#the latter of which follows me on instagram but i dont think he knows that fact

[death-in-the-neck]

callery pear

[lumineescente]

seungjin drabble (slowtober)

hii im doing a thing called slowtober (made by @/oeildesaturne on instagram, french speaking folks check it out!! although be aware of tw mental health and eds talks) and i'm posting on twitter a seungjin au per word

for the third word of this slowtober we got "mixture"

For this word i just HAD TO (no but yes) make a little hogwarts au... I genuinely tried to think about anything else but my dear hogwarts au it got longer than expected and TO BE HONEST I COULD GO ON!!!!!! i could write all this!! hogwarts au are my favorite

not betaed this is just for fun <3

and if you want to read a seungjin hogwarts au from me you can check this already posted fic!

AND if you enjoyed this challenge who is now over you can vote on this form for your favorite that I’ll be writing into a full fic on ao3! (“soumettre” is “submit” btw)

if you want to check all the drabbles you can go here

"Did it work?" Seungmin pouts staring at the potion in front of him.

The mixture's liquid looks decent, the forms of the steam above it looks like the kind of description their teacher made during class earlier, but something is off. He looks back to the recipe, knowing very well he has not missed a step because he is always very diligent with his work and also because Hyunjin was checking after him, but still. He checks.

"I think it did," Hyunjin answers after getting close to the potion. His cheeks coloured in pink. Seungmin does not notice.

"You think or you're sure? Those are two different things." 

Seungmin smells the potion. This is what is wrong with it. It smells nothing. And the smell is surely the most important thing about this potion. It has to smell like things the person smelling loves. Seungmin expected to smell old books, something homey, maybe that pie Hogwarts serves during Halloween. But all he can smell is Hyunjin's perfume because the latter is so close to him right now, hovering over his shoulder. And to be honest they've spent so much time together lately, Seungmin feels like the perfume has penetrated his own skin.

One thing to know about Seungmin is that he hates not understanding. He will ask questions, make the researches, works the extra time if he has to. But he will get it. Whatever it might be. Usually it is school works, because ever since he has entered Hogwarts it had been his priority (obsession some might said). In exchange he keeps on being the best student, one of them at least, except in potions. Which makes no sense because potions surely is one of the most rational subject they have. Follow the instructions. Choose the right ingredients. Dont miss a step. And follow again the instructions.

The things Seungmin should be the best at! Not that he does not succeed. He just does not succeed enough. And Seungmin really wants to be a healer at St Mungo, he does not need to be good at potions. He needs to be excellent.

Except he is not and apparently books could only tell as much as they can - the disappointment he had felt upon noticing that is still indescribable - so he had gone to the only option left. Ask for help. Slytherin this year were no exception to the unspoken rule of them being the best in potions, in the person of Hwang Hyunjin who was mostly knows for his quidditch skills (Seungmin had had many opportunities to admire... notice those skills through the years).

Another thing about Seungmin is that he definitely lacks people skills, and because Ravenclaw do not share their potion class with Slytherin, he had no reason to ask Hyunjin for help. He knew from other shared times that Hyunjin is a very nice and approachable person, only has the looks of the mean cliché Slytherin but he's heard one day one of his friends telling him he could have been sorted at Hufflepuff and he agrees. Because when Seungmin suddenly showed up and ask for help to that boy he has barely talked to all their years, the boy smiled and said of course.

All that happened last year. When they were studying for their O.W.L.S and Seungmin wanted to make sure he got a O. And he got it because Hyunjin was a very good teacher, very patient, nice and funny. Even if he would often stumble on his words, somehow always made his point very clear. Plus he knew Hyunjin made space for him in his schedule which was already busy with quidditch practices, so for that Seungmin was grateful.

By the end of the year Seungmin knew he had made a friend. Which had not been the case since his first year. This plus the O.W.L.s results, his fifth year was a success. He really thought it would be the end of their lessons but it was Hyunjin who came back to him and asked him if he wanted to continue. He said yes because he genuinely enjoyed it and, if he was being honest with himself, he was scared he would have no reason to hang out with Hyunjin if not. And he really liked hanging out with Hyunjin.

This is how they ended up making amortentia from scratch on a Tuesday evening, because Seugmin completely failed making the mixture during his class in the morning.

"I'm sure it worked," Hyunjin insists, "everything seems fine."

"I cant smell anything," Seungmin tells him.

Hyunjin frowns, "get closer."

Seungmin does so, even if it is useless. He takes a deep breath it but once again all he can smell is Hyunjin's perfume. Floral, probably with lavender undertones, and a bit overwhelming at first but comforting. He shakes his head.

"Do you smell anything?" He asks his surrogate teacher.

This time he does notice the blush on Hyunjin's face.

"I do," he mutters.

Seungmin's never been a really into gossiping, he hates personal question about himself so he does not pry.

"Well, that does not make any sense," he mumbles almost to himself, "go away for a bit, please."

"What?" Hyunjin chokes up.

"I didnt mean it like that... just can you go to the other side of the room so I can focus."

If the request is odd to Hyunjin he does not protest it and do as told. Seungmin stares at the pretty forms the steam makes above the pearly mixture for a moment, deep into focusing on his senses. He closes his eyes to make sure of it. Hyunjin is not in his personal space anymore so there is no reason for his perfume to linger that much, at least he hopes so. He gets closer and closer to the potion but his nose only picks up the same scent over and over. When he opens his eyes back he is frustrated and it probably shows.

"What's going on?" Hyunjin asks him, worry in his voice tone.

"Its just all I can smell is your perfume and I dont get..."

He stops his sentence when he sees the look on Hyunjin's face, the way his blush expanded and his eyes were round. There is a moment of silence during which Seungmin is not really sure what switches in the air what kind of tension gets itself comfortable between them, nor why does it mean. Things in their relationship have always been very easy, even with Seungmin struggling in social interactions, even during the very first lesson Hyunjin had easily broken the glass between them and made Seungmin very comfortable. There is no overthinking when he is with him. It is so relaxing, so freeing.

"Seungmin," Hyunjin eventually says and it is obvious he is trying to suppress a smile on his lips, "you're the smartest person I know... but..."

Seungmin opens his mouth to protest whatever is coming after the "but".

Hyunjin shakes his head and comes back to his previous place, close, very close to Seungmin. It shuts him up because suddenly everything is different.

He sees the look in Hyunjin's eyes, the way their hands could brush against each other if they decided to, and Seungmin is paralyzed.

"I think the potion works very well because I can smell the scent of old books in the library and sugar quills."

This time Seungmin feels himself blushing. Hyunjin always buys for him sugar quills if he goes to honeydukes without him, because Seungmin likes them so much. They are basically just sugar but the way they taste and feel are very calming somehow. He has never really thought a lot about Hyunjin's actions, just categorized him as the nice kind of persons who care a lot about everything and remember little stuff. He never thought it was something special. Just something endearing about Hyunjin like so many things.

"Uh.." he clears his throat. He never is at loss of words, he knows so many words!

Hyunjin smirks and Seungmin tries to look away but Hyunjin is too close and he is everywhere in his personal space and field of vision. It is overwhelming but he does not not like it. He just does not know how to respond to it. And he is still not sure he understands it. While Hyunjin seems to understand everything. That is embarrassing.

"I really thought I was obvious and that you were acting like it was nothing because you were being polite and you didnt want to embarrass me..."

Hyunjin is slightly taller than him, he has noticed, just a few centimeters really nothing in their day to day life but right now as Hyunjin very carefully moves his head closer to Seungmin's, he feels so tiny.

"But you were just very oblivious !" Hyunjin concludes with a smile, "because you are so smart, I never thought it could be that."

"Book smart and emotions smart are different things," he breathes out.

Hyunjin laughs and it makes Seungmin's heart race. He always seems to manage to make Hyunjin laughs so brightly like that, when he has never been known to be a particularly funny person.

"That's right," Hyunjin tells him, "so I'm going to ask you then. Seungmin, do you, perhaps, like me more than just a friend?"

Seungmin knows very well that his entire face is red by now, "I never.. thought about it," he confesses.

Hyunjin smiles very gently, "I did. I actually thought about it so much I lost sleep over it because all I could think about was you and how much I like you."

Seungmin's ears are ringing and he can only hear the loud beating of his own heart, "you did..."

Hyunjin once again looks at him with those doe beautiful gentle eyes and smiles softly and Seungmin feels like he is both melting and burning.

"This might be a bit overwhelming, so..." Hyunjin says and his voice is a little less confident than before, "maybe you can think about it and I can take you out on a date this Saturday at hogsmeade... and if you dont like me then I'll never bother you again with my feelings."

"That's.... thats a very good idea."

The face Hyunjin makes is better than any academic success, Seungmin thinks.

[isolemnlyswear]

hello! can i request a modern marauder (you pick) x popstar!fem!reader (while they're still in hogwarts) to the song breathin by ariana grande as if it were the reader's song? <3 <3

breathin

a/n : this is the most specified request i've ever gotten, so it's kinda shitty ! i really have never wrote anything like this - at all - and i didn’t know if the reader was meant to be a muggle or not ????????? so i made them not one. bc you’re anon i cant ask you questions abt your request, so next time please specify!

continued a/n : wow, this is interesting. i dont like it, but !!! hope u enjoy????

warnings : swearing, bad writing

taglist : @oldschoolkiddo @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @faeinorbit @tomriddleswifey @inks-and-jinx @jxsperhxle @punkrific @the-gazette-of-tea @krasivayadarling @orifortheweeknd @fallin-4-ya @incxndio @daisyyy2516 @hoe4cedricdiggory @vsawyer1989

Remus sighed, glaring at the raven-haired boy beside him.

“What, s’gonna be fun!” Sirius grins, and the lycanthrope who’s refuting him simply laughs.

“Fun? Your idea of fun is a packed concert - full of muggles, nonetheless - for this...popstar woman?” Remus says incredulously, and Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, ho, ho, this is not any popstar, Moony. Plus, what else are we gonna do over the summer? Sulk around at your parents’ house?” Sirius grins again, and Remus lets out a sigh.

“The latter I can agree with. But who is this girl, anyway?” Remus inquires, and Sirius reaches into his back pocket to acquire his phone. Although Hogwarts doesn't allow modern technology, both Sirius and Remus have their own each for the summers. With how phone-centered the modern world is, they couldn't not.

He swipes through to find a picture of you - one obtained from your Instagram, which has over four million followers - and holds it up to Remus.

“Merlin,” he breathes, eyes scanning the image.

You're wearing a brown leather dress, the shoulders poking up just barely. Your hair is framing your face, legs tucked under you in a half-crouch, and you're looking into the camera with lips perfectly parted. It was one you took for the shoot of your newest album, and a particular favorite of yours.

“Gorgeous, right? She’s really talented, as well.” Sirius grins, looking at his best friend, who is unresponsive, with eyes glued on the screen. “Moony?” he waves a hand over the brunette’s face, who snaps out of his trance.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure.” Remus says, blinking a few too many times.

“So, you up for it now?”

“Alright,” Remus replies, nodding at Sirius, who pumps his fists into the air with a grin.

“She's American, but doing a show in London in a few weeks,” Sirius informs, smiling.

“American, huh? How old is she?” Remus asks, settling back into the couch they're perched on.

“That's the best part. She's our age - just turned eighteen.” Sirius grins again, putting his phone away.

“Oh yeah? You say that like she'd notice us. Never gonna happen, Pads.” Remus smiles, shaking his head.

“Expect the unexpected, mon amie.”

---

You're fiddling anxiously with your fingers, hands out of use as someone else is doing your makeup, rather than yourself.

“Almost done, Miss L/N,” Madelyn, your makeup artist, says, brushing a soft highlighter over your cheekbones.

“Mads, I told you that you can call me Y/N. You only do my makeup every day,” you say, closing your eyes as the woman pats highlighter into your inner corner.

“And...” she mists your face with setting spray, “...Done!”

---

About four hours later, your back is facing the crowd that's piled into the venue, stage lights shut off as only the sounds of quiet murmurs and shuffling feet hit your ears.

And then, the lights come on with a thumping click, and you begin the routine that you've practiced time and time again.

The music to your first song, the least vocally challenging of the set, begins, and you turn around with a sway of your hips.

Holding the mic to your mouth, you begin a one-step, two-step rhythm, one that's second nature to you; your eyes survey the crowd, left hand reaching to flip your hair.

The tune changes, and the beat is faster, now, as the lights begin to flash and your voice, in a habitual fashion, changes to match. You stride out rhythmically to the center of the stage.

You crouch in a fluid movement, thankful for the coverage your outfit gives you. It's a black sparkling jumpsuit, bottoms being a high-waisted, glimmering fabric with two side flaps, connected at your stomach to a matching corset-like top.

After a few minutes of usual song/dance routines, followed by cheers from the crowd, you decide it's time for a crowd interaction. It's difficult, resisting the urge to pull out your wand and cast a silencing charm to get the group's attention, but you opt for speech, instead.

"Alright, alright, everybody," you say into the mic with a laugh, eyes scanning the crowd for someone to converse with.

There's one man - his ebony hair is swishing as he speaks - who's bouncing up and down like an eager dog, and you laugh.

"We all excited to be here? In London!" you say, garnering numerous cheers and screams from the group.

"I can tell you are." You walk over to the raven-haired boy, who's in front row, and crouch down. He'd previously cheered extremely loud, confirming his excitement.

The boy makes a loud whoop'ing noise, getting a laugh from his friend.

His friend.

You continue to speak, walking over to someone else, but now your eyes are glued on him.

He looks about your age, with beautifully disheveled sandy brown hair and chocolate eyes. He has numerous scars littering his face, some new and red, some older and whitening.

You can't help but wonder what the scars are from, and you feel a strange attachment to the boy, though you've never spoken before.

And after a while, it's time for your final song. About a thirds of the way through, at your favorite part, you meander back over to the boys.

You lean over, disguising your position as a simple concert move, but you're really staring into the brunette's eyes.

"You remind me of a time when things weren't so complicated." The words fall from your mouth effortlessly, and you're able to search the boy's eyes as you sing. There's a spark in them, a glimmer of light that pulls you in.

"All I need is to see your face." You sing, still singing almost directly to the brunette.

You need to see more of him, you suddenly think. And you continue to sing the song, but all that swims around in your brain is a plan. A plan to erase the mystery behind the boy.

The show comes to a close, but before everyone has left, you pull your manager aside.

"Hey, Martin, this- this is an odd request, but could you ask these two boys to come backstage? That sounds, um, interesting, but would y'mind-"

"What do they look like?" Martin interrupts you, and you sigh in relief.

"One has longer black hair, and the other... sorta sandy brown hair, and some scars on his face. Can you find them from that?"

"I'll try."

You nod and thank him, running backstage to your small lounge and bathroom to await your mysterious visitors, changing quickly into clothes that are more comfortable; a simple silk dress, in a y/f/c hue, and a sweater to go over it.

You fiddle with your wand in your hands, mentally berating yourself.

It was quite a reckless decision, really. It's not like you had a valid reason for inviting these people to such a VIP space such as this. Just because you feel some weird connection to one of them didn't mean you could disregard everything. These boys are probably muggles, and you are not. Merlin, you're getting shipped off to Scotland next year after being home-schooled by your magical parents for eighteen years - just in time for your last year of school -going to a boarding school called Hogwarts (which would be a PR nightmare, but your parents insisted you needed some 'real-life experience').

But amidst your train of thought, you hear a knock at your door - two taps, three taps, your manager's code that it's okay to open the door - and you shove your wand into your (enlarged via Engorgio charm) pocket.

You stride over to the door, fiddling with the hem of your sweater, and open it to see Martin.

"Here they are, Miss L/N." He steps to the side to reveal the two boys, the darker-haired male standing in front, and you refrain from gasping when he steps forward, allowing you full view of the other boy.

The scars on his face are glimmering in the light, and his eyes are warm, pulling you in with every glance. His hair is perfectly tousled, and he's tall, over six foot two, or so you'd guess.

"Come in," you say, stepping aside to allow them entrance. You nod to Martin, signalling him to leave, and he does so, shutting the door and leaving you with the pair.

"Holy shit," the raven-haired boy says, and you realize he's only slightly shorter, about an inch less.

You laugh slightly, gesturing for them to sit down.

"Why are we back here?" the shorter one says, and you smile. He's made himself comfortable, seemingly the more outgoing, but the other one is still standing awkwardly beside you.

"You can relax, I'm not interrogating you," you say, smiling at the taller boy, who seems to let out a breath. "Why don't you introduce yourselves, and then we can talk, okay?"

"I'm Sirius, Sirius Black." The boy runs a hand through his dark hair, grinning.

"Ah, like the constellation? Brightest star in the sky," you say, and he nods.

"I'm, um, Remus. Remus Lupin," the other boy says tentatively, offering a smile.

"Hi, Remus," you say, nodding. "I don't want to assume you know my name, I'm aware you're not American, but considering you're at this concert-"

"Of course, we know your name, we're British, not daft," Sirius says with a playful scoff, and you laugh. "You're Y/N."

"That I am," you say with a giggle, and Remus grins. Your heart stops for a moment, the world coming to a halt as his eyes meet yours.

Sirius clears his throat, and a blush spreads onto the apples of your cheeks. You gulp, looking down.

"So, you didn't answer my question," Sirius starts, tilting his head, but Remus kicks his shin.

"Pads, chill," he whispers, shaking his head. Sirius shakes his head, looking at you.

"It's fine, really. 'M not that interesting, no need to be uptight," you say, smiling again.

"I'd beg to differ," Remus breathes.

After what feels like no time at all, but is really three hours, you've gotten any and all formalities out of the way. Well, all but one - you're still unsure if they're muggles, and they don't know that you're a witch, either.

That is, until Remus gets up to go to the restroom, and something tumbles out of his pocket.

Your first thought is how did something that long fit in a jean pocket, but then you see what it is.

It's a wand, about ten inches, cypress wood, with a small bulb at the end of it. You gasp, and Remus goes pale, stumbling to pick it up.

"Is that-" you start, but Sirius cuts you off.

"It's nothing," he says quickly, but you shake your head.

"That's a wand," you say slowly, and Remus is wide-eyed, nervously fidgeting.

"It-"

"No, no, no," you say, reaching into the pocket of your sweater and pulling out your own. Sirius and Remus simultaneously gasp as you brandish it in your hands, and you grin.

"You're a witch?" Remus asks, jaw slack.

"You're a wizard?" you return, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck yeah we are!" Sirius says, and you grin.

"What school?" Remus inquires, and you purse your lips.

"I was home-schooled, but this year - for my last one - I'm going to this school called Hogwarts? D'you know it?" you explain, garnering another gasp from the pair.

"That's where we go," Remus says, and your eyes light up.

"Really?!" you ask excitedly.

"Yeah! I guess you'll have some friends when you get there, at least," Remus assures, grinning.

"I bet Remus wishes you had a boyfriend to greet you," Sirius says, disguised with some coughs, and you blush. Remus kicks his friend in the shin again, and turns to you with a sigh.

"Sorry, he doesn't know what he's talking about," he says, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Does he not?" you ask flirtatiously, and it's Remus's turn to blush.

"Uh-"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" you say with a mischievous grin, one returned by the sandy-haired boy in front of you.

[fenkko]

it’s been a while but here’s another batch of asks!! thank you for sending them in

photoshop and a wacom cintiq! i’ve had it since 2016 and i love it very much

thank you!!! hmm i’m not sure if i have any tricks to it, but i think that getting in the bnha fandom has been the best thing for my art and motivation in a long time. having a passion for something helps a lot! i kind of have a problem on the opposite end where i get too excited about drawing and draw hours into the night, which isn’t good for my health;; 

something that works for my art process is gathering all my drawing ideas and cool reference pics on my phone and then sketching whatever i feel like sketching! it helps so that i always have different things to draw and i don’t feel obligated to force myself into finishing a piece if it’s just not working, but it also means i have a bunch of months old wips lying around ahaha

i still get artblocked though, i think that’s goes for everyone. when it feels like nothing’s coming out right in a drawing i’ll go work on a different wip, doodle silly things i’m not going to post anywhere, or go take a walk/watch some videos/read a webcomic and return when i’m feeling up for it

for your other question i don’t think i’ve ever had trouble with confidence posting things, even at the beginning where i wasn’t very good haha. it could be helpful to think of it as just posting for yourself to document all your artwork, and think of positive feedback as a bonus!

usually i’ll get stuff from google images, but sometimes i take my own! nothing fancy, just setting up my phone camera on a timer and taking a pic if i need a pose reference

i look really weird doing it jgfdsf but it’s very helpful

i think people think of it different ways but i use it to describe the clean up stage! like in this post for example –– first i start with a rough sketch, color it with flat colors and sometimes a bit of shading, and then merge the layers and start defining areas, redrawing lines, adding filters. it’s easier for me to start with different layers so that i can fix stuff quickly, and then begin rendering with the final touches on a single layer when different layers become more troublesome than useful

ahh i’m probably not the best person to ask because i focus a lot more on deku :’) i think bakugou’s still very immature but he’s getting there? maybe? i’d have to reread

i’m glad his classmates at UA aren’t totally accepting of his behavior like his middle school lackeys, hopefully that helps him grow up a bit. i haven’t watched all of naruto but something that bothered me was how everyone took sasuke seriously even when he was being ridiculous. someone please make fun of this dude and his terrible judgment,,

for me bakugou’s in this weird grey area where his actions are too exaggerated to really think of him as a real person and seriously analyze his character (which sounds silly because they’re all cartoon characters, i hope this makes sense haha) so the way i depict bakugou and his relationship with midoriya + his classmates is more jokingly, or maybe idealized? idk i think this is a complicated way for me to say that i like to draw comics that make fun of bakugou HGFJH (which is probably why i like bakusquad stuff the most out of all bakugou content)

i’d really like a scene where bakugou apologizes or directly faces the consequences of how he treated midoriya but i have the feeling we’re not going to see that;; he’s probably going to stay a bit of a turd for the rest of bnha

also since i think it’s relevant to my thoughts about their dynamic, here are the tags from my last drawing of them! #edit: i got a few messages asking me if i ship bakudeku and i dont. sorry to mislead!! #i drew them more friendly than usual which is probably the closest i’ll get to actual ship content #to be honest i don’t draw even the few pairings i do like more explicitly romantic than them standing next to each other bhfjgh #drawing romance is usually less fun than drawing people doing friend stuff #or in this case #bakugou getting bullied by a pomeranian

ahh i’m actually wondering that myself :’) i think the big question is whether to go for a company that handles most of the work themselves and gives you a bit of profit, or open a store yourself and have to spend time packaging your own things. i’d really love to do the latter since i want to be able to control the quality, but i’m not sure if i have the time to manage it the way i’d like

not currently but i finished the ones i already had, so possibly in the near future! the last time i opened them was just on instagram, so i’ll remember to let you guys know here as well :D

@madeline-makes-stuff i’m not super active on discord but i’m in this bnha art server!

ahh i feel kind of weird talking about follower counts so probably no raffles or events like that, sorry;; 

i’m currently attending carnegie mellon university in their school of art!! northeastern is pretty close to my home though so i’m familiar with it –– i was actually accepted there as a game design major and they sent me some valentines candy in a husky box, it was really sweet :’)

aw i haven’t listened to any episodes in a while but it’s still very dear to me! i’m planning to draw some taz this month B) i love all the stuff the mcelroys make, especially monster factory!

and that’s it for now!! also wanted to say thank you so much everyone for your kind asks, they’re all really appreciated HFJGHF;; i keep them all in my inbox and in my heart

[rantingfangirl]

Phone Home

Summary: When Arthur’s friends get an idea for a way to find him a date, there’s no stopping them. 

Pairing: UsUk

Arthur prided himself on being one of the saner of the six Kirkland brothers, and would gladly give a three computer files’ worth of evidence should anyone try to question it. He could quickly de-escalate any of their shenanigans- which was the only way those stupid ideas could be labeled. The same, however, could not be said when it came to his friends. Vlad and Lukas were unpredictable, posing as supportive yet content to stay in the background. At least until they got an idea that they couldn't shake off. Which was exactly what was currently happening. The three of them stood on a beach, if you could call it that. Arthur looked down at the gray, muddy sand collapsing under his feet, cringing when it stuck to his shoe. Next to him, Vlad scoffed. “From the look on your face, you might as well have stepped in vomit.” 

Arthur looked at him, his nose starting to ache from being wrinkled. He shook his foot, his toes knocking back and forth between the sides of his boot. The goopy sand swung off his foot, the majority of it finding its way onto his pants. Vlad snickered. He ignored it, scoffing with disgust at the sand as he brushed it off. “What are we doing here, again?” If Vlad wanted him to- “You know why.” Lukas spoke for the first time since they'd arrived, scrawling with spider-like efficiency on college-ruled paper. He clicked the pen closed, sliding its clip in place with the edge of the clipboard. When he spoke again, his voice was matter of fact, and he didn't bother to even glance over to them, scanning over his work. “You know exactly why we're here.” Arthur ignored the first ominous tone in his words. He did, in fact, know why they were there, but he was going drag out the inevitable as much as possible. If only to save himself. “Yes, but-” Gently, ever so slowly, Arthur put his foot back down on the sand, watching as muck engulfed the outer sole of his shoe. “- there's a completely different way we could've done it. And not-” He paused, gesturing to the ocean in front of them. “-this.” Vlad flicked his eyes over to him, his words and smirk mocking. “Yes, but this is more creative.” “It’s more idiotic, that’s what it is.” Vlad feigned mock offense, gaping his mouth open and pressing an open palm to his chest. He knitted his eyebrows together, shaking his head. “And what else could we do? Is there anything you propose?” His voice was in a joking and posh tone, and Arthur couldn't help but smile at it. Arthur took a step back, putting his hands to his hips to stand akimbo. “Anything would've been better than this. Couldn't we have just gone with a dating site? You know, like normal people do?” Lukas paused, slowly turning his head over to Arthur. He frowned, shaking his head. “If we put you on a dating site, you wouldn't get a single match.” “Ouch.” Vlad winced. Then wince then broke into a shit-eating grin, Vlad cocking his head to the side. “Do you think that they would even let him keep his account? You actually have to look somewhat attractive on most of them, you know.” His words were infuriatingly cocky when he spoke, though Arthur made sure than any speck of anger he felt didn't show. Arthur knitted his eyebrows together, lowering his chin and frowning. “Vlad, you look like a Count Chocula Ken doll reject. I don't want to hear it.” Vlad practically squawked, his mouth gaping and his eyes narrowing. He put his hand over his heart, his shoulders caving in an attempt at mock offense. “Don't talk about Count Chocula like that.” “By that, do you mean comparing him to you or to Ken?” “Both.” Arthur couldn't help but smile, breathing out of his nose in a slight laugh. Vlad joined in, his shoulders and stomach shaking in tune with the huffs of breath escaping his mouth. The sight only succeeded in making Arthur laugh harder, even if he tried his best to resist. With the ocean around them, no matter how muddy it was, for a second, Arthur almost forgot about the matter at hand. The key word being “almost”. At that moment, Vlad slipped behind Arthur, sliding his arms to lock under his armpits. Arthur struggled against the grip, jerking his head and shoulders back. Vlad was stronger than he thought. He felt his friend lean in towards his ear, Arthur shoving down the urge to slam his temples into Vlad’s. “Calm down, we’re doing this for-” “Don’t tell me to calm down, you fucker.” A snicker filled his ear, Vlad’s warm breath squandering against the outer shell. “Just accept it, Arthur. The love of your life is waiting for you.” “And you think a message in a glass fucking bottle is going to do anything?” Vlad shrugged. “I saw it as a meme on Instagram. Sounded like a fun idea.” Arthur stilled. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head as best he could towards Vlad. Their cheeks just barely touched, Arthur’s eyes narrowing as Vlad’s gripped tightened. “Are you-” 

The scratching stopped. Arthur whipped his head over to Lukas as the latter clicked his pen, shoving it back into his pocket. After a quick proof-read, Lukas thinly rolled the paper, pulling out a glass bottle that looked as if it were straight from a children’s book. That, Arthur realized bitterly, the feeling pooling in his stomach, was what he should've— could've— gone for first. No, that wasn’t it. Arthur shouldn't have agreed to come in the first place. The thought alone snatched his attention, not releasing him until it was too late. Arthur watched as the bottle, a cork stuffed in its neck, flew in a spinning arch towards the ocean. It wasn’t until it slammed into the water with a soft plunk that Vlad’s gripped eased. Arthur ripped himself free, his shoes sinking into the muddy sand. He took several steps towards the water’s edge, stopping just feet away. Arthur sighed. “Go to hell, both of you.” 

Arthur had a headache. The chorus of telephones had yet to cease after several hours, much less quiet down, even with how close the time ticked further and further into the night. Every moment brought another call, each call carrying ten voicemails along with it. Curse those bastards for putting him at the front desk. Sighing, Arthur pulled his bag towards him, rustling around for— there. The bottle. One of the first things he had learned on the job was to carry around a bottle of ibuprofen. It came in handy in most situations, specifically ones he was required to listen in. Intern meetings, phone calls, everything. He popped the cap off, placing it on the edge of his desk as he fished out two pills. Within seconds, the taste of paper filled his mouth, the sourness of it drowning out the pounding in his head. Disgusting. Arthur swallowed with a grimace, sliding the lid back onto the bottle and dropping it in his bag. The roller chair he was sitting on creaked as he did so, the noise loud enough that he was unable to ignore it. In the distance, in the office behind him, a phone rang. Someone walked through the door. They lifted their hand in a reserved wave, not even bothering to look at Arthur, the sounds of their footsteps bouncing off the walls. It was all too much. He had a good thirty minutes before the ibuprofen kicked in, thirty minutes before any sort of relief. Another phone call, cut short and followed by a loud laugh. Fuck. Why did these people have to be so loud. He clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into the— Arthur’s phone buzzed. It rattled against the table, quieting everything around him. Slowly, oh so slowly, he picked it up. His phone lit as soon as he faced it, a green banner floating down to eye-level. It was an international number, that much was certain, but the message itself… that was an issue. It buzzed again as he clicked the message and unlocked his phone. Hey. I’m Alfred. :P Arthur paused, staring at the screen, re-reading the messages over and over again. And again. He went to type out a message before deleting it. It happened several times before he finally managed to type something, finally setting on: Who is this? His phone buzzed again. I told you. I’m Alfred. What’s your name? Arthur clicked his phone off, setting it down on his desk. There was no way. No way that he would give his name to Alfred, if that was really his name. Another buzz. In a spur of the moment action, Arthur grabbed his phone, haphazardly dropping it into his bag and zipping it up. Silence, even just for a few seconds. He returned to his work, checking emails and marking his calendar with upcoming meetings and other dates. Arthur went through email after email, either sending it to the trash or to the archives. All the while, his phone buzzed. Curiosity welled inside of him, clawing at him, gently tugging his attention towards the black messenger bag settled next to his ankles. Arthur pushed the urge away, kicking the bag away. He heard it tip over, his phone— along with some other things, the bottle of pills, pens, etc— tumbling out. Arthur cursed, pushing himself out of his chair, dropping to his knees. His phone flickered to life beside him, revealing the new set of texts waiting for him. Arthur stared at the phone before glancing at his tipped bag, going back and forth, back and forth, between the two. He sighed through his nose. Fuck it. Unlocking his phone, Arthur took no time to look through the messages, which had multiplied quickly in the past few minutes. Awwww, cmon. Dont do this Hiiiiiii Look, I know it sounds a bit creepy, but please!!! Ohhhh wait I know what your name is Hi Arthur :) Arthur froze upon seeing his name on the other side of the screen. He glanced up at the header of the screen, making sure that yes, this was a stranger who yes, had his name. For a split second, Arthur’s thumb grazed the keys before sending himself into action, his message typed out and sent before he had the chance to reread it. How did you get my name? A gray message floated to the top of the empty space. There you are :)) It was on your letter A ball dropped in Arthur’s stomach. There was no way. No way that that stupid little stunt Vlad pulled would have ever come to fruition. What do you mean, my letter? Pushing himself back up on his chair, Arthur kept his eyes glued to the screen, waiting for the three dancing dots to finish. They stopped for a split second before continuing, up and down in quick succession until— finally. It was a video. Arthur clicked on it, revealing a tanned man in a swimsuit. His caramel hair was plastered to his forehead, a cheeky smirk along with it. The video began, the man— who, now Arthur thought about it, was assumingly Alfred— moving his lips. No sound. Arthur groaned before restarting. “Now, Arthur, what we have here—” American, definitely American. If not a given by the accent, with its small twang and bluntness, then by the overall confidence the man— no, Alfred, displayed. “—is a glass bottle. Little sandy, little dirty, but it’s damn sure a bottle.” No. It couldn’t be. No way that thing resurfaced after six years. No way that something like that could’ve gone anywhere. “And, in the bottle, I found this.” Alfred held up the paper that Lukas had written years ago, it's edges set in a permanent roll. “You wanna know what it says?” Alfred unrolled the paper, holding it up as if he were a medieval town crier. “Looking for cute guys. Call me. My name is Arthur. And then there are several smiley faces along with your phone number. Pretty funny, aren’t ya?” Whoever was filming the video laughed, a loud, obnoxious noise that had Alfred joining in. Arthur paused the video. It would’ve been funny, if it weren’t for the fact that he was the one at the butt of the joke. Arthur clenched and unclenched his fists, in and out, counting up to ten and back down. Sick. Lukas and Vlad had sick tastes when it came to humor. His phone buzzed his once more in his hand, Arthur’s attention drifting down to the newest message, right under the video. Call me ;) Arthur saved the video before swiping out of the chat, his message menu displaying rows upon rows of others. He tapped on the group chat he shared with Vlad and Lukas and sent the video. You won’t believe what’s come up. It was something that his friends had forgotten about. For the first few months,they had constantly reminded him about it, but now… Like before, Arthur left the chat, returning to Alfred. He stared at the contact number, re-reading over and over again. Weighing. Balancing. He looked at the back arrow and then back at the number. Back, forth. Back, forth. The number. Arthur pressed the dial button.

[15minutesofcreativity]

The Artist Way Adventure: Week 9 Recovering a Sense of Compassion

Welcome to Week 9 of my Artist’s Way Adventure. If you are unfamiliar with this new series, take a look at The Artist’s Way Adventure – Prologue and then come back here later.

Week 9 is titled “Recovering a Sense of Compassion”. Now before I continue with the chapter, let me apologize. I recently doubled-back to check the names of the first few chapters and they all share the naming convention of Recovering a Sense of Word of the Week Here. Let me tell you, I totally did not realize this was a thing until I went back and checked. So with that said, I still do not feel connected with this chapter.

I do not feel bad, even the chapter opens up in the synopsis with:

“It may be tempting to abandon ship at this point. Dont!”

Even the Artist Way realizes that by Week 9, the artist is losing motivation to continue. I do not know about anyone else who has gone through this week, but goodness, it is difficult to stay mega consistent with this journey.

Starting Late

I am going to start this off with, I messed up.

I have been consistently reading the new chapter of The Artist Way book on Sunday. I usually do my Check-In in my Morning Pages, type up an article about the week I experienced, and then read the new week. Even if I do not get around to reading the entire chapter, I at least skim through it and know what the flavor of the week is.

This week my brain was on holiday. I did not start reading my Week 9 chapter until the middle of the week, Wednesday. However, I decided to follow the instructions of this week and not simply postpone or give up with my adventure, instead, I just picked up the book and read. I decided that it was better late than never to start my week and I would not allow myself three extra days to do my tasks and Artist Week because that is not how I am supposed to do things.

Once I was done reading the chapter, I added my Task list on Wunderlist like I did during the previous week. This method thus far has given me the best results to do all my tasks on time, every time.

Fear of Failure and Success

  Now that I am typing about my week, I do realize I experienced Synchronicity this week. How? Well, the first few pages of Week 9 discuss the concepts of Fear of Success and Fear of Failure. It explains that a lot of artists seem “lazy” and they procrastinate because they fear to fail. They believe that if they do not create things, then they cannot fail since there is nothing to fail.

The reason I say this is Synchronicity and not simply a chapter blabbing about what should be common sense is that I have been complaining about this. If you were to pick up and read my Morning Pages, you would see that every once in a while I complain about my significant other. Why? Because I think he procrastinates too much and has a tendency to be lazy until the very last minute when things need to get done.

“Blocked artists are not lazy. They are blocked”

Week 9 discusses this in detail. A “lazy” artist is nothing more than an artist who is blocked and cannot get in touch with their inner artist. They are the ones who fear to act because they will either fail and humiliate themselves or succeed and then have to deal with ‘getting what they wished for’. Which yes, that latter option doesn’t sound like an issue, but some people fear that once they get what they wanted, they will not be able to keep up with those results consistently and eventually will fail.

After all, the higher you climb, the harder the fall.

The Tasks

While I was late to the party when it came to starting Week 9, I did all of my Tasks.

As I explained previously, these tasks are starting to dig deeper than the first ones. They require more effort either time-wise or reflectively and cannot be done in their entirety in a single sitting. The first was interesting, it actually encouraged reading my Morning Pages instead of simply flipping the page and starting a new entry. For this, I used my yellow and pink highlighters as I highlighted tasks I gave myself and realizations I had over the past two weeks.

I do not want to brag, but there are some really nice nuggets of knowledge, wisdom, and poetry hidden within the gibberish of things I write. I was extremely proud of some phrases I wrote such as “I need to stop kicking myself, I’m not a soccer ball” and “remember to start small and grow big”. These beautiful and inspirational phrases made me smile and I wrote flowery lines describing my notebook pages in an effort to ‘finish’ my pages for the day.

Visualizing was another task that I had delight in doing. There was a written portion and then there was a portion that required some arts and crafts. The written part was just easily done on Day One, but I handled the second part on Photoshop since I did not have the time to find magazines to cut into and then going through the effort of printing images of myself to do the task.

The first image that I wanted my head being put on was Walt Disney’s. I did it quickly since I was pressed for time and I figured it did not have to be perfect since if I was doing it on an actual image in a magazine, I wouldn’t be very neat either. I then searched the internet high and low to try and find art magazines that showcased artists as opposed to their work. The assignment was to put my image on people, not my art.

I considered posting the three images I created on Instagram, but then decided I would show you instead, so here they are in all their quickly Photoshopped glory. Perhaps one day I will not even need to use Photoshop to be in a magazine. You never know!

The other tasks had to do with other topics mentioned in the topic. One of them being “Creative U-Turns” but I do not feel as if that aspect of Week 9 was as influential and interesting as the others I mentioned.

Conclusion

Week 9 initially was whatever, but now that I am sitting and thinking about my experience, I guess it was not all that bad. It was all about pushing through whatever fears and struggles you are going through and remembering that you are a person. You cannot do everything you want and you need to be compassionate towards yourself.

You cannot always be doing things, as much as I preach about this, it is not possible. You need to give yourself time to be you. You need to sometimes take a day off and let your inner child have fun. While I did not mention it earlier, I did give myself time to simply doodle and play video games this week and that is certainly in theme with this week.

Have you been struggling with your Artist Way Journey? Do you also make these realizations last minute about how a chapter you read or a movie you watched was actually more influential than you originally expected?

Feel free to comment or tweet at me at Twitter, I love a good conversation!

from The Artist Way Adventure: Week 9 Recovering a Sense of Compassion