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bunny-hoodlum · 3 years ago

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Asynchronous With You: Ch 6

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (quite possibly mature or explicit later)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication, Missed Opportunities

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

"I think everyone should know," she said.

They were walking the usual route to their high school, the train station coming up ahead. Naruto kept a protective though furtive gaze on Hinata as he walked behind her on the steps.

He swore she's never modified her skirt. It would be against the dress code she's forced to protect. So he has no idea why it feels like he's seeing more of her than usual.

"Know what?"

Usually he's already doing this, because he's worried about perverts. Even in grade school, he was worried. If it weren't for their teachers educating them on Stranger Danger, he probably would have had to do it himself.

He had to learn it the hard way before Kurenai-obasan took him in, but so did Neji apparently. That's why he's gotten good at being less obvious with his suspicion, and also why he can better tell apart intent based on their body language.

He used to perceive everything around him to be potentially malicious. He never realized the toll that had been taking on him until Neji taught him how to really see.

He stood close behind her on the platform as they waited.

"That we're fosters."

A burst of wind shot through the platform, ruffling overcoats and business suits and whipping pleated skirts and loose hair in a sudden frenzy.

The PA announced the train's arrival, and it wheezed to a stop soon after.

He observed Hinata as she flattened her skirt down and smoothed her bangs, but none of it registered in his brain.

It was simply auto-pilot for him to follow her onto the train, then using his larger frame to block the other passengers from nearing his little sister.

Right. His foster sister.

In all of their nine years together, they've never told anyone. It wasn't that it seemed weird, it just… never occurred to them?

But now it did seem pretty weird.

"Why, though? In a couple years, it's not going to matter anymore."

She turned her face against her shoulder to look at him, but he didn't know what she was thinking. It was the same schooled features she put on last night when visiting Neji, like there was a one-way mirror and only she could see through him.

Then she looked away.

"You're not going to introduce a girlfriend to Kurenai one of these days?"

"Hmm?" The suggestion bloomed in his mind and quickly withered. The idea wasn't… very appealing. Something about inviting judgment onto his life and stuff. He defends himself in every aspect but at home, and he'd rather keep coasting on the good thing he's got. "Dunno. Hadn't ever thought about it."

He certainly wasn't going to introduce any of the one's he's taken to bed when the apartment was empty. He's rarely done it with the same girl twice, mainly because he can't help but lose interest.

He blames it on sexual incompatibility.

"Well, I know I will."

He misses the melancholy hedging around her words, and latches onto the opportunity for an easy ribbing.

"You're gonna bring a girlfriend over?" he's happy she shoots him a look so that she can see his corny grin, otherwise he worried she might've mistaken him for serious.

He's nonplussed by the severity of her glare, but then she says "Maybe when you're not around," and he no longer knows what to think.

"Wait, what? Hinata?" He's craning left and right in hopes of catching a smirk or a giggle from her, but she's evasive. Has she? "Hinata, are you--?" And since third grade she said? "Also, what's that supposed to mean 'when I'm not around'? Huh? Hey, what's that supposed to mean 'when I'm not around'?? Hinata???"

"We're getting off topic--"

"Bullshit! I have questions!"

She ignored him.

"I vote to tell our friends that we're fosters. And I'd like to have it taken care of during Lunch. What's your vote?"

Is this what she sounds like during her Public Morals Committee meetings? Because it was doing something to him.

Oh, right. She wanted an honest answer.

But… "What do you get out of announcing this? I mean, aside from knowing how to introduce me in the future or whatever. Have you thought this through at all?"

What's the rest of the school going to say?

The guys who share their skin mags with him might get wary and reject him. The girls he's dumped might try to get to him through her. Teachers might give up on disciplining him, essentially offloading their responsibilities onto her as both Public Morals Committee and his sister. And he wasn't having any of that shit again.

All kinds of things could bite them in the ass one way or another.

She hasn't replied to him at all, and he thinks she's upset again, but he has to make his point.

"Hinata, the way things are now isn't broken, so what are you trying to fix?"

"It would help me."

"Huh? How? With what?" He waited, and she was silent. A drop of dread sank in his chest for her. "So something is wrong," He leaned in closer, causing her to shrink. He sighed. "Hinata, for someone who wants the world to know we're fosters, you sure don't seem willing to rely on me like a sibling."

"I don't favor Neji-niisan over you."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to," Tension clutched at their throats. "People always have more history with their blood. I can't really compete, y'know?"

He can't compete at all, actually.

Sometimes he thinks his only true brother is Sasuke, but he still wants to work at this. She just has to let him.

"I'm sorry. I just thought it would be less lonely if we could talk to each other normally again. And we only see each other at school these days, so…"

He envisioned her waving to him in the halls between periods, or her having a reason to cheer him on during a deadlift tournament. It would prevent people from making the wrong idea about them.

Damn, he felt stupid now.

"Fine!" He intoned with mock-annoyance. "If it'll make you happy."

She looked over her shoulder again, and what she found was his warm, supportive smile.

________________________

Hinata gathered her friends, Kiba, Shino, Ino and Sakura.

And he gathered his friends, Sasuke, Shikamaru, and Chouji.

Ino had tsked in distaste when she saw Sasuke, had gone as far as to drag Sakura away so that the others sat in-between them. He caught some sort of nickname from her lips, but wasn't sure what she had really said.

As Naruto stood before them alongside Hinata, his gaze fell on the skinny lad scribbling away at his sketchbook, and immediately his fight instinct was switched on.

"What's your monochromatic ass doing here??! Did anyone invite him?!" He jabbed a finger in Sai's direction.

The monotone, softboy, little creep didn't even look up.

"I'm making a record of these proceedings for posterity," he lifted the sketchpad and flipped it around.

Inkified Naruto was pointing right back at him with an agape snarl. Sai then proceeded to show everyone else individually, and they all cracked up, one by one.

Ino was absolutely dying. Stomach-clutching and tears rolling, the whole nine yards. She snatched the sketchpad from Sai and begged if she could keep it.

"Whaddya want that for??" Naruto interrogated. He was so about to punch Sai and throw his art supplies in the pool. This was Hinata's announcement and the softboy was ruining it.

Ino mockingly tilted the sketchbook side to side. "Something to keep your ego in check, Charato."

Hinata faintly snorted. He wasn't sure until he saw how she had her face turned around and her shoulders were lightly trembling.

He frowned at her, feeling betrayed.

"Ahhhh, alright, enough! Me and Hinata have gathered you all here for a reason! So shut up and listen! Hinata, tell them!"

Hinata jolted out of her humor, her face flushing as though this were the first time she's done public speaking.

"Uh, Uhm… Naruto-kun and I… we're foster siblings. We, uh… we live together," Hinata froze up under their collective stares. With a stiff smile, she half-heartedly sang "Ta-da," and punctuated it with rather embarrassed jazz hands.

"And as our friends, you're the first to know," Naruto added. "Also we don't care if the whole school finds out. So don't worry, we're not sharing this out of confidentiality."

Their collective shock evaporated rather quickly.

Sakura was the first to speak. "Well, that answers a lot of questions. And raises plenty more." She ended it with a growl and a glare. That accusatory look irked him.

"Feel free to ask away! I've got nothin' to hide!"

Sakura flattened the back of her skirt as she rose up like a dignitary representing The House of Hyuuga. And then like a certain video game attorney, she pointed at him.

"I always wondered why you obsessively protected Hinata in the past, but never showed any romantic initiative towards her. Now I have to ask, knowing the sex maniac that you are: Do you ever sneak into her bedroom?"

"No," He answered unconvincingly. He looked at the jury one by one, unsure how much of their scrutiny was sincere or misperceived. Sasuke was leaning forward, arms circling around his knees. He looked a little too interested in the idea of him and Hinata… doing things… "I-I've never done that! I would never do that! Hinata's special to me, okay?! You've got a filthy fuckin' mind, Haruno!"

"Me?! You've tried to sneak into the female locker rooms!" Sakura took off her shoe and slugged it at him. "Multiple times!"

Naruto hunched up and twisted away as the shoe smacked his shoulder and bounced away.

Hinata moved in between him and the one-woman mob. "Okay, this is getting out of hand--"

"I will never fucking do that to Hinata. I was in an orphanage for six years. And they're not all run by saints."

Dammit.

This was way more than he ever wanted to share.

He took a few steps back before turning tail. He jogged downhill as fast as he could.

What was he doing?

Uzumaki Naruto doesn't run away.

But it was either that, or… have them watch him cry.

________________________

AN: So this is missing a scene cuz I cut it. I might not use it anymore, and instead I'll see if the backstory I had expanded upon will be worked in later on in the plot. Because before I started writing this, I had anticipated that things would actually get cuter from here on out. (Also anticipating that I may work in at least one smutty chapter in the future. Yeah, it's totally diverging from this fic's original concept when I posted it for Secret Santa, but that's okay!) And the total Ego Death I unexpectedly wrote just feels kind of Deus Ex Machina in a way to Naruto's vices. I just can't have him maturing right now. That's a plot route I don't have any material for, and I don't quite see it as not defeating the other stuff I had planned to write. (I'm also happy to state that I'm starting to get a better picture of how to condense this content on AO3, because I honestly feel like this could be Ch. 2 now. :B I mean, it's too short on its own if I do, but it kinda has that hook for the rest of the story.)

I hope you enjoyed this update! 😘💕💕💕

#asynchronous with you fanfiction #chapter 6 #naruhina fanfiction #naruhina #naruto x hinata #modern au

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luvlyrv · 4 years ago

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My Model | Yeri x f!Reader College!au

Genre: College AU, fluff

Summary: Yeri needs a model for her final project. You need some money. With the time you spend working for Yeri, something starts to bubble up in your heart.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Ah, school's already started again. What a bummer. It's almost 2AM and my sleep schedule is still very much fucked. Whatever, I'm feeling kind of down in the dumps so I wanted to write something cute. I also am considering writing a mafia!au series for Irene, please tell me if you'd like that or not! Otherwise, just enjoy this writing please :) even though I feel like the quality is significantly worse than my other writings. OH AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! AHH ALSO IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING YERI POSTED ON IG.

Date: 1/6/2021

It all started when you spent Saturday evening venting out all your stress to your close friend, Sooyoung.

"I'm sorry, I know we're supposed to be relaxing together right now but it's the only thing on my mind! I mean, they laid me off work last second and it's not like I have another job lined up and waiting for me. I wasn't even a bad employee! They were just trying to cut costs!" You tiredly half-shouted to Sooyoung.

She sat on the other end of the couch, body bundled up in your blankets while nodding. She patiently listened to your worries and complaints. After you had said what was on your mind, you both decided to binge some awful zombie movies.

* *

You were quickly redoing some of your notes when you heard a faint vibration coming from your phone. You picked up your phone, checking the notification from Sooyoung that just appeared.

"heyyy, i know this isn't an actual long-term job that ur looking for but i have a friend who could use some help rn! she'll pay!"

You feel a spark of excitement as you begin to type back a reply.

"Yes!! Anything helps. I don't care what it is I'll do it."

"are u free tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"her name is yeri and she just needs a model for her to create some outfits and shoot pictures of. meet her tomorrow at xxxx at three?"

"Tell her sure thing :)"

With that you returned to studying with a small smile on your face with a little bit of your worries melting away.

* *

You rock back and forth on your heels, nervous to meet a stranger. You knock on Yeri's door only to be met back with a faint clatter and muffled footsteps. A short while later you hear some muttering as the door finally opens.

"Hello!"

While you were curiously scanning the area around her dorm room, the sudden sound of her voice made you shift your focus to the now open door and the girl standing in front of you. You felt your body stiffen as you made eye-contact.

"Ah, uhm, hello! Hi, you must be Yeri, right?" You manage to say aloud.

"Yeah, and you must be Y/N! Nice to meet you. You can come in." She says as she steps aside to make room for you.

You enter her room, only to be greeted by materials being strewn across nearly every piece of furniture possible. A clean mirror was in the middle of her room and a sewing machine sat off by the side.

"I'm a fashion major if you couldn't tell already." Yeri half-joked with a smile gracing her lips.

You smile back at her. "Yeah I assumed so from what Sooyoung described yesterday. How much are you paying again?"

"Well, I assume you took this job because you're a desperate broke college student. I am also a desperate broke college student. I'll give you around $25 after every session. I can't pay much but I'll try. I mean, you're giving me your time after all."

You nod at her answer. "Sessions? Am I going to have to come over multiple times?"

"Yeah, I have to create three different outfits. I'll just get your measurements today. After that you'll have to come over and model and make sure that they fit well and so I'll know if I have to do any revisions. So, mind if I start taking measurements now?"

"I wouldn't mind at all."

Yeri pulls out a measuring tape and begins to measure your body. She makes sure your posture is correct, placing a hand on your back, sending miniscule shivers down your spine. She moves around your body carefully making sure everything is accurate all while giving you the faintest touches around your body. You felt bad. There wasn't anything unprofessional about this situation at all, yet you couldn't help but to feel your face heat up a little. Yeri was a pretty girl and you just couldn't help but to melt around pretty girls. You found it a bit adorable to see her so focused on her task at hand.

All too quickly Yeri announced that she was done taking your measurements.

"Is that going to be all for today then?"

"I guess, I'll start working on the outfits now that I know your sizes." Yeri is already going to her sewing machine, her hand reaching out to a sketchbook you didn't realize was there before. "Oh! By the way, we should exchange numbers so I can tell you when we should meet up again." She says while looking back at you.

You pull out your phone and walk closer to her, the both of you exchanging contact details.

"Thanks for today, Y/N. I'll pay you next time you come. I'm sure you'll love the way these outfits look on you too!"

You make your way out of her room and shut the door behind you for her.

* *

Time has passed and you've already been to Yeri's place a couple times. Each time feeling a little bit more suffocating under Yeri's overwhelming presence. The way her eyes would look at you, carefully judging the details of the clothing she put hours of hard work in. The way she'd always thank you for your time. You couldn't help but want to know her more.

Despite wanting to get closer with her though, you never seemed to text her for any reason besides modelling for her. Sooyoung kept encouraging to just talk to her casually. You tried to follow her advice, tried to convince yourself that it wouldn't be the end of the world if Yeri didn't want to text you back, but every time you began to write a hello or considered sending her something you chickened out.

Today was another day where you would visit Yeri. You enter her room, basking in the warmth of Yeri's now familiar and welcoming smile.

Wearing the third and final outfit of Yeri's project you shyly spoke out, "Well, do you think this one needs anymore revisions?"

You watch as Yeri once again eyes you up and down. Yet, something felt different this time. Or perhaps you were making things up in your head. You watch as she turns her head back up to you with shining eyes.

"I think you look wonderful."

You purse your lips as you feel your heart beating way too fast.

"Honestly, this is my best work yet! God, I'm a genius. Hey, one day Y/N I'm gonna become a top designer and you'll be my model again. Got it?"

You crack open a smile along with Yeri at the sight of her enthusiasm. Although you didn't really feel close with her, let alone as close as you wish the both of you could be, over the past couple of weeks it felt like the two of you had warmed up to each other.

"I really appreciate the offer." You tell her with sincerity in your voice. It seemed like there would be no more revisions though, and no more revisions meant no more modelling for Yeri. With that your happy mood seemed to be ruined as you sighed and spoke out. "Well, I guess I'll change and be on my way then. Thank you so much for allowing me to work with you, Yeri."

After all this time, you failed to get to really know Yeri. You felt upset at the fact that it felt like you just wasted a chance to do something. Even though you'd still have her number after today, it was a near guarantee you'd still be too chicken to ever message her something. Disappointment began to build up in your mind as you made your way towards a room to change clothes. All of a sudden you heard Yeri's voice calling out to you.

"Y/N, if you really want to thank me, why not go on a coffee date with me sometime?"

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malfoymanortings · 4 years ago

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fluorescent adolescent PART 1

summary: Fred Weasley has been drawing the eldest Malfoy daughter since his third year of Hogwarts. Elara Malfoy has fancied Fred Weasley since her fifth year at Hogwarts. It is during their final year, that the two of them do something about the mutual attraction.

pairing: Fred x OC older Malfoy sister

not related to flames and snow!! just a different perspective on Fred x older Malfoy sister.

Fred Weasley was an artist, and a damn good one at that.

His special skill was normally used to sketch out the beginnings of a prank plot he and George were thinking of, and it slowly progressed into making designs for actual products and contraptions he and George planned for their joke shop.

He also found, during his third year, that he was fond of drawing a stunning silver haired goddess with bewitching grey eyes. He was enamored with drawing her in every position he could think of, staring out at the black lake, walking down the corridor, sitting at the Great Hall. Any position he found her in, he immediately itched to sketch it out.

Why, exactly, was Fred so obsessed with drawing Elara Malfoy? He didn’t have a clue. Yes, she was beautiful there was no doubt to that, but her personality… Well, it needed some work.

She rarely ever smiled and normally had the look that she had smelled something unpleasant. Her free time was spent cajoling with the other Pureblood families she deemed worthy of her time, and although he hadn't seen her bully the other kids the way her brother Draco liked, he had seen her hex a few students that didn’t appear to deserve it. She certainly believed in the awful blood purity ideals her family believed in, and she was snarky and rude neary every time he had heard her speak.

Not only that, but he had even seen the girl cosying up to Umbridge of all people. The nasty woman who made students carve words into their arms and hands as detention. Elara Malfoy was the furthest thing from the type of woman Fred Weasley should spend his time thinking about.

Yet… he knew she thought of him too. Granted, he was certain she didn’t have a sketchbook filled with drawings of himself, but on more than one occasion he had caught her staring at him. The first time was at the Yule Ball, and Fred was dancing with Angelina Johnson while Elara looked bored and slightly uncomfortable with Theodore Nott as her date.

As much as Fred found Angelina pretty, she paled in comparison to the grace that was Elara Malfoy. Elara had worn a dark green, shimmering dress, accentuating her curves and flowing to the floor with a regal look that had every head turned. Her hair had been up in some complicated look, and her creamy neck was adorned with a silver necklace with the Malfoy family crest sitting arrogantly on her cleavage. Fred could describe all the little details about Elara, but couldn’t even tell you what color Angelina’s dress was.

It was when Fred was twirling Angelina up in the air, the both of them laughing, that Fred noticed Elara with an odd look on her face, as she was held in Theodore Nott’s stiff arms. It took Fred a moment to place the look as jealousy. Their eyes met as Fred set Angelina back down on the ground, and Elara’s lips screwed down in a scowl worthy of her father, and swiftly turned away from his gaze.

From that moment, he had seen her staring several other times, and he was able to draw her eyes in more detail as he was finally getting to see them more often. George was the only person who knew of his obsession, and frequently switched between making fun of him and worrying about him.

“Mate,” George had said one night, when Fred was up later than he should have been, furiously getting her eyes just right. “This girl isn’t worth the stress. She’s a Malfoy.”

“Georgie, I’m well aware of her heritage,” Fred had replied, pausing his pencil to look at his twin. “I know nothing will come of this. But I just can’t stop thinking of her.”

It wasn’t like Elara was all bad, either. Thanks to his obsession, he had seen her more than once secretly hex her brother when he was being mean to younger students. And Fred noticed that anytime she saw an older student from any house doing anything to make the younger students of any house feel uncomfortable or bullying them, she would silently hex them too. She did care, Fred knew, it just didn’t seem to be a priority to her.

Fred’s moment to shine, however, came in the form of a Potions class that he and George had arrived late to. There had been no seats left, except for one next to Lee Jordan, and one left to Elara Malfoy. George had given him a swift wink before setting his things down next to Lee, while Fred was left to make his way to the back corner where Elara had her head bent over a brightly colored journal that seemed out of place in her usual dark attire.

“Afternoon.” Fred tried to say the word cheerfully, but it came out funny and stuck in his suddenly dry throat, giving the impression that he had regressed in puberty.

Elara looked up then, her black lips pursing and her grey eyes narrowing. This close, he could see there was actually a ring of blue and flecks of green in her eyes, and his fingers twitched as he thought of drawing them later.

She parted her full lips to say something, but was interrupted as Snape informed them to turn to page seven hundred and thirty eight in their Potions book. She settled for a sneer instead, and Fred had to hold back a laugh as it fully mirrored her brother’s infamous look.

“Something amusing, Weasley?” She uttered, her long black fingernails flicking through the pages.

And Merlin, her voice was something else. It was throaty and light at the same time, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to hear her rasp as he fucked her over a counter- and he had to stop himself there.

“Just the family resemblance, is all.” Fred replied smoothly, cocking an eyebrow as he met her contempt gaze.

“Hm,” Elara paused, looking him up and down. “You’re right, family resemblance is a funny thing, Weasley.”

With that, she went back to flipping through the pages of her Potions book. And yes, Fred knew, he just knew that was an insult, but he couldn’t get over how attractive she was up close and how delectable her voice was to him. This close, he could see that her bottom lip was slightly fuller than her top lip, her eyebrow had a small slit in it from what appeared to be a long forgotten scar, she had dimples, and she smelled like lavender and vanilla mixed with fresh laundry. She wore rings on every finger, small dainty silver ones with different jewels and designs, of course one with the Malfoy crest, and her hands themselves were smaller than he had imagined.

Fred couldn’t stop staring at her.

She suddenly stood from the table, and walked towards the front of the room. That made Fred remember that he was supposed to be brewing a potion, and he hastily found the correct page in the book, and then jotted down the ingredients he would need. He made his way up just as she made her way back, and although he offered her a smile, she didn’t return it.

“How’s it going, Freddie?” George nudged his side with his elbow as they gathered their ingredients.

“Exactly as you’re imagining, mate.” Fred replied snarkily to his twin, who laughed at his misery. It was rare that George got to see Fred in a position like this, and he had to admit he was enjoying every second of it.

“Good luck!” George winked at Fred, cheerily going to sit back down with Lee Jordan.

Fred would get George back for this.

Elara was busy crushing up dried nettlefish when Fred came back to the table, her sleek silver hair tied back from her face. Fred dumped his ingredients on his half of the table, reaching out a quick hand to grasp the jar containing a bat spleen before it rolled off the side of the table.

Elara noticed, and the side of her mouth quirked up into a smirk. Fred swore then and there that his heart had stopped for a second before starting back up again.

He quickly launched into getting his ingredients put together, running through the motions rather quickly and confidently in an attempt to impress Elara, who already had the correct color and consistency of the Potion they were brewing. Fred swore under his breath as his potion switched from a pale blue color, to a murky green.

“You’ve added too much wormroot,” Elara sighed, pausing in the stirring of her own potion. “Add a pinch more of the dried nettlefish, and it should be fine.”

“Define a pinch.” Fred scratched the back of his head, grimacing in frustration.

Elara huffed, and suddenly she was invading Fred’s personal space, her heavenly scent washing over him as she quickly added the ingredient to the potion, going so far as to stir it for him. She nodded at him when it finally turned to more of a blue than a green.

“It won’t be perfect, but unless you’d rather start over that’s the best you’ll get.” Elara shrugged, turning her attention back to her own. It was the perfect shimmering blue, and Fred was mesmerized as he watched Elara gently stir it once more, before raising her hand for Professor Snape to come take a look.

“Thanks.” said Fred, unable to take his eyes off Elara’s beautiful face. She had gorgeous cheekbones, high and hollow like they were carved by Aphrodite herself. Even as she sat there with her hand raised, she had the grace and poise that could only be associated with traditional pure blood families.

“Ah, Miss Malfoy,” Snape pulled a vial from his bat like robes, streaming her potion inside of it and placing a rubber stopper to hold it in place. “Interesting company you have with yourself today.”

“Yes, indeed,” Elara replied, and it was only because Fred was studying her that he noticed her jaw clench, and her fingers clench around the edge of the table top. “Perhaps if you had more tables in your classroom, I wouldn’t have had to subject myself to a Gryffindor.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at her, and then darted his gaze over to Fred, who felt insulted at Elara’s words. “Weasley, I see you did only slightly better than your brother.”

“Well, at least I still came out on top, hm?” Fred retorted, giving a wide smile to the slimy git. Snape rolled his eyes, and swiftly gathered a vial of his potion before moving onto the next table.

“Didn’t mean to subject you to my presence, by the way,” said Fred lightly, focusing on gathering his ingredients together. “There were no other places for me to sit.”

“Aw, did little Weasley get his feelings hurt?” Elara said the words almost seductively, teasing most certainly, but with a little spice. “What’s he gonna do about it?”

Fred paused, looking to see that Elara had a smirk on her beautiful face, her long fingernails tapping against the counter. She leaned forward slightly, and Fred noticed that she had undone the top three buttons of her blouse, and he could just barely see a lace bra underneath the fabric. He swallowed hard.

“Perhaps you should meet me at the astronomy tower around midnight, ey?” Fred said the words casually, ignoring the way his dick twitched at the thought.

Elara bit her lip, and sat back in her chair. She slowly crossed her legs, and Fred had to grip the table in front of him.

“I’ll be there.”

part two

#fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #oc malfoy #older malfoy sister #fred x elara #elara malfoy #harry potter #potter #hogwarts #hp x reader

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indig0tea · 4 years ago

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Final 2020 Update: 2021 Goals!!

Cross posting from my devART

Also links to all my alts and shit will be at the end of the post if you need them!

So some of these may be unrealistic due to my struggles with ADHD/Depression Combo but. I wanted to get these down somewhere so you guys can see them and be aware..

Please note, my executive functioning abilities are absolutely Butchered on the regular by my ADHD alone, and the various stressors of 2020 have absolutely taken anything else I might have had in that department and tossed it out the window.

Something something something, financial stressors outside of my control sends me into shut down mode and I can't do anything productive or even fun until it's handled, but because I'm not doing anything productive, I'm not making any money, and the stressors gets worse and worse and it just ends up in a horrible cycle where I constantly want to die because I'm not able to create anything to relieve the stress! Which is why you've all seen... pretty much a standstill on my productivity save one or two pieces a month if I'm lucky

That said, I'm going to start trying (hopefully with some outside help/accountability to keep me on track while I'm unmedicated) to put a system in place that doesn't make me constantly want to die while like. maybe actually getting stuff done! So I'm making some optimistic goals for 2021 regarding both my art and ability to make money, so here goes!

I'm breaking this down into 3 parts:

Changes to expect regarding my social media, commissions in general, posting, etc;

Overall Goals for 2021;

and Goals for January specifically.

Changes to expect going forward from here:

I'm going to be making some changes regarding my social media accounts, including this one, mostly concerning when, where, and how I'm posting.

I am also going to be making some changes to my commission policies, prices, and payments in the coming year, namely:

Lastly, I will be making some changes to my art discord server!

Moving forward, I am going to be MOST active on my twitter and tumblr accounts. They're just easier for me to maintain in general, and although I hate twitter's formatting, it's just easier and faster, and frankly after deviantART and Instagram fucked with their websites/algorithms, it just makes the most sense for me as an artist.

I'm also going to be making an effort to make scheduled cross-posts on all my accounts. In the past, I've been really irregular about when and where I post things (most things got posted to my old tumblr account but never here, i rarely remember to post to instagram, etc).

This is going to include commission slots, finished piece dumps, etc.

I will also be making an effort to semi-regularly post sketch dumps, both digitial and traditional. I am also considering at this time offering a monthly digital download of my sketch collections, though I am undecided as I'm not really sure how many people would be interested.

Increasing commissions prices to reflect time spent working on specific commission types, as well as my personal cost of living.

Planning and announcing commission slots in advance.

Taking and finishing regular commissions to cover living expenses on a monthly basis

Payments will be exclusively through paypal invoice, and will be broken up in halves: first half will be taken up front after I have started and given proof of start (base sketch), the second half will be paid after completion, with WIPS given between first and second payment. Fully completed art will be given after receipt of second half. This is both for my personal protection as an artist, as well as for the comfort of the commissioner as my completion time can sometimes be long due to my ADHD/executive dysfunction.

Moving forward into 2020, my discord will be SFW, but 18+ only. This is a personal comfort thing. I'm 25 years old now, and just really don't want to spend time hanging out with teenagers.

I'm also going to start trying to schedule art streams again! Since this is the only place I can live stream due to my art computer's limitations, it just makes sense to like. Schedule them so more people are able to attend. I haven't decided exactly how that's going to look, but once I have I'm going to make an announcement and formatting guide somewhere for people to see so they can make an informed decision about joining the server.

I will also be regularly posting in the server again. This may or may not be cross posts from twitter and such, we'll see, but I DO plan on being more active there since it's been kind of dead.

I may also reformat the whole server again. We'll see!

Goals for 2021

Regular Adopt Sets -- 2-3 per month. Size, price, and number in set will be decided on case by case basis.

I'll be doing a monthly prompt for myself as well. This is just to get me back in the habit of creating things I like for myself to just feel... less bad about my art in general, and about making art. Also it'll be good for my artistic development i think?

Keeping a monthly sketchbook for warm-ups and in-between pieces. May be offered as a paid download at the end of the month, we'll see.

Might start a patreon? This is EXTREMELY dependent on what my userbase looks like. Tiers and rewards to be decided at a later date

Regular traditional sketches + scan and upload of said sketches. May also be offered in the monthly sketchbook.

Draw more self portraits & self-expression pieces! I don't know if any of yall realize how repressed I've been in the last year without therapy, and I did't either until I forced myself to pursue a vent piece earlier this month, and then felt immensely better afterward so. Going to start doing that! Maybe I'll feel better weee

Regular posting to social media! (see changes above)

Drawing less fantrolls bc I'm just bleh about them lately, drawing more original content!

Drawing fancontent that ISN'T homestuck? We'll see but I'd like to. I don't usually draw fan art bc like. Idk in my mind I don't feel like my interpretation of things is important or cool and I think thats a confidence thing and I'd like to change that so! I'm gonna start making more fan content.

Draw more full illustrations & backgrounds in general because I actually enjoy doing them it turns out?

Practice painting more !! Both traditionally and digitally....

Goals for January 2021

Finish at LEAST 1/4 of my art queue. I'm shooting for half, really, because fully completing it might actually kill me but! We'll see! Maybe I'll surprise myself. But I'm setting the goal low to keep my mental health problems in mind.

Finish and release the base set i've been working on, on and off. It's an homage to the old pixel doll days of 2009-2012, and the full sheet will be free to use (with stipulations, as I have some people blocked that I don't want using it). BUT! There will also be a mix and match .psd that will be pay to use (it'll be pay to use a, bc it'll be huge, and b, bc the edits to make it mix and match results in like 6 seperate bases in general so.... yeah. pay to use)

Finish the pay-to-use base pack i started in june (i may scrap and restart though, we'll see)

Possibly release all old p2u bases of mine in one pack on gumroad? price tbd but it will include old iterations as well as unreleased remakes.

Making some dainty-specific bases! One will be f2u, one will be p2u.

I have a whole dainty YCH set for january! I just have to finish the example... (:

Perhaps I'll be announcing a collaborative project later in the month! It depends on where each of us are at, at the time! We'll see! (: You should be excited though! It'll be a ton of fun!

EXTERNAL LINKS

Instagram

Twitter

Tumblr

deviantART

Discord server

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 42 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: I LIVE!!! Sorry about the delay; ADHD had me hopping through interests like it was my job. At least I have a new laptop now. That’s nice.

_______________________

“How did I let you talk me into this?” Loki asked as he shifted his grip on the handle of the shopping basket to accommodate the large package of glittery gel pens she dumped into it.

“You’re a sucker,” Edith replied simply, not bothering to look at him as she continued down the aisle and thus missing his unamused look.

“What is all of this even for?”

“The pencils and sketchbook are for Steve, he’s running low,” Edith replied, picking up a packet of neon gel pens and eyeing it critically before putting it back and picking up another brand, “The pens are for me, because reasons.”

“And you needed me here, why?”

“Because Nat’s working.”

“Ah, so I am a substitute.”

“Exactly!”

“You might have let me know beforehand; I would have dressed accordingly. Though I am not certain how I would look in red, I have never tried.”

Edith laughed then decided on a package and dropped it into the basket. As they wandered past the brushes aisle, she noticed Loki had stopped to look at them and backtracked to his side. “You paint?”

“I have… dabbled,” he replied somewhat guardedly.

“Would you like to dabble some more, then?”

He opened his mouth to retort as he looked down at her, then noted the faintly amused expression on her face and breathed a laugh instead. “Sorry,” he said a bit self-consciously, “I have explored many interests in my life; some garnered more positive reactions than others. I have learned to keep such things to myself.”

She smiled sympathetically, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Well, you definitely don’t have to do that with me. I want to know all about your interests, no matter how silly or pointless anyone else might think them.”

He smiled a bit and squeezed her hand back gratefully then they turned back to the brushes, grabbing a few sets before moving on. They spent a good while at the paint section and Edith couldn’t help but smile as he talked to an employee about all the different kinds available, clearly enjoying not being scoffed at for his interest in the craft. After getting an easel and some canvas to paint on, as well as some other things Edith wanted, they paid for their purchases and he sent them back to the tower with a wave of his hand (to the cashier’s shock and Loki’s obvious amusement), then went on to have lunch at a nearby cafe.

As they ate, Edith noticed Loki was subtly looking around them. “What’s up?”

“We are being watched.”

“Well, yeah, of course we are; we’re Avengers and I’m Tony Stark’s goddaughter.”

He shook his head. “This is not idle observation from the populace; we are being studied.”

“Can you tell from where?”

“Not yet.”

“How do we handle it?”

“For the moment, it is probably best we do not let on that we know anything is amiss.”

“Okay. It’s your lead.”

They finished their meal then continued on as normal, taking a casual walk through Central Park like they typically did when they had free time and the weather permitted. They were about halfway back to the tower when Loki abruptly cut off what he was saying and pushed Edith back, shielding her with his body just in time to take the bullet meant for her head, grunting lightly as it hit his back. Around them people who realised what happened ran away, not wanting to be caught in any crossfire.

“Loki!”

“I’m fine,” he said through slightly gritted teeth. He turned and scanned the buildings, trying to determine where the shot came from.

“Fine?? You’re bleeding!”

“I will live.”

A faint glint from inside a window caught his attention and he cast an impenetrable bubble-like shield around Edith and ran towards the building, ignoring her protests. He rushed up the building’s stairs until he reached the floor he was after, turning down the hall and counting the doors he passed before bursting through what he hoped was the right one. No sooner had he done that, he dodged aside as the sole occupant of the room shot at him, throwing the dagger he’d conjured at them and hearing a pained grunt then a thud as the shooter fell.

Loki went over, waving a hand to rip the gun from the man’s hand as he tried to take another shot before planting his boot just under the dagger and pressing down, causing the man to yell out. “Now that we understand each other,” he said coolly, “Why are you targeting Edith?”

“I won’t be the last,” the man spat instead, “That bitch is as good as dead.”

Loki frowned, pressing on the wound again, earning another scream. “I will not ask again.”

“Fuck you.” The man bit down hard on something, beginning to convulse before long.

Loki cursed, realising he’d poisoned himself, and stepped back as he died. He looked through the equipment in the room, but there was nothing useful, and he cursed again his decision to waste time interrogating the man instead of just pulling the answers straight from his mind. He summoned his phone and called it in, sealing the room with seidr to prevent anyone from coming in before heading back out to a very displeased Edith.

“What the actual fuck, Loki!” she ranted as he dispelled the shield, “How could you just put me in a bubble and leave? What the fuck!”

“Well, I could hardly risk leaving you exposed; there might have been a second shooter.”

“So we go together! We’re a team!”

“No; you were the target. I had to keep you safe!”

“I’m not some helpless little damsel!”

“I know that!”

“Then fucking act like it!”

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, exhaling slowly before opening them again. “It was a time-sensitive situation,” he said calmly, “I acted on instinct, as I have been trained to do. I will not apologise for that.”

Edith took a moment to force herself to calm down at least some, not wanting to argue in the middle of the street. “There’s a fine line between protecting and suffocating. We work together and there needs to be communication between us. You can’t just decide what’s best and do it without so much as a head’s up.”

He made to reply then looked around them, noticing the few people beginning to return now the danger seemed to be over. “Perhaps it is best we continue this discussion later.”

“Oh, believe me, we will,” she replied coolly. “Did you get anything from the shooter?”

“No; he took his own life before I could,” he frowned, still very much displeased at his failure. If only that spell were less risky to use… “He did confirm his failure will not be the end of it.”

“Well, it’s not the first time there’s a target on my head,” Edith commented, watching as a van stopped near them and SHIELD agents got out and went into the building, “Come on; we better get back and tell the guys what happened.”

Loki hummed in agreement, dispelling the seal he’d placed on the room so the agents could go in. Half-consciously he brushed Edith’s hand with the back of his with the aim of taking it, but she pulled it away and walked towards another van that would take them the rest of the way to the tower, leaving him behind to follow.

Pepper was in the tower when they arrived, and she spent a good half hour worrying over Edith before the younger woman could reassure her that she was perfectly fine. Tony was, understandably, very pissed, essentially drilling Loki for a full report; the god, knowing Tony was scared under the anger, took it in stride, answering all his questions with as much detail as he could.

Afterwards, he took the man aside. “You know what this attempt was about.”

“I have a theory,” Tony replied, “Steve and I have been digging into SHIELD’s leak. It’s interesting timing.”

“If the point is to dissuade you; Miss Potts might also become a target.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. I’ll up her security; you keep doing what you’re doing, keep an eye on Edith. No point telling either of them to stay put; might as well keep them safe while they do their thing.”

“Indeed,” Loki said somewhat tightly as he looked towards the women in question.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Alright; what’d you do?”

Loki looked back at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the cold shoulder back there.”

“That is between her and I.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself, but you really need to stop pissing her off. Plenty of people here willing to help her hide a body.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #wedded bliss #chapter 42 #malicemanaged

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itsicantbelievethis666 · 6 years ago

Text

A Cunning Woman - Chapter 1

1920 words. Clearly this is an extrapolation of the feud between Bray Wyatt and Finn Balor; I’ve been bouncing the idea around my head since the feud first heated up. There’s no smut in this chapter, but that may come later.

No copyright infringement is intended and I claim no ownership of any intellectual property herein.

---------------------------------------------------------

The clanging and screeching of old hinges rips into my head as the cell door is flung wide open, smashing against the one stone wall. A heavy thud follows, accompanied by a pained shout and moaning. The voice is male, but the strain of what’s just happened to its owner distorts it beyond recognition otherwise.

Then, one of the guards – Harper, I figure, with at least the willingness to speak, chides him, “You’re going to be here as long as our brother Bray wants you here, little rabbit, just like that thing over there.” I can feel the finger pointing in my direction.

Silence echoes through this place a moment before the hinges screech again and the door smashes shut, and the locks clang. The heavy footsteps fade off, but the moans of my new cellmate linger. He’s in pain and struggling to get to his feet, but I’m in no condition to help him.

Christ! I’m so sorry they’ve done this to you. I wish I could help you. This is all my fault.

Whatever Bray did to me – Christ, how long ago has it been? – has locked me inside my body. I am able to breathe and to swallow, but I can only take liquids and, even then, I’m made to shuffle my body along the floor to reach the bowl that is plunked down three times a day. I can’t use my hands; everything is pain. I wonder what they’ve done to this poor sod who has joined me. My attempts to scream are lost in whatever’s surrounding me.

“You bastards! I’ll get you all for ‘dis!” His voice is accented and defiant, if pained, as he pounds in vain at the door. He’s in much better shape than I am, by the sound of it, but not for much longer if he keeps it up. I have to calm him the only way I have left to me.

Little rabbit, please be calm. I send the message into his mind, hoping against hope that he might be attuned enough to hear it and, perhaps, heed it. I manage to wriggle my way forward, past what debris still remains on the floor of this cell. Thank God I can still feel something covering me completely. I have no idea how I must look to my new companion.

There’s a shuffling away from me, but his voice drops to a whisper of dread and disgust. “Who-Who are ya?”

Please help me. Please help me, so that maybe I can help us both. I can’t be sure if my words reached him or if he’s merely reacting to the sight of a wrapped body writhing on the floor. Another sharp pain – my knee, I think - shoots through me and shatters my thoughts.

A pause, then, “What d’ya need fer me ta help ya?” If I could sigh in relief, I would. My companion can “hear” me.

I…I don’t know how Bray’s got me. I need you to tell me.

“What’ you mean?”

I can’t move. I’m blind as a bat and I’m in pain. Oh, God! It hurts! He’s hurt me badly, and done things to me that will keep me from healing myself, unless you help. I need to know what he’s done so it can be undone.

Another pause, another shuffle that grows louder, and then the cloth shuffled and twisted over me until I can feel damp, cool air. A gasp follows and I can sense him turning away in horror.

What’s he done to me, little rabbit? A fresh wave of pain from my side shocks me into a desperate stillness.

His answer is a barely audible whisper. “Jaysus…I t’ought he was sick fer pourin’ a bucket of blood all o’er me after a match. I never t’ought….” His voice catches in a sob.

What has he done? I’m not sure I want to know now.

“You look like you’ve been melted. Your limbs – oh, Christ – it looks like he’s broken your arms ‘n’ legs in about a half-dozen places. The rest of ya – it looks like you’re in a skin cocoon. I don’t know how – Jaysus – how you’re still even alive.” He lifts up my head and shoulders, cradling them, and shuffles his position so that they rest on his legs.

So Wyatt thought to let me rot here forever, unable to speak, unable to see, unable to move and unable to heal myself, and, until tonight, with no prospects of relief, let alone escaping. Until Harper and Rowan, those idiots, made a huge error and brought me a little rabbit.

They’ll learn of their error soon enough. I know what he’s done to me. I need you to help me undo it. Please.

“Undo it? Jaysus – I wouldn’t know how to undo this!”

Nonetheless, you can help me. You have it in you, along with that demon.

“Demon?” he exclaims. “How the feck do you know of dat?”

You have much inside you, little rabbit. Please! You can help me. Lay your hands where you think my eyes may be.

A brief silence again fills the cell, then I feel something over my eyes - his hands press gently over them. I incant silently. A handful of thin flesh falls away under my new friend’s hands, falling from my face to the floor when he pulls his hands, partly in horror.

My God! The sight of my companion nearly kills me then and there. He looks like something from an Old Master’s sketchbook; his face at once angelic and kind, his eyes like the sea. For the first time in so many years, my heart stirs, even as I despair. There’s a look of concern on his face as he realizes there’s a human inside this…shell of atrocity. I am weeping with bittersweet relief.

Thank you. You have done me a great kindness. I know this must be…difficult for you to comprehend or accept.

“It’s a bit overwhelmin’ t’say de least.” He answers, then, “Oi! you’re a she! Christ! I can’t leave ya danglin’ like this.” He finds his courage. Ah, well – being female can have its advantages.

To his credit he is methodical, as far as he can be. He has learned the incantation and repeats it. He lays hands across my nose, over my mouth, over the top of my head, to my neck and shoulders. Under his hands, my arms knit together perfectly, as though they had never been broken. My legs are freed and healed completely. The flesh patches fall away, until they are gathered and dumped in a pile in the corner far opposite to where my companion and I could bunk down. The pain subsides almost completely and I heave and sob in relief.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not hurtin’ ya, am I?”

No, no, far from it. You have lifted a great burden from me.

At last my torso, alone, is left. I stand in the middle of the cell, determined that this was an act I could do alone. My hands wander over my stomach and pressed, my mind incanting the counterspell to Wyatt’s evil.

Nothing happens.

I look at my companion. My voice cracks and croaks from lack of use, but manages something of a noise. “I’d need your hands again to complete the work, I’m afraid. Leave it to Bray to make me dependent on others.”

He grows flustered at the prospect, sheepishness creeping. “Ma’am, I’m not sure I’m – “

“I understand,” I answer resignedly, crossing my arms. “I must look a sight.”

“Tisn’t dat, ma’am.” He looks at me earnestly. “‘Tis dat you’ve been through enough from him and I don’t want to add to it. I know what ‘e’s like.”

I can’t blame him. He doesn’t know me from Eve. “I’m healed enough to keep going, at least. It’s not as if I need anything there anymore. What’s left to heal on me wouldn’t be worth the indignity to either of us.”

I look at my hands. The skin is a little looser than I remember and there are new lines over the backs. I run my fingers through my hair and found it had grown long enough to reach my tailbone, and was lighter, the grey starting to show. “What year is it?”

My cellmate tells me.

“Jesus, little rabbit. I’ve been here nearly five years!” I then catch a full look at my helper. He is barely dressed; black trunks and boots, with armoured sleeves of a sort covering his calves. He’s crossed his arms and is huddled near the bed of straw in the corner.

I pick up the rumpled pile of fabric in which I’d been wrapped; an old robe, large enough to envelop me completely when I was immobilized. I look around the cell quickly and found a skeleton wrapped in a second robe, a brown one with a rope belt with three knots. “Which one would you prefer?”

He looks at the skeleton with renewed horror. “I can’t wear dat. He was a monk – Franciscan, I tink. I can’t…can’t bear to put it on knowin’ he died in ‘ere.”

“Then you can wear the one I had on,” I answer, tossing it to my new friend. “Wherever he’s gone, he’s not going to need that robe. And it’s getting cold down here.” I take a few good strides across the floor and gingerly pluck the robe and belt off the poor friar’s bones; despite my care, the skeleton comes apart and ends up as a pile of bones. I whisk the robe around my shoulders and put my arms through the sleeves, wrapping it closed and cinching the waist with the belt before walking back to my new companion.

I sit down next to him on the straw. “We’ll have to bust out of here as soon as we get the chance. When Bray sees what’s been done, little rabbit, he’ll kill us both - you for helping me; me just to be rid of me once and for all.”

He mumbles, “I have a name….”

I’ve only piled on to another’s torment just now by giving him the name my enemy and jailer had. Sure, Wyatt had me half-morphed into silence and tortured, but I’ve always wanted to be better than him. I’d spent ages desperately trying to be the nobler creature. I have slipped.

I’m so sorry, my friend. I’ve disrespected you. More than to hear the words, I want my friend – my rescuer, even – to feel my contrition. What is your name? “It’s Finn. Finn Bálor.”

“Is maith bualadh leat.(It’s good to meet you.)” I say. “Would you know the time, Finn?”

“I’d say near two in de mornin’ now,” he answers.

“We’ll have a few hours to rest before those lunks come back. They’ll be expecting you – they won’t be expecting me.” I pile some of the straw into the corner to lean back into it, my legs curled under me. I pull the hood of the friar’s robe over my head and my hands into the sleeves to cover myself. “You can sleep next to me. It’s cold down here.”

Finn piles a little more straw against the wall, then leans back next to me. As if by instinct, he turns towards me and pulls his legs up under his robe, then pulls some of the excess fabric over me. He drowsily muses, “Normally, I’d have to know a girl’s name beforehand.”

“Abigail,“ I tell him, as I give myself over to sleep. “My name is Abigail.”

#wwe #finn balór #finn balor #sister abigail #bray wyatt

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ijustwant2write · 7 years ago

Text

Wrong Lover-Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Part 6/?)

(GIF credit to @fyeahmarvel)

Masterlist

Part 1/ Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4/ Part 5 / Part 7 / Part 8

Summary: Now that Wanda knows (Y/N) and Bucky’s secret, tensions start to rise. They’re terrified that they’ll be exposed to everyone and try to come up with a plan that will stop all this.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, cheating

Tags: @lovely-geek @projectxhappiness @seargantbcky @pluckastarfromthesky @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @aznkim @buckyness-intensifies @youreahandsomedevil @florenceivy

(If you want to be tagged just ask)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Shit, shit, shit, shit-”

“(Y/N), stop, we need to get down there.” Bucky stopped me, trying to not panic himself.

“And do what? She can get into people’s minds, there’s no stopping her.” I stressed, hitting the elevator button repeatedly.

“Steve won’t believe it.”

“But why would Wanda tell him something like this? Let alone lie to him? He’ll be skeptical but he’ll find a way to figure this all out.”

“Look, let’s just get down there and see what’s happening before we jump to conclusions.”

As soon as the doors started to open, I wrestled my way in, slamming the buttons again to make it move faster. Bucky pulled me away, restraining my arms. I fought against him, terrified that I had fucked all of this up, that everything was going to fall apart because of me. When we broke apart, the doors slid open again, both of us bursting out of it. We tried to mask our expressions, acting neutral as we quickly walked down the corridors. Bucky suddenly started guiding me in a different direction, looking like he had heard something; as we got closer to one of the many conference rooms, my heart started to beat faster than it already was, making me think I was about to have a heart attack.

We came to a halt down the hall from the room, their voices were muffled to our ears. I could see Bucky straining to listen, making me want to burst through the door and see what was happening. I started taking slow, silent steps towards the door, desperate to find out what my fate was.

“Wanda, are you sure about this? I’m not sure where I stand on this.” I heard Steve say.

“Yes, I wouldn’t tell you any of this if I wasn’t sure.” Wanda replied through a sigh.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

She had told him. This was it. Not wanting to hear anymore, I brushed past Bucky, wanting to get away from this place, these people. It was better to get away whilst I could rather than wait to be thrown out. I could hear bustling going on behind me, Bucky calling after me as Steve asked what was going on. I jumped into the elevator, catching one last glimpse of everyone as the doors closed, seeing Steve rush forward before the elevator finally started moving. I let out a long, shaky breath, trying to devise a plan to get out of here without being noticed; that was impossible, there were eyes everywhere.

The only person I could see in my mind was Steve. Of course I felt this almighty guilt about what I had done and how I was feeling, but there was also this other form of guilt inside of me; I really sympathised with him, I wanted to hold him, to comfort him, lie through my teeth and tell him that I love him. Why was I suddenly wanting to be around him like this? I tried to convince myself that it was the guilt, but the realistic side of me knew that there was something deeper to all of this.

As soon as I got to my room, I hurried to pack a bag, not really paying attention to what I was throwing in. Stopping in my tracks as my eyes landed on Steve’s sketchbook, I pondered for a moment, not realising how fast my breathing was. This was all a spur of the moment; would Bucky come with me? I mean, the whole reason I was running away was because of him. Where would we go? Everyone knew who he was and S.H.I.E.L.D was sure to start tracking him down as soon as he stepped foot out of the building.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Steve softly said from the doorway.

“I-I don’t think I should be here anymore.” I sobbed, staring down at my bag.“I need to leave, this won’t work out.”

“Work out? (Y/N) you have no where to go.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me anymore, you can let your true feelings out now.”

He approached me, standing so close behind me that I could feel his breath on my neck.“Whatever is going on, I don’t care. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

I sniffed.“How can you act like everything is OK?”

“Because I know we’ll get through this.”

I finally turned around to face him, for once not flinching as he held me by my waist, pulling me close.“Why are you so good to me? After the awful things I’ve done to you?”

“(Y/N) I don’t know where this is coming from, but you’ve never been awful to me.”

“Steve...what are you talking about?”

“The doctors said that you may have episodes like this, because you’re emotions aren’t in the right place. Don’t worry, you aren’t a burden to me, I just want to help.”

He didn’t know.

I closed my eyes in relief, leaning into Steve’s chest. One hand wrapped around my torso as the other went to the back of my head, swaying us slightly as I calmed down. Wanda must have not told him. I knew when Steve was lying, he wasn’t pretending not to know; others may fall for it but I knew him too well.

“It’s gonna be OK. I’m going to look after you.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“Shh, don’t worry about it anymore.”

I sighed into his shoulder, my mind overcome with thoughts; how the hell was I suppose to get out of this? I raised my head slightly, only to glance at the still open door, a shadowy figure lurking there. Only, I knew who it was as I saw something reflect on their arm. Bucky stood there for a second, his eyes boring into mine before he quickly stormed away.

Later that day, I found Wanda relaxing with a book on the balcony, not looking fazed by the scene I had caused earlier. I slid the door aside, preparing myself for a lengthy conversation. As I closed it behind me, Wanda folded the page she was on, placing it on the table but she still wouldn’t look my way. I leaned my back against the railings, crossing my arms over my chest as I sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” I asked, desperate for an answer.

“It wasn’t my place.” She shrugged.

“No, there’s more to it.”

“What do you want me to say? I didn’t tell him because I wanted to be a lying cheat just like you?”

My eyes widened at her comment.

“What? It’s the truth isn’t it? Can’t you admit anything?”

“Wanda!”

“(Y/N), Steve has never let me down. He’s always been by my side, just like Pietro was. When I saw how good you and Steve were together, I had never been happier. But now that I’ve seen the real you, I can’t let you ruin him.”

“I can’t help how I feel. Perhaps the accident muddled things up in my mind and these are my feelings now.”

“That’s utter crap and you know it. You need to sort yourself out before you tell Steve.”

“I can’t tell him about this! He would be heartbroken.”

“Imagine how heartbroken he would be if he found out by himself?”

“Please don’t say anything to him.”

“Will you tell him?”

I hesitated.“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you, but is there any point arguing?”

I huffed, making a statement as I stomped away, slamming the door shut before I could let myself shout at her. I was already losing those I loved, I had to stop taking these risks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It seemed that the commotion had stayed with the four of us, as the next day, everything was back to normal. Wanda was still ignoring me, though that didn’t surprise me; we hid it well from the rest, knowing that questions would follow. However, one person I didn’t expect to have an attitude was Bucky. His tone was sharp and cold towards me, he never wanted to be near me. I was confused as to why he was acting this way, blaming it on the fact that he didn’t want Wanda assuming we were still close.

“Hey, Bucky!” I called out down the corridor, running to catch up with his long strides.“Hey, don’t ignore me.”

“Maybe it’s a good idea to ignore you.” He whipped round to face me, looking mad.

“Why? Bucky what’s wrong?”

“You’re too soft on Steve. If you really wanted this to be real, you would have said something by now.” He bent down so he was eye level with me.

“Bucky, are you hearing yourself right now? We can’t just dump all of this on him!”

“I know, but I don’t know how much longer I can wait for this-”

“What are you two whispering about?” Steve startled us both, making us move away from each other.

“If we were whispering then it must be a secret.” Bucky joked, giving a sarcastic smile towards me.

I tensed up, wondering if Steve had seen how close we were.

“I don’t want to interrupt, but can I talk to you for a minute (Y/N)?”

Bucky smiled at us both, beginning to walk away. He was pissed off at me, pissed off at the fact that I was being nice to Steve.

“Uh, actually, can it wait? Bucky and I were about to go do something.”

Wow, you can’t even come up with an actual excuse.

“It’ll only be a minute. Buck, you don’t have to go.”

Bucky stayed his distance, trying not to show his annoyance. I faced Steve, a small smile appearing on my face as he held my hand gingerly.

“I know it seems like a big step, and you can say no if want, but I thought I could take you somewhere this weekend? I think it might help with the therapy.”

“Oh, wow, really?” I mumbled.

“It will have to remain a secret until then. What do you say?”

I stopped myself from looking over my shoulder to Bucky. It was as if I was being tested, go with my boyfriend or his best friend? Fuck, when you put it like that, it sounds awful.

No, everything about this is awful.

My heart started to beat rapidly as I thought about a getaway with Steve, though not in a bad way. I wanted to go, I wanted to see what would happen between us when we were alone; as I thought about what would happen if I stayed with Bucky, I found myself not excited. We wouldn’t be able to do anything, we probably couldn’t even be the same room for more than five minutes without Wanda making us feel guilty.

“I think that’s a great idea. I love surprises.”

“Great.” He quickly kissed my cheek, patting Bucky on the shoulder as he passed by.

My smile disappeared as I turned to see Bucky, who looked even more angry than earlier. My shoulders slumped as I let out a sigh.

“What was I supposed to say?”

“You could have lied. We’ve both being doing it for the past week.” Bucky flailed his arms around, though his tone was calmer.

“It might get them off our backs for a while.”

“You’re falling in love with him again, unless you’ve just got really good at pretending.” He started to walk away.

“No I’m not-”

“I don’t need this right now (Y/N), go on your honeymoon then tell me how you really feel.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers imagine

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lhugbereth · 7 years ago

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So ummm I have about 2700 words of (mostly) Promptio smut, but it isn’t actually finished, or edited or....anything. But I’ll put some of it up as a teaser I guess. Might motivate me to write more.

It’s the third chapter of Under the Skin, a tattoo/band AU I’ve been working on for...too long now. It should have been done months ago. I’m awful.

(I’m also attempting to add some CindyLu to it but am feeling very stuck. Writing Luna is tough. Writing is tough. Advice/suggestions/help appreciated. Please. I’m so lost)

SFW teaser under the cut v v v

Helping Noct and Iggy load up the car would have gone a lot faster had either of them actually bothered to show up.

Gladio really shouldn’t have been surprised. The two of them had been dating for as long as they’d had the band together, and they often disappeared in the excitement after a show. Noct would whisk Ignis off to a bathroom stall, or Iggy would pull Noct into a backstage changing room, and they wouldn’t be seen again until they’d both worked off some excess energy.

But this time, it should have been Gladio’s turn. At least, that’s what he thought as he tossed another speaker into the back of their equipment van. The longer he kept Prompto - Prompto! - waiting back in the bar, the less confidence he had that the cute blond wouldn’t go home with someone else first. One look at those gorgeous blue eyes and anyone would fall him, after all. Hell, maybe someone was in there flirting with Prom at that very moment - someone who wasn’t stuck loading up instruments all alone because his stupid bandmates couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

As soon as they got paid, the first thing Gladio was doing was hiring some roadies.

Eventually, he finished up. Ignis and Noct still weren’t back, so he shot them each a text telling them not to wait up for him later. He toweled off and locked up the van, then headed back into the Garage ready to offer up a dozen apologies for the delay.

None of them, it turned out, were necessary. The moment Prompto caught sight of him from the bar (it was easier now that the crowd had mostly dispersed), he was jumping down from his stool and practically running over to greet him.

“Cindy told me everything!” he said excitedly, bright blue eyes wide. “You guys got signed!”

Caught off-guard, Gladio could only nod. “Oh. Uh, yeah. Noct’s got connections with an agent at Citadel Records, and she decided to give us a shot. No big deal, really.”

Prompto, apparently, disagreed. “It’s a huge deal! Did you know Cor used to be in a band? Something weird, like, uh, Accordion or Apocalypse, or --”

“Accordo. Yeah, uh, I know,” Gladio smiled, running his fingers back through his hair.

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, he’ll be so excited when he hears one of his clients is gonna be famous.” On reflex, and totally without thinking, Prompto reached forward to trace the tips of his fingers over Gladio’s chest piece. The beak of the eagle was still little more than an outline, but it looked good nonetheless. Even Gladio was proud of it - especially with the way Prompto’s eyes shone as they drank it in. “I can’t believe I got to be a part of rockstar history.”

Gladio laughed. Laid his hand atop the blond’s on his chest and held him there, freckled cheeks slowly tinting red beneath the dim lights of the club. “Still got a long way to go before I hit rockstar status. But maybe, y’know, you could stick around, keep bein’ a part of...this?”

He meant the tattoos. He meant the music. He meant anything and everything Prompto could imagine and more.

The blond blushed a shade darker at however he chose to interpret the words. The smile he’d been wearing stretched wider, and his fingers curled against Gladio’s chest. An answer, perhaps, followed by a question of his own. “Did you still wanna come over tonight?”

The unmistakable yes came in the form of Gladio’s mouth on his.

~~~~

“It’s not much, but. Well. Here we are.”

They were standing outside of Prompto’s apartment building, essentially an old tenement that had been patched up ages ago and left standing on the edge of downtown. Beyond the distant horizon of Insomnia’s outer walls, the sun was nearly set, and the sky was painted in delicate orange and pinks. The latter reflected the color of Prom’s cheeks in that moment as, shyly, he explained that he hadn’t cleaned since the last time his parents paid him a visit.

“I live with my little sister. I’m used to it,” Gladio grinned, intentionally leaving out that most of the mess at home was actually his own and that Iris was the only one who ever bothered to tidy up anyway. But his answer seemed to relax a little of the tension in Prompto’s shoulders, which was the point, and then the blond was unlocking the door to let them both inside.

It was as small on the inside as it had appeared from the front. The door opened into a humble living room, complete with a loveseat (black pleather), a coffee table covered in magazines, sketchbooks, empty soda cans, and takeout boxes, and a stereo system against the far wall. Above that were countless posters - the longer Gladio focused on them, the more familiar faces jumped out - of some of Insomnia’s most famous heavy metal bands: The Glaives, DeathMog, 10,000 Needles, and even The Call of MalBoro. A few of those, he noticed, had been autographed in scrawling silver ink.

While Prompto scooped up the boxes and cans that littered the table, Gladio took a few moments to admire the collection. “I didn’t realize you were so big into music,” he said, smiling, and glanced back to cast the blond a look over his shoulder. “Looks like you even got to meet Nyx Ulric. I’m jealous.”

Freckled cheeks brightened even in the apartment’s dim light. “A-actually, Cor got that for me last year. I’ve never been to a Glaives concert, they’re always sold out.” Hastily, he dumped his armful of garbage into a half-empty trash bag, and dusted off his shirt. “Do you like them?”

“Sure, I’ve been to a couple shows.” Make that at least a dozen, Gladio winced mentally. His father got free tickets to just about every concert performed in the city, probably a perk of being both a legendary guitarist and best friends with the Regis Caelum, the King of Rock himself. Usually, attending felt like a chore, but now…. “Maybe I can snag a seat for you next time I go.”

The offer had Prompto beaming, his smile so bright it was staggering as he rounded the table and closed in. “Wow! You’d do that for me? I mean, I’ll pay, of course, but —“

“Don’t worry about it.” Large hands welcomed thin shoulders in an embrace. “My treat.”

He could practically feel Prompto’s face burning, especially as the blond leaned into him. Soft skin brushed his jaw, and eyelashes kissed the side of his neck as Prom closed his eyes. “Gladio.”

The word was a question. A timid request that took them back to the warmth and energy of the Garage, where they had felt like the only two people in a crowded room. Now they really were alone, however, and the attraction, the need that had blossomed between them was free to grow.

It started with a kiss. Silent, wordless, as Gladio turned his face to the side and met Prompto’s lips. Slow, soft, hands exploring every curve, every edge, drawing each other closer in time with their quickening heartbeats. Eager and determined not to miss a second of this moment they had both wanted for so long.

Prompto, shorter by at least a head, found himself swallowed up in Gladio’s arms within moments. They wrapped around him, strong and familiar, lifted him up onto his toes; hugged him until his body felt on fire and his lungs burned with the kiss. Still, he didn’t pull away, couldn’t because every fiber of his being wanted, no, needed this more desperately than air. When he kissed Gladio, all the weeks and months of waiting, of not knowing, of hoping, were poured into the act. His tongue claimed Gladio’s mouth, drank in the tastes that left him reeling, dizzy, breathless. Intoxicated.

Until, at last, it was Gladio who was forced to break for air.

“Prom...gods.” Amber eyes, nearly black in the shadows of the room, struggled for focus. “I, uh. I got something to say.”

The blond swallowed down a breath. “Y-yeah?”

“I have never wanted anything as bad as I wanna fuck you.”

O-ohh.

“If you don’t stop me right now,” he added in a voice like whiskey melting Prompto from the inside out. “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m taking you to bed and we’re not gonna quit ‘til morning. We’re gonna get wild.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re gonna get hot.”

“Gladio....”

Large fingers stroked back through blond locks. Clamped at the base and tugged Prompto’s head back, just out of reach of his mouth. “We’re gonna get rough.”

There. The pupils of those heavenly blue eyes blew out wide, and he felt Prom shudder against him. His lips trembled as he tried to respond, all the while his gaze never leaving Gladio’s face. “Y...yes. Please. I want…. I want everything.”

So, he’d guessed right. Heat boiled in Gladio’s own gut as, once more closing his mouth over Prompto’s, he lifted him off the ground. Held him tight until surprisingly strong thighs gripped around him, and then they were moving, blindly but steadily, through the small apartment to the bedroom at the back.

#ffxv #promptio #myfic #teaser #i am trying to write again but #ugh i hate everything

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seaweeeeef-blog · 6 years ago

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The Beginning of Something

OOps, I accidentally put this on the wrong blog. lmao follow shyshysmind for my writing, i’m gonna repost this oops This is the first chapter of..... something. It is also published here > https://www.wattpad.com/705655879-lavender-whomever

Who am I? Your guess is as good as mine, really.

Am I simply the young hardware store cashier with blue hair and long roots who sometimes wears bright red lipstick (which, by French fashion standards, is more of a warm red than a cool tone red and doesn’t match my skin tone)? Maybe I’m not all that complex; it’s possible that my life really isn’t much more intricate than what customers see when I scan the barcodes on their oak two-by-fours in their carts and take their dirty coupons in my thin white hand with a smile. For the most part, I don’t speak to my coworkers unless spoken to, and as far as customers go, I am on autopilot: “Hello, you find everything okay?” If the customer only sets one or two items on my counter (usually a soap-box-sized carton of screws or some small random piece of plumbing piping): “Would you like a bag for that?” (It makes me happy when they say no; plastic bags are horrible for the environment.)

The customers usually insert their cards into the card reader on my counter and then stare at me in their idle, waiting for me to perform some magical cashier trick on the computer, unaware until I peep up and tell them so that the card reader machine is waiting on them to push a button or enter a credit pin number.

Maybe I’m just as dull and reticent when I go home after nine hours of, “Hello, you find everything okay? Would you like a bag for that? It’s gonna have you select debit or credit--here’s your receipt, and here is a coupon for five dollars off a purchase of twenty-five or more,” as I am when I take my lunch breaks alone in the quiet of the training room, reading some overdue library book and pinching small bite-sized pieces off of a gas station brownie to nibble at instead of taking direct bites out of the suspiciously oily pastry.

Maybe I’m actually the notions inside my head. Maybe I am just a tool that they use to be heard and make their dreams a reality; maybe I’m not my body or job. Maybe I am a successful, peaceful, light-hearted artist and author--I just haven’t published my novels or hosted any successful art shows yet. Or any art shows, for that matter.

Perhaps I’m my mother’s daughter; stubborn and crazy, with an invariably rotten attitude and enough financial issues for myself and all of my fellow cashiers to build a boat out of and sail away from civilization and debt.

Maybe I’m always so quiet because I’m holding my tongue, like my mother, and thinking about slashing tires and throwing ceramic dishes at skulls and sinking screwdrivers into flesh, all in the name or petty revenge or an intense burst of anger. Except, come to think of it, my mother doesn’t actually ever hold her tongue, so I suppose I might just be quiet for reasons entirely my own.

Maybe I’m just like my mother’s mother, like my mother is so committed to convincing me I am, except fifty years younger; nasally voice, although mine is less whiny and severe; sitting in front of a computer for hours a day, except she uses the computer her husband bought for her to do lazy transcription work so she can have money for cigarettes, the only thing in life her husband won’t buy for her, and I saved up my paychecks in high school to buy my laptop so that I could leave Mudcap High School and graduate early through online classes; we both sleep a lot, and, as my mother said when I was in high school, I “spent a lot of time on my ass” just like Grammy does--although my time in bed was always induced by an inability to find the motivation to get up, and Grammy’s bedridden state came from staying up too late playing online solitaire.

Maybe I’m just that girl from Mudcap High School whose hair displayed a new fresh (done at home) short cut and color of the rainbow at the beginning and end of every month whose clothes all came from Salvation Army and whose stomach was always making obnoxious attention-seeking noises in Spanish--wait, you thought all that time that I was a boy? Well, yeah, I guess that’s reasonable. I wore a lot of huge baggy sweaters.

Maybe you just know me because you know somebody who knew me. In that case, maybe I only exist in your world and consciousness as the girl who broke Jo-Ellan’s heart, or the girl who tried to look like a boy but then dropped out and grew boobs and is now hot (in the online pictures, at least). Maybe your friend has a friend who knew my twin brother, and so you heard from your friend’s friend who knows my twin brother that my twin brother’s friend saw me on a dating app, and my brother told him, “Don’t worry dude, she doesn’t like dudes. She’s just looking for a sugar daddy.” And so my twin brother, whom we will call “Z”, laughed about it with his friend once the shocking sighting of Z’s twin sister on a dating app had passed, and all was well, but now people know that Z’s twin sister is a sugar baby and not as quiet and sweet as she seems.

Maybe you heard about me from Dan or Katherine; maybe you hope to meet me someday, because I sound like a very sweet person and you like the artwork of mine which they showed you.

Maybe you heard about me from Tyler, the guy I made sandwiches with when I worked at Subway in high school--in which case you probably believe him when he says that I did drugs in the back room of the restaurant.

Maybe you don’t even know my name--maybe you know me because you’ve seen the art I post online. Maybe you feel very connected to me, and feel pleased to see me when you see that I’ve posted a picture of a sketchbook page I’ve completed. Maybe You don’t know my name at all, but the way I layer paint and colored pencils and vary the thickness of my lineart is enough. Maybe the portraits and paintings I share are enough for you to care about me.

Maybe you’re one of Sage’s friends. Maybe you hung out with us the October night when it was warm and I was seventeen and he was eighteen and he put acid under my tongue with his goofy smile and then left my house because he was high and felt like God and my bathroom-sized bedroom was like a birdcage for him at that moment in time. Maybe you were there when he skateboarded from my house to Sebastian’s with more acid and weed in his backpack and the intention to share. Maybe you’re one of the three other guys who were at Sebastian’s house, already under the magical intoxication of Sage’s acid when he called a cab to pick me up from my house and bring me there to drink canned beer and smoke mediocre blunts until the sun came up and I noticed how swollen my lips felt, because acid always makes my lips feel all swollen and purple. So maybe you know me as Sage’s girlfriend who he didn’t call his girlfriend until I finally dumped him months later and he begged for me to stay and apologized for never giving me attention or being a good boyfriend. And that was the first time he had called himself my boyfriend.

I don’t want to think about nights like those anymore. The boy I’m dating now regards LSD with as much hissing ostracism as if it were all cocaine sold from the alley behind a gas station dumpster. Just thinking about that night makes me feel high, though--my anemia leads me to shiver even in sixty-degree weather, which Midwesterners consider quite warm, but I didn’t mind the wind blowing through my maroon flannel and thin anemic skin that night. As I sat on the cold chipped concrete steps in front of my house waiting for the cab Sage had called for me, the cold was refreshing and good-hearted instead of a brittle cruel punishment from Mother Nature. I didn’t feel insecure about my dingy old black high top Converse; my high-waisted jeans and black T-shirt didn’t make me feel like I looked like a twelve-year-old boy; and the dead-ends in my chin-length purple hair were not worth my concern.

The sky all up above and around me and the globe, hugging the horizon of the sleepy little dangerous city, cradling the most dangerous place in all of Indiana in its arm like a tired baby, was stark black, and I could basically smell it; it was a nice undiluted solid black, and there was no pollution hiding the stars. The stars had had a grand day, and were ready to make sure that I was going to have a grand night.

The neighbors on all sides of our house were drug dealers, and those were just the neighbors we actually talked to and knew anything about. The National Guard Armory to the right of my mother’s house, right across the narrow one-way street, was comical considering the neighborhood it was in. But none of that mattered; for once I didn’t hate it all.

The sky was a rich fragrant black, thick enough to choke you if it had such bad intentions; but its intention were only good. The black was the many yards of high-quality fabric of a fine lady’s skirt flowing endlessly down from a well-tailored strapless bodice with a lovely fit and comely sweetheart neckline. The stars were bright and small enough to be all the jewels and shiny beads which her personal tailor had surely spent weeks or months or even a lifetime hand stitching onto the top layer of her many layers of skirts.

It was such a good night to wait outside for a cab.

I will never have nights like that again; life is constantly changing. I can try to recreate that, but I will never get it right. Recreating such good things is a privilege entirely out of my pale mortal hands.

Maybe you know me as the girl who drew really nice insects at Emmons Elementary when we were nine years old who has since moved to and from at least three public schools in the next city over, and then left public schools entirely right smack in the middle of junior year. Maybe that’s how you know me.

You could know me as Andy. If you still know me as Andy, you probably either haven’t spoken to me since sophomore or freshman year, or you knew me in eighth grade when “Andy” was still a thing, and calling me by my real name now just wouldn’t feel right after all that time.

I told people to stop calling me Andy junior year, and people obeyed--well, really I just stopped talking to anybody, so nobody called me anything. But the man I am dating now called me my real name yesterday, and it just sounded strange. He never knew me when I was Andy, and Andy only lasted a few years, and I don’t introduce myself as Andy anymore. I don’t care to be called Andy anymore. Yet it feels so strange, hearing somebody casually call me by my real name. Not knowing that I ever had another name. I don’t think I’ve really spoken to people since high school, so that was one of the first times I’ve heard somebody say it. My mother doesn’t even use my name--she’s never really called me my name, or anything nice.

I’m rambling. My name just sounds weird. I don’t like it when boys say it passionately.

There are so many people that I may be--I can’t even begin to guess which one you may know me as. Even if I were to know exactly what experiences we’ve had together or who told you about me, maybe you don’t even see me as what we’ve done together or what you’ve heard--maybe your own personal thoughts and emotions warped what you know about me. Maybe for the better, probably for the worse. Maybe jealousy came into play somewhere along the road, and no matter what good things you’ve heard, you refuse to accept that somebody who dated somebody who you wanted to date can be genuinely kind and good. Maybe you don’t even remember anymore why you don’t like me. You just don’t.

Maybe you’ve loved me since freshman year, before you even knew my name, before you cut your hair short and before I grew mine out, so no bad things you hear about me sound right or can scathe your love.

Maybe you don’t want to know me. Maybe you wish you did. Maybe you’re thinking about checking the back cover of this book and scavaging the pages of tiny nonsense text that comes before the first chapter and prologue just so that you can find some email or way to contact me because you think I sound interesting.

However you see me now, though, that will change. The way I see myself changes at least three times per hour.

#writing #lavender #book #novel #chapter #chapter 1 #beginning #gay #LESBIAN #words #shyshyswords #please give me feedback #author #young author #freelance #freelance writer #artist

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sueclancy · 6 years ago

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This time of year most of my art commissions are gifts and are top secret. No blogging about them. Well this time a couple asked me to create a double portrait of their two cats and since it’s a gift to themselves they’ve let me blog about it! (Happy Holidays to all of us!) Here’s how it went:

In September Sue and Dean asked me via Caplan Art Designs, my Portland gallery, to create a double portrait of their two cats. They were pretty sure they wanted it to be 12 inches by 18 inches and on handmade paper to be framed.

A time to meet to discuss the commission was arranged and my wife, Judy, and I went to dinner at Sue and Dean’s house. I brought an example of the 100% cotton handmade paper that I’d use at the size they’d requested and a few other sizes just in case. I also brought my camera, a note pad and an extra pen.

After we’d been there a short while the cats came out. So did my camera. As the cats got used to me, and over the evening, I took over 41 photos of them. Here are two of the photos I took.

Ollie

Tony

I asked questions of the humans about the cats favorite places, toys and habits. I asked questions about the humans favorite places, drinks and memories. On my note pad I wrote down the answers. Where possible I photographed the answers . For example on of my questions was: “What drink do you reach for most often when you want to relax? And what kind of glass do you have it in?” Here was the answer:

Generally we just talked about one thing and another. You know, dinner party talk. I asked questions, kept my ears open, and my notepad ready for recording things that might be relevant to the commission. I like to include in any pet portrait elements from the humans’ lives: favorite objects, drinks, food, anything that sparks pleasant memories. Helpfully, Sue and Dean both volunteered lots of information about themselves such as a favorite artwork that was meaningful to them.

They told of past travels that were particularly memorable. Famous people they’d met in Hawaii. All kinds of things were talked about and without interrupting flow I asked more questions and made as many notes as I could. Without being too obvious I also looked around their house noting colors and patterns, writing those notes down too. This is what I call the “data dump” phase of a commission. At this point I have no idea what information will be relevant for the final artwork.

We relaxed into the evening; just talking, having a very yummy dinner with a good wine. Slowly as Sue and Dean talked I began to get ideas… The cats got comfortable too and began doing their “normal�� behavior.

Ollie likes to sit in a basket that holds magazines. Tony likes to sit on the couch and watch Nature on television. The cats behavior prompted me to ask which human had the magazine subscriptions (Sue did) and what magazines were favorites. Dean has worked in technological fields…so technological advances (including TV) were discussed..

Later in the evening I floated a general portrait concept: Ollie reading magazines and Tony watching TV…perhaps the basket Ollie likes so much could become a “table” in the artwork, perhaps… They both seemed to like my concept direction. They verified the size of artwork they wanted. I said I’d send them, via the gallery, a sketch for their approval before I began the finished artwork. We enjoyed a bit more conversation (and wine) – I glanced at my notes and racked my brain to make sure I had all the data I needed – and then we said our good-nights.

In the driveway pulling away from their house about 9:30pm I texted the gallery owner with the gist of what size artwork Sue and Dean wanted etc. Then my wife, Judy, and I discussed the evening in the car as we drove home. I still had my note pad out and was writing notes in the moving car by flashlight. (Judy was driving.)

Occasionally it had happened during the evening that I was talking with Sue in one room while Judy was in another room talking with Dean. So Judy filled me in on what I’d missed. At this point I am still in “data dump” mode. I have a rough direction for my design. But the details are very fuzzy. (Over the many years I’ve done special commissions this kind of uncertainty is normal and I trust it as a part of the process.)

The next day I went over my notes and began making 4 x 6 inch size thumbnail sketches. Over several weeks I did this; going over my notes and photos, drawing possible poses of the cats, possible objects, considering composition and colors. I also showed my sketches to Judy discussing the possibilities. At one point Judy said that they had both talked of Nova Scotia, Newfoundland and Hawaii enough that she was sure that they were important. I agreed and adjusted my drawings so that a reference to those travels was emphasized. Slowly an idea began to come together in the small thumbnail size anyway. What works visually at a small size doesn’t always work at a larger size but it’s a place to start.

On my easel I put the 12 x 18 inch handmade paper. Then I covered that with tracing paper and drew a grid (you can see it in the photo below). Then I put tracing paper over the grid and drew one of the thumbnail ideas to that scale. Then another tracing paper was put over that and that drawing tweaked…. And so it went, with multiple tracing paper overlays and re-draws, for a week or more. Tweak, tweak, tweak, until I had something I felt good about. The “good drawing” I sent to the gallery and to Sue and Dean for their approval. Here is what I sent:

They approved the drawing! Yippee! I did a happy dance and then I got serious about colors.

Upon arriving home after the dinner with Sue and Dean I had gotten out one of my interior design color swatch books. Flipping through the pages I found a couple of color spreads that I felt had the “vibe” of Sue and Dean’s house. I showed the pages to Judy to get her input. With those interior design book pages as a rough guide along with my photographs taken inside their house I began mixing colors and making color notes. I used my thumbnail drawings to play with color schemes too, painting blobs of color here or there. Anyway, here’s a photo of the interior design book page as well as a few pages of my sketchbook color notes. I did 6 pages of color notes but this one photo will give you the idea.

As I decided on the colors I made pencil notes on the approved to-scale drawing where the colors would go. You can see some of this in the photo above.

Then I began on the finished artwork. The actual painting took about 10 days start to finish. As I say often – the sketching/drawing/planning is where the bulk of creation happens. I transferred the approved sketch/drawing to the handmade paper I intended to use for the finished artwork. Then I began to make tiny adjustments to the drawing directly onto the handmade paper in prep for painting. I also discovered gaps in my visual data base.

For example I realized that I didn’t know what the back of a vintage TV set looked like. Not well enough to paint it in detail anyway. Fortunately there are some vintage shops where I live – so a few visits downtown with my sketchbook and the problem was solved!

I also realized that I had an opportunity to make a portrait of Sue and Dean on the front cover of the “magazine” that Ollie, the cat, would be reading in the finished artwork. So I asked for, and got, a picture of the couple that I could use as a reference photo. From the photo I did several pencil drawings on tracing paper to design the magazine cover and to get the humans to look like themselves. I drew until I had a cover design and human portrait that worked. Here it is:

Once I had the magazine “cover” drawing ready (drawn to the scale needed in the artwork) I transferred it to the appropriate spot on the handmade paper. At another point I realized that I could include the stain glass windows I’d seen in their house as part of the “back cover” of the magazine. But I hadn’t gotten photos of the window when we visited for dinner. And neither Judy nor I could remember the exact details of the windows. So I contacted Amy at the Caplan Art design gallery and she helped fill in the missing data! Whew!

Here’s what the finished artwork “Ollie and Tony” looks like. I’ve photographed it as it was on my easel when I finished it, so you can see the four deckled edges of the handmade paper. I used acrylic, gouache, watercolor and ink.

I sent the photo of the finished art to Amy the gallery owner to let her know it was done. Then I spray varnished the piece with a removable varnish that has UV protection in it.

When that was dry I contacted Amy and arranged for a time to deliver it to the gallery. The date was set and the varnish dry so I slipped the artwork into an archival plastic sleeve and into a cardboard portfolio to protect the artwork from being bent on its travels between my studio and the gallery or between the gallery and the framer. (It rains in the Pacific Northwest – so artwork needs all the protection it can get.)

We delivered the artwork to the gallery and as a nice surprise Sue and Dean were there! Here we all are looking at the artwork and talking about it:

Amy will take the artwork to the professional framer the gallery works with and have the art floated on a neutral mat, with spacers so the artwork won’t touch the glass. It will be given a simple black frame.

What a fun project!! I love getting to make highly personal and meaningful visual stories like this! Thank you!! And thank you, Sue and Dean, for letting me share it on my blog!

Happy Holidays Everyone!!

portrait commission of two cats This time of year most of my art commissions are gifts and are top secret. No blogging about them.

#art commission #caplan art designs #cat portraits #fine art #fine art commission #portrait

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horticultureandfineart · 7 years ago

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Advice I’ve Gotten

Advice I’ve Gotten - Amanda Witt

When creating art or being an art student there are lots of struggles along the way. From losing motivation to create art and having bad art days, to worrying about possible future art schools. While I’m still learning myself, there’s a lot I’ve already learned. In this blog post, I want to talk about some things to keep in mind while going through your artist path. Some of these tips can apply to not just art, some can help in whatever interest or major you may have. There’s still a lot for me to learn in the future, but these are some things I’ve kept in mind and that have certainly helped me from time to time.

Losing inspiration or motivation to create art and putting art to side. This has happened to me many times over the years. Where I would sit down open up my sketchbook and not be able to draw anything. Or I would walk into drawing class and not have the motivation to start any new projects or even keep working on old ones. Sometimes I’ll have a project in mind but never start it or get around to doing it. This is bad for several reasons, for one, it prevents you can creating more art pieces and from growing. After not doing art or putting off projects for a while and then looking back, it feels like accomplishing nothing. Sometimes with art, you just have to do it, or else it’ll never get done. When it comes to finding ways to motivate myself, I like to think of how when I’m done I’ll feel more accomplished and be able to add another piece of art to my finished works, or another page in my sketchbook. If I still need extra motivation I’ll set deadlines for myself for certain projects, that way it pushes me to work on something if I find myself having any free time. If I have the motivation to create, but can’t think of anything, I go online to find inspiration. Looking through Pinterest for ideas or other artists online always helps me for when I need to feel inspired. You can even look up art projects online, or sketchbook prompts. For art students, you can even go to one of your teachers an ask for extra projects an see what they give you. There are lots of resources for ideas and projects out there, it just takes some willpower to be able to create sometimes.

Having bad art days. It happens to everyone, where you’re trying to create but whatever you’re doing isn’t working or falls flat. This can be really discouring and even frustrating to the point where you don’t even want to create any more. A lot of times I end up left feeling like my art sucks or it’s not good enough. When overcoming this I just try to remember that everyone has off days and this is just an off day for me. I try to keep in mind that I’m not the only one who struggles and that one bad art day doesn’t devalue all my other works. If I’m working on a project and find that I’m getting frustrated with, then I like to take a short break or work on something else. After looking at a piece for so long and trying to work on it while being frustrated, it’s good to step back for a bit and take your mind off of it. Sometimes if I’m in a mood where I want to create but I’m just having an off day, I’ll go into my sketchbook and create an art dump page. Here I write all of my thoughts and sketch and doodle whatever I like, even if it’s bad. Think of it as getting the bad art out in a way. Doing this allows me to work on something and like create, even if it’s a quick little sketchbook page I still feel like I’m doing something. And if I really don’t like it I can just tear it out and start again. Making little art dump pages can even be fun, being able to doodle without thinking too much about it and just doing it. It’s a way to keep busy and create when having an off day, or if your bored and want to draw.

Finding what your own style is. This is something that I’m still working on, but it’s important. Finding your own style is a way to make your own brand and create art that reflects who you are. When creating portfolios it’s good to develop your style so it shows what you like to create and how you do it. It can also show your own original ideas. Taking inspiration from other artists is good, but when you’re able to have your own style and your own idea, then it’s completely yours. For me, it’s difficult because there are so many different things to try in art and I want to experiment with all of them. There are definitely certain things I can find myself liking more, but I’m still in the process of finding a style that’s completely me. I find myself liking lots of different mediums and I want to find a way to developing a style that I’m able to communicate through multiple mediums. When trying to find your own style, just experiment with different things. After finding what you gravitate towards most, work on that to make it your own. See what mediums you like the most and what style you work best in, even the subject of your art can reflect your own style. Trying different things and taking what you like and making it your own is a great way to finding your own style.

Worrying about the future. This is something I find myself doing a lot. In the future for me, I want to go to an art college, but after that I’m not sure what will happen. Getting from this point now to an art college will be a challenge in itself. There is some advice I’ve gotten from teachers and seniors, and even friends currently in an art college. One of the things is to have a plan, but be flexible. Start by looking at your options and finding which schools you want to apply to. Do research and go in tours to get an idea. If you still haven’t decided what you want to major in, that’s okay, you can start in one thing and change it during later on. Even if you decide you don’t want to go to college that’s okay, figure out a plan for after school that works for you. Just get a general plan as to what you want to do so you aren’t completely in the dark. Another thing is if you’re looking at art schools, try to start putting together your portfolio as soon as you can. This way you’ll be able to think about how you want to bring it all together and you’ll have plenty of work to show. Colleges can also be really expensive, and to help with that try and apply to different scholarships. You never know if you might get it, and any amount helps. Another thing is to put yourself out there. This is not only good for just college, but in life. This can be in volunteering, leadership positions, and even showing support in the community. Having experience is things like these can really help you become well-rounded and possibly help for jobs or school. Even showing support at an art gallery or introducing yourself can be a way to get your name out. This way people can know about you and perhaps be interested in working with you. After planning and figuring out an idea for life after school, you need to learn to be flexible. Maybe you didn’t get into your top college pick, or you can’t go for financial reasons, or you decide college may not be the best for you. That’s all okay. Just because you run into an obstacle like this doesn’t mean you can be successful or have a good life. Be flexible and figure out a new plan.

This is all advice and things I’ve learned from my own experiences and from things I’ve learned from others. It doesn’t stop here, and I still have a lot to learn. Just by trying new things and asking others you can still learn a lot.

#blog entry #art #advice

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