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kideternity · 4 years

Note

For the ask game: Helena Bertinelli, Selina Kyle, Cassandra Cain, Harper Row, Dinah Lance, Diana Prince & Stephanie Brown

Oh god oh yea okay hold on op this will get long (under read more)

Helena Bertinelli

How I feel about this character: I adore her 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 literally my wife my muse my love

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Dinah, Karen, Renee

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Helena and Eel, John Henry and Zauriel ^_^ also think she and Vic Sage should have “LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO!” Energy together

My unpopular opinion about this character: I love Barbara dont get me wrong but shes an AWWFUUUUUULL friend to Helena 😭😭😭 like I LITERALLY CANNOT GET OVER HOW BABS CANONICALLY BEFRIENDED HELENA SOLELY TO MANIPULATE HER ORIGINALLY... not to mention all of that unnecessary beef over dick and like OTHER PEOPLE calling Helena batgirl.....

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she stayed with the justice league for more time so much 😭😭😭 I have a soft spot for JLA (1997) always its my fav critically examined run but MAN helena getting fired when the first run was ending pissed me off!!!!

my OTP: Probably right now Dinahelena? Tie between Reneehelena and that one

my cross over ship: I don’t have a ton of non dc media I like but Liz sherman from hellboy maybe

a headcanon fact: She has a wine cooler in her car at all times for people to grab a drink from if needed, the only rule she has is to try not to spill it everywhere because it’s a bitch to get out of her leather seats

Selina Kyle

How I feel about this character: Admittedly idk a ton about Selina I need to haul ass on reading catwoman solos 😭 I've had a complicated relationship with her but as of right now I like her! I think she’s cool

All the people I ship romantically with this character: All i'm turning up is Zatanna bc my friend writes really good zee/selina fics wjwjajajwua stan randy!!!!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I am like OBSESSED w the small little friendship tidbits Helena B and Selina have....... its not suer amazing or anything but huntress year old Selina insta best friending helena made me 🥺

My unpopular opinion about this character: IM NOT REALLY SURE WHY SELINA IS CONSIDERED A GOTHAM CITY SIREN NGL.... like its most likely definitely me knowing nothing Abt popular characters but its just always struck me as kinda weird/the only thing ivy harley and selina have in common is like. The most well known bad women in gotham

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I WISH WE GOT TO SEE MORE OF HER MENTORING KITRINA FALCONE...... FUCKING CATGIRL..... LIKE SHE JUST FUCKING SHIPS HER OFF TO A BOARDING HOUSE AND THEN WE NEVER SEE KITRINA AGAIN LIKE I GET WHY BUT MAN MISSED OPPORTUNITY!!!!

my OTP: idk sry !

my cross over ship: Felicia hardy purely because its just really fucking funny to me

a headcanon fact: Selina fucking hates Gnort more then anything imaginable

Cassandra Cain

How I feel about this character: I like her!!!!! Definitely my second favourite batkid after Duke ^_^

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Steph

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Duke! Ultimate siblings. Also just like the idea of Lonnie and Cass getting along bc they tell old men they suck

My unpopular opinion about this character: Cass should not be able to beat everybody. She should not be able to beat people of unimaginable power such as Dr Fate. Like I think she could defeat normal fighters, or maybe enhanced fighters, but actual metas and magic casters etc I don’t think she would be able to, especially since iirc she almost fucking died fighting metahuman assassins??? So

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I know we all say it but let cass be batman v_v but also let her be batman and let carrie Kelly be her batwoman so that they can absolutely hate each other I wanna see that play out

my OTP: Stephcass im basic

my cross over ship: n/a

a headcanon fact: Duke introduced her to heavy metal now she cant get enough of it

Stephanie Brown

How I feel about this character: I like her! I still need to continue reading her batgirl solo and more but I like her! Good character!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Cass

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Lonnie ^_^ Rebirth lonnie is literally so OOC and nasty I don’t wanna hear any bs abt how its ‘better’ but I did like the idea of Steph and Lonnie being friends and I think it'd work still with Lonnie’s good characterisation

My unpopular opinion about this character: Timsteph is a bad ship its objectively bad and I hate it a lot also Steph kissing Tim knowing he was dating Arianna was shitty writing/a dick move on her part i just hate all of it its comp het the ship

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: OKAY I NEED TO READ MORE STEPH COMICS FIRST but I am perpetually haunted by my idea of steph in the future becoming huntress.... I Ponder It

my OTP: Stephcass lol

my cross over ship: Gwen Stacy and Steph could be fun :O

a headcanon fact: She doesn’t like condiments unless it’s say, syrup for waffles

Harper Row

How I feel about this character: I used to be like obseeeeeeessed with harper used to think abt her 24/7 but ive mellowed down a lot.... havent read her comics in like literally ages...... still love her a lot tho

All the people I ship romantically with this character: nobody 😔

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Steph and Cass being Harper’s friends was always cute to me also I like when I think both or just Steph was Harper’s roommate it was fun

My unpopular opinion about this character: Mostly nobody seems to fucking care about her 🙄 you guys cry for gay batkids 24/7 but you wont even acknowledge harper existed........ smh

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: that she stuck around more : ( i liked how her brother cullen sorta became this like oracle esque figure so I like the idea of her being a vigilante in some place like bludhaven maybe w Cullen giving tech support

my OTP: n/a :/

my cross over ship: not really a ship but maybe Miles and Harper teaming up one time?

a headcanon fact: Would really like to own a pet snake

Dinah Lance

How I feel about this character: I love women.... I love this woman.......

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Ollie, Helena

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Babs :] best friends 4ever !

My unpopular opinion about this character: Dinahs done a lot of fucked up things and like i dont even mean like in a “its bad writing way” i mean just like consistently dinah is not perfect and she shouldnt be regarded as such and i dont like when people do

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Wish she stayed with the JSA longer :[ I really liked her with the JSA it was fun!!!!

my OTP: Dinahelena 💜🖤🤍💛

my cross over ship: n/a

a headcanon fact: She's really bad at cooking most dishes

Diana Prince

How I feel about this character: I LOVE HER a very interesting character with a lot of interesting lore

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Zatanna, Natasha Teranova

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Clark and Bruce ^_^ they are her close friends and teammates and I want absolutely nothing to go on between them. Ever.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Not abt diana specifically But damn yall when the fuck you guys gonna actually.... talk about diana.... like when are you going to make metaposts about her and hot takes and so on as much as you do for ppl like bruce

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: She and Natasha should have gotten married whilst in space together period it was homophobia to have Natasha just go back to russia and never show up ever again

my OTP: Wondermagics

my cross over ship: not a ship again but LET HELLBOY TEAM UP W DIANA

a headcanon fact: She's really good at pottery! Especially during the sculpting stage

#helena bertinelli #diana prince #selina kyle #harper row #dc #ask meme #dinu yells in the void #chek's posts #oh my god tysm i know we literally have never interacted before but i appreciate this so much mx flamebirds #im sorry for a lot of my lacklustre answers i am literally only good for obscure characters >_<#feel free to continue sending asks or a dm to talk or w/e tho!!!

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maraudererasmut · 5 years

Text

Black and White (Part IX)

(This is a long one! I'm sorry!)

Remus spent ten minutes in the washroom.

He didn’t want to spend ten minutes there, standing around by the sink, eying himself awkwardly in the mirror, nodding uncomfortably at the man who stood in the corner giving out mints. At first, Remus considered returning to the table, but then he pictured Sirius’ face, dark and cold, his glare as sharp as his cheekbones.

A few minutes in, Remus noticed the bathroom attendant— Is that what he was called? — eyeing him suspiciously. He gave the man a guilty smile and tried to save face.

“I’m uh… just waiting on some friends… they’re… uh… having a conversation at the table? A… A private one… I just…”

Remus cut himself off after he realized how little the other man cared about his predicament and how awkward his explanation sounded.

After ten minutes in the restroom, Remus eventually returned to the table, praying to whoever would listen that his friends' discussion was over; the last thing Remus needed was to walk in on them talking about him. When he arrived, Lily and James both offered genuine smiles. Sirius was staring intently at the menu, making a point of not glancing up as Remus sat down beside him.

“Remus! Hey… Sorry about that,” Lily began, before Remus shook his head in response.

“It’s no problem, really. Gave me a chance to… get some fresh air…” Remus didn’t know why he lied; perhaps he didn’t want his companions to know that he had spent the entire time staring at the mirror above the sinks.

Just as Remus lifted up the menu to begin looking at it— Lily was right, there were no prices! — a server came by to take their orders.

“Sir? What can I get you?”

“Oh…” Remus glanced down at the menu again, then back up at the server. “Can you… come back to me? At the end?”

“Of course, sir.”

Remus searched through the menu for the least expensive-sounding option as the rest of the party gave their orders. By the time the waiter circled back to Remus, he had settled on something.

“I’ll have the salad, please.”

“Very good, Sir. And for your main course?”

“Oh, uh… that… that was for my main course.”

The waiter cocked an eyebrow and Remus could feel the back of his neck burning.

“Sir, this is a prix fix menu. It’s all included. The appetizer, the main course, the dessert, all one price.”

Oh.

That explained why the menu didn't have any prices on it. It also posed a problem for Remus, who wanted to spend as little as possible at this exceedingly expensive establishment.

He glanced down at the menu again, feeling the eyes of his companions all settling on him, waiting for his response. Remus swallowed, trying to steady his nerves. He needed to keep his voice from shaking.

"Wh— what do you recommend?"

"The steak is our most popular dish. A very fine cut. Exceptional."

"O-okay… I'll have that."

"Very good, sir. How would you like your steak?"

Remus glanced over to Lily, hoping that she could help save him from embarrassment. He had never ordered steak at a restaurant; what was he supposed to tell the server? Lily smiled kindly at him, in that way she always seemed to smile. It was as if nothing about her could ever be unkind.

"It's usually best medium-rare," she said softly.

"Okay, uh… medium-rare then…"

The server nodded before leaving the table.

"Thanks," Remus mumbled under his breath, earning himself a gentle squeeze on the arm from Lily.

Conversation at the table picked up, and Remus noticed his nerves settle slightly as James and Lily chatted away. Lily began talking about art, a conversation that Remus could participate in, resulting in a vibrant debate about the merits of the hand-made and the decline of technique in the contemporary art world.

"I think that's the biggest flaw with performance art," Remus was saying as the sommelier filled his second glass of wine. "There's no skill involved. Sure, your idea can be strong, but there's a definite lack of artistic prowess, and it's a sincere pity. It really is detrimental to overall artistic growth in terms of sheer ability."

"You're wrong," Sirius said suddenly, speaking up for the first time since Remus arrived back at the table. Remus looked over to Sirius, expecting him to look upset. Instead, the gallerist had a smug grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with passion. "And if every artist thought like you, we would be stuck looking at the same thing in every gallery."

"Sirius," Lily said threateningly, before Remus cut her off.

"No, no, I want to hear this. Go on, Si— Mr. Black. I'd love to hear your explanation."

"Well," Sirius began, pausing to nod at the server who brought him a plate of food. "Performance art, readymade, the types of works that, as you say, don't require talent… those artists push the boundaries of what is defined as art. They move the contemporary world in a new direction, challenging the ideals of the time, bringing forth new concepts and making statements "

Remus smiled at Sirius, shaking his head.

"There's a time and a place, Mr. Black." He took a bite of his food and paused for a moment to savour the variety of flavours. Despite being a salad, it was so different than anything he had ever tried before; sweetness paired with bitter, the tang of citrus crossed with the bite from spiced pecans. He closed his eyes, relishing in the sheer sensation of eating.

"You were saying, Mister Lupin?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. This is delicious. Yes, a time and a place. At the time that Duchamp first introduced the concept of readymade, there was a genuine need for it in the art world. Nowadays, if somebody presented a urinal in an art gallery, they would be laughed at! What the contemporary art world needs these days is a return to craftsmanship. We need to go back to our roots, to explore techniques, to learn how to paint and draw and sculpt the way we used to."

"And what of Abromovic, who challenges what it means to be an artist?" Sirius asked, his grin growing wider, a hint of colour spreading across his cheeks.

"What about her?" Remus retorted, taking another bite and picking out the individual flavours of the dish.

"Well, Mr. Lupin, she changes the way we view art. Art is no longer something that is inaccessible to the lower class, the uneducated. Art is something that anyone can do, or be, or have, or create. Art is no longer reserved for the elite. People can no longer purchase art the same way they used to. I cannot own an Abromovic masterpiece. I can enjoy it and witness it, I can be a part of it, but it's not something that I can have and keep to myself behind closed doors. Art is no longer a commodity."

Remus nodded to the server who cleared his plate before giving Sirius a slightly skeptical look.

"You don't need to tell me about commodification of art and the inability to access it," Remus said with a grin. "If anything, I should be the one arguing for art accessibility for the lower class, not you."

Sirius' eyes flashed with something that Remus couldn't decipher, and for the briefest moment, the gallerist looked taken aback. Sirius' composure quickly resumed, however, covering up any sense of doubt, his lips twisted smugly.

"Well then, Mr. Lupin, my point shouldn't be lost on you."

"It's not," Remus said with a casual shrug, glancing over to James and Lily who were merely observers of the conversation rather than participants. "I understand what you mean. I just don't think people should become so wealthy on such minimal talent…"

Sirius didn't respond.

Remus noticed the silence that settled over the table and his smile faded. He sat up straight, fiddling with the corner of his napkin, realizing his error.

"I… I mean… like Abromovic. She's so wealthy and she… well… she hasn't produced anything… and galleries keep bringing her in and, well, she… uh…"

Two servers arrived at their table, placing a plate in front of each person, and Remus had never been more grateful for a distraction.

"Ah! Wonderful!" James exclaimed, drawing the table's attention to himself. He smiled across at Remus, as if to say that all was well, but Remus could tell that something was off with Sirius. The artist glanced over to his right, where the gallerist was digging into his dinner.

With a shrug, Remus focused his attention on his steak, and the moment he took a bite, all of his worries faded away.

Remus had never tasted meat like this before. It was soft and tender, dripping with juices and a punch of flavour. His knife slid through the meat so easily, so effortlessly, revealing a perfectly pink interior. This was the most delicious meal Remus had ever eaten in his entire life.

No wonder rich people are always so happy. I'd be happy too, if I could eat this whenever I wanted.

Remus knew he'd never be able to properly enjoy a steak again, it would always be compared to the perfect dish before him.

"So Remus," Lily began, once their plates were beginning to empty. "If you don't like Abromovic or Koons, which artists do you like?"

Remus grinned at his friend as he set his fork and knife down.

"And I'm assuming I can't just say myself?"

Lily and James both laughed at his joke, but Sirius' face twisted into a scowl.

"A little proud of yourself, are we?"

Remus' gaze returned to Sirius, trying to read the man; he couldn't tell if his joke was lost on Sirius or if the man simply lacked a sense of humour.

"I mean, I didn't name a gallery after myself…"

Another pause. The table seemed to hold its collective breath as Remus' taunt landed.

Sirius' lips parted in a grin, and he let out a sharp laugh. Remus felt his body release the tension he didn't realize the was holding, his shoulders relaxing and a breath escaping his lungs.

Thank god.

Sirius laughing meant that Remus didn't put the rest of his life at risk. He was, however, beginning to despise the minefield that was this dinner, waiting for his next slip up, waiting for his world to explode.

"That's funny, Mr. Lupin." Sirius said, after a good chuckle. "Very funny. Especially considering the fact that up until very recently, it was your desire to show in that gallery."

Shit.

"Oh shush," James butted in, before anyone else could say anything. "Learn to take a joke, Sirius. Don't be so—"

"Don't say it, James!" Lily warned, barely containing her grin.

"I was merely playing along!" Sirius teased, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol and laughter, his eyes sparkling with mirth. His gaze flickered toward Remus, and the artist felt his heart skip a beat. Sirius was a very handsome man, and laughter looked particularly good on him. He was attractive no matter what he did, any way that he held himself. When he smiled, though…

Remus quickly looked away, directing his attention to the remnants on his plate. When Sirius smiled, his eyes lit up, as blinding as the sun kissing the sky on a perfect winter day. They were the very shade of snow beneath a tree, the lightest of blues, perfectly undisturbed. Sirius' cheeks bore the morning blush of a sunrise, the colour of the sky just as it threatened to turn blue. Next to the creamy glow of his face, it took on an almost ethereal quality.

Remus loved the colours of Sirius.

And he hated how much he loved it.

"Any coffee with your dessert, sir?"

Remus thought his heart might have exploded with the shock of being wrenched from his thoughts. He looked up at the server with a look of panic, having completely forgotten where he was.

"Um… no, no thank you. I'm fine," he mumbled, tearing his eyes from the server and keeping them focused on the chocolate torte that had been placed in front of him.

Thank god.

Nothing could redirect Remus' imagination quite like chocolate, and he was thoroughly grateful for the distraction.

Dessert passed with minimal conversation as everyone savoured their delicacies. As discussion resumed, it veered away from art, and Remus found himself listening more than talking. Eventually, the server came by the table, and Remus realized that his perfect meal and fantasy evening was about to come to an abrupt and painful close.

"Will there be anything else you need?"

"No, just the bill, please," James said politely.

"Together or separate?"

"Together."

Together?

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it; he waited for the server to leave before he rounded on James.

"You really don't have to do that, James. Honestly, I can't let you—"

"Nonsense!" James said with an enthusiastic flap of his hand. "Of course I'm paying! This dinner is my treat!"

"But it really—"

"Remus, I invited you to join us! It's my pleasure!"

Remus knew he should be happy, he should feel relieved; his whole night had been laced with anxiety as he thought about the ludicrous cheque that was waiting for him. Instead, Remus felt guilty. He felt like he was in debt to James, like he owed the man. There was no way he could accept a gift this generous without repaying the favour.

"You don't have to," Remus mumbled, feeling the weight of his words press down on his shoulders. He was damned either way, but at least if he paid for his meal, he wouldn't be indebted to anyone.

"I know," James said, his smile never faltering. "I don't have to do anything. I want to. Now, back to the real matter at hand…" James turned to Sirius. He was clearly finished with the discussion about the bill, and Remus knew better than to push.

"Yes, James?" Sirius said, quirking a brow playfully.

"Now that you've had a proper opportunity to get to know Remus, have you come to any important decisions?"

Remus' heart was suddenly in his throat, beating more rapidly than he thought possible. How could he have forgotten about Sirius' decision to have him in the gallery?

"As a matter of fact," Sirius purred, his smile crooked and sly. He turned to Remus, his chin tilted slightly upwards, a flash of pearly white teeth enclosed between tender lips that Remus wanted to forget about. "I have."

Remus' grip tightened on his napkin and he sank into his chair as the silence and anticipation steadily grew worse.

"Well?!" James was on the edge of his seat, clearly not a patient man. Lily had her hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him at bay.

"Remus, I require no less than five pieces in order to begin displaying your work. I would like to have them by our next show, which will be towards the beginning of November. Do you think you can accomplish that for me?"

Remus was at a loss for words. He nodded fervently, unable to get his voice out.

"Good. I'll have my lawyers work up a contract. You can come by the gallery on Monday to sign it and discuss details."

Remus couldn't believe what was happening. He pinched himself on his forearm, trying to ensure that this was not some kind of vivid dream. As a jolt of pain shot through his arm, a smile spread across his face.

As far as he could tell, it was all real...

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dustedpearl · 3 years

Text

Are Video Games a Form of Art?

“Are video games art?” is one of those questions that have been brought up frequently in the last couple of years. The debate in one form or another has always been there, festering under the surface, for close to 30 years. In 2005 the “games as art” debate kicked into full gear when movie critic and former man of relevance Roger Ebert made the claim that, in his eyes, video games will never be considered an art form:

I am prepared to believe that video games can be elegant, subtle, sophisticated, challenging and visually wonderful. But I believe the nature of the medium prevents it from moving beyond craftsmanship to the stature of art. To my knowledge, no one in or out of the field has ever been able to cite a game worthy of comparison with the great dramatists, poets, filmmakers, novelists and composers. That a game can aspire to artistic importance as a visual experience, I accept. But for most gamers, video games represent a loss of those precious hours we have available to make ourselves more cultured, civilized and empathetic.

Yeah, it doesn’t sound too bad but keep in mind that this was 2005 and nobody — at least no one of Ebert’s relevance — had ever gone on the record as saying that games weren’t art. To say that this sparked an outrage is something of an understatement — after all, we’re still having this debate today. Best pink gaming chair.

By “we” I mean the general we: gamers. I, personally, avoid the “games as art” debate because I find it to be a fabricated issue; something drummed up by faux-intelligent wannabe game “journalists”* who are so desperate for mainstream acceptance of their “art form” that they are willing to ignore the actual definition of “art” and force their own views on the general public.

A general public that doesn’t care, by the way.

The “games as art” debate, with the exception of a few “one night only” voices that argued against the idea as part of larger debates about games like RapeLay, has been a one-sided argument. It’s been one side, the “games as art” people, screaming at the top of their lungs that video games are an art form and to say otherwise is to be unequivocally wrong or, in the case of the insufferable Anthony Birch, a stupid coward. Ultimately they’re arguing against a few crackpots and a bunch of thin air. The Gamer Collective’s Ultimate Streaming Checklist.

They’re also wrong, just as Roger Ebert was wrong.

The beautiful thing about art is that it is very subjective based on one’s personal opinion. What you may consider to be a work of fine art that speaks on American commercialism, I may consider to be a picture of a can of soup. What I may consider to be a work of art, you may look at as nothing more than a pile of garbage.

Does that mean that both are art? No.

Does that mean that neither are art? Again, no.

All it means is that we have a fundamental difference in what we consider to be art.

A lot of the “games as art” people like to argue that the gaming doesn’t have it’s Citizen Kane or Casablanca. One could argue that because of the differences between film and games, these comparisons are moot. At risk of losing “cred” by acknowledging said comparison, I’ll make two points:

1.) Yes they do. We may not see it yet, but games like Shadow of the Colossus and Deus Ex, in thirty or forty years, will be looked back on by game makers, game critics (ED NOTE: God help me if I’m still doing this in thirty years) and gamers as a whole in the same way that people look back on Citizen Kane today. The Gamer Collective.

Hell, do you think Casablanca was Casablanca in 1942? No. It was an excellent movie met with high praise, but it took generations to watch and appreciate the film before it developed its iconic status. It’s the same with books. It’s the same with comics. It’s the same with any form of art. This leads into my second point:

2.) You can’t force something to be iconic. In the last few years gamers, some of whom I’m sure were desperate to find that Citizen Kane of games, started to latch onto just about anything that was even the slightest bit different and tried to hype them up to be the “it” game that these people so desperately wanted in order to throw it in the faces of the naysayers and proclaim “see, I told you so.” This happened to Flower, where people took the game and placed it on a pedestal in an attempt to make it out to be more than it really was. This is far better explained by Leigh Alexander, who wrote one of my all-time favorite opinion pieces on the subject.

Ironically, what most of these people don’t realize is that, in a sense, they’ve already “won.” One of the biggest factors in why Roger Ebert holds the views he does about video games, even if he won’t admit it, is generational. He’s part of the “old guard” who has always grown up seeing movies as a form of art. At that same time he actually witnessed the birth and infancy of video games in a time when the majority of video game players were kids. Hell, you could argue that video games didn’t start “growing up” until the mid-1990s when those kids who grew up playing Atari and Nintendo started making games and said “we can do more and we can do better.”

As we grow older and a new generation of people grow up with video games like Mass Effect 2 and The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion in their home, the idea that games are an art form will continue to grow. Eventually, like comic books before it, video games will be considered an art form. Will there still be those who say games are not, can not and never will be an art form? Sure. And they won’t be any more right or wrong for thinking that than you are for thinking what you think.

But they will be in the minority.

I, myself, have always been of two minds about the entire “games as art” debate. On one hand, I have a hard time saying that We Cheer is a work of art as it does nothing to flex my intellect while Mass Effect is able to illicit emotions that no movie or book is capable of because I am the one taking the actions that forward the narrative.

On the other hand, I consider every video game ever released to be an artistic expression in the same sense that a sculpture is a piece of art. Every video game conveys an idea, either an individual idea or a collective idea, that people have spent months if not years laboring to create. In that sense it is sculpting with virtual tools. But the one must ask if simply creating something is enough to render it a work of art.

This is the debate I think should be had. Not whether or not video games are art; that’s an argument that can go on forever and boils down to “yuh huh” vs. “nuh uh.” But the debate of whether or not all video games are art or if there is something that makes certain games works of art… that’s a debate that could go on until we’re all hoarse from talking.

And it’s a debate that, one day, I look forward to having.

#video games #gaming #games

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celticat21 · 4 years

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I, II and IV for all of them (if you have time!)

Wow I didn’t expect an ask so fast, but thank you! *Cracks knuckles* Let’s get started.

Alessa:

I: Alessa would have met Julian, formally anyway, the night she got into a fight with her ex. (This would be pre-plague.) Since her head was bleeding heavily after a vase was thrown at her head, she went to see Julian for help. Though he tried to ask, she just shrugged it off and said she was helping the potter put away some things when a pot fell on her. It started an inside joke with them, actually, that whenever she’s clumsy and gets a bruise or something Julian will say “Helping the potter again?”

II: Alessa saw Julian as suave, intelligent, compassionate, and a little nosey. Julian felt Alessa was a bit defensive, quiet, but witty when she wanted to be. For the most part, Alessa didn’t feel different, except she realize what a huge dork Julian was and that he didn’t have as much confidence as she initially thought. Julian realized Alessa is not a very quiet person, and she would open up more as they knew each other better.

IV: It was more of a slow burn, with them both being regulars at the Rowdy Raven, but of course then the amnesia and events of the game happen. Considering they all happen in a few days, and their past, it was love at first sight the second time. Other than professing their love in game, Alessa would have professed her love immediately after realizing she had come down with the plague, but probably through a letter so Julian wouldn’t want to get close.

Tabitha:

I: Tabitha met Volta one day while having tea with Nadia. Volta had smelled the food and came over. Nadia noticed Volta’s interest immediately and helped set them up on a date.

II: Tabitha thought of Volta as shy, timid, but well intentioned and absolutely adorable! That didn’t change, though she did see Volta as more brave as, at least in certain routes, Volta stands up to the other courtiers despite being afraid of the consequences. Volta thought of Tabitha as being very confident, kind, but also kind of intimidating. She realized Tabitha was very understanding, though, especially if Volta got over excited and her signs were hard to read.

IV: Volta probably professed her love on their first official date. She seems like the very excitable one to jump into it. Tabitha was flattered and something about it just told her that she was meant to be with Volta, so she said it back. It was definitely love at first sight.

Freya:

I: Freya literally bumped into Vlastomil in the market one day, causing him to accidentally drop his container of worms. The market was rather busy and it was difficult not to run into other people. After Vlastomil told her not to worry, because “All 30 of his children were accounted for”, Freya became very confused and asked him to elaborate. At that point he went off talking about all of his worms and how amazing they are. He sounded so cute and passionate, she wouldn’t dare stop him.

II: Freya had heard about Vlastomil before, and how he was very snobbish and felt superior, but after meeting him she felt he was very passionate, yet lonely. He had a lot of love to give and only the worms to give it to. When she got to know him better she found he was very protective, as well as doting. Vlastomil thought of Freya as rather intelligent, but meek and quiet. He would learn real quick that she is very willing to put you in your place and serve up some just desserts. She is only quiet when listening to other people talk, but she certainly can talk your ear off when she wants to.

IV: After witnessing Freya speaking to the worms like a loving worm mother he immediately professed his love for her. It happened a few days into the relationship but Freya said it back. Not quite love at first sight, but it was pretty fast.

Winona:

I: Winona met Asra first when they were young teens, around 15. Winona was working on a ship that had docked in Vesuvia, and saw a curious kid with puffy white hair. They awkwardly flirted for a bit but Winona knew they couldn’t have a real relationship as they were constantly traveling and never knew if they come back to stay in the same place.

II: Winona immediately thought Asra was adorable, a total dork, and a bit of a show-off. Their idea of him didn’t really change after they got into a relationship. Asra thought Winona was funny, tough in more ways than one, and very excitable. Similarly, his idea of them didn’t change much. The only thing was that Winona was much less likely to fight someone than he originally thought, since Winona had learned to be on guard due to their life at the time.

IV: For Asra I believe it was love at first sight, but Winona was surprisingly mroe difficult to accept the idea of being in love. After returning to Vesuvia to take over the shop, Asra stopped by to meet them again. Again, theres a canon way they confess their love in game, but pre-plague Asra would have confessed his love with Winona not really ready to. After the events of the game, though, they were much more willing and excited to fall in love, after forgetting the reason they were apprehensive about it in the first place.

Zira:

I: Zira would have met Valdemar pre-plague while exploring the palace library. She saw right though Valdemar’s bull immediately and didn’t fall for their “I smile all the time, aren’t I scary?” thing. If anything, her flirtatious nature probably turned Valdemar off at first, but she was such a strange and unique specimen that they would put up with it at first if it meant getting to learn about her species.

II: Zira thought Valdemar was intelligent, curious, and general a trying-too-hard-to-be-scary person. She did end up seeing them as legitimately scary and threatening and learning more about them, but somehow she didn’t believe they would really hurt her. Valdemar only saw Zira as a potential specimen to cut open and inspect, but truth the told they needed to ask her questions first. They couldn’t let the opportunity to get information directly from her on her own species, before potentially killing her. Then again, they had no such desire to kill her after they started regularly meeting up so Valdemar could conduct their research.

IV: Valdemar isn’t one to profess love, really, and Zira was more than open about her feelings toward them since the beginning. Not “love at first sight”, but a mutual interest in how strange they each were brought them closer together, and Zira was hearing wedding bells after seeing how Valdemar interacted with her daughter Masha. Where everyone expects Valdemar to be the worst with kids, I assume they usually don’t care about them but something about Masha and Zira actually brought up some old feelings they weren’t used to. Although I like to think after Zira flat out said “I love you” that Valdemar just paused and went “Thank you.”

Katarina:

I: Katarina met Nahara at the palace with Nadia and Navra. Much like the romance tale, Nadia had asked them to take Navra and Nahara around the city. Navra left when they got to a festival and she saw people dancing, so Kat took Nahara to their mothers restaurant. Kat did not have their wheelchair with them, unfortunately, as they greatly overestimated their stamina, but luckily Nahara could carry them home. ;)

II: Katarina could not help but stare at Nahara’s muscles. Their type is definitely a strong, muscular woman. They also thought at first she would be more judgmental and intimidating, but eventually learned Nahara is actually very kind and caring, as well as the farthest thing from judgmental. Though, she can be intimidating if necessary. Nahara thought Katarina was cute, but probably pretty fragile by her seemingly timid demeanor. She did learn, though, that Katarina is able to hold their own in a fight, and very passionate about their art and ambitions. “Full of life” is the best way she would describe them.

IV: Katarina, in all honesty, had been having dreams of Nahara for a while, without knowing who she was. They even sculpted her in her studio. They were, however, very worried about admitting their feelings too soon, but after Nahara went to their studio and saw the sculpture of herslef, Katarina told her about the dreams and how she was in love with her. Luckily, Nahara felt the same!

Granted, some of the character descriptions and events might be a bit OOC or not directly coincide with the game, but I haven’t played the game in a long time. I’m mostly just active in the fandom because everyone has created such wonderful and interesting characters!

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vivxwrites · 5 years

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Guardian Angel || Part III

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1384

Summary: Same as always, no spoilers

Warnings: Minor character death, semi-graphic gory description, blood (it’s really not too bad but i’m just listing these things to be safe)

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: Heyo I’m really glad that people enjoy this series. Everyone leaving notes means so much to me <3 :)

Parts: {I}, {II}, {III}, {IV}, {V}

Italics are flashbacks

“It’s ok I’m fin-” Carol stopped short when she lifted her gaze to see who had unceremoniously knocked her onto her ass. Oh wow. Her senses were assaulted with the sight of the ethereal being stood in front of her and Carol questioned what she had done to be graced with this angel’s very presence. She openly gawked at you as if she were in some sort of trance and she admired the soft glowing features of your face, seemingly sculpted by God himself. Butterflies erupted in her gut, a feeling that she hadn’t experienced since early last year and her heart fluttered delicately against her rib-cage. Something about you was just so familiar to her but she wasn’t able to place where she could have possibly seen you before. She couldn’t shake off the pure awe that had struck her upon laying eyes on you. Your white wings were extended behind you and Carol took note of their slightly mangled appearance while she studied them in wonder. She observed how your left wing was missing a considerable amount of feathers and she cocked her head to the side with curiosity.

The dull clack of boots on the floor drew nearer and nearer to the two of you but she was too stuck in her haze to care. If she were to die right now she would go out perfectly happy knowing that she was able to lay her eyes upon such an angelic sight before she left. Now that she thought about it she found herself idly wondering if she had in fact died and you were an angel sent to collect her and bring her up to heaven, your white wings cluing her in to what you were, or at least what you resembled to be. The sound of Fury’s voice pulled her out of her revere and she watched, speechless, as he wordlessly pressed a taser to your neck and gestured for some agents to drag your unconscious body away.

“Danvers can you hear me?” Fury’s question went unanswered as Carol watched your limp form drag against the cool tiled floor of the compound. Her head pulsed and spun with images of you stood above her and staring at her with those mysterious eyes filled with concern. Her mouth had been agape for so long that bits of drool collected in the corners and her eyes were half-lidded and glazed over. Her entire body felt numb and though she could hear Nick calling out her name the words flew right over her head.

Fury, on the other hand, grew worried. Carol continued to be unresponsive as she stared at the same spot that you were stood in just moments before, as if you were still there. He wondered if you had cast some freaky angel spell on her or if you had said something that got inside her head to make her remain in some sort of broken stupor. His heart was heavy when he remembered that this was exactly the same way that Carol had acted last year after the accident, silent and frozen and totally unresponsive. Nick slowly came to terms with the fact that you definitely were connected to last year’s events somehow and he vowed to do whatever it took to make you crack. He sighed to himself and collected Carol into his arms and carried her as if she were a sack of potatoes to the guest room where Maria was situated, just like he had done last year.

The blue lights of the police car flashing distractedly in the background went unnoticed by Carol as she stared, stock still, at the lifeless body of her girlfriend. She didn’t break into sobs or scream or do anything besides wordlessly stare at the once breathing body. Officers stood by uncomfortably as they looked on, unsure of what exactly to do. Upon arrival they recognized Carol as the new avenger, Captain Marvel, having seen her stern face plastered all throughout the media the past few days. They had tried calling out to her and one officer even went so far as to clasp a hand on the heroine’s shoulder, but all of their attempts went ignored. A crowd had formed behind the yellow and black caution tape and they too watched on in silence at Carol’s reaction. News vans screeched into the park, desperate to get a leg up on the other channels for a story on the newest avenger. Carol blinked every so often as she studied the body laying in front of her. Blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth where Carol still saw her girlfriend’s last words on the tip of her tongue, “It’s okay.” Her once bright eyes gazed upwards, their life force was empty and blood seeped out onto the green blades of grass. The stab wound across her abdomen was a deep jagged bitch of a gash and Carol examined the torn fabric of the red-stained white shirt. The image burned persistently in her mind and she memorized the girl’s haunting features, knowing that she would never see them again. The blank expression on Carol’s face didn’t betray her inner thoughts one bit, a fact that she was thankful for later as she rewatched the scene on Maria’s flickering television screen, much to her friend’s dismay. She felt herself being slowly eased into the air and she was unsure who had lifted her, nor did she care. She still stared at her girlfriend’s body as she was carried further and further and further away.

“Rambeau, Carol found the angel girl thing and now she’s stuck in a trance.”

Maria sighed deeply and carded her fingers through her hair. “Set her on the bed. I’ll work on coaxing her out of it.”

Fury followed her directions and let his shoulders slump slightly in defeat. “I’m going to interrogate that girl and found out what her deal is. Let me know if you need any help.” Maria nodded her head in response as she pressed a warm cloth to a dazed out Carol’s forehead. With that Fury stomped towards the holding cell that he had his agents deposit you in and boy was he angry. You didn’t know who you were messing with, sure the wrinkles that were forming on his face made him seem old, but he still could and most certainly would, kick your ass straight back to heaven or wherever the hell you came from.

He glared at your unconscious form and broken wings through the clear glass of the holding cell. It was only hours later that you had finally woken up and blinked blearily as you took in your new surroundings. You were confused and you felt like you were being watched and oh- your eyes fell upon Fury glaring at you and you glared right back at him. You sneered, “You’ve tazed me twice for no reason asshole and now you’ve put me in a cage? What do you want from me?”

He remained stoic as he glared at you and barked out a question, “I want you to tell me what the hell you’re doing here. And while you’re at it explain your involvement in the events of last year.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and shifted your weight from foot to foot. “On two conditions.”

“You’re the one in a cell and you think you still have room to make demands?” His nostrils flared in annoyance and you rolled your eyes and sent him a tired look.

“Look, Nick. I’ll tell you what you need to know, but to a certain extent. I’ll explain it so that you can understand it but all parts that are my business stay my business. Also, you let me out of this cage and don’t taze me ever again.”

He considered your offer carefully, he didn’t trust you one bit but he recognized nothing but honesty in your voice. “You have yourself a deal. But I’m only going to let you out of the cage if I feel the information is sufficient enough.” You nodded stiffly and he nodded back. The terms were set and so you prepared for the explanation you were about to give, knowing full well that things could very well go sideways.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Look out for Boom, Boom, Boom 2 and another Natasha request next. Love you all and welcome to everyone new! Feel free to have a scroll through the about viv tag if you want to learn more about me, Viv, the owner of this blog. Thanks a bunch for 200 buds :). Thanks, Viv :)

Permanent Tag List: @aesthetiff @autumnjackson4 @captainwonderwidow @5aftermidnight

Series Tag List: @vxidnik @envy-adamss @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @gigglygwil @worlds-in-words @justarandomhumanhere @letalexaplaydespacito

P.S. if you want to join the tag list crew give me a holler ‘cause your wish is ma command!! And if you can, please specify which one. Thanks frands :)

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x reader #guardian angel series

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ohpedromypedros-main · 5 years

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The Day That Changed It All - Prologue

A/N: Hey all! So I started writing this AU the other day while I was having a bad night and I'm thinking of turning it into a mini series! Let me know what you think about it and if you'd for sure like to see more! 💕 This part is more of a backstory for the reader and how she meets Dacre.

Word count: 2k

Characters: Dacre x Reader

Pairings: Dacre x Reader

Warnings: suicide attempt, angst, major fluff toward the end

Summary: The reader is ready to end it all, strongly believing that her mental health will never get better, but after a failed suicide attempt and her stay at the hospital, she realizes she was very wrong.

The tears wouldn't stop flowing. The pain in your chest from the lack of breath due to your sobs were unbearable, yet you still continued to cry. You were overwhelmed in the worst possible way and you just wanted everything to be over. You wanted the ongoing pain you suffered through mentally and emotionally to finally be done.

No amount of therapy ever helped you. Medication did absolute squat for you, so you were at a stump. You tried, every day you tried to fight the darkness inside you, inside your mind, but inevitably it slowly began to engulf you completely. This was the end for you and there was nothing that would change that.

Or so you thought. This was the day your life would change forever.

25 years. That's how many years of life lived you were about to throw away, but you know what? You didn't care. Your mind was just too numb for you to think straight, to rationalize. If you were being honest, your mind went numb years ago.

You lived all on your own, had nobody to get you through your darkest days. Your parents abandoned you when you were 3, left you in the care of your grandparents who loved and homed you up til the days they died. You were 16 when your grandfather died and 18 when your grandmother died, both times tearing a big chunk of your heart away.

You were alone from 18 to now, your mental health worsening each year that passed without your grandparents. Now, you were sat at the edge of the railing on a bridge which stood hundreds of yards above the water below, cars driving past as if you were invisible. You were shivering, the t-shirt and cardigan you wore not quite keeping you warm from the cool fall air. The temperature didn't bother you, though. It wasn't like you'd be alive much longer to care that you were cold.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly moved to stand on the edge of the bridge just on the other side of the rail, your hands still grasping the cold metal to steady yourself until you were ready to actually throw yourself off. As you were preparing to jump, you heard the sound of tires screeching and a woman's voice screaming not to jump, but it was too late. You pushed with as much force off the rail and let your body free fall into the freezing waters below.

You opened your eyes with a few flutters of your eyelids, the hospital room lights blinding you and making the throbbing pain in your head even worse. You looked around the room with a groan, noticing you were hooked to an IV drip. You moved to sit up, but the sharp pain in your ribs had you doing otherwise. “Ow, fuck.”

With a sigh, you found the call button and pressed it, relaxing against the many pillows beneath your head while you waited for someone to show up. You remembered what you had done the night before and realized why you were in this hospital in the first place. A failed suicide. Great.

After a few minutes a nurse entered the room, closely followed by a doctor. Your breath caught in the back of your throat at the sight of him and the lack of breath caused a lot of pain in your lungs. “Ouch!” You whined, taking a few deep breaths.

“Yeah you're going to be in a lot of pain, dear.” The doctor chuckled and when he neared you, you got a good look at his name tag. Doctor Dacre Montgomery. He gave you a smile, a smile that made your heart melt.

This doctor was the most attractive man you'd ever laid eyes on. His eyes were a piercing blue color, his face was sculpted so perfectly it was as if God himself made him out of pure marble. You could only imagine what lay beneath his doctors uniform.

“Would you like some meds for the pain?” Doctor Montgomery asked you, which you nodded at him in response. “Of course. I'll be back in a few. The nurse here is going to check your vitals in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, gaze following the doctor out of the room. You didn't realize you were still staring until the nurse chuckled.

“He's a sight for sore eyes, huh?” She smiled, grabbing the blood pressure cuff off the wall and hooking it to the tube connected to the vitals machine. She wrapped it around your right arm and pushed the button to start the blood pressure reading.

“Yes he is,” you bit your lip with a smile, which the nurse noticed and chuckled again.

“He's the youngest doctor at this hospital,” she said as she removed the blood pressure cuff and recorded your readings. “He also happens to be single.” She winked, getting the rest of your vitals and recording them too.

You blushed at her words, knowing she knew you'd be curious about whether he was single or not. There was just something about him that made you forget why you were suicidal in the first place.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “But I doubt he'd have an inkling of interest in someone like me.” You shrugged your shoulders, earning yourself a shake of the nurses head.

“You never know. I'm pretty sure when they first brought you here, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.” She chuckled and you looked at her with wide eyes. “I don't think I've ever seen him work so hard on an attempted suicide victim.”

Just a few moments later Doctor Montgomery returned with your pain meds and a cup of water, which he handed to you and watched while you took them. “How were her vitals?”

“They were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. I think, with your opinion as well, she'll be good to go home in no time.”

“Thank you, nurse. There's a patient down the hall that's looking for a snack, could you do that for me?” He smiled at the nurse who nodded and gave you one last smile before exiting the room. Doctor Montgomery looked back to you with a warm smile, taking the seat beside your bed. “How are you feeling? Mentally, I mean.”

You chewed your lip as you thought, not really feeling much of anything at the moment. “Honestly? I feel nothing. Not in a bad way, I don't have any negative thoughts or clouded feelings in my head. If that makes sense.” You sighed.

“It very well makes sense,” he chuckled, resting his hand over yours. “I'm glad you're feeling better. May I ask you something? If you don't mind.”

“Of course,” you smiled, heart rate picking up when he brought his gaze to your own. If you were hooked to a heart rate monitor, he would know for sure the affect he was having on you in that very moment.

“What drove you to jump off that bridge? Did something happen that drove you to it?” He only asked you this because he was genuinely curious. He wanted to know why someone as young and beautiful as you wanted to end her life.

You gave Doctor Montgomery a sad smile, explaining everything that you went through from when your parents abandoned you at the age of 3 to losing your grandparents at the age of 16 and 18, giving as much detail that you could. He listened to your every word intently, letting you get everything off your chest and even comforting you when the waterfall of tears came.

When you were finished explaining pretty much your entire life story, you looked at Doctor Montgomery with a sort of ashamed smile, which he shook his head at and wiped your tears away with his thumbs. Usually that was considered unprofessional in his field of work, but he didn't care. He wanted to show you he truly cared.

“I'm sorry you went through all of that. I'm sorry there's no one in your life who can help you through your dark days.” He wanted to say more, but his beeper began going off, signifying he was needed elsewhere. “I have to take this. I'll come see you before my shift ends. There's something I need to ask you.”

You were curious as to what he meant by that, but decided to wait until he came back to ask you what he needed to ask you. You watched as he left the room and for the first time in a long time, you felt a warmth in your heart and had the biggest of smiles on your face. You just knew, something was going to change in your life from this point on.

A few months had passed since your attempted suicide. You were holding in mentally, trying your damned hardest to get through your worst of days, but this time you didn't have to go through it alone. No, this time you had the boy whose heart you stole the moment you were wheeled into his ER. Doctor Montgomery.

Right before his shift ended the day after your attempt, he had asked if he could take you out for a coffee when you were out of the hospital and feeling better mentally. He admitted to you that you sparked something in his heart and he wanted to get to know you better.

You happily accepted his offer to take you out for coffee and after that day, he'd asked you on several more dates. He was a busy guy with his job at the hospital, but he did his best to make time for you. He truly did like you, a lot, and he wanted to make sure you knew that.

Currently you were sitting at home at your grandparent's house which you inherited after the death of your grandmother. They left you everything in their will since you were an only child, so you were pretty much set for life in the financial department.

Dacre was curled up on the couch with you in his arms, your head rested against his chest while the two of you watched a Halloween marathon. You grabbed a piece of popcorn from the bowl in your lap and held it up to his mouth. Dacre chuckled and leaned forward to grab it with his lips.

“You're adorable, you know that?” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Am I?” You giggled, something you hadn't done in years until Dacre came into your life.

“Absolutely.” His Australian accent came out thickly with that single word and it made your heart race. You absolutely loved his accent.

“Why thank you.” You grinned, lifting your head up to look at him. He smiled down at you, moving one of his hands to gently rest against your cheek. You leaned into his touch, softly humming out your desires.

“Y/N?” Dacre bit down on his lip, his blue eyes locking on your gaze.

“Yes?” You smiled, cheeks burning at the sheer fact that he was gazing so intensely into your eyes.

“I, uh, I like you a whole lot. And well, I was wondering…” He took a deep breath, eyes never leaving your own. “Will you be my girl?” His heart was pounding against his chest, scared you would turn him down since you had only known each other for a short amount of time.

“I thought you'd never ask,” you whispered, leaning up to capture his lips, kissing him with a passionate force that would make any person's head spin. Dacre was quick to return the kiss, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you closer into him.

“So that's a yes?” He chuckled after pulling back from the kiss, earning himself a happy nod.

“Yes, Dacre. That's most definitely a yes.” You smiled, leaning up to kiss him again, unable to resist the feeling of his soft lips on yours.

You were extremely grateful for Dacre. He didn't totally make your depression disappear, but he was there for you when you needed him most. He was a constant reminder that life DOES get better and you were looking forward to what your futures held.

Tagging: @hargrove-heaven @halefirewarrior

If anyone wants to be tagged in future parts, let me know!

#dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery x you #dacre montgomery x y/n #dacre x reader #dacre x you #dacre x y/n #dacre fanfiction #dacre montgomery fanfiction #tw: suicide attempt

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slut-for-fandoms · 5 years

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Paint me yours (kth x reader) PART 1

Pairings: Artist!Taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (in the following chapters)

Summary: You are an art college student who struggles with finances. Until one day, on an exhibition of the arising artist Kim Taehyung, when the same boy offers you a job as his model. Would it be just a simple job or would it complicate your life in ways you have never thought it would?

Warnings: none in this one (perhaps my bad writing and lots of mistakes?)

A/N: So here is the first chapter. I really don’t know what to think about it as i haven’t written anything in more than a year (so sorry guys but now I am back, yey) I really do hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you would like to be tagged in the series ♥ Enjoy

Euphoria. Excitement. Happiness. Exaltation. A complete symphony of colors and emotions. Blue, purple, violet, azure - blended in such a way that glues you to the masterpiece. At places it seems unfinished, raw, as though the creator has been in a hurry. But at the same time it is so detailed that you wonder how long it took him to create it. It represents a woman, or to be more precise, a young girl. Long hair composed with ochre, amber, honey and a hint of gold, covers half of her pale face. Her lips are the perfect combination of red, cheery, wine and auburn. An orderly chaos of colors.

While everything seems just as raw painting, the most capturing features are the eyes. They are so detailed and express the condition of the girl. The sparks that make her look tangible grabs you on a roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and somehow makes you even experience the same state. I move to the next painting.

Sadness. Affliction. Pain. Torment. The contrast between the used shades is much deeper. Pale yet dark. The more I look at it, the more it captivates me. All of the creations I saw were beyond amazing, complete masterpieces but this one… This one is different. One look and I got this strange feeling in my guts when we anticipate something bad, something that might hurt us.

The background is composed of dark shades, while the girl is sculpted of the pale range of colors. Again, the most detailed parts are the eyes. You get the feeling as if a soul was trapped inside the drawn girl that shows how much she suffers. The more you contemplate, the more you assume that the darkness around her represents the cruel world, while the bright yet shaded colors shows how fragile and broken she is. Is it from the world? What destroyed her? Who made her look like a shattered vase which parts are no longer going to form its beautiful shape?

Holding my glass of champagne I took some steps back and sat on the settee opposite the painting. Thanks god it wasn’t that low as they use to be in other galleries. I crossed my legs which caused the hem of my black dress to roll up slightly. As an art student, I tend to visit many exhibitions in order to get inspiration, gain knowledge of the new and unorthodox styles and improve mine. I can’t say I am complaining as we are given free access to any kind of such events. This is beyond amazing as now I am contemplating the art of one of the rising artists – Kim Taehyung. Honestly, I have never seen him but the critics consider him the new Van Gogh and now I understand why.

When I came I was so uneven about it, all the people here were rich and classy and I, a broken student with a cheap dress borrowed from her friend, had no place here. Everything was out of my league and I felt like garbage disfiguring this place.

“You seem really immersed into the picture.”, someone chucked, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw man in golden suit and two glasses of champagne in his hands. His smile was so bright, genuine, that it made me blush slightly, “May I?”, he titled his head towards the settee as if asking if it was free.

“Ye- yeah, of course”, I stuttered and put a lock of fallen hair behind my ear.

His smile grew bigger and he took the free seat next to me.

“Here.”, he gave me one of the glasses. I looked up at him confused, “I saw that you have already finished yours so…”, I looked at my glass which was empty. I might have stayed there for a way longer time that I have thought. I left the glass on the floor next to the settee.

“Thank you.”, I gave him a smile, although inside I was feeling embarrassed, “Very fond of you.”, I said after taking the offered glass.

“Well, I just wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I have left such a beautiful lady sitting here by her side. The champagne was just an excuse to approach you.”, I bit my lip and tried to hide myself due to the blush that crept on my face.

“You are even more appealing when blushing.”, okay, I have never believed I could become so red but here I am.

“Please, stop.”, I stuttered through the smile that just grew bigger on my face.

“Why?”, he tilted his head and asked me with that sweet smirk still placed on his face, his eyes never leaving my figure, “you don’t like honest people?”, as a response I chuckled and tried to gain my dignity and look at him. Why was I such a blushing mess around this… stranger…a handsome stranger?

“It is just that you are the first one to approach me this evening.”, a slight feeling of sadness made my stomach turn as I recall the events, pardon, the lack of them from this night. I started playing with my hands as something as pity overwhelmed me.

“Well-”, his deep baritone voice made me look at him. This time he was facing the painting in front of us which gave me the opportunity to survey him. Soft pink lips, sweet roundy nose, medium long light eyelashes. Skin in the color of bronze and a golden suit that make him look like a god. Aristocratic hands with long fingers, adorned with rings. The way he is holding the glass gives you the thoughts that a prince is sitting oppose you, “It is their lose.”, he states after locking his eyes with mine. And then I’m completely lost. They are just like the sad girls’ in the paintings – full of emotions. I see the same spark that leads directly to his soul. It captivates you. There is love, care, tenderness that make my heart skips a beat. But also you can spot something wild and intriguing. An abyss of feelings kept locked deep inside.

He took a sip of his champagne which caught my attention and made me break the eye contact. How could such a simple action as drinking makes me wanna grab the brushes and paint this gorgeous creature on the canvas?

“I can’t say I am complaining of that.”, I followed his movements and took a taste of my drink, “They seem like they are here only for talking. All of them are just chit-chatting and just at times spare a glance at the paintings. It – It just looks like a gathering of the rich and bitchy class.”, suddenly he burst into laughing. Oh that sound… It was like a soft melody for my years I could listen to all day. It was so infectious and addicting.

“What?”, I asked confused but with a smile plastered on my face.

“I couldn’t have said it more correctly. I’ve met everybody in the gallery and yet you are the only one contemplating the works.”

“Isn’t that what we are supposed to do on an exhibition? But apart from that, these paintings, these masterpieces…”, I took a breath like looking at the sad girl opposite me, “they are captivating. There is life in them, there is soul. Undoubtedly the artist is one of the best I’ve ever come across. Many have the ability to draw, few have the talent to create a masterpiece, something that makes you stop and think. And these here, they indeed convey more than a hundred words.”

“And where do you think that comes from?”, he asks me in that deep voice of his. I turn my attention back on him to see the man already looking at me with a stern expression showing nothing.

“The ability to make a painting live?”, he nodded his head in agreement, “Pain.”

“Pain?”

“Pain. It is always the pain. Why do you think the greatest artists are those who have suffered the most? Sadness, sorrow, ache, agony… they are different than the other feelings. When something good happens to you, you are happy for a short moment. Usually those moments tends to be forgotten way easier than the moments that our soul was in pain. It is just that the affliction we bottle inside us ruins us in the end. The knots in our stomach, the suffocating feeling in our chest… they are tormenting us and we all need a way to express them somehow, to try to get them out of us. And the answer is always the art. It doesn’t matter whether it would be with a brush or a pen in our hands, if we are going to compose a poem, song or just draw something. We just want the pain away. For its tight fist around our hearts to weaken, for its dark thoughts to leave us at peace at night, for the tears to stop rolling down and choke us.”, I paused in order to take a sip of my champagne, feeling his eyes following my movements, “That is one of the reasons why I like this one so much.”, I continued pointing at the work before us, “It look as if not only the model had been sad, but also the artist.”, when I turned around he had a sad smile on his face. For a moment I saw the abyss – full of sorrow and regret, pain and affliction.

“You can’t be more right.”, and once again, as he looked up, the door to his soul closed with that stern expression, “That is why I don’t know whether I like this work or not.”

“It recalls a bad event?”

“It recalls the day I painted her.”

My eyes were so wide that surely they were going to pop out of my head. I opened my mouth, then close it, then opened it again. I was so shocked that I could say nothing.

“I still remember how heartbroken she was.”

“You- you are the artist?”, my voice raised an octave higher and I cursed myself.

“Surprised?”, he asked smiling at my shocked expression.

“You just caught me off guard.”

And then the rest of the night kind of slips my mind. I don’t really know how long we’d been talking through various topics. Whatever felt like hours had only been half an hour once I saw the watch on my hand.

“Unfortunately, as a host, I need to make a speech. It was nice to meet you -”

“(Y/N)!”, answering I took his hand as he helped me get up from the settee.

“(Y/N).”, he said tasting my name and I could not miss the way his tongue rolled and the deep voice that sent shivers down my spine, “A beautiful name for a way more gorgeous girl.”

“Why are you trying to make my blush so hard?”, I asked trying to hide my face.

“I don’t know. I just like it.”, he shrugged with a smile, “Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”, is it just me or he just lowered his voice on purpose while saying my name.

“O-Of course.”, out of nervousness I started playing with my own hands which only made his smirk grow bigger.

“Would you like to be my model, darling?”

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colonelpurplepotatoes · 5 years

Text

The Ritual - Chapter Two

Tony gets called in to S.H.I.E.L.D medical to talk, not about Steve's injuries caused by the building collapse, but something much more less serious, and yet much, much worse.

Remember to check the tags before you read.

When S.H.I.E.L.D medical called Tony into the clinic to speak to him in private, Tony couldn't understand why. Cap was going to be fine, they all knew that. Maybe not any more intelligent, considering he couldn't even get out of the way of an entire building coming down, but fine. The serum, blah blah, healing factor, blah. Fine, right?

"So what's the story?" Tony asked lightly as Dr Archbold ushered him into her office.

After Tony dropped into one of the seats across from her desk, there was a long moment. A long moment. Dr Archbold made no sound as she sat down. Tony watched her fold her fingers together, then shifted his gaze to the tight lines between her shaped eyebrows.

"What's the story?" Tony asked again, all levity gone this time.

"I've asked you here because Mr Rogers has you listed as his next of kin."

Tony could literally feel his eyes pop from their sockets. "Excuse me?"

Dr Archbold pursed her lips and nodded. "It's true. I wasn't sure if you were aware or not."

"I was absolutely not aware."

Tony's brain cells were still processing the information, his mind whirling like a digital hamster stuck inside a software loading wheel. Steve Rogers, the man who barely spoke to him and seemed to view him as an irresponsible asshole, had him listed as his next of kin? Why?

Tony nearly blurted the question out loud, but there was no point. How could the good doctor know, considering before this incident she'd never even met Steve?

"Well, whether you were aware or not, I'm duty-bound to pass this information on to you."

The hamster in Tony's brain went into hyperdrive at that. There was no possible outcome where this conversation would be a good thing. Doctors didn't feel duty-bound to pass on information such as, 'Your next of kin has a beautiful face,' or, 'Your next of kin has an amazing, peachy ass.' Both of these statements were entirely true of Steve, and both were a million miles away from the actual words that came out of Dr Archbold's mouth.

"We've found injuries on Mr Rogers' body that we believe are self-inflicted."

Tony's brain hamster died right then. Or if not died, phased into a new level of reality, passed through a subspace barrier and hi-ho silvered off into a new dimension.

"Excuse me, what?"

Dr Archbold nodded. "That's what we believe."

"C'mon, doc," Tony said, spreading his hands wide, because she couldn't possibly be serious, "a whole Midtown building came down on Rogers' head. Surely that's the reason for any of his injuries?"

There was, Tony knew, no possible, rational explanation for why national icon, national treasure Captain America would ever harm himself. Did not compute. Nope. Couldn't be true.

"Mr Stark," Dr Archbold continued, her tone that soft-yet-firm medical expert one Tony hated when it was directed at himself. "There are a number of perfectly straight, perfectly spaced incisions to the inside of Mr Rogers' thigh, in various states of healing. One of them was so fresh earlier today that his uniform pantleg was stuck to it, indicating--we believe--that the most recent injury was done only a handful of hours before, as you say, an entire Midtown building came down on Mr Rogers' head." The doctor sighed, shaking her head. "If I had any doubt, I wouldn't be speaking to you right now. But we have a duty of care to Mr Rogers. We can't let this go. As his next of kin, its important that you know."

Tony ground his teeth, then let a controlled breath ghost between his lips. What. The actual.

"Thank you for telling me."

Though those were his words, they weren't what he meant. What Tony really meant was, 'I don't want this information. I don't know what to do with it. I also don't want to think about the fact that Steve, who is such an asshole, might actually not be an asshole, and maybe he's accidently pulling a Tony and shoving people away to protect himself.'

Tony didn't want the information. The hamster didn't want the information. Yet there it was, and that asshole Steve had made him his next of kin, meaning this was now, in part, Tony's problem.

"Asshole," he whispered.

"Excuse me?" Dr Archbold asked, one sculpted brow lifting.

"Nothing, nothing," Tony said, waving her off. "Just. Hamsters. Or something." Tony wrenched his thoughts back in order, clapping his hands on his knees as if to indicate he was in control, though he felt far from it. "What do we do from here?"

"We'll be following this up as a matter of patient safety," Dr Archbold said, "but it's not our area or speciality. It'll have to go to psych--"

"Let me handle it." The words were out of Tony's mouth before he knew what he was saying. As Dr Archbold's perfect eyebrow neared her hairline, he held up his hands. "Not me me, but let me handle it. I know some excellent therapists. And psychiatrists. They can liaise with S.H.I.E.L.D, keep you in the loop. But let me organise his care." A smile tugged one side of his lips. "I am his next of kin, after all."

To her credit, Dr Archbold didn't immediately dismiss the idea out of hand, which she probably should have after that ridiculous line.

Instead, the good doctor gave a slow nod. "Alright. As long as Mr Rogers agrees."

"Absolutely."

The meeting ended and Tony went on his way. Or at least, he went to go on his way. Instead he ended up walking deeper into the medical facility, opening the door marked 'ROGERS,' and standing at the foot of Steve's bed.

He looked...well, like someone who'd had a building fall on his head. But someone who'd had a building fall on his head a week ago, not just a handful of hours before. Steve's face, that beautiful face, was marred and marked and purpling, and the deep gashes, which had bled so profusely when Tony had pulled Captain Stupid from the rubble, looked half-healed. But unlike a mere mortal after a catastrophic event, Steve wasn't covered in bandages and stitched together like a well-loved rag doll. The most mortal thing about the whole scene was the IV running into Steve's arm, and the fact he was wearing a hospital gown, not his uniform.

Tony's mind hamster jerked back to this reality. Of course. That was how the doctors had found the injuries on Steve's leg. They'd had to peel off his ruined uniform, and there they were for all to see, injuries no doubt placed just where Steve had placed them for the very reason that no one would see them.

Never before had Tony wanted so hard to smack and hug someone at the same time.

"Steve, Steve, Steve," he whispered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Why in the name of all that's holy didn't you tell me about this?"

Tony's first answer was, why would he? They barely even spoke civil words outside of Avengering. Yet, why wouldn't he? If Steve was willing to put him down as next of kin, why wasn't he willing to let Tony be his next of kin?

Probably because that was an insane leap to make. Putting someone's name on a form was hugely different from actually putting your problems in their hands. Tony sighed and kicked the scuffed wheels of the hospital bed.

"Asshole," he said again.

Steve, unlike Dr Archbold, didn't raise an eyebrow in reply. He didn't do anything other than stay silent in the bed, looking hurt in ways beyond his physical injuries. Tony flopped into the chair beside him and shadowed his face with his hands.

#stony #stony fanfic #stony fic #steve rogers #tony stark #tw: self-harm #anxiety #self esteem issues #self harm as a bad coping strategy #unrequited love

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coolspacequips · 5 years

Note

How do you draw natural hair???? I can't find a solid reference that isn't just "draw individual strands" or "make blocks and nothing else"

omg thats a tricky question, tbh, anon!!! and also tbh this answer got longer than i expected... i dont rly have the Art Language to rly teach anything v well so uhh i just threw a bunch of stuff in here

ive never made a tutorial, and i dont rly have the time to do one atm, but HERE is a pretty decent one i see floating around from time to time, and HERE is one that loosely goes over some dos/donts of drawing black features, and mentions hair as well. theres a particular one i think is rly good that i cant find, unfortunately, but oh well

the first guide i linked gives a pretty neat rundown of a few things to keep in mind, namely:

texture types

hairline!!

lighting

colors/undertones

just like w straight hair, the first thing to consider is the hairline and HOW the hair falls, which may seem intimidating bc of the natural beautiful voluminousness of black hair, but rly isnt as hard as it seems.

i think ppl are often intimidated by learning to draw curly hair out of this feeling that they have to render each strand/curl and flyaway, but when ur doing art youre trying to CONVEY something, not render a picture perfect image. you can translate the curl, volume, and texture of hair without fully rendering it, the same way that u can translate the swish and fall of straight hair without having to draw every single strand, but ya, you cant rly draw ‘blocks’ with no nuance or defining features and hope to communicate the same thing

it might be useful to kind of envision it as drawing layers. like, the way that you wear layers of lace and crinoline to give size and volume to a skirt. this applies for rly picturing most styles, but w curly hair in particular its a good way to imagine how/why the volume builds the way it does

this is just a scribble to illustrate my point lol, but u wanna get the shape and stuff down!! when its shorter, it sticks up into those cute, curly afros and bobs, and when its long it gets heavy and the curls tend to droop down more. btw, shrinkage refers 2 the way that ur hair shrinks up from the curls themselves, so keep that in mind when it comes to the hair length that youre drawing, also! if the girl i drew had wet hair, itd probs go to the middle/bottom of her shoulder blades, despite being shoulder length when curled

ur best tool is reference! look at pictures of black hair in different styles. its like, the most versatile hair in the world, u can curl it and shape it and braid it, hell, afro textured hair can be sculpted into just about anything, broaden ur scope of what you think black hair can be!!! and dont just draw sleek 4c ringlet curls and call it a day!! also, get more comfortable drawing the shape of a bald head, dont hide behind hair. itll help you draw all hair and features better, but especially will help w faded styles, braids, and of course shaved heads

reference doesnt have to just be pictures, tho, bc it can be hard to know where to start. look at how other BLACK artists draw black hair, and take note!! focus on what they thought needed to be included to get the point across, what silhouette the hairstyles have, where they draw curls, where they draw parts in the hair, how they highlight and what shapes they make. give braids and locs a try-- its not as hard as it might seem, but it takes practice to get it right!!

if u have a more realistic style, its def worth getting further into the nitty gritty of just how all of those curls come together, im just talking more about the shape and how it translates in a p basic way, especially since i have a more cartoony style afiowejaioej im also still learning!!

im sure u have all seen asieybarbie’s stuff floating around on tumblr thru the years, and she is one of my Big Inspirations when it comes to drawing varied black hair AND skintones (which she has a tutorial about lol), and HERE is a little sketchpage she posted once that has a small variety of both. some are more rendered, while some are big blocks of color broken up by highlights and loose curls on the edges to define the shape of the hair, and note w the locs how u can see her scalp between the parts in her hair

if u have a simple or comic style u can still convey black hair, either as a block of shape w defining features, or by drawing out the texture of the curls and strands, like this

(first two are old, finished comics lol, and hey look 2 black wlw!!!!! tiger tiger is something ive been working my way thru, but is recent, ongoing, and cute and funny and inspiring lmao. notably tho none of these are black artists :c ive been out of the web comics game for a minute and tiger tiger is the first one ive read in a while lmao)

***its girlswithslingshots.com, made a typo!!

also when i think mainstream comics, the first character w natural hair that comes to mind is my wife gwendolyn from saga who i couldnt not mention

on the left her curls are more rendered, its cover art, notice how the light hits the curls and the way that they curls end, which is simplified to the right image a lot of the time in the main body of the comic!

and idk ive said too much already, but hopefully that helps!! im just kind of rambling at this point lol, but research and reference and practice are rly the best thing, and looking at other art of respectfully portrayed black characters

#ive gtg so im stopping here awei;jfaw;ejf #immmmmmmmm actually rly upset rn as i type the last para #so i cant rly edit this so here i hope it helps #asks #anon #ref #Anonymous

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

Text

Dobry Beulieu

I Come With Knives | Blood in the Cut | The Red

Dobry was born to Esfir Plaksin and Ives Beulieu in Gudermes, Russia. He grew up in a bilingual household of masters, his mother a great artist, primarily working in oil painting, and his father a cellist. He had a little sister, Yesfir, as well, who he doted on constantly. Their family was decently well off due to the skills that the parents both had and they pushed their children to be just as artistic and skilled as they were. Classes in the arts were pushed more than any other, and the children both blossomed under private lessons and schools, though they also fell under the burden of stresses. While Dobry was good at painting, he was far better at sculpting and Yesfir was considered a child prodigy in violin.

They started to be shipped around, using whatever time that would normally be used for play was instead used for honing their crafts. Yesfir got the worst of it, having recitals and concerts, and being hailed as a young master. Dobry did his best to support her but grew a terrible envy for his sister’s fame, brought out by how his art was harder to promote. He didn’t realize that the stress was hurting her more than it was him.

The first time he ever saw death was when he was twelve years old. Yesfir was nine years old but the stress was too much and she had killed herself, slitting her wrists in the bathtub. Dobry got there in time to watch her die, standing in the doorway of the tub, but he couldn’t force himself into the bathroom, though he was too late to save her. Her death gave him terrible inspiration and motivation and it made him feel sick to his stomach, and he tried to hide that part of himself away. It came out in his work anyway, primarily in the beauty of her arms, split open. His work took on a much darker theme and his parents didn’t know what to do about it. As they were grieving as well, they decided to send him away, see if time away from the home in which Yesfir had died in would help him heal.

His life with his uncle, Delano, over in Loos, France was very different but not very healthy. There was no use for the arts in Delano’s life, and he actively dissuaded Dobry from persuing them any further. Now fifteen, this seemed like a good thing, but the fact that he wasn’t supposed to make art, that he was being made to study the sciences and medical field instead, was far harder since his education in those fields was severly lacking. Delano was a doctor, in a small clinic that was a bit away from the town, and he had lost his licence to malpractice, but he didn’t let anyone in the town know. He was a truly terrible doctor, and worse than that, a proseful killer. Through falsified records and cheap rates, he was able to get away with the high amount of deaths, especially when people became desperate.

Delano would take the corpses home, the most beautiful of them, and he would take them apart, carefully, elegantly, and he invited Dobry to be a part of it. While Dobry was never involved in what Delano did, he was a quiet observer, too terrified to say anything, too interested in what lay just under the skin to stay away.

Of course, Delano was caught eventually, and Dobry was treated for the traumas that he had experienced, but he had turned cold and quiet and would not let the world in. He knew that what Delano was doing was wrong, but he had fallen so terribly in love with the natural artistry of the human body that, when he went back to art after so long away, it was even more distubing than ever before. Finally, his parents decided that he needed to stay away from art, that he needed a better outlet, but he knew nothing else, and he adored creating, found himself addicted to it.

His art did catch the attention of some exhibitors as well, primarily those that didn’t know about his traumas. His therapists were all very supportive of his work, thinking it a healthy coping mechanism, when it was truly an obsession that he was falling deeper and deeper into. When he was discharged completely, he was able to make more art, faster, and soon was able to sell his work to museums. He started to travel, to live on his own, and he moved from city to city, wherever his work sold best. His parents tried to stay in contact with him but too much had happened and he found that he was far happier without their influence. He grew away from them, grew more into himself, and healed. He got better. He couldn’t forget what he’d seen but he was able to set it aside, get on with his life.

He had settled down in Banbury, Oxfordshire, England, for an upcoming show, something grand that would be displayed in Oxford, something that would show him off to the world as a great master, when suddenly all of the funding for the show fell out. His manager, Peter Hamish, suggested that he take a break, that the work that he was creating for the show could be used in another, and that they would work together to find some other venue. In the meanwhile, he suggested that Dobry take some odd jobs, perhaps a study or two. It was Peter who suggested that Dobry check out the sleep study that would drag all of the damage he’d tucked away back into the light.

WIP

@sebcastellanyes @chibi–raiden@detectivesebcas @maxbeewriting @pixie-enby99 @mynameis3-14 @jess---writes @caitwritesstuff @lesbianmercy

#Dobry #the dream estate #character introduction #writeblr #oc introduction #suicide #body horror #child abuse

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guild-guardian · 5 years

Text

Spoiler Free review of “All or Nothing”

After a cut because long post, many words, skritt math.

The Story (No details)

Overall it's probably one of the best executed episodes worth of story that they’ve released in the last couple of Seasons.

The Final Battle is more akin to the kind of scale you see in the Zorah Magdaros battle in Monster Hunter World than you’d expect to find in GW2, and that was a huge improvement compared to previous Elder Dragon battles. Having an active role in the battle, along with the NPCs not just “swinging their sword Oh look they swung it again” at trash mobs, and actually being useful- firing siege weapons, fighting mobs, picking you up if you get downed

So many call backs to minor named NPCs- some personal early personal story, and others from pact/priory/vigil etc It lead to a feeling of being surrounded by familiar faces as you lead the charge. The short piece after the battle was also a well designed experience- the lack of UI and the “damage” lines that you felt when Balthazar killed you in PoF, further push the “oh fuck we’re pretty badly wounded”, along with the forced walk/limp and fall to our knees when we try to hop down along the uneven floor. The main character’s animation here was excellent and slow pace allowed Anet to sculpt a tightly designed experience that is as shocking as it is memorable. I won’t forget that last visual.

Brandon Bales and Debi Derryberry probably did the best voice work in this episode (imo- I haven't played it through on a non-sylvari male). It was extremely immersive and I totally bought what was happening as they expressed it. I appreciated that the Zephyrites’ song/choir got further development, and how its relevant to the story just made it a really nice touch overall.

I did think it felt very short- only 3 instances. It may be that they pushed the pacing to emphasise the commander rushing headlong and gambling dangerously on the first ideas that come to them, and they do love a cliffhanger at the end. It ends on a flat note though, you can’t even interact with story NPCs after you finish it- nothing in the shiverpeaks map changes, no dialogue no “I’m just checking in” updates, nothing. Final Note: WHERE ARE KASMEER AND MARJORY

The Map

Huge! Ruins! Subterranean structures! Exploring! Absolutely nailed the Guild Wars 1 Shiverpeak atmosphere.but uh...not much to do past that.

The Thunderhead Keep meta is fun- I love defense events that allow us to set traps, build barricades and ballistae. The Boss is TOO BRIGHT. It is impossible to see even with effects turned down and post processing off. Anet needs to reassess their priorities with visual telegraphing because right now you can’t see a thing, never mind reacting to the thing.

Minor Quibble. UH WHERE DID THAT CLIFF AND PIT COME FROM? I’m pretty sure that the mountains just...continued north of the keep in GW1, and a little further north you’d come to the Mursaat teleporter to Hell’s Precipice.

The dredge meta is...hard to get people to defend the 2nd and 3rd drills- I’ve yet to be successful on this one.

The delay between meta active times feels a bit long, and perhaps its just the layout of this one, but there isn’t much notification if North or south meta is happening/how long until X etc.

I don’t like that Map Completion can’t be soloed- Both metas are required. Unless you find a friendly mesmer or buy the Light of Deldrimor from the TP.

Past the Metas, I’ve seen maybe 5 or 6 events tops on this huge environment. That is pretty woeful. I get that this was probably a high budget episode with two cutscenes, unique character animations and PvE environments built to scale with the GW1 counterparts (why did dwarves build so big anyway?), but the overall quiet map is a bit of a let down- considering the variety of content available in Jahai.

I adore the skritt/priory interactions, and an above ground village of Dredge being shown in in a positive light. Even if literally every member of the survivors has had to kill their friends and family with their own hands.

The Mastery

Heavily Situational and will take some getting used to. It doesn’t have that immediate “Good Feel” as mounting your griffon midair or while gliding. Being “animation locked” for most of the launch prevents you from gliding or re-mounting, so you just plummet for the most part and lose out on any air you might have hoped to gain from using it.

At least we can be thankful it wasn’t required to complete the story or meta.

The Fractal

Dreams: Crushed Hopes: Sundered Orr: Ignored. Instead of picking an interesting pirate/corsair character that could use a bit of story development, they go with the boisterous ghost from the Lion’s Arch Jumping Puzzle.

This fractal is short (at T1- it’ll likely have more complexity as you go up) and very sparse on story. The music is good, and the environment is good. Dessa continues to be the shining star of most fractals with her responses to the situations she gets to observe. Probably won't be the new Challenge mode fractal that people were hoping for, but the fight mechanics are fun and different.

I’d appreciate it if Anet could relinquish their choke grip they’ve had on talk like a pirate day 2012 that seems to permeate all of their pirate related content- it always feels kind of like even the characters themselves don’t take themselves seriously. There's just something pretty wack with them. (and I’m not talking about all the landlocked core game pirates just living in lakes barely big enough for their bases) That’s Enough.

The Legendary

Probably one of the nicest they’ve done in a while. Initially I was put off by it- the official preview of it in the reveal trailer didn’t really show it off very well- not the steps, aura or on-draw effect. However on this video from someone who got it before release, they point out a few things about it that really sell it for me.

I love the scorch mark on draw, with the dubstep twangs the most. A little disappointed that Range LB 5 is unaffected- it could have been very pretty (ie spirit bow active visuals). It's a very refined weapon that will certainly suit a lot more characters than Kudzu, and I’ll probably make it after I finish Ipos. In like a year.

The Music

Knocks itself out of the park in a home run touchdown or however sports works. The choral piece for Aurene is very beautiful, and I especially appreciate the tarir motif used towards to the end of the track. Re-used GW1 themes in the map give a very nostalgic feel, and the fractal has a unique Shanty theme, along with what was used for this year’s Festival of the Four winds.

OVERALL SCORE 7.5/10

The story is moving and immersive, the encounters well designed and well executed, however sparse event placement on the map kinda gets :/ from me.

Fractals continuing a trend of “we can do anything in the history of tyria- but lets focus on the boring parts” is also disappointing.

PS. The .5 comes from the Skritt writing and voice acting. So pure and wholesome.

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #Living World Season 4 #No spoiler review #my two coppers

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sharksfood · 5 years

Text

who wants to hear about a recent hyperfixation of mine?

too late im talking about it anyway

SO ive been more depressed than usual in the past few months and its not going well, but the one good thing is that it in combination with my anxiety-induced need to keep busy and my ADHD meds making my brain never shut up, i will hyperfixate onto anything unrelated to what’s making me depressed (my college and schoolwork whoops)

but anyways, i’ve watching both GotG movies like 4 times in these few months, and an alien that caught my eye is this Ravager with a ....beak?

you can never really see them up close, but i dig their face, and I’ve always been interested in the alien Ravagers, so i did some digging.

I found through the Marvel wikia on the Ravagers that this guy is a Xeronian! and there’s more! There was one in the crowd during GotG when Rocket and Groot capture Gamora, but she’s in the background, too. More prominent is a Xeronian in the Collector’s Museum during Thor: The Dark World (which i’m gonna watch later bcs this is super interesting to me lmao)

and SO this is where the hyperfocus gets real.

From the info on Xeronians in the wikia, based on which movies they’re in an the communities they’re part of, like the Ravagers and one civilian of Xandar, we know that they’re similar to the invidiual aliens of different races who’re there, too. BUT there has to be a reason for one Xeronian to be in the Collector’s possession.

Its like they’re rare enough of a species to be interesting to Taneleer Tivan, but common enough to live on Xandar and be a member of the Ravagers. This is similar to me with the dark elves from Thor: The Dark World, because Tanaleer also has one of them in his Museum, but they’re in abundance for Malekith to lead, though they’re different in that they’re a super old race and some other reasons, idk, i need to watch the movie again.

But I do know that the Xeronians are not super common, since we never see them in pairs or we have yet to see their own planet, unlike the moment in GotG 2 where Ego’s blob stuff was going to overtake the planet of the Easik (aliens with reptilian eyes and dotted scaley skin). So if they’re not rare, just less common, why does Taneleer have one?

That brings me to why I like them so much in the first place: they look super cool!

They don’t have beaks, its more of an insect-like carapace that covers their mouth and nose (at least for the actor, maybe their species doesn’t have them!). On their wikia its described as “large tusks that obscure most of their oral features” but they don’t look like tusks to me at all. I also love the intricate design on their forehead, which reminds me of cybernetics or ancient alien runes. It’s also interesting that they have eyebrows! I mean, obviously eyebrows help to read facial features and keep sweat out of your eyes, plus they also have head hair and eyelashes, so it makes sense physically, it just seems like an odd choice to me.

The makeup and SFX departmen obviously went less detailed with their prosthetics after GotG 1 (the bottom two pictures are from then, and the Ravager close up and imprisoned Xeronian are from the later films), which make sense as they’re not focal characters. Their faces are more like turtles than insects with the less-detailed makeup, to me anyways. I do love however the color scheme, super pale almost white with bright blue inner edges on their skin, large blue to black eyes, and black hair!

What’s also interesting is that if they actually have mouths, they seem to not be able to open them, so how do they eat? Or talk? You’d think that the Ravager being exploded by Rocket’s traps would be screaming there, but his “mouth” is closed. Maybe they don’t have mouths? I imagine if they did, even if they have a “tusk” or “carapace” covering them, the makeup would be sculpted to give their mouths an opening. I mean, obviously the prosthetics have small slits for the actor to breath through their mouth and nose (which is more obvious on the Ravager than they other characters), but no major opening.

I think that for Taneleer Tivan to be interested in Xeronians enough to actually have one alive in his Museum, he probably just digs their looks, too. Or maybe he thinks they’re super rare? I wish there was more info on them, but I haven’t found anything outside the wikia and James Gunn’s instagram.

HOWEVER it was news to me that Xeronians were not created just for the movies! They were featured in other Marvel comics, though they looked really....stupid. Way different, to the point I wouldn’t consider them the same species. The comics versions of Xeronians thrived on solar radiation, but I don’t think that carried over to the movie Xeronians. I mean, there’s no proof of that, but most creatures with super pale skin don’t go out in the sun (but aliens can do whatever they want, so idk).

I really hope we see more of them in GotG Vol. 3! Or even Avengers: Endgame or other space-related MCU films. i really REALLY like all the aliens in the Guardians and later Thor movies, so i’m glad there’s at least some info about them. And I’m glad there was pictures of their makeup up close!

I’m considering making a Xeronian character, but I need to find out more of their physicality before I’m certain. What does the rest of their bodies look like? Do they actually have mouths? Can they speak? Any special abilities? Why exactly does the Collector have one??? (that’s going to bother me forever I know it)

UPDATE: I checked the wikia again while writing this and went to James Gunn’s instagram, and in his posts about the Xeronians for the first movie, he mentions there were more than one actor, so awesome! Obviously there’s more of them than I could see in the movie, as well as what the wikia has in their gallery. He also mentions that the actors had a hard time talking while wearing the prosthetics, which I think means the mouthpiece doesn’t separate or move according to their mouth movements. So Xeronians don’t have the typical mouths, but maybe something more alien?

#babble #talking about aliens #gotg #xeronians #theyre just SO COOL

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glowstickhaloboy · 7 years

Text

AU where jack is a librarian and bitty accidentally studies

jack loves books. bitty hates studying.

but bitty needs to try something, bc whatever hes doing now is not working, and finals are coming up, so he thinks maybe if he gets some silence and solitude things he needs to know will start sticking

so he goes to the library and lo and behold theres an adonis behind the counter with a pencil tucked behind his ear as he intently reads a biography on Joan of Arc. bitty hears his conscience speak to him in beyonces voice, telling him that this boy is his

but hes a nervous wreck now that he knows theres someone hot here so yeah hes definitely not getting any studying done

except the cute boy doesnt even look up, and bitty remembers that hes probably straight anyway because thats the way the universe likes to be, so he keeps his head down and makes his way to an empty table (but he chooses one that keeps the cute boy in sight, and he isnt sure if thats because he is a masochist or isnt one)

he does his best to vibe this guy, who only looks up from his book when someone comes to check out or ask for the bathroom key, and bitty decides that hes gotta play it cool. that boy likes knowledge, so bitty will have to pretend that he also likes knowledge and isnt absolutely boy crazy, so he opens his textbook and gets down to business, hoping that that cute boy will look over at least and notice how studious this southern young man is

and almost three hours passes where bitty actually studies. he looks at his phone and realizes what hes just tricked himself into doing. he checks back on the cute boy, who is looking at him holy hell it was only for a second and then he quickly looked at his book again and relax eric relax he was probably just zoned out and happened to be staring at your face but maybe he could also sense how good you are at making pies and is deciding whether or not your boyfriend material

its already been three hours, but bitty definitely cannot leave now that developments are taking place

but its only fifteen more minutes before someone else shows up and takes the cute boys place behind the desk. the cute boy walks into the back and comes back with a jacket slung over his shoulder. “see ya, chris,” he says, and bitty wonders if hes being loud enough for his voice to carry on purpose, and when cute boy leaves, bittles insides all start screaming and he wonders if hes being blessed or punished because that boy must do squats or something.

bitty plays it cool for another half hour after that, because he cant look like he was only here because that cute boy was, but hes really only on twitter now. then he packs up his bag and spends the entire walk back to his room thinking about the moment he glanced up and the cute boy glanced down.

and he comes back the next day. bittle may play the slow game, but he has to see where this is going. day one, a glance, and maybe if hes really lucky, by day two he might get a pleasant “good afternoon. welcome to the library.”

he doesnt. he walks right in and sits in the same spot as yesterday, and the cute boy is reading the same book, but bitty tries to keep his face controlled, because this time cute boy looked up as he came in, and unless bittle was reading too much into it, cute boy looked down again as though this wasnt supposed to mean anything, like that was what he wanted bitty to think, but secretly it did.

they continue like this for two weeks, and eric is blessed to discover that the cute boy works a four hour shift every single day. which means theres never a day bittle has to miss out on seeing his sculpted-by-the-gods face.

and then valentines day rolls around.

bitty wonders what in the world am i doing so often while he bakes on february 14th that he knows he has lost any semblance of self-control

he walks into the library thinking the exact same thing, and of course, theres the cute boy, who has moved on to reading an account of the cuban vie for independence from spain, and for the first time, bitty actually approaches the counter

“um, hi,” he says, slightly breathless from the cold, and the cute boy looks up and smiles and says “hi” back. bitty has to ignore his pounding heart and continue on with the words hes been rehearsing since he turned the oven on.

“so, ive been spending a lot of time in the library recently, and i bake a lot, and since today is valentines day, i thought it would be nice to make these cookies for everyone today, so would it be alright if i left these on the counter and people sort of just... helped themselves if they wanted one? i made a card to”

bitty reaches into the basket and holds up a card designed by his friend lardo that reads “happy valentines day! please take one (1)”

the cute boys smile widens, and he says, “yeah. wow, they look great!”

after all the work bitty put into making them, they damn well better. he hasnt worked this hard on a batch of cookies since he campaigned for ninth grade class president. still, he cant help but turn as pink as the frosting on them when the first thing this boy ever says to him is a compliment on his baking.

“its nothin’” says bitty, setting the basket down and stuffing his mittens into his pockets

the cute boy latches onto bittys damnable accent and asks with interest “where are you from?”

“oh, georgia”

“nice. im jack, im from montreal.” he sticks out his hand and bittys suddenly clams up with sweat. oh no this cant be a horrible first handshake, it needs to be warm and nice

bitty decides he has to keep the mitten on, though, because that could be considered cute, right? sweat definitely couldnt. “eric,” he says, and doesnt allow himself to think about the fact that hes just put a bright red mitten in an adonis’s hand. they both seem to be running out of charm, though, so bitty muddles through

“um, they might be a little frozen from the walk over, but they should be good in a few minutes,” he says, then scurries over to his table because two weeks is way too soon to start talking

he distracts himself with literature homework to try to forget what a darn fool he just made himself out to be, but he cant completely tune out the rustling coming from the front desk as jack makes a careful display out of bittles basket and card, even allowing it to block the laminated sign warning patrons the repercussions of keeping overdue books.

a few more students trickle in, and a couple of them go for the basket, and Professor Whitmond tromps in with his two grandkids, who leave covered in powder and sprinkles, but bitty exercises all of his willpower to block it out because he cant believe he did this

but he also wonders if jack is going to take a cookie. hes obsessed with the thought of it. he needs jack to eat one of those cookies and realize that bittle is not just a pretty face. bittles entire body is on high alert, praying for it.

and then it happens. jack reaches into the basket, pulls out a cookie, and takes a bite. bittle thinks, checkmate.

he notices jack glance over at him, and bittle is now confident enough that he chances a bright smile. those cookies are good. they would never have made it out of his kitchen if they werent his best.

jack points at the cookie, his expression one of utter astonishment, and mouths, these are amazing.

bitty raises an eyebrow. i know.

jack makes another expression of astonishment, then waves bitty to go back to his studying. bitty pretends to, but really, hes wondering if bringing in a batch of cookies every friday would be too much.

(he does it anyway)

fridays become the staple of his relationship with jack. bittle brings in a basket of cookies, jack says something that makes bittle wonder if hes flirting or teasing, and bittle feels satisfaction drop into his gut as jack helps himself to the first of the bunch. there has never been a day where every cookie is not eaten.

and then jack changes the schedule. bitty comes in on friday with his usual basket, and jack says, “Eric. I had a question.” and bittles heart starts thumping in its stupid, traitorous way, and jack continues, “About these cookies...” and bitty thinks, oh great, theyre too much, hes only been pretending to like them for my benefit, enough is enough, “Would you mind making me a batch to send to Montreal? My parents want to try them.”

and bittys mind goes completely blank. Something about the way Jack says it completely straight throws bitty off guard. Because, yeah, hes caught on to the fact that Jack can be a bit socially awkward, but this definitely takes the proverbial cake.

“Your parents?” asks Bittle. “How do they know about my cookies?”

“I told them,” says jack, as if its obvious. “We call every friday night, and I always talk about your cookies.”

Bitty’s mind hurriedly re-writes his knowledge of the past few weeks to include the fact that Jack From The Library Has Been Speaking To His Parents About His Cookies And Now Jack’s Parents (IN MONTREAL!) Want To Eat Them.

“So, would that be too weird?” asks Jack.

“Not at all!” says Bitty, laughing slightly because hes terrified. “I can bring some in tomorrow if youd like!”

Its only when Jack smiles that Bitty feels relieved, like hes successfully navigated a minefield correctly. “Thatd be great!” says Jack. “I’ll pay you, if you want, to cover the cost of the ingredients-”

Bitty waves him away. “That’s not necessary, Jack, I’d love to.”

he goes to his seat and cuts his study time in half because he cant stop freaking out about making baked goods for jacks parents, who have never met him, and need to decide within their first taste whether bittle has any worth in their sons life

hes up half the night, and it definitely shows on his face when he brings into the library the next day. all he wants to do is say get them out of my sight.

jack accepts them with a confused look on his face, thanks bittle as bittle marches to his table and begins spreading out his books

oh yeah, and bitty has been getting weirdly good grades since all this started?? it turns out that bi-weekly flirting is the perfect reward for someone who needs to study more. his test scores have gone up dramatically, and even his GPA has gotten a modest boost.

thats only the secondary goal here, though, his real goal has always been getting jack to notice him

for three days, including baking night, bittle sleeps horribly, angsting over what jacks parents - whoever they even are - will think of his cookies. on monday, he gets his answer

“Eric!” jack greets as bittle walks into the library. hes smiling wide. “ive been told to tell you that youre moving to montreal to become my parents’ personal dessert chef.”

relief smacks into bitty like a forty-pound fist. he feels slightly whoozy. “they liked them?” he repeats.

jack just stares at him. “Eric. Have you ever had one of your cookies before.”

“No, I mean, well, yes, obviously I have, but it’s just that I’m always worried whenever new people try them that they’ll hate them, and since baking is the only thing I’m really good at, it’s important to me that people, you know, like my stuff.”

“Eric,” Jack says, for what feels like the thousandth time. “Everything you make is incredible. And baking isn’t all you’re good at. You study like a champion.” He offers Eric a fist bump.

Eric takes it for what it is, a sign of friendship, as he belatedly registers that Jack just called his baking skills amazing. Even if the boy is straight, he knows how to play Eric like a fiddle. And Eric is just gone enough to let it happen.

spring weather is finally setting in, and bitty starts to think about just how many days hes spent in the library this year, all so he can gawk at a boy he doesnt have a chance with. all this time, and he couldve been actually out there looking for someone who will genuinely be with him and make him happy.

he stops going to the library on a tuesday. by friday, he feels bad because the people on campus have come to expect his cookies every week, and he owes it to them to keep their stomachs satisfied with finals approaching. he makes a batch, not knowing what hes going to say to jack, or if jack will even care that bitty has been out by the pond enjoying his afternoons with his friends instead of hanging out inside.

he walks in with his basket, and jack seems to look both relieved and slightly cross. “Eric,” he says, because thats all he ever says. “You haven’t been here.”

Bitty shrugs. “I made cookies,” he says, and offers Jack the basket.

Jack’s brow furrows. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” says Bitty, which, because he doesn’t know what on Earth he’s feeling, is almost the truth.

Somewhat stunned into silence, Jack accepts the basket Bitty offers him and watches Bitty leave again. Bitty walks until he’s out of sight of the library, then sits on the nearest bench and wipes his eyes. He’s being ridiculous. There was literally never even anything between him and Jack. It was all made up in Bitty’s head, a fabrication based on a few standard conversations and lies garnered by baked goods. Maybe Bitty is crying because he’s such a fool. Why did he waste so much time on a needless fantasy? What was wrong with him.

“Well,” he mumbles to himself, standing. “At least your grades went up.”

this is the part where he looks up, hoping that jack might have followed him and was now waiting, out of breath, to say something meaningful and restore all of bitty’s hopes. but the sidewalk is empty, and bitty is left exactly like normal--creating a version of jack that doesnt exist based on the picture he has in his head

he goes back at the end of the day, when he knows jack will be gone, to collect his cookie basket from the library. a boy named chris hands it to him. “yeah, thanks for bringing these in today!” says chris. “the guy i work with seemed kinda down, so i think he needed a pick me up. i mean, he said that theyre for the patrons, but i got him to eat one, and i could tell he even felt better afterwards. theyre super good! i mean, i always ate them, i didnt know jack didnt, but-”

“thanks,” said bitty. he thought that if he didnt interrupt, this young man would never have stopped talking. “er, thats sweet of you.”

so for three weeks, bitty only comes in on fridays to drop off cookies. he and jack dont say a lot to each other. but as bittys mood steadily improves, jacks mood steadily worsens.

im healing, bitty thinks as he walks in on the third friday. that wasnt healthy, eric, it was sensible to get out of that.

“hey jack,” he says happily, setting the basket of cookies on the counter. “special delivery.”

jack squints at him for a moment, with a smile that seems more like a grimace. “thanks,” is all he says. he says it in a very particular way. flat. thanks.

bitty’s brow furrows. he thinks about asking, but he grew up in the hospitable south, where the popular motto was let everyone get on with their own business or get cussed out for pryin’. “um. youre welcome.”

he almost walks out, then shouts screw it! in his mind and turns around. “are you mad or somethin’?”

jack looks up as though feigning ignorance. all the lines on his face look hard. he sighs. “no, eric. its nothing to worry about. thanks for the cookies.”

“because my mama used to teach me lessons in passive aggressive bullshit when i used her pan sheets without askin’.”

“its nothing. its me. have a good day.”

“only she never tried to brush me off when i wanted to talk to her about it.”

jack considers him. “you dont come into the library anymore,” he admitted. “im not mad at you, im just... grumpy.”

bitty has to fight hard to keep his heart bolted down. he misses his friend, he tells himself. do. not. read. into. it.

“Oh,” says Bitty. “I, um. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Er. Have you been reading anything good recently?”

jack defrosts a little and they have a nice conversation about the true crime novel jacks gotten into. bitty feels a little bad for ghosting him, and maybe he misjudged things a little by saying there was nothing there, because hey certainly got along well, but he wasnt naive enough to think there was any use kidding himself about something romantic.

by the end of it, jacks laughing, and eric finds it in himself to giggle along too, and it feels like a nice resolution. maybe you cant have it all, eric thinks, but you can have this.

he bids jack goodbye, feeling better about the whole mess, glad that he said something.

at the end of the day, chris returns bittys basket, and bitty cant help but ask how jack was today. all chris says is, “Glowing.”

For the first time, bitty and jack run into each other outside the library. theyre at the campus coffee shop, perhaps both gearing up for finals week, and jack is leaving just as bitty is entering.

“Eric,” says Jack, genuinely smiling. Bitty’s smile is also completely real.

“Jack.”

“It’s weird, but it just kind of clicked for me that you’re a real person,” says Jack, then makes a soft face of pain. “I mean, obviously you’re a real person, but I’d only ever seen you at the library before. Now that we’re somewhere else-”

“I get it,” bitty assures him. “Are you working there next year, too?”

Jack shrugs. “Who knows? I’d like to, but someone with work-study might take my place. I’m always getting yelled at for reading when I should be re-shelving books. And I get cookie dust all over the counter on Fridays.”

Blushing, Eric says, “That is entirely your fault and no one else is responsible for that.”

“Not at all.” He’s still smiling, which Bitty thinks is ridiculous. “Are you doing anything right now?”

Bitty gestures to the line ahead of him. “Buying coffee,” he says.

“Anything else?” Jack clarifies. Bitty shakes his head. “I’ll wait with you. We can sit down and drink it together.”

He has to know what he’s doing, Bitty thinks. Once again, blind hope fills his chest and Bitty says, “Sure. That’d be nice.”

by the time their cups are drained, theyre too deep in conversation to move. when a pause comes, however, jack clears his throat. “Um. Actually. Eric. I, um, just wanted to clarify something, because I think I didn’t before.”

Bitty sighs dramatically. “I knew it. You’re using me because your parents want more cookies.”

Jack’s laugh is music for Bitty’s soul. “They seriously have not stopped asking about you since I sent those cookies. I didn’t know what to say to them when you stopped coming to the library.”

Bitty turns a little quieter. “Sorry about that,” he says. not because he feels sorry for not going, but because hes sorry that jack was hurt because of it.

“It’s okay, Eric, really,” Jack says, and hes so earnest that bitty believes he means it. “Anyway, what I wanted to say was, I think I didn’t clarify that when I asked you to sit down. You know. With our coffees. I sort of intended that to be. You know. Asking you out for coffee. Because I think you’re great.”

Bitty’s heart starts beating triple-time. His eyes turn to saucer plates. “This entire time, I was trying so hard to convince myself that you would never be into me!” he all but shouts. “I couldn’t deal with having a crush on a straight boy so I avoided the library like the plague.”

Jack blinks. “I never told you I was straight, Eric.” It’s not a reprimand, but it also totally is. Bitty puts his head in his hands.

“I thought I was being a fool for one thing,” he says, “but I was being a fool for something else entirely. I am so sorry, Jack.”

“You could make it up to me by letting me buy your coffee next time.”

Eric peeks at him through the gaps in his fingers. “Don’t try to fool me into thinking you’re smooth, Mr. Zimmermann. I know you too well.”

#what even is bittys name why does he have so many good luck following that #zimbits #zimbits au #thats all i got on this one otherwise i will be literally incapable of shutting the fuck up and this will go on far longer than anyone wants #(it already has done that tho)#eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp #check please #library au #fuck you this is 3k words ive spent two hours on it im not proofreading deal with it

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