#just been digging up older art I failed to post here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pawsitivelymiraculous · 4 years ago

Text

Damian, the little brother, Dupain-Cheng (Part 1)

I'm backkkk! I explained why this series went on hiatus on this post but yeahhh the Damian Dupain-Cheng series is back and will be posted on it's old schedule (which is every other week) Anyway I really appreciate you guys,, sorry for taking so long and let me know what you think! Comments really motivate me to keep writing.

(I promise I'll add a read more thing and the links tomorrow but I need sleep. for now I'll add the masterlist you can find everything there)

<<Previous Next>>

Ao3 Masterlist

~♡~ Recap ~♡~

Marinette kidnapped/adopted Damian after seeing him with Talia in the Miraculous Café. She gives him the choice between staying with her or a non assassin relative. He chooses to stay in hopes of stealing the miracle box, but since that didn't work he lashed out and tried to kill Marinette and her friends repeatedly. This makes Marinette doubt in herself because she feels guilty about the whole situation. After hearing Marinette cry, Damian runs away confused at the whole situation, but he didn't get far before realizing that he was actually okay with the idea of Marinette becoming his mother. Marinette finds him and they go home. Time passes, they get a dog, Damian grows closer to Marinette and Marinette legally adopts him.

This takes place some time after all of this, like a couple of months.

~♡~♡~♡~

Why am I still in Paris?

Jason asked himself this every day, and yet he could never find the answer.

Maybe it was because he really had nothing else to do. Well besides killing a Bat.

Or maybe it was because being in Paris somehow cleared some of the madness leftover from the Lazarus Pit that clouded his brain.

In either case it seemed like every time he tried to leave, he would convince himself to stay with the lie that Marinette Dupain-cheng was just as dangerous as Talia had claimed she was.

And that his "brother" really was in danger.

Which only led to him tailing after the pair like a complete creep while feeling miserable because who was he kidding? The woman who had taken Damian in was just as dangerous as a basket of golden retriever puppies and Damian would have a way better life living with her rather than with Bruce.

And still he could not f*cking leave.

So he continued to observe from the shadows. Trying to remain invisible.

Which had worked out perfectly fine until that day it seemed, because Jason soon found himself pressed against the cold concrete after being flipped by a woman half his size.

Jason tried to look up, but he felt the heel of a shoe pressed against his head.

"Ow"

"Oh, I'm sorry did I hurt you?" Jason heard a familiar voice say. The only difference was that she was speaking in English with a slight accent rather than French.

How the h*ll did she know that he spoke English?

Jason tried to get a better look at his attacker, but she just pressed down her heel deeper making it very clear that she was not sorry at all.

Marinette leaned down to talk to him. "Look kid, I just want to know why you keep following me. Now we can talk like normal people, or I'll have to be a little… unconventional. So what do you say?"

Kid? Jason couldn't remember the last time he had been called. It was especially surreal coming from such a petite woman who couldn't be older than thirty.

"Now I'm going to let you stand up just… don't do anything stupid."

Stupid seemed to follow Jason because as soon as he felt the pressure on his head lessen, he stood up and ran. The only thing in his mind was getting away from the woman.

He wasn't able to go far though. As soon as he got to the end of the ally they were in, Jason suddenly felt all the muscles in his body grow weak. Everything around him became blurry and for the second time that day, Jason fell down and hit the gravel.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette hadn't meant to use a tranquilizer she made from the bee's miraculous venom on the guy. Honest.

But she needed answers, and he didn't seem in the mood to be the one providing them, so she had to do something before he got away.

Marinette did find it strange how he seemed more interested in running rather than harming her in any way. But she could think about that later. For now, she had to do something about the unconscious body on the ground.

First, Marinette tried to drag him back into the ally because she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to move the guy a couple of inches. Even with all the strength she got from being ladybug, Marinette found herself incredibly tired when she finally managed to get to the end of the alley.

There was no way that Marinette could drag the guy to a safe location. Unless… she had the horse miraculous.

Marinette swiftly grabbed her phone and called Adrien while still holding down the guy in case he regained consciousness. "Hey kitty! Are you busy right now?"

"Um no?" He replied cautiously. "Unless you need me to bury a body, then I'm really busy." He would gladly lie to the police and give marinette suggestions on how to get rid of the body, but actually digging a hole sounded like too much of a hassle in Adrien's opinion.

Marinette laughed nervously. "Don't worry it's not a body." She paused "Not a dead one at least" she added under her breath.

Adrien heard her anyway "Marinette."

"I just need you to get the horse miraculous and come here." Marinette added quickly when she heard Adrien's disapproving tone.

"Do I even want to know why you need it?"

Marinette hesitated. Adrien still acted weird around Damian, and she wasn't sure that he would want to get involved with this. "Well I found the guy that was following me" she explained "and accidentally knocked him out" Marinette stopped when she saw a portal open. "And you’re already here, was there no traffic?"

Adrien laughed as he walked out of the portal. "I was already getting the miraculous while you talked." He explained with a shrug then he looked at the unconscious guy on the floor. "Sooo… do you need help with that?"

~♡~♡~♡~

Kagami was already at the café's storage area by the time Adrien and Marinette passed through the portal.

Adrien did a double take when he saw her. "Woah, I literally just texted you."

"You said you found the stalker, and I was nearby, and I figured that you would need help interrogating him." she explained.

"With a sword?" Marinette asked, eyeing Kagami's left hand. "Where did you even get that?"

Kagami smiled. "Yes, and your son has an excellent taste."

Marinette looked at kagami, with a very confused and slightly worried expression. "Wha- when did you go sword shopping?"

Adrien replied instead. "When you asked me to babysit, your little gremlin scares me and gami wanted a sword, so I let him go with her." Then he grabbed a nearby chair and sat the guy in it, and also tied him to one of the stands that held coffee supplies using zip ties.

"You have broken my trust Agreste." Marinette said trying to sound as serious as possible but failing at it. "No, but seriously, let me know next time okay?"

"Yes ma'am"

It took a couple of minutes for the guy to regain consciousness. And as soon as he did, he thrashed around trying to break free from his restraints. Looking around him wildly until his gaze landed on Marinette.

His eyes narrowed. "You" he lunged towards her but was held back.

His attitude was completely different from their first meeting. Before he seemed conflicted and confused. But while he still seemed very confused that confusion was now mixed with rage. Which Marinette could understand, she had just knocked him out and brought him to a strange place.

But Marinette needed answers, the guy was very clearly part of the league, his aura reeked of their darkness, and she was not about to feel sympathy for anyone connected to the league of assassins.

So Marinette held no remorse when she allowed kagami to approach him with her sword after he calmed down a bit.

"Who are you?" Kagami asked threateningly, then raised the blade dangerously close to his neck. "And why have you been following Marinette?"

The guy didn't even flinch. "Name's Jason" then he turned slightly to look Marinette in the eye. "I am Damian's brother," he continued.

Marinette's eyes widened. The room fell silent for a moment.

Jason smirked at his captors' shocked faces as he gave the final blow. "And I'm here to take him to his father."

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

(If you want to be added please let me know)

@elmokingkong @anjuschiffer , @ii-fox-demon , @justcourttee , @tazanna-blythe , @lozzybowe , @idontfuking, @wannajointhecrabcult , @bakergirl13 , @rosalineandrosemary , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @our-preciousss , @consumeconstantly , @jiso-lee , @allthegooddaimenettenamesaregone, @justcourteesuportline , @finallyaniguana , @user00000003 , @whydoexamsexist , @justafanwarrior , @violetfandomaddict, @smolplantmum @fidget-eep ,@cadenceh2o , @justarandomtumblerblog , @ramos123 @iwantasecretidentity @t1dwarrior-of-earth @thesunniestdays @alice-hazelwood

~♡~♡~♡~ PERMANENT TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

@charme-de-malchan , @theatreandcomicfreak , @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl , @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha , @t1dwarrior-of-earth , @waffleyunsure , @technicallyburninggarden , @azuremayscarlet , @vroomtaka , @emistar0 , @ichigorose , @maskedpainter , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @alysrose-starchild , @jayjayspixiepop , @abrx2002 , @nathleigh , @icerosecrystal , @jumpingjoy82

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #my trash writing #my writing #damian dupain cheng #mominette

228 notes · View notes

99zmist · 4 years ago

Text

07:10 — choi san.

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

au: college!au, roommates!au (fine arts student!san & medical student!reader)

wordcount: 2.2k

notes: this is a little something i wrote for my best friend, sieghrae, where she gave me prompts from this list. i decided to just post this on tumblr because this is the first fic i wrote after my terrible writer's block, and i'm pretty proud of my writing here so :3

just a little side note, this unedited and doesn't have much of a concrete plot but go ahead if you'd want to read! i'll appreciate it ♡

genre: fluff — this is just honestly the characters' emotions being focused on, fluff, comforting the other, fluff, being whipped for each other, and even more fluff. just fluffy san and fluffy reader.

oh and there's mentions of another minor character that's san's sister. but nothing important.

enjoy reading!

having choi san as your roommate was either a grace or a sin.

you both shared an apartment near seoul university where you’re taking up your third year in medical technology and he’s in his 4th year of fine arts. you weren’t particularly close with him, but he was your best friend’s older brother and lia was kind enough to let you move in their family-owned apartment for the time-being while you search for other apartments to rent in. (not that she minded anyways, she loved having you around.)

in a logical sense, lia and san were living together but lia was barely home for you to conclude that the two of you were more considered as roommates than the siblings themselves. unlike you and her brother, she was in Yongin most of the time because she moved to Dankook University when she failed her medical-surgical nursing subject last semester at SNU.

san, on most days, actually chose to ignore you. you weren’t sure why, and it wasn’t like this actually bothered you—but you just hoped to at least have one decent chat with him knowing he was lia’s brother and you were technically under the same roof as him. although, as if there was actually time for you to talk anyways. you were too busy cooped up inside your room studying for whatever upcoming tests you had, and if he wasn’t reviewing for his tests, he’d have his group of friends over in the living room for drinking sessions or playing video games.

the moments you consider where he’d be a pain in the ass are those times where you’d be cleaning the mess after wooyoung and the other boys leave. yunho, being the good boy that he was, would push his drunk friends out of the door while muttering his apologies to you for the trouble. he’d tell you he can help clean up, but you’d reject his offer by giving him a small smile and tell him you can handle it. once they leave, you’d continue to clean up the alcohol-filled aroma living room where san’s already passed out drunk on the couch, or he’d just be heavily asleep due to tiredness.

you’d pick up the bottles scattered on the floor, arrange the furniture and curtains because god knows what the 99z have been doing for them to rowdy up a place like this. eventually, you’d find yourself bringing a clean blanket and tuck san in while he sleeps on the couch. he’d shift slightly upon feeling your movement, and you’d stare at him, frozen on the spot while praying to the eternal beings above for him not to suddenly open his eyes and make a scene where you’d want to dig up a hole and bury yourself alive.

however, there would be times where his actions would surprise you. that one time you were locked up in your room studying—(yes, again, it was no surprise considering that you were in med school)—for your midterms that you forgot eating your breakfast and lunch. when you walked out of your room at past 4 in the afternoon, the apartment was quiet and the silence was enough to tell you that san was out.

what caught you off guard the moment you walked in the mini kitchen, though, was the cooked food on the table neatly placed for you to eat—and the note beside it.

eat up, the note said. that big brain of yours wouldn’t be put to good use if you’ve got an empty stomach.

you’d find yourself smiling softly at that, and that lingering feeling would remain fluttering in your chest while you ate.

while sitting there, you found yourself thinking that maybe the two of you did care for each other even in the subtlest ways. it wasn’t always the grand gestures; you didn’t need to be talking every minute of the day to see that san appreciated you, but it was the gentle gazes every time one of you comes home, it was the soft “good mornings” and “good nights” when passing by each other in the hall, it was cooking the other person food when they were busy, it was san’s glares at his friends when they try to shoot their shot at you—and it was tucking him in every time he falls asleep on the couch.

maybe being with him wasn’t so bad afterall.

when nighttime came and your thoughts were gathered, you heard the main door opening and closing afterwards. this time, unlike before, you felt your heart jump and stomach churn.

what the fuck, you thought to yourself, why am i like this?

but san was home after a long day, and this was the first time you were actually relieved and filled with excitement that he was. you push your books aside and get up from your bed, before making your way outside your room quietly. from there, you see san placing his backpack down on the couch before running his hands through his newly dyed hair. this caught you in surprise, eyes widening slightly in awe and you couldn’t stop yourself from approaching him.

“that color suits you.” the words roll off your tongue smoothly, and you try to stop your cheeks from burning when he turns his head to where you stood. he doesn’t answer for a few moments, making your palms sweat slightly as your mind blares out alarms that you were making a fool out of yourself.

shit, shit, shit—

“thanks,” san says, a small smile tugging at the end of his lips. you feel your panicking insides deflate in relief at his response. he glances back at the mirror hanging on the wall, tilting his head to the side slightly as he looks over at his pink hair. “isn’t it too bright?”

“it will be too bright for the dean,” you remark, making him laugh. fuck. you chuckle, “no, i’m being serious. she might try to shave your head off.”

san snorts, rolling his eyes. “i’m an arts student. this—” he gestures, turning to you and pointing at his hair. “—is art.”

“go try telling her that,” you giggle. san smiles at you again, and it lingers for a while before you clear your throat and point towards the kitchen. “have you eaten dinner? i can cook for you if you haven’t yet.”

“oh, that’s fine! i already ate with the rest of the boys,” he politely declines your offer, and you nod your head. it didn’t take long until his gaze softened, before speaking up. “what about you? did you eat already?”

there was a tinge of hesitancy flashing in your eyes for a moment, weighing your options if you’d just tell him you already did for you to stop bothering him, or tell him that you haven’t yet but you were about to cook so he shouldn't worry.

san was quick to figure out the answer though, as he placed his hands on your shoulders—startling you to the core. he then gives you a dimpled-smile, making you weak to your knees.

“y/n.”

you were shaken at the way he says your name.

jesus christ—he’s so pretty. he always has been.

“i’m too burned out to cook for you,” san continues, but before you can protest that it was alright, he cuts you off. “but, we can just order online. i’m sure that thai restaurant nearby could offer you a much delicious meal. what do you think?”

you smile back at him this time, nodding slightly. “yeah, sure.”

this was actually the first proper conversation you had with san, and the way he talked to you comfortably immediately shut down every negative thing you thought about him in the past. back then, you always thought he was too rowdy especially if he was with the rest of the 99z; you thought he was too intimidating and that he fit that asshole ‘brother’s best friend’ persona you see in those cliches. obviously, you were wrong to think about him like that, but it’s all disregarded now.

the two of you sit on the couch chatting endlessly about college while waiting for the food to arrive. the sparkle in san’s eyes as he talked about his excitement and passion for arts—mainly singing and dancing—was so breathtaking and adorable that you couldn’t hide that goofy smile on your face while listening to him. he mentions how he wanted to debut as an idol after he graduates college, but he takes it back with a shy gaze, telling you he sounded ‘childish’.

“you didn’t sound childish at all,” you’d say, leaning against the couch while keeping your gaze at him still. “no one talking about their dreams is childish.”

san smiles at that, and the blush that was creeping on his cheeks were about the same tint of pink that was on his hair.

“thanks, y/n,” he says. “what about you? you still have 1 year left to go in med school. what are your plans?”

“at the moment i just want to finish the semester,” you say bluntly, a bit of humor rolling at the ends of your tongue making him chuckle. “but if all things go well—in which i’m hoping it would—i’ll proceed with general medicine.”

“that’s actually nice. the world needs a lot of good doctors like you.”

you let out a humorless laugh, sinking deeper into the armrest of the couch as you huff out a breath—and your feelings come crashing down on you all at once, and you were so over flooded with emotions that you can’t help but blink your tears away before turning to the side.

“that’s kind of tough to think,” you blurt out, san still being oblivious to your propensity. “everything’s just so hard right now. i keep studying my ass off for these tests and i still fail most of them,” your emotions were now harder to suppress, and san could finally notice the way your voice shook with audible fear and anxiety. “—i’m just trying to make it out okay.”

“hey,” san reaches forward and holds your arm gently, before pulling you back up to face him. he gently brushes some of your hair back, smiling at you softly. “listen, it’s okay to feel that way, but you shouldn’t let it push you down. you’ve got a long way to go and i know you have so much potential. you can do this. if it all gets too tough, you can always seek comfort from the people around you. i’m sure my sister would love to keep you company,” he advises. “or, you can even talk to me.”

you sniffle slightly, and you suddenly felt a tinge of embarrassment when you realized you were practically opening up to choi san—your best friend’s brother, your roommate for almost a year. you rub your eye slightly, and san notices your tear-stained glasses. he reaches forward slightly, doing his best not to startle you, before taking your glasses off so he can wipe off the tear-stains.

this startles you, but it startles him more when he looks back up and sees you. you didn’t look any different when you wore glasses, but the way your eyes shone and lashes curled seemed to be more evident now than before, and god—were you breath-taking and beautiful in his eyes. he didn’t mind the dark circles under your eyes due to the excessive studying and all-nighters, nor did he mind the imperfections like the acne scars on some sides of your cheeks.

it didn’t matter to him, because all he saw was you as a whole.

“thank you, san,” your voice snaps him back to reality, and he blinks slightly—dumbfounded that he had been staring for quite awhile. “thank you for listening… and for the advice.”

“of course,” he says softly. “i never want you to feel like you’re not good enough.”

this sets off a certain blaze within you, and you move so swiftly that the next thing you knew was the feelings of your lips against his. it startles him, but he responded so quickly that the two of you were kissing. you had one hand on his cheek and the other at the back of his neck, pulling him closely to you as if you didn’t want to let go. san chuckles lightly between your lips, hands on your waist as he guides you into straddling his lap for a more comfortable position. there was a certain passion into the kiss—mixed with longing, want, and desire as both your eyes fluttered shut. san’s lips were soft against yours, and you could smell his intoxicating cologne as you breathe in. he nibbles on your bottom lip slightly, making you let out a small whine. he smirks, but continues to kiss you so fervently, his larger hands finding its way to cup your cheeks.

the kiss, however, was interrupted when your doorbell rings. san was the first to pull away, breathless and lips swollen before pressing his forehead against yours.

“must be the food we ordered,” you stated. “go get it.”

“or my sister.” san replies, earning a light slap on the arm as you stare at him, horrified when the realization dawns to you that you kissed her brother. he laughs loudly, leaving a quick kiss on your lips before standing up to get the door. “relax, baby.”

he makes his way to open the door and it was indeed the delivery guy with your food. san pays and thanks him politely, before closing it back as he makes his way to you.

while you were helping him take the food out from the paper bags, you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as you looked back at him.

“this was certainly not on my plans this friday night.”

— © 99zmist.

#san au #ateez san au #ateez au #ateez fluff #san fluff #just them kissing and being cute #san x reader #ateez x reader #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #99z liner #ateez imagine #san imagines #ateez

269 notes · View notes

eggrestes · 3 years ago

Text

ladrien fic recs!

there are SO MANY amazing ladrien fics i cant possibly cover them all but here are a few!

(all the ratings used are ao3 ratings)

((this is a very long post!))

FLUFF

Of Ivy and Sunlight by cyanise [ T, 1509 words, 1/1 ]

When Adrien takes to wandering the streets of Paris in ungodly hours, Ladybug has no choice but to keep an eye on him. Still, things are bound to get a little out of hand between two overloaded teenagers with a lot of love and not enough self-control.

a lovely post-chat blanc fic :’) it has a great flow and is just soft and so sweet and it’s just perfect. gosh i cannot really say more other than read it!!! also almost all of their other stuff is also ladrien so do check it out!

This can't be happening by PlaPla [ T, 6,467 words, 1/2 ]

Ladybug is unsure whether accompanying Adrien to a gala as his not-date is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to her. But when their table mates turn out to be none other than her long time friends Alya and Nino and with Adrien acting weirder and weirder she finds herself with bigger worries than an unrequited crush.

a djwifi/ladrien double date? hit me up! i love identity shenanigans, ball dancing, ladrien, and djwifi and this is a perfect mix for me. i know it’s incomplete but it doesn’t end in a cliff-hanger really, the part 2 is just a promise of more so it doesn’t feel incomplete! PlaPla also has a short oneshot of ladrien going for a motorcycle ride.

Falling again by emsylcatac [ M, 4,506 words, 2 Works ]

They had been dancing around each other for a while now, and while fifteen year old Adrien would have been ecstatic at the idea of dating Ladybug in secret, twenty-two year old Adrien knew better. But Ladybug wasn’t making it easy. It was like… she, too, was falling for him. And that surprisingly enough, she didn’t mind.

* * *

Or Adrien trying (and failing) to keep things professional between him and Ladybug when the two of them partner up for a mission. Older AU

things are a little steamy~ here (don’t worry, it’s only implied it’s very mild and closer to a T rating than the M) but it’s a great mature take on their dynamics! emsy has more ladrien one-shots in her collection of one-shots!

i'd love to go on a date with you by sae_what [ G, 6,480 words, 1/1 ]

Once it had been falsely announced throughout Paris that Adrien and Ladybug are in a relationship, Ladybug pays him a visit to turn him down gently.

Only, she doesn’t. And instead, she has a formal dinner date. With Adrien. At 8 pm. Tonight.

LADYBUG IN A SUIT!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. okay but for real it’s so sweet and also??? they are on a date!!! a rooftop date!! (too man exclamation marks oops)

Always Welcome by chatonne-rousse [ T, 1,683 words, 1/1 ]

Ladybug knows that Adrien's window is always open for her to swing by and stop in, whether for video games or a chat or, like tonight, for soft kisses and sweet nothings.

He loves these visits. His girlfriend is always welcome. Always. (Especially for kisses.)

Written for Ladrien June, day 8: bluebell eyes.

established relationship, pre-reveal ladrien. there is something very home-y about this fic and it’s all about the comfort and quiet that i adore about it!

Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir) by agrestenoir [ T, 1,923 words, 1/1]

Gabriel Agreste keeps finding Ladybug in his son's bedroom. As a super villain and father, this will not stand.

this crack fic is... honestly so hilarious. it’s all through gabrie-i-am-trying-to-parent-and-failing-a-lot-agreste’s POV so it is so much ridiculous!

an uncurtain discovery by Missnoodles [ T, 4,684 words, 1/1 ]

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Adrien is being a cat and gets tangled in the curtains on his window and it’s utterly ridiculous. all the bug and the cat tendencies make it funnier and adrien’s inner monologue is just a cherry on top!

secret valentine by a_miiraculer [ T, 12,245 words, 1/1 ]

this is the moment that we will come alive brace yourself for love sweet love, secret love

If Adrien had known that getting himself stuck in a tree would end like this, he would've gotten himself stuck sooner.

A drabble series.

i just,,,, don’t have words for how much i love it! it’s ridiculous, it’s cute, it’s funny, it’s whole-some and just ladrien. the writer also has a M rated multi-chapter ladrien kissing (no the M is very much real here) and a heroic adrien and ladybug one-shot too!

Those Benevolent Stars by peachcitt [ G, 23,696 words, 3/3 ]

“Will you come back?”

She looked up at the deep blue sky, as if she could somehow find the answer there. “I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head and looking back at him. But the stars were still there, caught in her eyes, and Adrien persisted.

“But will you?”

adrien meets his soulmate, a thief who calls herself ladybug. he falls for her, but she seems determined to maintain a space between them.

oh my god this au.... just no words!! it’s poetry and it’s tender and it’s about the yearning and just!!! perfect :’). Her current ongoing ladrien june fic is also akin to this (and the fic i linked before it) so do check it out too! (literally check out all of their works it’s so beautiful)

Flowers on the Window Sill by LNC [ G, 2,144 words, 1/1 ]

The first time Ladybug saw him, really saw him, the universe stopped.

this fic feels like poetry and it’s so lovely. LNC is always short and direct but it always hits right in the feels while also being hilarious. Her other ladrien works are just as good and i highly recommend going through them because it fulfills all of the ladrien needs (along with Reiaji)

whatever a sun will always sing is you by komorebirei [ T, 32,980 words, 37/37 ]

“I didn't think you'd actually... do anything," Adrien admitted, cheeks prickling with warmth. "I-I mean, I never expected... I didn't know you watched my interviews.” That definitely wasn’t how he'd imagined confessing to Ladybug.

“Of course I do!” Ladybug squeaked. “Uhh, that is…” She looked down at her hands, nervously turning her yo-yo over, over and over. “Maybe you’re not the only one with a crush.”

(After an unexpected confession, Ladybug and Adrien start dating in secret. A progressive character- and relationship-study quilted from drabbles, with the intention of digging treasure out of the cove that is Ladrien. Written using kashimalin-fanfiction's kiss writing prompts from Tumblr.)

it does such an excellent job at exploring this dynamic along with the characters. it’s such a sweet fic, each chapter short and fun!

ANGST

whose woods these are (I think I know.) by Reiaji [ T, 105,000 words, 25/25 ]

Four years after his future turns to cinders, Adrien is a servant in the house he was meant to inherit. Disowned by his father and abused by his stepmother, his days are filled with drudgery until he meets a masked huntress in the forest behind his father's chateau.

As his friendship with Ladybug turns to first love, he dreams of a future spent at her side.

Then, on the eve of the Princess's masquerade, he meets his guardian—and is granted a wish.

[Ladrien Cinderella AU]

Warnings: Child abuse, Graphic depiction of violence

this is absolutely gorgeous. it has so many troupes and so many amazing character arc and great build up and everything just flows so well. it left me in awe for weeks and i just. want to experience reading it for the first time again. look at this gorgeous art inspired by this! {and you have to read leonard bernstein too because LETTERS and LADRIEN and YEARNING}

i would do it again (oh, a thousand times) by bugabisous [ T, 2,266 words, 1/1 ]

Knowing you can bring someone back doesn’t mean you’re free of the pain of seeing them disappear before your eyes. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to look at her directly without replaying every horrifying moment when he felt her slip away in a puff of smoke.

When it happens once again, he already knows he’ll be trying again. He just can’t give up.

it expands on adrien’s feelings in the episode desperada (my beloved <3) and it is just ouch. such great angst, such great potential. the kind of tragedy that it offers is unusual for ml (it gets only rivaled by chat blanc tbh). to rival this angst bugabisous also has a fluffy one-shot :)

when the world gets too heavy (put it on my back) by Taliax [ T, 4,720 words, 1/1 ]

Chat Noir isn't allowed to cry over his father. But even when he's just Adrien, Ladybug won't abandon him.

Hawkmoth reveal hurt/comfort + Ladrien

the plagg and adrien bond written is just perfect, and oh this hits right in the feels :’) it hurts all in the right way. tali also has so many other ladrien works in all genres too

By Your Side by omniousunflower [ T, 4,361 words, 1/1 ]

(Angry and alone, Adrien waits on top of the Eiffel Tower for his lady.)

“So, how did my kitty get stranded up here?” Ladybug asks.

Groaning, Adrien pulls his knees toward his chest and presses his face against them. “Because he’s stupid and impulsive.”

“Chasing pigeons, then?”

“No.” Shame burns in Adrien’s veins, white-hot now that Ladybug is here to witness his stupidity. “I threw my Miraculous, and Plagg wouldn’t get it for me.”

post-hawkmoth defeat, and adrien is not doing well at all. i am cheating because it is post reveal, pre relationship but it’s still ladrien. this fic is a roller coater of emotions, starting from a slightly crack scenario to a cute, awkward, hopeful ending. More Than You Know is another of sunny’s angsty ladrien work!

Breaking The Rules (AKA The Ladrien Fistfight) by ThisKwamiNeeds_aNap [ T, 8,714 words, 1/1 ]

Marinette may or may not be dying, but she’s still going to do her best to fix every single problem in the world. She’s not expecting Adrien to be the one who tries to stop her. (Takes place immediately after Kwami Buster)

Warnings: panic attack, broken bones, PTSD. please read the tags!

*slaps this fic* this fic can fit in so much angst. it just?? left me in PAIN oof. it says ‘ladrien fistfight’ on the lid but nooo there is marinette is just having a freak out and it’s all so much??!! and it’s not just marinette there is adrien too and chloe and alya and- wow it’s amazing. love it so much it fills up my angst needs :’)

so that’s it for now! my personal commentary isn’t impressive nor does it do justice to the fic but i still hope you read a few of these!! happy reading!!

#ladren #fic rec #ml fic rec #miraculous ladybug #i know i dont do the fics justice but. oh well #lovesquare #ladrien #obviously check out the writers other workd too but this is ladrien so i am trying to give it a bit more emphasis #also i am so sorry i couldnt include more lesser known writers but unfortunatley they dont have ladrien uRGH anyway maybe sometime later!#i spend a lot of time on thi n got lazy so plz be considerate #also add recs if u want even self-promo is cool duh

123 notes · View notes

itzagothamcitysiren · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Family

Happy Mother’s day to all the mothers and motherly figures out there! This story is kind of inspired by my relationship with my older sister, who was honestly more of a mother to me than our actual mom. She’s awesome and I wish I could see her today but quarantine sucks lol.

Also, too me Logan Lerman is Tim. He’s just so awkward and cute and nerdy, and I think he’d be a great Tim.

Mother’s Day pt.1

“What the hell are you doing, Drake?” Damian’s snippy voice cut through the empty living room like a knife.

The once comfortably silent room, now held an awkward and thick tension as Tim Drake popped his head up from his work, annoyed at being interrupted. He looked back down at the paper and other supplies cluttered around the coffee table for a moment, not even embarrassed at being caught. It was a normal thing that he started doing shortly after moving into Wayne Manor all those years ago; Damian was still the one who was the odd one out.

“Making Mother’s Day cards; what else does it look like?” Tim rolled his eyes, motioning his hand with a slight wave to the finished card at the edge of the table. That one was meant for his mother, he made sure to finish it first, wanting to drop it off at the post office tomorrow after school so it’d get to her in time.

“Tt.” Damian shook his head, crossing his arms against his chest. He took a seat at the other end of the couch to look over the older boy’s work.

Damian Wayne wasn’t the type for such sentiment. He scoffed at the idea of Mother’s Day. Could you just imagine him, an al Ghul, giving his mother a card? Though, he didn’t put it past someone as pathetic as Drake to be one to celebrate the commercial holiday. Even Grayson and his father celebrated, and their mothers were dead. They’d both journey to the cemetery and placed roses on their mother’s grave. But that made much more sense to Damian, than making a card, they were paying their respects, while Drake was just giving his mother a worthless piece of paper.

“A simple piece of paper will really satisfy your mother? Tt.” Damian leaned back into the couch, arms still crossed but now lifting his leg to rest on his other thigh.

“Yes. It. Will.” Tim gritted, not in the mood for Damian’s taunting and insults; he was actually in a genially good mood for once.

He moved to open his mouth again, clenching the marker in his hand tightly; who did this kid think he was? He was glad the kid was over his phase of trying to actively kill him but he still found pleasure in making Tim’s life miserable. He tried closing his mouth, not wanting to get into it again but the third Robin still felt the need to defend himself against the spoiled blood son. He pushed the disappointed look Bruce would surely show him away after the old man would end of having to break up another fight between the two boys.

“I’m not just giving her card; I’m also sending her a gift card to her favorite restaurant and another one for a trip to this day spa. It makes her happy and since I’m not around I want to make sure she knows I miss her. You know like normal mother and son stuff, not that you would know anything about that.”

Tim cursed to himself as soon as the bitter and smug words left his mouth. Shit. He went too far; the dead silence that followed told him that much. He didn’t dare look up to see Damian’s face. He could practically feel the scowl, the deadly glare, beaming into the side of his head; it was like he was being blasted by Superman’s laser beams. Maybe that was being a little dramatic but Tim knew he shouldn’t have said that. He was better than stooping that low and saying something that brash. Even with the pair being fair from close, barely even being on speaking terms, Tim still knew how sensitive Damian was about his relationship with Talia.

He was half expecting to feel a punch come down from him, or a shove, anything that would physically harm him in response but much to Tim’s surprise he was just met with Damian’s signature sound, ‘Tt’, and then him shifting in his place. Tim scratched the back of his neck, unsure why Damian reacted so calmly, not that his body and pride weren’t complaining. He mentally shrugged and went back to making his second card.

The younger boy watched as Tim got back to work. He wanted to lash out at Drake’s dig at him and his mother’s relationship but Damian didn’t want to give Drake the satisfaction of knowing that he was insulted. He thought back to his father’s speech after their last fight about how they both needed to learn how to be the bigger person. Damian rolled his eyes at the memory and instead quirked an eyebrow up as he watched Tim begin to get back into making what appeared to be a second Mother’s Day card.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but last time I checked you only had one mother, Drake.” Damian said, nodding towards the second card.

“You would be correct.” Tim nodded, not looking up this time as he spoke. He reached for the blue Sharpie instead, filling in the bubble letters he wrote with it.

“Then why are you making another card? Did you realize how stupid that other one is and are starting over?” Damian pressed, leaning back once again to get comfortable.

Tim huffed, already over this conversation. It was times like this that he wished Dick and Halley still lived at home. Damian would be Dick’s shadow if he was here and not bugging him like this. With Halley, she’d swoop in the moment she felt a fight forming and would’ve gotten the demon spawn to shut up by now. But now that they were the only two left living at home Damian was all Tim’s problem. Maybe it was time to go back to the Titans?

“No, my mother’s card is done. This is for someone else.” Tim said, using his minimum art skills to draw a decent flower next to the y in Day. He huffed again when Damian responded immediately asking who specifically it was for. Tim let the marker drop from his grasp, losing his nerve. Rubbing his head, he pushed the hair fallen in front of his face out of his face, letting out a deep breath. Why did he care what he was doing? Damian has shown more interest in his current activity than he’s shown in anything in Tim’s life since they met. “It’s for Halley.”

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes, smirking. “Halley isn’t your mother, Drake.”

“No, but since I’ve moved here, she’s always been there when I need her and she’s done so much for me so this is my way of thanking her and showing that I love her.” Tim let himself get cocky again, snipping right back at Damian. He put emphasis in his speech, knowing that not only was it true but it would rub Damian the wrong way. “I do this for her every year and every year she gets all mushy and loves it.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at the older boy. Was Drake questioning his relationship with his older sister? They may only be half siblings but that was more blood than she shared with anyone in the bat family. When the pair first found out they shared the same mother, Damian had been less then enthused about no longer being an only child and furious at his mother for failing to mention her having a child with Deathstroke. Halley had been just as shocked and angry, but at her father for never telling her. She wasn’t surprised but still angry. Though unlike him, she quickly rushed to try and get closer to the boy. Even though Damian wanted no part of it, Damian was clearly her favorite brother; right?

Drake said this was a yearly thing but why has he never noticed before? He did know that they would occasionally spend what they grossly called Mandatory Sibling Bonding Day together, where’d they’d go out just the two of them, much to the annoyance of Damian. He didn’t understand why she wasted her time with Drake; what could they possible do for fun together? Granted, she did do the same with Grayson whenever they were around at the same time. The pair of them also being close, Grayson having been the one to help get her out of her old life with her father, Slade Wilson.

Damian thought about how his sister had a close personal relationships with all the Robin’s and Batgirl’s, even the failure that Damian deemed as Stephanie Brown; Halley was close to them all, all but him. Though that wasn’t completely true, they did have somewhat of a bond. They both had what she phased as shitty-ass parents, her father being Deathstroke himself while his was the Dark Knight, and they shared the same mother, Talia al Ghul. They’d never known about the other until Damian was brought to live with his father by their mother and Halley had long been taken in by Dick and Bruce.

He still remembered their first meeting, they hadn’t yet known about sharing the same mother but yet she was still eager to accept him. He of course didn’t share her gusto, especially after Slade revealed that Talia was her mother after he attacked the League of Assassin’s and killed his grandfather. Damian wasn’t keen on having an actual sibling, especially one with the blood of Deathstroke. But they also shared the same al Ghul blood and was quite the efficient fighter. But they were both incredibly set in their ways and persistent, as she was dead set on getting the younger boy to open up while he was dead set to prove that he was the most worthy al Ghul.

It infuriated him enough that she said she didn’t care about being an al Ghul, having no memories of being with the League of Assassin’s, as Slade and Talia agreed that she would go off to live with her father for her training. Damian said she was unworthy of the blood they shared and she didn’t deserve it. Though even now, he wouldn’t admit it but sometimes he swore he could still feel the pain from the beating she gave him when he tried to kill her in her sleep his first few months staying in the manor whenever he looked her way.

That was something he admired about his sister, again not like he would ever admit it, but her persistence was something he looked up to and even came to appreciate. Even after trying to kill her, being cruel, and treating her like how she treats Drake, at first even worse, she never gave up on him; a feat that no one else could say they’ve come close too; perhaps Grayson, but there were times where even the star-child of Bruce Wayne’s collection of wayward children would walk away from Damian’s outbursts because he simply had enough of the all give an no take. But not Halley; she’d stay every single time and with that she’d even give him a smile at the end of it.

She understood what it was like. Being raised by Slade Wilson was basically the same as being raised by Ra’s al Ghul. They never had a conversation about it, Damian always calling her a fool, she didn’t know what his childhood was like and then brushing her off. But who was Damian kidding? She made her first kill by age eight, so did Damian. She had expectations placed on her that no child should’ve been held up to, as did Damian. They shared bruises, scars and nightmares.

Grayson had tried with him, after his father failed but Halley was the one who truly helped him adjust to this new life he found himself in without even knowing it. What Grayson and his father didn’t understand was that you just couldn’t stop being who you were raised to be in a second, it took time, and Halley had been through the same transition. Granted she was looking to escape the life she had with her father whereas Damian was forced to be with his by his mother, but there were just some habits that where hard to break.

“You good there?” Drake’s voice cut Damian out of his thought process.

Damian snapped out of it, narrowing his eyes down at the card, noting Tim had stopped working on it and was looking at Damian as if he was a frozen computer screen. Scoffing, standing up to his feet, he uncrossed his arms, pointing a finger at the card for his sister. Trying to hid the fact that Drake caught him in such a deep thought, he cleared his throat before sneering,

“Her favorite color is purple, not red.”

Tim watched, mouth left agape as Damian made his way out of the room without another word. He took another look down at the card and grunted, reaching for a new piece of paper, getting ready to start all over again. What a kid, he thought as he got back to work.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x sister!reader #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #batbros #batfam x reader #batfam x batsis #dick grayson x batsis #dick grayson #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #bruce wayne #batman fanfiction

222 notes · View notes

sebthesnipe · 4 years ago

Text

Morality, Magic, and Chocolate Cows

Hi @logicalyfun!!

Storytime! I wasn’t apart of the @sanderssidesgiftxchange at all. So, the fact that you got me as a pinch hitter is kinda a miracle in its own right ;3 But I’m super glad you did! I’m so sorry you didn’t get your gift on time but now you get to chill with me! And I can be pretty awesome sometimes… Occasionally… Rarely but hey! Who keeps track of that kind of stuff anyways?

So, how did I become your pinch hitter? Well, you see. I’ve got this amazing best friend and beta reader @gilby-the-geek-girl. She actually /did/ participate in the exchange and because she’s just so amazing she offered to be a pinch hitter for it as well.

Anyways, You’re prompt got sent to her. This one right here:

“Your giftee: Fabi

Tumblr: Logicalyfun

Media to receive: Fan fiction, Fan art

Wish 1: Puppiesss

Wish 2: Fantasy world

Wish 3: Starry sky night

Topics to avoid: Remrom, no NSFW”

And it gave her pause. You see, I wrote this awesome fic called My Dearest Procyon (also on AO3) that checks almost all of these boxes (minus the puppiesss, but there is a REALLY awesome cat and dragons too!). So, she thought we’d be perfect for each other! So she sent your prompt to me and here we are!

Now for the bad news… I had every intention of checking off every one of your wishes, but the story got away from me and I’m pretty sure I struck out. However, I really think you’ll like it! Please forgive me for not sticking strictly with the prompts but I do mention each, and I highly recommend MDP if you really like those things.

I’ll also make you a deal! If you don’t like this ficlet, let me know and I’ll write you a new one that adheres to your prompts exactly! ;3

(Also... posting this on Patton’s B-day so it’s like double meant to be!)

So, without further adieu, I present Morality, Magic, and Chocolate Cows:

“Have at you!” Roman cried, his tiny form bounding off the small hill to swing at his brother, his cardboard sword bending at an odd angle.

“Actually,” Logan commented, hurrying along behind him, flowing blue cape flapping in the wind. “It would’ve been ‘ye’.”

Roman ignored him, adjusting the oversized ‘shining armor’ every time he took a step. The costume was far too large for Roman’s three foot, seven-and-a-half-inch tall body, though it was adorable to watch.

Remus, to his credit, laughed menacingly, the Sharpie mustache on his upper lip thinning from the effort as he parried his brother’s flopping cardboard blade with a small stick. His own costume consisted of a sheet, stained green, with what Patton hoped was paint (though he had never bothered to ask), wrapped around him like a toga.

“That's totally fair! Two against one!” Janus called from the safety of a tree branch; the yellow fabric of his shirt just visible through the leaves.

“I’m not fighting! I’m observing!” Logan called in his high-pitched voice, adjusting his glasses before the pointed wizard’s hat on his brow dipped forward, knocking them astray once more. His adorably pudgy form was wrapped in a shimmer fabric that reminded Patton of the stars Logan always seemed to want to tell him about.

“If you and V would help, your prince wouldn’t need an watcher-outer!” Roman whined, pausing in his attack to peer over at the older child and his companion, sitting in the shade below.

Remus took the opportunity to smack his twin across his butt with his stick, knocking Roman to the ground with a grunt.

A shrill cry filled the air, causing the other children to glance at Patton, who had been sitting on a blanket a few feet away.

Patton pushed to his feet, smiling softly as he approached the three boys, Janus and Virgil hurrying up to the crying child as well.

“It’s broken isn’t it!” Virgil rushed, his own tears threatening to fall. “Remus broke Roman’s leg! We’re all going to the hosp’al! I don’t want to go to the hosp’al! I don’t like doc’ors!” His words turned into a wail as he plopped on the grown next to Roman, waterworks in full force.

Patton examined the small scratch peaking through a tear in Roman’s jeans.

“Hm,” he sighed as if considering whether or not the wound was fatal. “We may have to amputate.”

“What?!” Remus gasped excitedly.

Janus moved over to Logan, attempting to whisper in his ear and failing. “What does ‘amputate’ mean?”

“Ample ate,” Logan attempted to repeat. “It means to eat a lot.”

“We’re going to eat him!” Remus gasped with a grin.

Patton couldn’t help but give a small chuckle at the exchange before sinking down on the lush grass and scooping Roman into his arms.

The pretend prince curled into the embrace, hiding his face in Patton’s chest as his wailing turned to sniffle.

“I don’t wanna be eaten,” he grumbled sullenly.

Patton felt Virgil curling into his side, tears soaking into his shirt. Patton glanced down, offering another small smile as he pulled him close as well.

“No one is getting eaten,” Patton chuckled softly. “Are they Remus?”

“Pft, no fair!” the mustached boy pouted, folding his arms over his chest and glaring down at his mismatched shoes.

“Why don’t we all come up with ways to make Roman’s boo-boo feel better?” Patton offered, motioning for everyone to move closer.

“I rather not,” Janus sighed softly. Still, the young boy scooted closer and sank down on the grass next to them.

Remus gave another ‘hmph’ before doing the same, though he made sure to sit far closer to Janus than anyone else.

“I can help!” Logan chirped excitedly, digging into his pockets with purpose.

Patton couldn’t help but allow his soft smile to turn even more fond. Logan was always the best helper.

Whatever Logan had in mind, it certainly got Roman’s attention. The sandy blond boy turned his head just enough that his cheek rested against Patton’s chest, eyes glued to the wizard.

A moment later, Logan produced a plastic wand. The pink shaft was a little too large for his tiny hands and the star at its end seemed to flash with tiny lights (no doubt running off of a few double A’s).

“I can cast a spell on him!” Logan offered confidently.

“But yes’rday you said magi’ wasn’t real,” Virgil whispered, still clinging to Patton’s shirt.

“Turn him into a frog!” Remus demanded eagerly; his pouting forgotten.

“Yeah, but I read it in one of my books today, so it has to be real! Right, Patton?” Logan asked, looking up at him expectantly, the others following his lead.

“Oh of course!” Patton reassured with a large grin. “Magic is very real.”

“It is?” Janus asked, suddenly invested in the conversation.

Virgil reacted in a very different manner, burying his face deeper into Patton’s side and giving a small cry. “Magi’ is scary! I dun wanna be turned into a frowg!”

“Oh sweetie,” Patton cooed, messing with the youngest child’s hair. “It’s not that type of magic,” he reassured.

“What other type of magic is there?!” Remus demanded, inching closer as he bounced with elation. “The type that can turn him into a giant squid?! Or make toilets talk?!”

“Ew!” Roman whined in response, once again earning a chuckle from Patton.

“I’m afraid not,” Patton admitted with no little amusement. “No, this kind of magic isn’t just reserved for very smart wizards.”

“It’s not?” Logan asked, moving closer and sinking down as well.

“Oh no. We all have magic of our very own that we can use whenever we want.”

“Nuh uh…” Janus breathed though he didn’t sound too convinced.

Patton nodded continuing. “Sure, we do.”

“What’s my power?!” Remus asked impatiently, “Can I make lasers come out my eyes?! Or maybe… maybe… um… summon a giant octopuspus to devour my enemies?!” He bounced to his feet roaring loudly as he stomped about.

“Your magic is something far greater,” Patton laughed.

“No way!” Remus breathed in awe; antics forgotten.

“Him?!” Roman gasped in disbelief.

Patton nodded. “Remus has the ability to see into other worlds!”

“Lame!” The boy in question huffed, falling back onto the grass.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked curiously.

“Well, Remus makes such a great villain because he sees things differently then we do,” Patton explained.

“So, he’s evil! I knew it!” Roman declared, shifting in Patton’s arms to simply sit in his lap, wound forgotten.

“Not at all,” Patton countered, acting as if he didn’t see the way Remus blew a raspberry at his brother. “Just because someone is different doesn’t make them evil.Though it can be scary, differences are what gives us our power. Take Logan for example.”

“Me?” Logan blinked in surprise, clinging to his wand a bit more self-consciously.

“Mm hmm,” Patton nodded. “Logan understands Remus better than anyone. He can understand how Remus sees the world.”

“So, he’s evil too?” Janus asked.

“I am not!” Logan cried.

“No one here is evil,” Patton laughed. “No, Logan’s magic power is that he can understand anything if given enough time.”

“So, you can figure out where chocolate milk comes from?!” Roman asked, pointedly staring at Logan who now sat a bit straighter.

“Well, if regular milk comes from a regular cow… and Patton says cows are just like oversized dogs… and there are a lot of different kinds of dogs… Then chocolate milk has to come from chocolate cows.” Logan explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Whoa! There are chocolate cows?! That’s so cool!” Roman gasped.

Patton was about to speak when his attention was pulled to the small hands tugging on his shirt in a patient persistence.

“Yes, Virgil?” Patton asked softly.

“Wha’s my magi’?” The youngest boy asked in a hushed whisper as the rest talked among themselves.

“You, my dear sweet shadowling,” Patton whispered, booping his nose. “have one of the strongest powers among us.”

“I do?” Virgil’s eyes grew wide, his hand lifting to his mouth to suck on his two fingers. It would be a few more years before Patton could manage to break him of the habit but it was cute nonetheless.

“Oh, yes. You have the power to protect. You tell us when something could hurt us or do damage in a way we haven’t noticed. In a way… You can see the future.” Patton’s allowed his voice to turn a bit wispy as if humbled by Virgil’s power.

“Sounds like a bunch of lies to me,” Janus interrupted, obviously eavesdropping.

“No one asked you!” Roman spat. “You didn’t even help protect your prince and now I’ve got a boo-boo! It’s not like you have any magic! ” He pointed at his knee, lifting it to put the scratch on display.

“Well, neither do you!” Janus argued.

“Oh, I think you both are pretty powerful when it comes to magic,” Patton offered.

“Well of course I am… I’m a prince!” Roman announced.

“Janus does too, Roman.” Patton mitigated.

“Like what?” Remus butted in, more curious that malicious.

“Well, Janus can work magic on people’s feelings,”

“I can?” Janus blinked in surprise.

“Well, of course Kiddo. You’re the best at it! You always know just what to say to make Remus feel better after he loses against the Prince’s armies,” Patton explained, “And you always know how to answer Roman’s questions about his costumes.” Naturally, Patton left out the fact that Janus used little white lies to work his magic and that he didn’t quite agree with the method, but the results were noteworthy.

“Boring!” Roman whined. “What about me?” Roman looked up at Patton expectantly.

“You, dear prince,” Patton replied, nuzzling him affectionately. “have the ability to change the world as we know it. You can push us to follow every passion our heart desires. You give us the very drive that will sustain us throughout our lives. ”

“What? That’s not fair! Why didn’t I get a cool power like that?” Remus huffed, sulking once more.

“’Cause I’m the Prince and I say so!” Roman answered, squirming in Patton’s arms. “Now, be quiet, Patton is talking about me!”

“Mneh!” Remus stuck out his tongue once more, but his brother ignored him.

“Now, now. I think all of your powers are cool,” Patton attempted.

“But Patton…” Logan mumbled, softly, as he stared up at the seemingly grown man. “What’s your power?”

Patton’s chest tightened at the question. Leave it to Logan to pull at the one string Patton wasn’t prepared for. What was Patton’s power? He manifested just as they all did, only he was the first. He grew faster than the rest of them, unable to keep up with Thomas growth, unable to keep up with his insecurity.

He was just Patton…. He had no magic… He wasn’t special. Not like the others.

He forced his smile to remain in place, trying not to let his voice crack as he answered. “Why would I ever need to be more than just happy pappy Patton when I get to spend time with all of you amazing magicians?”

“Patton?” Logan called, his voice distant and far too baritone to be coming from the pudgy boy before him. “Patton are you in here?” Logan called again causing the man to glance over his shoulder.

The memory he had immersed himself in froze, the boys still staring up at him.

He wiped a tear from his eye quickly and waved his hand, the children disappearing, leaving him alone in the small field behind their childhood home.

“I’m over here!” Patton called, standing and dusting off his pants, trying not to feel the loss. They had needed him so thoroughly. Everything was so different now. The boys were all grown. They all faced Thomas’ problems with a maturity Patton never could seem to muster. No doubt they thought him the child now.

Logan strode up the small hill in his usual dark polo and striped tie adorning his broad shoulders.

“There you are,” Logan greeted with the same half smile he always did.

“Sorry, did you need something?” Patton asked softly, forcing his smile to turn warm.

“Yes, actually,” Logan admitted. “It seems Remus and Roman are fighting again, and Virgil and Janus are placing bets on who can make the most constructs in the imagination. It is truly a disaster. There are puppies and octopoda everywhere. No one will see reason. I could really use your help.”

Patton softened a bit at the words. Maybe they still needed him… just a tiny bit. He supposed he could live with that.

“Puppies?!” Patton squealed in excitement.

Logan’s gaze moved about the scene taking it in, obviously having expected Morality’s reaction. “Isn’t this…” he hesitated, turning on his heel. “Wasn’t this the field behind our home back in Orlando?”

“Oh…” Patton breathed, flushing slightly. “Is it?”

“It is! Thomas used to play out here all the time! We all did!” Logan mused, with a small huff of laughter. “Wow, it has been quite some time.”

Patton offered a melancholy smile as he glanced around. He missed it all. It was nice to have the memories though. At least he could relive it when ever he wanted. Though he doubted Logan would even bother to try to remember-

“You know 7% of Americans really do believe chocolate milk comes from chocolate cows,” Logan informed him, “And Roman is still one of them.” He laughed.

Patton’s heart fluttered at the fact that Logan remembered such a minute detail. He really was magic.

The sound of Logan’s deep chuckle had Patton joining him. “Best not spoil it for him,” Patton teased lightly as Logan offered out an arm for him to take as they headed out of the memory.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Logan reassured.

La Fin.

16 notes · View notes

thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years ago

Text

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N: God, I have been wanting to finish this story for weeks, but once we got out of quarantine, I lost all ambition to write. So, I’m glad I finally have enough of a cushion to get part 1 out to you guys. I won’t be following my old posting schedule, but I hope I don’t go so far between posts that you all forget about me!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 1 – And So We Begin

“Thank you for calling Fort Jamison Historical Museum, this is Rosemary. How can I help you?” The jaunty-sounding phrase rolled off her tongue automatically with little thought behind it until she heard the wizened chuckle on the other end.

“Do you always answer your cell phone like that?” She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned as Robert Lancaster’s chuckle morphed into a hearty laugh. She couldn’t help but giggle along as she dropped her pencil and took off her glasses, setting them on the desk in front of her.

“You know, sometimes I do, especially when I’m not paying attention.” Rosemary leaned back into her chair, propping her feet up on the desk. Her free hand dropped down to fondle Banana’s ears as the dog snoozed next to her. “What’s up, Robert?”

“I’m doing some spring cleaning at the house and shop. I got quite a few boxes accumulated, including stuff I’d like to donate to the museum. When do you think you can come down to look through them? I don’t expect you to take them all, but there are a couple of items I want you to specifically have.” His voice sounded muffled over the phone as he bent down to toss another book into the Friends of the Library box.

“It’s a little slow this week,” she started as she checked the calendar on her wall. “Looks like I can come as early as tomorrow. So, if that works for you, I’ll bring the paperwork with me and we can just get it all done at once.”

“Oh, great! I was hoping you could come soon. It’s been a while since we had time to visit.” His smile was evident in his voice. “Can you do the paperwork on the computer?”

“Sure, we have the fillable PDFs.”

“Even better. Just bring your laptop and we’ll work on it as we go through everything. We can connect to the printer here and then you don’t have to worry about doing any of this at the office. By the way, do you think you’ll have time for lunch?”

“Robert, you know I always have time for you.” She smiled. They had been friends for ten years by that point and he never failed to ask the lunch or dinner question and she never failed to make time for him. Robert had been her first friend when she arrived in Michigan and the long-running friendship between the perpetual bachelor and the bold curator was stuff of area legend.

There had been speculation of a May-December romance between the two, but Robert saw the younger woman as the daughter he never had and on her part Rosemary saw Robert as the father figure she lost when her grandfather passed away.

“Want to do Phil’s or Coral Gables?” She smiled. Just as their dates were always guaranteed, she knew that their location was as well. But it was habit to ask and it never felt right if she didn’t.

“Why do you even ask the question? You know it’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, Coral Gables’ patio all the way.” The two chatted a bit longer before they hung up, returning to the rest of their respective duties. Rosemary sat up and Banana whined when she stopped petting him. Spoiled dog.

“Sorry, Baba. Work calls.” She stood up from her desk and wandered down the hall to the director’s office, knowing Helen was at her desk. The third floor of the museum was workspace for the staff and despite working there for so many years, Rosemary never failed to draw an appreciative breath at the stunning sight of the Kalamazoo River.

As she ambled down the hall, Banana’s nails clicked on the tile floor, hinting that she wasn’t alone on her journey. She smiled as she waved her hand and the dog rushed to her side. The two slowly walked to the director’s office, warming themselves in the afternoon sun that poured through the windows.

Rosemary heard the muttering first as she rounded the corner and entered the office. The stout woman was hunched over her laptop, her salt and pepper pixie cut sticking up everywhere. Whatever she was working on, it was stressing her out. Helen always pulled at her short strands when she was concentrating hard.

Smiling, Helen’s head jerked up as Rosemary knocked on the door. The older woman waved her curator into the office and leaned back. As she stretched, both women could hear a series of loud pops and they started to giggle.

“Ugh, I am getting too old to sit like this. I need a massage.” Helen groaned as yet another loud pop emitted from her shoulder. As Banana scooched under the desk to get scritches from Helen, Rosemary plopped down in one of the armchairs and it creaked in complaint. “Do you have to sit so hard? Those are collection pieces, you know.”

“Not anymore. I deaccessioned them last week into the decorative collection. Donor approved, mind you. So, we can sit in these however we want.” Rosemary grinned as she threw a leg over the arm of the ornate chair. For being so ugly, it was comfortable and not for the first time, she wondered if she could move them to her office without Helen noticing.

“That may be, but it’s not like we have money to fix something you broke because you were being too careless.” Helen raised her eyebrow and Rosemary sat back up in the chair like normal, having the courtesy to look chagrined. The director sat back.

“So, what do you need? Are you still having issues with that Gaylord order?”

“Naw, I talked to them last week, they shipped it out yesterday. Finally.” She rolled her eyes. “Robert Lancaster called me just a bit ago, wanting to donate some items to the museum. I got the time, so I’ll head to Saugatuck tomorrow to handle it.”

“Well, I know Robert is quite the collector, but do you think there are things we’ll want? I’m hard pressed to start accepting any old thing again after we finally got the collections cleared up and decluttered. I know he’s a long-time supporter of the museum, but I don’t know if I can take another ugly piece of furniture with a smile.” Rosemary laughed at the comment.

“To his credit, he said there were things we probably wouldn’t want, and I doubt he’ll be sad if I said no to some things. I certainly want to see what books he’s got for us. We have a few things in the library that probably need to be rotated out into archives for their own protection.

“Besides, I am not going to pass up a chance to swoop in and yank the rug out from underneath Saugatuck. You know that. Watching Fred get mad that I got the leg up on him adds ten years to my life.” Rosemary rubbed her hands gleefully, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“You really hate him, don’t you?” Helen laughed. Lake Michigan History Center was a charming coastal museum, but everyone agreed their curator was a bit odd. Rosemary took an instant dislike to the man when she came on Fort Jamison’s staff and over the years, their dislike turned into a mutual hatred. Like her friendship with Robert, everyone knew Fred was Rosemary’s mortal enemy and vice versa.

“God, yes! Helen, he’s a dick and greedy as hell. I don’t trust him any further than I can toss his skinny ass. I am still pissed over the diary! Mrs. Greenwich assured me that we were getting it and he slithered into the village last year and took it!” Rosemary’s voice got louder. “THAT DAMN DIARY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SAUGATUCK, LET ALONE MENTIONS IT!”

Helen laughed harder while raising her hands in surrender and her curator stopped herself before she got too carried away. Rosemary cleared her throat and drew a deep breath. Ugh, he always managed to get her riled up even when he wasn’t around. Damn Fred.

“Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t let him get me so mad, but god. I hate him so much! So, if Robert Lancaster’s got something that would make Fred die with envy, then by god, I’m gonna bring it home.”

“Alright. I trust you as usual. But since you’re here, I want to go over a couple of things with you for this grant so I can get it out Friday.”

The two women moved on to other things and fell into discussion about the future of projects for the museum and how to fund them.

---***---

“Cripes.”

The word was accompanied by a deep groan. Agent Marcus Pike sat back in his chair to rub his eyes for the third time in less than an hour. Some intern had dumped four boxes of case files in his office and was coming back with four more. And the intern was certain there was another half dozen.

When three art pieces were stolen in Canada last year, Pike had been notified as a courtesy from his Canadian counterparts. Which in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but the notes from the agents there stood out to Pike and he realized that the details match another case he had worked on earlier in the year. And further digging uncovered almost three dozen cases dating back almost thirty years that carried all the hallmarks of this most recent one. And more importantly – they were all still open.

He had taken his concerns and theories to the Art Squad chief, Agent Maria Luisa Armand, and with her blessing, assembled a crew to explore these cold cases. Maybe with new technology and eyes, they’d get the lead to solve them all.

The dull throbbing behind his eyes seemed to get worse and he leaned further back in his chair, trying to do some breathing exercises to reduce the pressure. He let his eyes go unfocused, letting the colored light reflected on his ceiling go blurry. The stained glass propped up in his office window had been a bit of an indulgence for him, but Pike never regretted the purchase and, in that moment, the colored streaks help bring some sense of zen that he needed.

A knock on his door forced him out of his zone and he sat up to see his partner, Brenda Carmichael, waiting at the door. He smiled when he saw her and she returned the gesture, coming in to sit in one of the chairs. The two had been partners for six years and together they had solved dozens of cases and thwarted twice as much.

“Do we have a plan, Carmichael?”

“Yep. Someone is coming to get these boxes and take them to Conference D, which I commandeered.”

“How did you do that?”

“Threatened to tell Harrison’s wife that he was spending big cash on that escort he’s seeing.”

“Ouch, a little low, don’t you think?” Pike laughed.

“God no. Harrison doesn’t ever play nice, so you can’t do it with him.” She waived her hand and laughed, her tightly coiled hair bouncing as if it was laughing, too. “Anyway, three junior agents are on the job currently preparing to create the timeline and pulling all the files. Two more are working to create point of contact lists for witnesses and such. And finally, I think Armand is putting on the coffee.”

“So where does that leave you and me?” He didn’t think he’d get such a big crew to do this. Must be a slow day in other departments. “I want Fitzbender on the NSAF search and follow up, though, before I forget.

“That’s fine. And we supervise.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it for now. Until we have more material to work with. So up off your duff and let’s get going.”

Pike smiled as he pulled himself out of his chair, grabbing his jacket and gesturing to Carmichael to leave first. If they could solve these cases, it would be the biggest win in the Art Squad’s recent history and Pike really wanted to bring those pieces home where they belonged.

---***----

“Robert, you know I love you, but you have some ugly stuff here.” Rosemary’s nose wrinkled at the stuffed monkey with murderous eyes staring at her from a box. The only place that creepy thing was going was in the garbage. She moved on to another open box, pawing through the items that were housed there, pulling out a couple of potentials.

“Yeah, well no accounting for taste, I guess.” Robert groaned as he leaned over and pulled open another box. He thought he had labelled all of them for the museum, but he realized three of them got mixed up in the junk pile. “God, how did I miss all these boxes. I’m sorry Rosie, I am usually better organized.”

“It’s not a problem, Robert.” Rosemary walked over with the contents of yet another box, a bounce in her step as she realized she snagged a two-hundred-year-old map of the area that Fred would have murdered her to get for himself. Her grin was almost feral at the idea that she one upped the old bastard. “Hey, question.”

“What?” Robert had moved on to a small box on his desk that had a post-it with Rosemary’s name on it.

“What’s with all the cleaning and giving away all of a sudden? The house wasn’t like this when I visited two months ago.” She wiped the sweat off her brow and turned to look at him. He was quiet and she took a moment to really look at him.

She knew from long talks that Robert had been living in the Saugatuck area since the 1990s. He had come from Chicago, declaring he needed a slower pace and his bookstore was a welcomed addition to the downtown area. He was highly philanthropic to causes he loved, like the Fort Jamison museum.

After her Pops passed away several years ago, she seemed to lean even more into Robert to fill the empty void and he did so gladly. As she watched him shuffle about, she grew concerned because he looked more frail than usual. The man had always been on the thin side, but he looked scarily thin and a thought skittered through her mind that sent a wave of sadness through her.

“Robert, are you sick?” There was no hiding the sadness in Rosemary’s voice. When he stopped and hesitated, she didn’t need a verbal answer from him. She walked over from where she was standing and placed her hand on his shoulder, turning him around. “Robert.”

He bowed his head and wrapped his arms around the younger woman as tight as he could, and she did the same. He began to cry on her shoulder, and it startled her, causing tears to form in her eyes. She silently rubbed his back in comforting circles as sobs wracked Robert’s body. They stood there a long time before he quieted down, but even then, Rosemary refused to let him go, hugging him close to her.

He was her friend and she loved him dearly, so if he were dying, it would devastate her. Robert made a move to pull back and she reluctantly let him go but held onto his arms with her hands to keep him close. His red-rimmed eyes crushed the broken pieces of her heart. He sighed.

“Rosie.” He took a deep breath. “I met with my doctor last week and I have stage four pancreatic cancer. He only gave me a few months to live.”

“Oh Robert.” The tears started up again and she threw her arms around him. They cried together a second time and the sadness enveloped them. As she held him close, her tears made her voice rough. “That’s what spurred this on, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But you’re the only one to know right now. I didn’t want to tell anyone else until you knew.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Well, for starters, this hug is pretty good.” He chuckled a little bit. “And get some of this stuff out of my house. And then just be my friend until the end.”

“Always.” She pulled back to look at him. “But it will be a cold day in hell before that ugly ass monkey comes with me.”

The tension and sadness were broken, letting them laugh a bit through their tears. They stepped apart and let themselves smile at each other.

“Let’s get lunch and come back to this stuff later. It’s too nice of a day to miss out on the patio.”

#Agent Marcus Pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #the mentalist

33 notes · View notes

skvaderarts · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Here’s my yearly Christmas fic if your interested! I love all the art you’ve been posting! Repost with links to your art and fics! Let’s make a thread!

Gathered for Greetings

I’m going to end up writing a Christmas fic every year, aren’t I? That’s okay. I just hope that next year I’m no literally writing it on Christmas day! Curse you, procrastination!

-~-

When they’d received the invites in the mail, they’d been skeptical.

Togetherness wasn’t something that none of them were used to, but it was something that they were willing to play at, if only because of the simply apocalyptic year that they’d all had thus far. Due to obvious circumstances, the majority of them had little to no experience with planning holiday events, let alone even attending them, but that wasn’t going to stop them from trying. In a strange turn of events, Nero and Kyrie were probably the most well acquainted with how holiday parties worked due to the addition of the orphans a short while back, but even then they had never thrown a party. After all, there weren’t exactly a lot of people they could invite, and they didn’t have a very spacious living area. Try as they might, there was only so much that they could do, especially on their limited finances.

But there was one unexpected additional point of intrigue that made this particular holiday get together a bit more interesting than it already seemed to be at first glance, and that was the setting that it was set to take place in. That, and who’s idea it was in the first place. Towards the start of the holiday season, V had approached Nero with a very much out of character proposition:

“... I think we should do something this year… at my house.”

Nero remembered looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Had V lost his mind? From what he knew about his generally socially challenged sibling, this particular request seemed like something he’d come up with after a particularly traumatic head injury or as the result of a late-night cheese binge. Was he caught in the middle of some kind of irreverent fever dream?

“Why do you wanna do that? I thought you hated parties.”

V had looked away from him, obviously uncomfortable with the reality that he was now going to have to explain what he was thinking. He’d figured that he’d more than likely have to do that, but that reality did little the quince the feeling of unease that he felt in the pit of his stomach. Voluntary honesty was difficult, especially when it forced him to speak on matters that he could frankly do without digging out of the lower recesses of his mind. He’d prefer to keep his problems buried deep, and this certainly counted as a problem, but he’d brought this up, so he was going to follow through.

“You’re correct, I do… but this is the first time I’ve ever had a family to actually commemorate the occasion with, and as such, the first time I…” he paused for a second, looking down at the floor with an earnest look of sadness.” I’ve never actually celebrated Christmas. Ever. Even as a child. I was hoping to change that.”

So naturally, not being a heartless psychopath, Nero couldn’t turn down such a heartfelt plea, especially from such a close member of his family. It was rare for V to ask for anything, and after the frankly hellish few months they’d had since his resurrection, he couldn’t think of a logical reason to dismiss his idea. He’d had an opportunity once or twice to do something for the holidays once he’d met Kyrie’s wonderful family as a younger child, but the idea of literally never doing anything for it at all… It actually hurt his heart a little to imagine that. Aside from cultural or even religious reasons, how on earth did that even happen?!

That was a question for another day. If his older sibling wanted to have his house destroyed by their extended family, then he was happy to help him in that regard. So in the last days leading up to Christmas, Nero, Kyrie, and Nico had brought the children over and they had spent several long hours decorating, wrapping gifts, and generally trying to keep V from having a protracted anxiety attack from the prospect of having everyone they knew at his house. Planning it was one thing, but actually doing it was another thing entirely, and he’d never been the best at long periods of social interaction. It drained his social battery to even think about it.

“Do you think they’re actually going to come over? Hell, do they even like Christmas? They barely like each other!” Nero shouted down to V over his shoulder as he shrugged and secured the last of the lights over a doorway. He was dead tired of climbing this ladder, and he hoped that the architects that built the place and decided that it needed close to fifteen-foot ceilings were burning in hell right now. But if he ever saw V climb a ladder again, he was going to have an anxiety attack.” I can’t see our old man even being the festive type. Maybe Dante but…”

He shrugged, fussing over the bottom of the gigantic Christmas tree that Lady and Trish had brought over early that morning. Where they had managed to find a real twelve-foot tall tree on Christmas day was anyone’s guess. It was probably Morrison’s handiwork, considering the fact that he’d helped them bring it over in the first place. That man could find ice in hell. Lady and Morrison were in the kitchen with Kyrie and Magnolia. They were helping taste things while the two of them finished up the last of the cooking. V had helped them cook a short while before deciding to turn his attention to the entirely bare tree. Three people in one kitchen was a bit of a crowd, but considering the fact that this had once been Magnolia’s family home, not inviting her would have been extraordinarily unkind. In an ironic twist, he’d managed to find ornaments but nothing to actually put them on. How fortunate that they’d arrived when they did.

Nico and Trish were on either side of the tree, attempting to help him get the last few ornaments on and clean up the bristles that had fallen on the tree skirt. As it turned out, V was actually horribly allergic to pine needles. They made him break out in an extremely itchy rash, a fact that he’d gone his entire life without knowing due to the fact that he’d literally never gone near a pine tree. It made the process of hanging ornaments slow and slightly nervewracking, to say the least. He imagined that this was what it would feel like to try and decorate poison oak.

“I’d imagine that they have mixed feelings about this time of year, to say the least. It more than likely brings up unfortunate memories.” He stepped away from the tree and allowed himself to slump over on the couch. All this standing didn’t agree with him.” Admittedly, I was pleasantly surprised when Dante agreed to come over. Even more so when he called back only a short while later to inform me that Vergil would be following suit. I suspect there was violence involved in that negotiation.”

Trish scoffed slightly, trying and failing not to laugh.” Oh, I’m sure there was. I don’t think either of them like parties. It’s one of the few things they agree on!”

With a relieved sigh, Nero climbed down from the ladder, thoroughly done with hanging things.” Sorry, but those are gonna have to stay up until next year. No way I’m going back up there.”

V nodded, equally tired and ready to get started with the festivities..” Agreed. It is quite a hassle. Thank you all for tolerating my request. It seems that none of us particularly enjoy large gatherings or decorating for that matter. I’m flattered that you would do so for my sake at your own expense.”

Everyone present waived him off nonchalantly. None of them minded on this one occasion. It was a welcome moment of normality in their entirely supernatural lives, and they couldn’t say that those happened very often.

“Yea, well as long as this goes better than that damn beach trip, I think we’ll all be just fine.” Nico said as she walked towards the kitchen with a bag full of pine needles.” Now don’t touch that godforsaken tree again or I’ll skin you all alive. I’m tired of cleaning!”

An awkward silence washed over the room as they thought about that trip. It had been a stressful year, hadn’t it? Between that and Belial… “yea, well if you aim low, you can’t be disappointed, can ya? That’s how I talk myself out of bed every day.!”

They all turned in the direction of the doorway, surprised to see who had spoken. Standing before them were Dante and Vergil, the two of them seemingly taking in the surprisingly festive atmosphere. It had been Lady’s idea to play Christmas music. She’d even brought over wine for the occasion. She was perhaps the most excited person there besides Magnolia and the children who were playing in the next room over with Lucia. Getting the redheaded guardian there in time had been nothing short of a logistical nightmare, but they had pulled it off nonetheless. Even Matier had managed to come over for the occasion, no doubt surprised to be invited in the first place. There were still a few stragglers who would be coming later on such as Patty, but the number of people who had agreed to come in the first place was enough for V.

Much to their collective surprise and disbelief, V actually laughed at that statement. It was a sentiment that he honestly had to agree with. It was rare that V actually agreed with Dante on something so wholeheartedly, but this was one of those occasions.” You make a valid point, Dante. I suppose I’m just glad you both came.”

Dante and Vergil almost seemed flattered by the statement, unsure of what to really say. It had taken quite a bit for them to talk themselves into coming over, but seeing everyone there wasn’t something they expected and as such, they were a little unsure of where to start. But they were willing to try, and that was what counted, wasn’t it?

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Looking notably uncomfortable, Vergil glanced in the direction of the tree. It had been a long time since he’d seen one of those… It brought back vague but vibrant memories he thought he’d lost to the void of despair that was his life a lifetime ago. Perhaps actually attempting to make a few new ones wasn’t such an awful idea after all.

“... Thank you for inviting us.”

With that statement, the entire room fell strangely silent again, everyone collectively surprised to hear Vergil say something so… agreeable. It was a nice change of pace. One could only assume that he was genuinely pleased to be included in something like this, but it was hard to tell. They had no point of reference. But if the barely concealed look of surprised pleasure on Dante’s face was anything to go off of, they had done something right.

It was Nero’s turn to break the silence. He was admittedly starting to get hungry, and he was sure the children were probably driving Lucia insane in the next room. It was actually time to celebrate.” Anytime. Now let’s go eat. Kyrie and V were cooking and magnolia brought over desert again.”

Dante practically teleported into the kitchen.” Well, hell you shoulda started there! Speak up next time!”

Vergil shook his head and followed after him at a much slower pace. He was in much less of a hurry to get to the kitchen. He hadn’t really come there for the food.” At least he’s eating something besides pizza.”

Nero and V nodded in agreement. The holidays were supposed to be about the little things. It was about time they went and enjoyed them. After all, it wasn’t every day that they all got to spend time together without it being a life or death situation. They were going to savor that. Well, that and the food. The food was probably going to be amazing.

-~-

Thanks for reading this little holiday fic that I threw together! You’ll all see how this ties into the main story once we get there in Hirathe. I thought you might like this. Happy Holidays everyone! See you on New Years! I hope next year is a little better!

3 notes · View notes

route22ny · 5 years ago

Photo

(In the previous post I referred to Mr Gallagher’s book Reimagining Detroit. In looking for a bio to link his name to, I discovered he was retiring and had written an open farewell letter to the city in December. I’ll put the entire text & photos where possible into this post.)

***

Dear Detroiters,

After 32 years covering this city and state for the Detroit Free Press, today marks my final column. For a lot of reasons I’ve decided this is a good time to move on to my next chapter.

But I’m not leaving Detroit and I’m not hanging up my keyboard. I’ll continue to write in a variety of ways — more books, perhaps blogging and podcasts, and otherwise I'll be engaging with this fascinating city and its people in a bunch of new ways.

I thank my editors and my colleagues for their support during my career here at the Free Press. And I thank you, my readers, who over the years have shared this amazing city with me. You’ve responded to my work by turns complimentary and critical, encouraging and scathing, but never dull.

This job has given me a front-row seat into one of the world’s great urban dramas — the resurrection of a once-powerhouse city brought low by the scourges of racism, suburban sprawl and factory closings. Whether you agree or disagree that Detroit has made progress in recent years, you have to admit that the range of effort here has been nothing short of remarkable. Not for nothing is Detroit known as an urban laboratory for the world’s struggling cities.

The work of reimagining a Detroit after the fall has been the focus of my work for many years. So today, let me try to sum up what I think we’ve learned.

The free-fall years

When I joined the Free Press in 1987, the city of Detroit was still in free fall. Decades of factory closings, years of of flight to the suburbs, a dismal legacy of racism and its effects, had drained the city of residents, jobs and political clout. A population of about 1 million would drop at least another 300,000 in years to come. Anchor employers like Comerica decamped their headquarters to the Sunbelt.

Perhaps the low point was the case of Malice Green in 1992, when two white cops during an arrest beat Green, a black suspect, to death with flashlights. The case exposed all of Detroit’s woes and seemed to give the lie to any notion of progress on race or any other matters.

Two neighborhood boys walk past the Malice Green memorial at Warren and 23rd Street in Detroit in 1997. (Craig Porter, Detroit Free Press)

And more disappointments were to come. Michigan would sink into its “Lost Decade” in 2001 when the state began to shed jobs every year for 10 years in a row. Those who predicted a quick turnaround were proved wrong again and again. It was no normal business cycle but, as University of Michigan economist Donald Grimes told me for a 2018 article, the long-overdue reaction to the vanished market share of the Detroit Three automakers.

"That was a permanent adjustment of the auto industry to the loss of its monopoly power," Grimes said. "We'll never get back to where we were in the year 2000."

And then came the Great Recession of 2007-2009. Short of an atom bomb going off here, it’s hard to image a worse calamity for the city. The collapse of the subprime mortgage market, the devastation wreaked by the Wayne County tax foreclosure auction, the implosion of home values, all but finished off Detroit.

The Great Recession turned Detroit from a city of homeowners to a city of renters. It wiped out a generation of black family wealth that we are yet to recover. And it led inexorably to the city’s municipal bankruptcy of 2013-14.

The first hints of recovery

But even amid the losses and abandonment, some early shoots of recovery were showing.

For years, Detroiters were turning vacant lots into urban farms. There were hundreds of small community gardens and several larger farms like Earthworks and RecoveryPark on the east side, the D-Town Farm led by Malik Yakini of the Detroit Black Community Food Security Network on the west side, and the Michigan Urban Farming Initiative in New Center.

This repurposing of vacant and abandoned land for productive use first drew the attention of the world and began to inch Detroit’s reputation from Rust Belt failure to that of a city reinventing itself.

Then, too, a city government too broken and dysfunctional to do all it should began to spin off some of its operations into innovative conservancies, nonprofit corporations and public authorities. These spin-offs were hotly contested each time but ultimately proved remarkably successful.

Under these new management models, Eastern Market transformed from a faded and failing operation to the lively marketplace we see today. Cobo Center, now renamed the TCF Center, was once so poorly run by the city that it almost lost the annual auto show. Once spun off into a regional authority in 2009, the convention center transformed into the gem we see today with its soaring riverfront atrium and a ballroom that is one of the city’s best venues.

The nonprofit Detroit Riverfront Conservancy built and manages the RiverWalk. Ditto the lively Campus Martius Park, built by another conservancy and managed today by the Downtown Detroit Partnership on behalf of the city. The Detroit Historical Museum, the Detroit Institute of Arts, the city’s workforce development agency, the Detroit Land Bank Authority, and, most controversially, Belle Isle itself, all improved, often dramatically, once spun off from direct city control into some new form of management.

Mina Powell of Southfield skips rope at Eastern Market before the 2018 Ford Fireworks in Detroit on Monday, June 25, 2018. (Cameron Pollack, Cameron Pollack, Detroit Free Press)

And in this process, philanthropic foundations played a key role. The Community Foundation for Southeast Michigan has been a leader in building greenways like the Dequindre Cut. The Kresge Foundation contributed tens of millions of dollars to the RiverWalk and other efforts. The Ford Foundation was a lead contributor to the Grand Bargain that made the city’s trip through bankruptcy a success.

It would hard to imagine Detroit’s recent progress without the work of these and many other foundations. And the foundations weren’t the only nonprofits to take a leading role.

Neighborhood community development organizations like the Southwest Detroit Business Association, Eastside Community Network, U-Snap-Bac, and, perhaps most successfully, Midtown Detroit Inc. under its longtime leader Sue Mosey, led the recovery in their districts. These community groups and their staffers worked when no one else seemed to care, often for years, often alone.

And beginning in the early 2000s the city’s economy began to slowly evolve from the heavy-industry model of the past to a more entrepreneurial ecosystem. Entrepreneurship gave Detroiters a new path to remake their lives.

There was a former Chrysler line worker named April Anderson whose dream of becoming a baker led to Good Cakes and Bakes, one of the city’s leading suppliers of sweets. Roslyn Karamoko’s Detroit is the New Black apparel shop, the StockX sneaker exchange, and hundreds of other startups showed that there was indeed economic life in the city, after all.

Detroit’s municipal bankruptcy, and the 2010 move by Dan Gilbert of his Quicken Loans downtown, with Gilbert's rapid remaking of the downtown core, were major steps that have gotten a lot of the credit for the city's comeback to date. But I think we cannot underestimate the importance of the urban farmers, the spin-offs, the foundations, the neighborhood activists, and the entrepreneurs in reinventing Detroit.

And along the way there were milestones of recovery once thought unattainable. Both the long-dormant Book-Cadillac Hotel and the defunct Michigan Central Station stood for years as international symbols of the city's failure. Both at times were recommended for demolition. But the Book-Cadillac reopened to fanfare in 2008 and Ford today is turning the train station into its future center of mobility research.

Setbacks aplenty

To be sure, the work has been long and tedious, beset by setbacks at every turn.

Rebuilding a city already built upon for 300 years means dealing with a legacy of debris just beneath the surface. When the Orleans Landing project by McCormack Baron Salazar on the riverfront east of the Renaissance Center started to dig foundations a few years ago, crews uncovered sewer lines that according to city maps shouldn’t have been there.

As another developer joked about his project building a medical warehouse in New Center, “We dug up everything but Jimmy Hoffa.”

Facing these and other challenges, almost every project takes longer than we think it should. When the Police Athletic League was planning what became the Willie Horton Field of Dreams at the site of the old Tiger Stadium, it discovered a regulation that a public playfield couldn’t be landlocked by other development on all sides as was planned for the perimeter of the site. So lawyers had to work out a solution to solve that problem. It worked, but the process that burned up several more weeks of time.

Problems so complex

Or take mortgage lending. Detroit is a city so financially broken that a normal mortgage market here almost didn’t exist until just recently. Thousands of houses do change hands each year, but mostly through cash sales or land contracts, a financially risky way for a buyer to get a home.

The dearth of market rate mortgages reflects the legacy of racism and redlining that scarred Detroit and many other older urban centers at mid-20th century. But even bankers who admitted their past mistakes and tried to infuse more capital into the mortgage system here found that it was no simple matter.

With the Detroit skyline in the background, several empty lots sit on the corner of Park Ave and Sibley in the Cass Corridor. There are still many undeveloped sites despite the empowerment zone being in Detroit since 1994. (Eric Seals, Detroit Free Press)

In Detroit, a potential buyer might have saved enough for a down payment but not enough for the repairs that would make a house move-in ready and eligible for a market-rate mortgage. Or an annual income that might support a mortgage in most cases might not be enough once student debt or child-care expenses were added to a borrower’s burden.

Low appraisals, lack of public transit for residents to get to jobs, food or housing insecurity — all these could hold back efforts to create a thriving mortgage market in the city.

As Janis Bowdler, president of the JPMorgan Chase Foundation, told me earlier this year, "As we've been sleeves rolled up, working in the community, we're learning over and over how multifaceted the challenge is. It's not just a supply of mortgage capital or a matter of producing enough credit-worthy borrowers. It's much more complex."

Working the problem

Detroit's mortgage lenders, and civic and nonprofit leaders, have worked hard to overcome these challenges. As they've counseled home-buyers and come up with innovative approaches to housing, the number of mortgage loans made in Detroit has been rising from almost none 10 years ago to more than 1,000 a year today. But clearly we still have a long way to go.

Earlier this year I wrote about Detroiter Jomica Miller, 43, a cashier working at 36th District Court. She had hoped to buy her parents' home after her father died but found it had been sold out from under them at the annual Wayne County tax foreclosure auction. She also found her past credit history presented a problem for lenders. She had student loans she was slowly paying off and a past bankruptcy on her record.

Jomica Miller stands in front of her house she recently purchased on Detroit's northwest side on Tuesday, March 12, 2019. (Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)

"I actually started my process in 2017," she said. "Nobody wanted to work with me because my credit was so bad. I didn't know where to start."

Through credit counseling and perseverance for more than a year, she eventually was able to buy a house in the Marygrove district on the city's northwest side with an FHA-backed mortgage. The house is one of four that were part of the Fitz Forward project that has gotten mortgages closed in the Fitzgerald neighborhood. Fitz Forward is the initiative led by Century Partners and The Platform to rehab houses in the district.

"I almost gave up, but I had some great people in my corner," she said. "Don't give up."

Grind it out

So if the problems are complex, so, too, are the solutions. A week ago Mayor Mike Duggan and other leaders announced a $10 million gift from the Ralph C. Wilson Jr. Foundation to the city’s Strategic Neighborhood Fund. The fund works in 10 specific neighborhoods on streetscape improvements, new and rehabbed housing, retail readiness and other improvements.

But if it sounded like a simple transfer of funds from the foundation to ready-to-go projects, it wasn’t. The money flows through Invest Detroit, a mission-based nonprofit lender that has worked overtime in recent years to generate new investment in the city’s neighborhoods. Speaking at the announcement, Dave Blaszkiewicz, president of Invest Detroit, noted that it took the coordinated efforts of multiple departments and agencies to make the work possible.

Without question, the complexity of the problems and the difficulty of coordinating solutions has held back Detroit’s efforts at recovery. But the good news — the really good news — is that Detroit in recent years has gotten so much better at working that magic.

Whether it’s city planners, the foundation staffs, bankers or neighborhood activists, more and more of these players have learned to reduce the barriers and make a complex system of investment work.

Try everything and keep trying

Does that system sometimes favor corporate interests to the detriment of ordinary Detroiters? Perhaps. Do we still sometimes see well-meaning efforts result in nothing much? Sure. Are there still problems that we have barely begun to touch? Certainly.

But the overall impact of Detroit’s recovery efforts — efforts by thousands of committed people working across a broad range of activities, from workforce training to urban farming to education and transit, these efforts have slowly inched Detroit forward. And the city is better for it.

There’s a saying that “nothing works but everything might.” It means that there is no silver-bullet solution to our problems. But if we work across a hundred different fields, making progress in each one, those efforts will add up to something greater than the sum of the parts. That’s the approach Detroit has taken and must continue to take.

There’s a story from the American Civil War that I like. A new regiment came up to the battlefront and its colonel asked the general commanding where they should go in. “Why, go in anywhere,” the general replied. “There is lovely fighting all along the line.”

And so in Detroit. If you want a to-do list to take away from this column, work on whatever holds your interest. We need progress on public safety and education, but we also need to work on transit and child care and vacant buildings and entrepreneurship and any of a hundred other fields. Take your pick, and get busy.

It’s a long and difficult task. But that shouldn’t faze a city with a gritty work ethic like Detroit's.

And so, onward

Detroit’s story is so varied, with so much conflicting evidence of progress or lack of it, that even today one can lean toward either optimism or despair. I choose hope. I believe with Dr. King that the arc of the moral universe is long but that it bends toward justice. And I hold with the message of Irish poet Seamus Heaney whose words about his homeland echo for me in Detroit:

History says, don't hope

On this side of the grave.

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

So much work lies ahead of us. And in that task, I'll be there. Though I won’t be writing as a Free Press columnist, I will be writing about Detroit in other ways, and engaging in the life of this community in new ways yet to come. I’m looking forward to that.

See you around.

(John Gallagher is a native of New York City who joined the Free Press in 1987 to cover urban and economic development. He is a resident of the city for many years. He is the author of several books including "Reimagining Detroit: Opportunities for Redefining an American City" and "Yamasaki in Detroit: A Search for Serenity." He was a 2017 inductee into the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame.)

https://www.freep.com/in-depth/money/business/john-gallagher/2019/12/19/reporter-john-gallagher-retires-detroit/2685362001/

***

The bio of Gallagher I mentioned in the intro is here; there are also links to a number of his more recent articles about the city and related issues.

#detroit michigan #john gallagher #urban reinvention #journalism

25 notes · View notes

hillbillyhippiemusicreview · 4 years ago

Text

Post #63, MarDe Brooks--Running Out of Time

Reviewed by Lyssa Culbertson

“Way back on the radio dial The fire got lit inside a bright-eyed child Every note just wrapped around his soul From steel guitars, to Memphis, all the way to rock and roll” -Eli Young Band

Every time I hear “Even If It Breaks Your Heart” by the Eli Young Band pass through my playlist, my mind cannot help but wander to the trajectory HHMR alum MarDe Brooks has had over the past couple of years. It is impressive what an ample amount of hard work, determination, faith, and if we are honest, an iota of craziness will manifest when it comes to chasing dreams. If you are unfamiliar with MarDe’s story, let me fill you in:

The Alabama born and bred singer-songwriter recently released his debut album, Running Out of Time, after a lifetime of desire to share his musical gifts with the world. Perhaps the album title is a nod to the notion of growing older and time slipping away, leaving you with no choice but to shelve your dreams or take a chance and live them with all you’ve got—but MarDe need not worry. With the impeccable artistry he possesses and a knack for heartfelt, honest songwriting, we’ll be hearing more out of him for years to come. With an practically permanent smile as wide as the Rio Grande and an electric energy radiating from him every time he steps on stage, he possesses an often unmatched zeal for his work that will surely keep him on everyone’s radar. His sound is as eclectic as he is, and that is the utmost compliment in my book. As I said in the review of his first single, “Memories,” MarDe cannot be caged by a genre, for this powerhouse of a songbird sings to the tune of whatever is in his heart—whether that’s a slow sentimental ballad about life on the road, or a rockin’ up-tempo song about love gone wrong. Running Out of Time has something to love for everyone, but odds are you’ll love it from the beginning of the “Memories” you’ll make whilst listening, to the last “Curtain Call.” Answering the desires of his soul to create his own original music, the collection of ten songs were written and composed in just under a year, and within the next year the record was recorded and MarDe hit the highway sharing his stories with anyone who would listen. On September 11, 2020, he added fuel to the fire that got lit inside the bright-eyed child of his youth when he debuted his first album to the world.

When listening to this record both as a whole and dissecting each individual song, it’s quite easy to hear the various musical influences that have helped shape MarDe into the artist he is. However, he infuses those notes of blues, old time rock-and-roll, country, southern rock, folk, and more into sound all his own. The first track on the record, “Memories,” incorporates all of these styles in a up-beat tune set against a bit of a dark subject matter. A failed relationship takes its toll and leads to self-destruction, but if you only listen to the melody, you wouldn’t have a clue. I love how MarDe plays a lyrical and musical trick on the listener’s ear on this one, and it was a solid first choice for a single release, as it showcases both his songwriting ability and musicality. Heading to the opposite end of the romantic spectrum, the next track, “Slow Time,” is a beautiful ballad that will transport you back to a time to when life ran at a slower pace, perhaps on the riverbank next to a loved one watching the summer clouds roll in, where nothing but the love you were in mattered. Speaking of rolling in, “I’ve Got Memphis” is one of the standouts on the record, as it details the feelings of a traveling musician counting the miles wearing on both the road and his soul. As a music lover with a heavy dose of Gypsy in my soul, when MarDe sings “Oklahoma calls out to me, and I miss that Kentucky high, I’d love to stay in Alabama, but I’ve got Memphis tomorrow night,” it resonates with me on a spiritual level. I love the sound of four wheels spinning down an open highway, but occasionally every mile marker makes me weary and I just want to be home, though there’s always another show down the road and work to be done. It’s a sentimental tune about the highs and lows of this life and is just so powerful. Track number four, “Down the Road,” happens to be one of my favorites off the record—it’s a total jam with an infectious groove that just won’t let go, much like how he bemuses the difficulty of letting go of his beloved and moving on in the tune. The way he once again juxtaposes an upbeat melody with a somewhat somber subject matter intrigued me from the first verse of the song, and I was hooked. We’ve all been there—in love with someone that it kills us to let go of, though we know we’re better off leaving them in our rearview. I admire how MarDe can write about real life situations with such clarity and cleverness.

As evidenced by the previous tracks mentioned, MarDe has such a versatile voice where one moment he can have you high on life singing along and the next morose and feeling every bit of heartache his vocals are seeped with on a song like “Home,” one of the most compelling works on the album. The imagery is quite vivid, as you can easily picture the man in the song with his “hands on the sink, face down to the floor” ruminating over his life. As I’ve listened to this song, it dawned on me that the character in the song was not simply speaking to a lost lover, but to the man in the mirror as well, because all too often we can break our own hearts by our choices with the aid of the demons we face. For many, alcohol can be one of those demons; however, as shown by MarDe’s joyful vibes in “Fifth by Noon,” sometimes it can be just the cure a man needs to patch up a broken heart. This tune is my favorite to see performed live because of the energy MarDe harnesses as he brings the song to life. A little ditty about the healing powers found in a fifth of your favorite whisky and good friends, the line “everything will be alright if I down a fifth by noon” has the possibility to become an adage for centuries to come. Likely not the wisest piece of advice, but one most can certainly empathize with if we’re honest. When he sings “I used to lay you down like Conway at night, but now you’re out there girl and you’re making different music tonight, so here’s an idea, why don’t you stay, yeah that’s where you made you made your bed and that’s where you can lay” it’s loud and clear how he feels about the woman in question—and I’m absolutely here for it. Such a killer, feisty verse that makes me cackle as I belt it out every time! The guitar solo prefacing the semi-acapella portion of the song backed by a chorus of voices and a drumline are my favorite parts of the song because it drives the point home and is so fun to jam out to.

Reflecting back on the record to this point, it’s easy to see the thematic presence of sorrow woven throughout the lyrics. Despite the best efforts we tend to put into anything in life, what we deserve is not always what the universe sends our way. Track number seven, “Earned,” is a prime lyrical example of that fact, especially in relation to futile relationships we may feel that we got the short end of the stick in, so to speak, because “even if you do things the right way, you don’t always get what is earned.” A heart is a fragile thing, and love is even more delicate, as heard in “On My Way.” MarDe croons “rules are made to be broken, but hearts aren’t the same, so many words left unspoken, could have silenced the pain” to a lover he’s leaving behind—and that is such a poignant line about the importance of communication. Quite frequently, it’s the words we do not say that could salvage important connections or bring closure to difficult goodbyes. His voice is soft and melodic on this tune, highlighting every bit of emotion involved, notably when he sings in the bridge “I couldn’t see through the flames when I promised my life, but all that smoke cleared just in time.” Every time I hear that particular lyric a single tear escapes my eye because I’ve lived that line and the emotions connected are just so painful—It hurts so good.

Although words sometimes possess the power to save relationships, they also have the power to destroy them. In the case of “Liar,” MarDe appears to be addressing a friend or mentor, rather than a past lover. “Your lies won’t let you tell the truth, you looked down on me, I looked up to you, you dig your hole try to pull me in the ground, you had your chance but it’s all over now”—WOW. In spite of the rather calm melody, the anger and disappointment boils over in every verse of this good riddance themed song, as he’s “on [his] way to the top now, and you can’t slow [him] down.” I often lightheartedly—but seriously—joke that people should not do wrong by a songwriter, because a song will inevitably be written about the offense, and “Liar” is a prime example of that, tying into the seemingly autobiographical journey MarDe details in the final song on the record, aptly titled “Curtain Call.” It’s a beautiful summation of his ride from the aforementioned bright-eyed dreamer of his youth to the man he is now, steadily achieving lifelong goals—while the highs and lows ebbed and flowed and it wasn’t always easy, the journey was without a doubt worth it, as evidenced by the quality and ultimate success of his first release.

MarDe either wrote or co-wrote every song on Running Out of Time and rounded up a group of gifted musicians to record the album at Rose City Recording in Charleston, WV with producer Greg McGowan. With a heavy dose of the keys, the lead/rhythm guitar, mandolin, violin, bass, drums, and pedal steel played by (in no particular order) musicians Jerimiah Hatfield, Joey Lafferty, Mark Cline Bates, Jeremy “Wood” Roberts, Eric Robbins, David McGuire, Molly Lynn Page, Travis Egnor, and MarDe himself, this record is a unique work of art, reflective of the array of musical styles that encompass the artist MarDe Brooks is. The support from background vocalists Ritch Henderson, Eric Robbins, Jerimiah Hatfield, and Mark Cline Bates adds a spark to each track they are featured on. My only critique of the record is that you cannot truly hear the extent of the passion and range MarDe possesses behind his vocals, as that essence can only be captured live—which is why you must catch him a live show, soon! You can find tour dates, merch, and other important info at www.mardebrooks.com, or you can follow him on Facebook at MarDe Brooks and on Instagram at @mardebrooksmusic.

Peace, love, & music,

Lyssa

————————

*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated for this review.

*The opinions expressed are solely that of the author(s).

*These images are not ours, nor do we claim them in any way. They are copyrighted by MarDe Brooks & Jimbo Valentine of Amalgam United.

1 note · View note

redsamuraiii · 5 years ago

Text

Marie Kondo & Minimalism

Pic : Pinterest

We have lost the art of simple living. We have too many material possessions, too many choices and too much to eat, that we waste and destroy so much. Minimalism is not about living in poverty and sleeping on the floor of an empty room, it’s about possessing little or just necessities and simple decorations that is enough to make your home clean and comfortable.

For many of us, material wealth is an expression of selfhood, proof of our existence or success to show to the world that we’ve made it. So we tend to associate our identities and self-image with the things we possess, the car we drive, the job we have, the house we live in, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the phone we use, the degree certificate we take and so much more.

How often do we asked ourselves, do we buy things because we really need or love them or because you think it might impress others who will see them? Do we post social gathering photos on social media to show our appreciation of our friendship or to show others what kind of friends we have and to portray the type of person we are? Do we buy a particular car model because it’s economical, practical or pleasing to the eyes? Or do we buy them to show others that we could afford such a brand?

In the end, we became unhappy with our own excessive and repulsive purchases because we buy them not for ourselves but for others, or buy them simply because we were too stressed at the time that we went on a shopping therapy. And you start asking yourself all this now as you get older, when your list of bills start to get longer and your store starts to get crowded with items you don’t even remember why you bought it or when was the last time you actually used it.

It’s no wonder we get so stressed easily working at home now during the pandemic and no wonder minimalist guru such as Marie Kondo have been gaining popularity, because people not only need help in sorting out their stuffs but sorting out their cluttered heart and life as well, to achieve the inner peace with just the minimum.

Source : The Life-Changing Manga of Tidying Up: A Magical Story

We all know who she is by now and one thing I do not understand is the hate she’s been getting since she became known to the world. Interesting fact about her is that her videos have already been circulating YouTube about five years ago but she only became famous now after her shows came on Netflix.

From what I understand from these haters or skeptics is that they have a misconception about her, thinking it’s just a tidying up method that anybody can do or has been doing for ages, so they do not see the logic that people need to read her books and watch her shows to know how to clean up your own house.

What they fail to understand is that it’s more than just cleaning up your room, it’s about recognizing your attachments to your belongings and identifying yourself. It’s not just about cluttering up your cupboards but your life as well. Not letting objects define your self worth. You do not need things that you do not need, just to impress others on social media for likes or make yourself feel better.

When you dig out your stuffs, you can tell which are the ones that you bought simply because you really want it, because you like the color or design or its comfortable or it makes you look great? And the ones that you bought simply because of the brand or trend because you want to show off to others to give them an impression that you are this or that kind of person? This is what she’s trying to imply, separating things that you really love “spark joy” and those that you don’t even remember or know why you bought it in the first place now that you look at it again. It could be you bought it ten years ago when you were younger because you wanted to make a fashion statement but now you’re more mature and realize what a waste of money that was.

Unfortunately, we live in a capitalist world that is constantly shoving consumerism down our throats daily with advertisements and social influencers telling you to get this and that just so you could be in trend with everyone else and do not want to be left out. And when you can’t afford to get those things like everyone else you become unhappy, depressed and angry.

You wanted to dress like them, you wanted to look like them, you wanted to live in a big house like them, you wanted to drive a branded car like them, you wanted to have the perfect lover like them, you want everything about them from their lifestyle to their personality that you lost yourself and your identity of who you really are as a person and what really makes you happy. Despite all the things that you already have that you need, you’re still unhappy because you’re obsessed in getting things that you want simply because others have it too! So we put in extra hours at work for that extra cash sacrificing things that really matter such as spending time with friends and family. We lost the human connection to objects that’s supposed to make us feel happy.

She also stress out about the dangers of nostalgia because if you are too entrenched in the past, you’ll never be able to get rid of the old things and you’ll only accumulate more stuffs that you don’t need. You’ll feel more constrained and stressed out living in a “storeroom” you call home. Most importantly, you won’t be able to move on in the present because you’re still living in the past.

I have only started learning more about her recently as I have never been the sort that gets on stuffs while its trending and the only reason I start to learn more about her now is purely out of curiosity and interest as I believe there is more to her than meets the eye. I find her “anti-consumerism” refreshing because I think extreme consumerism is what making people very unhappy today.

Also because I believe that no matter how many years of experiences that we have or all the knowledge that we acquired thus far, no matter how smart we think we are, there is always something new that we do not know about. Life is a continuous learning process, it’s all about learning, discovering new things and taking a step back to re-look at things from a different perspective.

Learning doesn’t stop, which is why I find it amusing when the haters, critics and skeptics say they don’t need to know about Konmari when they’ve been cleaning up their entire life. To me that’s like saying, “This has always been the way we do things around here, we don’t need improvisation or innovation, thank you.”

Be it as it may, what I’m trying to say here is to just be respectful to others and their beliefs no matter how weird or ridiculous that may seem to you. If you think it’s not something meant for you or interests you then by all means, you’re free to walk away from this. No one’s forcing you to stay put.

I just don’t get why they choose to stay and make fun of something they do not understand that works for the fans.

At the end of the day, it is who you are as a person that defines you. Not your material possessions, not your career credentials, not your academic qualifications. Strip them all away, and ask yourself who you are beneath it all?

I end my thoughts with a quote by Sen no Rikyu, a historical figure considered to have had the most profound influence on the Japanese tea ceremony.

“How much does he lack himself who must have many things.”

#marie kondo #konmari #minimalist #anti consumerism #life #minimalism #simple living #sen no rikyu #japan

82 notes · View notes

diarrheaworldstarhiphop · 6 years ago

Photo

I Don't Wanna Grow Up (And Neither Can You)

You can't show women being hurt. You can't show child abuse. You can't show rape. You can't show incest. Pedophilia, self-harm, intimate partner abuse, necrophilia, violence against children; if you're going to so much as talk about any of these things you need to do so at a 5th-grade level and behind the dual firewalls of safe, pastel-colored animation and explicitly education-based presentation. The art has to show you in painstaking detail the exact way in which to behave. Even then there's no guarantee it won't provoke a public outcry, doxxing, death threats, and even campaigns to strip artists of their jobs and livelihoods.

The idea that by depicting an act an artist is endorsing that act seems baked into the minds of certain left-leaning sets of younger people, particularly teenagers and early twentysomethings. That they have such deep concern for the safety and social equality of their traumatized peers and the traumatized in their own ranks can only be admirable, but more often than not the form it takes is mass harassment and scapegoating targeting not institutions or major studios but independent creators, many of them marginalized themselves. If the whole thing sounds, with its zeal for censorship and its self-righteous hate campaigns against the disenfranchised, a little like the American Family Association with a glittery coat of paint, well, that's kind of what it is.

The usual arguments about internet anonymity and the horrible deformities it breeds in human interaction all apply here, and there's much to be said of the young age and unformed personalities of the people perpetrating the worst of it, but even older, more experienced art aficionados aren't immune to the fervor for purity in art. There seems to be a much deeper affection in these circles for corporate art -- for the Marvel cinematic universe and its bland, calculated inoffensiveness, say -- than there is for art made by artists. Movies like Wonder Woman and Captain America: Civil War are evaluated with a generosity of spirit that borders on delusion, cults of enthusiastic acclaim forming around actress Gal Gadot's onscreen thigh jiggle and the "subtle homo-eroticism" of Thor: Ragnarok.

Corporate art exists to please. It exists to reaffirm the status quo and to build affection for and loyalty to corporations. From the callous Islamophobia of the Iron Man movies to the US Air Force and CIA-approved wokeness of Captain Marvel and Black Panther, the whole enterprise is bent on saying as little as possible while looking as socially conscious as it can. Fandom's fixation on finding gay themes and subtext in these blockbuster juggernauts was more understandable when independent gay art was harder to find, but today you don't even have to brave a convention-- you can dig it up with a quick search on Etsy or Gumroad. When independent artists release material featuring actual deviant sexuality, though -- from gay content to incest -- the reaction from these same people is overwhelmingly prudish. There is little to no desire among them to interact with adult work created by adult gay and trans artists. That art -- small art, created for personal reasons -- is too dangerous to touch, too full of moral imperfections and frightening images.

But what's left in art once you scour away the things that make you uncomfortable? What's left for the people who make their living and/or maintain their sanity by approaching our own suffering from a place of skill, assurance, and safety? What's left for readers and viewers trying to grow as people, to find empathy for those they've been taught to despise, to understand their own sexual shame and fear? What's left for people struggling with the isolation of abuse who have no support and no words to help them name it? Art is the lifeblood of human connection and introspection. It is the foremost way in which we can confront our own weaknesses and failings. Sanitized and focused solely on the comfort and entertainment of its audience, it's no more meaningful than a halfhearted handjob from an indifferent lover.

The idea that depiction equates to endorsement has been pedaled in our society virtually since its inception. Its modern proponents range from anti-violent video game morality groups to the Westboro Baptist Church's unhinged campaigns to remove television with gay content from the airwaves. Imagine a world where Debbie Dreschler never made her autobiographical comic Daddy's Girl, one of the most scorching, hideous things ever committed to paper. How many people would never have seen their own experiences with parental incest reflected in her work, and thus felt able to finally break themselves open and process their deep pain? When a subject becomes taboo we lose our ability to process the pain surrounding it, to talk about it openly, to understand why it happens.

Another core pillar of this movement is the expression of outrage toward sexual kinks based around transgression. Surviving rape, abuse, and other traumatic incidents is never an easy thing, and it's never clean. You'll carry the marks of it in your sex life, in your sense of safety, in your beliefs about the world until the day you die. In Nancy Friday's My Secret Garden, a 1975 collection of women's anonymously submitted sexual fantasies, multiple Jewish women who had survived the Holocaust wrote with deep shame of their need to sexualize that experience, to relive it with their partners in a safe and loving environment. It's a relatable sentiment for anyone whose sexuality has been shaped by trauma, which can force shame and need against one another until they grow together inextricably. A close friend of mine was attacked as a "vicious anti-semite" for quoting the book.

The same friend was attacked en masse for her erotic comics featuring gay and bisexual men, comics which depict those men with complexity, heart, and loving attention to detail. The argument was that as a straight woman it was fetishistic for her to portray sex between men, a position so mind-bogglingly dense that I'm hard pressed to find a way to fire back at it other than "really?" It's difficult to parse until you realize that the targets of these little brigades of loudmouths and scolds are always, always women. For all that they're marching under the banner of social justice, the people they feel most comfortable threatening with harm and emotionally brutalizing are women. Men both in the independent art scene and in the mainstream make violent, hateful art every day, but screaming at men doesn't satisfy the misogynistic impulses beaten into us by a culture that sees women as weak, stupid, and venally evil.

What you have in the end is a movement which in practice enforces a sort of neoliberal social conservatism, demanding the sanitization of art produced by women and labeling existing art degenerate with the same verve the Nazis displayed in putting the torch to centuries of Europe's artistic history. It's a small, impoverished way to understand the purpose of art and it's fueled by deep, repressed misogyny. If we pretend everything is good, if we act like Marvel will fix racism and sexism if we just give them another four production cycles, if we make our branded dollies kiss and claim it's because the movies portray them in a symbolically homo-erotic context, OBVIOUSLY, then we don't need to look at ourselves or see what we're doing to the people around us. We can close our eyes and slip into the lukewarm water of purposeful mediocrity.

There's nothing wrong with escapism. There's nothing wrong with not wanting to or not being able to engage with art about horrific things. The problem begins when you look at the people who can, who need to, and decide that they can't either, that they're going to have to bend to your worldview or you'll call them pedophiles and nazis and incest apologists and run them out of town. And what then? When you've crushed the hopes and dreams of every woman writing dark erotica or making beautiful, sensual comics about love and loss, what's left but staring at each other in a creative wasteland and waiting for one of your own to show the tiniest sign of weakness so you can recapture the thrill of moral outrage by ripping them apart. It's a cannibalistic cultural dead end where corporations are our friends and other human beings are the enemy.

I stand with sex workers, with pornographers, with artists of all kinds struggling to make something hot, something vulnerable, something raw and sickening and terrifying. If they fuck it up, well, at least they're a person, not some faceless sea of suits trying to get their arms down my throats to pull out my organs. Enjoy your popcorn movies, your Steven Universe and your X-Men comics, but ask yourself, what are you immersing yourself in by not reaching beyond those things? What is prolonged and overgrown childhood doing to your mind and to your moral sense of the world? Growing up is painful, yes, but if you want to learn to love, to open yourself up to others, to touch the deepest, rawest parts of your psyche and your sexuality, you're going to have to suffer.

From: https://www.patreon.com/posts/25994657

168 notes · View notes

pens-swords-stuff · 6 years ago

Text

Character Creation Tag [Aiden]

@jynecca tagged me for this, thank you very much! I’m going to do Aiden for this~

1) What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.?)

Oh man Aiden was created so long ago...

I think that it was either his concept or face claim that came first? I can’t remember. I know that I wanted to make my own take on the arrogant popular jerk archetype, and I also immediately knew that I wanted to use Jake Abel.

2) Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

Nope! I originally made him for a roleplay when I legitimately didn’t have any friends on that site and didn’t know anyone so I made him all by my lonesome.

3) How did you choose their name?

It didn’t require a whole lot of thought, it was one of those glorious moments where you just immediately know what their full name is, and it fit perfectly.

4) In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they live in played the most influential parts?

The very original setting in which he was created for involved high society, so that established his family’s significant wealth.

I can’t remember when I gave him his emotionally abusive family backstory, but that’s also a consistent, important part of his character. The urban fantasy elements of Wanderlust and his status as a witch played really nicely into this family dynamic — this had a huge impact on his personality, and he turned out completely different than before. For starters, he’s much less of a popular kid, he’s an outcast now, and he’s nicer, and super passive, and if I had to describe him in one word it would be ‘wry’.

5) Is there any significance behind their hair colour?

I just wanted a blonde!

6) Is there any significance behind their eye colour?

Nope.

7) Is there any significance behind their height?

Nope. He’s tall, and that’s about it.

8) What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story?

Aiden has a really dry sense of humor, and he makes a lot of deadpan jokes about death. I do that too.

9) Are they based off of you, in some way?

Usually I’ll give me spiel here about how I don’t put myself in my characters, but I normally can’t deny that there are some sort of similarities.

Not Aiden. I literally cannot find any piece of me in him if I tried.

I don’t think this is a matter of him being completely different from me, I think it’s a sign that despite all of the progress I’ve made with who he is, I still need to dig deeper.

10) Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

Aiden has always been pansexual! I actually think he was the very first of my ‘all of my characters are bi/pan’ thing.

11) What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: Writing, drawing, edits, etc.)?

Jake Abel is a pretty minor actor — I’m fairly certain that at this point, I’ve seen literally every single gif and image of him that exists on the internet. They’re not all that great of a quality, or they don’t work as Aiden, so it’s always a struggle trying to find gifs/images of him to use in edits.

12) How far past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

I know that he’ll have a kid with his love interest at some point — probably sooner rather than later after the events of Wanderlust. (Might be even sooner in Morsmordre...) But beyond that, honestly not much. I feel like he’ll probably end up as a doctor or a lawyer at some point, but I have no idea what his future is going to look like. Aiden probably hasn’t given it much thought either, he never felt like he had a future.

Fun fact: me and @autofoebia once wrote a 60+ page fic about buddy cop Aiden and King (autofoebia’s character) way before Wanderlust was even conceived. This was a future AU where they were a lot older — although I wouldn’t consider it canonical anymore since Aiden as a character has changed so damn much since then, it still counts, yeah?

yo frunk if you’re reading this, maybe we should rewrite it someday

13) If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

Aiden is a troubled guy. His trauma isn’t necessarily apparent, but it influences him a lot and creeps into his thoughts and behavior.

He acts cool, but he’s not actually cool.

14) What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

There are times that he tries to be cool and do something all cool-like, and he ends up failing and embarrassing himself. Then he tries to brush it off all casually, and Aiden, please. Most people aren’t fooled.

15) What is something about your OC can make you cry?

No matter how far he runs away, he can never really get away from his family. They always turn up to haunt him at his lowest moments — and I don’t mean they haunt his nightmares, I literally mean they physically show up at the worst possible time. And naturally they ruin everything.

16) Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

I think I regret his character creation. I have a lot of love and appreciation for Aiden, but I’m not entirely sure I ever had a proper idea of who he was. He’s never been a good character, and honestly he probably didn’t deserve to be brought back, but he continues to pop up in my writing a lot. I wish that when he was first created, I had been better at character creation — it’s been like 3 years since his creation and I’m still super struggling with him.

I’ll figure you out someday Aiden, I swear it.

17) What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

He’s a huge dork. I don’t understand how this happened. He was supposed to be suave, but nope. He’s a massive dork now and it’s very ???

18) What is your favourite fact about your OC?

He’s one-half of my og ship. None of my other ships would’ve happened without this guy.

Tagging: @zayawritesstuff @themagicalypurplemastodon @sweetsweetbabytree @storyteller-kaelo @sodaliteskull @my-heart-bleeds-poetry @cawolters @candycoatedcatastrophe @ariesveela @decantae @autofoebia feel free to do this or ignore!

If anyone sees this and wants to do it, you’re tagged too! Feel free to @ me in your post :)

If you want me to tag you in tag games, please click here and interact with this post on your Writeblr account!

#tag games #oc #ocs #my ocs #aiden phillips #writing #wanderlust

23 notes · View notes

pengosolvent · 6 years ago

Note

really frightened that i am lacking something essential and will never be able to be a skilled or creative artist no matter how hard i try. equally frightened that i have sabotaged my own progress in various ways and have wasted years backsliding and will never “get back” any skill i did previously exhibit. do you have any suggestions for how to continue to produce art and improve even when constantly suffocated by fear

anon this is a common but unfortunate occurrencei feel this a lot too this is a very long reply because i think about this kinda stuff often, so there’s a readmore

i’ve got some advice for you, though i’m sure you’ve probably already heard some if not all of this before, so i don’t mean to talk to you like this is new magic info, but just reiterating stuff that i try to keep in mind that might work for you tooalso i want to point out that i’m not a professional remotely, so the things i’m stating are completely from my own personal experiences ….. and also i struggle with perfectionism and other things so while i give this advice i also still have trouble with the problems noted and also i use a lot of examples and comparisons when i talk because its easier for me to understand things that way

anyway:

1- you are the person who sees your art the mostthis is a very obvious thing, to state but it ties directly into a lot of what you’ve statedyou feel you lack something essential, you feel you’ve backslid and lost previous skills, and youre afraidbut think about the other art you seeyou ONLY see the end result of what everyone posts… or even if people do post in-progress pictures or speedpaints, you’re not really seeing the “scope” of it with in-progress pictures, you don’t know how much changed or how much was erased how much time was spent how much etc with speedpaints, you see all the progress but its sped up and it’s easy to feel like all of that was done faster than it really was even if youre aware its sped up

and even if you watched a realtime video of someone drawing… theres thousands of hours outside of that video of this person doodling, and even THINKING about their art that you havent seen it makes other peoples art feel a lot more.. confident? secure?

for your own art however, you are fully aware of the struggle of every line because you’re the one doing it and thinking about itit might make you feel like you’re trying so hard when everyone else has just Got it

2- experiencing art as a consumer vs a creator is a different feelingthis is directly tied to the previous idea but it’s easy to feel like you lack something essential when, instead of consuming the art, you are the one producing it

here’s an example: i love horror contentnot all of it of course, but i love horror that really makes me think and makes me see a characters motivations and really digs in deep psychologically and sticks with you even after you’re done experiencing the media

however it is very very hard for me to make anything that is strictly horror. for a long time i thought i was just bad at it, but i realized later that i’m not missing something that helps to write/draw horror … i just experience horror different based on if i’m consuming it vs making it part of the horror appeal to me is the MYSTERYif i am writing/drawing horror, there is NO mystery! i know everything there is to know about the situation i am making! i know all the character’s motivations, i know everything there is to know about every tiny detail and even if i am writing something where i don’t know what happens so it’s a purposeful mystery (such as in this comic where i don’t know what happens if you take off the tinier beak) it sometimes feels less Cool Mystery for me and more like “oh no i don’t know this thing, oh god, i’m a bad writer”i’ve gotten over that little by little, but it’s still hard to shake that i’m “missing” something with work that ISN’T mine its easy to put meaning that may not have been totally intended and THINK that the person meant it, and thus feel like that thing is more thought-out than it actually is

you might be experiencing something similar with art… where it feels like when you see OTHER art, you feel happy or like theres a meaning there etc but with your own art, you can’t capture that same feeling… it could literally be because you know what youre going for and what youre doing because youre the one doing it

3a- old art feels better sometimes because it is more removed from youyou know better than i do in this regard if this is true to you, because sometimes people can genuinely get rusty and lose but for the most part older art tends to feel better due to the fact it is becoming more and more removed from your current state and mindsetold art starts to slowly get treated the way you read Other people’s art because you’re not staring at it constantly and you start to forget the process and effort behind the old art

sometimes you can’t see well if your new art is “better” or not because it is too current on your mind and you know how hard it is to make and if it does or doesnt match what you were going for or etc etcmeanwhile your old art starts to be viewed more objectively because you dont remember every difficult line with it, and you can see it as a bit better because you’re not bogged by the negativity

3b- even if you fell off, you can regain the skill

even if you DID get worse over time… you did it once before and you can do it againyou can learn from your old works, but also try to learn from your old mentality a lot of my old stuff was more expressive and emotivei could learn to do that again mechanically, imitating my old stuff, but a big part of why my art was that way was because my mentality was different back then i was louder, more open, etc etcthink about what’s changed within you to see reasons for things changed in your art

4a- fear only works if you’re afraid of being badit is important to be able to see ways you can improve… but it’s also important not to fear that you have areas that CAN improveif you view “making something bad” as a punishment/negative outcome your fear directs itself through all your art

the easiest point fear can attack is starting to draw at allbefore you start drawing its very easy for your mind to go “why do this? why try if it’s just going to be stressful” and all through out the process that ramps up like “see it’s just stressful why do it”

your fear seemingly offers you something to gain if you don’t even try: avoiding the pain of art altogether

but what if you were unphased by that pain? if you don’t care about making something bad, that fear can’t manifest

some artists start their day by drawing the shittiest thing they can to shake off rust and have fun doing it … drawing a cartoon character from memory, drawing and overly rendered shitpost etc now i’m not saying not to care about your quality and take a ton of shortcuts and blablait’s still good to want to learn and improve it’s just that you have to start rearranging your perspective on your steps to achieve that

4b- no-stakes neutral is no problemhow do you get rid of that fear? how do you stop feeling being bad is.. bad?

try to view arts range as neutral to positive (as opposed to negative to postive) because at it’s base that’s exactly what art is what i mean by that is…let’s say you’re trying to draw a cat (and it’s not a commission or anything). your first attempt does not look anything like a cat this is not a “bad” thing though it may feel that way your failed attempt at a cat has not stabbed you or taken money or food from you or in any way truly inconvenienced you

the base idea is that you drew something and it wasn’t what you wanted this is completely neutral.. it’s like going to look for a new shirt. if you see shirts you don’t care for, you move past them until you get to the shirt you want.your “bad art” is just that. a bunch of shirts you don’t want til you find the one you’re looking for… you don’t have to pay anything for those “bad” attemptssure they take a bit of time and if you don’t have a lot of energy you might feel bad to use it on a drawing that you don’t enjoy and it can be frustrating if you keep trying to no avail, but all in all it’s not a stark negative

art isn’t a straight pathit’s winding, it’s really confusing , and it can be tiringbut if you go down a path that’s a dead end, you just try another pathdon’t fear reaching dead ends, there are always more paths

chuck jones (an iconic animator) said he had to draw multiple drafts to get expressions just right failure is in the eye of the beholder… he felt the first drafts for those expressions did not fit what he wanted, but he didn’t fear failure because of that even if the art was not by his standards, he continued until he got the one he felt was appropriate

it takes patience to get to where you wantif you stay patient you will eventually arrive there

5- drawing and thinking go hand in handart is a blend of being able to draw and being able to problem solve through what you already knowwhen i get stressed with art it’s usually because i don’t know what the hell i’m doing with no way to check myself if i’m close to what i want or not with me it tends to happen with backgrounds or animalsthis is why ppl typically suggest learning to draw cubes, cylinders and spheres from any angle because then you can transfer that base knowledge into other objectslike, cubes can be used to draw rooms, boxes, screens, fences, etccylinders can be pipes, water bottles, arms and legs, etc

transfering base knowledge is essential in art and understanding that you can do that, even if only as a base, helps a lotwith learning how to draw a mouse, you have a starting point for learning how to draw a rat (comparing the headshapes, sizes, ears, etc)… then you can use these two as a base point for drawing a squirrel, then a rabbit etc

another example could be maybe you know how to draw claws but not fangs… you can interchange the shape of a curved claw for a curved fang easily

starting with something you know and figuring out how to transfer the knowledge is very important and can help lessen that stress because instead of not even knowing where to start, you can problem solve to figure out what you already know under different termsits just all about knowing what connections you can try and learn, and working “smart”

on that vein… 6- perfecting things doesn’t make perfectit’s very tempting to make every tiny detail as good as you possibly can… but it’s very daunting and time consumingyou should try to work “smart” here too and now what i mean by that is … say i’m making a comic. i can make the comic to the absolute best of my current ability and take forever and become extremely drained Or… i could decide to try but still set a deadline for myself, and not worry TOO much about the smaller details why is the second one better? because i will get it done. if i try very very hard my ABSOLUTE best on a comic, making sure every single line is perfect, in a few months that comic will still be outdated. it will still get old and the amount i learned from it is limitedif i give myself some leeway (still trying of course, still learning and challenging myself) and set a deadline, i learn to be disciplined in my comics, i get a comic finished, AND i learn more because i am finishing more work in general

this is a really helpful video that explains this point more in depth

this isn’t to say you need to take the easiest routes for art that are availableit’s more like… back to the comic example, let’s say it’s like making a cake i can be a huge perfectionist about my cake, carving everything exact and putting every drop of frosting as exact as i can… but i’m still not a “master” at this i’m still learning the next time i make a cake i’m going to have to do the same situation … take forever to try to make the perfect cake

if i make a cake and still try, but accept when i don’t know how to get the exact result, my first cake is going to be a bit of a mess, but the next cake i make, i’ll be a little closer and in the time it takes Perfectionist Me to make 2 cakes, i might have already made 10 and i’ve sped up the process now and improved because i’ve learned a lot with those 10 cakes

there’s probably more that can be said about art, but i’m hesitant to try to dictate too much about how you experience your art and go about it i hope that this can help you at least a bit though

#nonbonart post

92 notes · View notes

moxiemettleandmojo-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Everyday Hero

What does it mean to be a hero (I’m going to use that term as though it were gender neutral)? What does it mean to be heroic?

Where does your moxie lie? What makes you get up and go... and what douses that spark and makes you turn away from whatever your full potential might be?

I’m not coming at these questions out of the blue; I’ve been interested in this for a very long time, and many of my life decisions have in some way been related to my interest in those answers.

-I’m a third-degree black belt in karate (and I’m certified as a tai chi and yoga instructor, and as an herbalist).

-I’ve been trained as a structural and wildland firefighter (although to be honest, I’ve never worked a fire- the timing didn’t work out for the seasonal forest fire fighting and the year that I spent as a structural fire fighter in a small town, we didn’t have any fires...).

-I traveled solo internationally in my twenties, on almost no money, crashing on couches and in hostels, sometimes sleeping on beaches and in squats, and eating mostly bread and cheese.

-I can’t say I’ve met a lot of famous people, even overseas, however, but that might be because I think I have an anti-fame ‘dar. I know people who can’t turn a corner without running into someone famous; my most star-struck moment was meeting Vincent Stanley recently, one of the executive members of Patagonia, and I only got star-struck because this incredibly nice and articulate person, with whom I’d just had a half-hour conversation, turned out to be, well, Patagonia. I think if I’d known who he was BEFORE I talked to him, I probably would have been determinedly unimpressed. ...Now that I think about it, I also met a Hungarian member of the New York City ballet on a plane once, but the conversation didn’t last much past the point where I told him that I wasn’t sure where Hungary was. (I know where it is now! Sheesh.) And I’ve also been lucky enough to meet an above-average number of Olympic athletes, because I used to work as the chief of timing at an outdoor recreation center which hosted international biathlon and cross-country skiing events, but it was hard to muster up the energy to be tongue-tied when you were simultaneously troubleshooting disastrous technology fails in the middle of an event that hundreds of thousands of people were watching. And, to be honest, the athletes themselves were certainly not schmoozing with event organizers in the middle of a race.

-After getting hired at the first job I’d ever had which gave me paid time off, I took my very first vacation ever (let me mention that I was in my 30s by this point- and not because I hadn’t worked my butt off prior to that) and volunteered to help clean up parts of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. I brought back photos and put up a multi-media exhibition in a local art gallery about the challenges the city was facing.

-I participated in the first Women’s March in Washington DC and shared clips from presenters with my Facebook followers so that even people who couldn’t be there could get a sense of the passion and the determination for change that filled the air.

As far as the kinds of personal challenges that are less consciously chosen go:

-I’m also hearing-impaired and have been since I was at least four. I’ve weathered nine surgeries, most of these ear-related, and most as a child and a teen. (I once had two major surgeries in two years as an adult, however, and didn’t take a single day off from work either time, decisions that in hindsight were not particularly healthy.) Every day for me generally involves a struggle with communication, and realistically, as I get older, that is likely to get worse.

-Like everyone, I’ve had some personal relationship losses- the easiest to talk about, in some ways, are the big ones, like the death of my mother 20 years ago, and the deaths of other family members and friends; the toughest losses have been the loss of some of my most passionately held beliefs and dreams.

-In the wake of the crash of 2008, I lost my job and became a statistic: one of those people who were upside down on the mortgage of a recently purchased home. I went from making $50k a year to making $18k. I started to work 5 jobs simultaneously in order to keep the house afloat (which also supports my father). This meant I was working two full-time jobs and three very part-time ones. I was getting between two and four hours of sleep a night; and this lasted about six years. I’m still not right-side up on the mortgage, and I’ve weathered two additional layoffs in the meantime. I am, fortunately, sleeping much better these days.

...So the point of all that is to say that I’m no stranger to the kind of heroism with which most of us are familiar, whether we acknowledge it or not. Not a “legendary” kind of heroism, but the kind that makes parents give up personal comfort to see children safe and secure; the kind that makes a phobic individual challenge their own fears; the kind that has us speaking out about corruption in government or cultural norms that claim that victims of violence are to blame; the kind that leads us to become cops, athletes... or survivors- like people in recovery or people in poverty.

I’m going to spend the next year being a more structured kind of everyday hero.

Because here’s the thing: how do we keep those challenges from wearing us down? When we are responding to unexpected situations that require heroic effort- such as economic downturns or a sudden new role in the world - we often don’t get to choose what the challenges look like or when they arrive; we just hang on and dig in. We learn skills, but we don’t necessarily learn how to turn those skills into tools. We don’t necessarily learn how to harness the power of our achievements.

Can we be heroes that make the world a better place by design? Can we make ourselves into the best versions of ourselves and positively impact those around us at the same time? Can we both challenge ourselves and take care of ourselves, simultaneously?

Can we have fun doing it?

I’m starting a program that I developed out of Tom Callos’ The Ultimate Black Belt Test, which I’m calling The Life Summits Project. (I highly recommend that you Google his challenge; it’s inspired and inspiring.) TLSP is a very physically and mentally demanding project that incorporates parts of his challenge, with some modifications, along with additional elements, like language study and creative self-expression (I’ll share the details of TLSP in a future post).

What would it look like to be a black belt in LIFE?

A part of UBBT which I’m incorporating is blogging every week about this 365- day journey. I know that I’m going to finish this project and I know that I will strive every day to meet and exceed my goals, but other than that, I have no idea what the next 51 weeks are going to look like.

So hang on; i think it’s gonna be a fun ride. :)

1 note · View note