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ironychan · 11 months ago

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Homecoming

Part One - Arrival

Part Two - Discovery

@writer652 @dysphoria-sweatshirt @careless-whispers

Maria woke up in the middle of the night when she heard the clatter of wood, and sat up sharply, blinking in the dark. Had something fallen over? Was there a stranger in the tower? She couldn't see any familiar shapes in the half-light. Had somebody...

Then she remembered – she was not in the tower. She was in her childhood room, now turned into a nursery for Massimo and Helena's baby. She'd been asleep on the mattress on the floor, and Alberto was in her arms, now awake and whimpering. The window was open, and the sound she'd heard was the wind blowing the shutters against the wall.

Shaking slightly, Maria got to her feet and shut the window, sliding the latch into place with a soft whine of rusty metal. Then she sat down again and gathered Alberto up for a hug, reaching under his shirt to rub his back.

“It's okay,” she soothed. “It's just the wind. We're warm and safe in here. Uncle Massimo and Aunt Helena are going to look after us.” At least, she hoped they would. As long as she managed to keep Alberto's secret.

She lay down again, and Alberto curled up against her. It was nice to be back inside a real building. They'd put up canvas at the tower to keep the worst of the weather out, and Giancarlo had always talked about repairing the wall properly someday. He'd never gotten around to it, though, and stormy nights like this had been terrible.

Maria had to wonder what Giancarlo was doing right now. He'd probably been back to the island, and discovered his wife and son were missing. If he looked, he would find the boat in Portorosso's little harbour. What if he came to the door and showed her up as a liar? What if he revealed his son's transformations in front of everybody? Would Massimo pull one of those harpoons off the wall and run him through? Would he then do the same to Alberto?

She shook her head and stroked her son's curls. Thinking about what if was never productive. She just had to take things as they came. Hopefully she was up to it, for Alberto's sake.

In the morning it was still wet and stormy out. Maria could see the boats in the harbour, riding up and down on the swells, and the leaves on the tree outside were thrashing in the wind. It seemed a luxury to be indoors, even as the walls creaked and the radiator whistled.

“Good morning,” said Helena, appearing at the door with a bundle in her arms. “I brought you some spare clothes... I won't fit back into these until well after the baby arrives.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Maria. She was too tall to borrow clothing from most women, but Helena was almost as tall as she. “You don't have anything that would work for Alberto, do you?”

Helena shook her head. “We've got baby clothes, but nothing big enough for him.”

“I'll make do,” Maria promised.

Helena's dresses were a little tight, but not too much. Maria washed up and dressed, changed Alberto's nappy, and headed downstairs.

She found Helena sitting in the kitchen with her bare feet up, eating some rather damp pastries Massimo had brought back from the baker, and surrounded by sketches. Maria came to see what she'd been drawing, and found a dozen views of Portorosso and the dramatic cliffs and terrace farms that surrounded the town.

“These are lovely,” she said. They made her dull little hometown look like a place from a fairy tale.

“Thank you,” Helena replied. “I got accepted to art school in Firenze, but then I met Massimo, and you know how plans change.”

“Yes, I do,” Maria agreed. Except... she really hadn't had any plans until she'd met Giancarlo. Only vague dreams of doing something with her life besides selling fish in the middle of nowhere. The two of them had then made plans together, how they were going to travel the whole world and see its wonders... but then, yes, things had changed.

"I'd wanted to spend a year in the countryside and paint, anyway,” Helena added. “This is such a beautiful town. There's always something new here. The sun hits the roofs in a different place each day, the sea has a thousand moods, the stars reflect on the water... I could paint this place for a thousand years and never run out of subjects.”

That sounded bizarre to somebody who'd always thought of Portorosso as the most boring place in the world. “Where are you from?” Maria asked, sitting down at the table.

Helena offered her the soggy paper bag with the pastries. “Genova. Not far away, I guess, but it feels like a million miles sometimes. It's so much bigger and busier there, all crowds and noise. Portorosso is so peaceful.”

Dull. Portorosso was dull. Genova had always sounded like a metropolis, like a place where big and exciting things were always happening. It wouldn't have occurred to Maria to think of it as crowded and loud.

“There's coffee,” Helena added.

“Oh, thank you.” Maria fished a pastry out of the bag for Alberto, and went to pour herself a cup.

Alberto examined this strange foodstuff. They'd had bread sometimes on the island, when Giancarlo brought it back from the various places he'd been working, but most of their food had always come from the sea. The cream-filled croissant didn't look like anything the baby had ever been given before. He dug his fat little fingers into it and pulled it apart, fascinated by the filling oozing out. Finally he thought to taste it, and his face lit up. He stuffed the rest in his mouth.

“Is that good?” asked Maria, sitting down beside him with her coffee.

Alberto grinned with his mouth full and his cheeks puffed out, and reached for the cup.

“Ah, ah, this is not for you,” Maria told him. “You can have a drink when I'm done.” He really was too old to nurse anymore, but she hadn't had a lot of other treats to offer him. Now that they were in town, the baby could be properly weaned. That would be a relief.

“He's so curious,” said Helena fondly, as Alberto sucked pastry crumbs off his fingers.

Maria moved a little, so that Helena would not be able to see if Alberto's hands began to turn purple. “This is a new place,” she said, “but he's a bright little fellow.” Alberto always needed to investigate and study everything shown to him, from snails on rocks to pieces of sea glass.

“According to the newspaper, the rain is supposed to let up later,” said Helena. “We could do some shopping. He'll need new clothes and so will you.”

“That's a good idea. I'll pay you back when I have the money,” Maria promised.

“If that would make you feel better,” Helena said. “Massimo told me you'd always been very independent.” She watched as Alberto slid down from his seat to start exploring the kitchen again. “I think he must take after you that way.”

“He does,” Maria agreed. “He tries to dress himself but he always gets stuck. He'll manage someday.” She looked around the kitchen, to make sure there were no more buckets of water and creatures sitting around.

Helena noticed. “Massimo delivered the lobsters last night,” she assured Maria.

Massimo himself joined them a few minutes later, his hair and shoulders wet from being outdoors where he'd been checking on the boat. “The water is too rough for fishing this morning,” he said, without any other greeting to the women. “I may go out later if it calms.” He sat down, and Maria pushed the coffee pot towards him. Massimo nodded thanks and poured himself a cup, then sat and watched his nephew opening and closing cupboard doors. “How is he this morning?”

“Into everything already,” said Helena. “Maria and I may go out shopping later, since we were saying he needs things.”

Massimo nodded.

It was always difficult to tell what Massimo was thinking. Maria had once been good at it, but she'd been away for a long time, and she'd gotten used to Giancarlo, who showed everything he was thinking on his face even if he sometimes put great effort into lying about it. Was there something on Massimo's mind, or was he just being his usual quiet self?

“Is something wrong?” asked Helena.

“Maria's boat is gone,” said Massimo.

Maria's heart leaped into her throat. Giancarlo must have come back for it. Why hadn't he visited the house? Was it because he was afraid of Massimo? Or had he been there looking in the window while she'd closed the shutters in the middle of the night? The idea made her shudder. “I must not have tied it properly,” she said. “I didn't think what would happen if the wind came up.”

Massimo gave her a sideways look. He knew she was good with knots. “Somebody went through the equipment in mine, too. Nothing was taken, but I brought everything back to the Pescheria.”

Maria bit her lip, wondering what Giancarlo had been looking for.

“That'll be a very wet and disappointed thief in this weather,” was Helena's only observation.

Maria was terrified that one or the other of them would realize she was hiding something and demand more information, but neither did. Once breakfast was over, Massimo went downstairs to go through the shop, sorting yesterday's catch into what was still fresh enough to sell and what would have to be turned into fertilizer. Maria would have offered to help, but she would have had to take Alberto with her, and the Pescheria would be full of water and ice. Instead, she helped Helena clean up the plates and cups.

“When are you due?” Maria asked the other woman.

“Six weeks,” Helena replied, running an affectionate hand over her belly. “It can't come soon enough, honestly. I'm getting so tired of hauling this extra weight around.”

Alberto chose that moment to tug on Maria's skirt, and she scooped him up and poked the end of his nose with her finger. “You really think that ends when they're born?”

“I guess not!” Helena said with a laugh, “but at least you can switch arms when one gets tired!”

The weather remained windy and grey, but the rain petered out by lunchtime, and Helena and Maria were able to go for their shopping trip. Even after promising to pay it back, Maria didn't want Helena to spend too much money on her, so she chose their first stop: a place that sold second-hand clothing and furniture, halfway up the hill. The break in the weather meant that more people were outside now, hoping to get a few tasks done before it started again.

“Hello, Maria!” Concetta Aragosta called out, as she and her friend Pinuccia passed. “Ottavia Brugnole said you were back.”

“That I am,” Maria replied, a bit puzzled by the greeting. The Aragosta ladies mostly kept to themselves, and didn't seem to be related to anybody else in town as far as Maria knew. They'd never spoken to her before.

Then again, after Signora Brugnole had been the first person to see her back, it was probably the talk of the town: Maria Marcovaldo returns, dressed in rags and carrying a toddler. Maria hadn't thought about that. She'd been so worried about what Massimo would think of her reappearance that it hadn't occurred to her to wonder what other people might say, any more than it had what she would say to them. Were they picturing her as fallen woman, wandering the world in rags with some stranger's bastard on her back?

But Concetta and Pinuccia did not look scandalized or even unhappy. They were smiling kindly as they came closer, and Alberto, who was alert and looking around in Maria's arms at all these new things, greeted them with the same wide eyes as he had every other stranger.

“Hello, there, little fellow!” Pinuccia said, wiggling her fingers at him in a wave. “Has your mummy got you out and about today?”

“Will his father be joining you?” Concetta wanted to know, although she sounded dubious.

Maria shook her head. “His father is... no longer with us.” It was so much harder to lie to somebody's face than it had been to do so to Helena's back last night.

“I'm so sorry,” said Pinuccia.

“If you need any help with the baby, you can always come and ask us,” Concetta added. “I promise, we know all about unusual children.” She winked.

Maria stared at her. What did she mean, unusual children? Did she know? How was that possible? She held Alberto a little tighter, making him squirm.

“We'll see you around and about, we're sure,” said Concetta.

“Arrivederci,” Pinuccia agreed, and the two of them puttered off.

Helena watched them go with a puzzled expression. “Do you know them very well?” she asked Maria.

“No,” Maria replied, just as confused as her new sister-in-law. “I think that's the first time I've ever spoken to them. I was right about Signora Brugnole, though,” she added. “She told everybody.”

“She certainly did,” Helena nodded. “We'll be hearing all kinds of theories about where you've been, I'm sure.”

When they walked into the second-hand shop, the woman behind the counter turned to her teenage son, who was assisting her, and said in a low voice, “that's her. That's Maria Marcovaldo.” Then she flashed a bright smile and approached the two women. “Welcome, Signora Marcovaldo,” she said in a much louder voice. “And welcome back, Signorina Marcovaldo – I'd heard you were back in town.”

Maria hadn't been addressed as Signorina Marcovaldo since she'd left home, and she wasn't sure now whether it was a good idea to start again. She didn't particularly want to use Giancarlo's surname, but being miss while carrying a small child would only make her a pariah. So she said, “it's Signora Scorfano.”

“Oh, so sorry,” said the woman, her smile not faltering a moment. “Signora Scorfano. I expect you need something to wear, and something for your boy, as well.”

It really was that obvious, wasn't it? “Yes, please.”

Alberto was the most important thing, so Maria went to the children's section first. She found him a lovely little set of rust-coloured overalls with sailboat on the front, and a yellow shirt to go with them. This was far more clothing than Alberto was used to, and he squirmed and complained as she put it on him in the changing room. As soon as she had the last button done, he escaped his mother's arms and went running out into the shop again.

Maria ran after and scooped him up, and Helena laughed at the sight.

“You come back here, you little scamp!” said Maria with a laugh. She gave Alberto a kiss on each cheek as he continued to wriggle. “Look at you, you look so handsome!”

“Doesn't he just?” Helena agreed with a grin.

“We'll take this set,” Maria told the shopkeeper. “Let me find a few more.”

She chose a couple more little outfits for Alberto, and then two inexpensive dresses for herself. Both of these would have to be let down before she could wear them, but that would give her something to do for the afternoon, at least. They paid the shopkeeper, and then Helena insisted on treating Maria to lunch at the trattoria on the Piazza. The sun was starting to come out now, glinting on the puddles and sparkling in the spray from the fountain. Fishermen were mopping rainwater off the decks of their boats before heading out to make up for lost time.

“Massimo will want us to hurry,” Helena observed. “He'll have work to do. So many of the men in Genova have office jobs nowadays, I always just assumed I'd marry a man who'd be doing that. A fisherman's schedule is so different.”

“Is that a good thing, or bad?” Maria asked.

“Oh, it's good,” said Helena. “On a rainy day in Genova, everybody goes to work like normal. On a rainy day here, we get to linger over breakfast and spend a little more time together. I still get to have a routine, but instead of just one, I have several, and it's a surprise in the morning which one I'll need to follow today. Now that I've lived here a while, I think trying to live in the city again would bore me to tears.” She'd been watching pigeons peck at crumbs under a neighbouring table, but now she looked at Maria with a smile. “Your husband was a diver. I imagine that was very unpredictable.”

“Yes,” Maria said. “We moved around a lot as he looked for work. Until Alberto came along, of course. Then we had to settle down.”

“Where were you living?” Helena inquried.

Maria hadn't thought of an answer to that. They'd been on that awful little island since about three months before Alberto was born. She wasn't about to tell anyone the truth. For one thing, it might lead them to Giancarlo, but for another, and perhaps more importantly, she was rather ashamed of it. The island had seemed like a good place to stay while they sorted the situation out, but then they'd somehow just never left. It hadn't been a very nice place to live, certainly no place to raise a child, but they hadn't known what else to do. Why hadn't she left months ago?

“We were in Montpellier when Giancarlo died,” Maria decided. They had stopped in that city, so she'd be able to answer questions about it if anyone asked. “I came back as fast as I could, but I didn't have much money.”

“I'm glad you made it,” said Helena. “It'll be okay now, I promise.” She smiled gently. “Massimo is so happy you're home. I honestly thought he might cry about it.”

Maria felt her chest tighten. That was why she'd stayed so long – because she'd had nowhere to go but Portorosso, and she'd thought Massimo would be angry with her. If she'd only known.

As she and Helena stepped outside again, Maria saw that the two Aragosta ladies were sitting on the edge of the fountain, enjoying some gelato. One of them smiled and waved, but Maria did not respond, still put off by their earlier conversation. Alberto, however, wriggled out of her arms, and before she could stop him he took off across the open space towards the two old women.

And towards the fountain full of water. Maria ran after him.

“Alberto!” she called out. “Alberto, come back here right now!”

Concetta Aragosta handed her ice cream to her partner and held out her arms to pick the boy up. That wasn't reassuring to Maria, who didn't want strangers handling her child. She'd almost caught up, only to see the woman grab for Alberto and miss. He hadn't been heading for her at all; he'd been running for the water, and now he toppled over the edge of the fountain and into the basin with a splash.

Maria shrieked in dismay, and then cried out, “no!” as Concetta Aragosta stood up and pulled the transformed baby out of the water. Immediately, Maria snatched him away and began drying him on her shawl in a panic. This could not be happening. There were so many people here! Not just the two old ladies and Helena right behind her, but a dozen others in the surrounding shops and businesses who might now see the little fishy creature in Maria's arms. Concetta and Pinuccia crowded close, perhaps for a better look, and Maria hunched as if to curl protectively around her son. It was too late. Much too late.

“Is he okay?” asked Helena, coming up next to Maria.

Maria swallowed hard, trying not to burst into tears. What were they going to say? They'd think she was worse than a fallen woman, that she was raising some monster...

“There we go,” said Concetta softly, rubbing Alberto's face dry on her apron. “There we go, all human!”

Maria blinked her tears away and stared at the old lady, uncomprehending. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing, dear,” Concetta said. She took a step back, and Maria clutched Alberto closer, shifting his weight as his tail vanished again. “We told you we knew about unusual children, didn't we?”

“We'll see you again soon,” Pinuccia said. She gave her friend her gelato cone back, and the two of them started back up the hill towards their home.

That left Maria standing there watching in confusion as they vanished around a corner – and Helena standing there looking at Maria with a similarly befuddled expression.

“What was that?” asked Helena.

Maria licked her lips as she tried to decide what to say. Her sister-in-law didn't look frightened, at least... maybe because the two old women had been so calm about it. She just looked confused.

“What did you see?” Maria wanted to know.

“I'm not sure,” Helena replied, coming closer to examine Alberto. There was nothing outwardly odd about him now, just a toddler squirming because his mother was holding him too tight. “I... is he your son?”

“Of course he is!” Maria huffed. “You have to promise not to tell Massimo!”

“I don't even know what I'd be telling him!” Helena protested. Her eyes went to something behind Maria.

Maria turned to see what she was looking at, and found that Massimo was waving to them from the Pescheria door. Maria waved back with what she hoped was a normal-looking smile, although she had her doubts. Massimo pointed to his boat, and Maria nodded.

“We have to go back to the Pescheria,” said Helena. “Somebody needs to mind the shop.”

“Of course,” said Maria. The Pescheria would be a relatively private place where she could... she didn't know what she was going to do. Somehow she must reassure Helena that this wasn't a problem, and then she had to be sure Massimo wouldn't find out.

They returned to the building, and stood in the doorway to watch Massimo start the engine on his boat and putter out to sea. Helena then went straight to the cash register to deal with their first customer, a woman hoping to purchase some squid for calamari. Maria waited in a corner with Alberto in her arms. He whined because he didn't know what he'd done to make her upset, so Maria stroked his curls and murmured reassurances, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“You scared Mamma so bad,” she whispered, “and I think you scared Auntie Helena too... but the two Signore Aragosta, they didn't mind.” She would have to talk to them. What did they know? Was it obvious to them in some way that Alberto wasn't fully human? Was there something she hadn't even noticed before that Maria was now going to have to worry about hiding?

Finally the customer left, and Helena came out to speak to Maria. Maria swallowed hard, wondering what in the world she was going to say. Would she throw her out, saying she didn't want a freak like that in her home?

“Is he all right?” Helena asked. “I mean...”

Maria sighed and set Alberto on the floor. There were plenty of puddles and ice he could get into here, but it hardly mattered when Helena had already seen. “He's fine. He's...” how could she explain, without making the situation look even worse? “What has Massimo told you about the sea monsters?”

Helena frowned in confusion and watched Alberto sit down on the floor to pick up a dropped coin. To her, the question must have seemed like something out of nowhere. “He said he first saw one the same summer you left. He tried several times to catch it, but it always got away. He said you and your boyfriend laughed at him when he talked about it...” her voice trailed off.

Maria winced at the memory. She hadn't realized in the moment that Massimo would be hurt by that. Her first instinct had been to protect Giancarlo. That whole summer they'd been terrified that Massimo might find out what Giancarlo was, especially when he kept saying how determined he was to catch the creature and mount it on the wall. Maria had feared he was hinting he already knew, and all her secret-keeping was for nothing.

Helena was still waiting for an explanation. For a split second longer, Maria thought about just making something up, but she knew that nothing she came up with would seem believable, even if it were still more plausible than the truth. Especially when she had already insisted that yes, Alberto was her son. She couldn't have denied that, even if it would help her story. She didn't have it in her.

“Giancarlo was the sea monster,” said Maria. “They transform when they get out of the water, and change back when they get wet again. I know it sounds like a fairy tale...”

With the coin still clutched in his hand, Alberto had wandered over to gaze at a basket of crabs. The crustaceans' claws had rubber bands wrapped around them so they couldn't pinch, but that didn't mean it was a good idea for Alberto to try to touch them. Maria went and ushered him away again. He stepped in a puddle on the way, and his bare foot transformed again.

“So he'll do that every time he gets wet?” Helena asked.

Maria nodded. “You see why you can't tell Massimo, right?”

“We have to,” said Helena. “He needs to know.”

“No, he doesn't!” Maria insisted. “You can't. If he finds out...”

“He would never hurt your child!” said Helena. “No matter what.”

“What if he doesn't believe that Alberto is my child?” Maria asked. “You didn't! He's told everybody in town he was going to kill that sea monster. He'd never let one live in his house.” She shuddered to think about it.

“It's your son,” Helena said. “He'll understand.”

Somebody cleared their throat, and both women turned to see a man standing in the shop doorway. Maria went cold. How much had he heard?

“Sorry to interrupt, Signora Marcovaldo,” the man said to Helena, “but my wife sent me to see if you have any large shrimp.”

“Of course!” said Helena, hurrying to find them. “Here we go! They're yesterday's, but they lived through the night just fine. Will these do?” she offered a basket.

The man studied them critically while Maria backed towards the inside door with Alberto in her arms. Some haggling followed, and she slipped through and shut the door softly behind her, then sat down on the stairs with her face in her hands.

“Ma?” Alberto asked.

“Sorry, Berto,” she replied. “It's not your fault. I want you to know that. None of this is your fault. It's all your father's and mine.”

The voices outside eventually ceased, and Helena cracked the door open.

“I don't think he heard anything,” she said to Maria. “He didn't ask any questions.”

Maria nodded. “You've got to promise,” she repeated.

“Massimo will find out anyway,” Helena said. “You can't keep children from getting into things. Alberto has been into everything from the moment he arrived.”

“Then I'll have to watch him better,” said Maria. Her son was used to being allowed to run around wherever he liked on the island, and was quite happy in or out of the water. It was going to be a very different life he would have to get used to here in town. Perhaps she should have waited until he was old enough to understand why they would have to hide what he was... but no, Maria couldn't have lasted that long, and neither could Alberto. He needed other children. He needed a life Giancarlo wasn't willing to give him.

“Maria,” Helena began.

“No. I need you to promise, because if you don't...” she swallowed. “Then I'm going to have to leave.”

Helena sighed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but she nodded. “I promise. I won't tell Massimo myself, but I know he's going to find out one way or another. He doesn't miss much.”

“He missed Giancarlo,” said Maria.

“I don't know if I'd be sure of that,” Helena said.

Maria shuddered. “I just... I can't make this more complicated. I feel like I'm going mad as it is.”

“I won't tell,” said Helena, “but I think you should.”

That would have to do for now, Maria decided.

Massimo came back that night with a catch that needed to be sorted and packed in ice for tomorrow. Maria had spent the afternoon washing and re-hemming her new clothes, and had allowed Helena to trim her hair, so she was looking far more civilized by the time her brother came upstairs to eat the fish stew his wife had made them for supper.

“It must have been a productive afternoon. You certainly smell like fish,” said Helena, going to kiss him. She then winced and took a step back, a hand on her belly. “The little one's excited to see Papá!”

Massimo closed the distance between them and kissed his wife's cheek, then bent down to kiss her swollen abdomen. That done, he looked to his sister. “Your shopping trip went well?” he asked.

“Yes, it did,” said Maria. She was finishing up sewing a button on one of the shirts she'd bought for Alberto, who was napping beside her. “He doesn't like his new clothes very much, but he'll get used to them.”

“He needs shoes,” Massimo observed.

“He does,” Maria agreed. “He's never had any.” Alberto would probably hate them, but Maria wouldn't have to worry about him stepping in puddles.

“Good catch?” asked Helena.

“Yes,” Massimo replied. “There'll be deliveries to do tomorrow, so I may not be able to go out again until late.”

“I can do them,” Maria volunteered. “I need something to do besides sit around the house. That would drive me crazy.”

“What about Alberto?” asked Massimo.

“I can watch him in the shop,” Helena suggested. She caught Maria's eye, and Maria nodded. Now that Helena knew, it was safe to leave Alberto alone in her care... Maria hadn't thought of that.

They ate their supper. Helena apologized, saying that she wasn't as much of a cook as Massimo, but it tasted just fine to Maria. She was a decent cook herself, though she hadn't been able to do much with some of the things Giancarlo had brought her, the seaweed and shellfish and random things that lived in the mud. He'd cooked them himself sometimes, but had said he didn't remember most of the recipes his own mother had tried to teach him. Having real food again felt like a royal feast.

“I can do the cooking on the night's Massimo can't,” Maria suggested. “Especially once the baby is born.”

“You don't need to earn your keep,” said Massimo.

“I'm not trying to earn my keep,” Maria told him. “If I'm going to be part of this household, then it's only fair I should contribute to it. You want to help me, I want to help you.”

After the meal, Helena collected the dishes to wash, and Massimo went downstairs to make sure everything was locked up and properly stored. Maria, meanwhile, scooped up Alberto, who'd managed to get stew all over his new clothes just as he'd doused himself in trenette al pesto the previous night.

“You like your aunt and uncle's cooking, don't you?” she asked. “If the mess you make is any measure, then you thought Auntie Helena's stew was delicious!”

“It's good to have a fan,” laughed Helena.

“Come on, bambino,” said Maria. “I think tonight you're going to need a proper bath.” She looked over her shoulder at Helena and saw her nod – Helena would keep Massimo from bothering them, and Alberto could splash in safety.

As she climbed the stairs, Maria though of that old saying about how one person could keep a secret, but once a second person knew, it wasn't a secret anymore. Here, that was not true. Helena knowing and being willing to help would actually make things much easier in several ways. Was it too much to hope for that the two Aragosta women would be the same?

She would have to deal with that tomorrow.

#pixar luca #fanfiction #alberto scorfano #massimo marcovaldo #maria scorfano #alternate universe #homecoming #i apologize to anyone who dies of cute from the illustrations

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aubreyprc · 3 years ago

Text

burn for you

Hotchniss 1800 AU - loosely based on Bridgerton

Four - The Hate

word count 6.3k

TW // mention of abuse/violence from a partner. not graphic. very brief.

read on AO3 or continue below :)

She spends the first few day's in bed, the ache in her chest similar to the one she'd felt three years ago, yet this time it somehow felt worse, the betrayal on top of everything else adding a crushing pain to the ache, almost as if someone was grabbing her heart from her chest and cracking it. The whole situation left her sick to her stomach, unable to understand why he did it, unable to understand what changed.

When she does manage to get out of bed, she avoids her mother at all costs, tiptoeing around the house to not draw attention to herself, steers clear of her mother's office, but mostly she spends her day's looking out of her window, watching the world go on around her while she listens to her mother argue once again with Clyde and Erin regarding her leaving the house, hissing spiteful words about her that she knows are said for her to hear, and wonders if Ian Doyle is just a sacrifice she would have to make to be free.

She'd been locked in her house for almost two full weeks when there is a tap at her bedroom door, the creak of it opening making her turn her head from where she sits at the window.

"We are going on a walk," Clyde tells her and she just nods, before turning back to the window. "Do you wish to come?"

"Mother would never allow it." she tells him as he steps further into the room. "I am surprised you were allowed up here, it's been a long two weeks." she smiles as he takes a seat opposite her.

"She understands she can not keep you locked up forever," he smirks, "Ideal gossip has stopped, not that it ever really started. Word did not travel as far as you Mother made out." he tells her, she simply hums in reply, turning to look back out of the window.

"You can ask..." he tells her, watches as she crosses her arms over herself. "I'd tell-"

"I don't wish to know," she replies, "I don't care."

"Liar." he smirks, kicking her lightly as she turns to him and she smiles.

"You've seen him?" she asks quietly, he nods.

"Only twice, from a distance. He looks awful." he laughs and she does too. "William tells me he hasn't been doing great, since.."

"Good," she says, "maybe the next girl he plays like a card game will be the end of him."

"Come on," he says, standing, "you are coming."

"Is mother going?" she asks and he nods. "Then I won't be."

"You have not been outside in almost two weeks. You are coming." he tells her, holding her harsh glare until she gives in, standing with a sigh.

"If someone—"

"They won't." he tells her, "Not in front of my mother anyway." he smirks and she laughs as she follows him out of the room.

He spends two weeks hoping to see her around town, catch an eye on her to ease his own selfish worries, to know she's okay. He avoids her family when out, steers clear of them at balls and other events he has to go to and he distances himself from their friends, having no explanation for them as to what happened, or why he did it. Not one that they would accept, anyway.

But the two weeks he spends hoping to see her, does not prepare him for when he does.

She is walking beside Clyde and her mother, deep in a conversation with the two of them as they stride, blissfully unaware of him, and he want's it to remain that way, any courage he had gone, any words he could say now meaning nothing as he watches her, see's the hurt on her face that he is the cause of and he's reminded of why it is this way, she deserves better.

It turns out that luck is not on his side, when the three turn the corner and spot him and Dave almost instantly, Emily stopping in her tracks as she meets his eyes, her words cutting off and he knows he should look away, turn away, and head off in another direction, but he can't, finding himself once again completely entranced by her, so entranced, he doesn't notice the chaos erupting around her until it's too late, the sight of a fist coming at him only registering when it is inches from his face before he's sent tumbling backwards.

Shouts erupt from all patrons, but especially Emily, who jumps in between the two men when they begin to brawl, her hands reaching out to push Clyde away from him.

"Stop," she shouts at him, pushing him once again, "He's not worth it." she tells him, before turning around, looking the man up and down, "he isn't worth it." she repeats as she pushes him lightly again, further enough away that his mother can grab his arms, dragging him from the scene.

Emily look back at Aaron once again, their eyes catching for a few moments before she turns again.

Her words... he's not worth it echo in his ear for the rest of the day, a reminder that the woman he loves hates him, a reminder that whatever happiness he could have had, he ruined.

Ian Doyle makes his presence known as soon as he steps foot into town, a ball thrown by The Royal's in his honour upon his arrival, his personality loud, grabbing the attention of everyone he greets, but he make's his expectations known even louder, making sure everyone knew just why he was here, and just who he wanted, who he was so confident he was going to get. So when the ball thrown in his honour is a go, the home filled with all faces and names, every single one waits for the arrival of her. Her friends waiting with dread, sending harsh and daggered looks over to the man they thought would be the one she would marry, the man they thought would put aside his hatred and do something to help her, and he lets them, his own heart breaking in his chest, his whole body filling with guilt at just what his betrayal.. his silence meant for her, and he knows that no matter how much he wants to take it back, no matter how much he wishes he could grab her, confess his love and marry her instantly, he knows he cant, knows it would be selfish, and thinks he knows, she doesn't feel the same.

The double doors open loudly and as she walks through them, the gaze of everyone's eyes makes her feel sick. She can feel her mother all but dragging her along the floor towards the Irish man who heads in her direction, a dirty grin on his face that has her stomach rolling in disgust and she wishes the ground would collapse beneath her.

"Emily Prentiss," he smiles when he stands in front of her, "I've heard a lot about you."

"As I you." she says, trying to act as normal as possible, trying to act like her eyes don't crave to look behind his shoulder to where she knows he stands.

"I have been wanting to meet you for some time." he tells her, grabbing her hand and lifting it to his lips, "I do not care for nosy crowds. Would you like to take a walk? I promise to have you back in time for a dance." he flits and she forces herself not to roll her eyes at his dry humour and nods, letting herself be led out by him while men, who she assumes work for him, follow, and once their out of the eyes of everyone else, he smiles almost sweetly at her, and she can't help but reciprocate.

"Am I right in saying that you and The Duke are no longer something I should be worrying about?” he asks her as they stroll, and she looks at him with a frown, "your mother told me, about your recent fall out.”

"Yes, well." she tells him, "It is not something I wish to discuss." she tells him and he smirks.

"But I am right in thinking I have nothing to worry about?" he asks.

"You are correct." she tells him, watching as he nods with a smirk before looking around the town.

"Good," he says, turning back to her with a wink, and the way her stomach knots in intrigue, makes her wonder if she's going to find herself in trouble later down the line.

She was right, the knot formed in her stomach in intrigue turn into butterflies, which turns into a blush on her cheek when he comments on her looks, her laugh, her smile, it turns into a small smile on her lip as he talks to her, laughs shared between the two of the as they joke and tease each other having the flutter in her stomach find its way into her heart, so when he takes her hand for the millionth time since his arrival a week ago and she doesn't find herself having to grit her teeth and swallow her disgust, she worries she might find herself in more trouble that she was prepared for.

Aaron watches the two grow closer over the course of the month, rolling his eye's when he hears them share a laugh, frowns when he spots them walking across the park, both wearing equally happy smiles, and the jealousy that ripples through him is enough to turn his guilt to anger, anger towards himself, and to her for cutting him off completely, never giving him the chance to explain, but mostly, just angry that while she seems able to move on, he is stuck, hopelessly in love with her... someone who will never love him back.

So when Haley appears at his side during a ball at the Prentiss house, a smile on her lips and a champagne flute in her hands, the words It's been awhile, how about a chat, leaving her lips, he accepts, following her into the empty room down the hall, the music from the ball now seeming more like an echo as the door closes behind her.

He fails to see the smirk on her lips, the trouble in her eyes or the way she unzips her dress just that extra little bit to catch his attention. He fails to realise for her this isn't about her, or him, but about Emily, and hurting the woman she believes stole her love, her future, who she believes is the reason Aaron will never want her back.

The two spend an hour laughing, reminiscing on old times, sharing stories and jokes and he can't help the smile on his lips as he listens to her, can't help the way his eye's dash to her lips before back up to her eyes and before he can even register that he wants to, he kisses her. He doesn't even know why. Maybe because she made him laugh for the first time in a over a month, maybe because he wants to feel something that isn't guilt, or anger at just how well Emily and Ian seem to be getting on, maybe its because she was there when he needed someone... so he kisses her, pulls her into his chest and works his hands under her dress, but when there's a scoff at the door, he really wishes he hadn't, because the pain he felt before is nothing compared to the feeling drenching him now as he looks at her, the hurt in her eyes is enough to make him stop breathing, the guilt feeling like a chokehold.

"Wow," Emily nods, rolling her lips as she laughs, shaking her head as she looks to the floor. "Carry on," she tells them, looking at them straight, "I didn't mean to interrupt." she says and then she's gone, breezing out of the door like a gush of wind and its enough to make him wonder if she was ever there at all, the only indication that she was being her perfume lingering in the air.

"Em—" he stops, rushing behind her, "Emily." he calls, catching the unwanted attention of those around the area but he didn't care, he needed to get to her. He calls her name again, this time reaching out to grab her and as he turns her her fist is coming towards him, colliding with his jaw in speed and he's staggering back before he even knows she's hit him.

All eyes are on them now, she can see Clyde rushing to her and Dave rushing to him and she's pulled backwards. All eyes move again when a door opens in the distance and Haley freezes, before putting her head up, moving her dress and walking passed them all, whispers echoing around the room unintelligible.

"We're leaving," Clyde whispers to her, "come on." he says, pushing her gently and she follows, not even turning to face him when she feels his eyes linger on her.

"What did you do?" Dave hisses at him as he drags Aaron from the large hallway, the man holding his jaw as pain rips through it, allowing himself to be pulled into the bathroom, told to sort himself out before he's alone.

He finds himself smiling slightly, as he recalls the start of their... ruse, when he watched her punch John in a similar fashion, and he can't help but chuckle as his remembrance of his words, and he was right, she can definitely throw a punch.

His chuckles soon die down when reality hits, and he realises that he just kissed the one person she has ever said anything negative about, the one person he knows he should not have, and he had even done it in her own home, he realises with a heavy heart that each time he see's her, its a step back, and all he wants is a step forward.

She can see the anger on her mother's face when Clyde walks them towards her, and she prepares herself for the anger, for the harsh words but they never come, instead her eyes fall behind her shoulder and she turns, watching as Ian makes his way over.

"Let's hope your little display didn't ruin this." she whispers to her with a fake smile, and Emily bites her tongue, before smiling softly when he greets her.

"Care for a chat elsewhere?" he asks and she nods, letting him take her hand and lead her through the full house, each person parting as they walk through.

She drops his hand slowly as he leads her into a room downstairs, one that used to be her father's office, and she forces herself to breath as she walks through, smiling when her eyes catch his books on the shelf.

"So we're punching Duke's now, I hear?" he says, looking around the room and she whips her head to look at him.

"Yes well, he deserved it." she tells him, watching as he runs his fingers across the book cases.

"A punch like that... he must have really gotten under your skin." he says, "A punch like that you must have such passion towards a person."

She frowns, "I suppose, or hate." she adds, stepping backwards slightly, the room all of a sudden feeling unsafe.

"Love and hate... that's a very thin line." he muses, looking at her.

"What are you trying to say?" she asks.

"I thought I had nothing to worry about. That was what you told me." he says, taking small steps towards her.

"You don't." she laughs, "Trust me there is nothing—"

"You punched him, after walking on him and his ex girlfriend. I am supposed to believe that is nothing?"

"Yes." she frowns, "because it is."

He grabs her wrists before she even knows he's close enough to reach her and she stares at him, attempting to pull her from his grip.

"What are you doing?" she asks him.

"I don't like being lied to," he tells her, "and even more, I don't like being made a fool."

"Let go off me." she says, finally yanking free from his hands and she walks past him, heading for the door as her heart beats in her chest. She doesn't register that he’s followed her until his flat palm slams the door shut while his other turns her, taking her wrist tightly in his hand, the skin on her wrist already starting to burn.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me, Emily?" he asks her, holding her tighter as she fights his grip, he forces her to look at him, the evil that stares back at her almost making her freeze in fear. “We’re to be married.” he whispers to her, “I won’t be made a fool of by you.”

She can’t even speak, shock overwhelming her as his true colours come out in full form, his eyes no longer intriguing, but venomous, his touch no longer warm but cold, harsh, and there is no longer a flutter in her chest, but panic in her veins.

He goes to speak again, pulling her body tighter into his, when there is a kick to his groin and he’s unable to react before he's pushed backwards, falling onto the floor with a groan and the sound of the door slamming shut behind her has the room shaking.

Aaron is just leaving the bathroom when she spots her running up the stairs, and he goes to turn away when something in him tells him he has to go after her. Dread fills his body as he follows her steps, but that dread quickly turns to terror when he hears her sobbing behind her closed door.

He taps on the door three times, holds his breath as he waits for anything from her.

"One moment," she says, and he can hear it in her voice, that she had been crying, but the shake of it when she spoke has goose bumps forming on his skin, and he taps again, before opening it slightly.

"It's me," he says quietly, and the hateful laugh she lets out almost makes him smile.

"Go away, Aaron." she tells him, but she knows its pointless as she wipes her tears, pulling down her sleeves.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, closing the door as he steps into the room and she scoffs, shaking her head while she curses the tears that continue to fall down her cheeks, curses her hammering heart that makes breathing feel like a chore.

“I’m fine,” she hisses, “go away.”

“Did something happen?”

“You. Again.” She tells him, snapping her head towards him. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“What happened?” he asks, slowly taking a step forward before freezing completely when she almost tumbles over herself trying to take a quick step backwards, fear flashing over her face before she drops her head.

“Nothing,” she mumbles quietly, refusing to look up at meet his eyes, knowing full well the moment she does, it’s over.

“Emily,” he says, his voice so soft it almost makes her sob and she looks up, shaking her head as she releases a shaky breath. “What happened?” he whispers, taking a slow step towards her.

“Aaron, please,” she whispers, “leave me alone.” There are tears forming behind her eyes, fear and hurt staring right back at him and even if he wasn’t so desperately, hopelessly in love with her, he wouldn’t be able to leave, frozen in place, overtaken with an immense feeling of panic as he notices the red hand mark around her wrist.

“I can’t,” he tells her gently, “but you can talk to me.” he says, “I know I’ve given you know reason to trust me but— I do care about you. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

She smiles slightly as she meets his eye, a smile he’s been craving to see for a month and his heart melts once again, his love for her consuming almost every thought.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, a small laugh coming from her chest, “I’ve just realised what kind of person Ian Doyle is but.. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” she says, but her tone indicates she’s telling herself that more than she’s telling him, and his blood boils.

He holds down his anger, taking a small breath as she stands in front of her, clenching a fist to stop himself from reaching out for her.

“What did he do?” he asks her, but she shakes her head and he almost doesn’t think she’s going to tell him, but then she sighs.

“He thinks that—“ she stops, crossing her hands over herself, “he thinks that I punched you because I—“ but she doesn’t continue, instead she looks away, staring out of her window.

“What did he do?” he asks her again, his tone still gentle even as his heart beats harshly against his ribs, even as anger bubbles in his chest.

“Nothing,” she whispers, dropping her head to the floor as she turns slowly, “he just… didn’t like it.”

“Your wrists are red…” he says and she swallows, wrapping her arms around herself tighter, “I’ve heard rumours, about him.. and the things he’s done…”

“It wasn’t like that.” she whispers to him, smiling sadly as she looks at him, “I just—“ she drops her head, “I can’t marry him, Aaron.” she says sadly, her voice cracking as she speaks and her terror is evident in her tone.

“Em—“

“I’m not telling you this because—“ she says but silences, lifting her head to look at him. “I’m scared.” she whispers, “he scares me, and I can’t— I can’t marry him.” she continues, more tears falling down her cheek as she shakes her head and he feels sick. Sick that this is his fault, sick that the woman he loves is scared of the man she’s being married off to because of him but even worse he feels sick because he loves her, and she’s hurt and afraid and there isn’t anything he can do. Not anymore.

He reaches out to touch her arm gently, and when she doesn’t pull away like he expected, he slowly pulls her into his chest, wrapping her securely into his arms before kissing the side of her head, soft promises coming from his lips.

She hates that in his arms is the safest she’s felt all month. She hates that the scent of him is familiar as it takes over her senses and she hates that she can’t pull away. Hates that she hugs him back and hates that she believes him when he whispers that she’ll be okay.

But more than that, she hates that she might love him.

He holds her for as long she lets him, gently rubbing a hand down her back in an act to try and soothe her. She pulls away slowly, wiping her tears as she sniffles. He looks at her, at the small smile she gives him, at the bruises on her wrist, and at the complete fear written over her face when there’s a creek of the floorboards outside of her room, and he opens his mouth, has to tell her, has to give her the option, any sort of hatred for his father, any sort of vengeance he had out for him gone, vanishing in replace for his love for her.

“We can get married.” he tells her. She looks at him instantly, her eyes wide.

“What?”

“Your mother agrees with our courtship, or she did anyway, your family would much prefer you staying in town… as would our friends… as would I, and…” he trails off when she remains still, her eyes wide and her mouth agape as she looks at him. “Let me help you. Let me keep my promise.”

She scoffs, shaking her head.

"You want out of marrying Ian Doyle and I owe you a great debt for what I did." he tells her, "let me help you."

"I don't want or need you help, Your Grace." she declines, "nothing you do will make up for what you did and I will not force you into doing this just for you to use it against me later—"

"I would never use this against you, Emily." he tells her, "I want to help."

"Like I said, I don't want nor need—" she stops when he grabs her hand, turning her around to look at him and her breath stops when she feels their chests touching.

"I owe you a debt, Emily. Let me help you. I want to help." he whispers to her, and as her eyes bleed into his she finds herself nodding, already feeling an ease around him once again, can feel her herself relax at the idea of not marrying Ian Doyle.

"Okay," she whispers before she even knows she wants to speak, and he smiles, nodding his head.

"Okay," he repeats, cupping her cheek gently, "I will fix this. I promise." he says, kissing her forehead lightly before rushing out of the room.

She hates that even after his betrayal, even after he has proved time and time again she can not trust me. That she does. She hates that she finds herself hanging off his every word and she despises the butterflies she gets when the feel of his lips on her forehead linger, a smile forming on her face.

His heart races as he runs down the hall, anger pumping through him as he makes his way down the stairs, paying no mind to those looking at him as he ventures towards Clyde, who catches sight of him with a frown before following him at the man's signal.

"What's going on?" he asks the man as he follows him into the garden.

"Have you seen Ian Doyle?"

"No..." he says, "Not since he and Emily went off— Why? What has happened?"

"You should speak to Emily.." he tells him and his eyes widen in fear, "Come with me." he says and he sighs before once again trailing after the man as they head towards Emily, meeting her half way up the stairs as she starts to walk down them.

"What are you doing?" she asks the two men as she collides with them, her eyes burning into Aarons. "Did you—"

"No," he tells her, "But—"

"What is going on?" Clyde asks again, complete confusion filling his face as he looks between the two of them. He opens his mouth to speak again when there is a slam of a door underneath them before Ian Doyle comes into view. Aaron takes one step down the stairs before Emily grabs him, her eyes pleading with him.

"Please," she whispers, shaking her head, "don't."

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Clyde asks impatiently, before spotting the red marks covering Emily's wrist as her hand remains gripped onto Aaron's arms. "What's that?" he asks, taking hold of her wrists gently and her eyes move from Aaron to Clyde in less than a second.

"Nothing," she says quietly, "can we do this somewhere else?" she asks both of them, throwing her arm out to make point that they're stood in the middle of the stairs, that people were starting to look at them and they nod, following her back up them.

She closes her door behind her as she follows them, leaning against it as she looks up.

"What happened?" Clyde asks.

"Ian happened." she tells him with a bitter laugh, "He is a great actor, that is for sure."

"What do you mean?"

"He— Showed his true colours tonight, it would seem." she says, "he heard about the whole... scene before and lets just say he was not a fan."

"He hurt you?" Clyde asks, his blood boiling.

"I cannot marry him." Emily tells him, "he is not a good man and I can not spend the rest of my life—" she stops herself from continuing, looking to the ground as she sighs. "I can't and I wont."

"What do you plan to do? Your mother has made it very clear—" he stops, looking between the other two as they look at each other, and he laughs. "You can not be serious."

"It is the only way—"

"No offence, Your Grace but after everything you have done if you think that Emily is going to accept your help—"

"I already did." she interrupts, "he made a good point." she explains, "he owes me for what he did and this is the only other option available, unless of course you'd rather I go back to John—"

"No." Clyde says, taking a moment as he inhales, "you're telling me your plan is to marry..." he asks, before looking to Emily, "after everything that happened?" he asks, "you don't even like him."

"Do you have a better option?" she asks, holding back her defence on his last sentence, even as she watches Aaron drop his head in the corner of her eye.

"And you think this will work?" he asks, "what do you plan on telling Ian? Or your mother, for that mater."

" We don't have to tell her why, we just have to have her believe its real. I'm the Duke, she would approve, it is status after all. ." Aaron say's, "And if not, it is not up to her anyway, she may think she can, but she actually does not hold the right to marry her off to someone." he tells them, watching as Emily's eyes widen in shock, "the only person in the family with the right to marry off a woman in their family is the oldest man, it would have been her father but since he has passed and she has no older brothers, it falls to you." he tells Clyde, who looks at him with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"Did you know about that?" she asks him and Clyde shakes his head, "I knew it had to be the oldest man in the family but I just assumed since your mother held your fathers place in the court that..." he trails off, and Emily looks between them.

"So this could work?" she asks, "I can get out of marrying Ian, you can get me out of it." she tells Clyde and he nods.

"If that is what you want then, yes, I suppose so." he tells her and the happy, relief filled laugh as the tension in the room fading away. "If you are sure about this, Emily.. marrying Aaron means that you will be the Duchess, there will be lots expected from you. From the both of you. Children included." he tells them, "there is a lot more that goes into this than just setting you free from the Doyle's. This is a huge, life changing decision and you will both need to be sure that you're... prepared for this."

The silence that follows is deafening as each of them look at the other. Aaron gives her a small nod with a soft smile and she smiles back, before looking to Clyde.

"We're sure." she tells him, and the man nods.

"Then okay." he nods, "first we need to figure out what were going to tell your mother."

"I think I can do that." Emily says, her heart hammering in her chest as she looks towards Aaron. "Are you sure—"

"I owe you, Emily. This is the least I can do." he tells her, "we had fun during our last ruse, who says this one wont be just as entertaining."

"Ruse?" Clyde questions.

"Nothing," Emily dismisses before turning back to Aaron, "and last time... I actually saw you as a friend... someone I could trust. I wont be quick to make the same mistake twice." she tells him, "I am grateful, for what you are doing but don't think it means I forgive you."

"Understood." he says, "but I do plan on working to gain your forgiveness, I have the rest of my life to make it up to you." he tells her, smirking, and he can't help the happiness that bubbles in chest when he watches her fight her own as she throws daggers at him.

"Lets go and find my mother shall we?" she tells the two men, who nod before following.

"Ruse?" Clyde whispers to Aaron as they follow her down the stairs.

"Don't worry about it." he replies patting the man on the shoulder as they make their way to Elizabeth.

Her nerves are obvious as they climb the stairs to where her mother, Dave and Erin reside, waiting for the news Clyde had gathered them for and he gently grabs her arm, stopping them. She turns to look at him and he smiles.

"You don't have to do this," he tells her, "we can think of something else, something better, something that you are comfortable with."

"I'm okay with this." she tells him, "do I wish things were different, of course... but, I am grateful for what you are doing. I know it can not be easy on you either."

"I would do anything for you." he whispers, the look of shock in her eyes making his stomach tighten, "after what I did." he lies, because he knows, even if he had not done what he did, he would still do anything for her.

"After what you did," she whispers, looking down, and he regrets ever saying it at all, "of course." she smiles sadly. "Shall we?"

"After you." he says; She nods, heading through the door with a deep breath.

Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth argues, mentioning how going back and fourth between Aaron and Ian is not a good look, about how the actions of his mouth almost cost them everything, asking her daughter how she could trust he would not act that way again, and he snaps.

"You may not like it, Lady Prentiss, but I am afraid the choice is not yours. Emily and I have gone through so much, more than most other couples, and have come out of it happy." he says, looking at her when he feels her eyes on him, he has to look away as he takes a deep breath. "I have never been a man that much enjoyed flirting, or chatting, or, indeed, talking at all. But with Emily..."

"Miss Prentiss." Clyde mutters, but he continues over him.

"Conversation has always been easy. Her laughter brings me joy. To meet a beautiful woman is one thing, but to meet your best friend in the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart. And it is with my sincerest apologies, I must say it took the prince coming along for me to realize I did not want Miss Prentiss to only be my friend. I wanted her to be my wife. I want her to be my wife." he says, his heart hammering in his chest as he finishes, ignoring the look of shock Emily is giving him at his side.

"And you agree with this, Emily? You feel the same? You want to marry this man?" Erin asks.

Emily turns her head, blinking as she clears her throat, "I do."

"Then okay." Erin nods.

"You are to my Duchess." Elizabeth smiles to her daughter, "I find that works wonders more than a Princess would."

"You are free to leave, prepare yourself for a proper announcement. Tell your friends in private if you would like."

Dave grabs Aaron as they leave the room, smiling at him as he nods.

"You're doing a great thing," he tells him, "maybe if you work hard enough she might just fall right back in love with you."

Ian leaves the town his with his head down after a meeting with Erin, shame and anger filling his chest.

"If you do not want people to know just what kind of man you are you will leave this town, and you will never speak of my niece again." she had told him, letting him know she knew exactly who he was, what he had done.

No one hears from Ian again, and three days later the new 'couple' announce their plan to their friends, who accept it with a smile, overjoyed that Emily gets to stay and even more happy that their friends had found each other, all certain that in time, they would grow to love each other, each certain they already did. The engagement is planned to be announced to the town at the end of the month, the condition that they must work on their public image again after being seen apart for so long, after all the scenes they had caused, causing a rift to important for them to announce it straight away.

While Aaron wonders if he will ever be able to gain back her trust enough for her to even be his friend again, Emily wonders just how she is supposed to marry a man she believes betrayed her biggest secret, wonders how she could ever let herself love a man she isn't sure is capable of ever caring about anyone but himself.

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#hotchniss fic #hotchniss #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner

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toujoursmiraculous · 4 years ago

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Thoughts and Reaction to Lies!

It's another long one because so much happens in this episode! The episode starts with Marinette trying to figure out a "secret" within the grimoire. Literal first thought was that this "secret" may be the key to waking up Emilie. It's obviously going to be of huge significance later, anyway. By looking at that piece on Adrien, it does appear Adrien has an amazing life. And really, that's what a lot of people think. That's the point of featuring him. A life of a celebrity is pretty amazing, really interesting and fascinating. But it's also filled with a lot of stress, chaos, loneliness, etc. But viewers rarely ever see it. As for Marinette, while Adrien has said things about what his father allows that makes him sad, we haven't ever heard him complain to her in any way about that lifestyle. To her, he's a guy whose father has him busy with activities (interesting ones at that) and very rarely ever lets him spend time with friends. I love how this episode parallels Truth! But Adrien's POV. My boy has an episode centered around him, finally!

So we know her standing Chat Noir up is because Luka came by reminding her of a date she forgot she rescheduled. You know she's extremely distracted and stressed when she can't remember a date with Luka or a patrol with Chat Noir, or remember that she planned them at the same time. It's really not her fault, and I feel so bad for her that things are becoming so difficult. "No messages, but don't forget my cheese!" LOL this is perfect. Plagg has to get that reminder in wherever he can! The Chat Noir appreciation was so wholesome to see awww, I bet so many boys in Paris look up to him, so sweet x33 Mr. Banana, Chat Noir, and the man who frequently is Mr. Pigeon just chilling on a bench in the park together. What a scene! lol But Chat wanting them to be akumatized so he could see Ladybug. Big oof. He's going to get his wish, a few times over. Careful what you wish for, Kitty! "A glass of milk as usual, mister Chat Noir?" Okay so when Chat's down, he goes to that bar and has a glass of milk. Or more if he's having a bad day. Awwwww. If you think about it, Adrien probably isn't allowed to have milk. With the fat content and all. :/ Kagami lying to her mother and Nathalie/Gabriel just to spend some time with Adrien. Considering how difficult their lives are, that's pretty impressive to be so brave. Not too fond of the lying part though, since there's not a noble reason for doing so. But I can understand it. We found out Kagami's real passion: drawing! Which is pretty cool. That's one thing Kagami and Marinette have in common that'd make them good friends. Very sad how her blind mother tells her she's not good enough. That just tells you what she thinks of her daughter and what she wants her to do with her life. She's afraid she'll pursue the arts rather than something practical, so best shoot down any thoughts of being an artist now. And then, like with all episodes that have Kagami in them, this is where I start to dislike her. "I want to draw the real you, on the inside." Adrien makes various model poses, none work for her as she knows they're just him being a model. Then he actually poses as himself. A silly, goofy cat having fun and being happy. Adorable. "What do you think of... CAT?" deathglare "No, this is absolutely not natural." "Yes it is. I promise, this is really me!" "NO! This is you when you're acting like a clown!" Adrien looking hurt, "But maybe when I act like a clown, it's really me." Then she takes his hand, (gently) pushes him back up against the wall, her hands on his chest, "That way, that's who you really are." What way? Her telling him how to be is who he really is? He stammers, looking very uncomfortable. "But are you sure?" "Yes... you are perfect." Then she leans in to kiss him, while he's still looking uncomfortable. Right here, she's trying to tell him who he is. What kind of relationship is healthy and a good one one at that, when one side is trying to tell the other who they are, how they must act, etc? That's toxic. Keep in mind, after this scene, during Truth's attack. He found out that Ladybug actually in fact loves (said she prefers) the humorous, "clown" side of him. Yes, she only knows it as Chat Noir for now, but she actually appreciates and loves Chat for who he is. Kagami doesn't love nor appreciate that side of Adrien. Which is a very big and important side of him. We knew this in Ikari Gozen, she couldn't stand the thought of Chat Noir being compared to Adrien, pretty sure she even seemed offended by it if memory serves. But it's laid out more in Lies, it's more direct. (Marinette's done this too in the past, but when she's done it, her tone's more like pssssh please! while she looks off to the side, like she's mostly just telling herself that, to convince herself, rather than believing it.) Kagami thinks she knows Adrien, knows that him being funny and a clown is not the "real" him. Acting like she knows him better than he knows himself. Thinking he's perfect. That was a very hurtful thing to have said and you can see it in his expression the same kind of pain and hurt

he gets a lot. I also want to talk about how watching her back Adrien up against the wall like that and leaning into kiss him made me feel particularly uncomfortable. While they might have a little thing going on, he was clearly not comfortable by it and it just did not sit well with me. This entire scene was riddled with red flags. Adrien smiled at the end of that on his way out, yes, but having someone tell you you're perfect would seem like a compliment to you, wouldn't it? The one you like thinks you're perfect, thinks the facade you put up is perfect and anything less isn't okay with them. That'll end up so well! The almost kissing scenes this episode literally had me like

I'm sorry, I just feel so very uncomfortable by them, I can't help it. xD Just before Chat Noir sneaked up on Ladybug, he almost kissed Kagami right? And yet here he is, being a bit flirty, saying he's missed her on patrols. I also want to point out she tells him to stop with his stupid jokes, because she doesn't want to accidentally hurt him! She could've hurt him by scaring her like that. While she likes his humor, they're only problematic if it puts himself in danger or distracts them from fighting an akuma. "I promise I won't forget our patrols anymore." The looks that passed between LB and CN here is just so cute! OOOF as Luka walks away sad because Marinette had to run off, here comes Adrien, about to do the exact same thing as Marinette to Kagami... Now Kagami's not as accepting of him running off as she was just a little while ago.

Even Andre's like, what the heck was that?! His expression watching Adrien run off made me laugh, I had to share it. I was wondering how Adrien got to the boathouse before Marinette did, as it made it seem like Adrien was there long before Marinette was. He just ran in and started playing along where they were. Good lord, he has a lot going on too, doesn't he? Only difference from Marinette here is Adrien has a built-in and believable excuse he can tell his friends. Kagami's forceful "Adrien, it's time." "Five little minutes?" *shakes head sternly* Who does this remind you of in Adrien's life already? Is this what a good girlfriend, what a good friend would do? And here again is the pattern we see a lot with Kagami. She manipulates situations so that they can spend time together. Adrien wants to spend time with his friends AND girlfriend at the same time. Rehearsing for their band, it looks like. He rarely ever gets to spend time with others, be a normal kid. But no, she drags him away early, making it sound like they had to leave, but it's just her wanting him to herself. When he couldn't go to New York, oh well that's unfortunate you're sad, but we can spend more time together now, isn't that great? It's about what she wants, not what he wants or what's best for Adrien. She spends more time with Adrien (not counting Ladybug spending time with Chat Noir here) than anyone else does by the looks of it, and she doesn't even know him at all. It's really sad. Adrien still carrying around Marinette's lucky charm bracelet in his pocket x3333 This never fails to make me happy. But oof that boy's seriously going to lose it one of these days if he's not careful! There's something different about seeing the Ladynoir scene on the roof that we got in Truth, but from Adrien's perspective. Something about it feels like it means more to me, idk. Adrien gets caught in a lie, saying he lost something but found it. Kagami asked what it was, holding Marinette's lucky charm behind her back. He says it was the lucky charm Marinette gave her, as he's scrambling in his pocket to pull it out seeming a bit frazzled, but realizes he actually in fact lost it (again! he says). But Kagami caught him in that lie, showing him that she actually had it.

I'm not sure if he's so shocked because she actually had it and wonders how she got it, or if he looks like that because he just got caught in a lie. But the way his eyebrows raised a little makes it seem like he's surprised she had it after all and was testing him the whole time. I've always hated the way sometimes someone when in a relationship will test the other one like this. Really not fair in Adrien's case at all. Things aren't always as they may seem. And here's the thing, she's admitting to him that she's lying just to be with him. She lies all the time. Adrien caught on that she was lying, but didn't really understand why I don't think. Earlier in the episode he says, "What are you hiding, Kagami?" he didn't know her purpose for it. Now she says, "We're both liars, the difference is I lie to be with you. You. You lie to get away from me." Which is a yes but actually no situation. It's not that he doesn't want to be with her, it's that he needs to get away temporarily. It just looks really, really bad. Getting off track from that conversation briefly, but that scene where the akuma goes off into the night, with the blurred city lights that becomes clear. Just wow. That shot is beautiful, I can't help myself from playing it back and admiring it. I'm also totally digging the new transformation music! it gives me 90s vibes and makes me happy. Seeing Jagged after Truth is just completely different xD "I fear nothing, I am an artist! I still hold to my fans." Both Roth: "Wrong, you lie to them about your age!" "That's not Rock and Roll!" Had me rolling!! Jagged sure is something XD Chat just up and about to cataclysm the sphere, thinking he'd be okay because he doesn't lie. Except he lies all the time to protect his identity and get himself away from people so he can transform. xD Silly Kitty. The drone as a Lucky Charm is super cool! In Truth, Chat Noir said a truth about how he felt about Ladybug. In Lies, he tells lies to Lies to get her attention. "My name's not Chat Noir! I'm not a superhero! I hate Ladybug! And I think Hawk Moth should've called himself Panfly! It's funnier! Oh, I was about to forget: my favorite dish is cabbage with white sauce! Yummy!" Cabbage...with white sauce... as a dish. Is this like, a real fancy dish or something or is this boy being completely starved? o.o CN: "There are only two more liars left in Paris, and one of them knows how to turn his attention." LB: "No, wait! Don't do that! What if I'm mistaken?" "You know what? I trust you." he lets go, sacrificing himself again "Chat Noir, no! Don't do that! You're crazy!" "Yes, crazy for you, m'lady." Says softly, sadly, "No, you're just crazy unconscious." This ENTIRE scene right here. The love, the trust, the pain in this scene. It's so beautiful and well done that I can't stop getting emotional from it and gushing! Everything's on the line from that decision, and the trust he has for her, the faith he has in her really helps her know she can do what she needs to do. She's always doubting herself, and he's always there to say he doesn't feel that way at all, and it gives her that confidence and courage she needs. The moment Chat Noir is okay, the first thing Ladybug does is run up and smack him, grabbing him anxiously saying "Seriously, you need to stop doing this to me!" The girl is stressed seeing her partner sacrifice himself time and again! IF THIS BOY DOESN'T REALIZE JUST HOW MUCH SHE CARES ABOUT HIM AT THIS POINT, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. Any fan that still thinks Ladybug doesn't love Chat Noir and thinks poorly of him, clearly does not understand it at all. My Ladynoir heart is SO HAPPY! I was thrilled with them in Truth, but this is a totally different level. I'm almost in tears with how happy I am. And then I noticed something. I don't know if it's anything or not. But Chat Noir says to her, "Yes, but it's because I find that angry look of yours irresistable." and Kagami turns around to look at him, only him and never Ladybug. Just watching him. Which is a bit... odd. "Ahh, Ladybug..." he sighs. After what

just happened, I don't blame him! x3 These two are honestly fire. When D'Argencort has to step in to keep Kagami from hurting Adrien during fencing... Doesn't matter how upset she is, that's gross to physically take it out on him to the point a teacher has to intervene. Kagami tells Adrien she knows he's hiding something, but that he's sincere, too. But when he asks if they can't be friends then, she responds, "How can you trust someone who lied to you?" and finally gives him back the lucky charm. Ever since Gorizilla, I've been worrying of him losing it for good! Glad she gave it back to him. I've said it already, but he's really going to lose that thing if he's not careful! "When I'm ready to see you again, I'll let you know." and she just leaves. I get she's upset, he's been lying to her to get away when he's with her and all that. But this is worse than what happened with Lukanette. Luka wanted to actually know what was going on, he asked Marinette about it directly. She told him honestly, it's the one thing she can't tell him. Kagami on the other hand never actually asked. During one of the scenes when he was spacing out, she asked what was the matter is all. All she's cared about is that he's lied, and now that he's lied she can't trust him. Doesn't even want to hear him out, not that he'd explain it to her. Kagami doesn't even want to see Adrien for awhile now. At least Luka's more understanding and isn't as harsh being in the exact same situation. This poor boy... But it's also for the best. Marinette and Adrien both after breaking up with Luka and Kagami, decided to transform and meet up to just be in each other's company. They're both sad, but not especially so. "Do you know what the difference is, between us and the rest of the world, m'lady? We can't be completely honest with each other. We have our secrets, and sometimes we have to lie." Ladybug frowning hums in agreement. But at the same time, they both turn to each other and say happily "But we know we can trust each other!" finishing with a pound-it! IT'S JUST SO BEAUTIFUL AND MY HEART IS HAPPY After Truth, where Luka and Marinette were so sad and having a hard time, I really needed such an episode with such good Ladynoir! It really looks like the story is going in a really good direction, in my opinion. x3

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml season 4 spoilers #ml spoilers season 4 #ml spoilers #lies spoilers #adrien agreste #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #it took me HOURS to write this up so sorry it's late #if I could only pick one ship to ship in the entire show #it'd be ladynoir #if you couldn't tell

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acciocriativity · 4 years ago

Text

Tetrachromat II || Harry Potter

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary: How would Cedric react when he discovers your little superpower?

Word Count: 1,5k

N / A: Tetrachromatism or tetrachromacy comes from the mixture of two words of Greek origin,"tetra"means "four" and "Chroma" which means "color". A tetrachromat person has 4 cell cones, instead of 3, which is more common and this makes him sensitive to a wider color spectrum.

Part I

It was exactly two weeks ago that Cedric and I were going out, as I worked as a teacher and he was trying to follow his father’s steps at the Ministry, we agreed to meet on the weekends and in the meantime we exchanged several letters.

Today is a Friday and I was expecting the last father to pick up her daughter so I could lock the classroom and go home.

- Miss Wright, look at my drawing! It’s you! - The smiling girl got up from the plastic chair and came running excitedly to my table.

- It is beautiful my love, you will be an incredible artist in the future - I replied with a smile, giving a brief pat on the top of her tiny head before she waddled back to her place.

I took one last look at the stick pink woman before folding it carefully, but something caught my attention before I put the paper in my folder, it was as if my world had been filled with colors all at once.

- Cedric? - before I knew it, my legs guided me to the half-open door, where he had knocked a few seconds after I recognized his presence.

My mind passed through a whirlwind of thoughts but my mouth did not open once.

- I didn't think I was going to surprise you at that point - the sincere smile remained on his face - your father brought me, lucky me that he was home at this time - I could see a different gleam in his eyes when he looked at my dear student.

She was looking at us since the door opened, her curiosity would not allow her to miss a second of the scene that passed before her eyes.

- Is that your boyfriend, Miss Wright? He's more handsome than I expected - I felt the redness take over my cheeks and it didn't seem to matter to them.

- Cedric Diggory at your service, and what's your name, miss? - he said as he approached the round table where the little girl was still seated, and then he held out his hand towards her, leaning about her height.

- Marie - her little hand found his and her face was not far from mine, his charm could even conquer a stone and worst of all, he was aware of it.

- It is a pleasure to meet you Marie - he straightened his posture and walked slowly to the nearest wall, decorated with various drawings and activities that we had done during this year, analysing them carefully.

My agitation was gradually fading and again the silence reigned in the room for a few seconds, someone else was present with a knock on the door.

- Daddy! - the man’s face lit up when he saw that little ray of sunlight running to embrace him and for a few seconds I witnessed a kind of love that is not found anywhere.

- Hi my love - he picked her up with only one hand while the other was busy holding a black briefcase with no details - I'm sorry for the delay, Miss Wright, it won't happen twice.

- No problem Mrs. Jones, I understand that sometimes work is really complicated. Have a nice day and see you tomorrow Marie - I waved and the last thing I saw was her little hands waving back before the door was closed.

I noticed a movement behind me and then I remembered that I was not alone as usual, when I turned around I found Cedric sitting in my chair, dedicating his attention to the drawing in his hands.

- You forgot to mention that you worked with extremely adorable children - he didn't look up to speak to me, still focused on the paper.

- I am quite sure that I wrote this at some point, although most of the time it is the complete opposite. You were lucky today - I replied calmly approaching him with a small smile.

- Does this mean that I should come again ?? - his hands went around my waist and brought me closer to him, even though he was still sitting on the chair.

- Hmmm, considering that the whole class will end up knowing that anyway, why not? You didn't tell me you were good with children - I said as my fingers roamed through his locks.

- I didn't know it myself, it seems that it is a new talent discovered. You can make me your assistant any of these days - his expression was calm and satisfied, at a point I hadn't seen yet.

- I'm going to think of a way for the coordinator don't deny this idea, but for now, we have to go Ced - I spoke seriously but I didn't try to get out of that hug, which is one of the best hugs I ever had the chance to receive.

- Doesn't someone have to come clean before that? - His voice was muffled because his face was pressed against my belly while his arms remained firm around me.

- The class is spotless, so it's not necessary, but I'll only be able to move if you let me go… Cedric! - I laughed softly as soon as I saw his expression of disappointment but he soon let me go.

It was already around 4 o'clock, the sun was covered by clouds in the sky and a cool wind gently blew the leaves from the trees. I didn't realize that Cedric had stopped walking, as I was still enjoying the calm until I heard him.

- How did you know I was at the door? - I turned around with a frown, finally noticing the distance between us.

- What do you mean? - questioning was my first instinct but soon the realization passed through my face, so he had heard me.

- You guessed it was me at the door, how did you do that? You are not secretly a witch, are you? - his long steps soon reached where I was, his gaze never left my face.

- Well, I already thought about that possibility but unfortunately not. I was waiting for the moment to tell you that. It's a little difficult to explain ... - Ced remained silent but took my hand.

- I have a rather special feature, not the talent of guessing things, but I see the world in a different way - I took a deep breath before continuing - the colors work differently for people like me.

- And how is this related to the fact that you see through the walls? - the amusement in his voice made me smile.

- I saw your colors first, this is the hard part to explain but basically everything here has color around itself, including both of us - I was unsure of what to expect from him, considering that many people considered me a liar or a freak when I told them this fact about me.

- Really?? This is like a superpower! Why didn’t you mention it before? This sounds pretty cool - his face went through several emotions at the same time, but none close to what I expected.

- Well, not many people know about it, I didn't know what your reaction would be - without trying, I was smiling broadly.

- And what are my colors? It would be quite ironic if one of them is yellow - again his right arm found its way to my shoulders and we started walking again.

- I've never seen this before, but you're all of them Ced. It was the first thing that caught my attention about you - the surprise on your face was evident and he smirked.

- All of them? Well, that explains why you barely managed to take your eyes off me when we first met - and then I stopped walking.

- What?? Certainly not, I remember the exact opposite of that - I crossed my arms looking at him and he had the audacity to laugh

- It is so easy to provoke you, come on missy anger, we have a date to go to - he took my hand and guided me far away from there.

Later on, while we were eating, this topic returned and I confessed that people's negative reaction had made me extremely insecure and so, whenever possible, I tried to live like a normal person would.

- You will never be normal but the way you see the world makes you more beautiful in my eyes and in the eyes of those who care about you too. It can be difficult but let's focus on that - he told me with his usual sweet voice and loving eyes.

And in that moment, for the first time, I completely understood why he was a rainbow to me.

Harry Potter Masterlist

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #fred weasley #harry potter #imagine harry potter #george weasley #george weasley x reader #harry james potter imagine #draco malfoy x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory fanfiction #hermione granger #sirius black #remus lupin #luna lovegood

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massivedrickhead · 4 years ago

Note

For the prompt thing and with hope you will feel better - Beca is dyslexic and is having trouble at the rehearsals, she won't say what is wrong even though girls keep asking or sth like that, then Chloe confronting her about it and a lot of fluff?

Hi, thank you for sending this prompt. I think this might be the third time I’ve received this prompt, so I’m assuming they’re all from you? I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I’ll be honest, the reason I haven’t done this prompt yet is because I don’t know too much about dyslexia, and I didn’t want to make anything that was insensitive or inaccurate. I hope I’ve been able to do this with sensitivity.

If I haven’t please tell me and I’ll take it down.

Anyway, thank you for the prompt. Enjoy.

This was a mistake, Beca thought, looking down at the sheet of paper Aubrey had just handed her.

Her leg was vibrating and she got that familiar drop in her stomach as she tried to focus on the words on the page in front of her.

“Please make sure this gets filled out and handed back to me by the end of rehearsal,” Aubrey said.

Beca cast her eyes around the room to see the other girls all writing, and her eyes turned back to her own paper.

She tried to make herself focus, tried to make herself read each word so she could complete this form, but the words began swimming together as they so often did, and Beca felt herself getting frustrated. She felt the heat of embarrassment on the back of her neck, felt it spread to her face.

Focus, she told herself.

But by the time her eyes had travelled to the bottom of the page, she realised she hadn’t taken in a word of it.

“Okay, break’s over!” Aubrey called, and Beca shoved the paper in to her bag. She could complete it tonight and bring it in on their next rehearsal.

The rehearsal went smoothly after that. Beca was grateful she already knew the words to the song they were signing, so she didn’t have to rely on the print-out Chloe had handed her.

“I’ll see you ladies tomorrow morning for our next rehearsal,” Aubrey said, after finally calling an end.

“Tomorrow?” Beca asked. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Aubrey sighed. “What does it say on the whiteboard Beca?” She gestured to the scribbled green ink which supposedly laid out the Bellas’ plans for victory.

Beca looked, and again felt that twist in her stomach. Her mouth went dry and her throat seemed to close up. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly.

“Well?” Aubrey snapped.

“It says a lot of stuff,” Beca replied, her temper getting the better of her. “Tell me which bit is supposed to be important.”

She heard a slow intake of breath coming from the other girls around her.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” Cynthia Rose muttered.

“We rehearse every day,” Aubrey said, jabbing her finger against the board.

“Okay,” Beca said. “I’m just saying, I have work tomorrow, could we rehearse after?”

“Sure,” Chloe said, preventing what she knew would be tirade of abuse from Aubrey. “What time do you finish?”

“12 pm,” Beca said.

“Perfect,” Chloe replied, grinning. “We’ll start rehearsals at one, if that’s okay with everyone else?”

Everyone else agreed, and they all began to file out of the auditorium.

“Beca,” Aubrey called, looking down at a stack of papers in her hand. “You didn’t give me your sheet.”

“Oh,” Beca said, wondering once again why she was putting herself through this. “I didn’t finish filling it out. I can bring it tomorrow.”

Aubrey raised her eyebrows. “I said I needed it today.”

“It’s fine, Beca,” Chloe said, cutting Aubrey off again. “Just bring it tomorrow.”

Beca shot Chloe a grateful smile, and headed out of the door.

Back in her dorm room, Beca pulled out the sheet of paper Aubrey had wanted her to fill out. She pulled a notebook out of her bag, and slipped the paper behind the sheet of transparent yellow plastic that was clipped into her notebook.

Slowly, the words began to make sense to her, and she filled out the sheet as best she could.

She filled out her name, date of birth, email address and phone number. She listed her allergies, dietary requirements, and gave her clothing sizes so they could order a Bellas uniform for her.

At the end there was a box asking if there was anything else the co-captains needed to be aware of. If there was any medical conditions or disabilities or even learning difficulties that would impact Beca’s ability to rehearse or perform, and if there were any special requirements that they could put in place to help her.

Beca had a suspicion this question had been put in by Chloe.

She tapped her pen against the page, chewing her bottom lip as she thought.

Then she folded the paper in half, and slipped it back into her bag, deciding they didn’t need to know.

After, she spent some time listening to a lecture she’d recorded that morning. She opened up a word document, and made notes of time codes of when her professor talked about something she’d need later, so she’d be able to find it when studying.

By the time she was finished, her eyes were burning and her head was aching. She shut the screen of her laptop, lay back in bed, and found her thoughts landing on Chloe. She couldn’t help but smile.

The redhead had protected her against Aubrey’s wrath in rehearsal. She had looked out for her at the hood night party, making sure she was okay and that she wasn’t getting bothered by Trebles or frat boys.

She knew if there was anyone she could trust with her secret, it would be Chloe.

Without meaning to, her mind wandered to that night in the shower, and she felt her cheeks burn.

She put on some music, and tried to forget about how good Chloe had looked. How good she had sounded.

When that didn’t work, she sat back at her desk, and pulled up her mixing software.

This she knew how to do.

Where words made her feel frustrated and embarrassed, music made her feel free. She understood the waveforms of a sound better than the she would ever understand a written word.

As the two tracks began to blend together, she forgot about everything else.

Everything… except Chloe.

———

“Have you got your form?” Aubrey asked as Beca filed into rehearsal the next afternoon.

Beca pulled the folded sheet from her bag and handed it over.

“Thank you,” Aubrey said, her eyes scanning the page to make sure she hadn’t missed a question. “You were born in 1999?”

“’96,” Beca said.

“Ah ha,” Aubrey said, correcting the form with her pen. “And you’re allergic to ‘dees’?”

A rush of heat travelled up Beca’s back, across her neck and made its way to her face in seconds.

“Bees,” she muttered.

She waited for Aubrey’s snarky comment that she knew must be coming. Waited for that cruel laughter from the other girls that she had heard so often at school.

No laughter came however, and after correcting the spelling error on her form, Aubrey dropped it onto the pile with the other girls’.

Feeling rattled and on edge, Beca went the rest of rehearsal without drawing attention to herself.

She didn’t bite back at Aubrey when she made comments about Beca’s dance ability, or her ‘ear monstrosities’, and she didn’t complain about the outdated song or the lame choreography. When Fat Amy showed her a string of messages on her phone from some guy she was seeing, Beca just smiled and nodded rather than try and struggle through reading them, and she kept just as quiet when Jessica and Ashley started a heated debate about which Hogwarts house was the best.

“You’re quiet today Bec,” Cynthia Rose said as they started packing up to leave. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, surprised she had noticed. “It’s just, you know, a lot. Not used to being around this many people with such strong Harry Potter opinions.”

Cynthia Rose smiled, and nudged her. “Us Slytherins gotta stick together, right?”

“Aren’t they the bad guys?”

Cynthia Rose laughed again and shook her head. “Only if you listen to JKR, and she doesn’t know shit.”

Beca smiled liked she’d understood, and Cynthia Rose left with a wave. She hadn’t read Harry Potter as a child, and had had no desire to read it as a teenager, or watch any of the movies.

She was aware she was missing a world wide phenomenon, but her disdain for popular culture had made it easy for her to pretend that she hadn’t read these books out of choice, and not out of a deep seated fear that she wouldn’t be able to.

It was how she avoided Twilight discussions in high school, when her friends had bombarded her with questions about Edward Vs Jacob. She’d simply replied that it was all lame, and they’d stopped asking for her opinions.

Beca hadn’t realised she’d gotten lost in her own head again, and was simply staring into space, half-way through packing up to leave.

“Earth to Beca?” Chloe said, waving a hand in front of her.

“Sorry,” Beca said, shaking her head slightly.

“Did you go somewhere nice?” Chloe asked. Beca tilted her head in confusion. Chloe tapped her on the forehead. “When you disappeared up there.”

“Oh,” Beca said, laughing. “There’s nothing nice up there, trust me.” She slung her bag over her shoulder.

“You did good today,” Chloe said, walking with Beca as they left the auditorium,

“You’re a very sweet liar,” Beca scoffed.

“You did! I know Aubrey gave you a hard time, but she’s just really obsessive. She wants us to be perfect. She wants to redeem herself,” Chloe said.

“I guess I’d want that too,” Beca replied, remembering the video she’d watched of Aubrey’s last Bellas performance.

“What are you up to right now?” Chloe asked as they walked.

“Nothing,” Beca said.

“You wanna grab dinner?”

“Sure,” Beca replied, trying to stop her grin from overtaking her face.

They arrived at a diner, and the waitress who seated them handed Beca a menu.

She gave it a cursory glance, recognised they sold burgers, and put the menu down.

Chloe studied it for a little longer, her bottom lip caught in her teeth as she read down the list. She glanced up at Beca. “Do I get cheese fries or sweet potato fries?”

“Is that even a question?”

“You’re right,” Chloe said, looking back down. “Cheese fries. Always cheese fries.”

Beca laughed.

“What are we having then?” The waitress asked, holding out a notepad.

“BLT with a side order of cheese fries, please,” Chloe said, still looking down at her menu. “Oh, and a strawberry milkshake.”

“Can I get a burger with fries and a coke please?” Beca asked.

“What kind of burger?”

“Sorry?”

“We have like five different kinds,” the waitress said, pointing to the burger section on the menu.

“Right,” Beca said, a nervous laugh escaping her as she looked at the menu, trying to make sense of the words that were now jumbling together.

“Can you give us another minute to decide?” Chloe asked, when enough time had elapsed for the waitress to begin to look impatient.

Beca’s cheeks were burning when she felt Chloe tap her foot with her own.

“You want me to tell you what kind they have?” Chloe asked.

“I can read them,” Beca said, her voice coming out harsher than she’d intended. “I’m not stupid.”

“I know that,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”

Beca sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” She rubbed her hand against her forehead.

“I didn’t mean to imply you were stupid, or that you couldn’t read,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry if I’m out of line here, but… You’re dyslexic, right?”

Beca’s head shot up. “How did you…”

“My brother is, and my dad,” Chloe said. “You mixed up your d’s and b’s and your 9’s and 6’s on your information sheet. You looked like you were struggling to fill it in during rehearsal, which is why I’m guessing you took it home? And when Aubrey asked you to read something from the whiteboard, you got kinda defensive.”

Beca ran a hand through her hair. “You’re pretty observant,” she said.

“You can call it like it is, I’m a bit of a creep,” Chloe said, smiling when she heard Beca laugh. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about it, it’s pretty common.”

“That didn’t stop me from getting teased in school when I couldn’t read aloud or when I failed every spelling test. The fact that it’s common didn’t stop my dad from calling me stupid every chance he got, or stop my teachers saying I needed to try harder or -” she swallowed, trying not to cry, “or saying I was slow.”

“They shouldn’t have said that,” Chloe said, her voice soft. “None of them should have said any of that.” She took Beca’s hand, and then saw the waitress making her way over. “What kind of burger do you want?”

“Cheese and bacon?”

“BBQ sauce?”

“No,” Beca said, pulling a face.

“She’ll have the classic with bacon, thanks,” Chloe said, before the waitress could ask.

“With fries?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Thank you,” she added, once the waitress had left.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed about needing help, Beca. People need help with all kinds of things, nobody is born perfect,” Chloe said.

“Easy for you to say,” Beca said. “Look at you.”

Chloe cocked her head. “I had to wear headgear at school, because my teeth were overcrowded and my jaw was misaligned. I had to wear it for three years, can you imagine how often I got picked on for that? My lab partner Joe had scoliosis as a kid, so he had to wear a back brace. My sister had to wear a patch to correct a lazy eye. My brother, my dad, my uncle, my bio professor, all have dyslexia. Aubrey’s brother has ADHD. My mom had bi-polar,” Chloe said, her voice taking on a kind of fierceness as she listed these people off. “Everyone needs help with something, and receiving it isn’t a sign of weakness. It isn’t something you should feel embarrassed about.”

Beca looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know dyslexia is common. I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it, but I do. I can just remember being a kid and having to stand in front of a class, trying to read out loud. The other kids would giggle and sometimes the teacher would too. They’d shove books at me, or write mean stuff on notes, and tell me to read them.” Beca wiped away a stray tear. “And my dad…” She shook her head. “Well… the less said about him the better.”

Chloe squeezed her hands again. “You don’t have to make life harder for yourself by refusing to let people help you. I’m sorry that you had to go through all that growing up, but the Bellas aren’t going to be like that. Aubrey will understand if you need lyrics sheets to be printed on different paper or with a different font. She’ll get it if you’d rather we told you information instead of writing it down for you to read it.” Beca scoffed again. “Beca, she knows. The second she saw your d’s and b’s mixed up, she understood. She can be a bit intense, but she isn’t a cruel person. Why do you think we put that question on the form?”

“I figured you put it there,” Beca mumbled.

Chloe shook her head. “It was her idea. I agreed, obviously, but she thought of it. Look, I won’t tell anyone about this. I won’t even confirm Aubrey’s suspicions. But I promise, only good things will come of you being open with us. Won’t it be easier to not have to hide this?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, still looking uncomfortable. “That’ll be good. But… I”m just not good at sharing. I’m not good at being open and vulnerable.”

“What if I told them?”

Beca met her eyes and nodded, ever so slightly, and the waitress brought over their food.

“Okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll take care of it. We don’t have to talk about this heavy stuff anymore.”

“Thank you,” Beca said, feeling like a weight had been lifted. “Oh, by the way, when I called you perfect earlier? I was trying to flirt with you.”

Chloe grinned. “I know you were.”

#bechloe #bechloe drabble #bechloe prompt #drabble #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #fafiction #fanfic #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #beca #chloe #beca x chloe #beca mitchell #Chloe beale #bechloe friendship #bechloe fluff #fluff

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smileyoongle · 6 years ago

Text

Deception (A Kim Namjoon Mafia AU)

Chapter One in my masterlist...Happy Reading!

Summary: A damsel in distress and a lonely mafia leader. Different but not too different. The two worlds collide on a rainy night when Kim Namjoon, a renowned Mafia leader is called for an emergency and Y/N Y/L/N is on the run from her abusive father. Feelings stir and he rescues her. But one of them is a liar. And the other's life is on the line. It's only a matter of time until all secrets are out in the open.

Will love be born? Or will death conquer?

chαptєr twσ: Alive

Character Count: 10,156

Pairing: Namjoon×Reader (Appearances by the whole of BTS)

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Anything dead, coming back to life hurts.

- Toni Morrison

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It is said that the more you hold in your anger, the more destructive it becomes. Not sure how true the statement is but if it was true, then Namjoon would have probably killed everyone in his line of sight. He hadn't slept the entire night, his mind constantly thinking about what he had seen.

Namjoon had brought you home since you didn't have a place to stay anyway. The entire car ride, you quietly watched him decline calls and ignore messages from different people. Jimin, Yoongi and Jin were some of the names you had seen. You assumed he was off to do something important but he couldn't because of you. Your conscience was guilty that someone else had to suffer due to your problems. However, you didn't know that Namjoon was beyond happy to have company. He was happy that he was now gonna be living with someone normal, someone innocent unlike the people he was always surrounded with. You were a breath of fresh air for him and he wasn't planning on letting you find a place for yourself. He wanted to know everything about you and he wanted to tell you everything about him. He wanted to see if you too thought that he was a monster.

Reaching his house, you took your time to admire it. It was the kind of house you'd see in movies, owned by the rich and the mean population. But Namjoon wasn't mean at all. You were sure of that.

The house definitely left you in awe but the bedroom that Namjoon took you to was much more lavish. You ended up letting out a small squeal along with the happiest grin. Namjoon stood by the door and smiled at your excitement. For years, he had hated the house because of how cold and lonely it made him feel but now, he couldn't be more appreciative of it. Your eyes twinkled in the lights when you told him that you loved the room. His heart had skipped a beat and he wasn't sure if it would ever beat normally around you. He gave you some of his clothes so that you could change out of the damp clothes that clung to your body. They were his clothes, of course, and they were too big for you. So you had ditched the bottoms and opted to wear the t-shirt that reached your thighs, sighing in content when the faint smell of Namjoon's cologne hit your nose.

And that's when Namjoon had seen them.

He didn't mean to peek inside your room while you were changing but the door was slightly open. He was about to look away when his eyes landed on the scars and bruises littered across your back. It was as if he was seeing a canvas with shades of blue, purple, red and pink on it. Some were fresh, some were old and some were fading. His hand hurt by how tight he had clenched his fists. The image of you getting beaten up by your father flashed in his mind, which made him more angry. He wanted nothing more than to go find that bastard before he left town and torture him to death. If it weren't for you, then he would have probably done that.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

"It was an emergency." Namjoon stated, answering the questions of all his gang members. His thoughts kept going back to how he had left the house after seeing you asleep, promising himself that he'd be back before you woke up. He had also given strict instructions to his cook, Walter, that no matter what, no word should be mentioned to you about Namjoon's whereabouts. Because he was scared. Scared that you'd run away and never come back.

But Yoongi didn't plan on letting Namjoon go back without an explanation. Maybe not in front of all the members but Namjoon had to explain. Everyone had been worried sick because Namjoon hadn't answered any of the texts or calls. All the members were mad at their leader but knowing Namjoon, it must have been a good reason for him to miss the meeting. Namjoon never missed the mafia's meetings, no matter where he was.

"Okay, we can do this some other time but for now, we have much more important things to discuss." Hoseok said, drawing all the attention from Namjoon. Namjoon gave him a thankful nod which Hoseok returned, knowing that the leader was in a difficult place at the moment.

"There are three important things we need to talk about today." Yoongi announced, standing up from his place around the conference table and moving to stand at the empty end, looking around the table before stopping to look at Namjoon. Namjoon nodded and leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands in front of him and waiting for Yoongi to start the meeting.

"Firstly, our drug dealer, C. He disappeared without a trace this morning. We had a shipment coming in today but he's gone. Anyone know why?" Yoongi asked, placing his hands in his pockets and pacing around. As soon as the name was mentioned, Namjoon felt his blood boil. He never wanted to work with a man like that again. A man who was ready to hurt his family was good for nothing.

"He won't be working with us anymore. Taehyung, find us someone else and this time, do a thorough background check on the person's family too. I need all the information possible." Namjoon ordered, trying his hardest to hold back his anger which was threatening to be released. Taehyung frowned but nodded anyway. He had never collected information about a drug dealer's family before. And why would he? Family was a personal thing and he respected that. The entire gang did.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes and looked at Namjoon suspiciously before sighing and turning away.

"Second thing, the 'siren' is back." Yoongi said, watching everyone's reaction as confused glances were exchanged around the room. Namjoon frowned and gave Yoongi a questioning look. How was it possible?

The Siren was an assassin in the underworld who had never failed a single mission. No one ever knew the real identity of the siren until it was revealed that he/she was no more. All of a sudden, the siren had become very quiet and no informant knew anything about what was going on. So it was assumed that the person was dead. All gangs were scared of the siren. It was said that it was absolutely impossible to not fall into the trap set up by the siren. Along with being an assassin, the siren was also a lurer.

"How could that be? Wasn't the siren dead? And suddenly this person comes back after like 4 years?" Jungkook asked, curiosity eating him up inside. If the siren was really back, then all gangs had to be on a high alert. No one ever knew who the siren killed and why.

"Thought so too but there's been talk among the informants. It's most definitely true because no one was certain if the siren really died." Jin replied, casting worried glances at everyone. Namjoon nodded his head and thought for a moment before humming and looking at Jin.

"Any new recruits?" He asked, watching intently as Jin nodded. "Okay then. I need every single detail about the newbies. Also, gather as much information about the siren as possible. Try to lure them out. See if we can find out who that is." Namjoon stated, recieving supportive nods from everyone. He tapped his foot impatiently, getting anxious as the meeting was finally coming to an end. Hopefully he'd be home before you wake up. Hopefully you wouldn't just leave thinking that you're bothering Namjoon.

"So, lastly.....this one's a little complicated." Yoongi explained, pressing a few keys on the laptop in front of him. Suddenly a picture was projected on the white screen in front of the room, making everyone's breath hitch. Slowly, all heads turned to Namjoon, finding the leader's jaw clenched and his eyes glaring harshly at Yoongi.

"What is this supposed to mean?" Namjoon growled, his heart pounding louder the more he looked at the image. The smiling girl on the screen brought back too many memories for Namjoon. Painful ones. He tried to pretend like she never existed. Like she was never a part of his life.

Like he never had a small crush on her.

Like she was never his best friend.

Yoongi pursed his lips and winced internally on seeing Namjoon's expression change into a cold one. He wasn't sure how mad Namjoon would be after Yoongi would break the news to him. But it had to be done.

"She was spotted in Incheon yesterday."

A heavy silence fell upon the room. So heavy that it suffocated every person in the room. Pushing his chair behind, Namjoon stood up and rushed to leave the room.

"Namj-"

"No! Don't say anything! I don't wanna hear it. She fucking died 4 years ago. Do you think I'm gonna believe this bullshit?!" He bellowed, making everyone gulp. Namjoon placed his hand on the door handle, clutching it tightly as his other hand pressed his forehead, a throbbing pain making its way across it. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the cool glass of the door, sighing in defeat.

"Did you really see her?" He asked, his voice softer than before.

"I didn't. I wanted to ask you before going after her." Yoongi answered, completely understanding why Namjoon was so upset. Namjoon nodded and took in a deep breath.

"Find out if she's really alive. Call me immediately when you do."

And just like that, Namjoon left the gang house before Yoongi even got the chance to talk to him.

A number of sighs and groans echoed through the room as Yoongi sat in his place, running a hand through his hair. Everyone was shocked and overwhelmed at the news. If Hana was really alive then why hadn't she come back to meet anyone? Why hadn't she come back to meet Namjoon?

"Did anyone notice how the siren and Hana came back at the same time?" Jimin wondered out loud, making everyone sit up straighter and raise their eyebrows.

"Not just that. They even disappeared at the same time." Jin stated, frowning and staring at his hands before looking up at Yoongi. Looking up at the ceiling, Yoongi shook his head.

"We need to find Hana."

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

You slowly opened your eyes, squinting at the little light that fell on you. With a small sigh you rubbed your eyes, trying to get the sleep out of it. You sat up in the mess of the soft sheets and stretched your arms, yawning shamelessly until your eyes fell on the man leaning on the wall beside your bed.

Namjoon.

You gasped and placed a hand on your chest. "You scared me."

Namjoon stood with a leg up against the wall as his back leaned on it, a white shirt clinging to his body. His arms were crossed and his sleeves were rolled up.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to. I was just checking up on you." He said, giving you a smile that didn't seem too genuine. You frowned, noticing how he seemed lost. You got out of bed and went a little closer to him. "Are you alright?" You asked to which he simply nodded. You assumed he didn't wanna talk to you about it. Obviously. You had just met the man. Why would he trust you so soon?

Biting your bottom lip, you glanced at your feet, deciding that it's best if you left. You couldn't be a burden to anyone else anymore.

"Can I- can I shower before I leave?" You hesitated, peeking up at him through your lashes. Namjoon pushed himself off of the wall, frowning at you in confusion.

"Leave? What do you mean?" He asked, hoping you weren't talking about leaving his house. You felt small under his gaze, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I mean I can't stay here. It's your house and I need to go look for a place-"

"You aren't going anywhere." Namjoon stated, placing his hands in his pocket. You immediately looked up at him with wide eyes, not knowing if you heard him right. His face held an expression that you couldn't read. Without a word, Namjoon walked towards the bedroom door, looking at you over his shoulder.

"You are staying here. Don't talk about going anywhere."

Taglist: @uwunamjoon @shadowstark @addy-nerd @tzuyyyuuu @stressedinmedschool247 @ifellinluvwithdorks @min-t-posts @floofwrites @pretty-in-pink-just-because @bts-d-onut @fangirllbookworm @mystical-writer @it-is-dana @ximaginx

Let me know if I missed anyone! Or if you wanna be tagged.

-XX

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md3artjournal · 3 years ago

Text

Lately. I've been so insecure about my art.

The other day, I found another artist I love, who had deleted all their fanart from a my current ship obsession. This same ship, just a few months ago, another fanartist I love, had deleted their entire Twitter of fanart. Whoever said that "once something is on the internet, it's there forever", was a liar, because these 2 instances were NOT the first time this has happened to me. Then I'm kicking myself for not downloading every bit of art of theirs, at the time I first saw it. I shouldn't be relying and retweets and reblogs and bookmarking URLs that won't be there one day. And yet, I keep doing it, because I'm lazy or tired, and then---*poof* Once day, artists just decide to delete all their fanart or fanfics. Usually because they're going pro and they don't want to leave traces of their fandom work online for prospective employers to happen into. That's usually the reason.

Anyway, so for the past few days, I've been systematically downloading fanart from this ship, and it's been forcing me to stare at art SOO SO SO much better than mine, that I feel more and more insecure about being in artist alley, let alone trying to live as an artist. And before all this, I was already very insecure about my art.

I can refer back to all the martial arts anime/manga ideologies that I found resonant in the art community:

* Don't compare yourself to others.

* You're trying to improve versus your previous, past self/skill, not vs other people.

* Everyone is at different levels of experience. It's not strictly bound to age.

* The training and practice is how you Grow and find things out about yourself. Just attaining the ultimate strength isn't the goal.

* Know what True Strength is, and differentiate that from Power.

* Continuing to Fight and incrementally Growing everyday is more important than ultimately winning any singular perceived goal.

All that stuff from martial arts movies, I found also applies to the arts in general.

But even with knowing that, I still struggle with feeling hopeless. And comparing myself. And feeling like I just am not cut out for this. Not because I don't want to do this, but because I'll never get good enough to compete as a pro. And when you're making your living as an artist, you've gotta think about competition. I hate it.

Earlier today, I saw a Struthless video that asked us to make a list of the things we'd do if we only had 6 months to live and couldn't fail.

"How to find your Direction in Life (a guide)" by struthless (https://youtu.be/YXqXKz_L__w)

What would I do if I had 6 months to live and couldn't fail:

* Write my Personal Myth.

* Nendoroid photoshoot ideas.

* Draw beautiful fanart.

* Draw comics.

* Finish videogame backlogs.

* Finish reading favorite and new manga.

All I want to do is make something beautiful. Whenever I look at my terrible art and mentally whine about it, all I'm screaming is that I wish I could make something "beautiful". Not just something that people like because it's fanart of a character or series they already love. But something inherently beautiful. All the time, I run into art of people's OCs or fanart of series I don't even know, but their art is so inherently beautiful, I don't care. I don't care about external, third party reasons for projected attachment. I wish I could make something like that. I wish I could make art that was "beautiful". I just want to make beautiful art. ;o;

So far, the closest I've gotten to this criteria are my sketches of flowers, or any realism styled illustrations of photos, really. Did I mention I hate realism? Did I mention that I wanted to draw because of all these daydreams I have pent up in my head that I want to grab onto before they dissolve into nothing? Did I mention I actually prefer stylized art styles over realism? Even when my art is objectively good---even when it pulls off the magic trick of Realism, replicating the real world onto paper, I still hate it. Because it's still not the fanart of the characters I love. It's not even the art of my OCs and Personal Myth, and certainty not good enough for anyone who didn't know the characters to think it was still beautiful art.

My dad told me a few times before college, that when you find what you want to do, you'll find yourself working hard at it, even without thinking. To an extent, that is what I found myself doing with art. Out of all my core classes (AKA: sampling each field), art was not only the one that I found myself doing more work and putting more effort into, without the assignment/teacher even asking, but I ENJOYED it. I enjoyed putting more work into it. I liked the grind of solving its problems and the tedium of perfectly crafting a thing. To this day, I still love reiterating on prototypes and crafting processes.

But maybe I don't love it enough, because I'm constantly ditching on the hard work of improving my illustration skills. If I loved that art, then wouldn't I love working on it? But I hate studying fundamentals, model gestures, perspective, lighting, anatomy, etc. I have a kind of aversion to looking at people's faces, if they're human and realistic, so I hate looking at real life references. (My dad has suggested I get evaluated for autism spectrum, since these traits run in our family but no one's ever been tested.) Even though human realism and anatomy is what I really should be studying, if I want to draw even my beloved fanart characters/daydreams so badly. So if I'm not doing that, if I'm so reluctant, I have to ask myself: Do I even really love art? Do I really love doing this? Maybe I'm not cut out for it, after all. ;_;

I dunno. I've been asking myself the same question about being alive, since I was 11. And whether life or art, I always eventually ask myself, "If I really don't think I belong here, then why do I always feel sad at the thought that I'm not cut out for it?" At one of my 2 closest suicide attempts, my answer was "millions of years of evolution-ingrained Survival Instinct is just really hard to overcome...But my logic is sound and I'm not wrong." So the only shame was that I was just too incapable of overcoming Survival Instinct. And now I'm just too chicken and lazy to die. Also too chicken and lazy to live too. But whatever. Wait around, I'll die eventually. So what do I do about Art? Whenever I think I might have been wrong to switch to the Art Major, I remember that I couldn't stay in the Science College because anything that ups your suicidal thoughts from twice a year to 10 times in 2 weeks, is an environment you have to get out of, ASAP. But how is sticking around in Art, any better than back when I thought my thing was Science---which I had deluded myself into thinking I liked because it was comparatively easy. Relatively less pain than everything else in school is not the same as actually liking a subject.

But I guess I have to admit that I do like doing art. I may not be good at it, but I like it. I like reiterating prototypes and trying to make my daydreams less fleeting. I like writing and drawing. And maybe if I get back to reading manga everyday, I can re-hone my paneling intuition enough to the level back when I could draw comics. It's be nice to be able to draw comics again. That's the whole reason I got into the Art Major. I used to solidly identify myself as a Writer. But I idolized people like Rumiko Takahashi who could draw and write their own stories. She didn't have to hire someone else to draw her stories or write for her. I wanted to be like that. And since I thought I had found a practice that enabled my writing to continually (incrementally) improve by myself, I thought it was time to admit that I needed help with art/illustration. Of writing and art, art was the one I needed professional help from teachers on. If only I didn't lose my writing community and drop off from writing. Without that identity, I didn't know what I was doing. And it's not like my art was good enough to make up for what I had lost. I don't know what I'm doing. x_x;

8:31 PM 1/12/2022

Well, right now, I'm just whining. So please ignore my idiocy.

I don't know if watching Tick Tick Boom over and over again lately is making my art insecurities feel better or worse.😅 The songs definitely make me feel better though.🎶🌈

#rambling #venting #please ignore my idiocy #artist problems #insecurities

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