#im still a practicing artist forgive me

[honeyfractals]

new oc concept...hello

[lucabyte]

How do you get your siffrins to look adult? I keep accidentally giving them a baby face but I WANT THEM TO LOOK GROWN AND EXHAUSTED LIKE HE DESERVES

okay so i legit think i fail at making siffrin look adequately adult like half the time but here's a general breakdown of my like. thought process when im actually um. thinking .

So first of all heres my general tips for proportioning a face, and how i attempt to keep the roundness of sif's in-game proportions while also like... drawing them more realistically? i had to practically reinvent a Human Style for drawing isat fanart since im a furry artist so a lot of this is fresh in my mind, luckily(?) for you i suppose.

This newness also means you can like, watch me fight and struggle against how the hell to do this in my earlier fanart. so feel free to try and see what changed as i pieced it together.

Another note is body proportion. You note giving him a baby face specifically, but some of it MIGHT be that you're drawing the head too big for your style? Try and figure out how many "heads tall" your figures are and tweak the numbers until you find what looks "adult"

Here I cracked open one of the comics I used CSP Model refrences for (albeit feat Loop, who i envision to be the exact same height as siffrin. i am NOT a tall loop truther i think its funnier when that bitch is five foot NOTHING!!!!!)

drawing sif with adult proportions can be deceptively difficult though on account of their Being A Tiny Motherfucker. Mostly here though, I find that the best way to do this is to drop like 1/3rd of the length of an average drawing figure's legs. Short people tend to have short legs. I know this on account of a lot of my ocs being 5'3" and below (... for... reasons...... unrelated to my own... height.... 100%.... ) so once again I think a lot of this can come down to trying to fiddle with numbers and noting down what works.

OKAY NOW ONTO SOME MORE SIFFRIN-SPECIFIC DRAWING TIPS. like these are what i find myself doing to make them look older if i accidentally baby face them myself

The above kind of chibi-er doodle style im still not sure has Siffrin looking adult enough for my liking (someone who considers them minimum 28) but considering they're presumably genuinely a deceptively baby faced guy at least by game's start (even if they should probably look. unhealthy.) it's like... forgivable.

the bald spot is basically fucking cheating in terms of "making them look older" lbr but i am so fucking insistent on it and i punch the air in celebration every time i see anyone else do it. winner is ME!!!!

Anyway. the body hair thing is funny considering we basically have Word Of God that siffrin is not the kind of person who ever likes being naked/even having their feet out in a casual setting. but like. hi its me the weird fucked up miserable nudity guy. of course im drawing every pockmark and texture on their body.

Another note here is, on their naked form, I avoid overly smooth lines for outlines of the limbs and torso. This avoids making them look "sexy twink thin" (not my bag at all) and instead gives the impression of loose skin from fluctuating weight, uneven fat distribution, skin becoming baggier with age. I also let joints jut out and look sharp wherever I can. This is because im an asexual pervert who likes the human form the mostest when i can see 'imperfections' This adds to the haggard nature of it all, by being reasonably honest about what the kind of persistent decade-long neglect of self care and implied malnutrition would do to a guy

Last note: eyes. i find i end up drawing a vague glassy black smear with a hint of white for the sclera for siffrin like. a Lot. Eyebags to show weariness is not my preferred method as I find it, to be rude, a bit of an overused shorthand. Plus, while sif in game does get eyebags, they're usually more on pushed expressions where they're forcing their face. So I put more emphasis on drawing the folds of the upper lid (which the game does not do) to make them look weary.

I dont think i can elaborate on my opinions on How To Draw Eyes without it becoming a way the fuck too long essay because "drawing emotions good" is like. my number 1 goal in every drawing so even if everything else is scuffed to hell I HAVE TOOO get the eyes right because theyre the most emotive part of the face. if i cant capture an emotion correctly the drawing isnt getting fucking finished is the thing, so....

Luckily for me, drawing over eyes and continously tweaking them by painting over and over and over and redoing them can have the side effect of making them look over-detailed and thus worn/tired/agonised. yes this is why i draw loop's face so scrunched all the time. All I can say for this though is to do a lot of studies of both real life faces & the most emotive cartoon faces you personally have experienced. So like. steven universe is great for this because rebecca sugar is so scary at drawing eyes. theyre so fucking scary at it. or sometimes i just go stare at rebecca's old comics because jesus christ. anyway.

??? but yeah hope this helps. its something i feel like i have a genuine hard time with too, especially since im so intent on keeping their face round & my artstyle is genuinely very cutesy even when i am being weird soo ...?

tl;dr:

draw the eyes smaller, give them a chin, the canon nose helps a lot & dont forget the bald spot. everyone draw the bald spot. for me.

[seiishindraws]

Hii, I saw your latest post and your art style is so pretty?? What?? I have a question though. How do you do the paint one? Or rendering in general. Like genuinely, I have a problem with rendering and I can't seem to quite understand it on my own. Do you just start with flat colors? Do you do lineart or colors right after the sketch? Is the "lineart" just added later? Painted over? Erased to give thinner and thicker lines?? I'm really curious!!

hi! im not the best painter tbh! though i do have a background in painting but ill try my best to explain

diff artists have different approaches to how they paint but generally yes, you would start out with big shapes first and then go into the details - work big picture first. like, if you squint and the drawing makes sense in terms of value and colour and shape, youre on the right path.

i can kinda show this with a warmup in-class speedpaint exercise we did a couple weeks ago where we were tasked with painting an eye in about 30 minutes (i was late and only had 20 lol)

luckily ive got the layers for this. i start of with a base layer, kind of like a underpaint layer since that's how i personally learned to paint traditionally. i did have a sketch before laying down this base layer under it but i ended up using it for final rendering details lol

after that i started laying down the big blocks of colour. i wasn't necessarily aiming for complete colour accuracy here, i just wanted to match the value. i chose a pink underlayer to influence my colour choices because the underlayer will peak through the blocks of colour i paint over it

and then (forgive me if this seems like "draw the rest of the owl" in terms of progression) but this is where i started going in with finer detail. i did the rest of the render on the sketch layer i had so you can see some of the lines from the sketch here

here's the layers completely seperate from each other

even for the flat colour version of my character, i had an underpaint layer! i used yellow and orange since i wanted her colours to be warm and used a semi-opaque brush to put her colours in rather than using a completely opaque brush

when i wanted to do the painted version, i put the lineart on multiply and reduced the opacity and brushed in some some quick shadows on seperate layer on hard light mode to give me a good base to start painting with

and then i did all the rendering and details on a new layer ontop of everything. i keep the lineart light so i can paint over it easily and also colour pick from it when i want a more distinct line to seperate certain shapes. i unfortunately dont know how to explain this part because a lot of this is intuitive to me and i'm still learning. but you gotta make use of different types of "edges" in painting, and you would generally have more contrast in the focal point of your painting than in other places to draw the eye to that point. i suggest researching the use of edges in painting if you really wanna learn more - because im a terrible teacher haha

for fun here's what the rendering layer for this one looks like on its own and the finished thing for comparison

there's other things you need to learn too, like bounce light, atmospheric perspective, ambient occlusion... and colour theory is always important! i could go on for a long time. there's a lot of pieces to the puzzle and it may seem overwhelming but there's tons of resources online and it will all become second nature to you as you keep practicing

uhh hope that helps!

[haithhegimp]

was feelin a little lazy today so here are some stephtimber doodles (and One Chunky Tim) based on those little character interaction bases! i added the sources for the original artists i found and will add pics of the bases with artists i couldn't find so yall can help me find them ^^ crediting artists is cool, yo!

im still learning/practicing side profiles so bernard looks really bad in this last one please forgive me omg

here are the bases for which i couldnt find the original artists, please help me find them!!!!!

I FOUND ONE OF THEM!!! the 3 of them in blankets in front of the laptop is by @academy_ego on twitter!!!

[ravenloop]

hi darling! i do see that you want requests in your inbox so im here to fullfil that want of yours :)

oh, btw i really do expect that you're well and, if you don't, please take care of yourself okay??

anyways, the request is for the arcana characters, more specifically for julian, asra and muriel (idk how much characters you accept for request but if you need to you can take one of these off) with a reader that does like art and try to make everything in their lifes a little bit more fun, colorful and artsy.

you can write in any format you're more comfortable in writing, but i think that maybe headcannons is easier. oh, and if you could do the reader gender neutral would be good!

oh and if you couldn't understand something, im sorry, english is not my first language. and if you want to, feel free to ignore this request.

AN: Thank you for the kind words!! I am doing well, busy but well :)) also you speak English amazingly!! Anyways here's your request <33 I haven't done Muriel's route yet so forgive me if anything is wrong :')

Headcannons: Julian, Asra and Muriel with an artistic S/O

—————————————————

Julian:

Honestly? He loves it!

It may not seem like it with the pirate outfit and rogue-ish lifestyle, but Julian is quite the colour lover himself. He just loves the energy and atmosphere vibrant colours bring.

So when you and him meet, and he finds out you're an even bigger lover of colours and an artist at that—the man was practically bursting with excitement.

Definitely gets you some art supplies. But since Julian has little to zero knowledge on being an artist, his art supplies aren't always the most helpful. Though you still appreciate him for trying to help with your hobby, even if his "paint" looks like it belongs in a potion brewing shop.

Practically demands to see some of your older art works and becomes sad if you say no. It's fine though if you don't let him, he'll find them eventually (his words, not yours).

Whenever you're painting or doing anything artsy, he's almost always by your side asking questions and just chatting with you. And as always you enjoy it when he's with you, it makes you feel warm inside knowing he's as passionate about watching you paint as you are about painting.

"Julian, I need you to-"

"I know, I know—you want me to stop staring at you. But I can't help it! You're just so beautiful when you're focused on something you're so passionate about!"

"...That's really sweet, but that's not what I was gonna ask. You're sitting on my paint pallette, could you maybe get off it?"

"WHAT—"

Asra:

You're an artist?? He's ENAMOURED already.

Asra adores everything you paint. He himself is a bit of an artist, but he doesn't paint as often as you since he's always busy with the Major Arcana amongst other things.

When he travels for long periods of time and comes back, he always brings you things like art supplies, trinkets or flowers, saying, "They reminded me of you." And he loves watching your eyes sparkle as you think of the different ways you can use the items.

After a long day, Asra just likes curling up besides you while you create your masterpieces. He'll bring you a warm drink and food too, before settling down on a blanket besides you.

If you ask, he'll give you some pointers or tell you what you could add to your work as you paint. He has an eye for detail.

"I think a few flowers would look really nice over here." He points to a certain part of the canvas.

"You always think flowers look nice in every painting," You playfully respond, and see him look away shyly. "What can I say? They really do!"

Asra could stare at your work for hours without feeling the need to look away. He just loves the mixture of colours and patterns you use. They remind him of the different realms and he finds that beautiful.

Sometimes you even use things from around his home for inspiration. It could be anything—his clothes, the intricate patterns on his curtains, sometimes even his tarot cards, and he won't say it aloud but it gives him a bit of a confidence boost. It's almost as if a piece of him is within your art work.

Muriel:

Muriel is a very... Dark and gloomy man in general.

The forest is his home, but not the pretty and flower-filled part, he makes his home in the shadowy, dark and somewhat dangerous parts of the forest.

So when you come into his life and bring all of this colour and vibrance, it throws him off. He doesn't know what to make of it. He feels to seen with all of it.

"What are you doing?" He approaches you as you hang a vine of flowers over the fireplace.

You look back and smile, "I thought it could use a little bit of... Decor..." You notice the way he frowns, even harder than usual as he stares at the decoration. "I'll take it ou-" "No. Leave it."

You're shocked, "Muriel, if you don't like it I can-" "I like it. It's pretty... Like you" He mutters the last part, so softly you almost don't hear him. Then he leaves. Quickly.

You smile to yourself.

After that you notice he spends more time with you as you decorate or make things, you even started asking him for his opinion on some things. He always responds with "Hm..." But you'll take what you can get.

Sometimes you take Inanna with you to hunt for things in the wild that you could use. Muriel was weary at first of letting you go with her, but Inanna seemed happy to go, so Muriel allowed it. After a while you even convinced him to come along on your art scouting journeys too. He comes in handy when you get carried away and find a little too many items that you need to take with you.

Oh and if anyone ever criticizes your art, no they didn't. In fact, almost as soon as they criticize it, they're on their knees worshipping you and the art itself. Why? Let's just say a big, terrifying man glaring down at you with eyes that say "I will rip your limbs apart and relish in every second of it" is not very fun.

—————————————————

[couch-house]

2023 baybeeeee. havent done an art summary in a while since i basically stopped drawing early 2020 and didn't get back on the horse until mid-2022 (i wonder... what could have caused that!) i dont feel like my art has really changed this year, only in the ways that I draw specific sonic characters (looking through my archive is fun bc i can see the progression of the diseases known as Giving Them Big Eyebrows and Drawing The Monoeye) and--more exciting 4 me--my practice with paneling comics! :)

i think the progression is much more noticeably when you line it up with last year's sonic art... i can see all the Milestones.. more talking abt that under the cut

May: couch gets into sonic. June: Yucky Sonic 1.0. this was also the month when i Heard Of fleetway super. July: couch comes back from brazil, having read stc. this is also when i start dong actual short comics. compare may -> june -> july. (also please forgive whatever tf i was doing with skintones. i needed some practice)

august: merger au takes shape. dog invented. also i just really like that speed racer sonic mspaint picture. its fun :) september: deep in the fleet mines. october: i lose a lot of steam and mostly just doodle. another comic comparison for those three months:

november: frontiers comes out. i go crazy mode and make that sonic + knuckles comic with the pretty backgrounds and LOTS OF TINY TEXT. december: winter break AND im tired. january 2023 i come back insane crazy mode and write some fanfiction?? still havent finished that LOL. made some nice cover art :) february: i shift into knuckles mode fora month. make another comic. this one is much better i think :) november -> february

march: i shift into transfem metal sonic mode. also just stick to a lot of doodling. also write more fanfiction. crazy. april: transitory period as i shift back into stc/exit: sonic mode. may: more fanfiction. more comics. i really like how both of these turned out :) while the last two were definitely taking a lot more notes from stc, i think around here i start paying attention to and trying to learn from more creative panelling from artists i admire. like @/superemeralds THOAM and @/starrjoy's pandora au.

june: i play sa2 and it's good. july: i play unleashed and it is both miserable and good. i get in kind of an artistic frustration zone and wiggle my way out. august: idk i think im just chillin. super react dot jpeg happens. it's not even named that, it's named after the other image on the canvas, which was maria holding baby shadow. more comics.

september: i burn out for a bit. get real tired. eventually get back up and make more comics. the goal here and last month has become "try to make more interesting panel shapes. I've noticed other artists don't just use rectangles--try playing with irregular polygons and see where it gets you." well it gets you mixed results as you learn :) also i think after that pause i accept the monoeye into my life. sigh...

october: oc showdown starts and @/neurotypical-sonic asks me to make some halloweeny art :) feels like i dont do much this month bc i focus on those. november: A LOT OF ART?? INSANE. more oc showdown stuff. i play shadow the hedgehog (2005). it's good and i love it. i draw a ton of shit on one canvas for it. Fucking Dember: i have shifted back into stc/EXIT mode. motivation's a little weird bc work's a little weird. doing commissions also makes it weird. well im having fun and being myself :) a final handful of comics from this month:

idk maybe ill do something sicko crazy b4 the end of the year. mayb i'll follow exit sonic's example and #GetWorse. who knows :) well this is fun i love looking at my art and seeing and noticing things. thank u all for your support and I hope we all have a great 2024!

[toxooz]

The canvases aren’t even safe 😭 they used the Boroque era as reference for their search engines. Like I’m losing my shit constantly over ai art so bad. Like this is totally gonna be a rant so forgive me but it’s driving up the WALLS. Ai art being readily available is killing the incentive for people to be creative. I cannot tell you how many times I think I’ve found a really cool fellow artist on tiktok and then see #midjourney. I take psychic damage every time that happens to me. And I’m starting to see it infiltrating business too where they generate ai images instead of hire photographers. I also saw someone selling tshirts with ai art on it at my local farmers market. MOTHERFUCKER THE FARMERS MARKET??? HAVE YOU NO SHAME????

NAW PREACH IT cause its become a nagging issue for me for a while that i simply try to not think about and dwell on but dear FUCKING god is it everywhere and it's painfully obvious too! just about every ad takes me 3 seconds to find damning evidence that its ai and im 99% ready to just delete facebook bc #1 i dont give a fuck abt anyone on there anymore and #2 Literally every other post is the most deplorable ai shit ive ever seen that everyone is carelessly oblivious to i mean total abominations that don't make any sense as an image but ppl share bc its the most bottom of the barrel ''relatable'' shit and that's just the sad reality of it is most people don't even give a shit what they're looking at as long as it looks pretty to their eyes for 3 seconds they don't give a damn

and that's just on basic everyday world shit like u said there's so many mfs i think are decent artists where i legitimately cant tell its ai until i read their fuckshit bio or somethin, like that midjourney i didnt even know it was an ai program i would've just thought it was the name of a video game or some shit! like I feel like I'm kinda turning my back on the whole art community involuntarily bc i just dont trust any image i see most of the time and its fukkin sad i ESPECIALLY feel for the real artists prior to this shitshow who have art styles that now look so much like ai that they basically hijacked to feed the machine like I couldn't imagine spending thousands of dollars on an art college and hours of practice just for your art style to be The Blueprint for empty soulless photos cranked out at inhuman rates by any stupid fucking lazy ass clown like Fuck Man it all sucks so much and the worst part is I just feel like it's one of those things where it will not stop until Something caves and i honestly dont know which one it will be but i just know its only going to get worse idk i try to remember that i can pick up a paintbrush or even whatever the hell i want and make something beautiful while 98% of these ai sacks of shit are just limited to stealing other peoples art on the internet and they couldn't even paint a damn flower if their lives depended on it and if i was stuck on a deserted island I'd probably still find ways to make art with whatever tools and resources i have cause that's an artist baybay but as far as The Internet and its grasp it has on the world and trying to make it as a digital artist and trying to make money from your homemade artwork is very grim man and dont even get me started on art and artists in just about every job field rn my heart goes out to them

[sangre]

OOP IM SAUR SORRY tags did not load for me with my prev ask - 47, 51, 59 for satine, the loveliest rose satine 🥺🌹🎭

sixty-nine more questions for your ttrpg characters! / ask.

weuben!!!!!! (picks you up and spins you) TY TY!!!

47. what could they talk about for hours on end?

presentation! the presentation of something, especially wrt creative projects. the way an artist painted something, the way a musician composed something, the way a stage director asked for things to be done, like... because of his theater background both in the last life and in this one, he is really obsessed with the deliberate composition of things. not necessarily the way something looks per se, but just like. the way someone decided to put something together and show someone else, it's like casting your soul into light.

so like, especially with artists, satine can listen to (and talk about) why he chose to do something for a long time. reasoning, justification, meaning, you know? but this applies to things that aren't art-related too... like, talking about gender! he could probably talk about the fun about gender and what it means to him and how he presents, too. theater!!!! the self! presentation. what we present to the world and what it means to show something that we want to be seen (or better yet, recognized).

51. what element of their backstory are you proudest of?

AHH maybe the doppelganger element... it's been a couple years now that i've wanted to play the second version of someone, whether someone who died or someone who was artificially made (to be in the shape of someone). in 2015 i wrote smth with a friend that was like "guy comes back from the dead and feels like something other than himself, wants so badly to be seen as himself still, knows and is continuously traumatized by the fact that he both is and isn't"

and that's a narrative i've been exploring in characters for a while now, from a ton of different angles. but i don't think i've had a character who actively is the second-following incarnation of someone yet, so i'm excited to have finally followed through on the desire to play someone like that! especially since satine doesn't really have a complex of "please see me as the self i was" and is rather earnestly like, "i am in some ways that person, truly, but please see me as someone with my own life to live" and stuff.

it's a lot of like, navigating the urge to let go of people pleasing in/of making sure she doesn't drive herself crazy trying to perfectly be what everybody wants from her - letting go of trying to be a self that people knew, too, so it's an arc i really love and find personal for many reasons and i'm proud of its execution so far!!! so happy to be playing it in out a longform campaign.

59. what’s an element of their philosophy that you disagree with?

ohhh! well let's see. satine is .. really forgiving. and i don't think i would agree with some of the things she can forgive with enough context. this is super thought-provoking because satine has a gentler perspective of the world than i do, he's more like... lenient about rolling with the punches. i'm more indignant

i guess the obvious answer is "satine can forgive pretty lightly depending on the person, he could even forgive murder if it was explained well enough emotionally" and you look at me and the characters i like and we both laugh but you know, in real life, in practice. G:LSJDKGLSDKSDG:L maybe it's just that satine doesn't hold grudges when people hurt him but i do.

satine also probably doesn't see the point of revenge for any reason and holds no pettiness. there is like negative twelve pettiness in satine's body, he doesn't see the sense in revenge at all. i, revenge arc enjoyer, do. i definitely think it's fun to have a really forgiving character who is learning what is more forgivable, and forming stronger opinions about what to forgive and what not to the longer he lives in the real world. mind you, satine has only been conscious in this life for 3ish years. ;LGJKSHLDGL;F Oh she's got planny of time.

[wimples-sr]

i dont remember if i made this post already but i guess it is interesting to think abt if i think arcades quest portrays arcades decisions too sympathetically. i think thats a fair critique given the seriousness of how explicitly fascist the enclave are but i guess i just never got the sense that the quest was shying away from rhat? all the dialogue from the enclave members and from arcade himself felt drawn from the base understanding that it was fucking insane that arcade wants to do this and that you should feel some type of way about him wanting to go marching out to the battlefield in his fascist fathers armor. his dialogue explicitly tying that ending to the games larger thesis of "people who try to recreate the past are doomed to failure and to ushering in the worst of humanity" + all of the remnants being very detailed in how tied in to their fascism they still are (everyone making realistic, flimsy excuses for their actions but repugnantly unflinching from what theyve done, contrasted with arcades naive apologism for them because thats his Auntie) convinced me that the writing wasnt trying to convince me that i should believe or forgive these people. the argument is that theres no reason to ever portray fascists in a sympathetic, humanizing light, but i think this isnt so much sympathetic as it is detailed and full bodied in the service of detailed critique and observation of how fascism could look in real people - a sort of practicing how to act and think with principle when not dealing with a caricature. though i doubt most artists would like their art being called practice for anything. i dont super love the tone of the independent ending where he goes out in his dads armor, i do think thats a step too far in sympathizing with arcade, but i did find the discussion of the enclave as a cultural heritage and how that relates to arcades sense of culturally based maturity fascinating. again i dont think the writing is EXTOLLING the circumstances of arcade receiving this insane enclave culture of militarism and weird adulthood granted via martial violence bc he was five when the enclave blew up and was isolated via everyone in the mojave wants the enclave dead so thats unfortunately just the culture he grew up in. like thats a crazy situation to imagine but yeah thats interesting. so whats this ultimately idealistic guy whos choice of lifes purpose was to join the fucking followers of the apocalypse telling himself to solve the cognitive dissonance of wanting to be the kinda guy who says fuck fascists go independence from the state, any state, while also knowing his adopted family who seem to have raised him compassionately and lovingly are really evil people who did really evil things. and thats where all of arcades dialogue makes sense to me bc it certainly doesnt align with any of his character i saw outside the quest. the arcade who was complaining abt caesar and fullstop leaves whenever u help the legion is NOT making excuses for legionnaires who "tried their best to subvert their orders when they could..." like he is for cannibal johnson. like yeahh the writing could have gone harder on castigating arcade for his choices but the writing style feels like it really did want that to speak for itself as much as possible, save with the arcade endings. WE as readers should probably be louder about how fucking insane it is that arcade is so willing to resuscitate the dregs of a fascist organization for his goals, as noble as he thinks those goals may be, but i think im mostly satisfied with how the writing itself handled things. i can see how the culture aspects come off weird if youre not taking it as the sociological understanding of culture being any set of social norms within a group of any size (e.g. Everything has culture, your fucking college dorm has A Culture, one specific street of a neighborhood can have A Culture)

I REACHED THW PARAGRAPH LIMIT????? anyway with that definition of culture in mind no we dont have to take the culture of your local panera as seriously as, for instance, the chicano culture movement in the 60s but thats mostly because racism is a thing. and also why terms like multiculturalism and the like are fading out of academic use and critiqued broadly because everyone has a fucking culture thats just our burden as a social species its just that some cultures are valued more than others because of racism. and other isms. and its more useful to point to specific isms than it is to celebrate a nebulous concept like multiculturalism thats more confortable to handle than the idea of specific racial ethnic pride for bipoc. so like. arcades weird embrace ur heritage thing is i think only sympathetic insofar as the fictional circumstances theyve shoved him in mean he just got dealt a bad hand in terms of cultural heritage and the quest is abt what the fuck hes gonna decide to do abt it. is he gonna be a shithead and wear the powerarmor or is he gonna do the brave scary normal thing and renounce ties to family and inheritance and do something new. the writing to me suggests they know arcades being a shithead when he chooses the former but they wanted to write it out to just examine him scuttling around

[razette]

The thing im struggling with most right now is picking up digital art and the programs used to make it. Im a pencils and charcoal sort of artist (and a reasonably mediocre one, with just enough skill to make me happy.) Ican, in theory, get the same effects in an art program but its not instant.

maybe its because its more like painting, and I never had much of a chance to learn paints. Youve got to layer paints. or let the canvas dry between water color washes. it requires patience and knowledge of the medium/program.

a pencil in practiced hands is as powerful as any paint or program-- and even in the hands of those with unrefined skills it is still immensely forgiving.

I drew 2 flowers in my art program yesterday and got so upset. they looked like they were drawn by a child with their first box of crayons. theres objectively nothing wrong with that-- theres something truly wonderful about silly childrens art made as theyre learning about the world they live in! theyre so free and happy! --but I was (am) so wholly unprepared to be set back THAT far that i imediately shut off my computer and went to bed.

How do I over come that? Anyone have any tips?

I think i might start by keeping a sketchbook close at hand. if i get too overwhelmed i can, idk, shade some circles or something to remind myself Im not a failure im just a beginner.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Upcoming Asks List

The next asks on the queue list are (in no particular order):

Anonymous asked: Hc for Halsin, Astarion, Will, Gortash, (& maybe Damon and Raphael) caring for a loved one with chronic illness or like an illness that keeps them bedbound for an extended time?

Anonymous asked: Yooo askbox open :] Could I get a Castlevania matchup, one female and one male character? I am fine with poly, and also the more background characters :] I’m a bisexual guy. Once I’m past my initial `terrified of everything’ and ‘extremely withdrawn’ phase of anxiety, I’m very energetic (though not very loud) and flirty. l love all fields of science, especially mathematics and physics. Very nerdy/ geeky, and I also paint and practice l have a very impulsive and ADHD -type of humor, though it always takes me a moment to recognize any word-play. I’m very much a thrill-seeker, and things that tend to make other’s squeamish don’t bother me in the slightest. I suppose for the sake of the series, gore and acts of sadism don’t really phase me, at least, to the extent that I am a spectator. /// 

Anonymous asked: hi!! i was wondering if you could do a matchup for bg3 :-D my name is edward and im about 5’0 with a black curly hair that is short and i dont mind the persons gender! im also a trans man. my mbti is entp and im a scorpio. i like to anything to do with art, i love to do it all together. Im also a really big fan of music specifically mcr, tv girl, alex g, toby fox and dodie but i am open to listening to other artists if given a recommendation. Uhhhh i love to eat meat and im not really a big fan of eating veggies i hate eating them but idm potatoes or tomatoes, but i think tomatoes r fruits so nvm. I also looveee learning about history especially ancient times like greek history, i think its really interesting to learn about the past and how things were. i will waste my money on things i love, especially if it’s a show or novel or movie i will soend so much money on it. I’m also rather fond of animals and nature. And my love language has got to be physical affection and quality time. I also love trying new things even if I might have a fear of it, it’ll just take a me a bit to do it. I like to break the rules especially if it’s going against a group of people and or someone. I can be pretty reserved on the occasion but if im with someone im close too or if i feel comfortable enough i can be pretty hyper. A lot of the time though I listen to what people say and often a listener for people. Depending on the person im with and our dynamic i can be quite sarcastic. I can be very compassionate about people and even if someone did something horrible to me I can be rather forgiving unless it was toward someone i love. I am also rather forgetful and often will forget things with people I’ve spent time with even if it’s recent I can forget a majority of it. I have a short temper. Often I will be regretful of things I’ve done in the past even if it was a while ago. I have a rather low self esteem, if I feel like someone is going to abandon me no matter how close I’ll probably be silent about it and wait for a sign that the person still likes me and on rare occasions I will ask for reassurance. AND UH i think that pretty much it thank you for reading this if you are!!

Anonymous asked: Could we maybe get like snippets or blurb about Hector having a wife w/ him when he goes to join dracula’s generals? And maybe she’s really kind to dracula and then it turns out she’s pregnant and reminds him of his late wife? Does it change his plans or maybe he decides to protect her/hector more so than the other humans?

[vawsculturecorner]

My Musical 2023: Musings by a girl who can't stop getting high and tweeting

PART 2: Seriously are you fucking stupid this year was great for music.

Relentless Replays:

These albums could have made the all-star list because I played them enough for it. Consider these projects as taking the silver medal on the podium; albums absolutely worth listening to and if I could chuck everything into the all-star list, I would. Alas, artificial limitations.

Antarctica - Bayang (tha Bushranger) Not content to leave 2023 without spoiling his fans, Bayang makes his catchiest, most optimistic project yet. "GANGA" is my favourite song he's released period and it sits aside a bevy of songs where you can hear how much fun went into it. Give it a bit of time to process (it was a December release after all) and this could easily be my favourite Bayang project and definitely the one that will get the most playtime because of how accessible it is.

I Was Mature For My Age But I Was Still A Child - Grouptherapy Do you also miss BH because they were formative to your growth as a person and all the allegations coming out against them have you down? If so boy howdy do I have the album for you! IWMFMA reels you in by reminding you of the Saturation era (in particular the first instalment) but doubles down on the fundamentals, swapping DIY coarseness for polished technical prowess. Bombastic, chock full of personality and incredibly versatile, there is a track for every person and every occasion here.

Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!? - McKinley Dixon Mckinley Dixon made For My Mama and Everyone Who Looks Like Her, so I should not have been caught as off-guard as I was when this project was released. And yet, the first time I heard this album I was already convinced it was practically flawless. In its brevity, BPJ doesn’t skip a single beat nor miss a lick of detailing and polish, as each song feels vibrant and full of the essence of living.

April Mixtape 3 - Snow Strippers I have never been an EDM girly, but this album makes me want to go to raves, drop a tab and just space out for hours. Endlessly replayable with beautiful vocals soaked in distinct internet electronics, this album will make even the most intense introverts want to take caps and stare at glow sticks for a night. The Aux - Blockhead A cavalcade of creatively assembled instrumentals featuring a highlight reel of the underground hip-hop elite. Blockhead casually reminds you why he is one of the best producers working right now. 

Shapeless - Daine I read a lot of think pieces about the death knell of hyperpop in 2023 but with releases like Shapeless, I think people are opting to be wilfully deaf. Daine puts their whole chest into every hook on this album with beats that flutter with technological clangs and heaves. Exhilarating hyperpop euphoria Quaranta - Danny Brown Danny Brown returns with an album that has supposedly been finished for a few years - telling, considering that the emotional poignance of the album feels very specific to a point in time. Fantastic and highly consistent, it is a much more mellow album for Danny but no less quality than what we have come to expect. Guts - Olivia Rodrigo You motherfuckers tried to write this girl off as making teeny-bop music and I won't forgive you for it. Olivia Rodrigo is one of the most promising pure-pop artists of this generation. She says it on the opener - she knows her age, acts like it, and makes music that perfectly encapsulates it to boot. Sundial - Noname Lmao im sorry fuck Fantano, Noname is one the most important artists of the current day and Sundial is a testament to both her intellect and spirit, with words that prick the conscious like spears. I genuinely do not have the words to describe the beauty of a track like gospel?, nor her second verse on "balloons" which tactfully breaks down the voyeurism of black art. You almost have a responsibility to sit with this album properly.

Bite-sized Brilliance

2023 was the year of the EP and I'm so glad because they are great introductory pieces to artists or just compact packages of enjoyment.

Violet, Zion Garcia, Darling - LITERALLY EVERY FULL CIRCLE RELEASE For my coldest take so far, 2023 was the year of Full Circle. With growing attention on Western Sydney, this clique absolutely spearheaded it. Every single release from every single artist was fantastic and at least one song off each made my year favs. (there is another project that Im gonna mention in my all-star list hehe). If you want grungey RNB with vocals that smother in sensuality, listen to Dylan Atlantis. If you want creative Jazzy hip-hop from one of the brightest upcoming rappers in Aus, Zion Garcia. If you want a digital genre collage dedicated to the sounds of the city, FRIDAY* is your man. Anticipating everything this group does for the foreseeable future. GUILD I - SEVY x GRASPS x BAYANG x UNCLE KAL They really got Kal rapping again - with tracks that are this undeniably infectious, I can see how! Feel-good fun for late-night activities Another Triumph of Ghetto Engineering - Open Mike Eagle and Lilac Diesel - R.A.P FERREIRA A couple of short but sweet releases by two underground hip-hop legends that should keep fans satiated until their next major releases. Reflections on the Water, ONE7OVE, Michelangelo - Gian Santorno One of the most promising discoveries I made this year, Gian raps on the perfect instrumentals to suit their vinyl-crackle rapping and the unashamed self-dissection of themself is enthralling.

The Singles!

There were a lot of good single tracks this year! Here they are below! Yes, it's a tidal playlist - if you actually want to download it I might port it to Spotify but we really gotta stop using Spotify gang it's a 2024 out.

VAWS 2023 TOP PICKS The bolded ones are my all-stars for 2023 Again - Snow Stripers Babylon by Bus - hot take, its the best song on the standard version of Maps Be Like U - Sidney Phillip Among many of Sidney’s strengths is her ability to be so fucking endearing jesus fucking christ this song is so cute Black Knight Croatia - Too Birdz Blocked call - ARMAND HAMMER MY HEART PUMP KETAMINE Blood on my grails - Goyard Ibn Said

Bring Wet Cunt - Zheani bugging! - brakence Burn City Linkup (Hell) Butterflies- Skrillex, Four Tet, Fred Again CARDIO - 1300, SOLLYY Celibate - Danny Brown featuring MIKE The Cellar Dwellas Knew - Blockhead featuring Quelle Chris Dang - Caroline Polachek Mother made a beautiful tropical album and said hey you want some of that PC music shit too? DELRESTO (Echoes) - Travis Scott x Beyonce Dexamphetamine - BAYANG x NERDIE Double Trio - By Storm Dying in the City  - FRIDAY*  Technologic disassociation and the city’s chaotic casing as you miss your last bus out for the night ealthystay - lil ket featuring Sidney Phillips A certified hood classic banger. SELLING PGR BUT IM SMOKING MEDS ON MY OWN

Effy - Sidney Phillips I really do be Effy, I really do be Cassie.  Eternally Hateful/Young Drunk Drivers - Kirin J Callinan I could not pick because both of these songs are weirdo pop bangers and I love him for it. Fried Ice Cream - Wiki and Tony Seltzer featuring ZelooperZ GANGA - Bayang (tha bushranger) featuring LIL PIXIE I fucking love Bayang (tha bushranger) - BOYS BE YELLING GANG BUT STILL TOO BITCH TO HANG WITH GANGAS GIMMIE UR LOVE - GUILD God Loves You - Danny Brown x JPEGMAFIA The Gods Must be Crazy - ARMAND HAMMER El-p must be crazy for this beat YOU FEEL ME

Got Me Started - Troye Sivan Fantano made me mad when he said this was a cheap interpolation it's brilliant and much like the other singles from this album, quintessential summer hits for your inner gay  gospel? - Noname featuring $ilkmoney and billy woods Half-Life - Slauson Malone Homeostasis - Gian Santorno He left Nothing for the Swim Back - SKECH185 x Jeff Markey The first single I heard this year, I told you then that nothing was going to top this. Cataclysm rap for a dying century.  how i'm feeling - grouptherapy. Pretty good hbu I Believe - Caroline Polachek Rest in peace SOPHIE - I love you, thank you. I Know? - Travis Scott I'VE BEEN YOUNG - George Clanton Lethal - Frost Children Living Curfew - Aesop Rock featuring billy woods An all-star pairing with a witchy, woozy and lingering fear that tiptoes through the instrumental. Those haunting background vocals make me forget I'm even listening to a song. One of my favourite songs by both artists.  Love is Embarrassing - Olivia Rodrigo She's right you know. What's not embarrassing is singing this on top note in your car to get over your ex Making the Band (Dainty Cain) - Earl Sweatshirt Acid Hip Hop draws Earl into an era of cosmic future hip-hop - the upcoming album is shaping up to be something special Mungu (God) (Remix) - Blu, Notzz, Black Shakespeare, Bloodmoney Perez No Assumptions - SOLLYY Featuring Dylan Atlantis OPPBOY DOW - OPPBOYZ Pits of Hell - JSV The strength of empire at odds with maniacal chaos. Machiavellian rap perfection plz don't cut my wings - MIKE stuns with tragic, breathtaking beauty. The instrumental is a matrimonial fit for both his style and more solemn emotional side and he glides gracefully on this track like an angel on ice skates. An earl feature doesn’t hurt anyone either.

Prim Proper Freestyle - Zion Garcia A perfect introduction to one of the most promising rappers in Eora, if not Aus. RENO - Teether x Kuya Neil The Roach - Genisis Owsusu Running Out of Time - Paramore An ode to perpetual lateness but making your best attempt anyway Satisfy - Dylan Atlantis The sensuality of this song drips from every word like beads of sweat. An incredible song by an incredible artist Scandalous - Kavi This song could literally turn you into an internet micro-celebrity you can just breathe the controversy. Vibrant and fun as fuck, stream Kavi cause this boy is a future icon. Slap (Telegram) - Sidney Phillips, lil ket, Skracha This song is like a hybrid of three completely separate strains of internet music smashed together and turned up to 11 and its fucking beautiful and I love it So You Are Tired - Sufjan Stevens The fatigue of love in all its terrible beauty. A quiet whisper for love that lingers through the toughest of times. I hope you are ok Sufjan. START A RIOT - Breakfast Road Stay Close - Daine stunt - (when I see u) - They Hate Change The future is offering you a sneak peak, don’t avert your gaze

Sucker Free - Key Glock Sunset - Caroline Polachek Take Me There - Fielded featuring Teether Take Off - Breakfast Road That Cunt - Bootleg Baby, lil ket, Sidney Phillips Touching Yourself - The Japanese House Intoxicating sapphic serenade about women loving women (ME AND FUCKING WHO) Track one from the new Andre 3K record These song names are fucking ridiculous and I'm not as sold on this album as the rest of you but fuck me if this opener isn't soul-affirming. Troy (Cover) - TROPHIE Trophie is another artist I discovered this year and I’ve seen her perform this song about 5 times live already and it Is awe-inspiring every time I hear it  Tyler, Forever - McKinley Dixon

The Well - Behind You featuring Rako, Teether and BAYANG) where's my head at _ Basement Jaxx x 100 gecs I can’t explain to you why this is quintessentially Australian mid naughties electro-pop if it was brought screaming into 2023 but it sounds way too fucking good

You Can Be Mean to Me - Indigo De Souza Men suck and ex's also suck and we girlies deserve better. A perfect encapsulation of the part of moving on where you just roll with the gut punches, absorbing power in passing politeness

[thevividgreenmoss]

She then told me about other children Fremlin had “friendships” with, emphasizing her own sense that she, personally, had been betrayed.

Im sorry but it is literally fucking insane I've gone through at least ten maybe more idfk pieces of reporting/commentary/analysis on published within the past couple of months and with very few exceptions, Andrea Robin Skinner's article linked above obviously foremost, the treatment of Alice Munro's role(s) in various abusive proceedings & the terms of her relations with the perpetrator of these abuses is obfuscatory and unbearably if unsurprisingly pollyannish in a manner consistent with the rest of discourse and practice in this society consumed with minimizing its own willing embrace of the worst human inclinations & social processes, with evading culpability for our place in these maniacal affairs, and with conscientiously denying both the fact and willingness of the embrace along with the fact and evasion of the culpability that willing embrace engenders. Refusal to admit that any material benefits are drawn from said embrace even as in other aspects you're its an embrace that is suffocating you as well. Easy to draw parallels with interference running operations on behalf of American empire and it's various subsidiaries/junior partners. A project of legitimation necessary for the maintenance of not just the empire and its ruling classes, not just the white elite and masses but even the internally colonized often recruited into recuperated through and renumerated from the maneuverings of imperial capital, whether we're talking Joe Biden or Kamala Harris or an everyday member of a marginalized community signing up to commit murder in other countries for a couple of extra dollars to spend back in the core. Pretending we had no choice and acting scandalized at the suggestion that we could do or could have something differently.

Years passed. My father continued to have lunches with my mother, never mentioning me. I asked him about these lunches before he died. He told me I just never came up in their conversations. My siblings and parents carried on with their busy lives. I tried to forgive my mother and Fremlin and continued to visit them and the rest of my family. We all went back to acting as if nothing had happened. It was what we did.

The denial continued for the next 10 years. Inside, I was still at war with this thing, this ugliness. Me. But gradually, through therapy, I learned that it wasn’t my fault. I fell in love with a good man, got married, and had children. My dream of being a sheep-herding dog wasn’t so impossible after all. I spent my days running after my twins, and my evenings lying flat-out exhausted somewhere around the house. Today, safeguarding the vulnerable is still the driving force of my life. I help people who want to heal their trauma by connecting with horses.

I ended contact with my mother after my twins were born. At first, I told her only that I could never see Fremlin again, never have him near my children. She explained how inconvenient it would be for her to visit me on her own, since she didn’t drive. I exploded, and told her our relationship was over.

Two years later, when I was 38, I read an interview in the New York Times with my mother, in which she described Gerald Fremlin in very loving terms. She said she was lucky to have him in her life, and declared that she had a “close relationship” with all three of her daughters, including me. For three weeks I was too sick to move, and hardly left my bed. I had long felt inconsequential to my mother, but now she was erasing me.

Alice Munro chose to participate in the maintenance of silence surrounding her husband (the love of her life!) and his serial pedophilia because it was more important for her to protect the pedophile in question and perhaps even more than that to not risk destabilizing her artistic career. She was fully willing to grapple with and work through reality through her writing but not in any way her daughter might have needed, which makes sense. The former brought social status, wealth, even just the ability to hone her craft and develop as an artist. The latter nothing but the possibility of risking it all and doing the right thing. Also the possibility of pulling at a thread that would reveal just how much she might have known about a lot of other shit that still hasn't come to light.

Did she realize she was speaking to a victim, and that I was her child? If she did, I couldn’t feel it. When I tried to tell her how her husband’s abuse had hurt me, she was incredulous. “But you were such a happy child,” she said.

Meanwhile, Fremlin acted quickly. He told my mother he would kill me if I ever went to the police, and wrote letters to my family, blaming me for the abuse. He described my nine-year-old self as a “homewrecker,” and said my family’s failure to intervene suggested they agreed with him. He also threatened retribution:

“Andrea invaded my bedroom for sexual adventure” — I had asked Fremlin the night the abuse took place if I could sleep in the spare bed in the room he shared with my mother — “ … for Andrea to say she was ‘scared’ is simply a lie … Andrea has brought ruin to two people who love each other … If the worst comes to worst I intend to go public. I will make available for publication a number of photographs, notably some taken at my cabin near Ottawa which are extremely eloquent … one of Andrea in my underwear shorts …”

(I’d forgotten about the photos until I read this letter. I was 11 when most of the pictures were taken.)

In spite of the letters and threats, my mother went back to Fremlin, and stayed with him until he died in 2013. She said that she had been “told too late,” she loved him too much, and that our misogynistic culture was to blame if I expected her to deny her own needs, sacrifice for her children, and make up for the failings of men. She was adamant that whatever had happened was between me and my stepfather. It had nothing to do with her.

I believe my mother answered her own question about the girl in the story. She didn’t tell her mother because she would rather die than risk her mother’s rejection.

Years passed. My father continued to have lunches with my mother, never mentioning me. I asked him about these lunches before he died. He told me I just never came up in their conversations. My siblings and parents carried on with their busy lives. I tried to forgive my mother and Fremlin and continued to visit them and the rest of my family. We all went back to acting as if nothing had happened. It was what we did.

Jesus fucking christ I had no idea about any of this my heart's breaking for this woman for the child she was...her mother turns out the mishima of white settler womanhood self-serving obsession with a victimhood that to some extent must exist yet pales at every point in comparison with the reality of those most deeply affected and traumatized by those whose colonizing endeavors you've aligned yourself with against the rest of the world whose cries for recognition support restitution are left unheeded even when it's your own fucking child that's the one crying it falls on uncomprehending ears too busy obsessing over one's perpetually wounded self-perception and inveterate desire for validation and attention and what passes for love from the people that you yourself have chosen to "love" the people you enable to whom you are accomplice with whom elaborate fantasies of wounded innocence built upon the bedrock of civilizational scale rape and genocidal murder are constructed...you see what people do to their own families their own children and you can never be surprised at what they'll do to those they've decided are not family whose children are decidedly not their 'own' either but rather immanent & imminent threats to be neutralized by hard labor or murder. They've been doing it all along

[captaincatalinasilver]

Lucky Jack Russell

Some appreciation for the lad, I was in a drawing mood so why not :)

I love his critical music and his character so much!

[defcravings]

show me -  | im changkyun

wc: 4.4k

genre: suggestive with sexual mentions

synopsis: y/n is a makeup artist on changkyun’s ‘god damn’ MV shoot, when the rapper takes a sudden liking to her; she becomes more involved in the shoot than she anticipated. 

pairing: changkyun x reader

5am was not the ideal start time for y/n, especially in the cold and with no coffee. In hand carrying 5 alarmingly large cases of makeup and costume through the staff entrance of the set for the shoot; silently assuring yourself that you ‘would get coffee or so help her god.’ Being the first one here you flicked on all the lights and threw down the cases of makeup that were slowly making you feel like your fingers were going to fall off- with a clatter on the table you exhaled and rubbed your now very sore fingers. you loved her job as a makeup artist, but it was hard to like it this early in the morning; and once again, without coffee. 

you began shoving boxes round the room to clear space for the fitting and hanging the clothes up on the railing beside the mirror until you heard a familiar voice singing a very joyful ‘good morning y/n.’ You flashed a look in the direction of the door to see Jules, the head stylist in her puffy jacket (which looked like it would swallow the entire 5ft1 woman whole) duffle bag on one shoulder and gripping 2 cups of what looked like Starbucks coffee.

You stood up throwing your hair back behind your shoulders, taking the cup from Jules who extended it towards you. ‘You ready for today?’ Jules questioned, taking a sip from the cup she hugged in her hands. ‘I am now’ you said gesturing to the coffee you’d been thinking about from the moment you sat in the car on the way here. ‘Thanks for filling in by the way, Soo was really worried about leaving us without a makeup artist but her little one is really sick. I really owe you one’ Jules chuckled, setting her jacket down and picking up the makeup case and opening it. Soo was the whole reason you got into makeup, she was the head makeup artist at the company you worked for- granted you were a little nervous to be deemed ‘head makeup artist’ for the day, but with her daughter being as cute as she is, you could forgive her for being ill. ‘No no it’s fine, call it even for the coffee’ you smiled rolling out the makeup brushes.

A few more members of the team came into the studio and began to help you set up. 8am rolled around and your client was expected to arrive anytime, in the meantime you went over the makeup brief and sat on your phone scrolling aimlessly. ‘Morning everyone’ a deep voice said from the doorway. Your head whipped round to see the unfamiliar face smiling towards Jules. His black long hair draped over one eye; as he stretched out his arms to hug the little too excited Jules. ‘Oh good morning love!’ she sang, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Changkyun, this is y/n’ she said extending her arm out, gesturing towards you who was now stood up, coffee cup in hand for comfort. ‘Soo had to look after her little one, so y/n is going to look after you today. she’s well on her way to being head makeup artist’ Jules sang like a proud mother. You just stood there and chuckled at her. Changkyun paused for a moment, looking you dead in the eye before slowly putting his hand out for you to shake. You uncomfortably swallowed before shaking his hand back and gave a closed mouth smile staring him back in the eyes. ‘Nice to meet you, y/n’ he replied slowly, with a hint of sultry. His eyes dropped slowly over your body, not unnoticed, but somehow not unwanted. Hands still touching, Jules clapped, pulling you both back into the reality of being in a room with other people. ‘Shall we get you changed then?’ Jules said, ushering Changkyun over to the clothing rail. You began to feel your ears burning red and your hands run cold. He knew exactly what he was doing. And my god, it was working. 

Watching his take off his jacket while Jules held up countless outfits against his chest, deciding which one would capture the concept of the shoot. After much deliberation they settled on a mesh shirt with a beige jacket over the top. Changkyun cast a look over in your direction where you leaned against the makeup table trying to act as casual as you could; as he pulled his oversized black shirt over his head revealing what can only be described a the body of a god. his gaze never leaving your’s. your breath hitched as his shook his hands through his hair; leaving everyone in the room making noises of approval and gawking at his body. ‘we need to draw the tattoos on you before we put this one though’ Jules said hanging the shirt back up and looking over towards you. ‘y/n do you want to get started on that before we dress him? just do whatever you think would match the theme’ Jules continued, Changkyun smirked, knowing exactly how this was going to go. 

‘oh, okay yeah.. um, come sit here’ you said awkwardly motioning over to the couch that was placed in the middle of the room. he flopped down spreading his arms over the back of the sofa, as you slowly walked over; tattoo pens in hand. you couldn’t even bring your eyes up to meet his yet you could feel his stare casting itself over your entire body. suddenly wishing you wore a bigger shirt. softly you pulled the cap off the pen and cleared your throat, desperately trying to look him in the eye but failing miserably. ‘so um.. I was thinking, maybe something on your neck? is that okay?’ you uttered quietly, playing with the cap of the pen to ease your nerves. ‘I like that.’ changkyun replied, his gaze still running over your upper body. somehow it didn’t feel like he was talking about the tattoo. ‘okay.. can you um just..’ you trailed off as you gently turned his face away by his jawline and shuffled in a little closer to get a better handle on his neck. you cold hands touched his warm skin, immediately repeating the feeling of blood draining from your face as you placed the pen on his neck. your eyes flicked over to the mirror that faced the couch; where you saw changkyun looking directly at you, smirking as he saw your eyes meet. your heart felt like it was beating out your chest, becoming very worried he could hear it the same as you heard it in your ears. 

around 10 minutes passed and you’d finished the first tattoo and you moved onto the next one; on the upper side of his bicep. this job was becoming a bit of a gift and a curse. the rest of the staff carried on organising, which should have made the situation feel much more relaxed, yet it didn't seem to make any difference, you still felt like your heart was about to burst out your chest. until he spoke. ‘do you have any?’ he murmured. you almost didn’t hear it. you shifted your eyes from your work to his face to see if it was directed at you. his dark gaze was staring back at you, taking you by surprise. ‘any what?’ you murmured back at the same level, looking back at his arm. ‘any tattoos?’ he responded. you swallowed slowly, how on earth did his voice make you so nervous? it cast goosebumps all over your body yet made you feel like you were burning up; it was almost repulsive as he knew what he was doing, but you didn't want it to stop. 

a moment passed as you replied ‘yeah.. I have 3′ you steadied you breath trying to sound relaxed, like you weren’t going to explode. ‘what are they?’ he questioned, his voice beginning to sound softer as the conversation began to flow. you pulled away from the tattoo and gently pushed your hair over your left shoulder; turning your upper body the same way. ‘so.. I have one here’ you said softly, showing the back of your shoulder to him. his eyes were low as they took in all of your back, not leaving the mark on you until the last moment when you turned back to face him. his gaze flicking back up to meet yours as you turned to the other side to gesture to one on the side of your ribs, pulling your shirt up just a tiny bit to reveal the next trace of ink. his now hunched over body dangerously close to your exposed skin; causing you to suddenly stop, lowering your shirt back down and locking eyes with him. ‘and um, I can’t show you the other one..’ you trailed off, picking your pen back up. you could tell he was still looking at you. ‘why?’ he queried, in an extra low, extra sultry voice. the smirk on his lips growing larger as he began to guess as to why it was something you couldn't show him. he thought seemed to excite him. and equally, it excited you. ‘its um, in a place I can’t show you..’ you chucked softly, hoping it would break his intense gaze. to your dismay, he remained his harsh look. ‘show me’ he practically growled, his voice as low and the pit in your stomach. your eyes quickly shifted round the room, noticing that everyone had now left. ‘I can’t..’ you replied with a little chuckle. this response seemed to peak Changkyun’s interest in the matter. ‘show me where on me then’ he whispered slowly reaching for your hand and pulling it towards his body that was now shifting to his slouched torso and parted legs. your heart began to race, with the knowledge of where the tattoo was and knowing where you were going to have to touch him. this was less than professional, but somehow you didn’t care. he placed your hand on his chest trailing it down towards his abs. your fingers lightly leading the way until he reached the base of his stomach. 

‘here?’ he paused the motion and looked up towards you, a smirk plastered over his lips. a smirk that transferred onto your lips too. ‘a bit further’ you whispered, earning a breath from changkyun. his hand continued down past his stomach, onto the waistband of his jeans, causing him to exhale gently. just as both your hands approached the bulge that had now appeared under his jeans, you took control, steering his hand to the side next to his hip. ‘here’ you whispered cheekily, earning a loud yet disappointed exhale from his bitten lips. ‘I see’ he said, releasing your hand from his grip and placing his hands behind his head and leaning back. his eyes moving up and down your body as you stood back up and put the pens away. ‘I'm done’ you taunted, leaning against table looking at him with low eyes. sticking his tongue in his cheek pausing for a moment before pushing himself up; he walked slowly over to meet you. feeling the heat from his bare chest inches away from your small frame. his height looming over you made you feel tiny, and he liked that. he thrived on it. 

his now tattooed bicep curled up following his vascular hand towards your neck, goosebumps coated your arms from top to finger tips. his fingers trailed over your exposed shoulder, hooking his finger under the single strap from your top and and pulling it towards him. the inches between you two vanished leaving your body pressed against his taught chest. he leaned down, his breath trailing over your neck until he stopped at your ear. ‘no we’re not’ he said in a low breathy tone. your heart was beating a million miles per hour, your lips burned to touch his but you couldn’t move. like your entire body had stopped working.

changkyun pulled away, leaving your stunned body stuck in place. finally giving you a chance to breathe. his back muscles moving with every step it took away; making his way over to the clothing rail and putting his mesh shirt on without even looking at you. as if on queue; Jules entered clapping at changkyun in his outfit. ‘oh doesn’t he look great!’ she sang holding his face in her hands. ‘right lets get you on set!’ she said, pulling his hand out the door and onto set. leaving you in the dressing room, trying to rationalise everything that just happened. unsuccessfully. suddenly her head poked back into the room taking you by surprise. ‘aren’t you coming?’ she queried. ‘yeah, yeah I'm coming’ you replied pushing your confused body off the desk and following her out. 

the set looked insane, the lights were low and red creating a really sultry vibe. almost dingy. the room was full of extras talking quietly and milling around, the crew on the other side of the room looking like they were getting ready to begin. a rather tall looking man wearing a directors hat clapped to the room of people and shouted ‘right everyone, we are going to get started! we are going to get the second scene out the way first then we shall start shooting the dancing! okay! changkyun and ara come over here.. changkyun sit down and ara if you could get on top of him please’ he said motioning them to a green couch that was placed in the middle of the room. a tall black haired woman lead the way, she was gorgeous, her short hair grazed her shoulders and her makeup was sexy and sultry. bothered wasn't the word you would use to describe the description, but curious was. you wanted to see how this would unfold. changkyun shot a look over to you, once again a smirk on his face. you desperately wanted to keep your face neutral, knowing what he wanted you to react and not giving him the satisfaction was far more important. with that he flopped onto the couch, his arms over the back. this looked alarmingly familiar. ara gently straddled him, placing her delicate arms over his shoulders, awaiting further instruction. ‘okay great! so your basically just going to be touching him, hands on his neck, chest, hair, things like that. just make it look natural’ the director instructed. the 2 nodded in response. the discomfort this brought you was really beginning to settle in. you sat down on the crew chair behind you and crossed your legs, just watching. 

a lull of whispers filled the room as the crew got into position, leaving changkyun a few seconds to look over at you, hoping this would make you jealous. you wouldn’t give it to him. you couldn’t. pulling your phone out your pocket seemed like the best option. so you did, and began mindlessly scrolling, trying to ignore the very uncomfortable scene that was about to play out before you. ‘aaaand, action!’ called the director, the smoke machines began to spray thick fog throughout the room, a deep bass began to play only adding to the atmosphere. a few seconds passed of you scrolling on your phone trying to ignore it. but you couldn’t help but flick your eyes up from your screen. her hands were all up in his hair and trailing down his neck, her head thrown back leaving her exposed chest and neck to his gaze. wow this was uncomfortable. the discomfort was interrupted by the booming voice of the director ‘CUT’ he shouted, immediately the lights came on and the lull of quiet voices resumed. the pair looked confused, as the director strode over to the two on the sofa. the words exchanged were quiet, making sure that no one else heard. with that he made his way back over to the crew. ‘okay lets go again. aaaand action!’ he called. the atmosphere fell again. and so did your eyes to your phone. this time it lasted a little longer, until the director called cut again. the director lifted his hat to wipe sweat from his brow as he chatted to ara and changkyun. ara nodded strongly and apologised to him and got back into position. 

the interruptions continued another 2 times; causing the previous lull of whispers to become louder from the crew. Jules was stood talking to the producer who was looking rather disgruntled; making you wonder what the heck was going on. A rather worried Jules shuffled back over to meet you sighing as she sat down. ‘what’s going on?’ you queried, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. Jules leaned over to you, trying to make the conversation as unheard as possible. ‘well.. she’s just not quite getting the direction. it looks awkward on camera. I think they're going to call for a break and try again later’ she whispered, eyes flicking over to the now departed duo on the couch every few words. ‘okay guys, go grab yourself a drink and something to eat and we will start again in 20 minutes, sorry guys’ the producer called to the extras who are shared the same confused look as they walked out the room to the snack room. 

the director and producer walked over to ara and changkyun who were now looking over the directions on the paper in front of them. ‘grab your brushes, lets go listen in’ Jules said cheekily dragging you over to the group, to touch up their makeup. you pulled a powder brush out of your waist pouch and some a compact and began to power changkyun’s face. the conversation sounded intense. ‘it’s just that it’s looking a little awkward on camera. you’re both very farm apart, your bodies need to be closer together. more intimate looking.’ he director said awkwardly. changkyun didn’t even seem to be listening. he was looking back up at you, even though you weren’t looking at him, you wouldn’t. not right now. ‘sorry I don’t want to be a pain.. I just can’t imagine what you're asking’ ara said shyly, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. 

‘come here’ changkyun demanded, not breaking his gaze at you. you shifted your eyes up to meet his. ‘what?’ you questioned, lowering your brush from his cheek. ‘like this’ he said calmly, taking your arm and pulling you down onto the sofa. suddenly you were straddling him, brushes still in hand and very confused. before you even had chance to object, one hand was trailing up your thigh to your hip while the other one travelled from your shoulder to your neck as his mouth made its way to meet it. his hot breath marking where you longed for his mouth to plant itself. his lips stopping centimetres from your sweet spot. the crew erupted with praise and woah’s. wishing he would stay there for a few more seconds was too much to ask as he pulled away, leaning back on the coach and removing his hands from your hip and neck. his eyes meeting ara’s shocked face, ‘like that’ he smirked. slowly you stood up, fixing yourself as you tried to come back to reality. ‘yes yes like that! lets go for a take while the extras are eating’ the director said running back to the camera followed by the director. Jules dragged your stunned body back to the crew area as your legs wouldn’t seem to carry you, before you could even say anything to changkyun about how he firstly shouldn’t have done that, or apologise to ara. 

you watched as they got into position again, ran the scene, still as awkward as the last. the sighs and quick cut from the crew told you that they felt the same. ‘okay guys go get a drink and we will see if we can re work the scene’ the producer announced, very deflated. ara apologised and left the room, you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. this was uncomfortable, getting that intimate with someone in front of a whole crew. lord. you pulled your phone out your pocket to check the time. they were running behind. badly. as you locked it and put it back in your pocket you saw the director power walking over towards you. never good. ‘y/n will you do us a favour’ he asked you, sounding a little desperate. this could go one of 2 ways you thought. coffee run.. or something you realllly didn’t want to do. ‘umm.. what is it?’ you asked cautiously. ‘would you just do the scene with changkyun? we are running really behind and don’t have time to keep refilming’ he pleaded. you suddenly realised the entire crew was looking at you. including changkyun. ‘um.. I'm sure ara will be fine after she has a drink just give her another shot, please’ you whispered trying to not be heard by anyone else. ‘please y/n we don't have time, it’ll take 5 minutes max, please i’ll owe you one..’ he said, clasping his hands together pleading. you shifted your gaze over to changkyun who was stood in eye line behind the director, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk. god I hate him, you thought. ‘um.. yeah okay fine’ you said running one hand through your hair trying to calm yourself down. ‘yes okay amazing, get into positions please!’ he shouted turning back towards changkyun. your chest was burning like you were on fire as you watched him walk over to the couch, knowing exactly what was going to happen made it so much worse. 

slowly walking to meet him at the coach and standing over him as he looked up at you with burning desire. you adjusted your shirt slightly before gently straddling him, keeping you distance still. feeling the discomfort erupting. changkyun was obviously enjoying your awkwardness, chuckling as he reached one arm around your hips and pulling you closer to him so your core was now directly on his bulge. your throat hitched as his cool breath trailed down your cleavage, never breaking eye contact. the burn in your chest was spreading through your entire body, every part taking turns to be set on fire. ‘I told you we weren’t done’ he whispered gruffly, knowing exactly what he meant. the moment was interrupted by the director ‘okay right lets go, very natural, just like earlier, y/n just follow the lead okay? right aaaand action!’ he called, causing the entire set to fall silent, waiting for whatever was about to happen. it took a moment before anything happened, soaking in exactly where your bodies connected. the music boomed low as you both became engulfed in a spray of smoke. it felt far more comfortable than before, like no one could see you. 

changkyun’s hand spread flat travelling up your thigh, curving to the contours of your hip, leading up your side. your body froze outwardly, but inside you felt everything. his hand on a path to your breast, taunting you with the feeling he redirected his graze to gently trail over the top of your breast and up your neck. forcefully gripping the back of your neck and planting soft kisses up it, starting at the base and slowly working his way up. taking his time on every spot, missing non of it. earning a soft blow of air from your mouth are you arched your back to meet his hard chest. a breathy ‘knew it’ escaped his lips between harsh kisses up you neck as he reached your sweet spot. 

you couldn’t let him have all the fun. you thought to yourself as you reached down to his belt loops, pulling your cores closer together taking him by surprise. a quiet low groan left his lips as you reached one hand into the back of his hair; gently tightening your grip, keeping him in place. his hands fell from you neck, holding his grip on your hips. you knew this was the reaction you wanted but you couldn’t stop there. taking the opportunity to snake your right hand up his chest to meet his jawline, holding it lightly, leaving his neck exposed. his eyes connected with yours, letting you have full control of him. his rosy lips slightly parted as you leaned towards them. grazing your nose against his, lips inches away from each other. the torment was well received, noticing a small smirk on changkyun’s lips. ‘kiss me then’ he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. you let out a breathy laugh as you removed the inches between you two, grazing your lips against his. you felt his entire body relax beneath you as he moaned into the kiss; allowing you full control. or so you though, he quickly wrapped a strong arm around your waist, flipping you over so he was on top. his torso baring weight down on you, pulling your legs to wrap around him. hands either side of your face to keep you exactly where he wanted you, leaving you completely submissive to his grip. 

‘aaaand cut!’ the director shouted, pulling you both out of the complete state of euphoria you were just in. ‘fantastic guys, wow that was great. I think that’s it, take 10 minutes and we will start the next scene’ the producer continued, clapping as he stood up out of his chair. leaving the crew to continue to their lull. you slowly looked up at changkyun again who hadn’t seemed to look away. his once perfectly tousled hair now a mess, reflective of yours. you pushed yourself to sit upright on the couch, releasing yourself from his arms. silence. from you both. desperately trying to think of what to say; changkyun began ‘I knew you weren’t done’ he smirked. causing you to chuckle awkwardly, ‘whatever’ you replied running a hand through your hair, putting it back in place. ‘the shoot finishes at 5, I'll see you after’ he said flopping back onto the couch next to you. he wanted you to say yes. you knew that. and you couldn’t have that. not yet. you leaned towards him, watching him think you were going to kiss him again. stopping just inches away from his lips you whispered; ‘we’ll see’ standing up and walking away before he even had a chance to open his eyes. catching a view of you before you left the room, realising his trousers were now getting uncomfortable.. 

[pedros-mustache-main]

when your love reaches me (iii)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 7.5k

warnings: angst, language, yearning for a man in his 70s (c’est la vie, i guess), over-describing a moment i’m very passionate about (sorry, not sorry! ten points to the person who can tell me what moment it is LOL)

a/n: wow—this gif? yeah, match made in heaven. thank you all so much for indulging me in this mini-series. i really am very proud of this silly little thing & i’m sad that it’s over because i enjoyed writing it so much. thank you to @im-an-adult-ish​ & @deacyblues​ for helping me work out the rough spots in this one. would love to hear everyone’s thoughts because i’m very ~emotional~ about this mini-series!! xoxo.

part i, part ii

in this final chapter: you must adjust because it’s not in your cards to be with him, is it?

you run your hands down your face, feel the ring on your finger catch along the end of your nose, and sigh. two months—two months without him. two months to adjust to world you once knew but happily left behind. two months to gather the pieces of the life which cruelly slipped through your fingers like water. 

each day is the same. you rise early and take your coffee on the postage stamp terrace outside your flat. you watch the sun climb higher in the sky with each passing moment and let the warmth of your drink soothe the ache in your soul. you wash your breakfast dishes, mumble a good morning to rachel when she exits her bedroom to make her way to the shower, and dress for the day. you walk to campus if you have a class or take the underground to the museum if you have a shift. you come home, eat dinner, go to bed. repeat.

if rachel notices a change in you, she doesn’t say anything. in her mind, no time has passed between the morning where she asked you to come to the pub and the same evening you tumbled into the flat, drenched and sobbing. 

but you—you’ve lost a year of your life. there’s no getting it back, and the only thing that proves it really truly happened is the ring on your middle finger, the necklace hanging by your heart, and the undeveloped rolls of film in your bedside table.

there are few words to describe the unbearable pain in your chest. anything and everything reminds you of brian: the whisper of the breeze in the autumn-heavy trees; the feeling of your warmest cardigan around your shoulders; the sound of someone laughing in the museum.

but there’s more:

the scent of cigarette smoke reminds you of roger. the sight of two friends ribbing one another in a grocery store reminds you of crystal. a colorful jacket makes you think of freddie, a whispered snide remark takes you back to john, and two girls giggling reminds you of giddy moments with anna.

around every corner you turn there’s a memory you cannot avoid, and it hurts—desperately, keenly, deeply.

so you push it all away and soldier on, quiet and downtrodden. it’s easier that way. maybe, if you forget, you can move on and make it through life without him.

six months after you’ve left brian behind, you’re approached by your boss at the museum with an opportunity you’d only ever dreamed of: the chance to create and prepare your own exhibit. 

monica is firm when she offers you the south wing to reshape as your own. “blow this out of the water, [y/n], and there will be a job as assistant curator waiting for you after graduation. i want something fresh and exciting. think you can manage?”

you agree without hesitation.

for the first time in a long time, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this is your chance to put everything you’ve learned to good use, to put something tangible in your portfolio, to make a name for yourself. 

you’re buzzing with excitement and have to practically hold rachel hostage as you spout your myriad of thoughts and ideas. she’s your sounding board, even if she doesn’t want to be, but she’s honest where it counts most, and you’re grateful for that.

she glances over the kitchen table, laden with open magazines, cutout photos, and history books. her brow puckers. “this is... really boring, [y/n],” she says with a cringe, looking up with her blue eyes and freckled face.

your shoulder droop. “that’s it? that’s all you have to say?”

she shrugs and reaches for a photo, inspecting it with a critical gaze. “i mean, ancient textiles might be interesting to you and maybe five other people, but it isn’t exactly blowing me out of the water.”

dropping to the seat across the table, you huff. “well, we’re a photography museum, rachel. it’s not like i can whip up a few outfits and put them on mannequins.”

“excuse me, but fashion design is just as artistic as curating a museum—if not more so.” she sighs and puts the photo of a thirteenth century chinese table linen on the table. “there must be something else you’re interested in? something that other people will like just as much?”

you don’t mean to, but you let your eyes trail to the camera sitting on on the tv stand. you’d left it there after your return, uncertain where to put it. sometimes you catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye and then you remember the tubes of film in your bedroom, undeveloped and unseen. 

rachel follows your gaze. “you know, you never told me where you got that.”

“it was a gift.”

“oh really? from who?”

you’re slow to answer. the truth sits on the tip of your tongue—the man i love, the man i was going to marry—but you bite it back. “my great-aunt. she left it to me... in her will.”

you aren’t sure what compels you to retrieve the six rolls of film from your bedroom, but you do. the tubes feel heavy in your palm and clang against the table as you put them down. rachel looks at them then back at you, waiting.

“she gave me these, too.”

“i didn’t know you had a great-aunt.”

“we weren’t close.”

“obviously you were close enough to get these things.” rachel lifts one of the tubes, turning it over in her palm. “wonder what the pictures are.”

“i’m not sure,” you lie. “maybe they could make an exhibit.”

“i think you’d have to develop them first then make that decision.” she rises from the table and shrugs on her coat. “i’ve got a date, so don’t wait up. and try not to let this consume you too much? you’ve been down and out lately. i think the work will do you good, but don’t let it take over, yeah?”

you nod and wish her well on her date. she leaves the flat in a flourish, leaves you to the tubes of film and the growing curiosity in your stomach.

you really should get them developed. if not for an exhibit, then for yourself. an entire year of your life is in those tubes, and you deserve to see the photos you’d taken to preserve that time.

it’s been six months. you’ve purposefully distanced yourself from anything and everything related to queen, be it a simple news story, a song on the radio, or any of roger or brian’s social media posts. it hurts to see them, to know that they’re so close yet so far away, that they have no idea what became of you all those years ago in japan.

still, it’s been six months. developing the film might be your first step toward a sense of closure. you don’t want to stay in your rut forever. though you’re comfortable with the idea that brian might be your great love and you’ll never find another, you know you can’t stay as you are, sullen and despondent. it’s like a break-up, really. you’re sad, heartbroken over the loss, but you know it’s time to step out of the hurt and into something different.

before you can stop yourself, you grab the rolls of film, your purse, and your jacket, and you head for the nearest photo shop.

a few hours later, you return with a heavy packet of freshly-printed photographs and a usb drive full of digital scans. there’s over two hundred photos to sort through, and you’ve yet to see one. 

flipping on the light to your living room, you sit down beside the coffee table, a glass of wine at your side, the table cleared of any lingering books or empty teacups. before you open the packet of photos, you open your laptop and type your search into the search bar. if you’re going to quell your curiosity tonight, you might as well quell all of it, and you’re dying to know what happened after you left. 

a simple internet search confirms what you already know: your presence within the group on the jazz tour did not alter any significant events. freddie still passed away, john still retired. a further search yields at least one previously nonexistent queen song written by brian may: “into thin air.” it was released in the album following jazz. you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, not yet. a deeper search unearths an interview brian gave a year or so after you left. the interview was published in a magazine editorial covering of each of queen’s band members and their lives when not on tour or recording. after freddie’s bit, there’s a photograph of brian at the top of a new page. he’s smiling, but he looks weary and he mentions you only once: “i was engaged for awhile, but that ended in an unfortunate circumstance, so to answer your question: no, i’m not looking for love. not right now, anyway.”

you close the laptop and lean back against the sofa. the ring on your finger feels heavy. your eyes fill with unshed tears, and you decide the photos can wait to be seen until tomorrow.

the packet of photos ends up sitting on the coffee table for two weeks before you invite your co-worker, shamik, over for wine and cheese and museum gossip. shamik is kind, a first-generation immigrant from india with personality to spare and an exuberance for all things american. he claims it’s his greatest curse that his parents brought him to britain as a baby instead of america, and it’s something he can never forgive them for. you’ve only interacted with shamik at work, but when you mention your exhibit project, he’s eager to offer his help. with no new ideas outside ancient textiles, you’re willing to take whatever advice or ideas he has.

sitting beside him on the couch, you spread your collection of papers and pictures on the table to explain your vision. he listens dutifully, nodding along, his eyes scanning the 3-d projection you’ve made of what the exhibit might look like once completed. when you’ve finished your spiel, he sets his wine glass down and nods to the packet of unopened photographs on the edge of the table.

“what’s that?”

you frown, shaking your head at the sudden turn in conversation. “sorry?”

he reaches for the manilla envelope. “oh, it’s hefty! what’s in here?”

you sigh and take the packet from his hands. it feels solid in your lap, like a brick. “photos from my great-aunt.”

he points to the sealed flap. “it’s unopened.”

“i haven’t gotten the chance to look through it yet.” setting the packet to the side, you raise your eyebrows. “well, what do you think? about the exhibit?”

“honestly? it’s dull. monica won’t be impressed.”

you throw yourself back against the couch with a groan. “what the hell,” you whisper. “i’ve got no ideas then.”

you know ancient textile photography would not be the most enticing exhibit, but it’s been an interest of yours for some time and would be easy enough to complete. shamik and rachel’s reactions do not bode well, you have to admit. having a job as an assistant curator right out of the gate would be beyond marvelous, and you desperately don’t want to screw it up with a boring first exhibit.

“let’s have a look at these pictures from your aunt!” before you can stop him, shamik reaches across your lap for the photo packet and rips open the top. “maybe that will spark some ideas?”

you lean forward, blush already rising to your cheeks as he pulls out the first picture. “oh no, shamik, i don’t know if—”

“holy shit!”

you shut your eyes, wincing.

“that’s fucking freddie mercury!” shamik grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your flesh. “did you know about this, [y/n]? that’s your aunt with freddie mercury!”

forcing your eyes open, you look at the photo trembling between his fingers. it’s a picture of you sitting beside freddie on the tour bus. (you think john took the photo in an effort to get you to stop taking photos of him when he was asleep while roger and crystal placed as many items on his head as they could before he fully awoke.) your head is against freddie’s shoulder, your eyes droopy with sleep. a lump rises in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head in feigned disbelief as shamik continues to shuffle through the photos.

“oh my god, your aunt was a groupie,” he cries, passing you another photo.

“i guess—” you clear your throat. “i guess she was.”

“you know”—shamik sets the pile of photos down and spreads them across the table, obscuring your vision of an ancient textiles display—“this would make a great exhibit.”

“shamik—” your voice is a warning, a sudden surge of anger rising in your chest, but he continues.

“no, really, [y/n]! there are so many photos here that tell such a cutesy little story. i mean, come on? freddie and this cat?” he lifts the photo in question. “it’s stuff people have never seen before from a totally different side of queen. it’s a fucking goldmine!” 

“absolutely not,” you say. “i will not put my aunt’s personal affairs on display.”

“think of monica, [y/n]! think of the job!”

“no, shamik!” you stand from the table and drop your plates in the kitchen sink with a resolute clatter. “i barely knew my aunt, but i know enough to gather that her time with queen was private. she didn’t say anything about it until she died. that’s got to mean something, and i don’t want to air it all out for everyone to see and speculate and gossip about just for my own personal gain.”

you’re shouting, fists clenched at your sides, by the time you finish. shamik just stares at you, his face blank and unreadable. he glances down at a photo. 

“she looks a lot like you,” he says, his voice even.

you huff and take the wine glasses from the table. “we’ve got strong family genes. now, please, i’d appreciate it if you just drop the whole queen thing. we can find some other idea.”

you gather the photos, shove them back in the folder, and toss the envelope in the nearest drawer you can find. the drawer slams shut, and you leave the photos there to gather dust.

you mull over shamik’s idea of an exhibit based on your photos for a month before you finally relent. monica’s riding your ass daily with questions about your progress. you need to get something down on paper for her to give to the contractors, so you begrudgingly type out a response to her most recent email:

monica,

i’ve landed on an exhibit topic at last. took me long enough, right? 

i’ve recently come into possession of a series of photographs taken by my late great-aunt. turns out she was a groupie with the band queen in the ‘70s. my exhibit will be centered around those photos. i’m thinking the exhibit will be titled “queen: unfiltered.” do with that what you will. :)

monica, much to your dismay, loves the idea and sends you right to work on gathering and laying out your vision while she begins the necessary promotion.

it hurts at first—looking at all the photos you took, remembering the way you felt so unearthly happy during that year. you cry each time you sit down to sort out the best of the pictures. the ones which capture a moment of levity amongst the band or are particularly well-shot go in a pile on the left. the ones which didn’t develop well or are too intimate for you to ever consider putting on display go in a pile on the right. your bedroom floor is a mess of drafted captions written on slips of printer paper, photographs with notes scrawled along the back, and used tissues. more than anything, you wish you could step into the world behind those photographs. you want to be back there—with him, with them—until you grow old and gray. knowing you can’t, that you won’t ever see him again, tears you apart inside.

but it helps. the exhibit forces you to acknowledge the time you spent with brian, with queen. instead of leaving the photos in a drawer, they confront you everyday as you sit down to work, and everyday it gets a little bit easier to face your past. as the tears subside, you find yourself laughing whenever you find a new photo of roger’s antics. your heart doesn’t clench as much when you run across another photo of you and brian. you can smile now when you look at his face. he really was so handsome...

you go so far as to frame your favorite photograph of your time together and place it on your dresser. he’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head. you’re laughing, your hands folded on his arms, legs crossed as you tilt to the side. he’s making a face, his tongue stuck out at the camera, and every time you pass by the picture, you can’t help but chuckle.

you love him still. you’ll love him always.

with three weeks before the opening of the exhibit, the stress is starting to get the better of you. you’ve bitten your nails down to the quick, there’s heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, and you can’t remember the last time you consumed something other than coffee. despite the stress, you feel lighter. working through the photos, laying them out in order, writing the captions, pouring over the faces of the ones you love so dearly—it’s all helped ease the burden in your heart. for the first time in a long time, you slip out of bed in the mornings with a newfound sense of energy and purpose.

life will go on. just as you did when you fell into the past, you will find a new future.

arms laden with exhibit proposals and mock-ups, you brush into your local coffee shop—pretty bird—intent on getting some real work done on choosing the final photographs before you send them off to be printed. you order your usual and take a seat by the front. the air which wafts through the open window at your side is warm with spring and rebirth, and you breathe deep, cracking open the lid of your laptop. you manage to pick a total of twelve of the seventy-six needed photographs before you’re interrupted.

“whatcha workin’ on?” matthew, barista extraordinaire and casual acquaintance, sits down on the bench across from you. he has his own cup of cold brew poised between his lips, and the piercing in his eyebrow wiggles as he moves his brow up and down.

“an exhibit for the museum,” you say, pausing to roll your tight shoulders. “it’s my first.”

“do tell!”

you explain, briefly, how to came to acquire your dead aunt’s photographs and the general theme of the showcase. he nods in approval then snaps as if he’s remembered something.

“hold on. stay right there. i’ll be right back.” he puts his coffee down, scoots off of the bench, and darts to the back of the coffee shop. you wait and listen to the sound of the birds twittering outside before he returns with a framed picture in hand. “i just learned about this,” he says, taking his seat again. “this building used to be a disco back in the 70s.” he hands you the frame and points to a collection of people in the middle of a disco bar. “that’s queen. they came here once and somebody had the smarts to take a picture.”

your hands shake around the photograph, eyes darting from one corner of the picture to another. 

matthew keeps talking. “the place was called climax. can you believe that? the 70s were fuckin’ wild, mate.”

you nod, lips parted, and skim your fingers over the incredibly tall and recognizable form of brian in the center of the photo. you can see your shoulder, jammed between freddie and crystal, but the rest of your body is obscured. you lift your eyes from the frame and glance around the coffee shop, at the exposed metal beams and vaulted ceilings, at the disco ball still hanging in the center of the room.

makes sense now. why the building had felt so eerily familiar back then.

handing matthew the picture frame, you sit back in your chair. “wonder if my aunt ever came,” you say.

“maybe? sounds like she was in pretty tight. you know who you could ask?” you shake your head, uncertain of matthew’s question. “chris taylor. he was a roadie back then. he’s a regular here. comes in at least twice at week.”

you can’t stop the hand that flies to your mouth in surprise. you try to smother your gasp with a cough, but matthew still stares at you like you’ve sprouted another head. 

“you okay?” he asks warily.

nodding, you take a sip of your drink. “yeah, yeah, sorry! wrong pipe.”

“so, do you want to meet him and ask about your aunt?”

everything in you screams to say no. it’s too dangerous. you will surely break the moment you see him. crystal became your lifeline apart from brian during that year. he was your brother, your partner in crime, the one who kept you grounded when things got too wild. just knowing that he’s frequented the same coffee shop as you for the last six months brings tears to your eyes. you could have run into him. hell, you might’ve already. still, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to make it through a proper meeting without spilling your guts and apologizing for the way you left.

“[y/n]?” matthew pulls you from your thoughts. “what do you think?”

you hesitate before shrugging. you speak before you can stop yourself, before the rational and reasonable part of you can take over. god, you need this. if it’s your only opportunity for true closure, you’ll take it. “if he’s up to it then... sure.”

matthew grins. “come in tomorrow. i’ll introduce you!”

that night you toss and turn. you’re plagued with anxiety. will crystal recognize you? if he does, what will he say? will he be angry? what if he tells brian and then—

your bedside alarm goes off just as you fall asleep. it’s a struggle to drag yourself out of bed, but you must. there’s closure somewhere around the corner, and if you just move your ass, you’ll find it. you have one class this morning then your meeting with crystal. you’re jittery by the time you leave class, but you chalk that up to drinking two cups of coffee before leaving your flat and one in class. 

it’s drizzling as you make your way to the coffee shop. you hasten your steps, head bent against the rain and fingers curled around the strap of your bag. when you enter the shop, it’s nearly empty aside from a few lonesome students studying in far off corners. you can hear the faint thrill of music over the loudspeakers, but the blood that’s rushing to your ears blocks out most of the melody.

crystal’s already here, leaning against the counter, in conversation with matthew.

you stop in your tracks. he’s bald now, slightly pudgier with age, but he looks every bit as devilish as you remember.

you swallow past the fear in your throat and the anxiety in your veins and step forward. you voice wobbles when you speak. “matthew?” you direct your entrance to your friend because if you come right out and say crystal’s name, you will surely fall over in a puddle of emotion.

“there you are!” matthew jumps over the counter in one easy leap and lands to the floor beside you. he drapes his arm around your shoulders and motions to crystal. “[y/n], i’d like you to meet chris taylor. chris, this is [y/n], the girl i was telling you about.”

crystal’s staring at you through his blue-tinted glasses like he’s seen a ghost. his jaw has gone slack, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a sentence. 

you shove your hand into the space between you. “nice to meet you, mr. taylor.”

looking between matthew and yourself, he gathers himself, clearing his throat, and shakes your hand. “you too.”

“should we sit?” you motion to the same table you occupied the day before. “i can buy you a coffee for your troubles.”

he shakes his head and lifts his cup. “already got mine.”

“all right, well...” you glance at matthew.

“do you want your regular?” he asks.

“yes, please.”

“comin’ right up.”

crystal follows you to the table and sits down, his movements slow. for a moment, you sit in silence and allow his eyes to roam your face. you can’t tell if he knows it’s you or if he thinks it’s just a coincidence. you want to reach out and take the hand he rubs across the bridge of his nose, but you fold your fingers in your lap.

“thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” you finally say.

“you aunt,” he starts.

“yes, my aunt.” you pull a photograph out of your bag. it’s one of the few you took with crystal all those years ago. he’s got you in a headlock, his opposite fist grinding into the top of your skull. you slide the picture across the table. “you knew her?”

crystal lifts the photo, inspects it, before putting it down. he sighs, shaking his head. “i loved that woman. broke my heart when she left.” his gaze lifts from the table. “you look like her, have her name too.”

you look away, out the window at the side. there’s bird fluttering in a puddle on the sidewalk, and you watch it for a moment before turning back to him. “i think my mother loved her a great deal. i didn’t get the chance to know her, though. we only just found these pictures recently.”

his eyes narrow. “i mean, you really look like her.”

you force a smile. “thank you. that’s kind of you.” shifting, you tap your finger on the table. “i know her leaving wasn’t exactly...” you struggle to find the proper word, but he jumps to assist.

“natural?”

“well, i was going to say easy, but—”

“she fuckin’ disappeared! excuse my language.” huffing, he drops back against his chair. “one minute she was there, the next minute she was gone. i swear, i’ve never seen anyone skip town that fast.”

“she didn’t say anything about leaving?”

“why would she? she was engaged! she had no reason to leave that i know of.”

“was she happy?”

“hell yes. her and brian—i’ve never seen two people more fit for one another. brian just about lost his mind trying to find her, but it was like she never existed. strangest thing.” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, looking askance, before his eyes whiz back to yours. “oh my fucking god.” 

you look up, fear sparking in your belly. “what?”

“[y/n]?”

you blink. your head feels dizzy with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s about to jump across the table and throttle you or hug you so tight your insides might squeeze out of your body.

“fuck,” he breathes. “it is you.”

“i don’t know know what you’re—”

“don’t play dumb with me!” he leans across the table and lowers his voice. “i was the one who got you that phony passport, remember? i always wondered why i couldn’t find your credentials. had to lie my way through it until i got the damn thing. you’re lucky everything was so lax in the 70s.” he shakes his head. “how’d you do it?”

there’s part of you that wants to deny, deny, deny.

but it’s crystal. you can’t lie to him any more than you already have.

“i had no choice in the matter,” you say plainly. “one minute i was here, the next minute i was there, and the next minute i was here again.”

his jaw works back and forth as he processes the information. “does brian know?”

“no—and i’d like to keep it that way.”

“i thought we might lose him after you left.”

you twist the ring on your finger. “if i’d had the choice, i would have stayed. i hope you know that.”

crystal nods. “yeah, i do.” he holds your gaze then motions to your bag. “so, this exhibit matthew told me about. you’re publishing all those photos you took?”

“yes. there are some pictures i’ve saved for myself, but my boss, monica, she got permission from the record label to go ahead with the others. it opens in three weeks.”

“i’ll be there if i can. i’d like to see those pictures.”

you smile, your first earnest smile of the day. “you feature many times.”

he ducks his head like an embarrassed schoolboy. “we were thick as thieves, weren’t we?”

“you and roger were thicker, but i’d like to think i had a part to play some of the time.”

he lifts his head and heaves a heavy sigh. “you know, when i said i loved you, i meant it. not in the way brian did. you were like a kid sister to me. i cared for you a great deal.”

before you can stop yourself, you slip your hand across the table to grasp his worn fingers. his shoulders shake on another sigh, and he lifts his opposite hand to wipe at his eyes beneath his glasses. 

“oh, crystal. i’m so sorry,” you whisper. it hurts to see him cry, to know that you’re the cause behind his pain. 

he waves your apology away, sniffing hard. “i’m just glad to know you’re okay. we thought you might’ve gotten picked up or—” he shakes his head and pats your hand over his, meeting your eyes. “you’re okay, though. that’s what matters.”

“will you really come to my exhibit?”

“anything for you, kid.” he thumbs the underside of your chin with a lopsided grin. “even after all this time, i’m putty in your hands.”

you grin and hand him a business card, which he tucks in the folds of his wallet. rising from his seat, he opens his arms and you practically trip into his hug. he holds you tight for the briefest of moments before pulling back. he pats your cheek.

“i’ll see you in three weeks, yeah? if i stay any longer i’ll end up a sobbin’ mess on the floor.”

you nod. “yeah. and, crystal?” he turns at the door. “don’t tell brian. please.”

he leaves without another word.

the day of the exhibit opening you are equal parts thrilled and a nervous wreck. everyone’s here—your family, rachel, shamik, even matthew. you haven’t seen crystal amidst the crowd mingling in the lobby, but you trust him to show. he’s always been reliable, and you doubt he’ll fail you now.

monica squeezes your shoulder as she passes you by in the staff hallway. “it looks wonderful, [y/n]. consider yourself hired,” she says and hands you a keycard. “i’m going to give you a piece of advice i got when i completed my first exhibit: go have a moment by yourself. look at your work, be proud of it. you deserve it.”

with trembling fingers and a racing heart, you make your way down the corridor to the south exhibit hall. due to a celebratory lunch with rachel the day before, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the room in its final state. in retrospect, you’re thankful for the chance to see it for the first time alone. at least this way, if you cry, no one will have to know.

the door beeps as it unlocks, and you slip inside the room. you descend the handful of stairs which lead into the showroom floor and suck in a deep breath. 

before entering the exhibit, there’s a wall to the side with a simple explanation written in a white font:

queen: unfiltered — this exhibit preserves and presents never-before-seen images of the popular band, queen, through the eyes of an unnamed woman who spent a year traveling the world on queen’s jazz album tour. her images are intimate yet distinctive and offer a personal glimpse into the lives of one of britain’s most well-known bands. 

at the far end of the room hang four banners spanning floor to ceiling. the banners wave gently in the air blowing throughout the room, illuminated from lights on the ceiling and floor. each banner hosts an oversized photo of one of the band’s members in an image that best captures their personality. it took you hours to find the right photo for each man, but you stand by your choice for each one.

there’s john on the far left, head bent as he strums the bass across his knee. his lips are pursed in thought, a line of concentration on his brow.

there’s freddie next to him. he stands in a spanish alley way, cradling a stray cat in his arms. he looks serenely on at the camera, a rare moment of simplicity.

there’s brian sat in an overstuffed armchair, his gangly legs crossed, a book open on his lap. he has the corner of his thumb in his mouth, and if you squint you can see the edge of his tongue.

there’s roger on the far right. he’s smiling at the camera, his eyes bright with mischief and joy. there’s a party hat snug on the crown of his head, pulling the skin of his forehead taut.

on opposite sides of the room, two parallel rows of twelve photos hang in neat order. you decided to have every photograph in the exhibit printed in black-and-white and, in all, you painstakingly picked the forty-eight photos featured in their simple white frames. you walk along the wall, hands clasped at your waist, eyes running over the memories you hold so dear.

the afternoon crystal taught you ride a bike in barcelona: you’re sat on the handlebars after a hard fall, mouth open in a squeal of delight as crystal whips toward the camera.

roger and john tossing an apple back and forth in an ottawa grocery store: john’s smile is broad, the apple caught on film midair.

brian sitting on the floor of your hotel suite: there’s a tray of sushi at his feet, and he’s smiling at you, his hair wet from a shower.

freddie playing the piano in the airport in yugoslavia: he’d been so excited to see one, his shoes had slipped on the slick floor as he ran to it. he’d played dramatically, conducting those around him in a horrible rendition of “god save the queen.”

your eyes sting with tears as you glance about the room. you’re proud of your work. it looks good, professional and elegant, but more than that, you’re proud of yourself for the work you’ve done in mending your broken heart. though you will never live the life you’d once dreamed of, you will always have the memories—and that’s got to count for something.

when the double-doors open and monica ushers the first of the patrons in, you slip into the closest bathroom to wipe at the makeup smudged under your eyes. you’re happy, truly so, and you want to celebrate—celebrate both of your lives as they finally come together.

the room is crowded when you reenter, conversation and gentle laughter mingling in the air. you accept a tight hug from rachel when you see her and the congratulations of your parents. you can’t stop smiling, and you’re sure your face will hurt come morning, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

your parents float away, hand in hand, and you find yourself alone in the center of the room, watching in awe as people you’ve never met look at your photos, at your memories, and nod in appreciation. your chest swells with an emotion you can’t place.

“i think this calls for a congratulations. you’ve outdone yourself, dove.”

you whirl on your heel, lip caught between your teeth in a poorly-concealed smile. “you came.”

crystal grins. the tie of his suit is rumbled and askew, and you reach out to straighten it. old habits die hard. “i said i would.”

“what do you think?”

“i think it’s fantastic. the lads would be proud.”

“maybe.” you shrug. “guess we’ll never know.”

“are you really so intent on staying hidden forever?”

you nod. “yes. it took everything in me to even talk to you. i don’t want to ruin their lives again by popping back up, especially because i’m not exactly old, am i?”

crystal laughs, shaking his head. “you must think you’re hot stuff if a simple hello could ruin a life.” his laughter fades into a simple smile. “now, i know you’re going to hate me and i’m willing to take that, but i did tell a certain someone about the exhibit.”

you can feel the blood drain from your face. “crystal, you didn’t.”

he winces. “i might’ve.”

you slap his arm and curl your fingers into his bicep. “you bastard!”

he holds up his hands in defense, decent enough to plaster a look of contrition on his face. “look, i didn’t tell him the context or what tipped me off. i just told him there was a new exhibit about queen and he was eager to come see. that’s all!”

you swallow hard, uncertain how to respond. “i—” your head twists back and forth in utter confusion. “i don’t know what to do.”

crystal’s face softens, and he nudges your shoulder. “go talk to him. he deserves that much, doesn’t he?”

you can’t argue with that.

giving crystal’s arm a grateful squeeze, your legs shake beneath you as you turn and see him—brian—across the room.

you don’t know how you didn’t see him before. even now, forty years later, he’s still unmistakeable: still tall, still gangly, but his hair has gone white and his strides are slower. the overwhelming urge to tear across the room and curl yourself around his back nearly overpowers you, but you shove it down and manage to cross the floor in slow, even steps. you keep your eyes glued to his back, your hands twitching at your sides. when you reach him and catch a faint whiff of his cologne, the same he wore all those years ago, you have to push back the tears that rise unbidden to your eyes.

you tap his shoulder. “dr. may?”

he circles around, as does his wife anita, her arm snug in his elbow.

brian blinks hard, his brow furrowed in confusion. for a moment, you let him stare at you as you stare right back. his eyes are the same. you’d thought they’d be different, but they aren’t. the realization stuns you silent.

anita glances between you both before smiling sweetly. “good evening, sweetheart,” she says, and her voice is so kind you can’t even summon the slightest bit of jealousy. “i’m afraid i didn’t catch your name.”

“oh, i’m sorry!” you laugh and find that smiling at anita isn’t hard. “my name’s [y/n] [y/l/n]. i created the exhibit. i thought i might come and introduce myself.”

“oh, how lovely!” anita claps her hands together. “what you’ve done is so beautiful, [y/n]. it’s nearly brought a tear to my eye.”

“that’s very kind of you, ma’am.”

“brian likes it too. don’t you, brian?”

he still can’t seem to formulate any sort of response. he’s frozen in place, and your heart lurches for him. to see the woman he’d once asked to marry him, the one so cruelly ripped away, while standing next to his wife... precisely why you never wanted to meddle in his current affairs.

finally, he seems to collect himself. he sucks in a deep breath and nods in agreement. “yes, i do. very much.”

“that means a lot,” you say, easing your smile back into place. “thank you.”

“i’ll leave you two to talk to for a moment. i see crystal hovering in the corner over there, and i’m sure you both have many questions for one another.” anita presses her hand on your arm as she passes. “lovely job, dear.”

she leaves, and you’re left alone with the greatest love of your life.

you wait for him to speak.

“you’re... alive?” it’s a question, not a statement.

“yes.”

“you’re the same age?”

“yes.”

“how did—” he shakes his head. “i don’t understand.”

“neither do i.”

his chin quivers slightly, and he looks away. “i thought you’d been taken or decided to—”

you dare to touch his arm. a spark jolts through your fingers at the slightest touch, but you hold firm. “nothing happened,” you explain. “other than nature righting her mistake.”

“i think—i think i need to sit down.”

“yes, of course. my office is down the hall. it’s quiet there.”

he nods and leans against your arm as you lead him down the hall. in the silence of your dimly lit office, he collapses to the loveseat beneath the window and drops his face to his hands. you hesitate in the doorway until he looks up. tears shimmer in his eyes, and you swallow hard, your smile wavering around the edges.

he stands then, crosses the floor, and cradles your face in his hands. “my god,” he breathes. “it really is you.”

with a laugh, you hold his wrists. “in the flesh.”

“how long’s it been?” his thumb works over your cheekbone and, though you know he should stop, you can’t bring yourself to step away from his touch.

“about seven months.”

he snorts. “try forty years.”

“you seem like you did well for yourself, though.”

he shrugs. “i suppose.”

“you’re happy?”

there’s a heavy pause before he says, “yes.”

“that’s all i want to hear.”

slipping out of his grasp, you put a modicum of space between you both. the air is thick with emotion, and your heart beats wildly against your chest. the love you thought you’d put to bed flares at the mere sight of him, even after all this time.

you drift your finger through the sand of your tabletop zen garden. “i told crystal not to tell you about me,” you admit.

“he didn’t—not in so many words.”

“i know. i’m glad he said something, though.” you pause, meet his gaze. “it’s so good to see you, bri.”

quiet falls over the room as he stares at you. you don’t squirm. you’re comfortable under his gaze, always have been.

“i hope you know i never stop looking,” he says. “even after anita, i kept trying to find you. just to know.”

“and i hope you know that i would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant i got to be with you even for a time.”

your phone vibrates on the desk, skidding across your oversized calendar. you reach for the phone and flip it over before slipping it in the purse hung over your desk chair.

“i’ve got to go,” you admit, crossing to his side. “i’ve actually got a date.”

to your surprise, his eyes crinkle with amusement. “i’m happy to hear it.” he lifts a hand and smooths back the hair from the side of your face. he looks at you with all the love he did forty years ago, and you wish you could take a picture to remember forever. 

but then you remember: you have dozens of photos at home, and it doesn’t seem too hard to let him go now. not after the work you’ve put into mending your heart. you can face this, face saying goodbye for good. you have to, for his sake and your own.

rising to your tiptoes, you place a hand on his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth—one last touch, for you both. you wind your arm around his neck and whisper in his ear, “i love you, brian may. i always will.”

he squeezes you hard against his body, sucking in a ragged breath. “i love you too, [y/n].”

dropping back to your heels, you huff a breath and smile wide. “well, i’d better go.”

“yes, you’d better. don’t keep the lad waiting.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, your hand lingering on his. “okay, well... goodbye, brian.”

he smiles, and it’s the loveliest sight you’ve ever seen. he brushes you cheek with the back of his hand, whispering, “see you later, love.”

dipping out the back of the museum, you walk down the street, purse slung over your shoulders. you think you’ll be able to sleep well for the first time in a long time tonight. 

you hope he can, too.

~*~*~*

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