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#if Ochre has 1 fan that's me
namesareweird579 · 10 months
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In wings of fire, there are many characters to like, some good, some bad, and some with so much untapped potential, so of course my brain goes, "Ochre!!!" and for some reason, he's one of my favorite characters
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puckpocketed · 2 months
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who is #43?
Hello !! First off thank u for visiting. If you clicked read more by accident rip sorry it’s a lot of text. ENJOY!!! <3
1. This was the photo reference I used. I really did mean it when i said he photographs well!! I really like how scrungly he looks at times lol. v paintable
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2. here’s a timelapse for your viewing pleasure in video + gif form <3
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3. Process breakdown below. I am not formally trained, so don’t take any of this as professional advice!! The way i paint has been compared to channeling some evil contract with a demon also. So um . Im saying that i dont remotely think that this is efficient or correct, its just whats comfortable for me <3
3a) the dreaded lining phase. I have 2 modes of operation when it comes to painting - either i go full-dick with fancy inking/sketching + cel shading (rare, unrefined, haven’t figured out a nice workflow yet) OR i do a very very basic chicken scratch set of lines like so:
It’s less about being realistic here and more about laying down some guide lines for the chaos ahead. If i thought i could get away with it, I would start every rendered painting i do with laying down colours — but unfortchh ive tried that before and it usually ends in really weird proportions. Even with the lines i still need to make adjustments. This is something no people except me would notice but look at the above sketch; the eyes are too big and slightly too far apart, the forehead is too small and thus the hair is also not quite big enough… I have a bad habit of drawing eyes too big on faces, they’re my favourite facial feature to draw.. i barely resisted giving him big cow eyelashes (I love big cow eyelashes… all of my OC’s and most of my more stylised fan art of characters get big cow eyelashes… god…. Big cow eyelashes SAVE ME……….)
Anyway. Structure of the face + hand somewhat established. <3
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3b) Underpainting!! Okay stay with me here . Ever since i figured out i dont have to paint in 03925893853 different layers, I’ve joyfully painted on 1 layer as much as possible. I dont have the brain power all the time to be managing layers so I simply dont work with that many layers. For this painting, the skin in its entirety was painted on one layer, the hair on another layer, and the effects on the last layer. There was a placeholder background off-white/grey colour for a while there, and I duplicated the line layer — one for figuring out where to lay colours, and one hidden for later so i could check back to see how accurate to the sketch/proportions were to the actual painting. 6 layers, 2 of which i painted the bulk of the piece on, 1 more at the end.
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3c) here’s where I started carving out features. I think about objects in terms of volumes and light rather than lines. i love painting and sculpting because of this!! Here you see where I’ve begun to define his features — his eyelids, his bags, his nostrils. Just refining what was there before. The suggestion of facial hair before i gave it up and left it for later (his face is so naked the WHOLE time)
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3d) nose bridge highlight, suggesting his eyebrows, a cheek highlight. A touch more coral red and muted yellow pull away from the grey/blue underpainting. Strategically leaving some of it peeking through.
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3e) i truly start messing with the fidelity of his features here. Red lipstick <3 and some violet/blue for shadows on the right side of his face.
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3f) the part where it starts looking like q.hughes to me (though, my friend said i got his vibe pretty early on which is such a compliment.. waaaaa…..) I love this part of every painting i do. I know it’s definitely not the Correct order since other parts of the entire painting are simply Not Rendered or Done, but whos gonna stop me?? :3
I love love loveeee painting faces. Adding the little shinies to his eyes + lips + upper lip + nose … you don’t know how much of a difference it makes until you do it. Also i snatched his eyebrows
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3g) i really pushed the red/coral/ochre/orange here. Note the yellow highlights on his cheekbones, the forehead, and the thin thin line of pink right between where his bottom lip ends and his chin shadow starts <- very important . To ME!!!!!!! Also highlighting his waterline and adding his lashes was so so fun <3
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3h) FACIAL HAIR!!! And I started rendering his hand. Some micro adjustments made to his face for proportion check.
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3i) i start painting his hair in earnest and realise his forehead is too small so i make the adjustment. I really love how it falls into his eyes in this photo. <3
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3j) i make some final adjustments to his eyes — a bit smaller, closer together. And i refine the outline of his jaw, push the stylisation of it just a little.
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3k) Finishing details; his flyaway hairs, his moles, a bit of texture on his face, shadows cast by his hair, his little forehead cut <3
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3l) i adjusted his hand here, added more texture to his skin, refined his hair a tiny bit more, and made the decision not to fuck around painting his jersey because i wanted the focus to be his face <3
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3m) Canucks blue and green. Captain at 23. His form bleeds into the background. He is the franchise.
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theee most fun ive had painting anything. and i finally feel... warmed up? if that makes sense. art for me is like. if i dont do it in a while it feels like nothing goes right when i come back to it. i hate that feeling, and the most difficult hurdle to clear is letting myself feel that until i get back into my Zone. after all this time i feel like im BACK !!!!!!!
i loved painting this fella. hes SO Shaped. <3
Apologies i simply do Not have the energy to write the alt text for all of these so i hope the little blurbs are okay aslkjasdklj. i gotta post and go to bed . if u made it this far, thank you for reading!!
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axl-ul · 2 years
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1, 3, 6 & 7 for the ask game.
Hi, @verba-writing^^ Thanks for the ask, gonna answer right away!
1.What kind of readers would be fans of your WIP?
EASY! Mythology fans, despair-and-misery appreciators, angst lovers, melancholy enthusiasts and also people with a soft spot for those action-comedy flicks about martial arts (but mix in a pretty dark humour at times). Basically, if you like Berserk, any game by FromSoftware, various mythologies interacting with each other and if you appreciate post-punk, then yes, this may be your stuff...hehe
3.Assign your WIP a color.
Empire of Dust - velvet red and ochre
Flight of the Western Crane - yellow (??? but like with that golden hue in it, so maybe gold too), black and white
(A few days ago, an idea occured to me and I came up with a title 'Rat People' which, most likely, may not ever go any further than an outline. But I thought it would've been nice to share, so - brown, grey and white)
6.Describe a trope present in your WIP.
Found family is present in all of them and in various forms, actually. The best one example is maybe Ulfrika and her Master Kogar, even though they relationship is almost completely presented in flashbacks only. Can't say why exactly, but they relationship is really beautiful and warm and healthy I can't... Kogar was supposed to initially only make sure the child (Ulfa) would be completely healthy and is only job was to "repair" and cure her twisted legs. But he grew so close to her that not only did he basically adopt her. He also began to train her as his successor. She really became his little precious daughter in a way he knew she was absolutely feral, but he chose to keep up and to help her calm down, too, since she was found in the forest. And he's probably the only "normal" parent in the whole cycle who has a healthy relationship with his kid even though it's not actually his >< Plus the fact, that Ulfa had always called him "Majstre" (means "Master" in translation), but during one massive break-down, during which she was overloaded with stress, she actually called out "tata". Which means "dad", "daddy" or "papa"... And she was well past 2000 years old at that point T__T He would never lay a single finger on her, despite that his training was a real deal, considered impossible even among the other embalmers...
7.You’ve published or shared your WIP and it develops rabid fandom. What’s the fandom known for?
Those long weird-ass forums where people discuss all the strange conspiracies. I guess, people would also post various theories about the character's origins and their true meaning based on the smallest details which can be actually REALLY valid. Something similar like a wiki page for the Dark Souls trilogy lore. But a much bigger rabit hole. And maybe even weirder at times... (I'm sorry, Mr Miyazaki, though, I still appreciate all the work you gave us, gamers, and I know my lore will never beat up yours T__T and also not the lore from Mr Miyura, may he rest in peace)
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zadien · 2 years
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For Beyblade OC creators - Get to know your OC
Pick your own beyblade OC and answer these questions. I see loads of art of OCs but I would love to know more about the OCs that are in the Beyblade fandom. I just think this would be fun to do. Tag with Beyblade OC character prompt.
1. Name:
2. Age:
3. What does your OC look like?
4. Nationality?
5. Best Friend?
6. Favourite person?
7. Romantic interest?
8. Hobby?
9. Morning or Night?
10. Favourite drink?
11. Favourite article of clothing?
12. What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?
13. Beyblade fan or not? Why?
14. It’s a rainy afternoon, there’s a howling wind and the lights are flickering, what does your OC do?
15. What is your favourite scene involving your OC in regards the series or fanfiction?
16. Does your OC watch movies? Which one is your OC’s favourite?
17. When watching a tournament, which blader does your OC cheer for over all others? Now who would your OC bet on to win?
18. Something unique about your OC?
19. Would your OC stay up all night skyping with a friend? Or do they prefer sleep?
20. Now tell me your OC’s background. How did they get involved in the world of Beyblade?
And now link to where I can find your OC.
For Beyblade OC creators - Get to know your OC
1. Name? Amber Benson
2. Age? 15 in Saving, 17/18 in SLTS
3. What does your OC look like? Longish black hair, ochre eyes, tanned skin, half Spanish, half Irish, lends itself to an interesting match up of features. 5ft 3 (probably less without shoes but when she’s that short she’s never going to measure herself), boyish figure that she bemoans quite a bit. When you know someone like Mariam, you get a complex.
4. Nationality? Irish?
5. Best friend? Hilary Tachibana & Ian Papov in Saving (she never formed close enough bonds previously, courtesy of a voice in her head making things a tad awkward) & Tala Valkov, Ruin Mulryan (they’re more like her parental besties) and Miyami Kinomiya in SLTS
6. Favourite Person? In all universes, Nana Molly. Her father’s mother and the matriarch of the family. No nonsense woman who puts family first above everything else, and family is more than just blood and DNA to her.
7. Romantic Interest? Kai Hiwatari. At this point he just suffers in silence.
8. Hobby? Ice Hockey in SLTS, Saving Ireland in Saving??? She also likes singing, and playing video games with Ian.
9. Morning or Night? Night.
10. Favourite drink? Tea
11. Favourite article of clothing? The infamous sneakers that are all but falling apart and really need to be dumped.
12. OC weaknesses? Amber is reckless to a fault. She never thinks things through properly, just jumps feet first and hopes to go she’ll not die. This also applies to emotionally too, she doesn’t process her emotions, she’ll lash out first, think about it later. That causes her endless problems. She’ll climb on her high horse where she is obviously right — so it’s good she’s surrounded herself with people who have no problem is calling her out on her hypocrisy so that she has to reassess and grow as a person. She’s not irrevocably flawed, but she’s enough of an asshole for the others to accept her into their ranks.
13. Beyblade fan or not? Why? Not. She missed the hype train on the sport and really doesn’t understand the fascination with a spinning top. Most of that comes down to sheer ignorance, she just doesn’t know anything about it, and then sheer stubbornness where she doesn’t want to know. When she does learn about it, it scares her, her experience with beyblading isn’t the best. The people are great though, she’s a fan of them, but not actually the sport. Once they stop playing, she’ll give zero shits about it. Also her closest friends are Hilary, Ian and Mariam, all of whom don’t spend time in the dish, so there’s no incentive to get into it.
14. It’s a rainy afternoon, there’s a howling wind and the lights are flickering, what does your OC do? ((Runs and finds Heathcliff??? What was I thinking with that question?)) Amber charges everything in case the electricity goes out and then bunkers down with a cup of tea, maybe plays a video game, lights a fire (in a fireplace, she’s not an arsonist). Sends endless memes to Ian and explains them to Hilary — also bugs Kai.
15. What is your favourite scene involving your OC in regards the series or fanfiction? So Amber isn’t involved in the series of beyblade, there’s no fanfic rewrite with her as a character, so there’s nothing there she’d be involved in. However, there’s a scene in Saving where Amber will inevitably sacrifice herself. That’s another reckless thing she does, it’s very annoying. But in this scene, while doing her sacrificial lamb thing, she smartly out manoeuvres a fey with her ability to think quickly on her feet and talk herself out of trouble. And I just love that - also when she made the Lord of the Ring Reference to the Fey rider with Ian. Ian’s reaction to that is fantastic and it’s one of my favourite scenes because it’s classic Amber, speak first, think later. And it inevitably pays off —for a change. Ian was impressed for like five minutes.
16. Does your OC watch movies? Which one is your OC’s favourite? Yeah, Amber watches movies. She’s not got a favourite so much (someone will tell me I’m wrong and she’s stated her favourite in xyz chapter) but in Saving it’s Moana, because that’s her baby cousin’s hyperfixation and some of that movie resonates with her and her plight. In SLTS Probably Miracle or something hockey related, she loves Marvel too and is on a quest to get Kai some pop culture so he won’t make a fool of himself on those NHL interviews. He’s gonna ace them and look like a real boy.
17. When watching a tournament, which blader does your OC cheer for over all others? Now who would your OC bet on to win? Bet on to win? Tyson. Maybe Kai… she’ll double bet. She’s shitty at gambling. She just wants to win and those are obvious bets. Who would she cheer? Privately, Kai. Out loud, anyone but. Any of the girls, she’ll definitely cheer for. HOWEVER IF MARIAM ENTERS A TOURNAMENT Amber will be number 1 fan, wear the merch, scream the loudest, carry a ‘Mariam will you marry me’ poster and wave it wildly. That’s just law.
18. Something unique about your OC? She’s so fucking normal that coming up something unique is difficult. She doesn’t look interesting, she doesn’t have a beyblade - she has a voice in her head which she thought made her unique but then she met Brooklyn and… it’s really not that special. OH! She has a good relationship with her family! That’s unique in Beyblade! (Not her cousins in Saving but they don’t exist)
19. Would your OC stay up all night skyping messaging a friend? Or do they prefer sleep? Okay, so she absolutely would and has. She likes to talk and doesn’t know how to shut up. In Saving sleeps not always been a comfort to her, she dreams about her death a lot. It’s not fun. Thing is, she needs sleep. She’s a grumpy bitch if she doesn’t get 8 hours, so now we know why she is as she is! SLTS Amber would definitely stay up talking all night but she’s in boarding school and everyone tells her to shut up and sleep because they need to practice in the morning and they’re not in different timezones.
20. Now tell me your OC’s background. How did they get involved in the world of Beyblade? Reluctantly and with great disdain. Amber was born with a voice in her head, the same one her grandfather had, the one he passed on to her as he died. The voice warns of an approaching apocalypse, the end of mankind as we know it, the revival of the fey and their reclamation of Ireland. For the first part of her life she could ignore it, until she couldn’t.
When the flyers announcing the tournament started to show up, the voice became antsy. It was time, they had to go now or everything would be lost. It’s not something any fifteen year old wants to hear, but when your family all believes in it, the prophesy handed down by every generation, you can’t exactly ignore it. And when her Nana Molly gives her some money and encouragement, Amber finds herself on a train to Belfast to save the world or her part of it.
Problem is, she has no skills, she has no powers but she knows that Beybladers with their bitbeasts are what cause the Fey to awaken, so surely if she just gets them to leave, that’ll sort it. She’ll steal their damn bitbeasts if she has to (and give them back once they leave because she’s not a villain). It’s a very simple solution to a very complicated problem. Except she didn’t count on the Beybladers and their innate suspicion of new people who show up pretending to be nice.
But weirdly she ends up befriending Ian and Hilary and once she shows Hilary the voice, everything starts to be a little more real. And when Mariam comes on board, it looks like Amber might actually have a chance to pull this off. Of course, nothing goes to plan and if they hope to succeed and prevent the end of the world, then all the Beybladers will need to come together and maybe, an Irish girl with no history with these various teams, might be key to pulling them all together. And where can you find Amber?
Amber can be found here and here. Ff.net suffers some growing pains in terms of writing but more story to read, AO3 is better writing (debatable) and a better reader experience, but slower updates as I try to make it better. Thank you!! I shall be sending these on to you later so we can hear a bit about Kain!
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thelibraryiscool · 2 years
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Short Story Project – Weeks 6 and 7
What I read these past two weeks – as before, no ratings, but I’ll still say if I recommend (R), strongly recommend (S), or don’t recommend (D) a story:
1.  James Baldwin, “Previous Condition” (S) “I didn’t believe that she could really understand it; and there was nothing I could say. I sat like a child being scolded, looking down at my plate, not eating, not saying anything. I wanted her to stop talking, to stop being intelligent about it, to stop being calm and grown-up about it; good Lord, none of us has ever grown up, we never will.”
2. Lesya Ukrainka, “Святий вечір!” [Holy Evening] (S) “Вся сім’я гомонить, кожному хочеться сказати щось радісне, кожний почуває себе щасливим і повним надій, хоч ніхто не знає, чого, власне, сподівається він і чи справдяться його надії… Тая радість перелітає з одного обличчя на друге, мигтить, мов зірниця, в очах, бринить чарочками, лунає в дзвінкому дитячому сміхові.” [tr. below the cut]
3. Nazlı Karabıyıkoğlu, “Elfiye,” trans. Ralph Hubbell (R) “tear it up, tear it up, tear it all up, you, and you, and you keep          what’s left this constant gyre of orders, my mouth was going dry my heart was rattling, so then the spirits and the fairies          had finally shown up, ah—!”
4. Natalya Rubanova, “Шесть музыкальных моментов Шуберта” [Six Musical Moments by Schubert] (D) “как ты думаешь, вот если кто-нибудь заглянет в окошко… – никто не заглянет, дурочка, девочка, три часа ночи, мы одни, одни во всей Москве – как славно: одни во всей Москве! иди ко мне… – смотри, снег хлопьями валит… – это для тебя, это всё для тебя – а для тебя? что для тебя? – ты…” [tr. below the cut]
5. Shih Chiung-Yu, “Wedding in Autumn”, trans. Darryl Sterk (very disquieting. can’t say if I recommend or not bc I think it’s written well but I wouldn’t read it again) “Women’s wombs are strange places: they can nourish new life and discharge it, over and over again. In that respect, a womb’s kind of like my big sister’s temper. One moment she’d say she wanted to play house hopscotch, the next minute she’d be whacking my head with the wooden spoon saying she’d never speak to me again. Soon she’d forget all about being angry and say: ‘Ah Chung, want to play again?’”
6. Anton Chekhov, “Корреспондент” [The Reporter] (R) “Теперь кому кушать хочется, тот и пишет, а пишет что хочет, лишь бы сбоку на правду похоже было. Хотите денежки из редакции получить? Желаете? Ну, коли хотите, то и валяйте, что в нашей Т. такого-то числа землетрясение было да баба Акулина, извините меня, mesdames, бесстыдника, намедни единым махом шестерых ребят родила…” [tr. below the cut]
7. F. Scott Fitzgerald, “Winter Dreams” (R) “Dexter raising himself on his arms was aware of a figure standing at the wheel, of two dark eyes regarding him over the lengthening space of water--then the boat had gone by and was sweeping in an immense and purposeless circle of spray round and round in the middle of the lake. With equal eccentricity one of the circles flattened out and headed back toward the raft.”
8. Fatimah Busu, “The Lovers of Muharram,” trans. Pauline Fan (S) “The Angel of Paradise turns to face west. The flaming red-gold rays of the evening sun saturate the sky above the desert, unfurled in its ochre vastness. He sees the panorama of the sprawling city all the way to the gray-blue sea. And the walls of the city have turned parchment yellow in the dusk. Ships glide, their funnels churning black smoke into the evening air. He sees the pinnacles of skyscrapers strewn against the boundlessness of the galaxy. He sees the network of telegraph wires. He sees the labyrinth of bridges and roads. He sees countless vehicles crisscrossing in all directions. He sees people moving like swarms of ants. He sees everything. He sees all.”
9. Leila Aboulela, “Missing Out” (R) “So she, who had once braved tear gas, the crush of running feet, now faced a middle-aged teacher, a jolly woman who had recently travelled to Tunisia for her holidays and come back encased in kaftans and shawls. The teacher gushed at Samra, ‘You must be so relieved that you are here, all that war and famine back home. You must be relieved that you are not there now.’ From such a woman Samra recoiled and like a spoiled stubborn child refused to continue with the course.”
10. Veniamin Kaverin, “Пятый странник” [The Fifth Wanderer] (R) “Душа бургомистра, со одной стороны как бы коренастая и неуклюжая, с другой являла вид вполне очаровательный. Она повисла на щипцах с необыкновенной легкостью и переливалась всеми цветами радуги и не-радуги, при свете свечи и лампы.” [tr. below the cut]
11. Ray Bradbury, “Shopping for Death” (R) “‘People die every day, psychologically speaking. Some part of them gets tired. And that small part tries to kill off the entire person. For example—.’ He looked about and seized on his first evidence with vast relief-—’there! That light bulb in your bathroom, hung right over the tub on a frayed wire. Someday you’ll slip, make a grab and—pfft!’”
12. Yoko Tawada, “Where Europe Begins,” trans. Susan Bernofsky and Yumi Selden (S) “It was August, and there was no trace of the cold that had stiffened the Creator’s hands. The Siberian tribes mentioned in my book were also nowhere to be seen, for the Trans-Siberian Railroad traverses only those regions populated by Russians — tracing out a path of conquered territory, a narrow extension of Europe.”
13. Charlie Jane Anders, “The Fermi Paradox is Our Business Model” (R) “The idea is, you evolve. You develop technology. You fight. You dig up all the metals and radioactive elements out of the ground. As you become more advanced, your population gets bigger, and you fight more. When your civilization gets advanced enough, you fight even harder, until you kill each other off. We don’t even find out you existed until after you’re all dead.”
2. The whole family is clamoring, everyone wants to say something joyful, everyone feels happy and full of hopes, though no one knows what he actually hopes for and whether his hopes will come true. That joy flits from one face to another, flickers like summer lightning in the eyes, clinks glasses, sounds out in the children's ringing laughter.
4. what do you think, suppose someone peeks through the window... -- no one will peek, silly, girl, it's three in the morning, we're alone, alone in all of Moscow -- how nice: alone in all of Moscow! come here... -- look, snow falling in heavy flakes... -- it's for you, it's all for you -- and for you? what do you get? -- you...
6. Now anyone who wants to eat writes, and writes what he wants, so long as it looks like truth from a certain angle. Want to get money from the editorial office? That what you want? Well, if that's what you want, then go ahead and scribble that in our T. on such and such a date there was an earthquake, and old Akunina -- forgive me, mesdames, for a shameless cad -- popped out six kids in a single sweep....
10. The bürgermeister's soul, on the one hand so seemingly stocky and ungainly, on the other hand had about it rather a charming look. She swung from the pincers with a marvelous lightness and glimmered with all the colors of the rainbow and not-rainbow under the light of the candle and the lamp.
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teaandatale · 3 years
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @geekynerddemon who so lovingly wished for me to finish Layer on Layer. And though I haven’t been able to do so, I thought I would whet your appetite with a preview of Part 1 of my 2 Part Epilogue.
Please note this is a rough draft & subject to thorough revisions when I get the writing muse under control again.
Layer on Layer: Epilogue- PART ONE
“You see one painting, I see another, […] it’ll never strike anybody the same way and the great majority of people it’ll never strike in any deep way at all but—a really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular. Yours, yours. I was painted for you.” ― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch
Despite the scorching heat radiating from the sudden summer outside, Steve had turned the AC off while the sun blazed in through the windows of the loft’s living room where he’d been painting. He had his music turned up and he was humming as he worked.
Peggy had given him the custom made easel, sturdy, adjustable, gorgeous, no doubt pricey, as a gift. He’d been painting so much that Peggy had deemed it necessary he have an easel at her place, a designated space to work since he spent so much time there anyway. She had claimed is a selfish gift after he voiced concern about her being too generous, assuring him she looked forward to watching him paint from the comfort of her couch. And she often did, taking breaks from her work by watching him mix colors and paint broad strokes.
The first thing he had painted at his new easel was for her, another detailed flower arrangement, just for her.
After unveiling the final product of Ana’s anniversary painting, which reportedly made Ana cry, happy tears Jarvis assured, she had given Steve a tremendous hug and after their double date dinner, they discussed art for a long time, their significant others at their sides sipping tea opting to discuss the dessert spread instead. He’d been so happy and warm to sit there among her friends, her make-shift family, accepting and open to him. How he could possibly love Peggy more he didn’t fully understand other than that he was learning he did it with every passing day.
Not long after that, Peggy started suggesting dates at more art museums and galleries. She watched him paint and encouraged him to do it more broadly. To show his work. To do more commissions. He wasn’t sure about all that, but he did start to paint more and more. He’d started even transferring images out of his therapy journal into oils. He’d done several, even brought one in to show his art therapy group. They encouraged him to make a series, to show his stories on canvas.
Steve swirls his paintbrush into his yellows, ochres melding with browns.
He’s deep in concentration getting her warm brown eyes just right, the right shade, the touch of a knowing glimmer in them. He remembers the first time they locked eyes, across her bedroom, just down the hall from where he stood right then.
He’s so deep in concentration, he doesn’t think twice at the sound of the front door opening and then when he hears footsteps approaching.
“Hey Peg, aren’t you late?” he asks distractedly without looking up.
“She sure is,” a voice that’s not Peggy’s startles him. He nearly drops his palette, tipping it over and paint gets on his bare chest.
He looks up and sees Angie.
“Sorry!” she cries out, and he notices she’s not looking at his face when he sets the palette down, trying to wipe at the pint on his skin. “Wow. This is a look. Go English!”
Steve blushes, grabbing his rag and using it as a make-shift cover for at least part of his bare torso.
“I thought you two were meeting at your hotel for drinks,” Steve said, reaching over to the couch for his shirt. Angie is still staring when he slips it on.
“We were but she was running late. And so when she didn’t show I thought I’d see if we got our wires crossed and see if she was here. Sorry for scaring you. I still had my key, and I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure Peggy just got caught up or stuck in traffic. You know how her work is.”
Angie nodded. “Yeah, she’s always going at a hundred miles a minute.” She stepped further into the room until she was right in front of the canvas. “You’re painting Peggy! You’ve been painting a perfect portrait of her half-naked looking like a Greek God. Unreal.”
Steve blushed further. “It’s hot in here but I prefer the breeze and the sunlight filtering in while painting so I turned the air conditioning off.”
“Oh don’t apologize, Steve. This has been the best surprise to walk into. I can’t imagine how Peg handles coming home to this every day.”
“We’re not living together.”
The yet goes without saying.
She giggled. “Yeah and when’s the last time you were at your place?”
“This morning,” he said defensively.
She just smirked and continue to devolve into giggles.
“You’re an amazing artist. That looks just like Peggy, down to that spark in her eye. I might need to hire you to paint me.”
He laughed. “Free of charge Angie. Friends and family plan.”
She grinned. “You’re as sweet as a button, you know that?”
“Can I get you something? Water?” he asked, already headed into the kitchen.
“Water’s good.”
They say down in the living room together chatting.
“How was your flight? Did you have press today?”
“Yup. Did a few of the morning shows. I have a late-night show appearance tomorrow afternoon that I’m pretty excited about. I can’t believe they’re having me on it!”
“We’ll have to record it. Peggy and I have been watching every episode by the way. But we’re a few behind because I have to wait and watch them with her. But you’re our favorite!”
“Aw, shucks. I cannot believe you got Peggy watching network TV.”
He laughed. “No I got her to use Netflix. You got her into network TV. She says you’re the most believable, though she always figures out the plot twists before I do. Are you giving her spoilers?”
“No way! And give away the impact of my performances before she sees them? That’s definitely all English. How’s she been? Super busy?”
“A little, but less so recently. She had a busy few weeks before her conference with the EU but she’s been keeping a regular schedule lately, coming home for dinner most nights.”
“Guess I just got unlucky with my timing,” Angie replied. “But I’m glad Peggy’s been taking some time for herself.”
Steve nodded. He’d seen Peggy in all sorts of ranges of stress in the last ten months. He’d been so glad that she’d been taking more personal time off, delegating, taking care of her well-being, seeking out his support when she needed it. Of course she was a busy woman. That was a given. But she always tried to make time. She always took the effort to stay present when they spent quality time together.
She’d gone out of her way to support his painting. They’d spent so many evenings out, sipping wine and swinging by the latest “hot” opening only for Peggy to proclaim that his work was much better, more moving, worthy of his own showing.
He still wasn’t all too sure about the whole artist career, but he loved how supportive she had been. How much she cared. How much she believe in him. It was nice to know if nothing else, he had a fan in Peggy.
“I’ve been trying to make sure she’s been taking care of herself better.”
“Good. I already know how good you are to her. She’s always happy to talk about you. I wouldn’t have believed it before actually meeting you.”
He shrugs off the compliment, after all he didn’t want the praise for just being there for someone he loved. Besides she deserved it and more.
“Maybe she’s got held up in a meeting. I’m sure she remembers our reservation,” Steve said after another fifteen minutes without hearing from her. “I’ll try to call her again.”
He didn’t catch her, but he did leave her a message reminding her of their reservation and that he and Angie would meet her there. Steve changed quickly in Peggy’s room and then the two of them hailed a cab. Angie filled him in on some L.A. gossip and some stories of her cast mates. He liked how bright and bubbly Angie was. He liked hearing stories of how she and Peggy became friends. How Peggy had always believed in Angie becoming an actress, and how the two always had each other’s backs. He liked knowing there were people apart from himself that cared so much for her.
They were early for their reservation, opting for the bar while they continued to swap stories. He checked his phone once they were seated but there were no messages. Angie convinced him to split an appetizer as she was starving and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.
“Must be some hell of a meeting English is stuck in for her to respond to my texts for like five hours.”
Steve hummed, checking his phone.
“Wait. What did you say? You haven’t heard from her in that long?”
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The new Shadowhunter Academy (Fan Fic) - Chapter 1
In the mood for a bit of Shadowhunter Academy drama so there goes chap 1 of my new fic (it's part of my "To never being parted series" though it can be read as a standalone story).
Ao3 link here.
*****
This is how I die, Ash thought. He was surprised by how indifferent he was to the news. He had always imagined he would have more fighting in him.
If he were honest, it was not such a bad place to die. Green grass had started to grow again in the lands of Faerie, where there had only been wasteland and death before. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Ash was exactly what he had been named after. Ash, the symbol of rebirth, his blood fertilizing the land and giving way to lush vegetation and the chirping of birds. Through his blurred vision, he could see Jace lying a few feet away, unconscious. He held on to the steady rise of his chest that told him he was still alive. But barely.
Ash coughed up blood in the already drenched soil. He tried to lift himself up, but the muscles in his arms were failing him and the slightest move equalled to excruciating pain. He felt as if all the bones in his body had been crushed into small pieces that were piercing through his organs.
He thought about the girl he had met in the weapons room, the girl in the drawing. Drusilla Blackthorn. There had been loneliness in her blue-green eyes, yet there had also been a fierce will to live despite everything. A hope beyond despair. You and I are the same, he told her in his mind. We witness the worst horrors, suffer the most intense grief, but keep our chins up and stand ready to fight to live another day. We do not give up.
Ash craned his neck sluggishly to get a better look at his opponent.
The new King of both Seelie and Unseelie Courts, a Herondale no less, who looked more like a Californian surfer boy with his tousled blond hair and unforgiving bright blue eyes, was standing before him, hands curled into fists against his hips, his white wings tipped with gold rustling behind him. He was glorious, an angel of death, and Ash idly wondered how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.
“Stand. Now. There is no fun in striking someone lying on the ground,” the King said, his blue eyes rolling in a very unkingly manner. Even his voice was not that of a monster. It was a nice, clear voice, that sounded like it belonged to a sweet boy. Ash knew, though, that he was anything but. He needed to distract him, to play for time.
“All these faeries that you have massacred,” Ash managed to utter through the blood in his throat. He flinched at the pain that the mere act of talking caused him. “And you call yourself their ruler… I don’t understand. Why this… bloodbath? What did they do to you?”
“What did they do to me? What did they do to me?” If the King’s face bore any expression at all, it would be pure hatred and contempt. “How about what did they do to my mother? And her parents, and their parents before that? Did they really think I would never find out, stay in the dark forever? Remain a blind and helpless mundane my whole life? I see them every single night in my dreams, you know… I am haunted by the cries and howls of my ancestors. Always running, always hiding, never allowed to rest, never allowed to live. No more. I crushed the faeries who stood in my way as if they were cockroaches under my shoe. If there was still such a thing as Shadowhunters, I would have them suffer the same fate, if not worse, for they have betrayed my bloodline just as much.”
As the Herondale King talked, Ash slowly moved his hand to clutch the folded paper inside the left pocket of his jacket. The psychopathic witch that had grown so fond of him – Annabel, the mere thought of her still sent shivers down his spine – had at least taught him one useful thing. How to get out of this hell hole.
He held on tight to the drawing in his bloody fingers. If he focused enough on creating an interdimensional Portal to her… Surely, he would go back to where he came from himself. The drawing had probably been made with material found in Thule, but the artist… the artist was from the other world. Maybe it could work. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance he and Jace had.
My blood, willingly given. He had lost enough blood as it was, but it had certainly not been willingly given. Trying to grab his sword, which was lying a few feet away, would draw too much attention. A deep paper cut could work. That’s how potent his blood was. He brought the paper to the palm of his hand and sliced through the skin, murmuring the incantation.
As the Portal started shimmering before him, Ash heaved a sigh of relief, causing a sting in his lungs. That was the first step. Now, how the hell would he find the strength to haul himself and Jace through it, without being stopped by the Faerie King?
“Wow, you will have to teach me how to do that,” the Herondale King said, showing for the first time a flicker of emotion. “I mean, I probably have enough power for that – Aren’t you like a cheap knockoff of me?”
Ash was spared to give an answer as the King whipped around at the sound of swords being drawn out behind him. The Riders of Mannan. There were only five of them left.
“You again?” The King rolled his eyes. “Ever thought of a retirement plan? Aren’t you like, thousands of years old?”
One of the Riders shrieked. “You killed two of our brothers. It has become personal. We will never acknowledge you as our new King. So that leaves us with only one option.”
“Yep, got it. You pick option B. Getting your decrepit asses kicked by me, myself and I.”
The Faerie King advanced with a casual stride on the five Riders, drawing two longswords that he immediately started twirling as if they were cheerleaders’ batons.
This was Ash’s chance.
He crawled to Jace, grabbing their two swords - Heosphorus and Phaesphorus - on his way. Pulling on a strength he didn’t know he still had, he finally managed to stand, ignoring the ache in his limbs – he had known torture and pain had become a familiar companion – and hauled Jace’s body up and they both stepped through the Portal, with only two swords and a folded bloodstained paper as their interdimensional trip’s luggage. He let himself be transported in between worlds, drained and already fainting from the strained effort.
When he came to, he was lying on a sand beach, the sun barely peeking out from the horizon, casting a reddish glow on the sea. He inhaled deeply the clean and salty air, like a treat to his lungs, so pure compared to the one in Thule. He turned his head to find Jace’s limp body a few feet away. If only he had been taught how to draw the Angel’s Runes his uncle had told him about. The ones that could heal the wounds and ease the pain.
He heard voices and started to drag Jace’s battered body behind a nearby rock, breathing heavily as he did. The fresh air and the sound of the soft push-pull of the ocean made him feel better already.
He peered around to see three figures approaching.
He instantly recognized the girl. Drusilla. She looked a little bit older than he remembered but she had the same thick and luscious dark brown hair and freckled milky skin. She was wearing her pyjamas, black fabric with a pattern of white skulls. She was laughing carelessly, throwing her head back, and it made Ash smile, his zygomatic muscles almost aching as they awakened from their deep slumber. They hadn’t been put to such use in a while. She was holding the hand of a younger boy with rumpled hair of the exact same colour. Their eyes shared the same singular summer-blue shade. Probably her little brother. He seemed to be around ten years old, but Ash wasn’t very good at guessing age.
The third person was a very tall boy, with hair as black as a crow’s feathers, walking along the water’s edge. Ash couldn’t see his face because he was looking away, toward the sea. There was something fragile, almost poetic, in the graceful curve of his neck and the delicate line of his jaw. Something hypnotising about the careful yet purposeful way he moved his long limbs. Ash almost felt disappointed he could not see the face of the person they belonged to.
“Tavvy!” Drusilla cried out as the younger boy released her hand to run to the edge of a tide pool.
He picked something in the water and held it up in triumph.
“Starfish,” he yelled, hopping up and down excitedly. “I have found a starfish!”
Tavvy ran, though not in the direction of his sister, but of the older dark-haired boy.
The tall boy held out his hand and the younger one put the starfish gingerly into the other’s palm.
“Pisaster ochraceus, also known as the purple or ochre sea star,” the mysterious boy said, after a single, swift glance at the starfish. He had a deep, raspy voice.
“It’s beautiful! Please! Please! Can I dry it and keep it in my bedroom at the Institute? I could have it framed, and maybe even painted by Jules!”
“It’s a keystone species that controls mussel populations. It was nearly wiped out by the sea star wasting syndrome. In other words… Waste of a perfectly good starfish,” the voice of the graceful boy caught at his last words and he trailed off, his head still turned toward the sea, almost as if he was no longer talking to Tavvy. He lifted his free hand absently to grasp a shiny object - a silver pendant? - resting on his chest.
The three Shadowhunters snapped their heads in the opposite direction from where Ash was hiding, when a fourth person called. A blond-haired girl – probably a Shadowhunter as well, though she had pointy ears - was coming down the beach wearing slippers, an apron tied around her slender body.
“Breakfast is ready! I have managed not to burn the whole stack of pancakes this time.”
Ash heard his stomach growl. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Probably days. But much sharper than the pain caused by hunger or even by the battle wounds, he felt longing… Longing for a normal life, in a normal happy family. What would he not give for carefree strolls on the beach in the dawn, surrounded by loved ones, followed by something as simple as a breakfast of – even burnt he didn’t mind – pancakes?
The landscape swirled and changed into the dark, dirty and moisty walls of a cell. He was so thirsty, so hungry, and so cold. Two Unseelie guards were staring at him through the bars, with a smirk on their narrow faces.
“We are here to bring you to your bedroom. Yes, you will get a bedroom. How fancy is that? The King just wanted to make sure you knew it was in your best interest to fully cooperate. From now on, and for as long as you behave, you will benefit from the most luxurious accommodation befitting to your royal lineage.” Ash – the younger, clueless version of him – found he did not care for a fancy room. He had known the most decadent living conditions and the worst. Knowing the full spectrum, he had realized nothing really mattered but a place to call home. Mom, where are you when I need you the most?
The door rattled and one of the guards came in.
“You have a pretty face, skinny boy,” he said, as he opened Ash’s bloody shackles. “When we will have cleaned you up, maybe you and I could have a little fun.”
Ash spat on the rude intruder.
The faerie was about to slap him when the other guard grabbed his wrist.
“Careful… He is the Seelie Queen’s son. You can’t take liberties with him as you can with other regular prisoners.”
“He may be of royal blood, but his father Sebastian Morgenstern died leaving us alone to bear the consequences of his mad plans, to suffer the Cold Peace. The traitor is the reason why the Fair Folk are treated as if they are less than nothing.”
A wave of pure hatred – that he had not felt at the time, having never met his father – woke Ash up from his dreams, his whole body drenched in sweat. He almost sighed in relief as he realized he was in his wide bedroom, in the house in the hollow hill.
There was a pain in his stomach, different from the one caused by hunger. He immediately ran to his bathroom and retched above the sink. There had been no time to run to the toilet. He opened the tap and splashed water over his face. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he noticed there were dark circles under his eyes and that his features, although smooth and ageless as all faeries’ were, bore the permanent mark of having seen too much horror, suffered too much pain, loneliness, and sorrow before he had even reached adulthood. He swiftly schooled them into the mask he wore in public. He had become good at that.
****
“Riders of Mannan, tremble!” Mina cried out as she burst into the kitchen and started running around the table on her little legs, brandishing her Cortana baby-sized wooden replica. Her dark hair was now long enough that she could wear them in two tiny braids. It was Kit’s job, and Mina loved to barge into his room at ungodly hours with a hairbrush to jump up and down on his bed until he had performed his daily task. So much for privacy.
“Oh no, here comes Emma Carstairs!” Kit raised an empty pan from the stove to use it as a shield. “Quick, run! Or she will end us all!”
“Nooooo, Kit-Kat” Mina paused to strike a dramatic pose and rolled her eyes. “You are not a Rider.”
“No? What am I today?” He asked, putting down the pan.
“My fiancéééé!”
“Ooooh.” Kit drew himself to his full height, putting on a very serious don’t-mess-with-mine-and-I-won’t-mess-with-you face and brushed his hand through his hair in a mock nervous gesture. “Beware Riders, I will strike you with my wits, if not my crossbow.”
“No. Not Julian. I have changed my mind. I want to marry Tiberius Blackthorn!” She said and shook both her hands in front of her the way she always did when she was very excited about something.
“Oh. Oh. Well don’t tell Julian that, I am not sure he will appreciate the swap.”
“Do Tiberius! Do Tiberius!” Mina exclaimed, hopping up and down. Kit knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. “Do him, please!” Mina whined.
“Sure, Min. I will imitate Tiberius but please stop shouting that,” Kit said, feeling heat rush up his entire face.
“Yeaaay! Do him!”
“SHHHHhhh,” Kit said, putting a finger on her pouty lips. “Understood, Min-Min. I will play Ty’s part.”
Their parents were in the room next door and though both knew that he and Ty were a thing now, Kit had obviously not gone into detail as to the physical part of their relationship. He expected that they would simply guess and leave it at that.
He had a vivid memory of the time he had been cornered to sit through the “sex talk.” Tessa and Jem had made some Earl Grey tea and scones for the occasion and had taken the opportunity during one of Mina’s naps, to go through the whole process of explaining to Kit that it was the most natural thing in the world and that he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable raising any questions he had on the subject. Kit had dutifully listened, his head bent and his ears red, slouched in the middle of the couch, fingers knotting and unknotting where they rested on his lap. As the awkward conversation had gone on and on, he had disappeared little by little into the plump cushions, wishing he could vanish entirely inside the furniture.
Jem had been the old-fashioned gentleman, talking about “mutual respect” and “the shared responsibility of contraception and adequate protection”, but had been clearly as red faced as Kit, while Tessa had been the modern mom, freely and animatedly speaking about “exploring one’s sexuality” and “ignoring peer pressure and imaginary standards”.
When Jem had started listing all the STDs he had encountered in his life as a Silent Brother, Kit had secretly hoped there was poison in the tea. Dropping dead in the middle of the living room would have made for an adequate diversion. Fortunately, Tessa had silenced Jem with a glare.
In the back of his mind, Kit had wondered if Ty had gone through the same ordeal. He had imagined scary-overprotective Julian discussing sexual intercourse and condoms and had suddenly been profoundly relieved that – where Kit was concerned – the task had befallen to Tessa and Jem.
Kit had to admit, they employed the same thoroughness and dedication in everything they taught him. With Jem, Kit had learnt how to fight, how to heal wounds, how to waltz and – though that part still required a lot of training to get over his bad habits – how to behave like a gentleman. Tessa had taught Kit how to drive, how to cook and how to uncover and harness his First Heir powers. Both his parents had given him history lessons and they were the reason why he now knew how to speak five languages. He had read more books since he had joined their home than throughout the rest of his previous life. While Johnny Rook had taught Kit how to pick locks and steal pockets, Tessa and Jem had taught him trust and boundless generosity.
Truth be told, they were the best parents he could ever have dreamt of. He had the best family he could ever dream of, he thought, watching Mina’s big dark eyes widening as her gaze caught the plate of homemade chocolate cookies.
“Oooh you baked cookies! Can I have one Kit-Kat? Pleeeeeease?” Thank God for her short attention span.
“You already had a croissant this morning, Mina. You can have a cookie tomorrow. Remember, us Shadowhunters must eat healthily.”
Mina raised her eyebrow at him, in a way that reminded him of his boyfriend. Kit slipped a cookie in her tiny fingers.
“One. And remember how generous I was when I am sent away to sugar-addicts rehab and I beg you for one last shot of candy for the road.”
Mina nodded. He loved the way she always acted as if she understood his ramblings.
“Kit?” Tessa called as she entered the kitchen, waving her phone. “It’s Jace. He tells me you’ve been dodging his calls.”
“I am not here,” Kit mouthed.
“He told me you would say that. So, he wants you to know he still has this picture of you from last Christmas and he will not hesitate to send it to a certain dark-haired Centurion if you don’t take the call.”
Kit shot out his hand, palm up, and Tessa handed over her phone.
“This is blackmail.” Kit tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he swept the plate of cookies away from sight.
“Never said I was above blackmail. Just make sure it’ll work if you are ever to use it.”
“Is it another one of your cardinal rules and guidelines to being a proper Herondale? I am pretty sure half of them are made up.”
“They’re not.”
“They are,” Tessa mouthed, grimacing, as she whisked Mina away from the kitchen.
“So, here’s the thing. I usually act as a guest lecturer at the Academy, you know, for basic stuff. Learning how to jump and fall properly, balance in swordfight, choice of weapon… I was scheduled for next week, but Clary decided to plan her art gallery opening at the same time. So, I was looking for the best person to fill my shoes and of course immediately thought… who else than Kit?”
“Liar. I know you asked Emma first. What’s her excuse?”
“She sprained her ankle during training two days ago.”
“She posted a video of herself dancing in a nightclub with Cristina and Mark. That was yesterday.”
“This girl sure knows how to put on a brave face.”
“She was doing backflips in front of a cheering crowd.”
“Like I said, brave face. So, you’re in?”
“Do I really have a choice?”
“Not really, but I thought it would be nicer if I asked.”
“Whatever.” Kit grumbled.
“Great. You won’t regret it. I will even buy you dinner in Manhattan while you’re in New York. Fancy restaurant with amazing desserts.”
“Are you trying to seduce me, Jace Herondale?”
“Just lie down and let me do the rest.”
“WHAT?”
“Sorry, not talking to you. I’m in the middle of a training session. We’re stretching. Have you trained this morning?”
“It’s 2 PM here, Jace. I’m on my break. I already trained for six hours, starting at the crack of dawn.”
“You put us all to shame.”
“So, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
“I was not finished.”
“Raziel, what else is there?”
“The Scholomance is sending a Centurion to represent them and provide a two-days training course for the Academy’s senior students who wish to apply to join them after they graduate.”
“Oh,” Kit said, with a familiar flutter around his stomach. “Do you…” He swallowed. “Do they already know who they will send?”
“Probably that Joshi guy. But it’s not set in stone. Jia Penhallow told me they have been trying to convince their best Centurion to go for months now, but he keeps saying no.”
“Oh, so he gets to say no.”
“I told her Herondales can’t resist a challenge...”
“You didn’t.”
“… and that I had a secret weapon to convince him to go this time.”
“You mean me.”
“Use your body!”
“WHAT?”
“Not talking to you, sorry. Beatriz, use your whole body’s strength, not just the muscles in your arms!”
“Thank the Angel.”
“What was I saying?”
“You were using me to try to convince Tiberius Blackthorn – who absolutely loathes talking in public, by the way – to give a two-days training course at the Academy for Scholomance applicants. Jace, I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t want him to feel obligated in any way, just because…”
“… just because you let him play with your sword?” Jace offered.
“God, Jace. I am going to pretend you never said that.”
“Make us proud.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you, too. Gotta go. Catch up later.”
“Jace,” Kit groaned in frustration, but Jace had already hung up.
Tagging @gabtapia <3
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legobiwan · 4 years
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Whumptober #5
“on the run”
Notes: Yes, I’m a day behind, I’m hoping to post a second story tonight but let’s see where life goes. This story...I started out with an idea, and then that idea went in a very different direction as I started writing. RotS AU.
General Whumptober tag
Whumptober 2020 #1
Whumptober 2020 #2
Whumptober 2020 #3
Whumptober 2020 #4
~~~~~~
If you were here, Qui-gon…
Right. If you were here you’d probably shackle me up - wrists tightly enclosed in Force-dampening binders, restraining collar around my neck. Your harsh words would be an invisible whip against my true skin, your touch too soft for a monster such as I, pleading almost, far too kind than what I deserve for my crimes.
You would do all this, Qui-gon, your eyes dark with disappointment, letting no other man or soldier or droid handle me except yourself. Your failure of a Padawan trussed up like a common criminal (common? Perhaps not.), signed, sealed, and delivered personally back to Coruscant for my trial and probable execution.
And you would be right to do so, Qui-gon. So, so right. Force, part of me wishes you could swoop down right now, take me in your arms, the last friendly touch I would ever know before you placed my body on the electroguillotine’s platform to the cheers of the Senate, to the stony facades of the Jedi Council. One last bit of kindness, your hand on my cheek, before the killing blade would deliver me from my sins, before this would all just be over.
After all, it’s not every day a member of the Jedi High Council assassinates the Chancellor of the Republic on live holofeed.
Their faces Qui-gon, the way the Force shifted like two ancient, tectonic masses, colliding as Palaptine - or should I say Sidious - fell from his lofty perch, body plunging, down, down, down until it hit the subterranean floor of the Senate chamber with a sickening, exhilarating thud.
The similarities to my subterfuge as Rako Hardeen were not unmarked, believe me, Qui-gon. Palpatine, however, unlike myself, continues to be dead, two neat holes placed through the side of his treacherous head.
I feel, perhaps, that I have forsaken myself.
But you weren’t there, Master, you didn’t watch through thin slits of wavering consciousness, of azure and crimson rainbows, of the sneaking tar of decay that oozed forth from the man who would lead - would conquer - the Republic and the Jedi. You weren’t there as your Padawan - your friend and brother, the boy you so cared for (more than myself, I can now admit). As Anakin brought the two blades together at Dooku’s neck, executioner of a death sentence signed in familiar large, looping letters - “Sheev Palpatine, Chancellor of the Republic.”
It was him, Qui-gon. The Sith Lord was right there, the entire time, one hand on Anakin’s shoulder, leading him to perdition.
And I did nothing to stop it.
Nothing, until now.
Perhaps if I had been the one to perish on Naboo…perhaps none of this would have ever happened. But that is another world lost to another time, and the ‘here and now,’ as you would say, consists of a cold storage closet in the rear of a Rodian smuggler’s ship.
Three days I’ve been cramped in this space, my passage paid with the frozen Twi’lek guard lying at my feet, legs bent at unnatural, backward angles, the trickle of blood dripping from their nose now an ugly, improvised tattoo.
It’s cold, Qui-gon. A blessing, in some ways, as my departed friend here is unlikely to suffer the worst effects of putrefaction, but I feel even if I were to be on the sunny beaches of Scarif, I would still shiver at my own conscience.
I am tired, Qui-gon.
~~~
You visited me in my dreams last night, Qui-gon.
Neither the avenging angel of death nor the soft shepherd of comfort, you stood, distant, enigmatic as a Loth-Sphinx, as distant and maddening as you had been in life.
I suppose this should have come as no surprise.
Why? You asked me.
Why what, Qui-gon? Why did I kill Palpatine, why did I run, why did I make a fool’s promise to you all those years ago?
As to the last question, I believe - well, perhaps not believe, but fervently hope - you know the answer already.
To answer the others - what choice did I have? To witness what I had, to know Anakin was in thrall to this…this thing, that I would never convince him of Palpatine’s true intentions, that I had lost any trust, any esteem he may have still had for me with my own betrayals -
It was all happening too fast, Qui-gon. The situation on Mandalore, the battle on Coruscant, Dooku’s death. I briefly confided in Bail Organa, the Senator from Alderaan, hinted at my actions in regards to the Mandalore situation, on the way to Coruscant. He told me in no uncertain terms that the Senate would be forced to bring down charges of insurrection, even possibly treason, once they learned of my manipulations of the GAR.
What was one more charge, on top of the others, I thought.
It…it’s better this way, Qui-gon. The Jedi, while still under suspicion, have an obvious and convenient scapegoat, a Council member gone rogue, the underground actor fanning the flames of rumors of a coup. Anakin, while unstable, is at least now out of his orbit. Whether he stays in the Order or leaves, I cannot say, but I hope for his sake - and his unborn child’s - he leaves.
Don’t you see, Qui-gon? The only one who must suffer here is me and I will do so gladly.
Ah, but why not turn myself in, you ask. The deed is done, why run from my actions?
The Twi’lek’s crimson lividity has given way to a more pale ochre, abdomen swollen and nauseated. While the cold has stalled this inevitable process, I must confess to being a bit wary of my companion’s stability.
One more night, and we shall reach Mandalore.
I remain here, discomfited bunkmate to the dead, while Cody and his men span the galaxy, hunting for the wayward Jedi - the turncoat, the traitor, the aruetii…
But you see, Qui-gon, as the galaxy turns its eye on me, it distances its gaze from the Order, from the Council’s machinations.
If I had not acted, someone else would have - with far more dire consequences, I fear.
We spoke of it, you know. Taking over the government, stripping Palpatine of his power (and how laughable a notion that is, to strip a Sith Lord of their edged fury. Impossible to achieve without bloodshed.) It’s not that we wanted to usurp the government - even within the Council itself, there was strong dissent to even considering this notion.
Mace would have gladly fallen on his lightsaber to see justice served. As would Kit. And Plo. And possibly Master Yoda.
But their souls were clean.
Mine, on the other hand…
It’s late Qui-gon, and I fear tomorrow will be an unpleasant day.
~~~
You once said, Qui-gon, that upon finding a confluence of paths, there is no correct direction, that, in the end, there was only a decision, and the consequences thereof.
I find myself in such a place.
It seems the news of my actions reached Mandalore before I did, the civil war now at an uneasy pause, Maul neutered (and what does that say about me, that I could not achieve this victory when Ahsoka could? Perhaps I am too close, too near that fault line to act as she could.)
But they do not know, Qui-gon, what I do. Ahsoka may look on in muted fury, Rex dipping his head as he comms Cody, his only words a soft we have him, Bo-Katan radiant with indignation - why could you have not done this before?
Before we both lost her, before Satine’s legacy was burnt to the ground, before it came to this.
They wrap me in cords and shackles and the best Jedi restraints Mandalore has to offer, dumping me in the same containment cell as him, who takes one look at my sorry state, who knows what sins are written on my soul.
Maul throws back his head, and cackles, the sound of a hundred broken mirrors.
They only have one, he says.
He doesn’t need to explain further.
The Mandalorian sarcophagus. We both saw it, that first time on Mandalore, Satine’s cheeks turning pink, then red, as she explained the true purpose of the monstrous devices.
We would never use them now, she said. There’s no need.
We can only hope, you answered.
And now, it is a question of who is the greater monster - the being born of blood and violence, or the one who accepted it into his heart.
He would have been his new apprentice, Maul drawls, with a sick smile.
I know, I answer. I do know, don’t I? Knew this entire time and yet could do nothing to stop it - until now.
Will you accept your fate, Kenobi? Be hauled back to Coruscant in chains, your allies grinning as your head falls from the blade?
I should. Damnit, I should, Qui-gon! I am a Jedi, I do not fear death, for there is only the Force.
And yet…
~~~
We are leaving, Qui-gon, Maul and I. To what end, I cannot say. Do not fear for me, Master of mine. I am long corrupted, past redemption in this life and can only hope to use my darkness for an ultimate good.
There is much to be done.
May I feel your soft hand on my cheek one more time, Qui-gon, if only in my dreams.
Please forgive me.
I am sorry.
Yours in this life and the next,
Obi-wan Kenobi.
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gloves94 · 4 years
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Kingdom of the Sun [Fire Lord Zuko] 1
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Story Warnings: Violence, NSFW, Smut Chapter Warnings: None Rating: M Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary:  It has been three years since the end of the war. Fire Lord Zuko has his Empire to reconstruct and multiple assassination attempts to worry about. Across the sea Tsai is occupied with the Restoration Movement in the new Republic of Nations. Together they must: define their relationship, push some boundaries, bring down a dangerous enemy and most importantly work together to restore order and prosperity to this new world. Kingdom of the Sun MASTERLIST Last Airbender MASTERLIST My MASTERLIST
- SEQUEL to: SUNBURN . You don’t have to read Sunburn to enjoy this story, but if you want go ahead. - This story is loosely based on the ATLA comics, so don’t read if you don’t want spoilers. No Korra spoilers since I haven’t watched it myself.
AN: Woo!! We are finally here. I’m really excited about this story (also kind of very nervous, it’s going to be pretty different from Sunburn so let me know how I do!) I’m almost done writing it and it should be about 10 chapters long or so.
xxxxxx
Zuko lay awake in his bed.
It was a cold night despite the spring season that graced the Fire Nation's capital. He let out a miserable long sigh before turning to face the empty side of the bed. It was then that a rustling behind the bedroom’s maroon curtains nearby caught his attention.
Paranoid, he quickly sat up glaring in the direction where he could've sworn, he heard an intruder's movements. His eyes scanned the darkness of the room, heart at his throat as he held his breath waiting for his attacker to show.
It was then that he felt it, the blade pressing tightly across his neck. It seemed the assassin had finally gotten to him. His body was stiff for a moment before relaxing into the knife. He let out a deep breath and allowed the blade to take him…
Xxx
Zuko awoke alone and cold still heaving from his night terror. His eyes danced around the room fearfully scanning every possible nook, cranny and hiding place for an assassin. He sat up and ran a hand through his sweaty bangs pushing them back, catching his shaking breath. It wouldn't be the first time somebody broke into his room and tried to pull a stunt like that…
He exhaled a sharp breath and again collapsed back on his pillow. He couldn't believe he had caved into the assassin's blade like that. It had only been a dream, but still... For a moment he had forgotten his will to exist. After all, did anything matter? Every day was the same over worked routine of a Fire Lord having inherited a monarchy on the verge of a colonial disunion and at the end of a lost war. Not to mention the frequent assassination attempts he had to endure from the New Ozai Society. A group of loyal members of the Fire Nation mainland who were still supportive of his father and wanted to see Zuko dead and off the throne. But worst of all was that he had never felt as alone as he did now… He was cold, alone, unhappy… Did anything really matter?
His eyes turned to look at the painting he had framed next to his bed. It had been the last painting that him and Tsai had gotten. He wore his royal garments and head piece, she sat next to him hugging his arm. It had been painted that day the two saw “Love Amongst the Dragons,” the last time they saw each other...
He missed her. He needed her in his life now more than ever.
He dreaded the morning that was to come. He already knew he had a mountain of work to do, but the worst part about it were the Fire Sages. He did not want to be in the same room with a handful of them and a dozen of elite Fire Nation women who were all considered 'fit' female suitors eligible enough to one day take seat next to him as the Lady of the Throne.
"Will you be making your decision today Fire Lord Zuko?" One of the Sages had inquired hiding its hands in his sleeves. It had been weeks now and all those old crones did was pressure him into seeing these girls.
Traditionally Fire Sage's were the advisors to the crown and all royal marriages were arranged. However, considering there was no former Fire Lord in power to order such decree no such arrangements could be made.
His eyes glazed over the nervously fidgeting dark haired women before him. Some looked awfully nervous, others giggled at the situation hiding their blushing smiles before waving fans.
He was silent, his eyes boring ahead.
"I already know the one for me."
Xxx
"Wake up!" A loud voice shouted.
"Wake uuuup!" The voice repeated in an even louder tone.
Tsai lay exhausted and alone in her bed. She let out a grown and pulled the sheets over her head. "Get out of my room Mecha!" She shouted loudly at her older sibling. However, he had no mercy, he ripped the covers off her waking her up.
She glared at her brother upset.
"You overslept, again." He said with his arms crossed over his chest. The scarred man glared down at her. "This isn't like you," he said frowning slightly.
She ran a hand through her messy hair in hope of taming it down a little. "I was up late last night," she grumbled. "Has there been another bombing? Another protest?" She asked more accustomed to being awoken due to the sporadically protest of the Anti Revolutionary Movement that was against the independence of the Fire Nation’s colonies.
"Oh yeah?" He challenged arching an eyebrow, ignoring her questions. "Doing uber important things like midnight snacking or writing sad poetry about your ex-boyfriend?"
"Out!" She roared throwing her pillow in his direction.
He caught it with ease. "Be ready." He said cooly sounding like their over-bearing mother and throwing it back in her direction with all of his strength making her slightly jerk back.
She sighed hugging the pillow and hunching her shoulders over. It had been three years since the One Hundred Year War was over and since the Fire Nation colonies had been liberated, and lot had happened since then. Ever since, her family had renounced to all of their royal titles, after all the Vice-Royal Colony of Yu Dao was no more. Instead now this territory belonged to the sovereignty of the United Republic of Nations. After losing his position her father had become… She didn't even want to think about it. Thankfully, her mother had forgiven her for everything that she had done during the time of war and her family now focused on running the United Republic of Nation's first newspaper. She did that and also working as an ambassador for the young nation, attempting to solve the thriving nation's issues a strong leader of the post-war restoration movement.
She had also ended her brief relationship with Zuko. You think dating is hard, imagine when your ex-boyfriend is the Fire Lord? She let out an exhausted breath and looked up to see the painted portrait of the two of them that hung on her wall. It was small and simple, her red head and broad cheesy smile standing out as she hugged onto his arm. He wore a smile as well and wore his hair down and wasn't wearing his royal robes. He was like she remembered him, he was simply Zuko, he wasn't his Lordness. She couldn’t even remember when they had gotten that painted. It had been a little more than a year since their breakup and she missed him dearly…
Dating of course had been an option but nobody had come close to filling the void she felt inside when she thought of him. She would never admit it out loud but a part of her was miserable without him in her life.
She missed him.
The memory of their breakup still fresh, she shook her head and clapped her cheeks lightly hoping to smack some sense into herself and push that depressing memory back in the attic of her brain. She didn't want to think about what had happened in the Dragon Catacombs the last time she had been in the Main- in the Fire Nation. She corrected herself.
Xxx
"Aang! Katara!" Tsai stood in what was now the former palace's tearoom as she welcomed her friends. She embraced Aang and then Katara tightly. She had been happy to have kept in contact with them after the war. Katara was usually traveling between the Republic of Nations and the South Pole to visit her family, so they would see each other whenever she was in town. Aang was pretty much the same, except his travels were more worldly, after all, he was the Avatar. The bridge in between all nations as well as humans and the Spirit World. Tsai's mother had arranged for an elaborate tea party for just her children and their two friends. It was very over the top with teas, pastries and decorations, but then again, that was just the type of woman she was.
"It's so great to see two!" She said. Her brother greeted them both with a rough hug and took a seat next to his sister.
Aang was taller, fitter, and looked more mature. However, he was still his same goofy self and wore his nation's symbolic colors of yellow, ochre and orange in traditional robes. Katara had grown to be even more beautiful, her hair was longer, and she still wore her trade mark hair loopies. The two of them had been inseparable and had started dating at the end of the war and were still together. Distance and other factors not str Tsai poured a brewed floral tea and the four made idle talk catching about what the most recent news in town were, trending restaurants, theater, each other travels and what not.
"So, we've come with news!" Aang said excitedly shifting on his seat. He hadn't even touched his tea. Katara smiled at him lovingly and hugged his arm taking his hand in her own. "Shall we tell them together sweetie?"
Tsai arched an eyebrow, she mentally gagged at Katara's pet name for her boyfriend. Yikes, those two were so sappy. She took a sip from her tea to hide her smile.
They spoke loudly in unison. She wasn't sure if she had heard right. She was only aware of the sacred sin she had just committed. She spit out her tea in surprise spraying the couple before her who were overjoyed and simply laughed at her surprised reaction.
"Congrats!" Mecha stood up from his seat and walked around the table to give the couple a congratulatory pat in the back.
Tsai still sat stunned unsure of how to process the news.
AANG AND KATARA WERE GETTING MARRIED? Was Aang a child bride? Sure, he was now past sixteen, the customary marriage age, but really what was the rush? She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before realizing she had to say something to them.
"Congratulations!" She said sincerely excited going around the table and hugging the both of them again. "Katara, let me see your necklace!" She said inquiring about the engagement jewelry that Aang had made for her. It was a traditional Water Tribe necklace that had carved the Air Nomad's symbol in the middle. It was very cute.
"We'll be sending invitations out soon, but we wanted to tell you two in person." Aang explained.
"We were both very moved by your family," Katara began. "I know it's not usual for people to have interracial marriages, but when I saw your family- Your mother being from the Earth Kingdom and your father's side being from the Fire Nation. I saw what my future with Aang would be like." She said once again hugging his arm, he smiled at her and kissed the top of her head.
Both siblings noted how she mentioned her "father's side" and not the monster himself but said nothing.
"We are getting married here in the Republic of Nations. However, Gran Gran is getting a little too old for travel so we're having a ceremony in the Southern Water Tribe and we'd love for you two to come!" Katara beamed.
xxx
"You have to go." Her brother insisted chasing after her as they walked back to the dining room where they would now be joining their mother for dinner. "No. I don't. I have work." She barked back; fists clenched at her sides. "No," he drawled out stepping around her stopping her walk. "I'm staying so you can go. Besides, you already agreed. You can't back out now."
Tsai glared at her older brother; he could be such a pest sometimes. "I only said that to be polite!"
"Come on," She lowered her shoulders her brown eyes meeting her brother's forest green ones. "I look like crap- and well you know he's going to be there."
She said referring to Zuko, a thought that made her stomach twist nervously at the thought of seeing him again.
"So? Are you scared of him?" Her brother scoffed. "What's the worst that can happen?"
She remained silent.
"Who knows," he began moving out of her path. "You know he is married to his work, just like you. Odds are maybe he won't even show," Mecha said optimistically.
'Maybe… Just maybe he was right?'
next: https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/624849870080131072/kingdom-of-the-sun-firelord-zuko-2
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chestersallya · 3 years
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starkrogerrs · 5 years
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you don't have to say you love me; [chapter 2]
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catch up: chapter 1 //
pairing: stevetony - modern/college au/ fakedating
warnings/tags: tooth-rotting fluff, Tony can't adult, steve is a cutie
word count: 2k+
a/n: really sorry for the late update but i hope you like the chapter!
"Can't. Breathe," Tony muttered as Sofia crushed him in a bear hug. For a five foot tall person, Sofia surprisingly packed a lot of strength. Tony smiled when she finally released him. 
"It's been so long, Tones!" she beamed from ear to ear. Tony nodded, his mouth twitching into a grin in spite of himself and took the two, heavy bags she'd bought along. Yup, she was definitely staying for a while. 
The ride home consisted entirely of Sofia filling Tony in about everything and nothing at all, with the brunet nodding here and there to let her know he was listening. While, in reality, he kept zoning out and thinking what would have happened if he had merely said, No, Sof. I don't have a boyfriend so please stop irritating the fuck out of me about it. 
He also wondered if he had it in him to be the one to invent time travel. 
"It's not much but I love the place," he said, unlocking the door, once they had reached his apartment and held it open to let Sofia through. 
His apartment consisted of one bedroom, a smaller living area and the kitchen. It was spacious enough for two people but since Tony lived alone it looked massive. Normally, there would be all sorts of metal scraps, circuits and random textbooks lying around but Tony had (with help from Rhodes) cleaned it all just this morning. 
Sofia let out a delighted yelp. "It's so pretty!"
For a college student, Tony did have a pretty decent living space. The walls were a dull ochre and almost all of the furniture that came with it, midnight black. Since his course at the university was fully funded, he could afford to pay the rent of the apartment with the earnings of his part time job. It was only an added bonus that the apartment's owner was deeply impressed by him. What could he say? He was a born charmer. 
"It's a bit noisy because it's near the road but I don't mind," he said, placing her bags by the couch.
Sofia plopped down on one of the beanbags that surrounded the tiny center table of the living area, letting out a drawn huff. 
"God, the flight was long," she mused. She looked tired now; she'd probably spent the last of her energy chatting away. 
"D'you want to eat something?" Tony asked, trying to remember if he had food in the fridge. He had stocked up on some groceries last night and could cook up quite a decent meal if required. 
"I had a good lunch on the flight," she answered. "I think I'll just sleep for a while."
Tony nodded, understanding. Flying all the way from Italy was bound to make even Sofia, practically a ball of energy, exhausted. 
"But anyway, tell me, how are you? How has college been? How is Steve?" she asked, pulling her long, dark hair into a ponytail and wriggling her eyebrows at him. 
Not this again. Tony had been dreading this since the moment he had spotted her waving at him at the airport entrance. He'd questioned every decision he'd made, questioned his own smartness and beliefs, questioned everything that led him to this very moment. Nothing like a good old existential crisis on a cold winter afternoon.
"I've been aces, Sof. College has been a breeze so far and uhh.. Steve is hot," he answered, and he knew this was crossing lines but hey, Steve wasn't here. 
Sofia was only a year older than him but she was the most motherly of all his cousins. In a way, her visit was refreshing because Tony did miss his mother at times but still, the thing with Steve outranked all of that. By a large margin. 
"I think I'll lie down for a while," she said, touching her forehead. "If you've got any plans," she added suggestively, "—please don't let me keep you."
Tony winced internally. "Nahh, it's alright. Haven't got any plans. I'll uh, be right here," he muttered, throwing her a fake smile and hoped she would drop the subject. 
Sofia frowned at that. Here goes. 
"We are meeting him today, right?"
Tony tried to hide the surprise on his face. Meet him today? 
"Uh—" Say no, Anthony! "— yeah. Yeah."
Fuck. Fuck. 
When had it gotten so easy to sway him? How was he suddenly incapable of saying the truth?
Sofia grinned excitedly at that and Tony returned what he hoped was at least half of that enthusiasm in his smile. Anthony Edward Stark when will you stop screwing yourself over?
He didn't want to admit that some part of him did want to see Steve but the other (major) part of him knew he was asking a lot from him. 
Fifteen minutes later, Sofia was dozing on the bed as Tony quietly shut the door behind him. He then ran to his couch, mind racing and rang up Steve, praying to the gods above that he wouldn't be pissed. 
He picked up on the second ring. 
"Hey, what's up?"
Tony massaged the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. 
"Please, please don't be mad, but we have a problem."
*
Sofia woke up just as the sun was setting; the sky a myriad of colors ranging from a dark purple to a brilliant orange. 
Tony was still sat on the couch, textbook in lap, half distracted by his own wandering thoughts. He gazed at the birds chirping on the telephone line that ran outside the window, thinking of the conversation he'd just had with Steve. 
Thankfully, Steve hadn't been busy but there was something else in his voice which made Tony wish he'd never asked him of this favor. Was it hesitation? Regret? He didn't know. Really, what had he been thinking? 
"Jet lag is real," Sofia declared as she waltzed into the room, smile turning into a frown when she spotted Tony. "Are you seriously studying right now?"
"Just thought I'd get ahead on a couple of chapters. You know I've got to be the best, Sof," he joked as she settled down beside him, on the couch. 
"Whatever, nerd," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. 
Tony grinned, shutting the books. He hadn't got any studying done though, he was far too distracted. 
"So what's the plan? Are we going out or..?"
"He's coming over. We can watch a movie, eat and call it a night. Sounds okay?" he informed. 
They had decided it was better to keep their- his- stupid idea as much under wraps as possible. Which meant, they couldn't let her see them around their friends. Or anyone for that matter. 
"Sweet," she chimed, bringing out her phone. 
The doorbell rang just then and Tony felt his heart fall into his stomach. He glanced at the clock, it was only half past six. Hadn't they agreed to meet at seven? 
He stood up, breathing deeply and opened the door to a visibly awkward Steve. Steve, who was dressed in comfy jeans and a dark leather jacket thrown over a plain white t-shirt. Tony tried not to stare too much. 
His brain at the moment didn't want to tell him how couples greeted each other, so he just smiled and let him in, and let Steve shut the door behind them. 
Steve, however, had other plans. Before he could process it, the blond was pulling him into his side and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Tony felt the soft brush of his lips on his cheek, Steve's body flush against him and he thought his soul was going to leave his body. 
What the fuck. 
It was a long second later that he realised that Steve had already let go and introduced himself to Sofia. 
"Oh god, Tony has told me so much about you!" Sofia squealed as Steve reached over to hug her as well.  
Tony's brain was still lagging like a 1984 Macintosh but blushed at the mention, nevertheless. 
"Well, I am a good boyfriend," Steve replied, glancing at Tony, a grin playing at his lips. 
How in the world was he so good at this? 
"Ah.. oh.. um yeah," Tony said intelligently, as Steve sat down on the opposite end of the couch from where Sofia sat. Tony flopped beside him, their hips touching accidentally and he forgot how to breathe. He was still reeling from the kiss, and if he'd pondered over it any longer, it would've sent him into shock. 
"I am going to just go freshen up a bit," Sofia announced, and Steve nodded. She smiled at him, clearly excited and Tony cringed internally.
The moment she had locked the door to Tony's room behind her, Tony jumped away from Steve. 
"Jeez, would you relax?" Steve hissed, eyebrows knitted. "Why are you so nervous?"
Tony looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "What do you mean why am I nervous? This is fucking weird!"
"It was your idea, shellhead!" 
"I know but-"
"If you want her out of your hair, act natural man. You're gonna blow your own plan."
Tony sighed. He did have a point. And if Steve had no problem acting like this, why was he being weird? Well, he knew exactly why but he would ruin things with Steve if— You're thinking too much, he chided himself. 
Sofia returned just then, having changed into different clothes. She was also holding a small package in her hand. 
"Hey, I bought this for you," Sofia said, handing the package to Steve who looked somewhere between awkward and shocked. 
Tony nodded at him assuringly and also hoped he could see the apology in his expression. He had forgotten to tell him about how Sofia could be a little over the top, but knew Steve wouldn't mind that much. 
The blond accepted the gift gratefully, lips stretched into a thin smile. God, this was torture of the purest form. If Steve stopped being his friend after this, Tony wouldn't be surprised. 
"So.. should I put on the movie?" Tony asked, enthusiastically, reaching over for the remote. The room had a weird energy now and Tony wasn't exactly a big fan of awkward silences. 
Sofia nodded, as did Steve and Tony silently maneuvered to the Netflix app. He settled back into the couch, in between Sofia and Steve as the movie loaded. 
The title track blared into the room then, and Tony felt himself relax a little. He didn't know his muscles had been tensed all this while. 
As luck would have it, he spoke rather, thought, too soon. 
Steve reached over just then, his right hand finding Tony's and laced their fingers together. The brunet tensed at his touch immediately, eyes wide. Now, Tony and Steve had held hands before but this, this felt so different and oh, so much better.
Steve looked up at him then, bright blue eyes peeking out from under the long eyelashes. Relax, they seemed to whisper. 
Tony's body uncoiled, as if on command. He felt himself sink down further into the couch, aware that they were holding hands but it felt almost... natural. 
Steve shifted in his place a little then, adjusting himself so he could comfortably rest his head on Tony's shoulder. They were pressed together now, almost cuddling, Tony realised. He was cuddling. Cuddling Steve. 
He didn't know what the movie was about, didn't really comprehend what the protagonist was saying. He was too fixated on the way their legs were touching, the way Steve's large hands clasped his smaller ones. He flicked his gaze to Steve then; eyes trailing over the golden bangs, down to his long lashes, to the bridge of his sharp nose and then to the cupid bow of his perfect lips. 
There were little things about Steve that not many people noticed, like the fact that he had a little green in those sparkling blue eyes or that he wasn't as shy when he was with his friends or just how kissable his puckered lips looked right about now. 
He had to look away when Steve glanced up, pausing to look at him for a moment. His breath stilled when Steve relaxed back into his shoulder, sighing deeply. Tony's heart was beating really fast and he was sure Steve could hear it. 
A part of him wanted to believe that Steve had feelings for him too but the casual ease with which he was sat beside him right now, told him the contrary. 
Tony, unlike the boy leaning against him, was a nervous wreck. His thoughts spun around Steve and Steve only, in spite of him trying to switch his focus to the device in front of him. This sudden and close proximity with Steve had thrown his senses into a dizzy but... he wasn't sure if he wanted anything to make sense again. What he was sure of though, was that he wanted to live in this moment forever. 
He dared to glance at Steve again and a feeling, thick as cement, settled into the base of his stomach because, with a start, he realised that he was in deeper waters now. 
Because this wasn't an average crush. 
Because Tony had never, ever, ever felt this way before. 
Because when Sophia "awww"ed at him when she noticed him gazing fondly at Steve, he was doing anything but pretending. 
Because he had fallen for his best friend and fallen hard. 
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aweirdkindofyellow · 4 years
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Here I Am, There You Are Pt. 13
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Jack Barakat x OC ‘Rachel has been best friends with Alex, Jack, Rian, and Zack since high school. What happens when one of them gets married?’
Part 13
I took a deep breath in as my stomach felt like it flipped. It was constantly in knots, sending shivers through my entire body. All I could do was stare off into the distance and breathe slowly to keep the contents of my stomach inside. The robe I was wearing both felt like it was choking me and like it wasn't wrapped around my body tight enough.
Everything in me wanted to run to Jack. But he wasn't here. I couldn't do that. Even if I could, it would ruin everything.
"Wow," my sister sighed heavily as she sat on the coffee table across from me, "you really need to get yourself together."
My eyes snapped towards her and I glared. As much as I wanted to retort something back, telling her to leave me alone, I really couldn't. There was too much fear that I'd throw up as soon as I opened my mouth and then my mind was racing so much that any words I said would get jumbled up anyway.
"It's your turn to get your makeup done," Anna added cocking her head towards the empty chair facing the mirror.
I shook my head in quick short motions. "Mom can go first."
"Rachel–"
"Mom can go first."
Anna just exhaled again and got back up to tell my mom to go next. I could tell that she wanted to slap me. Honestly, I would have slapped myself. I really was acting unreasonably. She was really holding herself back. Usually, she wouldn't hesitate to literally snap me out of it. She had done it many times over the years.
I continued to sit there on the couch, starting to bite on my nails before I realised they were acrylic and had just been done. It made no sense; I didn't know why I was such a nervous wreck. There wasn't really any reason to be. Sure, some cute romanticised nerves would have been okay, but I literally had to keep myself in check so that I wouldn't pass out.
"Hey," Sascha said softly, unlike her usual loud self, and sat where my sister had been just a second before. Only she was a bit more supporting and even took hold of my hand, her thumb running over my knuckles. "Everything's going to be alright."
"I know, I know." I nodded in reassurance, but the shake in my voice and tapping foot said otherwise.
"Everything has been planned perfectly and it's all going smoothly, there's nothing you've got to worry about."
I tried putting on my best smile and looked at her. Honestly, I didn't know if looking at her had been a good idea or a bad idea. On one hand, it made me happy, but on the other it started making tears drop from my eyes.
"You look so pretty!" I gasped, admiring her. I could barely see the way the mustard coloured dress and professionally done brown glam makeup looked through the way the tears blurred everything. But still, it was amazing.
"Oh no, don't cry!" She started fussing and reached out to try and wipe some tears from my cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," I sniffed as I tried to stop the tears by catching them before they even fell. "This is why I need to go last."
"We need to make sure you're ready, though."
"It will be fine."
1:30pm. That's how late it was. I still had an hour and a half before I had to be ready. That was more than enough time. For now, I could still rub my eyes freely. As long as I didn't lean too far back or ran my fingers through my hair, I would still be on track. My hair was already curled and in its updo, pinned together and all sprayed down. Touch ups were definitely going to happen, but redoing it would cause way too much stress.
"I come bearing information!" Ethan announced as he entered the room.
He was already completely ready to go. His ochre tie and navy suit were already on and fit perfectly. I told him he was allowed to join later, but he insisted on being there the entire time. Now he enjoyed being sent out to see how things were going.
I turned around in my seat to look at him while he closed the door behind himself again. Usually, it was just something small like the fact that the flowers had been placed on one half of the room. But every small thing interested me. It calmed my nerves just a little, especially since I could hardly go down and look myself.
"The guys are here and getting ready!" He said without waiting for a response from everybody. "Everything is going according to plan, or so I was told."
That time my nerves calmed down a whole lot. Just knowing that Jack was in the same building right now helped significantly. I didn't really know why that was the case. It wasn't like I thought he wouldn't show up, it was just a comfort having him close. For some reason, it finally made me feel ready to actually get ready.
While the girls cheered, Ethan came up to me and sat down next to Sascha.
His eyes went wide as he scanned my face. "Oh no, you weren't crying were you?"
"Good tears, though," I confessed. "I'm going to be crying many more times today."
"Okay, well..." he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wrapped gift with a twine ribbon. "Jack told me to give this to you."
I took the gift from him and looked at it in curiosity. It was some weird square and thin shape. "We promised each other we wouldn't do gifts!"
Ethan shrugged. "I'm just the messenger."
I sighed and carefully pulled on the twine string to undo the bow. Honestly, I felt very guilty for not getting Jack something, but at the same time it also warmed my heart. So, I carefully lifted the corners with tape and revealed the gift below the wrapping paper. What was left in my hands was a CD case. The cover was just that photo of us together in the cue for the Blink-182 concert back in high school when Jack let me borrow his baseball cap.
Next, I opened the case, expecting to find a CD that I would not be able to play now, but that wasn't the case at all. Instead, there were multiple pages like a little book. I recognised the first page as the album cover for Cheshire Cat by Blink-182. On it, though, there was a note in Jack's hand writing: Baby, you make me smile like a Cheshire Cat.
I flipped to the next page and found another album cover with a note. Every single page was exactly like this:
With you in my life I'll never have to live by myself in my Dude Ranch again.
There's isn't one I can think of for this one, but I have to include it. It's an important album.
I can't wait to Take Off My Pants and Jacket ;)
I'm going to have to Blink-182 times to stop all the happy tears from falling.
Thank god we didn't live in different Neighborhoods back when we were kids.
I wouldn't want to live anywhere but in our house in California with you.
I'll love you until we're Ninety-nine.
I couldn't stop grinning as I flipped through multiple times. It was absolutely perfect. Although he was a much bigger Blink fan than me, Blink was still quite important in our friendship and relationship. They had always been in the background somewhere. Now, Jack was friends with Mark and he had been invited, but it was still so fitting.
I closed the CD and carefully put it down. "Okay, I'm ready to get married."
"You still need to get your makeup done and your dress on," Anna reminded me.
"I know," I sighed, "but I'd just go like this."
"It's not much longer now," my mom encouraged as she got up from the makeup chair, being done much earlier than the others because she didn't want much makeup on. "And it's all your turn now."
"Yeah, alright," I nodded and got up, "let's do this!"
I walked over to the chair in front of the large mirror and sat down, making sure my robe still covered everything. Of course, I wasn't just completely naked underneath it, I was wearing my matching underwear. But that set was for Jack to see after we got married. I decided to get us a little treat, I didn't want to ruin that by accidentally showing it off now. Sure, when I was going to get changed into my dress, I would need help. But that was different.
The makeup artist carefully tilted my head back a little and started her work. We had already practiced the look on me, so I knew it was going to look good, but it was the real deal now. I could feel that she was being more gentle and cautious with her brush strokes. I completely trusted her and everything she did. Afterall, I did choose her because of her talent.
We had chosen to go with quite a neutral look. The foundation she used on me was very light coverage and left me looking glowy. She still used all the products, including highlighter, and contour. Even blush was added to give me a nice warm look. Everything was used in moderation, though. The eye look just consisted of some warm brown tones, thin eyeliner, and a bit of mascara. I also had opted not to go with lipstick, although the shade she had chosen was very beautiful. Instead we just went with a simple light pink toned lip gloss.
She was done relatively quickly. Despite how simple it was, it still took a little longer than everybody else's looks. It was a classic case of a low effort look actually not being low effort. Everything had to blend perfectly to continue to look natural. It needed to look glowy, but not shiny, bronzed but not fake tanned.
When I looked in the mirror, I couldn't stop admiring it and thanking her. Every little thing we finished brought me that much closer to actually getting married to Jack. In just a short while, I would officially be Rachel Steward Barakat. Although I technically was keeping my surname, I was taking over Jack's as my new official one.
"We have thirty minutes until you've gotta go downstairs," our wedding planner, Maisie, announced, "so I'd say it's time to put on your dress!"
"Oh my god, okay." I nodded and stood up. The nerves were starting again. "Not long now."
"You're going to look so beautiful." Sascha clapped her hands together and grinned at me while my sister rushed over to where my dress was hanging in its protective cover.
I walked over to join Anna. She held onto the zipper and waited for everybody to come around before opening the cover, careful not to accidentally damage the fabric. Everybody awed at the dress. It was so different to what Anna had worn to her wedding, but it fit me perfectly. I didn't want all the lace and frills that she had. I went with something sleek and simple.
May, Jack's sister who was also one of my bridesmaids, put one of her hands on my shoulder. "Jack's going to love this dress."
"I love it," I laughed. She hadn't been there when I was choosing my dress, so this was the first time she had seen it.
Anna started pulling off the cover, leaving just my dress on its hanger. As much as we all enjoyed admiring it from afar, I did actually have to put it on so we could keep on schedule. So, Anna and Sascha nominated themselves to help me out. We went behind this screen that had been set up so I wouldn't be struggling around everybody. Putting on that dress was no joke. The skirt was made up of multiple layers to make it look fuller and there was no way for me to even try to reach the zipper. I was grateful for the help I had.
Once it was on, there was one thing left to do. I came from behind the screen and saw everybody gasp. I didn't want to smile yet until I actually saw myself as well. There was always a small fear that everybody was acting like I looked good to make me feel good. But then I turned around to look in the mirror, and I couldn't stop grinning either. I was so happy and knew I was only going to get happier as the day progressed.
My dress looked exactly as I had imagined. It was made out of a plain white fabric that was so smooth to touch. The top had a high neck neckline and no sleeves, leaving my shoulders exposed. Although my front was pretty much covered, my back was practically completely open, showing off the light tan I had. The skirt was a-line, clinching at my waist and connected to the top with a belt-like tin strap of fabric. The hem draped over the floor, creating a small train behind me. I already knew it was going to be impractical for our reception, which is why I could clip off the top layer to reveal a layer that only reached to the floor in the same fabric as the rest of the dress.
"You're so beautiful!" My mom gushed, tears pricking at her eyes.
"Mom," I sighed happily and accepted the hug she gave me. "You're going to make me cry!"
When we pulled away, her tears were already falling and I was trying my best to keep mine back. We all knew this was going to happen, but I still wanted to try to stop from messing up the beautiful makeup I had on.
"Oh, wait, here," Ethan interrupted, patting down his pockets and pulling out a tissue from his jacket. He reached over and handed it to me.
I quickly dabbed away the tears that were threatening to spill, looking up so I wouldn't accidentally close my eyes and let a tear drop. When I turned around to look at all the people I would have by my side, I saw they all had watering eyes. Well, all except Ethan. To make things even worse, my dad came into the room with Olive on a leash. His eyes fell on me and I could see his eyes twinkle.
He walked up to me and hugged me tightly. "My baby girl is getting married."
"Now I'm crying too," Ethan announced and sniffled. "Dammit."
I couldn't help but chuckle. We all still needed a second to compose ourselves before continuing on with the schedule. My hair was fixed and lightly sprayed down again and my makeup was lightly touched up, especially the area around my eyes. And then it was time to go out and find Jack.
We went downstairs and out the back of the church. My childhood church had some super nice gardens. Rather than just having the usual perfectly cut, bright green grass, they actually added some hedges, trees, and carefully picked patches of flowers. It was perfect for the easter egg hunts they always held, and it was definitely also perfect for our wedding photos.
Jack was already in the gardens with his groomsmen. Luckily his back was already to me, or else the first look would have prematurely happened. The photographer got into position while Alex told Jack that I was just down the path from them. The groomsmen left to go join my bridesmaids and parents to watch what would happen. I could feel the excitement pump the adrenaline through my veins. It was all happening.
When I was given the go ahead signal by the photographer, I started to approach Jack, careful not to ruin my dress this early in. The gravel path cracked underneath my heels and I tried my best to hold up my skirt just a little to keep it off the ground, but it didn't really do much.
"Are you ready?" I whispered as I put my hands gently down onto Jack's shoulders.
He took in a deep breath. "Can I turn around?"
"Yeah."
He shrugged his shoulders a few times to loosen up and then turned around swiftly. As soon as he got a glimpse, he yelled out, "fuck!"
I burst out with laughter. Of course that would be the first word he said to me after seeing me. It was exactly what I expected deep down. I was just glad we had decided to do this first look and not wait until the actual ceremony. He couldn't just scream it out in church.
"Shit, you look good," he stated a bit quieter and let his eyes wander up and down, slowly they started watering.
"Always the gentleman," I chuckled and gently put my hands on his cheeks.
"No, I'm serious," he took in a deep shaky breath, "are you sure you want to marry me?"
I nodded. "I wouldn't want to marry anybody else."
I didn't even need to stand on my toes to kiss him. It was like nobody was watching us anymore. At that moment, it was just us in that garden, surrounded by the green plants and colourful flowers, birds chirping from the tree tops. I didn't think it was possible for me to fall in love with him even more, but everything felt so right.
When we broke apart, Jack quickly and subtly wiped his eyes. "I'm so embarrassed right now. Here I am, fucking crying like a baby, and there you are looking all chill."
"I cried multiple times before I came down here, I just don't have any tears left to cry." I took hold of his hands.
He frowned and quickly wiped away another tear before returning his hand to mind. "I hope all good tears."
"Of course, nothing but. First, I got emotional when I saw Sascha after she was the first to be ready, then I cried when I just put on my dress and my mom cried, then I cried when everybody else was tearing up, then my dad came in and shed a few tears, and then Ethan joined in as well. You should be glad you weren't there."
"Hmm..." he faked a thinking face, pursing his lips and looking to the side. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I think I could have dealt."
"You would have been bawling your eyes out," I remarked jokingly. "Oh! Also, I almost cried when I got that CD case. But I managed to stay composed. Totally acted like I wasn't melting inside."
He started grinning, his eyes finally drying up. "You liked it?"
"I loved it," I stressed. "I just feel guilty for not doing something for you!"
"You looking so beautiful is all I need."
We shared another kiss. It was so strange to think that those were our last few kisses before we were a married couple. In just an hour or so, we were going to be up there saying our vows. It was all so surreal, and I couldn't wait for it.
"You ready to get married?" I whispered against his lips.
"Definitely."
Our moment eventually came to an end. Although I wanted it to last forever, I became more and more aware that there were people actually watching and waiting to join. There were definitely going to be a lot more moments for Jack and I to have, so I didn't need to worry. The photographer told us he had gotten some great photos of it, which was one of the most reassuring things I had heard that day. I didn't want to forget anything. Next, he started to direct us how to stand for the posed photos. We had pictures of just us two, pictures with our parents, of course pictures with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, maid of honour and bestman, and even one with Olive for fun.
That hour of waiting until the ceremony started went by so quickly. It felt like no time had passed and Jack and I were already saying our 'see you laters.' He went to the altar with his groomsmen while I went in the opposite direction with my dad and bridesmaids. The doors were closed, but I could hear all the buzzing inside. My heart was going insane. It was beating so fast that I was afraid it was actually going to bruise my ribs.
The first chords and notes from the piano started playing, and I knew that it was actually happening. We had chosen to go with a piano version of I'm lost without you by Blink-182. It was only right to choose a Blink-182 song. Jack had always been a big fan and the shows we went to as teenagers really solidified our relationship, even if it was only a friendship back then.
May walked out first, joining her brother up and giving him a quick hand squeeze before standing on my side. Anna followed after her. Jack and I only had four people each by our sides, so everything went at a comfortable slow pace. The long seconds were making me more and more nervous, but I knew that if we were hurried, I only would have been more stressed.
"I'll see you up there." Ethan winked and gave me a big comforting hug before he also got the go ahead from the wedding planner to go down the aisle.
I didn't get to see him walk down the aisle, I was still hidden with my dad.
"Hey, I love you," my dad said as we got ready to walk as well. "You'll always be my baby girl no matter what. I am so glad that you found Jack. I can't think of anybody who I'd rather hand you over to."
"Thank you," I barely managed to get out, my throat clamping shut from both the emotion and nerves.
And then we got to go through the doors as well. Everybody was looking at me, but my eyes were fixated on Jack. He was staring right back at me, his smile even brighter than it had been before. This time, he was managing to keep his tears at bay. I just kept beaming back. It was one simple wedding, but it was so perfect. Jack was perfect.
When we reached the altar, my dad kissed me on the cheek and unhooked his arm from mine. Jack held out his hand and helped me up the steps, which I was so grateful for. The last thing I wanted was to fall during my wedding. He gave me a comforting little squeeze before letting go of my hand again.
I had almost forgotten about the bouquet I had been clutching to my chest the entire time until I got to hand it over to Ethan. It consisted of a large range of different flowers. Freesia, roses, hydrangea, brunia berries and astilbes. They were a mixture of white, pale yellow, brighter yellow, and a nice blue, following the colour scheme we had chosen.
As soon as I was standing there, facing Jack again, the pastor started the ceremony. "Welcome family, friends, and loved ones. As I assume you all know, we are gathered here today to join Jack and Rachel in holy matrimony. They have asked me to make this more personal, so I am here to provide.
"I have seen Rachel grow up. From the time I baptised her as the smallest baby up until this day I have always known she was destined for great things. I have only had the pleasure to know Jack for a much shorter time, but he is a bright loving man. Together, I can tell that they are a perfect match. They complete each other in a way you will find nowhere else.
"Jack, Rachel let me in on a secret and told me she loves the way you always find a way to make her smile. She loves that you manage to always compliment her even if she is having a bad day. You always find a way to cheer her up. You listen and always make sure you are there, no matter how far apart. Most importantly, she loves you for staying despite seeing her at her worst and never made her feel unwanted.
"Rachel, believe it or not, Jack also told me a few things about you. He loves your smile, your voice, and your caring nature. He loves that you stuck by him through all these years and were always somebody to rely on. He adores the way you fall asleep before him and the way you kiss him in the morning when you leave for work. There is nothing he wouldn't do for you.
"Marriage is a joyous occasion. It is a commitment in life between two people. It radiates with love, the familiarity of home, and eternal friendship. Your relationship will take more than love to last. It takes trust and commitment, a willing to face the unknown together.
"You have come together this day so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of this minister of His word and this community of family and friends and so, in the presence of this gathering, I ask you to state your intentions.
"Jack, do you take Rachel to be your wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, remain faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"
Jack took his eyes off the pastor and looked at me with a small smile. "I do."
"And Rachel," the pastor now asked me, "do you take Jack to be your wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, remain faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"
"I do." I nodded, not taking my eyes of Jack.
The pastor then directed his words towards the crowd again. "Who gives Rachel to be married to Jack?"
My dad stood up, his hands clasped together. "I and the rest of her family do."
He bowed slightly before sitting down. It sounded a bit sexist, handing me over to get married to Jack like I was some property that had no own will. However, it was tradition. It wasn't that way anymore. Now, it only showed that everybody in my family supported us and my choice.
"I believe you have written your own vows," the pastor led into the next section. "Jack?"
Jack reached back and accepted the folded up piece of paper from his brother, who was his bestman. He took a deep breath in and wrapped his hand around the microphone, which he brought to his mouth. "Rachel, I know I've told you this many times before, but I'm going to repeat it again. I thank you for sticking with me throughout the years. If you were to go back in time and tell 16-year-old me that I would be up here today getting married to you, I would have passed out. I fell in love with you back then and promise to love you for the rest of our days, even if you call me 'dude.' I will always believe in you and support you every step of the way. I've always got your back. Even when we get taco bell. I promise to always give you the better taco of the two."
And then it was my turn. I got my notes from Ethan. "When I first met you, I thought you were strange. To be honest, I do still think that, but I would be lying if I didn't say I love everything about you. I love your jokes, your loyalty, your understanding, and even how frustrated you get when your hair just isn't having a good day. Your friendship has always meant so much to me and I promise to always reciprocate it, even if it means letting you have the last slice of pizza. When we first started dating, I had no idea where it was going to take us. I never could have imagined standing here today, so in love with you. I promise that I'll always be there as your biggest fan, no matter how far away you are."
It was difficult not to start crying again during our vows. Both of our voices occasionally went shaky, especially when we made eye contact with each other. I wanted nothing more than to just kiss him already, but I couldn't do that yet. We were just minutes away, though.
"The wedding ring symbolises the promises you have just made to each other." The pastor took over again. "It is a visible sign of the invisible power of love that binds you together. Let them serve as a representation of the way you feel today and let it remind you during times of hardships. This love is eternal. Now, please repeat after me. With this ring I am giving you my promise–"
"With this ring I am giving you my promise," Jack was the first to repeat, recieving the ring from his brother.
"To always love you."
"To always love you."
"Cherish you."
"Cherish you."
"Honour you and comfort you."
"Honour you and comfort you." Jack winked at me, causing me to chuckle, the ring catching a bit of light and reflecting it.
"I promise that I will love you."
He inhaled, feeling the same excitement I was. "I promise that I will love you.
"And keep my heart open to you."
"And keep my heart open to you," he bit his lip, getting a little impatient.
"All the days of my life."
"All the days of my life." He finally got to put the ring on my finger.
His hands were trembling quite a bit, but he still managed to slide the ring on. I had already taken off my engagement ring and put it on my other hand for the time being. So he didn't have to worry about taking that one off first, which was probably a good call. The ring he had chosen was a perfect match with my engagement ring. It had the same band – the same rose gold weaving between the clusters of small diamonds. They were going to go so well together as a set, which is exactly what Jack had intended. I was going to switch back my engagement ring with it as soon as we were married.
"Rachel, please also repeat after me," the pastor then instructed me. "With this ring I am giving you my promise."
I was given the ring I had chosen for Jack by Ethan. "With this ring I am giving you my promise."
"To always love you."
"To always love you." I had to wipe away a quick tear when I stared into Jack's eyes.
"Cherish you."
"Cherish you."
"Honour you and comfort you."
"Honour you and comfort you."
"I promise that I will love you."
"I promise that I will love you." I could now feel the same impatience that Jack was feeling when he was repeating the words. I wanted to make this official already. I wanted to kiss him and call him mine.
"And keep my heart open to you."
"And keep my heart open to you."
"All the days of my life."
"All the days of my life."
I now got to slip the ring on Jack's finger as well. While my ring was quite thin and delicate, I didn't see that fit with Jack. I went with something much more robust. It was a dark gray tungsten ring that had a nice grainy texture. I thought something that was more that colour suited him much more than a simple gold or silver ring. To show that it belonged with mine, however, there was some sneaky rose gold on the inside. You couldn't really see it when it was on, but it was definitely there. It was visible from the top, but most people wouldn't look at Jack's finger that way.
"Jack and Rachel, you've come here today to declare your love and commitment to each other in front of friends, family, and God. It is my honour and delight to pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
Jack didn't waste a single second. He hooked his arm around my waist and lightly pushed the palm of his hand onto the small of my back to bring me closer. I quickly managed to put my own hands on the back of his head to close the space even more. Everybody was clapping and cheering as our lips met halfway. I was sure that my parents were yet again shedding a few tears. But right at that moment, all I could think about was Jack. I wished to never forget the way I was feeling then.
When we finally parted, the pastor announced, "it is my pleasure to present to you for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Barakat!"
Jack and I couldn't stop grinning at each other. It was so surreal. We were actually married now. We were officially husband and wife. I was excited yet scared for what was to come. But I knew that Jack was going to be there by my side every step of the way. We were going to face it all together. Everything was going to be alright.
We walked down the aisle together, hand in hand. Everybody continued to cheer for us, which was one of the strangest feelings ever. Jack just continued to glance down at me with that goofy smile of his. It filled me with love every single time, warming my heart and making me feel like I was back in high school with some stupid crush.
Jack and I went all the way out of the church and stepped into the nice car we had rented to take us to the venue for our wedding reception. Everybody else was going to meet us there. It was at this very nice old barn that had some of the most amazing natural lighting. Around the venue was a large field, giving us both indoor and outdoor space for our guests to enjoy. With how good the weather was, it was the perfect venue.
Jack wouldn't stop holding my hand and kissing it the entire ride over. We didn't speak much, we were still enjoying the moment. Part of me wanted to jump up and down and kiss him all over. But the other part of me, just wanted to take it all in and relish it. My mind kept going over our vows again and again. I really didn't want to ever forget them. It was all so perfect. We were officially married now.
When we arrived, we didn't immediately go straight to the reception area. Although we were the first ones there, we weren't ready yet to be part of the party. There were still a few things to do before that. Those all were to happen in the building next to the barn, also known as the farmhouse. It was where smaller rooms and the bathrooms were. Now it was a great place for storage of extras and for us to get ready again.
As soon as we entered the farmhouse, we were greeted by the wedding planner's assistant. "Based on your smiles, I'm assuming everything went well."
I nodded and looked up at Jack, our hands tightly intertwined. "I don't know how others felt about it, but I thought it was perfect."
"Better than I could have ever imagined," Jack agreed, softly kissing me with a big smile. "Although I did really have to hold back from swearing in the church."
"You did surprisingly well, not even one slip up," I giggled.
The assistant wedding planner led us to the room where we got to wait as all the guests streamed in, both from the church and from people who hadn't been invited to the ceremony. They all got to enjoy the drinks at the bar and socialise while I got my makeup and hair retouched. I wasn't complaining, though. Neither was Jack. We'd get to make our great entrance and all our wedding photos would continue to look great.
Jack and I just got to relish in the fact that we had just gotten married while everybody around us did their job. They had all done this enough times to know when to interrupt and when not to. It actually got things done really quickly. As soon as everything had been touched up, I waltzed back over to Jack. I wrapped my arms around his neck, of course pressing a kiss to his lips.
"I wish I could drink and have fun with you," I mumbled, lightly brushing the hair on the back of his head with my fingers.
"We talked about this," he muttered back, "I won't drink if you don't want me to."
"I wouldn't want to put you through that kind of torture." I straightened out his collar.
"Well, I promise you I won't drink too much," he compromised. "I do actually want to remember every detail of today."
"And you don't want to get a bad case of whiskey dick on our wedding night," I whispered to him lowely so nobody could hear before giving him a much deeper kiss than I had given him since we had left the church.
We were interrupted by a whistle coming from the door. I checked to see who was in that direction to see Ethan walking in, Sascha right behind him.
"Keep that for tonight!" He teased with one horrible wink, almost as bad as Jack's winks.
I slowly dropped my arms off of Jack's shoulders. "Well aren't you funny?"
"Just think about it," he continued, holding back a mischievous grin, "everybody in that room knows you're going to bone when you leave."
"Oh, great, thanks." I shook my head and subconsciously took a small step away from Jack.
"You chose him to be your maid of honour?" Sascha judged me harshly. "You could have had me!"
"I know..." I sighed dramatically as if I was regretting my choice – of course I wasn't. "But, hey, I gave you the privilege of planning my bachelorette party."
"And it was the best one ever," she pointed out.
"Very true."
"Hey, so, when are you guys going to join?" Ethan redirected the conversation to what he initially came in for. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, immediately seeming distracted.
Still, I answered. "About ten minutes or so."
He hummed in response, obviously not caring much anymore, and started typing. "Okay, well, Chase is here, so I am going to go find him and I will see you again later."
With that, he left the room very quickly.
Sascha sighed and rolled her eyes jokingly. "We were actually here to help you out with your dress. Surprisingly, Ethan was the one who reminded me."
"Ooh, yes!" I looked down at the skirt of my dress which was still at its very long length. If I went into our reception like this, I would not be able to dance and it would be stained by alcohol and mud forever.
Sascha helped me undo all the seamless little clasps. Most of them were in the back, where they definitely weren't visible, so she was very useful. Although Ethan was my maid of honour, Sascha really technically was one as well. Ethan helped me with things like vows, checking on the planning, and hyping me up. Sascha, however, did the other jobs. She was more involved with the 'female' aspects; she didn't mind seeing me fully naked and gladly helped out with fixing my appearance. Of course, the bachelorette party had also been her job.
I understood why Ethan suddenly ran away, so I was in no way mad at him or upset with him. He was about to go into his sophomore year at college and pretty early on in his freshman year he met this guy. His name was Chase and he wasn't somebody Ethan would have usually hung out with back in high school. Chase was pretty shy and quiet, had very curly blonde hair, and wore round glasses. At first, Ethan was just glad to have made a friend, but they quickly started dating as well. I hadn't seen Ethan that happy in a while.
Once the final clasp of my dress was undone, Sascha carefully removed the skirt layer. She made sure to fold it delicately so things wouldn't crease and wrinkle and even hung it up for me.
"Damn..." Jack breathed out and checked me out again. "You look amazing."
"I'm still wearing the same thing!" I chuckled, brushing a piece of hair that was supposed to be framing my face behind my ear.
He continued to look at me with loving eyes. "You are beautiful."
It was another perfect moment to share a kiss. So we did. This time, it was only a brief peck, but it still radiated love.
"While I'm still here, would you like me to help you go to the bathroom before you join the party again?" Sascha suggested.
"That is actually a very good idea," I agreed with a single nod. There probably wasn't going to be much time during the reception for me to leave, so I was going to take this opportunity.
"Okay, let's go."
I started following her out of the room, but quickly ran back to Jack to deeply kiss him yet again. Even leaving him for a brief moment today already made me miss him. I didn't want to leave his side. It was amazing to think we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, and now it was also officially recognised.
Although Jack and I kept saying we didn't want to forget a thing about our wedding day, our reception was actually a blur to me. It went by so quickly. We had our first dance, I danced with my dad and Jack with his mom. Everybody enjoyed the live band we had chosen. It was all still going just as planned, at it was amazing. We even managed to get some food despite all the people who came up to us and congratulate us. I couldn't recall anymore who I had spoken to and who I hadn't spoken to. It all happened so fast. One moment, I was lost in my own little world dancing with Jack, the next we were stepping into the car to go to our hotel.
Jack had kept his promise and paced himself. He was only a little tipsy as we stood in the elevator, waiting to go up to our suite for the night. All I could think about as we were leaving our friends and family was that they all knew what was going to happen now. Ethan really did open my eyes up to that. But I wasn't going to let it stop me from enjoying myself.
As soon as we entered the room and the door shut behind us, Jack and I started the complicated process of kissing and taking off our clothes. He was very eager to take off my dress, yet still took good care of it. There was no throwing around with it, he even took the time to carefully place it on the armchair in the room. However, as soon as he saw the lingerie I was wearing, he had me pressed up against the wall, and all his inhibitions disappeared.
"I recall promising you we'd make a baby after we got married," I whispered against Jack's lips, taking this second to catch my breath and calm my rapidly beating heart.
"Really? When was this?" He chuckled deeply and started kissing down my neck.
I gave him some more access and brushed my hands through his hair in anticipation. "After our high school reunion."
"I was one drunk boy." He smirked against my skin, his hot breath flowing over me.
"I know." I rubbed my foot along his leg, biting my bottom lip as his hands started roaming freely again. "That's why you just say the word when you're ready, and we can give it a shot."
He broke away from my neck, making me feel cold, but the way he stared right into my eyes kept the fire brewing. It felt like he was staring for minutes, but it must have just been seconds. He grew a small smile and my heart skipped a beat.
"The word," he said quietly and pressed his lips against mine heavily.
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sodrippy · 5 years
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thank u legend @honeyreynolds for tagging me!!
1) do you make your own bed? no but not bc someone else does it for me, i just dont....make my bed...judge me but i dont care about folding and laying out my blankets when im just gonna come back in 15 hours to crash out
2) what’s your favorite number? i think it used to be 16 or 18 but now 7 has a very fresh spicy vibe 
3) what’s your job? im a vfx artist! soon to be an unemployed vfx artist but until then i work as a junior artist in the compositing department
4) can you parallel park? when i was taking driving lessons my instructor said i was really good at it but sometimes if its a tight park between two cars ill half do it and then decide its not worth it and just leave grjdfcn
5) a job you had that would surprise people? ive only had like 3 jobs, i think the most surprising one is my current job actually
6) do you think aliens are real? dude duh
7) can you drive a manual car? i WISH
8) what’s your guilty pleasure? i think im pretty embarrassing on main already anyways, maybe though like reading fic counts as a guilty pleasure only bc i only read a very very niche type of fic and sometimes i will go back to years-old shows and pairings
9) tattoos? ive got the lyra constellation with some little flowers, and medusa on the back of my arm, and im biding my time to get some new additions (next on the cards is swords)
10) favorite color: how can i pick one bro it depends...i love turquoise and seafoam tones, but for clothes in particular im a sucker for that mustard/ochre yellow vibe, love me a good deep green too, i cannot choose
11) things people do that drive you crazy: seconded about grown ass people who just dont clean up after themselves but in particular people who use bathroom sinks and leave the whole fucking counter wet? what the fuck are you doing bro?? you bathing in that sink?? whys the whole place look like a fish just tried to escape your clutches?
12) any phobias? bugs. barring bees, if youve got more than four legs stay the Fuck away from me thank you!
13) favorite childhood sport? i used to play field hockey which was so fun, and i Loved baseball when we played it in high school sport but they didnt have any leagues or anything when i was a kid unfortunately. idk if gymnastics counts but i loved that too, only it wouldnt have mattered if i had been able to continue it bc of my back problems and all 
14) do you talk to yourself? always babe!
15) what movies do you adore? i dont really watch movies bc i cant focus for that long, but genre-wise the only one im not a fan of is horror. theres heaps of movies that if you mention them ill remember how much i love them, but i can only remember like. the mummy and potc right now fdjnbn
16) do you like doing puzzles? i do but im really not smart enough to figure them out, and i absolutely hate doing anything of the sort in front of other people
17) favorite kind of music? i shift a lot between indie-pop and rock, as well as folk, but lets be honest my fave kind of music is simply hozier
18) tea or coffee? coffee babey! the only tea i like is my ma’s chai, and ok lemon-ginger lipton when im sick
19) what was the first thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up? probably a writer, but lawyer is also up there as one of my longest-standing dream careers
id like to tag @gaylukecrains @pendraegon @lesbianbobbiedraper @valentimanes and @lizortech
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suckasstakenames · 5 years
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Craig and Those Guys Week: Day 1 - The Beach 🏖
“You definitely brought the towels didn’t you Craig?”
“Yes Tweek, for the third time, you saw me put them into the bag.”
Five teenage boys cross the parking lot and make their way towards the beach. It was the weekend and this particular beach was quite the tourist spot, but it was one of the only days of the week in which all of the boys were free. They’d assigned this trip as their monthly event; an event that wasn’t just meeting up at the cafe or hanging out at somebody’s house.
Leading the group was a tall, slender boy. The tallest of the group. This was Craig. His beach attire was pretty basic; he donned navy blue swimming trunks and black sandals. He wore a beige bucket hat over his jet black hair, and covered his blue eyes with blacked out sunglasses. He was carrying a big beach bag, filled with all the essentials. Craig was their ring leader, the centre of the group. Whenever anyone else would talk about their group it would be referred to as his gang.
Trailing closely behind him was a noticeably skinnier boy; Craig’s boyfriend, Tweek. He too wore a bucket hat, white this time, and covered his bony torso with a vest of the same colour. He had untamed wild blonde hair, shooting out from underneath the hat in all different directions. His hand was fiddling with the bottom of his khaki swimming trunks, clearly on edge. His eyes were bagged, but he wasn’t a bad looking guy overall. Tweek’s anxiety around large groups of people meant that he was practically clinging to Craig for dear life.
Not far behind was a more boisterous boy, rambling about his friends’ sense of fashion. Clyde was a little chubby in build, but wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. He wore an open red shirt with a palm tree design on it, and on the bottom half…a pair of black speedos. He even accessorised with some aviators and a shark tooth necklace. He was clearly the most enthusiastic of the group; flicking his chocolate coloured hair in the wind whenever he sensed a female within range.
Next to him was Token, who didn’t try as hard on the fashion side, but still managed to pull off a pair of violet trunks and gold-rimmed sunglasses. He was assigned the role of carrying the parasol. His body was probably the most toned out of the group, but he was cool about it, and wanted to come across as casual as possible to his peers. But that was slightly difficult when you’re the son of a millionaire…and it definitely showed.
The last boy was a brunette, using his crutches to keep up a steady pace with his friends. His ochre coloured trunks were accompanied with a brown baseball cap and a grey t-shirt. This was Jimmy, who had a form of cerebral palsy, yet was one of the funniest guys in their town. He was wearing trainers and had no intention of entering the water at all, simply content with chilling out with his best friends.
The boys eventually reach the beach, finding a spot nearer the back that wasn’t too close to everyone else for Tweek’s sake. Token forcefully stuck the parasol into the sand and opened it, Tweek immediately running underneath. With the palest skin out of them all, he’d coated himself in 3 layers of sunscreen before coming out for the day.
Craig sets down the beach bag, whipping out a pile of folded towels, leaving a couple spare in the bag. “Take your pick.”
Tweek is the first to grab one; a simple striped design.
Clyde was next, opting for the one with the slogan ‘Cool story bro’ on it.
Token passed one to Jimmy that had fruit decorating it, and then took a basic blue one for himself.
Craig was left with the towel with an adorable looking cartoon shark on it, one of which used to belong to his younger sister Tricia. He didn’t seem at all bothered and laid it out next to Tweek’s towel.
“Alright so who’s coming for a splash in a little while?” Clyde enthusiastically asks.
“FUCK no. I’m not gonna be present while you awkwardly try to pick up chicks by the water.” Craig protests.
“Oh Craig,” Clyde tuts, “You should be more supportive of me!”
“Yeah well, I’m not supportive of those speedos.”
Token chuckles, “Again with the speedos…you really aren’t a fan are you?”
“Dude, look at him. He looks like a middle aged dad who flirts with teenagers.”
Clyde pouts, “HEY…at least I’m not flexing a damn fisherman hat!”
“Nghh, not cool Clyde! Don’t drag me into this too!!” Tweek contributes, awkwardly tugging on his hat.
“Firstly, it’s called a bucket hat. Secondly, fuck you. It keeps us cool.” says Craig.
“Appearance vs p-p-practicality. A truly difficult decision f-for sure.” Jimmy jokes.
“Who cares about how good you look when you’re frying to death?!” says Tweek.
“Chill out Tweek, we’re not frying! We’re just sun-kissed.“ Clyde teases. Token pushes him playfully, shaking his head and smiling.
Jimmy looks out over the crowd of people, stopping when he sees someone he recognises. An auburn-haired boy of their age was sat reading a book next to his mother, who was watching his father and younger brother throw a ball back and forth to each other.
“H-hey, isn’t that K-K-Kyle Broflovski and his f-family over there?”
Token squints his eyes in the same direction, “…oh shit, it is! Shall we go say hi?”
“What?! I’m not going all the way over there!!” Tweek protests.
Craig lies back on his towel. “If Ike sees Clyde he’ll just annoy him with pirate songs again.”
“I don’t need reminding of that you guys!!” Clyde whines.
“Kyle looks pretty bored…” says Token.
“Damn…and S-S-Sheila is looking pretty…th-th-th-thick.” Jimmy stutters, watching as Sheila rubbed herself with sunscreen.
“Gross Jimmy, put your boner away.” says Craig.
“Relax b-buddy! Only her m-mother could love t-that face.” he jests.
Token gets up, “I’m gonna go say hi, Craig come with!”
“Ugh fine but we’re not staying long.” Craig groans.
“Bring us back ice cream will ya!” Clyde declares, pointing at the ice cream van nearby.
“Anything for you, princess.” Token jokes, before helping Craig up by the hand and wandering off towards Kyle.
~
They quickly return with 5 ice cream cones, one with toffee sauce since Tweek likes toffee.
Obviously, Clyde had something to say about this. “Uhhhh, where’s my toffee sauce??”
“Go and get some from the van if you want it, you lazy twat.” Craig says, handing the cone to Tweek. Tweek smiles warmly up at him before thanking him. Clyde takes his cone from Token, pulls a sour face and sticks his tongue out at Craig before heading towards the van.
After not even 2 minutes of receiving his ice cream, Tweek has a sudden large twitch and accidentally drops the cone onto his leg. Clyde bursts out with laughter, while Craig grabs a spare towel from the beach bag and helps him to clean up.
“I will literally pay you half of my w-w-wage if you lick some of that.” Jimmy jests.
“WHAT?! Are you nuts?!” Tweek yells.
“That’s a comment I’d expect from Clyde, not you Jimmy.” Craig retorts. “Fuck off.”
“What if it was Token’s wage?” Clyde suggests.
“Not even for Token’s wage.” says Craig.
“You guys, my wage isn’t that much different than yours!” Token objects. He’s not wrong; he only earns about 3 or 4 more dollars than the rest of them. However he serves wealthier customers and the tips tend to be double, even triple the average waiter gets.
~
Once Craig finishes cleaning up a very embarrassed Tweek, and returns to the van to buy him a replacement ice cream, the five of them lie on their respective towels and sunbathe quietly in each others company. So quiet in fact, that none of them realise until 20 minutes later that Clyde had fallen fast asleep. Only when he suddenly lets out a loud snore, waking himself up in the process, does he attract the other’s attention.
“Jesus Clyde, scared the shit out of me.” Craig snaps.
“The heat must’ve knocked me out…” says Clyde. “I need to cool down…time for a swim!”
Almost instantly, as if he hadn’t just woken up, Clyde immediately springs to his feet and flings his shirt off. “Who’s coming??”
“I will. The water looks fresh.” Token gets up a little slower, taking off his shades and placing them on his towel.
“Tweek?”
“Ngh, maybe later…” Tweek replies. And by ‘maybe later’, he meant ‘probably not at all’.
“No worries bud.” Clyde reassures. “Jimmy? Oh yeah Jimmy said he wasn’t swimming today…Craig?”
The two standing look over to Craig, who’s very clearly pretending he didn’t hear them. Clyde bends over him, casting a shadow over his face.
“Craig? Yoohooooo?”
“What?”
“Are you coming swimming with us?” Token asks.
“Nah.”
Token rolls his eyes, exchanging a disappointed look with Clyde, before leaning in and whispering something into his ear. Clyde grows a mischievous grin and looks over at Craig, who is completely oblivious.
Craig is a slim guy and relatively lightweight, so it wasn’t a problem for Clyde and Token to grab him by the legs and arms and lift him up abruptly.
“Wh-? What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Taking you for a dip.” Clyde replies nonchalantly.
“I hate you both so much, fucking put me down!”
Craig wriggles a little in protest, his hat falling off in the process, but it’s not long before he gives in and simply lets the other two carry him over to the water.
Tweek and Jimmy laugh as they watch them go.
“Ngh…am I an unsupportive boyfriend if I just sit back and let them pick on him like that?” Tweek jokes.
“It makes a ch-change from Craig p-p-picking on everyone else, I suppose.” Jimmy shrugs.
They watch on as Clyde and Token count down from 3, and on zero, Craig is slam dunked into the water. He resurfaces flicking his hair and immediately targets Clyde by jumping onto his shoulders and sending him underneath the water. The antics continue as Tweek smiles from afar, happy and tranquil. Seeing his boyfriend and his friends messing around and having fun made him feel so relaxed and carefree, and distracted him from any worries he may have.
He sighs with contentment. At least he didn’t have to worry about being alone. His friends were always there for each other and supported each other an equal amount. And days like this just proved that the five of them were closer than ever.
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serensama · 6 years
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5 things tag
I was tagged like 10000 years ago by @illneverrecover and @uwugguks and just completely forgot to do it. Now that I’m on my computer I should do it... and I say this because I had planned to write... hence why I must find things to do that have nothing to do with what I’m writing. It’s a process people. 
5 things (💜)
5 things in my bag
My wallet
My fresh lip balm
A menthol headache stick and roll on asian deep heat cos I hurt everywhere, all the time. 
Mints
My L’occitane hand cream which i’ve used approximately 1% of and my husband the other 99% 
5 things in my room
My vanity with skincare fridge and everyday jewellery 
About 1/10th of my shoe collection
Three concrete mini pots with succulents
My ensuite which is one of my favourite rooms in the house
Two fancy glass cotton round bathroom jars which I’ve repurposed into candy holders for lemon sherbets and crown mints (okay they’re not so fancy but they look hella good)
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5 of my favorite things
BTS (stealing this from Quinn and Kiki, but when u right u right)
Skincare (i can practically hear Suzune, Quinn and Kiki roll their eyes)
Fashion
My beautiful loved ones
Dogs! Specially my dogs- but all dogs are good :) 
5 things I’m into right now
Skincare. This will never get old. And hopefully neither will I with the proper concoction *laughs maniacally like an evil villain*
String Cheese. Because apparently I’m still 12. 
Mimco Earrings. I can’t stop. I have a problem. I have so many earrings yet I keep buying more. 
White sneakers. Seriously contemplating buying a Common Projects sneaker but like... I have two plain white sneakers I still haven't worn yet. I’m trying to be and adult but like... refer to string cheese comment. 
Plants. I’ve been really into buying more indoor plants for my house as they bring so much life into a space and just purifies the air that little bit more. BUT WHY ARE THEY SO EXPENSIVE?! I literally scream at the plants in the store and see their little leaves shake in fear at the crazy lady screaming at them. 
5 things in my to do list
Get back into writing pretty much full time. I think my shoulder is at a point where I can write a good chunk now and there’s nothing but laziness stopping me now. I think. 
I have to do another IPL session. It’s still summer in Australia and I should put some effort into my appearance. Apparently showering and combing my hair isn't enough for some people *sticks middle fingers up* hahah no no I just want to get rid of my body hair cos I’m personally not a fan. 
Cull my wardrobe. I really have a lot of clothes, I should give some away. Again. 
Dust my room. I like the windows open in there and seeing as I live in a relatively new estate... theres a lot of dust around. Suddenly my beautiful white furniture is a lovely ochre colour O_O
Decide what I’m going to do for my birthday TT__TT 
I’m tagging..... hmmm.... anyone who wants to do it. Seeing as I’m so late to the game I’m sure everyone has been tagged already and don’t want to be that much of a pain in the ass. But if you do it from my, tag me so I can be a lil snoop and see!!! 
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micaramel · 4 years
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Artist: Suzan Frecon
Venue: David Zwirner, New York
Exhibition Title: oil paintings
Date: September 10 – October 17, 2020
Click here to view slideshow
Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.
Images:
Images courtesy of the artist and David Zwirner, New York. 
Press Release:
David Zwirner is pleased to present new oil paintings by Suzan Frecon at the gallery’s 537 West 20th Street location in New York, marking the artist’s seventh solo exhibition at the gallery.
Frecon is known for abstract oil paintings and works on paper that—as she describes her lifelong practice—“speak for themselves.” Made over long stretches of time, her work embodies the durational activity of painting itself and invites the viewer’s sustained attention: these, she says, “are not pictures that you look at. They are paintings that you experience.” 1
In Frecon’s paintings, composition serves as a foundational structure, holding color, material, and light. Her compositions are characterized by asymmetrically balanced forms in precise spatial and proportional relationships. The artist mixes pigments and oils to differing effects, and her almost tactile use of color and contrasting matte and shiny surfaces heightens the visual experience of her work. Colors and surfaces vary in terms of density and reflectivity, and areas in the compositions frequently shift between dark and light. Figure can become ground and ground can become figure, or as the artist prefers to define it, full and empty space.
As Richard Shiff notes: “Within a fantasia of color, Frecon suspends the force of her structure. Offsetting the unseen mathematical foundation, her visible surface is organic and irregular, as if she were working against herself … Her paint, especially along ellipsoidal contours, develops an uneven appearance due to the distribution of the pigment and its oil binder as she works the material against the resist of the linen. Add to this the transient effects of ambient light from which Frecon’s surfaces are designed to benefit, and what began as a logical geometrical structure has become suspended in a web of living sensation.” 2
In the exhibition, stone cathedral comprises a precisely measured compositional structure that carries color juxtapositions of ochre, red earth, and lapis lazuli. The play of natural light on the matte and shiny paint materials amplifies a visual experience that does not carry any “story,” but which is instead a direct interaction with and manifestation of the reality of the painting itself. “Composition works with color, with surface, and with light to create an abstract visual reality that I wish to exist solely on its strength as art,” notes the artist. 3 “There is no need for the embellishment of ‘story.’” 4
In annunciata, a vibrant green of Nicosia green earth, mixed with a small quantity of cinnabar green, surrounds an ellipsoid shape of lapis lazuli composed across two panels. These chromatic choices recall the impression of a visit to Antonello da Messina’s Virgin Annunciate (c. 1476), in which the Madonna is cloaked in a luminous lapis-blue veil, and which is installed on a green velvet wall at the Palazzo Abatellis, Palermo, Sicily.
Other paintings are named for the pigments used by the artist; however, as John Yau writes in the catalogue published by David Zwirner Books to accompany the exhibition: “Though they suggest that her choices are guided by color, her titles refuse to imply how the paintings should be seen. Viewers must find their own way in.” 5 In vernal breath of plum, an asymmetrical fan-like form maintains a perfectly balanced equilibrium across two panels, while in mars indigo, a brilliant orange red surrounds a central, horizontally composed semi-ovoid indigo form. brushwood haematites alludes both to the colors used and to the ancient craft and art of Japanese bamboo fences.
As Yau notes, “The merging of form, color, light, material, and texture rewards extended looking: to soak in the muted and soft light of brushwood haematites is a very different experience from witnessing the intensity of orange and bluebird blue illumination. Each work stirs up different wordless feelings, even as we eventually come back to words to try and understand what happened.” 6
  Suzan Frecon was born in 1941 in Mexico, Pennsylvania. Following a degree in fine arts from Pennsylvania State University in 1963, she spent three years at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris and studied paintings in museums throughout Europe.
Frecon has exhibited widely in the United States and internationally. In 2008, her work was the subject of a major solo exhibition, form, color, illumination: Suzan Frecon painting, at The Menil Collection in Houston, Texas, which traveled to the Kunstmuseum Bern in Switzerland. She has participated in a number of group exhibitions such as the 2000 and 2010 Whitney Biennials. In 2016, Frecon received the Artist Award from the Artists’ Legacy Foundation in Oakland, California.
Public institutions that hold works by the artist include the Art Institute of Chicago; Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive, California; Harvard Art Museums, Cambridge, Massachusetts; Kunstmuseum Bern, Switzerland; The Menil Collection, Houston, Texas; The Morgan Library & Museum, New York; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; The Museum of Modern Art, New York; National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC; San Francisco Museum of Modern Art; and the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. She lives and works in New York.
The artist has been represented by David Zwirner since 2008. Previous solo shows with the gallery include recent painting (New York, 2010); paper (New York, 2013); oil paintings and sun (New York, 2015); watercolors and small oil paintings (London, 2017); and recent oil paintings (New York, 2017). In 2018, the gallery presented a selection of Frecon’s paintings at its Hong Kong location, which marked her first solo exhibition in Asia.
  1 Suzan Frecon, “text and related work,” in Suzan Frecon: oil paintings and sun. Exh. cat. (New York: David Zwirner Books, 2015), p. 63.
2 Richard Shiff, “Suspension,” in Suzan Frecon: painting. Exh. cat. (New York: David Zwirner Books, 2017), p. 67.
3 Suzan Frecon, “text and related work,” p. 65.
4 Suzan Frecon, in correspondence with the gallery.
5 John Yau, “The Places Suzan Frecon’s Art Takes Me,” in Suzan Frecon. Exh. cat. (New York: David Zwirner Books, 2020), p. 54.
6 Ibid, p. 61.
Link: Suzan Frecon at David Zwirner
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