#it counts if i use last year's unfinished sketch for this piece right? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jisunghannie · 1 year ago

Text

Always the Artist, Never the Muse

PAIRING: Hyunjin x male!reader

WARNING: Lots of Angst, boyxboy (bxb), school!au, rejection, reader has a girlfriend, reader uses jagi/jagiya on their girlfriend, told more from Hyunjin's point of view, reader's point of view is majority of the time with their girlfriend

SUMMARY: Hyunjin has a crush on you but you never seem to look his way. He always paints you and sketches you. But he's scared to approach you because he believes that you'll make fun of him for liking you so he likes you from a distance. Even though he knows that you have a girlfriend.

WORD COUNT: 2,843

A/N:

.°•○>><<○•°. = POV switch

`○°.• ✿ •.°○` = Timeskip

I might write a female version! Let me know if you'd like that too! This is based off of a poem I read on tiktok. It just screamed Hyunjin when I read it so I wrote about it!

You always saw a boy in your class stare at you. Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin. He was the boy that won that art competition in your class last year. You won't lie, his art was amazing but what was weird was him constantly staring at you. That was weird. Something about him was just-

"Hey lover!" Your girlfriend called out as you turned and smiled. "Hey jagi." You said, kissing her on the cheek.

You turned and looked back to Hyunjin, the boy was gone. You wondered where the peculiar boy went. You sighed but enjoyed your time with your girlfriend.

.°•○>><<○•°.

Hyunjin was hiding behind the wall by the classroom door trying not to let his heart break and at the same time jump out of his chest.

He was hurt that you kissed your girlfriend but then again, it was your girlfriend. There's nothing he could do to stop it. He sighed, hoping that he could be in your girlfriend's shoes.

At the same time, he was smiling knowing that you looked at him and noticed him.

`○°.• ✿ •.°○`

A few weeks passed since the incident and Hyunjin still wasn't over it. He still couldn't believe it. As he was spacing out while walking he bumped into you.

"Ah, I'm so sorry." He said as he bowed an apology. "Don't worry about it." You said smiling as Hyunjin realized who it was. He realized a little too late after he lifted his head. He blushed in embarrassment and scratched his neck nervously.

"Hey, you're Hwang Hyunjin right? The guy that won the art contest right?" You asked as Hyunjin nodded bashfully. "Awh, that's amazing. Your art is amazing as well. Maybe you can paint me one day." You said, half joking and half serious. However, Hyunjin liked you so much that he already could draw you from just memory.

"My girlfriend is planning to run for the one art competition coming up for scholarship." Hyunjin was hurt to hear you mention your girlfriend, but his petty side spoke up and said, "What art contest? I think I might've signed up too." You chuckled, "I think it was called KNUA? Korea National University of Arts." He said as Hyunjin let out his fakest giggle.

"I'm going there too! What a coincidence." He lied as you stood there he was flattered, and you guys traded numbers.

Later that same day, he went to go sign his name, read the details, and go get his materials.

.°•○>><<○•°.

After the conversation with Hyunjin you went back to your girlfriend. You smiled at her as you saw her painting. You silently crept behind her as you hugged her from the back.

"Hey jagi, I got what you needed." You said as she smiled and hugged you. "Thank you so much!" She said, you chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Anything for you lover." You told her.

`○°.• ✿ •.°○`

There was approximately a week and a half left until the showcase. You were supporting your girlfriend as she was almost finished. You smiled as she looked happy with her piece.

"What do you think so far jagi?" She asked as you looked at the painting. It was with two people hugging, laying down. While in what seems to be an unfinished painted casket. "Why a casket?" You asked as she smiled. "I'm taking the marriage vow, 'till death do us part' literally." She said as you nodded your head. "You're so smart." You told her as you admired it. "I don't get art but that was really smart." She giggled at that.

"I need more paint, can you go get me some from the store?" She asked as you nodded, kissing her head and leaving to the art store.

You practically had the directions memorized by how much your girlfriend went there.

As you walked in, you saw Hyunjin in the store and walked over to him. "Hey Hyunnie," You said, "I didn't know you shopped here too." As you finished your sentence he jumped. "Oh, it's just you..." He said, taking a sigh. "Of course, who else would it be Hyunnie." You told him as he turned around and turned his slightly downwards. "Did you just call me 'Hyunnie'?" He asked as you nodded.

"Woah, you have so many feminine features." You told him, moving his hair out of his face to look at his face. "Your eyelashes are so long, your hair is silky smooth, not to mention your lips are amazing, they are plump and full." You admired as he pulled back. "Thank you..." He thanked softly as you smiled.

"Only a week and a half left. How's your painting?" You asked as he stood frozen in place. "I-It's done, just gotta add a few more details." He said, his voice stuttering in the beginning. "Are you okay Hyunnie what's up with the stutters. "It's nothing. I'm gonna go pay. I'll see you whenever y/nnie..." He said as he got in line.

.°•○>><<○•°.

After he paid for his stuff, he walked home blushing like crazy, thinking about the situation. You gave him a nickname. That alone made Hyunjin blush. What made him blush even more was that you had touched his hair and his face. That drove him wild.

He didn’t know what to do. He felt awkward and didn’t know how to reply. He hid his face all the way home. He saw your car as you rolled down your window.

"Hey, it's kind of hot, you want a ride home? I have the ac cranked up." You offered as he nodded and sat in the back seat. "Hey, I'm not your uber, I'm your friend, come sit next me in the passenger seat." He nodded and sat in the passenger seat.

While Hyunjin sat and buckled his seatbelt you put your phone on the phone stand on your car. "What's your address?" You asked, he told you his address as you smiled and put on his gps. "Feel free to play music." You said as Hyunjin nodded.

He put on his favorite song, i hate to admit by Bangchan.

You smiled as you sang along to the song. Hyunjin was surprised as you sang. "You know this song?" He asked as you nodded. "This song helped me through my hardest times. When my mother passed. I felt really alone because I never met my father and losing the only other parental figure in my life hurt." You told him. He felt bad and tried reaching for your hand but he restrained himself and took his hand back.

"I'm sorry to hear that y/nnie..." He said as you chuckled, "Don't be, I know my mother would've loved to be with me right now. She still is but spiritually." He said, grabbing the photo in his visor mirror. "She would've loved Jiah." He said as Hyunjin felt his heart break. "How did you meet Jiah?" He asked as you smiled. "She had sprained her ankle during a class field trip. I had merely helped her and took her to the closest medical tent. She was grateful and offered me coffee. What became a mutual hang out became another, and another, then a date, then another date, then another, and soon we ended up dating. I asked her out, and she agreed."

Hyunjin nodded at the story, not knowing that the truth would hurt this badly.

"She was the highlight of my life." You said as Hyunjin bit his lower lip trying to ignore the watery eyes. "So why do you listen to this song Hyunnie?" You asked as he looked at you. "Similar to you. It helps me out and calms me down. It makes me understand that," He stopped his words as he sighed, "It makes me understand that I'm never going to have the one I want. I will only be on the side but never in frame." He said looking forward.

You sighed. "I know how that feels but hey, you're a catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you Hyunjin."

As you said that, he caught himself smiling slightly. The way his name rolled off your tongue just made the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

You pulled up to a house. "This your house?" You asked as he looked outside. "Yeah, this is it." He said unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his things. "Thank you y/nnie..." He silently thanked as you smiled. "Anytime Hyunnie."

As you went inside, he saw you drive off as he walked slowly, then he fell to the floor. Sobbing. He knew that he would never have a chance with you, but hearing how much you love your girlfriend just made his heart hurt in a way unimaginable. As he cried, his painting sat on the easel. Waiting to be showcased and finished.

.°•○>><<○•°.

You arrived back at your place, where your girlfriend was peacefully painting. Finishing the last few touches.

"Looks great jagiya." You said as she turned. "Y/n!" She exclaimed, hugging you close and tight. "I missed you." She said calmly this time as you smiled. "I missed you too." You said as she looked up at you. "What took you so long?" She asked, pulling you to the couch to sit. "I saw Hyunjin and dropped him off at home." You told her as she beamed and smiled. "I always thought Hyunjin was amazing! I always admired his art. I think I would've left you for him if he gave me a chance." She teased as you made a noise of surprise. "I'm just kidding jagi! I'm kidding! You know I love you too much for that!" She said. You hugged her close just then, "Good!" You said jokingly as she giggled. "Let me gooo! I need to finish!" She sang out as you tickled her. "Not a chance." You said while she laughed.

After calming down, she finished her painting. "All done! Now I need to write a title and the explanation on paper to have it exhibited and sign my name on it once it's dry." She said as you looked confused. "Why do you have to do all that?" You asked as she giggled. "So it's, professional jagi." She told you as she went to the kitchen. "What do you want to eat? Dinner is on me tonight." She said as you covered your mouth. "No offense jagi... but you're better off painting..." You teased. "Why you little... fine! Then you can starve!" She said. "I'm kidding! Jagi! Jiah!" You said chasing after her.

`○°.• ✿ •.°○`

It was the night before the exhibition. Your girlfriend loaded everything in your car as she smiled. "You ready for tomorrow?" You asked as she nodded. "So ready!" She replied as you took her inside to sleep.

.°•○>><<○•°.

Hyunjin had just finished writing the explanation. He smiled sadly at his piece. If any other person saw him, they'd think Hyunjin was unhappy or sad about his piece. Truth be told, it was because of the piece that he was sad. Hyunjin loaded everything in his car and slept, ready for the exhibition tomorrow.

Hyunjin got up, washed his face, brushed his teeth, did his skincare, ate, applied a lip balm, packed his bag and left. Ready for the exhibition.

When he got there he saw other students from his school with fabulous pieces. They didn't cover theirs like Hyunjin did but he knew that his painting was special to him.

He had seen you and Jiah together. You kissed Jiah and wished her good luck. That. Had hurt. He saw Jiah's painting. It was beautiful but again, nothing could compare to how special his painting was.

After all the contestants, Jiah was second to last and Hyunjin was last.

"Now welcome up on the stage, Miss Kim Jiah!" They called out as she walked up, placing her painting on the easel. "Hello everyone! I'm Kim Jiah. My painting is titled 'Till Death Do Us Part'. The reason I chose this is because, ironically, enough. My boyfriend and I plan to get married after high school. I know it's super sickening, but listen to me. The reason why I chose this is because I don't know what I would do without him. I really do value my loved ones. My role model in my life was always my father because he swore to my mother this vow when they got married. My mother cheated on him, and yet he forgave her and ended up being with her even when she was pregnant with another child that wasn't his. He loved her. He really did. Then the accident came. My mother was barely clinging to life, and my father told the doctors to take anything they needed from him to save her. Unfortunately, my half-sister passed, and that same day, I lost both my parents. I remember my mother telling my father she was pregnant with another child who wasn't his, and all he did was hold her hand and told her, 'I'll never stop loving you. I forgive you. Remember our vows. Till death do us part.' Thank you for listening.' She said as the audience erupted in applause.

The announcer then stepped onto the stage, "Thank you so much for that Miss Kim with your painting and your story of the origin of that painting. Now, welcome onto the stage, our previous winner of last year, Hwang Hyunjin!" As Hyunjin stepped onto the stage, the audience clapped and cheered. Hyunjin placed his covered painting on the easel. "Hello, as some of you may know. My name is Hwang Hyunjin." He said looking for you in the audience. Once he locked eyes with you, he knew that this was going to be a scary yet relieving explanation. "My painting is called, 'Always the Artist, Never the Muse.'" He said as he unveiled the painting, it was the most beautiful painting of a man. A man similar looking to you. "The reason why I painted this man is because this is the man that I love." He admitted as the audience murmured. "I know what you guys are thinking, but just listen. I've loved this man for so long. Since my grade school years. I watched him grow and become amazing. However, I know that he would never see me like that. I say that because he has someone who he holds dear to him already. I'm honestly jealous. I wish I could be that close to his heart as she is. Whenever I see them, my heart breaks knowing that I could've been the one in his arms. I know that sounds selfish. But I couldn't ask for someone more or even close to perfect as him. He is just the most amazing person you'll know. He and I just got closer recently and all I feel is my heart jumping out at my chest whenever I talk to him. But whenever he looks at me with those eyes, it's because he's not looking at me, he's looking behind me. Those eyes are just for me to see that it's a sight that will never belong to me. so I decided to capture that loving look he gives to his girlfriend, because I am always the artist, never the muse. Thank you for taking the time to listen to me." He said as he looked at you. Who just stood there shocked. As the audience roared in applause and cheers as some cried. Hyunjin bowed, took his painting, and went off the stage taking a sigh of relief as the other contestants congratulated him for coming out to the world.

After all the art pieces were exhibited. Hyunjin sat by his piece, as he felt another person sit next to him. He looked, and it was you.

"Hey." You said. "Hey." Hyunjin replied as you started, "Look-" Hyunjin cut you off, "I know don't worry y/n. I know you don't love me or see me that way." He said as you sighed. "It's not just that. But, Jiah isn't comfortable with me being friends with you when we are both aware that you have feelings for me. I'm sorry Hyunjin." You said dryly as you stood up. "I'm glad I could be here to support you at least." You said, walking away.

Before Hyunjin could cry they called all the contestants on stage.

"Votes are in and now the student winning the scholarship is..." Everything went in one ear out the other, Hyunjin could've cared less, because he lost someone important to him that's what Hyunjin considered a tragedy to all. "Hwang Hyunjin! Our infamous winner from the year before as well!" The announcer said, as Hyunjin was given an envelope of acceptance to KNUA. Hyunjin didn't care. He had lost the person most important to him. It was more important than this stupid acceptance paper. To him, you were the world.

He fell to the floor in tears because he knew that him being with you would never happen. Only in his dreams, because he is always the artist, never the muse.

#skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids #skz angst #hyunjin skz #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin hwang #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #skz hwang hyunjin #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin angst

19 notes · View notes

flailingart · 2 years ago

Photo

Happy Arrival! Happy New Year!

#enderal #Enderal: Forgotten Stories #arrival celebration #c; m.sha'har #c; l.eren #it counts if i use last year's unfinished sketch for this piece right?#i'm going to do a better version next year. with vat. that'll be fun #happy new year my loves!

35 notes · View notes

auriel187 · 2 years ago

Text

The More Things Change (S1 E5)

Word Count: 3142

Series Masterlist

A/N: If anyone doesn't like the fact that the oc is black, go away.

Sitting in Mr. Feeny's classroom, I had been sketching for the past ten minutes while Shawn was using my class notes to do the worksheets. "I have graded last week's geography examination... and the highest score was achieved by..." but he was interrupted by Cory.

"Minkus. Was it achieved by Minkus? Does it go to Minkus? Minkus, right?" The curly haired boy exclaimed and Shawn looked over at him and turned back to my notes. "Mr. Minkus." Mr. Feeny confirmed my crazy friend's theory.

"That's a shock." Cory rolled his eyes as Shawn took my sketchbook off my desk and stared at the unfinished images. He smiled at them even though they weren't that good. He pinched my cheek when he handed it back to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Feeny. Your bonus question was a real stumper." I heard Minkus say and I rolled my eyes. Shawn threw a rolled up piece of paper at the shorter blonde's head.

"Miss Owens, excellent. Mr. Baker, very nice. Mr. Matthews... Well, there it is." Mr. Feeny said as he continued passing the tests around. Shawn didn't even care when he got his test back. "Miss Archer, remarkable work." My teacher said to me as he placed my test over my sketch book. A large A marked the top of my paper.

"A "C"? But I actually studied for this test. Why did I get a "C"?" Cory asked exhaustedly. "Let's see. Where to begin. Well, for one thing, Mr. Matthews... this section of the map is not East Germany." I kept drawing, my little sketch turning into a super heroine with a glamorous dress. She kind of looked like Storm.

"It's not?" Cory sounded baffled.

"Perhaps you heard of a little incident... with the Berlin Wall?" I looked over at Cory as he pondered the answer. "Was that during baseball season?" I rolled my neck before I leaned forward.

"There is no East Germany anymore, Cory." I whispered. That did absolutely nothing to ease his confusion.

"But the textbook says it's right next to West Germany." He looked between our teacher and myself.

"Yes, well, the textbook also says that Alaska and Hawaii... will make fine states someday. Things change, Mr. Matthews. Unfortunately, the Board of Education... doesn't have the funds to keep up." Mr. Feeny explained as he continued handing out the tests.

"Then how am I supposed to keep up?" Cory asked. "Watch the news. Pay attention in class. Look at the mimeographs I give you... before you turn them into paper airplanes." Just as he said that, Shawn took his now folded test and had it glide into Minkus's head.

"Ow." The scrawny blonde muttered monotonously.

"What good would it do? They keep changing geography. Why can't it be like all the other subjects? Math... 2 plus 2 is always 4. Uh, science... the Earth always goes around the Sun. History... Lincoln always gets shot in the head." Cory finished his monologue by throwing his hands in the air.

"Lincoln got off easy." I chuckled.

"You'd be surprised what people used to think about the earth." I laughed to myself, I could feel a few eyes turn to me.

The day went on without much chaos but I suppose that was wishful thinking, when I started packing up the last of my stuff when Mr. Feeny stood in the middle of the class. "All right, heads up. In these last few moments of class... I want to make an announcement... about this year's regional geography tournament. As some of you may know, for the past five years... I have always fielded a champion... and I expect to do the same this year. So, based on his outstanding scholastic achievement... I have selected as this year's entrant..." But Cory interrupted him similar to how he'd done earlier.

"Minkus. Have you selected Minkus?"

"Isn't Sunshine smarter than Minkus?" Shawn whispered to Cory who just shrugged and looked over at me.

"Mr. Minkus. And this year's first prize will be..." This time Minkus interrupted.

"A Mercator projection pull-down wall map?"

"No. Uh... This year's winner will be bat boy... at the opening game of the World Series."

I looked up at Mr. Feeny then at my boys. "Did you hear that?" Cory asked Shawn and I.

"Yeah. So?" Shawn looked completely unbothered. I had given him my sketch book and now he was colouring in all the stupid ugly little things I had drawn.

"So I'm seeing my dream come true here." Cory pleaded his case and I tried to suppress my smile at his enthusiasm as I looked over Shawn's shoulder to see how he was colouring it in. He cheekily pushed me away, attempting to keep it secret.

"Oh, right. Like Feeny's going to take you... to the geography tournament. You didn't even know... they tore down the Berlitz Wall." Shawn mumbled still colouring.

"Berlin wall, Shawnie." I mutter.

He didn't look up at me when he said "You did it again, Sunshine." I could hear the smile in his voice. Cory gagged.

+=+=+=+=+

Shawn had his arm over my shoulders as we as a group essentially kidnapped Minkus and brought him to Cory's house.

"Mom, have you met my good friend Minkus?" Cory hollered as he entered the kitchen. Everyone aside from Minkus had a fake smile plastered on our faces.

"It's nice to meet you, Minkus?" She smiled down at the blonde boy.

"Call my mother." Minkus says fearfully.

"What?" Mrs. Matthews looked at the rest of us. Shawn looked down at me. He gave me a little shove and I looked at Amy.

"He's a little nervous, Mrs. Matthews. We're gonna take him upstairs now." I say quickly. The boys led Minkus upstairs as I slowly walked up with the seven books they had me carrying.

"I'm glad you could come over, Minkus." I heard Cory say as I huffed into the room.

"Real nice to be here. Can I go now?" Minkus pleaded.

"Chill." ELlis said to Minkus, pushing him onto Cory's bed.

"I don't understand what that means." Minkus looked around the room but I was too busy trying to place the books on the desk Cory and Eric had in the back of the room.

"It means that out of every four people is a nerd. So when you look around this room... and you don't see one, you're it." Shawn responded. Just as I toppled over with the books. I looked over to see all four boys looking at me. "Or you're the embodiment of pure Sunshine." Shawn told Minkus before picking up the books for me.

"Thanks, Pup." I thanked him as I went and sat down on Eric's bed.

"But we can help you change." Ellis said as he shook his head to continue the conversation.

"Maybe I like how I am." Minkus tried to reason.

"You like everyone always making fun of you?" Ellis asked, to which Minkus said no.

"You like always being the last one picked for teams?" Cory asked and again, Mikus said no.

"You like everyone pulling your underwear up your butt all the time?" Shawn asked and Minkus replied with "It's not so bad." Everyone groaned in disgust.

"Minkus, let us help you." Shawn added a fake sincerity to his voice, I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"We're here for you, man." Ellis encouraged...or discouraged based on which way you look at it.

"It's early in the year. You can still change your image." Cory spoke calmly. These guys were starting to remind me of the guy from those infomercials. The ones that try to get you to be strange things you don't really need.

"What do I do?" Minkus looked over at me.

"The geography tournament... you don't want to do it. It'll brand you for life." I leaned forward on the bed to face the blond.

"But I love geography, my Ethiopian queen. I'm drawn by the adventure and exoticism of it. Hey. Perhaps you fellows would like to join... the Future Cartographers of America Club with me." He looked right at me as I leaned further back on the bed, shaking my head.

"Let it go, man." Ellis pleaded.

"If I don't do the tournament, will you guys like me?" Minkus asked.

"No." We all said unanimously.

"Then I don't see what's in it for me." Minkus crossed his arms over his chest.

"All right, name your price, you little creep." Shawn leered threateningly over the desk.

"I want a kiss from Raven-Anniya." Minkus said simply. I moved further away from him.

"Not happening." Shawn moved to stand beside me. Ready to attack in my honour, hence why I call him puppy. Well one of the many.

"Let the lady decide for herself." Minkus replied, confident in his charm.

"Not in a million years." I spoke plainly. Shawn squeezed my shoulder before he turned to Minkus.

"When you guys play Bombardment... could you not aim the ball at my head anymore?" Minkus negotiated, we all turned to Cory.

"Deal." The curly haired boy nodded. Shawn laid down on Eric's bed alongside me.

"What's the point of playing if we can't throw the ball at his head?" Ellis whined.

+=+=+=+=+

The boys and I were watching as Minkus walked over to our teacher. Shawn was sitting on my desk, trying to solve my Rubik's cube. Cory gagged when we smiled at each other when he got it. I told him he could.

"Mr. Feeny, I'm afraid I must tender my resignation from the geography tournament." Minkus excitedly said to Mr. Feeny.

"Mr. Minkus, I'm aware that the changing geopolitical face of the globe offers a difficult challenge." Mr. Feeny conceded as Shawn and I started to slowly slip out of the classroom. We were at the door just out of sight so we could still hear everything. Not that we were listening.

"You have dance class later, Sunshine?" He was twirling the end of my hair. I look over at him and he's leaning against the wall. I chuckled.

"Yes, Shawnie." I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Am I walking you there?" He asked, looking at my hair as he continued twisting it around his fingers.

"Depends on if you want to. You could have dinner with us. We might have tacos tonight." I replied.

"I'm not sure, I wouldn't want to disturb you guys." He was still playing with my hair. He's so weird.

"I mean, if you want to come for dinner I'm sure Brianna would be happy to let you have dinner with us." I said with a smile.

"What dance class do you have tonight?" He looked at me.

"I have hip hop, Pup." I elbowed him on the ribs.

"Why do you call me pup?" Shawn pondered out loud, my hair curling at the end of his finger. I looked at him oddly.

"You're loyal, you're playful and you have puppy eyes." I poked him on the forehead between his eyes. He smiled and pushed his forehead forward. We stayed silent. I peered into the classroom to see Feeny and Minkus just at the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Minkus. You were the only student I ever had who could locate Thrace on a map of the ancient world." Mr. Feeny said openly. He was baiting Minkus, I knew it.

Ah, that's easy. Just go north from the Aegean and... I know what you're doing, Mr. Feeny and it isn't going to... ain't going to work." Minkus concluded and walked out the door colliding with Shawn and I.

"I shall miss you, Mr. Minkus. I only wish I knew... how I was going to replace you." We waited a few minutes before walking away. If Mr. Feeny didn't throw Cory out immediately, the plan was a success.

"So...Home for tacos, Pup?" I adjusted my books in my hand before Shawn took them from me.

"Sure thing...Princess?" He tried testing a new nickname, but I hate it!

"No!" I shook my head. "If you ever call me that again, I will never talk to you ever!" He held his hands up in surrender.

"Deal...I didn't like it either. I'm just trying to even us out." I just poked him and we went to my house.

+=+=+=+=+

We walked up to the door and I immediately started taking off my shoes. "I like that you take off your shoes." Shawn said as he copied me, careful not to drop my books that he was still holding. I chuckled.

"Thanks, Pup." I replied and he smiled and followed me in. We went to the kitchen, immediately placing our bags on the floor and our books on the table. I caught Shawn observing little things I did on the daily. I don't know why he did it but I think it's funny.

"What are you going to do first?" Shawn asked, looking at all the books I had on the table. I looked at all of them before choosing math. "Aww math. I hate math!" The blue eyed boy whined.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's boring. I don't like being bored." He answered, scratching at something in his book. I laughed about it for a second before my brain started doing that thing it does that I hate. I must've looked nuts, jumping from the table and running to my room and returning with my DSM-III and a stopwatch.

"I want to do some tests." I exclaimed. Moving my chair to sit directly in front of him.

"On me?" He asked fearfully. I nodded. I wasn't easing his anxiety at all.

"You'll be fine. Just look at me." I squeezed his face. When our eyes locked, I started the stopwatch. He kept eye contact for a few seconds before he started to drift away temporarily. He was still technically looking at me but he easily turned his focus on something else. I stopped the stopwatch when he looked at the table.

One minute, thirty six seconds.

"What was the test for?" He asked, frantically looking for something under his books.

"I'll tell you when I'm done, what are you looking for?" I asked.

"My button." He crawled under the table.

"The button that popped off your shirt earlier?" I asked.

"Yeah, I was gonna ask if my mom could sew it back on." He was now on the other side of the table.

"Pup, come here." And he did. I reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out his button. "You put it there so you wouldn't forget about it."

"Oh..." He lowered his head sheepishly.

He jumped away from me when the front door opened, Brianna and Jazmyne entering the house.

"Hi, Raven. How was your day?" Brianna asked, not fully paying attention as she headed to the fridge to get dinner started.

"It was okay. Cory's being weird and I'm trying to see if Shawn has ADD/H. Speaking of which, can he stay for tacos?" I said quickly.

"Sure. Just as long as his parents say it's okay." Jazmyne mocked her mother only to receive one of Brianna's deadly glares.

"Yes, Shawn can stay. But stop treating the boy like a lab rat." I shook my head.

"I'm trying to help. Maybe I can find a way to make learning fun and help bring up his grades." I say before seeing Shawn looking at my riddle problem sheets with genuine intrigue. He's a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for. "Math time, Hunter."

He groaned, throwing his head back. "I don't wanna."

"I'll make it fun, I promise." He rolled his eyes.

"Okay, close your eyes." I say. As he does, I grab some cake. We were learning about measurements, fractions and geometric shapes...also it's Shawn and he responds well to cake.

"Okay, Shawnie. I have a cake with a radius of 4.5 inches. What's the diameter?"

He looked at the cake for a few seconds. "Is the diameter the half line or the around line?" He asked.

"The diameter is the line that would cut the cake in half, the circumference is the outline of the cake." I explained and he read my math notes.

"Nine inches?" He didn't sound sure but he was putting in an honest effort.

"Correct!" I say, cutting the cake. It came out in a nice neat triangular slice. "Now, if the entire cake is 360 degrees and this slice is 30...ish degrees, how many even slices can we make?"

+=+=+=+=+

"I thought we were going to the park?" Shawn whined, clutching an old basketball.

"Come on, man, you're studying too much. The teachers are starting to notice." Ellis said in a judgmental tone.

"Yeah, they're calling you a good student. They're saying you have potential." I said sarcastically. Not sarcastic in regards to what they said but in regards to the fact that it's a bad thing. Not that Cory was listening.

"Wow! The highest and lowest points in the continental United States are only miles apart... Death Valley and Mount Whitney. I find that extraordinary." Cory stated, clutching a magnifying glass and sniffling.

"Extraordinary?" I said in shock. The last time I heard Cory say a word that long was when we tried to sing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

"He's mutating, man." Ellis turned to Shawn and I. I could see the little gears in Shawn's head turning as he picked up a pine cone and threw it at Cory's head.

"Ow." Cory sounded like Minkus. I jumped back quickly. Oh, that's terrifying. I grabbed Shawn's hand to head to the park when I saw Minkus walking into Cory's backyard wearing a horrendous pair of giant yellow pants.

"Hey, dudes. What's up?" He asked and Ellis decided that it wasn't worth losing his sanity to stay here.

"Too Weird for me. I'm out of here." Shawn pulled with him as he headed to our park.

When we got there we noticed that there were a few people here with their young children. We walked to the basketball net. "Is there a reason why you told me to bring this?" Holding his basketball.

"We're going to work on spelling today." I say and he groans but tosses me the ball. "Lucrative. L-U-C-R-A-T-I-V-E." for every letter I dribbled the ball. I toss the ball back to Shawn. "You got this, Pup. Lucrative. Spell it or shoot it." I pointed to the net.

We stayed out here for hours and to no one's surprise, Shawn took shots more than he spelled the words but again, he tried. That's all that mattered to me.

He may not win an international spelling bee, but he did the best he could.

#boy meets world #black oc #black reader #shawn hunter x oc

28 notes · View notes

svnflowervol666 · 5 years ago

Note

Hey!! Could you write an imagine where the reader is an artist and wakes up early, Harry is sleeping next to her and for a few minutes she's there watching him and then decides to draw him while he sleeps and when she's finishing Harry wakes up? Thank you so much ♥️

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of smut

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request! Like always, if you’re interested, let me know what you’d like for me to write next. Take care and tpwk.

Y/N wasn’t very sure how she’d managed to wake up before Harry considering how hard they partied last night. Her head pounded in her ears and she felt an overwhelming sense of dehydration in her throat. The events of the evening were somewhat blurry after Harry handed her a shot of something wretched and led her immediately to the dancefloor to work up a sweat. She knew judging from the fact that she was stark naked in the bed she shared with Harry and the fact that she could see her dress from the night before shimmering in the sunlight off in the corner of the room haphazardly that they’d at least made love to each other when they got home. Aside from that, her mind was drawing a blank.

Seeing as the blinding light from the harsh, early morning sun made it impossible to go back to sleep, she carefully removed the limp, ringed hand that was draped around her waist and wriggled her way over to her nightstand to grab her phone. Fuck, she thought to herself. Her battery was dead and she couldn’t be arsed to lean all of the way down to the ground to reach for her charger. After lying there for a moment and contemplating how to proceed with the morning, in which she decided she certainly would not be getting out of bed to start the day just yet, she reached a bit further past her phone for the sketchbook and pencil that Harry had gotten her for her birthday last year.

It was almost completely full of her drawings and doodles, something she prided herself in. Often times, she’d lose her sketchbook or spill her coffee on it before she could finish drawing in all of the pages. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had gotten this one for her which meant it was special, or maybe it was just luck, but she’d managed to hold on to this one almost down to the very last page.

In an attempt to soothe her hangover without getting out of bed, she began drawing away. She started by finishing up the flower she had started the other day after saw the most beautiful bunch of daisies while on her daily walk with Harry. Sure, they were technically an invasive weed that took over greenery like wildfire, but Y/N always thought they were beautiful.

When she’d perfected that one enough to her liking, she flipped the page and started another drawing. This one was also unfinished, and it was a landscape portrait of the bungalow she shared with Harry while on their vacation to Bora Bora last year. She’d been on many vacations and stayed in many nice houses since that trip, but this bungalow she’d never forget. It was where Harry took her to tell her that he loved her, though she hadn’t known that at the time. They had been having the time of their lives, drinking sugary, alcoholic beverages all throughout the day and lounging lazily by the ocean. Harry finally told her while they watched the sunset on their third night there. It slipped out faster and not as smoothly as Harry had imagined the moment in his head, but the overwhelming, swooning sensation he felt in his chest whenever he looked at Y/N made it impossible for the words to not spew from his lips. She’d never forgotten that trip because it was where she fell significantly more in love with Harry than she already had been.

There wasn’t much that needed to be done on the portrait of the bungalow, just some shading on the roof and a bit more detail on the waves that surrounded the structure. She finished that one fairly quickly then moved on to her next blank page. This one, she fucked up. What she had tried to draw one of her old pets from memory, but for some reason, it wasn’t looking right. She quickly scrapped the piece of paper and moved on to the next page, which was coincidentally the final page in her sketchbook.

She pondered for a moment on what idea in her head would earn the final spot in her book of drawings. She could try to draw her pet again? No, she shook her head softly to herself. Hers and Harry’s favorite table at the coffee shop that was down the block from their London apartment? No, she’d need to get a better look at the place before she attempted something like that. She looked around the now bright and sunny space of their bedroom, trying to find something that would shoot a spark in her brain and cause her to think of the perfect thing to draw. As she turned her head towards the sleeping, seemingly unconscious body that burrowed itself into the gigantic, down comforter beside her, it struck her.

Y/N propped herself up on her side so she could get a better look at the scene in front of her. Harry was sleeping the morning away, though she couldn’t say she blamed him since she didn’t even remember coming home last night (or was it technically this morning?). His face was completely covered by the huge down comforter that he’d hogged from her, but she didn’t mind. All that was visible of Harry was the top of his head, adorned with messy, chocolate-colored waves, and the outstretched palm of his left hand. That was it. His hand.

Her hangover had more or less subsided by now without the need of a greasy diner breakfast or a handful of headache medicine, so she was able to work diligently on her newest and final sketch. She traced over every crease and dip of his long, slender fingers, making sure no detail went unnoticed. Every ring, including the large, gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his ring and pinky fingers got their own moment in the spotlight. His bright yellow nail polish, the color that she’d picked out for him last week, was slightly chipped at the corners, but it only added to the uniqueness of the piece. Each knuckle she shaded with the closest attention. Unlike her old pet or the table at the cafe, she was almost certain she could draw this from memory, but a little reinforcement never hurt. Plus, she felt like she could stare at Harry’s hands for days on end without growing tired of them.

Harry’s hands were miracle workers for her. They’d held her through both her darkest and brightest days. They’d made her feel safe in times when she’d never felt so alone, and during big moments when she couldn’t be sad even if she tried. Harry’s hands cooked her breakfast on Sunday mornings, carried her to bed when she’d fallen asleep watching Netflix in the living room, massaged her tired feet after a long day of work, brushed her hair out of her eyes before kissing her goodnight each night, made her see stars as he pleasured her over and over again with his skillful fingers. So many times people overlook what hands do in a relationship, but not Y/N.

It was right when she was shading the corner of Harry’s cross tattoo that was barely visible from beyond the comforter she felt the bed sheets rustle and the sweet creature beside her come to. The peaceful silence of Y/N doodling away was broken when Harry moved his hand, the one she had been drawing, towards his face to rub harshly at his emerald green eyes.

“Wha’ ‘re you doin awake? ‘ts so early,” she heard his groggy, morning voice pierce the walls of the room.

“It’s almost noon, Harry,” she responded softly, letting the sketchbook fall gently into her lap.

“Oh, shit,” the lanky brunette chuckled, “Wha’ did we do last night?”

“I was actually hoping you could tell me.”

“‘ve got no idea, princess,” Harry groaned before reaching over to pat her thigh, feeling the hard material of her sketchbook instead.

“You drawin’? Lemme see.”

He plucked the open notepad from her lap to examine what she’d been drawing while he was asleep. She didn’t feel embarrassed or like she needed to snatch the book away from him before he could see that she’d been drawing his hands whilst he slept. That was another thing Y/N loved about Harry, how she never felt shy or that she needed to hide her art from him. He always praised her work whenever he crossed paths with it, so she was always willing to share her latest masterpiece.

“M’ hand? You drew my hand while I was asleep?” Harry was still delirious from a combination of his hazy, half-asleep half-awake state.

“I love your hands,” she stated firmly but softly, “plus, it was the last page in my sketchbook so I wanted it to be of something important.”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered as he cased over the drawing once more, “I like this one, but I think I much rather prefer the one you drew of my co-”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Y/N interrupted his sentence and yanked the sketchbook from his grasp before placing it back on its home on the nightstand.

She took her rightful half of the comforter back from Harry and nestled herself back into bed, making sure to cozy right up into Harry’s warm, bare chest so they could have a proper, conscious cuddle before dreadfully starting their day. The two of them were adults now and while they were still granted the privilege of being able to party, they couldn’t stay in bed and waste the day away after a long night of drinking like they used to.

Harry traced soft circles on Y/N’s back with the same hand that she was drawing just minutes ago, almost lulling her back to sleep. He watched as her breathing evened out and her eyes began to droop despite her awareness that they had a late lunch planned with Anne and Gemma in a few hours.

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her back to consciousness.

Her eyes blinked open quickly, unaware of how she’d almost went right back to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got to meet up wi’ mum and Gem soon. ‘Need to get up.”

“Ten more minutes.”

This made Harry chuckle, seeing how she was acting like a grumpy teenager who refused to wake up for school in the morning. God, how he loved her.

“How about I show you just how important my hands are to you and then we hop in the shower, yeah? Sound like a plan?”

She opened one eye just slightly enough to see that Harry was giving her his iconic smirk that caused one of his dimples to shine through. Leave it to Harry to squeeze in a shag before lunch with his own mum.

She supposed she really couldn’t say no to that.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styes imagine #harry styles smut #asks

567 notes · View notes

vaguely-concerned · 5 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian Fic -- The cold between stars

Gen, 2400 words, Mando and Baby Yoda on Sorgan!

Can also be found here on ao3

Outside the barn the village had settled in for the night, only a few adults left around the main fire in the center to talk and drink a while before they turned in. It seemed a more subdued affair than most Mandalorian gatherings of the same sort, but Cara Dune’s occasional good-natured bark of laughter carrying over the others lent it a familiar air nonetheless.

Listening to the faint hum of voices with half an ear Din finished reassembling the rifle after maintenance and made sure the safety was on before leaning it against the wall. There. He could go to sleep.

On his way over to his low cot in the corner he checked on the crib and found the kid still sleeping, looking comfortably buried beneath the avalanche of blankets Omera had given them, only his face and one small three-fingered hand peeking out. Smiling a little Din finished getting ready for bed, sitting down on the edge of the cot once the last armor piece came off and giving the barn one last scan before he settled. He kept the helmet on — it was a bit cumbersome to sleep in it over such a long period of time, but the barn was too public a spot to chance that someone wouldn’t glance in at some point while he was out cold, even accidentally. Din didn’t mind it much; he’d slept in a lot of places exponentially worse.

Everything seemed to be in order, so he lay back and pulled the blanket over him, closing his eyes.

After perhaps five minutes there was a tug on the blanket, followed by a soft, declarative sort of coo from around ground level.

Din glanced down to the side of the bed, where the kid had managed to stretch up far enough to seize hold of the edge of the blanket and was watching him expectantly, dark eyes wide and unblinking.

“You have your own bed,” Din pointed out, with no particular conviction behind it. “A nice one. And I’ll be right over here the entire time anyway.”

The kid only kept up that solemn gaze, tiny fists clenched around their handfuls of blanket.

Din managed to hold out for exactly five seconds before he sighed and relented. “Yeah, okay, fine. C’mere.”

With a cheerful chirp the kid let himself be lifted up and immediately nestled against Din’s chest once he’d pulled the blanket up to cover the baby.

At the end of the day the kid really didn’t ask for very much — certainly less than a human baby, from Din’s admittedly limited experience — and the thought of giving him even less than that seemed somehow gut-wrenching. Consequently the times he’d actually stayed in his crib the whole night through during their entire stay here could still be counted on one hand.

It was probably Din’s own damn fault too; on the ship the only way to make sure the kid didn’t run havoc around the place during the night was to keep him with him while he slept. Din had met professional cracksmen less adroit in getting past locked doors. It would be quite funny if it weren’t for the multitude of decidedly non-baby safe things on board — he’d never realized how much danger was to be found at about ankle-height around the Razor Crest before, but he was now building an extensive mental catalogue and had been frantically mitigating what he could. In a moment of mild paranoia one night he’d even removed the power cells from the carbonite equipment, just to be safe.

And so the kid seemed to have grown used to sleeping either curled up on Din’s chest or in his own seat up in the cockpit if Din was still awake— or occasionally, if he was tired enough, just nodding off on Din’s lap — and had treated any attempts to deviate from this way of things with frank and earnest incredulity, even when Omera had generously loaned them Winta’s old crib.

...well, maybe Din had some other reasons to capitulate so readily tonight. If this happened to be his last night here he didn’t want the thing the kid remembered from it to be that Din had turned him away — that he hadn’t been wanted.

That wasn’t the problem here at all.

From outside came the sound of laughter, pitched low to avoid waking the children. He could just pick out Omera’s warm chuckle from among the others, her voice clear and soft answering someone’s question.

It felt like he was hearing it all from somewhere far away, as if long ago he’d left some important part of himself behind and now he was witnessing himself from the outside, like a stranger.

He glanced over at the blaster lying ready on the overturned wooden wash tub he’d adopted as a nightstand and the armor left leaning against it within easy reach, a reflexive habit he hadn’t been able to shake even after months of nothing but calm. For all that having to sleep in the helmet could be tiresome there was a certain comforting familiarity to the confines of it too, a security that made him feel more grounded.

The baby babbled happily to itself, legs kicking idly as it occasionally took a break to chew thoughtfully on the edge of the blanket. It finished speaking with a declarative sound, gesturing with one hand as if for emphasis, then turned its face up to ask for Din’s input.

“That so?” Din said, faintly amused. “Huh. Never thought of it like that before.”

“Eh,” the kid elucidated grandly.

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out. I’ll defer to your expertise on this one, kid.”

Seeming satisfied with this response the baby went back to fiddling with the blanket, one ear squished nearly flat against Din’s chest at an angle he would have assumed to be uncomfortable but didn’t seem to bother it. Din smiled and shifted slightly so the child rested more securely against him. He knew for a fact he himself didn’t tend to move as much as a hair while he slept, but the kid would sometimes twitch around in unpredictable ways — Din had more than once been woken up by a small fist hitting him in the chin and a following contented baby snore. Better to be safe than sorry if the kid started squirming around.

The kid still smelled like slightly marshy water from earlier that day — he had taken to bathing in the shallowest ponds with such assured and obvious joy that Din felt retroactively guilty that all he’d been able to offer was to splash around in the exceedingly tight confines of the sink on the Razor Crest. Having to clean his armor of pond water and the occasional flung krill afterwards seemed like a small price to pay.

“This is a nice place, isn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head to look down at the kid. “A good place to grow up.”

The kid’s ears perked up at the sound of Din’s voice, the little face turning towards him.

“You could play with Winta and the other kids every day,” Din said, stroking the edge of one long fuzzy ear with his thumb. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

After a while he added, not quite knowing why: “I used to play with a girl who was a few years older too, when I was around your age. Well. You know what I mean. Tried to feed me a live frog once, though I guess you’d be all for that, huh.”

She’d died, of course, at the same time as all the others. He only remembered a half-faded unfinished sketch of her now — a vague impression of a shock of dark curly hair and long stick-thin legs he stumbled to keep up with and a certain flair for good-natured mischief. It’d been over half a lifetime since he last thought of her as she was in life, and not the glimpse he’d caught of her lying face down in the street before one of the Mandalorians had thought to shield his eyes until they were outside the town. Now it was like he could see her out of the corner of his eyes, the way she had been before, knees still scabbed from an exuberant chase through someone’s back garden, watching him placidly.

Seeing the joy of this place had woken things he’d thought gone and buried long ago; he was a walking cemetery among them, haunted by the undemanding dead.

He startled a little as his vision was obscured by a small hand suddenly smacking down against the transparisteel of the helmet visor. The baby had crawled up to kneel against Din’s shoulder before standing, supporting himself with his hands on the helmet as he looked down at Din with his head tilted to one side. He made a quizzical sound and wobbled as his legs tried to contend with the shifting foothold.

Din snorted and gently picked the child from his precarious perch, placing him back on his chest instead. “No acrobatics. It’s time to sleep.”

The kid flailed and gave a squeak of indignant protest, but then settled quickly into magnanimity when Din patted his head. He wriggled himself more securely under the weight of Din’s hand resting on him before curling himself up for sleep.

“There you go,” Din murmured as the kid stilled and the sound of his breathing eventually became slower and deeper. “You sleep. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Once he was sure the baby was asleep he let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling, a few stars visible through gaps in the straw roof.

He hadn’t quite decided when to leave yet — something in him had shied away from putting it into stark specifics, instead couching it in malleable terms like ‘as soon as everything is stable again’ and ‘once the kid seems settled’. It would have to be soon, though. He was already pushing his luck, and more than that; he was gambling a bit more with the peacefulness of this village every day he stayed. News like a full suit of beskar armor traveled fast even in a backwater like this, and the last thing this place needed was more attention.

Trying to figure out how much of it was staying to make sure this place truly was safe and how much was him dragging his heels was proving less comfortable than he’d hoped.

Well, the kid did seem happier here than Din had ever seen him before. He shouldn’t have to spend his childhood hunted and sitting amidst ghosts, fighting to make room for himself between them.

After weeks of wavering the decision finally broke over him like a cold, kindly numbing wave. Tomorrow. He’d take Omera aside and ask her tomorrow and then, if she agreed… he’d do the right thing and move on.

He suppressed the shudder that wanted to run through him with the ease of long practice and the instinctive reluctance to move of anyone who has finally gotten a baby to sleep soundly. Beneath the chill calm there was still that flare of protest at the idea somewhere behind his breastbone, a visceral feeling of wrongness he otherwise associated with a dislocated limb or other substantial injury.

This is not about you, he told himself yet again. What you want is not important here, all that matters is that the kid is safe and happy and this is the best shot at that. This was always the plan.

Ah, so you’re not running away because you’re scared, then, another part of him answered sardonically, entirely unbidden. Good to know.

Din sighed and softly thumped the back of his head against the straw pillow, the metal giving it a hollow sound.

He’d burned every bridge with the guild and then some, but there were still jobs out there if you knew where to look and weren’t picky. Most of all there wasn’t much need to be discreet — the best thing he could do for the kid was to draw the heat away from him, catch the attention of anyone who might still be looking for him for as long as possible, and keep an ear to the ground through it all just in case. All things he actually knew how to do, as opposed to anything to do with raising a child. You do the work you’re suited for.

Omera had been kind about this, as she’d been about everything. She’d dropped a hundred hints that the kid would be welcome here, sweetly firm about it in the face of Din’s awkwardness and inability to stay with it for more than a few seconds at a time. He hoped he’d at least managed to convey his helpless fumbling gratitude in a way that she could understand.

He didn’t know what to do with the feeling that her invitation was meant for them both.

(I nearly pulled a blaster on your daughter because she startled me, he wanted to tell her. How could you still think someone like me could stay somewhere like this? She seemed to mean it sincerely, which confused him. More baffling still, he sometimes found himself wanting to believe her. He better get the hell away while he still had his head screwed on straight; he’d already pulled enough wild life-upending stunts for one year. He shouldn’t drag anyone else down with him, surely forcing the tribe to relocate from the relative safety they’d found on Navarro way before anyone had planned to was bad enough.)

That same inconvenient inner voice spoke up once more, almost shattering the strange distant tranquility of his new resolve. You already walked away from him once. Would he forgive you again this time? Will you?

Din closed his eyes for a moment.

The kid smacked his lips in his sleep and curled and uncurled his fingers in the fabric of Din’s undershirt.

“You’re strong,” Din told him, quietly so he wouldn’t wake him, and pulled the blanket up to cover him better. “You’ll survive it. And then you’ll be safe and have a family and a shot at a good life. That’s all that matters. I’ll keep looking out for you from out there until the day I'm gone.”

The baby sighed, burrowing a little against Din’s chest as if for warmth.

Din swallowed and cleared his throat, resting his hand on the kid’s back like it could shelter him from the cold while he lifted his eyes back to the stars.

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #my writing #baby yoda #hello I am vaguely-concerned I have a lot of feelings about mando

48 notes · View notes

abundanceofsoph · 5 years ago

Text

SkyFire 1: Chapter 4

FLASHBACK - New York: August 2011

Word count: 1.6k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

The first thing that Rori noticed when she entered the penthouse at the beginning of August was the size, the place was gigantic, and she couldn’t help but compare it to the tiny apartment she had shared with her mother. The walk in closets in this place were probably bigger than their entire apartment combined. The second thing she noticed was the view of Central Park through the windows. Having never been to America before, she had only ever seen New York in movies, and she was itching to go out and explore her new home. The third and final thing that she saw, and what stole her attention away from everything else in the room, was the glossy, black grand piano sitting by the wide floor to ceiling windows. Tony noticed her staring at the instrument from where he was standing behind her, and he smiled sadly thinking of how it had gone mostly unplayed for so many years.

“It was your grandmothers,” he said softly. “It only really gets played when there’s a party.”

“Could I?” Rori asked softly, looking back over her shoulder with a shy smile.

“Of course,” Tony replied instantly. Steve stepped up to stand behind Tony, wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders as the teenager approached the piano, taking a seat on the bench before lifting the fallboard and hovering her fingers over the ivory keys for a moment. Both men watched on in silent awe as Aurora closed her eyes and played. The music filled the large space, breathing life into the room and Steve began to sway to the tune, forcing Tony to move with him. Slowly the song morphed from one to the next as Aurora revelled in the freedom of playing again, and after a few simple pieces she forgot completely about her audience, beginning to sing.

“She’s incredible,” Tony whispered, not wanting to shatter the stillness of the moment but needed to voice his astonishment.

“Just like her dad,” Steve murmured in his ear.

xXx

“Mind if I join?”

Steve looked up from his sketch book to find Aurora standing in the doorway of his art studio, looking shy with her sketch book and pencil case tucked under one arm.

“Make yourself at home,” he replied with a warm smile, moving his feet to make space for her on the sofa next to him. She sat down, looking around the room, taking in the finished art hanging on the walls and some of his unfinished pieces on easels over by the large window.

“You’re really good,” she finally said, shyly looking back at the blond.

“Thanks,” Steve replied with a warm smile, “I wanted to be an artist when I was a kid, before the war.”

“Do you ever wish that’s what you got to do?” Aurora asked.

“No,” Steve replied immediately. “If I hadn’t been so hellbent on joining the army I wouldn’t have been given the serum and I never would have come out of ice or met Tony… or you.”

Aurora looked up at him in shock at his confession. “But you barely know me.”

“True,” Steve agreed. “But what little I’ve learnt about you so far, I’ve liked.”

“Thanks,” Rori whispered. “I like you too.”

“I know this isn’t where either of us expected to be, but I’m glad you’re here,” Steve told her. “I know Tony’s glad you’re here too.”

“Really? He always seems like he’s terrified of talking to me for too long.”

“I think he’s just trying not to overwhelm you… or himself,” Steve replied. “He doesn’t want to come on too strong and have you run away.”

“Oh,” Rori said, surprised by Steve’s admission. “I guess that makes sense.”

The pair lapsed into silence and after a few moments Rori turned her attention to her sketch book. The two sketched side by side for hours until the sun started to set, and the studio started to darken with the lengthening shadows.

xXx

A few days after the day she spent in Steve’s art studio with him, Rori made her way downstairs to Tony’s workshop. She asked JARVIS to announce her presence outside the glass door, watching Tony stare intently at the screen in front of him before he snapped his eyes up to look at her, a smile stretching across his face as he spoke, clearly telling JARVIS to let her in as the door slid open a moment later.

“Hey,” he greeted as she walked towards him.

“Hi,” she replied nervously. While they had gotten along easily when they met in London a few weeks ago, Rori had not been lying when she had told Steve that Tony seemed afraid of talking to her. Now that she knew the reason behind his hesitancy, she was determined to bridge the distance between them. If she was going to live here with him for the next 2 years, then she needed to create a relationship with her father. “What are you working on?”

“A new Iron Man suit,” Tony replied. “Did you need something?”

“No. I just thought it might be nice to get to know each other a bit.”

“Oh,” Tony replied, “Um… yeah, ok. What do you want to know?”

“Everything? Anything? I’m not sure,” Rori laughed awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to have a dad, so I’m not really sure how to do this.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know how to do this either,” Tony admitted.

They started with small talk, Tony showing her some of his designs and telling stories of his past and Rori telling him about her childhood and friends back home.

“I had JARVIS set up some internet search protocols,” Tony told her after a few hours. “Just so that we would know if the paparazzi or anyone work out who you are or something.”

“That makes sense,” Rori replied, “I guess it’s inevitable that it’ll happen at some point, right?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have to worry about that for a while I don’t recon,” Tony said. “I only mention it because when I was doing that it pulled up any mention of you online and I saw your social media accounts.” He paused, not knowing whether he had overstepped and invaded her privacy, but she remained quiet, waiting for him to reach his point. “I found your YouTube channel.”

“What did you think?” she asked, looking at her hands in her lap, nervous to hear his reply.

“You’re really talented,” he said. “Your landscape paintings are beautiful, and I like that you record your own music for the videos. I know Steve’s already told you, but you’re welcome to use his art studio whenever you want. I know he’s looking forward to having someone around the house that can talk art with him.”

“Thank you,” Rori told him. “He said you built the studio for him when he moved in last year.”

“Yeah, I did,” Tony replied. “I wanted him to feel like this was his home as much as it’s mine. Same goes for you.”

“It’s a little overwhelming right now but I think I will after I have a chance to get used to it all.”

“I’m glad,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief at her admission. “So, is art what you want to do with your life?”

“I think so,” Rori answered. “I’m not really sure if I want to be a painter or a musician or what but I’m pretty confident I want to do something in the arts.”

“You know there’s an incredible Arts school only a few blocks from here.”

“LaGuardia?” she asked. “I’ve read about it. It’s unbelievably good but the audition process is brutal apparently.”

“I could make some calls,” Tony offered.

“Really?” Rori gasped. “But the school year starts in like 2 weeks.”

“You’re a Stark now, kid. That name opens up a lot of doors if you want it to.”

She bit at her bottom lip, torn between desperately wanting to attend the school of her dreams but feeling uncomfortable using her newfound privilege to get in when plenty of other kids had worked hard for years to audition for their place.

“Please let me do this for you,” Tony asked as he watched her internal debate play out across her face. She looked up in response to his tone, and her decision was made when she saw the expression on his face. It was clear as day that he wanted to be able to do something to help her adjust to her new life and feel good about leaving behind everything to live in a foreign country with a stranger.

“Ok,” she agreed, unable to stop the excited grin that split across her face.

xXx

It had been 5 weeks since Aurora had moved into Stark Tower and while the three of them had quickly adjusted to living together, today was a disruption to the easy going atmosphere that usually settled over the penthouse.

“I’ve been walking to school on my own for years,” Aurora argued as she stood in front of Steve and Tony in the living room.

“Not in New York, you haven’t!” Tony retorted.

“It’s a 10 minute walk!” Rori countered.

“It’s not safe to walk around Manhattan on your own,” Tony continued. “Not when you’re my kid.”

“But no one knows I’m your kid,” Rori said, “at least not until I step out of a chauffeur driven town car on my first day.”

“Tony,” Steve interjected softly, having stayed out of the argument until that point. “She’s right. It’s only 10 minutes to LaGuardia High and no one knows who she is. She’ll just be one of countless students walking those streets. She’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Steve!” Aurora replied with a smile. “Now if you don’t mind me, I’m gonna go before I’m late on my first day.”

Without waiting for a reply from her father, she turned on her heels, scooped her bag off the nearby couch and headed for the elevator.

“Not cool, Steve,” Tony said once the elevator doors closed behind her. “Very not cool.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark

3 notes · View notes

regretsofaghost · 5 years ago

Text

Devotion Unspoken

Word Count- 3100

Idea stolen lovingly from @dickwheelie‘s post found here

https://dickwheelie.tumblr.com/post/186425585270

AO3 link-https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417147

It was a sunny day when Aziraphale decided it was time to finally do a tidy up of his shop, though not so much as to attract customers. He flipped the sign to closed and got to work, going to the depths of his shop and moving aside boxes of books he had yet to unpack. Looking through some of the old boxes that were filled to the brim, Aziraphale found quite an odd box that was hidden away.

The small box was made from a light wood and was covered with carefully written script with overlays of so many different types of flowers and other plants that it would take hours to figure out all the different species. The script itself was delicate but hardly looked like words at times. Aziraphale could see an angel here and a love there. Once opened, untying a lovely red ribbon that was surely made of silk and looked to have barely aged a day since originally wrapped around the box, in laid many different types of paper, covered from top to bottom with the same careful script as the box. From napkins to scraps to full lengths of paper, all of them looked to be equally old, and yet all of them had survived years of neglect. Aziraphale had no clue as to where these letters had originated from, for there were many who had entered his shop over the last few hundred years and if they didn’t look to be trying to buy a book, Aziraphale tended to leave them to their own devices.

One piece of paper fluttered to the ground, or well it was really a napkin, and Aziraphale quickly picked it up before it could blow away, despite there being no wind in his shop. He unwrapped the small square and found more of the same script, and finally read it.

June 7th, 1821

There’ve been many times I looked at you and was dazzled by your words, so softly spoken and delicate I wonder how you let me hear them. I’ve looked at you for so long with such longing I wonder if you just ignore it or if you’ve gotten your head stuck in your book for so long you forget I’m there. I wonder if it’s just God’s way of saying look at what you cannot have, for you surely cannot feel the same. It’s alright though, for if you allow me to continue to gaze at your lovely blue eyes, I can forgive most anything.

Carefully placing the letter back in the box, Aziraphale was surprised by the fluttering feeling in his own chest. In many ways, he could understand it. Being allowed to gaze upon something so wonderful that sometimes you wonder if you truly deserve it. He tried not to think of a certain demon at this point, placing the lid back on the box and carrying it to his desk. Excavating this wonderous box required a more concentrated gaze, and well, he couldn’t much do that on the floor could he.

Once placed on the desk, Aziraphale began to look at the box more closely, making sure not to smudge the careful drawings that appeared to have been done in pencil in contrast to the inked words. How many hours were spent on the box alone was a mystery, it looked like a courting gift? He slipped on his spectacles, enhancing his vision like a magnifying glass while they surely weren’t supposed to. He tried to identify the flora on the box, seeing acacia blossoms, camellia, azalea, daisies, daffodils, carnations, and so many more. Aziraphale was in awe really, the careful shading and sketching, the way each flower looked so realistic that if they had colour, they would look ready to fall right off the box. He couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t coloured in, a though crossing his mind that it was a gift unfinished, perhaps the writer and artist passed before they could give it to their beloved. The thought saddened him, but there was little that could be done now, the letters were from two centuries ago.

Aziraphale removed the lid of the box and pulled free another letter, careful to not damage the fragile paper, a scrap that looked like it was taken from the back of a ripped book.

June 20th, 1820

The way you look at me causes my heart to ache so furiously that I am sure I am in the most blissful state of hell imaginable. You insist you are the good one, yet you allow such suffering unto me. Perhaps you rationalize it with the idea I am but a dastardly devil. I am a demon, but I find it is alright as long as you continue to come back despite it. It hurts to look and know you cannot return my feelings, from either your own stubborn pride or faith in heaven. You are the holder of my heart and I ache for you to allow me the privilege of returning.

-he pulled a cue card out next, enraptured-

August 27th, 1860

I wonder sometimes if you know how to affect me. If you were to know that with a smile and a simple please, it would get me to move heaven and hell for you. I love you more than anything in the world, and that is terrifying. The last time I loved something so much I was thrown out, cast away like what I thought and felt was blasphemy. It seems that’s all anyone feels these days, to love another man is punishable in Her eyes, as if She ever cared enough to have judgement on it. She no longer cares for me, but you would never believe that. You seem to believe I have at least a little good in me, and maybe I like that.

-next a piece of paper that was close to tearing, but a quick miracle saved it-

December 25th, 1845.

There are times when I look at you and hate you for the way you make me feel, how oblivious you seem to be with your reprimands and scoffs, sometimes I wonder if you truly hate me. Then you turn around and offer me a slice of cake, read me a passage in your book, give me such a soft look that I fall for you all over again. I know you don’t recognize what I feel, I know you refuse to recognize the love I feel for you as that. I wonder if you’ll ever notice that all the good I do is because of you. I wonder if you know you helped pull me back from the ashes of my fall, brushing off all the soot of regret and the dust of hate.

I love you more than I would like to admit, I love you far more than I feel you could ever love me, if you were ever to recuperate this love. I know you’ve had other lovers, the blush against your cheeks when you meet up with me after a rendezvous, the sly smiles at young men we walk by when we meet, the far too familiar greetings to others. I don’t mind. I can’t. It’s your life, you do as you please. It still hurts though, to be denied for so long due to our respective sides. There’s nothing wrong with such relations, we both know this, but with relations between us? I have fallen far below you and we both know if our relationship at this stage is ever found out it would be the end times for us both.

I wish for nothing more than the day we can meet, and I can pull you close in my arms, and kiss you with all the passion I have had to hold in. I’ve made many stars in my time, but you shine brighter than them all, my angel.

Aziraphale blinked a few times at the end of the letter, feeling only slightly overwhelmed. They were all surprisingly sweet, and quite sad. From the dates on the letters, they seemed to have been written over a lifetime, a lifetime of constant longing for someone he could never have. The letters were obviously never to be sent, none containing any self identifiers or envelopes with addresses and they were written on many things that wouldn’t be used for a formal letter, though maybe that was on purpose. They read like they would be prosecuted if the two’s relations were ever found out, presumably due to them both being men. They read like someone who was desperate for change but expected refusal. He picked up the next one.

April 16th, 1861.

Your hands look so soft despite how much you do with them. How much care you put into your craft never callousing your delicate fingertips. The tight curl your hair stays in despite fashion, along with your phrases. I can’t help but wonder what you’d do when it goes out of fashion, though knowing you as I do you probably wouldn’t care and continue. If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would think you never worked a day in your life. The things I’ve seen you do with such little care for what they’d do to you, always needing me to run after you to ensure your safety. I wonder if you do it on purpose, just to stay close to me at times. We’ve went years without seeing each other, yet I continue to write to you. I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you. If your mind wanders like mine does. I doubt the day will come that we can be frank with each other, but I still have some hope despite it all.

Looking through the box there were many along the same vein, lamenting about how little his subject seemed to pay attention, how he saw good in the writer despite the writer’s protests. It was bittersweet in a sense, both refusing to believe the other in any case.

November 16th, 1849

You held me last night, it was the oddest thing. The closest we’ve come before this was mere hand holding, which we quickly explained away before any implications could come about. Yet you held me close, such a loving embrace I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. Even Before, I don’t think anyone held me like that. With such love. It was due to me panicking of course, a bout which happens often after a visit. I’m not exactly what they want me to be as you know, they want bigger things, more targeted. They don’t understand people as well as you and I. The atrocities they can commit, the beauty in which they can create. I don’t think any could make something as beautiful as you though. You whispered in my ear like a lover, which I know we cannot be. It’s easier to think of excuses for our actions rather than reasons for them, it’s safer. There’s a deniability with excuses, and if you look too closely at our reasons you could see what those actions meant. You’d laugh if you heard me say that, sometimes I wonder if you think lowly of me. I try my best I hope you know, I try to keep us both safe.

You held me last night though, and I felt warm. I haven’t felt warm in so long. Not since I fell. You told me that it was to keep me out of trouble, but we both know better. I think that was the first time I’ve thought you could feel the same.

The bell of the bookshop went off, and Aziraphale jumped. He was engrossed in this love story over the ages, though by the dates it didn’t seem that this letter’s content went anywhere sadly. The footsteps were more concerning for now though, as Aziraphale did try his best to ensure no book sales happened, so he got up to investigate it. Thankfully, it was only a patron who came by occasionally to drop off books of interest, though they hardly brought anything Aziraphale wanted. Their interactions were normally pleasant enough at the very least, but today the angel’s mind was elsewhere. It was on those letters, those love letters that didn’t seem to ever be sent.

The writing wasn’t the best, it rambled and repeated itself, yet it was heartfelt. Aziraphale could feel the love on the worn pages, the crinkled edges carrying small doodles of flowers that were more than likely drawn while the writer was trying to think of how to word his next sentence. The drawings improved over time and looking back at the box he could see some of the more faded flowers were good but could be improved. A lifetime of love in a box, and Aziraphale kept wondering if the other man ever confessed. If either of the men ever confessed, for the angel was sure that the other man felt the same. He refused to believe the subject didn’t love the writer.

The angel grabbed the next letter.

September 20th, 1835

I dreamt of you last night. It was the most pleasant dream I’ve ever had. We held hands and walked together, we were allowed to kiss and hug and do all the mushy human things we are normally deprived of. You held me like I was important, and I don’t know if I ever felt like that. You know how Mother was, She insisted She loved us all equally, but it was clear She had Her favourites. I wonder sometimes if She sent me to work in a faraway place so She could forget She made me. I don’t even know if She liked the Garden I made for Her.

I dreamt of you last night and I forgot about all of this. All the pain and suffering we’ve been through in our long lives, it was like what others call heaven, though I don’t know anymore. You laughed at me when I told you this and kissed me again, insisting that I don’t think too hard about it. Heaven may not welcome me, but I still hope I don’t corrupt you so much it won’t welcome you.

Aziraphale sighed softly, running a finger along the careful lettering. He picked up the next letter, and then the next, then the next. He barely read the dates, all out of order yet it didn’t seem to matter. The letters came one or twice a year, all of them unsigned and covered with doodles. Some had sketches that were a lot worse than the flowers, others held such detailed scenery that Aziraphale would be looking more at the pictures than the words describing the writer’s love, his chivalry, the words that are thrown around that hurt the writer but never for long. It hurt the angel’s heart to know that the writer merely brushed these instances aside, but maybe he mentioned it and they didn’t happen again. He hoped at least.

He let his hand go to the box, looking forward to more, when he realized it was the last one. Aziraphale held it up, this one written on proper paper rather than a napkin or wax paper or book page, and was similarly covered in drawings that were so lovingly drawn that they still overwhelmed the angel’s senses. Aziraphale wondered how he couldn’t feel the loved box before today.

September 30th, 1862

My love I find myself yearning for you more and more each passing year, it’s quite inconvenient. I wish to tell you everyday but the threats in our lives seem to be coming around more and more often. I wish to tell you everything, but I still fear you will never see me as anything more than our first meeting. A demon meant to come tempt you away. Sometimes it seems like you can’t accept who I am but remain my friend for what I could become. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

I am to meet you soon, we haven’t seen each other in a few months and call me sentimental but I already miss you. Can you imagine how long we used to go without seeing each other? That seems unthinkable now.

I hope you forgive me one day for what I must ask of you. I ask so little in return for what I do, and I never expect it to be returned. Sometimes it’s easier to remain hiding than it is to risk jumping over the edge in hopes someone will catch you my angel, but I am tired of hiding. I love you so much and I hope you’ll understand that I’ll never leave you as long as I can help it. I will love you till the world’s light goes out, along with all the stars in the sky. Please just trust me.

Aziraphale let the letter fall from his fingertips, letting out a slow breath. It was the last of the letters, and the angel didn’t know what to think of it. An ambiguous end, for it was unclear if the writer told the other man his feelings, his devotion, if the writer wrote another letter and sent that one to his beloved. If he died before he could finish his lifetime of love letters. It was clear that he was planning to ask the other man for something, perhaps his love in return?

The angel carefully placed each letter back into the box, retying the ribbon and placing it on a bookshelf, somewhere people could easily see it when walking in. Although the writer’s story was left unfinished, perhaps others who enjoyed browsing would take his words to lead their own actions. The date on the last letter nagged at Aziraphale though, he was sure it was important for some reason.

Going back to cleaning after hours of just reading, though that wasn’t unexpected with this principality, his thoughts were lost as he dusted just enough to not damage the books but leaving enough to deter customers. He brought out his storage and began displaying the newer books he acquired, his eyes wandering back to the box more and more often. When he remembered, he dropped a first edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

The letter’s date was one day before Crowley laid to rest for nearly a century, the day he had asked for the holy water that saved them both. Oh good lord.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #my fics

20 notes · View notes

baekkyhunnie · 7 years ago

Text

You’ve Taken So Much

Word Count: 1278

Warnings: Character Deaths, mentions of suicide, angsty af.

Pairings: KrisBaek, ChanBaek, ChanDae

"Chanyeol," Baekhyun sighs, pressing his smooth lips against Chanyeol's cheek. "It's Okay Baek, I can wait as long as you need me to. Anything for you." Baekhyun smiles, kissing his lips softly. "Thank you Chanyeol." He says a tall man, Chanyeol's older brother Kris walks in, catching the eyes ok Baekhyun. "Would you like to watch the movie with us, Kris?" Baekhyun asks, batting his eyes.

Baekhyun stared with wide eyes at the taller man. "Chanyeol!" He shrieked," Are you stupid?" he questioned staring at the bloodied man, He reached a hand out towards Chanyeol watching as the older man flinched away slightly. Chanyeol hunched, his breathing erratic, blood dripping from his large hands. Baekhyun watched in horror as Chanyeol slid down the wall of the art studio, his eyes running over blood ridden glass that was scattered about the studio. "I waited," Chanyeol began, "I waited 5 years, I waited so long, for so so long, I just wanted you to love me back, I wanted you to see me as a lover, I waited patiently for you to tell me who it was." "Chany-" "shut up Baekhyun! For once just shut up and let m talk!" Chanyeol screamed, coughing violently after. Baekhyun watched in silence as the man came undone, bottom lip quivering, hands drenched with blood. There was so much blood. The once brave, strong tall man was replaced. The man that sat at Baekhyun's feet was a pile of rubble, nothingness, a bag full of hollow bones. The only strong thing about him was his grip on a tan wool scarf. "I was so in love with you, but you chose him, my own brother. You chose Kris. You let me believe, for 5 years! You let me think I had a chance!" Chanyeol sobbed, his skin was sickly, sweat dripping from his head. "It took me 2 years to move on, you took so much from me, you took my love, my brother, my heart...You took all my attention for 7 years! You took who I was, you chewed it up and spit it out for seven years! Then," Chanyeol whispered, voice hoarse," Then I found him." Chanyeol's hand limply waved around the studio, gesturing to the sketches of a very ethereal being. "I found him, Jongdae Kim, the love of my life, the man I knew that loved me, the man I knew I loved. It took me two more years to marry him, 2 years of him painting my artwork, 2 years of him decorating my house beyond recognition. My small house began to feel like a home! It took 2 years of him burning toast and making the worst coffee ever to realize I wanted to marry him. I was in love with him and his vegan cafe addiction for two whole years. He said yes, he said yes and I had never been happier. He made me better, he insisted I invite both you and Kris over more often even though he hated that you guys drank. He helped me realize the flaws in Park Chanyeol and not just others. He let me know when things would be okay and when I should worry. He told me he loved me no matter the timing. Whether it be in the studio working away, walking through the house trying to find my car keys, or laying in the snow pretending we were small kids, despite being 26. He showed me things, shared himself with me and god I love him for that, for showing me how to live. " Chanyeol silenced himself with a bloody cough, he wiped away the excess blood on his chin with an already bloody palm. "Chanyeol, I am sorry." Baekhyun pleads, sitting down avoiding stray pieces of glass. His voice cracked slightly as he remembered what happened. "Can't you leave me alone now?" Chanyeol groaned in agony, hitting his head against the unfinished art wall. "Can't you let me die in peace?" He yelled Baekhyun flinched in fear. "Chanyeol, we have to get you to the hospital, you've lost so much blood." "Ironic, you didn't say that to Jongdae." the room fell completely silent. "I remember that night, crystal clear, you should've been thrown in jail for what you did. All I wanted was a happy ending! You took mine!"

"Jongdae, let me go with, it's late." Chanyeol watched his husband scoff as he put on a hat and a pair of matching mittens. "Channie, It's right across the street, I'll be fine and when I get back we can finish our art wall, just like you wanted, okay?" Jongdae said, taking Chanyeol's tan wool scarf from the coat rack wrapping it around his neck. "I just have-" "A bad feeling, but you shouldn't now hush. I love you and I'll be back." Chanyeol sighs in defeat kissing his husband passionately. Jongdae sighs in the warmth pulling away. "I love you too," Chanyeol replies, matting down the scarf pressing a light kiss on Jongdae's neck.

"It was supposed to be a quick trip there and back. At that point, I just wanted to hold my husband and cuddle him while we watched his favourite drama series again and drink our drinks from the vegan cafe. That's what I was expecting." "What I wasn't expecting was to have a drunk you at my doorstep slurring an apology of some sorts."

A loud thud resounded from outside causing Chanyeol to spring up from his white couch, something Jongdae miraculously shoved into his apartment claiming "it was aesthetically pleasing and comfortable and the two simply just go together." Chanyeol swung the door open meeting Baekhyun, who was sobbing drunkenly, apologizing for something that Chanyeol didn't hear, because he was too focused on the scene behind Baekhyun. He shoved Baekhyun into the snow, sprinting in bare feet towards a limp figure, slipping on an iced road, Chanyeol's knees were dripped with blood and scratches once he reached the man lying limp. "Oh god! Dae!" he yelled, "Someone call 911!" He yelled holding his husband close to his beating heart, the cold wedding band digging into his finger as he squeezed his husband close.

"he was pronounced dead the next morning," Chanyeol sobbed, blood pouring from his self-inflicted stab wound into what seemed to be the main artery, at least to Baekhyun it seemed as such. Bakehyun's eyes wandered around the room taking in the sketches of Jongdae surrounded by glass. "Chanyeol, you've just gone mad! Killing yourself isn-" "Shut up!" Chanyeol roared, "You don't know what it's like waking up without your other half every day! every time I wake up and look in the mirror or at that godforsaken white couch I see him, I see him on me, I see him burning toast and making shitty coffee every day! Everything here is him! You don't get it! Now Leave! What more do you want!?" He screams Chanyeol's lips quiver slightly blood spilling freely from his mouth, blood from his stomach drenching the scrapped sketches of Jongdae. Chanyeol was dying fast. "Just let me be! Go, Baekhyun! you've taken enough!" "Chanyeol I'm-" Chanyeol's eyes fluttered shut before he whispered for the last time. "I hope, one day you get to feel our pain." Baekhyun watches Chanyeol sigh his last breath. He sobs. Baekhyun sobs as he calls 911. He sobs when he explains to Kris everything that happens. He sobs when Kris goes to work. He sobs when Kris doesn't come back.

#angst #exo #exo imagine #baekyeol #chanbaek #chandae #krisbaek #characterdeath #au #I'm sorry I did this #I haven't cried this much sense Remember December

17 notes · View notes

clubcreative · 5 years ago

Text

Current Topics

An introduction to the hot debates right now in the art community!

Instagram, Twitter and YouTube. Art’s Friend or Foe?

When most people think of social media outlets like twitter or Instagram, the apps are often associated with celebrities and selfies. If you are interested in art, however, the platforms become home to many talented artists showcasing their skills and styles.

So what’s the big deal?

It would seem natural, that with the extensive use of media like Instagram and Twitter that artists would join in on the app's exposure and audience. And this is great right? More audience, more views on your art, and the perks of lot’s of followers!

Unfortunately, art’s relationship with social media is much more complicated than that.

Art accessibility itself is a major debate within the art community, and it spawns separate debates about art skill and algorithm.

Clubcreative will help you explore the discussion around these topics together!

*cropped screenshot from my Instagram explore page. Users from top left to bottom right: godsdogg, miuran_ran, bakeddeer, itsmieille, clitorats, sodaparilla, missupacey, rt0no,.

The main debate: Art Accessibility

If you’re on Instagram for art then perhaps you can relate to the struggle of looking at one style and saying “oh I want to have a style with thick lineart” only to see another artist’s profile and telling yourself “Wait. Now, I want a style that has no lineart!” (In case you aren’t familiar with lineart, here’s an example I drew recently!)

Being able to see so many different art styles for inspiration is great, but it’s also important to think about how that is possible.

The amount of artists and art on the internet is staggering, Instagram being one of the most influential sites in the art world.

Discussions around the growing amount of art accounts, and therefore art pieces, and how art is viewed differs widely between artists themselves and people who are not artists, but still use social media like Instagram to consume it.

Instagram and the Artist

In general, most artists have a positive outlook about sharing platforms because artists:

Promote their own art

Gain popularity which increases credibility

Can get job contacts

Personally, I think the easier access to art nowadays is a good thing! Before the last two years, art had been a hobby of mine, but after discovering the art community on Instagram, I found inspiration to better my own art, foster my passion, and promote my own art.

My journey is a shared experience, and now with so many artists utilizing Instagram in the same way, the site is considered one of the most successful ways to showcase your portfolio as an artist. With nearly 1 billion users on the site, it’s no surprise that in the art world businesses will check an artist’s Instagram as a way of hiring, or even posting their hirings directly to Instagram.

Not only that, but sharing sites have allowed artists to interact with their audience, create tutorials, and give advice.

My favorite thing is meeting and making mutual friends! It means that they follow you and you follow them. Instagram, especially, is a magnificent place to find kindred spirits.

However, in terms of negative arguments towards art accessibility, there is discussion about how it mentally affects the artist. Why?:

Competition is now fiercer than ever in the art world especially

viewing art on Instagram is free

art can be displayed even by non-artists.

One of the current main voices in the art community both on YouTube and Instagram, ergojosh (you can check out his channel here), offers the perspective to the discussion of art accessibility that viewing artists works creates the problem of comparison.

Since artists share the same platform, it becomes easier to compare yourself to an expert in the field, and question why you aren’t as successful or skilled. In my personal belief, I think it’s impossible not to compare yourself to other artists.

Ergojosh claims it’s a major problem that hinders both growth and motivation.

I agree with ergojosh, that sometimes seeing 15 year olds who have art that is WAY better than yours is almost depressing, and seeing a professional artist's immaculate coloring skills compared to yours can be even more discouraging. What’s important to remember is that Instagram doesn’t show the process or the hours, days, years, that it takes for artists, especially established artists in the industry, to achieve the level of their work.

Remember that professionals post their art and sketches. They post their studies and process, but they don’t post their bad art (and if they do it gets archived later. I would know because I do that… whoops.) or they don’t post their job rejections, their unfinished or failed projects, or the hard parts of their career as an artist.

When you feel discouraged, remember that it’s a journey with ups and downs!

Instagram and the Art Consumer

Komunhorangi’s insta. Merchandise is one way audiences engage with art!

Art accessibility debates centered around non-artists has to do with the question of saturation of art as a form of devaluing it.

Unfortunately, people can have the misconception that art is easy, and paired with the fact that it doesn't take money or physical energy to walk to a museum to see art on Instagram, this misconception of art is only heightened.

Because people think art is easy people also think it’s cheap. For example, a typical commission for an artist can cost a bare minimum of 35 dollars for just flat coloring and lineart.

It’s a common experience among artists to either charge less money and therefore be paid less for more work, or have customers try to get their commissions for free.

Imagine spending 3 hours on a project and being promised that you’ll be paid, only for your boss to say “lol nope. Anyone can do your job!” That would suck!

Whether it’s out of a genuine disrespect for artists, or because art consumers might not understand how much art and skill goes into an art piece, it’s no surprise that some artists view art accessibility in a bad light.

Art Accessibility Debate, Round 2

Melotries on Instagram

AAA: Art Accessibility, Art Skill, and Algorithm

Within the past few weeks (July 2020) the idea of art sharing, viewing, and consuming on social media has sparked a major debate between artists, followers, and aspiring artists alike. The topic has been strongly discussed on twitter and Instagram, and the perspectives are passionately fueled.

To sum it up, the current debate is about whether a large following constitutes artistic skill.

What is algorithm + Why it matters

Because I am most familiar with the art community on Instagram, I will focus on Algorithm in the context of Instagram specifically, but it’s important to note that all social media platforms have algorithm.

Algorithm is Instagram’s way of determining how many people will see your post and how it gets on the explore page. Here are some of the basics:

If your post doesn’t have a filter on it, it’ll get recommended less.

First hour engagement is crucial! More engagement (likes, sharing on story, commenting) within the first hour= a bigger chance it’ll show up on other peoples explore pages

Did you know Instagram has a # ranking system?

A # like #digitalart is a more popular tag around 50k posts and a # like #sketchbooktour is less popular with 10k posts, so if you use more popular hashtags your post has a worse shot at being noticed, so in order to bypass the algorithm you have to combine more popular and less popular hashtags

Instagram doesn’t show your post to ALL of your followers. If you receive 10% of followers engagement that’s a good thing!. That means you could have 3,000 followers and if you get 300 likes that means the post is doing good, but <300 means your post is doing poorly.

There’s ALOT more but it would take a long time to list them all! All you have to understand for this section is that if an artist is able to understand the Algorithm and play to its advantages, they will gain popularity and followers extremely fast, regardless of where their art skills are.

In an art world where higher followed profiles capture the attention of job recruiters, this is a huge deal.

However, does a high follower count indicate skill and the ability to pursue a professional career?

Thoughts from the Industry

Many professional artists who have had experience in the entertainment Industry, such as Ameorry Luo, have chimed in saying that it doesn’t, that it takes actual talent and art practice to be successful in the art world. Here is her tweet.

This means that talented artists can have less than 5k followers while less skilled artists can be in the 100k range. Artists with the latter experience may feel that they are able to pursue a professional career, but that is not true. It takes more skill, knowledge of the fundamentals, and connections in the Industry.

0 notes

houseofvans · 8 years ago

Photo

ART SCHOOL | LAUREN ASTA (Chicago, IL) | Vans US Open of Surfing 2017

We’re excited to spotlight the artists for this year’s 2017 Vans US Open of Surfing that is set to begin July 29th To August 6th in Huntington Beach, CA. Our first artist spotlight starts with talented, hard working, and art touring muralist and public artist Lauren Asta! Starting with a massive 3,000 sq ft mural at Faction Brewery in 2015, Asta has been non-stop mural and art touring, bringing her signature black and white, free flowing and spontaneous doodles to walls and buildings all over. She’s not only extremely talented but also straight up fearless, as we find out in this Q&A with Lauren, where we talk about how she got started painting murals, her art background, and what event she’s looking forward to see at this year’s 2017 Vans US Open of Surfing.

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself Hello, Lauren Asta here, first time caller, long time listener... I was born and raised in California's thriving Bay Area, but if you ask me I feel like I was truly born in NYC when I moved there after College in 2005. I returned back to California in 2012 where I hunkered down and produced and hustled until I was able to drop all other job training wheels to solely do Art/Murals/Public Art/Street Art 100% of my time and to also travel all year long with no brick and mortar to call my own. I am a citizen of the world dammit. I'd first and foremost like to think of myself as a Muralist/Public Artist but I think it's safe to just say I am an Artist. What’s your art background like? Self taught or art schooled? I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. First memory would be when I became aware of the fact that I would much rather doodle in sketchbooks over writing in all the Hello Kitty Diaries my girl friends had. I did go to school for Art at CSU Chico State. I got my BA in Photography and Studio Art. But that was when Photography was still pretty much taught only in the dark room. Digital Photography quickly became the trend right after I graduated college in 2004, so finding work (and making money) as a dark room photographer in NYC was extremely difficult. The next (and cheapest) artistic expression for me was to go back to pen and paper. I started drawing, drawing, drawing again. That crucial production time morphed and shaped what my style is today. So I guess you could say I am both self taught and schooled.

What’s the best thing you learned in art school or what’s the best thing you learned while teaching yourself? Best thing I learned in school: make art like everyone is watching. Best thing I learned while teaching myself: make art like no one is watching.

This is your first year participating as an artist painting inside the bowl at the Vans US Open of Surfing! What are some of your top 5 things you're sure to bring along? SUNSCREEN, straw hat, game face, headphones, my Vans of course! (honorable mentionable items include: water bottle, lucky paint shorts, GoPro, party fun face).

Tell us about how you started out painting murals? What was the first mural you can remember doing? What was the last mural? Before I was a self employed full time Artist... I bartended... for years. Bartending in NYC led me to getting a job at a Distillery in Alameda CA. This Distillery (St. George Spirits) is located in an old 65,000 sq. ft. hangar. Right next to the Distillery a Brewery (Faction Brewing) was opening up while I was about 2 years into working for St. George. When the Brewery had just opened, a very large ugly unfinished wall went up right smack dab in the middle of the neighboring 65,000 sq. ft. hangar. Hundreds of people were flocking to this new Brewery on a weekly basis taking photos and enjoying life. The number one complaint was "they should really do something with that wall..." So I took it upon myself to approach the owners and give them my proposal. I proposed to prime the whole thing, paint the whole thing white and to do a mural for a small price and if they rented a scissor lift. They agreed, and before I knew it I was tackling a 3,000 sq. ft. mural with no prior large scale work and no sketch to work off of. I literally just went for it and hoped it would turn out alright. I finished it in 28 days and I felt like I was an overnight success. I completed that mural 3 years ago and people still flock to it as a destination point. I quit my day job shortly after that and have been going strong ever since. That mural changed my life and I am eternally grateful. The last mural I did was last month (June 2017) in Chicago! A sweet rooftop patio mural at Chop Shop in the Wicker Park neighborhood. I am booked with solid rad gigs until November!

What’s been the best part of Art Tour life? Anything you’d change about it? The best part about the Art Tour Life? ALL OF IT. Damn it feels good to be a traveling Artist. I meet so many rad amazing people... I have friends all over the country now! I get to experience all sorts of tasty culture found in this Country and outside of it. The way I am able to connect people with art in multiple cities feels like I am planting little art seeds everywhere I go and watching how they grow after I leave is extremely satisfying. Travel is an absolute luxury in life and I am so lucky I get to incorporate it into my work. I love the feeling I get now when I fly into cities I have been before because I can't wait to see friends, revisit favorite joints and of course to get to work... but there's nothing like exploring a new city. I live for it. I am a big fan of walking everywhere, tasting everything and taking in as much as I can.

You’ve been known to freestyle in a way your murals, never using a sketch, projector or traced outline. What about this particular way / process do you enjoy the most? What would you say is the most challenging part of free styling? I find that if I don't have a sketch or drawing to work from, the end result will always look and feel more organic and it will fit the space/environment more appropriately. There's something really nice about working on a mural in a specific space for a few days and to have the people there, the weather, the noises, the food affect the outcome of the mural. It just seems to fit like a puzzle piece the space didn't even know it was missing. The most challenging part about free styling a mural would be if there was nothing around to inspire me or move me. If a space is really sterile, it takes a lot more energy and specific focus to get the job done where as I can usually just get into a zone and almost go into a "meditative autopilot groove."

What do you do with mistakes if you make any? I used to make sure that I always had some white paint on hand... just in case I made a mistake I could "erase" it. But that always took too much time and it never ended up looking as clean as I like it, so I just decided to not make any more mistakes. I mean... if I make a mark that I don't like or didn't mean to make, I just turn the old imagination station on and turn the "mistake" into something else. I have never run into a situation where this method didn't work... unless you count the time I fell in between two ladders and spilled black paint all over the mural I had been working on for three days... that one I had to fix with white paint and start over. But you live and learn! I'll never try to be an dangerous art acrobat again. Maybe...

Recently, you participated in the House of Vans Chicago Prime 8 event. Can you tell us about that evening and what you were doing at the event?

Such a rad event with a rad cause! The 6th Annual Prime 8 Art League provided a free event showcasing the 2017 selected applicant's work (which I am super honored to be a part of). They also featured entertainment, food, refreshments and a charity raffle that included all sorts of prizes. The best part... all proceeds generated from the raffle and related activities were donated to Marwen, an organization dedicated to providing visual arts instruction to under-served youth throughout the Chicago area. Pretty rad right? I was stoked to participate by doing a live painting on a large canvas that was raffled off at the end of the night. Felt extremely good to be showcased at The House Of Vans Chicago and to contribute towards something positive.

Favorite Vans? And how would you describe your personal style? I haven't taken them off since I scored a new pair in Chicago! Right now I am rocking my black SK8-Hi Reissue kicks. I am obsessed. My personal style is pretty functional with some dressy stuff on reserve just in case. Pretty much everything I own has paint on it... even my expensive threads. When I travel, I have to be incredibly thoughtful and smart with what and how I pack. Give me a simple pair of ripped jeans or shorts and t-shirt and Vans any good old paint day, but if there's something fun cooking after a long paint day, I am always fashionably prepared. I guess you can just call it a "fun functionable no high heels but party paint girl with a whole lotta sass" kind of style... If you want to get specific.

Personal words to live by? SO MANY WORDS TO LIVE BY. But my favorite motto (and a very strange motto at that) came from the director of one of my first really big gigs. It was the first time I really felt overwhelmed and that I might not be able to finish the job. One day I was on the phone with him freaking out and he interrupted me by saying: "Lauren... How do you eat an Elephant?" I was kind of dumbfounded. I replied with "What the hell are you talking about??" He repeated with "How. Do. You. Eat. An. Elephant?" "I have no idea" I said. He calmly replied with "one bite at a time." One bite at a time... I repeat that to myself all the time. I even have it tattooed on my painting arm so I can see it when I work. It's a good reminder that you can absolutely finish something, big or small, if you just keep at it and you don't give up. I love it. I also love and repeat the words "I never want to regret a decision based on fear" constantly.

What event at this year’s Vans US Open of Surfing are you most looking forward to checking out? Damn. I am so excited to see some powerful ladies turn up the dial and rock some surfing out! I have an admiration for all of the players in all of the events in store at the Vans US Open of Surfing, but to see some ladies kill it at something so mentally and physically demanding, I have no doubt, will be extremely inspiring and will give me some pretty radical energy to get my job done!

For folks who wanna follow in your path, what advice would you give them? Produce produce produce. Work on your style like no one is watching until you are so proud of it and confident to show it off. Once you unlock that door, the rest is up to you to get yourself out there. If you have the skill, right attitude and a solid hustle/work ethic... the possibilities are endless and people will want to hire you. Failure is part of the journey. Embrace it and learn from it. Too many talented people give up way too early. This is a demanding job, so understanding that you'll need to give up certain luxuries that you might be used to, is a often "not so talked about" part of being successful in this specific career. The notion of having kids is one I gave up a long time ago, a serious long term relationship is near impossible, putting your keys in the same spot every day is unlikely, clean clothes 24/7 is laughable, not knowing where you're sleeping next week is common, saying goodbye to amazing friends and family all the time is consistent, missing Holidays and family events is indeed a reoccurring event in itself, your taxes will be A MESS, figuring out a Southwest Airlines Boarding strategy will become a new favorite past time... But damn it... your life be passionately exciting and leaving your mark by contributing something as necessary and positive as art in the world will be oh so sweet and tasty and satisfying.

What do you have planned for the rest of 2017? I cannot wait to boogie on down to Huntington Beach at the end of the month for the Vans Us Open of Surfing! This mural job is definitely going down in the record books. I can just taste it. After painting the bowl, I immediately head to Chicago where I will be working on murals all of August. Then it's a quick trip to Oakland for a mural job. Then back to Chicago to produce work for a Gallery show at the end of October 2017. Then a jump over to Memphis for a big mural event. Then back up to Chicago for more mural work and I will be finishing work for the Gallery Opening at Chicago Truborn October 21. One more mural job in Chicago after that then I am turning brain off in Mexico for a month on the Beach. Pretty stoked! Follow along!

Follow Lauren Asta Instagram | @Lauren-asta

#Art #Vans Art #vansusopen #vans girls #lauren asta #muralist #mural #art school #Q&A

103 notes · View notes

hoseokdrafts-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Bliss | KTH

◆ You have no idea how much wanted to let you know how much I love you. I wanted to shout it out for the whole world to know. I wanted to... but I couldn't.

◇ Pairing: Reader & Taehyung

◇ Genre: Angst, Student!AU

◇ Word Count: 5.264

◇ Author's Note: This was supposed to be another idea for a series but I decided to make this a one shot since I wanted to focus on only one series, which is The Vow. Please do not just scan the words and read every part because every part is important. And for those who easily cry and are sensitive, enjoy!

The bell that was by the front door chimed— a signal that someone came in. Wiping your sweat away, you leaned back and observed the object you were working on, it was almost done and only a few more touches are needed. You wiped your paint-covered hands on your dirty pants and went out the door, greeting the man who was carrying a rather large thing that looked like a canvas. As he looked around, his eyes stopped on you and bowed his head.

“May I help you, uhm...” You trailed off as you looked at him, going out the counter and standing in front of him. He carefully placed the canvas by the wall and grabbed a clipboard, scanning the paper, probably trying to find your name.

“Are you Ms. [Y/N]?” He asked before looking up and smiling apologetically. You nodded in return, looking as he handed you the clipboard. He pointed at to where your name was and told you to sign it. Doing so, he bowed once more before leaving you and the canvas alone. You only looked at it before grabbing it and dragging it back in your work area. You removed the cover and were shocked to see a portrait that looked exactly like you. However, there were a lot of unfinished parts. Standing in front of it, you felt the canvas in your fingertips, amazement in your eyes as you continued observing it.

As you were feeling it, you can't help the feeling of your heart being tugged. It almost hurt as you touched the painting— like it was made from pain; a pain from love. You then turned it, maybe the sender's name was at the back but all you found was an envelope taped onto it. You carefully took it away and opened the envelope, finding nothing but a piece of paper. With nimble hands, you carefully dragged it out, thankful that the paint already dried up in your hands.

Your eyes scanned the letter with curiousity and excitement. It's been so long since you've received a letter, after all. However, the minute you've read the lines in the starting point, your eyes lost its excitement and was replaced with tears of pain, remembering everything that you've always tried to forget.

Hello [Y/N]. It's me, Taehyung.

I wonder, do you still remember me? It's been years, after all. You might have easily forgotten a fool like me. Although I'm secretly hoping you haven't forgotten me.

Because honestly, I can't forget you.

I still remember the first time I met you. To me, you were a walking masterpiece— a piece no artwork could ever beat. You were beautiful. I'm sure you still are. Your eyes were sparkling and you look so radiant. So exquisite. But, of course, I never told you that. Because... you didn't know me that time. I was just a foolish kid who just did nothing but look at you, sketching a few things here and there with my pencil.

Kim Taehyung stood beside his friend, one hand holding his sketchpad as he listened to the story of Jimin, who was getting something out of his locker. He sighed impatiently and tapped his foor against the floor, rolling his eyes as he heard hushed whispers coming from the side. Another gossip about Jimin, he guesses. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Jimin closed his locker door shut, rather loudly. They started to walk side by side and go to their next class, which was art.

When they've arrived, few students were already there and they immediately greeted the two. Taehyung only nodded his head a bit and sat on one of the vacant chairs at the back, placing his head between his arms and trying to sleep. Jimin could go talk to them all if that's what he wanted.

A few moments probably passed by when he felt someone tapping his back. He clicked his tongue and slowly lifted his head, opening his eyes to see Jimin looking at him with concern.

“You okay, Tae?” He just weakly nodded, still sleepy and grumpy for he was woken up by Jimin. It seemed like he got convinced and leaned back on his chair. The teacher then walked inside, you following him. All of the people inside the room put their attention to you as you bowed.

“Hello! My name's [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Please take care of me.” You introduced yourself and smiled right after. As Taehyung observed you, he felt his heart skip a beat. Slowly, he got his pencil out and started drawing random things in his pad, occasionally looking at you.

I still remember when you talked to me the first time. We were in art class that time and you sat beside me, saying you wanted to learn a thing or two about art. I got so surprised that I didn't know what to reply back then and just bluntly told you what can a person like me do to help you— a living goddess in my eyes. Then you laughed. And I still remembered how it sounded— like a song that gets you addicted and you don't want to stop listening to it.

“Please seat on the vacant chair beside Kim Taehyung.” Mr. Bum stated, nodding at the boy's direction. Jimin teasingly snickered at his friend who sighed and rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing. You nodded and started walking to his direction and eventually, you sat beside Taehyung. It was awkward and Taehyung felt sweat ran on his back as he scribbled anything.

“—You're amazing!”

Taehyung stopped drawing and looked at his side, surprised to see you already beaming at him. You then turned your attention to his drawings.

“Can you teach me? I have no idea about arts at all!” You exclaimed, making Taehyung shocked to see you talking so comfortably to a stranger whom you just met today. You didn't receive any reply and glanced at him. You then realized you bluntly talked to him then laughed.

“I'm sorry. Did I surprise you? I mean... I'm really like this, so sorry! I'm [Y/N].” You told him, offering one hand for him to shake. Slowly, he grabbed it and shook it carefully.

“Taehyung.”

“Back to what I was saying... teach me please!” You begged, clasping your hands together while doing so. He scratched the back of his head and turned his head to the side and saw Jimin listening as well. He nodded his head at Taehyung— encouraging him to make a new friend.

“Uhm... what can I do for you? I mean, I'm no good in art” He mumbled, quite flustered at the fact that you acknowledge his work as cool.

“What?! You're insane. You're so good!”

I don't know how it happened because it happened all of a sudden. It's like a flash of lightning that passed by and suddenly, we became friends, along with Jimin, Seokjin-hyung, and Hoseok-hyung. It made me happy. Because for once, I was reassured that I wasn't alone. Being your friend removed the small loneliness that resided in my heart and the hole that was once there is gone.

Everyday, you would go with us on lunch and laugh, laugh, ang laugh. It made me happy seeing you so happy as well. All I could think of was...

"Ah, I fell in love."

I didn't know how and when, but I knew I was already falling. Hard at that. But I was a fool who had no idea what to do. I was a coward who did nothing but sit, draw, and paint.

“And you wanna know what this hyung first said? I'm your hope, I'm your angel!” Jimin laughed out loud, pointing at Hoseok who was sheepishly smiling. It was yet another day of hanging out in Seokjin's house with your friends. You only shook your head at the story and leaned back, relaxing at the couch.

“That's so cheesy, Hobi!” The eldest stated as he put down snacks on the table. He then went to sit next to Jimin on the floor.

“— and to think that he said it to a boy!” Jimin added, making you choke on your snack. You looked at the two of them with shock.

“Did I hear that right? Who is it? Who is it?” You squealed as you jumped on Hoseok, shaking him as you held onto his shoulders. He only laughed and swatted your hands away, grabbing them and preventing you from moving.

“You guys don't know him, though. He's from another sc—”

“Min Yoongi, right?” Taehyung spoke up from his seat, casually scribbling again on a pece of paper. All of you looked over to him. You stood and ran to him, grabbing his face with your hands and squishing it.

“You know him!?”

“I knew him and saw them together the other day.” He stated as he held your wrist to pry your hands off his face. The paper he was drawing on fell on the floor while he was doing it. Easily distracted, you looked at what he did and gaped again.

“You're really amazing! I still can't get used to how good you draw. I mean...” You rambled on but Taehyung fell deaf as he watched you. It seemed as if everything was in slow motion while you talked. Even when just opening your mouth, you look so beautiful. Taehyung's heart kept on beating so fast that he clutched his hands on his chest, trying to calm himself down.

Ah, I fell in love.

Three years immediately passed by and we're down to our last year of high school. Our friendship was still going strong— and I was still living with my obviously unrequited love.

And then you met Jeon Jungkook, the shy boy who looked at you with adoring eyes and bunny smile. It's a shame you noticed it and it's like my efforts for you to notice me got flushed down the drain when you told me you were dating him. It hurt. I hated you. How come you didn't notice me when you noticed Jungkook. I hated Jungkook. Why did he have to come to the scene. But most of all, I hated myself. Why did I have to be such a coward?

But few more days and I got used to your cheesy moments— your kisses, cuddles, and laughters together. I just remained quiet— and still, I lived with my obviously unrequited love for you.

Guys, let's meet each other by the cafe near the bus station! Yoongi wants you to meet his friends as well! - Hoseok ㅅ

The boys huddled around you as they tried to read the text. You sighed, knowing they probably left their phone at their house. It was a normal thing for them, after all.

“Guys, let's go.” You stated as you grabbed your bag and headed out the house of Seokjin. Yes, you were all there again except for Hoseok. After talking and meeting each other, him and Yoongi finally told each other what they felt and started dating despite the judging eyes of other people.

The boys followed you and talked about how excited they were to meet Yoongi's friends. Well, Jimin and Seokjin did. Taehyung immediately catched up to you with his long legs and walked beside you, but not saying anything.

“What's up with you these days? You've gotten quieter than usual.” You asked him while he only hummed in return, grabbing your bag from you and carrying it. Unbeknownst to him, you turned red and muttered a thanks under you're breath.

“Nothing. Just tired.” He shortly answered and soon you've arrived at the cafe.

Hoseok was already sitting there with Yoongi and two other boys, him waving at you through the glass window. You all then entered, approaching their table and bowing at Yoongi and his friends to greet them.

“Hey guys! These are Namjoon and Jungkook. They go to the same school as Yoongi here.” Hoseok told you, quite cheerfully as he clasped his and his boyfriend's hand together. Yoongi just let him though, even squeezing it.

Taehyung approached Namjoon and greeted him, introducing himself to him before proceeding to go to Jungkook, only to stop when he saw you already talking to the lad. He knew he didn't have any right to, but he couldn't stop the burning envy forming in his heart when he saw you giggling with Jungkook.

And it hurts to see you so happy with him. And he felt his heart break as you looked at Jungkook with those eyes. Those were the eyes of a girl who has already fallen in love. How did he know? Because the way you looked at Jungkook was different from the way you looked at any other guy, or him. Your eyes, if possible, were shining even brighter. It was a bittersweet feel—

“Don't make it so obvious, buddy.” A hand squeezed his shoulder softly and judging by the voice, he knew it was Jimin.

“You knew?” He whispered. Jimin only nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I know you more than anyone.”

Days passed and everyday, you would all meet up with the new friends of yours. Meaning, Taehyung had to suffer everyday from seeing you and Jungkook so close together already. What you did with Taehyung before, you're now doing with Jungkook. Sure, you would talk to him at school... but everything is different when Jungkook is around. It's like everything around you disappears and you only see Jungkook.

The boy was no different as well. It's obvious to everyone that he adores you, and Taehyung can't help but clench his fists, knowing he can't do anything about it. You can't control a person's feelings, after all.

So why was he not surprised when you announced you were dating Jungkook, when he loved you so much?

“Uhm... guys, I don't know any other way than to tell you this. I'm dating Jungkook now.” You told them one day at your meetings. Nobody said anything though, since they already knew you two liked each other. So they already expected you two to date.

“Why am I not surprised?” Hoseok rolled his eyes at you, crossing his arms and then laughing at the two of you who became flustered at their reactions. The other boys followed while Taehyung forced a smile when you looked at him with a face so full of happiness.

It hurts.

Then that one year passed by immediately and then we're in college. You chose to be a music major while I chose art. I remember when you told me you didn't have any interest in painting, sketching, and drawing. It hurt because it felt like you were saying it to me indirectly. I mean, those things basically define who I am and what I love to do.

“So, what will you take?” Taehyung asked you as you went to cafe together. He knew he can't avoid you forever no matter how much it hurts. If he wanted to stay with you, he needed to stay friends with you. Jungkook was busy looking for apartmentswith Hoseok and Yoongi where you can stay together. The couple already had their own and was willing to help Jungkook find one.

“Anything where I can learn about music. Jungkook wants the same too, I think.” You told him, still ignorant of what he was feeling when you talk about your boyfriend in front of him.

“What about arts?”He suggested, hoping you would agree with him.

“Uhm, no. I am not interested in doing something I am not good with. I can barely draw a stick man!” You scoffed as you got in the line with him.

“Pfft.” He snickered although deep down, he knew he was quite disappointed. But why did he expect something anyway? You were already taken by someone— and that someone was his friend. Who was he to take you away from Jungkook when you don't even see him the way he sees you?

And then one day, the teacher asked us to paint the source of our happiness. Do you remember when I asked you to be my muse? Saying that it's because I wanted to paint portraits of my friends? I lied. I only painted you. You were my source of happiness. You still are, and you'll always be.

“Hey, [Y/N].” Taehyung called out as you both hang out in the apartment he shared with Jimin. You were both lazily sitting on the couch as the movie played in the screen.

“Yeah?” You muttered, feeling too lazy to even talk.

“Can I paint you?” Taehyung bluntly asked as he looked up the ceiling. Despite what he looks, his heart was dying to leap out of his chest from nervousness. You turned your head to him and raised your brow at him.

“Why? Is it one of your projects? You could pai—”

“No. I just wanted to paint all of you, my friends; I just wanted to start with you.” He quickly answered.

“Okay.” You shrugged and closed your eyes, not noticing that Taehyung immediately looked at you with shock from your quick decision. Few minutes passed and slight snores came from your mouth, making your friend chuckle.

“Well, that was easy.” He muttered under his breath, relief washing over him.

Days followed and we continued with my painting, striking up a conversation here and there. And as I lead my brush against the canvas, you suddenly told me you broke up with Jungkook. You never told me why though. And I never told you that I never felt this good. But I did as I watch you fidget in your seat, unsure whether you can move or not.

“So, why did you think about this?” You asked as you stayed still in the stool you were sitting on. It was another day in Taehyung's empty and mini studio and all you did was watch as the brush stroked against the canvas.

“Just 'cause.” He told you, looking at you then back at the canvas. You pursed your lips to prevent yourself from smiling.

“You can smile, you know. I'm not preventing you from moving. Just not much.” He chuckled and continued painting while you sighed, finally getting comfortable in your seat.

“Jungkook and I broke up.” You spoke up after a few moments of silence. Taehyung stopped painting for a second before proceeding. His heart then started beating fast and he couldn't concentrate.

“Why?” He croaked out, mentally slapping himself for being quite obvious. You shrugged even if you knew he can't see you.

“Just because.” You told him, making him smile a little at your comeback. He felt good and a spark of hope ignited in him.

“What about your apartment?”

“— guess I'll be living alone now. He told me to...” Your voice eventually got weaker and then you no longer spoke, Taehyung looked over only to see you crying. He dropped the brush and walked quickly to you then hugged you to his chest.

“I thou— I thought...” You sobbed as he held you, shushing you and stroking your hair. He kissed the top of your head. Throughout the years he knew you, he had come to know that doing that somehow calmed you. Eventually your cries died down and you were just hiccupping. He knew he shouldn't be feeling happy right now, but he did.

Then that day came. It happened. My feelings got ahead of me and then all of a sudden, you looked at me with anger and disappointment in your eyes.

“So are you okay, now?” He said one night as he stayed in your apartment. He was sleeping over there from time to time since he was hesitant to leave you alone. However, today, he promised Jimin a game night so he needed to go home tonight. You only smiled sadly and looked down your lap. It's been a month since your break up and you never talked about your breakdown again. Taehyung didn't tell anyone either. It was already awkward when you're in the same room with Jungkook and he knew he'll make it worse if he tells it to the others.

“Eventually, I will be.” You told him, smiling at him confidently making him return it. Unbeknownst to you, he was trying so hard to not kiss you. He didn't know why but he felt more drawn to you today. Even if you were just wearing a gray shirt covered by a cardigan and a simple pajamas, you still looked irresistible. It must be nice to be able to ho—

Ding!

“That must be Jimin.” You smiled and stood up, him following as he hummed. He was thankful to have Jimin disturb his trail of thoughts or else he wouldn't have stopped himself. You walked him to the door, leaning on its frame as he put his shoes on carefully.

“Come home safely, okay?” You whispered as he went out. He only smiled.

Your door was almost closed when a hand stopped it, making you look and see Taehyung.

“Tae? What are y—” You were stopped when you felt something on your lips. He was kissing you. What should you do? You were busy freaking out when he held you by your waist, pulling you closer to him that you were finally chest to chest.

Oh, fuck it.

You closed your eyes and brought your hands to his shoulders, letting them stay there comfortably. Finally kissing him back, you heard him sigh in relief before kissing you much harder than before. He started walking back inside, hands removing your cardigan off you. You pulled away, breathing heavily to catch your breath only to have him kiss you again.

“I... I... fuck...” He mumbled against your lips as he guided you up to your bedroom, discarding his shirt on the way. He kicked your door open, not breaking your kiss and laid you down on your bed. He observed you gasping for breath as you looked at him with hooded eyes, hair all over the place.

“I guess Jimin can wait 'til tomorrow.” He mumbled before coming down and capturing your lips on him once more.

Taehyung groaned, opening his eyes, only to wince and close them once more as the sun beamed quite brightly, much to his disliking. He turned to his side and tried to open them once more, a very familiar room welcoming his sight. His eyes widened as last night's events flashed quickly in his mind. He cursed when he saw himself shirtless and immediately stood up, grabbing his pants and wearing it, running towards the door.

“So, you're gonna leave? Just like that?” A voice spoke up, stopping him from his tracks. He turned around and there you stood, a robe covering your body as you came out of the shower. He averted his eyes on another thing and opened his mouth, but nothing ever came out.

“I... uh... last night...”

“Did it mean nothing to you? Was it a m—”

“Last night was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened.” He cut you off completely, his hands covering his mouth as his statement ended. He didn't know but you felt your heart drop at what he said. You thought... you thought...

“Mistake, huh?” You laughed in disbelief; eyes starting to tear up as you looked at him. You slowly walked up to him, raising you hand and then—

Slap!

Taehyung looked over and saw you glaring at him with angry yet broken eyes. Regret then flashed in his eyes as he stared back at you who were breathing heavily. You then started pounding on his chest weakly.

“Fuck you! You... you came onto me. You... were the one who started it. Now... now, you're saying it was... was a mistake?” You sobbed, disbelief eating you up as you slowed down on punching him. You pulled away from him after that, standing up straight and wiping your tears away.

“[Y/N]...” He trailed off as he tried to approach you, heart dropping when you stepped away from him.

“Get out. Get the fucking out of my apartment!” You screamed as you pushed him out of your bedroom, closing it and locking it as soon as he was out. You slid down with your back against the door, covering your mouth in attempt to muffle your sobs.

On the other side, Taehyung stood with his forehead against the door, looking like a kicked puppy and feeling defeated. He let his feelings get ahead of him... again. Knowing you won't open the door until he leaves, he came down and took a look one last time before finally leaving, closing the door behind him and locking it.

If it was for the last time, he at least wants to keep you safe.

You never talked to me again after that. And I never got to finish the painting. But it was a good thing I managed to finish your portrait, and only the minor details are missing. I stare at it everyday, you know? I have no idea why but it felt like I hoped you were gonna appear with your smile again if I keep staring at it. But you never did. And to make it worse, you and Kook got back together.

“And once again, the fools are back together!” Hoseok slurred, drunk out of his mind as he raised a glass. You all laughed as Yoongi tried to calm his wasted boyfriend down. You leaned back on Jungkook's body and slightly glanced at Taehyung, only to see him already staring at you. You immediately turned your eyes onto other things, ignoring the feeling inside you. You then saw Jungkook's free hand and played with it, gaining his attention. You felt him kiss the side of your head and continued talking with his hyungs.

Once again, I hated myself for being such a fool. I kept on making mistakes that I regret. My heart was burning with pain and I was too overwhelmed. I guess... it's because I love you so much. And you have no idea how much wanted to let you know how much I love you. I wanted to shout it out for the whole world to know. I wanted to... but I couldn't.

And so, I lost you— the person who was never mine to begin with.

You read, your voice betraying you and wavering as tears flowed down your cheeks. You sat in the empty corner of your studio as you cried over the letter he sent you. Your heart was throbbing with so much pain that you had to gasp for air.

He loved you. He loved you all along.

“I've always been yours, idiot...” You croaked out, looking up the ceiling as you clutched the letter to your chest. You couldn't stop crying knowing you were wrong ever since. You looked at the letter once again, trying to continue reading despite the blurred vision your tears gave you.

After the semester, I've found out that you and Kook moved to States together to study more about music. I've never heard of you since then. And here I am, writing this letter even if I'm not sure if it will ever reach you. Will it? Will my heart ever reach you? I hope it does because I don't think I can do it anymore, [Y/N]. It still hurts. I never knew loving someone could hurt this much.

“Are you sure about this? There's no going back after this.” Jungkook asked as he held your hand as you both stood in the middle of the airport. You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand back and starting to walk.

“Are you really willing to leave him behind?” He asked as he tried to stop you. And he did. Your back was facing him but he knew you.

“I knew. You loved him first. But you thought he didn't.” He told you, watching as your shoulders began to shake. He turned you around, his heart clenching when he saw tears streaming down your face. He brought you in a hug, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead.

“It's okay. Whatever you want to do, you can. It's okay. I'll be okay.” He whispered, not caring if the people around you saw. The only thing Jungkook wanted was to make you happy. And if it means letting you go and give you to Taehyung, then he was fine with it.

“Please take me away. Make me forget.” You whispered when you calmed down, wiping your tears and looking up at him. He only stared at you as if asking if you were sure, and then you nodded at him.

“Okay.”

I suck at these types of things and you must be confused by now. But I wanted to give this to you. At least, I hope you'll remember me with this. You'll think of me when you look at this. At least for once, I'll be in your mind just as you are always in mine. This is where I end this letter of mine. I'm not asking for a reply or anything but please do me a favor.

Please don't be guilty, [Y/N].

And thank you— for being my friend, for accepting me as I am, for giving me happiness, and for giving me a love that helped me understand life.

I loved you. I love you. I will always love you.

After forcing your best friend to tell you where he was living now, Jungkook sighed and gave you the address. Both of you had come to the terms that you can only stay as friends after studying abroad. He knew that you had realized that you loved Taehyung and so, he let you go, despite your protests saying you'll get over the boy in time and you'll learn to love Jungkook.

And now, here you were, at seven o'clock in the morning, standing in front of the house he gave you with the letter clutched in your hands. You took a deep breath and came up the porch, raising your hand and knocking the door. You heard a deep voice reply from inside and rushed footsteps came nearer as the time ticked.

The door creaked as it was being opened and everything was suddenly in slow motion as Taehyung appeared before you. He looks surprised as he took in the sight in front of him— you were smiling at him sympathetically as tears welled up in your eyes, as you held the familiar letter up.

“Hello, Taehyung.”

A tear fell down his cheek as his heart swelled with so much happiness and love. All because of you.

“It's... nice to see you, [Y/N].” He croaked as he took you in his arms, not planning to let you go any sooner as he was afraid he might lose you again. And he swore he felt his heart leap out of his chest the moment you embraced him back, burying your head deeper in his chest as you soaked his shirt. He didn't care if it was wet. He didn't care if you both looked so foolish standing in his doorway. He didn't care how long it took for you to come to him, the important thing is you did.

And he was happy with that.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts tae #bts v #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung scenarios #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #hoseokdrafts #bangtan #bts fanfic #jungkook

146 notes · View notes

explorerezreal · 8 years ago

Text

The Final Post (For real.)

[[ Hey guys.

As everyone knows, I officially retired this blog in December of 2016 after three great years of roleplaying in the League of Legends community. However, it just occurred to me that I have an unfinished piece of writing that I had been working on for NaNoWriMo 2015 that I never released. This original Ezreal origin story will be the final post on this blog, and my final gift to all of you wonderful people. I hope you enjoy! Love always, Ezruul @w@

Initium

Written for NaNoWriMo 2015

This writing is purely a work of fiction. And by that, I mean fanfiction. Sorry guys, I’m not creative enough for anything else!

That being said, I don’t own League of Legends or any characters or specifically named locations mentioned. That honor goes to Riot Games Inc.

I wish to give thanks to my community for your undying support and faith in my writing.

I don’t remember how it started.

I remember when I figured out that everything was complete and utter bullshit, though. It was an early Tuesday, and I’d once again been reprimanded for doodling my ink-dipped quill pen all over the piece of blank parchment that had been thrust in front of me and expected to be covered in notes involving complicated mathematics that were supposed to aid in techmaturgical blueprints for future energy-saving devices that would be built across the entire City of Progress. The instructor took it upon himself to crumple the start of a shoddy ebony labyrinth that I’d created and mercilessly dump it in the trash bin beside me before handing me a new sheet, an exasperated sigh splitting his lips as he did so.

“Do you think maybe one of these days you’ll actually take notes instead of drawing all over everything, Mister Forcher?” he spoke with an edge, clearly on his last nerve with me despite it being my first lesson of the day. Good morning, indeed. Despite being a mere seven years old, my young tongue had already garnered its fair share of teeth marks from being bitten back so many times, and although I tried to make myself move, I’m not sure anything happened on my face. Or body, really. All I knew was that this thing I was in. This damn school. This damn stuffy classroom…

Had been suffocating me as though it were a toxin-filled gas from the very beginning.

Prodigy. That’s what they’d called me. I had heard the word so many times in my young life but I never got to really understand what the meaning was until I’d turned five and was placed into an educational environment that far surpassed anything that a normal child should experience. Other so-called prodigies littered the shining halls, but none as young as me. Hell, some were even university-age and beyond, but considering where it was, this wasn’t exactly surprising, though I’m sure it was a definite blow to their egos. At first, I was carefree. I of course knew I’d be starting school soon. It sounded like fun in my inexperienced head. My parents’ instructions and newfound rules were very clear, though. Instead of attempting to make friends with the neighbors and playing out in the grass, dirt and concrete beneath the dim illumination of the aged hexlight that lay just at the end of our street, I would have to study. Hard.

“You’re giving up scraped knees for papercuts.” Is what they’d say to make me feel better when my skinny fingers had grown tired of constantly turning pages and attempting to make sense of words that even my above average mind couldn’t yet comprehend. On a particularly warm day when the glare of the sunlight showed itself through the window, I found myself entranced with the red-orange swirled horizon instead of the technological banter in front of me, and the possibility of what lay beyond the walls of the only place I’d ever known captivated me like no other feeling ever had.

I wanted to be out there more than anything.

“Ezreal.”

The sound of my name was like an unexpected clap of thunder, and my small form quickly whipped around to face the textbook, again and at one point, I fantasized that it was the book itself that had spoken to me, but I’d know my father’s stern tone anywhere. I wrinkled my lips and shrank back, waiting for the inevitable.

“Please stop looking outside, Ezreal. You know why you have to do this, right? You’re a prodigy. Act like one. Your education is costing us good gold and the sooner you apply yourself and realize your potential, the better it’ll be for everyone.”

I didn’t know what this word, “potential,” was. But it sounded neat. I rolled the word over and over again in my head, considering what letters went where in its spelling. Potential.

“Potential.” I repeated out loud, nodding my tousled blonde head as I fingered the word of the book I’d stopped at, my eyes brightening with a soft, golden hue; a side-effect of the magic that lay running within my veins alongside the blood. When my father left the room, with a yawn, I’d continue to sneak peeks through the window, each glance checking to see how far the sun had gone down since I last looked. I still wanted to be outside, but wondering what was beyond the glistening white towers of Piltover wasn’t going to help me reach my potential.

I continued studying dutifully in the best ways I possibly could over the next two years, but it didn’t take long before I soon became restless, and my mind would always revert back to subjects that were far, far more interesting. I didn’t have a word for this particularly warm feeling that had settled itself in the pit of my stomach, but as I grew older, I discovered it.

Wanderlust.

It was this lust for wander that had compelled me to begin scribbling onto that sheet of paper that my instructor had thrown away, and it was also what caused me to once again start doodling instead of taking notes or focusing on what was being said in the classroom. The stale words seemed drowned out by the wondrous and vibrant images that took shape in my imagination, and I daydreamed of being somewhere else. Somewhere dark and full of danger. Somewhere unknown that had been quietly itching to be discovered. I dipped the end of my pen into the ink and started making one full line down, but before I even finished the first stroke, the instructor was back, his eyes showcasing that the last of his patience had been drained away.

“If you’re not going to pay attention, Mister Forcher, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Again.” He said, and I could feel the eyes of the other students, particularly those of the much older ones, burning into every piece of me like small branding irons. Some were apathetic, but most were annoyed. Confused. Angry. Possibly even moreso than the instructor himself. Because they didn’t understand how someone as apparently gifted as I was wouldn’t take advantage of the situation that I’d been dealt. I did not speak my response, and instead, I gathered up the leather satchel that had been slung over the back of my chair and departed the room in silence, hungry for the fresh air that would greet me outside of the stuffy walls.

The door clicked behind me, and I could hear the expected sigh from behind it, and then more words. Words that I had absolutely no desire to hear. I started walking, counting the number of times my boots crunched on the leaves as I made my way to my favorite place in the entire esteemed techmaturgical academy; a rock beneath a tree with a weather-stained bench surrounding it. Flopping my satchel atop the bench, I dug my fingers into the pockets and produced a tiny, spiral-bound book with a piece of charcoal hanging from a string attached to the center of the spine. This book was blank, aside from an assortment of sketches that I’d drawn from various areas around the campus. Since I wasn’t doing any assigned work, drawing and sketching was how I preferred to pass my time at school.

Despite my young age, I wasn’t an idiot. I’d stopped officially doing work weeks ago, and it was only a matter of time before my parents found out. I had to tell them eventually, though, that I wasn’t sure that this whole prodigy thing was really for me. When I had done the work that was expected of me, it was forced and passionless, but I’d always assumed that one day I’d realize that this was what life had in store for me. That I’d learn to love and appreciate it. But instead, every textbook I’d ever received had just made me more listless and bored.

I raised my head and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the spring-laced oxygen. It felt cool, warm, clean, and dusty all at once. I sneezed with force, and following that, the metaphorical hunger in my stomach pleaded to be noticed as though it had physically punched me. I swallowed hard, then looked down at the sketch I’d been absentmindedly creating with the sharpened end of my charocal. It wasn’t a fantastic sketch by any means. All it was was a crude likeness of one of the leaves that had been sitting there before I’d even made the walk to the bench and invaded its personal space.

I could draw rocks and hallways and leaves all day if I wanted. Despite every leaf looking different, the overall environment was the same. And it, unfortunately, was one that I already knew. I took another breath, and then closed the sketchbook, letting the wind ruffle my hair as though it were comforting me from the troubling thoughts that were bubbling inside me. I closed my eyes, allowing it to soothe me.

Then I looked toward the sky and realized that this was never going to get better. I just simply didn’t have the drive for science like so many other Piltovians did, and I couldn’t just choose to ignore it, could I? Maybe I could. It wasn’t too late to start doing assigned work again and actually making an attempt to pay attention in lectures. I was only seven. I had a lot of time ahead of me, didn’t I? Surely I’d figure it out when the time arose, and at this point, it was probably better to just not say a thing.

My imagination caused my father’s voice to touch the sensitive insides of my ears as though it were being carried on the breeze, and my muscles bunched up beneath my skin as though an icy chill had just overcome my small body. “Your education is costing us good gold.”

I put the sketchbook back into my satchel, slipped it over my shoulder, and soundlessly crept away from the bench, heart lightly fluttering in my throat. The last thing I wanted to do was the walk of shame all the way back to the classroom that I’d been kicked out of, so that only left one other place: the university library. No, I couldn’t go there, either. Libraries were quiet, and being surrounded by silence would only make my own thoughts louder, which was something that I most definitely did not want.

If I didn’t go to the library, the only choice left was home. Maybe if I slowed my stride enough, I’d arrive there at the same time I would if I’d gone to class and no one would suspect a thing. No, that was stupid. I’d almost forgotten it was still morning, and it wouldn’t take more than an hour for me to get back, even if I avoided using the small city paths that I’d discovered that cut the already short time in half. I’d always been good at finding directional shortcuts even when the route was already easy, but I of course had no idea how this would influence my life until a great bit later.

Again, I was internally conflicted, and I blew air out of my lungs in such a way that if anyone were around, they would have seen how intensely frustrated I was, which would prompt the more curious ones to ask why a child was seemingly so stressed. Venting to a stranger sounded nice and all, but everyone around here knew who I was, and if I’d openly shared what was ailing me, I had no doubt it would get back to my parents in some way, and that was a risk that I couldn’t afford to take.

I raised my blue eyes toward the sky that almost perfectly mirrored the shade and set off without a direction in mind, my small hand clutching to the strap of my satchel to keep the weight steady across my meek shoulder. I had no idea where I was going or where I’d end up, but the thought of getting lost had always been somehow comforting. Besides, I was pretty sure I knew how to get back to the university from any place in the entire city. Considering how tall the glistening argent pillars of the entrance were, it would really be hard to miss, even from a distance. Before long, I’d passed said pillars and came into the sight of returning students whom were ascending the steps in an almost synchronized manner, and I could see the way their eyebrows raised upon seeing me.

I lowered my head and brushed through them as though they were invisible and continued my trek, though their whispers were louder than I think they’d intended them to be.

“Shouldn’t he be in class right now? That kid’s gonna flunk.”

“He’s never in class.”

“I wonder why? Maybe he has a tutor at home?

“I don’t know. No one really d-…”

Part of me still thinks that to this day, they’d done that on purpose to get my attention and to possibly gather some information about my recent lack of attendance in the classroom, but I guess I can add it to the list of things I’ll never really know or have an answer for. All I could really do now was hope that they wouldn’t tell or that a teacher or someone of importance wouldn’t see me leaving the campus. I raised my head and darted my gaze left to right. A bird trilled in the distance. All clear as far as I could see.

For some reason, this made me grin. I remember the muscles in my cheeks turning up and me being unable to get rid of it. Maybe it was a good thing. Frowning would just draw more outward attention to the conflict within, right? If I looked happy, no one would ever suspect anything. That is, unless they too realized that I was supposed to be in class at this hour like any other typical student. I breathed in, feeling the air stretch my lungs, and then my feet were moving again, carrying me away from the university like a big burly savior, but this time, it wasn’t just a walk.

It was a sprint.

I still don’t know why I briskly moved as though a beast had been chasing me, but by the time I got to the next street over, my mouth was open and I was panting, my cheeks flushed with a dark coral tint. On the opposite side of the concrete sidewalk, I could see fellow Piltovians standing around and the distant chatter of what was probably an attempt at meaningful conversation, but my focus was swiftly drawn elsewhere. I’d been down this street a number of times before, but I’d never noticed that far off in the distance to the right there seemed to be an area that looked, well…closed off.

I squinted. It wasn’t new, and I’d realized that. The shadowy area had been there the entire time. But why had I never felt so compelled to look over there until this very moment? It didn’t make sense, but then again, I’d never had the best attention span, and really, I still don’t. Wrinkling my nose, I began a steady stride once more, wondering if anybody would see me, a child to normal eyes, attempting to enter what was possibly a forbidden and dangerous area. There weren’t any signs telling me to keep out, though, so I assumed it was alright.

Regardless, I flattened myself against the aged brick wall, holding my breath as though making any noise at all would cause me to burst into flames and then fade into nothingness. I took one step forward, then another, almost as though I was floating toward the darkness and acting like it was a bright beacon instead of a dreary shroud. My shoe crunched on the cracked, uneven cement, and I realized right then that whatever was over here had been there so long that the floor was literally crumbling.

I couldn’t see past the darkness, of course, but I could somewhat make out what looked like a really large circle in the back corner. A hole? Or a covering for a hole? At the current distance I was at, I couldn’t tell. But I wanted to know. Needed to know. I took another step against the crumbling ground, but the sound of gravel separating beneath me was drowned out by the loud gasp that had abruptly slid down my throat and the feeling of being flung back by my collar. The world spun for a few seconds before I realized what had happened and whipped around, my eyes wide with surprise. Someone had stopped me from venturing onwards. Someone had tugged me back into the light of the City of Progress.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the man got there before I did.

“Now just what on Runeterra did you think you were doing over there, young man?” the tall stranger asked me, his lips pressed together into a tight frown and his arms crossed to his chest. He seemed huge. Towering, even. But it’s not like that was really a feat when it came to being compared to me. I knew I should probably be scared by a dark-haired menace, but I wasn’t. At all. In fact, I crossed my arms right back at him, though my motions weren’t as fluid considering I had the weight of my satchel on my shoulder.

“Exploring.” I answered simply, suddenly realizing with each passing second that maybe this stranger wasn’t as old as I’d first assumed he was. Tall, yes, but he had a boyish face and a youthful physique. Teenager, I decided. Not grown up. Possible threat, regardless, though. “I was gonna explore that shadowy place over there. What’s over there? Do you know?”

There was no harm in asking, right?

The young man rolled his eyes, then looked over me and narrowed his icy blue gaze into slits, behaving as though he too had known all about the mysterious area in the close distance but had never really thought about what exactly it was. He put a gloved hand to his smooth chin and lightly rubbed, his voice vibrating with a low hum as he pondered, pulling his thoughts between what whether it was right to indulge me or simply leave me to wonder. He then turned toward me, and his face softened, making him look even younger.

“They say that the tunnels of ancient Piltover before it became civilized are down there. No one’s ever gone down into the sewers to take a look, though, so I don’t know if it’s true.” He said, his broad shoulders rising and then quickly falling again as he shrugged, arms still crossed. “It’s honestly probably just an old city rumor. Nothing a kid your age should be concerned with, and definitely not something you should be trying to get into. You could have fallen down and gotten seriously hurt, you know.”

His gaze hardened again, and I pursed my lips, then snorted. Really, it was a terrible thing this young man had done, giving me this kind of information. My already intense curiosity was suddenly severely heightened, and I hoped it wasn’t evident on my face. I wrinkled my nose, trying not to smile.

“Are you gonna be called a hero then? For savin’ me even though I didn’t really even do anything or get hurt? I was just lookin’, honest!” I said, putting my small palms up toward him as though surrendering for a terrible crime. My neck was starting to ache from where my shirt’s collar had been violently pressed against it during my “rescue”, but I didn’t think it would be enough to leave any sort of mark. Boy, would that have been hard to explain.

The dark-haired teen smiled and I could see his straight teeth were a flawless, pearly white. He certainly looked like a hero, and I wondered if it were true. My eyes must have become as round as a supper saucer or something, because he laughed, and then reached forward to place his large hand atop my flaxen head, rubbing it as though he had known me for years and this was simply a thing that we’d both come to know and expect from the other.

“Maybe. Though I don’t think anyone was around to see my so-called heroic deed.”

I glanced around the young man to see that his words were true. How was it possible that there had been so many people walking around just minutes prior and now it was only the two of us as far as the average eye could see? I certainly hadn’t gone out that far, had I? Unless I horribly misjudged the distance between the civilized street and the darkened corner and was so entranced I’d paid no mind to just how far I’d walked.

I turned my focus back up to the teenager and shrugged, absentmindedly adjusting the strap on my satchel; a habit I was sure to never break. “Good. I’m gunna go back now, then. Won’t be goin’ over here again. Too dangerous, like you said. Don’t wanna get any scraped knees or look for any gross underground tunnels.” What a lie. I brushed past the other boy’s shoulder when I felt the pressure of a hand atop my own, rightfully stopping me. I turned around again, my thin brows furrowed and my expression visibly annoyed.

“You’re really weird.” The teenager said. “Like…really, really weird. I have no idea why a kid your age would even be out here alone in the first place. Much less want to explore something that not even the Piltover protection force will touch without bare hands. What’s your name, anyway? Are you lost? Can I help you get back?”

He looked so suddenly concerned at the possibility that I’d become separated from my parents that I would have felt bad giving him the silent treatment (or lying, really), so I cleared my throat with a small cough before looking up at him once again. Man, he was tall. Even back then, it seemed almost ridiculous just how much height difference there was between us even with the gap in our ages. I huffed, then shook my head side to side, causing strands of light blonde to obscure my vision.

“Name’s Ezreal. And I’m not lost.” I said, my foot slipping back a bit to shake off some of the small bits of dirt that I’d collected on my shoe during my brief venture into the shadows. It wasn’t much. In fact, I would have liked if they’d gotten even dirtier in the midst of my stint. Something about sullying those pristine-looking leather lace-ups was incredibly satisfying. “I was just exploring like I said. And I’m okay! So I’m gunna go back now.”

Something about his tilted head and tension-ridden jawline told me that he’d stopped paying attention to everything I’d said immediately after learning my name, and pinpricks of tension formed in the pit of my belly. Adrenaline throbbed in the back of my neck, and I pondered if running would be a wise thing to do. Why did I tell him my real name? Why didn’t I just lie? It probably would have been a lot easier, considering the teenager now looked as doubly concerned as he did just a few seconds prior to learning that little tidbit.

“Ezreal. The prodigy Forcher boy? The kid that was enrolled at the techmaturigal university at age five?” he asked, spilling the information regarding my young life all over the ground as though it were a handful of small rocks. I bit down on my lip, and if my young mind had known any curse words back then, I surely would have whispered them to myself instead of standing in guilty silence. I inhaled softly, but I was soon cut off by the teen continuing to speak.

“Do you know what time it is? Shouldn’t you be in class? I mean…” He looked down at the rust-colored hexwatch that adorned his thick wrist, but it ended up being upside down, causing him to groan out in frustration as he twisted his arm the other way to right it. “Ten in the morning. Seventeen minutes past the hour. Lectures are in session for most university students right now, and yet I found you out here, trying to get into trouble.” He continued, maneuvering his other hand to press it to my forehead beneath my fringe, feeling for a temperature. “You, uh…you sick, kid? Little warm, there.”

“Magic.” I said, slapping his hand away from me with a weak fist. “Always got a temperature. Mom says it’s because of the magic I was born with or something. I don’t feel sick, though!” I chirped, wondering why I kept talking to this young man when he seemed to know everything else regarding me and my business aside from the fact I was warmer to bare touch than a non-mage would be. He nodded, then gave a thoughtful hum, seemingly satisfied. “Oh, right. I forgot about that. The papers just said you were apparently a genius and seemed to focus on it more than anything else. I forgot about the magic, too. That’s a rarity around here, you know? You should be happy, Ezreal.”

And I should be in school.

“…and in school right now! I’ll walk you back. How about it?”

Called it.

Arguing was futile since he not only knew who I was but also spoiled the fun that I was hopefully going to have in the mysterious dark corner, so I just limply shrugged, which he quickly took as an approval to start walking back in the general direction that I came from, seemingly knowing the way back to the university. I really didn’t want to go back to school, but what choice did I have? At least he didn’t seem like someone who would tell my parents, or anybody, really, about my absence in the classroom and the streak for danger that I seem to have developed in a matter of minutes. I quietly started to follow (quite literally) in his shadow, when he abruptly turned around, almost whacking me in the head with the point of his elbow.

I had never been pleased with my small height until that very moment.

“I’m Jayce, by the way.” He said, finally introducing himself, and to finally have a name to match the face made me feel a little better, but I still couldn’t help but resent him for both putting a dent in my curiosity but also heightening it to levels that I never even thought were possible. Why didn’t the Piltover protection force go down under the city’s ground? Why did the alleged tunnels only have to be a rumor? What if there actually was nothing down there at all and our plane of existence was above a mass of dirt? Or worse, air. Would the city eventually collapse in on itself and become nothingness? Would we become the tunnels?

My head felt like a cyclone with so many questions blowing around in it, but I was at least able to find my voice again before it became apparent that something far more interesting than introductions was taking precedence over everything else. I once again readjusted my satchel strap and forced a smile, but since I couldn’t see it, I’m sure it probably came off as extremely awkward. Despite my youth, I rarely had a true, real smile, and even back then, I knew that was kind of depressing. But, hey, what else could you look like when you’d been forced to study boring textbooks day in and day out?

“Hi, Jayce!” I squeaked, the high, grating pitch causing my face to flush with undisguised embarrassment. Making myself sound deeper would just seem weird and unnatural, though, so I continued on like nothing had happened. Jayce, though, didn’t seem to notice how I sounded and instead just grinned right back at me, and I wondered if maybe what I’d heard was completely different than what he’d heard. I’d hoped so. “Thanks for savin’ me, I guess.”

I wasn’t really thankful for it, but he didn’t need to know that, right?

“No problem.” He answered, tone proud and beaming as though this had been his intention from the start. Maybe it had. Maybe he’d secretly been following me out of boredom and now was making it his self-proclaimed duty to save naïve Piltovian kids that could possibly end up in trouble or bad areas. I could just see him now running back to his home after depositing me back at the university and fashioning himself a spandex onesie with a bathroom towel attached to it. I wanted to laugh out loud at the thought, but then he’d notice and I’d have to tell him, so instead I just bit the insides of my cheeks.

“You should just try not to give into your curiosities like that again, though. The last thing the City of Progress wants is to find out one of their brightest kids got hurt doing something stupid and unavoidable. Your parents wouldn’t be too happy either!”

They’re never happy, anyway, I wanted to say, but my cheeks were still being crushed between my upper and lower rows of teeth, the pressure becoming increasingly painful the longer I held them. It was much more fun when I was trying to avoid laughing. Now I was avoiding speaking altogether, for good reason. I was suddenly conflicted with this thought. Had my parents always acted so unhappy toward everyone and everything? Or was it me myself that made them unhappy? Had they always been so strict? Or did having a so-called prodigy for a son cause an abrupt change in the way they lived everyday life?

Too many questions for too young a mind. Even despite the sharpness of my intellect, these were things that I certainly didn’t want to bother myself with, though I knew that it would eventually be inevitable.

Sometimes I really hated having so many inquiries.

Quietly, we continued walking, though I could tell that Jayce was itching for conversation that he more than likely wasn’t going to get out of me. It seemed really odd that someone like him had been out wandering around in the morning hour and just happened to be in the same place I had been. Didn’t he have friends he could bother or something? He looked like the popular type of guy that had never been left needing attention in his life, constantly surrounded by praise and adoration by peers, teachers, adults in general, anyone.

I glanced up and was greeted by the towering white pillars of the university in the distance, catching the rays of spring sun, and I shivered inside, thinking about how close it was but also comforted by the warmth of it also being far enough to have to squint to see clearly. Really, I had walked a fairly great distance for the timeframe I’d been missing, and I wondered how far I could really go if I put my mind to it. I had no concept of how long I’d walked prior or even now. My legs just seemed to move on their own even with unwanted companionship. I knew I could stand to be a tad more observant of my surroundings and observant of details in general though. Like doing a sketch, but ingraining it within my eyes and mind instead of on a piece of parchment with a stick of charcoal.

“So…”

Jayce’s deep voice broke through my thoughts. Again. This was becoming an annoying habit. I looked up at him for a split second to let him know I’d heard him, then focused on our melding shadows on the concrete as they swayed with our walk. It was funny how the dark reflections seemed to be the same size despite us being not even close. Light tricks. Weird.

“Hm?” I answered, knowing my split-second glance probably wasn’t enough to let him know I was aware and that he needed an audible cue. I could sense the danger, but I was braced for it, a feeling that would someday become the bane of my godsdamned existence.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you ran away from the campus?”

Yeah, danger. Definitely heading into dangerous territory. Young me might have not had as great of a cognitive grasp as older me does, but I’d never, ever been an idiot. Ever.

“Nope.” I mumbled, refusing to look up again. Why should I tell him? He was still a stranger, for all I knew. He had no business asking me something like that and actually demanding an answer. Then again, he also had no business interrupting my curiosity and quote-unquote saving me. Big jerk.

“Oh, okay. Are you going to do it again?” A pause, then an exhale. He seemed to be searching his internal dictionary for the right thing to say. It took a few seconds, but he apparently found it, the continuation trickling out like a steady stream of water that had come to an abrupt end. “…do I need to be on the lookout? Just in case you get into trouble? I really don’t want to see your face on the papers for anything other than some sort of prodigy thing, if that makes sense.”

“Nope.” I lied. Probably the biggest one I’d ever told in my life thus far. But I couldn’t have him following me around even as a preventive measure, could I? Even now, I still wasn’t certain that he was going to tell my parents, though he never gave any clues that he knew their names or where even to find them, so I figured at least in terms of that, I was as safe as I possibly could be. Still, I thought he might have needed more convincing, so I continued to speak, hammering in the false truth like a nail in a plank. “Not gunna do it again.”

“Good.” Jayce answered soon after, satisfied finally by my lie. I’d never thought of myself as a fantastic liar, but perhaps he assumed that I’d had a glimpse of the danger and wouldn’t dream of getting myself into something as potentially unfavorable as trying to figure out whether or not there actually were tunnels under the city. I put on my best, most thoughtful grin, and continued walking with a spring in my step, feigning excitement about getting back to school when in actuality, I had all intentions of going back to see what the mysterious unknown had for me. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a week or a month from now.

But someday.

By that point, the university was in plain view, and Jayce gave my tousled head a gentle pat before he turned on his heel and made his departure. I waved to him, but his back was toward me, and I wondered if whether or not I’d ever see him again. It seemed unlikely considering Piltover’s large population of both humans as well as yordles, but something told me that he was going to keep an eye out for me regardless of me saying I’d never wander off toward what was deemed a dangerous place ever again. I gazed up toward the ivory pillars and slowly ventured back onto the campus.

One day, I thought. I had a personal motive and something that finally mine and only mine to work and strive toward.

If I believed in myself enough, I could make it happen.

I could make anything happen.

Something happened to me after my brush with the possible underground tunnel system, and I don’t think it’s something that anyone was expecting. If you can believe it, I actually started going to classes again and diligently completing any and all work that had been assigned to me. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? I still wasn’t the most talkative student in any of my lectures, but the instructors honestly didn’t care so long as I kept turning work in. The load off my back was comfortable, but if anything, it was just a very potent distraction from the things that were really captivating to me. Honestly, this sudden spurt in my academic career was probably just something good to draw my attention to while I attempted to swallow down the urge to slip away from my seat and make my way back to that darkened corner of the City of Progress to debunk the mystery of what was beneath the concrete once and for all.

The work I completed was as passionless as it had ever been, but every test was returned to me with a perfect score. Every assignment flawlessly completed. At one point, I imagined that I’d get so sucked into techmaturgical studies that I’d eventually forget about what I might possibly find outside the same four walls of a classroom, but I knew in my heart that this would never be the case. I wouldn’t deny, however, that it felt great to not be reprimanded every single goddamn day by both parent and instructor alike, and as my eighth year came to pass, I wondered how long it would take before my urges broke me.

In the weeks following my birthday, the adrenaline that pumped inside my veins alongside the blood and magic seemed to push me toward a new course, and one day, in the midst of a break during my morning lecture, I gathered up my books and notes inside my satchel and headed off toward the front of the university campus, knowing that this was the day I’d both been hoping and dreading for.

I was going to find out what was under the city. And no one was going to stop me. I hadn’t seen Jayce again since our first meeting, and I hoped that there was a chance that he’d forgotten all about me by now, though that seemed too good to be true. I pressed my back against one of the pillars and inhaled, keeping my air safely locked away in my lungs as though I was hoarding it for the winter, and then took off in a rush, the wind I’d made with my run stroking through my blonde locks. From the left and right, eyes of wondering fellow students burned into me, but at least no one would think my leaving was too suspicious, considering this was around the usual time that classes had a short pause during a long lecture.

A half-hour was never enough in my opinion.

I moved with such a pace that it was almost like there was grease stuck to the soles of my shoes and I was skating across the ground, but hopefully it didn’t look quite so obvious to the other people that were around me. I knew I was being stared at, but this wasn’t a particularly new occurrence, considering I was still and probably would always be the youngest person enrolled in the university. I swallowed hard and tensed as though someone was about to scoop me up into their arms and force me back between the pillars, but nothing happened. I had made it outside once again, and now my gaze was darting left to right as I scanned the fastest route to get to the corner with hopefully the least amount of people.

Left. I should go to the left. And I had to keep an eye out, just in case Jayce decided to pop out of the woodwork and meddle. Again. I briefly wondered if I should have fashioned myself some kind of disguise before attempting to trek out toward the area that had so captivated me, but I was already on my way, and it was a bit too late. I wasn’t the only person in Piltover with vibrant gold hair, but it sure as hell made me stand out. Especially when the sun was high in the sky and casting its warm glow on the entirety of the city. I nearly tripped over a crack in the concrete, and only then is when I finally slowed my stride. Walking too fast was sure to garner more attention, anyway, and I instead took to walking at a normal pace, though my lips were still parted to allow my heavy breathing in and out with ease until that too dissipated into a slow, steady pattern.

Inside my chest, though, my heart was beating like jackhammer against my ribs, with little to no intention of stopping. Would someone be there to catch me? Would they stop me like Jayce had a few months prior? I scanned the streets for real threats, but none were detected, and I once again stole a breathy inhale before taking off in a burst of speed, gripping the strap of my satchel tightly to reduce the amount of noise the metallic buckle would make as it smacked against my hip while I ran. There were people in the distance. Of course there were people, and I’d have to take care to not make myself look like I was so obviously up to no good.

Was simply being curious really worthy of getting negative attention, though? I had no answer, and I continued my pace of running and then walking. Walking and then running. A stop-start pattern intended to get me toward my goal without one or the other drawing too much focus on myself. Soon, I saw it. The darkened corner of the City of Progress that had been on my mind from the very second I’d seen it. Taking care and knowing to expect the cracked ground this time, I crept through the dusty fog and then pressed myself against the brick wall, holding my breath. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I braced myself for either Jayce or someone else to once again play hero and stop me from accomplishing my personal task, but as I slowly expelled the air from my lungs in an invisible line, I realized that no one was coming. No one was around. No one was going to see me or stop me this time. I couldn’t help the sly grin that had stretched my lips as I carefully waded through the shadows and into the farthermost corner, looking down at the hole in the ground that seemed utterly endless and dreary. Not that I could really see much of what was there, anyway, but I was willing to take that risk. Of course, I couldn’t just simply jump down into the hole without knowing there was either something to grab or land on. At best, it would cause both of my legs to be broken, and at worst, I’d meet my end at the very bottom of an endless hole.

At least my parents would never see my body that way.

I took a step forward and crouched down, knowing the knees of my black pants would be incredibly dirty as a result of all the dust and cobwebs adorning the corner I’d burrowed myself into. I didn’t care, though. Dirt and dust was honestly the least of my worries at this point, and I thrust my hand down into the hole, throwing all caution and hesitation to the wind. I blinked, feeling something hard brush my small fingers. Hard and lined. Wood? Old wood. I moved my hand to the right and gripped. Rope. Rope and wood.

A ladder.

There was a ladder.

My heart leaped with undisguised joy as my smile stretched even farther, and I couldn’t help the small giggle that had crept up my throat and expelled out through my lips. I quickly silenced myself, not wanting my happiness to bounce off the walls of the aged, ebony brick and possibly into the ears of someone or something unfavorable. There was another dilemma of course, though. I’d felt the ladder, but I had no idea how far it went down. By this point I’d already leaned forward a bit more and pressed my hands lower, feeling that there was indeed at least two more pieces of wood, but that wasn’t really a straight answer. The only solution was to either try to find out myself, or to come back another day with some sort of light source.

I didn’t know if I’d be lucky enough to come back with no one stopping me another day, so I already knew the answer. I had to try to get down there myself. I wasn’t scared, no. Fear had always had a difficult time gripping my throat and it wasn’t about to suddenly get stronger. I had mentally weighed the pros and cons, and as of right then, there had definitely far more pros. Besides, what would I do if I didn’t go down there? Go back to school? Over my more than likely dead body.

I swallowed hard, then breathed the dusty air into my lungs and congratulated myself for not coughing and causing an attention-seeking ruckus. I maneuvered myself to begin the downward descent into the hole, my tiny hands shaking as they gripped the old rope. Could it hold me? Would it hold me? Was Jayce right? Would my name and face really end up in the Piltover papers if something terrible happened to me? Surely they didn’t care that much. At least, not when I was doing something not school related.

I pressed my foot against the first block of wood and hesitated before pressing the second one down, my knuckles turning white with the effort in which they gripped the rope. If the blocks gave way, would I be able to pull myself up to safety? Should I scream for help and give away my plan? Should I quietly accept death?

These were not questions that a child should ever have to think about, but yet, there I was, eight years old, attempting to disappear under the city that had raised me in order to possibly extract its treasures.

My grip loosened a bit when I discovered that the ladder apparently could carry my weight without giving away, and I gave a small sigh of content before slipping my hands down the rope, intending to descend to the next step. And the next. With each passing second, more of my uncertainty fell away, and as the moist, metallic smell of whatever was underground permeated my nostrils and the hole that lead back up to the outside grew farther and farther away, I knew what the word for what I was feeling inside was.

Courageous. I was being courageous.

At least until I realized that there were no more wooden blocks for me to put my foot on for support. I had grown so accustomed to the feeling of something there to hold my weight, and when I felt nothing but air beneath me, I couldn’t help but let out a small yelp. There I was, in complete and total darkness, hands gripped to an old rope that would probably eventually snap, without any knowledge of what was beneath me.

Even to this day, I’m not sure how I did it.

I held my breath, then let go of the rope and hoped for the best. My heart stuttered in my chest for a few beats before I realized that the ladder did go all the way to the bottom. I was safe. Unharmed. Though I had no idea what the bottom was. Or what it even looked like. I knelt down in the blackness and graced the surface of the ground with my fingers, my sense of touch incredibly heightened with my lack of vision. It felt like concrete, but much smoother. And colder. Metal, perhaps? Metal and dirt. That squishy softness was definitely dirt.

I got back up on my feet and felt for the ladder, finding it almost instantly. I gripped it in my right hand, holding tightly to it.

“Hello?” I spoke into the blackness, noticing immediately that my voice became a garbled, echoing mess that almost grated the sensitive skin of my ears. Whatever this was, it wasn’t at all a narrow, suffocating crevice. Considering that I was still answering my own greeting, I concluded that it was huge and open. A hall, perhaps. And if that was true, how could something so hollow be supporting our city beneath it? It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe it didn’t go as far as I thought? It wasn’t like I could see anything.

“Hello!” I called out again, this time louder than before, and the noise once more reverberated on the walls and right back into my own head. I might not have had use of my eyes, but after that time, I knew that my surroundings were far bigger than I could have ever imagined. Miles long, maybe. But miles of what?

I needed to know. I needed to come back down here with some source of bright light. But what on Runeterra would be big enough? A hextech flashlight wouldn’t cut it. Not at all. A lantern might work better, but that would only let me see what was a few feet in front of me at best. It would be easy to come by one, though, considering that the Arcanum at the university had them, and no one would think twice about me borrowing one, so that seemed to be my best bet, and at this point, I was going to take whatever I could get. I exhaled and I swore I could see my breath, and that’s when I realized just how cold it was down there in the middle of nothingness. Wearing a scarf in the beginning of spring wasn’t exactly common, but I’d definitely need one for a venture down here. Or even a jacket.

As much as I wanted to stay below the surface, I knew that I couldn’t be down in the dark forever, no matter how comforting it was. I was already late for class again, anyway, effectively tarnishing my perfect record over the last few months. Using my sense of touch and nothing else, I hastily gripped the rope and began dragging myself up the wood blocks until the small circle of light grew bigger and bigger. Refusing to pause to look back down into the depths, I scurried out of the hole and squinted hard, the pain of the sudden brightness impaling both of my eyes. Despite the discomfort, I was grinning. Hard.

Now that I’d known that it was safe (for the most part) to go down there, nothing would stop me from going back.

And tomorrow seemed like as good of a day as any.

I wiped the telltale dust off the knees of my pants and the length of my shirt and jacket and hoped for the best before bouncing back toward the university, hoping it was unlikely that anyone would say anything about my disheveled appearance. I knew that would be giving them far too much credit, though.

For the rest of the day, I sat quietly in my seat, scheming and dreaming of my future career as a brave explorer and guru of the mysterious Piltovian underground. I was lucky, I suppose. No one, including my parents when I arrived home, noticed anything different regarding my demeanor or the fact I was still covered in dust. What was noticeable, though, was that the very next day, I had awoken before the sun had even shown its face through my windows, and I raced down the stairs already prepped and ready for school as though I’d been waiting for the moment my entire life.

My father had awoken with the noise of my hurried stomps and demanded to know why I’d made such a ruckus, his blue eyes so reminiscent of my own burrowing into my face as though trying to force an answer out of me with one single look. Was that where I got it from? Another ugly lie crawled up out of my throat, but I continued smiling, trying to look as excited as possible when talking about school even though the very thought made my belly sour.

“I’m gunna go study! Bright and early! Gotta take a test.” I spoke, nodding my head up and down almost to the point I’d made myself dizzy. My father looked confused as he raised his hand to his chin, lightly stroking his index finger across the stubbled skin, but then his gaze ceased to be narrow, and he reached forward to stroke his palm across my head. It reminded me of Jayce, which I wasn’t sure was normal or not. I just couldn’t remember the last time my father had shown any affection toward me at all, and this secretly disgusted me.

I had to lie to him just to get some affection? Bullshit. Always was and always would be.

“Alright, then, Ezreal. You should eat something, though. Can’t cram on an empty stomach.” My father said as he turned his back to me to get to the hexfridge in the corner of our small kitchen. He rummaged around it, muttering to himself as he did so, before presenting me with a couple of frosted biscuits in a thin plastic wrapping. Not the best or most nutritious breakfast at all, but frosted biscuits weren’t something I normally got, and it was far more exciting than the bland-tasting porridge I forced down my throat all the other days of the week.

“Thanks, dad!” I squeaked, taking the packet of biscuits in my small hand and running out the door, wondering how on Runeterra I didn’t at all feel guilty about lying to my father and essentially scamming sweet treats off of him. It wasn’t like I’d asked for them, though, right? He gave them to me, so I really shouldn’t have even felt bad in the first place. I brought one of the biscuits to my lips and obnoxiously bit into it, letting some of the frosting get stuck in the corners of my mouth as I watched the sun cast its familiar and comforting gold glow over the entirety of the City of Progress.

The yellowed hue, something that I’d never seen before since there was no possible way I’d ever been to school this early in the past, made the techmaturgical university look oddly warm and inviting, and if it wasn’t so damned stuffy inside, one would think I’d actually want to willingly go there to cram my head full of useless information that others deemed was apparently important for my future as well as the city’s future. Considering the sun had barely risen, it was a miracle that it was even open in the first place.

My shoes, a different, now clean pair, clacked against the smooth tiles of the hallway, and I clutched my satchel’s strap tightly to my chest, trying to imitate a busy and dedicated student as best as I could. My legs carried me to the Arcanum section of the university, and I pushed the oakwood door open with an offending-sounding squeak that caused my teeth to grit and goosebumps to trickle down the length of my spine. If that was the noise that happened every single time someone opened the goddamn door, it was no wonder I hardly saw anyone in this part of the school. At least the inside smelled nice. Leather and…charcoal? Huh. Weird.

I looked around and momentarily became frozen by the plethora of books that lay organized in neat rows atop many, many shelves, and I resisted the urge to run over to look through them in the hopes of finding something interesting, reminding myself of the reason that I’d even come here in the first place. Considering there was no one watching over the front desk, I supposed it would be alright if I took one of the lanterns myself without asking permission. If I were being technical, there was no one even around to ask for permission, so with a soft sigh, I ducked down behind the front desk and fished one of the lanterns out, surprised that there were so many in such a small place. Why were there so many? What good did lanterns serve in a place that already had so many hexlights strewn about?

I shrugged to myself and grasped the handle of the lantern tightly with one hand, then slinked away from the library without a single sound aside from the stupid squeaky door, which they never oiled, by the way. Pretty sure it’s still doing that even to this day.

It was some sort of otherworldly miracle that no one saw me not only take a lantern, but also take it far away from school grounds. In fact, no one seemed to notice me at all, and I had one moment of completely wondering if I’d somehow activated one of the magical spells from the Arcanum’s library and I’d become invisible. Wouldn’t that have been easy? I walked across the streets of Piltover with precision and determination, though I wasn’t unaware of the fact that Jayce could potentially pop out at any given moment and possibly stop me. Again. But I hadn’t seen him aside from that one time, and it was still relatively early enough that I expected a great majority of the city’s population to still be catching up on their beauty sleep. I moved in the same direction as the morning shadows did, mingling myself with the darkened areas to disappear within them and not give my position away. One thing was certain: by now I’d gotten very good at holding my breath and pressing myself into tight spaces, and I imagined that this would be a thing that would come in handy later.

Finally, I saw it. The darkened corner with the rickety old wood and rope ladder. I almost wanted to happily greet it as though it were an old friend, but I resisted, my eyes as sharp as they could be while I surveyed my surroundings, looking for any danger. And by danger, I meant people. Nothing. Good. I slung the lantern’s handle over my left shoulder and immediately bounded over to the hole, peering down into it. I wondered if using the lantern’s light now would be a good idea or not, but ultimately decided against it as I began to descend down into the hole once again, putting one cautious foot in front of the other.

The last piece of wood, or rather, the lack of the last piece of wood, still startled me despite my being prepared for it, though, and I gasped out into the darkness before letting go of the rope, the soles of my shoes echoing on the ground. I breathed in the blackness for a few seconds before sliding the lantern off my shoulder and hastily turning it on, though I can’t say I was prepared for what was about to be revealed.

The light blazed out from within the center of the lantern, and, to my surprise, nearly illuminated everything within a twenty-foot radius around me. At first I thought this was a normal occurrence considering just how dark it had been in the depths, but I soon realized that the lanterns in the Arcanum were not normal lanterns. They were enchanted lanterns, rich in illumination spells.

I was luckier than I thought, but I didn’t really have time to marvel over it as much as I would have liked, considering I nearly lost my grip the thing and felt the muscles in my jaw grow loose as my mouth dropped open in shock.

It wasn’t dirt or rock beneath me. It was metal. Metal tunnels. An underground system of abandoned, metallic tunnels that more than likely had pathways spilling out through the entirety of the entire city. Of course there was some rock and dirt in the corners and the sides, but otherwise, it was slick. Shining. Gleaming.

Jayce was right. It wasn’t just a rumor. They really existed. They were here. In front of me. Still, I pinched myself on the wrist just to make sure. It stung. I was awake.

And all of this was mine for the taking. I would be able to prove to the entire city that the tunnels existed. But then what? Would they discipline me for skipping school to quite literally hide underground? Would they congratulate me for doing something no one else had the courage to do? Would they praise me?

What about my parents? It seemed odd that I’d almost forgotten completely about them. Surely they’d be supportive of my endeavors no matter what, right, right? Even if it meant throwing everything away that I’d been working for for years already.

Oh, who was I kidding? They’d be pissed and I knew it. Oh well. Their loss.

[[ UNFINISHED FOREVER ]]

#ezreal #finalpost

11 notes · View notes

ultra-bvs-posts · 8 years ago

Text

12.4.2 Week 4 Mastery Mastery Journal Month 12

They say in month twelve you would ramp down activities a bit, I found the work to be a little more than a 'ramp down.' Three discussion posts due per week and then on some days two posts were due the same day. Hey, this is college and we are here to learn and improve.

Month twelve was exciting because I was beginning my last class, yet on the second day of class, I learned the results of my thesis, after waiting almost three weeks (blame the holiday) for the results.

I read the results and thought I had failed. Why was I in month twelve? I contacted my professor and she welcomed me to month twelve. My mind was racing and asking so many internal questions. How did I pass? Am I doing the right thing? Am I reaching my goals? Have I picked the wrong path? It is too late; we are in month twelve and I will travel to Florida to meet my peers and classmates.

Month twelve has been difficult for me to maneuver or even move on with my studies. It has been a struggle, yet I am staying on task. I had a hiccup, I was late with turning in a paper. This could interfere with my goal to graduate with a respectable GPA.

The Thesis website was sent to my peers for review and insight, so on the second day of this class these few quotes were in my review, they are from the same reviewer.

"I'm very sorry to be this harsh, but I believe that I would be dishonest if I didn't convey my observations. You seem to have some technical skills, but your work looks very unfinished and incomplete." I put this quote in my experience map. It has shaped my experience. It has not exactly put a damper on the overall twelve months. It is hard to tell if I am a failure or a success.

The next quote from the same peer was "A thesis presentation for an MFA, which is a terminal degree in this field, should have more depth and be completely error-free."

This is how month twelve started and I am still shaking in my collectively intelligent properties on this one. It was hard to concentrate on anything and it is the end of this course. It was hard to focus on school work with quotes floating over my head. It is difficult for me to move on, the quote to me is a haunting experience that keeps happening repeatedly. It is like time just stopped and for a minute and I see that quote all the time, it pops into my brain.

Now back to the present. What are my takeaways from the thesis? I need to use the quotes to drive me to be a better designer. Through better research and excellent design solutions, I need to understand that the route/challenge has a positive ending and not just a horrible end. It is hard to get past things; however, I will try.

Reflection about the future; a piece of paper does not entitle me to be a designer. It is what I do with the paper that counts. I should make sure my portfolio speaks to others. I must show/prove to others what I have learned from Full Sail University in the last five years. I have been working on my education with a few months off here and there since September of 2012. I should be proud, I have an Associate Degree in Visual Communications, a Bachelor in Graphic Design and now my Master in Media Design. With this education, I should be able to speak the design language and acquire a job after school. I need to communicate competently with clients and other possible employers, something positive can come of all this. This paper stating that I have a Master Degree does not entitle me to anything, it is an accomplishment. What I do with that paper after graduation is what counts.

A major takeaway from this month’s work is the tremendous organization AIGA, American Institute of Graphic Arts. I plan to join a chapter after graduation. AIGA standards of practice are formidable and can keep the right fundamentals after Full Sail University. AIGA has abundant reference materials for media designers. The AIGA reading material for this discussion thoroughly explained how to interact with clients legally. It also demonstrated how a designer can work with other artists on the same level, keeping in mind how to protect everyone’s interest regarding all things legal in your intellectual properties. Protection is key and collaboration with others is crucial to being successful in this business. "It’s [AIGA’s] mission includes educating designers, clients and the public about ethical standards and practices governing design" (AIGA). This is on my list of things to do after graduation. It is essential to keep learning and moving forward. I knew about AIGA, yet I did not understand the extreme scope of knowledge this organization holds. Any problems that occur in my craft AIGA has the possible solutions with documents/rules/guidance to help me post Full Sail. I have two chapters near me, AIGA of Chicago and AIGA of Western Michigan.

The creation fun map was an interesting project to wind down the month. I used a race track theme because, in my opinion, it fit the theme of the idea. A hard and winding road to the finish line. There are some straightaways, however, with these projects and thesis situations, there is trouble ahead in the shape of sharp curves. The way month eleven was and the way month twelve began the road was and still is filled with uncertainty.

Research and Discovery Phase

Create a draft version of your map by writing short descriptions on sticky notes of what you did, how you felt, and what you thought.

Map on Sticky Notes

Some Drawings (Visualize your experiences (what you did, how you felt, and what you thought) in sketch form.

‘Thinking Sketches’

‘Doing Sketches’

My Creation Map

Creation Map (edited after Peer Review)

On the legend of my creation map, I try to explain the images on my race track. My classmates should understand the paw prints and elephants because these are the subject matter of my projects in earlier semesters. I added a title to my map and incorporated a little blur in the title of the map while using the Full Sail Logo. I used motion blur to convey the message of a car in in action or driving on a track. I changed the color scheme just a tad because there was a readability issue with my content.

A few last takeaways from school include previous lessons. I enjoyed the Hillman book very much! The Mastery book was also a great read, plus it had positive takes of encouragement. Mastery is not easy; however, it can be fun when you succeed.

“Hemingway understood the cyclical nature of creativity: the process of taking in, of inhaling the world, letting it mingle with his own creative spirit, and then exhaling something new that would, in turn, become part of the external world for others to inhale. Simply put, whatever inspires us belongs to us. And the work we produce, then, belongs to our surroundings” (Curtis 113).

Curtis, Hillman. MTIV: Process, Inspiration, and Practice for the New Media Designer, 1/e Vital source eBook for Full Sail University. Pearson Learning Solutions, 12/2011. VitalBook file.

“Practical knowledge is the ultimate commodity and is what will pay you dividends for decades to come—far more than the paltry increase in pay you might receive at some seemingly lucrative position that offers fewer learning opportunities. This means that you move toward challenges that will toughen and improve you, where you will get the most objective feedback on your performance and progress. You do not choose apprenticeships that seem easy and comfortable”

Robert Greene Mastery

0 notes

andyhollows · 8 years ago

Text

these are actually hella fucking cute y'all

I liked this questionnaire thing a while back ago and decided to finally answers these 100 questions. I’m making a different post than reblogging it with the answers so you’ll be able to see which answers are mine. Link for if you wish to read/take it yourself. :)

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

I tend to have more milk than cereal even though I fill up my bowls to the top with cereal. XD 2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

I live in Florida so the coldest it gets is usually around 50-60 during the days and 20-30 at night, if we’re lucky. But, yes, I do, very much so. 3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

I don’t read books, but back when I was in middle/high school, I used to just fold the edge of the book and using a pencil, put a dash where i last left off, or being an artist, I would create my own little bookmarks using a normal piece of paper. 4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

I don’t drink coffee/tea, I probably drink cappuccino and that’s only from WaWa’s when it’s cold enough and I usually put cream and like 2-4 packets of sugar in it. 5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

Only when I haven’t brushed or recently ate something like lasagna or some sort of pasta. 6: do you keep plants?

No 7: do you name your plants?

If i don’t even own a plant, why would i name it? 8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

I usually just draw/sketch with a pencil 9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

Yeah, I tend to just lip sing to whatever music I’m listening to. 10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

Yes lol I tend to toss and turn but I almost always end up on my back. 11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

I don’t really have any inner jokes i can think of at the top of my head. 12: what's your favorite planet?

Pluto, i don’t know why. 13: what's something that made you smile today?

I saw another post in my “likes” and I looked at the original post it came from and it came from Game Grumps and that made me laugh so hard. 14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

Nice, for sure. It would probably just be all the walls would be white or some sort of light color and our furniture would be pretty modern and solid colors. We tend to have the same taste so it wouldn’t clash together. 15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

“All of space is completely silent...” 16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

Either Chicken Al’ Fredo or Spaghetti. 17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

Blue or Red would be pretty cool and i think i could pull it off 18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

I don’t have any with friends, but with my family: i was like 14 years old and roleplaying with my current boyfriend, Jonathan, my brother and Ashley and my character was suppose to get pregnant but i didn't know how a pregnancy test was taken so i said i put it in my mouth and it came out positive and i came out of the restroom saying I'm pregnant and EVERYONE laughed! 12 years later, they haven’t let me live it down. 19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

I don’t have a journal but i have a ton of sketch books and they usually contain chibis or my OCs, myself, my best friend or my game characters and unfinished doodles. 20: what's your favorite eye color?

Green 21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

I don’t have a favorite bag, i’m not really the type to hold onto something like that, but my favorite bag right now is either my Domo backpack or my nightmare before christmas one. 22: are you a morning person?

No 23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

Sleep, watch TV/youtube videos and play video games 24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Yes, my best friend, you know who you are :P 25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

I’ve never broken into anything, unless you count just walking into unfinished houses in my neighborhood. 26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

My flats are the shoes I’ve had forever but I don’t wear them anymore, instead i now mostly wear my sandals, only cause im lazy to put on socks and sneakers. 27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

watermelon! 28: sunrise or sunset?

sunset, i feel sunrise will just start blinding me if i keep starring at it XD 29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

When they’re totally dorking out over some comic book or some movie lol 30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

Yes 31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

Socks are alright. I usually stick to wearing solid color socks. I don’t sleep with socks cause when i do, because i toss and turn my socks slip off and it’s annoying. I own some white socks but i prefer colored ones. 32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

3AM... with friends? Uhhh... since most of my friends are online, i don’t really do much, cept talk about whatever unless we’re drunk 33: what's your fave pastry?

Any sort of cake! 34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

I don’t have any stuffed animals i’ve had since i was a kid, most of them were given on my birthday or as a congratulations. The one i’ve had the longest is this cute little ghost i named Spooky and i got her on my birthday and i still have it. 35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I do like stationary stuff and pens, i always want all the pens, pencils, markers, highlighters, stickynotes, everything even if i don’t have a use for em. 36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

I don’t know... probably some disney song LOL 37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

i don’t LIKE keeping my room a mess, im just fucking lazy 38: tell us about your pet peeves!

when they happen, i’ll let you know, i can’t think of any at the top of my head. 39: what color do you wear the most?

black 40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

i don’t wear jewelry, cept earrings and the ones i own are gifts from Christmas so don’t really have a story. 41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

i don’t read books :D i only read manga XD but if that counts, Horimiya 42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

Again, i don’t drink coffee so i don’t know of any coffee shops. 43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

My family....? like a decade ago lol we were mostly trying to look at the meteor shower 44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

uhhh.... umm... >.> geez.. that’s tough, had to have been before becoming a teenager! 45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

yes, they have yet to let me down. 46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

i don’t know any puns, i’m not a punny person! and no im not trying to be funny 47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

i don’t know XD im picky but i’m not like totally disguested with a type of food... maybe oysters? 48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

my biggest fear as a kid was pretty much the “monster under my bed” thing, i never liked leaving my foot hanging off the side of my bed, i always ran and jumped onto my bed after turning off the lights, etc. to this day, no that fear is gone, now it’s bugs XD 49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

i never bought a CD/record in my life, i usually just had a friend or my mom burn me one 50: what's an odd thing you collect?

i don’t really collect anything specific, i do tend to want anything that’s related to black butler or the nightmare before christmas or doctor who 51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

“Why I Cry” by NSP only because they got me into it XD 52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

i don’t like memes 53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

out of all of them, i’ve only watched beetlejuice, i’ve heard OF the rocky horror picture show, never heard of heathers or pulp fiction and beetlejuice was just weird.

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my nephew XD 55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

I don’t know/can’t remember 56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

i don’t know, not often i pay attention to people 57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

every time i listen to bohemiam rhapsody i remember the flash video my brother created XD 58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

i think my friend Ricky is the wine mom, mostly cause he’s the only one i know that drinks wine and gets drunk when drinks too much and the vodka aunt has to be my friend Elliot because almost every time i talk to him, he’s drunk 59: what's your favorite myth?

i don’t know, idk a lot of myths 60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

i don’t really like poetry so i don’t have a favorite 61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

i try to think out my gifts carefully, but the stupidest gifts i’ve received was this last christmas, when i got 5 slippers from my family because of something i said xD 62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

i don’t drink juice at all >.> and i probably should 63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

with my music, i tend to organize them by artist, any new song i get from an artist i already have in my library has to be within that same bunch 64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

dark blue/black, it’s night 65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

YES, MY BEST FRIEND!!! 66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

a bunch of black roses? >.> 67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

amazing!!! 68: what's winter like where you live?

non-existent 69: what are your favorite board games?

Anything that’s fun and makes my family do weird things 70: have you ever used a ouija board?

Nope but i am curious about using one 71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

sweet and citrusy i suppose? i dont drink tea 72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

absolutely! 73: what are some of your worst habits?

i bite my nails.. a lot 74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

do i have enough space to describe such a dork in my life? 75: tell us about your pets!

i have 1 dog! her name is diamond, she’s an adorable mutt! 76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

probably sleeping.. pffft! 77: pink or yellow lemonade?

doesn’t matter they both taste great 78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

minion, like from despicable me minions? XD cause if so, im in the sorta fanclub 79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

they drew me XP 80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

mine are sand colorish and no i didn’t choose it, we painted over the white/pink color that was there before, some of my other walls are different shades of blue. 81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

i guess like a horizontal oval shaped open window with small black curtain looking out to an ocean of chocolate syrup 82: are/were you good in school?

yeah, i was 83: what's some of your favorite album art?

no idea, i dont really look at album covers 84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

i’m too afraid of needles and have a low tolerance for pain, so no tattoos for me, if i did get one, i’d get one of probably my zodiac sign which is Scorpio 85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

i don’t read comics, i read manga and my favorite ones are Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji and Horimiya 86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

what are concept albums??? 87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

any disney/marvel movies 88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

none that i can think of at the top of my head 89: are you close to your parents?

not really, there are things i’ll tell them, but not everything 90: talk about your one of you favorite cities.

i dont really have a favorite city 91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

this year? i plan on traveling down to go see my best friend! that’s my main goal 92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

no cheese on my pasta! 93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

ponytail, i can’t really keep my hair down cause of the humidity here 94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

my best friend XD 95: what are your plans for this weekend?

video gaaaaaaaaaaames! 96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

i usually procrastinate 97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

uhh... zodiac? idk what myer briggs is and im not that big of a harry potter fan 98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

hahahahaahahah xD me! HIKING! LOL!! 99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

No.. 100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

I’d go 5 years into the past to reassure my younger self that i don’t have to have my life all together and absolutely know what i want to do with my life

0 notes