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#please accept these modest pieces of art
frenchublog · 1 year
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Are you prepared to lose her ?
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jiyangsu · 8 months
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Kajiwara Kagetoki Route
Quick disclaimer: My translations are contextual, not word for word, and please expect mistakes/inaccuracies. When I intiially translated this route it wasn't with the intention of posting, just to practice so I gratefully accept any constructive criticisms and corrections.
Characters, stories, art, etc all belong to Cybird. Please download the game and use this translation to play. Only by continuing to support them can we ever expect an English/Regional Genjiden release!
Otherwise: Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Part 1
Yoshino: (I will gather magical power and fulfill my pact with Tamamo. AI will definitely open my own apothecary!)
I looked straight ahead passionately as I thought about the ordinary and lovely life that awaited me. 
Yoshino: “Thank you so much everyone! Please take good care of me!” 
Thus it was decided that I shall live at the Imperial Palace, but… 
———  
Kagetoki: “This is your room.” 
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Yoshino: “It’s so luxurious!” 
After I was shown to my room, Lord Yoritomo told me that we would learn about the ayakashi’s supernatural abilities from Tamamo.
So, Kagetoki showed me to my room first. 
I only had to wait a bit after Kagetoki ordered a maid to set up a room for me. 
Yoshino: (I was imagining an ordinary room; something more fit for a servant to sleep to in. )
Standing at the entrance, I looked up at Kagetoki-san. 
Yoshino: “Um… I’m sorry, but perhaps there is a more modest room?” 
Kagetoki: “Is that so? It’s a pity that I had a nice one prepared for you then.” 
Kagetoki: “Perhaps the stables are more to your tastes.”
Yoshino: (…Uh?) 
Kagetoki: “If you have a peculiar taste for straw instead of a futon… 
Kagetoki:… the Shogunate will prepare the best accommodations to suit your preferences. 
Yoshino: “Eh, I do not like straw that much.” 
Kagetoki: “I'm relieved. I wonder if I needed to consider the influence of the fox spirit possessing you.” (snark alert regarding her bedding choices)
Kagetoki: “Then, please come in.” 
Yoshino: (He’s teasing me right?) 
Bewildered, I followed Kagetoki in to the lavish room. 
Yoshino: (Kagetoki-san doesn’t seem like a very friendly person, but...)
Yoshino: (… since I am indebted to the Shogunate, I should try to get to know him.) 
Yoshino: “Thank you so much for taking the trouble to guide me to my room, Kagetoki-san.”
Kagetoki: “It’s nothing. I’m just stopping by the library.” 
*[In Japanese, he actually responds with “no”, which is a common response to “thank you”. However, it “it’s nothing” or “it’s not a problem” translates the contextual meaning a bit more clearly.]
Yoshino: “Even though it’s so late at night?”
Yoshino: (After the events of today…  the fight with Yoshitsune and the others, and the encounter with Tamamo…)
Kagetoki: “Yes… is something wrong?” 
Yoshino: “Nothing is wrong! Um… so, do you like to read?” 
Kagetoki: “I do. More than I like having a drawn out conversation with a physician whom I’ve just met for the first time tonight.” 
Yoshino: “Oh—” 
As expected, I replied with a little snark of my own. 
Yoshino: “Well, I’m surprised that a samurai I’m meeting for the first time can be so sarcastic.” 
Kagetoki: "If it’s efficient for my job as I must get to know you.” 
Kagetoki: “Not many people talk to their Shogi pieces or Go stones, do they?” 
Yoshino: “I see… you seem to be speaking well enough to me.”
Part 2
(Probably, I didn't kept the best track during the first chapter)
Kagetoki: "If it’s efficient for my job I must get to know you.” 
Kagetoki: “Not many people talk to their Shogi pieces or Go stones, do they?” 
Yoshino: “I see… you seem to be speaking well enough to me.” 
Kagetoki: “Excuse me. I am just glib.”  
He’s a cold and elusive man, and I start to step away, but…
Yoshino: (Come to think of it, didn’t Kagetoki-san had this kind of attitude when we met with his vassals in front of the Imperial palace?)
——FLASHBACK——
Kagetoki: “It’s like ants flocking to sweets. So, why don’t you just go back to your nest now?” 
Kagetoki: "Lord Yoritomo is a tired, so he doesn't have time to deal with pests.” 
——END FLASHBACK ——
(It’s not like he has any particular ill will against me. He’s just cold and ill-tempered towards everyone. 
Yoshino: (Still, even if it happens to me I will absolutely tell him off without hesitation!)
Yoshino: “Are you always always like this, Kagetoki-san? Even when you are not working?”
Kagetoki: “If that were the case then my work day would end simply whenever I parted from Lord Yoritomo.”
Kagetoki: Escorting you is just on the way. Right now is my personal time.”
Kagetoki: “Would it be more to your liking if I acted like it?” 
Yoshino: (Ah… what does he mean by that?) 
Kagetoki: “Yoshino.” 
His hand stretched out towards my cheek, and frighteningly handsome face approached me.
I let out a gasp when I felt the warmth of his fingertips which contrasted sharply with the cold atmosphere. 
Yoshino: “Ah… Kagetoki-san?” 
Kagetoki (grinning devilishly): “What is it?” 
Nonchalantly, he blocked my escape from the bedroom and turned my face up with his hand on my cheek. 
I’m so shaken by his unreadable smirk that I instinctively back away…
Kagetoki: “What are you running away from?” 
Yoshino: (Ah…) 
Startled, my back hits the shelf with a trembling jolt. 
Kagetoki: “You’re a clumsy person.” 
Kagetoki supported my waist as I stagger backwards.
A vase sitting on the shelf hit the wall as I bumped it, rolling and rubbing against it with a faint scratching noise.
Yoshino: “I'm so sorry!” 
I hurriedly moved away from Kagetoki, and held the vase with my hand.
Yoshino: “Whew, Good. It didn’t fall.” 
I breath a sigh of relief, but when I check the vase again the blood drains from my face. 
Yoshino: “Oh no! It’s cracked.” 
Kagetoki (with an evil grin): “Oh?” 
Yoshino:  “I'm so sorry! I will compensate you for the damage!” 
Even though it was Kagetoki-san’s words and actions that flustered me, it was my fault for being so careless.
Kagetoki: "I see. By the way, do you know the price of this vase?”  
Yoshino: “… how much do I owe you?” 
Kagetoki: “Give me your ear.” 
When I hear the number Kagetoki whispered into my ear, I felt nauseated and dizzy. 
Yoshino: (That has to be a lie?! Is it really that much?)
Kagetoki: “Can you pay that?” 
Yoshino: “That’s impossible… I’m sorry.” 
Kagetoki: “Well, well.” 
He shrugged his shoulders as he eyed his prey. 
Kagetoki: “Then what shall we do about this?” 
Kagetoki: "I am in charge of managing the budget for the imperial palace. I shouldn’t wait for the repayment, but I can do it."
 Yoshino: (Really?!)
Yoshino: "Umm… I’ll do anything to pay it off, so could you please defer the payment?” 
As if waiting for her to say those words, his lips drew up into a devious smirk. 
Kagetoki: "If you’ll do anything… then shall I have you swear absolute obedience to me?” 
Part 3
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As if waiting for her to say those words, his lips drew up into a devious arc. 
Kagetoki: "If you’ll do anything… then shall I have you swear to absolute obedience to me?” 
Yoshino: “Absolute obedience!?” 
Kagetoki: “I just want a capable servant.” 
Yoshino: “What exactly would I have to do…?”
Kagetoki: “If you don’t know, shall I teach you properly then? You’re such a handful. 
Yoshino: (I don’t think he… truly means that?)
Kagetoki: “In your case, it may be faster to instruct physically rather than with words.” 
Yoshino: “Um… hang on.”
Yoshino: (…)
I felt him pull me in by the arms, and then my body floated in the air. 
Before I could resist, my vision was inverted and I was rolled onto the futon. 
Yoshino: (This is bad! Very bad!) 
Kagetoki: “Consider this my first order.” 
His hand thrust on either side of my body and I couldn't jump up off the bed. 
Yoshino: (What do I do… ugh?) 
Supple finger tips run through my hair… and his low voice echoes. 
Kagetoki: “Sleep well.” 
Yoshino: (Eeeh?!) 
Yoshino: (Is that his actual command…?)
Seeing me stare back in stunned bewilderment, Kagetoki laughed deep in his throat. 
Kagetoki: “That’s a good reaction. It’s easy to understand, and amusing.” 
Yoshino: (Was he just teasing me?)
Yoshino: “You’re terrible…” 
Yoshino: (mmph!) 
When I protested, he sealed my lips with his index finger. 
Kagetoki: “Tomorrow morning, come to my manor. I will give you your next order then.” 
The next day——
I stood in front of Kagetoki’s manor. 
Yoshino: (My heart was pounding so hard last night, I couldn’t sleep well… Now what am I going to do?)
 I took a deep breath trying to relieve my anxiety and and passed through the gate. 
The maid who was waiting for me took me to Kagetoki’s room. 
Kagetoki: “What? You’ll have to raise your voice.” 
Yoshino: “Were you robbed or something? Your room is so messy.”  
Yoshino: (I can’t believe someone actually lives here)
In a room packed with piles of books and documents,  Kagetoki looked up from writing at his desk. 
Kagetoki: “When I’m busy, it’s generally like this, so you don’t have to worry about it.” 
Kagetoki: “Yeah, don’t step on those. I have to use those materials today.” 
Yoshino: “Isn't it better to just put them away then? I think I would lose everything…”
Kagetoki: It’s not a problem. Come over here instead.”
He beckoned m with his hand while seated. 
Memories of his embarrassing teasing last night flashed through my mind, and my skin flushed with heat. 
Kagetoki: “Well I have an immediate order for you, servant.”
Part 4
Yoshino: (If his order is creepy, I must refuse!)
Kagetoki: “You will help me with my work.” 
Yoshino: (Uh? He just wants help?)
Yoshino: “…Is that it?” 
Kagetoki: “What else did you expect me to ask of you?”
Yoshino: “Nothing!” 
I feel as if he see right through me and read my petty thoughts, so I do my best to deceive him.
Kagetoki (teasingly): Is that so? Judging by what I saw yesterday, you seem quite imaginative.” 
Yoshino: “…It's just your imagination, okay?” 
Kagetoki: “Perhaps. We’ll find out soon enough.” 
I regained my composure and started helping out while try to listen to Kagetoki explain everything but… 
Yoshino: (He’s so fast! Um… I’m really not sure I understood everything that's going on.” 
While I sorted through papers, Kagetoki looks through some kind of scroll at an impossibly fast pace. 
At the same time, I stared bewildered at the way he was writing notes on the paper in his hand. 
Kagetoki: “…” 
Kagetoki was so deeply focused that it was hard to believe he was the same man who’d been teasing me just a little while ago. 
His eyelashes and eyes were the only movement on his implacable face. 
As he read, his glasses reflected the sunlight like glass.  
Yoshino: (…. I have to focus and do this properly) 
Realizing that it wasn't the time to be distracted, I hurriedly flipped through the documents in my hand. 
That evening——
Yoshino: (Yes! One day down of my repayment!)
In the afternoon after I finished sorting the documents, Kagetoki gave me another order. 
——FLASHBACK——
Kagetoki: “Take these documents to my vassal at his mansion at this address.” 
Yoshino: “You mean, by myself? I am not familiar with the town of Kamakura yet.” 
Kagetoki: “I’ll give you a map.” 
Yoshino: (Even so, it's a delivery for people I've never met before...I hope it’ll be okay)
Kagetoki's eyes narrowed scrupulously as I became uneasy.
Kagetoki: "Even a smart child can do something like this, but perhaps it’s still too difficult for you, uh?” 
Kagetoki: “Would you be more motivated if I prepared candy or toys as a reward?” 
Yoshino: (That’s so ridiculous…!) 
Yoshino: “I am an adult. I’ll do my best and I don’t need a reward! Please leave it to me.” 
Kagetoki (dryly): "I feel like I’m going to weep at how lucky I am to have such a motivated servant.” 
His expression coldly implacable, Kagetoki was completely indifferent to my words of encouragement.
Kagetoki: “I will be leaving the mansion until tonight to handle some business, so you can go home as it is, so you can go home once you’re finished.”
Kagetoki: If it gets too dark outside, send a messenger to the Imperial Palace to pick you up.
——END FLASHBACK ——
Yoshino: (—Kagetoki-san is really merciless.) 
Remembering the exchange, I let out a small sigh as I walked. 
Yoshino: "No matter how good you are at your job, I don’t think anyone is capable of coming close to Kagetoki-san…"
Anyway, when I was walking back to the Imperial Palace…
Yoshino: (Oh? Aren’t those people Kagetoki's subordinates?)
In the sunlight, two men I recognized from Kagetoki's mansion stood as if to block the entrance to the narrow alley.
Yoshino: (What are they doing? Maybe Kagetoki-san is nearby?)
Part 5
Yoshino: (What are they doing? Maybe Kagetoki-san is nearby?)
Yoshino: (In that case, I can tell him the message I received from the vassal to whom I visited for you.) *So awkward to translate… my apologies) 
Decided, I went over to try and speak with him. 
Yoshino: “Um… Excuse me.” 
agetoki’s Vassal 1: “Mmh?”
Yoshino: “My name is Yoshino. I have been assisting Kagetoki-san.” 
Yoshino: “If he is around, I have a message for him.” 
Kagetoki’s Vassal 2: “He is at the end of this alley, but…”
Even though his subordinates looked at me with suspicion, they let me pass through to meet with Kagetoki.
After the short exchange and Yoshino disappeared into the back of the alley…
Kagetoki’s Vassal 2: "You know... Even though we were ordered to get rid of the people, but it’s fine to let her pass through, right?” 
One of the subordinates tilted his head while watching Yoshino’s back. 
Kagetoki’s Vassal 1: "I don’t know the details, but I heard that woman was welcomed into the shogunate and granted special treatment.”
Kagetoki’s Vassal 1: Kagetoki-sama personally allowed her to assist him, so of course she must have his consent.”
Kagetoki’s Vassal 2: “Well, I guess you’re right.” 
The two shrugged their shoulders and began to look around to make sure no one else entered the alleyway…
—- without realizing the serious flaw in their judgement. 
Yoshino: (Kagetoki-san is…. Ah, there he is.)
As soon as I tried to speak to him, my legs froze in shock. 
Kagetoki sat on an abandoned wooden box near the back door of what appeared to be a residence belonging to a samurai.
Kagetoki: “…” 
His hand carelessly supports the bare, shining blade of his sword by the hilt.
And fresh blood was dripping from it.
Yoshino: (Oh no…)
And a man lie still at Kagetoki’s feet. 
Crimson blood blooms out from the body as it was lay lifeless on the ground…
Yoshino: (He’s… dead?) 
Even from a distance, it was clear that the still man was no longer breathing.
Kagetoki slowly turned his gaze toward me seemingly unfazed.
Kagetoki: “You’re a troublesome person. Why are you here?” 
Maybe it's because he just killed someone... But his  expression was listless.
As always, the tone of his voice was frighteningly cold and a chill ran through my body. 
Yoshino: “Why is that person….” 
Kagetoki: “Before you hear that, don’t you want to know if you’ll be killed too?” 
Kagetoki: “The standard reaction for someone who has just witnessed an evil deed is to keep their mouths shut.”
Yoshino: “Yeah… I…” 
Contrasting to his cold eyes, the smell of blood was raw and pungent, like rusted iron. 
Before I knew it, my legs were trembling (under his frightful gaze).
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Yoshino: (Should I escape? But where too?) 
Kagetoki: “Yoshino.” 
And with a single whisper, Kagetoki can even command my breathing...
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bare-vincent · 3 months
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12/25/23
Morning
Christmas is a unique brand of stressful as someone who wants desperately to have a small pile of beautiful things that I cherish and not much else. It makes me want to scoop out my life with a melon baller. Leave only the pithy rind of my art supplies and antique furniture.
It’s another one of those things that I don’t know how to manage. Who do you talk to about it? “Help, my in laws are too generous and love me too much and now our spacious apartment is bursting with things and I don’t know how we’re going to survive another Christmas”? Everything just feels so congested.
I’ve tried talking to my mom about it. That should help, right? She has in laws who love her. But it feels like stretching a piano wire around my chest. We see them more often. They buy me everything I could want. They know me better. It beats like a drum under my words. I close myself around it again and take the hits in my chest. Hand wave it all.
•••••
Afternoon
I’m sure I’m also anxious because I took my meds on nothing but some fudge covered wafers and a powdered mini donut. Adderall is not kind to an empty stomach.
I love Christmas, I do. The giving part. But I find myself floating in this watery expanse. Grateful and overwhelmed and hopelessly lonely. Reminded that the world I’m in is one I joined. One I’m being accepted into. It is a place I have earned and it still does not come easy to me. I’m not sure it ever will.
I wonder if that might be a foothold for my tempestuous desire for a child. To not just be the woman their son loves (and that they love) but to be the mother of a grandchild. A tether to something that requires no logic. It is the ultimate in self effacement. A way to redirect the beam of unfamiliar care towards someone who still has a chance to find it uncomplicated. Given my imaginary audience I feel the need to clarify that none of this is providing a reason to actually bring a life into the world. That would be deeply unfair, perhaps even cruel. But I think it does explain that screaming, violent desire to have an infant strapped to my chest. The terror of becoming not myself but a mother is suddenly a siren song. I will have someone to choose.
For all the tight throated scribbling I’ve done about family I don’t have any refrains for it. No quick little summary or easy guide to my anxieties. Just the radiating unease of a poorly loved child.
I can hear the echoing cries now. That I’m being horribly unfair and all parents do their best. That my wealthy in-laws having the resources to do more is an unfair standard. That I have been blinded by fancy things and spirited away and never liked them to begin with and I’m selfish and prone to abandonment and all those nasty things that a disembodied voice will say.
But I was a sophomore in college. It was spring. A warm night. I stumbled bleary eyed and shaking out the front door into the chest of a boy I barely knew. The cobblestone tripping beneath my feet as he carried me to the towering stone wall and its modest bench. My voice shook and cracked and broke into thousands of pieces as I explained.
My boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. He’s going to kill himself. He’s going to make me watch. I told him not to come. I don’t want him to be here. He’s on his way. He wouldn’t hurt me. He has a gun. He wouldn’t use it. I scream when I hear a car door closes in the distance. I begged him not to come. I can’t stop him. I want it to be over. I want to run. I want to leave. He won’t listen. Please get me out of here. I need to tell him in person. Then he will leave. I can handle it. I have to handle it. He wouldn’t kill me. I don’t care if he does.
Do you want me to call someone?
I felt the world falter on its course.
No.
My entire childhood collapsed in on that one moment. That one word. Years of numb fingers and tear stained cheeks punched a pinprick out of the universe. The resulting black hole is a fixed point. The space towards which all years before and since stretch. It devours my attempts at explanation.
See me, it says, and know that you are alone.
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Cultural Interior Design in Modern Homes
Blending Traditions in Modern Spaces: Exploring the Art of Cultural Interior Design in Contemporary Homes   The seamless integration of traditional aspects from many cultures into modern living spaces is known as cultural interior design, and it is an emerging trend in modern home décor. This method enables homeowners to express and represent their cultural interests or backgrounds while also giving a house distinctive character and depth. This article examines the integration of cultural interior design, which combines aesthetic appeal with personal importance, into contemporary residences.   Accepting Cultural Aspects in Contemporary Design Including Handcrafted and Traditional Artwork Adding traditional artwork to a contemporary house, such as fabrics, paintings, or sculptures, may give it a rich cultural feel. Handmade goods, such as baskets made by weavers, ceramics, or sculptures, highlight cultural history and expert workmanship. Employing Cultural Colour Schemes and Designs Modern houses can incorporate culturally distinct colours and patterns into their wall colours, furnishings, and décor pieces. For instance, Scandinavian design frequently uses subdued tones and simple patterns, but Moroccan design is known for its vivid colours and complex patterns. Items of Furniture with Cultural Importance Choosing furniture items that are representative of a specific cultural style might act as the room’s main point. This might be anything from an elaborately carved Indian wooden chest to a modest table in Japanese style. Fabrics and Textiles with Cultural Elements Using textiles to add cultural themes is a simple and efficient method. Rugs, curtains, pillows, and throws with traditional patterns or methods fall under this category. For example, Indian silk or African mud fabric may give a room texture and cultural value. Combining Architectural Features Architectural elements like Japanese sliding doors or Spanish arches may give contemporary dwellings a unique cultural flair. These components can be gently included to enhance the overall modern style. Problems in Cultural Interior Design and Their Solutions The major difficulty is striking a balance between contemporary aesthetics and cultural components without overpowering the area. The secret is to avoid trying to duplicate a traditional environment in its entirety and instead employ cultural artefacts as accents or focal points. Modern homes may beautifully showcase variety and tradition via cultural interior design while still feeling modern. Homeowners may create environments that are not only aesthetically pleasing but also rich in meaning and history by carefully incorporating cultural aspects. The post Cultural Interior Design in Modern Homes appeared first on Layan Halwani. https://www.layanhalwani.com/cultural-interior-design-in-modern-homes/ via Layan Halwani https://www.layanhalwani.com/
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ashfriend · 1 year
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Astonishing Dining Tables
Transforming a standard dining table into a beautiful piece
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utmv-united · 2 years
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On the Nature of Fanwork Critique/Commentary.
This is -ironically- the most dividing factor of my initiative.  I went into this aware that not everyone likes to see criticism, and may be open and direct about not liking it’s presence. This is especially so when taking into account that most authors of Undertale fanworks do not make any profit off of their passions. I am well aware of this, and it is part of the reason that I want to bring these works of passion to the table for discussion.
One thing that I will stand firm on however is that I will continue to write these pieces. I will still do so with careful thought and consideration, but unless I am doing severe harm I will not take anything down. Opinions are opinions. 
I have repeated this before and will continue to repeat it going forward: you do not have to read my work, let alone agree with it. The argument that these critiques are unsolicited can be opposed with the fact that no one is being forced to be subject to these opinions. This includes the author the work was made by. They can see the title and choose for themselves whether or not they want to read it. Simple as that. 
If you put up your work to the public eye, you need to accept there is a risk that your work will be given feedback. I am well aware of this fact with my own work.
I myself am a creator. I create comics and art and I put it up online to a modest following, much like the people whose work I write about. Accepting the fact that my work may be critiqued (and sometimes not in a positive light) is necessary for me to keep a long term online presence. In fact, I myself encourage such discussion because it shows to be the impact my work has on others.
(On a side note, I choose not to reveal myself to this blog for numerous reasons, both practical and personal. Perhaps in time I will, but there is no guarantee.)
If I were to ask anything of the people reading, please be aware that I am still learning. I do not have robust experience in writing opinion based pieces, but the only way I can get that experience is to go out and do it: Make those mistakes, learn from them and move on.
Thank you for reading. 
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bogkeep · 2 years
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~* ~ Art Comment Ettiquette 101 ~*~ as a person who Makes art and Shares art online and Interacts with other artists, it makes sense that i end up in spaces where a lot of the ettiquette around interacting with art goes without saying. i'm probably a little spoiled by being in these spaces, but sometimes i share outside of my usual zones and i remember that it's not intuitive for everyone. nor was all of it for me to begin with, either! i know several art comment etiquette posts exist already, but it's always nice with a refresher, i think! i will disclaim that context always matters, and that what i will list is are some personal rules of thumb gathered over years of sharing my art mostly on tumblr, twitter, and discord servers. a lot of this is just, idk, how do we interact with strangers online? the absolute best you can do is always remember that artists are just human persons and you are probably a stranger who doesn't know them and they don't know you. a lot of time and love goes into the things we make, and sharing them with the entire internet can be a very vulnerable thing to do. as long you keep that in the back of your mind, you're probably fine!
- DO NOT GIVE 'CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM' UNLESS YOU KNOW IT'S WANTED. if the artist hasn't asked for that kind of feedback and you really really want to give some, ask first! artists are not morally obligated to accept Constructive Criticism! it can be very discouraging to share a drawing you've made just for fun in your free time, and then get met with a deluge of comments about what you should've done differently. not every piece of art is in pursuit of Doing The Best. besides, both giving and recieving criticism is a Skill that requires practice, and how much do you trust Rando282748 on twitter to know about artistic composition? what's their credentials? meanwhile, you might be in a smaller artist community where you feel better asking for feedback you actually value. drawing fanart on line shouldn't have to be critique class in art school. - if someone posts a piece of fanart that you think is really really good and you think the Creator of the Media should see it, DO NOT TAG THE CREATOR WITHOUT ASKING THE ARTIST FIRST. it can be very flattering, yes, but do you know 100% for sure how the artist feels about Creator seeing their work? not everyone feels good about it, nor would everyone like that kind of attention! if you think they're just shy or modest about how good their art is, a little "is it okay if i tag Creator?" goes a long way! - unless you know the artist and know what they're okay with, maybe don't be overtly sexual or weirdly aggressive in your comments to a piece of art. i'm assuming nsfw artists may have different limits on this one, so i'm not going to speak for them! but yeah i think this is one of those "hey remember that you're probably a stranger to this artist and they can probably read your comments. you don't know how familiar they are with internet lingo (or the english language!) or how weird and uncomfortable you're making things by being horny on main." - please don't write "this art is so good but this character/ship sucks". look, i get it, you don't want to be mistaken for someone who Ships Thing You Dislike, but like... an artist spent hours of their life lovingly rendering something they care about. you're not giving them the compliment you think you are. - adjacent: if you are not commissioning the artist to draw something specifically for you, don't tell them what they SHOULD be drawing instead. it's an entitled thing to do for one, and as always, it stings when someone dismisses your love for something. - nitpicking gets very old very quick. maybe this is a personal pet peeve, but i don't feel like justifying every artistic choice i make. like, it's Fine if someone has an honest question about the artwork, but some people take it to truly great lengths. if i was sharing a poem i wouldn't want to explain every single metaphor i decided to include. it's like being in middle school with people observing you drawing and asking "WHY DOES THAT PERSON ONLY HAVE ONE EYE!!" because i haven't drawn the other eye yet. "WHO IS THAT!!" idk just some random girl i'm just doodling. "WHAT IS SHE WEARING" ooohh my god shut up shut up shut upppppp - this is DEFINITELY a personal pet peeve. but people tagging art "idk who this is" without even checking the Original Post to see what it's tagged... or worse, tagging it as a completely different character. sometimes it's fanart, sometimes it's an OC, sometimes it's Just Art Of No One In Particular. i always feel a little morose whenever someone shares art of my original characters and goes "OMGGG THIS IS SO COOL WHAT SERIES IS THIS FROM I WANNA KNOW EVERYTHING SOMEONE TELL ME" - i'm exaggerating a little bit, but like... you could check! if you really actually care you can make an effort! i'm delighted you are delighted, but, also........... - oh yeah the infamous "omg your OC looks like [fictional character]". i don't personally mind this one that much, but i know a lot of artists do. it can get really discouraging if you get it a lot!
"ok but how do give Good comments then" there's many ways to do that! what do you like about the art? how does it make you feel? or maybe you just want to yell excitedly! i know i wrote a whole long list about Please Don'ts and i probably forgot several. but most of it boils down to "PLEASE don't be weird or entitled at strangers online." we all do some faux pas' here and there because interpersonal interactions are hard and we're always learning! and if you love art and artists and want them to keep sharing their work, you can absolutely give them that sweet sweet validation without putting down their interests or heckle them about the canon hair length of a character.
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lostcoves · 3 years
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– parisian nights 
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+ ft. tamaki amajiki
+ wc: 2.5k
+ format: one-shot
+ premise: tamaki amajiki, heir to amajiki enterprises, has it all. yet, all he wants is you. could a sudden trip to paris be enough to win your heart?
+ note: my piece for @bakugohoex​’s 3k collab! hope you all enjoy!
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tamaki amajiki, in a literal sense, had it all and anything he wanted was at a snap of his well-manicured fingertips. every luxury sports car, every trip to the tropics, every gaming system was only one lip pout to his daddy and mommy. he was spoiled to say the least but what kind of rich kid wasn’t?
it wasn’t until tamaki stumbled upon you that he took a moment to reevaluate his life as a rich boy.
you had humble beginnings, coming from a family of average societal standing. your family didn’t have to worry about money but they were nowhere close to the standing of the amajiki family. humble and modest, tamaki thought you were the cutest thing in the whole wide world! 
and what tamaki liked, tamaki got.
he remembered flashing you a fat tip for your service at the coffee shop you worked as a barista at. tamaki struggled with social interaction at times but all of that went out the window the moment he locked eyes with you. he found that he didn’t have to work on his social skills, as long as he had the money to buy the friendships and interactions.
he thought you were the same as the others, easily swayed by money.
yet, you weren’t. 
you rejected the tip and told him to put it in the communal tip jar for all the baristas shared from. tamaki was stunned but did what you asked of him. anxiety bubbled in his stomach and his facade of suave rich guy nearly cracked.
but tamaki wouldn’t give up so easily.
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“morning, amajiki-san,” you greeted him every morning with that same gentle smile of yours. barely any customers were in the coffee shop, which tamaki preferred. he utterly despised crowds of people.
“good morning, (l/n)-san,” he returned the greeting and the smile.
“the usual?” you already got a medium-sized cup out.
“yes please,” he hummed. tamaki actually hated coffee, it made his anxiety worse but he would risk an anxiety attack if it meant he could interact with you.
you nodded and got to work, preparing a medium iced coffee for tamaki. he watched you move around from behind the counter, his eyes fixated on your gorgeous form.
“one medium iced coffee for amajiki-san!” you handed the coffee to tamaki.
“thank you,” tamaki fished out an envelope from his pocket, “your tip.”
you furrowed your eyebrows at the envelope and took it cautiously, “what’s this, amajiki-san?”
“your tip,” tamaki repeated. 
carefully, you opened up the envelope and pulled out its contents. 
“amajiki-san..” you uttered his first name, “what the hell is this?”
“two tickets to paris,” tamaki leaned against the counter, “well, the tickets are more of a formality. we’ll be taking my private jet to the city.”
“amajiki-san..” you sighed. 
“pretty please, (l/n)-san?” tamaki flashed you his famous puppy eyes. 
“why should i go with a guy i barely know?”
ouch, that hurt. 
“well, we can use this as an opportunity to get to know one another.”
you frowned, “i’ll have to think about it.”
“come to this address in a week from now at two in the afternoon,” tamaki got out a pen from his pocket and wrote down an address on a piece of napkin, “if you’re interested in coming.”
you took the napkin and nodded, “very well then.”
tamaki could only hope that you would come.
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tamaki paced around outside the private jet, frantically checking his watch every two minutes. it was nearly two o’clock and you still weren’t near yet. you weren’t coming, tamaki decided, much to his dismay. 
“amajiki-sama?” the pilot poked his head outside the jet, “ready to take off?”
“no, not yet!” tamaki hollered. the pilot flashed a thumbs up and returned inside the plane. tamaki let out a heavy sigh, where were you?
“am i late?”
tamaki perked up at the sound of your voice. he saw your figure approaching the jet, the wind ruffling your white sundress and sunhat. a lone suitcase rolled behind you. 
“you came,” tamaki stated in surprise.
“didn’t think i was gonna show?” you chuckled.
tamaki let out a soft laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “yeah..”
“well, i’m here!” you smiled, “you’re gonna treat me to the trip of a lifetime, correct? why in the world would i miss out on that?”
tamaki’s heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, “well, what are we waiting for? let’s get this trip started.”
a flight attendant exited the jet and took your luggage. tamaki took your hand and guided you inside the jet. your lips formed a small ‘o’ in shock at the interior of the jet. it was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside with push-lined seats and entertainment systems galore. a person could live without worry in this jet.
“you own this?” you asked tamaki, as you took a seat in one of the comfortable looking seats. 
“my parents do,” he answered, “they use it for business trips.”
“i see,” you eyed at the approaching concession cart. the flight attendant before earlier was operating it and she offered you a wide selection of drinks and snacks. you ended up getting a plain green tea while tamaki got a bag of honey barbecue flavored chips. 
“so what made you decide to invite me on this trip?” you took a long drag of your green tea.
tamaki paused from munching on his chips. he cleared his throat, “i thought ‘why not?’ in all honesty,” that was a lie, tamaki wanted to impress you with a flashy trip to the city of love.
“do you take all the girls you’ve met on trips to paris?”
“only the girls i like.”
tamaki almost choked at his comment, his cheeks flushing a nice shade of pink. you raised your eyebrows at him in an act of bewilderment. tamaki attempted to change the conversation and informed you, “we should be there in thirteen hours, so it’s best to “get situated.”
you gave him a nod, “alrighty. well, i’ll be asleep so you have fun.”
tamaki opened his mouth to reply, only to given the cold shoulder as you reclined your seat and got noise canceling headphones on. he watched, as you situated yourself and promptly fell asleep. he chuckled, that was adorable.
a two day trip to paris, what could possibly go wrong?
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“(l/n)-san.”
tamaki gently removed your noise cancelling headphones from your head.
“we’re here, in paris.”
you let out a groan, as your eyes slowly opened. how long were you out? a couple of hours?
“you slept the whole trip,” tamaki laughed quietly.
“oh.. i did? sorry,” you murmured, rubbing the guck out of your eyes.
tamaki brushed a loose hair out of your face, “it’s alright.”
you blushed slightly at his warm touch but masked with a cough, “so! uh! whatcha wanna do in paris?”
tamaki blinked, he hadn’t planned that far ahead.
“would you like to see the louvre?”
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japan had nothing on the bustling streets of paris. the sidewalks were filled to the brim with people mulling about, some on their phones with shopping bags and others chatting amongst themselves. the louvre was only a block away, crowded with tourists eager to see the mona lisa.
“no need to worry about the crowds,” tamaki gave you a smile when you two approached the louvre, “i set aside us a private tour of the musuem.”
“oh really?” you crossed your arms with disdain.
tamaki pouted, “would.. would you rather do a normal tour?”
you smiled, “yes please.”
the two of you pushed your way through the crowds and entered the louvre, you staring in awe of the artworks. tamaki concealed a small smile at your wonderment, he found it to be absolutely cute to watch. 
you’re more than a work of art, (f/n). was what tamaki wanted to say but he didn’t have the courage nor the guts to say it. 
“wow, the mona lisa is so tiny!” you commented to tamaki when you two found the famed piece of art. you were right, the mona lisa was surprisingly small. you grabbed tamaki by the hand and pulled him closer to the painting, “look how beautiful it is, amajiki-san.”
tamaki grew flustered at your touch but gave your hand a light squeeze, “(l/n)-san.. you can call me tamaki, if you want.”
you gave him a look and tamaki cursed internally. was it too soon to be on a first name basis?
“okay, tamaki.”
tamaki let out a sigh of relief.
“where would you like to go next?” tamaki questioned to you after the two of you finished your tour of the louvre. 
you pondered on the question for a moment. 
“let’s go shopping.”
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tamaki patiently waited outside a fitting room, as you tried on various articles of clothing. he offered to pay– his parents gave him an allowance for the trip– and to his surprise, you actually accepted his offer. 
“you alright in there..?” tamaki asked, not wanting to walk in on you half naked.
there was some rustling and you emerged from the dressing room, “how do i look?” you asked tamaki, twirling around in your new dress.
tamaki gulped at the sight of the dress. its neckline highlighted your collarbone quite nicely and hugged your curves just right. he pulled at his collar and adverted his gaze, “er.. you look.. uh.. very nice..”
“i do?” you hugged his arm and pressed yourself against tamaki. he was sweating bullets now, “yes! y- yes, you d- do!” his eyes widened, not his stutter coming back at the worst possible moment.
“you have a stutter?”
shit. shit. shit. shit. shit.
“so wh- what if i d- do..”
“it’s cute.”
tamaki’s eyes widened.
“y- you th- think so?”
you nodded rapidly, “of course i do! i’m not gonna poke fun at it.”
tamaki coughed, “th- thanks.”
“of course,” you released your hold on his arm, “the night is still young, what should we do next?”
tamaki peered outside, nightfall was upon the city.
“a trip to paris isn’t complete without a visit to the effiel tower now, isn’t it?”
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being on top of the effiel tower made the world seem so small. 
tamaki took a moment to enjoy the cold breeze that passed through his indigo locks, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feeling of being on top of the world for a moment. you stood next to him, doing the same thing. you hated to admit it but this had been the most fun you have had in a while. all thanks to tamaki amajiki, of course. 
“hey tamaki?”
“yes, (f/n)?”
“can i tell you a secret?”
tamaki opened his eyes, “of course.”
you stared out onto the city of lights and leaned against the guardrail.
“i never left japan until yesterday.”
tamaki laughed, “that’s not much of a secret. it was a little obvious.”
you scrunched your nose up in annoyance, “meanie.”
tamaki acted wounded, “that hurt.”
you rolled your eyes, “i enjoyed today. i hope you can ensure the same for tomorrow.”
tamaki looked down at his shoes and sighed, “i hope i can.”
“hey tamaki?”
“yes?” he looked up.
“what’s the real reason you invited me on this trip?”
tamaki hung his head down low.
“tamaki, look at me.”
he looked back up.
“tell me the truth.”
tamaki couldn’t lie to you anymore.
“it’s because.. i like you, (f/n).”
now it was your turn to hang your head low.
“why me, tamaki?”
tamaki pressed his lips together, “what do you mean?”
taking his hands into yours, the two of you were forced to look one another in the eye. you took a deep breath and began to speak your piece.
“i want to know the real tamaki amajiki. not this fake version. i think the closer we got was what happened in the fitting room. i get it, you’re rich.. but you didn’t have to whisk me away to paris just to confess that you had a crush on me, tamaki.”
“wh- what should have i done instead..?” not the stutter!
you half-smiled, “take me out for coffee, silly.”
was it really that simple?
“maybe i- i do that next time.”
“next time?”
fuck, was there not going to be a next time?
“there won’t be a next time until you tell me about yourself,” you gave tamaki a playful punch in the shoulder. he winced a bit but played it off. tamaki looked back out onto the city, “what would you like to know?”
“what’s it like being an heir?” you leaned against the guardrail.
tamaki tilted his head back and let out a long breathe, “exhausting.”
you cocked your head to the left, “how so?”
“my parents have high expectations of me. forcing me to go to college to study business for the sole purpose of taking over the company. this might sound silly but i wanted to study food science and become a nutritional therapist,” tamaki clasped his hands together tightly, “there’s no true freedom. money has a price and that price is your freedom. the public hounds you, the elite is full of backstabbers, and i just want to settle down with a nice girl.”
“and that nice girl would be?” you smiled.
“you, of course.”
you blushed at tamaki’s response.
“i would give up all the money i have if it means i can be with you,” tamaki confessed with tears in his eyes, “i truly mean it. i fell in love with you the moment i saw you in that coffee shop, (f/n) (l/n).”
“re- really?” now you were stuttering. 
“truly,” tamaki cupped your cheeks and bore his eyes into yours, “i truly mean it. i only want you, (f/n). i would give you everything and anything you could have ever wanted. i want to be there for you.”
“b- but you barely know me!” you protested.
“then let me get to know you,” tamaki fired back.
you were rendered speechless. you adverted your gaze from tamaki and he removed his hands from your face. tamaki bowed his head in disgrace, “i- i’m sorry, (l/n)-san.”
“it’s okay, tamaki!” you exclaimed, “really it is. i admire your fire. i want to get you better, as well. truly, i do.”
tamaki relaxed his shoulders and placed a hand against his chest in an effort to calm his rapidly beating heart. you looked heavenly under the lights of the effiel tower with your new dress and your pearly white smile. he just wanted to kiss your damn face already. 
“tamaki.”
“yes, (f/n)?”
“here,” you pressed a kiss to his lips. tamaki’s eyes widened for a moment before he closed them, allowing himself to get lost in the kiss. your lips tasted like the croissant you had earlier that day. tamaki could kiss you forever. 
“let’s get to know one another better before a second date, okay?”
tamaki was more than fine with that. 
one day, he’ll be yours.
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trashmenofmarvel · 3 years
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Branded - Chapter 57 (Final)
Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: You find your relic.
(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)
AO3
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You’d only been to the ancient Sanctum a few times, with strict access to the library for your studies and nowhere else, and normally you would be excited to visit the unofficial headquarters of the Mystic Arts.
But now, as you followed Wong to the room of portals that would lead to the Nepal sanctum, your stomach twisted and your heart raced. You couldn’t even enjoy the fact this was where Strange had gone on his near-disastrous pilgrimage. The idea of the Ancient One kicking him out on his ass was an entertaining one, though you were still glad she eventually trained him. As irritated as you were about a lot of things regarding the former surgeon, he and Wong both had taught you nearly everything you knew.
Plus, you’d seen the scars on his hands. As arrogant and egotistical as he appeared, Strange had suffered to get where he was. Not unlike yourself. Not unlike Bucky.
The Orb of Agamotto hung within the circular room where other sorcerers consulted with it, verifying that the magical Earthly shields were still intact. Past them were three doors leading to the other sanctums, including the one in Kathmandu.
You and Bucky followed Wong through, the familiar feeling of displacement shifting your stomach and throwing you off balance for a moment. Neither Wong nor Bucky were as unsteady as you were. It had been something you were embarrassed about, but according to Strange during one of your lessons, it simply meant you were more sensitive to spatial displacement.
As Wong led you both through the ancient stone hallways, past the commons where other sorcerers were in training, doubt crept along your nerves. Someday, possibly sooner than you were prepared, all of these people were going to follow you. Look to you for guidance, for teaching. For protection.
How were you supposed to become the next Ancient One if you couldn’t even walk through a portal without getting dizzy?
This wasn’t going to work. The idea was crazy enough to begin with. The Ancient One had to be wrong. You were going to step into her office and nothing would happen. You would make a fool of yourself; you weren’t any more talented or skilled than any other sorcerer. Just half a year ago, you’d had no idea demons and magic were even real.
And now, you were expected to carry on the mantle as one of the most powerful sorcerers on Earth? How was that even possible? How could you ever be worthy enough to—
Wong opened a door using a complicated series of hand gestures, and as soon as you stepped through, your panicked mind fell silent. Energy thrummed along your skin, setting the hairs upright.
“Here it is.”
Wong’s announcement was unnecessary; you would know this place in your dreams, even though you had never been.
It was a simple room with a single large, circular window pointed towards the mountains over the city. Potted plants perched on most available surfaces that weren’t covered with books, scrolls, and odd knickknacks.
There was only a single writing desk pushed to the side, humble and unobtrusive. The rest of the room was empty space with a single well-worn green rug in the middle. But the plants made everything seem alive and verdant. It felt very much like a place the Ancient One would spend her time. It was a reflection of her, in a way. Quiet, but hidden with secret truths.
“Take a look around,” Wong said, but you were already moving. Slowly and with intense focus, you circled the room, reaching out and feeling, not with your hands but with your mind.
Odd and powerful energy pervaded the room, muted by spells but still apparent to you. They were coming from the artifacts that were laid out, seemingly casually, on the shelves and desks.
Most of them seemed as plain and unimportant as the room itself. A cracked vase with the lip stained red. A golden helmet that was varnished and faded, but two glittering horns jutted from the temples. A knobby staff with a smooth, grey stone fixed at one end, as modest as any walking stick except for the melodic hum that emanated from the stone. You had a feeling neither Wong nor Bucky could hear it.
But despite all the weird, wonderful oddities in your reach, you were drawn elsewhere. You approached one corner of the room where lay a pile of old scrolls and their cloth wrappings, and moved them aside with care to reveal what was hidden underneath.
It was a sword hilt. Just the hilt. There was no blade, not even a piece of broken metal. The metal was dulled with time and flaked with rust, the pommel grey and dirty.
You reached out and hesitated. Fingertips inches away, something stopped you. The knowledge that once you took hold of the relic, everything would change.
You glanced over your shoulder at Bucky.
He was watching you with close attention, as was Wong, but when he caught your eye he gave a small smile of encouragement. He supported you, even though he had to know what this meant, or at least had a good idea of it.
Not every sorcerer found their relic within the Ancient One’s study.
Comfort and warmth, so strong it could only be described as love, flooded across the bond and washed away your fears. You returned his smile, even if it was shaky, and you held on to that feeling as you turned back to the hilt.
You closed the distance, wrapped your fingers around the relic, and lifted it.
It was surprisingly heavy; that was your only observation before it began. The hilt thrummed in your palm, vibrating so fast you nearly dropped it.
The rust flaked away from the metal, leaving it polished and silver. The grey pommel was shaken of its dirt, and you realized it was white bone, the metal wrapping around it to form the grip and crossguard.
The thrumming didn’t stop, but you couldn’t let go even if you wanted to. Your fingers seized around the metal, energy teeming up your hand and arm. When it reached your right shoulder, all the way up to your pentagram, the sigil burned in a way it hadn’t done since the ritual.
Bucky must have sensed your panic because he rushed forward, but you backed away from him fast, instinct screaming at you to put a safe distance between you now.
It was a good thing you had; the energy from your sigil exploded down your arm, through your hand, and into the hilt. A burst of red light shot outward, forcing you to turn away from the blinding beam.
When the light dimmed and you could see again, blinking away the after images, you stared at the sword. That’s what it was now. A glowing red blade, seemingly made entirely of light. The energy that came from it was purely of the demon realm, scorching and sulfuric.
“What…” You choked the words past your dry throat. “What is this?”
There were only a handful of times you’d ever seen Wong shocked. So, that was three powerful sorcerers you’d rendered speechless in the span of a day.
“The blade of Hell, or so it is spoken. None in the history of the order had been able to unlock its powers, rendering it anything more than a broken hilt.” He leveled you with a somber stare. “It is called Daemonio Vexatur. Which means—“
“—to become a demon.”
Wong raised a brow.
“Rough translation, but yes.”
“So, it’s a demon sword?” asked Bucky, eyeing the glowing blade. He was understandably wary, and honestly, was accepting what was happening better than you were. You were still stuck on the fact that you were holding a glowing-freaking-sword in your hand.
“Yes. And no,” Wong said in traditional teaching-fashion. “A demon cannot wield it, but it takes demonic energy to power.”
“Oh. So that’s why my sigil and my entire arm feel like they’re on fire.”
Bucky’s mouth opened and he took a step forward, protectiveness sizzling along the bond, and you gave him a hurried smile.
“Kidding. Sort of.” You smiled wider through your clenched teeth. “It is really uncomfortable.”
Bucky’s dark look told you he didn’t believe you, and with what you imagined was coming from your end of the bond, you didn’t blame him. Holding the sword was like holding on to a live wire that was also burning. There was a molten jolt connecting the hilt to your sigil, and you were just hoping to not get incinerated in the process.
And just like that, the connection was gone, and the relief of your arm no longer being on fire was dimmed by the disappointment as the sword was extinguished, leaving nothing more than a gleaming hilt.
“What happened?” You frowned, eyeing the relic as if searching for an on switch.
“It will take time and training to effectively control your relic.”
“How long?” You looked up when Wong didn’t answer immediately, catching the serious dent in his brow.
“It’s hard to say. No one in living memory has wielded the blade, and it was believed no one ever would.”
Wong gave a heavy sigh.
“So of course, you would be the one to wield it.”
You returned your gaze to the relic and turned over the hilt in your hand, admiring the metal and bone. You wondered if the bone was from a demon, a safe bet considering.
“So.” You carefully put down the hilt and turned to give Bucky your best serious face. “How does it feel to have a wizard girlfriend with a lightsaber?”
Wong rolled his eyes. He knew you well enough by now to know what you were doing, but he didn’t comment on your attempts to over your fear with humor. He muttered something about reporting to Strange as he left the office.
But Bucky…
Worry and fondness conflicted across the bond, struggling to coexist. He stepped forward, the green cloth tunic he’d found in one of the drawers of your room stretched unfairly tight across his chest. It was the largest he could find in a hurry, and it was nearly enough to distract you from your own anxieties.
“I think…” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, drawing you into an embrace that you melted into easily. “That I’m scared for you. I’m confused as hell what this means, and I’m guessing this isn’t going to make your life any easier or less complicated. But… I’m also proud of you.”
You could sense the pride easily, but Bucky was trying to bury the fear that was close to terror. He truly was scared of what this meant. You were too, and the Ancient One’s words weighed heavily on your shoulders.
There was a questioning feeling tugging at your thoughts, and you remembered too late that Bucky could sense the same anxiety, even if he didn’t have all the details. So you smoothed out your tumultuous thoughts and covered them the best way you knew how.
“You say that to all the wizard girlfriends.”
“You’re deflecting.”
“That is what swords do.”
Bucky pulled back far enough to stare at you with narrowed eyes, but when he touched his horns to yours it was with such gentleness that you nearly forgot to breathe. But breathe you did, drinking in his familiar, soothing scent and allowed the tension to drain from your muscle.
“We should head back.” Bucky said after a moment of intimate, comfortable silence in which you finally relaxed. “Got a bastard to catch.”
You reluctantly let go first, knowing he was right and you couldn’t stay here forever. Turning toward the sword hilt, you reached for it and paused. You took a small detour and picked up an old, ratty cloth nearby and carefully wrapped the relic within. Until you had a better grasp of how to wield the sword, it was probably a wiser idea to not handle it directly. You had no idea if it was sentient like Strange’s cloak, and it would be better not to accidentally set it off. Slicing off your own leg was a poor way to convince anyone that you were the next Ancient One.
On your journey back down the halls toward the portal door, Bucky said, “So… what are you going to name it?”
He smiled at your sideways glance.
“All cool swords get a name. It’s kind of a universal rule.”
Maybe you didn’t know Bucky as well as you thought you did, because you had no idea he was such a damn nerd.
“Yeah? You’ll have to bestow all your sword knowledge on me.”
“Is that a sexual innuendo?”
“It is now.”
Bucky’s smile died on his lips when you were no longer at his side. He paused and looked back where you had stopped at the threshold to the portal room.
“What if I can’t do this?” The doorway before you was no longer just a doorway. It was an insurmountable hurdle, and your feet wouldn’t budge from the floor. “What if I fail?”
Bucky approached slow and steady, his expression gentle and fond.
“You won’t. You’re too stubborn to fail.” A warm hand softly cupped your cheek, his human one, and you leaned into it. He laughed silently at your predictable need to be touched, but his expression faded into something more serious. “But on the very slim chance you do, then you get back up and you start again. Just as you always have.”
Your stomach fell. Bucky couldn’t understand what failure meant in your case. You didn’t even know what it meant, but you could guess. If you failed to be the Ancient One everyone needed… then there might not be any second chances.
Bucky wrapped you in his arms one more time, undoubtedly sensing his words of encouragement hadn’t hit as effectively as he’d wanted.
“Whatever this means, you finding that relic… Whatever happens when we find Zemo...” Bucky’s voice was deep in his chest, a rumbling sound that never failed to comfort you. “I’ll be here.”
You returned his embrace, gripping him tightly as you pressed your cheek against his chest.
“I know.”
And you did, too. Bucky would be there for you. Not because he was compelled to be, and not out of a sense of duty or guilt to protect you. He would be by your side by choice.
And that fact made Zemo’s escape, the Ancient One’s words, and your own self-doubt a little easier to bear. Because you and Bucky would weather it.
Together.
“When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful.” –David Bowles
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mythicamagic · 3 years
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Unorthodox: a Sesskag oneshot
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Summary: Kagome is pleasantly surprised to receive a present from Sesshoumaru for White Day... until she glimpses the contents inside her gift box.
AN: Written for the Sesskag 2021 Big Bang event on tumblr! @chierafied​ 
I was paired with @milomai-art​ and here’s their lovely artwork: https://milomai-art.tumblr.com/post/648766972634513408/unorthodox-mythicamagic-inuyasha-a-feudal
Rated K+
Words: 3,000
You can read it on Ao3, Dokuga or fanfiction.net. 
Unorthodox
Valentine's day had come and gone, with a notable difference this year for Kagome compared with the last lonely three;
Her return to the Sengoku Jidai.
To celebrate reuniting with her beloved friends, she'd gone all out. Everyone received gifts, right down to Myoga and Jaken; no one had been excluded.
For all her efforts, however, she expected nothing in return. Though she'd explained the concept to the Inutachi, Sango and Miroku were much too busy looking after their children to keep track of dates, Shippo was often away at Kitsune school and Inuyasha had been absent as of late. Besides that, since their relationship had ended, the subject of Valentine's had become an awkward one. She'd had to stress the platonic intent behind her gift to him.
Therefore, Kagome had pretty much forgotten all about White Day by the time it rolled around.
Exiting Kaede's hut with a tub of water in her arms, intending to give the old miko's horse a good scrub down, she dug in her heels the second exquisite silks, armour and a fur pelt registered- having blinked into existence before her. Kagome gaped, swaying. Water sloshed, some spilling to their feet.
"Uh hi," looking up at grave, handsome features, she arched a brow. Sesshoumaru stared at her fervently. "Nice to see you, Sesshoumaru," adjusting her grip, Kagome sidestepped him and flashed a warm smile, used to his minimalistic approach to conversation by now. "Do you need something? Inuyasha isn't here. I think he's helping the next village over repair a-"
"I am not here for him."
Kagome noted his succinct tone, sounding more defensive than usual. Setting down the wooden tub carefully, she straightened, tilting her head. "Then what are you here for?"
"White Day."
"White... ah!" Kagome gasped, "that's right! How did you know about that?" she blinked, noticing he looked extra grumpy today. His jaw ticked, golden eyes narrow. Slowly, the miko brightened. "No way. Did you... get me something?" she breathed, strangely touched.
Of all people, Sesshoumaru had remembered? Was she dreaming?
A hand thrust out stiffly towards her, balancing a small box upon his palm.
Accepting it with thanks, heat touched her cheeks. Weird. She really shouldn't be indulging this- or feeling kind of happy. It didn't mean anything to be pleased, right? Was she even allowed to feel warm and fuzzy towards her ex's brother?
Opening the lid, Kagome tried to squash her excitement- peering down. Slowly, she reached in, retrieving a silky soft thing.
It appeared to be made of something long, silver and fine, the material woven into a pretty design. A bracelet of silk, if she could hazard a guess.
"Um, thank you," Kagome raised her gaze. "What's it made of, out of curiosity? It's very soft."
Sesshoumaru appeared pleased, preening a little. "Only the finest material."
"Really?" she stroked it. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble on my account."
He scoffed, midsummer gaze smiling slightly as his tone became haughty and prideful, "it was no trouble to use this one's own hair."
Kagome dropped the bracelet back into the box. "Whut?"
Lithe fingers combed indulgently into his fall of lustrous silver hair, "you need not be alarmed. The strands grew back quickly."
That isn't what's alarming me, Kagome silently screamed. Now that she was paying attention though, the pale bracelet really did resemble the demon lord's long flowing locks.
Her hand recoiled a little from the box. "W-well, um... thank you very much," Kagome said thinly. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Truly."
Sesshoumaru's keen, piercing eyes roved over her strained features, voice deepening. "If you do not wish to accept it-"
"N-no, I do! I'll wear it right now!" Kagome grabbed it madly, fiddling with the thing while repressing a shudder. She tried and failed to secure the clasp, stiffening when large hands closed over her hand.
The demon lord leaned forward- that same hair currently being secured around her wrist falling free from behind a pointed ear. Silver strands draped down like a gossamer curtain, tickling her flushed, sensitive skin.
Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, expression unreadable.
Shifting her wrist, Kagome observed the threads of hair wrapped around it. His bracelet felt odd, the concept totally foreign. However, she could feel how much the gesture meant to him. She didn't fear offending him because of his dark temper- more because she cared about his feelings and wanted to nurture any hint of a bond between them.
"Thank you," Kagome said. "No one else brought me anything today, so I'm...I'm grateful."
Even if it was the weirdest thing she'd ever received. A bracelet made of hair wasn't exactly traditional.
Straightening, Sesshoumaru's lips thinned as his eyes flickered with confusion.
Kagome blinked, wondering what else he'd envisioned her saying.
"Hn," inclining his head regally, he pivoted sharply and began stalking away quickly, giving a swift kill to the conversation.
---
Without a frame of reference for how long he desired her to wear it, Kagome tugged her sleeve down to hide the bracelet from curious eyes during the next few days. She tried to ignore the sensation of hair continually brushing her skin.
"I wonder if it means something important," Kagome examined it while sprawled out upon a grassy hill, taking a break from her miko duties Kaede had started dishing out ever since her return.
Sesshoumaru had seemed extremely serious while giving it to her. Then again, the gift could've meant nothing. Maybe his hair was just THAT valuable in the Daiyoukai's opinion. She snorted, twisting her wrist and watching silver threads catch on sunlight, making it shine white. "His ego is big enough. I'd believe it. Heh, maybe he'd also give me one of his eyelashes, or a fingernail or..."
Why was Sesshoumaru heading towards her?
Sitting up and fussing absentmindedly with her hair- removing a few stray leaves- Kagome felt heat flood her face.
Okay, no- she shook herself, putting a firm lid over the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Too strange. Enough of that.
The Daiyoukai stopped a few feet away, expression detached. Kagome knew by now to ignore it in favour of looking into his eyes. They were intent and unblinking today, hinting at his seriousness.
"Hi," she said, patting a spot next to her. "It's rare for you to visit the village again during the same week. What's up?"
Sesshoumaru cocked his head to the side at her odd term. Kagome bit her lip, finding it endearing. Her attention strayed, noticing yet another box sitting innocently upon his hand.
She paled. Oh no.
Gracefully sweeping himself down onto one knee- he thrust the new box out towards her, giving Kagome a dizzying sense of Déjà vu.
I was joking about the fingernails. Please be something normal. Please.
Accepting it gingerly, blue eyes flicked up towards him. "White day is over, you know."
"This one is aware."
"So...why the new gift?"
Sesshoumaru pretended to be interested in the gentle bubbling stream not too far away. "Because it pleases me to give it to you."
He was so difficult to figure out. Not wanting to squash his newfound sense of generosity, Kagome carefully removed the lid.
The contents did not look promising.
Trying not to jump to conclusions, she reached in and removed the long necklace. A single solitary tooth hung from the chord.
"Ah," Kagome squinted. "Open your mouth a sec."
Sesshoumaru's lips parted wordlessly, mouth opening wider to reveal a gap where one of his sharp canines used to be.
"This...is yours?" she asked weakly.
Sesshoumaru closed his mouth and nodded primly. "It will serve you well, should you have need of it."
In what way would I ever have need of a tooth? a wrinkle marred her brow as she considered it, coming to a small realisation. "To make a sword from?"
"Hn."
Well, that explained a small piece of the puzzle. In a very 'Sesshoumaru' way- it almost seemed a little sweet, practical even.
However, this did not help assuage her naturally squeamish reaction while looking at the freshly plucked tooth.
"Thanks," she said lamely. "I-I'm sure it'll be very useful if I visit Totosai in the future."
Her answer didn't seem to be what he was looking for. Sesshoumaru's gaze flitted from her to the dangling fang. "Females... prefer jewels, make-up or clothing, I suppose."
Kagome scratched her cheek, "depends on the lady- but you really don't have to worry, Sesshoumaru," laying a hand over pale knuckles resting upon his knee, she gave a squeeze. "I'm touched you're being so thoughtful. There's no need to give me anything else though, I have more than enough."
His nostrils flared, jaw setting stubbornly. He drew himself up to stand, "you are too modest."
Feeling thoroughly discombobulated, Kagome could only watch as he pivoted with all the grace of a dainty dancer, stalking away with billowing sleeves.
---
For two weeks, Sesshoumaru continued visiting the village at random intervals. His flair for turning up at the most unexpected times made it difficult for Kagome to anticipate his visits. Sometimes he'd arrive bright and early, others- nearing nightfall. Occasionally he'd visit Rin, but their interactions seemed distracted. Rin would whisper fiercely to him while gesturing in Kagome's direction, but he'd ultimately leave without speaking a word to the miko.
It was odd, confusing. She'd used to think of Sesshoumaru as a fairly straightforward demon. As of late, he'd been downright unpredictable and... flakey. She kind of missed their previous easy interactions when she'd pick herbs and prattle on while he occasionally offered a word or two. His silence had felt comfortable rather than awkward.
I don't know how to get that back, Kagome thought sadly.
A chilly wind passed by, breeze rushing around her exposed neck. Adjusting her miko garb, she sneezed, shivering a little. Autumn would soon be on its way.
The heat of an intense stare sent a new chill down her spine. Kagome turned, sensing it- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing at her intently.
Was it her imagination, or did he seem absurdly pleased? As though struck by a revelation.
As was typical behaviour for him, the demon lord began walking away without a word.
---
Trudging back from training in the woods, Kagome shouldered her bow while walking around a thick tree- only to quickly stop, almost bumping straight into polished armour.
Sesshoumaru stood before her, holding another box. This time it was larger, more of a rectangular shape.
"M-more?" Kagome squeaked. Her heart thundered. It felt like so long since they'd last spoken.
Sesshoumaru inclined his head gravely, "hn."
Biting her lip and somewhat dreading what cast-off part of him could be inside this time, Kagome grasped the lid and removed it- only to slam it abruptly back down.
"What… what is that?" she asked thinly.
Sesshoumaru's lashes fell shut and slid open in an unruffled blink.
"My fur."
I thought as much.
Kagome removed the lid with trepidation once more, lifting out the lush, soft coat. Even while her hands sank into the cloud-like material, blue eyes remained wide with distress.
Sesshoumaru seemed to guess her line of thinking. "It is discarded fur that I have shed, not cleaved off. Do not worry."
"O-okay," she said thinly. It's still weird though. Too weird. Imagine if I'd made a coat of shed skin.
It was so odd that Kagome felt a line needed to be drawn, placing it back into the box and numbly accepting it from him. "Sesshoumaru… I have to put my foot down now. I appreciate your gifts but I can't accept any more."
He stiffened, the burning embers in his eyes freezing into glassy orbs.
Kagome rushed to explain, "it's very sweet of you, and I appreciate the thought. I'm just not, uh…sure they're suited for a human. Besides, you seem to be worrying about what to get me instead of talking to me. I'd rather we just spoke like old times instead of this awkwardness."
"I see," he said stiffly.
She took a step forward, eyes widening when he took one back and turned. "This one did not intend to give you things deemed inappropriate and unwelcome. Farewell."
"Wait-!"
Too late, Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hand.
Kagome grit her teeth, sighing and balancing the box on one hand. Damn it.
Slowly, Kagome lowered the box onto a tree stump and gingerly lifted the coat. It felt lush and divine, her hands disappearing within the sheer volume of fur. Sliding her arms into the sleeves and putting it on, Kagome wrapped it around herself, feeling like she were enclosed in a giant fluffy cloud. His static youki brushed her skin intimately, fanning out from the strands.
It was big. It was a little ridiculous. It was wonderful.
Kagome groaned, burying her face in her hands. Sure, the idea of him collecting his shed fur to sew into a coat was strange by human standards, but actually wearing the coat, she now understood his simplistic intent.
He'd just wanted her to be warm.
"You're such a weirdo," she grumbled, blushing and dipping her nose into the fur. It smelled like him; wild forests, with the hint of refined smoke from a pipe.
Maybe she was weird too.
---
He was absent for an entire month.
Sesshoumaru figured it would help ease the sting of rejection. The second he caught Kagome's fragrance, however, it was like an old wound had been ripped open again.
His lips thinned, firmly keeping all emotion locked tight behind a placid mask as he visited Rin.
Chatting with the girl allowed him to soothe his stung ego for a while, distracted by Rin's news about the village and her training. Occasionally she would mention the miko and his chest would tighten again. How pathetic of him.
Once his cup lay empty and Rin mentioned the need to leave in order to assist the older miko, Sesshoumaru took his leave.
Stepping foot outside Kaede's hut, however, he froze.
Kagome stiffened before him, swathed in furs- his furs- he dimly noted.
More than that, lithe fingers curled around the fang resting at her collarbone. The silver bracelet of his hair caught the light before disappearing beneath the length of her sleeve.
Kagome's cheeks heated, and she thrust out a box, letting it rest on her palm.
"I asked around," she muttered. "Inuyasha was clueless, and Shippo kept laughing whenever I tried to ask him what was going on. Luckily Myoga happened to stop by," blue eyes pinned him in place. "You could've told me what all the gifts meant instead of leaving me in the dark."
Sesshoumaru did not accept the box just yet. "I thought my intentions were achingly clear."
Embarrassingly so, for a proud demon.
"Not for humans!" she huffed, lowering her hands a little. "I was confused the whole time! How was I supposed to know that you were giving me a betrothal bracelet, or that the fang was for any half-demon children I might have when they need a sword? I kind of figured out the coat, but I didn't know it represented your intentions to provide for me."
Sesshoumaru stared. Oh. Perhaps he should've listened to Rin about courting the miko after all.
Cheeks scarlet, Kagome sighed, lifting the lid of her box off and removing something from inside.
"May I?"
Sesshoumaru nodded dazedly, golden eyes widening. His entire being thrummed, heart picking up speed.
Shifting closer, Kagome pushed some dark locks behind her ear, the length slightly shorter than usual. Sliding a black bracket around his striped wrist, Kagome swallowed. Her hair had been woven into a band much like his, though nowhere near as intricate.
The demon stared at it, fixated. Baser instincts purred.
Molten gold eyes slowly raised to pin her with a disarmingly reverent look. He spoke no words of poetry, no love or longing, but it was there, he hoped. Abundantly clear. Kagome seemed to recognise it for what it was now.
She smiled a little, hugging her arms and scuffing her foot. "Don't get the wrong idea; I'm not saying I'll jump into marriage with you, but it turns out I'm kind of interested in dating you. Really... interested," Kagome forced out, obviously embarrassed but soldiering on. "If it's okay, we could...do that," she finished lamely.
Sesshoumaru took a step forward, invading her personal space. She blushed exactly the way he'd hoped she would, babbling. "So the uh- think of the bracelet as a dating bracelet! Maybe down the line it could...it could become an engagement thing," she murmured, voice dimming in the wake of his proximity.
"Hn," honeyed eyes smiled, careful claws unfurling to find her chin. "That would be pleasing," he uttered in a faint rumble, tipping his head down. "I accept."
Satisfaction rolled through him fiercely as she tilted her head just so- lips meeting and brushing feather-light against his. Emboldened, Kagome's hands found the collar of his hankimono just as he took her by the waist as though entering a dance, tightening.
Sesshoumaru let his eyes flutter shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. He could smell her so bright and clear—the sweetness of tangerines, faint, exotic soaps—and her mouth so warm. Kagome kissed him, firmer, hand finding his hair- fingers curling. His breath began to roughen the longer their kisses went on. His heart chanted the truth of it all- 'yours.'
If the foolish woman wanted him, he'd already given himself to her. The ticklish brush of her hair claiming his wrist made him smirk against her mouth, glimpsing his own band of white around hers and revelling in a plume of possessive pride.
Perhaps it was unorthodox by her standards, but they were not exactly normal themselves. And so, Sesshoumaru drowned himself in the curious, raw newness of the strange miko, surrendering to all the oddities that would likely follow during their strange courtship.
End
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rdrbigbang · 3 years
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Red Dead Redemption Reverse Bang FAQ
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FAQ
1. What is a Big Bang/Mini Bang?
From Fanlore: “A Big Bang is a specific type of challenge usually involving long fics and accompanying artwork.”
Mini Bang: Where traditional Big Bangs tend to have a minimum word count of 50k, a Mini Bang has a much more modest target of 5-10k words with artists providing 1 piece of visual art.
2. How does it work?
Most Big Bang exchanges follow a similar format; writers sign-up to take part in the challenge and begin writing a piece of fanfiction. When the summaries, drafts, or finished written works are available, each one is assigned one or more artists (depending on the ratio of creators) who will proceed to make an accompanying piece of artwork/media for their companion fanfiction.
In some instances, the artists may choose which story they want to create for by selecting from fic summaries.(There is more information on the pairing process in Q.9)
3. What is a Reverse Bang?
A Reverse Bang is the exact same concept as a Big Bang, only the art is created first and the fanfiction is inspired by the art piece!
4. How do I join?
Sign-ups will be done by Google Forms.
5. Do I have to be able to write and draw?
Nope! You can sign-up as either a writer or an artist. You can sign-up to do both if that’s what you’d like, but please keep in mind this will demand more of your time over the course of the event.
6. Am I guaranteed a story to accompany my art?
We can’t guarantee everything, but if for whatever reason, your art piece is not selected, we will do everything in our power to find a pinch hitter.
7. What if I can’t finish my art in time for author selection?
Life happens and we get that, you just need to let a mod know ASAP if you aren’t able to finish your piece in time. Depending on circumstance and timing, we may be able to permit a small extension. You are more than welcome to try again in the next Big Bang.
8. What if I can’t finish my fic in time for the posting deadline?
As with Q7, please let a mod know ASAP if you aren’t able to finish your piece in time. Depending on the circumstance, we may be able to allow a small extension, otherwise we will search for a pinch hit author. You are more than welcome to try again in the next Big Bang. 
9. How does the author/artist matching happen?
We will collect all the art pieces from the artists and send them out anonymously for the authors to peruse. The authors will then rank their top 4 pieces in order of preference to create for. A random number generator will determine the order authors are given their choices.
Once artists and authors are matched, we will put everyone in contact with their pair.
This is an inspiration-based collaboration, so remember the author is not there to be told what you specifically would like to see to go along with your art piece. However, writers are welcome to ask for input if they’d like some direction.
10. Are there any content restrictions?
There is only one - The RDR Big Bang challenge does not allow sexual content, written or otherwise, of underage characters. All characters depicted in NSFW content must be canonically 18+ years old. 
Beyond that, we simply ask that you use sensible trigger warnings, content notes, and label all pairings/ships, and use an accurate rating. You can consult with a mod if you’re unsure.
11. Is there an age restriction for participants?
Only that you must be at least 16 years of age to fall within Tumblr’s account guidelines. However, we will not accept NSFW/NC17 works (writing or art) from underage participants taking part in the Bang.
12. Is there anything else we’re expected to do?
There will be halfway point check ins for artists and authors during their respective creation periods. We’ll ask you to do a quick check in on a Google Form so we know who’s still on track and we can offer feedback or encouragement to those who need it.
Feel free to post a snippet or a sneak peek and if you do, tag us (@rdrbigbang) so we can share to the challenge blog.
Do you still have questions? Drop us a line!
Yours in rootin’ and tootin’,
Mod S.
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carewyncromwell · 3 years
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*sings* Cinderella...you’re as lovely as your name, Cinderella~...
Okay, some quick notes before we start. Despite the beauty of their work, painters’ palettes were actually rather limited on pigments during the Renaissance, only having three pigments more than artists did during the Middle Ages. The Moly is a magical plant that appears in Homer’s The Odyssey. Hermes gives it to Odysseus as a charm to protect him from Circe’s spells. It’s been most commonly compared to the snowdrop flower by scholars. It also is referenced in the canon Potterverse as a powerful herb that can counter enchantments.
The Willow Song appears as a motif at the end of William Shakespeare’s Othello, though it was written at least thirty years earlier. In Othello, Desdemona sings a few stanzas of it in response to her husband’s growing distance and madness -- to the audience watching the play in Shakespeare’s day, which would already know the song, its inclusion foreshadows Othello and Desdemona’s tragic ending. “No One is Alone” is from Stephen Sondheim’s well-regarded musical Into the Woods, which features Cinderella as a semi-major character -- the song is actually even partially sung by Cinderella in the show!
I edited the art for this section, as you can tell. Badeea’s painting is a modified photograph of the Chateau de Chambord in France, overlaid on top of my own drawing. (Thanks, Lunapic!) This is also my very first time drawing Badeea!! GOD, is she pretty!! I think her eyes are my favorite of all the HPHM cast.
Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!
x~x~x~x
When Carewyn followed up with Andre the next morning, he was quite disappointed when he saw Carewyn wasn’t wearing the new shoes he’d made for her with her uniform. He honestly hadn’t even considered that they wouldn’t be comfortable for walking in -- and honestly, Carewyn could sort of understand why. Andre had never been able to leave the palace grounds, so there no doubt were a lot of practical things he’d just never considered...such as how very flashy royal fashion was, compared to that of the common man. He was pleased with the feedback Carewyn “passed along from her cousins” for him, though -- completely unaware of the fact that all three comments were really opinions that Carewyn herself had had about the dress.
“Hmm...that is a good point,” said Andre, his hand resting on his chin. “Red is a beautiful color...but a deep blue would not only bring out your eyes, but it would also perfectly contrast your ginger hair, since blue and orange are on opposite sides of the color wheel...”
His face burst into a bright white smile. “Your cousin Iris really has an eye for colors.”
Carewyn successfully fought back a groan, even as her eyes drifted up off toward the top corner of the room.
“...Well, she has taken up embroidery as a hobby. I suppose when one spends a lot of time doing samplers, one could develop an eye for colors.”
And also create a lot of initialed handkerchiefs to conveniently drop in front of noblemen so they pick it up and return it to you.
Andre, however, reacted with some interest. “Is that so? Hmm...well, maybe when I’m working on your new pair of shoes, I could invite her over for tea so she can give me her second opinion before I give them to you.”
Carewyn had never disliked a thought more in her life that Iris having a say in what she wore -- but knowing that she shouldn’t be the one to sabotage Iris, especially when her cousin would no doubt be able to do it well enough on her own, she put on her best smile.
“...I’m sure Iris would enjoy that very much.”
Sure enough, within a week, Iris had been invited to the palace for tea with the Prince. Carewyn could only imagine how thrilled Iris, her aunt Claire, and Charles were. As for Carewyn herself, she knew it was now time to do as Charles said and stay out of Iris’s way...and so when Iris arrived, she made sure to clean the rooms in her wing of the palace in a different order and not sing so that Andre wouldn’t be able to “check in” on her with Iris in tow. She didn’t think she could stand it if Iris got to look down at her polishing the palace floors.
Her lack of singing, however, did catch Badeea’s attention. When Carewyn collided with the court painter in the hallway, she expressed some concern.
“I missed your accompaniment, while I was painting,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
Carewyn felt guilty as she leaned her broom against the wall for a moment. “Oh...yes, Badeea, I’m fine. I merely...well, my cousin Iris is spending time with the Prince today, so I thought to...well, not draw focus.”
Badeea nodded in understanding. “Mm, yes...some things are meant to be background details, while others are meant to catch the eye straight away.”
Carewyn and Badeea caught the sound of Iris’s twittering, bird-like laughter echoing down the hall toward them. Not wanting to be seen when or if Iris and Andre came out into the hall themselves, Carewyn quickly picked up her broom and went around the corner -- Badeea adjusted her easel under her arm and followed.
“Say, Carewyn,” said the court painter thoughtfully, “why don’t you dress up in that nice yellow and green dress you have and come to the market with me?”
Carewyn blinked.
“I need to pick up some more carbon black and indigo for this painting I’m working on for Andre, but the man who sells those paints loves to price gauge. If you were dressed up all fancy and you slid in a reference to your family, though, he might be less likely to try to rip you off,” Badeea added with a tiny, coy smile.
Carewyn frowned, feeling a bit unsure. “I don’t know, Badeea -- I still have a lot of work to do...”
“You have the whole rest of the day to finish,” Badeea reminded her. “It would only take maybe an hour or two. And it would get you out of the palace while your cousin’s here.”
Carewyn considered the matter. Truthfully she’d been hoping to finish her work quickly so she could stow away back to the library and scan more troop deployment records...but she really did hate the thought of bumping into Andre and Iris, not just because of how much Iris would hate Carewyn getting any attention and therefore delight in tormenting her in front of the Prince in order to puff herself up, but because she didn’t want to provoke Charles’s ire unnecessarily.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go change.”
Not long later, Carewyn had put on her mother’s old dress, pinned her hair up, and joined Badeea by the front gates, and the two headed into town on foot. The sky was still rather gray -- it had been raining and thundering for the last couple of days, and there was still a lot of mud in places. Carewyn was glad she was wearing her worn brown shoes under her gown rather than the pretty heels Andre had made for her -- particularly since nobody would likely be looking at her feet.
The shopkeeper in question was indeed a bit intimidated when Carewyn offhandedly referred to “her grandfather, Charles Cromwell” -- and soon enough, Badeea had been able to skip most of the haggling she would’ve normally had to make just to get her paints at a decent price. They left the shopkeeper’s stall, several jars of paint in hand.
As fate would have it, as they walked at the market, someone else was also shopping, and at the sight of the familiar dress and mane of ginger hair, he ran up to meet them.
“Carewyn!”
Carewyn and Badeea both looked up, to see Orion striding up to them. He once again wore his slightly-too-clean, but modest white shirt, olive breeches, and boots, and he was carried a basket full of henbane.
Carewyn’s red lips spread into a smile. “Orion...hello.”
Orion brought a hand up to his chest and offered her a short bow.
“It seems the stars favor us after all, my lady,” he said, the corners of his own lips kissed with traces of a wry smile.
Carewyn shot a quick glance at his basket and quirked an eyebrow.
“Purchasing some more incense?” she asked pointedly.
Orion’s black eyes sparkled. “I’m afraid we’ve already used up what I bought previously. Fortunately the gentleman from last time remembered my face and didn’t give me too much grief.”
“That’s fortunate.”
Carewyn glanced at Badeea to Orion and back.
“Orion, this is Badeea Ali -- she’s the Crown’s court painter. Badeea...this is Orion Freeman. He helped me retrieve my horse the other day.”
Badeea’s dark brown eyes were very bright. “Ah, yes -- KC had said that you were thrown off your horse. Thank you for helping Carewyn, sir,” she added to Orion.
“It was my pleasure,” said Orion. “What’s the subject of your next piece, if I may ask?”
“A foreboding sky and a distorted reflection,” Badeea replied.
Orion looked intrigued. “That would explain such dark shades. Who commissioned the piece?”
“The Prince,” said Badeea. “But his request was just of a view of the entire palace, from a distance -- I was simply inspired by the rainstorm that passed through a few days ago, and how the turrets of the palace looked reflected in the castle moat.” 
“I wonder how the castle of Royaume would see itself, if it had eyes,” said Orion levelly. “Would it see its beauty, or would it be the type to be critical of its flaws?”
“Hm...or would it see the beauty of its flaws?” asked Badeea.
“True,” granted Orion. “Flaws make us more human -- would that make something more beautiful, by serving as contrast to our strengths?”
“Flaws aren’t something you should simply have to accept,” said Carewyn demurely, her arms crossed. “One should strive to be better than one already is. Even if one is only human, that doesn’t mean they can’t work to be something better.”
Orion turned to her, interested. “And what would be better than being oneself, my lady?”
“Being a better version of oneself, of course,” Carewyn said, sounding matter-of-fact. “One can always be kinder, braver, stronger...more cunning, more passionate. One can always learn more, and do more, and be more.”
“Yes...but it seems like those could be crippling expectations to hold over yourself, to never be enough,” said Orion, and although his expression was very inscrutable, his lips twitched with something of a frown.
“Perfectionism is a disease that affects every artist sooner or later,” said Badeea sympathetically.
Her dark eyes flitted from Orion to Carewyn thoughtfully.
“I must be getting back to work on my painting...would you like to join us at the opposite bank, Mr. Freeman? I would be happy for some feedback on my work, before I present it to his Highness.”
Orion glanced at Carewyn for her approval -- she offered a small smile, and his lips turned up in a full smile of his own.
“I would be honored.”
So the three set about finding a less muddy spot by the castle moat, across from the palace. They found one right by a beautiful willow tree, where Carewyn very carefully lowered herself onto the grass. Badeea fetched her easel and chair, setting it up so that she had a good view of the castle. Orion looked over her incomplete work appreciatively.
“It looks like it could breathe, were it a living thing.”
“Thank you,” said Badeea. “Now then, I’ll need to concentrate while mapping out the sky, so no initiating conversation, please. These paints stay on fabric just as well as my canvas, so they won’t easily wash out. I would appreciate some accompaniment, though, Carewyn.”
Orion glanced at Carewyn curiously. Carewyn avoided his eye.
“Badeea, I don’t think -- ”
“Ah, ah,” said Badeea, holding up a gloved finger quickly, “no conversation. Accompaniment or nothing, please.”
She then set about mixing certain shades and color spotting sections of canvas.
Carewyn frowned. It was one thing to be singing while she was working herself, to pass the time, but Orion’s focus was still largely on her, and it felt weird. Still, she thought to herself, it wasn’t like she was bashful about singing in front of others, exactly -- she knew her voice was more than serviceable. There was really no harm in it. So, glancing up at the willow tree above her head, Carewyn rested her hands in the grass, leaned back, and sang.
“The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree --
Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...
Her hand in her bosom, her head on her knee --
Oh willow, willow, willow...willow...
She sighed in her singing and made a great moan --
Sing willow, willow, willow...willow...
‘I’m dead to all pleasure -- my true love is gone --
Oh willow, willow, willow...shall be my garland...’”
Carewyn felt Orion’s dark eyes on her at the start. Before long, though, his eyes had fluttered closed, and he sat in perfect silence. As he listened, his shoulders loosened and his expression seemed to clear of all tension or pretense, like a child peacefully falling off to sleep. Badeea painted and shaded to the sound of Carewyn’s low, melancholy singing, adding white highlights to the dark gray and black shadows to create a cloudy sky with sunlight poking through.
When Carewyn was finished with the song, Orion slowly opened his eyes, meeting her gaze again at last. His eyes were oddly hesitant, almost shy.
“Y -- ”
He hesitated. Then, his black eyes softening handsomely, he closed his mouth, and it slowly spread into a smile gentler and warmer than Carewyn had ever seen before. He clearly approved.
Carewyn smiled in return and inclined her head in a silent “thank you.”
Carewyn sang some more songs until Badeea had finally finished and Orion and the two women had to part ways so that Badeea and Carewyn could pack up the easel and finished painting and bring them inside.
The following morning, Carewyn was surprised by KC pulling her aside to hand her a packet of what looked like handwritten sheet music.
“Your friend Orion stopped by a little while ago to give this to you,” she explained.
Carewyn was taken aback.
“I reckon he must’ve hopped over the wall,” said KC, unable to fight back a laugh. “I caught him strolling through the southwest gardens. I told him I’d bring it up to you, so that he wouldn’t get himself in trouble.”
Stunned, Carewyn looked down at the sheet music, shifting the pages so she could scan each line. Her blue eyes softened, growing deeper and darker with emotion, as she read the words and notes.
“...This...this is beautiful,” she whispered. She looked up at KC, unable to fully keep the awe from her face. “...You don’t think he wrote this?”
KC shook her head. “No, he said it was a song he learned when he was young, and that he tracked down the sheet music for you since he didn’t think he’d be able to properly sing it for you. I’ve never heard it either, though.”
Carewyn spent her meal times and about an hour before bed that night perusing the sheet music so she could learn the song. The following day, she felt confident enough to sing some of it while she started about cleaning the Queen’s Chambers.
“Mother isn’t here now...who knows what she’d say?
Nothing’s quite so clear now...feel you’ve lost your way?
You decide alone...but no one is alone.
You move just a finger, say the slightest word --
Something’s bound to linger...be heard...
No one acts alone...careful -- no one is alone...
People make mistakes -- fathers, mothers --
People make mistakes,
Holding to their own...thinking they’re alone...
Honor the mistakes everybody makes, one another’s terrible mistakes...
They could still be right -- they could still be good.
You decide what’s right -- you decide what’s good.
Just remember...”
“Carewyn!”
Carewyn stopped sweeping and looked up, to see Andre striding through the opened door of the Queen’s Chambers toward her.
“An -- your Highness,” Carewyn corrected herself very quickly, after noting who’d accompanied Andre.
Just behind him in the door frame was her dark-haired cousin Iris, dressed in her best rose velvet and her own almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed with loathing at Carewyn over Andre’s shoulder.
Andre, perfectly oblivious to the silent tension between the two cousins, gave a laugh.
“Oh, Carewyn, we’re not back to that again, are we? It’s ‘Andre,’ ” he said with an indulgent smile. “I haven’t heard that song before -- did you learn it recently?”
“Ah...yes,” said Carewyn. She could feel Iris’s fierce glare burning a hole in her face over Andre’s shoulder even without looking at either of them.
“It’s really quite lovely,” said Andre. “Please, do sing the rest of it when you’re able.”
“Of course, Prince Henri.”
Carewyn was absolutely not going to call Andre by his nickname in front of Iris -- she knew how Iris would shriek her head off about it to Charles.
Andre sighed and shook his head in something like tired amusement.
“I was hoping we’d catch you on your rounds,” he said conversationally. “I’m just about finished with your new shoes! Iris said your favorite color was ash gray -- I’ve never really worked with that color before, so it’ll be a bit of a challenge -- but I’m sure I’ll find a shade that might suit you...”
Ash gray? Running with the ‘Cinderwyn’ nickname, then, are we, Iris?
Carewyn forced a smile. “...Thank you. That’s...very kind.”
Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, she quickly rushed over to pick up her full dust pan with her other hand.
“Forgive me, I really should go and empty this -- ”
At that exact moment, Iris had strode forward, bumping Carewyn’s shoulder in just such a way that the pan was knocked backward onto Carewyn, covering her, her orange and tan dress, and the floor with all of the dust, dirt, and grime she’d swept up over the last hour.
“Oh!” said Iris in feigned surprise. “I’m so sorry.”
Her gaze, however, was just as hard and unapologetic as it had been when she’d ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress at home.
“Carewyn!” said Andre, concerned. “Are you all right?”
Carewyn coughed.
“...Yes, of course,” she said, her voice very hard and stoic in the back of her throat. “It was merely an accident.”
She shot Iris a cold look as she looked over her now thoroughly ruined uniform and the dust and dirt all around her feet.
“Please, go on ahead with Iris, your Highness. I’ll clean up this mess.”
Once Iris had successfully steered the reluctant-looking Andre out of the room, Carewyn closed the door, took off her dress, and finished cleaning the room in her undergarments, so as not to spread the dust and ash around any further. Then, very carefully, she darted across the hall from the Queen’s Chambers to Andre’s, so that she could fetch the high-necked, gold-embroidered dress made out of white linen and light blue velvet he’d recently finished for her from his walk-in closet. After all, she told herself, she needed something to wear while she was getting her uniform cleaned -- and well, at least Iris would be less likely to ruin this dress, since Andre had stitched it himself.
Holding her dusty, ashen dress in a folded pile against her chest, Carewyn headed downstairs toward the laundry. On her way through the entrance hall, though, KC -- who’d just come out of the library -- ran up to walk alongside her down the hall.
“Seems your friend is back.”
Carewyn’s messy ponytail flapped over her shoulder when she looked at her in surprise. “Orion?”
KC nodded, her lips curled up in a wry smile. “I thought I saw someone hopping over the wall through the library window, just now. Shall we go investigate?”
Carewyn bit her lip, looking down at the ruined uniform in her arms.
“Let me drop this off at the laundry first,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Carewyn ran down the stairs and threw her uniform into one of the tubs to soak, before quickly doing her hair up in a simple, but slightly more presentable braided bun and hurrying back up to join KC. The two women then headed out to the gardens, only to hear something of a scuffle.
“A man with innocent intentions does not hop over castle walls,” said Bill’s voice, though it sounded much lower and harder than Carewyn was used to hearing.
“In this case, sir, I assure you, I do.”
“You will declare your true name and business at once, sir, or I shall see to it that you’re locked in irons and hauled before the King himself -- ”
“Bill!” cried Carewyn.
Bill looked up, startled. The ginger-haired castle guard had slammed Orion back-first against a tree, holding him up off the ground by his collar with one hand, but at the sight of Carewyn and KC running forward, the suspicion and righteous anger in his face dissipated instantly.
“It’s all right, Bill,” Carewyn reassured him. “He’s a friend.”
“Put him down,” said KC.
Bill looked from KC to Carewyn in confusion, before glancing at Orion warily, but he nonetheless did as they said. Once he’d lowered Orion to the ground and let go of his shirt, the dark-haired man calmly adjusted his collar and picked up a satchel that must’ve come off in the struggle off the ground.
“Thank you, Carewyn...Lady Katriona,” he said pleasantly, as if he had not just been in a loose choke hold.
KC grimaced. “Orion, I’ve saved your butt twice now -- we’ve more than gotten to the point of you calling me KC.”
Orion smiled wryly. “I’m glad of it.”
Carewyn, however, still looked a bit harried. “Orion, what were you thinking? Hopping the wall...it’s no wonder Bill thought you were up to no good!”
“Well, the gate was locked, and no one was there to greet me,” said Orion airily.
“Well, of course the palace of Royaume has very strong security,” Carewyn said exasperatedly, “the royal family lives here.”
“I must wonder how the royal family ever receives visitors, then.”
“They don’t,” said Bill rather coolly. “They invite them, and very rarely, at that. And they clearly didn’t invite you to trespass on the grounds.”
Orion was unfazed. “Well, fortunately, I wasn’t looking for such an invitation, to begin with. I merely wanted to give this to Carewyn, as a gift for Madam Ali.”
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a jar of unusually shiny silvery-white paint. Bill, KC and Carewyn’s eyes all were very wide as Orion handed the jar to Carewyn.
“I asked a few people where best to locate materials for paints,” he explained. “One man pointed me to a flower that grows at the border called the Moly. He made this paint himself. I don’t think any colors  like this are made and sold at the market, so I thought I would bring along one of his jars for Madam Ali, so she might use it for her next project.”
Carewyn’s light blue eyes were very bright and touched as she looked up at Orion.
“Orion...it’s wonderful,” she said, her soft voice incredibly warm. “Badeea will love it.”
“You said he used the Moly?” asked KC, as she took the jar from Carewyn and looked at it. “Maybe Badeea could mix up some more paint of her own, then.”
Bill glanced at Orion with a raised eyebrow. “Or the Crown could simply buy it from the vendor who sold you that paint.”
Carewyn noticed a strange, almost skittish glint flicker through Orion’s eye.
“...I’m afraid that jar was a favor, not a purchase,” he said softly.
“I think Badeea would be fine with making her own, Bill,” Carewyn said firmly. “The Crown wouldn’t want to set aside extra money for materials anyway. It’d be a lot cheaper to make a paint like that in house than to buy it from someone else.”
Despite his frown, Bill nonetheless sighed and nodded. “...True. Charlie’s needed a new set of scratch awls for ages.”
Orion looked pleased. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”
“Perhaps the next time you want to see Carewyn, you might figure out a way to do it that doesn’t require you scaling walls like a prowler,” said KC amusedly.
Carewyn shot KC a slightly reproachful look. Orion’s muted smile rather resembled that of a satisfied house cat.
“I’d be happy to arrange more regular meetings outside the palace, if Lady Cromwell would be open to it,” he said, his black eyes sparkling as he glanced at Carewyn.
Carewyn raised her eyebrows coolly at him. “Once again, Mr. Freeman, you seem to have an unusual amount of freedom, if you’re able to consider allocating time just to meet me.”
Her lips then spread in a wry smile.
“Still...I can hardly sit by and let you get arrested for trespassing on my account. I have some time available late tomorrow morning, before noon. I could meet you by the gate then.”
Orion grinned. “I’ll look forward to it, my lady.”
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Penny For Your Thoughts (II)
Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader
Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.
Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing?
A/N: And here’s part two! I hope you enjoy - here you’ll meet some of my OCs created for the series, characters who I genuinely love a lot so I hope you also like them! Please let me know what you think - especially if you’re on the taglist, hearing your comments always inspires me to keep on writing, so please do let me know. If you wish to be added to the taglist send me an ASK, replies to the parts asking to be added onto it won’t be responded to
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“I told you - I have the worst sense of direction!” Y/N groaned as herself and Beatrice managed to take another wrong turn on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.
“I thought you were exaggerating or - or being modest!” Beatrice laughed, nudging into her gently with her elbow. Y/N pulled a face at her.
“That would be rather Hufflepuff of me, wouldn’t it?” 
“Hey - this looks familiar!” Beatrice exclaimed as they turned another corner and Y/N wrinkled her nose, taking in the painting of a fruit bowl that they had stumbled across.
“B?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re back by the kitchens - we’re back where we started.”
“What’re you two doing here?” They turned to face back down the hallway where the Hufflepuff common room was located hidden behind a pile of barrels. Liane, Jessica and Eric were approaching them, grinning at their obviously lost friends.
“Waiting for you?” Y/N suggested.
“Forget the way to the Great Hall?” Eric teased.
“Maybe a little,” Y/N agreed.  The group continued on, led by Jessica who regularly looked over her shoulder as though to check that her newfound friends were still following her, worried that they may disappear.
“It’s a good thing we left so early this morning,” Beatrice commented to Y/N. “Otherwise we might not have made it to breakfast in time.”
“Why did you leave so early?” Liane asked as they entered into the Great Hall, which was already at least half full with students eating their breakfast.
“I was aware I’d get lost - B just came along for the ride.” Beatrice nodded solemnly at those words as they found themselves seats at the Hufflepuff table.
“I was under the impression that she knew what she was doing,” she admitted. “And I’m ashamed to admit that.”
“You’ve known me less than twenty four hours!” Y/N protested. “For all you know, I could have planned all of that.”
“Why would you have planned getting lost on the way to breakfast?” Beatrice asked in bewilderment.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve known you for less than twenty four hours and you expect me to spill my master plan to you,” Y/N scoffed.
Eric was watching the two girls interact, his brow scrunched together in confusion but a twinkle in his eyes that showed he was more amused than anything else.
“You’re both rather strange.” 
“Well that’s just rude,” Beatrice huffed, pouring herself some juice as Y/N picked up the water pitcher. 
“Do you think the professors will be nice?” Jessica blurted out the words, cutting off their conversation. Two spots of pink appeared on her cheeks when all four of them turned to face her. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her plate. 
“You remember what Mum said, Jess,” Eric said calmly. “When she was here she loved all the teachers - she was even taught by McGonagall and Flitwick.”
“Who are they?” Beatrice frowned and quickly added: “my parents didn’t much like talking about Hogwarts,” Y/N thought she saw a hint of embarrassment in her expression and she noted how Beatrice refused to meet any of their eyes.
“McGonagall teaches transfiguration and Flitwick teaches charms,” Liane explained, buttering a piece of toast. “My parents told me that McGonagall’s a complete hard-ass though,” she added and Y/N saw Jessica’s eyes widen.
“Really?” Beatrice asked, staring at Liane.
“Yeah - really strict, apparently,” she confirmed. “Especially if you’re not in her house.”
“That’s not true,” Eric sighed, shaking his head. “The teachers aren’t allowed to favour those in their house,” he insisted but Liane shook her head defiantly.
“None of the teachers stick to that! All the heads of house are lenient towards their own students!”
“So d’ya think Sprout’ll give us a load of house points for like… breathing?” Beatrice asked and she shared an amused look with Y/N.
“Alright - laugh all you want now, we’ll see who’s right,” Liane scoffed, but there was traces of laughter in her voice.
“What do you think we’ll have today?” Jessica asked in her quiet, soft voice, her nerves about their first day seeming to override the shyness that she had shown the previous evening.
“I hope we have Potions,” Liane said eagerly, her voice completely changing from her previous tone of disbelief.
“Do you think you’ll be good at it?” Beatrice asked interestedly.
“My Dad’s fantastic at brewing potions - Mum says that he’s been waiting for me to go to Hogwarts so that he can help me learn how to properly do them myself,” Liane explained through a bite of toast.
“I heard that it was a really hard subject,” Jessica worried.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Y/N mustered up as much of a reassuring smile as she could manage. “What’re you looking forward to?” Jessica didn’t reply immediately, clearly thinking carefully about the question.
 “I think I’ll enjoy herbology,” she decided, nodding her head to confirm her thought. Beside Y/N, Beatrice completely lit up in delight.
“Really? I think I will too - I used to love gardening when I was at home!” She enthused. Jessica brightened at that and it wasn’t long before the two of them were talking excitedly about what they were most looking forward to studying - both of them, apparently, having already read through the text book that had been assigned for their year.
“What about you, then?”
“Care of Magical Creatures,” Y/N’s response to Liane’s question was immediate, the words out her mouth before she had a chance even to think about them.
“But… we can’t study that yet,” Liane pointed out, raising her eyebrows and Y/N let out a sad sigh, nodding her head.
“I know - sucks, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think I’ll be taking it,” Liane admitted with a slight shiver. Y/N frowned at her, confused, and her new friend offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m not… great with animals. They make me nervous.”
“All animals?” Y/N questioned in disbelief.
“Pretty much - they don’t trust me, I think. And so I also don’t trust them. We’ve got a mutual understanding going on.”
“It’s okay, I’ll change that,” Y/N reassured her with a mischievous smile. “I’ve been told I can be rather persuasive.”
“Why does that sound like a threat?” Y/N ignored Liane’s sigh and looked over at Eric. 
“What about you?” She inquired, but Eric wasn’t listening and was instead looking at his sister and Beatrice with what was almost an expression of concern that Y/N didn’t quite understand. “Eric?”
“What, sorry?” He was snapped back into the present, trying his best to feign attentiveness as he returned to the conversation.
“What subject are you excited for?” Liane repeated, rolling her eyes a little and running a hand through her scarlet hair, pushing it away from her face.
“Well… everyone’s excited for Defence Against the Dark Arts, right?” He pointed out with a ‘duh’ expression. 
Their conversation speculating over their new classes carried them to the end of breakfast, the food disappearing from the platters in front of them, the heads of house descending from the professors table at the front of the hall all carrying piles of parchment. 
Professor Sprout was a squat woman with greying curly hair with a tattered wizards hat perched on top. Her fingernails had dirt underneath and the skin of her hands looked rough to Y/N’s eyes, presumably from the many hours she spent outside in the Greenhouses. Her eyes, despite being tired-looking, were warm and welcoming, smile lines beginning to be etched into the skin around them.
She practically beamed at Y/N and her fellow first years.
“I didn’t get to say it last night - but welcome all of you to Hufflepuff!” Her words caused quiet cheers and giggles from the first years surrounding them. A freckled boy that Y/N didn’t know the name off looked as though he was going to pass out from joy. “For anyone who doesn’t know - I’m Professor Sprout. Your head of House and also your Herbology teacher!” Jessica and Beatrice exchanged yet another excited look.
Sprout handed out the parchment, one to each student, asking each for their name, welcoming them to her house.
“And your name?”
“I’m Y/N, Professor, Y/N Y/L/N,” she smiled. Professor Sprout’s face fell just a little and she nodded, her warm eyes softening even further.
“It’s lovely to meet you - welcome to Hufflepuff,” she said, her voice more gentle than it had been when talking to the other first years.Y/N took her timetable from her, staring down at the little squares labelled with her lessons, not wanting to meet the inquiring gazes of her new friends who Y/N could tell had picked up on Sprout’s change in mood.
“Charms first,” Y/N muttered, reading the writing. “And then Herbology,” she looked at Beatrice who was watching her carefully. “Pretty ideal for you, huh?”
Beatrice cracked a smile and nodded her head.
“Alright - we should probably get going. With Y/N’s complete lack of any sense of direction at all it’ll take us a good fifteen to thirty minutes to find the classroom,” Beatrice declared, standing up and stretching her arms out, smirking at her new friend who rolled her eyes, standing up as well.
“Well Jess has a thestral’s sense of direction so I’m sure we can use her as a guide.”
“I don’t…. understand?” Jessica asked, looking at Y/N with an apprehensive expression.
“It was a compliment,” Y/N assured her as their little group of friends made their way out of the Great Hall, clutching at their timetables. Y/N’s heart was racing with nerves, though she didn’t want to admit it aloud.
They walked together to charms, speculating excitedly about what they thought the lesson could hold for them, what Flitwick had in store to teach them. 
Unsurprisingly, considering how early they had left from breakfast, they were the first ones to find the classroom and lined up outside it, Liane talking animatedly about the different charms that she had already read up about. 
“Who do we have it with, anyway?” Eric asked, leaning against the wall.
Y/N glanced down at the timetable still clutched in her hands and her heart leapt in her chest.
“The Gryffindors,” she relayed, beaming. 
“Why’re you so pleased?” Beatrice asked.
“I already know some of them!”
“You already have other friends?” Beatrice gasped in feigned offence.
“What can I say? People love me.”
“Hey Y/N,” Lily tapped Y/N on her shoulder, who whirled around to grin at her.
“Hi! How are you?” 
“Good thanks,” Lily grinned. “How was your first night?”
“It was fun! Oh!” Y/N turned back to her group of Hufflepuff friends. “This is Beatrice, Eric, Jessica and Liane.” They waved at the Gryffindor girl, whose smile seemed to become shyer with the introduction. “And this is Lily - we met on the platform yesterday and sat together on the train.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lily said, taking Beatrice’s hand.
“Who’re your friends?” Y/N whispered to Lily, looking over at the three other girls dressed in red-hooded robes that had arrived with Lily.
Lily giggled at Y/N’s lowered tone.
“That’s Marlene, next to her is Alice and then that’s Dorcas.” Lily introduced quietly, pointing at each girl in turn. Y/N nodded her head but didn’t get a chance to respond further as James’ booming voice rang out from down the corridor, where he had just turned the corner to the hallway where the charms class was located.
“Y/N! Hufflepuff! Mum called it! Have you written to tell her yet?”
Y/N let out a heavy sigh, removing herself from the company of her friends and walked towards James, who was accompanied by a group of boys - one of whom she recognised from the platform to be Frank Longbottom.
“I haven’t, no - did you write to let them know you’re in Gryffindor?” 
“As if they need the confirmation,” James scoffed. 
“Wait - what do you mean your mum called it?” Y/N’s brows furrowed together as she registered what else James had said. 
“Ages ago! When you first-” James caught himself, “when you first started to ask about the House system. She told me and Dad that she reckoned you’d be a Hufflepuff.”
“She never told me that,” Y/N frowned and James shrugged.
“Well she told me,” Y/N gave him a withering look.
“I figured,” she met Sirius’ eyes over James’ shoulder and he gave her the same cocky smirk that Y/N was beginning to realise was a near-permanent fixture for him.
“Hey,” he nodded at her.
“Gryffindor, huh?” Sirius’ smirk seemed to fall briefly, a slightly worried look on his face as he responded, though he tried to cover it with a poor substitute of his previous confidence.
“My Mum’ll be so proud.” James snickered, glancing at his new friend.
“These are our other dormmates, by the way,” James said, gesturing to the other three boys who had joined in with the conversation held by the other Hufflepuff boys who had turned up shortly after the Gryffindors. “That’s Remus, Peter and - you remember Dad talking about Frank?”
“Your dad was talking about me?” Frank asked, breaking out of the conversation to shoot a confused look at James and Y/N.
“Mine was telling us that he went to school with your Mum,” James explained cheerfully, no hint of the embarrassment that Y/N was feeling having been caught in such an odd conversation. 
“Right…” there was still an air of unsureness in Frank’s voice.
“How was your first night anyway? You doing okay?” James lowered his voice a little, clearly knowing that Y/N wouldn’t want for their classmates to overhear him checking up on her. “You sleep okay?” He added knowingly.
“It was fine, James - I’m fine, I promise,” Y/N said with a smile and gave a half shrug, glancing back to her new friends. “They all seem really lovely.”
“I’m glad,” James smiled, nudging her shoulder with his. “And last night - you didn't…?”
“No - not last night,” she confirmed. Y/N suddenly looked to Sirius, who she realised had been standing with them as they spoke, looking interested. “I snore,” was the first thing she could think of as an explanation. 
Sirius started to laugh and Y/N’s embarrassment washed over her, not that she had time to dwell on it when Beatrice grabbed her arm and tugged her towards the classroom that Professor Flitwick had just entered into.
“You’ll sit with me, right?”
They found a table together in the middle of the classroom, Y/N sliding into the chair nearest the window, Liane and Jessica sitting in the row in front of them, Eric joining a fellow Hufflepuff boy at the table beside them. It was no surprise at all to Y/N that James and his new friends took seats right at the back of the classroom.
“Who was that?” Beatrice whispered to her as Flitwick started his lecture.
“I’m trying to listen,” Y/N returned and Beatrice fell silent.
“No you’re not - you’re doodling!” Beatrice accused, her voice still too low to be heard by anyone other than Y/N.
“Relevant doodling?” Y/N offered and Beatrice gave her a withering look, not bothering to reply further than that. 
“Now it’s over to you to have a go! Remember - swish and flick!” Flitwick announced, clapping his hands cheerfully.
“Any chance you were actually paying proper attention?” Y/N asked Beatrice as Flitwick waved his wand and feathers flew across the room to land one in front of each student.
“The levitating charm,” Lily whispered from the table behind them. Y/N looked over her shoulder at the Gryffindor girl who was smiling. “You know - Wingardium Leviosa.”
“Thanks,” Y/N whispered in return. 
“But who is he?” Beatrice repeated again, the classroom filling with noise as the eager First Years began to cast their first spells. Y/N got her own out of her robes and shrugged nonchalantly.
“Just a guy I grew up with - our parents were friends.”
129 notes · View notes
eggytranslations · 3 years
Text
Volume 1, Chapter 9-Family
Quick notes: I'm switching to one update every two weeks for now (sorry my schedule is really busy with new job) and will update on my twitter if I cannot make the biweekly Friday updates...o-(-( trying to rope another translator in, so we shall see how that goes! Chapter 10 and 11 are both pretty short so I think we should be good for those chapters. Okay on to the main course: enjoy!
Content warnings: n/a
For three straight days, the mountain villa became unusually lively yet again; it was all because the elder Young Master Shen had come back from the gates of death.
In the midst of this clamoring noise, Shen Qingxuan was as calm as usual. Dressed in a crescent white robe, he sat on the chair with a smile and easily accepted the concern that came from all directions. He nodded and listened attentively in a modest and well-mannered way while maintaining a cultured and refined manner.
This stirred another wave of pitying voices that all said, Such a good kid, and yet fate would tease in such a way.
Shen Qingxuan had already perfected an entire body of copper skin and iron bones towards these pitying words, so when he heard them, naturally, they did not hurt or itch. Yet these words stirred the thoughts of Mother Shen who was next to him. She shed tears several times, and yet she feared that Shen Qingxuan would be even more upset once he saw her, so she swiftly hid her face by turning away to wipe her tears.
How could these actions of hers hide from Shen Qingxuan’s sharp eyes. With the affinity between a mother and a child, Shen Qingxuan knew what she was thinking, so he also pretended that he did not see her and shifted his gaze onto other people.
When the banquet opened, Shen Qingxuan had the servant girl push him from the table to leave. Everyone knew that Shen Qingxuan’s body was frail and could not drink wine, simultaneously, he was still recovering from a serious illness so he could not accompany the guests and tax his mind. Thus, one after another, they urged him to rest well and waited for Shen Qingxuan to leave before they started toasting and drinking wine to their fill.
-
Shen Qingxuan returned to his room and listened briefly to the outside noise through his window lattice before he laughed bitterly to himself. Who knows how many times these kinds of banquets had been held, and who knows how many more times they will be held in the future. Who knows?
Even if Yi Mo helped him, and allowed him to be no different from any other person after this year, he, however, still did not know what hardships he would suffer in the future.
-
Feng shui fluctuated and worldly affairs were fickle.
Ever since he was resuscitated from the ice cave, Shen Qingxuan finally understood the meaning of these eight words that his father constantly uttered from his mouth.
Who could have expected that the gentle and mild beauty from a humble family, who had bashfully and timidly married into the Shen family for three years—his second mother, who previously cared for him extremely well, would employ someone to almost take his life?
He had never even considered it.
Even remembering it now, after so many years coolly observing as a bystander, the pain was just as fresh.
-
Right as he was lost in thought, there came the sound of a set of hurried footsteps from the courtyard. The footsteps were quite brisk and carried impatience as well as the unique heavy sound of an official’s boots. Shen Qingxuan’s gloomy eyes lit up slightly, the smile he always wore on his face also showed some sincerity.
“Gege!” The doors were suddenly pushed open, stirring up bits of dust. The sun shone in from the outside and revealed a clean-cut face in between the dancing dust particles. Because it was a meeting with family, that heroic and spirited face carried some of the rashness of a child.
When he saw his elder brother sitting on the chair and looking at him with an expression full of smiles, the young man was embarrassed all of a sudden. He quickly drew back his hand, and recovered a degree of steadiness before he said in greeting, “Gege.”
Shen Qingxuan beckoned with his hand, calling the man over to his side. Then he grabbed the man’s hand to pull down that tall body, flicked the man’s forehead with his finger out of habit, and said silently, I thought you had made some progress, how are you still this reckless.
Ever since childhood, Shen Zhen has been able to read his elder brother’s lips. He hastily used a hand to massage his unscathed forehead and harrumphed, “I wanted to be more reserved, but I was worried I would scare you into not recognizing me as your very own didi.”
Hearing this, Shen Qingxuan smiled while he stroked his brother’s neatly bound hair piece
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, and asked, How did you have time to come see me today?
“Gege just recovered from a serious illness, how could I not come?” Shen Zhen squatted down with one hand propped on his elder brother’s leg and moved in front of him to act like a spoiled child, just like when they were children. His eyes were full of faith and dependence only possible between one’s flesh and blood, a bond thicker than water. Shen Qingxuan looked at this face that was remarkably similar to his second mother’s face, and could only feel tranquility in his heart. Towards this face that had stuck to his side from childhood, he really could not summon any hatred.
Even if he knew full well that he was reduced to this sorry state today all because of this person.
The second son of the Shen family, who had just turned one year old that year.
-
Master Shen had once held his eldest son with one arm and with his other arm, he cradled his second son who was still in his swaddling clothes, sucking on his thumb and quietly sleeping. Then he turned to his two wives and said, full of pride, “In the future, this eldest son of mine will bring honor to our Shen family and receive noble titles. When we get old in the future, the matters of our support and burials will depend on this little guy. In this way, the Shen family is basically perfect."
All the expectations in his words fell on Shen Qingxuan who was merely seven years old.
He only saw his eldest son’s intelligence and considered the Shen family status, but he never saw the smiles of his two wives who were standing in front of him, and how much reluctance and grievance was hidden in the smile on one of the two faces.
Why? Just because he was the second son, so he could only end up with a captive-at-home, mediocre, and nameless future for the rest of his life?
The woman was narrow-minded, and at the time, did not consider that each person had their own fate. If indeed her son worked hard, how could Master Shen disregard his son’s future? It was nothing more than careless words said in a moment of joy. Yet she took it seriously. She developed malicious intentions and harmed Shen Qingxuan for the rest of his life.
When she finally understood this, the transgression had already been committed.
-
With a pat on the back of the youth who laid on his knees, Shen Qingxuan looked at him as he said, After becoming an official, you have probably fallen behind on the sword and spear, no?
Shen Zhen shook his head at once. “There is no such thing. If gege does not believe it, we can go to the courtyard and I will perform for you.”
Shen Qingxuan laughed as he nodded, and Shen Zhen promptly got up to push him. The two brothers went out the doors of the room, stopping in the spacious area in the middle of the courtyard.
Shen Zhen retrieved a long staff, flashed a showy move, and said while holding the staff, “Gege look closely, didi is showing off the staff for you.”
Shen Qingxuan was still smiling a smile without restraint.
Seeing this, Shen Zhen also grinned. The wooden staff in his hand started to move around like a nimble snake. As he brandished the staff, it swept up a whistling wind, stirring dust in every which way and blurring light and shadow. When he struck the ground, it reverberated with a heavy sound, and with a great force, trenches appeared in the sandy yellow soil.
Shen Qingxuan watched closely, enthralled until a set of staff exercises were completed and he promptly clapped his hands, not at all hiding his desire to praise him.
After receiving his eldest brother’s praise, Shen Zhen became even more pleased with himself. He tossed aside the staff, picked up a spear, and flaunted another set of spear exercises for Shen Qingxuan to watch. It was slightly inferior to his staff technique, yet it still gave a vigorous feeling of strength.
-
The two brothers were in the courtyard, one person performing for the other to watch. They played until the red sun set into the evening, then Shen Qingxuan indicated for him to stop and called for a servant to bring over a wet cloth and hot tea.
Shen Zhen noisily downed a cup of tea, wiped the sweat from his face, then moved closer towards Shen Qingxuan again, and said, “Gege, do you have any advice?”
Shen Qingxuan cast a sidelong glance at him, What advice do I have for you?
Shen Zhen laughed mischievously, “Gege come on, dad said when you were little you liked to brandish spears and play with sticks. You even secretly took the martial arts teacher’s polearm to poke a bird’s nest and made the master really angry, do you dare deny this?”
Hearing this, Shen Qingxuan thought back and vaguely recalled some pieces, but could not remember more concrete details.
These old affairs from years ago, if Shen Zhen had not mentioned them, Shen Qingxuan could not have thought of them. Even though Shen Zhen mentioned them now, he still could not remember.
Occasionally, there were fragments that floated and flashed across his mind, but he did not think those things had happened to him.
Those past events felt faintly like a previous life, or perhaps an even more distant time ago, that was soaked by the yellowing of time into a sheet of brittle and thin paper, breaking with just one touch.
Fragmented and incomplete.
Shen Qingxuan’s expression slightly dimmed into gloominess.
-
Shen Zhen realized he misspoke and changed the topic at once. He tugged the hand Shen Qingxuan was resting on his knee, and said eagerly, “Gege, I get to visit the mountains for once, and you made me work this half-day. How about you play a board of chess with me?”
Shen Qingxuan roused his spirits and asked, What happens if you lose?
Shen Zhen rubbed his temples, then whispered near his elder brother’s ear, “Like old times?”
Shen Qingxuan became happier too and nodded in agreement as the two men went back inside.
-
They let the serving boys send the tea and pastries into the room. After everything was prepared in order, Shen Zhen fastened the doors and windows tightly and checked again if they were secure or not. It was like he was deeply afraid of someone discovering something and had the guilty expression of an uneasy thief. Watching this, Shen Qingxuan could not stop his muffled laughter.
The cushioned mat was spread out on the daybed and the two of them sat opposite each other. Shen Qingxuan wiped the chessboard again then took out the black and white pieces and asked, Like old times?
Shen Zhen nodded his head immediately, as if he was afraid that he would back out, and snatched the black pieces, putting down a piece first, then another piece, and then another piece again.
As soon as the chess game started, he snatched the black pieces and put down three of them.
Shen Qingxuan raised his brow and looked at him for a long moment, soundlessly chiding, You really have not grown at all.
Shen Zhen quickly countered, “You are the elder brother and older than me by seven years so you should actually have let me by seven pieces. Now it is only three pieces, my progress is already not small at all.”
Shen Qingxuan held the white piece as he put one down and ignored him.
Shen Zhen quieted down as well, observing the match and beginning to play seriously.
Shen Zhen took the advantage at the beginning, and in the time of one stick of incense, he had killed the game into a treacherous and hard to predict match. With sharp moves, he encircled a portion of Shen Qingxuan’s white pieces, feeling rather pleased with himself.
However, Shen Qingxuan did not even lift his head, and solely focused on placing his pieces. When the match had gone on for a period of two sticks of incense, Shen Zhen’s sharp peaks and edges were all chopped off to nothingness, not one was spared. Furthermore, White was like a dragon entrenched in a mountain range, biding its time to act, just waiting for a command so that it could seize the land in this game within an instant.
“Gege.” Shen Zhen wiped the cold sweat that did not actually exist from his forehead and said hastily, “Gege’s opening and closing were well considered with an impressive performance this match……” how about you spare didi this time?
He had not finished speaking before Shen Qingxuan, with a smile in his eyes, had already turned around to take the pen that was placed to the side. He filled the pen with ink and unhurriedly wrote: Do not flatter me. Lift your face up.
Shen Zhen instantly shut his mouth and handed over his face with misery.
A moment later, a big, crawling tortoise had been added to that handsome face.
Shen Zhen jumped down from the daybed and grabbed a mirror to look at his face. He moaned and groaned, “The more I flatter, the more lifelike this tortoise gets. So it is clear that this flattery still needs to be flattered, especially gege’s flattery.”
Shen Qingxuan impatiently patted the chessboard, saying, Again.
Shen Zhen had no choice but to return to his seat. He also carefully checked the windows to see if there were cracks so as to prevent any other people from seeing him. That would be so embarrassing.
-
Up until dinner time, the two of them still had the doors and windows tightly shut, unwilling to come out. All the servants waited outside because the people inside still had not allowed them to set up the dinner. This finally alarmed Master Shen.
When Master Shen heard that his sons refused to take their meals, he rushed over at once and stood outside the doors as he asked, “What kind of mishap have you two gotten into?”
Only after a moment did Shen Zhen’s voice come from the room, “Dad, I am playing chess with xiong zhang.”
At first, Master Shen was baffled, and then his face held back a strange expression. He stood for a minute before he waved away the crowd of servants. “You all go on first, keep the dishes warm, and bring them again in a double-hour.”
After he sent them all away, Master Shen leaned on the door as he said in a low voice, “Xuan’er, let dad come in and take a look.”
Immediately, sounds of frantic commotion came from behind the doors. Master Shen waited without a worry, and sure enough, his youngest son was no match for his eldest son. Shen Qingxuan pushed his wheelchair over and opened the door.
-
After he came inside and looked around, Master Shen headed towards the screen
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, still using a benevolent voice, “Come out and let dad have a look.”
There was absolute silence from behind the screen.
“Do not be like a girl, come out and let dad see.” Master Shen continued to coax him.
Shen Zhen refused to come out.
Shen Qingxuan closed the door once again, wheeled over, and pushed down the screen. Shen Zhen did not expect his brother to do this, and had no chance to hide. On instinct, he held up the screen that almost fell and ducked out of the way.
In this split second, Master Shen had already seen the scene he wanted to see. He let out a “pft,” then immediately held it in again until his beard was shaking.
Shen Qingxuan also lowered his face while his shoulders could not stop quaking. Clearly, he was holding back quite desperately.
Shen Zhen stood there with his whole face covered in tortoises that either crawled or stood or rolled, not even his ears were spared. Each of his earlobes had their own tiny tortoise that stretched out their necks and kicked their legs.
Master Shen held his stomach as he pointed at Shen Qingxuan with a shaking finger and said breathlessly, “Y-you……your elder brother, is truly, i-im-im……proper.”
Shen Qingxuan raised his head immediately, and with his bright, black eyes, he stared unblinking at his diedie.
Father and son looked at each other for a minute, and then suddenly turned away from each other without warning. One of them gaped his mouth as he roared with laughter silently while the other man laughed until he nearly lost his breath.
At first, Shen Zhen was indignant and yelled at the two of them to stop laughing. Then he saw that neither of them could stop. They were bent down and clutching their chest as they laughed until they could not breathe, which frightened him into ignoring his own mortification. He quickly ran over to pat their backs with one hand each, and helped them catch their breath. He was deeply afraid that these two would laugh until they were sick.
But he did not realize that his elder brother and father, as soon as they turned their heads and saw that painted face with anxiety written all over it, were unable to stop even if they wanted to stop.
Furthermore, Shen Qingxuan almost laughed out loud several times, and could only bite his tongue as he swallowed down the sound that had risen to his larynx yet again.
His joy was also a joy of extreme difficulty.
-
In these twenty years, there has never been a time that was not burdensome.
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the-other-art-blog · 3 years
Link
Fanfiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13777126/1/Serendipity
The discovery of something beautiful without even looking for it.
Youngest CEO Laurie Laurence has been going all over the best galleries on the East Coast, only to find the perfect pieces in a modest gallery in South Boston...and something more.
For @peebleoddle
Boston, Massachusetts
“Sir, we’re here,” the chauffeur announced.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Laurie said. He quickly checked his hair on the rear-view mirror and stepped out of the car. He greeted the door attendant politely and went straight to the elevator. His apartment was the penthouse, of course, so it took a while. He checked his messages.
His art consultant was already waiting for him. Laurie had been trying to acquire new pieces for his collection, but everything felt variations of the same. The more contemporary art he saw, the more he hated it. He grew up in his grandfather's house, where it was full of antiquities and traditional art, but that was obsolete now, at least for the Bostonian high society. He didn't want to hang a Rembrandt either, but something in between would be nice
“Taylor!” He called the man waiting in his minimalist living room.
“Laurie,” The other man, not older than him, walked to him, hugged him, and tapped his back twice as men do.
“Please, tell me you find something,” Laurie pleaded.
“Actually, I think I did,” he answered, showing Laurie pictures of the paintings he just visited. Laurie sat next to him on the sofa. He grabbed the photos and studied them. This is it. These are the paintings he had been looking for. They were perfect, just the right combination of tradition and modernity. They were full of movement, color, and… sensuality. Nevertheless, what attracted him the most was the theme. Most of the paintings represented musicians and dancers. Although there were also couples and very intimate scenes, family scenes.
“Where did you find these?”
“A gallery in South Boston. You told me to look everywhere and here it is.”
“This is great.”
“I agree.”
“So how many of these can we buy?”
****************
“He bought them all?! No way.”
“Just finished talking to him. He’s going to send someone to pick them up.”
“I... I can’t believe it. Who was it?”
“His art consultant is the one who closed the deal, but let’s see… Theodore Laurence...” Sam looked at Amy who was thoughtful. “Do you know him?”
“Oh my God, yes. We went to school together. His grandfather owned this huge company...”
“That he now owns,” Sam said as she looked at the computer and Amy went to see the screen too.
“Yep, that’s him.”
      A few years ago...
“   Everyone ready!?” Professor Brown hurried up the students. “Amy!”  
  “Everything looks good,” sixteen-year-old Amy came up to his side holding a thick file. “The costumes fit, the setting is working. We’re ready for the costume rehearsal.”
  “Great. Let’s do it.” With that said, Amy and the professor/director sat in the middle of the seats expecting to be pleasantly surprised. Instead, their faces reflected complete disappointment. To be fair, most of the cast was doing a pretty decent job. The problem lied in the male lead. Damn it, Amy thought.  
      Laurie finished preparing his drink while he waited for his new collection to arrive. He wanted to put one of them in his apartment.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said to the employees bringing the oils.  
“Laurie,” Taylor entered behind them. “There’s someone here who wants to know you, actually she says she already knows you.”
“Hi, Laurie.” Amy entered the apartment. Taylor made a sign and went to follow the employees, leaving the two of them alone. “I'm sorry, I practically ambushed your friend... You probably don’t remember me.”
“Ummm… no. Of course, I do. Amy March, St. Claire High School.”
“That’s right.”
“What brings you here?”
“Well, seeing as you bought all of my paintings. I thought I could thank you in person.”
“You… you painted that… Amelia C.M.”
“That’s me.”
“Wow. I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots before.”
“It’s alright.”
“Come, let me offer you a drink.”
      “I can’t believe it!” Amy rushed backstage. “Ah, Theodore Laurence. Just the man I was looking for. Seriously?” She asked, seeing as he flirted with a junior. The girl left.  
  “I go by Laurie.”
  “Whatever. What the fuck is wrong with you! You haven’t memorized your lines!”
  “Relax, I will get them,” he dismissed her.
  “When? You should know them already? The play is in a week!” he shrugged. “I mean it, Laurie!”  
  “Alright,”
  “This might be a simple thing for you, but to a lot of us, this is important. And you’re the male lead!”
  “Jesus, you’re so uptight,”
  “Why did you audition if you weren’t going to do it right?”
  “I need the credits, okay! I’m a senior!” He admitted, visibly ashamed. “Director Harrison says that if I don't get them, I won't graduate next summer. My grandfather would kill me. I've already been accepted at Harvard.” Amy rolled her eyes. It didn't impress her at all. Everyone knew rich boys like Laurie were always accepted, they just have to show their last names and it was done.
    “So, you’ve done well… this place is fantastic.”
“Thanks. I… actually have to thank  you  for part of it...”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, remember when you helped me with the play. You really made me think a lot about my life choices… It took me a while to realize that you were right. I was a low-life and a...”
      “Man-whore?!” Laurie exclaimed.
  “You heard me,” sophomore Amy stuck to her words.  
  “Wait, does everyone describe me like that?”
  “Uhh… some would be nicer, and there are some girls really upset with you, but overall… that’s the main idea. You’ve built quite the reputation.”
  “Huh,” Laurie said. He expected to be called a flirt, lady’s man, womanizer, but man-whore! That was harsh, even for him.  
  “Look, whatever you do with your free time and your… body, is your business. I mean seducing women, drinking, and wasting money wouldn’t be my first choice, but… it’s your life.”  
  “Uh, excuse me? I might not belong to your class, but some from mine do talk about you.”
  “It’s not the same and you know it. I have dates, real relationships."
  “Why do you care so much?”
  “Because you have everything! Laurie, you have more money than I could ever think of, you are such a talented pianist. Honestly, if you're doing this for credits, I think it’s a shame the orchestra wasn’t enough. And...and that face. We could have used that for the drawing class,” they both blushed. “My point is you have everything right in front of you, from the moment you were born. The least you could do is take advantage of it. Not everyone is as fortunate as you are.”
  “Please, doesn’t St. Claire cost a lot? Your family is able to pay for that, you can’t be that poor.”
  “I have a scholarship and an aunt. She likes me and she’s willing to pay my tuition.”
  “Shouldn’t your sister, one of them, be in my grade?”
  “Jo. She’s in public school. She likes it better and she hates Aunt March. Meg is already planning her wedding and Beth prefers being homeschooled. We all are where we want to be.”
“Sounds good.   You think I’m a talented pianist?”
  “Please, you know you are. Not the best, but you hold second place firmly.”
  “The first place being...”
  “My sister Beth. She’s a genius.” She said proudly. “I have to go,” she announced after a message arrived on her phone. “Listen, the story is great. I’m sure if you give it a try, you’ll find it charming and the lines shouldn’t be that hard. You still have a week, make the best out of it. Professor Brown won’t give you the credits if he thinks you didn’t work hard enough. He’s already regretting casting you. It’s up to you to change his mind.”
    “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, you were right.”
“I know.” There was a silence for a couple of seconds, only them looking at each other. “So, what became of your life after high school.”
“Harvard. International business, internships. Finally, my grandfather trusted me enough to retire and left me the company to run. You?”
“I went to study art in Florence, I came back and started painting. I was able to afford my own gallery a year ago. And you just help me get the milestone of selling all my paintings. So… thank you for that.”
“My pleasure.”
“If I may ask, what made you do this? I mean… I know you're rich but… what made you think you wanted all?”
“I just saw exactly what I’ve been looking for. You have no idea, I send Taylor to look everywhere. I don’t fancy myself as an art expert, but I’m tired of seeing splashes of paint on a canvas. There’s something very special about your paintings. I love music, you remember that. And they just feel warm. This place could use that. And they have soul.”
“Would you like to make my marketing campaign?” she joked, although it wasn’t a bad idea. They shared a laugh.
“So umm… I don’t remember you playing music, you have a lot of it in your pieces.”
“My sister Beth died a few years ago while I was in Europe and I… I think she would like them. It helps me feel like I have her close to me.” She didn’t know why she was being so open to him, but it felt good.
“The best pianist!” He remembered. She smiled and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
“You don’t sign as Amy March.”
“This might sound a bit strange, but I'm trying to make a name for myself. My family name is known in Concord and now that Jo is a best seller… I just don’t want everyone to see my painting and say ‘oh that’s Jo March’s sister’. She's in New York but her books are semi-biographical so...”
“I understand. Ever since I step in as CEO, I feel like everyone is comparing me to my grandfather.”
“I love my sister!”
“Yeah so do I, my grandfather I mean.”
“I just don’t want to live under her shadow.”
“Right.” Laurie felt the need to move the conversation. He didn't know what this was, but he liked it. Amy was gorgeous, she definitely aged well. She was already beautiful when they met in high school, but now she carried much maturity and that smile... And if she could create such captivating paintings, then she was more talented than he ever imagined. Back in school, she was always in the art class. He remembered her bossing the props team for the theater class. She had good taste, everything looked good. “I want to put one in the living room. Maybe you can help me decide.”
“Sure.” She followed him. Whatever this was, she definitely didn't want it to end.
9 notes · View notes
emikochan · 4 years
Note
Ah could we please have m0re 2p north italy headcanons? Could be about anything, just stuff in general you know? I love this man 🥺
Honestly same.
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🔪Random Trivia about Luciano Vargas🔪
• he didn't love his grandfather, but he respected him. Luciano appreciates the lessons he taught him and that he gave him the opportunity to grow up in an educated and wealthy home. He hates that his grandfather never really took the time to bond with him and Flavio though.
• grandfather Lucius was always quite strict when it came to Luciano. He expected of him to do excellent in his studies, good in sports, get more cunning and to gain a sense for leadership, because according to basically everyone in the family- he has always been destined to take his place as the head of the family, when Lucius is gone.
• that being said Luciano grew up to be a perfect leader and this man wants to keep that good reputation of his up. Everyone knows not to mess with the Vargas Famiglia.
• grandfather insisted that the siblings had to excell in a weapon of their choice for their own self-defence. While Flavio is quite good with handling small firearms, Luciano struggled to find his weapon for a long time. Everything was either to long and not handy enough,too loud, occupied too much space, had too high maintenance for him to bother or simply looked awful. Throwing knives are quiet, elegant, deadly from near and far and he loooves taking care of the blades! He hits his target 99% of the times and with his skills he can be regarded as the ultimate endboss now. Years of experience pay off.
• a song that completely took his breath away the first time he heard it was Mario Lanza's version of "Vesti la Guibba". When he first heard it he even furrowed his eyebrows, which is basically his version of showing empathy.
• rarely gets a break. He's constantly up to something, wether that be work, visits or personal stuff he has to get done. He never complains about it though, it's his duty and his pleasure after all.
• he's used to owning the best of things and won't accept anything less than that. He constantly strives for perfection and rarely settles with less than what he expected.
• quite charming and knows how to flatter a girl but he can't deliver a single pickup line to save his life. He really can't. He tried practising it front of his mirror but he felt so silly, that he (thank God) never used one in public.
• He knows how to get people on his side. Luciano was blessed with the silver tongue of a fox and the temper of a lion.
• he respects and cherishes modesty and likes people who are modest and kind by nature. There is something fascinating about those traits that he can't quite grasp himself but it kinda warms his cold heart and he likes it nonetheless. It feels like a fresh breath of air to him if that makes any sense.
• as long as the people in front of him stay civil and calm, he will try to do the same.
• Luciano confronts people right away when they wronged him. He doesn't beat around the bush. You have something against him? Tell him. He appreciates honesty more than a white lie. Will he still kick your knee caps into tiny pieces for insulting him? Yes, yes he will.
• though he has some anger issues he keeps a clear head when everyone looks for someone to instruct them. He barks orders, but he doesn't get seriously mad. He would have made a great film director.
• Luciano is the type of guy that is cool and charming until he suddenly isn't. It happens within seconds and without warning and that's part of the reason why he's so feared amongst everyone. When Luciano strikes, people are scared, dogs whimper, children cry and sirenes go off.
• always has some flowers in his bedroom. They're always fresh and get changed regulary.
• his favourite cornetti are the ones with pistachio-based custard filling. He also loves Saccottino al cioccolatte. Those two are his absolute favourite breakfast treats.
( This beautiful fanart was created by sc_hazel_ on Instagram. She drew a lot of 2p!Italy related content and each art piece is beautiful♡)
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