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evanpeterswhoresblog · 1 year ago

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Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

��I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

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storytowrite · 2 months ago

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|You will always be mine ~ Lee Minho series|

PART 2

Paring: Minho x Y/N

Genre: smut, angst, university au

Word count: 942

Warnings: sex, 18+, Minho is a psycho, dom!Minho, sub!reader, abuse, slight BDSM, kidnapping, violence, age gap, Minho is an university professor, Y/N can be hurt physically (and mentally too I guess).

Synopsis: Who knew that accidental fuck in the club bathroom with a handsome man will bring you to a lot of unexpected events.

Author's note: I kept this series for a really long time not sure if I want to post it or not, but I decided to do it anyway, so I hope you'll like it.

——————————

Monday. The beginning of the week, the end of the weekend and the end of freedom. It was a sunny day. You woke up in the morning, the sun's rays streaming through the slightly tattered blinds. You had meant to fix them a long time ago, but you could never find the time. Your parents always told you to take care of such things right away because it would only get harder to gather the motivation later, but who listens to what parents say?

You got out of bed and stretched. Time to get ready for classes. You thought. You took off the oversized shirt you used as pajamas and put on a black lingerie set. Standing in front of the mirror, you admired how the bra emphasized your breasts. You examined your reflection. The love bites left by the guy from the Saturday party had almost disappeared; apparently, he hadn't bitten you as hard as you initially thought.

You put on a black top and dark jeans. You tied your brown hair into a high ponytail and applied light makeup. Then, grabbed your bag and left the apartment. Ever since you started university, you lived on your own. Your parents had a house on the outskirts of the city, and you didn't see them very often.

On your way to the university, you stopped by a café, where, as always, bought coffee and a croissant. Sipping your fresh latte, you entered the university campus. Soon, your classes were about to begin. You headed towards the lecture hall, lost in your thoughts.

"Y/N!" Suddenly you heard a familiar voice from the end of the corridor.

"Oh, hi Woo, so you did manage to transfer after all." You smiled at your friend. "You didn't mention on Saturday that you were starting your classes here today."

"Yeah, I know..." The guy gave you a genuine smile. "I didn't want to brag until I was sure it would work out. Do you happen to know where room 214 is? This place is like a maze."

"Mhm... it's right above us, on the floor next to the men's bathroom" You replied and took a sip of your coffee.

"Oh, great! Thanks!" He grinned at you. "I'm off to class. See you later, Y/N!" He said cheerfully and walked away, leaving you alone.

You just sighed and headed to the lecture room, sipping your coffee along the way. You were almost about to enter the classroom when someone bumped into you, spilling coffee on your blouse.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" You snapped.

"Because it's my fault, right?" You heard in response and rolled your eyes.

"Can't you walk properly, Lisa?" You asked sharply, taking out tissues from your bag.

"It's not my fault you're blocking the way!" Lisa replied, tossing her hair and strutting toward her desk like a model.

You rolled your eyes. Lisa used to be your friend, but now she was your biggest enemy at the university and beyond. The two of you stopped getting along in sixth grade when Lisa accused you of stealing. Since then, Lisa took every opportunity to make your life miserable. Unfortunately, fate brought the both of you to the same major at the university.

With a quiet sigh, you took your usual spot by the wall, in the third row from the end, where you could easily do everything except take notes. You hated art history lectures. They bored you, and on top of that, the lecturer was old and spoke too slowly to focus.

You glanced at your watch. Strange. You thought. The lecture should have started a long time ago. You looked around the room. Other students also seemed to wonder where the professor was. He usually arrived five minutes early, and now ten minutes had passed since the lecture should have begun, and he still hadn't shown up. Some students started packing up and preparing to leave. Some were already standing up, when suddenly the door opened, and a quite short man entered the room, who was by no means their lecturer.

"Dear students, the class hasn't ended yet. Please take your seats." He spoke up and placed his folder on the desk before leaning against it. He casually rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, with the top two buttons undone. He looked much younger than their usual lecturer, and he was much more handsome. "My name is Lee Minho. You can call me Mr. Lee." He introduced himself. "I'll be substituting for Mr. Kang until the end of the year as he has some personal reasons preventing him from continuing to teach this subject." He informed the students. "At the end of the class, please sign your names on this list." He added, placing a white sheet of paper on the desk. "Shall we begin?" He asked, looking around the room.

You observed the man closely. His black pants perfectly accentuated his muscular thighs. The white shirt tucked into his lower garment gently hugged his torso. His dark hair was slightly tousled by the wind. He wore glasses, which added some seriousness to his appearance. He looked intimidating, yet his voice was gentle. You recognized that voice… Your eyes met. You stared into his dark brown eyes and froze. It was the same man with whom you had sex in the club's restroom a few days ago. Shock painted across your face.

"What the fu..." you covered her mouth before you could utter the last word. You knew that if anyone found out about what had happened between you and the lecturer on Saturday, you would be in trouble.

——————————

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

-> Series Masterlist

——————————

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog, @iovecb97, @hpnsfwaddict

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iammeiamwe · 4 months ago

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So, um... Originally, I was just planning on doing a little fanart for the cool queen Dream design by @signanothername (and the wonderful @undertale-person, let's not forget), in this post but...

I got carried away. A lot.

Now. This is actually a very long post in which I talk a lot about the culture of my country. If you are interested and want to read this type of post, then go ahead. If not, I just have to warn you that this is 1% undertale au pictures, 9% of pictures related to the russian culture and 90% text.

So if you are ready go ahead:

Everything started with me thinking that it would be cool to add some kind of interesting pattern to her (queen Dream) clothing? But I wanted it to have some meaning. And since the original design was already related to the sun theme, I wanted to have something sun-related too.

And then I for some reason remembered my school's art classes. I was in the 4th grade or something and we studied traditional russian patterns and ornaments. (And for anyone wondering yes I am russian) And on one of the lessons we learned that ancient russian people had different ornaments and symbols on their closing signifying different things, and I remembered that there was a symbol that had the meaning of sun!

I browsed the Internet a bit and found some different variations of that symbol, so I chose the one I liked the most and added it.

(I chose the one on the right)

But the problem is, I got inspired. Too inspired. I liked the new look a lot, and then I had an idea, that maybe it would be cool to add more russian culture related elements, since I haven't seen many examples of russian culture represented in the undertale au fandom (I mean I've seen a lot of russian content for the fandom but it was mostly done by the russian community and for the russian community and therefore mostly received and recognised by russian people), especially on the more western side (I don't know if I phrased it correctly but I hope you get what I mean).

I also associate Dream with the theme of nature, and I knew that the theme of nature played a huge role in the life and culture of the ancient Russian people. So I thought that russian culture would be fitting for Dream (at least in my head it fits).

So yeah. I got carried away, and I made a completely different design.

The important thing I want to point out here is that this design is in no way 100% correct representation of russian culture, I was just inspired by different elements of russian culture and included them in my painting while trying to keep some of the original Dream characteristics and colours. I stylised some of the elements, mixed some of them which you normally wouldn't see together if it was completely accurate. I also didn't do too much research and kind of worked on the design on the spot while I had the inspiration.

Even though I'm russian there's no way I'm a russian culture or history expert, I only made it because I thought it would be nice to do so and maybe it would inspire some of you to learn more about russian culture!

So with that said I'll now explain some of the design elements more!

We already talked a bit about the pattern on the sleeves, the one that means sun. It's called Colovat (Коловат in russian). It can actually also mean happiness and kindness so that's also why I chose it for Dream. People used to put such pattern on their clothes in hopes it brought them and their families luck, happiness, calm and tranquility.

The interesting part is that I've found some other symbols and patterns that ancient russians included in their clothing which can suit Dream. For example, there's this symbol:

It's called Arepei (Арепей or Орепей in russian), and its meaning can differentiate depending on where it is located on the person's clothes, but overall it means happiness, wealth and self-confidence. You can actually see a little bit of this pattern on my drawing if you look closely at the bottom of Dream's dress.

We also have the symbol called The World Tree of Life or The Tree of Kingship. People believed that the gods liked to rest under it's crown, and they put this symbol on their closing believing that the Tree's crown will protect them from bad luck and the evil spirits. Originally I wanted to include this pattern in my art too but I just couldn't find a good place for it so here's one of the examples of what it can look like:

So, the other major part of russian culture that I've included is called Khokhloma (Хохлома in russian).

It's an ancient art that originated from the Nizhny Novgorod region (Нижегородская область in russian). It is a form of wood painting and it most often depicts various plants and animals. It mainly uses colours like black, yellow, red and green. Most often, different kinds of wooden dishes were painted this way. (Which is why my design is not an entirely correct representation since I painted some of the Khokhloma traditional elements on Dreams clothes).

Here are some examples of this beautiful art:

There's is also one interesting fact about the last picture. On this picture you can see some wooden spoons. Such spoons were actually used as a musical instrument by russian people because of the unique sounds the made when you knocked them together, and the art of playing such spoons is still preserved in Russia!

In my painting you can see this art both on clothes and the sun behind Dream's head. The reason the sun is the black/greish colour is that all the pieces painted in the style of Khokhloma had to be painted black first since the background for the colourful elements was always black.

So. That's all I've wanted to say about my Dream design. It was supposed to be a queen Dream design, but the Dream design I created actually reminds me of some of the characters and mystical warriors from russian fairytales. So I guess I made a mystical russian warrior Dream design? I dunno. Anyway, if you got inspired by this post and found the russian culture that I've showcased here beautiful and interesting, please take some time to learn more about it. There's actually so much to it: chastushkies (частушки), epics(былины), tales, fairy tales, chronicles... It's actually very different and diverse!

I would also recommend playing (or at least watching a playthrough) of the game called Black Book (which is available on steam and it's doesn't cost much as far as I'm concerned). It's a game which lore and plot concentrates around the culture of one of the regions of Russia - the Perm region. It may not have the best graphics but it has a professional English translation and even an English dub! It's a rougelike card game but it has an immersive story and the overall atmosphere is amazing! It's the best way in my opinion to learn more about the russian culture and myths if you don't want to just read articles and watch videos.

The last thing I wanna mention is actually a question. Do you want me to make a similar Nightmare design with russian culture elements? Because I already have some ideas for it, and I actually want to tell you more about another type of russian art called Gzhell which elements I want to include in the design, so let me know your opinion.

So yeah, that's all for now, hope this was actually interesting, if I got to inspire even a small number of people I would be super happy!

#digital art #digital artist #undertale #sans au #utmv #dreamtale #dream sans #culture #russia #russian culture #mei art

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be-co-me · 9 months ago

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En Plein Air

Levi Ackerman

5.7k Words

Summary: A mysterious raven haired painter seeks solace in your flower laden patio and glasses of whiskey when he finds his hidden job turns awry. This is my submission for @kentopedia's valentine's collab event, Love Through The Ages. I urge you to go check out the rest of the fics as they are written and posted! (It tried to link it but it won't work for some reason!) This takes place during the late 1800's in the impressionism era in France. This has always been a favorite era of mine, specifically for the art that debuted around this time. Monet's pieces are my absolute favorite, specifically the water lily series and I think everyone should see it. I listened to Gregory Alan Isakov for the better part of writing this, so if you'd like to listen to some folk music as you read (I think the music is very fitting to the vibe of the fic), my three favorites are Empty Northern Hemisphere, If I Go I'm Goin, and Dandelion Wine.

---

Impressionism. The art movement taking the world by storm along with the budding history and developments of the new age, especially had caught your eye. Vehicles, new necessities; water and electricity even being brought to the lower class, such as yourself would be labelled, though you had not yet been fortunate enough to have them in your own home as of yet.

But specifically, what most caught your eye was the art of the raven haired man sitting across the bar from you, occupying a table all by his lonesome as you polish glasses and watch his nimble hands paint, leaned over a decently sized canvas. 2.5x3.5 meters in size if you had to guess. The tall whiskey on the rocks he ordered earlier tucked to the edge of the table as to not disrupt his painting should it be spilled.

His jacket was discarded neatly across the back of the chair placed next to him, his hat forgotten along with his whiskey glass. You realized you had been polishing the same glass for the last few minutes as you stared, when another patron had come to the bar top to order.

Once you served them, your mind forgot the glasses and silverware that needed polishing to end the evening in favor of staring at the man located across from you once more. You noticed many more details of him as he was the lone subject of your attention now. His eyes had not yet met yours as his concentration must have been so deep.

You noticed the paint layered over his fingertips, vibrants and dulls covering the pale of his skin. The painting looked to be outdoors, and, if you didn't know any better, you would say yourself the painting looked finished, but the last three hours of refinery to detail he had done since the sun went down proved to you otherwise.

He suddenly looked up, his gaze meeting the whiskey glass he had long ignored. His paint covered finger tips grazed the top as he picked the glass up and took a long drag from it, smearing different colors along the rim of the glass, something you didn't think you would mind polishing off later in turn of seeing the finished product.

His eyes met yours as he set the glass into the same wet ring the table now adorned from the glass. You retreated your gaze to that of his drink, the ice now mostly melted, and glass now almost empty. Your staring could technically be deduced to the state of his drink, as you were the bartender, but you were wiser to know he would most likely not believe that statement.

He cleared his throat loudly, pushing his chair back and carefully paraded around his adopted work space as to not knock into it. He brought the glass up to your bar, placing it in front of your empty hands, steely gaze now meeting your own, at a much closer distance than you realized you'd be comfortable admiring him from.

The silence between the two of you was heavy as he did not say a word, the gramophone's music filtering through the space instead, something you had been lucky to receive as a gift from one of your more wealthy, regular patrons, saying he had already gotten a new model. Your gaze met the glass once more and you noticed it was now empty, a feat you didn't seem to notice as he made his way to the bar. He must have finished it off.

"Would you like another sir?" you asked, reluctantly meeting his rigid gaze once again. His head swiveled to the table he had occupied as a group of patrons walked past, eyeing the painting that sat atop it from a respectful distance, carefully critiquing it. His head turned back to you with a nod.

"Yes please." he responded, his gaze turning back to the table. You nodded in affirmation and turned to grab the whiskey he had requested earlier in the evening. You turned back to him as you poured, hoping you may engage in some small talk to find more detail into his character.

"Your eyes will be strained painting in the dim light you know?" you stated, eyes concentrated on the pour you gave him. You set the bottle down into it's rightful place and scooped some fresh ice into the cup, placing it back in front of him before meeting his gaze once more, looking for a response.

He stared for a few seconds before responding.

"Better light than my shitty apartment and I only get light in the studio during the day. This was a last resort to finishing by tomorrow." he replied bluntly, but softly, eyes grazing down your frame to give a once over before meeting yours again.

"Hmm. What's tomorrow?" you asked, leaning a cheek against your palm atop the bar in front of him, happy the plan for idle conversation had worked in your favor. His gaze met the table once again before turning back to you.

" A gallery. Not a large one by any means, although I wish to be represented in one someday." he responded, shrugging his shoulders as he sipped from the new glass.

"May I see what you are working on up close?" you asked. His eyes grazed your features once again as you sat atop your palm, taking another sip from your own glass the wealthy patron had bought you earlier in the evening.

"I'd rather you see it when it is finished." he responded. You hummed in response.

"When will that be?" you asked and he pondered the question.

"Depends on if you'll kick me out when you close or let me stay." he responded. It was your turn now to ponder his statement and you nodded, removing yourself from atop your palm and turning to eye the clock hung over the top of the bar, surprised to see the hands nearing closing time.

"I don't think that would be a problem." you responded with a soft smile. He nodded, standing to make his way back to the table. He sat and placed the glass in it's same dark ring as to not make another stain atop the wood, then plucked a fine tip paint brush off the top of his palette, beginning his work once again.

You stared a bit longer than needed, something you hoped he was oblivious to, before picking up the glasses once again and polishing them off.

As you finished your closing duties, the last of the noisy patrons leaving the bar, you poured yourself another tall glass of floral gin, with a dash of floral bitters and tonic. Your nose wrinkled at the burn of the alcohol, strong but smooth in flavor with a flowery lavender aftertaste.

As you finished wiping the bar top down and half of your earlier poured drink along with the task, the final on your list of duties now done, you eyed the raven head man's table, taking note of the empty glass next to him. You grabbed a fresh, icy glass and poured another out for him, bringing it along with your own drink to join him at the table.

You set the glasses down carefully, plucking up the empty glass placed next to him and replacing it with the fresh one. You carefully pulled a chair out next to him and watched him as he painted many more fine details across the span of the canvas.

The style vaguely reminded you of art you had seen in the papers from Claude Monet, an artist you had come to revere for his Nympheas series he had started not long ago. In favor of capturing the vibrancy of life, dark sharp lines were now replaced with colors, vibrant and dull to show the shadows, light, and depth of life in more fine and true toned detail. It also replaced the stuffiness of painting in studios with that of painting outdoors. En plein air they called it. It became a style you rather wished you owned a piece of, specifically that of Monet's work, though it was far too pricey and that dream would remain just so.

It made you feel free, a dream you wished could become a reality, to live in a home atop a pond of water lilies. Only you were not wealthy; your dresses and occupation told others that much, no matter how hard you could try to front that you were. Although you were the owner of a small bar tucked into the middle upper class estate, you were by no means seen as a respectable business owner to many of the wealthy that came to drink the afternoons and evenings away.

The clink of a glass hitting the table brought you back to reality, his eyes meeting yours as he dusted his fingers across a paint smeared cloth. You eyed the piece, wondering if it had been finished. Your eyes met his steely greys.

"Is it finished?" you asked. He nodded, continuing to wipe his fingers. an unlit cigarette sat between his lips, hindering him from responding to the question vocally. You leaned over the table even more, admiring the small details of the piece, attempting to eye the separate brush strokes.

"I'm assuming this won't be varnished correct?" you asked. His hand obscured his face, cupping around the end of the cigarette as he lit it with a match, waving the match around a couple of times to snuffle the flame out before setting it atop the table. He took a long drag, leaning back into the chair.

"You've done your reading haven't you?" he asked, blowing the cloud of smoke away from your direction. You nodded.

"I'm keen to this up and coming style and seeing where it goes," you started, eyes raking the other side of the canvas as you leaned over farther to catch a better glance at the details, "I find the switch up intriguing and rather more beautiful than works of the past." you responded, continuing to eye the painting.

A large garden bed of French lavender swaying in the breeze caught your eyes before moving onto other flowering plants adorning the canvas. It seemed to be of a farmers market, though you noted the lack of people on the canvas. Handmade dresses fluttered in the wind hung to the side of stalls, and you eyed one you thought may look rather good on yourself.

You spent a long while admiring the work and you both sipped your drinks in comfortable silence. You were sure it was well past midnight at this point, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You finally looked away from the canvas.

"It's beautiful. I may have to find where this market is to see it in person." you told him. Your eyes met the paint tubes littering the table, something you had failed to notice before. Maybe he's a bit wealthier than you are, being able to afford the new storage units for paint.

"You've gotten your paint in tubes. Quite hard to find around here." you noted aloud, meeting his eyes. He nodded, finishing his drink off.

"My uncle got them for me on a trip out of town. One of his customers was nice enough to give him a hefty discount, though I'm not sure I'll ever hear the end of returning the favor to him." he responded.

You pointed a finger to his drink and he shook his head. You opted to finish your own and stand, grabbing the discarded glasses and making your way behind the bar to wash them as he began to pack his supplies up. You made your way to the gramophone and halted the current shellac record that played, placing it into it's designated envelope and back to it's alphabetical bin.

You met him back at the table before grabbing your belongings, ready to also make your way home. He adjusted his jacket into prim and proper place after putting it on.

"I haven't paid for my drinks." he stated. You shrugged in response.

"Guess you'll have to come back and see me then."

---

You realized, rather irritated, the next morning, that you had never gotten his name. In favor of the spring day the farmer's almanac predicted would be warmer than the previous early spring season, you opted to open the outdoor patio of the bar for the day rather than the inside, which you would possibly open in the absence of the sun later in the evening. You now admired the flowers littering the small yard in a new light since seeing the mysterious man's painting. Maybe you could add even more flowers, specifically the French lavender that jumped out to your gaze in his painting.

Your morning went smoothly, your cup of coffee being replaced with that of the drinks a regular had bought you. He drank on absinthe, a flavor he had brought home from the military, something that had become quite popular, though you didn't admire the flavor the same way many other patrons had. You refused to drink it.

In the later afternoon, a warm breeze enveloped the patio and your eyes piqued at the raven haired man you had met the previous evening as he walked through the gate. He carried he same painting supplies he hauled last night, gaze wandering for a table that was open. Currently they had all been occupied and his eyes met your own as he made his way to the empty barstool in front of you. He looped his bag across the rung of the back of the chair, placing his jacket and hat across it before sitting atop the chair. You were rather glad you had worn a nicer dress in favor of seeing him again.

"The usual?" you asked, grabbing a glass to make the drink anyways. He nodded.

"Not quite sure I've been here enough for you to be asking me that question." he responded. You poured into the glass and scooped up the ice, placing the glass in front of him. He took a long sip from the glass, eyeing the drink sitting atop your work space. Your cheeks felt warm and you were sure they were rosy, the tip of your nose tingling at the slight buzz of the gin running through your veins.

"How was the gallery?" you asked. He shrugged, messing with the buttons of his white shirt as he unbuttoned the top two at his collar and the cuffs at his wrists, rolling them up a couple of times.

"I got quite the offer on one of my paintings. I'll be meeting the gentleman here later today." he responded.

"I'm glad I could convince you to come back, let alone bring others with you." you responded wittily, taking a sip of your drink. Your gaze wandered over his raven locks of hair, noticing the cigarette tucked behind his ear. His bangs fell into his eyes, probably due soon for a haircut, but you rather liked the longer hair on him.

He began to dig out supplies from the bag, canvas ditched for a sketchbook in lieu of the considerably smaller workplace he could now work with.

You continued your work as he began his, hastily making drinks as more patrons poured in. You thought you may let him know of an open table lest he'd want to move, but you'd rather he stayed closer, and he was so endowed in his work. You thought it better not to interrupt him unless you brought a new drink along with you.

As the afternoon slowed and patrons rolled in at a lesser frequency, you stood in front of him, taking a break from the drinks you had earlier in the afternoon once your wealthy regular left, in exchange for water. You tried to catch a glimpse of what he worked on, sketching out lines across the pad with graphite rather than any paint as of yet.

Another man made his way next to him, setting his own jacket and hat atop the back of the adjacent chair, and it was only now you got a glimpse of the work as he set the book down to shake hands with the new man. Your eyes scanned the page, a drawing resembling the flowers of your patio across the page. You felt a warmness trickle inside your chest as you looked back up, asking the other man what he would like to drink on after refilling the raven haired man's glass. Another whiskey, but neat this time.

His sketchpad then sat closed atop the bar for quite long as they conversed over the painting the man would be purchasing. You eavesdropped on their conversation, noting the painting being purchased would be the one he spent the better part of the day working on the previous evening.

You felt excitement for your newfound 'regular', dare you call him, when you heard the monetary value placed on the work by the other man, and in the raven man's expression, you found an honest surprise to what the wealthy man would pay for the fine art as they shook hands on the price, a celebration found in lieu of another drink.

As the evening sun faded into the starry sky, you lit the lanterns adorning your patio, painting it down to a bright orange and yellow haze.

"I'd like to tab out, and I insist you put Levi Ackerman's drinks on my own tab." the wealthy man insisted. You eyed the raven haired man, his gaze one of annoyance, in lieu of hearing his name for the first time before nodding. You told the man the total and he made his way out of the bar with his new piece, after leaving a hefty tip.

"It's a beautiful piece, I'm not surprised it was sold so quickly, Mr. Ackerman." you told him, testing his name on your tongue as you poured him a new drink.

"Just Levi please." he responded, taking a long sip of the fresh drink after you had placed it in front of him.

"Okay Just Levi, what are you sketching out now?" you asked. His eyes met yours in warning at the joke, shaking his head as he opened the closed sketchbook back up. Your eyes raked over it, as you found it the same as the last time you snuck a glance at it. He picked the graphite back up, beginning his work on it once more.

You noted the graphite smeared across the meat of his left hand, something you thought must have interfered with his work quite often. For sitting at the bar for the afternoon and evening, the depiction of the space you created was accurate in it's fullest across the page, the lanterns now being added in one by one.

You fell into the same routine as the previous night, Levi worked on his art as you closed your bar down, continuing to pour him drinks every so often. You poured one out for yourself, in search for a buzz from the alcohol again to warm yourself up in the colder breeze the night had brought in.

You finished your duties and your drink, pouring another as you made your way to the seat next to him, watching him as he leaned over the sketch and placed carefully calculated, soft smudges across it with oil pastels now, bringing the page to life with color. You noted the dull fingerprints of the pastels atop his glass, something you again wouldn't mind to polish away. You rather liked the lack of people in his paintings, you noted, as you found the depictions of the wealthy often polluted what you thought the nature of the paintings to be about; what they meant to you personally. Freedom.

He finished off the drink after half an hour, along with he sketch, and you grabbed the glasses, yours long empty and your body warm, as you washed the glasses under the warm water and set them atop a shelf to dry in the evening breeze.

You found the page torn out of the sketchbook when your eyes met his figure again, edges neat and crisp, sat atop the bar. He dug a glass frame out of the bag, placing the painting carefully into it. He then pushed the frame towards you across the bar top, and you picked it up with a sense of delicacy, careful to not mess with the pastels sat behind the glass. Your eyes roamed from the sketch to that of your patio a few times, noting the details even you would have failed to notice.

"Yet another beautiful piece of work. I'm quite honored you'd choose a place of my creation to bring to life." you commented, sliding the frame back to him carefully.

"You keep it. I insist. And let me pay that tab." he responded, fishing out cash from his pocket. You shook your head, taking the painting and placing it in a nook below the gin shelf so you may eye it more often in lieu of when you would be pouring your own favored drink to enjoy after long evenings.

"This is more than enough payment. I insist. So long as you let me enjoy your paintings, you can drink for free in my establishment." you responded. He left with a curt nod.

---

One day passed, then two. Three days became a week before you saw him again. You began to worry, and even felt a bit disappointed at the absence of your newfound favorite patron. A rather solemn look adorned his pretty features the next time you saw him walk through he gates of your patio, and you rather thought that he could be a painting himself as he walked to and sat across from you at the bar top right before closing that evening. You noted the lack of paint supplies and the angry red color under his fingernails and the blistering red of scrubbed hands in the lantern's orange light as he set his palms atop the bar.

"I hope that's paint under your nails Levi." you told him, your gaze leaving his hands as your brow creased in worry, turning to grab the whiskey bottle that sat abandoned the past week and pouring it into a glass. You heard a mutter of curses leave his lips and you set the cold glass in front of him. He took quite a long while before nestling the glass in between his hands and taking a sip from it.

You opted to try his drink of choice for the evening, abandoning your own in lieu of trying a new flavor on your tongue, your eyes still grazing over the oil pastel depiction of your patio every time you made a drink in his absence. The new type of burn made your nose scrunch involuntarily, a much stronger alcohol percentage invading your taste buds.

You turned to him once again as the notes of smoky wood and caramel smoothed over your taste buds, the strong alcohol leaving a rather pleasant flavor behind. You could see why he enjoyed the drink, especially colder.

You sat in a rather comfortable silence, and after he finished the first of what you assumed to be many drinks quickly, he let out a rather exasperated sigh, throwing his head back and leaned far back against the barstool, his arms folding across his eyes. You continued to sip at your own drink, grabbing the bottle next to you to pour into his empty glass, scooping the ice into it. His posture didn't change.

"Want to talk about it?" you asked, voice struggling as you took a sip of the strong whiskey, realizing he hadn't said a word to you in the half hour he had been there and you rather longed for the sound of his deep voice again.

It took him a long while to sit up before shaking his head. You nodded in response.

"I thought I'd have to revoke my offer if you didn't come back to see me you know." you joked lightheartedly, his gaze finally meeting your own, excitement fluttered in your chest as he inhaled to speak to you for the first time in a week.

"How have things been around here? Any trouble?" he asked. You shook your head in response to the rather random question, taking note of the lilt of edge in his voice.

"Just the regular drunk hooligans and their usual shenanigans on occasion. I'm far used to it by now." you responded, taking a sip of the drink. He reached into the chest pocket of his already buttoned down white shirt, grabbing the case of cigarettes and matches from it, lighting one up. He took a drag from it, blowing it away from you, eyes meeting your own once more.

"I'm glad to hear so. Seems to be trouble everywhere else." he responded.

"My offer still stands. Don't you know bartenders aren't only good at keeping bars but also secrets?" you asked with a worried smile, polishing away at a glass you'd forgotten previously to keep your hands occupied. His gaze met over both his shoulders, you assumed to confirm the lack of bodies besides the two of you within the vicinity before freely speaking of his absence the last week.

"Being an artist doesn't make much money you know, unless you're well known, which I am not." he said, pausing to sip at his drink, and you nodded in following attention of what he would explain. His tone became significantly quieter as he spoke next.

"My uncle works for the mafia, and unfortunately I have to help him. I owe him the debt of removing me from the deepest depths of society. No, I owe him my life, as much as I hate to say so. No favors that I repay him would ever be enough." he continued, ashing the forgotten cigarette before taking another drag from it.

You nodded, processing the information as you took another sip of your drink, the ice steadily melting. You wondered if that was all of the information he would allow you to know of the subject or if he would continue on. You eyed his hands once more, the redness of his skin waned, but remained underneath his fingernails. You ran a cloth under warm water as he continued to sip at his drink, grabbing at the brim of the glass in his particular way. You wrung the steaming towel out and placed your arms across the bar top, pointing towards his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but to think the red was placed there earlier in the day, and after attempting to harshly scrub it away, he wanted to seek solace in your establishment and your presence.

"May I?" you asked, your eyes staring strongly into his own, the question coming out as more of a demand rather than a request for permission. His gaze softened and he nodded, placing his drink down on the bar top, the fingers of his right hand staying wrapped around it.

You gently wiped around top of his left hand, lightly rubbing into the creases of his fingers and knuckles before gently turning his palm over and doing the same, making sure to wipe over every millimeter of the skin on both sides before turning his hand over once more and beginning on his fingernails. His glass sat empty in your concentration and he reached for your own, something you didn't mind as you rubbed his cuticles clean.

You pulled the towel taught around your thumb nail, running it underneath his own nails to remove the angry rusty red. Once you finished his left hand, you ran the towel under the warm water once again, cleaning it of it's dirt now, setting your palm onto the bar in demand of his other hand without a word.

He placed his palm carefully onto yours and sipped at your drink carefully as he watched you clean his right hand. As you began on his upper forearms, you felt his muscles untaut across your palm and he visibly relaxed in your peripherals, a sigh leaving his lips. You felt your own shoulders relax as well.

"I like these hands more when they're covered in paint and pastels, not in danger Levi." you nearly whispered, finishing up underneath his nails. You placed the towel under the water once again, cleaning it thoroughly and tossing it onto the back of the bar after folding it up.

He brought his hand back to him, wrapping it around the glass in his other hand as he examined his now clean fingers. His bangs covered his steely grays as he pondered a response to your statement.

"I hope one day that's all you'll have to see them do." he responded quietly in return. You poured a short glass of the whiskey for yourself this time, topping his own off as well, reveling in the intimate environment the two of you had blossomed in the first of his visits.

For, in technicality, the third day of knowing him, you already felt quite a hearty connection to him, even more so than your more frequent bar guests. If anything had happened to him and he didn't come to the bar anymore, so suddenly, you'd be quite upset, on an even deeper level than you'd felt the past week.

"I hope I get to know you long enough to see that happen." you said, used to the burn of your drink now, your eyes meeting his own. You stared into his eyes, finishing the drink and placing the glass down. You stepped atop the milk crate at your feet and placed your elbows atop the bar, hands intertwining with the collar of his shirt as you pulled his face much closer to your own. His gaze penetrated your own as you took over the solemn conversation, noses nearly touching, your eyes flitting down to his lips and all around his visage, taking in his sharp features, dark long eyelashes, and plump lightly chapped lips before tracking back to his eyes.

You noted they were more of a slate grey, the flecks of blue you hadn't noticed before much more pertinent in the close proximity you'd brought about. The color reminded you much of the hydrangeas nestled in the back corner of your now peacefully quiet patio, peaceful, though your heart was thrumming harder than you think it ever had. His palms lay wrapped around your forearms in anticipation.

The color of his eyes dwindled away as they closed and his lips captured your own, the chapping of them brushing roughly against the edges of your lips. You captured his bottom lip between your own in an attempt to soften it against the petroleum across your own lips.

Your hands brushed the briary undercut he donned and his palms brushed over your shoulder blades with a squeeze as he pushed harder into the kiss you had initiated. You could taste the smokiness of his cigarette, homogenous to the smokiness and burnt caramel of the whiskey you had shared earlier in the evening, and you hoped he could taste the same on you.

Your intimacy was broken up by the loud thunder rumbling off in the distance, the breeze picking up strongly, something you failed to notice in your already lovesick state. You broke apart from him, chest heaving, staring into the slate of his eyes that reminded you oh so much of your hydrangeas you had moved closer to the front of your patio earlier in the week.

His palms lay wrapped around your forearms once again, yours in much of a similar manner. You smiled deeply at him and noticed for the first time that he returned the sentiment back to you. You sat in a more than comfortable silence as the pace of your breathing returned to normal, the searing warmth of his palms a comfort to your skin in the late cold breeze. The coarse thunder boomed once more, a streak of bright white light painting the sky and his eyes, before quickly disappearing into the covered stars.

"I need you to always come back. Please. You're my new favorite regular you know." you told him breathily. He nodded in response to the sentiment, gaze following behind you. Your eyes met the path his own followed, staring into the painting he had made for you the week before.

"Who would I tell my darkest secrets to if I didn't? And who would clean my conscience figuratively and literally when I've found myself in trouble?" he said in response, slate greys flitting back to you.

"I'll always be here, whiskey glass in hand, whenever you need it you know. I'm not going anywhere." you whispered. He nodded, rubbing his palm up and down the expanse of your now exposed forearms, your sleeves rolled up earlier to clean dishwares.

The both of you gathered your belongings, ready to fare out the storm brewing as he insisted he walk you home. He pointed out the colors of the dull night, bringing it to life in the now drenched city estate. You turned back to look at your closed down bar, and the flowers of your patio that much needed the rain thundering down from the sky.

And you found yourself more alive than you'd ever felt, standing in the rain, looking upon the result of your life's works in peace and harmony.

The landscape now bloomed in vibrants and pastels in your wake, no longer dull and forgotten. Your world flooded with a new sense of colored hues as you gazed upon your flowers, in a deeper sense of detail than before; and you found that raven colored black he brought about earlier in the week was not the absence of all the colors you had previously thought it was, but rather kin to the mix of the many hues littered about in the bottom of the raven artist's bag and across his canvases.

---

Please let me know what you think! I think this is by far one of my favorite pieces I have written. I wanted to add more, but I felt it would ruin where it leaves off, so maybe a part two will be due at some point if requested. I wrote this last night after a pretty scary time; my college campus had an active shooter and our whole campus was kind of shook for the better part of an hour (no one was injured!), but writing definitely helped to calm me down, so I am glad I made an entry for this! This is lightly edited as I don't have much time before class, so please excuse any mistakes!

#love through the ages #Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk x reader #snk levi #aot levi #aot x reader #levi aot #attack on titan x reader

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quitefair · 1 year ago

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Dragon Age Lore Breakdown: Gereon Alexius

Started working on my accursed DA fic again, and the research rabbit hole led me down the In Hushed Whispers path. And I found out a bunch of things about this dude that I realised I never knew before.

Anyway, ramble under the cut.

Before he became a Magister, Gereon Alexius was first and foremost, a researcher of magic. One that was trying to push the boundaries of what magic could do, particularly in the field of ‘traveling through and controlling both time and physical space’.

His research partner (and eventual wife) was Livia Arida, a researcher who focused specifically on the Veil.

Gereon’s father, Magister Alexius, was your typical Tevinter upper class dude – focused on power and bloodlines and image. House Alexius wished Gereon focused less on the theoretical and more on magic with practical uses.

Gereon's father thus gave up his post as Magister to his nerdy ass son in the hopes that he would become more invested in politics like he himself was.

Instead, Magister Gereon used his position to ‘became a tireless champion of education, criticizing his peers for pouring the Imperium's funds into the war with the Qunari at the expense of the Circle and demanding better schooling and institutions of higher learning for the Soporati.'

His codex entry is more telling of his backstory and character than anything he's displayed in game lmao.

He continued his research in a diminished capacity, and subsequently married his long-time sweetheart and research partner Livia Arida. He also took a position as professor of thaumaturgy at the Minrathous Circle.

[They use the word ‘thamaturgy’ here very liberally, and I’ve not seen this anywhere else in my Dragon Age research. We all know the DND connotations, but I would like to take the meaning of the term as ‘boundary breaking magical research’, since that’s what Gereon is known for. Like idk the Thedosian equivalent of fringe science.]

[[This also assumes a scientific hierarchy within the study of magic within Imperium society, which I doubt they will explore in DA4, but gods that would be so fucking fascinating.]]

Anyway, Gereon and Livia had a son, Felix. Despite both his parents being mages, and particularly gifted ones at that, Felix was a very weak mage, one that could only cast very simple spells and with great effort.

Gereon’s father saw Felix as a weak link, described him as ‘just barely more than a Soporati’. Because of this, he tried to have Felix assassinated. Typical Magister behaviour.

Livia, being absolutely… livid (yeah I went there lmao), intercepted the assassin, and in turn, fucking had Gereon’s father assassinated instead. This ensured Felix's safety and secured Gereon as head of House Alexius.

Anyway, if it wasn’t clear how much Livia and Gereon loved Felix, you should know by now. Since he couldn't learn much magic, they brought in tutors from all fields – history, art, music, literature, etc, ensuring that anything the boy could study was offered to him on a silver platter.

And although Felix wasn’t a powerful mage, he seemed to have inherited his parents’ analytical minds, and therefore was a gifted mathematician. Recognising this, his parents sent him to study at the University of Orlais.

In the meantime, both Gereon and Livia continued their boundary breaking research. At this point, they decided to take on assistants and apprentices, since they could not involve their son in their research.

While Livia took on ‘half dozen of the most promising young students of the Fade and the Veil throughout the Imperium’, Gereon chose only one apprentice.

You know who it was.

So they continued their research – with Gereon and Dorian focusing on breaking the boundaries of magic itself, while Livia and her apprentices sought to determine the effects of such magic on the Veil. Kind of like an unstoppable force vs immovable object situation.

[There's also what I can only assume is an artist's rendition of their notes in The World of Thedas 2, which is... well.]

[The description included: Careful study is paid to the eyes of the nug. Based on the drawings and a limited deciphering of the text, the author seems all but obsessed with understanding what animals see and how this might differ from our own perception of reality.]

[[Edit: apparently the images above aren't from Gereon's notes, but from a book called Grim Anatomy. Dissecting this book is a whole nother post so we'll leave it at that.]]

They were apparently super close to a breakthrough. But we can’t have nice things in Thedas, can’t we?

In 9:38 Dragon, Gereon and Livia travelled to Orlais to visit Felix. As the family travelled back to Minrathous (or Hossberg - Dragon Age is never consistent with the lore), they were attacked by hurlocks. For some reason, Gereon wasn’t with his wife and son when this happened.

Livia is killed and Felix is tainted.

Gereon is obviously filled with survivors guilt, the grief of losing his wife, and the fear of now losing his son to the taint. He stopped caring for anything other than his son’s health, and this affected his relationship with his research, and by extension, Dorian.

This led to an argument over how distant and strange Gereon was becoming, and eventually Dorian parted ways with Gereon.

In the gap between this and the events of Inquisition, Gereon is now part of the Venatori. It can be assumed that the reason he joined was because of promises made that the Elder One can save Felix from death.

[We can probably extrapolate that Gereon somehow understands that Corypheus is a darkspawn, and so that adds to the weight of his belief that Corypheus can cure Felix.]

It is this time and space bending research that is the foundation of In Hushed Whispers.

Once Gereon is defeated, you can judge him in Skyhold. If you decide to take him in as an agent, he can continue his research for the Inquisition. (Though canonically all it yields is this amulet. Which isn't even unique, you can get it in random loot drops anywhere. Sad.)

#gereon alexius #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age lore #da lore #da lore and meta #i was outlining the plot (yet again) and prevented myself from going on SEVERAL deep dives #but this was not preventable because i did not understand UNTIL TODAY what the relevance of time travel magic was #but if you dear reader make it to the end (And i kiss u gently if you did)#you now too will understand like i did #also: still doesn't explain how in hushed whispers is plot relevant to the main dai plot #anyway meera shut up goodbye

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chosoluv · 1 year ago

Text

Shameless

—

the cute boy in your art history class has a staring problem

—

jean kirstein x gn!reader

—

Content warnings - a college au written by someone who has NOT attended a college, mild swearing

——

Why were you even here? You had asked yourself that question as soon as you stepped into this this stuffy lecture room, where your intro to art history class was being held.

Its a twelve week long course over the duration of your summer break. Whilst your friends were spending their days on vacation in places like Rome, you were spending your time here.

‘But my friends won’t finish their degree as fast as I am.’

That’s what you told yourself at least. Rational for someone regretting their past choices.

But hey, it’s one more class off the checklist of requirements for your major. Plus, from what you have been told by your upperclassmen, the class was quite easy, and the professor was a nice guy. So really, maybe it’s not all bad.

What those upperclassmen failed to mention was that the professor was boring as hell. Sure, he’s nice and all that. But being pleasant doesn’t keep you interested.

When your fate had really started to settle in. You’d hoped that in the coming days you are able to atleast claim a seat by the window.

Maybe you can pick up a hobby like bird watching.

—

The class was no doubt held in a room predating your grandparents. A fact that would most definitely annoy you in any other setting, actually brought you immense joy. The age of this particular room and the size of this particular class allowed for there to be a warm window seat open to your satisfaction. One of the few pleasures you enjoy in this oh so cruel world.

You were basking in the afternoon sun, when suddenly there was something that actually caught your interest in this godforsaken class. Actually, “someone” might be the better phrase to use. This someone wasn’t present in the previous lecture you had attended, and you would know, it would be hard to miss him.

He was tall, had a brunette mullet, and hints of a beard growing on his face. He was utterly gorgeous, anyone attracted to men would undoubtedly consider him their type. Though sadly, he sat in the row behind you, making it almost impossible to shamelessly ogle at him.

—

A window seat was open once again when you had arrived to class this afternoon. The sun was high in the sky, beaming through the windows. A very pleasant occurrence indeed. With the sun on you, maybe today you could daydream about enjoying your days in Bali.

Your professor always posted the lesson for the day after each lecture, a kind gesture for anyone who wasn’t able to attend the class that day. But really this only encouraged people to skip out on the class altogether. You would’ve also been apart of this group if not for the development during your last class.

Sadly, once again, he had sat in the row behind you. Making it physically impossible for you to shamelessly stare.

But today you could say you were more brave, around ten minutes into the lecture you decided you would take a quick glance behind your shoulder, hoping you could save the memory of his face for the rest of the duration of this class.

However, when you did that, not only did you notice his beautiful face, but you also noticed him staring at you. Not only that, when you caught his gaze he didn’t even look away, it seemed like he stared even harder after.

Huh?

Maybe he was challenging you to a staring contest.

Well poor him, he’s not getting one. You sure as hell weren’t going to crane your neck to stare at him.

That’s what you would’ve said it you were a quitter, and momma didn’t raise no quitter.

So you, quite childishly might I add, turned around and and stared straight into his eyes. You even squinted to appear as intimidating as possible.

And you want to know what this asshole did right after?? He had the audacity to smile at you before turning his attention back to your professor. The gull this guy had. He challenged YOU to a staring contest, before immediately quitting when you accepted his challenge.

Oh how much you hate his pretty little face now.

—

The next time you came to class there was something odd on the window seat you had claimed as yours. A drawing of you with a number scribbled on the back and a signature from someone named “Jean kirstein”. A name which you hope belongs to the cute boy in your art history class.

——

A/n - sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes, it’s proofread but something could’ve slipped through the cracks idk. Also I’m not too sure if I’m completely happy with this stories ending, so I might add a part two in the future, especially if y’all end up liking it!

Thank you for reading <3

Masterlist

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #aot fanfiction #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschtein x you

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hpowellsmith · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think a degree is a good place to start to get into the narrative designer scene? I don't have any sort of degrees and whenever I look at job postings it kind of intimidates me.

You don't necessarily need a game design degree. There isn't a single route into getting a narrative design job and most of the narrative people I've worked with have academic experience in other areas. Classics, publishing, linguistics, screenwriting (and other kinds of writing), film, literature, teaching, computer science, biomedical science, history, and philosophy are all things that come to mind off the top of my head. I personally have an English Literature bachelor's degree and a postgrad teaching certificate.

I do know a few narrative people with game design degrees and they speak highly of that experience - but it isn't essential and there's some ambivalence in the field of games about how much value you get from it. It would really depend on where you were attending and who was teaching it, and so on. Do research the lecturers and their industry experience before signing up to anything!

A lot of narrative jobs will require some sort of degree. Not all! But many will explicitly. Then, more trickily, there's the implicitness of it all: it's rare that I've encountered a narrative person at a studio who doesn't have a degree, and among many other things that's a marker of the lack of class diversity in the field.

That said: a degree is unlikely to directly help you get a narrative job unless it's very specific (eg you're an expert in the Franklin expedition, and the game is about trying to rescue the ships). It will more give you transferable skills. My PGCE helped me learn to deliver presentations and pitches. My English degree helped me discuss art. My PGCE taught me about being rigorous about developing skills and assessing where I'm at and taking feedback. My English degree pushed me to read widely. But none of that fed directly into getting a job in games - when I graduated from my undergrad degree I didn't know how games jobs worked anyway and neither did my career advisors.

Whether or not you have a degree, you need to have examples of your skills and how you've applied them to your work. If you've had jobs in other areas, you can refer to that - you're great at spotting data entry errors? fantastic. you can meditate an argument between a group of crying five year olds? great. And most of all you need completed examples of your writing and your games work for your portfolio. It doesn't have to be massive ambitious projects, but you need to prove that you know how games fit together, what makes them feel good or not good to play, and can apply it to your own work.

Make interactive fiction. Make a small game, or a bigger game, in bitsy. Join a game jam and work with other people on something - that will give you something to talk about in interviews, and teach you about working with other people on a creative project. Finish things! Not only will that give you more to discuss, it will also mean that you have a better sense of the bigger picture of interactive storytelling. I got my first studio job off the back of years of short hobby IF and a completed CoG game; I brought skills from my studies but I wouldn't have got a foot in the door without those projects to show that I could write well, understood narrative design, and could finish games.

Some unsolicited advice:

Be cautious about expensive game writing courses. They can be valuable for networking and pushing your to be rigorous about your work, or they can be a money sink. Remember that in 99% of "dream studios" there will be people working there for whom it's a nightmare. Don't put people on pedestals and remember that studio games are a team effort - but also respect and celebrate your own contributions. Don't dunk on games in public: I've seen a lot of people do that and then turn around and ask for a job from the people they were dunking on. It doesn't make people inclined to say yes. Don't neglect your peers in favour of trying to get in with a crowd that's already established; but if trusted people offer mentorship (such as Limit Break in the UK) go for it. When you are one of those established people, don't pull up the ladder behind you.

Here is a doc of resources from Raymond Vermeulen and another from Adanna aka AFNarratives. Also there are a ton of free talks available from AdventureX, Narrascope, Writer's Guild of Great Britain, and the GDC Vault about narrative which are both interesting and useful.

None of this is any guarantee of anything, there are a lot of people competing for not many jobs and if you find someone selling One Weird Trick to get into the field of narrative design, avoid them. I've seen talented people with a lot of experience struggling to find another contract after one has ended. So I don't want to act like I have it all figured out - but I hope it's helpful.

#indie games #game writing #narrative design #game industry

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geodetojoy · 3 months ago

Text

ALRIGHTY i am no longer busy so heres my full thoughts on Newsies :DDD

tagging @royallygray and @mysteriouswolf if yall wanna read :D

ok this shit got LONG so the rest is under the cut

GOD where do I even start its beautiful its wonderful its emotional i love it so much

Ill try not to copy my intermission thoughts too much (if you havent seen those here they are)

Ok lets talk about the history of it. A quick google search says its based on a strike in 1899, and Roosevelt ran for presidency in 1901, so we'll just say the musical takes place in 1899 too (correct me if theres a different confirmed time).

During this time, work conditions are absolute shit, monopolies and trusts are on the rise, and the concept of a union has recently emerged. I really didnt need to say much of this bc its apparent in the musical, but i love historically accurate stuff so deal with it /lh

And in the musical we see the beginnings of Roosevelt's trust-busting and ideas of social equality that he acts on during his presidency (it also kinda ties into his environmentalism stuff a bit too!)

And after reading up a bit on the strike the musical was based on, a lot of the effects of the strike in the musical were historically accurate too! the newsboys could sell back papers they werent able to sell on the streets, but the price was unfortunately not yet lowered. (also, the names of the publishers in the show are historically accurate as well!!! makes my little history brain happy :DDD )

SO whats the point of all of my rambling here?

people make historical art all of the time. we see it in musicals like Annie, Hamilton, and so so many more. obviously this goes beyond musicals here, but since newsies is a musical ill try to stay with that topic.

anyway, we learn about history to learn from it. we see these past issues that our previous generations struggled with, in these art forms as to be easily digestible, and we discover their solutions. we get to see the humanity behind the issues and the conflicts they faced to overcome them. and ofc its not the only reason, but one reason these stories are told with art is to bring attention to them. people are way more likely to listen to music than study a historical textbook. so, they make it entertaining. they make relatable and lovable characters. they make people care about the show and subsequently the issue itself. all of this is to explain how and why things that happened in history are bad as to never repeat them again.

We see these topics of worker mistreatment, corrupt businesses, child labor, gender/sex inequality, and the class separation all brought to the spotlight in this show, and it does a damn good job of showing the pain and suffering they cause. the story of this show is incredible and so very important to learn about.

OK now onto the actual musical itself im done nerding out

ive done a lot of charater analysis already in that intermission post bUT WHO SAYS I CANT DO MORE HAHA

im saving jack for last bc theres so much to unpack there

KATHERINE MY LOVE <3333

Everything about her being a girlboss absolutely remains the same shes INCREDIBLE

and holy shit PULITZER'S HER DAD???? i love her even more. she directly ran away from an easy life to follow her own dreams and pursue her own passion from scratch. incredible. inspiring. mwah

i also just love her personality. shes so bubbly and happy and passionate and bright and optomistic shes the best <3

oh god crutchie. hes absolutely my favorite btw im sorry everyone else i adore him <33333

GOD his prison song actually killed me. im fully dead. deceased.

THE NEWSIES ARE SUCH A FAMILY GAHHH THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH RAHHHH

the sheer ecstasy i felt when he came back and hit Snyder with his cane i could not stop stimming MY BOYYYY

the absolute definition of sunshine character. he sees everything as glass half full and wants just the brightest future he deserves the absolute world

and ik i talked about it earlier but i adore how they take such a neutral opinion about his leg. people give him shit for it, and his brother beat them to a pulp. its just a part of him and they love his whole being, so why would they not love that about him too?

Les only got better as the show went on. i thought he was a smartass before LMAOO

AND THE DATE BIT??? WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM???? AND IT JUST NEVER GETS BROUGHT UP AGAIN LMAO WHAT

i think the biggest change i felt towards a character was Davey

he grew on me soooooo much his character growth is everything to me

he went from trying to stay out of their business to teaching them what a union was to helping them start it to running it himself when jack ran off to convincing jack to come back when times got tough he is sooo important to the story

and to me. hes important to me <3

OH AND RACE

i saw people mention the name before but i didnt know which he was until they addressed him directly I LOVE THAT GUYYY

especially in king of new york hes got such a big personality what a silly guy

OK now for the guy the silly the mc jack

At the beginning he is entirely driven by both his love for his family and ofc his dream of living in Santa Fe, but atm hes just trying to get by so hes more focused on the newsies. but a boy can dream

then he gets all caught up in the strike business and only focuses on that for a while bc he wants to protect his boys

then shit goes south. they get essentially jumped, and crutchie gets hurt and arrested.

and he thinks, what was it all for? if he couldnt protect his brother (never living that down btw), whats the point of even trying to strike anymore

so he changes his focus back to santa fe. the one thing hes still got going for him.

and he gets confronted by katherine, les, and davey, and they knock some sense into him. stopping the strike isnt going to take away any of the harm done. the danger is expected, theres no way any of this could go down without some form of a casualty. so why not try to do something about it. the only way to make this situation better is to get back in the game and keep pushing for change.

and ofc the thing with katherine which ill talk abt a bit more later

in all of this, something in him changes. he dreamed of santa fe, a simpler life, one where he didnt have to worry about having to afford food and clothing for the next day.

but what he never considered was the loneliness. sure, he offered to bring crutchie and katherine with him, but hed be leaving behind so many more. and thats when he realized he never needed to get out, he just needed things to change a bit. and they did! because of the strike, living became so much more affordable. no it wasnt perfect, but it was enough to be safe and secure, just like he wanted. and he had his family beside him the whole time.

ill admit that before i sat and thought about it for a while, this ending was really unsatisfactory to me. i mean we got how many santa fe reprises? all for naught?

but in reality, santa fe would never be enough for him. hes just so used to this life surrounded by the people he cares most about and doing everything in his power to protect him, hed just be so bored, so understimulated, and hed just continue to yearn for more. that path of wanting would never come to a conclusion and hed live his life never truly being happy. so i really do thing he made the right choice in staying, because new york became his santa fe. he didnt need to seek it out, it came to him.

Ok now with him and katherine

ill start by saying i do really adore them. i feel like a lot of what im about to say might seem like i think otherwise, but i truly do think theyre very sweet

ok so every interaction of theirs in act one was. very uncomfortable to say the least. he honestly seemed really predatory at times and it just really felt like an old-timey romance where the girl doesnt know her worth so she flocks to any guy that shows interest in hr bc she thinks its her only purpose

now obviously that is NOT the truth, those were just my first impressions. Katherine is extremely capable of taking care of herself and deciding what is and isnt right for her, she likes jack purely because she can and does. she knows her worth and just likes him bc she likes him, no strings attached

i will say the first kiss kinda caught me off guard lmao. like i knew they were gonna be a thing but that is NOT how i expected that to go down. its likely just bc of my aroace-ness but i saw no sign of them actually getting together prior to that, aside from them being the main man and leading lady in the show so ofc they have to be together. i mean ig her reaction to him drawing her was a bit of a hint but still. ok maybe its just bc im demi. hadnt thought abt that until now. damn. is this a normal thing? maybe it is. maybe im being too harsh. idk lmao

anyway ill admit the kiss was successful in getting his attention and getting him to listen to her so ill give it that lmaoo but tbh i did tune a bit of their song out bc it started to make me a bit uncomfy but i did liste back to it later on. they really seem to have a healthy relationship where they both care about the other and know the other is strong enough on their own, they just both want to be a part of the other's life. its really sweet! theyre so supportive of each other!!! green flags all around!!!

the bit with him learning shes pulitzers daughter was really interesting to me. at first she tries to talk to him but he kinda brushes her off, but from then on he just kinda has full faith in her? i mean yeah he gets upset about it bc he thinks she lied to him, but i dont think he thought she had any ill intentions. that was a complicated sentence lmaoo damn. i think he really understood that she wanted to help, he was just caught up in a lot of Feelings and was afraid that she wasnt trustworthy despite him still trusting her. and then he let her explain and from then on they fully support the other and trust each other immensely

so yeah first impressions were a bit iffy but i think theyre very sweet <333

OK GOD CAN I GUSH ABOUT THE STAGE DESIGN FOR A BIT???? GAHHH

i mean the moving stairs and scaffolding arent new. i know this. but just the way they frame scenes with the scaffolding is stunning. the chase scenes??? dude. enthralling. the bits where theyre in the city and they have people just up their acting like civilians? SO cool. makes it incredibly more realistic and believable. and the way they projected images onto the curtain-like things they pulled down was extremely creative!!! like in theory its such a simple design. it was literally nothing more than the scaffolding and stairs, and a few tables and wagons and such in certain areas. but they did SO much with it it was hard to believe it took place on a stage. ofc the filming helps with that but still. the start felt like it was on the roof of the building bc of a combination of the lighting and the use of just one of the scaffolding pieces. and when theyre in buildings, the wall of scaffolding works really well as a backdrop!!! and i already talked about the city street scenes, it fits perfectly. god its so inspiring id love to be behind something like that one day

OK AND THE CHOREO??? the sheer ENDURANCE of these people HOLY I COULD NEVER. THE FLEXIBILITY? THEYRE ALL LITERAL GYMNASTS WTF ARE THESE FLIPS AND HANDSTANDS IM SORRY???? holy shit its all SOSOSO impressive

oh my god i havent even talked about the MUSIC yet

if i had to choose a favorite song, a, i would punch whoever told me that in the face, and b, i would simply combust bc i cant choose just one

my top three tho would have to be between king of new york, carrying the banner, and crutchies prison song (idk the name its not on spotify :'((((( ) in no particular order

i havent had them on repeat enough to have any memorized, but i did remember santa fe, carrying the banner, and the world will know from the last time i watched it and i belted along to all the parts i knew this music is so good at hyping me up I WANNA START A UNION

and oh my god katherines voice???? stunning. her song is sooooo good. her part in king of new york is incredible. i love her <3

jesus christ this post got out of control. im still not done lmaooo

ok one thing that really has nothing to do with the musical itself is just the fact that it reminded me of so many other musicals ive seen at specific parts, even some of the songs sound like others i know.

Santa Fe really reminds me of Maybe from Annie, both music-wise and lyric wise. i mean theyre both "i want" songs so it makes sense but i feel like they sound kinda similar too. honestly a lot of the music sounds like Annie, but maybe its just the types of instruments used and thats just how musicals sounded when they were made. i think they were made about the same time. *checks spotify* ok well the newsies i listen to was produced like 40 years after Annie so maybe that just a stylistic choice-

idk why but the beginning of watch what happens sounds like the intro to reginas speaking part in meet the plastics lmao-

oh and brooklyn's here has the same beat as the military from Seussical but thats just bc its a marching song lmao. its also the same beat as the spanish alphabet song my spanish teacher used to use!

ok and this one really doesnt make sense but something to believe in reminds me of the power in me from Twisted lmao- kinda similar message ig? and sound vaguely similar? but idk it really doesnt make too much sense

i should. i should sum it up. this is getting out of hand.

okay i love this musical sm. clearly. do you see how long this post is. i was missing out when i refused to listen to it previously. oh my god.

and for some reason it really makes me wanna go watch my favorite musical so im ending this here TO YOUTUBE I GOOOOO TY FOR READING IF YOU DID AND TY TO ROYAL FOR UNINTENTIONALLY PUSHING ME TO WATCH THIS HAVE A GREAT DAYYYY

#newsies #yeah i think i enjoyed it a little bit #idk tho maybe i should write some more about it /silly

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