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whitedarkmoonflower · 1 year

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Authors note: this is the third and last part of @sihtricfedaraaahvicius lovely first date fluff request.

Summary: Sihtric – a talented artist – juggles between his passion for painting and his job as a graphic designer. At the corporate Christmas party, Sihtric's unspoken feelings for his boss are tested when a twist of fate brings them closer than expected.

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: actually none, fluff, suppressed feelings

Word Count: 4,2 K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

You paced the living room, casting irritated glances at your phone. "Why did I leave it on silent? Maybe I missed a notification," you thought, even though you had checked it roughly fifty times in the past hour.

"Come on! Get a grip," you scolded yourself, rolling your eyes. "You're acting like a lovestruck teen! It's just Sihtric." But even as you thought that, butterflies took flight in your stomach. Who were you trying to kid?

You flopped down on the couch, hugging a cushion. "It's just one text. One little message. Is that too much to ask?" But as the minutes ticked by, the screen remained annoyingly void of new notifications. You huffed, tossing the phone beside you.

"Maaaybe I should text him? No, no. Play it cool," the debate in your mind continued.

Just as you were about to convince yourself to opt for some distraction — Netflix or that pint of ice cream in the freezer — your phone buzzed.

Heart leaping, you snatched it up. The sender's name made your heart race even faster: Sihtric.

The screen lit up with Sihtric's name, and the content of the message made your heart do that weird jumpy thing again.

"Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? What are you up to? Also, is it cool if I call you? I know it's late."

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a flurry of responses running through your mind from "Yes, please call! I've been waiting!" till "No, I'm totally busy and not thinking about you at all!" Ugh, why was it so hard?

"Keep it chill," you reminded yourself, typing back, "Hey! I'm just relaxing, watching the city lights. Sure, you can call."

You hit send, and the waiting game began. Every second seemed to stretch, and you mentally prepared for the conversation, trying to sound casual and not like you'd been staring at your phone for hours. The phone's ringtone finally broke the silence, and with a deep breath, you swiped to answer.

The moment you picked up the call, Sihtric's familiar voice came through, though this time tinged with a hint of hesitation. "Hey, it's me. I, um... just wanted to make sure things are cool between us. Today was... unexpected."

You could picture him, probably ruffling his hair nervously, maybe even pacing his room just like you'd been doing earlier.

He continued, his voice growing softer, "I've been trying to paint, you know, but it's just... it's not happening. All I can think about is you. It's maddening."

Your heart raced. The honesty in his voice was disarming. You took a moment to find the right words, not wanting to sound too eager or too distant. "Sihtric, about today... I wasn't upset about the kiss, not at all."

There was a short pause on the other end of the line, probably Sihtric absorbing your words.

"You weren't?" he finally asked, hope evident in his tone.

"No," you responded with a chuckle, "And I'm really looking forward to your exhibition. I mean, if you can eventually get back to painting."

You could almost hear the grin in his reply. "I'll manage, especially now."

There was a noticeable pause and you wondered what to say next.

"You know," Sihtric started, his voice a tad shaky, "I've been thinking... The exhibition is still some days away, and I kinda... I mean, I don't really want to wait that long to see you again."

Your heart did a little flip. "What are you getting at, Sihtric?" you teased lightly, though your own voice betrayed your anticipation.

He cleared his throat, gathering courage, "Would you... I mean, would you be up for grabbing dinner or coffee or... I don't know, something before the exhibition? Like, a date?"

Your cheeks warmed up, the boldness of his question catching you off guard, but in a delightful way. "A date, huh?" you mused, drawing out the moment just a tad, relishing in the sweet uncertainty of it.

"Yes," you finally replied, your voice soft but certain, "I'd love that."

Sihtric let out a breathy laugh, relief evident in his tone, "Good. That's... that's really good. How about the day after tomorrow? I've got a few last-minute touches to make for the exhibition," Sihtric's voice resonated with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

"That works for me," you replied, the grin evident in your voice. "Gives me some time to pick out the perfect outfit."

Sihtric chuckled, "You'd look amazing in anything. Alright, day after tomorrow it is."

There was a brief pause, the comforting kind filled with bubbling excitement. "Hey," Sihtric finally said, his tone softer, "Sweet dreams, okay? And... thank you."

You smiled, heart fluttering. "Sweet dreams, Sihtric. I'm looking forward to our date."

"Okay, deep breaths," you whispered to yourself the moment the call ended, dashing to your wardrobe and sliding open the doors. Dresses, skirts, blouses stared back at you, making the choice a torment.

After trying on what felt like half your wardrobe, you flopped onto your bed, tired but with a smile plastered across your face. As you snuggled under your blanket, thoughts of Sihtric floated in — his voice as he said your name, the mischievous grin in his eyes, his lips brushing against yours in that crazy, sweet and passionate kiss. And you slowly drifted off to sleep with his voice playing in your head like a soft, contagious tune.

Meanwhile, at his studio across town, Sihtric stood, brush in hand, in front of a blank canvas. The adrenaline from the call, the buzz of the upcoming date, it was a wild mix of emotions and his heart was doing weird flips. He was in a daze. You weren't mad about the kiss, and hell, you’d even agreed to go out with him. Sihtric felt like he was floating, living out a daydream, his eyes sparkling with glee as the painting started to take shape.

—-------------------------------------

The next morning, as the first light streamed in, Sihtric practically leapt out of bed, his mind racing. "I have just one day to make it perfect," he kept thinking. His desire to make it memorable reached borderline frantic levels. So, what started as a simple dinner plan quickly turned into a reservation at “La Brasserie” – one of the city's most exclusive spots. It was the place for celebs and big shots. And while it was typically booked out for months, Sihtric had some connections and managed to nab a table.

And the ride? Well, he imagined you in a killer outfit, and he wanted the ride to be just as cool. A couple of quick calls, and boom, he got a sleek limo with a professional driver ready to roll up at your door.

Sihtric scratched his head over the question of an appropriate gift. "Jewellery? Is that too much?" he wondered. He found this dainty bracelet with these tiny diamonds that caught the light just right.

Throughout the day, he was a bundle of nerves, second-guessing everything. Was it too much? Would you find it overwhelming? But then he'd remember that twinkle in your eyes, your laugh, and he'd be all in again. He just wanted the night to be as special as what he felt for you.

It was evening already as Sihtric stared at his phone in confusion, his fingers hovering over the phone's keyboard. He wanted to give you a hint without revealing too much, and he wanted to convey his excitement without overwhelming you. With a laugh, he hit the dial.

"Hey! Hope you're good,” he said as soon as you had picked up. “So, I've got a fun plan for tomorrow night, nothing too wild, promise! Just a heads up to expect... a little something. Excited to see you!”

He waited, fingers crossed, hoping he'd struck the right balance.

Hearing Sihtric’s cheerful voice brought a smile to your face.

"Hey there! Look, I'm all in for a fun evening. But let's keep it chill and simple, okay? No fancy places with people trying to show off. And please, no gifts. I'm just looking forward to a good time with you, getting to know the guy behind the canvas."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Man, what was I thinking?" Sihtric mumbled to himself after you had hung up, cringing at the thought of the swanky restaurant reservation. All he wanted was to give you an unforgettable evening, but it seemed he was about to overdo it.

"Alright, deep breaths," he told himself, taking a moment to refocus. "OK, she's obviously into real moments, not big gestures. Easy, chill vibes."

For most folks, a low-key date might mean grabbing coffee or chilling at a park, nothing easier than that. But for Sihtric, this was like a nightmare. He wanted to nail it, to make it perfect and memorable. And how the heck he was supposed to do it in a chill and simple setting?

Every idea Sihtric came up with seemed too over the top or just plain dull. He kept overthinking, "You've got one shot at this, don't blow it!" But the more he thought, the more tangled he felt. And in truth it wasn't even about the date. Deep down, he was just simply scared that he, as just plain old 'Sihtric', wouldn't be enough. He so badly wanted to show you how special you were to him, and doubted profoundly if the ordinary, everyday Sihtric could do that.

And suddenly, it hit him. An idea so simple, yet so... him. Bingo.

—----------------------------------------

Sihtric paused outside your door, a mess of nerves and excitement. He wanted to press the doorbell, then hesitated. It hit him just how wild this was. He was about to take out the very person he'd been low-key crushing on for the last half year, someone who seemed worlds apart from his everyday life just a short while ago.

He inhaled deeply, trying to calm down. Everything he'd rehearsed in his head had suddenly disappeared, leaving his brain empty and blank as a white canvas. Thoughts buzzed around like, "Should I drop a compliment straight up? What if there’s that weird silence? What if…"

"Hey, you got this. Just be real," he tried to encourage himself and pushed the doorbell, crossing his fingers in the hope the night would feel as genuine as he wanted it to be.

The doorbell rang and a tiny "Oh no!" slipped out of your mouth. "Already?!" Glancing in the mirror, you were mentally battling with your outfit choice... again. "Too fancy? Or just boring? Why didn't I plan better?"

Shaking off the nerves, your focus shifted. "Wait, where are my shoes?!" Spotting one near the coffee table, you quickly put it on. Then, snapping the other, you hurried to the door, hopping around on one feet and trying to get that damned shoe on too. You must've looked like a scene from a romantic comedy.

Opening the door with one shoe fully on and the other half-worn, you looked up to find Sihtric's amused eyes on you. There was a brief moment where both of you just looked at each other, taking in the reality of the situation.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, "Well, this is one way to start a date, huh?"

Sihtric's eyes widened as he took in your appearance and his face broke into a genuine, warm smile, as his laughter met yours, "Keeping things interesting right from the start. I'm here for it."

Sihtric took a moment to really see you. You were glowing, looking effortlessly chic. And while he was totally impressed, there was one small issue: in his frantic effort to find the perfect setting, he had forgotten to warn you that his new plan for the evening involved a bit of a chill. Like the real chill.

"Hey," he began, a little sheepish, "you look amazing, like seriously. But, uh, we might be braving the cold tonight. Maybe something a touch warmer?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddened, realising this wasn't a typical way to start a date chat. "Just don’t want you freezing. Trust me, though, it's gonna be cool."

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, appreciating his thoughtfulness. With a smile, you replied, "Give me a moment, and I'll be right back. Cosy and warm it is!"

—---------------------------------------

"Hey, so we're heading to this cool little town about a half-hour away. Grew up there, and trust me, it’s magic this time of year," Sihtric shared in the car, sneaking quick glances your way as he spoke.

You tried to seem focused, but your mind was elsewhere. The dim light from the dashboard illuminated his features just enough for you to notice the fine lines of his profile, the curve of his lips, and the intense concentration in his eyes. He looked different outside the confines of the office - more relaxed, more...himself. And wow, did it look good on him.

It's funny how different settings can make you see someone in a whole new way and in the soft light of Sihtric's car, miles from the daily office buzz, you started to get it - the connection, the vibe between you two that you'd totally missed before.

You got caught staring, and when you looked up, Sihtric was grinning right back at you. "Oops," you mumbled, your cheeks flushing as you quickly turned to the window, but you couldn't help that sly smile creeping on your face.

His laugh broke the moment. "Caught you." The air in the car became slightly charged. The night was young, and you were all in for wherever it might lead.

The little town looked like something emerged out of a fairy tale. Snow everywhere, and those cute houses all lit up. The car pulled to a stop and next moment Sihtric was already out, jogging over to your side and swinging the door open.

"Lady," he smiled, extending his arm out for you to take.

You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes but taking his arm nonetheless. The snow crunched under your feet as you walked, and the cold air filled your lungs, invigorating and refreshing. Sihtric took you on a mini tour, with each street looking like it could be on a postcard. It was super chilly but the warm lights from the houses made everything feel cosy.

Then you neared the park, the distant sound of festive music and laughter growing louder, and you actually thought that you were stepping into a winter wonderland. The trees were adorned with these twinkling lights, making the snow sparkle like with some kind of magic. And then there were these cute stalls everywhere that seriously looked like gingerbread houses from a storybook. They were selling all sorts of cool stuff, and the air was filled with the awesome smell of mulled wine, roasted nuts, and waffles. Just thinking about it made your mouth water.

People were everywhere, chilling around fire pits or grooving to some live music from a band on a small stage.

Sihtric, sensing your wonder, looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with delight. "What do you think?" he asked, the anticipation clear in his voice.

You took a moment, letting the ambiance wash over you, before replying, "It's magical, Sihtric. It's like something out of a movie. Seriously."

His grin got even bigger, and you could tell he was so glad, even relieved you were into it.

The market was just ahead, but right where you stood, the snow was untouched. You couldn’t resist. Gathering up a handful, you quickly shaped it into a snowball. With a sneaky smile, you shouted, "Hey, Sihtric!" The second he looked over, you launched it right at him, nailing him on the arm.

For a moment, he stood there, feigning shock, then a sly smile formed on his lips. "You're so asking for it," he laughed, making up his own snowball.

The next couple minutes were a total chaos. Snowballs whizzed around. Laughter echoed through the chill air, as you both ducked, dodged and chucked snow at each other.

Sihtric, being taller and stronger, had a bit of an advantage. But you were sneaky and kept catching him off guard. At one point, he theatrically dove behind a tree to avoid your throw, only to emerge with a heap of snow on his arms, which he playfully dumped right onto you from behind.

"Hey! Not fair!" you squealed, trying to shake off the cold.

He just chuckled, his eyes shining with mischief. "All's fair in love and snowball wars." He couldn't stop laughing, especially when you landed a snowball on his chest in payback.

With that cheeky glint in his eyes, he suddenly lunged forward, grabbing you around your waist and giving you a twirl. The world seemed to blur – the lights, the stalls, the snow.

When he finally put you down, both of you were breathless and laughing, and for a split second, everything else faded. The rest of the world seemed to be far away, as if you two were caught in a snow globe of your own. You felt the warmth of his gaze, noticed the rosy flush on his cheeks, and how his eyes lit up looking at you. The moment felt so right. He leaned in, and you could feel your heart drumming in your chest. Just as your lips were about to meet, a heap of snow from the tree above decided to tumble down onto both of you. The moment was ruined, but you both just burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

Sihtric glanced at your snow-dusted coat and a tiny worry line creased his forehead. As much fun as this was, he didn't want you to freeze. Tossing up his hands in surrender, his playful grin shifted to a warm smile.

"Okay, okay! You've got me! You win!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees dramatically.

You giggled, triumphantly raising another snowball over your head like a trophy. "Well, what say you, defeated one? How will you buy your way out of this?"

Sihtric looked up at you, eyes sparkling, "How about a peace offering? Some mulled wine and waffles as a sign of my absolute and utter surrender?"

You smirked, considering. "Mulled wine and waffles? Hmm... " Tossing the snowball aside, you continued, "You've got yourself a deal. But let's get one thing straight: I'm the snowball fight champ. No rematches!"

Sihtric chuckled, getting up and brushing off the snow. "Agreed." He offered his arm, which you playfully took, and the two of you, covered in snow and beaming, made your way to the market's warmth.

Sihtric guided you to a stall where the scent of warm spices and wine filled the air. Grinning cheekily, he handed you a mug of hot mulled wine, partly as a truce, but mostly as an attempt to warm you up.

Taking a sip, you felt the comforting warmth seep in. Sihtric, meanwhile, seemed to be lost in a little world of his own. He was watching the little things you probably didn’t even notice you were doing: the way you held the mug, the small sigh of contentment as you took a sip.

The rising steam from the wine swirled around your face, giving you an almost dreamlike appearance. Sihtric realised he was staring a touch too long, but he couldn’t help it. He was just so caught up in the moment, feeling like he wanted nothing more than to wrap up in a big, cosy blanket with you and never let you leave.

After you both finished your drinks, Sihtric brought you the promised waffles and nudged you playfully, suggesting a walk around the market. He kept sneaking these glances, not even trying to hide them. Seeing you like this, all relaxed and bubbly, was so different from the always in control boss back at work. Your laughter, the way you’d stop and admire a cute trinket or close your eyes, while breathing in the yummy smells wafting around — these cute moments were absolute treasures for him; they felt like he was getting to know a part of you he had never seen before. And he was all in for it.

—----------------------------------------

You felt like you had landed in a fairy tale, a cosy and warm fairy tale, but it wasn’t just the wonderful surroundings that gave you that sense; it was actually Sihtric. Every step you took with him was like a breath of fresh air and you couldn't help but notice the ease that surrounded him.

There was something about Sihtric, maybe it was his childlike enthusiasm, his wholehearted laugh or the way he got excited over the tiniest things, that made you forget all the stress and monotony of everyday life.

While wandering around, he stopped at a stall with wooden toys. He took a small soldier and let it march over his palm. Sihtric laughed, giving you a playful nudge. "Look at this," he grinned, showing the toy, "Simple and joyful. Kinda like how I feel right now with you."

Your heart warmed at his words. Being with Sihtric felt like being kids again, back to times when days were carefree and everything was an adventure. You gave his hand a little squeeze, grateful for the lightness and happiness of the moment.

—----------------------------------------

The ride home was easygoing, the radio was playing the usual repertoire for this time of the year, and although you had never been fond of the “Last Christmas”, you found yourself quietly humming along.

In the gentle glow from the dashboard Sihtric sneaked a few quick looks your way now and then, and every time he did, his heart raced a little faster. He couldn’t help but think about the evening over and over again, replaying every smile, every laugh, every touch, wondering if any of it meant as much to you as it did to him. Did you share even a fraction of the emotions he was grappling with? Did your heart race when he was close, just as his did?

At the red lights, he'd let his gaze linger a little longer, trying to read you; taking a breath, he mustered the courage to break the silence.

"Tonight was... kinda amazing, wasn't it?" he said, voice low and a tad unsure.

You turned his way, your eyes locked for a second, and in that fleeting moment, seeing that weird spark in them, Sihtric felt a glimmer of hope, the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you felt something too.

"Was it?" You blurted out, a hint of blush creeping onto your cheeks, mentally kicking yourself for not having something smoother to say.

He chuckled, "Yeah, it was. It's just...you outside of work…You’re… You're... amasing."

You swallowed, feeling a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. "I had a great time too, Sihtric," you finally managed to respond, your voice soft.

The car ride went quiet for a sec. Sihtric cleared his throat, fingers playing on the steering wheel, and stole another quick glance at you.

"There's...uh, there's something I'd like to show you," he started, voice low and kinda shaky. He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "It's a place...a place very personal to me. My studio."

Your eyebrows went up. This was new.

He continued, "I've never really shown it to anyone. It's where I paint, where I kinda dump everything going on in my head." He glanced at you, waiting for a reaction, eyes all open and honest. "I'd like you to see it. Only if you want to, of course."

You could sense the significance of his invitation. Taken aback by the depth of the offer, you took a moment to process. This wasn't just about showing a room with paintings. He was offering you a sneak into an important part of who he really was.

"I'd love to see it," you replied softly, touching his arm reassuringly.

A big, relieved smile spread across Sihtric's face, and for the rest of the drive, an air of anticipation enveloped the two of you.

—---------------------------------------

Sihtric pulled up to his apartment complex, but instead of heading straight for the main doors, he headed towards a tucked-away side entrance with some steep stairs.

With every step, the city noise started to get softer, replaced by the muted quiet of the attic.

Unlocking and pushing open a door, Sihtric stepped aside and motioned for you to go in first. Inside was a world of its own: canvases stacked up, paints and brushes all around, rough sketches pinned up, and candles – like, absolutely everywhere.

“I don’t like the harsh light from bulbs when I paint,” he explained, helping you out of your coat and throwing it on a couch in the corner. Sihtric quickly went around, lighting up the candles.

“So, this is it," Sihtric started, sounding a bit hesitant. "My own little corner, my escape. Thought you should see it.”

The dim candle light, paired with the gentle moonlight glow from the window, added a layer of intimacy to the space and left you touched and breathless. Each piece felt so...alive. It was like walking into a dream, where colours danced and whispered tales of hope, love, and heartbreak. And it got you wondering – how had you missed this side of Sihtric?

As you moved from painting to painting, a mix of awe for Sihtric and a touch of self-doubt stirred inside. Here was this stunning, handsome and incredibly talented man, opening up his world to you. What did he see in you?

You halted in front of a particularly crazy cool painting — blue crashing into blazing orange, like a wild dance of peace and chaos. Sihtric was quiet, watching you like he was trying to read your thoughts.

"Wow, it’s so beautiful," you breathed out, more to yourself than him.

He took a step closer, sneaking his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Kinda like life, right? A mad mix of the chill and the storm," he whispered.

You turned to face him, "Sihtric, this is just mind-blowing… It's incredible. You are so talented… And now, seeing all this, I … I feel like I have been blind all this time… and I can’t help wondering... why me?"

Sihtric shot you a playful grin, pulling you closer to his chest. "You know, in the crazy ride of my life, you just appeared to be the missing piece. A skill without a heart behind it is worthless. And my heart just chose you."

You smiled at him, gazing into his warm, mismatched eyes. A soft moan slipped from your lips as Sihtric leaned in to kiss you. It was just the first of many moans, sighs, and gasps of pure pleasure you couldn't hold back that night as Sihtric's lips and hands explored every inch of your body. And by dawn, with the room softly lit by morning's first light, you found yourself snug in his embrace, pleasantly tired and breathless, listening to him whispering words of affection and admiration, and all you could think of was how lucky you were that somehow, the stars had aligned and brought you both together on that balcony just in the right moment for this fairy tale to begin.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric x you #arnas fedaravicius #sihtric x reader #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #tlk fic #sihtric fanfiction

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sugar-phoenix · 4 months

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unfinished rought unedited short story about vampires

alright so the winning vote out of the polls was "yes" so I'm deciding to post my unfinished short story draft here because I'm too impatient to wait until i finish it to post it

My new roommate is a vampire.

How do I know this? Simple.

Johnny Robert-Mulligan told me, about a week after he moved in.

“Now you seem like a respectable man, Daniel, so I'll tell you straight up: I'm a vampire.”

I nodded, thinking that he was joking or high or something.

“I will be having blood packets delivered to me each week. You need not make dinner for two. And don't invite your friends over on nights of full moons unless you want them to be sucked dry.”

We stared at each other for a moment. It was then that I realized that he was being completely serious. And then, he laughed, quite loudly, which scared the wits out of me.

“I'm just kidding, of course,” he said, chuckling.

“Oh, thank God. I thought you were actually a vampire there for a moment.”

“No I am, I am a vampire. I was joking about the full moon thing. That's a werewolf thing, not a vampire thing.”

I only stared at him in shock again.

“Oh, don't tell me you believe in werewolves? Those are completely made up.”

“Well,” I responded, “until five minutes ago I didn't think of the possibility of either vampires or werewolves being real.”

And thus began our odd friendship, of which I learned a great deal about vampires. As it turned out, vampires were a lot less untouchable than I had previously thought.

“Is it true that vampires die from a stake to the heart?” I asked one lazy Sunday afternoon, while we were watching the game. The ads were rolling, and I was eager to take this chance to ask my new roommate more about himself.

“Technically speaking, a stake to the heart could kill anything. You could also kill me by stabbing me, shooting me, running me over, throwing me off a cliff,” Johnny proceeded to count off his fingers. “Anything that would kill you would kill me.”

“Oh, I see. I guess that makes sense.”

“We're not immortal either,” he added, taking a sip out of his Coke can. Although soda did nothing for him in terms of sugar intake or energy, he told me that he had gotten quite hooked on the taste.

“You aren't?”

“No, we're just extremely long lived. I think my great grandfather lived for almost 600 years.”

I let that sink in.

“How old are you, Johnny?”

“I think I'm turning 197 this year.”

I turned to look at him.

“That would mean you've lived through both of the World Wars.”

“Oh yes, I did. I don't remember anything though, I was too young. You see, vampires only reach adulthood at around 150 years of age.” He took another sip of his soda. “You know, come to think of it, my parents might have stolen blood from the opposing sides to keep us fed. I think there was a movement or something. ‘Make The Nazis Paler’ and all that.”

“I see.”

And then the ad roll finished, and we were back to watching the game.

I neglected to mention that Johnny was roommates with me because we were both enrolled in a local college. I was undertaking my bachelor’s in graphic design, which meant that I was more often than not buried under design projects, the likes of which could run from posters to redesigning entire corporations. Thusly, I would often have myself shut in my room during the busier weeks, specifically midterms and finals.

Johnny told me that he hadn’t decided what his major was, and that he was simply experiencing what college was like. He doubted that he’d have a use for it, to which he told me his mother disagreed, since he would at least need to take a job of some sort and make money, but what was the use if it was only going to last him so long and in about 300 years it would probably become obsolete?

I only nodded and hummed to his explanation. I didn’t quite like thinking about these things. Everything seemed so impermanent when you were a vampire, and as a relatively short-lived human, it was creepy to think about.

Thankfully, Johnny got along quite well with my friends. He didn’t have any friends of his own, which I thought was strange, but it’s possible that he drove them away with his casual talk of things that happened long ago. If you didn’t know he was a vampire you’d probably think he was a freakish nerd of some sort. But because Johnny was my roommate, and because he got along with my friends, they were apt to invite him along with me whenever they had parties.

It was at one of these house parties that Johnny met Cynthia. She was a psych student, and she often twirled her hair around her finger like as if she could will it to curl just by doing so. She always had one or two girlfriends around that she talked to, and rarely did she talk to anyone outside of them. But for whatever reason, she caught Johnny’s eye.

“I think she’s a vampire,” he said to me one day, as I was trying to work with the pressure-cooker in our kitchen.

“Yeah?” The contraption hissed steam at me, and I prayed it wouldn’t take my eye out. “What gave you that idea?”

“I think—no, I know she’s a vampire. She’s got that quality about her.”

“What quality?”

“Vampire quality. You know, we can sense each other out.”

“I see.” I didn’t particularly believe him, but I wasn’t going to say that either. What do I know, perhaps vampires did have a sixth sense for each other, and perhaps this was what was happening, rather than my initial theory that Johnny had a big fat crush on Cynthia and was secretly hoping she was just like him. Of course, I kept all this to myself.

“Go and speak to her then,” I said.

“What? No. Women must be approached carefully, Daniel, otherwise you risk spooking them away.”

“You speak as though they’re skittish deer. I think you’re just scared of talking to her.”

“Scared? No. I’m simply being strategic.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Strategic, scared. Either way, you haven’t talked to her yet.”

“I will talk to her. Soon. Next chance I get. I plan on it.” I nodded, gingerly lifting the lid of the pressure cooker to reveal the pasta and sauce within.

divider by cafekitsune!

#writeblr #writing #short story #unfinished #work in progress #rough draft #original work #original fantasy #short stories #creative writing #short fiction #fiction #original fiction #vampire #vampires #✎ . writings

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babblingeccentric · 1 year

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Strawhat Real World Jobs

Yes Oda did give out alternate jobs for all the strawhats in an SBS but I will die before I accept Zoro as a cop and I have a few other quibbles and elaborations I'd like to put forth for Modern AUs. I want you to keep in mind that I'm writing this from a distinctly US American point of view so some of the job cultures may be slightly different to your locality.

Luffy- Firefighter: this one is correct. Luffy needs a job that is highly physical with low organization and intelligence requirements (sorry) This man is not going to college. He isn't a hero but there's no other legal way to get the adrenaline rush he needs. Also firefighters have a higher tolerance for fistfighting than other jobs, but not as much as construction. I think he could do construction labor if needed but I also think he would get bored. He would also be a PR nightmare as a professional athlete or wrestler. Could make it as a YouTuber but only if someone else edited his videos. Honestly YouTuber Luffy is your best choice if you want to preserve the feel of canon in a modern world.

Zoro- Cop: I'm sorry Oda but this is dumb as shit. Zoro would get asked to serve an eviction to a struggling mother of three or clear out a homeless encampment and quit on the spot. Or he would get into fights with other cops and get walled out and have to quit. He could still be a swordsman as a professional Kendo fencer? Athlete? Idk what they call those but he'd go on the pro circuit and absolutely decimate. He'd teach at a dojo in the off seasons. I'd also see him as an athletic trainer. I think Zoro could make it through college

Nami- Nursery School Teacher: While Nami is canonically very fond of children and quite good with them this feels like kind of a cop out. I think meteorologist suits her skills really well and I think she could kill it in the looks contest that weather anchors have to play.

Sanji- Stylist: I love this one so much. Idk what the original was but a stylist in the US refers to either a personal stylist which is a person who picks rich people's outfits or a hair stylist which is a person who cuts and styles hair, usually women's. Both jobs are associated with flamboyant gay men. He goes to his job and he gasses up women and calls men ugly for eight hours and then comes home and cooks Luffy dinner because he got texted a picture of the most fucked up eggs you ever did see that morning.

Ussop- Graphic Designer: I honestly have no notes. Yeah Ussop can hold down a steady job, and yeah it should be art focused. What is art but lying anyway?

Chopper- Grade School Teacher: This one is just so cute. He's got a childishness to him that makes kids like him and he has a soft caring personality that makes him good at his job. He can also be strict when he really has to. I agree Chopper would be a great elementary school teacher

Franky- Pilot: I guess? The thing is I think flying a plane for a job is both stressful and boring and I honestly don't think it suits him as well as say mechanic. I think Franky would be great as a mechanic souping up hot rods and doing weird custom jobs and he would be very entrenched in the local car scene. I also do just love mechanic characters

Robin- Flight Attendant: We all know this is just for Frobin reasons. And while the idea of a hand sprouting from your fold down tray to serve you your in flight meal is charming Robin deserves better than being Franky's beautiful assistant. Also I don't wish customer service upon her after all her suffering. I think she would be a great lawyer. She's smart, she's eloquent, she's poised- she'd kill it in the courtroom. She does corporate law for Crocodiles unethical company for a ridiculous sum before quitting to start her own firm and defending Luffy's numerous aggravated assault charges cause she likes him.

Brook- Detective: I'm not really sure why they picked this but I now want a detective story where Brook runs around solving mysteries (wait isn't that just skullduggery pleasant?)

Jinbe- Train Station Attendant: This is really cute, but we all know he'd be a retired yakuza boss. Maybe in some wild world where none of the strawhats turn to crime. I think he would be a local institution and know a lot of people and ask them about their families and such

#strawhat pirates #one piece headcanons #one piece strawhats #straw hat pirates #mine #i kinda ran outta steam with jinbe #sorry jinbe #My writing

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crazy-lazy-elder-sims · 1 year

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-the Tired accountant and the senior Designer pt2-

Hello again i decided to expand on my sims for the simblr office idea by @kashisun once again thank you for this and apologies if im a bit spammy im slightly excited lmao

Okay buckel up folks cause im about to take you on a journey TM lol

Introducing our office babes

Christian Sinclare:

33 years old but feels 50

Doesn't like coffee but drinks it to stay awake

His favorite color is Naomi's hair color👀

..... And sage green

Literally the only accountant in this company that you can talk to that wont bring up budget cuts in the first 5 mins

His favorite meme is the "keep calm and carry on" meme but people call him an old man if he brings it up. #leavesinclarealone2023

Always works late but only because he prefers to finish the financial reports on the same day he started them so he can sleep at night (anxiety gang hello👋)

So many coworkers from other depratments come down and talk to him about various Accounting things he has no idea why its not like he is the manger or head of the department ( its because he is handsome and all the peeps want a piece of him he's just too cluless to notice)

Obsessed with the presence of Mathematical algorithms in nature and everyday life

His favorite is how Bats can find the exact location of things using echo location and the math behind that

The golden Ratio is another obsession and he spends his days off in Museums observing painting that has them

Naomi Marroquin:

31 years old iced coffee addict

Her hair color was an accidental dark red home hair dye job that went wrong but she liked it so much she kept it for years

Her favorite color is red

Hates staying late and leaves the office at 5 o'clock sharp and no one can stop her (trust me they tried)

Says she doesn't care for all the office gossip and scandal but she is besties with the one HR employee from how much she goes down there to get the juicy gossip

Is the senior graphic designer but the graphic department head put her in charge of Budgeting and making exel sheets for the accounting department because she was the only one with "excel proficiency" on her resume

That was a lie

The first time she got assigned an excel sheet assignment she googled "how to learn excel fast" then added " for dummies" exactly 2 mins later

She oftten clashes withthe Accounting department on thier requestes to lower costs and cut out quality

Hates doing all the obove through email and tries to meet anyone from the accounting department but they all avoid her because they have no time for her 30 mins lectures about the importance of paper quality

Fun facts:

Naomi is taller than Christian 💓

Naomi used her personal email on accident for her resume which is called: [email protected] but they hired her anyway because they desperately needed someone with excel skills

Naomi's corporate style is inspired by her mom who used to be a corporate goth but naomi is not one (infact some of her office Fashion staples were given to her by her mom)

Christian's second reason for staying late is that he hates going home to an empty quiet small Appartment and prefers the feel of the big spaces of the office

Christian refuses not not wear any sort of jacket during his workday but once the day is over and everyone leaves he takes of his jacket loosens up his tie and takes out his bun to feel more comfortable

Naomi once saw christian at a museum staring really hard at a painting then she saw that painting printed on a corset the next day it made her laugh so much she had to buy it for work

One day Naomi wore tights with bats on them (vintage 😉) when she arrived at work and "happened" to get in the elevator with Christian he instantly said "nice bats" but then panicked and went into how much he loves bats for 10 mins straight. Naomi instantly fell for that panicked rizz lol

Next day she came to the office with some nice bat earing but swears its not related to Christian and his love of bats(it is) and its NOT HER GIVING HIM SIGNS OMG GUYS DO YOU WANT ME TO GET WRITTEN UP TO HR( she totally was)

How they got close and began working together:

After a particularly tough day at work of having to stay late and trying to get through to the accounting department because they wont budge on buying the expensive colored ink for thier printers and how not doing that will compromise the color quality plus almost calling the accounting manger an uneducated potato,

she decided to pass by the empty (or so she thought) accounting department to let out some cuss words at a poor empty desk, she saw Sinclare sitting there tie loosened and all and decided to try again and convince him to not cut the important supplies from the budget

How she thought that conversation went:

How it actually went:

After he recovered from that he told her he will help her write better more convincing reports to present to the department and from then on they became friends (who are trying so hard and failing not to fall for each other)

Aaand Thats all for now folks if you read all that i wanna say thank you i love getting super inspired like this its so much fun! Tell me what you think of the babes here im So excited!

Thank you again to kashisun for this extremely fun idea❤️

#ts4 #ts4 edit #clz reblogs #queue for you #sims 4 #the simblr office #ts4 ocs #ts4 office #ts4 corporate #ts4 meme #ts4 edits #my edits #my edit #oc #Christian sinclare #Naomi Marroquin im gonna add them to my characters page when i get home 👀

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eusuchia · 9 months

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sorry to the anon but I couldn't figure out how to edit my answer once it was in my drafts (great website).

the question was (badly paraphrasing) shouldn't we try to preserve the livelihoods of ceramicists and weavers too? and instead of saying 'mass production already killed this industry, and it will happen to others,' try to save more art from it?

basically yes! deskilling due to industrial capitalism sucks and mass production makes commodity fetishism infinitely worse. I think it's important to preserve craft knowledge and don't think we should just cede everything to industrialization, but that feeling isn't going to shift industrial trends -- only industrial action will do that. for what it's worth, it's really annoying to hear 'just unionize!' as an artist, when many, like me, are self-employed/freelance, and without sudden mass interest in some kind of low-entry-requirement sectoral guild, are not very unionizable because we don't have workplaces in the traditional sense. but by sheer numbers a lot of the job loss to AI would be corporate-level, I think, and there's more potential for people employed by like, marvel, to actually do something significant about the use of AI, than for individual customers trying to throw their weight around by buying or boycotting. I'm happy to get proved wrong here by some targeted mass boycott campaign, but I'm not holding my breath.

on a personal level I regularly spend money on handmade ceramics, fiber arts, and original art commissions both physical and digital because I find them valuable and beautiful. but I also use my IKEA plates and print-on-demand t-shirts, functionally devaluing those crafts. no amount of hypothetical discourse shaming me for 'stealing from working craftsmen' would really change that due to the economic realities. (tangentially, I don't use AI as a stand-in for commissioned art because they are not at all interchangeable to me.)

broadly though, isn't every kind of automation 'taking a livelihood' from someone in theory? my original reply to metamatar's post was basically asking where you draw the line. digital printing is taking the work of typesetters and sign painters, canva presets are taking the work of graphic designers, slip casting is taking the work of ceramicists. yet those trades still exist, and if anything I think their creative horizons are a little wider when the drudgery of the industry is taken up by machines. I know that's paltry compensation for a vanishing job market under capitalism, but isn't it a good thing when ceramicists and weavers are free to explore their ideas and not confined to backbreaking work of making the same bowls or yards of tweed for years on end? (especially in The Good Society with robust social protection that we should all be fighting for anyway)

there can be different use cases for these things (artisanal vs mass produced) and one use doesn't mean 1:1 something is being stolen from the other. personally I'm never going to pay someone to render my likeness instead of taking a photo; the money that's being 'lost' by a realism portrait artist there is purely hypothetical. same for when people get mad about others generating AI art for fun. 'you could have paid an artist for this [generated meme in the style of hr giger]' ok but they weren't going to and you can't make them.

I think people are unthinkingly flattening all kinds of creative labour when they talk about what might happen with AI. to start with, people are often talking about the job market of the first world/imperial core/etc despite the huge amounts of creative labour in/outsourced to other countries. but wherever you want to apply AI -- I don't think boutique client-based work is ever going to vanish, because the stuff that AI can do well is limited to certain types of digital illustration and animation, and you need human, creative problem-solving for new creative work, even on industrial levels with lots of automating tools in the workflow. art directors with good sense can see that. big name editorial illustrators are going to remain big name editorial illustrators. etc. (tbh, I think even the stuff AI is 'good at' looks dogshit a lot of the time, hence my disinterest in it, but that's a personal valuation and has no economic bearing.)

I'm not saying there's nothing to worry about, especially because managers and execs are often stupid and have bad taste and want to 'incorporate AI' when it makes no fucking sense, and would gladly thin out their staff for any reason. but that is ultimately a labour problem and not an artistic one.

#sorry I got carried away there. just digesting a lot of things I've been thinking about already.#I really am trying not to be flippant about artists who are really anxious about industrial trends but yelling at people online won't help #I promise #also there's a whole conversation about IP and copyright I'm not touching on here when it comes to 'protecting art'#but in brief: copyright is not your friend as an artist

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marblemoonstones · 10 months

Text

we were in screaming color 🩵

main masterlist

summary: you didn’t want to go back to your hometown, not when your frustrating parents were there. you left that life behind. but who knew that rebuilding your old elementary school would also bring a new romance?

warnings: f reader, curse words, angst, frustrating/toxic parents, car accident (nothing graphic)

word count: ~ 6.7k (longest fic written so far!! 🥳)

a/n: I’m super excited to start this series :) 💗 (song lyrics won’t start until later into the fic bc I had to add background details. most of the lyrics will be used)

song: out of the woods

album: 1989 (taylor’s version)

trope: small hometown romance

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The year was 1989…

“Mom, dad, I have something to tell you,” I say, trying not to pace anxiously.

“Sweetie, is something wrong?” Mom asks, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Dad also looks nervous, as I never usually act in this manner. They’re both sitting on our worn cream couch, slightly sagging from overuse.

“Well…you know how I wanted to go pursue my architecture degree in Seoul?” I ask, remembering their horrified reactions to me having a desire to move out of our small hometown of Tonjung.

“Yes, I remember. And I also remember us not wanting you to leave,” Dad says, his face solemn and sure.

That’s funny. They both think I’m staying.

“I know, but I got into the University of Seoul School of Architecture,” I say, hoping that they’ll be at least a little proud. But knowing deep in my heart that they won’t care.

“Good for you honey, but I thought you were going to stay here and run the family business. You’re the only child we have, y/n. You have to carry on the legacy,” Mom says firmly.

“That’s what you want,” I sigh, already weary of the conversation, “But I want to go and live my dream.” Every time that I bring architecture up they always dismiss it. I don’t know whether or not it’s because they don’t believe in me or because they want me to follow their perfect vision.

“You and your dreams! Don’t you care about your family at all? Our dream is to be grandparents! Why don’t you settle down here and find a nice boy and-“

“Mom, dad, enough!” I hiss, my anger finally boiling over, “I don’t want to fucking live in your dream, I have a dream of my own. And I’ll be damned if I let this opportunity go to waste. I already paid for everything and set it up, so I just wanted to see if you were going to support me. But I guess not.”

My parents are now in shock, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape. But I don’t care.

“Goodbye.”

And with that, I leave, grabbing my suitcases that I had hidden and waiting by the door. The tears prickle at the edge of my eyes.

“Honey!”

“Wait!”

They shout, but I ignore them. Opening the door, I run straight into a man. Oh, is this another poor soul that they’re trying to set me up with? Too bad for him.

I shove my shit into the car and start it. Turning out of the driveway, I’m off to my new life.

Thirteen years later

“Ms. Choi! We need you to sign this, approving the floor plan for the new hospital. We added all the details you requested and-“

(I don’t know anything about architecture, so I’m trying to not add details. I’m sorry if I’m inaccurate with anything!)

I sign it quickly and then walk to the meeting room. My assistant has a ‘new project’ that I’ll ‘definitely want to be a part of!’ That means one of two things: either it’s a horrible project and they’re trying to hype it up so I’ll do it, or it’s actually a good investment and I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

I tend to have a ‘pessimistic’ point of view, but that’s only because I have high standards. After graduating top of my class, I started a job at one of the top architect corporations, Park Designs. Slowly climbing the ranks, I am now one of the top architects at Park. And it only took me five years. Some of my classmates are still low class designers at middle-class businesses. Not to sound cocky of course, but I had to work my ass off in college and during my internships. While my classmates were out partying and drinking, I was working on my designs and making sure they was the best.

Stepping into the meeting room, I’m not surprised to see my assistant, Jungwoon, but I am surprised to see my boss Seonming. Seonming usually doesn’t come to these meetings, as she’s usually busy helping the CEO, Park Ji-young.

“Hello y/n, it’s good to see you,” Seonming says shaking my hand. I’ve always admired Seonming, partly because she’s an amazing architect and partly because she’s a high ranking woman in a usually male dominated field.

“Good morning Seonming, it’s good to see you too,” I say, meaning every word.

I take a seat in the plush chairs, glad to get the nice meeting room.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m in here. As you know, I don’t usually comes when there’s a new project for you,” Seonming starts, “But this project is especially personal, and I wanted to pitch it to you.”

Personal? What does she mean by that?

Jungwoon hands me the files before bowing and leaving the room.

“Before you look at it, please know that I specifically selected you for this project because I know that you like designing for the greater good. You have a good heart, y/n, and that’s why I chose you for this. Not for any other reason,” Seonming says, making me wonder what’s so special about this project.

I take a deep breath and open the files. Instantly, I see the location. Tonjung, South Korea. Oh no, oh no no no.

“Now, before you get all mad, please understand-“

“Seonming. You know why I can’t do this. I left that life behind for a reason,” I say, irritation rising in me. Seonming of all people knows why I can’t go back! I haven’t seen my parents in years, only talking to them at the holidays or our respective birthdays. Our relationship is formal at best.

“I know y/n, but please consider it. You haven’t even looked at the project yet,” Seonming says implored.

I know she’s right, as she always is, so I scan the summary. Building a new school? Did something happen to my elementary school?

“What happened to Tonjung Elementary?” I ask, thinking about the cozy and warm school I went to.

“There was an earthquake,” Seonming explains, “And it all but destroyed the current school. They need an architect who can rebuild the school, and I recommended you. Not because you used to live there, but because I knew you’d be able to do it justice.”

Damn. Seonming is really good at making someone feel guilty. She knows I’m a sucker for humanitarian projects, whether it be building a new hospital or, in this case, a new school.

Why didn’t I know that the earthquake happened? Why didn’t my parents tell me? I’m assuming it’s because they think I don’t care, but just because I left doesn’t mean I don’t have an attachment to the town I grew up in.

I sigh, already knowing my answer.

“Okay…I guess for Tonjung Elementary…” I grumble, trying to ignore the happy look on Seonming’s face.

“Great! You’ll have to stay there for a while, of course, but the project doesn’t start for another two weeks. That should give you enough time!” Seonming is being surprisingly brief with details. Usually she gives me a full run down and explains every last aspect.

“Okay…how long will this last?” I ask, suspicious.

“Oh, yeah, it’s supposed to last two to three years. Anyways, I’ll send the rest of the information soon! Have a good day y/n!” Seonming leaves in a rush, clearly trying to avoid me so I can’t back out.

Two to three years? In my hometown? With my parents? Oh boy. What did I just agree to?

Two weeks fly by and before I know it I’m leaving with a lot of my stuff. Even though I may come back to the city once in a while, it won’t be often because the drive from Seoul to Tonjung is a good seven hours.

“Goodbye y/n! Have safe travels and try to have a little fun,” Jungwoon says. He’s handling my office while I’m gone. I trust him, and I know he’ll do a good job.

“Thanks, Jungwoon. And don’t forget to text me if there are any problems!” I call, waving as I drive off.

I put on music and try to enjoy the long drive. It is beautiful by the coast, and if I ignore the awkwardness with my parents, then going back home isn’t too bad.

I’m just glad that I’m staying at an Air BnB because otherwise I’d have to endure my parents’ constant nagging about how I left them, how I need to settle down, and all that bullshit. Besides, I’m only thirty-two. I have plenty of time to find a partner. I want to keep working towards my goal, becoming a CEO (like Park Ji-young) of my own architectural business.

The drive passes by quickly, and soon the tall skyscrapers of Seoul turn into quaint houses with chipping paint.

I pull into the Air BnB and get out of my car. Breathing in the salty air, I feel the crisp breeze on my skin. It’s June and the weather is a bit hot at times so the breeze is a nice reprieve. I start yo unload my stuff and place it in the bedroom. This is a nice Air BnB because it has all the essentials (washer, dryer, dishwasher, etc.) for one person.

I go to the bathroom and freshen up. After changing my clothes, I decide to rip the bandaid off and go to my parents since it’s only about 3 in the afternoon.

Tonjung is small enough to walk place to place, and my parents’ house is only a couple blocks over from the Air BnB.

I steady myself before knocking on the door. The aqua paint that used to be cheerful and welcoming now feels cheap and tacky.

The door opens, and my dad’s face appears. He opens the door slightly wider for me to come in, but I can tell he’s not that happy to see me.

“Hi honey, come on in. Your mom’s in the living room.” He shuts the door behind me and I feel as though I’m heading straight to my doom.

I cautiously step into the room and see my mom.

“Hi mom…it’s good to see you again,” I say, tentative of how this visit will go.

She turns her head.

“Hi sweetie. How are you?” It’s turning into another one of our phone calls. Only this time I can’t make an excuse and hang up.

“I’m fine. It’s good to be back.” I hesitate on what to say next, trying to break the awkwardness that’s lingering in the air like stale perfume.

“Good to have you back. Maybe this time you’ll stay,” mom says, and I stiffen.

“You know I had to go. And look at me now, I’ve achieved so much.” I always try my hardest to make my parents proud, even if they don’t know it.

“Yes honey, you have. So why don’t you come back here for good? You can do your building business or whatever it is you do from here.”

Mom never understands. It’s not just a ‘building business,’ it’s my life. I have big goals, and they’re only going to happen if I keep pursuing them.

“Mom, you know I can’t move back here. I have to continue in Seoul because that’s where there are better opportunities for me,” I try to explain. Before anyone can say anything else, I hear a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Namjoon,” my dad says, going to open the door.

Namjoon? Kim Namjoon?

“Hey Namjoon! Yes yes, come on in. She’s right here.” Dad leads the handsome man over to me.

“Hey, y/n! Long time no see.”

Kim Namjoon sure has grown into those long legs and dimples. His eyes have always been beautifully sculpted, but they’re even more gorgeous now. I notice that he’s got some serious muscles in him now too. Seems he’s discovered working out.

“Hey Namjoon. Haven’t seen you in a while,” I say, trying (and failing) not to seem awkward.

“Namjoon here has grown up, hasn’t he y/n? And he even stayed in town,” Mom says pointedly.

I roll my eyes. So small town Namjoon stayed in the small town. Mom and dad probably wish he was their child.

“Okay, mom. I get it. Now, not to break up whatever this-“ I gesture to mom and I- “is, why did you call Namjoon here?”

“Oh! It’s because I’m the principal of Tonjung Elementary. We’ll be working together on the rebuilding a lot,” Namjoon explains.

“Oh that’s fun…” I trail off, not sure what else to say. Yay? Spending two to three years working with someone I haven’t seen in ages?

“Yes it is! Now, why don’t you two mosey on down to the beach and get to know each other after such a long time. I’m sure there’s much to catch up on. And your father and I have to go to the store.” Mom practically forces us out, and before I know it Namjoon and I are standing outside the front door. So much for subtleness. Mom just wants me to find a boyfriend.

“That was quick,” I mumble, “Even for them.” Usually our visits on the phone last at least fifteen minutes, but this one breaks the record with being about five.

Namjoon chuckles. I blush, not knowing that he heard me.

“Well, it seems that we are supposed to go to the beach. Shall we?” Polite as ever, Namjoon is.

“Sure. We shall.”

Traipsing down we make our way to the beach and I immediately take off of my shoes to feel the sand. I find a good spot and sit down and stare at the ocean. The crashing waves do little to smooth my mind.

“So…” Namjoon starts, sitting down next to me. “You escaped. And you’re very successful now. I’ve seen you in magazines and such.”

Magazines? My name is almost never mentioned but I suppose there were a couple pieces written about my various projects.

“Heh, yeah. I’m lucky to be where I am today,” I affirm as I start drawing hearts in the sand.

“Yeah…the last time I saw you you weren’t doing the best so I’m glad you made it.” Namjoon has a look in his eyes I don’t recognize. Pity? Sympathy?

“Wait when was the last time I saw you?” I don’t remember seeing him since high school graduation.

“When you were leaving. For college. After,” Namjoon winces, “The fight with your parents.”

Wait how did he see me then? Unless-

“YOU were the man outside the door! I thought it was another random man my parents were trying to set me up with!” I exclaim.

Namjoon smiles sheepishly.

“Well…that was me. And I wasn’t just there for fun…”

“Ohhh so you were another poor suitor sent by my parents,” I side eye him for a second before we both burst into laughter.

“Ah yes, that’s me. A ‘suitor’ for you! Perhaps you should like to date me madam?” Namjoon says in an accent.

As I laugh, I think, Was he always this funny? I guess he’s more goofy now than in high school.

“Nah, I’m not ready to date anyone. I have to start my own architectural corporation first,” I say wistfully. Someday.

“Oh yeah, I bet you’ll be able to do that. You always were so driven, even in high school,” Namjoon says, reminiscing.

“Ugh, don’t remind me! I remember when I missed senior homecoming because I had to study.”

I wanted to go, but I had a huge AP chem test the next day that I ‘couldn’t afford to fail.’ So, while my other classmates were dancing to ‘Party Rock’ I was at home poring over my textbooks. It paid off, I suppose, because I aced the test, but it wasn’t worth missing homecoming.

“Those dances weren’t that fun anyways,” Namjoon says, breaking my train of thought.

“Oh! Yes I guess they weren’t. I wonder how everyone’s doing nowadays. I haven’t spoken to any of them in ages,” I mused. I’m only friends with some of them on social media, and even then I don’t check it frequently enough to know what’s happening in their lives.

“Remember Cho Eun Jung? Well, now she’s a famous fashion designer. Heard her designs were featured in Paris Fashion Week or something. And little Kim Ha-Joon? He has a family of his own now. They moved to America a while ago,” Namjoon notes, nose crinkling as he thinks.

“Wow. Seems as if everyone’s out there living their life and I’m stuck in Seoul, single and still pursuing my dream career,” I say, melancholy sinking in. The truth is, what have I done with my life? Sure, I’m a successful architect but I’m not famous and I don’t have a family. I’m not even close with the family that I do have.

“Hey, don’t think of yourself that way. You’re still successful, I mean only five years and now you’re a top architect at one of the top corporations. I’d say that’s impressive,” Namjoon says, making me laugh.

“Thanks, Namjoon. And look at you, principal on Tonjung Elementary. That’s impressive. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Mr. Han?” Mr. Han was our principal when Namjoon and I went to Tonjung.

“I don’t mind at all, and he retired. I think he’s living around here somewhere with his wife,” replies Namjoon. I’m glad that Mr. Han retired, he deserves it. That man was an excellent principal.

“Oh, that’s good. I’m happy for him. I’m also happy for you, and I’m happy that we can catch up. I mean, we are going to be working together for a couple years,” I say sheepishly.

“That’s true. I’m glad that it’s you who I’m working with,” Namjoon says, flashing me a smile, his dimples prominent.

I smile back.

“Me too.”

(I won’t be adding many details about the new school design because I am not an architect and don’t want to mess up anything about the process :))

The months pass by in a whirlwind with planning and sketching the new school. Namjoon and I try to make it similar to the old one, but there are a few modern adjustments that we add.

Currently, all of the students are having to go to school in a neighboring town. Namjoon and I work as quickly as we can so that they can come back and attend school here.

September arrives and with it cooler weather. The leaves are starting to turn their gorgeous shades and I start wearing my knit sweaters.

One day I’m heading over to Namjoon’s house because I forgot my laptop charger. I knock on his cerulean door and he answers, smiling that cute grin of his.

“Hey y/n! Come on in. I’m assuming you’re here for your laptop charger?”

I step inside, replying “Yes! I can’t believe I left it here. I’m so forgetful sometimes.”

I grab it off of the coffee table, and am about to leave when Namjoon clears his throat.

“Would…you like to stay for a bit? I remember you wanting to watch that new k-drama and it just came out. You don’t have to though if you don’t want to! Sorry, I just thought maybe-“

“Namjoon,” I interrupt, smiling internally at his shyness, “It’s fine. I’d love to stay for a while. I’m glad that you remember when the k-drama was coming out because I sure didn’t!”

After popping popcorn (our second bag as Namjoon burnt the first batch) and grabbing sodas we settle down to watch ‘Business Proposal’ (I know it didn’t come out this early but I love this k-drama okay? 😭).

We binged the whole season that afternoon. After the last episode my stomach hurt from all the popcorn and soda but my heart was full.

“The last scene was so pretty! Those cherry blossoms…” I sigh as I lean back into the couch, “I can only dream to have such a perfect proposal someday.”

“I know the right person will come along y/n. Just wait and see,” Namjoon says with such certainty that I look at him. How does he know that I’ll find someone?

“Yeah, I guess so,” I reply, letting my head drop to the couch. If I close my eyes, I can just imagine that this little moment was perfect. Namjoon and I in a perfect bubble. No outsiders or prying parents to belittle me.

‎♪ looking at it now

it all seems so simple ‎♪

I hear the sound of a flash and open my eyes to see Namjoon holding a Polaroid camera.

“Hey! Did you just take a picture of me?” I gasp at him as he grins sheepishly.

“Maybe?”

“Why?” I ask him, trying to grab the camera out of his hand.

“Because! Look,” Namjoon says, showing me the picture.

I look so pensive, eyes closed to the world. The sun beams down through the window and hits my face perfectly like I’m in a movie. My hair is spread on the couch in a surprisingly beautiful way.

‎♪ we were lying on your couch

I remember ‎♪

“Wow, I didn’t know you had such a touch for photography Namjoon!” I praise, seeing the man blush.

“Oh, it’s not that hard when I have a great subject to photograph.” Namjoon waves off the compliment.

“Can I keep the picture?” I ask, grinning excitedly when he drops it into my hands, “Thanks!”

Namjoon holds the camera out in front of both of us. “Let’s take a selfie together, y/n.”

“Okay!” I say, getting close and throwing up a peace sign. Flash!

‎♪ you took a Polaroid of us

then discovered ‎♪

The picture comes out beautifully, the sun hitting the two of us just right and our beaming faces genuine.

“Aww, we look so cute Namjoon. Why don’t you keep this picture because you let me keep the first one. A memory when we watched Business Proposal!” I cheer, feeling happy for the first time in a while.

When was the last time I let myself just be with someone? No work, no worrying about parents or expectations. Just me and them.

‎♪ the rest of the world was black and white

but we were in screaming color ‎♪

I blink, surprised with my sudden desire to cry. Was my life so monotone that simple moments like these made me happy? Did…Namjoon make me happy? No, it was just the fun of hanging out with someone. That’s why, I’m riding the high of having a true friendship. No other reason.

‎♪ and I remember thinking

are we out of the woods yet?

are we in the clear yet? ‎♪

It’s December and the air is cooler as winter sneaks in. I’m over at his house about a week until Christmas, complaining about my parents (yet again).

“They want me to go to their annual Christmas party! Which is fine, because, like, my family will be there, but that means a night of suffering as they compare me to my cousins. Half of my cousins are married, some have children, and the others at least live close by. I don’t check any of those boxes so they’ll just use the night to make me feel guilty!” I rant while sitting on Namjoon’s couch.

‎♪ looking at it now

last this december ‎♪

Namjoon winces.

“I’m sorry…do your parents even know how they make you feel?”

“But it’s not just my family! You know my parents, they invite the whole damn town!” I plow on, then stop after realizing Namjoon said something, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said that I’m sorry and asked if your parents know how bad they make you feel. It’s obvious they don’t, but have you tried talking to them about it?” Namjoon repeats.

“Oh, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault they’re this way. And yeah, I have tried to talk to them. Since high school, actually, when I told them I wanted to pursue being an architect. But they turned it down immediately! They didn’t even listen to me!” I put my head into my hands.

Namjoon puts his arm around me in a half hug.

“I wish there was a way for me to help you, y/n. If it makes you feel any better, I can come to the party with you. Your parents did invite me.”

Of course they did. They want me to find someone so desperately that they probably invited all of the eligible bachelors in Tonjung.

I lean into Namjoon’s hug, trying to absorb some of his calming aura.

‎♪ we were built to fall apart

then fall back together ‎♪

The day of the dreaded party arrives and I shove myself into a sparkly red dress that’s itchy and uncomfortable. I feel like a present.

At precisely 5:20pm my doorbell rings. Grabbing my purse I open the door to see Namjoon. In a suit. Wow, he cleans up nice.

“Joon! You look great. That suit looks great on you,” I babble. Since when have I been nervous around him?

“Same to you! Well, not about the suit but that dress. Looks really good on you,” Namjoon stumbles out. Looks like I’m not the only awkward one.

I smile.

“Thank you Namjoon. Shall we?”

“Oh! Before we leave, I wanted to give you your Christmas gift.” He brings out a small velvet box from behind his back.

I gasp, then say, “Joon! You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t get you anything!”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon says, stepping inside, “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that we’re friends.”

He hands me the box and I open it. Inside is a simple chain necklace with a gold North Star charm at the end. I look closer at it and realize-

“Namjoon! This is your necklace! I can’t accept this. It’s yours!” I try to give him the box back but he refuses.

“Please accept it. It will look perfect on you,” Namjoon pleads, and after trying again to give it back but failing, I accept it.

“Okay, Joon, thank you. It’s beautiful. Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

He takes it out gently and brings it in front of my neck. Fastening it carefully I look down at it.

It fits perfectly.

‎♪ ooh, your necklace hanging from my neck

the night we couldn’t quite forget ‎♪

The party is dull. My parents compare me to my cousins, introduce me to tasteless men, and force me to talk to their judgmental friends. Luckily, Joon is there to help ease some of the pain. We last about an hour before leaving, saying we have ‘work to do on the design.’ To which my parents ignore. Oh well. Who cares? Not me.

Namjoon and I go to his house after (we always go to his house instead of my Air BnB because I said it feels more cozy). We collapse on the couch and laugh, thinking about our escapades at the party. Counting how many mini quiches my cousin ate, seeing how many chocolates we could sneak into Namjoon’s pocket.

“Hey! Why don’t we do karaoke? That’ll be fun way to ring in Christmas!” Namjoon says excitedly. And he’s right. It is Christmas Eve after all.

“Okay,” I agree. And we move the coffee table and chairs and then plug in the machine. After a couple rounds we tire out and decide to just listen to the Christmas radio. Jingle Bell Rock comes on and I find myself pulling Namjoon up off the couch.

“C’mon Joon, dance with me!” He’s reluctant at first but eventually we find a rhythm, happy and free.

‎♪ when we decided, we decided

to move the furniture so we could dance ‎♪

White Christmas comes on and Namjoon grabs my hand and we start to slowly ‘waltz’ around the room (it’s mostly swaying). I feel my heart start to beat faster, my face flush.

‎♪ baby, like we stood a chance ‎♪

I can feel Namjoon’s body heat and force myself to look into his eyes. Those, caring, sweet, beautiful eyes. He looks back at me. Our faces are mere inches apart, and I slowly press my lips to his. He doesn’t pull away.

‎♪ two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying ‎♪

I spend the night, wearing his clothes and sleeping next to him. We cuddle up and wake up together on Christmas morning.

“Good morning beautiful,” Namjoon says in his deep morning voice.

I blush.

“Good morning Joon,” I reply, trying to hide my face.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“Merry Christmas. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift,” I say, still thinking of what I could give him.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You are the best gift.”

‎♪ and I remember thinking

are we out of the woods yet?

are we in the clear yet? ‎♪

December turns to April, four months of dating Namjoon. My parents are overjoyed, but I manage to ignore their suggestive comments and instead focus on the man himself.

Valentine’s Day is a whole affair, Namjoon giving me the biggest bouquet of wildflowers, handpicked by him. And if that wasn’t enough, he also gifts me a whole bouquet of chocolate-covered strawberries (which he found out are my most favorite food ever). I get him a moon necklace that matches my North Star one, teasing, “Now we can be one of those cheesy couples who have matching necklaces.”

On a muddy spring day in March we make a spontaneous trip to a neighboring town’s traveling carnival. After buying sugary cotton candy and popcorn, Namjoon and I try our hands at the games. We each win a stuffed animal for each other, me winning him a koala and him winning me a giant panda. Their names are Koya and James respectively. The carousel is fun, us holding hands like lovesick teenagers the entire time and (probably) annoying all the kids riding. At the end of the day Namjoon and I go on the Ferris wheel, kissing sweetly at the top beneath the velvet starry sky.

Namjoon makes me feel the happiest I’ve ever felt. My self esteem has definitely improved and my heart is constantly full. He treats me like a queen and I hope that I treat him like the king that he is.

We go on cute dates around town. Coffee shop dates on rainy days, reading for hours on end at the library, feeding each other chocolate-covered strawberries at the park. Although, I think the best ones are either a simple afternoon at the beach or cuddling on the couch.

We often dance together in his living room, two souls in their own world. Just like the day of the Polaroid picture (which he has up on his wall), I feel as though I’m in my own bubble of joy.

‎♪ are we out of the woods yet?

are we in the clear yet? ‎♪

But not all good things last forever.

Talk of the future rarely come up, but when it does Namjoon is surprisingly avoidant of answering anything. I know that I have my job in the city, and I also know that he loves the beach and being away from crowds of people. How could this work?

A particularly bad argument leads to me storming out, irritated that Namjoon doesn’t want to discuss our relationship after the school is finished. And with how far it’s progressing, it looks to be done in about a year.

“Sweetheart, please. I’m not ready to talk about this yet because I don’t want to think about it,” Namjoon implores as I start to gather my things.

“You’re never ready. We have to talk about it someday, and I need to know about the future of us.” I’m so frustrated about this reoccurring disagreement, and this is a sign that it’s time for me to leave. “I’m leaving, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” His hand on my arm only further annoys me.

“Sweets, please don’t leave. I just…have commitment issues. Forgive me, but thinking that far ahead makes me feel tied down. I just want to live in the moment,” he pleads.

I look into those dark eyes and see something vulnerable and raw in there. There’s a nagging voice in the back of my head that says to stay but I turn and go out the door.

“Y/n!”

‎♪ remember when you hit the brakes too soon?

twenty stitches in a hospital room ‎♪

I get into my car and start driving in the downpour. I don’t know where I’m going, but I do know that I need to get out of this town.

The rocky cliffs are jagged in the lightning and I angrily pump the gas once more. I see a shape dart out and try to hit the brakes. But I’m too slow. All I see is black as the world fades away.

‎♪ when you started crying, baby, I did too

but when the sun came up, I was looking at you ‎♪

I groggily open my eyes and the first thing I see is a body sitting in a chair. As I come to, I also notice curtains and an IV. I’m in a hospital.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I feel like it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you leave I should’ve made you stay and you could’ve died…”

Namjoon.

He’s here.

I turn to look at him and smile weakly.

“Joon, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

Those words seem to break him and he comes and holds me close while sobbing.

‎♪ I was looking at you ‎♪

After he’s calmed down he tells me what happened. I hit a deer last night and had a concussion. After finding me and rushing me to the hospital I had to have twenty stitches (this probably isn’t accurate and I apologize).

Namjoon tells me that my parents have come to visit but I wasn’t awake when they came. It’s now two pm.

“I’m so sorry. So so sorry. It was my fault and I shouldn’t have let you leave-“

“Namjoon.” I cut off his rambling, “You sound like a broken record. It’s okay. I’m okay. Can we talk about what happened before the accident?” I know it’s quick, but I need to know before another horrible happens.

I feel his hand tense before he says, “Sure.”

“Please, Namjoon, tell me why you have commitment issues. I want to know everything about you. Please tell me. I want to be with you, I want to stay with you, but we need to be able to trust each other. Trust me, Namjoon,” I beg, trying to understand.

‎♪ remember when we couldn’t take the heat?

I walked out, I said “I’m setting you free” ‎♪

Namjoon casts his eyes down.

“I’m sorry y/n…you deserve to know. I-I’ll do my best to explain it.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “The future used to be something I would obsess over, planned to the very last detail. I had a girlfriend that I dated all through college, and I truly thought that she was the one.” It doesn’t bother me that Namjoon had another girlfriend, but I’m surprised he didn’t tell me about her sooner.

“She was a part of my future, but I suddenly found out that she’s been cheating. That changed everything. My whole future was thrown askew. It was then that I decided to live freely and not worry about the future because I didn’t know what was in store. To not be tied down and to be spontaneous,” Namjoon finishes.

‎♪ but the monsters turned out to be just trees ‎♪

It makes so much sense, why he wants to live this free life. I understand that his past girlfriend scarred him in many ways, and I don’t blame him for being nervous. But I still wish he would’ve told me all this.

“I understand Namjoon, and I’m sorry that happened to you. Why didn’t you tell me this before? I know we’ve only been dating for a couple months, but I feel that this is something important to share.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I should’ve told you all this. Do you think you could forgive me? I promise that I will try to be more open and think a little bit more about my future with you,” Namjoon vows.

“I will forgive you. Eventually. But we need to work on communication if we want this to work.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Deal.”

He leans over to kiss my cheek.

‎♪ when the sun came up you were looking at me ‎ ‎♪

And I let him.

‎♪ you were looking at me ‎♪

Two years later

The beach is hardly crowded today, only a few people set up with their umbrellas. Which is surprising, since it’s the start of summer. I guess the tourist waves hasn’t hit yet.

Joon carries a picnic basket in one hand and holds mine in his other. He says that he has a surprise date planned, but I don’t see much of a surprise because of the picnic basket.

We decided that it was best to take things slow, build up trust within one another. While the school was being finished, we took time to relax and get to know each other a bit better. Joon opened up more and I listened and now I better understand him. After the school was done, we had a big talk about our future.

I decided to quit my job and start my own architecture business in Tonjung, letting me live that CEO life while also being in Namjoon’s life. It’s a pretty successful corporation, as my main goal was to focus on smaller towns and help them.

I also had a big talking to with my parents. I explained how I felt and tried to get them to listen and understand me. They still want grandchildren, but they’re a little more understanding now of how that may or may not happen.

Joon and I aren’t even married yet, let alone thinking about children. Right now, all I want to do is enjoy this picnic ‘surprise’ date that he’s set up.

“Here’s the perfect spot for the picnic,” Joon says, leading me to a place away from other people while also being shaded. So much for a surprise.

We spread the blanket out then open the basket. I instantly see the chocolate-covered strawberries that I adore so much and grab one to munch on.

“You and your strawberries,” Joon says fondly, shaking his head at me.

“Hey, what can I say, I love them,” I mumble with my mouth full.

Joon laughs and I see those dimples of his pop out. That grin still never fails to make me have butterflies.

“And I love you.” He kisses the top of my head.

We enjoy the picnic and as we’re packing up Joon stops me.

“Wait, y/n, I have the surprise.”

I look at him questioningly as he pulls out a tiny box.

Then he gets down on one knee.

I start to go teary-eyed.

“Choi y/n, I know this isn’t a cherry blossom proposal from Business Proposal-“

I laugh at that, thinking about that evening.

“-but I hope this is just as special. You are the most talented, smart, amazing, and gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. Even in high school you were already surpassing everyone else. I’m so lucky to call you my girlfriend. Thank you for putting up with me and for loving me as I am. You never fail to make me laugh and always make me feel better when I’m having a rough day. I trust you more than anyone and I love you more than you will ever know.”

I let the tears fall as Joon finishes.

“And with that, I ask you, Choi y/n, will you marry me?”

Blinking, I answer the question.

“Yes.”

‎♪ are we out of the woods yet?

are we out of the woods yet?

are we out of the woods?

are we in the clear yet?

in the clear yet, good ‎♪

a/n: thanks for reading! 💕

#bts #bts x reader #kimnamjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #taylor swift #taylor swift eras #1989 taylor's version #1989 x bts #marblemoonstones #bangtan boys x ts eras - mm #romance #tropes

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a-girl-called-bob · 5 months

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I don't want to reply to this on the post it's on, because it'd be getting pretty far away from the original point (that being that chromebooks have actively eroded the technological literacy of large proportions of young people, especially in the US), but I felt enough of a need to respond to these points to make my own post.

Point 1 is... pretty much correct in the context that it's replying to; the Google Problem in this case being the societal impact of Google as a company and how their corporate decisions have shaped the current technological landscape (again, especially in the US). I'd argue it's less like saying Firefox is a good alternative for your dishwasher and more like saying Firefox is a solution for climate change, but whatever, the point's the same. You can't personal choices your way out of systemic issues.

Point 2 is only correct in the most pedantic way; we both know that 'running on a Linux kernel' isn't what we mean when we talk about Linux systems. It's one true definition, but not a functional or useful one. Android and ChromeOS (and to a lesser extent, MacOS, and to an even greater extent, the fucking NES Mini) all share a particular set of characteristics that run counter to the vast majority of FOSS and even Enterprise Linux distributions. Particularly, they're a.) bundled with their hardware, b.) range from mildly annoying to damn near impossible (as well as TOS-breaking) to modify or remove from said hardware, and c.) contain built-in access restrictions that prevent the user from running arbitrary Linux programs. I would consider these systems to all be Linux-derived, but their design philosophies and end goals are fundamentally different from what we usually mean when we talk about 'a Linux system'. Conflating the two is rhetorically counterproductive when you fucking know what we mean.

Point 3 is a significant pet peeve of mine, and the primary reason why I feel the need to actually respond to this even if only on my own blog. "Linux is not a consumer operating system" is such a common refrain, it's practically a meme; yet, I've never seen someone explain why they think that in a way that wasn't based on a 30-year-old conception of what Linux is and does. If you pick up Linux Mint or Ubuntu or, I don't know, KDE Plasma or something, the learning curve for the vast majority of things the average user needs to do is nearly identical to what it would be on Windows. Office software is the same. Media players is the same. Files and folders is the same. Web browsers is the same. GIMP's a little finicky compared to Photoshop but it also didn't cost you anything and there are further alternatives if you look for them. There are a few differences in terms of interface, but if you're choosing between either one to learn for the first time you're using a computer, the difference isn't that large. Granted, you can also do a bunch of stuff with the command line - you could say the same of Powershell, though, and you don't have to use either for most things. Hell, in some respects Windows has been playing catch-up - the Windows Store post-dates graphical software browsers on Linux by at least a decade, maybe more. Finding and installing programs has, quite literally, never been harder on Linux than on Windows - and only recently has Windows caught up. I used Linux as my daily driver for five years before I ever regularly had to open up the terminal (and even then it was only because I started learning Python). I was also seven when I started. If the average teenager these days has worse computer literacy than little seven year old Cam Cade (who had, let me think, just about none to start with), I think we have bigger issues to worry about.

In my opinion, Linux users saying Linux 'isn't for consumers' is an elitist, condescending attitude that's not reflective of the actual experience of using a Linux system. To say so also devalues and trivializes the work put in to projects like Mint and Ubuntu, which are explicitly intended to be seamlessly usable for the vast majority of day-to-day computer tasks.

#spent way too long writing and rewriting this when nobody's actually going to read it lol

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zer0psd · 9 months

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never used photoshop so im curious to see your opinions about photopea vs photoshop

ok things to be known: 1) adobe can suck my cock and balls theyre evil and i wish that the corporate entity that is adobe would go up in flames, a corporation shoud NOT have that much insight in your privacy, files, sensitive info, etc 2) photopea is great and built off a small dev team as a basically a passion project, which is awesomesauce! i'm not knocking them at all, and i think ppl should support them in anyway they can

i've been a graphic designer and photographer for years now, and in hs i became adobe certified. i literally spent four years of my life learning on an industry standard. it becomes muscle memory after a while. beside that i was a roleplayer so i became VERY familiar with edits and gifs and all that. again everything became muscle memory. adobe suites are the industry standard for a reason, and for GOOD reason. i think they have an amazing interface and work hard to update the experience and make shit easier for artists; like i will give them that even if i sound like a bootlicker. i never paid for it tho lol as a student i got it for free and i would use cracks/torrents.

when i got my new computer it wouldn't let me run bootcamp so i couldn't crack the adobe suites like i used to :/ new mac processors or whatever don't rely on intel anymore, so not intel = no bootcamp. most cracks are pc based so i just couldn't find one that worked for me. apple went ham on protecting IP and combating torrents so it's like impossible to crack without an extensive VPN or else adobe will literally send a cease and desist to your internet provider. its sincerely fucked up.

i switched to photopea bc of this. i really liked it, but im autistic so having to relearn my own workflow that ive had for years made me want to hashtag die. the interface is VERY close to photoshop, so it wasn't hard, but it doesn't have the same capabilities i was used to w ps. i do NOT like edited photos in photopea; i think its way too laggy and glitchy to work with giant raw files, which really sucks!!! for making small edits and doing my graphic design tho??? i do really like it. it doesn't have the same capabilities as ps sure, but once i just fucked with the filter galleries and different plug ins and worked my process around what photopea could accomplish, i was good as gold. i've been producing quality work on commission through photopea. it's a learning curve for sure, especially if you have zero experience with an editing interface like that, but the more i use it the more i learn.

all of that being said, i think photopea is fucking awesome for being completely free and open source. it has its issues —— sometimes its way too glitchy for me and pisses me the fuck off, i have to frequently save my psd files and hope that they don't fuck up, and then reopen so it's less laggy and rinse and repeat bc some of my stuff takes hours lmfao —— but i think its pretty darn close to the photoshop i was using like less than a year ago. its glitchy, its laggy, the ads are annoying and clog up the screen, but i simply cannot complain to much when its a smallish dev team working on a shoestring budget (last time i checked) and for FREE. like its open and usable on any browser and computer and i think thats rad.

if i could go back to ps without giving them money i would in a heartbeat. ps is awesome for the work i do, and i like that there's constant improvements and updates. it just boils down to look, feel, and workflow to me; ps is rarely laggy and glitchy, its meant to handle giant projects, there's so many plug ins you can find online, etc. i just wish it wasn't a subscription based software; honestly if i new adobe was less like the elf on the shelf and i could make a one time purchase, i would. but alas.

anyways i'm pro photopea all the way. idk if any of this was helpful its mostly rambly lmfao. but yeah. i don't do much photography anymore, so i don't have to work around the glitches and lags and all of that with photopea; i focus on graphic design for event fliers and social media content + rp resources. it has room for improvement for sure for sure, but it's lovely and helpful in its own way.

#i typed this with a broken hand i deserve a purple heart for this

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rottenbrainstuff · 4 months

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Man I dunno what to do. My oldest is… like, she’s doing well at school overseas, I’m proud at what she’s been doing, but she’s having such a rough time. She’s not learning the language very fast. She’s trying, but it’s going very slow. The country is so unwelcoming of foreigners, and for the three years she’s been living there she’s still been unable to get any kind of job, anything at all, even a minimum wage retail job type of thing. I really think she’s going to have no serious job prospects whatsoever until she gets fluent with the language, and I think that is going to take her years and years.

If she came back here, I mean, cost of living sucks and jobs are still not easy to get, but at least she could actually apply for them and have a hope of landing them. She could apply for interesting internships where she’d actually use the corporate and graphic design skills she’s got good at. She could start an actual career. And also not be constantly surrounded by judgemental people who are hostile to her because they perceive her as not being willing to integrate into the culture.

I don’t know if I should be bugging her to consider these things. I don’t want her to get into a position like me where she feels she made bad decisions and wasted all her opportunities and now she’s stuck in a crappy situation and she’s run out of time and energy to do anything to fix it… but maybe I should keep my negativity to myself, because she’s not stupid, she probably knows all of this already, and instead of having yet one more negative voice added to the sea of voices telling her she can’t do it, what she really needs is just one single person in her corner who will support her no matter what.

Sigh.

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maeve-99 · 2 years

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My thoughts on AI Art and AI in general // ranting & rambling

We live in an age where technology is overtaking humanity, fueled by greed. With everything happening with AI art I wonder what will be next? First it’s art, then graphic design, and then what? Will the next AI be able to write books? Make animations? Produce music? Write movie scripts? Program software? Until all future generations are brain dead and just consuming content botched together by soul-less machines. Why are people so keen on screwing themselves?

I’m sorry If I come across as fatalistic and too dramatic but I keep thinking about this a lot. And it’s not even a problem with the AI itself, but with the humans who create it, tell it what to do and finance it’s development – making money off of it.

AI is created by humans, and the data it uses to generate art (for example) is based on information in a database. A database that is fed by humans with things others created. No AI can create something from nothing. In case of art: it’s taken from online portfolios of artists and other sites. It’s “fun” for the average person but art theft for another. AI is created by humans and humans have intentions, humans lead corporations.

And at the end of the day billion dollar companies are getting richer and more powerful because of those technologies, while small creators are paying the price. All the while people are celebrating the innovations and cheer mega-corporations on like brain-dead goons. I wonder, will they still be laughing when their job position gets replaced by an AI? They’ll probably say “Good, we don’t have to work anymore!”. Well, it never works like that. The hard truth is, that they’ll lose their job and be broke, all the while corporations and their CEOs and managers are getting even richer. You’ll have to sell your grandparent’s house to pay the bills while those you celebrate buy their 3rd penthouse or yacht.

People will say “It’s not that deep” but I honestly think it is. It points to much deeper-rooted problems: People glorifying corporations and billionaires, people craving that dopamine from short-form content, people wanting quick solutions for complex problems. To corporations, we are consumers, consumers of content. Content we pay for, walking dollar bills.

I truly believe those are the things we need to think about when talking about AI. We all need to take a deep breath, and step back and listen very carefully when corporations or billionaires talk about “innovation” and “fun” and listen to what they are really saying, what they are trying to sell us.

Intention is the word of the day.

And hey, I get it. It’s fun to have a new App to play around with & I do see the appeal of it. But we need to remind ourselves that those technologies affect humans in a very real way. When book publishers/companies are thinking about replacing artists/workers with the much cheaper AI THAT’S when we have a problem. And not to mention people selling AI Art for a price no real artist can work for, this is not OK. Especially when they are not labeling it as such. There are already too many people who think of art as just a hobby, not thinking about all the people that earn their money by illustrating and creating art - relying on the income. And I don’t talk about the fancy art shows where people bid billions of dollars for paintings/modern art. I talk about the normal people, who do not want to get stupidly rich but just want to get by by doing what they love. People who paint or draw the images and illustration you see on your everyday items, books, magazines, packagings etc. Everything you see.

Where do we draw the line? At what point do we decide to not to be controlled by machines inspired by human greed? This technology needs to be regulated, it needs to be clear what is made by an AI and what is made by a human being. Because we are blurring the line, getting lost in the fog - and the only ones who will be laughing in the end are the corporations.

I could write way more than that but I’ll stop now – because I’m causing myself a headache. Sorry for the extensive rambling, but I had to get it out of my system. Thanks to the people who have made it this far. <3

I support small artists instead of big corporations and day of the week!

#ai art #rant #fuck ai art #corporations #artificial intelligence #the human aspect #artists on tumblr #thoughts #i'm going to have a drink now #rambling #ai art theft #freelance artists #this is getting deep #watch out #get it off my chest #infp thoughts

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choixsimple · 8 months

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Managing social media during my day job is so deeply exhausting but the main thing that bothers me about it is I am objectively good at my job. Like I have the most social management experience out of my coworkers and I am genuinely good at spotting what will do well on social, how to edit videos, how to design balanced graphics, how to write good copy for social, etc. And when I choose to try to be hands off and let others take the lead on social, the quality of our posts changes and some of our stats suffer and sometimes higher-ups or even my family members who follow the accounts will mention a post that they didn't love and I'm like guys I didn't even post that and I don't approve the posts, I'm not a manager, that wasn't my work!

So it's really a lose/lose... Either I'm associated with the less-professional content even though I'm not a manager and they weren't my posts, or I'm burning myself out by handling the vast majority of the social media management at work.

I hate working in social the majority of the time, but these days if you want to work in graphic design you kind of have to be okay with a jack-of-all-trades social media/editor/email marketing/website/graphics kind of role unless you work for a huge corporate company that employs designers to just do design work (and those jobs are basically unattainable unless you know someone or have already had at least one similar corporate job)

Anyway just venting bc my job is objectively bad for my mental health but I don't really have any other options bc the work I truly love has been cannibalized by the rise of social, AI, Canva, etc.

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whitedarkmoonflower · 1 year

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HELLO! I would like to request a full on fluffy modern!Sihtric fic, where he's desperately in love with reader and he takes her on their first date, and does everything he can to impress her 🥰 (I hope you like the idea! just want to give you a feel good fic to write)

Authors note: thank you @sihtricfedaraaahvicius so much for this lovely request! In the beginning I thought it’s going to be a short and sweet drabble, but then I started writing and it just got longer and longer and now the story already has more than 8000 words and I haven’t fully finished yet, so I decided to split it into several parts. Don’t worry - that sweet date will come somewhere towards the end, please, just be patient …

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: actually none, fluff, suppressed feelings

Word Count: 3,4 K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Sihtric's alarm buzzed softly, pulling him out of his slumber with a gentle tune. He'd done it again, painted till the wee hours, lost in his own world. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up.

"Man, today's gonna be a long one," he mumbled, stretching wide enough to feel every vertebra pop.

Hopping out of bed, he wandered to the bathroom. While scrubbing his teeth and waking himself up with a splash of cold water, his mind played out the day's agenda. And looming large on that list was that meeting with you, his boss.

He had joined the advertising firm as a graphic designer just six months back, when it once again had become evident that his unpredictable art sales were simply not enough to cover rent and other bills. And in this short time, he had come to genuinely admire you. It wasn't just because you were the master over his paycheck. No, it was more. You were smart and intelligent, with a discerning eye, having worked with some of the industry's best, always full of energy and bursting with unexpected ideas.

As his coffee brewed, filling the room with a comforting aroma, Sihtric glanced at his workstation. Sketches, notes, and reminders littered the space. He had poured his soul into designs for a crucial client this week.

Sipping his coffee, warmth spreading through his fingers, Sihtric's mind drifted. He thought back to his job interview with you - how awe-struck he had been by your charisma. Every tiny detail from that day was imprinted in his mind: the way your hair framed your face, that crisp white blouse, your piercing gaze, and the assertive yet gentle tone of your voice. It felt like a dream, one where he forgot the reason he was even in that room to begin with.

You looked down at his portfolio and then back up at him, your gaze unyielding.

"Sihtric, I see you've worked with a few ad agencies before. Can you tell me about a particularly challenging project you've undertaken and how you tackled it?"

Those eyes of yours, he got trapped in them like a butterfly in a giant coweb, the question almost going unnoticed. "Oh, um, yeah," he started, voice wavering a touch, "So, there was this campaign... for a... thing, and I did, well, design stuff?"

Your eyebrow raised in a playful challenge, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, "Design stuff? Could you elaborate, please?"

Embarrassed, he tried to muster a clearer answer. "Right, what I meant was I led the visual side of this big campaign. We had... differing views in the team. But, I managed to sort it out, and... made some designs?" He was mentally slapping himself on the face for his incoherence, but there was nothing he could do about it. His mind was racing. He couldn't help but notice the little details – the glint of your necklace, the soft curve of your lips. Vivid images of your fingers brushing against his skin or tangling in his hair made him sweat and he could swear his heart had jumped to his throat.

You leaned forward, placing his portfolio on the desk. "Sihtric, take a deep breath. I'm interested in your work and your experience. Let's try that again. Take your time."

He nodded, grateful for the second chance. Drawing a long breath, he tried to push aside his nervous admiration for you to give a more composed answer. The whole meeting remained a hazy whirlwind for him. Exiting your office, he felt like he'd just finished a marathon, convinced he’d made a fool of himself and butchered his chances. The real shocker came the next day when your secretary called to tell him he'd landed the job.

Sometimes he pondered if he should've declined. He never foresaw the toll it'd take on his heart. Sure, you were drop-dead gorgeous, but it wasn't just that. It was the air around you, the way you carried yourself, the balance between assertiveness and genuine warmth.

And therein lay the rub. Each interaction, from official meetings to casual chat near the coffee machine, even the fleeting moments your fingers grazed while sharing documents, tested Sihtric’s composure. He'd often find himself lingering on your laugh a second too long or jumping at chances to help you out, constantly trying to dial back before raising suspicion.

He had a love-hate relationship with big projects, especially the one he was working on now. The upside was of course spending more time with you – those endless late brainstorming evenings, project discussions gulping down morning coffees, or those afternoon progress check-ins. And then there were of course those quick breaks with some casual chats about movies or music. He lived for these moments, yet they twisted his gut, making the 'keep it professional' attitude so much harder.

Man, when you'd burst into laughter over some silly office joke or shared tidbits from your weekend, it was like a sneak peek into the real you, the person behind the boss. And, boy, did it send him spiralling.

It was a rollercoaster of emotions. The giddy highs from just being close to you followed by sinking lows, realising his feelings might always remain a secret. Sihtric took a deep breath, setting down his drained coffee cup. Another day, another challenge to keep that secret under wraps.

And let's be real. The odds were stacked against him. On one end, there was him – an artist, struggling for recognition and forced to juggle between his passion and job in order to be able to pay his bills. On the other, there was you – successful and recognised art director of one of the city's top ad agencies, mastering work challenges with a mix of grit and grace. The idea that you might ever look his way seemed... well, ludicrous and the fact that he was your direct subordinate only emphasised how absolutely fantasy like this notion was.

—----------------------------------------------------

The company's annual Christmas party was always a big deal — a bright spot in the midst of deadlines and stress. The office would light up, literally, with twinkling lights and festive baubles, and for a night, it'd transform into a party wonderland. The aroma of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts wafted through the air as soft carols played in the background making everybody feel warm and fuzzy.

Sihtric was in his element, chatting away with buddies about holiday escapades and the usual office gossip. The night was looking good, he was happy and truly enjoying himself, especially because he'd been recently introduced to this big-shot art lover, who seemed genuinely interested in his unique art style. And thanks to this unexpected acquaintance an exhibition was already in preparation – a dream Sihtric had cherished for years was coming true. Late nights, brushes, paints, and the chaos of bringing art to life now dominated his hours and he revelled in that even if some darker rings around his eyes testified to the lack of proper sleep.

Amid this whirlwind of preparation, another thought continually hovered at the edge of Sihtric's mind — inviting you to his exhibition. He wanted you to see beyond the office guy, to the artist, the dreamer. What better time than a Christmas party? Every time he played the scene in his mind, it would end differently. Sometimes he'd imagine you looking thrilled and promising to attend. Other times, he'd envision a polite but distant decline.

And so he was anticipating your arrival, feverishly brainstorming about the perfect moment for his invitation, as the door swung open, revealing you, looking radiant in a black dress that accentuated every line of your body, leaving Sihtric momentarily speechless and stumbling over his words. He almost choked on his drink, his gaze glued to you, following every so gracious move, his jaw slowly dropping and eyes filling with an expression of deep frustration.

You were laughing, your eyes gleaming with joy as they met those of the tall, dashing man beside you. His arm was draped casually around your waist, a possessive yet tender gesture that made Sihtric's heart sink.

Every laugh you shared, each subtle touch, and those warm exchanges of glances between you and the guy – it all was like a dagger to Sihtric's heart. A cocktail of jealousy and a pinch of sadness brewed within him, although he kept reminding himself he had no claim over you. He had never voiced his feelings, nor had he let himself believe that someone as radiant and accomplished as you could ever see past his name tag. "Get a grip, Sihtric. She's out of your league, and you had always known that," he told himself.

But still there had always been that small, naive part of him that harboured hope, whispering tales of “what ifs”. What if one day everything would change and he would muster the courage to share his feelings? But tonight, that hope was crushed under the weight of reality.

Pulling together every remaining bit of his self-control, Sihtric pivoted back to the conversation at hand, all the while battling the urge to keep peeking over at you. But from the corner of his eye, he still saw you both — so wrapped up in each other, dancing to your own rhythm.

As the night rolled on, he kinda lost track of you two. A part of him scolded himself for even daydreaming. Of course, someone as magnetic as you couldn't be single. But, man, it didn’t dull the sting.

Feeling the need to step away for a moment and escape the party's cheerful cacophony, Sihtric made his way to the big, spacious balcony. He hoped the chilly night air might help clear his head from the whirlwind inside. The evening had started so full of hope and anticipation and now was completely ruined for him. Sihtric lit his cigarette, as he suddenly caught a murmured conversation approaching. Hoping for some privacy, he ducked behind a column, trying to blend into the shadows.

He heard at least two people stepping out on the balcony, and suddenly, it was your unmistakable voice that reached him, filled with pain and frustration. "Why her, of all people? My own secretary!" you exclaimed.

"It just... happened," the defensive reply came, which he recognized as your boyfriend's voice.

You shot back, "And you thought hiding it was the answer? I had to find out at our office Christmas party?"

The man mumbled something incomprehensible in response.

"We're done. Just go. I need to be alone right now," Sihtric heard your voice, quivering with a mix of anger and hurt.

Caught off guard, Sihtric felt awkward overhearing such a raw, personal exchange. He contemplated stepping out and admitting he was there, but before he could, he heard your boyfriend's quick exit and the sharp sound of the balcony door closing.

He briefly considered staying hidden and letting the moment pass, but seeing the unmistakable pain in your stance, he instantly ditched the idea. Taking a breath, he gave a gentle cough to signal his presence and slowly stepped forward, finding you looking distraught, the twinkling lights from inside casting a glow that made your tear-streaked face glisten. It stung seeing you like this, especially when it felt like he was trespassing on such a personal moment.

Embarrassment and shock pulsed through you with every beat of your heart. Of everyone to witness this breakdown, it just had to be Sihtric - not some fleeting acquaintance, but someone you saw and interacted with every day, someone who knew you and respected you. At least until now.

A wave of panic washed over you. Would he think differently of you now? Your carefully curated image of always being composed was now in pieces. The barriers you'd built so diligently over time – gone in a heartbeat.

“Of all the moments...” you whispered.

Sihtric, sensing your turmoil and looking for a distraction handed you a tissue. The balcony was wrapped in a heavy silence until you mustered, "I'm sorry. You didn’t need to be a part of that."

"I didn’t mean to intrude," he responded, "It just happened so fast."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "This isn’t how I imagined tonight would go."

"We've all been there," he said gently, trying to lighten the mood.

Choking back a laugh, you replied, "Yeah, but usually not with an audience."

He grinned, trying to keep things casual. "Think of me as a very interested passerby."

Seeing your surprise, he quipped, "Your ex might think he's a shooting star, but to me, he seemed more like a sparkler that fizzled out. And for the record – he's an idiot."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head. "Nice try. But thank you. Really."

Sihtric gave a playful shrug. "I’m just being real. But hey, are you okay?"

You paused, your voice softer, "Been better. Thanks for lightening the mood, though."

He took a breath, "Look, I don't want to intrude any more than I have, but you seem like you could use company right now. Can I do something for you? Can I get you a drink perhaps?"

You mulled it over briefly, then nodded, "Alright. As if things could get any worse."

With a comforting smile, Sihtric said, "I’ll be right back."

—-----------------------------------------

The party's noise faded to a dull murmur as you both got lost in the chat.

Sihtric felt a mix of things. It pained him to see you upset, but man, he couldn't deny the thrill of getting this unplanned time with you. He kept sneaking looks, thinking how your smile looked even cooler up close.

A strand of your hair playfully draped across your face, and he had to resist the urge to gently push it back. And with the soft background music, an invitation to dance nearly escaped his lips. But he held back, sensing it might be a step too far.

His art exhibition was on his mind too. He wanted to share it, just needed to slide it into the conversation smoothly.

"You know," he started, swirling the last sip of his drink thoughtfully. "Besides the whole graphic designer stuff, I paint. There's something magic about splashing colours on a canvas."

You looked intrigued. "Is that so? I always thought your designs had an extra touch of soul. Like there's a story hidden in every piece."

Sihtric chuckled, his eyes brightening, clearly stoked by your comment. The two of you continued to chat, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Emboldened by the ambiance and perhaps that second cocktail, Sihtric leaned in a bit, "You know, I actually have an exhibition coming up soon. It's a collection of my recent works. I... I’d really love it if you could come. I think you might appreciate the stories behind the paintings."

You blinked, processing this. You knew Sihtric was talented, but an entire exhibition? "I'm in," you smiled. "Always had a soft spot for art, especially when it's by someone I know."

His eyes brightened noticeably, and he fought to keep his composure, a warmth spreading across his cheeks.

As the evening wore on, the earlier events combined with the cocktails left you in a heady state. Your laughter became louder, and your steps weren't as sure. Noticing your state and the watchful eyes around, Sihtric decided to step in. This was not the right place to put your vulnerability on display with all the employees and bosses of the company gathered in one place.

Fetching your coat, he gently wrapped it around you, subtly guiding you towards the exit.

“Okay, boss, looks like it’s home time,” Sihtric said, his tone light, attempting to infuse some humour into the situation.

You chuckled, a sound that was melodious yet laced with the unmistakable touch of too many cocktails. “I’m not ready for the night to end,” you protested mildly, though made no effort to resist as Sihtric waved down a taxi.

When the car pulled up, Sihtric had a moment of awkward realisation - he had no clue where you lived. That was a detail that, somehow, had never come up in all your office interactions.

“So, uh, where to?” he ventured, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

You rattled off an address, the words a bit slurred but intelligible. When he recognized it as one of the city’s posh neighbourhoods, Sihtric's eyebrows rose a notch.

The gentle hum of the car's engine provided a steady backdrop to your sporadic, light-hearted giggles. Every so often, Sihtric would sneak a peek at you. Tonight had been a whirlwind, and he was spinning from the rapid shifts in emotion. One moment he felt he'd lost any chance with you, the next, he learned you were single again. And amidst it all, he had managed to extend an invite to his exhibition. But as he looked at your tipsy, carefree state, he silently hoped you'd remember their conversation come morning.

Upon arrival at your grand apartment complex, you leaned into him, the evening's indulgences making your steps falter. As you fumbled around in your pockets for keys that were conspicuously absent, the reality of the situation began to set in.

"Oh no," you murmured, panic lining your voice, "I think I left my handbag at the party."

Sihtric's eyes widened as he processed your words. "Are you sure? Think. Where did you last see it?"

You tried to recall, but the fog of alcohol muddled your memories. "I...I don’t know. I think I left it on the bar counter when I went to get a drink."

Sihtric sighed, taking a moment to think. Feeling your weight lean into him as you struggled to maintain your balance, he instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist to stabilise you.

"Okay, let's think this through," Sihtric began, his voice calm and measured, "Going back to the party venue at this hour might not be the best idea. They're likely cleaning up or closing already. Tomorrow first thing, we can check for your handbag. For tonight, do you have any friends or family nearby?"

Your head shake was slow and a bit exaggerated. "They're miles away."

“Any chance there’s a spare key somewhere? Maybe a friendly neighbour?" he asked.

You hesitated, "I... I've kept to myself mostly."

In the quiet night, the predicament seemed to amplify. Here he was, in the dead of night, with his drunken boss outside her apartment, both locked out. He could never have imagined a scenario like this.

After a deep breath, he said, "Alright, look, I have a couch at my place. It's not much, but it's comfortable. You can crash there for the night, and we’ll sort everything out in the morning."

You blinked, a bit caught off guard by the unexpected offer. On any normal day, you would've politely declined. But right now, with your thoughts swimming in a cocktail haze, you giggled and responded, "Really? Are you sure?"

Sihtric smiled, "It's not a problem. It's late, you need a place, and I can't, in good conscience, leave you out here."

The car ride to Sihtric's place was a tranquil one. You leaned into the window's cool embrace, fighting off sleep, while Sihtric's mind raced, piecing together the night's unexpected twists.

The dim lighting of the apartment complex hallway cast elongated shadows as Sihtric tried to guide you up the stairs. But with every step, it became more apparent that the task was not going to be easy. Your laughter, interspersed with hiccups and mumbled comments about your ex-boyfriend, echoed in the quiet corridor. And then, without warning, your laughter turned into soft sobs.

Sihtric, concerned, looked down to find tears streaming down your face. "Hey, hey," he tried to console, "Husch, it's okay."

"I just can't believe he... he..." you hiccupped, struggling to find words, the hurt evident in your eyes.

Seeing you in this state and realising that climbing the stairs in your condition would be an ordeal, Sihtric made a quick decision. Gently, he swept you up in his arms. It wasn't about your weight but more the electric jolt from the closeness, that sudden rush of intimacy that had his heart doing flips in his chest. Instead of pushing him away, you snuggled deeper into his embrace, your head finding its natural resting place on his shoulder.

Feeling your soft breaths against his neck and the gentle grip of your fingers, he had to fight to keep his balance. The ticklish sensation of your hair brushing against his cheek, your soothing breathing rhythm, and the lingering scent of your perfume all combined to form a heady mix that sent his head spinning. Every part of him was hyper-aware of you, so close and real, making everything else fade into the background.

Managing to unlock his apartment door, he stepped inside and gently placed you on his bed. "Just... just stay here for a second," he whispered, moving quickly to rummage through his closet for spare sheets and blankets for the couch.

But when he turned back, the gentle sounds of your breathing told him you'd already drifted off to sleep. For a moment Sihtric stood frozen, absorbing the sight before him - the serene rise and fall of your breath, the way the dim light from the street painted your face in soft shades. It was a moment of quiet beauty. Your hair splayed out, lips slightly parted, lashes casting shadows—everything about you in this moment felt so intimate, personal. It was a sight he'd never imagined he'd witness.

Despite the unexpected turn the evening had taken, a warm feeling settled in his chest. He carefully removed your shoes and tucked you in, making sure you were comfortable. And this time he gave in to his urge to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment, silently wishing he could be the rock you leaned on, the one to chase away any sadness. In his heart, he knew he'd move mountains just to keep you from any pain. You deserved nothing but happiness, and the thought of someone causing you heartache infuriated him.

With you sleeping soundly, he settled on the couch, wrapping himself in the cosiness of blankets. As sleep claimed him, a dreamy smile played on his lips—a dream where he was your hero.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartanson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtic x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fanfics

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