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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

Text

wreck my plans - chapter two

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,241

Notes: All my love to @ezrasbirdie for continuing to beta read this series and for her enthusiasm for this chapter when she read it over ❤️ Also a huge thank you to everyone who left such kind feedback on chapter one. I’ve got most of the plot mapped out and I’m excited for you all to see where this goes!

Comments/reblogs appreciated!

Chapter warnings: Swearing, fated lovers, divorced main characters, therapy, yearning, a couple of horny adults

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SEPTEMBER

It’s a hot day. Summer is clinging on to the very end this year with its last gasps being prolonged. You don’t mind. Having a functional air conditioner for the first time in years is keeping you cool. Kevin had refused to fix the air conditioner at your shared house and had balked at the idea of calling a repairman.

The washing machine has you mesmerized. It’s the night before you’re supposed to go to Marcus’s first figure drawing class and you have no idea what you want to wear. He’d said comfy clothes, but that’s so vague, you’re not too sure what he entirely meant. You’d needed to do laundry anyway, and this way you’d have options.

Marcus seems nice. Handsome, too. You don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long since you’d noticed someone, but there’s a pull there. You could feel it when you met up with him to discuss the job. It’s silly, you know, but it’s been so long since someone had actually looked at you and seen you.

You’re so lost in thought, you hardly hear Charlotte come in. “How many loads is this?” she asks, plopping down on the floor next to you.

“Huh? Oh, three, I think. I had a lot to do,” you say, returning your attention to the washing machine with a yawn.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” your sister asks you after a minute of silence.

You shrug. “I guess. Dr. Ridley said it was good to get out and do something for myself.” You’ve been seeing your new therapist since March and you really like her. You think she might be the best therapist you’d ever been to.

“And she’s right,” Charlotte affirms. “When was the last thing you did something for yourself on this scale?”

Again, you shrug. “I don’t know. A while. You know how Ke – how he – felt about that sort of thing.”

Charlotte grumbles. She really doesn’t like your ex-husband, she hadn’t when you were married to him either. You think she may have been the happiest after you when you announced you were finally filing for divorce. “Well, he doesn’t count. You’re getting paid really good money to basically just stand there and look at the eye candy while people draw you.” At your look of slight incredulity she continues, “What? Ellie’s sister is in that class and she says Professor Dameron? More like Professor Damn-eron.”

You bark out a startled laugh. Ellie’s sister isn’t wrong; you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought the same thing. “There’s just one thing,” you say, chewing the inside of your lip.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know what to wear. Marcus just said to wear something comfy for the first couple of sessions.”

Charlotte nods, remembering her own experience in the class. “Well, last year when I took it, it wasn’t someone as gorgeous as you. But she basically wore, like, jeans and t-shirts.” You whine, thinking about wearing jeans on an 84-degree day. “But it’s really up to the model. You could show up wearing that for all you like. It’s not a fashion show, it’s more, like, the students getting used to drawing different textures and shit.” She looks at you, wearing a cropped top and cutoff denim shorts. “You could wear something like that if you want to,” she suggests.

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Char. I wanna make a good first impression, you know?”

Your sister understands. “I get it. But just a piece of advice? Don’t overthink this. Just… I don’t know, go with it. What would Dr. Ridley say?”

You know exactly what Dr. Ridley would say. Let this thing happen as it does. “Okay. I was thinking maybe a dress? You know the sundress I got last week when we went thrift-shopping?”

Charlotte’s eyes light up. “Oooh yes, perfect!”

You yawn again. “Thank God Cassidy was able to cover tomorrow morning’s opening shift.” You’d asked to switch with the other morning manager so that you could have a chance to sleep in and give yourself plenty of time to get ready after your bi-weekly morning appointment with Dr. Ridley.

When the laundry is finally finished at eleven forty-five, Charlotte helps you fold it all carefully. “Hey, if I don’t see you before the class tomorrow, good luck. Not that you need it. I think this is really great that you’re doing this,” says Charlotte, setting the laundry basket down on the floor outside your bedroom door.

“Thanks, kid,” you reply. Toeing the laundry basket into your room, you quickly put it all away before curling into bed and falling right to sleep.

- - - -

Marcus isn’t sure why he’s disappointed that you’re not at the cafe the next morning, but he feels the pang of disappointment all the same. He tries not to question it; he’s seeing you later today for Christ’s sake. But still, the barista, a university student he thinks, doesn’t make his order the same way you had done a few weeks ago.

Today’s the first day that you’re going to be sitting in his figure drawing class. He wonders how you’re feeling about all of it. Nervous? Excited?

It’s a talented bunch of kids that he’s undercover-teaching. At first, he’d been nervous that he wouldn’t be a good teacher, that Megan had been right. But after a while on the first day, he’d gotten into the swing of things. And he finds he’s quite enjoying it as well. If this weren’t an undercover thing, he’d say maybe he should switch careers.

He’s so glad that he found you as his model. It’s odd; he’s just met you and he already feels a connection. A connection that he can’t explain. He’s only met you a handful of times but he likes you. If he didn’t have an undercover operation to maintain, he’d maybe ask you out for a meal. Get to know you better. But he has the integrity of the case to maintain. And if anything got out, the entire sting operation would be up in smoke before he could make any headway on it.

He takes his less-than-perfect coffee and heads out to Dr. Ridley’s office. He’s not allowed to say much about this case, not wanting anything to get out before the Bureau is ready to release a statement, in addition to the confidentiality that comes with being an FBI agent. He does, however, mention that his new case requires him to be undercover as an art instructor. Dr. Ridley isn’t surprised that he’s doing better at it than he originally expected. “Marcus, the only person who thought you couldn’t do it was someone who was manipulating you into doing something they wanted you to do. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she tells him. “This is very good, these improvements you're making with yourself.” This makes Marcus feel better.

Before he realizes it, it’s time for him to get ready for the class. Usually he shows up about ten minutes before the class starts, wanting to make sure that everything is set up the way he likes it. When he arrives at the studio, you’re standing outside the door, waiting.

And oh, god, you’re wearing a dress. “Hello,” he says, attempting to swallow his nerves.

You look up from your phone, putting it in the pocket of your dress. “Hi, Professor Dameron,” you reply.

“Marcus, please,” he reminds you and you repeat his name. “You found the classroom okay?” Marcus asks you, unlocking the door, letting you go in first. As the door shuts, he flicks on the lights.

“Yeah. My sister Charlotte took this class last year and she gave me directions.” There’s a sea of desks and chairs facing a platform that you’ll presumably be standing on. You gulp. “H-how many people are in the class?” You try to make your voice sound casual.

“Maybe fifty? I’d have to double check,” Marcus says, noticing your trepidation. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re not jumping into the deep end just yet. The first couple of weeks are a warmup. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, no big deal.” Secretly, he’s unsure if he’d prefer it if it didn’t work out so then he would feel less weird about wanting to ask you out. He shakes the thought away. Get it together, Pike.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Just stage fright, I guess.” Looking at the stage, you gesture to it and say, “Is that where you want me to…?”

Marcus nods. “Yeah. I know there is a desk there, too. But I’m the type that walks around, observing. So it’ll just be you.” He notices the blip of panic in your eyes that quickly dissipates. “You, uh, can put your bag and other things under the desk.”

Students are beginning to filter in as you place your phone in your mini-backpack before stuffing it beneath the desk. Marcus notices the pins on it as you slide it off your shoulders. “Mandalorian fan, huh?” he asks, pointing to the Grogu pin.

“What? Oh, yeah.” You’re still a bit flustered but Marcus has managed to calm your nerves. He stands next to the desk, pulling out a pair of glasses from his bag.

“I apologize for how nerdy I’m about to look,” Marcus says to you in an undertone, pushing the square-framed glasses on his face. “But my eyes were really sore this morning and I just really fucking hate putting contacts in on days like that.” And oh my god, he looks the last thing from a nerd. You need to catch your breath.

You look away so you don’t get re-flustered right before the class starts. The class is mostly female, with some male students as well. You’d say it’s a seventy-five/twenty-five ratio if you had to guess. You spot Ellie’s sister, Tessa, sitting near the front with a gaggle of girls you vaguely recognize.

“Good afternoon everyone,” Marcus begins as he calls the class to attention five minutes past the hour. “As you all know, this week we are beginning our semester-long project of figure-drawing. As discussed in the first class, your grade will largely be based on how you improve over the course of the next three months.” He gestures to you. “This is going to be your model for the semester.” Giving your name, he continues sternly. “I only want to stress this once, we are all adults in this room and she has thankfully accepted this position, so please treat her with the same respect and dignity you would treat me or anyone else in this room. Am I clear?” The class murmurs their assent.

You can’t help it. You’re flustered now for a different reason. Seeing someone be so authoritative like that has always done something for you. You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself calm, but you’re not sure how well you manage. You’re glad that his attention is on the class and the class’s attention is largely on him. Still, you manage to catch Tessa’s eye unintentionally and she winks discreetly, knowingly, smirking as she returns her attention to Marcus. Finally managing to school your features as Marcus directs his attention back to you, he says, “I want you to stand as you are. We’ll break in about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”

Waiting until the class has their sketchpads and charcoal pencils at the ready, you adjust your position ever so slightly and stand at the ready. You’re going to be standing for a long time; you’re glad that your sandals are supportive.

The only sound in the room is that of pencil on paper; every so often Marcus’s shoes will squeak as he takes a turn around the class.

Marcus is mesmerized by you, your look of slight defiance and determination. It stirs something, rekindles something that he thought long gone: inspiration.

- - - -

“I started drawing again,” Marcus says to Dr. Ridley two weeks later.

She looks up from her notes. “That’s wonderful, Marcus,” she says. “You’ve been saying for so long that you thought your inspiration was long gone. What brought it back?” she asks.

Marcus hesitates. He can’t tell her that much about the case still. “You know that part of my undercover work entails teaching a figure drawing class.” Dr. Ridley nods. “So, the inspiration is partially to do with teaching, but mostly to do with the model.” At Dr. Ridley’s look of alarm and confusion, he hastens to add, “No, no, no. Nothing like that. Fuck, no. Not anything like that. She isn’t a student. She doesn’t even go to school there, she was just looking for a job. She’s closer to me in age than she is to the students.”

The dots connect in Dr. Ridley’s head as she remembers another client of hers talking about doing a modeling job for a university class. She doesn’t say anything. “And tell me about this woman. What about her inspired you to pick up the pencil again so to speak?”

Marcus opens his mouth and shuts it several times in succession. “There’s a connection,” he finally says. “It feels like we know each other, even though we just met for the first time just under a month ago.” He knows how it sounds; he doesn’t want to dive in this quickly. Not to mention, he can’t.

“And does she feel the same way?” asks Dr. Ridley.

Again Marcus hesitates. How can he know that? “I’m not sure. She seems to like me.” Last week you had genuinely laughed at a bad joke he’d made before the class began. You’re always eager to start a conversation, and you haven’t been scared off yet, not by the class or, more importantly, by him.

The class has moved, with varying results, from fully clothed figure drawing to figure drawing in undergarments. Today is the first day that you’ll be standing up there in nothing more than a bra and panties. You’d taken it in stride when he told you at the end of last week’s class. You’ve settled into the gig pretty easily. He sometimes sees you in the morning at the cafe if the paperwork and ordering was all caught up.

(More often than not, you took a break from paperwork and ordering when he came in so you could see him; it helps that he always comes in at about the same time. You feel like a high schooler with her first crush all over again. At least Marcus is better than Oliver ended up being.)

“It doesn’t matter, though. I can’t ask her out,” Marcus ends up saying.

Dr. Ridley frowns. “If this has to do with your previous relationships –”

“It doesn’t. It’s just… This case is so secretive and I can’t risk the integrity of it.” He sounds like a broken record, but it’s the truth, it has to be. As much as he likes you and enjoys the easy friendship you’ve started, it has to stay there for the sake of the case. Even if he wants to take you for breakfast and have you try the best pancakes he’s ever had. He doesn’t even know if you like pancakes but he still wants to share them with you.

“That may be,” Dr. Ridley says. “But that doesn’t mean at the end of the semester, or once you’ve cracked the case, you can’t…”

He’s considered it. It’s only been a month, but he’s never had a connection like this with anyone else. “After admitting that I’ve lied to her the entire time about who I really am?” he asks ruefully.

“If the connection is there like you say it is, isn’t that worth the risk?” asks Dr. Ridley.

That evening, you’re running late. “Christ,” you pant as you run to the door just as Marcus is unlocking the door. “I’m not late, am I?” you ask. The weather’s begun to cool slightly. You’re in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans.

“Right on time,” Marcus says.

But you’re not, you think. You don’t have enough time to pick up where you left off on your discussion from last time.

Marcus holds open the door for you, his heart hammering as an idea forms. “I was wondering… You can say no if you don’t feel comfortable…”

You arch a curious brow at him. “What’s that?”

“Well, if we should exchange numbers.” Marcus rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “That way if ever either of us is feeling under the weather or running late or something comes up, neither of us is left in the lurch.”

You’d been angling for a way to get his number. Trying not to sound too eager, you say, “Sure, that’s a good idea.”

You give him your number before helping him set up a partition off to the side of the platform. “So you can change behind there with some privacy,” he explains to you.

“Right,” you say. “I’ll just…” You point to the partition as people begin to file in. As you begin to shimmy out of your jeans your phone buzzes.

Hey, this is Marcus. Just wanted you to get my number/contact information, reads the text.

Hi Marcus, you reply, sending a waving emoji along with it, before you return to changing. You can hear Marcus greet the class as the last minute din of chatter and discussions die down.

Oddly enough, you don’t feel as nervous about this as you had at the beginning. You chalk it up to being used to having a hundred and two eyes on you for the past month or so.

Waiting until Marcus finishes his opening spiel, you step out from behind the partition and stand in position, wearing the same neutral expression as always. As Marcus makes his rounds across the classroom, pointing out corrections and observations, he meets your gaze. You hold it for a long moment, his brown eyes blazing into your own eyes. It’s almost like playing a game of chicken with him, seeing who will look away first. It’s Marcus. Clearing his throat he looks down at Tessa’s sketch of you. “Very good, Miss Thompson. I like how you’ve captured her gaze. Like she knows something you don’t.”

- - - -

“How do you think it’s going so far?” asks Charlotte. It’s been almost a month since you officially started.

Picking up a box of spaghetti, you toss it into the cart that you’re pushing, Charlotte in step beside you. “I think pretty good. It’s kinda boring sometimes. And my muscles ache after a long pose.”

Charlotte nods. “I think that’s par for the course,” she says. “And the…” she gestures to herself, “stuff?”

It takes a minute for you to realize what she’s asking. “Oh. That. No, we haven’t gotten there yet. I don’t think that’s until mid-October if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. But how is professor hottie?” she asks with a knowing smirk. You and Marcus had started texting each other outside of the official reason why you’d exchanged numbers. Mostly sharing memes, but sometimes you’ll carry on a conversation that was cut short earlier in the day.

With a shrug, you grab a bag of rice. “Nothing to report,” you say, attempting nonchalance. She sees right through you.

“Oh, sure. Yeah. I believe that,” she says sarcastically.

“It’ll sound silly,” you say, “it sounds silly to me. But I feel this… magnetic pull towards him?” Charlotte doesn’t say anything. “Like, we’re definitely friends. But, I don’t know. It could be that I’m feeling all these post-divorce feelings, but Char. It’s like he sees me. In a way that no one ever has. Not even Kevin really saw me.” Charlotte fake spits at the mention of your ex-husband. “I’m probably reading too much into it. I don’t know. What I do know is he’s so fucking pretty to look at. But he’s also my boss, technically.”

Charlotte mercifully changes the topic. “And how are things at the bistro?” Of the three jobs you have, you only really mention the cafe and the modeling gig.

“Not much to report there. They gave me the all clear to go down to ten hours a week, but you already knew that. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this semester is over.”

As you push the shopping cart to the checkout, Charlotte says, “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.” And you know she’s talking about more than one thing.

Charlotte drops you off at the building before she heads out for girls night with her friends. She keeps trying to get you to join them but it never works out or you’re worn out from work and just want to sit on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. Maybe one of these days you will go.

Marcus is just coming into the building as the door shuts behind you. “You’re earlier than usual,” he says.

“Sister dropped me off. She’s going out with some girlfriends tonight,” you explain, falling into step beside him. Your stomach growls.

“Hungry?” he asks, glancing at his watch. He has his glasses on again today. “We’ve got time before class if you wanna grab a bite to eat.”

“Um…” you hesitate for a second. It’ll be going on seven by the time class gets out and then factoring in the bus, it’ll be almost eight before you get home. “Sure.”

And that’s how you find yourself sitting across from Marcus in the cafeteria, eating wraps and chips. You’d both gone for chocolate milk as a drink. You’d offered to pay for yours, but he had simply waved you off and paid for the entire meal.

“That’s better,” you say. “It’s been so long since I had cafeteria food.”

Marcus nods. “Well, we can’t go to class on an empty stomach.”

The two of you chat on the way to the studio, the topic going to where you went to school. “I went to the University of Texas, in Austin,” Marcus offers, “art and art history.” It isn’t a lie. He had started in the art department, which was very different to the current art department he was in.

You gape at him. “No way, that’s where I went! Only I took business.”

Marcus chuckles. “Huh. Small world.”

“No kidding,” you reply as he unlocks the door to the studio. “When did you go?”

“Oh, god. Like. Fifteen years ago?” he guesses. “I graduated in 2009.”

“I started in 2008. God, that’s kind of freaky to think about. Do you think our paths ever crossed?” you ask.

“I think I’d remember if our paths ever crossed,” Marcus affirms.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you quite sure about that, Professor Dameron?” you tease, your voice just this side of flirtatious and there’s a pang in Marcus’s chest at the reminder of who he really is versus who you think he is. Still, he forces a chuckle before you step behind the partition to step out of your leggings and hoodie.

Focus is hard to achieve tonight for some reason. You’re fidgety and you blame it on what little you’re wearing. Still, you try to maintain your pose. Unable to tear your eyes from Marcus. As he’s making his rounds around the class who are diligently sketching you, he frowns. Your pose isn’t quite right.

He should just tell you to adjust the way you’re facing ever so slightly. But that would distract the class and you could change the pose too much. Once he’s finished with the student whose sketch he’s currently giving a once-over, he strolls over to you.

Your eyes lift to meet his as he steps up onto the platform, asking a silent question of “yes?”

His voice, quiet, responds, “can I just…?”

And without breaking eye contact, even for a second, he reaches out and touches you just beneath your chin, moving your face ever so slightly into the position needed.

Oh. You realize it all of a sudden, the dawning realization hitting you like a freight train, your face blazing with the sudden comprehension, the air knocked from your lungs. You’re so overwhelmed with this sudden feeling; you need to calm down, but keeping calm is the last thing you’re able to do at the moment. You’ve never been this affected by a touch as simple as this one before, not even when you were with Kevin, and that scares you a little bit if you’re being completely honest.

All of your nerve endings are on fire. It’s such an innocuous gesture, meant simply to adjust the way you’re facing. Marcus has touched you before. But not like this, never like this. You keep your eyes fixed on his, trying to school your features and, somehow, either through divine intervention or sheer fucking willpower, maintain that neutral look of defiance. His own face is impossible to read, his intense brown eyes still locked onto yours.

But he fucking knows. You liked it, want him to do that again.

“That’s better,” he murmurs gruffly. And as if he hadn’t just rocked both your worlds with his simple, innocent touch, Marcus returns to the sea of students to see how they’re progressing.

This is not good, Marcus thinks, trying to pretend like he hadn’t seen the way you reacted, the way he had reacted. Not good at all.

--- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #marcus pike x reader

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irregularjohnnywiggins · 2 years

Note

Please make that post

In reference to this post here and the larger point from this post.

So, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen has two big fundamental problems in its premise, added onto by a whole load of sub-problems like 'Alan Moore has not met a woman character he can't insert a sexual assault storyline into yet', 'We're in that age where comics have to be juvenile to prove they're adult' and 'Alan Moore is the Grumpy Old Man Eternal'. These two problems are endemic of all fiction on the scale that League is operating on, and why I say it may be unintentionally the greatest critique of Event Comics in the world. These problems are

You cannot have experienced every work of fiction you are playing with (particularly in League's case: Alan Moore has not read every book and watched every movie in the entire world). Subsequently:

You will inevitably end up drawing mostly on what you are familiar with and let other things fall by the wayside.

This is endemic to Event Comics - even with a Shared Universe as rigorously pruned as DC or Marvel, your average comic book writer cannot have read every single comic featuring every single character in that universe, which inevitably means you are going to be able to tell which ones they have read - if you're lucky the ones they haven't read get bit parts, if you're unlucky you get Wonder Woman in Infinite Crisis. It's not even explicitly a problem, it's just a fact of event comics that we've all had to accept.

When it comes to League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, this flaw gets amplified - which makes sense, since this flaw is proportional to the size of the source texts you are drawing from* and Alan Moore is drawing from all of fiction. As a precursor because we need to get this enforced more, the comics are extremely Anglocentric. Like, look at The New Traveller's Almanac from the back of Volume 2, and note how often a story actually from Africa, Asia or even Europe and America is mentioned, versus a story from Britain about those places. Hell, The Journey to the West, one of the most influential pieces of literature in the world, gets all of three references in this series.

It's a huge problem, and honestly makes me want more than ever a series like League by people from Africa and Asia - I'd be horribly confused reading it, but that'd be great, it'd expand my horizons all the more.

But that's not the gripe I want to bring up today. No, even after all that complaining about the Anglocentrism of League, I want to be a little more Anglocentric myself today. If you're not down for what is inevitably almost 1000 words of petty fanboy whining, please leave now, hope you enjoyed the actual salient criticism! Sorry 'bout that, but it's time: let's discuss Will Stanton at Hogwarts.

Bit of background for people who need it: in Volume 3 of League, the protagonists are trying to stop the Antichrist from ending the world. They eventually follow his tracks to a school in Scotland, where he was groomed to be the Antichrist and where he has just killed a host of people in a castle that is said to have once been able to move. The entire thing is a giant subtweet to Harry Potter for being unoriginal and, y'know, I'm not really going to defend that? I don't engage in criticism of Harry Potter's unoriginality myself, because it doesn't bother me too much and I genuinely feel that it takes away from the many more serious issues with the series, but it's still a fair cop and lord knows I love to point out the ripoffs whenever some TERFy piece of shit tries to insist that Rowling is some visionary writer that single-handedly invented the concept of female authors. If all Century was saying was that Harry Potter kind of sucks, I'd honestly probably add it on to things like Pratchett and Le Guin pointing out the flaws way before most people caught on. But there's one issue I take, and it's this:

The point Moore seems to be making, at least from what I can tell and what the common critical consensus is, is that Century is a three-issue rant about the commodification of magic and occult mystery, something the self-professed worshiper of an ancient snake god seems to take umbrage with. Harry Potter doesn't just suck because it's unoriginal, it and all British Wizard Children Fantasy of the incredibly nebulous time of basically everything post-1950s suck because they took away the magic and mystery from... well, magic.

And, y'know, I may not believe in actual magic myself, but I'm not going to say Moore is wrong to believe that. The message itself is fine. The problem is... well, 1. Alan Moore has not read every story in the world and consequently 2. He inevitably ends up drawing from what he's familiar with, and the things he hasn't read get used as props. And, my friends, he has not read The Dark Is Rising, which still remains one of my favorite books ever written. This is not a combination that results in a happy David.

Like, if Alan Moore is angry about the lack of mystery and intrigue in 'modern' fantasy? Here's a scene from the chapter of The Dark Is Rising where Will learns everything he needs to know as an ageless Old One:

He might read no more than one line — I have journeyed as an eagle — and he was soaring suddenly aloft as if winged, learning through feeling, feeling the way of resting on the wind and tilting round the rising columns of air, of sweeping and soaring, of looking down at patchwork-green hills capped with dark trees, and a winding, glinting river between. And he knew as he flew that the eagle was one of the only five birds who could see the Dark, and instantly he knew the other four, and in turn he was each of them. . . .

He read: . . . you come to the place where is the oldest creature that is in this world, and he that has fared furthest afield, the Eagle of Gwernabwy . . . and Will was up on a bare crag of rock above the world, resting without fear on a grey-black glittering shelf of granite, and his right side leaned against a soft, gold-feathered leg and a folded wing, and his hand rested beside a cruel steel-hard hooked claw, while in his ear a harsh voice whispered the words that would control wind and storm, sky and air, cloud and rain, and snow and hail — and everything in the sky save the sun and the moon, the planets and the stars.

How's that for mystery, Al? How's that for not trivializing magic? Maybe, if you hadn't very clearly picked Will's name out of a list of children's fantasy from the 1950s onwards, which is what I have to assume you did because the amount of references at Not-Hogwarts is so broad that you can't purely be criticizing Harry Potter and it's derivatives, Dark Is Rising came out in 1973 for god's sake, you wouldn't end up saying that a series that states outright in the fifth book that a key factor of magic is accepting that there are some things you will never know is less mystical and magical than Mary Fucking Poppins, no offense to Mary.

Now, is this petty fanboy complaining about a character from a series I like not being treated 100% how I want him? ...Yeah, pretty much, because if Moore hadn't included Will I wouldn't be as annoyed at his treatment of him. But that's another problem with League: Alan Moore uses the world of League to make broad sweeping statements: "Fiction from the 1800s was better", "Children's Fantasy trivializes magic", "Superheroes all suck unless they're obscure enough that I know them and no-one else", statements that cannot possibly hold up to scrutiny because he's not read everything in the world, and hell he's not even read most of the things he complains about because he's convinced himself he knows it all already. It's the problem with everything he uses, he warps it to fit his own worldview and leaves the people who love those stories, who read League entirely because it features those characters, in the lurch. He's reinvented the Event Comic, and it may be a parody but I'm not sure it is, and that's depressing.

*This, incidentally, is why I think Kim Newman's attempts at this concept work better than League - for most of his stories that I've read, Newman is pulling from genres specific enough to be conceivable but expansive enough to fill a supporting cast - e.g. vampire and associated Gothic literature of the 1800s for Anno Dracula or femme fatales throughout the 1800s for Angels of Music.

#league of extraordinary gentlemen #lxg #the dark is rising #wow this got wordy #and inevitably only two people are going to care about the second half #but some rants I just go on for me y'know?#incidentally those two flaws with Shared Universes are why I'm really nervous to include Africa and Asia as actual places in #The Matter of Britain #like I reaaaally don't want to screw that up

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clockworkspider · 1 year

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So @mishkakagehishka's other post here reminds me of some of my own observation on ! and !! era, and since it's a huge derail I figured I might as well make a separate post.

So the central thing about enstars is that it's always been character focused. The story tend to takes an amoral and apolitical stance and isn't really about who's right and who's wrong. It's really about characters and their individual growth. And for the school era, that works out really well. The characters are in an isolated fishbowl where their decisions can change their world, but doesn't really impact the world outside.

So on one hand, this means it's hard to place much material weight to the character's actions. Like... okay, the 5Es were "executed" during the "war", but they're still alive... And it just seems like a lot of the stakes are more metaphorical than physical.

Contrast this with the (sometimes comically) insane consequences in the !! era. When Alkaloid are roped into ES's pyramid scheme they're literally gonna be in debt to ES for the rest of their lives if they fail. That's serious shit. They're not gonna be metaphorically killed. It's literally close to indentured slavery. And like... you also know that ES is benchmarking for the idol industry going forward, and they're making an industry where idols are paid in scrip. So how they do things has real consequences to society. (See RhyLin neighbourhood gentrification/renewal project during Succession Match.)

So like... yeah it's cool that enstars is dipping its toes into social commentaries now. But as the scale of the plot gets grander, I personally find it distracting from the character's personal drama. (Who cares about Keito and Rei's nerd drama when there's a whole racialized neighborhood's fate hanging by a thread?) Which is insane because THE PERSONAL DRAMA IS WHAT THE NARRATIVE WILL ACTUALLY RESOLVE! And like... here's the thing. I love social commentaries. I love politics. But Enstars narrative continues to be, for the most part, stubbornly amoral and apolitical. The idols are (most likely) never going to unionize no matter how much the narrative implies they're in a capitalist hellscape. It's not that kind of story. It's about individual characters finding their individual happiness.

Which brings me to Korka's point earlier. I do think there is a noticeable tonal shift between ! era and !! era, where I feel like a lot of the ! stories feels more focused and... while it's not at all down to earth, I get the illusion that the character in focus and their issues are the whole world due to the limited scale. While the !! stories can sometimes lean a bit heavy on the shock value and also feel a bit... scattered with all the themes/commentaries going on.

(As an aside, knowing some meta info, Akira had a bit more directions/shackles from HappyEle back in ! era.)

Anyway I think there's give and take for both. With the stories I've read so far, I'm actually among the people who prefers ! era writing. (Sad!) But !! def has its draw too.

(As an aside, I've been told Akira had a bit more directions/shackles from HappyEle back in ! era. And like... maybethatwasgoodactually... maybe he got a bit too drunk on power for SS... But that's my subjective opinion.)

#enstars

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sometipsygnostalgic · 1 year

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Reviewing Kanto Gym Leader/Elite 4 Music

Today, Tipsy is watching “All Elite 4 Soundtracks [GEN 1-9] 2022″ and she realised that not only are there an ungodly total of 4 Kanto tracks on this video, it’s also missing “Kanto Gym Leader” from Generation 2 and 4′s Johto games (because they’re not the E4 themes), which brings us to a total of six Kanto gym leader remixes in the core series alone, excluding the anime, spinoff games, or Super Smash Bros.

Here is my review of each of them.

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Generation 1 (the original, Red/Blue/Yellow): Very high energy. I can tell that they put everything they had into this track and pushed the Gameboy to its limits. What I like about it is how victorious and yet intimidating it is, it’s a friendly intense battle. I think this track captures what makes Pokemon music good. It fits exactly what it was made for.

For some reason, I can only find Pokeli’s edit of the theme with added Pokemon sounds. Even compilation videos like the one at the top of this post use this version.

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Generation 2 (Gold/Silver/Crystal): If the last version of this theme was intimidating but cheerful, this version scraps the cheer completely and focuses on the fight. I don’t actually like it as much as its predecessor, there’s not nearly as much energy, but it’s so hype to get to Kanto after playing through Johto and hear remixes of all your favourite tracks. I love how on some repeats, this version changes up the instruments rather than having a straight loop. Unfortunately the GSC versions of the gym leaders never scaled up with each battle, so it’s a bit forgettable.

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Generation 3 (Fire Red/Leaf Green): Heck yes, back on the bullshit with EVERYTHING HAPPENING ALL THE TIME, and it’s emphasized even more by how they seem to use every instrument available on the gameboy in this track. Because of the GBA’s sound system using compressed audio, this version actually sounds way dirtier than its Gameboy counterparts. This is also hard to listen to with how chaotic it is. However it’s all good fun, I’d say while I prefer the original, this is a good evolution of it and fits Gen 3 well.

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Generation 4 (Heart Gold/Soul Silver): Holy SHIT that intro!!! The intro is way longer than the Gold and Silver version, I’d say in general it’s a huge improvement, adding a final verse before the loop where the music is higher just like in the original before moving down to the GS low key. Like all the battle music in HGSS, this feels like a battle for your life. Again, the actual battle is not as strong as Johto gym leaders, but it’s so nostalgic, a true sequel to FRLG. This sounds much better than Gen 3′s compressed trumpets and guitar. Makes me want to pick up Soul Silver, but I need to complete Platinum again before I can touch it...

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Generation 5 (Black 2/White 2): With this gen they went back to the drawing board - rather than emphasizing the chaotic core instruments like Gen 3 and 4, instead they DE-emphasized the main tune, returned to more chiptune sounds like the original, and put the background synth in the spotlight!! That synth bar at 1:58 and 2:17? That is sex. I love this experiment. It blends in with the rest of the music in gen 5, which knocks it down a bit, but compared to the other versions of Kanto Gym Leader it’s refreshing and new. Gen 5 was going for a different sound after the designers got sick and tired of the same pseudo orchestra noises across the last two gens.

Aaaaa??? I can’t add any more videos. T_T

Nintendo Switch (Let’s Go Pikachu/Eevee): Hell yes, now we are finally on modern technology, with the Nintendo Switch’s audio giving Game Freak the full power they need to make an Anime tribute version of the theme. That’s right, the battle music in LGPE is supposed to sound like the anime. Full orchestra, baby! With this cool guitar serving an undercurrent to the whole thing. It sounds kind of like a Xenoblade version of the theme, which means after a minute of listening my brain switches off, but I think objectively this is the easiest to listen to other than the original, because of how natural it sounds. So many layers, but none of them intrusive and irritating.

BONUS: The original Anime theme from 1995: Dear god, this is SUCH an 80s/90s style piece of music, the progression, the “boop boop boop” synth noise, the switch to a sudden guitar solo, the constant change in instruments just like in the Gen 3 version... I think if Game Freak had the resources, they’d have made the games sound like this. It’s got that almost pseudo jazz style that they have fallen in love with in recent years.

#pokemon #kanto gym leader #tipsy reviews #frlg #hgss #lgpe #rby #gsc #b2w2 #what gen exactly is LGPE...?#its hybrid gen 7 and 8 #just like how arceus is hybrid gen 8 and 9 #though tbh arceus is mostly gen 9 whereas lgpe has way more traces of gen 7

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tentatechnologies · 1 year

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all questions re: ness because i love him. 7, 16, 30, a, g

[uncommon oc questions!!]

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

mmm first, to him, ‘nostalgia’ and ‘melancholy’ are almost the same emotion. it isn’t a warm thing to him; it’s a kind of regret, although whether or not that’s because he’s actually lacking in fond memories or just has a warped definition of nostalgia’s he doesn’t care to discern. ness is the kind of person to live and die by the dictionary of obscure sorrows, and likes to languish in those strange, inarticulate, liminal emotions. that’s what nostalgia is to him, and it’s often marked by regret; maybe ‘enjoy’ isn’t the word, but he does linger in it, and sometimes to his own detriment.

it’s a proclivity he shares with marlo, and a huge chunk of the reason he’s drawn to them despite their fantastic suckage as a person. their strange innate connection isn’t fate, it’s ✧ depression ✧ !

16. What makes their stomach turn?

honestly, he’s got a pretty strong stomach; i.e. several times where marlo’s thrown up from exposure to gore or mental strain, he hasn’t. for him it’s more a question of his anxieties, where he’ll get sick at the prospect of things. (1) of those would be having his personal agency inhibited or trivialized (which might range from being made to try some new food, willfully getting drunk, getting made fun of for his lack of punctuality), (2) would be intimacy, on a sliding scale but both emotional and physical (sometimes he’d get nauseous at the idea of a hug and sometimes he can entertain the other extreme), a third would be garden-variety paranoia.

bonus, since marlo has a footnote in all of these other answers: they intersect all of these anxieties! ness doesn’t like it!

30. Who do they most regret meeting?

you may as well have asked “how does ness regret having met marlo”, it’s the same answer. but even then regret is a misnomer and i don’t think there is anyone he regrets having met; regret implies he dwells on it, and he doesn’t. crush might be the most annoying internet-poisoned moron he’s ever had the displeasure of holding a conversation with and he’s had a share of teachers he could’ve done without, but those are minor things. everyone creates a little friction with each other, he takes it in stride.

ness regrets having met marlo in the same way someone grieves an immediate family member having died when they were young. it’s a pure hypothetical that isn’t worth pursuing except if you want to make yourself sad over a future you’ll never have—which IS, granted the top answer, something he’s prone to. he doesn’t know how he’d differ as a person, he doesn’t know how different his life would’ve turned out, so what’s really there to mourn? he can’t want the alternative, so he can’t say he regrets it... not in so many words.

A. Why are you excited about this character?

this is like... a very simple and very complicated question at the same time. on the one hand, i just like his vibes. smug paranormal gamer dude. on the other, he’s the oc that draws the most on my own life experience, and lets me abstract and play around with that experience. the stuff that really inspires me, like his academic years, his job, his aromanticism, are all me taking themes and anxieties from my own life and plunking them in a sandbox. i can say—really, what it comes down to—‘i want to think about what it is to exist in two places at once,’ and answer it through him. fiction offers a place to practice emotions and scenarios, and that’s a proper theme in his story, not just a meta observation.

G. What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

i mean, none? on the one hand i’ve never codified ness’ personality, so it’s not like i can pull something from a list, but none of my ocs’ traits bother me. if they do i won’t want to write them anymore—the last time a trait of someone’s bothered me was crush’s, well, crush, and i eventually wrote that out. i would love to tell you what makes ness hard to handle as a character, but i haven’t written him enough for that.

he’s not meant to not have flaws—he has an arrogant, self-righteous streak, and doesn’t quite exist in reality; he doesn’t take the best care of himself, frequently overthinks, and his social skills could use some work—but those are my flaws, so i’m, like, a little biased!

*i should observe the fact that he isn’t a sona for several very good reasons, but i did use myself (at the time) as a blueprint lol.

#inbox #shadowsplice #oc ness #oc posting #love answering questions from. (checks wristwatch) may

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struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor · 2 years

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I always feel so conflicted when BTS get political, because they don’t get political enough.

They went to the UN and spoke about climate change. But they know nothing about sustainability, and brands like Samsung and Hyundai have made them the face of their sustainability campaigns, which is utter bullshit as these companies are anything but sustainable, even by low industry standards. BTS’s speech at the UN wasn’t particularly enlightening - it didn’t discuss how climate change is an urgent issue that is behind a lot of recent tragic events (and will continue to be for the next decades, and the scale of these “tragedies” will keep increasing), and how it has and will continue to exacerbate inequality (which keeps getting worse in general) - nor did it appeal for actual change - it didn’t urge consumers to make better choices and to use their power to hold companies and their governments accountable. Honestly, that was the bare minimum they should’ve done - things that’ve been said for years now but still need to be said, especially from people like BTS who are cool and reasonable (not “hippies” or extremists).

However, BTS focused on how scared and uncertain youth feels (a fair point), but they glossed over the fact that what the youth needs is change, not empty promises or platitudes, and that what’s been happening around the world is not natural and the younger generations, who are innocent, will get the brunt of it. They didn’t even explain how and why younger generations have it harder than older generations wish to acknowledge (topics BTS have actually covered in their songs), and how COVID just made everything worse for us. If anything, their speech kind of undermined our struggle and the urgency of reversing or slowing down climate change. They kind of made it seem like fighting climate change was out of our hands or something people could opt out of (I’m talking about that bit RM added about how there was no right way to fight climate change and how there are no obvious solutions or something).

BTS had the right intentions. They have always stood up for people their age, and they were trying to do it then too. But younger generations frankly need a bit more than a pat in the back - that was appropriate for the YT graduation event, but not for the UN.

BTS are invited to these events because they have a huge fanbase. I don’t know if the UN and the US wanted to draw attention to this issue or to make it seem like they were prioritizing it by using BTS to highlight their mediocre efforts - maybe it’s both. But what did BTS’s speech at the UN actually accomplish? Did anyone watch it and feel inspired to fight climate change? Did it convince anyone this was a pressing issue? I guess in certain countries where sustainability efforts are minimal (SK, for example) their words might’ve had more impact, but we, as a society, needed BTS to actually move people to action. Maybe this is too much to expect from a group of artists, but Emma Watson’s feminist speech, for example, had a ton of impact. And while Emma is an actual activist (I’m not saying Emma is a role model in any way; as a feminist, she’s done plenty of things I don’t like, but, at the time, her speech was really impactful), if you take on the responsibility of speaking at the UN you need to step up to the task. Also, you don’t need to be an activist to give a proper speech. (But BTS’s own actions (and HYBE’s) would’ve always made them sound hypocritical.)

The UN speech was essentially catered to the youth (BTS’s specialty), and the bit about climate change was just mandatory. Did young people feel heard or seen? I was moved by some parts, but I’m very familiar with BTS’s speeches by now and expected them to be more straight-foward and aggressive about it.

And now the White House appearance... This is an issue I don’t feel as comfortable discussing, but opinions have been mixed. I think the most monumental thing BTS accomplished was giving South Korean representation. That’s part of the reason why they were there, as Asians, and Asian representation is important. However, their speech was very short and they focused more on themselves as artists than on actual hate crimes committed against Asian people. They couldn’t really get into it in the one minute they had to talk, but they could’ve said more - more than what they already say on a regular basis anyway (same with the UN speech). I wonder if we’re going to get more meaningful content later? I wonder how their talk with Biden went.

Anyway, BTS brought a lot of attention to AAPI month, but I don’t think the US government has been doing much to stop hate crime in general, and BTS’s presence was used as an opportunity for the White House to boast all their (as far as I know) ineffective initiatives to a broader audience. People have also complained about BTS not being Asian-American, and maybe they have a point there too. I guess all that matters is that BTS actually talk about the racism they experience and show people the different shapes and forms it takes. That’s the best they can do given the circumstances, so I hope we’ll get that from them.

But yeah, I never know if I’m supposed to be proud of them for being invited to these places, or disappointed in politicians because is this the best they can do? And also disappointed in BTS because they can do better too. If they’re going to be used as political pawns, the least they could do is give informative speeches to the millions tuning in just for them, and make it clear they won’t stand for performative activism by making these people sweat a bit.

#bts #this was long #I keep saying the same shit too

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plothooksinc · 11 months

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what is misconduct7 *chinhands* the fact that it ends in 7, just like legacy, gives me great hope for such a promising title

Bwaha. If a WIP has a number attached at the end it's a chapter, so Legacy and Misconduct are both sitting on ... 6 published chapters each?

Misconduct is my foray into the FFVII universe. Specifically, I played Crisis Core and that made me fall down the rabbit hole proper (and got me into RP, actually). Misconduct is an AU set 5 years before the original game (and thus near the end of Crisis Core) based on the premise: what if Shinra saw value in retaining Zack as a SOLDIER? Like...literally at that point in Crisis Core, their big three SOLDIERs have all kind of gone mad, committed mass scale murder, etc etc ... that has to be a huge hit to Shinra's credibility with the public because those three in particular are very, very popular with their own fanclubs. So what do they do?

They recover Zack from Nibelheim, this golden retriever friendly all rounder who's already popular with a lot of Midgar residents, and bill him as the hero who saved Nibelheim. And the board smiles and nods at him, and Tseng tells him urgently that listen, remember nothing, just smile and nod, and so Zack gets to go home and tread water in the viper's den that is Shinra, pretend he doesn't know what really happened in the reactor or what set Sephiroth off, and so he gets to be. A hero. It's just what he always wanted! Pity it's based on a lie. Oh, and Cloud apparently died at the reactor. Because... that's what happened, right? Cloud died? That's what Shinra and Tseng say, so why does Zack have memories of Hojo carting him off?

Tl;dr Zack gets to go home and Hojo only has one new experiment to play with, which is both terrible and good news for Cloud, because (a) he doesn't have Zack to help take the heat off and keep him sane, but (b) Zack works it out and you can bet he's coming back to Nibelheim real soon. And the AU unfolds from that branch in the road. I really enjoy this one so I'll definitely be rounding back to finish it at some point!

...so here's a snippet from the creepiest character in all of existence. ---------

The guards were not the only ones who needed to learn from this little misadventure. And he had further tests to run; he could accomplish both at the same time, even if that meant his methods were far less sophisticated. He didn't acknowledge the man's salute or his exit but continued his paperwork with meticulous care.

He was still writing when two of them dragged in the boy.

He didn't bother to look up, but he noted with satisfaction the uneven breathing of his test subject, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the ground. Still fighting the drugs off, then, though that he was this aware was impressive. The boy was already afraid, and he supposed that was pure common sense, given their relationship thus far.

That he let the silence draw out while he finished his work-- well, he could admit there was some malice to it.

#wip meme #anonytext #final fantasy vii #misconduct #nekotsuki

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darcelle-medlyn-qut · 2 years

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Week 11 | Budgets

PROCESS + REFLECTION

We didn't get to budget this week, as we had planned to start our material experimentation. I brought in sticks I collected from my yard, we peeled the bark off while discussing our work. We had another helpful consultation from Genine who told us not to think of the logistics and budget because it was limiting our creativity and experimentation.

We sanded the sticks and compiled them together to make a kind of stick pinwheel - without worrying about the shapes to much. Our challenge was how to make this spin without human intervention as there was no mechanism catching the wind. Aside from being flimsy, it was not very visually outstanding so this put a halt on our plan to use sticks. The next idea was to sand plywood into basic waterway shapes, based off the drawing. I had done this before, last year I sanded plywood into organic shapes as a base to paint portraits on for my grad show. I began drawing the shapes onto recycled plywood. Then started using the big jigsaw before relocating to the small one to cut the tighter curves. From their I used the electric rotary sander to carve out the shapes. We both hand sanded them down to get them super smooth and Laura started constructing it into some kind of structure.

We decided to play around in photoshop, I tried out multiplying the structure at different sizes playing with proportion, scale, rhythm, and interval. I tried different colours and configurations to see how this could transform the work. The photoshop experiments worked well but I felt I want to try using the laser cutters at GP so I can get the exact shapes I want and play more.

To reflect, I think it's obvious how much we were limiting ourselves by not actually creating anything with out hands. It's a much healthier and efficient process to actually feel the material to understand it's properties and limitations. The plasticity of photoshop allowed us to take our experimentation further. While we're late to the game I think we have made great progress, though I suspect that we're going to need to do lots of refining and further playing with this work before it's finalised, it's getting a little muddy at the moment.

DOCUMENTATION

RESEARCH

DEBORAH HALPERN

Deborah Halpern is a multi-disciplinary Melbourne based artist working with ceramics, sculpture, print making and paint blowing. Halpern has established herself as a well respected member of the arts community with her beloved public sculptures found around the city of Melbourne (Arthouse Gallery, n. d). Her sculptures in the 80's and 90's became the 'face' of Melbourne's tourism industry and are revered as part of the identity of Melbourne (Cowie, 2021). One of her most famous works Ophelia (Halpern, 1992) resides at Southbank, it's unique form and colourful mosaic tiles on such a grand scale create mass, form and proportion. Halpern's work is inspired from many things including poetry, music, nature, architecture and more; Ophelia being drawn from Hamlet. Halpern wanted to create Ophelia as a work for everyone, not just artists to enjoy and identify with (La Terra, 2018). Aside from the vibrant and whimsical beauty observed in Halpen's work, I like the angle the artist has taken with her public sculptures to include all viewers and engage the broader 'mosaic' of Melbourne. This aspect is specifically informative for my project. The grand scales and colour that the artist works with enhances the site, I hope to be able to create the same gestalt with our work.

SUSAN HEWITT + PENELOPE LEE

Artists Susan Hewitt and Penelope Lee collaborated to create another beloved public sculpture in Melbourne, Great Petition (2008). The huge sculpture is fabricated from steel, embodying a linear movement, literally looking like a large scroll of paper coming undone. The sculpture was petitioned by the Victorian Government and is a homage to the 260 m petition signed by women to prove that they did, in fact want the right to vote. The structure is a grandiose symbol of women's suffrage, determination and collective effort to create change (Culture Victoria, n. d). I find this sculpture to have the same sense of scale an curious impact that Halpern's work does. While much more expensive and ambitious in scale than we are able to achieve with our proposal, this work has again inspired me to think toward simplistic symbolism and scale with out work. This video also is a great insight into the logistics that go behind a project like this.

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REFERENCES

#Youtube

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thatonecoryosimp · 3 years

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The Devil's Mercenary pt. 2 Technoblade X reader. The Bet

"Heloo. How are you? I'm good btw. I was reading some of your fics and was wondering, can we get a p2 of Devils Mercenary? If you dont wanna do it just ignore me. Also, can I be 🐍Anon ?"

~~~~~~

🐍 anon by beloved. I'm doing pretty good at the moment. But I think you deserve a huge welcome to the family. I was actually really hoping that someone would ask for a part 2. I didn't know if you wanted your account to be completely anonymous so I didn't add the original ask. Thank you so much for requesting darling.

Warnings: Suggestive content. Cussing.

Series Masterlist

Part 3

My spine was stiff as I listened to the trodding of his footsteps. My breath finally released as they faded from hearing range. There were so many questions and so many answers out of reach. How much could he really know?

~~~~

The moon had covered the once bright L'manburg walls, making it easy for my body to blend into the dark cover of night. Scaling the walls had become more of a chore over the past few months, always having to find the proper fitting.

My hands made a blind grab for the familiar rough edges of the blackstone. As polished as it may be, nothing is perfect. My feet and hands worked in a gentle rhythm as I pulled myself up. It was a quick jump down into a small puddle of water.

My eyes scanned quickly over the tree line as they found the porcelain hidden in the green. Quick feet and steady movement carried me to the man.

"It's done."

"I'm rather aware, darling." The bag was quickly slipped into my hands as I stared into the unchanging void of the mask. "I have another job for you."

"I don't think that's the smartest idea."

I could only imagine the piercing cold stare that man was giving me.

"And why not? Hmm?" His voice was low and slightly teasing. But it didn't stop my body from tensing.

"Someone knows." Rather be blunt and honest than beat around the bush.

"Who? Tommy? Tubbo?" His voice was questioning but not concerned. "The pig?" I nodded my head slowly.

"He's watching, Dream. One wrong move between either of us and I'm dead and you have to find another assistant."

The thundering chuckle broke all seriousness the situation held. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to make me slightly panic.

"Guess we'll have to be twice as sneaky, huh?" He whispered as he leaned in closer, his finger hooked under my chin as he pulled my head up slightly.

"Wouldn't want our plans to be ruined, would be, sweetheart?" The blade was pressed against my neck with enough pressure to draw blood. I gave the best shake of the head I could with the position I was in. "Good."

My eyes widened as he moved in and kissed the side of my neck, I flinched away slightly before being tugged back.

"We have a contract sweetheart, you're not getting away that easily."

~~~~~

My legs ache slightly when I wake up. My mind was still kind of fuzzy. I practically tumbled out of bed and walked to the kitchen. The cooling glass of water felt heavenly on my sore throat. My eyes locked on the little folder with information in it. A gut-wrenching feeling appeared as I stared at it.

I placed the glass on the counter and opened the envelope.

It was someone named Jimmy, apparently, Dream is salty at the man. It had Jimmy's current residents written down, as well as his attributes and quirks. He seemed easy enough. A quick in and out mission. But I had to be careful with the Blade still hot on my tail.

There was a loud knocking at my door that startled me out of my thoughts. I scrambled to shove the paper into the container and find a hiding place. I practically threw it into one of the cupboards.

I ran to the door as the person knocked again. I swung the door open. Technoblade stood there with a glare. He practically pushed me out of the way.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I questioned.

"Don't play the innocent game, you and I both know why I'm here."

I bit my lip and sighed, "What do you want? Don't tell them. They'll never forgive me."

"Well, maybe that's just what you deserve." My eyes widened at the man's words... but... it was probably true. Did I really deserve my friend's trust when I was literally sleeping with the enemy?

My eyes followed upward, "What. Do. You. Want. You clearly haven't told them yet, so what do you want?"

Technoblade's smirk formed with his next words.

"I want to make you a bet." My eyes widened.

"A bet? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. I'll keep quiet if you win." My eyebrow raised.

"And if I lose?"

"You pay with your life."

"No. Fuck no. You can go jump in a Cadillac and drive off a cliff."

"Well then, you can be forever shunned by your... 'friends'"

My eyes slightly trailed. "What's the bet?"

"I'm so glad you asked. I have to make a trip to the Nether, need lots of Wither skulls, and I need help. That's where you come in-"

"What's the bet in that? That's just a favor."

"Don't cut me off. The bet is, you're not aloud armor, if you live after I get all the skulls, I keep my mouth shut. If you die, well, your debts have been paid, and I get my sweet satisfaction."

There was a pause in time for a minute. Only a moment though.

"Deal."

~~~~

🐍anon I hope you enjoyed that. I'll probably write a part 3 if you want it. I'm kinda invested.

#🐍anon #dsmp #dream x reader #technoblade x reader #bet #angst #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #y/n #mcyt #mcyt angst #x reader #x reader angst

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meruz · 3 years

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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dean’s Jeans 2

What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!

Title: Dean’s Jeans 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5561

Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.

Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end

It was a big day for driveways and garages.

You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.

“Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.

“Should be. Why, what’s up?”

“I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”

Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.

“Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.

Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.

You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.

“Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”

Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”

“No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.

“A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.

“Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”

“’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.

“Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.

“Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.

“You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch. They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”

You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.

“Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.

“Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.

“Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”

“Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”

You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.

Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.

DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.

“Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”

You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”

“That’s why he needs a hug?”

“Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.

“It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.

A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.

Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”

Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”

His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.

DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”

“Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.

She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”

“It’s okay.”

The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”

After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.

“I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”

You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”

He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”

You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.

It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.

“My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.

“He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”

Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”

“Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”

He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.

They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.

“Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.

He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”

“You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.

As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.

“How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”

“You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.

“I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”

“Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”

“Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.

You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”

Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”

“Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”

Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”

Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”

“Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”

“As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”

“Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.

“Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”

“You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”

It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.

He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”

Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”

The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.

He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.

“Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”

“You’d think I drugged them.”

He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.

You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide. You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.

It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.

The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.

Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.

“You’re thinking about your knees right now?”

“That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.

You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.

But here he was still.

Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.

No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”

“All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”

Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.

“Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”

“Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchest09 @winchestergirl2 @samwisethegr8 @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @fairlyspnfanfic @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @mimaria420 @jensengirl83 @zooaliaa @superfanficnatural @deangirl93 @cockslut-padalecki

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

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tyrantisterror · 3 years

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The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D: Entry Roundup

You’ve been patiently waiting for the results of the ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D, and now... you have to wait a bit longer, but at least you’ve got an entry roundup with lots of sketches and a good bit of feedback for all the entrants! My goal is to get the finalists illustrated in a week or two, and after that, the grand prize winner will be announced. But, for now, the official entry roundup! After the cut:

I should note that while I sketched these in the order they were submitted, my scanner saved the documents with random names, so they’re a bit jumbled. You know, just in case you’re like me and would get confused noticing that it’s almost in chronological order but with some entries jumbled around.

@bugcthulhu’s Obsideban was designed as a counterpart to Rohobaron - the Black King to Rohobaron’s Red King, if you will. Or, well, Black Queen in this case, as Obsideban also takes her personality from the “delinquent girl” archetype in Japanese media. Bug’s designs always ooze personality, and I had a lot of fun translating this big, gnarly retrosaur into my own style.

@toothlessloveshiccup‘s Argonox is the first - but far from the last - monster in this breakdown that brings in a bit of fantasy influence to ATOM’s roster. A golden-fleeced ram with a vicious streak, this sheep is both treasure and dragon at once. And while it wasn’t written in the monster’s profile, given the Yamaneon-rich nature of its wool, Argonox might be able to replicate the healing power of the golden fleece too! A very fun mammalian kaiju and excellent entry.

@highly-radioactive-nerd submitted Gunmetal Jeeves, a robot butler who can gigantomax temporarily create a holographic/hard light version of himself to fight kaiju. That detail was a late revision added to the entry before the contest’s deadline, made after the creator realized that ATOM allows for some truly ludicrous bullshit, which is something everyone should exploit when making entries for this in my opinion. Also, this is a robot butler who can size shift. Revel in its awesome absurdity!

Ultranerd submitted Rajasaurus, a dimetrodon-like synapsid kaiju with electric powers. His origin specifies that the electric powers are a result of the volatile nature of the Yamaneon deposits he mutated under, which is an interesting idea. That’s another theme that cropped up a lot in this contest’s entries, actually - people really wanted to play with what Yamaneon can do.

Case in point, @polygonfighter’s Yamaneolith takes the Monolith Monsters homage at the heart of Yamaneon even more apparent. I like the implication that there is a second mineral-based lifeform at the root of this Yamaneon cluster’s anomalous behavior - a parasite, perhaps? It brings up some interesting possibilities.

@ariccio50 submitted Kukulkuzana, and damn is this a cool spin on the body plan of my martians. I made a few changes here and there (splitting its tail into two is probably the biggest one), but tried to keep true to the original design, because holy hell is it gorgeous. The idea that this is a mountain-dwelling creature is really intriguing to me, as it looks like a sea creature, but at the same time, that flexible and low-slung build WOULD work pretty well in mountains, and it’s just the right mix of plausible weirdness that makes for a fun alien design.

@akitymh submitted Aramzados, a Venusian monster that’s basically an organic hot rod car. I like the idea of organic machinery being the gimmick for Venusian kaiju, and Aramzado’s does it subtly enough to not feel like that gimmick is the sole thing going for it. I especially love this monster’s stange, apparently mouth-less blade-beaked face.

@virovac submitted Rurzar and Zar Rider, a Beyonder kaiju and mecha (respecitvely) that were both modified and repurposed by humans reverse engineering Beyonder technology to make, like, a motorcycle-saurus essentially. It is a delightfully absurd concept, and a very, very detailed one (13 pages of description). There’s a dark undercurrent beneath the sillyness, though, as this pair show that humanity might still be following the same path as the Beyonders before them.

@dinosaurana brings us Krangor, a humanoid monstrosity of living kelp! The goal here was to create a Jack Kirby-esque monster dude, complete with the gibberish name and all. He’s also made out of kelp, which feels very classic 1950′s monster-y despite me not being able to think of any monsters that were explicitly made of kelp. I love him.

@kiryuthechimera submitted Genkakurah, a psychic retrosaur with some draconic features. Though his substantial powerset is probably the biggest distinguishing feature of this kaiju (given that most ATOM kaiju pretty much have the same standard powers), what really draws me to him is that reptilian pseudo-beard. It’s just a fun detail!

@glarnboudin submits Tiratola, and see, there’s that fantasy influence again! Even more explicitly dragon-y than Kraydi, Tiratola still manages to toe the line between sci-fi and fantasy enough to fit ATOM as is while still cementing its ties to my own slice of fantasy fiction. Man it’s good I’m doing a Midgaheim book next, huh?

@dragonzzilla submitted Scuttlebutt/Argonautilus, a hermit crab kaiju who lives in/with a hollowed out mecha. That’s a twist I can’t recall ever hearing before, and the idea of a kaiju and a mecha having an equal partnership that doesn’t involve one being grafted to the other is really intriguing to me. A very unique concept!

@evolutionsvoid submitted Fleagor, an enormous flea who has no idea what to do with itself now that there’s no creature large enough for it to parasitize. I love that concept - it takes the core idea of the giant bug kaiju archetype (i.e. unsettling the audience by showing how terrifying small, “insignificant” creatures would be if our sizes were reversed) and really turns it on its head. The name also plays on the Universal Monsters, who were a huge part of 1950′s pop culture thanks to their movies being re-released in that era, so all and all this one is very on brand for ATOM!

@skarmorysilver submitted Lilacorn, another entry that plays up that Midgaheim/ATOM connection. Reinterpreting the mythological unicorn as an Cenozoic wooly rhinoceros-inspired monster gives it a very unique look, both in ATOM and in the general world of unicorns, and she has a bad-girl with a heart of gold personality to boot!

dracosaurus-rex submitted Florasaura, a two-headed plant/retrosaur hybrid monster. I love me some plant monsters, I love me some retrosaurs, and I love me some rhyming the word “flora” with other words that contain similar vowell sounds, so this one has me written all over it!

@downtofragglerock submitted Sauroguana, a delightfully odd flying retrosaur. There’s a great deal of charm to the original illustration that this sketch doesn’t quite capture - it’s a deceptively simple design with a lot of personality in it, and with those unique leg-wings it really doesn’t need a whole lot of frills to stand out.

Draxi submitted Brakan, an unimpressive burrowing retrosaur kaiju whose mastery of illusions allows it to convince other kaiju it’s actually a big, super-powerful badass that’s the ultimate fighter in the universe. It’s a delightful parody of the concept of a fan self-insert god-mode character, with a really fun story built into it to boot!

@quinnred submitted O.N.I.A.C., a mysterious cocooned kaiju whose chrysalis has been turned into an organic computer of sorts by the people studying it, and seems to possess a fairly advanced intelligence for a kaiju. It’s a really bizarre and ominous idea, with built in intrigue given how vague its nature is. Is it just a kaijufied butterfly/moth who got stuck mid transformation? A relative of the Mothmanuds? Something else, perhaps equally alien? Good story potential here.

shadyserpent submitted Vespilitor, a bat/retrosaur hybrid made by the nefarious Spooks Organization. A mercurial prankster whose tendency to stir up trouble never crosses the line into maliciousness, he’s the kind of monster who would make a great foil to a lot of ATOM’s cast. I’d especially like to see him in a prank off with Ahuul - it’d be like Bugs Bunny fighting Daffy Duck, but on a kaiju scale.

@multiversefan submitted the Yamaneon King, a nomadic kaiju whose refusal to settle down causes problems as he stirs up trouble at kaiju sanctuaries all over the globe by showing up unannounced and stirring up the locals. He was basically designed to be a monster that the kaiju sanctuary initiative would struggle to deal with, which is a good idea for a post-ATOM Volume 2 story conflict.

Sir K submitted Jadeera, a kirin kaiju that can actually forcibly convert most of its body to Yamaneon to enter a dormant, statue-like state in a loose homage to King Shisa. Though the fantasy elements are far more present than I usually prefer for ATOM kaiju, I think it should be noted they’re pushed that far for a purpose - a theme in Jadeera’s entry, which continues where its creator left off with their submission to the previous ATOM create a kaiju contest (Yokaigon), is that the world of kaiju is more complicated and challenging than many are willing to accept, which is a theme in ATOM itself. Yokaigon’s more supernatural/occult powers are based on the ghost parascience of my setting, which ATOM has delved into a bit (Pathogen being the big example), so it’s not as out of left field as some might think.

@cerothenull brings us our final entry (unless some got lost thanks to tumblr’s shitty tagging system), the flying spider Naeranti. She’s a kaiju spider who uses silk to make complicate hot-air balloons, more or less, and that’s just delightful. ATOM could always use more spider-monsters, and with a really unique gimmick backing up a wonderfully distinct look, Naeranti is sure to stand out among her fellow giant arachnids.

Well, that’s the roundup! In a week (or two, depending on how much my hand cramps) we’ll have the five finalists, and sometime after that, the grand prize winner!

#The Atomic Time of Monsters #The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3D

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moonandsunwoo · 3 years

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I’m glad you’re here. | JB

Besto friendo!Jacob x reader, comfort/angst, take notice of the triggerwarnings please.

warnings: s*lfh*rm-scars, being really really sad and feeling just goddamn awful, really.

I wrote this for me in the first place. I hope you can’t relate but if you do, I wish you all the love and strength in the world. You deserve it. Believe me. My inbox is always open for you. Take care, you’re so strong and I’m proud of you for making it so very far. Keep fighting and never be ashamed or scared of asking for help. We’ll make it through.

⁺.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙-୭.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙

“Hey did you- oh sorry...-oh...” Jacob who stumbled - or more like crashed into the room without any kind of warning - stopped dead on his tracks at the sight of you.

His eyes fell from your emotionless face to your exposed thighs, scarred skin peaking through under the fabric of one his shirts. You had been to slow to cover anything with your hand or the sheets and now he’d seen everything.

“D-did I what?” It was a weak attempt of yours to change the subject and turn the attention away from the elephant in the room, and it wasn’t very fruitful. Jacob swallowed dryly before carefully closing the door behind him.

He suddenly seemed paler than before, lips pressed together, jaw set. Without another word he dropped down on the bed next to you, eyes trained on his own hands who were fiddling with various rings.

“You’re...you okay if I like...hold you- or just your hand, for a sec or something?” It wasn’t more than a whisper yet you still heard it. You nodded shortly, letting your best friend scoot back until his back hit the wall behind him. You carefully leaned back against his chest, surprised by the prominent sound of his heart beating. His arm immediately wrapped tight around your shoulders, head resting against yours.

“What were you doing when I came in?” Jacob asked quietly, unsure of how to approach the whole situation. Or if to approach it. Maybe you didn’t wanted to, maybe-

You sighed softly, offering him your hand. He immediately intertwined his fingers of his free hand with yours, letting both drop into his lap.

“I was just...I wasn’t doing anything actually.” Jacob hesitated for a second before shaking his head.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Everything I mean.” You hesitated for a second. Did you really wanted to talk all about it with him? Burden him with your proble-

“You don’t have to. But if you decide to share it with me, I promise I will keep it to myself if you want that. Or I can...try to help, in whatever way you need it.” Jacob spoke slowly, softly and determined, as if he’d thought his words through thoroughly before saying them. “You know, sometimes doing as much as sharing it with someone helps take off the weight. It maybe...maybe it makes you feel weak in the second but it’s better than being all alone with it. Or that’s how it is for me.” You nodded slowly, still hesitant.

“I cannot describe to you how I feel Jacob. It’s...I can’t. I want to, but there are not enough words, not enough expressions for it.” Jacob nodded slowly.

“Would you want to draw it?” You looked up at him, surprised and confused.

“D-draw? And how?” Jacob shrugged lightly, reaching for his cellphone in his back pocket.

“On here. Maybe it helps you express yourself.” He opened an app, a swirl of colours in a wheel right next to a blank white canvas. Hesitatingly you let your finger brush across the smooth screen, scaling and toning the wheel until you created a deep, dark blueish grey shade. With a swipe of your finger the canvas was no longer a plain white surface.

Jacob just watched you, word- and motionless, watching you add layers of colour over layer.

First the dark blue-grey. It filled the whole canvas, a clean base for what was to follow.

He noticed a lot of black. Either your shading got very dark or you just straight up went for the bottom of them wheel.

Red and venomous green dots blossomed up across the picture, like flowers in the night. Black got ripped apart by strokes of white and yellow only to be scribbled over with grey and a sickishly gleaming purple. And then you’d pick the black back up and draw over it, again and again. Until you grew tired and stopped to stare. The screen was now all black.

You switched the phone off and handed it back to him, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you.” Was all Jacob whispered before pulling you closer, almost into his lap.

“I’m sorry...” Jacob shushed you with a little protesting huff, thumb sweeping over your knuckles.

“Don’t apologise please. I’m just...I’m grateful for you showing me how you feel...would you allow me to help you? If you want and feel comfortable.”

You said nothing for quite a while.

“I’m just so empty and yet so full, Cobie. I feel like I could burst but because of how void I feel.” Jacob nodded.

“I think I understand.” He took a deep breath.

“What now?”

You shrugged, resting comfortably against his chest, eyes closed. “I’m hungry.” Jacobs giggle made your whole body shake and it managed to curl the edges of your lips up too.

“Then why don’t we do something about that first.” You nodded, sitting up expectantly just to be pulled right back by Jacob.

“Huh?”

“Just a second, yeah?” You sank back against him, waiting for an explanation. “Just...just want to like, hold you a bit. That okay?”

“Well obviously. If you cook afterwards...” you were joking, obviously. Jacob could “just hold you a bit” for a whole week and you wouldn’t complain, and he knew that.

“Hey you? Thank you.” Jacob just hummed, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m proud of you. You’re stronger than you want to acknowledge. And I’m always here for you.” You nodded, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

“Me too. Really.” The two of you sank into a comfortable silence, enjoying the bubble of peace and comfort the two of you had managed to build around yourself.

Until your stomach protested.

“That was loud. Food?” Jacob chuckled, lifting his chin from your shoulder.

You just grinned, getting up from the bed finally. Jacob tossed a pair of his comfy sweats into your direction, not even thinking twice about it. It made you smile a bit, and you bit your lips in an attempt to cover it when you reached for his hand he immediately offered after you slipped into the huge clothes.

“Whatcha smiling about?” He nudged friendly, walking you into the kitchen.

“You. I’m just glad you’re here Jacob.” He looked almost surprised at your words, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You missed the wet shimmer of his eyes when you scanned the Ramen options he had presented you, and you also missed the fond smile he gave you when you weren’t looking. You did however catch the happy quick of his lips when you finally tossed the ramen of your choice towards him.

“What’s it?”

“Nothing. I’m just also glad you’re here.”

⁺.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙-`m.list´-୭.⋆｡⋆༶⋆˙

#ult project 🤍#words of my own [writing]#jacob bae #the boyz #the boyz angst #tw self destructive behavior #tw selfhate #tw scars #tw sucidal thoughts #jacob x reader #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae x you #the boyz x gn reader #the boyz x you #the boyz x reader #angst #comfort #the boyz comfort #sunwoo

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