And I believe like his predecessors he will protect the ERA documents. And will continue to have the authority to do so, which is something I took for granted until recently.

I would like to take for granted that every scrap of paper related to the 95-year-old odyssey of the ERA, as well as all of our other historical documents relating to past and present struggles, would be preserved, now and in the future. But, this is 2018, when all of our norms and standards are under attack. I stand with my fellow historians to keep a watchful eye, to stand guard, and sound the alarm if anyone dares to scrub any part of our history.

Janis K. Percefull

Hot Springs

Vote, people

#Vote #people

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