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itisaterriblelove · 1 year ago

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“HEY BABY, I’M IN THE PARKING LOT.”

One of the very best things about being friends with someone for so long and so completely was that Elle didn’t even bother to ask any questions. We could operate on the same brain frequency sometimes. I knew that if I showed up to anyone else’s place at this time of night – well, okay, morning because it was fucking one am – there would at least be a couple of inquiries about my sanity or, in DK’s case, some grumbling about interrupting his cuddles with Jemma Moss. He could be such a selfish asshole sometimes, I swear. And stingy with his cuddles, too.

But because Elle loved me and was literally the best person in the universe, I only had to wait eight minutes before she came out of her dorm building carrying her purse and a blanket because the air had started to catch a chill. Her eyes were still wide, a shimmering green, so I knew that I hadn’t woken her up.

She yawned when she pulled my truck door open and hopped in, but her smile was soft and warm when she looked over at me and kissed me on the cheek. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shrugged a shoulder instead of answering aloud and cast a wry grin in her direction. She was well versed in my spontaneous bouts of insomnia so I knew that I didn’t really have to explain it to her. On nights like these I always showed up to her place and we picked a random direction to drive in until I found a spot that felt like a good place to stop. She was usually the navigator, I was the driver, and we just kind of let fate do whatever it wanted with us.

“I’m controlling the playlist,” she announced and pulled up my phone to start rifling through her options. “And whenever you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’m all ears.” She didn’t bother to give me a chance to object to her decision to dj, so I already knew that it wasn’t a fight that I was going to win tonight.

It was fine. We both knew that I didn’t really mind.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I countered while she poked around on my phone. There was nothing on there that she couldn’t see and, anyway, her biometrics were hooked to all of my things. Because Elle was the person who was responsible for wiping my searches clean if I died unexpectedly or fell into a coma or some shit. So the government wouldn’t think I was on some serial killer schtick if shit went down… I was just curious, damn!

“My brain just won’t stop,” I made a turning motion with my hand and she nodded in understanding. “Why were you still up?”

“Sketching out a design for a new dress,” she beamed at me and my heart turned over. I fucking loved the way her designs gave her so much joy. “I just finished up when you called, so perfect timing. Ohhh!” She squirmed, excited all over again, and pressed onto the screen with her finger. “Secret music!”

I chuckled because I recognized the playlist immediately after hearing her words, as my own guitar sounds came streaming through the truck speakers. “These are not secret, baby. Just unfinished.”

“Yes, but you’ve never played them for me,” she cut an accusing look at me from the corner of her eyes and I didn’t bother to dispute it. Okay, so, we didn’t have any secrets. That was true. But fuck. I hadn’t ever played her this particular set of songs probably for a reason. And not one I wanted to delve into, so I just didn’t bother to respond.

Elle got quiet as she listened and I concentrated my attention to the road ahead of me instead of categorizing her reactions to the sporadic hints of lyrics and ever-switching melodies playing through the speakers.

She was a quick study, so by the time the playlist repeated Elle was humming along. “These are good, Gav!” She smacked my leg lightly in what I knew was admonishment for keeping them from her. “I didn’t know you were writing your own stuff. Why doesn’t the band play any of these?!”

I hummed, but I could feel the rush of heat sliding down from my cheeks to my neck. “Eh… Cressida’s pretty particular about the mood of our songs. These don’t really fit.” They weren’t love songs, exactly, but they weren’t… not… Cressida and Aidan had some kind of ban on love songs.

Besides I didn’t want to fucking share them.

The songs weren’t about being in love. They weren’t. But they were whatever the fucking platonic adjacent of that was – the way that I felt about my friends. The ones that I knew I would keep forever. So, yeah. They were kind of personal and the irony of Elle softly humming along was not lost on me.

“Your singing’s not so bad. We could go on the road together,” she teased, bumping her shoulder into mine, and I grinned back at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something similar or that I had agreed to it, either.

“I thought that was already the plan.”

“Unless you dump me for DK. He gets kinda pouty every time I say we’re going to have our own two-man band one day.”

“Yeah, yeah. That fucker doesn’t know how to share,” I scowled playfully out the windshield, seeing a nice little turn ahead that looked like exactly the kind of place that I wanted to stop.

“Only him?” Elle teased, aghast. “I’m pretty sure he’s in good company with you on that front, mister.”

I made an affronted sound as I found my spot and pulled over. “The fuck, Elle? I resemble that remark.”

She giggled as she swung her door open, following my lead. “You really, really do.” She hopped down and clapped her hands. “Okay! Now for something lighter!” And she switched the music to a really pop-y boy band that I absolutely fucking refused to admit I knew the name of and started belting out the lyrics with her arms thrown wide.

I turned the music up a bit and followed her out, glancing up at the sky with a long sigh. It was a beautiful night out and there probably weren’t too many of them left. I knew once the cold really seeped in it wouldn’t let up again for months and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

But tonight the air was decent and the stars were bright, and I was in the company of my absolute favorite girl in the fucking world.

“Sing with me, Gavin!” Elle crowed, taking my hand, and so I danced with her and joined my voice with hers as we used the truck’s headlights for illumination under the stars.

And this was why we took these drives on my sleepless nights. I knew that when I got home my head wouldn’t be unsettled anymore. Instead I would just feel like everything was exactly as it should be, even though I also knew there would be a niggling part of me wishing things could stay exactly like this forever. Just never fucking change.

It was a fool’s hope, for sure, but I could afford to hold onto it for just a little longer yet.

#my art #my writing #gavin x elle #forever girl #kinda salty that i drew FEET #and you can't see them here #might post the entire pic #pleasant valley girls #fg ch04

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abbulark · 2 years ago

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Here's my quick sketch in Japanese:

奥様の家がチャチな物まみれで、彼と綺麗さっぱりの床でヤル

Oku-sama no ie ga chachi na mono mamire de, kare to kireisappari no yuka de yaru.

奥様 - oku-sama is a very polite but also very distant way of talking about someone else's wife. I called it HER house because I think a lot about the husbands I see letting their wives decorate the house. Sometimes it's freeing for them, but other times I hear a lot of frustration about where am I supposed to put my things.

Chachi is a word I searched hard for but it is a rude way to specifically refer to cheap shit, though it seems to be more often used to push back against accusations that something you use is cheap. This is common for very rude words in Japanese, they are only used in polite company in the negative.

Mamire is just my favorite word for shit being all over the place, it might not even fit correctly lmao.

綺麗さっぱり - kirei sappari is a phrase sometimes used to talk about oneself, about one's mood. When you get over something or someone you can say you're totally clean of them. I'm hoping the implication of the phrase is both that the floor is completely clean (The phrase is also used to talk about cleaning house at times)

ヤル is the Japanese equivalent of fuck, though they usually use fuck when they wanna say because it comes off as more hardcore. Yaru just means "do it" so it's just the equivalent of "doing it" but with the katakana it looks ragged and sharp. Using different alphabets is one way writers in Japan convey the tone of speech. Kanji is more formal and distant, hiragana is more calm and normal, and katakana is harsh or strange sounding on purpose. It's used for foreign words, so it can be considered a bit like italics.

Translating this back, a direct translation could be: His wife's house is covered in cheap things, so we do it on her freshly cleaned floor instead.

The important part for me as a person is that the narrator in this short poem doesn't have a gender flag in the English, so when I read it I pictured myself, a woman, as the speaker. Gender flagging is done actively in Japanese and often with a personal pronoun. (Female pronouns in order of politeness would be: watakushi, watashi, atashi, boku. Male pronouns in order of politeness: Watashi, boku, ore) Some are gender neutral, but I thought the mystique of this poem could only be replicated by not using a pronoun at all. The subject of the poem is still the main character, but in Japanese the subject can be dropped in many cases. Usually because the subject is explicitly written in a previous sentence and carries on. But not always. This is poetry, after all.

Translation thoughts on the greatest poem of our time, “His wife has filled his house with chintz. To keep it real I fuck him on the floor”

It’s actually quite tricky to translate. Because it’s so short, each word and grammatical construction is carrying a lot of weight. It also, as people have noted, plays with registers. “Chintz” is a word with its own set of associations. Chintz is a type of fabric with its origins in India. The disparaging connotation is from chintz’s eventual commonality. Chintz was actually banned from England and France because the local textile mills couldn’t compete.

Keep it real” is tremendously difficult to translate – it’s a bit difficult to even define. It means to be authentic and genuine, but it also has connotations of staying true to one’s roots. Like many English slang words, it comes first from AAVE. From this article on the phrase:

“[K]eeping it real meant performing an individual’s experience of being Black in the United States. As such, it became a form of resistance. Insisting on a different reality, one that wasn’t recognized by the dominant culture, empowered Black people to ‘forge a parallel system of meaning,’ according to cultural critic Mich Nyawalo…The phrase’s roots in racialized resistance, however, were erased when it was adopted by the mostly-White film world of the 1970s and ’80s….Keeping it real in this context indicated a performance done so well that audiences could forget it was a performance.This version of keeping it real wasn’t about testifying to personal experience; it was about inventing it.”

One has to imagine that jjbang8 did not have the origins of these phrases in mind when composing the poem, but even if by coincidence, the etymological and cultural journeys of these two central lexemes perfectly reflect the themes of the poem. The two words have themselves traveled away from the authenticity they once represented, and, in a new context, have taken on new meanings – the hero of our poem, the unnamed “him”, is, presumably, in quite a similar situation.

Setting aside the question of register, of the phonology, prosody, and meter of the original, of the information that is transmitted through bits of grammar that don’t necessarily exist in other languages – a gifted translator might be able to account for all of these – how do you translate the journey of the words themselves?

In my translations, I decided to go for the most evocative words, even if they don’t evoke the exact same things as in the original. The strength of these two lines is that they imply that there’s more than just what you see, whether that’s the details of the story – what’s happening in the marriage? how do the narrator and the husband know each other? – or the cultural background of the very words themselves. I wanted to try and replicate this effect.

Yiddish first:

זייַן ווייַב האָט אָנגעפֿילט זייַן הויז מיט הבלים

צו בלייַבן וויטיש, איך שטוף אים אופֿן דיל. zayn vayb hot ongefilt zayn hoyz mit havolim.

tsu blaybn vitish, ikh shtup im afn dil

This translation is pretty direct. There is a word for chintz in Yiddish – tsits – but, as far as I can tell, it refers only to the fabric; it doesn’t have the same derogatory connotation as in English. I chose, instead, havolim, a loshn-koydesh word that means “vanity, nothingness, nonsense, trifles”. In Hebrew, it can also mean breath or vapor. I chose this over the other competitors because it, too, is a word with a journey and with a secondary meaning. Rather than imagining the bright prints of chintz, we might imagine a more olfactory implication – his wife has filled his house with perfumes or cleaning fluids. It can carry the implication that something is being masked as well as the associations with vanity and gaudiness.

Vitish – Okay, this is a good one. Keep in mind, of course, that I’ve never heard or seen it used before today, so my understanding of its nuances is very limited, but I’ll explain to you exactly how I am sourcing its meaning. The Comprehensive Yiddish-English Dictionary (CYED) gives this as “gone astray (esp. woman); slang correct, honest”. I used the Yiddish Book Center’s optical character recognition software, which allows you to search for strings in their corpus, to confirm that both usages are, in fact, attested. It’s a pretty rare word in text, though, as the CYED implies, it might have been more common in spoken speech. It appears in a glossary in “Bay unds yuden” (Among Us Jews) as a thieves cant word, where it’s definted as נאַריש, שרעקעוודיק, אונבעהאלפ. אויך נישט גנביש. אין דער דייַטשער גאַונער-שפראַך – witsch – נאַריש, or “foolish, terrible, clumsy/pathetic. not of the thieves world. in the German thieves cant witsch means foolish”. A vitishe nekeyve (vitishe woman) is either a slacker or a prostitute. I can’t prove this for sure, but my sense is that it might come from the same root as vitz, joke (it’s used a couple of times in the corpus to mention laughing at a vitish remark – which makes it seem kind of similar to witty). I assume the German thieve’s cant that’s being referred to is Rotwelsch, which has its own fascinating history and, in fact, incorporates a lot of Yiddish. In fact, for this reason, some of the first Yiddish linguists were actually criminologists! What an excellent set of associations, no? It has the slangy sense of straightforward of honest; it has a sense of sexual non-normativity (we might use it to read into the relationship between the narrator and the husband) – and a feminized one at that; it was used by an underground subculture, and, again, the meaning there was quite different – like the “real” in “keeping it real” it was used to indicate whether or not someone was “in” on the life (tho “real” is used to mean that the person is in, while “vitish” is used to mean they’re not). It’s variety of meanings are more ambiguous than “keep it real”, which can pretty much only be read positively, and it also brings in a tinge of criminality. Though it doesn’t have the same exact connotations as “keep it real”, I think it’s about as ideal of a fit as we’ll get because it’s equally evocative of more below the surface. I also chose “tsu blaybn vitish”, which is “to stay vitish”, as opposed to something like “to make it vitish” to keep the slight ambiguity of time that “keep it real” has – keeping it real does< I think, imply that there is a pre-existing “real” to which one can adhere, so I wanted to imply the same.

The rest is straight-forward. “Shtup” is one of a few words the Comprehensive English-Yiddish Dictionary (CEYD) gives for “fuck”, and I think it has a nice sound.

Ok, now Russian

женой твой дом наполнен финтифлюшками

чтоб не блудить с пути, ебемся на полу

zhenoy tvoy dom napolnin fintiflyushkami.

shtob ne bludit’ s puti’, yebyomsya na polu

In order to preserve, more or less, the iambic meter, I made a few more changes here – since Russian, unlike Yiddish, is not a Germanic language, it’s harder to keep the same structure + word order while also maintaining the rhythm. I would translate this back to English as:

“Your house is filled with trifles by your wife. To not stray off the path, we’re fucking on the floor”

So a few notes before we get into the choice of words for “chintz” and “keep it real”. To preserve the iamb, I changed “his” to “your”. This changes the lines from a narration of events to some outside party to a conversation between the two men at the center. Russian also has both formal and informal you (formal you is also the plural form, as is the case in a number of other languages). I went with informal you because I wanted to preserve the fact that his wife has filled his house not their house, as someone pointed out in the original chain (though I don’t think that differentiation is nearly as striking in the 2nd person) and because it’s unlikely you’d be on formal you with someone you’re fucking (unless it’s, like, a kink thing). I honestly didn’t even consider making it formal, but that would actually raise a lot of interesting implications about the relationship between the speaker and the husband, as well as with what that means about the “realness” of the situation. Is, in fact, the narrator only creating a mirage of a more real, more meaningful encounter, while the actual truth – that there is a woman the husband has made promises to that he’s betraying – is obscured? that this intimacy is just a facade? Is there perhaps some sort of power differential that the narrator wishes to point out? Or perhaps is the way that the narrator is keeping it real by pointing out the distance between the two of them? there is no pretense of intimacy, the narrator is calling this what it is – an encounter without deeper significance?

Much to think about, but I actually think the two men do have history – i think the narrator remembers the house back when it was actually only “his house” and was as yet unfilled with chintz. We also don’t know what they were calling each other prior to this moment. This could be the first time they switched to the informal you.

Ok moving on, I originally translated it as “твой дом наполнен финтифлюшками жены”. Honestly, this sounds more elegant than what I have now, but I ultimately though removing the wife from either a subject or agent position (grammatically, I mean) was too big a betrayal of the original. The original judges the wife. She took an active role in filling the house. If she were made passive, that read is certainly a possible one – perhaps even the dominant one – but it could also read more like “we are doing this in a space filled with reminders of his wife and the life they share” – the action of filling is no longer what’s being focused on. Why do I say the current translation is inelegant? I feel you stumble over it a little, because it’s almost a garden path sentence. This is also an assset though. “Zhenoy tvoy dom napolnen” is a fully grammatical sentence on its own, and it means “Your house is filled by your wife” – as in English, the primary read is that the wife is what the house is full of. If the sentence makes you stumble, perhaps that’s even good – we focus, for good reason, on the relationship between the two men, but in a translation, the wife is able to draw more attention to herself.

Ok, chintz: I chose the word “финтифлюшки” (fintiflyushki), meaning trifle/bobble/tchotchke, because it, allegedly, comes from the german phrase finten und flausen, meaning illusions and vanity/nonsense. Once again, I like that the word has a journey, specifically a cross-linguistic one.

Keep it real: this one, frankly, fails to capture the impact of the original, in my opinion, but allow me to explain the reasoning. “Stray off the path” implies, again, that there is some sort of path that both the narrator and the husband were on before the wife and the chintz – and one they intend to continue taking, one that this act is a maintenance of. It brings in a little irony, since the husband very much is straying from the path of his marriage. “Bludit’“ can also mean to be unfaithful in a marriage (as, in fact, can “stray”). The proto-slavic word it comes from can mean to delude or debauch – they want to do the latter but not the former.

As for register – “shtob” is a bit informal. I would write the full version (shto by) in an email, for example. The word for fuck, yebyomsa, is from one of the “mat” words, the extra special top tier of russian swears, definitely not to be said in polite company (and, if you are a man of a certain generation or background, not in front of women; it’s not that the use of mat automatically invokes a male-only environment, but if we’re already thinking that deeply about it. But while we’re on the topic, i will say that in my circles in the US, women use mat much more actively than men (at least in front of me, who was, up until recently, a woman and also a child).)

Ok i think that’s all the comments i have!

#Disclaimer: I am not a native Japanese speaker!#This means the way I translate might not sound natural to a Japanese speaker #Poetry is different #I'm just writing my version of this poem in Japanese.#I would love to see someone else's take

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

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Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zollner #sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zöllner #sebastian zollner x y/n

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demig00ddess · 4 years ago

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Charlie Weasley x MC

A/N: The 5th day of the HPHM April Prompt Challenge 2021 by @stupendousbookworm !

I know I'm late, but from a small sketch it turned into a completely unplanned full chapter that perfectly fit into the storyline.

————————————————————

CHAPTER FIVE

AROMA OF AMORTENTIA

1989

End of the first semester.

The Potions classroom was in an unusual state of excitement. The girls whispered conspiratorially and occasionally giggled. This was due to the fact that for the third lesson in a row they studied love potions so that interest in the subject increased dramatically. Emma had even heard that the sixth-year girls who had not chosen the Potions for the NEWT were sighing and complaining in frustration. She wasn’t interested in this topic, there were many other ways to subjugate the will and mind of other people, and she didn’t want to discuss guys. Maybe another time Emma would have kept up funny conversations with her classmates, but she had been in a bad mood for a long time, so she sat alone at her desk, painting a piece of parchment.

“We’re finishing the topic of love drinks and potions.” With the appearance of Professor Snape, all conversations immediately died down. “Today we’ll turn to the most powerful and dangerous of love potions. Which one, Weasley?”

Emma had seen Charlie run into the dungeon a moment before Snape and sit on the Gryffindor side. Now he was hastily spreading his textbook and inkwell on his desk.

“Em… Amortentia, sir?” Snape nodded in displeasure.

“Amortentia is known for being the most powerful love potion in the world. It is forbidden in the magical community and its use is strictly punishable by law. Also, Amortentia is a very difficult potion to prepare and therefore is included in the list of required potions for passing the NEWT in my subject. Apparently, the Ministry thinks you’d rather learn how to brew it from a potion master than try to poison your victim yourself,” Snape curled his lips in a smirk. He waved his wand and instructions appeared on the blackboard, written in small, even handwriting. “Everything you need to know is indicated in the textbook, here are additional recommendations for brewing. I don’t expect anything worthwhile from you, but by the end of the lesson, your potion should at least show its basic properties. Who will list them?”

There was silence in the classroom, and the pages of books rustled. In Potions class, rarely did anyone dares to answer at will.

“Anderson,” Professor Snape was walking past her desk.

“The potion has a pearlescent colour, its steam rises in curls and it has a special smell,” Emma tried to remember, yesterday before going to bed she leafed through the textbook. “Amortentia smells for everyone of what they like best.”

“Five points to Slytherin, for the fact that at least someone bothered to open the book before class. The potion is complex and time is short, so today you work in pairs. You can get to work now.”

Emma cursed to herself, she could use some help. But she had sat down alone and now watched blankly as everyone split into pairs. A Gryffindor girl with a long braid, whose name Emma kept forgetting, came up to Charlie, who was also sitting alone. They started talking about something. Emma winced and turned away. Lately, she often watched Charlie from afar. If earlier the abundant attention of girls to him amused her and served as a reason for harmless teasing, now they began to annoy her.

Lost in thought, Emma set up the cauldron and began rereading the textbook, looking for instructions for the first step.

“Can I join?” Charlie sat down beside her, laying out the ingredients for the potion.

“But what about um…” she shook her head towards the girl with the braid, who was already sitting with another Gryffindor.

“Sarah?” Charlie was embarrassed. “I told her that we agreed to work together. You won’t chase me away, will you?”

He made a plaintive face, making Emma laugh.

“One more sound from your side, Anderson, and you can be free for today,” said Professor Snape.

“Let’s start,” Charlie whispered. “I’ll crush the claws, and you can cut the roots.”

They worked incredibly well together, understanding each other without words. Emma admired how he skillfully handled the knife, crumbling the ingredients.

“If you brew potions as well as you cook, then we already have an excellent mark in the bag.” Charlie chuckled at her words and poured pearl dust. Emma immediately stirred it three times, added the moonstone and put the lid on the potion.

Time passed very quickly. Snape was right, Amortentia was really hard to prepare, they couldn’t be distracted for a minute. By the end of the class, there was a cauldron of mother-of-pearl shining liquid in front of them, exuding a pleasant aroma.

“The colour is right, the steam rises in curls,” Charlie said, checking his textbook. “It remains to check the smell. Smell it. Do you feel anything? You have to distinguish between several smells that you like.”

Emma poked her nose into the cauldron, in which Amortentia was slowly bubbling. It smelled of freshly brewed coffee with hints of spice and tanned leather at the same time. She felt herself breathing very slowly, letting the heady scents fill her lungs. Emma tried to smell something else, but it was all drowned out by the familiar herby cinnamon-tinged scent of Charlie, who was bending down next to her.

“Coffee and leather,” she replied, forcing herself to move away from the cauldron.

“That’s all?”

“What do you mean 'that’s all' ?” Emma asked a little sharply. Charlie shrugged and glanced at the textbook.

“People usually can smell several things. About three or four. Maybe you didn’t scent it enough? Try once more.”

“I told you I smell. Maybe the potion is wrong?”

“No, it’s something with you,” Charlie said stubbornly. “The potion is correct, as described. We made it together. Take a good sniff.”

“I’m not even going to! If you want to, check it yourself.”

“I can’t,” Charlie was confused.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you today? Do you even care what we’re doing?”

“So maybe you should have work with Sarah back then. Or better with Penny! Then everything would have worked out for sure,” snapped Emma, resentment seized inside her, making her want to cry or hit someone. It was not her fault that she could only smell a couple of smells. Or was it? Maybe she didn’t smell what she liked because she didn’t love anyone? Maybe it meant that she was generally incapable of loving someone since even the most powerful love potion did not work with her to the end?

“What does Penny have to do with it? You’re acting weird!” Charlie was indignant.

“Says the one who is interested in dragons more than people. I’ve always been weird. Or did you mean mad?” Emma blurted out the last sentence too loudly.

“I warned you, Anderson,” came Snape’s cold voice.

“I’m done now, Professor,” she said through clenched teeth. “This stupid potion doesn’t work anyway.

“Crazy girl,” Charlie muttered.

She filled a bottle of potion, signed it, and set it on Snape’s desk before storming out of the classroom.

~~~~~~~~~

Emma was sitting in her room and cleaning her bag and textbooks by magic. In the Potions class, she shoved the inkwell into the bag with such force that it shattered and poured emerald ink all over the contents of the bag. She was angry with herself and her outburst of gratuitous wrath. Over the past couple of months, she and Charlie have grown quite distant from each other. He didn't invite her for Christmas, although he and Bill had always invited her to the Burrow a month before the holidays. They stopped chatting and talking to each other about everything, and it depressed her. And then also this stupid fight.

Emma got to her feet, she didn’t want to go straight to Charlie, but there was another person she had been avoiding lately. She needed to talk to Penny.

Penny was sitting in the library, surrounded by books about the magical properties of West Wells herbs. She was so engrossed in her research, biting the tip of her quill, that she didn't notice Emma landing on the bench next to her.

“Emma?” Penny didn’t even try to hide her surprise; they practically didn’t communicate for a couple of months.

Emma hugged Penny and sighed heavily. She had to deal with everything she said and everything she thought.

“Hey, what happened, dear?” Penny stroked her back affectionately. Emma felt even nastier at heart. After avoiding Penny for a long time, her friend was still worried about her.

“Penny, I’m sorry,” Emma hid her face in an embrace.

“Emma, what’s wrong?”

“I… I’m just a terrible friend and a terrible person,” Penny looked at her in surprise but didn’t interrupt. “I really didn’t mean to avoid or hurt you. And I was being selfish with you. I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore. But you’re my best friend, and Charlie’s my best friend. And all I want right now is for you to be happy together.” Emma was blinking frequently, not letting her tears come out.

“First of all, I’m not offended at all that you’ve been avoiding me. Sometimes we need to take a break from communication, I understand everything. And secondly, me and Charlie together?” Penny asked, startled by the tirade.

“You are a lovely couple,” Emma smiled, wiping her reddened eyes with her sleeve.

“But,” Penny giggled awkwardly. “We’re not a couple, Emma.”

“What?”

“I don’t like Charlie in this way, and indeed,” Penny threw a laughing glance at her friend. “He doesn’t like me either."

“But…” Emma felt a pleasant warmth spread over her chest, she felt a little easier and wanted to smile. “But you are constantly together. And Charlie said that you became very close. And… So you’re not a couple?”

Penny grinned and scratched her nose with the tip of her quill.

“Is that what Charlie said? Oh, he should be better at choosing his words. We really got close, but it was because of you.” Emma looked up at her in surprise. “After Rowan passed away, you were emm… in a terrible state. Avoided everyone, refused to talk, didn’t sleep or eat, and tormented yourself. I couldn’t bear it, and Charlie, generally went crazy, seeing you like this. Anyway, we tried to come up with something that would cheer you up, bring back our usual Emma. But you didn’t want to talk to Charlie, and was running away from me — ”

Emma interrupted Penny with an impetuous hug. She gasped with such pressure but responded to the hug. They sat for a long time, in silence, under the displeased glances of Madame Pince. Finally, Emma pulled away.

“And what about you two became close?”

“We didn’t really talk to him before, except when you were around. Not all your friends are friends with each other. And now we’re hanging out because he asked me to pull him up on potions.”

“Now I feel like an even more terrible person,” Emma sighed heavily and looked away. Penny smiled affectionately and tucked in a strand of hair that had strayed from Emma’s hair.

“Good people make as many mistakes as bad people. The difference is that they find a way to fix them. And since you came to talk to your best friend, then you are definitely not a bad person. You and Charlie had a fight, aren’t you?

Emma groaned (Madame Pince shushed her indignantly) and buried her nose in her friend’s shoulder, now their quarrel and her resentment looked even more stupid.

“We were brewing Amortentia on Potions.” Penny’s eyes widened excitedly. “And Charlie said I can’t smell only two smells.

“Usually people can smell at least three,” said Penny. She took thought and chuckled cheerfully. “Was Charlie around?”

“Yeah, he climbed into the cauldron with his instructions. You know, he smells like a little bit of grass and cinnamon, so he interrupted the whole smell of the potion!”

Penny giggled, unable to stop. Madame Pince shushed at them again and headed towards them.

“What?” Emma frowned uncomprehendingly, looking at her laughing friend.

“I just wonder what Amortenia smelled like for him.”

“I don’t know, we had a fight and I left,” she bit her lip. “I need to find him and apologize. What a fool I was!”

“Get out of the library if you don’t know how to behave properly!’ Madame Pince hissed at them. Emma apologized in a whisper, hugged Penny goodbye, and went in search of Charlie.

~~~~~~~~~

It took her a long time to find Charlie. He was flying alone over an empty Quidditch field. Emma waved her hand, attracting his attention, and, waiting for him to come down, ran to hug him. But something stopped her and she froze right in front of Charlie, gazing into the snow-covered field.

“Is everything all right?” there was concern in Charlie’s voice, but his tone remained cold.

“I wanted to apologize. I was out of sorts and lashed out at you, even though it wasn’t your fault. I couldn’t have done the potion without you. And anyway…” Emma wanted to say, ‘Anyway, I couldn’t have done it at all without you’, but the words stuck in her throat. She felt herself blushing, her face seemed to burn so that the snowflakes melted before they reached her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Apologies accepted,” Charlie replied dryly. Emma winced, it would be better if he yelled at her. But he lowered the broom and sat down directly on the snow. Emma without thinking twice sat down opposite. “I never thought you are mad.”

“I know,” Emma nodded, crushing the bitterly cold snow in her hand. “I like your fascination with dragons.”

“It seems only you,” Charlie grinned, Emma also smiled slightly.

“Maybe Hagrid, too,” Charlie laughed at her comment.

“Well, I’ll have to talk to someone about dragons when Hagrid’s busy. And you’re the only candidate.

“Best friends, then?” Emma asked timidly, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Of course best friends! Never stopped being them, snowflake!” Emma laughed, she always liked that nickname. Charlie frowned, noticing that she again walked in the cold without gloves. He took off his huge warm mittens and put them on her. “You’ll freeze your hands off someday!”

“Nah,” Emma smiled again. For the first time in a long time, she felt so light and good that she wanted to laugh and sing. Charlie was smiling too, noticing her good mood.

“Oh, I completely forgot to ask. Are you free for Christmas? I wanted to call you to us,” he offered embarrassedly. Emma shook herself off the snow.

“Mom will still be in America, so I’d love to! I can’t miss your mom’s Christmas pie!” They both laughed, dispelling the last drops of tension between them.

The two of them wandered through the snow for a long time, until they were chilled and hungry, and Emma felt that her feet were completely wet. Having rolled down the last time from a large ice slide, they went to bask.

“Have you smelled our Amortentia?” Emma asked as they reached the castle.

“Yeah, we did a good job. I checked, although I already knew what it would smell like.”

“What it was?” she asked, not hiding her curiosity.

“An extinct fire, a forest, a pumpkin pie, and,” Charlie paused a little, smiled at her and blew a snowflake from her eyelashes. “A frosty winter morning.”

“You certainly have taste,” Emma laughed.

“That’s for sure,” Charlie smiled again, not taking his eyes off her.

With these words, they entered the castle.

#aprilprompts2021 #hogwarts mystery #sleeping beauty #emma anderson #charlie weasley #penny haywood #hphm #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts #hphm charlie #harry potter universe #harry potter #hp #hphm characters

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mhdiaries · 4 years ago

Photo

Haunted – Student Spirits Porter “Paintergeist” Geiss Diary

5/10

I’m in grave trouble again. I was spraying lockers, and the Hall Moan-itors caught me. I thought I had time for the ghost paint to vanish before I got die-tected. I can usually get past Past, and sometimes outsmart Present, but how’s a ghost supposed to stay invisible to Future? That Moan-itor has a knack for predicting what graffiti I’m going to paint - and where - even before I do! I was protesting the detention chains - the Hall Moan-itors and Miss Revenant are so unfair! And now I’m wearing more chains because I protested them. You’ve gotta appreciate the irony. Or should I say, “iron-y”, because that’s more fitting to the weight of my mood now.

5/11

Ugh. I just mopped floors during my entire study howl period. Never knew how much I’d miss doing foulgebra homework, even under the wraithful gaze of the driver’s deaducation teacher. But mostly I miss sketching in the margins of my textbook. I love drawing my friends, like Vandala sailing the deep boo sea or Kiyomi changing colors to complement one of my graffiti pieces. And it’s nice to just sit and chill, not feel the constant tug of heavy chains tethering me to the ground. Mopping while chained is even more unpleasant than, well, mopping while not chained! Sloshing the water around to the steady rhythm of clanging. I tried to pretend it was a new dance I was making up... even sang a few bars of ch-ch-chain of ghouls! That was fun ‘til the li-bury-an popped her head out and shushed me. But at least I worked off one of my chains. Just several more to go...

5/12

I’ve already earned additional chains. 3x more! I couldn’t resist ghost-spray-painting the howlway where I spent study howl cleaning. I designed an image of a mop wrapped in chains, and the mop was trying to sweep away the 3 Hall Moan-itors. Not to beast, but I thought it was phantastic! When an idea come to me, I have to paint it. It’s instinctive. They don’t call me Paintergesit for nothing! But those 3 Moan-itors have no appreciation for art, and no sense of humor, so they each gave me chains. It bites, but I think receiving triple the chains all at once is a new school record, so at least I have that. Always look on the fright side, ya know?

5/13

DON’T H8, LEVIT8!

I’M A LEVIT8R NOT A H8R!

Working out some new slogans for my next piece. I was fanging out with River Styxx in the creepateria. For the daughter of the Grim Reaper, she can make light of anything. She’s planning a party for all the students chained to Haunted High, since they can’t get out to her yacht on the river between the Ghost World and the non-Ghost World. She’s thinking everyone can use their chains decoratively. Ya know, like belts or jewelry. Of course, that’ll be easier for those who only have 1 or 2. I have so many, I could use them to tow her yacht to the schoolyard - then we can still hold the party there. Now that’s an ectoplasmic idea!

5/14

Huebert is being clawsome today! This is why we get along so well - we both enjoy a little harmless mischief-making. The Hall Moan-itors said I could work off a detention chain by picking up its equal weight in garbage in the creepateria. The more I pick up, the more chains come off. Well, Hubert likes garbage as much as any racoon, so after I picked up what was already scattered around, he got inside a full can and tossed trash to me. I caught it and tossed it into an empty can. It was so much fun, and totally worked. The chains fell off me, and I got lighter and lighter! In no time, I was feeling my old floaty self and I could move and catch faster as I zipped around the creepateria. Maybe I should join the casketball team.

5/15

Something scary-cool just happened! I was painting inside my locker - even the Hall Moan-itors can’t be too fangry about that - and I glanced in the mirror on the back of the door. I’m fearly sure I saw a dude wearing sunglasses bouncing a casketball down the hall behind me! I turned around, but there was no one there! The eerie thing is that he wasn’t transparent at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was... solid!?!

5/15 Cont.

I’ve been thinking about solids. Most of us in the Ghost World have never seen a solid, because haunting is forbidden. And we’re always told that they are monsters who want to destroy all ghosts and our way of un-life. But I’ve heard gore-ies about ghosts living in the solid world, so how can it be true that solids and ghosts can’t get along? It’s weird that I’ve never questioned it before, because I pride myself on being a free-spirit. I’ll have to think about this more. But first, I have an idea for a ghost-painting that will look spooktacular in the clawditorium...

5/16

When attempting mad séance experiments, never expect the same results twice. I tried to recreate that phenomenon at my locker yesterday. When no one was around, I painted the inside of my locker again. This time when I looked in the mirror, I only saw my own reflection. But out of the corner of my eye I die-tected... pink. Lots of pink! I’m an artist, so I happen to love pink. All colors, really. The world would be a deadful place if I had to give up any of them. Still, less is sometimes more. But as I was blinking into the locker, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, I realized that something else was blinking back! I concentrated until I made it out, and, boo, was it a shriek! It was a bat dressed in a poofy, pinktastic skirt! Not sure if he saw me, but just before he vanished, I noticed his cheeks turned as pink as the bow on his head. Can bats blush?

5/17

I watched Kiyomi Haunterly in the creepateria today. As an artist, I try to be observant of everyone and everything around me, because you never know where inspiration will come from. When I saw her, it struck me that she held her head higher than usual, and she floated around the room like a social battyfly. She’s always been a friendly ghoul, just kind of shy, and since she is a faceless ghost, she has a more difficult time than most making eye contact. I was impressed by her newfound aura. She even dressed more stylish than she used to. An eye catching outfit can be as creative as good graffiti, ya know? Her overall look today screams confidence. That gives me an idea for a painting. I think the wall behind the condismemberments bar will be perfect. I hope the Hall Moan-itors are in the teacher’s lounge...

5/18

My freedom from chains didn’t last long, but my painting in the creepateria was totally worth it! Now I’m just haunting the li-bury, which is kind of boo-ring, but at least I can browse the inter-die-mensional internet. I came across an interesting blog by a ghost ghoul named Spectra Vondergeist. It’s mostly paranormal teen drama: who is seeing who, who has a crush on who, who broke up with who, etc. It’s beast-zarre that I don’t know any of the students she’s written about. The ghouls are going to meet me here later - I’ll ask if they know them. We’re going to have a makeshift scare-venger hunt. We were going to have on on the Salty Spectre, but I can’t leave the grounds again. At least this way Vandala can’t get seasick!

5/19

Went to do a little touch up on my mural in the creepateria. And by touch-up I mean re-do, since the ghost paint from yesterday evaporated, well, yesterday. I was really getting into the grave, splashing and spraying the wall with precision... but then the Hall Moan-itors caught me before I could add the finishing touches. I can’t remember the last time I got to sign my work! But as I was trying to dodge them - who knew the creepateria was such an orbstacle course!?! - a ghoul manifested right in front of me, and I ended up crashing into her! So now, thanks to her, I’m weighed down with more chains. But... she was kind of cute! I hope that’s not the last time she appears around here...

#monster high #monster high diary #porter geiss #haunted

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moonlady9 · 4 years ago

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I checked out your wip list and I'm really curious: how do you decide which wips to work on? I noticed you had a lot of projects listed but I personally have a problem where if I start too many I have trouble finishing others, and yet your updates are always so consistent and you've finished so many oneshots!!! How do you manage it?

Thanks for the question Anon! ❤️

This is going to be long....

To be honest, being creative and actually creating is all about diligence. I can’t wait for inspiration to strike, or my muse to come around. If I did that, I would hardly ever write, draw, or paint. I am a person that likes structure so I have a schedule for myself where I allow myself to practice my creativity and create something. What I post is a result of me practicing.

I may not always feel like following a strict schedule so I give myself permission to do something else instead. Like, if I was supposed to work on Candy but I don’t feel like writing angst and feel more like writing something fluffy, I’ll work on Epistle or Land of Fire instead. It’s why my chaptered stories have different tones. If I’m really not in a writing mood, I’ll draw or paint. The point is to exercise my creativity so its easier for me to call on my muse or harness that lightning strike of inspiration when I need it. I have control of my inspiration, the thing that is out of my control is usually energy or time.

There are times that I do become possessed with an idea and get consumed with it and I will write for three days straight and 40k words later I have a rough draft (this happens often, especially with my chaptered stories). My trick here is that I don’t post it all at once. I hold on to all those words and then I’ll schedule in when I work on it to clean them up and post updates. I have created a cushion for the times I don't write anything but still want to have something to post.

Of course sometimes life happens and I really can’t be creative and create, it’s times like those that I fall back to my prewritten stories and polish them up. It's easier to go back and edit, rewrite, and change more quickly than if I had an empty page. This also helps to restart my creativity, to warm it up, like a muscle, until it’s up and running again.

For one shots, it maybe that I have a scene but don't want to write a whole story and doesn’t fit the tone of any of my wips. One-shots can also be a away for me to test readers interests or even my own. If readers don’t seem engaged in a one-shot, I won’t continue to post it, if I’m not interested I’ll just leave it as a one-shot. The rewards system in my brain needs some validation, hence why I crave engagement, as do other creators.

One-shots are also a nice mental break to write something completely different. It’s a new exercise to add some variety and not get bored. Also, I might write a rough draft of a one-shot and not post it, and then when I feel like finishing it, I will come back to it. I have many half written or outlined stories so that if I haven’t gotten that lighting strike of inspiration, I can still create. I do write for myself a lot (as you can see from the wips list, and those are just the ones I’m sharing with you guys, trust there are more that will never see the light of day)

This is just how I work and my system. Everyone has a different way of working and creating, but my production really changed when I finally realized, inspiration isn’t something I need to wait for. I went 10 years without writing because I was just waiting for that fabled strike of inspiration, thinking I wasn’t meant to be a writer because I hadn’t been chosen by the gods. Nah, creating is just practice and diligence. Now, I can control it, I can jumpstart it by doing something small like an outline, a sketch, a rough draft, a writing or painting exercise, even a walk with my camera but doing it with intent to find something interesting.

It won’t be good more than likely, and that’s okay. The goal isn’t for it to be good, I have no plans on writing the next great American novel, or painting the next Mona Lisa. I just to get my inspiration jumpstarted so I can enjoy the process of creating. And every piece I complete, it’s never perfect, there will always be room for improvement but I don’t hold it against myself, I just learn from it and do it better next time. I share my creations in the hope at least one person likes it or likes to see my progress and that's enough for me. Engagement helps me grow and improve and that great too. I have accepted that perfection is unattainable and not only is that okay, but exciting.

Wow, I know this is really long, but I hope it’s helpful to someone out there. Be patient and kind to yourself.

Much love and stay safe!

#moonlady9 answers #Moonlady9writes #moonlady9 draws #moonlady9 paints #anon asks

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madfantasy · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Blogging

Hello my dears, how have you been?

I'm doing alright. The repairs are finished and I got to sleep on my bed again, retuning to the same— ya know; staying up till dawn to draw. All that work maybe worth it someday but for now I'm not having enough food in my system because of it, even tho I'm used to eating as little as possible— the light-headedness dries up my productivity and brain powers..

▪️Maybe it was a cause that I haven't been all hot pursuing my artistic thrive. Usually looking into the undiscovered section of dA for inspiration helps but now idk where they put it now that they update everythin, but I can't handle it. I came across this tag on twitter that was, I suppose the idea was to find the lesser known artists and whatnot. It's a lovely gesture, but we all know how social media tends to work— in highlighting the big boys. I began to see a pattern over and over, what caught the biggest numbers were realistic, cute, themed, anime and cartoony styles. I know I shouldn't do so, but I compared mine to them and it felt my style is non of anything, just so bizarre it can't fit even tho it's still just.. idk.. art? And I considered maybe because it's unusual, while still not bearing any gigantic differentiations, it's not in the comfort zone. So, I assume that's why it's not likely to get rebloged.. as far as the normal chances of rebloging goes on this site. And putting up the banner to encourage it and promote myself seemed— I can't even say if its helping me.

But I've found my muse again, with the help of my precious friends, bless your hearts with all of their desires, you guys are all the goodness causers to me throughout these times, honestly

I got re-energized, began watching 3D pen artists and some of old electronics restorations magic that makes me marvel at the beauty of the sophisticated mind and the delivering hands of creation:

https://youtu.be/6DTqZHvLVxg

(Loved this one specially cuz I always opened up my controllers as a kid— to clean them heh)

https://youtu.be/WEqENsot7Nc

(I adore his sense of humour)

▪️I've also found the most realistic pencil brush ever that made me burst with spastic sketching energy, I love it so much it felt I returned to my pencil loving origins!

Here it is if you like to indulge:

https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1740419

( my mood :https://youtu.be/FEWi3l1ghD4 hold my hand! 🔥cuz i cant dace anyway lo)

I've also watched a forgotten adoration of my siblings and I. Doodled those penguins as if I suddenly knew how to draw bird, hehe. (Thank u for who noted that to me, you gratify me to the moon )

▪️My baby sib even made plushy with the help of my other siblings (she likes Private~):

I remembered how we always said they are cute version of us, joked how their shiny adorable backs are exactly how wearing abayas would look and whatever.

I'm excited to start on doing more art. And regained my desire of having an iPad pro, all of its qualities capture me and I'd love to feel it advancement. My current tablet is getting a bit skin curling-ly uncomfortable— scratchy.

▪️They opened up Amazon here and I thought to check it— as usual in ks a the prices are through the roof, let's say the same device originally cost around 999$ (without the pencil) on usa Amazon which is roughly 3746 R. Here it is locally, idk if the sale applied to it or not but I wish to have it before it ends because if it cost 10k without it, I'd rather buy a junk car. (Well not really, but the thought is appealing, heh)

But seriously, I don't know how it's possible, specially that everything I earn get majorly spent on bills when I choose to withdraw it from PayPal.. (actually just gave my savings for the next month to them today) and no, my plan to get my own bank account failed because even the employer whom suppose to know what's wrong with my registration files couldn't help me, after all these weeks of waiting..

But I'm still hopeful

Oh and the festival coming soon. Is on the 31th, I think.. I wonder if people would be allowed to gift meat. Anyway~

🌟I hope the coming days be kind to you my dears. Wish you all the best, may you be blessed in each step you take, and be kept away from harm.

And good luck in your pursues.. finals.. to be heard.. to be accepted.. to be normalised.. daily chores and struggles.. you are worthy, precious and strong and I hold hope and faith in you all 💛🙏

Stay safe

23.7.2020

#text #personal #drawing journey

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stillebesat · 5 years ago

Text

The Interview (2/5)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman Blurb: A normal day at StoryTime! Inc. takes an unexpected turn when Logan goes to investigate why his coworkers have made a bet using Crofters as the prize. Fic Type: General, Human!AU Warnings: None

To Catch Up: Chapter 1

“He’s standing again!” Patton’s voice echoed down the hallway as Logan approached.

He? Who was ‘he’? And why did they care if this ‘he’ was standing or not?

“Come on! Come on!” Callie encouraged as she stared out the window to the courtyard below. “You can--aww.” Logan paused in the doorway as Callie slumped, twisting her headband in her hands.

“He left. HUZZAH!” Reese declared triumphantly from where she sat across the room, her feet propped up on her desk.

Callie shook her head as she took her seat, turning to Reese. “No, no. He’s back to circling the bench again.” She said, slipping her headband back on. “Poor thing is going to create his own moat around it at this point.”

Patton exhaled, resting a hand on the window he was seated near, the sketchpad on his lap teetering on the brink of falling to the ground as he pressed his head against the glass. “You were so close, kiddo.”

“I told you.” Reese lazily tossed a stress ball up in the air, catching it with ease. “He’s not going to come in, you might as well pay up now, Pattey-cake.”

Patton shook his head, most of his attention still on the scene below. “Nu-uh, Reese, be Reeseonable. He hasn’t left yet. He could still come in.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffed, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder. “It’s been, what? Two hours now. If he had an appointment here, he’s waaaaaaayyy overdue. Pay up.”

“You said when he left. He hasn’t left.” Patton pointed out, tapping his fingers against the glass.

“You said when he came in. He hasn’t come in!” Reese retorted, raising her arm to throw the stress ball at him.

Logan cleared his throat.

Callie jumped at his voice, letting out a sound that could only be described as a squeak. She blushed, one hand rising to cover her mouth as she looked away.

“Dare I ask what’s going on?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Usually Callie was a bit more aware of his comings and goings being closest to the doorway. What had her so distracted to not notice him?

Reese froze, slowly rolling her head back to look at Logan upside-down before she shifted her eyes to Patton and straightened, tossing the ball at him. “You gotta be kidding me.” She muttered, dropping her feet from off the desk. “Do you really have a sense about when we talk about jelly, Specs, or is Pat somehow cluing you into it?”

Patton turned in time to avoid the ball, giving Reese a wide-eyed innocent stare as he picked it up and lobbed it back to her. “Me?”

She narrowed her eyes, catching the ball and placing it on her desk as she leaned forward. “You. You are doing something.”

“Or I happened to be stretching my legs.” Logan remarked, adjusting his glasses. It wasn’t their fault Reese remained unaware of connection between their two watches. It had been Patton’s idea in the first place to tinker with the devices until they could send small soundbites to each other through them. A secret communication system as it were. “What’s this about jelly? Who’s outside?”

“We have a bet going on whether or not the kiddo outside will come into the building.” Patton replied, picking up his sketch pad, twisting it to show a roughed out drawing of a young man in an ill fitting suit, with dyed hair, his bangs covering his eyes. “He’s…”

“A basket case?”

Patton frowned to Reese. “A little anxious.”

Reese snorted, idly tapping a couple keys on her keyboard. “A little? If we had been filming, we could have had a full two hour storyboard on him by now.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Storyboard?” What could the kid have been up to to warrant that?

Patton shrugged, adjusting his own glasses. “Well, he’s quite expressive.”

“Good movement. Great for figure sketching.” Callie softly added with a shrug. “I noticed him first.” She gestured to the window when Logan looked at her. “He keeps attempting to come inside, but then doesn’t. I think nerves are getting to him.”

“Told you.” Reese said, spinning in her chair. “Basket case. He’ll fail the first deadline.”

“Give him a chance.” Patton murmured scooting to the side as Logan came up next to him to see for himself. Sure enough, the young man was there, pacing around one of the benches in the plaza, a large folder gripped tightly against his chest.

Large enough to be a portfolio. Thick enough that it would hopefully show a variety of artistic styles and not just the one or two other potential hires thought they could get away with.

Maybe if they’d been applying to some of the other animation studios that would have been enough, but not StoryTime!. They were always looking to tell their stories in new, unique ways and using a variety of art styles was often key to that.

“He’s certainly not the most anxious one we’ve seen.” Logan said in an undertone.

Pat chuckled. “For sure. Remember the incident with the palm tree?”

Logan winced, automatically rubbing his wrist. “How could I forget?”

“Maybe he’s a vampire and needs to be invited inside.” Reese threw out, her cheek resting against her hand, curly hair covering half her face as she fiddled around with the computer mouse, staring at the computer screen in front of her. “Two handfuls of my Halloween candy says he is.”

“Two handfuls of my Christmas candy that he’s just shy.” Callie countered.

Reese grimaced. “You can’t offer Christmas candy before Thanksgiving, Cal!”

She raised an eyebrow. “I just did?”

“Is it last year’s Christmas candy?”

Callie made a face. “No, and Ew! Who keeps Christmas candy uneaten for a year?”

“That would be a tragedy.” Patton agreed.

“As will be your loss when I get your six jars of Crofters and your Triple Death by Chocolate Brownies, Pattey-cake” Reese shot back, pointing a finger at him.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. Six? He mouthed in surprise. This was serious. Patton never involved more than four jars unless he felt strongly he’d win. What was it about the kid that had him so confident?

Patton nodded. “He’s going to come in. I know he will.” He said, a determined glint in his eyes as he stared down at the young man.

Reese scoffed again. “No. He won’t.”

“And you guys think he’s here for an interview?” Logan asked as the kid below collapsed onto the bench, head in his hands.

“Have you seen anyone else carry a portfolio that large?” Patton asked, giving him a soft smile.

“It’s large enough to paper the entire office.” Reese remarked.

Callie nodded, fidgeting with her headband. “Which means it has to be for Roman.” She said, barely loud enough for Logan to hear.

They had lost a couple of people in his department recently due to Roman being his usual extravagant self with his high expectations. It would definitely explain the nervousness to come inside too. His brother had quite the reputation for being difficult to work with on good days. Bad days...well a Dragonwitch was a more favorable being to face than Roman when he was in one of his perfectionistic moods.

Reese shook her head, tapping her foot against her desk. “If he is here for him, the poor guy’s a goner already.”

“Reese.” Patton again chided, intent on the boy below. “He hasn’t left yet.”

Logan pursed his lips. That was true. The fact that the young man hadn’t yet come in pointed to him already knowing this wasn’t going to be an easy interview. However. Patton was right. He hadn’t yet left.

He nodded to himself. Perhaps all he needed was an encouraging push in the right direction.

“What?” Reese asked, sitting back in her chair. “It’s true. Roman expects perfection. This guy can’t even come inside a building on his first try. He’s going to bolt faster than that last dude did after Roman was done with him.”

Callie winced. “The poor thing.” She mumbled. “Broke a glass door and dropped his portfolio down the stairs fleeing from ‘The Prince.’”

“Exactly. Two minutes tops. Another jar of Crofters that I’m right.”

Patton shook his head. “What do you think, Lo?” He asked quietly, glancing to him, tilting his head to the window. “You think he has a chance?”

Logan sighed, taking off his glasses, cleaning them with his shirt as he stared down at the young man, watching as he took four steps towards StoryTime!’s entrance before turning right back to the bench to circle it.

He had never had liked judging a book by its cover. You never knew the true contents until you looked inside and he wasn’t going to learn anything about the kid while he was up here.

“I think.” Logan slipped his glasses back on as he turned away from the window, rolling up his sleeves. “That I better get a couple jars of that jelly from one of you when I get back.”

To Be Continued Chapter 3

Taglist in Reblog

#The Interview #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Logan #Patton #Logic #Morality #StoryTime!#Original Characters

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hedwigstalons · 5 years ago

Text

The Tracy Prize - part 19

A boring afternoon at work led to the creation of Claire, the rather grumpy and tech-phobic chemist. I never expected the little fic she spawned to run to over 25k words. I may also dig her out in future as there were other scenes that didn’t really fit this story.

Thank you to everyone that came along for the ride. Each like, reblog and comment was very much appreciated. @willow-salix thank you for digging me out of several plot holes. And thanks to @gumnut-logic for opening the door and welcoming me in to this fandom, I probably wouldn’t have attempting writing Virg if it wasn’t you.

So now…the final part.

Here are the earlier parts for those that want to go back to the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18

xoxoxox

Claire sat on a bench in the locker room near the hangers, wrestling with a rust coloured boot. After a determined tug her foot popped around the bend in the heel and she was able to close the seals around her calf.

The synthetic fuel had been cleared for field testing. She knew Virgil was already in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two, waiting for her to suit up. She didn’t want to keep him waiting. She was looking forward to spending some time with the engineer.

She wondered how her life had managed to take such a surprising change in direction. Just a few short months ago International Rescue was just a name that appeared in news reports. Anonymous heroes who swooped to the rescue. Now it meant a houseful of people who risked their lives on a daily basis to help whoever made the call. People that she was proud to call her friends. Her thoughts lingered on one particular operative that she wished was more than just a friend.

As she adjusted the prototype uniform she reflected on exactly how this particular development had come about.

It had been a difficult day for all of them. One of those days when the tension in the villa thrummed like an over tightened guitar string. One of those rare days when Scott had announced he was out of his depth and called for outside assistance over the comms. He had made an error and needed help dealing with the fallout, both literally and figuratively. It had fallen to Claire to guide him through the process of decontamination from the material that coated himself and his body cam, obscuring Claire’s view of the tools and substances at his disposal. That coating had turned out to be lithium hydride, a tricky substance that had the tendency to spontaneously ignite in humid air. It was a tense time as she talked the First Responder through the clean up procedures, all the while hoping he wasn’t about to catch fire.

When Scott had finally made it home some 20 hours later he looked distinctly older than when he had set out. He had announced that perhaps there would be times when it would be useful to take the chemist out in the field to try and avoid these situations occurring in the first place. Claire had been inclined to agree with him; if Scott had paused and consulted her before charging into the factory he would never have got coated in the volatile substance in the first place.

What followed was a whirlwind of sketches, concept design and finally the prototype uniform.

A uniform that was currently highlighting its flaws and would definitely need a redesign.

She would gladly have gone on the test flight in her usual clothes but Scott has insisted that, since she had a uniform, she should wear it when going off-island on International Rescue business.

Claire gave up trying to get the zip on her back done up. She picked up the helmet and rebreather kit that turned her uniform into a grade two certified hazmat suit and headed towards the hangers.

xoxoxox

Virgil looked up from his pre-flight systems checks as Claire entered the cockpit. Technically he could have taken this test flight alone but he thought the chemist ought to get the chance to experience the result of her hard work first hand.

If he was being completely honest he found himself seeking out opportunities to spend time alone with Claire. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Claire was dedicated to her work. She seemed to enjoy his company but had given no indications that she was interested in him being anything more than a friend. She was a professional to the core.

“I hope we won’t be needing those” he said, indicating the helmet and rebreather in her hands.

“You and me both, but Scott said to keep all the parts to hand.”

Virgil knew the sense in that. You never knew what could happen when out on a mission and it paid to be prepared. His own helmet was close at hand.

“So how does it feel? Does everything fit?”

His eyes raked up and down the petite form, currently clad in the ruddy tones that marked her out as one half of International Rescue’s scientific division. Of course it fitted perfectly. The full body scans taken as part of her medical had ensured that the garment was perfectly sculpted to her form.

He forced his eyes back to her face, hoping she hadn’t noticed his lingering gaze.

“Well the material is a little stiff. I think the polymer coating is reducing its flexibility. It also takes far too long to get on. The biggest problem though is this.”

She spun around revealing the triangle of bare flesh at the top of her back.

“If the main fastening stays at the back I’m going to have to get changed into uniform en-route so one of you others can buddy check my seals. I just can’t reach it right. Please can you finish doing me up?”

Virgil felt a lump form in his throat.

Claire held her ponytail out of the way so Virgil could finish closing the zip without snagging her hair. A firm hand then ran slowly up her spine from base to neck, sealing shut the protective flap that covered the zip. Claire’s body tingled in response. Her mind wandered, imagining those same strong hands reversing the action later and freeing her from her uniform. She gave herself a mental shake. This was Virgil. A colleague. It was…inappropriate.

Virgil returned to the pilot’s seat while Claire took the co-pilot’s side that was normally occupied by Gordon.

This would be her first time being piloted by Virgil but not her first time flying in Thunderbird Two. That first trip was tainted with bad memories. Her first flight had been spent in worried silence. Gordon at the controls. Virgil in the med bay, out cold from the dart she had been responsible for shooting. She was still haunted by visions of Virgil crashing to the floor of the conference centre, the dart stuck in his chest.

The atmosphere in the cockpit today was excited rather then worried, but still serious.

The ability to control the Thunderbirds remotely meant that several test ignitions had been trailed but this would be the first true flight using the new fuel. The chance to test if reality lived up to expectations.

Virgil opened the comms link to both island control and Thunderbird Five.

“Pre-flight checks complete. Everything responding as expected. Thunderbird Two is ready for take off.”

“I’ll be keeping a running watch on your systems readouts and I’ll keep comms open,” John responded, his hologram floating above the control console. “Stick to you pre-programmed route I’ve sent you. I’ve alerted the GDF that you are on manoeuvres so we can expect a call from Aunt Val later.”

“Why are the GDF involved?” Claire asked.

“Just common courtesy. We give the GDF a rough flight plan and they alert any military operational in the area. It saves any cases of mistaken identity. We don’t want Two shot down again.” John replied.

Claire looked alarmed.

“That only happened the once, Johnny.” Virgil had still never truly forgiven the US Navy for crippling his beautiful ‘bird.

“Yeah, well that was once too many.”

Scott’s voice cut in. “If you two have quite finished…”

The rock wall disguising the hangar entrance lowered as Scott activated the mechanism from inside the villa.

Virgil taxied his Thunderbird out on to the launch pad. The pad tilted upwards and the view from the cockpit changed from one of sea to one of sky.

Virgil directed power towards the thrusters.

An intense roar filled the cockpit. Vibrations built up in intensity. The mighty craft slid forwards and took to the skies.

“Thunderbird Two is go.”

xoxoxox

Virgil concentrated intently on the flight. He had spent so many hours flying Thunderbird Two that he was fully attuned to her quirks and moods. He felt each difference in response and behaviour without the need to check the instruments for confirmation. The engine pitch was slightly lower. The vibrations slightly stronger. He tried a few turns and altitude adjustments and was pleased to see that Two responded just as well as before.

It was time to test her for speed.

Virgil eased the throttle forwards. Scott’s voice came over the comms, reading out their velocity in increments.

“6,000 kilometres per hour.”

“6,500 kilometres per hour.”

“7,000 kilometres per hour. Approaching previous top speed.”

Virgil continued to push the throttle. He could feel that Two had more to give.

“8,000 kilometres per hour.”

“9,000 kilometres per hour.”

As each increment was read out the tone became excited.

“10,000 kilometres per hour.”

Claire looked across at Virgil. A huge grin was plastered across his face at the raw power under his control. It was as if Two was singing to him. She hummed as he pushed the throttle to the maximum.

“!0,200 kilometre per hour” he whooped. “Maximum throttle reached. Easing off now and returning to base.”

“FAB Virgil. See you back home soon.”

The pure delight Virgil was experiencing was evident. He practically bounced as he guided the craft back over the Pacific Ocean. Their island home was soon visible again.

Virgil switched to VTOLs and brought them in to land.

xoxoxox

The two occupants of the cockpit grinned at each other, their eyes shining. They were buoyed by the thrill of success.

Harnesses were released.

Claire found herself enveloped in one of Virgil’s bear hugs. The air nearly crushed out of her body by his exuberance, her body held firmly against his chest. She found herself returning the hug, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying herself in those powerful muscles.

“You did it! You actually did it!”

Virgil was still riding the high of emotion. Claire’s feet lifted off the floor in the engineer’s delight. When she was placed back down she felt a kiss planted on the top of her head.

The pair of them both stilled and stiffened as the action registered.

Claire looked up to meet warm brown eyes that looked ashamed, scared…hopeful?

Virgil cursed his lack of self-control. In that one unguarded moment he had risked everything. Claire had changed a lot since coming to the island but she could still be prickly on occasion. Her flares of temper were becoming less frequent; there was more laughter, more enjoyment in being part of a team, but she had never invited him to cross this line.

Virgil braced himself for the backlash.

The backlash never came.

Their eyes remained locked. Neither let go of the other. Arms continued to encircle bodies pressed close together.

Claire found herself sinking into those chestnut depths.

Lips tentatively met, at first hesitant with the fear of rejection, then pressed more firmly as each explored the object of their secret desires. Neither wanted to that moment to end. Blue pressed against rust, the colour the only way of distinguishing the entwined bodies.

When they finally broke apart, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Claire reflected that she might not have got the research grant but she had surely won the greatest Tracy prize of all.

-FIN-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #kayo #brains

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toxicsquad · 4 years ago

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There is no better way to get to know someone than through a good question tag. In this case we have decided to make an Indie game dev question tag with the responses of our four developers. We hope that it will reveal many unknowns, but if you are left with any questions, do not hesitate to use our ask.

What part of game development are you responsible for?

Athe: I write and write, I melt in my seat, I correct, I cry and then I program. It’s an endless cycle. Occasionally I laugh like crazy while I eat Pringles.

Sam: I draw and color without leaving the lines (almost always) the sprites, the illustrations and the ravings that usually occur to us past 3 in the morning.

Illy: English translations.

Sher: I draw BGs

What tools do you use (hardware / software)?

Athe: Recently my desktop PC has passed away, so I’ve had to rescue my old PC from the garage. I also have a laptop that saves my life more times than I would like to admit. As for the software, I need, above all, drive documents, video editing programs, image etc (I have an Adobe package) and of course Renpy and Atom.

Sam: My main friend and companion is my tablet, a wacom intuos S (pistachio color, so cute). As programs I mainly use the Paint Tool Sai, because there is nothing in this life like its stabilizer. And less frequently than I would like (for details, texture brushes, effects ...) I also use Clip Studio Paint, which I only know how to use at about 2% of its capacity ... If someday I have time I would love to stop and learn seriously what can be done with it.

Illy: During the school year I live in a residence, so I use an old laptop, and when I return home I use a desktop computer that never has memory space. I translate the chapters in the same Atom where the complete script is and I keep them in google drive files where I share them with our beta reader. I also use editing programs like photoshop when I have to translate comics or procreate for when my artistic skills are required.

Sher: ipad+procreate+some final tweak in photoshop, I don't need much more

What is your favorite part of the job?

Athe: Would it be wrong if I say that is when we released the episode? During the whole production time everything is very stressful, there are times when it’s really uphill, but when we release a new chapter it feels soooo good. It's like saying to yourself, yeah, dammit, I can do it. Look at everything you've climbed by yourself. You're doing it right.

Sam: In general, my favorite parts are when the first scenes start to be programmed, and I can see the sprites with the backgrounds, the texts, and how the illustrations look. Everything always looks so much better when viewed in-game… I also really like being able to check out the script as it is written. And from the artistic part that concerns me, when I see that my hands capture the idea that I had in my head ... Especially in character designs.

Illy: Having to find a way to translate very spanish expressions into English, research vocabulary that I have never had to use and commenting on some translations with our beta reader (which we adore) to make it understandable without losing the original meaning.

Sher: I like to do the lineart when the sketch is complete, if I no longer have to think about anything else and it's just going through it, I find it very fun and relaxing

What is the most difficult part for you?

Athe: Offf, yes, I admit it, sometimes writing is the WORST. Other times I love it, especially when I can expand on the descriptions or stop at a part that is intimate or that I find interesting (for example, Hasiel's conversation from 6.3, small spoiler: P). But, I HATE having to paste scenes, often the protagonist moves between scenes and you always have to add lines to those transitions that really do not interest anyone, but that otherwise the text would be confusing. Anyway... It is a very wide world, with a lot of history, I have to deal with what I need readers to know to understand the facts, although sometimes it gets a bit boring.

Sam: What part does not... Rather who e.e Zihel and Ariel are a thorn in my side. Especially Zihel. I know it has to do with the fact that it has never been my strength to draw boys, and much less if they are more masculine in appearance... That's why I also suffer a lot from drawing muscles. Another thing that brings me a headache is the perspective of the illustrations. Every time I try to get out of the typical shot or poses a little... It doesn't work out.

Illy: Doughy’s stuttering ¬.¬

Sher: chairs, sofas, tables... anything with four legs is my enemy

Anything to help or encourage you while you are working?

Athe: I need music, no, seriously, I NEED IT. I’m unable to focus without it. If, on top of that, I can get what I hear to act as a sounding board for what I write, the text is a thousand times better... But the muse is a pretty bad person.

Sam: Having a show/movie in the background that entertains me. The longer the better, so I don't have to stop to think what I want to put on next.

Illy: Eating sunflower seeds to trick my brain and not be tempted to do something else that distracts me.

Sher: I try to see other artists to motivate and inspire me before I start drawing, what I find most difficult is that initial push and that is where I need the motivation, then I usually have something in the background but it is not necessary

Something that’s a pet peeve or discouraging?

Athe: Some narrative climax moments. Generally, they are not important plot moments (that is almost entirely decided), they are often small decisions to go from scene A to scene B, but I can spend a LOT of time deciding which is the fastest and best way to tie those two ends. I'm the worst.

Sam: Many times when starting, I can't get the poses to fit the way I want, for example.

Illy: Finding many parts in a row that I find especially difficult to solve and that make me believe that I have forgotten how to English properly. And looking at how many lines I still have left.

Sher: When I don't know how to fill in some area, if I see something very empty but I don't know how to solve it, I can spend days looking at the screen without being able to advance, even if I have other areas that I could do in the meantime

What is required on your table or work surface?

Athe: Notebooks, sticky notes, pens… I’m a person who writes everything down, especially the tasks, but I also order the story by color schemes. The stack of sticky notes have 9 different colors, each one represents a character and I play a lot with them for a lot of nonsense. Besides, even though I have been writing on the computer for many more years than I wrote by hand, I still have a preference for the analogical.

Sam: Coffee, sweets, chocolate, cereals... And cats.

Illy: My phone, the sunflower seeds, a Capital America: Civil War 1L water cup, sticky notes that remind me of tasks.

Sher: I have nothing really lol all my things are for decoration

Your most productive hours?

Athe: Owl. Totally nocturnal. Although I have several crises a month to force myself to work at other times that always end... Wrong.

Sam: Also at night for the most part, although I can no longer stay awake as long as I endured before having a job (the good old days...) However, in the middle of the afternoon, when the zoo that I have at home is still taking a nap, I also manage to go a long way.

Illy: From when I finish eating until 7 or 8 in the afternoon, when I don't have to cook, clean, run errands...

Sher: I take over for Illy apparently, from 7 or 8 is when I start to get into the mood until bedtime

Do working hours make you forget to eat or make you eat twice as much?

Athe: It depends, in the past I ate a lot, now if I have stress I don't eat anything. If I'm in a normal productive phase and I'm not on my nerves, I'm probably eating by inertia.

Sam: They make me eat more, but especially junk food e.e And they make me forget healthy meals, especially dinner at night.

Illy: It depends on my mood, but I usually eat twice as much.

Sher: I'm generally a VERY distracted person so I don't usually get to focus on a task to get to either of those two modes but I guess when I am sooooooo much on the task, I forget. But that happens like a couple of times a year and "forgetting" is "I delay an hour."

What part of your set up would you improve / change (in aesthetics or functionality) if you had no money limit?

Athe: I'm trying to match some of my peripherals with the rest. They are all a damn different color, apparently I'm cursed... Now seriously, I wish I had a better graphic card that would allow me to make video captures, some speakers and a quality printer.

Sam: Actually, I don't think I need anything more complex than what I already have… But if I had to improve something, I'm curious about the most professional tablets, the big ones with the included screen and all that stuff.

Illy: A new laptop that lets me open 4 chrome tabs, Atom and photoshop at the same time without dying.

Sher: A pc screen that will not change the colors I use on the iPad would be nice, really

Which character are you most like? And why?

Athe: Phew I think the easy answer would be to say Akane ... But, Akane is a better person. : P

Sam: This is very difficult... They are all very different, but still I do not think I look much like any of them. If I have to say something, I could identify with Maske's tendency to avoid problems, and his more homey and calm side. And well… Since Akane has been an OC of mine for many years, surely I have something of her too.

Illy: I think I partly have Maske's instinct to stay out of trouble, and on the other hand Joe's shallowness, although tbh I wish I really did look like any of our awesome babies.

Sher: surprised because (unpopular opinion around here) is one of those who I "least care" about really but I would say that Pin because he is a little dumb, happy and probably has a Satanic room and proud of it

Favorite CG/art.

Athe: AT THE MOMENT. Maske chapter 1. It couldn't be more predictable. I know.

Sam: I quite agree with Maske in chapter 1. But I would also put Pin in chapter 5 and Akane in chapter 6.2 on the top.

Illy: Kyeran in Coco's tank ?? Is he even real? Being basic is my brand.

Sher: surprised again and disappointed but I would say that of angel Hasiel because I like pretty dresses, pretty hairs and pretty wings

Favorite BG/scene.

Athe: The Red Light District amazes me. I already liked the life of that place, its history, but the way of expressing it... Uggg Sher took it to another level. The dirt on the street, the night, the constricted buildings...

Sam: I think I’ll say Raziel’s square, I like it a lot from the first day.

Illy: I don't know if I can choose just one T__T but I would say that the Red Light District and Valefar's pub are at the top.

Sher: for not repeating the red light district that I also like very much, I really like the areas of Coco's laboratory, including the “main” area although the perspective is horrible and makes the characters look tiny, but I like how it looks :(

Your favorite chapter to date?

Athe: Ufff... The first and second one I assure you no, hahaha. I will say that the third one, but also for things that are not necessarily from the chapter, but of the production. It was a good moment. I felt that everything was flowing with ease. We all assumed a clear role, they were times that made us feel comfortable and capable of assuming what came next, I think it was a qualitative leap also, both in texts and in art.

Sam: Oh. Well let's see... Chapter 5 is amazing for me, for everything that happens but also because there are many personalized interactions and choices. I can't say I have a definitive favorite, but it could come close… Also from the last ones I really like the 6.2.

Illy: Chapter 5 has so many details, so many things happen, it's hard not to be my favorite. But the last ones with the specific routes are so great that if I stay with the 5 it’s with the pain of my heart to have to choose one.

Sher: I would say 5 also because in the end when a lot of things happen is when you remember the most

Twitter | Instagram | Itch

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No hay mejor forma de conocer a alguien que a través de un buen tag de preguntas. En este caso hemos decidido hacer un Indie game dev question tag con las respuestas de las cuatro desarrolladoras. Esperamos que os aclare muchas incógnitas, pero si os quedáis con alguna no dudéis en usar nuestro ask.

¿Qué parte del desarrollo del juego llevas a cabo?

Athe: Escribo, escribo, me derrito sobre mi asiento, corrijo, lloro y después programo. Es un ciclo sin fin. Ocasionalmente me río como una demente mientras como Pringles.

Sam: Dibujo y coloreo sin salirme de las líneas (casi siempre) los sprites, las ilustraciones y los desvaríos que suelen surgir a partir de las 3 de la mañana.

Illy: Las traducciones a inglés.

Sher: Hago fonditos

¿Qué herramientas utilizas (hardware/software)?

Athe: Recientemente mi PC de sobremesa ha fallecido, así que he tenido que rescatar mi viejo PC del trastero, también tengo un portatil que me salva la vida más veces de las que me gustaría admitir. En cuanto al software, necesito, sobre todo, documentos de drive, programas de edición de video, imagen etc (tengo un paquete de Adobe) y por supuesto Renpy y Atom.

Sam: Mi principal amiga y compañera es mi tableta, una wacom intuos S (color pistacho, muy cuqui.) Como programas uso sobretodo el Paint Tool Sai, porque no hay nada en esta vida como su estabilizador. Y con menos frecuencia de lo que querría (para detalles, pinceles de texturas, efectos…) también utilizo el Clip Studio Paint, el cual sólo se usar como a un 2% de su capacidad… Si algún día tengo tiempo me encantaría pararme a aprender seriamente todo lo que se puede hacer con él.

Illy: Durante el curso vivo en una residencia, así que uso un portatil del año que reinó carolo, y cuando vuelvo a mi casa un ordenador de sobremesa que nunca tiene espacio en la memoria. Los capítulos los traduzco en el mismo Atom en el que está el guión completo y los guardo en drive donde los comparto con nuestra beta reader. También uso programas de edición como photoshop cuando tengo que traducir viñetas o procreate para cuando mis habilidades artísticas son requeridas.

Sher: ipad+procreate+algún retoquito final en photoshop no necesito mucho más

¿Cuál es tu parte de favorita del trabajo?

Athe: ¿Estaría mal si digo que es cuando sacamos el episodio? Durante toda la producción todo es muy estresante, hay veces, que se hace realmente cuesta arriba, pero cuando liberamos un nuevo capítulo sienta taaaan bien. Es como decirte a ti misma, sí, joder, puedo hacerlo. Mira todo lo que has escalado tú solita. Lo estás haciendo bien.

Sam: En general, mis partes favoritas son cuando se empiezan a programar las primeras escenas, y puedo ver los sprites con los fondos, los textos, y cómo se ven las ilustraciones. Todo queda siempre mucho mejor cuando se ve dentro del juego… También me gusta mucho poder cotillear el guión conforme se va escribiendo. Y de la parte artística que me toca, cuando veo que mis manos plasman la idea que tenía en mi cabeza… Sobretodo en diseños de personajes.

Illy: Tener que buscar la forma de traducir a inglés expresiones muy nuestras, investigar vocabulario que no he tenido que usar jamás y comentar algunas traducciones con nuestra beta reader (a la que adoramos) para conseguir que se entienda sin perder el significado original.

Sher: me gusta hacer el lineart cuando el sketch está completo, si ya no tengo que pensar nada más y es solo ir repasando me parece muy divertido y relajante

¿Cuál es la parte que más te cuesta?

Athe: Ufff, sí, lo admito, escribir a veces es lo PEOR. Otras me encanta, sobre todo, cuando puedo explayarme con las descripciones o detenerme en una parte íntima o que a mí me parece interesante (por ejemplo, la conversación de Hasiel del 6.3, pequeño spoiler :P). Pero, ODIO tener que empastar escenas, a menudo el protagonista se mueve de escenarios y hay que agregar siempre líneas a esas transiciones que realmente no interesan a nadie, pero que de lo contrario el texto quedaría mal montado. En fin… Es un mundo muy amplio, con mucha historia, tengo que lidiar con lo que necesito que los lectores sepan para entender los hechos, aunque a veces se haga un pelín peñazo.

Sam: Qué parte no… Quiénes, más bien e.e Zihel y Ariel son mi espinita. Especialmente Zihel. Sé que tiene que ver con el hecho de que nunca ha sido mi punto fuerte dibujar chicos, y menos si son de aspecto más masculino… Por eso también sufro mucho dibujando músculos. Otra cosa que me trae de cabeza es la perspectiva de las ilustraciones. Cada vez que intento salirme un poco del típico plano o poses… No sale bien.

Illy: El tartamudeo de Doughy ¬.¬

Sher: sillas, sofás, mesas… cualquier cosa con cuatro patas son mis enemigos

¿Algo que te ayude o anime mientras estás trabajando?

Athe: Necesito música, no, en serio, LA NECESITO. Soy incapaz de concentrarme sin ella. Si ya consigo que lo que escucho haga de caja de resonancia de lo que escribo, el texto es mil veces mejor… Pero la musa es bastante mala gente.

Sam: Tener alguna serie/peli de fondo que me entretenga. Cuanto más larga mejor, así no me toca pararme a ver qué es lo que quiero poner después.

Illy: Comer pipas para engañar a mi cerebro y no tener la tentación de ponerme a hacer otra cosa que me distraiga.

Sher: intento ver otros artistas para motivarme e inspirarme antes de empezar a dibujar, lo que más me cuesta es ese empujón inicial y es donde necesito la motivación, luego ya suelo tener algo de fondo pero no es necesario

¿Algo que te corte el rollo o te desmotive?

Athe: Los nudos narrativos. Generalmente, no son nudos gordos de la trama (eso está decidido casi en su totalidad), a menudo son decisiones pequeñas para pasar de la escena A a la escena B, pero puedo tirarme MUCHO tiempo decidiendo cuál es la forma más rápida y mejor planteada para atar esos dos cabos. Soy lo peor.

Sam: Muchas veces a la hora de empezar, no conseguir encajar las poses como quiero, por ejemplo.

Illy: Encontrar muchas partes seguidas que me cueste especialmente resolver y que me hacen creer que no tengo ni idea de hablar inglés. Y mirar cuantas líneas me quedan todavía.

Sher: cuando no se como rellenar alguna zona, si veo algo muy vacío pero no se como solucionarlo puedo tirarme días mirando la pantalla sin ser capaz de avanzar, incluso aunque tenga otras zonas que pudiera ir haciendo mientras

¿Qué no puede faltar en tu mesa o superficie de trabajo?

Athe: Libretas, post-its, bolígrafos… Soy una persona que lo anota todo, sobre todo, las tareas, pero también ordeno la historia por esquemas de colores. La pila de post-its tienen 9 colores diferentes, cada uno representa un personaje y juego mucho con ellos para miles de idioteces. A parte, a pesar de que llevo muchos más años escribiendo a ordenador de los que escribí a mano, sigo teniendo querencia a lo físico.

Sam: Café, chucherías, chocolate, cereales… Y gatos.

Illy: El móvil, las pipas, un vaso de 1L de agua de Capital America: Civil War, post-its que me recuerdan las tareas.

Sher: no tengo nada realmente lol todas mis cosas son de adorno

¿Tus horas más productivas?

Athe: Búho. Nocturna totalmente. A pesar de que tengo varias crisis al mes para forzarme a trabajar a otras horas que acaban siempre… Mal.

Sam: También por la noche en su mayoría, aunque ya no aguanto trasnochando tanto como antes de trabajar (qué tiempos aquellos…) Aunque a media tarde cuando el zoo que tengo en casa aún está echando la siesta también consigo dar un buen empujón.

Illy: Desde que acabo de comer hasta las 7 o las 8 de la tarde, cuando no tengo que cocinar, limpiar, hacer recados...

Sher: le tomo el testigo a Illy aparentemente, a partir de las 7 u 8 es cuando empiezo a entrar en el mood hasta que llega la hora de dormir

¿Las horas de trabajo hacen que te olvides de comer o te hacen comer el doble?

Athe: Depende, antes comía mucho, ahora, si tengo estrés no como nada. Si me encuentro en un rango productivo normal y no estoy de los nervios, probablemente, esté comiendo por inercia.

Sam: Me hacen comer más, pero sobretodo porquerías e.e Y hacen que me olvide de las comidas sanas, sobretodo de cenar por la noche.

Illy: Depende de mi estado de ánimo, pero normalmente comer el doble.

Sher: en general soy una persona MUY distraída así que no suelo conseguir centrarme en una tarea para llegar a ninguno de esos dos modos pero supongo que cuando estoy muuuuuuy dentro de la tarea, me olvido. Pero eso pasa como un par de veces al año y “olvido” es “lo retraso una hora”.

¿Qué parte de tu set up mejorarías/cambiarías (en estética o funcionalidad) si no tuvieses límite de dinero?

Athe: Estoy tratando de que alguno de mis periféricos peguen con el resto. Todos son de un maldito color diferente, al parecer estoy maldita… Ahora en serio, desearía tener una mejor gráfica que me permitiese hacer videocapturas, unos altavoces y una impresora de calidad.

Sam: En realidad, no creo que necesitara nada más complejo de lo que ya tengo… Pero por mejorar, me llaman la atención las tabletas más profesionales, las grandes con la pantalla incluida y eso.

Illy: Un portátil nuevo que me deje abrir 4 pestañas de chrome, el Atom y photoshop al mismo tiempo sin quedarse tieso.

Sher: Una pantalla de pc que no me cambiara los colores que uso en el ipad seria bonito la verdad

¿A qué personaje te pareces más? ¿Y por qué?

Athe: Ufff Creo que la respuesta fácil sería decir Akane… Pero, Akane es mejor persona. :P

Sam: Esto es muy complicado… Son todos muy distintos, pero aún así no creo que me parezca mucho a ninguno. Por decir algo, me podría identificar con la tendencia a evitar problemas de Maske, y su lado más casero y tranquilo. Y bueno… Dado que Akane es OC mío de hace muchos años, seguramente tenga algo de ella también.

Illy: Creo que en parte tengo el instinto de alejarme de las movidas de Maske, y por otro la superficialidad de Joe, aunque tbh ojalá parecerme realmente a nuestros bebés geniales.

Sher: sorprendida porque (unpopular opinión por aquí) es de los que “menos me importan” realmente pero diría que Pin porque es tontito, feliz y probablemente tenga una habitación satánica y orgulloso de ello

Tu CG/arte favorito.

Athe: DE MOMENTO. Maske capítulo 1. No podría ser más predecible. Lo sé.

Sam: Coincido bastante en la de Maske del capítulo 1. Pero también metería en el top la de Pin del capítulo 5 y la de Akane del capítulo 6.2.

Illy: ¿¿Kyeran en el tanque de Coco?? ¿Es siquiera real? Ser básica es mi marca.

Sher: sorprendida de nuevo y decepcionada pero diría que la de Hasiel de ángel porque me gustan los vestidos bonitos, los pelos bonitos y las alas bonitas

Tu BG/escenario favorito.

Athe: Me flipa el Barrio Rojo. Me gusta la vida de ese sitio, su historia, pero la forma de plasmarlo… Uggg Sher lo llevó a otro nivel. La suciedad de la calle, la nocturnidad, los edificios constreñidos...

Sam: Creo que me quedo con el de la plaza de Raziel, me gusta mucho desde el primer día.

Illy: No sé si puedo elegir solo uno T__T pero diría que el Barrio Rojo y el bar de Valefar están en el top.

Sher: por no repetir el barrio rojo que también me gusta mucho, me gustan mucho las zonas del laboratorio de Coco, incluida la zona “principal” aunque la perspectiva sea horrible y haga a los pj parecer diminutos, pero me gusto como quedo :(

¿Tu capítulo favorito hasta las fecha?

Athe: Ufff… El uno y el dos os aseguro que no, jajaja. Diré que el tres, pero también por cosas que no son necesariamente del capítulo, sino de la producción. Fue un buen momento. Sentí que todo estaba fluyendo con facilidad. Todas asumimos un rol claro, unos tiempos que nos hacían sentir cómodas y capaces de asumir lo que venía después, creo que fue un salto cualitativo también, tanto en los textos, como en el arte.

Sam: Ay. Pues a ver… El capítulo 5 es una pasada para mi, por todo lo que pasa pero también porque hay muchas interacciones personalizadas y elecciones. No puedo decir que tenga un favorito definitivo, pero podría acercarse… También me gusta mucho de los últimos el 6.2.

Illy: El capítulo 5 tiene tantos detalles, pasan tantas cosas, que es difícil que no sea mi favorito, pero los ultimos de rutas específicas son tan geniales que si me quedo con el 5 es con un poco de dolor de tener que elegir uno.

Sher: Diría el 5 también porque al final cuando pasan muchas cosas es cuando mas se te queda grabado

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