My version of the Danny-apocalypse face kinda my version of a future/transitional suit where he discovers the more inane parts of his fanbase.

THE WAY I LOVED YOU

Word count: 4,2K

Wanings: angst (but fluff, too)

Summary: You weren't over the love Childe provided you, even when you were engaged to Albedo years later.

A blue, pink and mauve sky garnished the surroundings of the Stormbearer Mountains. The summery breeze, warm as the light of the bright sun, comforted those who walked along the path of fallen leaves, wild flowers and the smell of mint. A beautiful landscape presented itself for sore eyes to see.

A certain Alchemist was working on his new masterpiece, relaxing under the few rays of light that came with dusk, painting the one he considered the most beautiful person to ever put a foot on Teyvat. Mixing the colours of nature, he portraited on the sketch book the view he had of his fiancée and the scenery, all of it worthy of a cheesy romance novel and a fantasy book.

"How much time do you need?" Y/N asked in a tired tone, trying not to shift her position, "I'm getting crumps on my face from smiling."

The man didn't answer at the moment, considering for a brief time her question and filling a space on the page that still needed his attention. At last, he looked at her and smiled at the image he had the honour of witnessing. The girl, dressed in a summer white and blue dress, was slightly pouting at the lack of talking from his part. Her hair danced with the wind and he thanked Barbatos for letting him see her golden locks fly around her face.

"Just a little more, my love," he answered, his attention shifting back to the drawing in front of him.

"You said that an hour ago," the girl sighed, putting a smile again on her face so she didn't disrupt her lover from painting her, "I thought you wanted to go see Sucrose before the sun came down. Oh! And also, you promised Klee you'd visit her."

He hummed, immersed in the way her features took a hardened expression when she tried to remember something that needed to be done. Brows furrowed and fore finger on her right cheek, she looked at him in search of a comment from the Alchemist.

"Albedo! Are you listening to me?"

"You're so beautiful." mumbled the man, lost in her and the blush that was forming on her visage.

Shameless and, at the same time, honest and shy. That was Albedo, the one she was engaged to. Such an honourable and good man, someone who loved her as much as the Sea loved its waves, as much as the birds loved the Wind, as much as a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire. He gave her his everything and from the bottom of his own person, and she was grateful for it.

"I'm sorry" he promptly said, coughing on his palm to hide the evident embarrassment he felt, "It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."

At that, she couldn't help but laugh. He was such a beautiful person, always searching her comfort and well-being before anyone else's, always taking care of her and looking for her. A pure soul, she would venture to affirm.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," Y/N chuckled, positioning once again for him to portray her, "you know I love it when you compliment me. Now, c'mon, finish before the sun falls."

"As you wish."

One more hour of dirtying their hands in paint and observing the marvellous dusk that came upon them, they left to visit Sucrose, who was willing to tell Albedo about her advances in the research they both were working on.

"That's impressive, Sucrose," Albedo praised the girl, reading the documents and correcting those things he found could be improved.

Y/N turned off the conversation, not really interested in the depths of the Alchemy. She respected what the husband to be and her friend did for a life and she couldn't be prouder, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear the endless conversations about properties a flower could have.

After saying goodbye to the little Alchemist, they both headed to say hello to little Klee, who was mad at them for coming so late, it was already her time for bed and, as she said, 'We can't go bomb fishing!', followed by a 'Do you not love Klee?' Reassuring the little bomb crazy kid was more draining than she could imagine, but she did it for Albedo, nonetheless.

The afternoon turned into the late hours of the night, lilac sky was now dark and adorned with stars. The Alchemist had intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, sighing in content, allowing himself to relax at the warmth of her hand and the serenity reigning in Mondstadt.

"Maybe we should head home, you seem exhausted," commented Albedo after watching his fiancée yawn for the third time in ten minutes.

"That would be great, actually." Y/N yawned again, gaining a quiet chuckle from the man next to her.

No one talked again, everything already said until the moment to bid goodnight when they laid in bed. Albedo, being the reserved man he was, kept himself in his side of the bed, not too confident to spoon his girl still.

The silence was only accompanied by Albedo's soft snores. Darkness decorated the walls of the room in the AM. The sense of being trapped growing inside Y/N as she thought of the implications of her new life. She was engaged to an incredible man, who told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her every single day; who went with her on strolls and made her laugh; who could teach her more than she could ever imagine; who appreciated her as she was.

Still, she felt nothing. At all.

She liked Albedo, that was clear. Who wouldn't like Albedo? He was the perfect man. On more than one occasion, Y/N had Amber and Barbara drooling about how lucky she was to be with someone like him. She knew she was the luckiest girl in Teyvat, most women simped over Diluc or Albedo. But, at the same time, she only felt guilt for being with him without actually loving him.

Anxiety growing on her, she decided to stand up. She walked out of the room, being careful not to disrupt Albedo's sleep, and headed to the transport point, she needed to be away from any form of human activity, she felt like shouting and hitting the first thing she could see. Breathing becoming a very tedious task as she approached the device, opting to go to Mt. Aocang. If she was going to wake someone up, she preferred an Adeptus who wouldn't ask more than any nosy human.

The wind, colder than that afternoon, calmed her to the point her lungs could take the oxygen she had been trying to get for minutes. The orange leaves obscured by the night reminded her of the hair she used to love so much. The hair of that man she had once despised, then loved, and then lost.

He, who claimed to be brave enough to enter her heart, had been the one to take it and keep it even until those days. Y/N noticed how her breathing became irregular again, she was used to it, every time she thought about the Harbinger. That repulsive, irresponsible, dishonest, cunning, intelligent and breath-taking man she couldn't forget. How had she let it come so far?

Albedo gave her everything, yet her heart yearned Childe's love. How pathetic.

"Fuck you, Childe!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring for the Adepti, not caring for those who could hear her cursing the Harbinger Tartaglia at 2 a.m. a Thursday night. "You ruined me, you motherfucker!"

So many fights, so many make outs, so much love making, so many nights under the stars trying to comprehend their feelings for the other. All of that for nothing. Like the bitter cold of Snezhnaya they froze, their hearts on their sleeves, light that came from the satellite above turned off.

"You know, sometimes I feel like you don't like me that much." she remembered him saying, his characteristic smirk on his face, "It's true we had our... abrasions, but girlie, c'mon, don't be so stiff."

She could clearly see in her mind how his hands came to her waist, grabbing her in a gentle but at the same time rough grip. A shivered down her spine, in the present and in the pass, and she was sure she would feel it in the future, too.

"How am I supposed to trust you, Harbinger?" she had said, crossing her arms after pulling away from him.

"Easy, trusting me."

And she did. She felt like a fool for allowing him to be so near, to had felt love from him, for loving him.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale, my love," Albedo commented, a hand of his on the forehead of his lover, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes, Albedo, don't worry, I didn't sleep too well last night," Y/N reassured him, smiling slightly at her fiancé.

The Alchemist hummed, nodding to himself and returning to his work. The girl had returned to their room after a couple of hours in Mt. Aocang, praying for Albedo to not had noticed her absence. Apparently, he didn't. Had he noticed he would had already asked about it, or so she thought.

"I was thinking about visiting Liyue today, there are some materials there I need for my research," Albedo said after some minutes, looking at her, "I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Y/N's heart dropped. She had to say yes, how could she say no to Albedo? He wanted to spend time with her while still working, an effort she really appreciated. But, going to Liyue? What if he was there? Strolling those streets the two of them had travelled a thousand times.

But his gaze was still on her, waiting patiently for a reply. Doubtfully, she considered all her options: not going and upsetting Albedo; going and crossing him; going and being unable to continue due to the memories. No option was good, she had to choose between her fiancé's well-being and hers. 'He's made so any sacrifices for me'.

"I would love to, love."

Merchants selling, people buying, contracts being signed. That was Liyue in all its glory. Red, green and blue being the most recurrent colour themes on the walls, roofs and gardens, a gift to anyone who wanted to visit a paradise.

Albedo was buying some materials while Y/N stood next to him, not looking at anyone's face in case Childe decided to make one of his classic appearances. She grabbed Albedo's sleeve as a way to comfort herself, reassuring one time and one time again that she didn't have that much of bad luck to cross him in such a huge city.

She turned her head to look around at last, brave to see the stores and Liyue's people. Many of them knew who she was, having helped most of them at least in one occasion, great people with beautiful and peaceful lives. She had that now, at Albedo's side. But why did she feel like it wasn't what she wanted?

The red mask in one of the stalls froze her in her place, it looked identical to Childe's. She knew it wasn't his, of course, he was too involved in the Fatui and too wealthy to pledge his mask, but it made her remember him and one of the many memories she had with him in Liyue, again.

"Girlie, don't be like that" Childe exclaimed, smiling at her with bravado, "You don't have to feign you don't want that bracelet."

"I don't want it," repeated her for the third time, growing irritated.

"I have enough money to buy it for you, darling," the Harbinger insisted, taking her left hand in one of his and kissing her knuckles.

"How charming," she murmured ironically, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand out of his grasp.

"I know," he smirked, going after her, "and I also know how much you love when I act like a gentleman."

"How would you know that if you've never acted like one?" she snorted, watching his expression turn into an offended one.

"I'm a gentleman, you just can't appreciate my efforts to woo you," he replied with a pout.

"Aw, little Childe can't take a no for an answer," Y/N continued to tease him, smiling slightly at his spoiled brat's act.

"Very well, little lady, you're not having that bracelet," he stamped and turn away from her, walking without a real direction.

"Not that I wanted it!" she shouted at the distance.

Needless to say, she found the bracelet in her purse that night with a cheesy note that claimed 'To my favourite and stubborn traveller, with love, Childe'.

She still had it in her wrist, accompanying her wherever she went, reminding her of the stupid man that gifted it to her. Golden with Snezhnaya patterns, orange jewelry decorating the surface of the material. Albedo never said anything about it, never asked, and she was grateful for it, he knew to respect her space.

Her fiancé had just finished purchasing what he needed, looking at her with a loving gaze. She felt nothing, only appreciation, and she felt awful for not returning his feelings at their best, he deserved to be loved and spoiled. However, she missed him, she missed what they had.

The grey sky announced the storm that was coming, thunder and lightning appearing to give a performance of nature power. She had fought, walked, ran and danced in rain. She had danced, kissed and loved. But nothing of it with Albedo.

"Now a step to the left" instructed Childe, grabbing her waist with his left hand and her hand with his right one, "and now turn around... That's it! Perfect! You're a natural."

"Stop lying," she laughed, following what he was saying and dancing with him in a forgotten valley in some old ruins, "I can't dance for the love of Barbatos."

"I think you're really good, almost seductive," he purred, kissing her jaw and going down her neck, "seeing you move your hips like that just" an animalistic growl came from the back of his throat.

"Okay, calm down big guy, we're not fucking here."

The sound of thunder interrupted his reply, confusing them both for a moment. Suddenly, rain poured and soaked them wet. Y/N looked for somewhere they could go to shelter from the storm, but Childe just laughed and started making her dance again.

"What the hell are you doing, pee-brain!" she exclaimed, desperate.

"Dancing with you under the rain. Isn't it romantic?" he asked, smug as always.

"Romantic until we catch a hypothermia."

He didn't budge. Swaying them both with the dark landscape behind them, leaves flying around, wind aggressive. But nothing mattered as they looked at each other; love, affection and lust hidden in their souls, wanting nothing more than to indulge to the other and become one. How can anyone love this much? How can feelings root that deep? Childe was the only answer to those questions.

With nothing but a soft caress to her cheek, he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her while the rain accentuated the wet sounds. Everything with him was wild, but so addictive she couldn't help but coming undone, indulging to everything he asked silently from her. A kiss in the rain never felt so good.

"I'll be right back, I just need to drop this at Mingxing Jewelry," Albedo said, giving her a peck before leaving.

She stood there for a few moments, wondering what she could do white she waited for her lover. The rain was nearing Liyue Harbor, Albedo had told her he needed to do a couple of things more before going to the transport point to return home. She felt like throwing up, not a single spot in the city did not remind her of the love of her life, including their ugliest moments as a couple.

"How could you!?" Y/N screamed, feeling completely devastated and deceived.

"I had to! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No! It's not okay!" his indifference was breaking her heart, looking at him with disappointment, "Again! You did it again!"

"I was ordered to!" he shouted, his voice the same tone as hers, wrath in his eyes, "I have a job and you knew about it when you decided to fuck me!"

"What the hell, Childe!" she cried, "First of all, you nearly destroy Liyue! Again! Not only once but twice!" she was tired, everything was going down in front of her and she didn't want to watch it come to ruins, "And fuck you? You mean love you?"

"Love, sex, everything's the same, isn't it?" he replied, calmer and returning to his indifferent tone.

"W-what do you mean?" the fuming storm stopped to bring an eye of the hurricane, waiting patiently to unleash the tsunami over them.

"What you heard; I don't find a difference between the two concepts."

"You're lying," she murmured, unbelieving. How could he say that when an hour ago he was looking at her with so much love? Was it all an act? No, you can't feign feelings so deep.

"You're just too fool to see it, girlie," his smirk appeared, making her shake in fear, fear of losing what she cared about, "confusing terms and assuming things without asking."

"You're lying." she repeated, more to herself than for him to hear. He sighed, as if he was done with her.

"Think what you want. Now, there are people waiting for me. Until next time, girlie."

The shattering of her heart served up as the soundtrack of his departure. The leaves that had been once so vibrant and full of colour now danced around her in muted tones, mocking her. That was it, the end of their love. The palace the resembled their union fell into pieces, she needed to let go of him. The words he said cut deeper than a knife, made her feel cold. But how could she let go if she still loved him?

"So now you're with the Alchemist," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, making her turn to the source of it.

There he was. Orange hair and piercing blue eyes. His smirk wasn't present in the portray he displayed of himself, walking as the noble man he said he was. Her heart raced for the first time in years, asking her for indulgence, for permission to feel.

"Yes," was the first thing she said after some minutes processing what was happening. Childe was there, in front of her, "yes, I'm with Albedo."

"I see," he commented, uninterested. She thought that was all the interaction they would have, that he would go away again and leave her live her life, but she had to know better, "even if you can't forget me, you allow yourself to be with someone else?"

"What is it to you?" Y/N felt offended, who did he think he was to reprimand her in such a dirty way? He couldn't know she wasn't over him, could he?

"It's unfair for both of you. You see, love shouldn't feel like you owe something to someone just because they love you." Childe said, his gaze falling at the bracelet for a couple of seconds before looking at the landscape, "You're fooling him and yourself."

"And what would you know about love?" the question came in a bitter tone. She was angry, how dare he talk about love when he did her so wrong? When he hurt her so much?

"Touché." Childe gave her a sincere smile that reached his eyes, it was breath-taking. Y/N felt her stomach twirl and her heart jump at the sight of such a beautiful scenario, "Glad to see you well, Y/N. See ya!"

And like that, he left the place as if he hadn't turned her world around again. She missed him, she admitted to herself that she missed him. She missed his wild nature, his odd conversations, the mystery wrapping around him. She couldn't forgive him, but she couldn't live without him, either. That's the way she loved him.

Once Albedo returned from his errands, they both went to the transport point to return to Mondstadt. The way back was silent, but not a comfortable one as they always had, there was some tension lingering in between them. She wanted to attribute it to the tension she had been carrying since her encounter with Childe, but deep down she knew there was something else.

When they entered their house, they both changed into their sleeping garments without sharing a word, waiting for the other to be the first one to break the silence. Y/N didn't have it in her to be the brave one in the situation at hand, so, finally, Albedo spoke.

"I know you're not over him," he said, calmly, but there was jealousy in his tone.

She was surprised to hear him say those words. She never mentioned Childe before, less being in a relationship with him. She wanted to feel fear, the same one she felt when her argument with Childe broke them apart, but she felt nothing at all. Why? Why couldn't she be in love with a man life him?

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Y/N." Albedo sighed, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.

"B-but", she stuttered, searching for words, "H-how do you know...?"

"There were rumours... some years ago, about the 'traveller' being with one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. It was during your time at Liyue."

She nodded, understanding, but really not understanding anything, "Did you believe them?"

"I can't say yes, but I can't say no, either." Albedo looked at her, he didn't look angry, and that made her feel a little bit better. "I just couldn't know if it was true or not because I wasn't there."

"I see." another moment of silence followed. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes, "Why do you say that I'm not over him, though?"

"There are so many signs, you aren't the subtlest person, love." he chuckled, "The bracelet has Snezhnaya patterns and you haven't taken it out in all these years. I can only assume it was a present from Tartaglia."

Y/N nodded again, impressed with how observant Albedo was and with his deduction skills. She wished for the hundredth time that day that she would have fell in love with him and not with the Harbinger.

"I'm so sorry-" she began, but was quickly interrupted by her fiancé.

"Don't." he commanded, "That's not the only thing that gave you away."

"What do you mean?"

"Your late night trips."

'He knew' she thought, searching for any clues that could tell her when he had discovered it, but there were none. 'He has known all this time.'

"Why haven't you said anything?" she asked.

"I wanted to give you space," he began, "I must admit, however, that at first I thought you were cheating on me."

"I would never-" she was interrupted again, a kind gaze on his eyes.

"I know, I know. I realized when you came home smelling like grass and mint and not with the cologne of another man."

It was silent again, Y/N tried to find anything she could say to make him feel better, but she couldn't even understand himself. Why isn't she feeling her heart shattering? She knew why, but she didn't want to indulge in that feeling.

"I'm so sorry, Albedo. I really am."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." those words sounded identical to the ones she had directed to Childe once upon a time.

"I am aware that you don't love me the way I love you."

"Albedo-"

"But it's okay, I can love both of us enough to fill that gap."

She was at a loss of words. Had she heard it right? What did he mean? Albedo was so calm, so ethereal, looking at her fondly even when he knew she didn't feel the same. He was going to marry a woman that didn't want him the same way she wanted her. And even though he was aware of that, he was smiling.

"Why?" she wondered out loud.

"Because that's how it works, that's the way I love you, until you can return my feelings."

The leaves that danced aggressively at the other side of the window stayed still, processing the scene going on in the room of the Alchemist and the Traveller. Their colour coming back to a vibrant one, giving her hope of being able to love again, to feel something.

Her love with Childe was like the Sun and the Moon, so in love they were crazy for each other, but impossible and unworkable. But, Albedo loved her like the Sea loved its waves, like the birds loved the Wind, like a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire, and she was going to return it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she would. And when she did, she would love him as much as the Leaves loved their trees, as much as the Lake loved the rain that floods it, as much as the Horizon loved dusk.

She bid goodbye to Childe that night, leaving the bracelet in the drawer in her nightstand. Adorning her hand only was the ring Albedo had gifted her.

"See you, Childe," she murmured at 2 a.m. before falling in her slumber.

Family Portraits

For @fjoresterweek Day 3: Family

Read it on ao3

The walls of the Lavorre Estate are full of art of many varieties. It is a veritable explosion of colour and decor on nearly every wall. One wall however, is the favoured place of both of the owners, as it is the wall where family portraits are hung. Above a comfortable, plush couch with cushions worn in from many nights of use, this particular series of works hangs. They are all clearly done by the same artist, though the expertise improves through the newer pieces. It is a veritable art gallery display, a life's work of the history of their family.  

The first such portrait is small, set in a wooden frame, with a scratch or dent here or there. It seems as if it would be just about the right size to fit into a pocket of a well known, pink haversack. This piece features Marion Lavorre in a simple and beautiful purple gown. Her hair is down, as it often was when she was taking the evening off to spend time with her daughter and she is smiling brightly whilst leaning over the shoulder of a young Jester Lavorre. Jester smiles proudly alongside her mama. You would place the blue tiefling at about age 16, though the anatomy is not quite right in a few places and, if you look closely, you might get the sense that the artist may have faced the challenge of having to paint herself, which meant her model was ever moving. The pigments are slightly faded from time and wear, as it seems likely that this portrait was taken as a momento through a long journey, but the love in the portrait remains eternal nevertheless.

The next piece is a series of sketches that have been set together in one glass frame. The bold charcoal and ink lines on the pale parchment offer a stark contrast to the muted and worn colours of the previous portrait. There is a variety of sketches and styles that were chosen to be featured, some more formal and others more like doodles. You see Mollymauk Tealeaf in a detailed side profile, looking up to the sky. Caleb Widogast with Frumpkin wrapped around his neck, a serious expression colouring his features - likely drawn while he was identifying some item or another. A sketch of Nott and a sketch of Veth wearing similar expressions, artfully placed side by side creating a mirror effect. Next is Fjord, wearing an utterly ridiculous captain's hat with an earnest and serious expression that emphasizes the comedic effect; this one featuring a small sketched heart in the corner. There is a detailed drawing  of Yasha wreathed in beautiful flowers, it has the slightest wrinkle and smudge where a grateful tear had been shed over it. Next Caduceus, drawn with a soft smile and little doodles of mushrooms and tea bags surrounding him cheerfully. Several versions of Beau drawn with action lines and body shapes sketched through, showing the artistry of her motion as Jester had tried to capture one of her favourite martial arts sequences. Then there's Jester’s first draft design for her high priestess gown at Traveller con. Finally, Essek smiling shyly over a bowl full of soup. The pages overlap in places but if you looked close enough, one might just be able to see the inky scrawl through the page above that reads “Hot Boi likes hot soup!”. These pieces had been lovingly chosen from Jester’s sketchbook at the time, and though the works were made using simple materials, they weave together and flow to form a larger picture of the quiet acts of kindness and attention that had forged these travelling companions into a family.

Next is a large canvas that is bursting with bright colours. The Mighty Nein are wearing their highest quality clothes, once purchased for an upscale party, and posed amongst the blooming grove. The landscape itself is a masterpiece in it’s own right, but Jester has taken great care and attention to paint each of the member of their little family in all of their colourful glory to match. Every detail of the painting has been meticulously filled in with the kind of care and attention that came from at last having leisure time and wanting to commemorate a great victory.

Essek floats under the shade of a tree with a parasol still artfully posed as much for fashion as for function. He is subtly holding the hand of Caleb who appears next to him in a stark contrast to the grubby and bearded man with a thousand burdens depicted in the first sketch. This Caleb wears a beautiful set of robes, his chest is raised in pride as he poses amongst his family, and his clean shaven appearance compounded with the removal of some of his looming worries, makes it appear almost as if he had aged in reverse. Caleb has a hand placed on Veth’s shoulder who poses with her crossbow out, a hand on her hip, and a gleaming smile that displays all of her “normal amount of teeth”. Yeza is standing beside her with a shy smile, Luc raised on his shoulders with a gleaming grin that matches his mother’s. He is showing off his own crossbow as well. Next to the Brenatto family is Beau who has a snarky grin, and is holding her tie, clearly still loving her formal suit. Yasha has an arm around her and is looking down at Beau with eyes that convey just how much she cherishes the opportunity to hold her at all. Her long hair has been lovingly woven with flowers from the garden and they stand out in a bright contrast to her otherwise monochrome appearance. Jester appears gleefully next to her, surrounded by her large family and utterly glowing with joy. Fjord has an arm around her waist and appears to be posed rather comically like most captains one might see on the cover of a romance novel. It is easy to believe the artist may have taken some creative license in how he was portrayed. Filling out the entire rest of the canvas is the Clay family. Caduceus stands in the centre, looking perfectly at home with the large family around him. As they Clays didn’t own much in the way of formal clothes, Caduceus is starkly contrasted by their somewhat humble appearances but there is no denying the beautiful familial connection amongst them is more beautiful to see than any formal attire. Then at last, down in the front, lying languidly across the grass in a rather suggestive pose, is Kingsley. It seems that he was not one to miss an opportunity to be portrayed beautifully and he is posing rather dramatically with a flower between his teeth. All told this portrait is clearly the centrepiece of the space with it’s boisterous colours and even more boisterous personalities.

Next on the wall, there is a small piece of Fjord and Jester in a suit and wedding gown. It is surprisingly simple. The pair are touching their foreheads together and looking utterly content. The love is the real feature of this piece and it doesn't require much else. There is however, a rumor that there is a small dick hidden in the embroidery of her wedding gown if you look close enough, but so far only Caduceus has discovered it’s location and he and Jester have been very tightlipped about it, so the hidden dick remains a mystery to most.

The portrait after this is Jester and Fjord holding two tiefling babies and one half orc toddler of varying colours and slightly different ages. The new parents are showing off their freshly adopted children with all the pride they can muster. The next section of the wall features a mix of solo paintings or drawings of the children as they have aged, interspersed with art projects that had clearly been done by the children themselves that had earned a place on the wall.

There is another group portrait of the Lavorre family that features Babadon and Marion, Fjord and Jester, and all 3 children who now appeared to be just coming into their teenage years. Though some years have passed, the pride with which Jester and Fjord display their children has not lessened.

Next there is a tall painting of a day at the beach. This painting would have taken hours of meticulous care to put together but it was clearly a masterwork. Each figure is in action, having a lovely day on the beach. It was painted to commemorate a favourite family reunion and has been captured with near perfect accuracy.

Caduceus is featured standing by the ocean’s edge with two small children climbing over him that anyone who knew Beau and Yasha would recognize as their children. He is dangling a third, that is recognizable as the youngest Brenatto, by an ankle over the water, doomed to be dunked below but laughing gleefully about it.

Fjord is nearby, playfully controlling water to splash a group of teenagers that include Luc and one of his younger sister’s Caley as well as all of Fjord and Jester’s children (Artie, Ruby and Vandran) who are laughing and raising their hands in defense. Ruby is beginning to manipulate a wave of her own, likely to return the favour. Fjord’s beard and hair are getting to be mostly grey at this point, his body taking on a little more sag than it used to, but the playful glint in his eye remains the same.

Beau and Yasha are nearby, playing a game of chicken against Kingsley and Marius (on again off again lovers) in the shallows. Beau and Kingsley are nearly nose to nose as they grit their teeth in an attempt to knock one another off.

On the sand, they had set up a large canvas tent to block the sun and in it there were various towels and chairs and snacks. A hammock is hung next to it and Caleb, long grey hair up in topknot, with his still reddish vacation beard, has fallen asleep in a patch of sunlight with a book across his chest. The many cats that he and Essek foster appear to have agreed with his idea as he has four cat’s lounging lazily on and around him, soaking up the warmth of the perfect sun patch.

Jester, much longer in the horns, and Essek, who looks much the same as he always has, are painting one another's nails in the shade and Essek is laughing while Jester appears to whisper some secret story to him.

Finally, Yeza can be seen holding Veth’s hand as she delicately dips a singular toe in the water from the relative safety of some large boulders.

It is a work of art that is destined to become a family heirloom.

Betwixt the paintings on this wall, hang other artful details. There is a cross stitch piece made by Yasha that is covered in embroidered flowers and reads “Open your heart to chaos”. There is a small, ceramic unicorn perched on it’s own tiny shelf. There is a scarf that Caleb had knit for Jester, several years prior when Essek had convinced him that knitting would be good for his anxiety, hung with care between two paintings. There is a crayon drawing of the traveller’s symbol, drawn by a child who was unwittingly inventing a whole religion on the spot. There is the green bow, once tied around the neck of a weasel who has finally been begrudgingly allowed to return to the fey wild as he is no longer needed.

Inevitably, Jester will get the itch to add another piece, and then it will be a week-long process of arranging and rearranging the wall again until it is just so. As it stands now, however, with many old friends piled onto their comfortable couch, sharing tea from a grave once more, catching up on one another’s lives, what the kids are up to, etc. this wall is indeed the perfect background for their small family reunions that are becoming more and more regular as a few of their members age.

Jester glances through their history and smiles a small smile just for herself.

“So Luc goes up to Ludines and says-”

“Jester, what are you staring at?” Yasha cuts in.

“Oh just looking at the art.”

“I still haven’t found that damned dick!” Caleb shouts standing to inspect their wedding portrait once more and the room bursts into amicable laughter and they zoom off on yet another tangent.

Yes... it is perfect.

Bert Williams

Bert Williams (November 12, 1874 – March 4, 1922) was a Bahamian-born American entertainer, one of the pre-eminent entertainers of the Vaudeville era and one of the most popular comedians for all audiences of his time. He is credited as being the first black man to have the leading role in a film: Darktown Jubilee in 1914.[2]

He was by far the best-selling black recording artist before 1920. In 1918, the New York Dramatic Mirror called Williams "one of the great comedians of the world."

Williams was a key figure in the development of African-American entertainment. In an age when racial inequality and stereotyping were commonplace, he became the first black American to take a lead role on the Broadway stage, and did much to push back racial barriers during his three-decade-long career. Fellow vaudevillian W. C. Fields, who appeared in productions with Williams, described him as "the funniest man I ever saw—and the saddest man I ever knew."

Williams was born in Nassau, The Bahamas, on November 12, 1874, to Frederick Williams Jr. and his wife Julia. At the age of 11, Bert permanently emigrated with his parents, moving to Florida in the United States. The family soon moved to Riverside, California, where he graduated from Riverside High School in 1892. In 1893, while still a teenager, he joined different West Coast minstrel shows, including Martin and Selig's Mastodon Minstrels in San Francisco, where he first met his future professional partner, George Walker.

He and Walker performed song-and-dance numbers, comic dialogues and skits, and humorous songs. They fell into stereotypical vaudevillian roles: originally Williams portrayed a slick conniver, while Walker played the "dumb coon" victim of Williams' schemes. But they soon discovered that they got a better reaction by switching roles and subverting expectations. The sharp-featured and slender Walker eventually developed a persona as a strutting dandy, while the stocky Williams played the languorous oaf. Despite his thickset physique, Williams was a master of body language and physical "stage business." A New York Times reviewer wrote: "He holds a face for minutes at a time, seemingly, and when he alters it, bring[s] a laugh by the least movement."

In late 1896, the pair were added to The Gold Bug, a struggling musical. The show did not survive, but Williams & Walker got good reviews, and were able to secure higher profile bookings. They headlined the Koster and Bial's vaudeville house for 36 weeks in 1896–97, where their spirited version of the cakewalk helped popularize the dance. The pair performed in burnt-cork blackface, as was customary at the time, billing themselves as "Two Real Coons" to distinguish their act from the many white minstrels also performing in blackface. Williams also made his first recordings in 1896, but none are known to survive. They participated in a "Benefit for New York's Poor" held on February 9, 1897 at the Metropolitan Opera House, their only appearance at that theater.

While playing off the "coon" formula, Williams & Walker's act and demeanor subtly undermined it as well. Camille Forbes wrote, "They called into question the possible realness of blackface performers who only emphasized their artificiality by recourse to burnt cork; after all, Williams did not really need the burnt cork to be black," despite his lighter skin complexion. He would pull on a wig full of kinky hair in order to help conceal his wavy hair. Terry Waldo also noted the layered irony in their cakewalk routine, which presented them as mainstream blacks performing a dance in a way that lampooned whites who'd mocked a black dance that originally satirized plantation whites' ostentatiously fussy mannerisms. The pair also made sure to present themselves as immaculately groomed and classily dressed in their publicity photos, which were used for advertising and on the covers of sheet music promoting their songs. In this way, they drew a contrast between their real-life comportment and the comical characters they portrayed onstage. However, this aspect of their act was ambiguous enough that some black newspapers still criticized the duo for failing to uplift the dignity of their race.

In 1899, Williams surprised his partner George Walker and his family when he announced he had recently married Charlotte ("Lottie") Thompson, a singer with whom he had worked professionally, in a very private ceremony. Lottie was a widow eight years Bert's senior. Thus, the match seemed odd to some who knew the gregarious and constantly traveling Williams, but all who knew them considered them a uniquely happy couple, and the union lasted until his death. The Williamses never had children biologically, but they adopted and reared three of Lottie's nieces. They also frequently sheltered orphans and foster children in their homes.

Williams & Walker appeared in a succession of shows, including A Senegambian Carnival, A Lucky Coon, and The Policy Players. Their stars were on the ascent, but they still faced vivid reminders of the limits placed on them by white society. In August 1900, in New York City, hysterical rumors of a white detective having been shot by a black man erupted into an uncontained riot. Unaware of the street violence, Williams & Walker left their theater after a performance and parted ways. Williams headed off in a fortunate direction, but Walker was yanked from a streetcar by a white mob and was beaten.

The duo's international success established them as the most visible black performers in the world. They hoped to parlay this renown into a new, more elaborate and costly stage production, to be shown in the top-flight theaters. Williams and Walker's management team balked at the expense of this project, then sued the pair to prevent them from securing outside investors or representation. Filings in the suit revealed that each member of the team had earned approximately $120,000 from 1902 to 1904, or $3.5 million apiece in 2019 dollars. The lawsuit was unsuccessful, and Williams and Walker accepted an offer from Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre, the premiere vaudeville house in New York. A white Southern monologist objected to the integrated bill, but the show went ahead with Williams and Walker and without the objector.

In February 1906, Abyssinia, with a score co-written by Williams, premiered at the Majestic Theater. The show, which included live camels, was another smash. Aspects of the production continued the duo's cagey steps toward greater creative pride and freedom for black performers. The nation of Abyssinia (now Ethiopia) was the only African nation to remain sovereign during European colonization, repelling Italy's attempts at control in 1896. The show also included inklings of a love story, something that had never been tolerated in a black stage production before. Walker played a Kansas tourist while his wife, Aida, portrayed an Abyssinian princess. A scene between the two of them, while comic, presented Walker as a nervous suitor.

While the show was praised, many white critics were uncomfortable or uncertain about its cast's ambitions. One critic declared that audiences "do not care to see their own ways copied when they can have the real thing better done by white people," while the New York Evening Post thought the score "is at times too elaborate for them and a return to the plantation melodies would be a great improvement upon the 'grand opera' type, for which they are not suited either by temperament or by education." The Chicago Tribune remarked, disapprovingly, "there is hardly a trace of negroism in the play." George Walker was unbowed, telling the Toledo Bee, "It's all rot, this slapstick bandanna handkerchief bladder in the face act, with which negro acting is associated. It ought to die out and we are trying to kill it." Though the flashier Walker rarely had qualms about opposing the racial prejudice and limitations of the day, the more introspective and brooding Williams internalized his feelings.

In 1908, while starring in the successful Broadway production Bandanna Land, Williams and Walker were asked to appear at a charity benefit by George M. Cohan. Walter C. Kelly, a prominent monologist, protested and encouraged the other acts to withdraw from the show rather than appear alongside black performers; only two of the acts joined Kelly's boycott.

Bandanna Land continued the duo's series of hits and introduced a tour de force sketch that soon Williams made famous: his pantomime poker game. In total silence, Williams acted out a hand of poker, with only his facial expressions and body language conveying the dealer's up-and-down emotions as he considered his hand, reacted to the unseen actions of his invisible opponents, and weighed the pros and cons of raising or calling the bet. It later became a standard routine in his solo stage act, and was recorded on film by Biograph Studios in 1916.

Walker was in ill health by this point due to syphilis, which was then incurable. In January 1909 he suffered a stroke onstage while singing, and was forced to drop out of Bandanna Land the following month. The famous pair never performed in public again, and Walker died less than two years later. Walker had been the businessman and public spokesman for the duo. His absence left Williams professionally adrift.

After 16 years as half of a duo, Williams needed to reestablish himself as a solo act. In May 1909 he returned to Hammerstein's Victoria Theater and the high-class vaudeville circuit. His new act consisted of several songs, comic monologues in dialect, and a concluding dance. He received top billing and a high salary, but the White Rats of America, an organization of vaudevillians opposed to encroachments from blacks and women, intimidated the theater managers into reducing Williams' billing. The brash Walker would have resisted such an insult to his star status, but the more reserved Williams did not protest. Allies were few; big-time vaudeville managers were fearful of attracting a disproportionate number of black audience members and thus allowed only one black act per bill. Due to his ethnicity, Williams typically was forced to travel, eat and lodge separately from the rest of his fellow performers, increasing his sense of isolation following the loss of Walker.

In 1910, Booker T. Washington wrote of Williams: "He has done more for our race than I have. He has smiled his way into people's hearts; I have been obliged to fight my way." Gene Buck, who had discovered W. C. Fields in vaudeville and hired him for the Follies, wrote to a friend on the occasion of Fields' death: "Next to Bert Williams, Bill [Fields] was the greatest comic that ever lived."

Williams' stage career lagged after his final Follies appearance in 1919. His name was enough to open a show, but they had shorter, less profitable runs. In December 1921, Under the Bamboo Tree opened, to middling results. Williams still got good reviews, but the show did not. Williams developed pneumonia, but did not want to miss performances, knowing that he was the only thing keeping an otherwise moribund musical alive at the box office. However, Williams also emotionally suffered from the racial politics of the era, and did not feel fully accepted. He experienced almost chronic depression in his later years, coupled with alcoholism and insomnia.

On February 27, 1922, Williams collapsed during a performance in Detroit, Michigan, which the audience initially thought was a comic bit. Helped to his dressing room, Williams quipped, "That's a nice way to die. They was laughing when I made my last exit." He returned to New York, but his health worsened. He died at his home, 2309 Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, New York City on March 4, 1922 at the age of 47. Few had suspected that he was sick, and news of his death came as a public shock. More than 5,000 fans filed past his casket, and thousands more were turned away. A private service was held at the Masonic Lodge in Manhattan, where Williams broke his last barrier. He was the first black American to be so honored by the all-white Grand Lodge. When the Masons opened their doors for a public service, nearly 2,000 mourners of both races were admitted. Williams was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in The Bronx, New York City.

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

“How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto -- Never easy, but we try. Sometimes our happiness is captured; Somehow our time and place stand still... Love lives on inside our hearts and always will... Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone, But when all else has been forgotten, Still our song lives on...”

~“How Does a Moment Last Forever? (cover)” by Celine Dion

x~x~x~x

tw: character death, funerals, grief

x~x~x~x

The kelpie known as Ru Ollivander always knew their time on Earth would be fleeting -- at least, in comparison to the human witches and wizards they’d ended up living alongside. It was the main reason Ru had such a passion for photography, animation, and moving pictures. The thought of capturing a single moment and making it last beyond that moment...making it possible to relive that moment over and over again, as many times as one wanted...it was meaningful in a way Ru couldn’t quite put into words. 

And so over the years, the eccentric, blunt kelpie -- never the best at expressing themselves in the way more upright, classy humans did -- captured as many memories as they could of the things they found most remarkable about the Wizarding World they’d entered. They sketched the rows upon rows of disgusting-looking ingredients in jars set up in the Potions classroom. They took pictures of the way the moon looked from the Astronomy Tower after a thunderstorm. They made animations of how Venomous Tentaculas and Mandrakes grew, compressing entire months into mere seconds. And, of course, over the years, Ru used their cinematograph, Aeroscope, and other cameras to film the humans who had become most important to them -- their best friend, Galen Stagg @cursebreakerfarrier​​; their fellow Ravenclaw and Galen’s eventual other half, Siobhan Llewelyn @kc-needs-coffee​; and their “keeper”-turned-muse-and-life partner, Estrid Soelberg @thatravenpuffwitch​​. 

One morning, however, in the 1930′s, Estrid returned to the cottage she shared with Ru from a trip to the market to find the entire place in disarray. A table had been overturned, Ru’s camera was knocked over on its side, and a drawer of photographs had been pulled out, its contents spread out all over the floor. Alarmed, Estrid rushed to find Ru -- when she did, she found them on the floor, in full kelpie form, looking very restless and distraught as they huffed and puffed through their nose and mouth. Estrid hurriedly rushed over and bent down, trying to help, but it soon became clear what the problem was.

Ru couldn’t change form. They couldn’t transform themselves out of their real appearance. ...They couldn’t turn into a human anymore. 

The realization overwhelmed Ru. As much as they always knew the day would come, it wasn’t any less devastating. They’d never have hands again. They’d never have legs or feet again. They’d never speak properly again. They’d never be able to take any more pictures, or make any more movies, or make improvements to their cameras, or draw any more sketches or animations. They’d never be able to visit Galen’s classroom anymore for his lectures. They’d never be able to exchange any more friendly swears with Siobhan over a game of Wizard’s Chess. ...They’d never be able to comfort Estrid again...never be able to stroke her hair and hold her until she stopped crying...never be able to play her film reels of her grandfather, or plant flowers in the garden with her, or dance with her in the rain...they’d never be able to tell her how much they loved her.

The kelpie’s eyes fell toward the ground, darkening, as they flooded with tears. Those tears streaked down their long face in cold, deafening silence. Estrid, who’d almost never seen Ru cry in all their time together, found herself struggling not to break down completely herself as she threw her arms around Ru’s snout and hugged them, resting her face in their overgrown seaweed mane. The two sat together on the floor for what felt like hours, crying and cuddling as best they could, Ru pressing their soft nose into Estrid’s cheek and the crook of her neck and Estrid kissing their nose and the top of their head. 

Estrid wrote to the Staggs to pass along the news. Galen pretty much dropped everything to be by his friend’s side -- the magizoologist had always had a particular talent for speaking to magical creatures, and it had never been more useful than in those final weeks of Ru’s life. It seemed that what upset Ru most out of everything was that they’d had a project they hadn’t been able to finish. It was an incomplete film reel they’d stored under their and Estrid’s bed for the last year, taking out and working on only whenever Estrid wasn’t home. 

Galen had made as if to go get it, but Ru had snatched his sleeve in their teeth and pulled him back so he couldn’t leave their side.

“Not yet,” they were clearly saying. “It’s not time. Please, not yet.”

Reluctantly Galen respected his friend’s wishes. 

Within a month of them being unable to change back into a human, Galen and Siobhan received the owl they’d been dreading. Ru had passed the previous night, Estrid by their side all the way up until the end. 

As per Ru’s wishes, their funeral service was very small. They were laid to rest beside the small pond behind their and Estrid’s cottage -- Galen knew that kelpies’ bodies tended to decompose quickly, leaving only the seaweed of their manes behind at the bottom of the seafloor. There wasn’t a dry eye during the modest ceremony.

On Galen’s prompting, Estrid went to their room and fetched Ru’s unfinished project from under their bed. Inside the box holding the film reel were hundreds, maybe thousands of old photographs and drawings, many of which Galen, Estrid, and Siobhan had never seen. Some featured Hogwarts, from different angles; some were of the places they’d been to, or the creatures they handled, or the food they ate, or just cool and random things they only half-remembered. Most of all, though, the pictures were of them...and a small fraction, toward the very front, were of Ru themselves. 

It was incredible, just looking through the pictures. Forty years of memories were compiled together, documenting not just the changes in those years, but the advancement in Ru’s talent as an artist. The newest pictures were so much clearer and more life-like -- the magical ones moved with such clarity -- the drawings were more refined -- the animations more complex. The pictures placed side-by-side were an animation unto themselves: a beautiful montage of time, like a blooming flower. 

Siobhan was the one who knew Ru’s equipment well enough to work out how to set up the projector so they could play the incomplete film reel. The beginning featured Ru as the three remembered them -- very long, wavy black hair, bright blue angled eyes, and diamond earrings, dressed in a dark violet velvet suit and vest with no collared shirt underneath and a gold and emerald necklace around their neck. They were smirking right at the camera, but it seemed to be a bit strained. 

“Hi, Estrid. Galen...Siobhan...reckon you’re both here too. You are the only one who could ever figure out how to work the projector, Sha.”

They cleared their throat, snorting through their nose before continuing. 

“...I’ve...recorded this a few times already, trying to get it right, but...well, I’ll just be straight. This morning...I had trouble creating my daddles.”

They held up their right hand and flourished the fingers in explanation. 

“I woke up with hooves and it took me about a minute to conjure up my fingers. I didn’t tell you, Estrid, since I knew it’d only make you worry, but...well, I know I’ll only be doing more of that, soon.”

They forced a stronger smirk.

“So I decided to make this for you. It’s a compilation of our lives...one that you can hopefully play, when you need to remember. When you need to get away from the present, and run back to the past for a bit. Watch it every time you feel the urge to drink -- and then push away that urge.”

The moving image of Ru was replaced with the pictures, movies, drawings, and animations the three had seen in the box, overlaying Ru’s voice as they continued.

“When I first started disguising myself as Rudolph Ollivander, all I cared about was living in the moment. But the thing I found so amazing about being human was this instinct you all have to try to make moments last long after they’re over. Considering how long you all live, and therefore how short my existence is in comparison, I loved the thought of making something last. Something I made last. I wanted to plant some seed that would grow into something that would keep growing long after me. But it didn’t take me long to realize that even if I took great photographs, or made beautiful films, or made the best magical camera in the world...it didn’t matter. Because I didn’t have a family who would tend to my garden, after I left it. I didn’t have a family who would keep the things I’d made, and pass them on, and share them with the world. ...I didn’t have a family who would pass on my legacy. After Hogwarts, it’d be a lot harder to hide what I was from the world...and once everyone knew the truth, I would undoubtedly be alone again. It was something I knew was inevitable, really, so it didn’t break me or anything...but me leaving something lasting behind was still a dream I knew would never come true. And I won’t lie, that hurt like shit.

“But then, somehow...somehow or another, I ran into you, Estrid. I was steamed as all get-out when we first met, mind you...but I don’t think I’ll ever be more grateful for anything than you stopping me from eating that first year that day. The bridle you put on me? I hated it. I had to stay in one form for almost eight whole years, and that was a real pain in the arse. But as I told you before, over time, I found I didn’t mind so much. Kelpies don’t stay in one form because changing forms helps us survive. It keeps us safe and keeps any other creatures from getting close enough to eat or trap us. And sure, I couldn’t change form...but I wasn’t exactly trapped. Hogwarts was a fun place to be. There was a lot to learn and do and get into, and there were all sorts of rules to buck and dozens of lick-spittles to give a good arse-kicking to. And better still...there were even some humans that were fun to be around.”

The pictures all started to reflect Galen -- at the piano, with a tree of bowtruckles, laughing at a joke -- Galen and Ru running down the lane away from the Shrieking Shack --

“There were ones who were gentle. Pacifistic and wussy, yeah, but also...well, kind. Good at expressing their feelings and making others feel stronger. Good at being brave without being loud or obnoxious. Good at being a friend, to someone who didn’t know anything about friendship.”

The pictures then started to add Siobhan, often alongside Galen, but also on her own, or even with Estrid and Ru.

“There were ones who were clever. Too proud for their own good and prone to overthinking things that are really quite simple...but brilliant, and witty, and a blast to be around. Someone who you can share your interests with and know they appreciate them.”

The pictures then shifted over to Estrid with braids in her hair -- Estrid sitting by the pond in their garden -- Estrid dancing -- 

“And...there were ones who could change you...more than you ever thought possible.”

The pictures abruptly cut off -- Ru’s face returned to the projector. They were still talking to the camera, but it was clear they hadn’t intended for their face to be seen, as they weren’t looking straight at the lens anymore. 

“A ‘keeper,’ who became a friend, and then a muse...and then something more. An equal and a partner...someone who makes you unafraid of the future and how fleeting life is, who actually makes you think that your life makes a difference. Who teaches you more than any book, without even trying. Someone patient, and brave, and compassionate...who never tries to stuff the silence full of worthless words...whose beauty masks a greater one underneath, one that few people ever are fortunate enough to see...”

Ru’s eyes on screen had begun to flood with tears. They closed their eyes and breathed in and out through their nose to try to get a rein on their emotions.

“...Estrid...my whole life, I wanted to leave something behind that would outlive me. That thing isn’t just my pictures, or my films, or my drawings -- it’s you. You are my legacy. You and Galen and Siobhan...you are the wonderful thing I’ll leave behind. It breaks my heart that I’ll have to...and it breaks my heart more, knowing I can’t make sure you all remain as you are, in this moment. Healthy. Successful. Stupid and happy and full of life.”

They forced a smile even as their electric blue eyes overflowed with tears that streaked down their face. 

“I don’t have a family to make sure you all last beyond me...but I do have you. So, for me...I need you to tend to my garden. I need you to maintain my legacy -- by maintaining yourself. I need you to live, and heal, and grow, and do everything I can’t do...”

Ru was unable to keep themselves from breaking down into sobs. They bowed their head, clutching onto their own hair as they vainly tried to keep their voice steady. 

“Don’t throw your time away. Don’t throw your lives away. If you do, I’ll never bloody forgive you!”

For the next minute they took a few stabilizing breaths, sucking in air shakily through their nose and mouth. 

“Damn it...” they hissed under their breath. “Now I have to cut this...”

They swallowed, wiping the tears from their eyes with both hands. The tears left tracks on their face even as they forced themselves to return their focus to the camera. 

“...Make every moment count...and when you can, make that moment last forever.

“I realized, when I was looking through my old pictures, that I’ve never really taken many pictures of me. I guess in the moment, I really was a lot more focused on capturing everything I saw, rather than myself. So here are some pictures I took more recently that have me in them. Hopefully you can use them to imagine me behind every picture I took earlier, of all of you. Even though I probably wasn’t smiling or anything...I’m sure you know I was enjoying myself, right? ...I did enjoy myself a lot, with all of you...”

They forced another smile, even though the tears on their face still shone in the light from the next room.

“I remember you once said, Galen, that you could see the love in the pictures I take. I still don’t really know what the hell that’s supposed to mean...but I reckon you bringing up love made some sense. I did love taking those pictures, every one of them -- and more than that...I learned about love, through the people in those pictures. So thank you. Thank you for loving me...and for teaching me so much. And even when this film reel’s obsolete, and my pictures are ruined, and my drawings fade...don’t stop doing things that are worth remembering. Keep making more memories. I know I’ll never forget you -- all you have to do now is make sure the rest of the world won’t either.

“So live. Live, and learn, and love. Make today last forever.” 

When Ru’s film reel finally ended and faded to black, Galen, Siobhan, and Estrid were all in tears. Galen was clinging to his wife, his face buried in her hair and his hands clutching at the back of her dress as he sobbed. Siobhan herself had her eyes shut tight as she held Galen in return, unable to contain her own grief. Estrid was holding herself, tears streaming from her hazel eyes still staring at the blank projector screen where Ru had been smiling moments earlier. She closed her eyes, her hands covering her face as she cried silently. 

The grief in the room was overwhelming, and yet Ru’s final unfinished present tapped into something at the base of the grief -- the deep, bottomless love they all felt. For as blunt and stubborn as Ru could be, the depth of their feelings was undeniable. They didn’t want their loved ones to despair -- they wanted them to remember, yes, but not languish in the memories...to live with an eye on the past and feet walking toward the future. Ru knew the grief Estrid had gone through when she’d lost her grandfather, and had tried so hard to give her something to help her through her grief again even when they weren’t there to physically support her.

And so over the years, Siobhan, Galen, and Estrid maintained Ru’s legacy. The three lived their lives to the fullest and worked to make sure that no one forgot about all of the advancements Ru had made in the world of wizarding photography. Galen used Ru’s old film reels of magical creatures in his classes; Siobhan took even more pictures of her own; and Estrid fought to ensure Ru’s work was put up in wizarding museums and exhibitions all over Europe, as a testament to her partner’s talent and dedication. 

A man has no control who lives, who dies, and who tells their story...but the ones who they love in life, and who inspire them in death, are the most precious legacy they can leave behind. 

Fantober 2020, Day 26: Art Class

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 26/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,947 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nudity Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

                                              ------------------------------------ When Haruka asked him if he wanted to model for a drawing he had to make for his art elective, Makoto agreed immediately. He was happy to help Haruka out wherever he could and he felt honoured that Haruka wanted to draw him for an assignment. Although he imagined it would be difficult to sit still for an extensive amount of time, he was pretty excited about trying something new with Haruka. If he got cramps from holding the same position for too long, Haruka would surely give him a break.

But when Haruka laid out all his supplies and set out a chair for him, that excitement quickly diminished.

"Take off your clothes."

"Why?" Makoto asked with a frown.

"It's an anatomy assignment," Haruka explained, "I have to draw your body and I can't see your muscles and bone structure through your sweater and jeans."

That did make sense so Makoto stripped down to his underwear without any protests, though he did feel a bit self-conscious. Being in his leg skins at the pool was so much different from being in his underwear on an assignment Haruka's professor would grade. But he told himself they'd view it with a professional eye and not a scrutinising one, and they probably had to look at hundreds of other drawings so he hopefully wouldn't stand out too much.

"Okay, how do you want me to sit?"

"Makoto," Haruka said with a deadpan expression. "Take off all your clothes."

The blood vessels in Makoto's cheeks nearly burst at that. "What?"

"You have to be nude in this image, it's in the criteria."

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner? Being in my underwear is already embarrassing enough, but being naked is just impossible!"

"Because you'd immediately say no."

"Of course I would! Don't they provide nude models in your class?"

"They do, but you were sick that day and I stayed home to take care of you, remember?" Haruka said, "All the other classes already had their sessions too and it's not like they will hire another nude model for me alone, so I have to do this assignment at home."

Damn. It was his fault Haruka missed this class so it was his responsibility to help him catch up. But no matter how guilty Makoto felt, he wasn't sure if he could do this. "Isn't there anyone else you can ask?"

"Sure, let me call Asahi and ask him if I can stare at his naked body for hours while I sketch the outline of his di-"

"Okay, I get it!" Makoto interrupted before he could pass out from heatstroke. "This is completely professional, right?"

"Of course, it's artistic nude. The only person who'll get to see this beside us is my prof, I promise."

In the end, Makoto could never refuse Haruka when he needed him. With a sigh of defeat, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged his boxer-briefs down. "How should I sit?"

"Facing me. Put your left foot on the seat and lean your right elbow on the backrest, hand on your knee. Put your other foot on the floor and let your other arm hang limply beside you."

Those were some specific instructions. Haruka probably put a lot of thought into this, so Makoto couldn't disappoint him no matter how shy he felt. "Like this?" he asked when he assumed the right position.

"Hmm." Haruka ran his eyes over his form critically. "Actually, instead of putting your hand on your knee, raise it to support your head. Tilt your head to the side a bit so I can see your neck."

"Alright," Makoto said and he did as Haruka told him. "How's this?"

"Better. I'll start drawing now, so don't move."

"I don't know how long I'll be able to sit like this, though."

"I figured, so let me know when you need a break."

"I will."

With that, Haruka flipped open his sketchbook and began to draw.

Makoto's gaze wandered from the lamp on the ceiling to the draped curtains, trying to divert his attention from the situation he found himself in. If he'd been told a few days ago that he would be a nude model for an art assignment, he would've laughed and brushed it off as something beyond his capabilities. While he did maintain that viewpoint, the subject was a whole lot less hilarious now.

The only sound in the room was the scratching of graphite onto paper, which made Makoto even more aware of his frantic heartbeat. Every nook and cranny of his body was not just being studied closely, but also eternalised in the sketchbook like an exhibit of all his flaws and imperfections. Each weird mole and bump and pocket of misplaced fat displayed for the whole world to see - actually, for Haruka and his professor solely, but it sure felt like the whole world.

The more time passed, the more Haruka's eyes burned on his skin and the more awkward Makoto felt. He couldn't back down anymore, so he had to repress the itching discomfort or else he'd disturb Haruka. Unconsciously, he bit his bottom lip and scrunched up his nose.

Haruka's pencil halted on the page. "I'm still drawing your general shape so it's fine for now, but once I get to your face you need to relax your expression. My professor will think I held you at gunpoint otherwise."

"Sorry," Makoto said, resisting the urge to scratch at his cheek, "It's just so embarrassing."

"But why? I see you naked all the time and you don't seem to have any issues with it then."

"But then you're also naked."

"Do you want me to take my clothes off, too?"

"That's not what I mean," Makoto said, "I don't feel embarrassed in the heat of the moment, and not even if you just see me nude either but this is different. You're completely staring me down and that makes me self-conscious."

"You didn't feel self-conscious when you sent me that picture when I was at the training camp a few weeks ago. And believe me, I stared at that every night until I got back."

"That was different too, then I couldn't see you staring," Makoto said and somehow, the temperature inside his cheeks rose even higher at the mere thought of the picture. "And I'll have you know, I was self-conscious. My finger hovered over the button for twenty minutes before I sent it and I felt so embarrassed the second I did that I almost regretted it."

"I was happy to receive it," Haruka said, putting down his sketchbook on his lap. "Do you know why?"

"Because you were, you know, excited?"

"That too, but that's not what I meant," Haruka said as he stood up and walked over to Makoto, taking a hold of his hands. "Because you're beautiful and I love your body so much. Whether it's touching or just watching, I love every part of you."

The look in Haruka's eyes was dead serious and his voice conveyed unwavering sincerity. It was rare for Haruka to state his thoughts so openly and it simultaneously made Makoto's heart skip a beat and his head avert as bashfulness flooded him.

"I'll love your body no matter how it ends up looking because it's yours and I love you," Haruka continued, cupping his jaw to make him meet his gaze. "But objectively speaking, you are incredibly good-looking. Not only your body, but your face too. You are so attractive, handsome, gorgeous, hot, sexy-"

"Haru!" Makoto interrupted, laughter bubbling up from his stomach. Haruka didn't compliment him this blatantly often, so knowing this was how Haruka truly felt about him boosted his self-esteem.

"Don't you ever be ashamed of your body, or of any part that is you, because there is nothing to be ashamed of. You're absolutely beautiful both inside and out."

"Thank you, Haru," Makoto murmured, leaning up to capture Haruka's lips in a kiss of gratitude. "You are, too."

They kissed each other again, brief but immensely loving. When Haruka pulled back, he said, "If you really don't feel comfortable with me drawing you naked, then that's okay. I'll try to find someone else."

Makoto shook his head. "It's alright. It's just you and me anyway."

"And my professor."

"And your professor," he said with a chuckle, "But your professor won't get to see me naked, but a drawing of me, so it's different. As long as I never run into them."

Haruka smiled too and with a final kiss, he went back to his cushion at the table. "If you get back into position, I'll resume drawing. I'll draw the most beautiful nude artwork she's ever seen."

Makoto nodded and moved his limbs to their assigned position.

One break and nearly two hours later, Haruka put his last pencil down. "It's finished. Want to come take a look?"

"Of course!" Makoto leapt off the chair and crouched down next to Haruka. His mouth fell agape when he saw the image he had created. "This is amazing, Haru!"

The man on the paper was very attractive, with sharp yet soft features and a toned body, but it was undeniably him. Admittedly, Makoto never stood in front of the mirror for longer than necessary, but he would if this was the body he always saw. Knowing Haruka viewed him this way was already touching, but the fact that he merely drew what was tangible almost took Makoto's breath away. Haruka had been a skilled artist since they were kids, but with each stroke and every line, he got even better.

"You truly outdid yourself, Haru. It's like you improve whenever I blink."

"Thanks," Haruka said with a small smile. "I had a great model."

"You'll definitely get a high grade on this assignment. Maybe even the highest grade in your year."

Haruka shook his head. "I'm not turning this drawing in for the assignment."

Makoto couldn't believe his ears. Had he suffered through all that embarrassment for nothing? "What, why?"

"Look at it," Haruka said, turning away his head as an adorable blush lit up his ears. "I don't want anyone else to see you like this, not even my professor."

At that, Makoto almost choked with laughter. "Are you serious? What happened to it being artistic nude?"

"It is artistic nude, but this is too private."

"What now then? Are you not going to hand anything in or are you going to try to find another model?"

"I'd like to draw you again, if that's okay with you."

"Sure, but won't you have the same issue then?"

"I'll draw you from a different angle, one that doesn't show your face or at least isn't recognisable," Haruka said, "I'll have to think of a new pose. Do you have time tomorrow evening?"

"Yeah, I don't have to work, so I'll try to finish up my homework in the afternoon," Makoto said as he shimmied his clothes back on. "You know, it was a bit scary at first, but I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," Haruka said, "Does that mean I can draw you more often?"

"Is that with or without clothes?"

"Both."

Makoto giggled again. "Alright, because you asked so nicely."

"Thanks," Haruka said, wrapping his arms around Makoto's shoulders. "You really are a great model. Very… inspiring."

Although Makoto would probably never possess the unwavering confidence some others were blessed with, Haruka always knew how to make him feel better about himself. And perhaps, through portraits and images Haruka drew of him, Makoto could learn to love himself the way Haruka loved him: wholeheartedly, all imperfections included.

Artist Meme

Was tagged to answer this set of interesting questions by @kourvo​

(original post is here: https://kourvo.tumblr.com/post/621355098110640128/artist-meme

Thank you so much for that!

Let’s see....

1) What is the character you've drawn the most (Can be original or fanart)

This precious boy. I can never get enough of him. One of the most compelling characters I have ever come across. Love everything about Fenris and can relate to him on so many levels!

2. What colour do you often use? 

Gray and brown are my faves. And all other colours have the same chance of appearing in my artwork :D

3. Any colour you are bad at using?

I don’t think so...I love them all, even the pinks and yellows people usually find hard to incorporate into a colour palette. Tell me in the comments if I’m wrong :)

4. When drawing people, where do you start? 

Funnily enough - either with the front of the hairline or with the left eyebrow. Don’t ask me, why - I don’t know myself.

5. What is a character only your eraser will love?

Hmmmm...any sort of villainous character. I can’t draw evil people convincingly. I’m a huge softy at heart.

6. Which of your works took the longest time? 

Big scale commission I did for @pikapeppa​, featuring all the Inquisition companions, along with Fenris, Rynne and Carver Hawke. That one took almost 3 weeks, due to its sheer scope and my relative lack of experience in such large works. Pika was extremely patient with me though, for that I am eternally thankful!

7. What techniques do you use when you want to improve in drawing? 

Classical art studies. Varying my technique, themes I choose and software I use. I try to experiment and go outside my comfort zone often.

8. What do you think of the art of the person who gave you this ask meme? 

I adore Lillymon’s technical skill, refined style and limited colours! She is a huge inspiration for me!

9. What art tools/media are you good with? 

DrawPile, Photoshop, graphite pencils and liners. That’s about it :)

10. Art tools/media you are bad at? 

Traditional paints. I have no formal artistic education and my lack of knowledge comes to the forefront whenever I have to paint on a real canvas. It’s so much trial and error, you can’t even imagine....

11. What do you think about your own art? 

Lately it’s one of the last few things that were bringing me joy. I hope I won’t lose the passion for it. Because at this point I’m not sure I’ll be able to find some occupation I will be genuinely interested in and good at it. I don’t know if me gravitating towards moody fantasy art speaks about my fear of facing reality. If so, idk what to do with that. I do hope to develop my skills and being able to support myself financially as an artist.

12. Do you consult references for your drawings? 

Yes. A lot of them. Anatomical atlases, schemes for both academic and manga art, photographs found online and taken on my own, copying colour palettes from classical art - anything goes. I think it’s essential to develop your technical skill.

13. What do you like about your art? 

Lately - consistency, both in terms of produced results and in sticking to the timelines I set to myself. I hope this lasts. I would also like to branch out to other themes and not confine myself to quirky fantasy characters, so I’m working on developing my own story behind the scenes (spoilers) :P

14. What habits do you have while drawing?

Only the bad ones, lol. Hunching forward in front of the screen, forgetting to eat, drink and letting my eyes rest. Tilting my head to the side instead of rotating the canvas....I’m an idiot XD

15. Are you good at drawing faces facing right? 

I think that’s the thing I’m good at!

16. How frequently do you draw? 

For the last 1,5 years - almost every day without fail, for good or ill.

17. What do you do when you have artist's block? 

Change occupation and work myself into a depressed state. I changed work places in the last few years a lot, working as an interior designer, draftsman, textile designer, a cook, a bartender to name a few.

18. What must you have when you draw? 

No commotion around me and a cup of some hot beverage.

19. Do you have a lot of stray lines (messy lineart)? 

In the starting stage of my work process - yes, like you wouldn’t believe! If it’s a personal doodle, I sometimes just leave in as am under layer and draw clean lines on top of that mess. It looks cool in a way.

20. What is drawing to you?

An essential part of what helped me to retain my sanity in the last year and a half. Hopefully a lasting profession that will help me pay bills and survive on my own, if my life falls apart entirely later.

21. Your art goal from now on? 

Broaden the themes I depict, improve my technical skill, work on personal creative project and not only fan arts. And most of all - not giving up on it this time.

22. Artists you've had influence from? 

To name a few: @kallielef​ @kourvo​ @shayafury​ @fairsparrow​ who I met here on Tumblr, and many others who I follow and zealously study their works for clues on how to improve my own work.

23. Artists you like? 

I am following them all either here or on Instagram, I also do my best to share their works on my side blog!

24. Which is easier to draw, humans or animals? 

It was animals earlier. But now that I started to diligently study human anatomy, I would say it evened out! I’m quite confident drawing humans/humanoids now!

25. Show us an old drawing 

My first digital drawing from 2010 when I first bought my tablet!

26. What is the charm-point of your art?

I ummm....I don’t really get the question? Is that like the the strongest suit of me as an artist? Intense expressions maybe? Idk. Let me know in the comments :D

27. What is the first thing you would draw if we're talking about fantasy? 

Broody warriors, he-he

28. Please draw your most beloved character:

Here’s a sneak-peek of me drawing him right now! :D

29. When thinking of characters is it mostly female? male? or androgynous/no sex? 

I usually gravitate towards depicting strong-willed, caring, passionate, brave, honest men and women.

30. What did you draw yesterday? 

Started cleaning up that sketch from the last question, actually!

31. What is the funnest part to draw? 

A circle. Mostly because you’d die laughing seeing my struggle to draw a believable one XD

32. What part of other people's drawings do you notice first? 

colours, mood, eyes, hands.

33. Regarding backgrounds, what is your method of making it easier to draw? 

pick your favourite textured brush, find a good reference for mood and colour scheme, zoom out, squint your eyes and start slapping colours like mad. You’d be amazed at how much you’ll be able to achieve in 30 minutes with this approach. Bare white background is the enemy - destroy it! >:)

34. What colour coordinations do you like? 

Gray or brown as a main colour and then deep, earthy, saturated colours to complement the main one. Pink and orange is the combination I strangely enjoy using lately too.

35. What character did you last draw? Fenris and Eris :)

36. Does your style change easily? 

I don’t think so. More like it’s evolving slowly into something more serious and deliberate.

37. What part of drawing do you pay most attention to? 

Facial expression, body movement, mood and light effects. Not so much the composition and framing, he he.

38. How do you feel about drawing adult art? 

Tbh, I don’t consider straight up porn to be ‘adult’ exactly. To me adult art means aiming towards serious topics, exploring complex emotions and ideas, being honest with your viewer. I did doodle a few more steamy sketches of my OTP just to see if I could, but it was definitely a tongue-in-cheek kind of a artwork that I don’t take seriously.

39. Do you like criticism from others? 

If it’s friendly and in done in private - I welcome it always.

40. How many people do you normally draw per artwork? 

1 or 2. Rarely more. Crowded battle scenes are definitely not my thing :D

This was fun! Tagging forward to @shayafury​ @schoute​ @stella-minerva​ @nug-juggler​ @kallielef​ and anyone else wishing to go through such a long questionnaire!

could ya tell me more about Kat drawing? like one of favorite headcanons ever and mainly because of you. bruh Katsuki hakamata au really made uwu with his sketchbook i would love to know more headcanons on that

Okay! Katsuki drawing is one of my favorite smaller headcanons for him!

He draws almost exclusively realistic stuff. If he’s drawing for fun, then he’s drawing memories and moments from his life, sometimes scenery, and sometimes on his worst days scenes from his nightmares, but all things that he’s seen somewhere else. He also draws out designs for costumes/weapons, but they tend to be pretty realistic/technical drawings.

That’s because art is a form of processing for him. Katsuki has a lot of trouble with processing and understanding his own emotions. He wasn’t taught any self-reflective skills or emotional control skills when he was younger, and as a result he often experiences intense emotions that he doesn’t even understand let alone know how to handle.

Art is one of the few methods of dealing with those emotions that he has. It lets him reflect on the day, thinking over how things went and deciding how he feels about something as he sketches it out. It also lets him thing about his own actions and what he might want to change about them.

When he’s designing stuff, it’s still a form of processing, but it’s more of him processing his ideas and figuring out what he wants the design to be/do. A lot of it tends to reflect how he wants himself or others to change in the future.

That can mean redesigning his costume to be better for rescue work, but sometimes it means drawing up a redesigned version of Izuku’s costume which has better protective features on it, because Katsuki doesn’t know how to express his concern to Izuku in anything even approaching a healthy way, but he knows how to design better arm and leg guards. That’s much easier.

The only thing he never draws is himself. No part of him is included in his sketches, only ever the world around him. Even when he designs new upgrades and versions of his costume, there’s no Katsuki inside the costume.

He doesn’t like to think about why he doesn’t draw himself. It’s a line he doesn’t cross. Deviling too deep into feelings and ideas he isn’t ready for.

Drawing is a quiet period for him, time when he lets himself be alone with his thoughts and his feelings. And those are not thoughts and feelings he wants to deal with.

In the Katsuki Hakamata AU, that starts out being times when he’s truly alone and knows nobody else can come in and see him drawing. It’s one of the few times he’ll actually feel safe and let himself experience his emotions properly. So much of his life is spent shoving his emotions down and pretending that he doesn’t have them, that having a bit of time to himself to feel those emotions again is vital for him. Only ever when he’s sure he’s alone though, and nobody else will know he has feelings. It’s too dangerous otherwise.

But slowly that changes. As he learns other methods of emotional processing, and as he learns to open up and trust others again, he starts drawing around other people. Art is still a very important moment of reflection for him, but it’s a form of reflection that he can share with other people too.

With enough time, his class adjusts to Katsuki drawing around them. People learn quickly that if he’s drawing, he’ll be fairly quiet and focused on it. They can ask him questions about the artwork if they want, he may or may not feel up to telling them, but often times he will. They always try not to bother him with questions about other stuff though, otherwise he might lose focus.

It takes until well into their second year before Katsuki feels comfortable enough with his classmates and his artwork to start giving it to people.

Obviously it starts with the designs. He knows he’s good at designing shit, and he’s got god knows how many different designs for various people tucked away. Hell he’s made designs for heroes he’s never met before just because the idea struck him. The support department loves and hates him for all the designs he’s got for his own stuff. And some things about his classmates’ costumes or items were bothering him too much to stay quiet about.

So he gets proper blueprint paper, double checks all the support department’s regulations and design rules even though he knows them all by heart, and he draws up a few improvements and new items. New padding and bracing for Izuku because holy shit he needs it. A better electricity regulator for Denki because he’s been zapping himself more lately and Katsuki might be a bit worried about that. Some hidden weapons for Ochako, because she’s got those so many damn places to hide them and Katsuki knows she’d put those weapons to good use.

Once he’s got the first round of designs done, he’s not quite sure how to give them to the others. He doesn’t want to have to explain shit, and he’s already feeling kinda embarrassed about it.

So he.... doesn’t. Kinda. Katsuki slips the drawings under their doors when he knows they’re out instead. Each tucked into a nice envelope and address to them. They’ll still know it’s from him, because of course it is, but this way he doesn’t have to figure out what to say.

That becomes his new routine, slipping drawings under his classmates’ doors with upgrade ideas for them. They always thank him, with big smiles and hugs and excited chattering. He’ll huff at them and look away, but he still loves seeing them using the new stuff. It makes a warm feeling bubble up in his chest when he’s out on the field and sees something he designed come in handy.

It’s not always just his classmates either. He may’ve designed better eye guards for Aizawa-sensei, ones with built in eye drops to make it easier on him. Just maybe. Hawks finds designs for a jacket that’s easier on his wings on his desk.

All-Might’s not a hero anymore, so he doesn’t need any support weapons or costume changes. But when winter comes around, and cold starts to burrow it’s way into his old bones, he finds a thick homemade scarf on his desk in the teacher’s lounge. It’s extremely warm, and he knows who made it, even if there’s no note. He wears it all winter and well into spring, and doesn’t miss how young Katsuki’s face seems to soften a bit when he sees it.

It’s not until their third year that Katsuki works up the courage to give away some of his art that isn’t a design. To anyone other then Auntie Inko that is.

The very first gift to is to Aizawa, at the start of the school year, when Katsuki can already see the nostalgia creeping into his teacher’s gaze, his preemptive worry over his kids heading out into the ‘real world’ even though he knows they’ve been there for a long time. 

He goes through his sketchbook and he picks out the very best of his pieces, those of his classmates and his teacher. Sure, he’s got more of some people then others, but he tries to keep it an even amount of each person. Some of the pieces need little touch ups or fixing before he’s happy with them, but once he is, he makes copies of each piece for his own collection, and the originals are bound together into a careful book.

This time he doesn’t leave it on Aizawa’s desk like he might a design. This is too important for that. He can’t quite look Aizawa in the eye when he hands it to him after class, but he does manage to mutter out a “Happy last year with this hell class.”

He doesn’t stay to see Aizawa’s reaction, but his teacher finds him afterwards and hugs him anyways. He tells Katsuki that he loves it, but comments very lightly that there’s someone missing from it. Katsuki knows, but he doesn’t have an answer for that yet.

Other people start getting artwork from Katsuki after that. They usually get copies rather then the originals, and it’s usually artwork of them. Izuku is the exception, he always gets the original copies because Katsuki knows he likes those. Most of it is just memories that he thinks they’ll want to hold onto.

Tsunagu gets drawings, of course he does. It’s less then Katsuki gives to other people, because if he’s giving artwork to his dad then he wants it to be good, but he still gets some. Tsunagu treasures each piece, but he notices the same pattern Aizawa does.

There’s pieces of Tsunagu in battle, pieces of him on his own, or with Kugo, or Hawks, and even one of him sitting beside Aizawa. Pieces of him rescuing civilians, or holding various children he’s met. But none of him and Katsuki. None of Katsuki at all.

He doesn’t press at it, but he mentions it offhand every so often. Gentle as he can be.

Katsuki knows, and it’s not until he’s almost graduated that he finally works up the courage to do what he hasn’t managed since he was a child.

He’s been working on the piece all year. His very first piece that isn’t a memory, isn’t a scene from real life or a future design. Something created from his own mind. It’s a big one. It’s got all his classmates in it. Aizawa-sensei. Mic-sensei. All-Might. Eri. His dad. Auntie Inko. Kugo. Hawks. Everyone’s there. Most of it is done, most of it but not the center, the focal point of the piece.

Drawing himself into the piece, one in which everyone is smiling and happy, had felt wrong each time he picked up his pencil. Felt like a lie, felt like he was sullying something perfect with something that didn’t belong.

Even now as he sketches himself into the picture, the last person missing from it, it still feels wrong. But he does it anyways. He pushes past the clench of his chest and reminds himself that he belongs here. He belongs in the picture too, smiling like everyone else is.

It takes longer then he would’ve liked, but he finishes the piece. When he puts down his brushes, done with the coloring at long last, and he takes it all in, that’s when it feels right. To see himself smiling with his family all around him.

Each person in the photo gets their own copy of it, each person but Tsunagu, who gets the original which he gets framed and is hung up in his living room. Katsuki doesn’t keep a copy of it for himself, he doesn’t need to. If he ever feels like seeing it, then all he needs to do is go visit any member of his weird, giant, amazing family.

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

Little Jin Ling has a wealth of uncles. He has, in fact, so many war heroes for uncles that he might as well have an army at his beck and call. Technically, he’s not to be presented for another month, at his hundred days’ celebration, but no one can really blame sworn brothers from visiting each other or siblings from checking in. As it is, Jiang Cheng is more than a little smug about being the only one out of all of them who can soothe a-Ling once he starts wailing. He might be the least powerful of the babe’s uncles, but he still has a shot at being his favorite. Well, alongside Wei Wuxian once he returns, but they always knew they would share the role. Running a featherlight thumb over a-Ling’s cheek, Jiang Cheng pictures Wei Wuxian holding their little nephew and immediately wrinkles his nose. He’ll be horrendous. He’s probably already thought of some absurd gift for a-Ling’s hundred days’ celebration, some toy horse spelled to gallop around him in circles or a kite that doesn’t need a wind to fly. Terrible. He can’t wait to see him. He’s not about to admit it aloud, but as they creep ever closer to the date, Jiang Cheng keeps finding himself picturing it, the three of them reunited with a-Ling cradled between them. “Jiang Cheng, give me back my son,” Jin Zixuan grumbles.

Raising an eyebrow, Jiang Cheng eyes his brother-in-law as if in challenge. He will chew off his own fingers before saying it aloud, but Jin Zixuan is not, perhaps, quite as awful as he’s always thought. Over the last year and a half, he has, somewhat, improved in Jiang Cheng’s eyes. 

He’s still ready at any moment to remind Jin Zixuan that his brothers-in-law wield some of the most powerful spiritual weapons in the cultivation world and are not so far removed from the children who once dunked him, fully robed, in Lotus Pier’s muddiest lake — but he has been trying. He dotes on jiejie and cried a little at their wedding, as he should, knowing how little he deserves a-jie’s love. Besides, it makes jiejie sad when they fight. Reluctantly, he passes over the sleeping baby. “If you wake my nephew—” he starts. “Yes, I know, you’ll break my legs and tell Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan interrupts, but it’s in a whisper so Jiang Cheng lets it go. A-Ling doesn’t so much as stir as he’s passed into his father’s arms; his round face, so often wrinkled with an early scowl, is blissfully serene in sleep. Jin Zixuan pauses, his expression doing something terribly soft and fond as he gazes down at his son. Embarrassed for him, Jiang Cheng turns away. Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen have already left, apparently off to talk about some lofty Lan music or practice with their guqins, but Nie Mingjue stands by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Jiang-zongzhu,” he says and nods slightly toward the garden outside. Uneasy, Jiang Cheng still nods in acceptance and follows the older sect leader. They’re quiet at first, pacing along the pale paths of the gardens of Jinlintai. “Now that the camps have been reviewed and relocation has begun,” Nie Mingjue says as they round a corner, “it would be beneficial to speak to Wei Wuxian himself.” He’s known this was coming, but Jiang Cheng still has to stifle worry at Nie Mingjue’s comment. Of course they need to speak with Wei Wuxian — but so far, he’s been safest when he’s far from the rest of the cultivation world. They’re walking a precarious line to a peaceful future; the last thing they need is a confrontation, Wei Wuxian caught on the wrong side of the world’s blades. He nods slightly instead of voicing his concerns. “The Wen siblings are the most wanted among the prisoners,” Nie Mingjue continues, “along with Wei Wuxian himself. The destruction of the Stygian Tiger Seal may not be sufficient on its own.” Worry nestles deeper in Jiang Cheng’s chest, chews at the back of his breastbone. He still doesn’t know what to do with the warning Wen Qing gave them. She told them as much as she could in the few minutes she had, but none of it provided a solution. His brother can’t destroy the Seal without killing himself, and the cultivation world will kill him if he doesn’t hand it over. Jiang Cheng knows better than to suggest Wei Wuxian simply give the Seal to Jin Guangshan, but he’s wondered if, perhaps, he would trust Nie Mingjue to lock it away. “I’ve heard talk that the skies over Yiling are clearer now than they’ve been in memory,” Nie Mingjue says, almost a little grudging. “Whatever your errant brother’s doing, if it’s purifying the Burial Mounds, there is a chance that could be claimed as his and the Wens’ debt.” He doesn’t exactly sound enthusiastic about the idea, and Jiang Cheng frowns a little as he considers it. He doesn’t know much of what actually goes on in the Burial Mounds; Wei Wuxian’s letters are usually focused more on ideas for Lotus Pier, as if he can continue to teach their shidis while half a world away. What he does say of the Wen settlement is often idle chatter: how crops are coming in, when they finished building a drying shed, how some of the aunties sewed new robes. Little anecdotes pepper the letters, almost always featuring Wen Qing, her brother, and little Wen Yuan. Grudgingly, he’s resigning himself to the fact that he may have to recognize the boy as his nephew. He should probably talk to Wei Wuxian about bringing him into Yunmeng Jinag; any child of Wei Wuxian has a place among their ranks. His letters come through couriers or traveling parties, fat little bundles of paper brought hand-by-hand to Lotus Pier rather than the messenger arrows of Yunmeng Jiang cultivators. Reading them, Jiang Cheng wonders sometimes if this is how his father felt with Wei Changze on the road. Did his right hand send back reports of Yunmeng and the border towns? Was there the same mix of thoughtful sect business and fond chatter? He doesn’t remember much of Uncle Wei, just flickers of a warm smile and a kind hand on his shoulder. By the time Jiang Cheng was old enough for firm memory, Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren were dead. “I am sure Wei Wuxian would be happy to discuss with you,” he says now. “The group has settled into something that might serve for a more permanent basis.” Nie Mingjue nods. Jiang Cheng hesitates a moment. He’s still not really used to speaking with the other sect leaders as an equal; standing among them, he’s always half-ready to have his ideas laughed down, to be scorned into silence. “There is something else, Chifeng-zun,” he admits, “about the Stygian Tiger Seal.” Nie Mingjue’s brow furrows. As much as he looks up to Nie Mingje, Jiang Cheng has to be careful. All the sects are vying for the same limited power, and Yunmeng Jiang is still healing from the massacre. He can’t give too much away. “There is risk that destroying the seal could be dangerous,” Jiang Cheng says, carefully not saying who would be in danger. “While we are in agreement that it is too powerful an artifact to be kept in an individual’s control, it may be prudent to — contain it, instead. The Nie sect has more experience with resentful weapons than most.” He and jiejie had talked it over before, trying to find some solution. It was hard, in those discussions, not to miss their usual font of ideas, but they’d puzzled out this sketch of a plan at last. Nie Mingjue turns to face him fully, scowl deepening. Jiang Cheng always has a sense of being measured when he does this, as if Nie Mingjue is taking stock of whoever’s in front of him as he faces them. “You would not have one man control it, but you would trust one sect with it,” he says flatly. “Yunmeng Jiang and Qinghe Nie have long held each other’s trust,” Jiang Cheng answers, squaring his shoulders. “We would expect witnesses from each sect for any sealing ceremony as well as Wei Wuxian, as the creator of the Seal.” After another long moment of eyeing him, Nie Mingjue breathes out and drops his arms. His gaze turns out over the gardens, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he’s looking at the flowers. “He couldn’t have made it easier on us all by having it only respond to one master?” he mutters. Jiang Cheng’s not sure how serious the complaint is but— “Powerful artifacts are known to develop sentience regardless of their original loyalty,” he points out. Something like annoyance flickers over Nie Mingjue’s face, but he only exhales and doesn’t object. “And Wei Wuxian is willing to except this?” he asks. “I am still his sect leader,” Jiang Cheng retorts. Not that that’s mattered much in the past, but the other leaders could stand to remember it. There’s a moment where Nie Mingjue studies him, almost evaluative. It makes his skin crawl, but he forces himself to stand steady and meet his dark eyes. Finally, Nie Mingjue huffs out a breath and gives a short nod. “Alright,” he says. Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen and he nearly blurts out an incredulous reply but just barely manages to hold it in. Some of his mother’s lessons stuck, after all. “I’ll visit and see the settlement for myself,” Nie Mingjue says. “We can discuss containment and relocation afterwards.” “I will look forward to the discussion, Chifeng-zun,” Jiang Cheng says with a polite salute. He does not break into a grin or pinch himself to be assured that this is working out. There is still plenty of work to do. Nie Mingjue might visit the Burial Mounds settlement and decide no Wen deserves such a living; he might think long on Wei Wuxian’s outburst in Fragrance Hall and decide it is best the Stygian Tiger Seal is destroyed. There are still so many ways it can go wrong. But — but maybe it won’t. Maybe this will work and Jiang Cheng will get his brother back and the world will steady into its rhythms once more. Even if Wei Wuxian has to stay in the Burial Mounds for a little longer, to cleanse them of their resentment and thereby apologize to the cultivation world, it’s not like Yiling is so far away. He’ll be able to visit and if he persuades them to let a-Yuan study in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian will have that much more cause to return. He just has to be patient. It’s never been a strength, but there’s only a month till Wei Wuxian will be here for their nephew’s celebrations. He just has to keep everything rowing steadily along for that month, and then they’ll be able to talk. He and jiejie will talk Wei Wuxian out of destroying the seal and, with it, himself, and even if Nie Mingjue doesn’t agree to Nie Sect containing the Seal, surely Wei Wuxian will be able to come up with something else. He’s always been too clever for his own good; what is one more impossible thing? The two of them part, but Jiang Cheng gives himself a moment to stand in the garden and breathe in the soft sweetness of the peonies before he turns back to find jiejie. As much as he’d like to stay and coo over his nephew for the entire month until their brother gets here, he is leader of a sect. There is always work waiting for him.

**Not** A Tutorial

HELLO. I don’t know how helpful or informative this is going to be but I get a lot of questions about how I draw Shane and Ryan so I’m about to spill all my secrets here lmao*

*I’m a graphic designer, I didn’t study fine art or illustration so take my “advice” with a pinch of salt. This is just my process and how I’ve taught myself to draw them.

[Ryan voice] That being said, let’s get into it.

1) References are the best

I used to think drawing from reference was a shameful thing that TRUE artists didn’t use, because they just KNEW what the human body looked like. This just isn’t true for most artists. Including myself! I don’t have a fuckin’ clue, my friends. Pose references are incredibly helpful when drawing bodies and, as obvious as it sounds, face references are incredibly helpful when drawing faces!

So let’s look at Shane and Ryan. Here’s a screencap from the show that I’ll be using as a ref for this post:

If you’re looking to draw something where the main subjects are extremely recognisable by their faces (i.e. some kind of fanart), face shape is important to take into account (again, I feel like this is super obvious but I’m saying it anyway). For example, Shane has a very angular face. His brow, nose, and jaw are all fairly straight lines. His hairline is squared. Ryan has more curves to his face (brow, nose, jaw, and hairline are all curves). 

These features are pretty important when it comes to making the boys look like themselves? (particularly the noses, in my opinion, which are quite distinct.)

The point of finding these important lines and/or curves is that it helps you build the face shape. It’s like a basic blueprint for where all the rest of the stuff is going to go.

2) Analyse the features

I’m not going to go into detail about how to draw a basic face, there are thousands of tutorials online and this post will be rambly enough as it is.

So I already talked about their features a little bit in the first part but I’m gonna talk about them here too. Once you figure out the important lines and curves, you gotta work on some features.

For Shane, I like to take into account the following: 1) he has very expressive and angular eyebrows. They’re excellent. 2) he has downturned eyes (heavy lids/deepset eyes). 3) his mouth is quite catlike, it curves upwards at the corners when resting and dips in the middle. W-shaped. 

With Ryan, I take into account 1) though his brow is quite defined, his eyebrows are not — they’re actually somewhat sparse I guess (or untamed?). 2) his eyes are big and round, but like Shane they’re deep set and he has a lot of lid. Both of them are Tired! Boys! and have bags under their eyes, it cute. 3) Ryan’s mouth curves downward. EVEN WHEN HE SMILES. It’s M-shaped, the inverse of Shane’s. His smile is heart-shaped.

I try to always keep these details in mind even when I’m referencing directly from a photo, because it makes their facial shapes appear clearer to me.

3) Just straight up practice lmao

I’ve been drawing these guys for over a year now and I like to think I have VASTLY improved since this time last year. At this point, remembering most of what I mentioned above is like second nature when I draw their faces. 

I’ll use my under-sketch (above) to create more natural lines and add detail to features like eyes, mouths, hair, and brows. Also, smaller distinguishing features like moles or wrinkles or creases.

(Shane’s moles on his cheek and beneath his eye are extremely extremely cute).

4. Clean it up?? Maybe? Color?

This is optional. Sometimes stuff looks better as a sketch because the looser the lines are, the more room your brain has to interpret the whole image and pick the /correct/ line, does that make sense? Probably not.

At this stage I generally paint in facial hair too. Sometimes they don’t look like the boys to me until I’ve given them a little scruff (and honestly I like to go a little heavy on facial hair because I like it so much!!!)

This is where I can’t really give a lot of advice (if you can call any of this advice lmfao) because I do something differently every time I paint. I’m fickle.

THAT’S IT, I think?? I dunno if any of this is helpful or actually teaches anyone anything, I guess it’s just an insight into my drawing process and the way I work? If there is anything specific anyone wants me to talk about, just shoot me a message and I’ll see what I can do.

Anyway, I hope the 3 entire people who asked me to do this enjoy this very useless post :’)

Remnants - Kim Jongdae

KIM JONGDAE x Reader

Genre: Angst, College!AU, Mature!AU

Warnings: Implied sex

4,068 words.

Synopsis: He was the one you tried to forget. His memories were the one you tried to bury, burn, and leave. Just exactly as he did to you. But seven years after, the ghost of your past was now standing in front of you. Breathing the same air, and existing in the same space as you do.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to live in the fragments of your memory you tried so hard to discard, burn, disintegrate. Yet he was here, existing in the same space as you, breathing the same air as you do, and unabashedly staring at you as if all other things are invisible. The set of eyes that were set on you stirred an overwhelming mix of emotions in your body. 

"I am certain that you two would work well together on this project." Your client expressed with a wide smile, evident of hope and enthusiasm. 

You tried hard to reciprocate the positivity he exuded. "We'll work hard to achieve your desired outcome, Sir." Your hand reached to the client in an assuring handshake. He then turned to him, and did the same. That's when your eyes met again, a surge of memories came back in your mind. You tried hard to shrugged it off, the bliss of immaturity, the wonderful firsts, the pain when he all too suddenly left. 

The client left and you were quick to re-organize your portfolio that laid on the table. Not wanting to spend more time with the man in front of you. 

"It's been so long. When did I last see you, seven years ago?" You looked up to him, seeing a sly smile on his face. 

"Yep." You simply answered. 

"You've changed a lot, really. I almost didn't recognize you." 

"Yeah, five years is a lot of time Mr. Kim." A smile crept up in your face, but not one of comfort nor happiness. One that's a mere show of professionalism, or just a facade to hide how affected you really were. 

"Mr. Kim? Aren't we far from formalities now?" His eyebrow raised, his features sure did improve a lot. His far more chiseled, structures more defined, his shoulders even broadened - almost the same as before but noticeably better. 

"We have a lot of time for catching up while this project runs, Jongdae. I really need to go." You smiled with pursed lips and you were quick on your heels. 

You hated how affected you still were. It's five years, it's been a half of a decade. Yet the pain he left was still there, among the butterflies that crept in your stomach when he smiled. It's still in your head like a video that can be played back over and over. 

You were in second year of college, a handful of excitement still present in your system. It was your dream university and program after all. It wasn't hard for you to adjust in the new environment, knowing you prepared for it your whole life. You just felt that it was right, you in the city, studying Architecture, and that was it - all that you could ask for. 

Then there was this one particular day, the weather seemed overcast and it was a good time to hang by the front of one of the best buildings in the university. The right amount of sunshine mixed with the green shade of spring made a wonderful sight to your eyes.   You admired its neoclassical style, grabbed the drawing pad in your bag, and started sketching. Art was your passion, but there's always the insatiable room for improvement. Half an hour passed unnoticeably and you were awakened to your senses by a voice coming from beside you. 

"A 2B would really work better on that shading. Would give it more dimension." You looked beside you, a man was suddenly seated on the free space and was looking (or judging) your work. 

"I don't have one. It's just a random sketch anyways." You sighed. 

He scuffled through his bag from where he retrieved a pencil of the exact shade he told you. "Lucky for you I have one here."

A smile full of subtle charm emerged on his lips, and you were sure you felt a sudden flush on your cheeks. You took the pencil with a smile and used it on the shading. 

"Fine arts?" He asked you. 

You shaked your head, not looking away from your work. "Architecture." 

"Oh, our majors are closer than I have thought." You looked at him. He reached out a hand, "Jongdae, Civil Engineering." You took it with a smile and a steady babble of talk and laughter followed soon after. 

It took off from there, from casual coffee dates, to just hanging out around the university, to being of constant prescence in each other's daily routines. He was a batch ahead of you so he showed you around the life of a typical student of the University. And it was such a shift from your cyclical life.  Jongdae introduced you to his group of friends, which soon became yours too. Baekhyun and Minseok were such a delight to be with for you, one for the laughs, and the other seemed to always watch over you.

It seemed as if everything was in the right place, at the right time. When he held your hand, when you touch, when you whisper sweet nothings in the afterglow, it all seemed too perfect. But it was undefined. As much of a couple you two seemed to be, no one really confirmed what you guys were. It seemed to work that way, no one questioned it- not even you. No one really asked if you guys were official because it just seemed like it. And the two of you? Well you were pretty sure that the mutual exchange of affections and i love you's were assurance enough. But it was still pretty bleak. You didn't know if you had the right to be jealous, or demand time, or even ask anything from Jongdae. So when the time came that it all suddenly faded, you were left to wonder what happened. What went wrong? Was it all a work of fiction in your mind?

It was vague to you how after a summer break, you and Jongdae lost contact. You were inseperable for one and a half year and it was all gone with the wind. Messages went dry over the break, he was suddenly either too busy or somewhere else. And when school came back, you didn't even know how to approach him anymore. He was suddenly a stranger that you longed for. You came across each other and only a nod was shared, even if you want to ask him why. Why did he cut you out all too sudden? Was there ever gonna be an explanation?

Turns out, you never got the explanation you wanted. You never heard the reason why he acted as if nothing ever happened. His graduation came, and not a single word was heard from Jongdae. As if the months you shared was all but a work of your silly mind. 

But you couldn't complain. What were you two anyway? You slept together, shared endearments, worked together, but was there even any confirmation? None. You didn't have any label. And somehow you figured, maybe it was nothing. Maybe it wasn't important to him, he had his fun, and now he's done. But it certainly wasn't just that to you.

That same night after meeting the ghost of your past, you found yourself indulging in a bottle of wine, or whiskey, whatever your hand reached in your pantry. It felt fucked up, how you still remember every damn detail he forgot with ease. How Jongdae's dumb smile still stirs a juvenile feeling within you. How you still want to cry, and cry you did. 

You started to convince yourself that it was all just a product of being shocked in the situation. Who wouldn't be? That person who just left you seven years ago just appeared in your latest work project. What do you expect to feel? But it wasn't easy, Jongdae didn't make it easy for you too. 

"These columns would really look good in terms of aesthetic but I'm more concerned regarding the structural integrity. It's a risk." He said, pointing to a certain part in your blueprint. 

"Mr. Seo specified that he wanted that, and when was a column ever a concern for structural integrity?" You replied, still focusing on the blueprint laid in front of you.

He looked at you in curiosity. "Yeah, I figured that out. I forgot that I used to study Building Design with you." Jongdae let out a small chuckle.

"I made all your reviewers then, Jongdae how could I forget the concepts." You unexpectedly reminisced. He stared at you in silence, as if really looking back or pondering on what you just said. 

"And besides, you tend to forget a lot of things." You rolled the blueprint and walked towards the coffee machine. You are in his office, his firm, as you were the architect that was sourced out of the company Jongdae worked from. No one from them focuses on modern architecture, one that you've been mastering on the past few years. So Mr. Seo wanted you for the job. 

"Well, I most certainly did not forget about how we used to do this." He said withh a smile on his face, leaning back against his office chair. Your face scrunched in confusion.

"This is the first time we worked together, Jongdae." You chuckled a little, giving him a hint of how delusional he sounded.

"Our kitchen should have one large island on the middle so it wouldn't be hard to cook. It should be granite, I like that better than marble." He mimicked the way you speak as he walked towards you. "And ofcourse I agreed. As I said, you'll be in charge of the aesthetics. Your dream italianate house, then I'll be the one to sign as an engineer." You rolled your eyes on how he had his teasing face on. 

You laid your head on his chest while your hands played with his. Jongdae and his habit of humming random songs in your hair as you traced random musings on his chest. Beads of sweat just starting to fade, breathing slowly returning to normal state, and you just let your ears take in his voice and the sound of his heart. 

"This is something I could totally get used to." He said while brushing your hair with his fingers. 

"Really?" You lazily answered. 

"Think about what our future home could be like." Jongdae's strong hands landed firmly on your cheeks. 

"Italianate, just right with a cozy feeling. Something that feels like a lazy sunday with its warmth. Not just a house, but a home." You said as you warp your hands over his body, bare skin to skin. 

"Sounds just like us." He said smilingly as he slowly inched his lips towards your forehead. "Sounds perfectly like us." 

"Looks like you're the one who easily forgets." Jongdae laughed, obviously teasing you a lot more. "I hope you remember what I said about what I like about having kitchen countertops--"

"Which are not what they're used for." You cut him off before he says things that are not meant to be talked about in a workplace. Turning your back against him, you put creamer and sugar in your freshly poured drink.

"I'm really surprised you remember those. I thought you just forget everything and leave." You decided to give a snark remark, not that you planned it. It just came out. So you decided to let out a little laugh in attempt to not make the conversation too serious, or one that you're not to engage in as of the moment.

  "Is this about..." He started, his mocking demeanor that was once there earlier now changed into a serious, somber one. 

"Nope. We're not talking about that, Engr. Kim." You said as you sipped through your hot coffee. 

It was a lie, you wanted to talk about it. Know everything, the reasons, his excuses, made up or not. You just wanted to know what made him turn away completely and never look back. But this wasn't the time, and you wonder if it will ever be. Because to you, his name still carves a silent cut in your heart. One that will never heal, no matter how long it passes by. 

But despite the emotional chaos it caused within you, Jongdae still felt like home. How you two worked well together as if your styles and work ethics just blended. Because it was how it supposed to be, as you formed your identities and dreams together. You found yourself still warming up to his laugh, his random touches wasn't an alien feeling. As if it was right, because that's how things used to be. 

"You got it just right. But shouldn't be the interior beams placed a little bit lower and on a different degree?" You pointed out to the foreman beside you on the blueprint. 

You've been working on Mr. Seo's house, or villa, or more appropriately mansion for over three months now. 

"Engr. Kim told us that it could be a concern when we started laying the third floor. The beam will also need another support column, the one we're doing right now." And as if his intuition called him, Jongdae appeared beside you. His hands instinctively snaking behind your back as he explained the changes. You sighed in defeat, it has been started anyway. 

"Looks like you and Engr. Kim are comfortable around each other." The foreman stated in a teasing tone, to which Jongdae smirked to. 

"We came from the same college. We were friends back then." You defensively explained. 

"Thought you might have been more than friends." He teased once more and Jongdae laughed awkwardly, "Actually.."

"Actually not." You said with a fake attempt of a smile. "I'll be at the tent if anyone needs me." And with that you walked off. 

Weeks passed and you could feel a dynamic shift with you and Jongdae. From being friendly and familiar, it came back to being strictly professional. His hands were now nowhere near you, he would only talk to you when it concerns the project and nothing more. 

But somehow now, you found yourself in his car. Because you came along with Mr. Seo in the site but left you there and now you're left with Jongdae to come back in the city.

"So, we were friends huh?" He broke off the silence. You peered over him, looking at his bland reaction illuminated by the soft cascade of sunset.

"Why, weren't we?" You retaliated. 

"I mean, I just thought we were more than that." You avoided eye contact with him, and looked out of the window.

"I thought so too." You sighed. "But then again, I thought that maybe we weren't even friends at all."

"What?" 

"Friends don't just leave without explanation." You tried to mask the pain in your voice. "Friends don't just leave you hanging, just avoid you when they don't feel like talking to you anymore. So if we're not friends, we certainly can't be more than that." 

You heard him scoff. 

"I'll just call myself your past time back then." You let out a laugh hinted with bitterness.

Jongdae called out your name. "It's not like that. It wasn't like that." 

"Then tell me what it was, Jongdae. Tell me why you just fucking left me without any explanation and made me feel like shit and unworthy." Your voice cracking on the verge of tears. "Because I'm tired, of all these years thinking it was my fault."

"It wasn't your fault. At all." He said lowly.

"Then why? Was I too boring for you? Did you find someone prettier? Or you just realized I'm not worthy of neither your time nor a proper closure because all of that was how I felt." You broke down, tears started flowing from your eyes and you couldn't help it. These were the questions you were dying to ask for years on end. And now he was here, and the word was out of your mouth. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." That was all he mustered to say as he parked in front of the office building.

"I asked for an explanation, not your apology." With that, you left the car and walked towards yours. 

The good thing was that your part of the project was close to finished. The interior architecture has been finalized, and no other revisions on the plan will be made. So all you needed to do was pay a few visits to the site to see the progress and you're good. It just diminishes the need to interact with Jongdae. 

Then this night, as you were relaxing at your sofa and watching a movie you heard a knock on your door. You're not expecting anyone to drop by and it's just flat out weird to have someone by your door at 10 in the evening, specially on this age. 

But it was weirder to see Jongdae holding a box of donuts, in his hoodie, when you opened the door. It almost seemed like deja vu. Your forhead knotted in confusion. You're sure that constant avoidance and an awkward atmosphere don't lead to that person knocking on your door on late night. 

"What are you-" You trailed off when you realized you were only wearing a thin tank top and shorts that barely reach your thighs. 

"Just like the old times?" He raised the box and gave a smile.

"We're not 19 anymore, 10 in the evening is considered late at this point Jongdae what do you want?" It came off as tired warning, almost a tone of indifference. 

"To give you your well deserve reason and explanation." Jongdae pursed his lips after, seemingly waiting for your approval.

You just opened your door a bit more and let him in. He put down the box your table and removed his hoodie, just like he always did almost a decade ago. 

"I don't know if strawberry sprinkles are still your favorite so I just got two of it and a little bit of everything." He said as he opened the box. 

"You know how much of a sucker I am for strawberry sprinkles." You let a curve form on your lips as you reached out for a piece. You walked to your fridge and got a bottle of water which you also rested on the table. When you're both sat down, you looked at Jongdae as if you waited for him to speak. 

"First of all, I was stupid." His elbows sat on the table and he clasped his hands together in front of his face. 

"That's not an explanation, its a fact." 

"No. You don't understand."

"Yeah that's why we're in this situation." You said dryingly. 

"I was stupid, and didn't make the best decisions. I was graduating that term, and I got scared to leave you there. To have a hard time leaving the university because a piece of me was there." His knuckles rested on his lips.

"That still doesn't make sense to me." You said taking a sip of water.

"I know."

"You got scared to leave me, but you technically didn't stay either. You just cut me off." 

"I can't say goodbye to you. I can't bring myself to say goodbye. To leave you. I got an early job offer a term before graduation. Which was extremely far away from you. Knowing myself, how much of a possesive, and jealous prick I was that time, I know it wouldn't work. I would just be paranoid of you going around the university without my arm around you making everyone know you were mine." You searched Jongdae's face of any signs that he was lying, because you knew when he did. But his face was painted with a mix of regret, of guilt, of pain.

"I know the more I stick with you, the harder it would be for me to leave. But you know I had to leave. And you, I couldn't see you cry when I say goodbye. It would break me. So I figured if I just slowly let you go, just go out of your life completely undetected, maybe it wouldn't be a problem. Maybe it was better to leave the last days of us happy then see us going down and crashing and burning. I wanted to leave a good memory, not something of pain." 

"You're so fucking stupid." You said in disbelief. But it made perfect sense as the Jongdae you knew wasn't really the most rational with decisions. 

"You think you didn't hurt me by doing that?" Your hand slammed against the table. 

"I just... I really didn't know what I was thinking back then." A shimmer in his eyes was evident at this point. 

"You never even reached out to me! Not a single call after, never." Tears started flowing out of your eyes. "I felt as if I was never important to you because you left me just like that." 

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so stupid. I know." Jongdae walked over and hugged you. Your face on his chest, which you didn't even notice that you were hitting already. 

"I was there on your graduation, I didn't want to ruin the day so I didn't approach you. You remember? Minseok and Baek was there. I asked them to give the flowers, and the necklace. That was the least I could do." You remembered the said pieces, and that definite day. How you searched for Jongdae when Minseok and Baekhyun approached but it turns out to be just the two of them.  

You just started crying on his chest as he cradled you like a child. You were both on the floor by now, and you just let it out. All the pent up emotions you sickeningly tried to get rid off the past seven years. 

"It would be selfish of me to ask for forgiveness. But please, give me another chance." He said as he lifted your chin to meet your eyes with his. 

"You're so stupid." You remarked but you couldn't help but latch your lips onto his. Your bodies melting together, as if puzzle pieces that were meant to fit. 

One thing lead to another, the next thing you knew you're both in your bed. Jongdae's touch was careful but he still knew the way around your body. The places that just flick like a button and make you writhe in pleasure. Every nook in your body that you liked attention in. Everything felt familiar, like every movement was engrained in your head and a muscle memory. He knew you too much for the seven years to even matter. Because right now, right on the afterglow, you're blisfully lying in his chest again. Jongdae humming a song that used to be your favorite back in college. And it just felt like home.

"I'm so sorry for causing you that much pain." He said as he brushed your hair again with his fingers. 

"We're both naked in my bed now which kinda means you're forgiven." You laughed. It doesn't make any sense how the person you tried to forget in the past 7 years was now holding you again, bare skin to skin. And laughing as your breathing and heartbeats synced as one. 

"7 years was a long time. I missed you. I missed you a lot. I missed you as if those 7 years were hell." You just smiled at his sweet nothings, it was habitual for him to be like this right after. 

"Stop acting as if you didn't date others on those 7 years Jongdae." You joked. "They don't matter now. I'm back to you, I always belonged to you."  You looked up at him and saw sincerity in his eyes. "Maybe you're the one who dated a lot, missy." You rolled your eyes.

"You're really one hell of a jealous prick." 

"I'm pretty sure none of them was better than me." Jongdae remarked defensively.

"In closures? Oh God they were far better at that than you. But in bed..." You smirked teasingly. 

"Well, we won't need any closure now. I'm sure as hell that I'm not ever letting you go." Jongdae whispered on your lips as he kissed you once more. And you sure won't either, as he was your home, one who you belonged to, no matter how far you go.

Love - a Confession about Lili Elbe

Gerda got married being still very young to a very beautiful lad some years older than her, who's very sweet, amorous and tender, called Einar, and they live in the city of Copenhagen, at the Denmark of the early thirties. However, her husband decided for a radical change in his life: To dress and behave as a woman; and their marital relationship got a little messed by all of that, although Gerda have supported him from the beginning at his choice, cause she actually unconditionally desires his happiness. By now, Einar is called Lili.

*

Pairing: Lili x Gerda

*

THIS IS A REQUEST! - Mistress WolfKonst just asked me some Lili Elbe's story, any one, cause Lili is her big love, and I'll tell you, I just improved and made this one at the same time, cause I was in debt to my glamorous transgender diva, or, like my mom said, "transgenic diva", LMAO. After all. The world needs more Lili Elbe. Yes, it is. :3 I do, at least. * * *           With a sad look, Gerda averted the curtain from the windowpane and looked through it to the water canal, fixing her glance on the shimmering images of the little and colorful antique houses reflected on the clear water. The night was about to fall upon the city  of Copenhagen and through the street, people were hurrying at their tracks back home after one more working day, pulling their coats' gullets over their faces to protect them against the cold breeze that was starting to blow, and Gerda, don't noticing what she was doing, let out a sad sigh. She was missing her husband.           It wasn't that he was out since the early morning on his job, or had traveled, or even left her or even died. But even so she hadn't him no more, what was actually strange to think about, because, at the same time he was still at her side, still in home, still sleeping at the bed at her side every night, even so Gerda hadn't her husband no more. Because Einar had changed. Changed in a way she could never suppose, to dream, to imagine. Einar had become Lili, and it was a woman who by now walked through the house, a woman who entered through the door after an absence, a woman who laid at Gerda's side, and although it was there the physical presence of a person there, the presence, in truth, of the same body, it wasn't the same person to whom she had married to, cause it wasn't Einar no more, her Einar. He just didn't exist no more.           Lowering her eyes Gerda left the curtain and stood back from the window, giving some steps into the room, and she once again addressed herself to the canvas left behind on a stand, and she raised to it  a little vague glance for some  seconds. At the first time in her life, Gerda was into a painting block, didn't getting to work, and it was just another thing that was annoying her terribly. She couldn't explain if it was due to all the things they've been into these last past months due to Einar's change, or if it was just because the fact that to try to paint just made her to remind and to think about her studying times at the arts academy, when Einar had been her teacher, and they have met and fell in love between. Everytime Gerda placed herself in front of a white canvas and started to work on it, all that came to her mind it was the first time she had seen him, at the flight of stairs of the academy, mixed up with books and brief cases and drawings to which he seemed to don't get to put together and handle in a practice way, dressed in that chalk stripe suit so well cut and with those high and incredibly starched and ironed heavy collars of the white shirt he wore, his dark brown and smooth hair carefully combed aside, his beautiful and delicate face. And Gerda never could to explain herself what in fact did she saw about him, what, after all, had attracted her to him, if not that a bit weird and quite different feeling of having found him so pretty cute. All of him. The all together of what she was seeing, his features, his ways - and that was a feeling Gerda have never had before for another man, and to which she actually never had again, cause Gerda had fallen in love for him that very day, in a way she just hadn't not even eyes to see another man since she has met Einar. And to think that in a certain way he didn't exist no more, although of still living, it was just like able to tear Gerda's heart in two.           Decided to give away about painting at least for that day, Gerda  left her canvas behind and took a seat under the high lampshade aside the wing chair, turning it on and taking a book, to which she started to read to distract herself, but don't getting to concentrate upon it a lot, untill the noise of the front door being unlocked made her to quickly raise up her eyes into that way, the book held by both hands impending in the air ahead as she saw Lili coming in. With a long and girt royal blue coat with its gullet lifted up over her nape, hiding this way her by now dark ginger dyed hair, Lili entered the living room of the studio-apartment where they two lived. And as soon as she saw Gerda through her expressive green eyes sat there at the wing chair at the corner, timidly Lili lowered them for an instant, letting them glide through the scratched wooden flooring before to get to move again, ending to get in and to lock the door, as she put then a straw bag she was bringing over a furniture aside, and still avoiding to look at Gerda straightly, Lili said under a breath, as she begun to undone her coat's belt:           - I went to the market.           Pronouncing in a soft whisper any word that sounded unintelligible, Gerda just as assented to her sentence, turning to lower her eyes again to the book, trying to pretend an interest about it that it truly just there wasn't. But seconds later Gerda was already raising up her eyes without doing it to her chin, launching this way a glance a bit oblique and very in a glimpse into Lili's way, seeing her to slowly undress her coat, letting it to fall from her shoulders pretty slowly, with her back now turned to Gerda, and in silence and intending  not to be noticed on what she was doing, Gerda observed the dress Lili was wearing, it's fitting over her back, descending along it her glance until she reaches its hem under her knees. And Gerda was then sighting her thin shins hidden by the thinnish socks and her ankles in display over the beige patent leather shoes Lili was wearing, and Gerda distracted herself on doing that to the point she got a fright when she once again listened to Lili's voice:           - Don't want you to come and see what I bought?           Quickly deviating her eyes to the book, noticing then that her hands, both of them, were by now slightly trembling, Gerda felt to  superficially choke, and nervously leading one of them to her hair, to which she arranged to behind her ear, she nagged very low:             - No... It's not needed, Lili. Thank you for have went to the market.            And after the end of Gerda's sentence a constraining feeling felt over the room, and Gerda noticed to be able to clearly  listen to the tic toc of the clock ahead, all of a sudden noticing  how much that irritated her. And a bit nervously Gerda once more placed some hair behind her ear, her eyes fixed at any word at the book's page to which she wasn't able to tell which it was because her mind was suddenly far away from there, and in a second, Gerda's eyes, attracted by Lili's ones, just rose up from there to hers, and their glances crossed, meeting between, and Gerda swallowed as she saw Lili fixedly staring at her, those beautiful green eyes, so tender and expressive, by now so fulfilled with a so expressed tenderness and at the same time a so patent melancholia, and for a moment it was like if Gerda's heart had just missed a beat for a second, cause she knew that expression so well: It was the distinctive expression of Einar's eyes when he was sad along with something and needing her, and Gerda's desire it was to just get up from where she was and just run into him, to hold him and solace him from anything it was that he could be feeling, but at the same time the black eyeliner  that was contouring those eyes reminded Gerda that Einar didn't exist no more.           Lowering her glance a bit awkwardly, Lili went to Gerda's stand, placing herself aside of it while observing it at a length and in an absolute silence, with the tips of her delicate fingers arranging her long fringe to backwards very slightly, in a very feminine gesture, as she was looking at the barely started and clearly abandoned work, with sadness. And soon Lili led her fingers to the canvas, touching it at leisure, sliding them through it along the traces in charcoal Gerda had made on it as a sketch, untill to reach with then at the edge of the bare paint Gerda have applied on it, where Lili lingered, seeming to think for a while, face down, while Gerda observed her without to get to put her eyes away from Lili, and very lowly Lili whispered:           - I'm sorry, Gerda.           Opening her eyes wide for an  instant, Gerda didn't comprehend nothing, and feeling molested by all of that she closed her book, placing it aside, with a single quick gesture pulling the thin string of the lampshade, turning it off, and Gerda quickly got up, stepping back to the window, turning her back to Lili as she started to look through the space between the curtains to the night that outside had just fallen, crossing her arms over her chest, and then Gerda murmured, with a little coerced but sincere voice:           - Are you sorry? For what, Lili, you did nothing to me.           At her back, from close to Gerda's settled stand at the corner of the living room, she listened to Lili's voice coming into her again, that same melancholic tone:           - I'm sorry... Cause I'm not like you wanted I was.           At a length blinking her eyes and swallowing saliva Gerda lowered her face until her chin almost to touch at her bosom, fixing her glance at the point of the tip of one of her own shoes, wanting and desiring to say that it was nothing, but just don't getting to. And in the following second Gerda felt that her eyes were about to get full of tears and she took a deep breath, trying to control herself with all the forces she pursued to that, tightening her arms against her chest and turning to lift up her glance to the landscape outside there, to the flickering of the lit street gas lamps at the lampposts, the passer-by always in a hurry, the reflex of the lights over the water of the canal; but the sound of Lili's heels on the parquet blocks of the wooden floor as she was approaching Gerda slowly by her back made again the blonde to fright herself, and when Gerda felt Lili to touch her arm with a hand, she moaned softly, having a sob she didn't get to contain.            - Gerda...            - I just wanted my husband back! - Gerda said finally, overflowing the repressed feelings that for so long she had kept hidden inside her, without that Gerda could to contain them no more. And very courteously making the blonde to turn to face her, Lili kept with her left hand lightly placed over Gerda's arm as she saw her face in front of hers, although Gerda had lowered her glance avoiding to look at Lili's, who said under a breath, with a sweet voice trespassed of a sincerity and a feeling clearly evident:           - I always loved you.           Listening to this Gerda sobbed, and a tear fell down, draining through her face until to die in her lips, and the sight of that tear broke Lili's sweet heart in two, and she increased a little the pressure made on Gerda's arm, stepping a step closer and placing herself at a dangerous proximity to her, holding Gerda by now with her soft hands by her both arms, slightly gliding her fingers through them until they to reach Gerda's elbows, and Lili whispered:           - Don't cry, my love. Please.           Turning her face aside, Gerda tried to give a sad smile, and wiping the tear away from her own face with a hand she said:           - I just... I just wanted Einar back, I... I miss him so much, Lili...           Giving one more step forward, that made her to glue her body to Gerda's that time, Lili whispered from closer to her face:           - Gerda... Look at me.           Obeying her without to think, Gerda been hit by the sight of Lili's  beautiful face so close to hers just like that, diving her eyes inside Lili's, which were looking at her,  supplicant and full of love and desire, trembling and shining, before to let her glance to flow over through Lili's whole features, to each line and each trace of that face so well known by her, cause it was Einar's face, although of the eyeliner and the blush and the coral lipstick. And with trembling eyes Gerda slid her glance along through every little freckle at Lili's face, desiring so much to touch them with her fingertips as she always did to her husband in the past, and turning to look at Lili into her eyes Gerda felt another warm and silent tear to descend through her face, and she uncrossed her arms, noticing that the proximity of that body was bringing her back reminiscences of so many moments of happiness and pleasure lived together and shared between, and it was clear that Lili had also remembered them, cause she did glid  the fingers of her right hand until to reach Gerda's, slowly interlacing them to hers, and then she said under a breath, looking inside Gerda's eyes:           - You're my wife, Gerda.           - Your wife, Lili? I was Einar's wife.           - You're my wife - Lili insisted, her breath dangerously threw, so warm, against Gerda's lips at each said word - You're my life. Nothing about this changed. And not even will.            Feeling to quake Gerda vacillated for a moment, her trembling eyes fixed upon Lili's, and the one thing she got to whisper it was just that, "Lili".           - Gerda... - Lili murmured back, and that sounded as an perfect echo; and approaching her lips to Gerda's to the point of them to rub between, Lili just as awaited for Gerda to kiss her, as it was her habit along with Einar, in a so impetuous and amusing manner as it was her way, but Gerda just got not to move, her lips, hands and eyes all trembling, and breathing through half open lips to the same warm air that Lili was exhaling,  Gerda then closed her eyes, the proximity and the heat of Lili's body enough to cause her shivers, and they two remained that way, silent, their lips just softly rubbing between as they both were starting to softly pant as the desire was growing, and tightening Gerda's fingers among hers Lili whispered, her coral color lips rubbing warmly on Gerda's at each pronounced syllable - Are you trying to resist to myself? To myself, Gerda?           - To resist isn't exactly the word - Gerda whispered back, opening her eyes by now, but the proximity it was such that Lili's face  it was nothing more than a indistinct blemish, and she lowered her glance to that pair of tempting lips that were awaiting for herself, then half opening her own, and feeling Lili to slightly rub her hips against hers Gerda got a sudden shiver on the basis of her spine as she felt that there was something that was increasing for her just as like in the old passed days, and Gerda closed her eyes again.           - So what impedes you to? Don't you love me no more? Just because I changed?           The tension had reached an unsupportable peak between them, and panting, Gerda half opened even more her lips, giving this way her mute answer to Lili, and then Lili finally took the charge, gluing hers to Gerda's, and passionately they kissed between for the first time, Lili tenderly placing her free hand on Gerda's face and slightly  caressing her delicate jaw line while kissing her, still holding to Gerda's hand with the other one; and it was a long kiss, full of passion and missing, until Lili let Gerda's lips to whisper:           - Beautiful Gerda, sweet Gerda... I love you so! - and then once again Lili kissed her - You're my life - and she kissed Gerda a third time before to whisper against her lips by now so palpitating from desire, while sliding her fingers through Gerda's face and neck, before to go toward steathly by her nape's hair - I love you because you're the only person who understand me like I am. My wife!           - Lili, I... I don't...           - Don't say a word. Just kiss me.           And once more Lili covered Gerda's lips with hers, while pulling her into herself very tenderly by the fingers on Gerda's nape, and finally the blonde enveloped Lili with her arms, embracing her and raving in that so warm contact of her body, while her quite smooth coral lips were sucking around Gerda's, their tongues touching and caressing between in a tender and sensual way, Gerda's heart discharged as she finally recognized the truth: She could have no more a husband, but this didn't mean she has no more a love. * * ***************************** * MY CONFESSION TO PRIOR PHILIP: What was the sin here, my good God's prior? If it is a so, so, so, so deadly sin to desire to kiss and eat little Lili's coral lipstick, you can just prepare the fire to burn me right now, cause I won't not even lose no time trying to get forgiveness or to dospense myself of the blame for anything else: I assume it all at once! This without to mention that for now we haven't not even lifted up little Lili's skirts to see  (and maybe do more than just to see) what we have from good from under it, so, excuse me cause I'm with a pan of beans cooking at home. A gift from my sister, the beans, by the way. A kiss and call me later, or come to take a bean broth with me.

AMEN, LORD BALEM!

could you possibly write a vminkook?? where Jungkook is a tattoo artist and either tae or jimin is getting a tattoo from him?? -🐨

Vminkook Au! Where Jungkook is a tattoo artist and Vmin come into his tattoo shop to get a soulmate tattoo, they end up falling for the artist.

Jungkook was a decent tattoo artist. He trained five years, got his medical license at 19, worked in his hyungs shop for two years. It wasn’t like he was directly allowed to tattoo. At first he was only designing but he found that it was fun to sit in the corner of rooms with his headphones plugged in, thinking about what people would like to have tattooed on them, what would mean something to them before he brought it onto paper. Careful thoughts formed into artful sketches.

Jungkook didn’t do dirty, although tattooing wasn’t the most valued thing in Korea, and although he was often teased or even insulted on the street he didn’t do dirty shit.

The tattoo shop he worked in was registered, the location always hygienic, he made sure to keep it hygienic himself sometimes staying longer to clean his devices. Yes, his devices. The devices he got when he - after designing for probably six months tattooing his own skin, leather and skin of close friends -, was gifted by his friend stating that he was now ready to tattoo people. He had to do a final test which was tattooing his hyung himself. Sweat was running down his face while he was nervously biting his lip but he kept his hands steady and work precise. He managed.

When his first customer turned to be out his hyung’s, Namjoon’s boyfriend Seokjin who claimed to be his mom, he broke down into a nervous sweat yet again.

So it wasn’t unusual that he ended up cleaning his room on the day when two men walked in. Jungkook didn’t even hear the new customers coming in, only noticed them when his chef, Namjoon, came through the door, which wasn’t really a door but a curtain made out of fine braided textile that rang sweetly due to the little marked metal balls tied to the bottom, and spoke to him.

“Guk, there are customers who wanted to talk bout their design.”

He parted his gaze to pull of his gloves with which he’d been cleaning to throw them into the trash before nodding. Jungkook didn’t have to ask why he was being called for such an exercise when Namjoon clearly wasn’t busy. He was the leading drawer in their shop or more like the best one at bringing the words of others onto paper, into art.

It was something that he had found out in his first six months where he wasn’t allowed to do anything but designing and tattooing dead skin.

It was when customers came in to have a tattoo designed and Namjoon was busy, maybe three months in when he stood up anxiously to go talk to them.

It was his first time taking care of a customer and he shook a little while trying to get their words onto the paper but in the end, even with the little words that they offered, a remarkable drawing care out of Jungkook’s hand, a drawing that the customer loved.

They were autistic, Jungkook learned when they came back to get the tattoo a fidget ball clammed into one hand. But Jungkook only nodded understanding, not knowing how he should react. “At least people don’t judge you for talking little,” he said voicing his first thought out loud. It was probably politically incorrect, maybe even offending to some but the guy in front of him laughed. Jungkook didn’t talk much to him afterwards, only got to know his name Yoongi and his boyfriends name Hoseok when he came to pick him up later on. He was carrying a light smile on his lips and a book under his arm that had scribbled “the texture book” all over it. When Yoongi came out he took hold of Hoseok’s hand to smooth his thumb down the others skin over and over again but with a little more pressure than Jungkook had seen any other person do it.

He probably liked the pressure, Jungkook thought. And oh, Jungkook thought, maybe he didn’t only like it but maybe he needed it to calm from the happening, to calm from everything around him, maybe it was overwhelming. Jungkook didn’t know but he got to know more of it when he gave his card to Yoongi so he could call for another tattoo design if he wanted one. He got to know more when they became friends.

It actually wasn’t his most favoured feature, being able to put peoples words into art because well, it lead to him being in contact with a lot of people. Although he was good at understanding and drawing, he wasn’t good at well, people.

Now standing up he smoothed down his oversized white shirt, it was unusual for a tattoo artist to wear such a light color and not only because of the aesthetic. The ink could really get to such fabric but Jungkook never wanted to wear black constantly. He just couldn’t be bothered to do so.

Because hidden in his heart was still teenage Jungkook who loved graphic shirts, who wore merch all the time and knew the one piece title song by heart.

Deep in Jungkook was still a nerd as well as there was his emo teenage self listening to hard rock and metal, always wanting to have a fringe. He luckily never had one because his mom would not allow it but the idea still lingered in Jungkook’s mind. That bizarre mix of emo and nerd led to Jungkook’s current self although it felt more like a development than a compromise. As he grew up people started to call him out for not having any fashion sense, so instead of constantly wearing graphic shirts he opted for the thing he was most comfortable with. “Casual boyfriend look” is what Namjoon labeled him one time “casual-uncomfortable-idiot-not-caring-how-he looks-look” is what Namjoon’s boyfriend labeled him not five seconds later.

When Jungkook walked up to the front of the shop he saw two people who he could not have impressed with his style even if he would have tried. Because even if he would care more than he did all he knew where graphic shirts in the end.

One of them wore a striped shirt and a cap while the other just had clothes on that Jungkook would label as “outstanding” because guess what he wasn’t really good with words either. His words were art, art and music.

He could probably find a song that would describe that guys clothing but on times where he didn’t have time for that he went for an easier way to express himself, he thought of what Namjoon would say because Namjoon was one of the most eloquent people that he knew.

“Questioning fashion” or maybe “fighting labels” Jungkook thought. That’s what Namjoon would say.

The two guys looked up at him and one smiled kindly while the other remained motionless, his eyebrows drew together in the lightest way looking like he was analyzing Jungkook.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” he asked and already knew that he fucked up. He knew what he could help them with and they knew that he knew.

“I mean, I’m here to lead you to the seating area where we can design the tattoo.”

The smaller one chuckled while the face of the “fighting fashion” one improved from analyzing him into relaxation and a tiny smile. At least his shitty work seemed to be amusing to them.

Designing was quick work. They started talking staying superficial before getting into detail. And Jungkook drew and drew trying to catch onto the idea.

“A bird,” the smaller one said. “Or more like a baby chicken.”

He chuckled a tiny bit his hands clutched between his legs, Jungkook noticed.

“I thought you’d be judging me for that,” the guy mumbled.

But Jungkook shook his head. He was a professional, he didn’t do dirty, he didn’t do his customers dirty.

“And a fox.” At that Jungkook looked up. His fingers moved to draw a fox separately making it as big as half of the page he had space on.

“No, no, no,” one of them exclaimed. Or maybe it was both of them, Jungkook didn’t really know. But when he looked at them to understand the problem of the fox or maybe the chicken he had drawn, to understand why they were already so frustrated after only giving him two words he saw them looking at each other instead of him. Their gazes where locking without much care, without much force like a known experience. While the taller one had his eyebrows drawn together with frustration, the other one bit his lip. It almost felt like they were talking through their eyes when the guy with the striped shirt smiled lightly almost looking like he was reaching out to the other with just his eyes. And oh.

Oh, Jungkook thought.

That’s when he could finally see his mistake in what he had drawn, what he did that frustrated and probably hurt them so much and he moved to get to the next page completely abandoning the dirt drawing.

“Like this?” he asked once the rough sketching was done. The fox was still as big as before but now he was opening his mouth and out of it was peeking the little chicken.

They looked and chuckled.

“Now would you look at that, Tae?” the smaller one giggled.

“You carrying me around in your mouth to protect me would be a new level of possessiveness.”

The other guy groaned and Jungkook understood that this design was not the right one either but that he slowly crept closer.

His mistakes were difficult to understand for some. At first he had thought of the tattoos as two separate ones, now he thought the taller one was only taking care of the smaller one. But then Jungkook finally saw their glinting eyes and relieved smiles when he showed him his last rough sketch and managed to smile to himself because he caught their relationship in the right light. And he let his breath go, not even noticing that he had been holding onto it.

-

The tattoo date was only a week later but the pair came in a few days early, to ask something else.

“Hey,” the smaller one said. Simply, short.

“We wanted to ask for a favour.”

And Jungkook looked up from where he was currently drawing before gesturing them over.

“Tae isn’t quite good with pain, he kinda has an uh assistance dog-“

“No.”

The guy groaned.

“Please listen to me! He isn’t even a very hairy dog, and he doesn’t run around or shit. He could just sit on Tae or like curl up on the floor-“

“I said no. If you need something like that go to another tattoo shop, I do not do dirty unhygienic shit,” Jungkook said without an ounce of sympathy.

“Oh so that’s what it’s about?” The smaller one asked while the tall guy just shuffled around uncomfortably.

“We could totally clean the place up afterwards!”

Jungkook laughed, laying down his pencil and sketch book.

“That’s not what this is about, seriously. Dude you can’t do a hygienic tattoo with a dog around. That’s straight up just not clean. Getting fricking hair on the fresh ink could also just make it look like shit and I sure as hell won’t risk ruining my reputation or you leaving an asshole comment online because of me being kind. Nope.”

“Ah” said the smaller guy. And he began to smile like he knew how to solve this.

“I don’t think that hygiene is a problem because Yeontan can sit still on his torso while you tattoo his arm. He won’t move if we don’t tell him to so he really won’t dirty anything.”

Jungkook still didn’t look convinced.

“Oh please,” the small guy then sighed. “We’d be so thankful! We’ll pay you extra if it helps!”

And Jungkook sighed. He didn’t need the extra money, he just really didn’t want to be an asshole, so he nodded.

When they came in a few days later a tiny dog accompanied them. A Pomeranian, Jungkook’s loving heart screeched. As a child he was not only a nerd but also a huge dog loving person. So now that he saw one of them after so many years he just had to drop into a crouch to cradle the little guys head, with allowance of the customer of course, to give him an Eskimo kiss. The little guy didn’t mind just gave him a big lick in return.

Jungkook was actually surprised at how well behaved the dog was. He followed the tall guy and only the tall guy where Jungkook led them into his own room in the back. And as the guy laid down first the dog abruptly tried getting up to him. But before Jungkook could lift the little guy up the other guy already had him up his arm to lay him on top of the other.

Jungkook registered the tank top that the tall guy was wearing, so he doesn’t have to take of his shirt Jungkook understood.

He washed his hands and got his gloves, spraying his devices clean before starting. Jungkook he had the tattoo already drawn on “Tae’s” skin, just waited another few seconds to give the guy “Tae” time to change his mind. But he didn’t. He hurried his free hand into his dogs fur who made little noises under his breath as if to calm his owner but didn’t move an inch. So Jungkook started and with that he learned about the two guys. He learned that “Tae’s” full name was Taehyung and that the small one was called “Jimin.”

He learned that Jimin didn’t like being called small one only seconds later when he did tell him that he thought that he looked tiny against his boyfriend.

Judging from the missing reaction to the word boyfriend he learned that they were boyfriends.

What a surprise, Jungkook thought sarcastically, your love is only written all over your face. He learned that they were two years older than him and living artistic jobs just like he himself. While Taehyung was a photographer Jimin was a choreographer for kpop idols. Jungkook cringed, he didn’t really like kpop.

He learned that this was their soulmate tattoo and he learned a lot about their love but not because they told him about it but because he was attentive.

He learned that while Taehyung was sensible to pain and tended to squint uncomfortable Jimin didn’t even move the tiniest bit when the needle struck is arm. But then again Jungkook wasn’t surprised because he had to ask Jimin to remove his T-Shirt so that he would have easy access to his arms.

He learned that Jimin stopped self harming just recently from the scars that went up his whole arm long and thin but also short, thick and deep.

He learned that they were open people after all and liked talking.

He learned that falling in love could go as fast as six hours that are spent pushing his face near their biceps to draw the most filigran two animals he had ever drawn.

But he didn’t do dirty so he didn’t tell Jimin that his smile was really pretty, instead he mentioned that his biceps was strong and his body firm.

He didn’t do dirty shit, so he didn’t tell Taehyung that he treated his loved ones in the most precious way neither did he say that Taehyung’s thoughts were already expressed over his actions and that he needn’t put them into struggling words. Instead he told him that he had the dog under good control and that Jimin and him fitted together.

But even if Jungkook didn’t do dirty, Jimin and Taehyung did. They tried to catch his eyes a few times but he didn’t notice. What he did notice was when Jimin asked him if he could have his phone to get his number but he didn’t mind really, he broke his rules once for them, he could break them twice.

And when Jimin asked him what animal he would take in their tattoo on the third date Jungkook realized that he was welcome and he realized that he could let loose here. And when Taehyung said that a bunny would represent Jungkook totally fine and he stood up in the middle of a restaurant, that they went to for a date to catch Taehyung who was literally running of in let me say it again a restaurant and Jimin just watched them laughing until they came back sitting down with red cheeks after the service people screamed at them, he knew that he belonged.

And that he wanted to stay.

Zhu'ad, Nonstandard Hero and Confounded Part-God

I figured I’d toss my current favorite into the inbox for consideration. The setting is pretty heavily high fantasy so I’m not sure if that may be a problem. Thank you for opening your inbox, and for all the effort you put into helping others so much!

Name: Zhu'adulawt Nop’ etmet

Nickname: Zhu'ad, Jahad

Alternate identity: Consort to the Reborn God, The Rage of Joy

Birthday: Equivalent would be March 31st.

Zodiac: Aries Sun, Aries Moon

Birthplace: Enian’s Peak, a city similar in climate to Sao Paulo, Brazil. The people are rather different however, as the majority of the populace are a mixture of devils, demons, and mortals.

Dwelling place: On the road.

How do they live: She travels with several companions, including a man she considers to be her brother, and her husband. She regularly keeps last watch over the camp, wakes the others just before dawn, and works through her morning exercises. Once they’ve hit the road she keeps an eye out for trouble while entertaining conversation though she’s not the most inclined to participate until they stop for the midday heat. Over the break she’ll work through her forms and help any of the others with tasks while talking. After starting off again she repeats her behavior of morning travels before relaxing for the evening. She’s much more chatty over the evening responsibilities and last meal though she always carves out time to do maintenance checks over her weapons, armor, and bags.

Appearance: When in the field she wears mostly full plate that covers her entirely, and it can take her sometime to be comfortable enough to wear what she considers standard clothes. She has little patience for anything she considers baggy, skirts and dresses as a rule are right out,  too much fabric, loose or otherwise, bogs down her movement.

She tries to keep some of her home’s fabric wraps on hand as she much prefers them to what the rest of the continent considers a “shirt.” The wrap winds around her neck, shoulders, ribs, and breasts, leaving her midriff bear as well as her arms. She prefers her wraps to be light in color if she cannot get a pure white as well as her pants as she likes the contrast with her darker skin. She wears old calf-high boots that are a worn brown.

Her hair is rather long and kept pulled back in a high, single dutch braid. It is red, though leans towards a dark amber rather than a pure red. Her stubbed horns are a bright amber at the tip and darken rapidly to a near maroon at the base.

Zhu'ad is sandy-brown with warm red undertones to her skin. Her eyes are heavily angled, the inner corner obviously lower then the outer. Her pupils are a starburst shape and her inner iris is yellow while the outer transitions to bright amber. Her nose is broad from bridge to nostrils and is rather strong, also, slightly crooked. She has wide lips though her bottom is heavier than her top. Her chin, and chin cleft, are rather prominent as she has a diamond face, but the fact that she keeps it jut forward may have something to do with it.

She is muscular and confidently carries countless scars. To an untrained eye she’s obviously some kind of fighter, but to a trained one she may as well scream that she’s a weapons-master. The callouses on her hands reveals that she primarily uses a large blade and that she’s ambidextrous with it rather than favoring one arm.

She is not particular to jewelry as its a hindrance to her in her line of work, however, once she is married she wears the black color around her neck with pride.

What’s in their bag/pockets: A bedroll, flint, hemp rope, a few crumpled sheaves of loose parchment, quill, ink pot, sealing wax, water whetstone, oil whetstone, pipe, tobacco, and journal.

Species: She is ¾ths human, ¼th demon (succubus specifically).

Features of the species: While her mother (½) and grandmother (full) carry many of the physical traits of their people Zhu'ad does not. The only suggestions that she’s not fully human are her starburst pupils and stubby horns.

Some of the abilities that carried over are her excellent sight in the dark and her ability to “smell” magic.

Name of parents: Ni'ini Nop’ etmet (Mother) and Umuhd Pasal (Father)

Name of siblings: Only child.

Others next of kin: Ma'rali Nop’ etmet (Grandmother)

Not-in-blood-but-in-bond-family: Aris of Stonebridge

Family history: Zhu'ad grew up well cared for, loved, and not understood in the least. Their people are rather matriarchal, so while Zhu'ad cares for her father he really had little to do with her rearing and she sees him fondly, though distantly.

Both her mother and grandmother tried very hard to understand Zhu'ad but she may as well have been a raccoon among cats. Similar enough, in a way, but clearly not belonging. Charming, even-tempered, and manipulative, the family trade is trade, both in goods and political favors. Zhu'ad, from an early age, showed little to negative aptitude in most of the qualities necessary to participate in the family business. Instead she showed great aptitude in several physical skills and when allowed to practice these improved in her other studies.

Desperate to support Zhu'ad her family found her the best mentors in several martial arts while making it clear they expected her to listen to her other tutors as well. As Zhu'ad grew up it became clear that most conversation between her and her family were a simple script of polite but shallow questions and answers. They loved her, but not one of them could understand her drives, interests, or desires.

This led to Zhu'ad growing into a well educated, but ill-tempered and depressed young woman. She had no career outside of serving as her Grandmother’s sword-arm, she had no friends as she found she disliked the majority of the populace around her, and little to drive her. Life was difficult and becoming unbearable until her Grandmother ordered her to join an ally, Aris of Stonebridge, on his quest.

Favourite colour: Emerald green, though it changes to the pale blue of her husband’s eyes, not that she ever says that aloud.

Favourite animal: Striped Hyena, White-backed Vulture, and Honey Badger

Favourite book: Exile’s Honor by Mercedes Lackey, Astro City: Confession by Busiek, Anderson, & Ross

Favourite film/show/series: Gran Torino, Babylon 5, Hard Candy, Rush Hour

Favourite genre: Action, Comedy

Favourite food: Candied Yam, Spiced Pork Tenderloin

Favourite place to be: Out somewhere in the unmapped wilderness, whether plains or hills or the side of some mountain, preferably at night with the stars glittering above, a small fire crackling a little ways away, and her husband laying next to her as they make up constellations.

Personality: To any outside observer Zhu'ad appears brash, prideful, and has a mean streak. She bears no shame about being demon-born and in many ways wields her heritage like a weapon against those who would try to shame her for it. She shows no hesitancy in going after people’s literal and metaphorical weaknesses, and holds those with physical prowess in a more obvious esteem.

Behind the crafted facade Zhu'ad is intensely private of her true feelings and relationships. She does not make connections to others easily or lightly, but when she does it’s to a fault. Her loyalty and affection run deep, deeper than even she truly understands. Due to her abrasive nature she has rarely had a chance to have her true feelings returned, but once among Aris and his traveling companions she finds her feeling mirrored.

She has a wicked sense of humor, willing to laugh at others misfortunes though she is rather prickly about her own in the short term. Since joining the group she has become much more self-aware of her own flaws and hang ups, as well as developed a willingness to laugh at herself.

She tends to leap-and-think simultaneously, leading to her realizing something was a bad idea only as she is doing it. She is rather resilient to most things, however she finds herself quailing when it comes to personal emotionally intimate and charged situations which she finds herself more oft in once with the group. It unnerves her, even after a few years, how willing the people around her are to be truthful and earnest about their feelings.

Her first language, for all her knowledge of them, is violence. She finds touch, painful or not, to be the most honest way of communicating, and so will find herself at odds with people in ways she doesn’t entirely understand. To outsiders she can be abrupt and startling, her choices seemingly bizarre and impulsive, but when asked she can almost always produce a chain of logic, that while odd, holds together under scrutiny.

Misc:

She knows 6 primary languages and many of their dialects. She never thought it odd she could pick up languages so easily though her tutors and family were stunned. She still makes a habit of learning dialects and languages after she joins Aris on his quest as it’s come in handy more than anyone thought it would. 

Zhu'ad has a quirk others have noticed, but that she’s blind to herself. Knowing so many languages allows her an extended vocabulary into words that don’t approximate across languages. When there is an idea she’s trying to express she will use the most accurate word she knows for the idea, whether or not it’s from the language she is speaking at the time.

She mostly trained her physical gifts in her youth, but she had a fondness for hassling her tutors and getting them to teach her about history, theories of magic, geography, and languages, though not always in the order they meant to.

She has absolute pitch though has no inclination to music or singing (much to the lament of her family).

She has always had a near perfect sense of balance.

She finds, after joining the group, that she enjoys sketching the various places, people, and things she sees on her journeys. She also starts writing what amounts to cultural crash courses on the various places they go. At first this is just for herself as she finds it hard to keep track but begins making copies to give to important people.

At first Zhu'ad found the idea of worship and religion distasteful. She thought little of the Titans and considered organized religion a joke, and  still does, but she’s found, through her travels, a small kernel of faith in the Elder Gods who ask for nothing, and keep the world turning.

Her story/character-arc sees her change from stereotypical hot-headed, asshole warrior, to a weapons-master unflinchingly willing to die to save her world. Her husband is a reborn Titan that is slowly awakening to his abilities. As time passes and he grows in power, because of their connection she too gains a portion of divinity that sees her become not-quite-a-god, but definitely no longer a mortal.

(PS I hope I did all that right, and I’m really sorry this got so long. Oi.)

______

Hey rmene!

Thank you too for your submission! Now let’s see what we can find.  The section misc relates both to what you wrote in your own misc section and what I couldn’t put into any other category. You didn’t write a lot about her husband and marriage, so that was a bit more guesswork, but I figured you might have some use for a few relationship-themed plants. So I made you a small section for that, hope you will find it useful!

Consort to the Reborn God / The Rage of Joy

celandine – joys to come, future joy

crab-apple blossom – ill-tempered

jasmine (cape) – transport of joy

sorrel (wood) – joy

st. john’s worth – animosity, superstition

whin – anger

Enian’s Peak, a city similar in climate to Sao Paulo, Brazil

The national flower of Brazil is Tecoma chrysostricha.

Given it’s not actually Brazil in your story, some sources also name Cattleya labiata and Wikipedia names Handroathus albus as the national flower.

On the road

traveller’s joy – traveller’s joy, safety, rest

Based on how she lives

canary grass – perseverance

violet (dame) – watchfulness

watcher by the wayside – never despair

flax (dried) – utility

glycine – your friendship is pleasing and agreeable to me

heath – solitude

Based on the fact that there’s quite some red in her description

camilla (red) – unpretending excellence, you’re a flame in my heart

fraxinella – fire

hyacinth (red) – playful joy

iris (flaming) – flame

iris (German) – flame, ardour

mulberry (red) – wisdom

pyrus japonica – (the) faerie’s fire,

red valerian – readiness

salvia (red) – energy

Based on what’s inside her bag/pockets

hemp – fate

Based on family history

acanthus – the fine arts, artifice,  the arts (also fits her ability to pick up languages quickly)

bellflower (chimney) – aspiring

bougainvillaea – passion

cherry – good education, education

cherry (cornelian) – durability, duration

goldenrod – (careful) encouragement, precaution, be cautious

hollyhock (white) – female ambition

imbricata – uprightness, sentiments of honour

mistletoe – I surmount all difficulties/obstacles, I climb to greatness, I will rise above all, parasitic

oak (white) – independence

rue (wild) – morals, manners

sloe – difficulty, austerity

Striped Hyena

Have roots in folk magic, for example in Pakistan and Afghanistan striped hyena hair is used as a charm against sickness or for love magic.

angelica – inspiration, magic

circaea – spell

enchanter’s nightshade – spell, witchcraft, sorcery, fascination

fern – magic, sincerity, fascination, confidence, shelter

garlic – get well, ward of evil and illness, courage

holly herb – enchantment

iceland moss – health

witch (hazel) – a spell

Based on her personality

alstroemeria – devotion

ash mountain – with me you are safe, prudence

austurtium – splendour

balsam (red) – touch me not, impatient resolve(s)

bay (wreath) – reward of merit

berberry – sharpness/sourness of temper, sharpness, sourness, petulance

borage – bluntness, rudeness

columbine (purple) – resolved to win

copihue – there is no unalloyed good

coriander – hidden worth/merit, concealed merit

daisy – loyal love, I’ll never tell, purity, beauty, innocence

gillflower (mahon) – promptness

gorse – cheerfulness in adversity, endearing affection

lantana – rigour, sharpness

lavender – devotion, love, distrust, mistrust, acknowledgement

osier – frankness

sorrel (wild) – wit ill-timed

xeranthemum – cheerfulness under adversity

Misc

auricula – painting

cedar of Lebanon – incorruptible

cilanthus – worldliness, self-seeking

coronilla – success to you, success crown your wishes

daphne – glory, immortality

gardenia – refinement

hawkweed – quick-sightedness

honeysuckle (coral) – the colour of my fate

laurel (mountain) – ambition

lint – I feel my obligations

liquorice – I declare against you

marianthus – hope for better days

marigold (cape) – presage

marigold (prophetic) – prediction

mercury – goodness

oak leaves – bravery

penstemon azureus – high-bred

rosebud (stripped of thorns) – I fear no longer I hope

volkameria – may you be happy

willow (French) – bravery and humanity

Husband related

clover (white) – think of me

diosma – your simple elegance charms me

furze – love for all seasons/occasions

gladiolus – you pierce my heart, generosity, I’m sincere, flower of the gladiators

heliotrope – devotion, I love you, devoted attachment, intoxicated with pleasure, I turn to thee, infatuation, faithfulness

milk vetch – your presence softens my pains

persicaria – restoration

primrose (Chinese) – lasting love

rose (bridal) – happy love

spindle tree – your charms are engraven on my heart

- Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.

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

Adobe’s Photoshop Neural Filters use AI to change faces, recolor photos

Since Adobe uses its annual MAX conference to reveal new user-facing improvements to its professional creative applications, it’s no surprise that this year’s online-only event is a virtual firehose of announcements — too many to count or even list, thanks to the large collection of Creative Cloud apps that are all receiving updates. But one new feature really stands out from the rest: an AI-powered addition to Photoshop called Neural Filters, which leverage cloud-based neural processing to enable over a dozen new instant photo editing tools, all designed to “improve over time” with machine learning.

Photoshop’s Neural Filters are perhaps the largest validation yet of Adobe’s AI strategy, which relies on the Sensei cloud-based machine learning platform to do heavy computational lifting for professional apps. Here, Sensei enables Photoshop to perform tasks such as Super Zoom high-resolution upscaling, portrait editing, and black-and-white photo colorization with little more than a single click. Instead of relying solely on a user’s local AI processing capabilities for the filters, as Skylum did last year with Luminar 4, Photoshop can tap into server-class computational power for even more intriguing capabilities. As was the case with Adobe Photoshop Camera for mobile phones, that means you won’t need a massive desktop computer to achieve pro-class results.

One of the most eye-catching Neural Filters is Smart Portrait, which enables a 2D photograph of a head to be repositioned and modified with post processing, using AI to compute what the face would look like with alternate angles or facial expressions. “Head Direction” and “Light Direction” sliders separately recompute the positions of the head, gaze, lighting, and shadowing of a person looking straight at the camera, while separate sliders adjust their “happiness,” “surprise,” and/or “anger.” There are also Snapchat-like sliders for facial aging and hair thickness, notably applied here to a professional high-resolution image rather than low-resolution content intended for social media.

Other Neural Filters include Colorize, which can instantly recolor a black-and-white scene using machine learning to deduce correct color data across even complex images; tools to clean up and apply makeup to faces; and filters that automatically convert photos to sketches, sketches to portraits, and faces to caricatures. To the extent that Photoshop hadn’t fully blurred the lines between photography and art, the Neural Filters go even further, using cloud ML to reduce the gap between the average and best results achieved by image editing software. A separate Adobe initiative — a new Discover panel with Quick Actions — will enable users to quickly see a range of available image editing effects and instantly apply them without needing to dive deeply into Photoshop’s menus.

The ever-easing process of photo editing will only enhance existing concerns over the authenticity of images, and Adobe openly acknowledges that its software is enabling both artists and bad actors to create “photos” that aren’t what they seem. To address that concern, Adobe will release a private beta of its Content Authenticity Initiative for Photoshop and Behance, which will allow creatives to opt into adding certification metadata for their images. A pop-up panel includes checkmarks to include a cryptographically signed, permanently attached thumbnail; the image producer’s name; a list of edits and activity; and links to original assets used in the final image.

Backed by content providers such as the BBC, CBC Radio-Canada, and the New York Times, with Microsoft, Qualcomm, Truepic, Twitter, and other companies on the tech side, Adobe’s initiative includes a site called verify.contentauthenticity.org that members of the public can use to check content authenticity for images. Since photographers will need to opt in to registering their images, and participation will likely require use of Adobe’s Creative Cloud, it’s unclear how widely the service will be used, but it’s something.

Above: Photoshop live-streaming from an iPad.

Image Credit: Adobe

To help creatives spread their visions over social media, Adobe also announced that it’s adding some live-streaming functionality to Creative Cloud, including a Photoshop feature on the iPad that will composite the app, front camera input, and microphone input into a single feed that can be used for instructional videos. The company is also introducing shareable creators’ history feeds containing step-by-step workflows for specific projects, enabling users to learn exactly how images were created.

Additional news on Photoshop and Lightroom versions optimized for Mac and Windows ARM processors is coming “soon after MAX,” the company says, without providing additional details. Apple is expected to hold a media event in November to introduce its first Mac computers with ARM-based “Apple Silicon” chips, which would be a natural opportunity to share this news.

The audio problem:

Learn how new cloud-based API solutions are solving imperfect, frustrating audio in video conferences.

Access here

For the creation of the Assignment 2 of Innovative Storytelling I worked in a team of two with Nu McAdams.

Me and Nu worked on a project together on year 1 and decided to collaborate for this project too.

·         On Thursday the 16th of January, we analysed together the animatic to map a plan on how to complete the project submitted at the end of the first term, on the 11th of December.

We were well aware that the project was ambitious and decided to divide the work as it follows:

I’d have taken care of the artwork and animation in Photoshop, and they’d have worked on the sounds and backgrounds in After Effects.

We also did a brainstorming session to find an adequate name for the project, which ended up being “Once Upon a Bedtime”, since the story is presented as a bedtime story and has the classical fairy tale setting, with a forest, a prince and a princess, a dragon, a fairy and a gnome.

We discussed some of the themes and the settings, the target audience and the vocabulary.

Due to the nature of the main character, we decided for a 3 to 7 years old audience. The vocabulary is very elementary and accessible to everyone, the character is a kid, so more relatable to that age group.  

·         On the 21st of January we discussed the colour palette to be used. Since the story is designed on the idea of Art Nouveau we decided to go for warm and earthy colours. The prince has a royal red and gold uniform, the princess has a warmer and darker skin colour with a yellow dress to contrast. The fairy is presented with woody and peachy shades and the gnome has a classic red attire. The only exception is the dragon, which has a lilac and wine purple palette, with hints of yellow. We thought it would have been nice to give some contrast to the antagonist and also, since he was supposed to fly we thought that these colours would matched very nicely the hues we chose for the sky. Nu sketched some background.

·         On the 25th of January we uploaded the animatic on Premiere Pro and divided it in scenes. When the animatic was first submitted all the scenes had the same duration, making the story flow a bit oddly.

We divided the work in 26 scenes, cutting the scene at every change of shot/action.

The transitional scenes that didn’t present any evolutional action (i.e. walking from one place to another) have been speeded up, while talking scenes have been dilated.

Upon the analysis of the scenes we cut, we decided that it would have been better to animate the mechanical actions (walking cycles and lips syncing) through a puppet on After Effects. I started to sketch the puppet on Photoshop.

·         On the 4th of February part of the backgrounds were digitalised and coloured.

·         By the 8th of February the puppet was ready in front facing, sideways and diagonal positions, the props were also added in conjunction to the character limbs and everything has been fully coloured. We discussed whether or not it would have been convenient to prepare a puppet for the fairy and the gnome since they appeared only twice throughout the whole animation, eventually we decided it would have been better to animate them scene by scene and recycle the design I’d have kept the limbs and the expressions on separate layer so that they could have been manipulated in after effect for lip syncing.

·         On the 13th of February Nu got the early stages of the walk cycle working in After Effects, and I had completed the design of the gnome.  

·         On the 17th of February I drafted the script for the final animation and listed some of the sounds we would have needed in the background audio track. We also carried some interviews about the voice acting and discussed what voice would have better suited the characters personality.

·         On the 24th of February the script was finished, along with a complete list of the sounds we would have needed, and we assigned the characters to the voice actors.

·         Between the 2nd and the 4th of March the first 3 scenes of the prince flying on the dragon was animated by me, the background was then provided by Nu.

·         On the 13th of March I provided Nu with a puppet of the gnome’s facial features to be animated in After Effect by Nu according to the voice acting. Part of the background was also drafted but didn’t make the cut as too different from the original artworks made by Nu.

·         On the 18th of March we realised in some of the scenes the prince didn’t have a crown, so for the walking cycle Nu added it in After Effects on a separate layer and I did the same in photoshop.

·         On the 20th of March we did some changes to the fairy’s colour palette, as her skin tone was a bit too fair, making the contrast with the hair a bit too aggressive. The dress was also a bit too bright and it clashed with the prince’s dress, which is quite bright itself.

·         On the 23rd of March a Photoshop file I worked on somehow got corrupted, so I lost hours of work on the very first scene with the fairy.  Luckily, I had sent a preview to Nu so I could look at the new colour palette and the structure of the frames and replicate it, this saved me a lot of time.

·         On Thursday the 19th the voice acting was recorded by Nu.

·         On the 21st of March we realised the amount of material we had was prohibitive. Even with the speeding up of some scene, the animation still would have lasted too long. We cut some scenes and twisted a bit the script and the voice acting in order to accommodate the changes. We also removed some sounds from the list and the rain effect we wanted to add in After Effects.

·         On the 26th of March I provided Nu with a puppet for all the first shot scenes. Even though we initially thought for them to use the first prince puppet, we weighted the importance of the first shot in terms of communication with the audience, and we didn’t want to compromise the quality of the image, so I drew it anew.

·         At the end of March, I went back to the first files and realised that for some of them the pace was a bit too slow, all the frames had the same length. In order to make it more fluid I shortened some frames on the fast scenes and successfully improved the final result.

Is also visible how I forgot to paint white the white areas of some scenes (eyes, teeth). By leaving them blank the background was visible through these details, I later fixed all the frames.

·         For the ending panel we had a “The End” frame. I wanted to make something new but in line with the overall piece, so I recorded my hand strokes in Photoshop, exported the final action and sent it to Nu to be added in After Effects.

On the 16th of April all frame by frame animations were complete, ready to be merged together with the After Effects scenes and the audio.