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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 17 - ao3 -

The next week was far more enjoyable than Lan Qiren had thought it would be.

He wasn’t really sure, in retrospect, what he had anticipated a visit with Wen Ruohan to consist of – more awkward conversations or being forced to drink liquor, perhaps, although the apology of the blanket had largely assuaged his fears in that regard – but he hadn’t actually expected it to be fun.

Wen Ruohan took him around the Sun Palace and the Nightless City, allowing him to point out whatever caught his interest and casually narrating some interesting history of whatever it was, whether person, place, or thing. The Nightless City was full of treasures, some their own or won through acts of heroism, others looted from other sects; Wen Ruohan was not especially shy about describing how his sect had grown rich with subordinate sects, telling the stories of how his sect had defeated and devoured the others with relish, but it wasn’t as if such ruthless growth wasn’t echoed in every other Great Sect’s history as well. And Wen Ruohan himself was ancient, his involvement in the history of his sect personal, and above all else he was proud – endlessly proud.

He was proud of his city, of his sect, of his personal accomplishments. It was said of him that he thought every good thing under the sun rightfully belonged to him, and hearing him speak Lan Qiren could see why people thought so. Wen Ruohan thought other people were wasting their time with such treasures, leaving them to waste away half-used; he thought that he himself was the only one that could value them as he believed they deserved.

It wasn’t just items, though, whether valuable spiritual weapons or devices that any sect would keep as an heirloom. Wen Ruohan valued people, too: he had subordinates drawn from all over the cultivation world, those with special talents or high potential. Even when Lan Qiren hadn’t asked, Wen Ruohan made a special point of pointing them out, telling the story of how he’d saved this one and earned a life-debt, how he’d lured that one in with promises of riches and power, how he’d given his surname to a third who had in the end only wanted a place to belong.

It took a while for Lan Qiren to understand the message, unspoken as it was, but eventually he got it.

Like a treasured sword left to prop open a door, Wen Ruohan had said about Lan Qiren, way back when he’d sworn brotherhood with him in a drunken evening and reconfirmed it in the morning. Lan Qiren hadn’t believed him then, and he’d gone on not believing him for ages, but he was starting to suspect, to his bemusement, that Wen Ruohan actually meant it – that he thought Lan Qiren was something special, like his powerful subordinates or his talented artists and artisans, like the geniuses and scholars he added to his sect like adding flowers to a vase.

That their brotherhood wasn’t mostly a farce the way Lan Qiren had always assumed it was, whether a tease to Lao Nie or a mockery of the Lan sect, but rather something…genuine.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure what to do about that, so he opted not to do anything at all, throwing it all in the back of his mind to be considered at length later. But he had to admit – he liked it.

He liked the attention Wen Ruohan paid him, the fact that an older man, powerful and respected and renowned throughout the cultivation world, thought he was worth spending time with even without anyone else there to mediate. He liked the way that Wen Ruohan indulged him, the way that Lan Qiren’s bed in the Nightless Palace was even more comfortably textured than his treasured blanket back home, the way the design of the furniture and even plateware was, although in red and white, in the styles he liked most; he liked the way Wen Ruohan would add things as he figured out more of Lan Qiren’s preferences, beautiful paintings making their way onto his walls and fresh cut flowers beside his table. He liked the way Wen Ruohan remembered that he liked grilled foods over stewed ones, even years later, and how he didn’t serve him meat even when he ate it himself, although he made clear that it was available if Lan Qiren wished to try it; he liked how if there was something he didn’t like, it wasn’t served again.

Best of all, though, he liked how Wen Ruohan listened to him, even when he talked too long or on a subject that he (usually belatedly) realized other people would likely find boring. Not just nodding along, either, but actually paying attention enough to ask questions and interject comments, offering new perspectives on old subjects – how sometimes it seemed as though something Lan Qiren had said had sparked some new insight for Wen Ruohan, even though that seemed improbable. Wen Ruohan would sometimes interrupt their conversation to wave over a servant, ordering them to get this or that book related to their conversation, and if his memory for remembering exact citations was not as good as Lan Qiren’s then the vastness of the library available at his fingertips more than made up for it. Their conversation flowed easily and well, despite their age difference; it was helped along by Wen Ruohan’s charm, that mask Lan Qiren had noticed with Lao Nie, but it was easy enough to ignore the dangerous aura that lingered behind the façade when Lan Qiren felt certain that he, at least, would not be the target of that danger.

It felt – easy.

That was the strangest part, really. Lan Qiren was the son of a Great Sect, privileged even among the privileged; he had never lacked for food or drink or even knowledge. And yet it felt as if he had been struggling alone up the side of a mountain, the burdens forced onto his shoulders weighing him down; even if he had been able to manage it just fine, the fact that there was now someone walking alongside him, sharing it with him, supporting him, made it feel so much easier. He felt safe, he felt secure. He felt happy.

He felt –

Well, he felt a little guilty for thinking it, but he felt as though he finally had a brother.

Lan Qiren had always been a little skeptical of the description of brothers in all the tales he’d heard, the idea of an elder brother caring for and guiding the younger one utterly foreign to him; he tried to emulate the younger siblings, who idolized and loved their elders with a passion that rivaled that which they shared with their lovers, carrying within them a bond that would never be broken, but he knew in his heart that he could not do so in truth. Lan Qiren did idolize his brother, who was perfect in nearly every way except that he didn’t much like Lan Qiren, yet that deficiency was enough to make it difficult to like him back; Lan Qiren could love him better in theory than he could in practice.

With Wen Ruohan, it was different.

Lan Qiren wasn’t quite sure it was exactly like being a brother, either – for one thing, all the attention made him feel strangely shy, made his heart beat too fast and his stomach feel tense, and it wasn’t anything at all like the cheerful and casual camaraderie he shared with his nicer cousins like Lan Yueheng or even with someone he thought might be a friend, like Lao Nie – but whatever it was, he knew that he liked it.

He liked it enough to try to be flexible on some of his own relatively strict standards: to agree to try some local specialties that Wen Ruohan especially wished to share, to take the time to help Wen Ruohan with matters relating to his sect when there was no objection, to make an effort to stay up later than his usual bedtime in order to complete a conversation.

He even allowed Wen Ruohan to buy him things he would normally have rejected out of hand – for example, Wen Ruohan seemed to have a particular fascination for selecting clothing, which Lan Qiren didn’t understand in the slightest, but after having been so indulged, it seemed like it was the least he could do to return the favor.

“I really don’t know the difference between the two cuts,” he confessed, frowning down at the sketches presented by the tailor. “It seems – fairly minimal?”

“They are for completely different body types, Master Lan, and flatter the body in very different ways,” the tailor told him. “What appear to be small choices, such as whether to wear wide sleeves or tight gauntlets, robes or trousers, the style of the shoulders, the cut and angle of the collar, can make the difference between a cold demeanor and a warm one, a mature man and a childish one, a passionate earthy beauty and a icy fairy who stands above the earth.”

Lan Qiren nodded gamely, happy to concede the point – he had always enjoyed hearing other people expound about their interests, even if he didn’t share them, and it was clear the tailor enjoyed his work – but felt obliged to add, “Even if that’s true, how can I know which one I prefer? Anyway, I really don’t need any more clothing…”

“You should have several options in each style already ready-made for sect disciples, do you not?” Wen Ruohan asked the tailor, cutting Lan Qiren off, just as he had the last few times Lan Qiren had tried to suggest that he didn’t actually need to be bought more things. Competitive, as Cangse Sanren had said, only she’d forgotten to add stubborn! “Bring out a few and let him try them.”

“I don’t think –”

“That’s the best way to see what fits best,” the tailor agreed, nodding. “I’ll bring them at once, Sect Leader.”

“But –”

Lan Qiren gave up his clearly futile protests, reminded himself that he’d decided to make an effort to cooperate, and followed the tailor to another room to change his clothing. It felt strange and almost inappropriate, putting on the colors of another sect – at least the base color was still white, which was comforting, but the vivid reds, entirely dissimilar from the usual cool blue accents of the Lan sect, were certainly unlike anything he’d ever worn before.

And the style itself was very different, too. Both sects preferred tight sleeves, but the Wen sect didn’t add an overlay with wide sleeves the way the Lan sect did, and they had a sharp cut at the shoulders and collars that the Lan sect disfavored. Lan Qiren’s usual pick of clothing was even more simple – less layered, fewer cuts – than most in his sect, and the Wen sect outfit, though far from excessive, was almost flamboyant by his standards.

“It fits surprisingly well,” he remarked to the tailor, who smiled vacuously. “I’m lucky that you happened to have something so close to my size at hand.”

“You are very lucky, Lan-er-gongzi,” the tailor said, and although his face was blurred in the copper mirror, Lan Qiren briefly thought he almost looked nervous. “Please wait where you are, there’s one more thing I think would be a perfect fit.”

Lan Qiren nodded absently, looking down at his sleeves and tugging on them even though they fit just right. Truly it was a marvel, he thought to himself; most of his clothing was tailored for him personally, painstakingly made in the Lan sect style with embroidered arrays woven into the clothing, and yet some of those had fit less well than this…

He started in shock when he unexpectedly felt hands fall onto his head, loosening his crown, but when he looked up, ready to scold the tailor for his presumptuousness in daring to touch another man’s hair without permission, he saw Wen Ruohan standing behind him instead, a faint smile on his face.

Lan Qiren’s complaint froze in his throat.

Wen Ruohan, at least, did not violate the prohibition against touching another person’s forehead ribbon, avoiding it entirely as he skillfully wove out the guan Lan Qiren was wearing and replaced it with another in his own preferred style – silver instead of gold, and with a string of pearls that were woven into his hair and a single one that fell down to rest between his brows, just above his forehead ribbon.

That complete, Wen Ruohan put his hands on Lan Qiren’s shoulders and studied him in the mirror, his red eyes intent and thoughtful as he surveyed his handiwork.

“Very good,” he said, and his voice was thick with satisfaction.

Lan Qiren swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry for no reason he could explain.

“I knew pearls would suit you,” Wen Ruohan added, and Lan Qiren shook his head. “No? I think they do.”

“The rules –”

“Allow no more than three adornments on your waist, which this is not,” Wen Ruohan said smoothly. “And the rule against adorned beads and chains with bells is targeted at adornments that make unnecessary noise. You would not deny a member of your sect the right to wear a Jiang sect bell with its tongue removed, would you?”

“The Jiang sect only give their clarity bells to those who are in their sect, related by blood, or plan to marry in,” Lan Qiren objected, although he realized a moment later that he was quibbling over nonsense instead of getting to the key point. “I don’t need anything like this. It’s far too much.”

Wen Ruohan didn’t say anything; he only smiled.

“I should change back,” Lan Qiren said, uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

“We wouldn’t want that, no,” Wen Ruohan murmured, and Lan Qiren quickly gathered up his clothing and retreated from the room. It was only when he had mostly changed that he realized that he hadn’t taken his original guan back from Wen Ruohan. Without much choice – going with his hair down would be far more inappropriate than being over-dressed – he left the pearls in place.

“You’re doing this just to embarrass me,” he accused Wen Ruohan as they returned to the Sun Palace.

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “Who’s to say what my motives may be?”

“You! You can say!” Lan Qiren huffed, but he supposed this, too, was part of being brothers. “You’ll give me a new copy of our oath, right? Don’t forget again.”

“It’ll be in your quarters by evening,” Wen Ruohan promised, looking amused, and in the end he did better than that, a servant delivering the message while Lan Qiren was still putting away the odds and ends Wen Ruohan had bought for him during the day.

It occurred to Lan Qiren later that the move might have been calculated – he’d promptly forgotten anything else in favor of looking over the terms, which to his relief were mostly the classic ones, the elder guiding the younger, the younger obeying the elder, dire consequences for betraying their oath and bond, the usual.

There was an additional clause about loyalty and fidelity that seemed a little over-emphatic, almost as if it’d been cribbed from some marriage vow or subordinate’s oath – he supposed Wen Ruohan would have more reason to be paranoid about betrayal than most – and one about good faith and patience and education, which he suspected might have been his drunken self’s attempt to accommodate Wen Ruohan’s complaints about his excess enthusiasm, though he supposed it could alternatively be interpreted as an obligation for each of them to explain themselves to each other. Or maybe it was an obligation for Lan Qiren to educate other people at Wen Ruohan’s request - perhaps to step up and teach his sons one day? It was really very unclear, but then, such oaths usually were.

Alcohol was clearly prohibited for a reason, he thought to himself, and then shook his head, at this point more amused by it than anything else.

He only noticed that he was still wearing the stupid over-fancy guan when he started to head out to start the afternoon routine he had already started to turn into a habit: a walk through the gardens, physical training with the sword, and then musical training to conclude shortly before dinner, which he would share with Wen Ruohan, followed by another walk, this time in his sworn brother’s company. The routine gave him the time he needed to devote to his responsibilities as a cultivator, as well as some blissful time to himself; Wen Ruohan, he presumed, used the time for much the same purposes.

Lan Qiren scowled at his reflection in the tranquil lakewater in one of the garden pools, torn between wanting to go back to change the thing out – it would be ridiculous to expect him to do his usual training wearing something that probably cost more than his yearly allowance – and the knowledge that if he did so, he would have to miss out on some part of his routine, which he hated to do. Yet if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have another opportunity to remove it until after dinner…

“Lan-er-gongzi?”

Lan Qiren turned, surprised: it was Madame Wen, who he had not seen since his arrival. He raised his hands in salute, but to his surprise she waved it off. “Lan-er-gongzi,” she said. “Could I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course,” he said, and felt a frisson of fear when she put her hand on her belly. Surely it couldn’t have to do with…?

“Could you find my husband and ask him to visit the doctors?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “The servants can be indiscreet, and I don’t think I can go myself…”

“I’ll tell him at once,” Lan Qiren assured her, now truly alarmed by the implicit suggestion. “Do you know where he is?”

“At this time in the afternoon?” she said vaguely. “Oh, I’m not quite sure…probably in the third palace.”

She nodded towards one of the buildings, a little distant from the Sun Palace but not far.

Lan Qiren nodded. “Do you need anything – somewhere to sit, or…?”

Madame Wen shook her head. “I’ll go sit down. Don’t concern yourself for me.”

Lan Qiren nodded a second time – sitting seemed like a good idea – and headed towards the third palace at a brisk pace. As much as he usually hated breaking his afternoon routine, any risk to human life would always take preeminent status.

It occurred to him as he approached it that he hadn’t been to the third palace before, despite the tours he’d been on, although he supposed that it wasn’t so surprising, with him having only been there a week. The Wen sect’s domain, like its city, was vast and sprawling, teeming with people and buildings alike; it would take many visits, he expected, before he would learn it all. Still, Wen Ruohan had promised him the freedom to wander where he willed, and no one stopped him as he headed into the palace, seeking his sworn brother through the usual signs of his presence: the overwhelming concentration of qi, and the usual disarray of guards and servants that invariably had to rearrange themselves to account for the presence of their sect leader.

He found him, too.

Wen Ruohan was smiling the same smile he had given Lan Qiren earlier that day, full of satisfaction and pleasure and amusement, a bowl of wine dangling between his fingers as he leaned back in his seat, his entire posture suggesting that he was enjoying himself as he watched a good show – only what was in front of him was terror and blood and bile, men and women strapped to horrific devices as they screamed and bled and begged for mercy that they would not receive.

Lan Qiren must have made a sound, though he did not realize it, because Wen Ruohan turned to look at him, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “What are you doing in the Fire Palace, little Lan…?”

The Fire Palace, Lan Qiren thought, feeling strangely numb. Yes, that sounded right.

He’d heard all the rumors about it: how Wen Ruohan was violent and bloodthirsty, how he craved power and control, that he enjoyed torturing his enemies unmercifully until even death was a blessing.

He’d heard.

He’d just…disregarded it. Thought it was false, perhaps, or maybe he’d just lied to himself and pretended that because Wen Ruohan was kind to him that he was kind to everyone else.

“Who sent you here, little Lan?” Wen Ruohan asked, his brows coming together in a frown. “Tell me.”

He wasn’t happy. Of course he wasn’t; Lan Qiren wasn’t supposed to be here – he hadn’t been taken to this place, probably purposefully, and he was a creature of habit and routine, which he rarely if ever broke without warning. If he hadn’t feared for Madame Wen’s life, he would never have gone himself, much less in such a rush.

Madame Wen…she must have known what he would find here.

She’d known.

He should have known.

“Little Lan?”

An elder brother was meant to guide and educate the younger. Was this what he was supposed to let Wen Ruohan guide him towards?

“…Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren flinched violently at the sound of his name, but it spurred him into motion – he staggered back a few steps, unable to get his bearings for a moment, and then he grabbed blindly at some terrible-looking sharp objects lying on a nearby table waiting for their turn to be used. A flick of his wrist sent them into the throats of the victims, ending their suffering in a gout of blood, and then he turned on his heel and fled, tearing off the too-expensive guan as he did, the pearls falling on the ground behind him.

“Lan Qiren!”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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flowerbloom-arts · 4 years ago

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A rather unneeded apology, don't you think?

Progress shots and thought process below the cut (warning, it gets heavy on pshycological analytical nonsense and spoilers for Exploits of Moominpappa/'s Memoirs, and it's really long):

Ah yes, Muddler angst, something that should be one too many yet you can't quite get enough of it-

So it all started with this little metaphor from this post I made a while back and I thought "Hmm... I should really make a follow-up for that!" so I did, and here it is.

This was originally gonna be a lineless painting but then when I started to do that I thought about how much of a drag it would be and scrapped that for my regular style but with cooler shading and coloring. I'm happy with it, it's been a while since I've done a full illustration and I'm proud that I managed to make this in like... (Checks timer on my drawing app) 2 hours and 25 minutes? Huh.

Anyway, this whole illustration is more or less just a metaphor going on in Muddler's head when he's cracked under stress, it's the "boat floating on your own personal ocean" metaphor like the post I linked above, it is indeed a constantly raging sea of stress and change and mental/lifestyle instability that's going on in Muddler's head and he's on a houseboat floating on it trying to balance and protect itself from the tides. It's always rocking back and forth but it's been doing that all the time for so long that it barely registers for him anymore, so he's living in this unnerving calm where the calm is not serenity perse but a lack of terror, yet, sometimes that raging sea manages to break through a window or two and flood the place as a good reminder that he isn't immune, he can and will drown for as long as things are like this.

The sea isn't a place of good memories for Muddler in either version of the book, like, the sea is so big that it's general emptiness on the horizon tickles his eyes. Before that he painted the boat red and got it all over himself and then painted his tin with the leftover paint, needless to say he had a rather traumatic night where the paint never dried and it got all over his food and bed and whiskers which drove him insane (or plume crazy I should say). He also had a rough time in his tin while packing for the riverboat and being swept away by the flood caused by Edward the Booble, he said his nerves (and his button collection) were all unsorted after the rest of the crew managed to get the tin on board. Then other stuff happens- an awful Hemulen Aunt boarding the ship (he literally wished death upon her, a rather extreme gesture especially for Muddler), the Hemulen Aunt being taken away by the Niblings (and the ensuing guilt he felt when he felt that it was his fault since he wished for her to be eaten), a rough and sticky night, being the first to realise the boat was setting off to sea unintentionally in the middle of the night, having to sit through a gale in which he got very sick- and that's just stuff that happened on the boat! He also had to suffer the likes of the revenge of the forgotten bones! The Ghost painted Muddler's tin and he cried about it, thinking it's a warning sign that he'll never marry! And he's the only one who was legitimately terrified of the Ghost, imagine being one of like, a 4 person friend group and being the only one scared of a real scary thing that directly affected you in one of the worst ways possible- vandalism of your own home. And don't even get me started on the fact that he lost his parents during spring cleaning and still believes they're alive.

With that being said, I believe we all understand that Muddler has been through alot, he had a revelation that adventures cause nothing but trouble for the poor guy in the middle of the book. And seeing how he cried at the idea of never getting married, we can presume he just wants a normal life after that. Thankfully, Fuzzy provided that through marriage and kids, even though they lost one of them by accident.

Now with this in mind, I have implemented a few elements from the book into the illustration. I've also followed some color-coding rules I've made up for myself;

Blue=Safety and comfort (Hodgkins is his uncle and is canonically blue-colored for the most part, not to mention that his Maxwell House Coffee tin is blue aswell, both are sources of safety for Muddler)

Green=Protection (Joxter is usually depicted in a green dress/hat, he stood up for Muddler atleast twice in the book and we can presume these weren't the only times he does it. Joxter is rather confident in his abilities despite being lazy and Muddler would rather admire that)

Yellow=Achievement/accomplishment (nothing much here, just uhh... Gold is yellow-ish and gold usually means you've accomplished something)

Red=Stress/general negativity (This is mostly coming from the red paint incident)

I've also added some small references and details. I've avoided using the ruler tool on my lineart to give it less solid feel to the backround and everything, showing how it's not supposed to be a full representation of reality, the pictures being faceless also adds to that. I drew an interpretation of the Muddler and Fuzzy wedding photo found in the moomin theme park, the gold medal on Hodgkins' portrait says "you helped" and it's supposed to be the medal that Hodgkins said Muddler deserved for helping him figure out the propeller (accidentally) in the Exploits version and I like to think he has that thought always in the back of his mind as one of the few times he's felt genuinely useful since he got so happy from it. Oh! And the picture almost completely hidden by the curtains is a portrait of his father and that's Joxter at the bottom looking like he's peeking over the curtain when really he's not. The curtains are green because they protect him from the red outside world, the suit and yellow dead flowers being darkly colored are supposed to represent a sense of meaninglessness or general distain, the red liquid is supposed to be red paint, not blood aaaaaaand the window is a slight shade of blue with a screen overlay.

"Apologies for being weak-minded" is supposed to be a rather insincere but tired quote from Muddler, he doesn't really want to apologise for cracking under pressure and having a literal breakdown but he feels like he has to because I think he just feels like a nuisance alot of the time and being so negatively emotional just makes things worse, so he has to come up with an apology rather than tell the person he's talking to the reason why he broke down, and belittling his own feelings by calling himself weak-minded. He knows himself to be "too" sensitive.

Anyway, that was too long a ramble. Just know that I'm not trying to take myself too seriously here, it's a silly amount of thought put into this but eh, I enjoyed it, and I thought you might want to read about it and if you made this far; thank you.

#moomins #moominvalley #art #moomin muddler #muddler #the muddler #illustration #trust me the stuff under the cut is really long #I wish I could put more tags here but I guess these are all of them that matter

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tisfan · 5 years ago

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I’ve been doing a lot of reading recently; between the @bannedtogetherbingo2020 kerfluffle and the BLM protests

(one thing that I’ve been doing recently that seems to annoy the living SHIT out of my fellow White People is correcting “riots” to “protests.”

“Were you near the riots --” “I did not attend the protests, but I did donate to the medical fund for the man who was injured by removal of the statue on High Street.”

This seems to drive people absolutely batshit, and I will continue to do it. These are not riots and if they have similar characteristics with riots it’s because cops are treating everyone not even like criminals, but like hostile enemy forces.)

Mostly what I’ve been reading about is the difficulty that POC fans have in getting their voices heard in fandom. That the history of fandom is primarily the history of White Fandom.

(this is long, so there’s more under the cut - I also tell stories A LOT so brace for personal experience asides)

I’ve been thinking about comments I’ve seen by black and brown fans about trying to get away from racist stories on A03. And trying to figure out if there’s a way to give people what they want -- a way to tag posts/topics/writers/ships on a permanent block list. I know I’ve spoken with several fans who have extensive filter scripts when they go looking for a new read and that shit is EXHAUSTING and doesn’t work necessarily on mobile devices.

I, for instance, have QUITE A LOT of stuff blacklisted on tumblr because I find P*nnyW*se the Creepy Teeth Demon to be horrific and I do not want him on my screen. And the movie’s name is IT for fuck’s sake. I can’t blacklist the word “It” and still expect to see any content at all. So, thinking about how much trouble I had keeping PWCTD off my screen gives me some sympathy to how hard it’s got to be to filter out something that people aren’t even tagging!

I mean, honestly, most of the time that people tag a fic TW: racist, they already KNOW the character is acting in a racist manner and they’re condemning it. When people don’t realize the character is racist, or a word, or a trope is racist (mystical black character, for instance) they don’t tag it as racist because they either don’t know, are unconscious of their own bias, of they don’t care that it’s racist.

In the same manner, Person A who’s writing fic they know is dub-con will tag it, and Person B who thinks stalking someone and climbing in their window at night is romantic will NOT tag the same scenes as dub-con.

Which doesn’t make it any less jarring when I suddenly run into a fic that I would absolutely count as noncon/dubcon that’s not tagged for it. The intentions of the author don’t matter TO ME at that moment, what matters to me is that I’m trying to breathe while the romantic interest on my eReader is saying “aw, that’s so sweet.”

So, there’s multiple questions that come up for me -- I’m not a computer person, so while the A03 code is available for use, I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I tried.

Is there a way to tag something from the outside? An overlay or side program (like an Xkit for A03) that would allow people to permanently blacklist certain tags or authors, tropes, etc? I know there are some hosting sites (unfortunately with ads) that basically funnel stuff from A03 to a reader. There was a big kerfluffle about it at the beginning of the year because OMG, someone is making money off my fanfic! protip, no, they weren’t. they were making money off someone else’s desire for a custom skin. The material itself was never leaving A03, it wasn’t stored anywhere else. A03 does not currently have a phone app and they don’t plan to have a phone app.

So, would it be possible for someone to write a phone-app that did a custom filter for the material. Blacklists are certainly possible, right?

Because here’s the thing; a lot of people who are racist don’t know that they are. Or they don’t care that they are. I have personally had a couple of hard conversations about racism (I’m not even going to call it “unconscious racism” because I am a grown-ass adult capable of reading, so if I act in a racist manner, I’m going to fucking own it. And apologize for it. And try to do better.) in my own work -- whitewashing a character at one point, using a quote from a black woman as a title for a story about Wanda. I’m still not entirely convinced that a Jewish/Romani woman is “white” in any sort of traditional sense. That said, I’m not a POC and I’m going to listen to the person who’s upset because of my usage and not my own feeling of “I don’t really think Wanda counts as white.” This may be partially because WANDA is whitewashed as shit in the MCU and a lot of people in the fandom do not read comics.

That further said, I made the changes as requested and apologized for it in the work/notes. And felt very uncomfortable when some of my white friends said “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” I’m not sorry I had to deal with it. I wish I hadn’t DONE it, but I am glad that people felt comfortable enough with me to call my on my bullshit and I was able to make corrections and amends.

Still-- All of this boils down to: People are not going to, in good faith, tag their own fic as “don’t read this, I am racist.”

Everything that gets done on A03 -- which is an Archive -- is voluntary by the author. A03′s policies are pretty much “tag to warn” or “tag that you’re NOT tagging to warn.” The only action A03 takes for inappropriate tagging is to ask the author to update the Warning to match, or choose not to warn. If there’s no compliance, A03 will assign the fic “choose not to warn.” But that’s the extend of their policies.

We all know this history; no censorship. Censorship is a slope that leads to fanwork disappearing. Because here’s another fact: it doesn’t matter what the intention is of censoring a story; that censorship is going to be applied badly.

So, if A03 was going to ban racist fic, how long do you think it would take before the reporting system was flooded? Even legit reports of racism are going to take a while to read through, judge, contact the author, wait for possibly updates or retractions, and then removal.

A03′s staff are volunteers, and I understand there aren’t very many of them. There are six MILLION works on A03. No one could hope to read them all with a careful enough eye to catch all instances of harmful texts.

And we all know what’s going to happen: it’s easier to delete all stories that get complaints, rather than read them.

So, Fan A gets Fan C’s fic taken down for racial stereotyping and Fan C tells all of her friends, who go on a crusade to report every single one of Fan Q’s fics in retaliation (not because Fan Q did anything “wrong” but because they happened to post a blog about racial stereotyping in fandom) And we’re right back to strikethru.

Yet, censorship is one of those things that makes me very, very nervous. Do I think a white boy who writes a self-insert rape fantasy novella about violating and murdering Zoe Quinn should be allowed a platform? No, I don’t. (And neither did Amazon, who took it down fairly quickly once it was brought to their attention. But that’s only one case, where there are probably thousands of books that are personal attacks and are left merrily alone.)

There are a lot of books on the banned book list. If people thought they could get away with it, those books would be unpublished, unpersoned, black bagged.

We all know that the rules get applied badly, by the people with the biggest mouths and the loudest complaints. So banning content on A03 does not seem to be the solution.

(Personal story time again, just skip this if you want.)

I came into fandom backward; I was a traditionally published erotica / romance writer first and moved into fandom after the collapse of several small publishing houses for various scandals that I won’t bore you with but you can look here if you want more information.

Several years ago, I was in an anthology that i was Very Proud of, and I really like the editor I worked with, wanted to work with her again. She sent me a premise for submission that left me cold. Which is to say, she wanted to publish cuckolding stories.

[x] <-- warning, that link is REALLY harsh and filled with some real WTF moments, from someone who’s pointing out the racism inherent in the system.

Especially when you consider the Mandingo aspects of the fantasy, it’s easy to see why just the existence of it is repulsive.

I declined the invitation to participate because I was deeply uncomfortable with the subject matter.

I’m not saying that to get praise for my behavior.

Because when the subject came up again about two or three years ago in some fandom discourse, I sided with my friends who were defending “no censorship, no matter what.”

(End of personal aside.)

Despite my personal feelings about the issue (ew, this is icky and racist and horrible and I would never write it) I still believe that I don’t have the right to say what someone else can write, read, or enjoy.

I’m trying to find the path between “this sort of reading material is harmful and I don’t think it should have a platform,” “this should be heavily tagged to avoid upsetting people,” and “there are people who feel that way about gay, non-christian stories as well.” And what’s more, I’m trying to find it in a way that doesn’t stifle authors’ voices.

Even with my idea of an overlay, that’s putting the burden on the people most affected-- someone would have to rate stories as “racist” or “not racist” (and even then, it’s seldom that clear cut. Microaggressions abound.) and the people best capable of doing that would be readers of color. Which hardly seems productive. Or fair.

“Don’t like; don’t read” is often the calling card of fandom writers. I’ve said it myself. That’s what the fucking back button is for. But when I say it, I mean “I don’t want to hear your wank about Tony Stark in my inbox” not “I don’t want to be called out for racism when I wrote a story.”

https://ggmadeit.com/blog/why-i-cant-just-knit-the-story-of-a-black-knitter-during-civil-unrest/ -- I’m including this link because this piece really made me think. I can’t ever put down being a woman. I can’t read or watch horribly misogynistic work without being upset, and I have trouble sitting in the room with my male friends who insist on watching it and want to say “it’s only a movie.”

Being black is part of someone’s life. It can’t be erased just because it’s not convenient. Just because it interrupts your good time. It shouldn’t be put aside because “it’s just a story.”

As fans, we have to do better.

We all know what it’s like to be pushed out, to be made second best, to be asked when we’re going to get a real hobby, when are you going to grow up, why did you spend money on that merch? So we need to reach further.

I don’t have answers. And even if I did, I’m not the one who needs to give them. What I need to do is listen to the people who have answers and HELP THEM get what they need.

We need to do better. We need to BE better.

#writing #fandom #racism in fandom

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maybeimwierd · 4 years ago

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Mastermind!Danganronpa edits 2 explained!

This is the explanation for design choices in my 2nd batch of mastermind edits you can find right over here so I hope you all enjoy

7. Kokichi Ouma

Fun fact I actually started on this edit in the middle of Father’s Day which is kokichis birthday and I finished it early morning the next day, also I did the sketch in a car because I was coming home from a family members house right after I started it. Of course I like red buttons hehe so I have them to him, his outfit is mostly white so I changed his sleeves to be black and I made his pants to be red with those weird straps black. I love that I gave him face paint but it’s kinda hard to see the white part, I was going to color half his face black instead of white but I realized it could be taken as racist which I am not (ok when I say it like that I sound like I’m in denial but I swear I’m not) but of course red monokuma eye around the characters left eye hehe

8. Tenko Chabashira

Hers was actually the first edit that I actually redrew the whole sprite rather than putting stuff over it so you can tell my skill gets better after this one! I actually had originally thought up the headband first and I wanted to make the base red so I made the monokuma eye be pink which honestly is cuter and I made her hair ties be pink to match! I made her weird green hair thingys be black and white because monokuma also they are fun to color then I made her choker black. I decided to replace her cropped uniform shirt with a sports bra which is something women usually wear when they workout at the gym also hehe hoohoo it’s red with a nice black and white trim! I think adding a third layer to her skirt makes it looks puffier and cuter so I’m glad I did that hehe!

9. Kazuichi Soda

There is actually a cancelled draft of Kazuichi! The way I do these edits is by asking my buds over on Crackganronpa (a Dr discord server) who they want to see as a mastermind next, the owner requested Kazuichi but I didn’t want to do the method I did with Tenko because I felt it took way too long so I tried to do my color over method but it was too complicated due to his hair and I had spent around 2 hours just trying to color his hair white so I cancelled him and told them “I’m willing to continue on Kazuichi but if I do then I’m starting over” and they really wanted to see him so I redrew his sprite also so now you all have this Kazuichi! I liked the idea of him dying his hair again if he was a mastermind (because he canonically dyes his hair pink) and I liked coloring his hat black because it matched the white. I decided to color his jumpsuit red and give it pink accents but I colored his shirt last minute and if I was thinking I would have made it black, I had fun replacing the logo on his jumpsuit and making those buttons! I have 2 fun facts about that hammer he has there, it’s actually a large recolored version of the hammer I gave to Mastermind!Angie, the second fun fact is that I actually was listening to Sonias voice lines while doing the hammer. Adding onto that last fun fact when doing the lines for the face I was listening to Ibuki’s voice lines and was listening to Celeste’s voice lines while coloring the suit.

10. Chihiro Fujisaki

This one is truly where I have peaked in design (well for now, don’t know when I’ll strike genius again) so I’m very proud of this Chihiro and my Angie! I’ll start with saying that CHIHIRO IS NOT A TRANS GIRL THAT IS A FACT THEY LITTERALLY WERE BULLIED INTO BEING A GIRL so I gave him some super cool pants and it was fun drawing that belt! I took away his overcoat so you can see his dress shirt and I replaced the coat with a super cool cape!!!! It was fun to come up how the cape is layered the left side going over the right side with a part on top. This was a idea I loved so much and wanted to put on a edit (right under using that cape idea) which is the big Ol fairy flower hat! His design was lowkey based off fantasy things! I felt the design needed one more thing so I lightly airbrushed his face to give him a sickly and sort of pale look. This was also the edit that I started adding the fabric overlay on

11. Korekiyo Shinguji

Now this one! This is a doozy! Lots of little details here and there but first things first, if Korekiyo was a mastermind he would definitely have trinkets here and there from the dead students (also in these mastermind universes the person who is the mastermind in the game they are from dies instead of them) so feel free to guess what thing belongs to who! I believe Korekiyo would want to dress liek the original mastermind and it was fun to give him big pigtails like her, he is wearing a ripped sleeve from one of the dead students (won’t specify but it was hard to get it from under where it was from) and the tie is from another student instead like the one the original dr1 mastermind wore and the little buttons are from other students, the gloved hand is ripped as a little detail and I think that Korekiyo could definitely rocks a skirt! This is truly my husband heehee

12. Yasuhiro Hagakure

This edit came into my home and pissed on my clothes then shit in my sink I am not proud of this one at all just like Kaito (if the 18th mastermind sucks I think that makes it a pattern) so here’s why. I was going to do this like the others but I didn’t want to spend hours tracing the lines for his hair so I just added some bear ears and a monokuma eye over his left one. I changed the yellow from his shirt and pants string to be a nice red and I made the inside of his jacket use the pattern I originally made for Kaito! Yay recycling. Fun fact I was listening to a He///va B//s BLM charity stream (I censored I don’t want fans of the series to come across this in the tag due to how tumblr works and they might get spoiled) also the sprite I used actually was sweaty faced so I removed it to make him look smug. I also removed his stubble because if he was betraying his friends he definitely would wanna look nice for it. The pattern used for Kaito and Yasuhiro is downloadable in the previous explanation post for use!

#danganronpa #drthh #sdr2 #drv3 #kokichi ouma #tenko chabashira #kazuichi soda #chihiro fujisaki #korekiyo shinuji #yasuhiro hagakura

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jlalafics · 6 years ago

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Part Four of “Rent Control”

We’re at the end...sort of. I’m a little nervous about this part and will be hiding with Toddler J (actually we’ll watching The Great British Baking Show in bed).

Please enjoy and I’ll see you at the epilogue!

If you haven’t read the other parts, follow the links below:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Summary: Katniss Everdeen has found the perfect home in San Francisco—great neighborhood, an easy commute and, best of all, it’s rent controlled. There’s only one problem; the landlord will only rent to a married couple.

Enter Peeta Mellark.

_____

Rent Control

Part Four

“Katniss! Get out here!”

Effie was getting impatient.

“I’m coming!”

Katniss stared at herself in the mirror, her hands dancing over the delicate fabric. Effie was right; the silhouette was still in fashion. Thanks to her mother, Daphne, and Effie, the gown fit perfectly to her body.

However, when she looked in the mirror, Katniss felt like a fraud.

A beautiful couture fraud—but a fraud, nonetheless.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!”

This time it was her mother.

With a sigh, Katniss stepped out of the Abernathy guest room and into the living room.

There was a collective sigh as the three older women gazed at her in all her bridal glory.

She turned to the mirror that Effie had placed in the room to take a real look at herself.

The gown was off-white, sleeveless, with a modest V-neckline. The skirt was made of tulle while the top half was a satin bodice with a tulle overlay. It suited her olive coloring, making her skin look even richer and her dark hair lustrous.

Her mother’s contribution was the periwinkle blue band on the gown’s waist so she would have her ‘something blue’ while the jeweled flower resting on one side of the band was from Daphne. It would be her ‘something new.’

“It’s missing something,” Effie said as she approached her. Reaching into her pocket, the woman pulled out an ornate pearl hair clip. “This was my mother’s. She wore it on her wedding day—” Effie swallowed shallowly before continuing. “—I wore it for mine.” She then arranged it so that it clipped back one side of Katniss’ long locks. “And, now you’ll wear it for yours. It’s your ‘something old and borrowed.’”

“Oh Effie.” Her hand went to the delicate clip. “I couldn’t possibly—”

Effie shook her head. “A long time ago, we found out that it would be difficult for us to have children.” She let out a shaky breath. “And, now it seems unlikely—but I’d like to think that if I had a girl, she’d be similar to you. I mean, you have Haymitch’s coloring and your scowls are very alike!”

Katniss wiped her eyes before giving Effie a smile in the mirror.

“I’d be honored to be your pretend daughter…even though you would have to had been around 17 when you had me!” Katniss replied.

Effie tapped at her nose. “Somewhere around that age.” She kissed Katniss’ cheek. “You look beautiful.”

Katniss looked at herself in the mirror; she did look beautiful—as radiant as the sun.

It wasn’t real though.

And, then she could no longer face her reflection.

++++++

Peeta knocked on the closed door of Johanna’s boutique, spying Katniss in the window. Giving him a drawn smile, she placed the till back into the register and rounded the counter to let him in.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had shifted in their relationship. Katniss was different; it wasn’t that she was any less affectionate. When they were alone, they had more than their fill of passion—lately, maybe even more so.

That fire in Katniss, however, seemed to have dimmed since that first dinner with their families.

“Hey,” she greeted him as the door was opened and he walked in quickly. “Johanna just left and I’m finishing up.”

“Do you need help?” he offered.

“You just finished up next door,” Katniss responded. “You still want to help?”

“Of course—if it means we get some time to ourselves,” Peeta said. “What do you need? I can fold or arrange the shoe display…”

He gave her a playful grin and Katniss let out a laugh—it felt good to hear it. She had been off in her own world, at times, and Peeta wanted nothing more but to make her smile.

It wasn’t hard to admit that he lived and died for that smile.

“How about you wipe the mirrors in the dressing rooms and then run the dry mop through the floor?” she suggested instead. “Cleaning supplies are in the back.”

Before long, they fell into silence. Peeta could hear her arranging the hangers on the various racks in the store as he wiped down the mirrors.

“Katniss?” he found himself calling out.

The shuffling of hangers stopped. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you?” Peeta knew that he was treading a thin line. There was no response. “I can feel it. You’re pushing me away. Not physically—” He placed the rag down and pushed himself onto a seat in the small dressing room. “It’s just that I wake up every morning and then we lock eyes…you used to give me this smile—a smile just for me. You don’t do that anymore…”

He looked down at his folded hands, waiting for her response.

However, there was only silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Peeta looked up to find Katniss in front of him, her gaze on his hunched figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked her.

Katniss knelt in front of him, her hand going to the nape of his neck. “No, you didn’t do anything.” She pressed her forehead to his. “It’s just been hard with our parents, your brothers, Prim…the fact that we’re supposed to get pretend remarried in like three days. It’s a lot.”

“I miss you,” Peeta admitted. “I mean, you’re with me—in my arms, in our bed—but you’re also a thousand miles away.”

She bit her lip anxiously before looking into his eyes.

“I know that I’ve been distracted, but there’s been a lot on my mind,” she said. “This whole wedding…and our families being so bonded now…it’s become bigger than us.”

He nodded in understanding. “I just don’t want to lose…us.”

“Scoot over.” Peeta shifted to give her space on the seat. Instead, Katniss sat on his lap. “You haven’t lost me. I guess I miss what we had before all of this craziness. I miss waking up to quiet mornings, lounging in bed and binge watching something on Netflix, Farmers Markets…you know this is the first time in almost two weeks that it’s just been us.”

“It has, hasn’t it?”

Katniss wrapped her arms around his neck. “Right now, I’m part angry, part exhausted, part horny…”

“Why are you angry?” he asked.

“I just want to find Gale and punch him in the nuts,” she muttered. “Him and his dumbass mouth—”

“Find me an address and I’ll come along with you,” Peeta said and Katniss grinned. “As for being tired, Prim told me before I left for work that she’s going out with Johanna and my brothers tonight for some sightseeing. I can draw you a bath so you can get some of that tension out.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “As for being horny…”

She shifted, straddling him, and Peeta groaned.

“I’m wearing these new linen pants,” Katniss started, her lips going to the side of his mouth. “They’re supposed to feel like I’m wearing nothing at all.” She moved along him and a sliver of heat ran up his spine. “What do you think?”

“How about you close that curtain and we make a comparison?” Peeta countered, his hands already reaching for the button on her waistband.

Katniss grinned. “Of course. Anything for a customer.”

++++++

“I hate you so much right now,” Johanna told Katniss the next morning.

Prim, who was shuffling through Katniss’ closet, turned to her sister and new friend.

“What did Katniss do?”

“You had sex in my store!” Johanna looked to Katniss, who looked down at the bridal magazine on her lap. “Don’t deny it! My morning lead just texted and asked why there’s handprints all over one of the dressing room mirrors! She says it looks like someone was trying to recreate that car sex scene in Titanic!”

“Glimmer is so dramatic,” Katniss replied. “It was not that bad.”

Johanna turned to her; arms crossed. “So, you don’t deny it?”

“No, I don’t.” Katniss closed the magazine before meeting her eyes. “It’s been weeks since Peeta and I have been alone. There are people in every nook and cranny of this building—and it was either against the mirror or on the seat. That cushion is disgusting!”

Johanna suddenly pulled her to her plush chest.

“I’m so proud…my little Katniss has finally done the dirty at work! It’s a milestone, you know.”

Katniss snorted. “Don’t get too excited. We did it at the coffee shop before all this craziness happened.”

“Gross!” Johanna grimaced. “Which roast was it on? I prefer no jizz in my coffee.”

“That was more than I needed to know,” Prim said. She met her sister’s eyes. “So, how are you doing? I know you and Peeta have agreed to continue on after…but this ceremony has kind of thrown a monkey wrench into your plans.”

“It has,” Katniss agreed. “But, what can we do?”

“I don’t know. How about admit that Peeta is stone cold in love with you?” Johanna said. “I mean, come on!”

“Love?” Katniss had a sudden interest in the bedspread. “We like each other, and we lust for one another, but love is a whole different spiral that we can’t get into.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Prim questioned. “I know you. Ever since that dipshit Gale broke up with you to sample what California had to offer, you’ve closed off. You were a romantic once—you followed a boy all the way to San Francisco—”

“And, what did that get me?” Katniss burst out.

“Open those pretty grey eyes, Katniss! It got you Peeta!” her sister countered. “And he is a hell of a lot better than Gale Hawthorne ever was for you.”

“I know.”

The bedspread was suddenly stained with tears.

“And it’s because we’ve stayed within the bounds of friendship. Anything else could be a disaster.” Katniss met her sister’s somber eyes. “And I’d rather have him everyday just as he is, than to not have him if it all falls apart.”

“Shit.” Johanna wrapped her arms around the Everdeen sisters. “This just became more complicated than a simple screw in my dressing room.”

++++++

“Where’s Katniss?” Peeta’s mother asked.

“She, Johanna, and Prim are having some girl time,” he informed her as they walked down the busy neighborhood, full of storefronts and restaurants.

“I think Katniss is going to be a great addition to the family,” Daphne told him, linking her arm through his. “She’ll be really good for you. She is really good for you.”

“Mom.” Peeta turned to her in e. “I want you to be happy for me because I am doing things for myself and I’m trying to prove that I can run a Mellark Bakery all on my own here. I don’t want you to be happy for me just off of who I married.”

“Peeta, I am happy for you,” his mother responded. “When we first arrived, there was a look in your eyes. I could see that you have come into your own. Katniss—she might not be all of the reason, but she is some of it. The Peeta I remember couldn’t even commit to a time to visit his mother and father.” She stopped and turned to him. “Now, he has committed himself to the love of his life.”

Love. There was that word again.

More and more the word played in his mind. It was the whispered word that escaped his lips whenever he woke up to see Katniss lying next to him.

“Thanks, Mom.” Peeta stopped to look around the busy street. “Where are we?”

“Your business proposal somehow made its way onto the breakfast tray that Effie and Haymitch gave your father and me this morning,” his mother said. “There was also a printout of this listing.”

Peeta looked up at the storefront. It was a two-story brick building with large display windows flagging the entrance door. It wasn’t much; but with a good layer of paint and from what he could see of the inside, a good layout and design for the interior, it could be something great.

“What do you think?” Peeta turned to his mother, who watched him in anticipation. “Do you think that this would be a good location for the first west coast Mellark Bakery?”

“It’s perfect,” he said in awe. “Good neighborhood, close to retail, and easily accessible.” Peeta grinned at his mother. “Who gave you the printout?”

“There’s only one person who would know where you kept your business proposal,” Daphne said, a small grin on her lips. “Consider this a wedding present.”

++++++

“Katniss!” Peeta slammed the door behind him. “Are you home?”

“Yes!” came the response from their room. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect! Wonderful even!”

The papers had been signed just this afternoon and he, Peeta Mellark, now owned his own bakery space. Yes, he would be paying his parents back until the end of time, but it would be all worth it to run his own business—and Katniss would have their space to design the best-looking bakery that San Francisco had ever seen.

Not to mention, he made a kickass cheese bun.

He froze in his tracks, sensing something…off. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

He whipped around at her voice and the air left his body.

There Katniss stood in her wedding dress. She awkwardly held the skirt as she walked towards him.

“Effie and my mom did the final fitting,” Katniss explained. “What do you think?”

His mouth rose in a grin and Peeta reached for her hands, his eyes roaming the satin and tulle gown, before meeting her anxious eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” Katniss flushed at his words. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to see the bride in her gown.”

“Well, we’ve pretty much said ‘up yours’ to tradition,” she replied. “What’s a few minutes of you seeing me in this get-up?”

Peeta lifted her chin to look into her deep, slate eyes. When did he start caring for nothing but her happiness?

It might have been forever.

It probably would be forever—even when this charade ended, and they separated.

And, suddenly he ached.

“May I kiss the bride?” he asked, bringing her close.

Katniss nodded. “Of course.”

Their lips met, chastely at first, before his bride pressed forward to deepen the kiss.

He lost himself willingly to the taste of Katniss…an eternity could have passed—and he couldn’t give a flying fuck.

The knock came abruptly.

“Peeta! Get your ass out here!” It was Bran. “We’re meeting up at Beetee’s for beers!”

“I forgot that our parents demanded that we spend the night apart before the wedding,” Katniss said. “Prim and Johanna should be here any minute.”

“Of course,” he replied as they pulled apart.

Hesitantly, Peeta walked backward towards the door, his gaze on her.

She raised a brow at him. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of you in that gown for the rest of my life.”

Peeta quickly turned to walk out the door before she could even respond.

++++++

Katniss couldn’t sleep.

Next to her, Prim and Johanna were knocked out. Her sister wore a tiara in her tangled locks while Johanna sported a hat with an outrageously large penis. A half-eaten tray of cookies baked by her in-laws laid between the two.

It was while watching The Wedding Date that they had drifted off. However, sleep did not come for her so Katniss remained awake, tense in the thoughts of tomorrow.

Getting up, Katniss reached for a sweater from the closet, carefully leaving the bedroom so she wouldn’t disturb her sister and friend.

She couldn’t breathe…she just needed to get out.

That’s how Katniss found herself walking down the stairs onto the main floor and into the backyard.

The sight before her almost brought her to her knees.

White chairs had already been set out for the ceremony; a good number of friends and neighbors were excited to attend. To each side of the apartment building, long buffet tables were set up as Annie’s staff would be arriving midday to set up for the reception. At the end of the right side was a singular table for the wedding cake.

It was unbelievable how it had all fallen together.

She continued down the aisle and towards the lush flower archway where the ceremony would take place. Haymitch had set up a platform before it so that Beetee, who had volunteered as officiant, would have a place to stand before them.

At the end of the aisle, Katniss settled on the steps of the platform, looking around.

It was exactly the kind wedding she had dreamt of—except in her dreams, she wasn’t drowning in guilt.

A breeze hit and she wrapped her sweater tighter around herself and let out a breath.

“How the hell did I get here?”

“I was about to ask myself the same question.”

Peeta.

He made his way down, smartly wearing a puffer jacket and not the flimsy crap that she had donned.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked as he joined her on the step.

“Nope.” Peeta looked out at the scene before him. “I couldn’t sleep after all the marriage advice our dads and Haymitch decided to give me…by the end, it was extremely graphic.”

“Gross.” Her head went to his shoulder. “So…tomorrow?”

“It’s after midnight so more like a few hours from now,” he replied.

“I wish it could’ve been different.”

The admission had come out suddenly.

“How?” he asked after a moment.

“Like we would have actually been dating and then you do the whole shebang—tell me how deeply you’re in love with me and get down on one knee.” She sighed. “Isn’t that how all love stories are supposed to happen?”

“I think love stories are what a couple makes of them,” Peeta said.

“And, how do you think our story would’ve gone?”

“I’m not sure.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I just know that I would love you till there was no breath left in my body.”

Katniss swallowed the sob threatening to escape her lips.

“That’s all anyone could really ask for—someone till the end.”

“Ride or die,” Peeta agreed.

She snorted. “How very Fast and the Furious of you.”

Tell him.

The treacherous thought screamed in her brain, but her logical—fearful—thoughts fought it. Her heart couldn’t bear the thought that he might not feel the same, that they would hurt each other, and that she would lose him.

So instead, Katniss pulled away.

“I better go up. Prim and Johanna might sleep eat all your parents’ cookie and choke to death. That would be a real bummer on the wedding.”

Peeta nodded. “I’m just going to spend a few more minutes here.”

They reached for one another, their mouths meeting, and Katniss pressed everything she felt into that kiss—the happiness, the fear, the pain—but most of all, the love.

When they pulled apart, Peeta’s eyes were closed, a smile on his lips. “Wow.” He met her eyes. “I’ll see you at the end.”

Katniss stood. “I’ll see you at the end.”

Shakily, she made her way down the aisle and was halfway through when—

“Katniss?”

She whirled around to see Peeta staring at her.

“Sunset. It’s my favorite part of the day. Our families and friends would be there. I probably wouldn’t get down on one knee though—”

“Because you have a trick knee from a track injury,” she said. “And, your favorite color is that orange that happens to the sky at sunset. I wore—”

“You wore that dress on our first date because it resembled the color,” he finished for her. Her breath caught seeing that look in his eyes. “And, you looked beautiful—but well to me, you were always gorgeous, inside and out.”

Katniss managed a smile. “Goodnight, Peeta.”

“Sleep well, Katniss.”

But, for the rest of the night, sleep did not come.

++++++

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…”

Katniss was getting married today.

Okay—not really married, but really recommitting herself in front of her friends and family.

Not to mention, the film and camera crew her parents hired.

Prim and Johanna had given her a few minutes to herself so that she could settle her nerves. Her hands moved over the skirt, smoothing non-existent wrinkles.

She made a picturesque bride; her makeup had been done perfectly, just some eyeliner, lipstick, and concealer because Effie had almost fainted at the dark circles under her eyes. Her mother and Daphne had sprayed and pinned the pearl clip into her hair before putting one more ‘protective’ layer of hairspray—a bird could crap on her head and the stuff would probably slide off from the slickness of her locks.

Johanna had given her a NuBra to wear and Katniss chuckled knowing that Peeta would have more than likely insisted on removing it.

There was a knock on the door. “Katniss, are you ready?”

It was her Dad.

She rushed to open the door and her father stepped in, looking rather dapper in his tuxedo.

“My God, sweetheart,” he breathed. “You’re a dream.”

Katniss looked at him nervously. “Really?”

“Okay, it’s kind of my nightmare. I’ve been dreading this moment for twenty-four years,” her dad admitted. “But your mother and I couldn’t be happier. You picked a good one.”

Katniss nodded in agreement. “I really did.”

Her father held out his arm. “You ready?”

Taking a deep breath, she took his arm. “Let’s do this.”

++++++

Stepping out into the backyard, Katniss let out a breath, a tremble rushing through her at seeing the number of guests.

Together, she and her father began their walk. Somewhere—violinists?—her mother’s influence she was sure, played ‘La vie en rose’ as they made their way down the silk carpet sprinkled with pale pink rose petals.

Her eyes went to the guests; Cinna had come all the way from New York while she saw that some of her parents’ colleagues had made their way over from Connecticut, as well. Closer to the front, Katniss saw Wiress—invited by Beetee as his date—who gave her a bright smile. Thresh, who stood next to Glimmer, was eyeing the pretty blonde.

Her eyes watered seeing Effie and Haymitch. Effie immediately burst into tears seeing Katniss in her gown and she thought how her landlord must be imagining what might have been for her and Haymitch—if life had been fair on them. Haymitch with his protective nature would have made an outstanding father and she had no doubts about Effie’s maternal instincts.

Katniss realized how much she had come to love them like family.

Then, there were the Odairs; Finnick looking dapper in his navy suit while Jack matched him perfectly with his own miniature version. Annie had recovered nicely from pregnancy, beautiful and glowing with Sarah and Rose in her arms.

Johanna and Prim were her bridesmaids, wearing sage green dresses and matching chignons. They both beamed seeing her. Bran and Alex made dashing groomsmen in their grey tuxedos, each swoonworthy in their own right.

Then, there was Peeta.

Katniss couldn’t help but tremble at the sight of him.

“You okay there?” Stephen asked his daughter, feeling her shiver.

“Yes, just more nervous than I thought,” she replied.

He chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“How can you be nervous when you have a man looking at you like that?”

And, yes—Peeta looked unbelievably handsome, wearing a suit matching the charcoal of her eyes.

However, it was the look in those blues of his—that earnest, full look that made her feel like she was floating on air.

Peeta stepped forward and her father embraced him before taking both their hands to clasp them between his own.

He looked between them. “Take care of each other.”

Quickly, her father joined his mother’s side.

Her eyes went to Peeta’s, who grasped her hand. “You okay?”

“Are we really doing this?” she asked as they stepped up the platform where Beetee waited.

“Whatever happens,” Peeta said, his eyes already knowing her thoughts. “I’m with you.”

Her hand went to cheek. “Just trust me.”

“Of course.” He turned to press a gentle kiss into her palm. “Always.”

They both turned to her guests.

“We have something to say,” Katniss began.

“Can’t this wait?” her mother asked.

“No…no…” They stepped down from the platform as Katniss shook her head. “We can’t.”

“What is going on?” Daphne said tightly. “Are you having second thoughts? It’s a little late for that. You two are already married.”

“No, Mom.” Peeta looked to her and she nodded. “We lied to you…to everyone. We’re not…actually…married.”

“You see,” Katniss started. “My lease was up at my last apartment and Peeta couldn’t afford his since his roommate was going to be leaving. Then, we both just happened to see this ad for this wonderful apartment—”

“Except that tenants had to be married and so we told them we were,” Peeta finished. “We made up this fake love story and took pictures at City Hall. And, it just snowballed when everyone showed up and you all planned this beautiful wedding.”

Katniss’ gaze went to Effie and Haymitch, their expressions unreadable, and she felt her heart squeeze in pain.

She and Peeta betrayed them and they would most likely never forgive them.

“And, we just couldn’t bear to hurt all of you,” she said. “Because we fell in love with you.”

Finnick furrowed his brow from his seat. “Me? Sorry guys, but I’m taken.”

Katniss choked back her laugh. “Not you! Well, kind of you and Annie…and just everyone.” Peeta squeezed her hand. “We grew to love every one of you and you became family to us. This building, all of you—you are home to us.”

“But, what about you two?” Her father asked. “You’re not in a relationship?”

“That’s kind of tricky.” Her eyes went to Peeta’s. “But the point is that the marriage was not real…we’re…not real.”

There was silence.

A long silence.

Somewhere there was the faint sound of an ambulance—probably coming just in case there was bloodshed.

“Bullshit.”

Katniss shot up in shock. “Excuse me?”

Annie looked her straight in the eyes.

“Bull. Shit.” She shifted, handing Sarah to Finnick, who had just made Jack cover his ears. “Hold on.” Annie adjusted Rose against her chest, undoing the buttons of her dress before guiding the baby to her nipple. “Okay, I’m ready to continue. It is absolute bullshit that you two aren’t honest-to-God in love!”

“Annie, I’m honestly having a hard time computing your words with your boob hanging out,” Katniss retorted.

“Well, I’m feeding my child, Katniss,” Annie argued. “Because I love her and that’s what you do for people you love. You take care of them—just like you and Peeta take care of each other.”

“You know…” She and Peeta turned to Beetee in front of the archway. “She does have a point.”

“You too?” Peeta replied incredulously.

“Actually, we all find it surprising that you’re not in love with one another,” Christopher informed them.

“We do like each other,” Peeta assured him.

Daphne shot up. “You’re lying!” She pointed an accusing finger at her son. “I know you, Peeta. I knew you were lying when you were eight and told me that the neighbors’ dog ate your father’s birthday cake and I know you’re lying now about not being in love with Katniss.”

“Mom, I think there’s a big difference between eight-year-old me and me now,” Peeta responded.

“You were a better liar before,” Bran pointed out with a smirk.

“It’s all over your adorable Mellark face,” Alex said.

Peeta turned to her, his complexion pink at his family’s blunt assessment of his feelings.

“You know I care for you, right?” he asked.

Katniss took his hand. “Of course, I do.”

Peeta started, his gaze on their joined hands and something shifted in his stare.

He suddenly shook his head, letting out a small laugh.

“I really am an idiot.” Peeta looked to her, his eyes warm. “Katniss, I am in love with you.”

Katniss felt her chest constrict at his words. “What?”

“I think about how after this you’re not going to be next to me when I wake up in the morning—”

“Aww,” Prim cooed.

“And, those nights when we’re in bed—”

“Yeah, nobody needs to hear the details,” Stephen interrupted.

“But the point is that I want you in my life,” Peeta said. “I want to be with you for as long as you’ll possibly have me.”

Katniss stood silent, her hand dropping from his grasp, as those last words fell from his lips.

“Katniss Everdeen!” Her mother stood from her seat. “Say something.”

Peeta loved her.

And then, as sudden as a flash of lightning, she realized what she wanted.

“Effie, Haymitch.” Katniss looked to her landlords, she and Peeta’s practically surrogate parents. “Do you forgive us?”

The couple look at one another, communicating silently, before turning to them as she held her breath.

“We do,” Haymitch said finally.

“However, you can only stay in your apartment…” Effie’s lips rose in a small smile. “…if you continue on with the ceremony.”

Katniss turned to Peeta, taking his hand once more. With her other hand, she lifted the skirt of her gown.

“What are you doing?” Peeta asked.

Slowly, Katniss knelt, going on one knee in this gown seemed impossible but she was making it happen, before him. “It’s sunset.” Her eyes went to everyone in front of them. “And, we’re with our family and friends…and I love you. So, Peeta, will you?”

After a moment, Peeta replied, a wide grin on his lips, “Get up here so we can finish this.”

Carefully, they got Katniss to her feet before joining Beetee in front of the archway.

Beetee looked between them. “You two realize that this isn’t an official ceremony, right?”

She and Peeta look to one another, before nodding at Beetee.

It was real enough for them.

End of Part Four

Next: One year later…

Right now, I’m a glass case of emotion.

I’ll see you at the epilogue.

-JLaLa

#Rent Control #Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Part Four #any guesses on what happens in the epilogue?

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renejamesart · 6 years ago

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I Wanna See Your Shine Spark!!

Today marks the JP release of VA-11 HALL-A on Switch and PS4! I’m so excited to celebrate, and plan to over the course of today, tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday with some special illustrations.

To kick things off, I’ve decided to go with my favorite girls –and Glitch City’s best idol singer Lilim- *Kira*Miki!

Miki instantly because one of my favorite characters during my first play-through of VA-11 HALL-A. I really loved her design and liked her character arc. I won’t give away any spoilers other than saying that I hope a lot of people who are new to the games come to love her too: she’s a very deep character and quite interesting!

That being said, I’d actually like to go into detail about this picture, largely because this was a multi-day sketch and color illustration as opposed to my typical in-a-day process. I really had to dig deep and think about how I wanted to pose her, how I wanted to depict her, and ultimately, the vibe I wanted to come from the picture.

I have to admit that this is my most ambitious piece to date, and what a wonderful undertaking it was! This is a bit of a page stretch, so apologies in advance, but I really just want to gush.

So here goes!

In General

So overall, I went with a much more saturated palette than I usually do, playing largely off of Miki’s pink-red eyes and her blue hair and character elements.

There’s a lot of work with gradients in this picture: no specifically as the sole element of the background, but the accent and highlight Miki in different ways. Speaking of highlights, I used a simple white highlight set to Overlay: I felt that it was best not to have too many colors on her because of the very active background and the element of her holding a drink.

(Fun Fact: The bisexual flag colors in the background are a complete accident, but like… what a happy accident for me, a bi/pan person!)

*Kira*Miki

I really wanted Miki to have a fun pose, and I haven’t done much with sitting recently, so I decided that her sitting a bit elegantly would be fun. I also wanted her to hold a drink, primarily since VA-11 HALL-A is a game centered around bartending and drinking, whether alcoholic or non-alcoholic. The Blue Fairy –as you can see by the name– is an alcohol-optional drink, but more on that later. Right now, I wanna focus on Miki herself.

At first, her hair was closer to her body to have more volume rather than flow. This was because I imagined her shoulders being high until I tried to mimic that pose and found it immensely uncomfortable, and decided to drop her shoulders and have her drink clutched in the arm that would be slung across her stomach. To better flow with her new position, I decided that having her hair flowing behind her balanced the picture and centered her a bit better: as a bonus, it ate up more empty space, and didn’t make the right side feel too bare. Unfortunately, I had to counteract that with the left-side being awfully empty until I struck on the idea to add text behind her.

Most interesting are her legs: I have no clue what Miki’s legs look like, and in game, we only see a bust and half-sprite. So, I went with something simple and decided that purple-pink ballet flats would be fine.

(I’m still not good at drawing shoes, which is why so many of my pieces are either girls with socks or from the knees up. Or maxi skirts/dresses.)

Her hair is one of my favorite parts: not only did I do shadow, I did midtones and highlights when I typically only do highlights and some shadow work. I really wanted her to have this very stylish, playful look to her hair. I really like how much more depth it added, and think that in future pictures, I’ll have a lot more tones involved in how I color hair and even skin.

Additionally, Miki has interior coloring on her lines. I left to outside black so there would be some contrast between her and the background, but I used a lot of purples and blues to soften elements. I’ve actually been doing this bit by bit in my art, and this was the first piece where I let that extend to some of the exterior lines too.

Background Work

Making Miki was actually the easy thing to do: making the background was much, much harder. Usually, I do one of two things for backgrounds: a flat color or a gradient. Sometimes, I mix it up, specifically if it’s fanart. Most times… I don’t. A lot of that is because I haven’t really focused much on background work, though I plan to this year.

For this piece, I really wanted to do something a bit more stylized and because Miki is essentially an android, I decided a glitch background would be cool. Problem was I wasn’t sure how to do something with that as the idea.

So I improvised.

What I ended up doing was overlaying a bunch of white squares on top of each other with some smaller squares to give the effect of pixels. I then put that through a mosaic filter, then flipped everything to Overlay. I did end up using a gradient, but I think that’s okay because laying the pixelated squares let different colors bleed through.

Over everything is a blend of a Static (TV Static, more specifically) Brush and a Gradient done in reverse so it added a bit of color to the highlights and everything in general.

A Blue Fairy for a Blue Fairy

This is actually a really good time to talk about the Blue Fairy drink I drew, which works really well with the pinky-purple of the background. I wanted it to be really saturated and pop, and it certainly does!

I drew the lineart for the drink separately because of how I wanted to blend everything. I wanted the drink to have a somewhat sci-fi feel, and to me, that meant it needed to glow and have a bit of sparkle inside it. So I overlayed some of the same blue color with an airbrush, and shaped it so it had a nice, sharp glow.

I also added more liquid than would have been able to fit because I wanted it to look really dynamic. A lot of this image wasn’t about having realistic boundaries: it was about creating something really fun.

I chose a Blue Fairy specifically because it’s a drink that can change Miki’s actions at a point in VA-11 HALL-A: as an alcohol-optional drink, it can be served virgin or... laden with as much Karmotrine as you wanna put in. Spoilers: this can quickly make Miki drunk, and can lead to some rather candid statements about her personality and her role as an idol. It’s a really deep moment, and has stuck with me since my first play-through.

(I also chose a Blue Fairy because it fit the blue-purple-pink motif I was going for. It let me play off of Miki’s hair and give her a bit more color up top to make her further pop against the pink.)

The Blue Fairies –completely inspired by Zelda, naturally- were just a cute little addition I decided on last minute. I thought they were cute, and though they have nothing to do with the actual game or Miki, they fit and kind of ate up some space that I didn’t want to be empty.

All in All

This was a really long project for me: I think I spent about 20 hours on everything, coloring and recoloring and adjusting until I had something I really, really love. Honestly, I’ll probably be turning this into a print for myself because I’d love to have it on my wall. I know my art will look different next year –heck, next month even– but this… I’ll always be proud of this piece.

This is only the first of two or three more images over the course of the end of the work week and the weekend. I’m glad I showed this one off first: the others are gonna be pretty great, but this… just had a really special place in my heart.

Thanks for your support, and hey: if you haven’t played VA-11 HALL-A yet, it’s available on multiple platforms, ranging from Steam to PS Vita to Switch. I highly suggest picking up a copy and sinking yourself into the world of Glitch City and a really powerful branching story that can easily find a place in everyone’s lives.

Originally created 5.25 and completed 5.29.2019 in celebration of Sukeban Game’s Japanese physical release of VA-11 HALL-A on Switch and PS4; made in Mediband Paint for iOS

#*Kira*Miki #kira miki #va-11 ha11-a #vallhalla #sukeban games #fanart #digital art #digital illustration #ipad pro art #medibang #medibang paint

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furbyq · 6 years ago

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oh my god it’s a bad idea someone has probably already done before with terrible results. but that’s my sim secret, i’m always terrible, so here we go.

when i posted that thing the other day, or last week or whenever, this is the post i wanted to make. i had written most of it and saved it in my drafts, but i thought maybe it wasn’t a good idea. thinking about it today, i’ve realized i don’t really care. i may still delete this post or hide it later, so get your looks in now.

there’s basically 4 hate secret archetypes:

you’re shit

your cc is shit

your sims are shit

and my favorite,

you did this thing unrelated to sims, don’t do that, it’s shit

some people who receive these secrets don’t deserve them. i can’t say whether or not i did, since i am biased, as i am me. but there are a lot of people i’ve seen get picked at who really don’t deserve it and cannot take that kind of rejection from the community. everyone who has ever gotten a hate secret that they felt was unfounded needs to remember: you don’t just have to take shit your entire life from people who treat you like trash. you can also rare back like a horse and hoof them in the face.

so what i’m going to do in this post is go back through all the secrets i have saved that were directed towards me and critique them on how founded they were. and perhaps how nice they looked.

at the same time, i’m going to tell you exactly what i felt about them when i first saw them and exactly what i feel now. and i may not be very nice. in fact, after having written the rest of this post, i wasn’t nice at all.

chances are, the people who made the secrets did the right thing and stopped following me or looking at my blog a long time ago. and that’s a very healthy thing to do, i’m proud of them. however, possibly, the people who submitted these secrets might be people i know and have talked to, or still talk to. the problem with simsecret is, you never fucking know. maybe i submitted one of these and don’t remember. that’s right, i was me all along.

now, first of all, i must commend this person on making an aesthetically pleasing secret. i mean, the part that they added actually matches my old blog theme a little bit. however, i have to dock points for lack of consistency in that second pooklet. i’m not going to give grammar too terribly hard of a time, because i’m not going to complain about people who may not be native english speakers. i have no way of knowing. but consistency? you get an 8/10.

let me explain you a thing. when a lot of people start posting in any community, it’s easy to be nervous about people critiquing your personal choices. for me, this was a big stumbling block. i emulated pooklet and azaya because their games looked good. they were two people in this community that fanned the flames of my love for ts2 into a fire that will burn for centuries.

this was also when pooklet had just released their lovely templates, which i still use, and they are likely to be the only templates i use until the day that i make my own. milkshape consistency is important to me and diverse facial features are important to me (keep in mind, this was before custom sliders). i would like to think that i evolved as someone who can make sims that look distinctly like my own, despite being based on someone else's templates, but everyone is entitled to their opinion.

nothing is ever going to please everybody. i could release a lovingly crafted piece of cc every day for the rest of my life and someone would complain about me clogging up their dash instead of unfollowing me. but to someone who is new in the community, criticism like this is much more harsh than you may intend it to be and may have an amplified effect. derivation is common in the start of new hobbies, even you probably derived at some point.

the second secret that was specifically aimed towards me is so low effort, i would give it a 3/10. or a 6 out of 9, you somehow fucked it from both ends by making this shit off-center.

first, if you have a similar opinion, you may need to learn the fact that i may prefer to view different things with my eyeballs than you do. since i only have my eyeballs, and not yours, i tend to pick colors i like.

you may think to yourself, “well, why did you make that top area of shirt a different color to the bottom area of shirt??”, and i will tell you, they are not both shirt. the top part is a jacket overlay or some shit. it was a different color on yuxi’s original as well. as for the color choice, i just liked them. especially the middle one, which i tested colors on for half an hour because i knew i wanted to keep that minty jacket and i had already used too much purple.

what does using colorblind as an insult accomplish in this context? you are criticizing something that, if i actually had it, would be a type of disability i could not help. say it’s shit, and say it’s shit to my face so that i know not to share these things with you.

at least use better colors. my colors are notoriously eye-searing but that red is about to give me a goddamn aneurysm. 6/10.

i don’t know how to break it to the original maker of this secret, but much like the tooth fairy does not exist, perfect humans also do not exist. why are you holding me to a higher standard than other people and then discarding me the moment i do something you personally do not like? you liked me. i fucked up. you liked me less than if someone you disliked did the same fucking thing?

in 2015, adfuck was a shitshow, but it is nowhere near the shitshow it is now. i also always provided a secondary link without adfly. i did that shit where i made it smaller for a couple of posts. i did the scum thing. i thought it would be lucrative and help my situation a tiny bit. a dollar earned from adfuck was a dollar i did not have before, and if you’re dying from starvation a dollar will save your life.

the subtext is, if you were afraid of viruses, you should have used the non adfuck link every time. if you were like me, and you had downloaded a thousand things from behind mandatory adfucks with your block disabled before the skipper (the adfly skipper, not like, a sea captain or anything) and hadn’t had a problem, you could very easily toss 1/1000 of a cent to a creator whose work you liked.

my stance on adfucks have changed drastically since 2015. i would never do it again because of its more clear association with viruses and the fact that i do not enjoy knowing that i could’ve made other people’s lives immensely shittier by being complicit in fucking up their computer. but i did do it, and no amount of apologizing is going to change that.

for future record, if you ever find one of my old, reblogged furbyq-sims posts, never click the shortened link. use the non adfuck one. i would have to push link shorteners every single nanosecond of my entire life for it to ever pay anything of substance, and i refuse to promote shorteners anymore. i will never cash it out, so clicking the links is a waste of time. since i deleted furbyq-sims, i cannot edit the links out. do not click them.

do note that during my run with adfuck, i received 579 total clicks that registered as ‘valid’ or what-the-fuck-ever. those clicks amounted to $1.53 USD. when people use adfucks, be aware that they are doing so to make, probably at most like $5 USD a month if they get thousands of non-blocked clicks. it is the definition of pointless. the danger element is enough to put most people off, the shitty pay should take the rest of them, and yet.

“hey, stop spamming” “hey, to resolve this, spam more” what do you fucking want from me?

again i’m pretty sure this person is not a native speaker, so i’m not going to poke at the grammar more than to mention that contradiction. you got your point across very well. remember to add a white outline to your text next time. 7/10.

let me tell you, desperation will make you do things that may not make sense to anyone else at the time.

think about this: my mom has serious lymph node deficiency that contributes to her getting pneumonia frequently. she’s on an oxygen concentrator at this time. now, oxygen concentrators are the thing that you get when a person needs nearly full-time oxygen. you don’t get a million tanks, you just get a single concentrator, which requires continuous electricity to work. ring ring it’s the electric company, your power is getting turned off tomorrow. you call hospice, hospice is like “well we can get a notice to them in like, two days” so you panic. you scramble for what you believe at that moment is the most important thing, regardless of whether or not you are right.

people who are in need will generally get help to some extent on the internet if they are brave enough to ask. but when it is a dire thing, you will reblog the post as many times as it takes to soothe your profound panic. every time you reblog, maybe one more person will see it. maybe that person will reblog, someone will see that and send $5 your way to help. you have got to keep things like this moving, if you do not ask you will not receive anything and dead posts are as good as not asking.

i don’t mean to sound overly terse, but i do sound that way for a reason, because some things are worth being terse over. and i hope, i hope to whatever deity may actually exist, that you never have to be in that position, where you know exactly why i did what i did. because it means you’re living in hell and it is no place to be.

i know this is an undertale reference of some kind. i don’t understand it, i haven’t played the game. if you’re going to say something mean to someone, maybe you should use your own words instead of formatting cryptic bullshit that includes the word 'garbage’. 3/10.

if you’re going to insult someone, be specific. because when you insult someone, you wield a sword. when i get stabbed, i want it to be a killing blow to my heart and not some lukewarm stabbing about in my midsection. fucking kill me or leave me alone. those are the options, pick one.

people in the sims community make custom content. and some of it is great, and some of it is shitty. and sometimes, both of those things can come from the same person, because everybody in the entire world has off days. i’m not going to say my shit is great, but i have made things i am proud of. proud that i took the time to make something and it paid off, and i realized a creation that would not exist without my existence and efforts.

other times, my stuff has been shitty. you are not obligated to download what you don’t like, and i’m sorry that me taking up 500 megabytes of the entire internet to host my shit on impacted your life so much back in 2016 or whenever the fuck.

after some angry secrets, it’s good to end on this one. it makes me laugh every time i see it. 9/10.

i’m going to address three points in this picture, but i’m not and have never been mad at this one. whoever made this secret, inbox me. you’re my favorite motherfucker.

when i made the phantom rage skin i had a picture of a man who had very speckled vitiligo saved as inspiration. i lost that picture when i cleared out old files, but this model, genesis castillo, is very similar to the vitiligo pattern that man had. there are a hundred winnie harlow skins. there were none like this where the vitiligo was not evened out with makeup. i then paired tones 1 and 10 and 2 and 8 for contrast, but the 1 and 10 one looks much odder in the low opacity parts, like camouflage, someone said once.

as someone who has a skin condition, i know how emotionally traumatic they are when they change your appearance drastically. i cannot empathize with any traumas of vitiligo that are directly tied to people of color being affected by it because i am not a person of color.

if i offended anyone who has vitiligo, i am genuinely sorry. my intention was not to make a ‘costume’, it was to make a virtual representation of a type of human being that actually exists. i hope that learning from this experience and using that knowledge to the best of my ability in the future is enough to undo even an iota of damage that was done.

point two, what is wrong with the middle sim? what is wrong with the middle sim? what is wrong with them? they have a mole? they’re wearing two head accessories? what is wrong with them???

point three, the bebebrillit hairline conversions weren’t terrible. fitting shit to the different hairline shape is difficult, so it can lead to some weird edges. at the time i took the previews for the hairlines, i didn’t have a ton of hairs in my folder. i just started doing nouk hairs. i needed to take a picture of the high fashion ponytail, so i killed two birds with one stone. this is not a combo that i played with, thinking they fit together like jigsaw pieces. it was a preview and it even showed that the hairlines did not work with every hair.

also,

there was a mythical 8th secret (yes, there were actually fucking 8 of them, i’ve averaged 2 hate secrets a year which i consider a life achievement). it was a picture of my first ts4 skinblend with the word “hideous” or “this is hideous” or some shit on it. it had the word hideous in it. that secret was deleted before i could save it, but i still remember it. and i can’t even be mad, i mean, they’re right. 10/10. best secret. it wasn’t a secret at all.

i actually can’t remember why it turned out so shiny, i think it’s because there were like no skins close to what i wanted and i tried handpainting before i knew how to.

in conclusion, please, in the future... stay salty, stay mean, continue hiding behind anonymity, but either grow a sense of humor or commit to what you’re doing instead of hurling balls of infernal bitching gently at my face.

#negativity //#questionable ideas #i felt like using an inspirational quote on the header #do you like it

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seuxrvra · 5 years ago

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10 Signs You Should Invest In No Color Stamped Concrete

E&J concrete does remarkable do the job. I had a third vehicle driveway and sidewalk poured. The crew was rapid and the eye to detail was exceptional.

Several brands offer you various color choices. Here are some means to give you an idea of the number of color options. For additional color plan ideas, view the stamped concrete Picture gallery.

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is essential! Only the release basically embedded to the paste need to remain. Even employing higher-driven force washers will likely not automatically get rid of sufficient release. Generally an aggressive scrubbing (once the concrete is cured ample to allow it) is required.

So when you find yourself picking a concrete color, attempt to be realistic when thinking of the ultimate result. And don't be overtaken If your color seems numerous than Whatever you imagined. The general guideline has the inclination to get that colors look several shades a lot easier than their sample charts.

Regularly press tamper about all the surface of every stamp to force it into the concrete. Remove first stamp positioning it on the alternative side of 2nd stamp. Tamp the stamp set up. Repeat this process, alternating the stamps over the full width of your walkway.

A Ornamental Concrete Overlay is a really adaptable, challenging wearing item Employed in both inside and exterior programs. It really is manufactured up of high toughness cements, chosen sands, and prime good quality polymers. At FLASH, we use it in more purposes than some other. We could resurface your existing harmed or new concrete to deliver it again to life. The design possibilities are substantial. Cracks may be repaired after which you can the destroyed area is often relevelled, then a designer top rated coat is set up to provide the seem of slate tile, granite, brick, stone or timber. Then borders and tailor made motifs may be added just to call a few opportunities. Even spots with fairly significant cracks can be purchased back to life by way of our faux stone technique.

batching plant, and the complete combination of the concrete is coloured. Or, it might be coloured by usage of colour hardeners, that happen to be broadcast to the damp surface in the freshly poured concrete and manually worked into the concrete.

Broadcasting a color hardener with 60 pounds of medium brown for every a hundred square toes about a occupation's entire surface area created this lovely slate appear-alike. Two other browns — a person "two shades darker, just like a walnut" and the other "two shades lighter, like a tan" — were being used to mottle the ground's color by putting "ten lbs listed here and ten kilos there" and bullfloating it all in.

Trowel-on is one other very common kind of decorative concrete. It consists of adding a textured complete around normal concrete.

When not in use, soak the idea of the pump sprayer in water to forestall the tip from becoming clogged.

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They did an wonderful work prepping the floor and Placing on the final coat and color. I am pretty proud of their solution! I are going to be back again for more!” Hilary M. - Monument,CO I am very happy While using the function that as been performed on my porch and patio. Will see how the color holds up on the patio. Just pleased to get unpleasant concrete coated up. Carolyn H. - Colorado Springs,CO My spouse And that i procured our household in 2015 following he was paralyzed. The patio was Okay after we moved in, though the flagstone floor was also uneven for his wheelchair. Also the puppies digging and also the weeds expanding amongst the stones grew to become an excessive amount upkeep for me.

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demmone · 5 years ago

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The Biggest Problem With Butterfield Color Stamped Concrete, And How You Can Fix It

Basic Concrete can be left as it can be or coloured by mineral oxide powders, that happen to be added for the concrete in the

Worker two: Sites the texture mats. The initial mat really should be very carefully aligned, placed and tamped in at the starting point of your undertaking. Repeat the process by putting the 2nd mat close to the main.

Use the shape down below to filter by color or identify. To crystal clear the filter, leave the field blank and click on the “Filter” button. Click on any color sample down below to watch in-depth details about that pigment.

Stamped Concrete Designs not long ago re-did our overall showroom flooring. The final result was a wonderful, clear appear that aided showcase our items and make us appear over and above Expert. We would suggest Stamped Concrete Designs to any one!

Find out more... Decorative concrete is a beautiful and cost-effective alternative to natural paving materials or plain poured concrete. You are able to reach quite a few different seems to be, and with advance planning, will be able to get just the correct look for the undertaking.

If the cracks are merely way too large to repair employing patches, the best strategy to repair it's to fill it in with concrete, re-color and re-stamp. Put together the exact concrete stamp Earlier Employed in the stamping process.

When concrete is entirely dry, apply sealer above all the surface area of your walkway.Tip: *Generally use Redi-Mix RMC stains to customise your walkway color and add to its attract.

Most stamped concrete patterns mimic slate, stone, rock, brick and all-natural textures. There are actually new patterns that also build several designs and shadowing effects that leave a classy new complete for those who don’t essentially want a rock sample.

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Concrete Craft serving Colorado Springs can offer your private home or organization with customized resurfaced concrete overlays for driveways, patios and walkways at half the cost of other products. Proud franchise homeowners, Mark and Ramona Sisco, can rework your out of doors surfaces like walkways and driveways with lovely stamped, stained and resurfaced attractive concrete designs which might be sturdy and simple treatment.

Antiquing release is usually a water-resistant powder with pigment added. It is known as “release” as it keeps stamps or rollers from sticking for the concrete even though texturing. To paraphrase, it lets them to release cleanly.

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By combining your eyesight and creative imagination with our concrete expertise, we’ll come up with a good looking prepare for the space.

The finished microtopping floor is usually sealed at the time concluded to shield the area and lock in the colour.

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ramajmedia · 5 years ago

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Firefly: 10 Hidden Details You Missed In The Episode Out of Gas

Out of Gas is without a doubt one of the most favorite episodes of Firefly for fans, and with good reason. The episode is intense, and also gives fans a chance to see how some of the crew members ended up on board the Serenity.

RELATED: 15 Secrets You Never Knew Behind Firefly's Cancellation

Because it is such a loved episode, it's no surprise that fans have watched the episode enough times to pick up on a bunch of new and interesting details and facts. Here are ten of our favorite facts that you might not have picked up on.

9 Air Time

Out of Gas originally aired out of order, just like the rest of the episodes for Firefly (a mess which we won't get into right now). That being said, Out of Gas was actually supposed to be the eighth episode. In ended up airing as the fifth episode, which significantly changes the tone of the episode and feeling. Though it was likely enough time for fans to become attached to the characters that were so famously on the line here.

8 Narration

This is a fact that's actually fairly easy to pick up on, but was possibly overlooked by some fans. Did you notice that the narration for Out of Gas was different from the rest of the episodes? That's because normally Shepard Book did the beginning narration, but this time around it was Malcolm Reynolds that did so.

RELATED: Game Of Thrones: 10 Hidden Details You Missed In The Episode Battle Of The Bastards

While we're on this track, the close captioning for the beginning narration was not changed to reflect what Mal said – instead it stuck with what Book normally says. It's unclear on if this was intentional or not.

7 Flashbacks

Obviously, everybody knows that the episode is chock full of flashbacks. They're kind of hard to miss. But did you notice that each sequence of flashbacks had their own color palette? That helped us to immediately distinguish each set.

RELATED: The 10 Best Gifts That Every Firefly Fan Wants

The oldest flashbacks, the distant past ones, are portrayed with warmer yet darker tones. Reds and golds mostly, but with thicker shadows. Meanwhile, the flashbacks that are closer, or even some of the present moments (varying from character to character) have a more normal hue, full of the vibrancy expected of the series. And finally, the scenes that are happening in the present or in the future (again, depending on which perspective is being shown) have a blue hue overlayed. Lights are also shown a bit brighter, and lines in better focus.

6 Transitions

Remember how we just went over the different color palette and other changes from each flashback style? In regards to the last two (the recent past, present, and future bits) these differences actually become less distinct as the episode goes on.

RELATED: Star Trek: 10 Hidden Details About The Main Characters Of DS9

And that is clearly done with intention. This is a subtle way of showing viewers that these points in time are nearing a converging point (the past and present catching up with the future events shown). It's actually quite clever when you think about it.

5 Zoe's Absence

Fans are well aware of the fact that Zoe was unconscious during most of the episode, but did you know that this was done for a very specific reason? The actress that plays Zoe, Gina Torres, had just gotten married and was on her honeymoon during a lot of the filming for this episode. Her getting hit and promptly losing consciousness was their explanation for her major absence for large chunks of the episode.

4 A Reference

Remember how Kaylee seems to always be on Mal for getting new parts for Serenity? Well, it turns out that she was right, and they actually did need some of the parts she needed. Most notably, during the Train Job, Kaylee was warning Mal that they needed a new compression coil, “somebody won't replace that crappy compression coil” were her exact words, we believe.

RELATED: 20 Things That Make No Sense About Firefly

Well, it seems like that was a warning Mal didn't heed. We know he didn't end up getting it in time, since the compression coil is what went during Out of Gas. Yes, that is correct. They brought this warning full circle. And they did it well.

3 Fire

At the beginning of the episode, everyone is celebrating Simon's birthday (except for Jayne, perhaps, who was just there for the food). Here River says “fire” and everyone seems to assume that she was reminding Simon about blowing out the candles. When in actuality she was warning everyone of the fire that was about to occur.

If the characters had had time to look back on things, perhaps they would have made a dramatic realization here. As it stands, fans who have seen the whole series (and movie), know full well about River and her unique ability set.

2 A Small Comfort

While we're talking about things that were subtle at the time, but painfully obvious now, let's talk about River's attempt to soothe Book. Here Book was worried about a slow and painful death; he clearly didn't want to suffocate to death, and we don't blame him there.

RELATED: Stargate SG-1: 10 Hidden Details About The Main Characters Everyone Missed

River tried to comfort him by telling him that this wouldn't happen, and instead, they would freeze to death. But...Book didn't actually state this fear out loud. River pulled it from his mind – whether or not he realized it at the time. There's a chance he knew and stayed quiet about it. Or perhaps he only thought back to it later.

Another moment that ties very neatly with future events; Inara's incense. As you might recall, the reason Inara's shuttle came back to Serenity at the end was because Jayne couldn't take the incense anymore. He even went so far as to claim concern that it wasn't actually incense. At the time, fans simply thought this was a cute excuse for Jayne to come back and help Mal. He's too proud to admit something like that, so it makes sense that he would make up an excuse like that, right?

Well, as it turns out...Inara actually did have incense that was flashbangs. We saw it in action during Serenity. Which raises some interesting questions, doesn't it?

1 I Don't Want To Die At All

While the crew was desperately trying not to think about their fates thanks to Serenity floating in space, Inara and Simon are having a conversation about death. Here, Simon is going on and on about the graphic nature of dying in such a way – too many details for somebody facing that fate, to be sure. But in the end, Inara has an interesting statement that caught fans attention, “I don't want to die at all.”

This statement combined with the mystery syringe had fans reeling, and searching for an answer. Now fans know that Joss Whedon had planned on having Inara slowly dying from a terminal illness. It's a fact that never made it to the forefront, thanks to the series getting canceled so early on.

NEXT: 20 Secrets About Firefly Only True Browncoats Know

source https://screenrant.com/firefly-episode-gas-details-hidden/

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cinning-at-midnight · 8 years ago

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The Charity Gala-- Part 2 (of 3)

When at last we arrived back at the Wysterian palace, I released a soft sigh. Now I can see what progress has been made. The carriage stopped at the entrance, and I eagerly scooted towards the door. Giles noticed my excitement and chuckled.

“Eager to meet with Leo?” He asked, his eyebrow raised slightly.

The footman opened the door, and I carefully stepped out. Giles followed suit and I waited for him to catch up to me.

“Actually, yes, I am.” I replied with confidence.

Giles’ eyes widened, but I waved my hands in dismissal.

“I’m curious to see what notes he has for me about the booths we’re putting together,” I said curtly.

Once inside, Nico was there to greet us. He beamed his usual smile at us.

“Princess, you’re here!” Nico said, taking my hand.

“Hello, Nico! Sorry if we’re late,” I smiled back at him.

“No, in fact, Leo just sent Sid with a message for Louis-- everything’s going smoothly so far!” Nico grinned, still holding my outstretched hand.

“Can you take us to him?” I asked, and I turned to Giles but he had already slipped away.

I faced Nico again, “I mean, could you take me to go see Leo, then?”

Nico nodded, eagerly pulling on my hand, “Yes, let’s go! This way, to his study!”

We hurried, our giggles filling the halls like the soft ringing of bells. Leo was standing by his desk in the study, pacing to and fro as we entered, unannounced. His ruby eyes looked up, at first startled, but they turned gentle as he gazed at me. His lips curled into a generous smile, and I felt my cheeks grow warm.

“Hi, Leo,” I said, forming a meek smile.

“Princess, welcome back.” Leo replied, standing before me in only a few strides.

“Did you successfully take notes on the several booths being prepared?” I asked, hopeful.

Leo nodded, “Yes, of course. My notes are here, if you’d like to go over them.”

Nico slowly stepped away, “I’ll come back with some tea for you both, Princess.”

I turned to Nico, as Leo grabbed a folder from his desk.

“Thanks, Nico,” I replied.

Leo adjusted his reading glasses and opened the folder, resuming his light pacing.

“First, I had visited with Alyn,” Leo said, eyeing me over his paperwork, “and in spite of his verbal harassment, I learned that he’s going to be focusing on desserts such as petit fours and other finger treats.”

I nodded, listening to Leo’s explanations with approval. That’s so like Alyn, to prepare foods for our guests’ convenience, I thought, in admiration.

Leo pressed on, “Next, I learned that Nico is going to be sticking with two teas-- one oolong, and one black, to provide choices and also to include caffeine, to keep the party going.”

“As for the wines,” Leo continued, “Nico chose to do one white and one red, to hopefully ensure that everyone drinks something they like.”

I smiled, picturing the guests eagerly choosing their beverages and chatting away with one another. A feeling of pride welled up in my chest, and it warmed my heart.

“I’m so excited for these developments,” I said, smiling at Leo who had paused to gauge my reaction.

Leo grinned, “That’s not everything, though. Robert’s portrait booth, he says, will need to dedicate between 20 and 45 minutes to each picture, depending on the amount of details he has to capture.”

I considered this a moment, “Seeing how an individual ticket is valued at five times our smallest paper currency, I’d say we can price those at thirty-five tickets.”

Leo nodded, and quickly added the price to his notes, “Thirty-five tickets-- got it.”

I tilted my head, my eyes staring off into the distance, “You know, Leo, let’s get the rest of the pricing out of the way.”

He gazed up at me, and readied his quill.

“Alyn’s desserts will be two tickets, each,” I said, “and Nico’s beverages will be four tickets each.”

Leo smiled, his quill moving across the pages, “Very clever, using the desserts to lure people into spending more on drinks.”

I chuckled, “It’s all for the sake of charity, remember that.”

There was a swift knock at the door, and Leo and I sharply turned our heads. Sid barged in then, a sly grin on his face. Nico followed closely behind him, carrying a tray with two teacups and a teapot.

“My apologies, Princess,” Nico said, eyeing Sid with disapproval.

“I had intended to escort Sid, but he was rather determined.” Nico harshly whispered, preparing our tea.

“That’s all right, Nico. I’m sure Sid here has some news from Duke Howard’s duchy.” I said, pointedly looking at Sid.

Sid’s grin wavered under my stern gaze, but he persevered, “Of course I do, Princess.”

“Although,” Sid said, “Your pal Louis almost wouldn’t accept your message.”

I looked to Leo, who removed his glasses and sighed, “That’s because you purposefully tax Duke Howard’s patience, I’m sure.”

Sid smiled, “That may be true, but nonetheless, I finally got him to agree to visit with you tomorrow, as requested.”

I sighed with relief, “Thank you, Sid.”

Leo stepped forward and dropped a small coin satchel in Sid’s hand, “You may go, now.”

Sid shoved the coin satchel into his pocket, and winked at me, “Always a pleasure, Princess.”

I watched, mouth open, as Sid left without another word. I sat down and gingerly sipped on my cup of tea, attempting to hide my burning cheeks. Leo closed his folder, and took a seat beside me.

“Too bold,” Leo murmured, holding his cup and saucer.

“Huh?” I asked, unsure if the comment was meant for me.

Leo’s eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he gazed into his teacup, “Sid’s behavior is always too bold, it’s no way to attract a woman’s affections. Especially a princess.”

Leo shook his head gently, before drinking his tea. I resumed drinking my tea, as well, curious if there was more meaning behind Leo’s words. My mind began to wander back to Louis, and the dance lessons we’d shared. I hope he’s not upset that I want to meet with him outside of our lessons…

The following day was my meeting with Louis, and I felt anxious as I readied myself for his arrival. I looked in the mirror and bit my lip and I fussed over my hair, fixing the flyaways with bobby pins. When I had my appearance as best as I could achieve it, I summoned all my strength into exiting my room. With a heavy sigh, I pulled the door open and stepped into the hall.

Now that I’ve stopped having daily lessons with Louis, I’m even more nervous to meet with him. I recalled all the time Louis and I spent time together, and for much of it I could not read his expression. Something tells me he’s not as cold as he seems, but I could be wrong… I tried to silence my troubled thoughts as I sat in my parlor, awaiting Duke Howard’s presence.

Giles came to the parlor, and smiled upon seeing me.

“Trying to make a good impression?” He asked, eyeing my attire.

I looked down at my dress with lace overlays, and touched my butterfly gem necklace resting on my collarbone.

“Is it too much?” I asked him, my voice wavering.

Giles sat beside me and draped his arm around my shoulder, “I think you’re stunning.”

My drooping shoulders lifted, and I looked up at him, “Are you sure?”

Giles let out a hearty laugh, and squeeze my shoulder, “I’m positive. Now, smile, I saw Duke Howard’s carriage driving up moments ago.”

I felt a warm, rosey color spread across my cheeks, and my heart raced inside my chest.

He sat forward in his chair, slowly slid his arm away from me and stood before me. “I trust you’ll do fine; you don’t need my guidance for this meeting.”

The warmth of my cheeks began to fade, as I took in Giles’ proud expression.

“Thank you,” I said, my tense body relaxing.

Giles nodded and opened the door, where he stood and held it as Louis entered the room. I stood, reflexively, at the sight of Louis, my stomach knotting up inside as I tried to read his facial expression.

“Duke Howard, thank you for coming,” I said, curtseying.

Louis stepped forward, placing his hand on the top of my bowed head. My scalp tingled at his touch, and the red in my cheeks deepened. I slowly moved to an upright position, and then Louis bowed before me.

“It’s Louis, Your Highness. Thank you for inviting me.” His tone was warmer than in the past, and I wondered what had changed.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” I blurted out. “I thought you might have been upset that I summoned you here.”

Louis’s sky blue eyes watched me, and his lips flickered into a sweet smile. “I’ll never be discontent when receiving a message from you.”

My forehead puckered, and I tilted my head, “Sid said that you nearly didn’t come.”

His eyelids half-closed, and Louis looked down, “Of course he’d say that.”

“Um,” I said, eager to change the subject, “Why don’t we sit, then?”

I gestured to the chairs arranged beside one another, and took my seat. Louis sat beside me, and gently took my fingers in his hand. My heart raced as he squeezed them, playing with my delicate fingers as he waited for me to speak.

“As you might have heard, I’m putting together a charity ball,” I started, pushing past my embarrassment.

Louis, still holding my hand, looked at me, “No, I haven’t, actually.”

His eyes looked sad, and I felt a pang of guilt, “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d like to participate.”

Louis gently placed my hand into my lap, “Participate, how?”

My throat felt thick, and I swallowed, gazing at my rejected hand, “I have several booths planned, with foods and drinks, and even Stein is planning to pull together a raffle.”

Louis began to stand, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. I reached out to him, and caught him by the fabric of his coat.

“Hey, Louis…” My voice was small, and my chin began to tighten to avoid quivering.

Louis put a hand to his forehead, “What you’re saying is I’m the last person you’ve gone to.”

His words hit me like a knife, and tears threatened to build in my eyes.

I hurried to explain, “Louis, when I began this project it was merely an idea, and I never dreamed it would get this far.”

When he didn’t budge, I pushed through the oncoming tears, “Of course I wanted to go to you first, but after we finished our lessons I thought…”

“I thought,” I repeated, trying to speak, though my quivering chin and wet eyes suppressed my words.

Louis’s eyes went wide, behind my blurred vision, and my fingers slipped away from his coat. I pressed my head into my hands, and a handkerchief was gently caressing the backs of my hands. I released my face from my hands, and Louis dabbed away the tears from the corners of my eyes. He gently squeezed the sides of my nose with the fabric, and I looked into his gentle eyes.

“Now, blow.” He instructed sweetly, and I obliged, filling his handkerchief with my unpleasant mucus.

I grimaced at the handkerchief when I was done. Louis crumpled the fabric into a ball and knelt down before me to place it on the floor. He once again held my hand in his, and squeezed it tight. I sniffed once, preparing myself to speak.

“I thought you wanted to end our lessons because you didn’t like being with me,” I said, accusing him with my gaze.

Louis frowned slightly and kissed my fingers, “Princess, I had nothing left to teach you. You’ve performed the dance steps perfectly.”

A playful glint in his eyes, he smiled up at me from where he was kneeling, “I’m too good of a dance instructor.”

I smiled at him, and squeezed his hand in mine, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Louis looked down at our hands, “I was going to, but, I was afraid.”

I touched his cheek with my free hand, “Louis, I could never reject you.”

He reached up to his cheek, and placed his hand over mine, “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

I stroked his cheek lightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t go to you sooner.”

We stayed like that for a few moments, before Louis took his seat beside me once more.

“What can I do for you, my Princess?” Louis asked, smiling at me.

“Well, for starters, you could agree to managing a flower booth,” I said.

Louis kissed my hand, “Done!”

I giggled, a blush spreading across my cheeks, “Then, you could promise to save me a dance.”

Louis squeeze my hand, and pulled me close, “Anytime, Your Majesty.”

The next few days were spent sending out invitations, and managing deliveries to the castle. Crates of donated flowers, wines, and decorations were being delivered almost every hour. Steiners and Wysterians were eagerly awaiting the day of the gala. Louis offered to stay in the palace to help with the set up, and I was giddy having him around all the time. It made me sad for when the event would be over, and I wouldn’t spend all day with him.

Byron got donations from businesses carrying attire, accessories, and fine china to use for the raffle. Along with the other deliveries, these crates would often need to be stored for safe keeping until the event. My study was stacked with dozens of crates, and we were running out of work space. I decided to check on the status of Alyn’s baking, while Louis was with Giles directing the delivery men.

Alyn was in the knight’s kitchen, whisking ingredients together when I found him.

“Knock, knock,” I said, tapping on the wall, when Alyn didn’t notice my entrance.

Alyn turned, and smiled, “Here, can you taste this?”

I took a clean spoon from Alyn, and dipped it into the batter. The chocolate aroma made my stomach gurgle in anticipation, and I eagerly tasted the luscious cake mix.

“That’s incredible, Alyn,” I said, licking the spoon clean.

Alyn smiled, “It’s a secret recipe, of course.”

I nodded in approval, “That’s fine by me, as long as there’s plenty to go around.”

Alyn poured the mix into a baking tin, and placed it in the oven. I watched his careful movements, as he set the timer.

“So, you and Louis, huh?” Alyn asked, eyeing me carefully.

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, feeling the heat in my cheeks spread.

“If you’re seriously asking, then yes-- it’s very obvious.” Alyn said, with a playful smile.

I bit my lip, “Maybe this will make Giles stop pestering me, then.”

Alyn paused, gazing at the ceiling, “I don’t know, maybe… Or maybe, he’ll ask you to produce an heir.”

I gaped at Alyn, my face surely beet red.

He laughed, “I was just kidding!”

I tossed the spoon I’d licked clean into the sink, and glared at Alyn, “I’ll be leaving, then.”

“Say ‘hi’ to Louis for me,” Alyn called behind me, as I closed the door firmly.

Louis and I enjoyed a private dinner in the dining hall that evening. Giles had paperwork to complete, after the day’s deliveries were finished. Leo said he had invitations to send, but I couldn’t help but feel like they were making excuses to give us alone time. Well, I’m certainly not about to complain, I thought, blissfully enjoying Louis’s company.

“How are you feeling?” Louis asked me, scooping up more pasta onto his fork.

“I’m excited, but at the same time I feel overwhelmed,” I admitted, swirling my pasta around.

Louis finished chewing a bite of food, “What about it has you overwhelmed?”

I sighed, “It’s just, the sheer magnitude of it all-- the mountains of delivers doesn’t help, either.”

Louis smiled faintly, “What if, tomorrow, we take a morning walk before setting up?”

I looked up at him, my heart pitter-pattered at his beauty, “Do you think we could?”

He gazed at me, “Of course, as long as we get back in time to prep the booths and decorate.”

Happiness flooded through me, “I’m so glad you’re here, Louis.”

A rosey hue flooded Louis’s cheeks, and he spoke quietly, “Me, too.”

Feeling overjoyed, I forgot my nerves and began eating my food.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

That morning, Louis knocked on my chamber door at the first sign of daybreak. I was quickly slipping into my shoes before I ran to the door.

“Good morning!” I said, cheerfully.

Louis grinned, “Good morning.”

“Where shall we take our walk?” I asked him.

“Take me to your favorite place,” Louis suggested.

I smiled from ear-to-ear, “Okay!”

We walked hand-in-hand down the halls and through the doorway and into the garden. I took him to a secluded area in the garden, where tree branches hung overhead, providing natural shade. I sat on a bench under the trees, and Louis sat beside me.

“I come here to read,” I said, “Or, if I need to avoid Giles.”

Louis smirked, “It’s a good place to hide.”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s got perfect shade, too. I love the way the sun shines through the leaves.”

Louis looked up, and together we watched the branches sway gently in the morning breeze. I took in a deep breath, and listened to the birds serenading us. Louis caressed my cheek, and I turned to face him. His eyes were focused on my lips, and Louis’s gentle fingers pulled my chin close to his. I tilted my face, and our lips touched in a soft kiss, his lips slowly moving against mine. When he pulled away, we both were blushing. I leaned against his chest as we enjoyed the scenery a little longer.

In the distance, the clock tower chimed the hour, and we knew it was time to go. Louis took my hand, and helped me to my feet. His lips caught mine off guard, and he kissed me more passionately this time. Louis made a throaty sound of contentment just before the kiss ended.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking apologetic in the slightest, “I don’t know when I’ll next get the chance.”

I held onto his hand, “It’s okay, I needed that.” I smiled up at him mischievously.

He held my hand tightly, “Let’s go, before they come looking for us.”

Inside, Louis and I got put to work, building the booths and setting the decorations just right. Alyn and Giles were busy opening the boxes and sorting the supplies. King Byron arrived soon after we got to work, and he and Albert helped us, too. Before too long, it was nearly time for the event to start. The booths were set up, the prizes were neatly displayed, and the tickets were secured until guests arrived. The only thing left was to dress nicely, and I panicked at my visage in the mirror.

“I look like a mess,” I said to my reflection, poking at the bags under my eyes from hours of work.

My maids hovered around me, holding my dress and hair accessories in their arms.

“My Lady, perhaps we can get started,” One of them said.

I slumped into my chair in front of my dressing table, “Fine, I can’t get any worse.”

Their delicate hands worked diligently, teasing my hair and brushing out the snarls that my sweat had made. I groaned internally, cursing myself for not finishing the setup sooner. My maids began applying rouge and powder to my face, and lining my lips with shimmering color. I began to feel like myself again, as the process came to a close. Their hands stopped, and they stepped away, turning me back towards my mirror.

“What do you think, Princess?” A maid asked, nervously.

I gazed at my appearance, and felt overwhelmed with gratitude. I touched my hair gently, feeling the volume they added through teasing the ends, and seeing the gentle curls cascading down the back. The top of my hair was up, in a bun secured with flowers from the garden in shades of coral and soft yellow. I looked back at my maids with a beaming smile.

“Thank you so much, ladies,” I said, “I look nothing like I did before.”

The maids curtseyed slightly, “You’re welcome, Your Highness. Let’s get your gown on.”

I stood, anxious to get in the lovely coral gown laid out on my bed. The maids laced the bodice up in the back, and the delicate sleeves fell just below my shoulders. I smiled at the chiffon fabric layers beneath me, and twirled in my skirts.

“Thank you, ladies,” I said, again, “I must be going or else I’ll be late.”

I waved goodbye to my ladies in waiting, and hurried down to the ballroom. Guests were just starting to arrive in their carriages outside the palace, and butlers and footmen were greeting them. In the ballroom, the lighting was dim, a beautiful atmosphere for the evening. Soft music was playing, and it calmed me. Louis was standing at a booth covered in flowers, and I waved excitedly at him. He chuckled and waved, more elegantly, back at me.

Giles stood beside me, and whispered into my ear, “Are you ready, Princess?”

I looked up at him, grinning, “Yes, I am very ready.”

Giles raise his hand into the air, and the butlers opened the grand doors. Stein and Wysteria’s nobility were entering, a slow herd moving down the staircase. Giles and I greeted them as they approached the floor, and directed them to Leo’s ticket booth. Leo expertly sold tickets, explaining the prices quickly and accurately.

“One-hundred tickets, then? Wonderful,” Leo said in his best auctioneer voice.

I suppressed a giggle, and continued greeting the beautifully dressed guests. When, at last, the guests had all arrived, Giles moved toward the musicians on stage to make an announcement. The string players finished their song, and Giles approached the center stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Giles announced, using a booming voice I’ve never before heard.

“Thank you, to all of you, from Stein and Wysteria, for attending and sponsoring the charity gala this evening.” Giles’ continued, “Of course, it wouldn’t have been possible without our loyal Princess to inspire such an event.”

The crowd burst into a roaring applause, and I curtseyed, hiding my red face.

“As you can see,” Giles went on, “We have a wide selection of refreshments and gifts-- and don’t forget to use raffle tickets to win prizes at the end of the night.”

Giles concluded, “Thank you all again, and have a lovely evening!”

With a wave of his hand, the music started up again, and Giles left the stage. The guests turned back to their companions and excitedly explored the booths. I smiled, seeing the image I’d hoped for finally coming true. Giles clapped his hand onto my shoulder, and I turned around.

“Princess,I forgot to mention,” he said, “The booth with the most sales this evening gets rewarded with a dance with you.”

Surprised as I was, I glanced back at Louis’s booth, and saw him exchanging flowers for tickets with the guests. I smiled watching him interacting with them.

“That’s just fine, Giles,” I said.

Giles nodded, and moved away from me, “I’m going to mingle with our guests.”

I giggled and watched him merge into the crowds, no doubt charming everyone on his way. I swayed to the music, and moved towards the ticket booth, where Leo’s line had substantially depleted.

“Three-hundred tickets, please.” I asked, smiling at Leo.

Leo’s eyebrows raised, “Princess, I’m sure you could get things for free here-- it’s your event.”

I shook my head at him, “That’s not fair to the cause, besides, I want to have a fair say in who wins my dance.”

Leo smiled, “Alright, then, here’s three-hundred tickets, Your Highness.”

I curtseyed to him, playfully, “Thank you, Monsieur.”

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