#{ if nothing else it was good practice for learning/studying other characters later }

[starlight-bread-blog]

Katara is More Patient Then We Give Her Credit for

Katara has been getting a lot of flak for supposedly being hot headed and getting angry at very minor things. Even those who love Katara seem to accept this as the truth. But it's not. In reality, Katara is simply a female character who owns her rage. And I feel like there are two main components that debunk this notion.

Warning: Long, long post.

1. In the instances where Katara is angry it's either justified or makes sense in context.

The Waterbending Scroll

Katara stole, wouldn't you know it, a waterbending scroll. She practices before giving it to Aang, and fails hard. Then Aang who she's supposed to be teaching, gets it right and explains how to do it. Katara has an outburst.

Katara: Will you please shut your air-hole! Believe it or not your infunite wisdom gets a little old sometimes. Why don't we just throw the scroll away since you're so naturally gifted!

Why is Katara that mad here? Why did she have an outburst? Because she was carrying the burden of being the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe her whole life. Because her waterbending is the reason Kya died. Because she have been independently studying waterbending her whole life. And now her student is having it all easy and is trying to teach her.

And wouldn't you know it, she realized what she did immediatly. Literally, a second later.

Katara: Oh my gosh Aang. I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. But you know what, it won't happen again. Here [the scroll] is yours. I don't wanna have anything to do with it anymore.

She even apologized to Momo. Katara had an isecurity rooted in trauma and pressure. When Aang try to teach her she hit a breaking point and lashed out. And not one second later she's already apologizing.

The Waterbending Master

Katara and Aang are going to see Pakku, the waterbending master. But when Pakku sees she's a girl, he says he won't teach her. This is why Katara gets angry. She flew across seas just to get rejected due Pakku is being a sexist freak. I think we can all agree that being denied something because of sexism is a good reason to get angry. And when Katara realized Pakku won't teach Aang if she'll keep insisting, she drops it abd tells Aang to drop it too.

However, that doesn't mean she won't study in secret. She deserved to learn waterbending and she knew it. She took the consequences into consideration and decided to not make a fuss.

But of course, they both get caught. Pakku says he will no longer teach Aang, the Avatar who absolutly needs to study and still refuses to teach Katara because he's still sexist. Only then Katara challenges him to a duel. Only when they have nothing to lose. She challenged a sexist prick to a duel, one who shamelessly denied her oppretunity because of her gender.

The Chase

At the start of the episode Katara gently hints Toph to help unpack a camp for the night. This is when she's not tired yet, and shows patience.

Katara: So Toph, usually when setting up camp, we try to divide up the work.

Toph: Hey, don't worry about me. I'm good to go.

Katara (still calmly): Well, actually, what I'm trying to say is, some of us might fetch water while someone else might set up the fire pit or put up the tent. *smiles* Even Momo does his fair share.

Toph (slightly irritated): Katara, I'm fine. I can carry my own weight. I don't need a fire. I've already collected my own food. And look. *earth bends a tent* My tent's all set up.

Katara: Well, that's great for you but we still need to finish-

Toph (loudly): I don't understand. What's the problem here??

Katara: Never mind.

Katara then goes to apologize. While also attempting to make sure her and Toph are on good terms by having her acknoledge that she wasn't 100 absolutly in the right.

Katara: Hey Toph, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I think we're all just a little tired and getting on each other's nerves.

Toph: Yeah, you do seem pretty tired.

Katara (slightly irrutated): I meant all of us.

Toph: Well, good night.

Katara: Good night.

By all means, Toph is in the wrong for the sheer refusal for communication. At first Katara calmly explained to her what was needed without even spelling it out. Toph was being passive, so she dropped it. And then she apologizes after doing nothing wrong just so they could be on good terms. Toph was the one being passive agressive. And Katara pretty much let it slide.

This is Katara. The patience she showed right here is her natural, normal self. The rest of the episode is under the context of sleep deprivation and how it's making them all hostile to each other. Including the pacifist Aang. Who's outburst leads Toph to leave. After she does, both Aang and Katara express remorse.

(Side note: I heard people take issue with the line "The stars sure are beautiful tonight, too bad you can't see them, Toph". It's been interpreted as Katara making fun of Toph for being blind, but it's just another instance in the recurring joke of the Gaang forgetting Toph is blind, and listed as such in the official A:TLA Youtube channel).

The Runaway

Update: This section, especially, is majorly outdated.

The episode has a silly opening where Aang is trained by Toph and Katara. Toph misses and accidently hits Katara with a big rock. After Toph doesn't apologize, it leads into a fight which is absolutly not to be taken seriously, that ends with Aang pointing out that it was supposed to be training.

It doesn't work as an exapmle for supposed hot-headedness because the reason this whole thing started because Toph hit Katara with a rock and refused to apologize.

But moving on to the real conflict of these episode, Toph scammed someone and Katara makes it clear that they shouldn't do it again, it'll draw attention to them. Aang promises her it won't happen again but.. um.. you know what happened.

Katara, being responsible, told them to quit because they'd potentially get exposed. Toph didn't reach well, telling her to lighten up. Katara rightfully gets angry, because they really might get exposed and Toph is dismissing her like her concerns are nothing. They have a short argument and Toph storms out.

This is why Katara was angry this episode. Her reasoning for being upset is the Gaang potentially exposing themselves for easy money. That's the conflict.

The Painted Lady

In this episode Katara sees a starving Fire Nation village but Sokka won't allow them to stay due to time limits. So she faked a disease for Appa so they could. Sokka confronts her. At first, she gives up and packs to leave. But since she destroyed the factory that's been polluting the villages water and taking their medicine, the people in charge assumed it was the civilians, and were coming to attack. Sokka and Katara get into a small but intense argument. Important to note, that she doesn't react intensively until Sokka does.

Katara: Well, what was I supposed to do?

Sokka: Leave! Do nothing.

Katara: No! I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me.

Her anger here doesn't highlight hot-headedness, it highlights compassion. Compassion is one of Katara's core traits. She's angry because she's being angrily demanded to see people suffer and stand by. And she will not tolerate it. She will never, ever turn her back on people who need her.

2. In reality, Katara is defined by her patience and compassion.

What I did here was listing off times where Katara did get angry. But Katara is generally a caring, kind person. Rather if it's cheering up Sokka, going shopping with him after he admitted to feeling useless; if it's pulling Aang out of the Avatar state, putting herself at risk when he's out of control; if it's helping deliver a baby of a stranger; or if it's freeing prisoners of the Fire Nation. She demonstrates impressive patience throughout the show.

The Deserter

In this episode Aang was asked to just control fire. Aang gets irrutated himself at this, but Katara assured him that it's probably for a good reaso. But when his master left, he firebent. He was being extremely careless with his new found Fire Bending and burned Katara's hands.

Did she...

A. splashed some water at him.

B. Yelled at him.

C. Ran away crying.

Yeah, she didn't express anger at all. Sokka was who's angry at Aang.

The Desert

The sand benders stole Appa and the Gaang is suck in a desert. Katara demonstrates her patience a lot this episode.

Toph and Aang are arguing about Toph not stopping them.

Aang: You just didn't care! You never liked Appa! You wanted him gone.

Katara: Aang, stop it. You know Toph did all she could. She saved our lives.

Sokka: Who's gonna save our lives now? We'll never make itout of here.

Aang: That's all any of you guys care about, yourselves. You don't care whether Appa is okay or not.

Katara: We're all concerned, but we can't afford to be fighting now.

Aang accused the Gaang of something horrible. Katara told him to stop, but still understood his anger and calmly explained to him that it's important not to fight in a life threatening situation.

Aang then storms out to look for Appa. Katara's response?

Katara: We'd better start walking. We're the only people who know about the solar eclipse. We have to get that information to Ba Sing Se.

She didn't get angry, she was rational and thought about the greater good.

After Aang comes back, Katara suggest they should try sleeping, gives the Gaang all of her bending water without drinking herself. And then finds a way to get to Ba Sing Se using the locations of star systems.

The Gaang spots a cloud and mistakes it for Appa. But Katara realizes the potential in a cloud. She tells Aang to fly and bend the water from the cloud so they could drink.

Katara (disappoibted): Wow, there's hardly any in here.

Aang (intensively): I'm sorry, okay? It's a desert cloud, I did all I could. What's anyone else doing? *Points at Katara* What are you doing?

After dealing with everyone's tireness, Sokka's high nonsense and Aang's attitude, carrying everyone, thinking of possible solutions to ensure they'd all survive, how did she react to Aang accusing her of not doing enough?

Katara: Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

And after everything she did for everyone, she pulls Aang out of the Avatar state when he's raging, out of control.

Katara is not so hot headed.

She's sweet, nurturing and caring. She demonstrated incredible patience and perhaps even saved the Gang's life in The Desert with her resilience. Katara's compassion is her defining trait.

But that doesn't mean she's not a human being – she's allowed to be flawed, and in the moments where she does, she's very remorseful. And in the moments where she doesn't, people will still hold her accoutable for simply feeling a justified emotion.

Does it make you oh-so-hot headed to stand up to a sexist denying her opportunity? To make sure your friends don't destroy your chances to win a war? To not tolerate being told to see people in need and do nothing in a middle if an argument she didn't start? Of course it doesn't.

And other characters are allowed to express anger, to be flawed, in ways that are way worse than Katara without being labelled annoying hot headed by the fandom.

Katara is widly known to be irrational, letting her anger get the better of her, but it's simply not true.

[elacular-kink]

Poly-Techhic character sheet

For readers' reference, here's some descriptions and basic info about the main four characters of Poly-Techhic. (This may be edited later on).

Edit: This character sheet's formatting is completely borked. Go to this one instead, it's actually readable.

Susanna Jane Butler

Also called Susan and Susie

Appearance:

4'10" (147 cm)

Very average weight and build

Tan skin

Chinese

Adopted by American Catholics.

Short, straight black hair

Bangs can fall over eyes.

Wears baggy clothes

Almost always has on a baggy hoodie with the hood up.

Neurotypical (I think?)

(The author isn't, so...)

Extremely gay

Sophomore (AKA, 2nd year)

Loves and is studying music

Plays multiple instruments

Piano

Guitar

Sings well

Learned how to sing in kids choir in her church.

Is way less cool than she looks or acts

Is cooler than she thinks she is.

Is great at telling people off

Is terrible at telling people good things.

Has a hiccup fetish.

Has been like this as long as she can remember.

Has extremely big emotions and anxiety about it.

She's not able to get off without it.

Olivia Elizabeth Jones

Appearance

5'9" (175 cm)

Skinny

Isn't skinny on purpose, just naturally doesn't develop much fat.

Annoyed when people conflate thinness with health.

Very dark skin

Black (African American)

Nearly buzzed black hair

4C texture

Uses reading glasses

Keeps them around her neck on a chain for practicality

Everyone else says it makes her look like an old lady.

Wears very practical clothes.

All fabrics must be soft and/or smooth.

Clothes are generally tight. She dislikes having clothes that hang loose.

Doesn't care about how butch or femme it is.

Autistic

Very blunted affect

Sincerely emotes only for huge feelings.

Still feels things when not emoting, just doesn't move her face much about it.

Hates social niceties

Is overly honest with people

Aromantic

Does not feel or have a great understanding of romantic attraction.

Can still identify it in others

Bisexual with a female lean.

Considers Susanna her life partner, but does not consider her a girlfriend.

"See, this is why I explain it with 'it's complicated', Olivia."

Does consider Maya a girlfriend

"It means something different to her, and I can do that."

Sophomore (AKA, 2nd year)

Gets the hiccups all the time.

Doesn't generally mind them.

Has been shunned or punished for them in the past.

Thinks this is stupid.

This is part of why Susanna has been her best friend.

Almost nothing cures them.

No apparent medical reason, she's just very hiccupy.

Kind of a troll

People don't expect it from her since she seems so serious.

Primary victims are Susanna and Maya.

Extremely emotionally perceptive

Maya Heffernan

Appearance

5'4" (163 cm)

Feels taller because of her personality.

Also just often wears cleats

Both very muscular and very chubby

Built like a professional weightlifter.

Is capable of lifting weights like a professional weightlifter.

Is basically a physical freak with absurd strength, speed, and endurance.

Exercises constantly.

White

Ridiculously pale (Irish ancestry)

Covered in orange and brown freckles

Massive mane of curly red hair

Sheds red hairs everywhere.

Wears glasses

Including when playing rugby

Has prescription sports goggles

Hates getting things in her eyes=no contacts.

Almost always wears her rugby uniform.

She's number 7, the openside flanker

So she gets to tackle people!

A lot!

Dresses very butch outside of it.

ADHD

Takes adderall occasionally when she needs to focus

Does not like how she feels on it.

Solo-poly

Wants to avoid becoming overly dependent on someone or having them become dependent on her.

Still enjoys having romantic and sexual relationships with many people.

Keeps most relationships at arm's length.

Only forms closer relationships with other people with big poly energy.

Has gaydar, but for polyamorous tendencies.

Pansexual

Not all pansexuals are sluts. But she is.

Fucks lots of women, men, and other types of people.

("But where are the men?" They're offscreen somewhere, shut up.)

Junior (AKA, 3rd year.)

Gives people nicknames

Whether they want them or not.

Will relent if they genuinely hate them.

Eventually...

Susanna=Susie

Olivia=Liv

Kiran=Kiki

Chaos agent

Loves to disrupt people's lives.

Often for the better, sometimes for the worse, almost always for both.

Genuinely thinks this is fun and wants others to have fun too.

Actively trolls people

Frequently goes too far.

Extremely easily bored.

Will cause problems when bored.

If there's nobody to cause problems for, will cause problems for herself.

Really fucking stupid.

Under no illusions about this.

Has always struggled with academia

Has no common sense

Has no impulse control

Is still alive because she's impossible to kill

Kiran Mandal

Appearance

6'1" (185 cm)

Very fat

Deep brown skin

Indian American

One parent is first generation, one parent is second.

Long black hair.

Wants to do interesting things with it, is too nervous to try.

Always wears a dress or a skirt.

Has yet to figure out what her fashion sense is, has been fairly conservative thus far.

Autistic

Terrified of eye contact

Often makes it anyway due to masking.

Always tries to "win" eye contact.

Has a lot of difficulty socializing

Has very little experience doing so, which doesn't help.

Particularly with people her own age.

Extremely socially anxious and shy.

Stims and makes repetitive movements

Used to make a lot of sounds with her mouth, had that mostly trained out of her.

Has never been able to stop flapping when anxious or happy.

Is extremely embarrassed by this.

Sees it as a personal failing.

Trans

MtF

Is on hormones

Has not been on them long.

Not very secure in her womanhood

Is rarely accidentally misgendered.

If someone misgendered her on purpose, the other three would kill them.

Uncertain sexuality

Definitely likes girls.

Definitely really really really really really likes girls.

Freshman (1st year)

Really academically smart

Brilliant at the vast majority of what would be considered "nerd shit".

Particularly likes computer programming.

(Forgive me for my trans woman stereotype.)

Has studied under professional tutors all her life.

Speaks English and Hindi fluently, is proficient in Spanish

Currently being tutored and learning Mandarin.

(please don't expect me to know anything about any of these languages, German is super close to English and I'm still not learning jack shit).

Has very little "street smarts"

Very limited practical knowledge of the world.

Family is stupid rich

Probably some tech sector shit.

Dad may be an insufferable tech bro.

She has access to a shitload of money.

She has no idea what money is actually worth, but is self-aware about that.

Has been insulated from a lot of normal people's experiences because of that

[adhd-languages]

how do you actually like. learn languages with adhd? like in terms of "how do you stay focused" and "how do you stay invested/motivated for extended periods of time" and "how do you actually like. sit down to do* a study session?"

i know that immersion's good and all, but i find it really hard to just. sit there and watch [language] content when there's so much other stuff in my native language that's so much better and understandable.

with talking to ppl, i always feel like i gotta know enough to have a conversation in order to have a conversation, y'know? so i never end up having any conversations lol

when i've tried learning languages before i've almost always lost interest in it after a few weeks, and that kinda sucks. esp because half the time my interest shifts to a different language lmao

so yeah. advice?

*"to sit down to do" is a curious construction in my ideolect that means like. "to try to start doing"? it doesn't nesesserily mean physically sitting down, but does come from when i sit down to do maths homework or whatever and then actually start it two hours later, y'know? having the distinction between that and "to start" is useful lol

Immersion is really tough -- it's hard to feel invested in plot and characters if you hardly understand what people are saying...so here's a secret. Rewatch a show you love in English, in your target language dub. I'm listening to a fandub of "Welcome to Night Vale". It's really fun for me. I know that people go on about how it's better to learn from Original Native Content, but anything that keeps your interest is always better than nothing. And besides, there's a lot you can notice about the way they chose to translate things - it's fascinating!

Here's my super embarrassing language advice - I just daydream in Spanish. And a lot of the time, the spark of motivation to figure out a new bit of sentence structure is just me trying to figure out how to say a sentence in my internal monologue. I got hyperfixated on languages and sprinkled multilingualism into my mind soup. It sticks with me better when I learn grammar because I want to use it, rather than just sitting down to try and study something that's completely abstract. This actually works from pretty much any level. I think the sooner you use your target language like your native one, the better. Not sure if this would help but it might?

It's ok to learn in bursts. It's supposed to be fun, and a hobby. It's worth trying to fit your target language into your daily routine. I am a Duolingo guy, and I know it's not the best way to learn, but doing a little lesson everyday to keep up my stupid little streak can jumpstart me into studying properly. Or at least have me do a little bit of practice if nothing else, remind my brain that these languages exist, yknow.

Also, I have gained and lost interest in a LOT of languages - Korean, Swedish, Toki Poni, Dutch, I've gone on and off with Japanese a few times, and so many languages I just tried to learn for one day. And that's okay too! You don't need to become fluent just to enjoy learning a little bit about a language. :-)

I hope at least one part of this was helpful? I'm going to be honest, I wasn't sure how to answer this ask because even though you would assume it with me running a language blog and all, I'm not always a great student. At all. The amount I'm studying fluctuates a lot, and it's just something I've accepted. There's no rush, so just do whatever works for you, even if it's not "the most effective" way of doing it. Everything is progress, anyhow.

(also, the "sit down to do" thing makes perfect sense to me. And for the conversations thing.... yeah, I don't talk to people much either. I'm shy. So, I'm not sure how to help with that one.)

[claire-starsword]

Shining Force World Book translation - part 2

Previous part here

I was a bit too harsh in saying this book didn’t have new backstory info compared to the other one, it does have some new stuff for Gong, and Arthur in the next part, since it found something else to say about the guy besides the horrors of a male individual touching laundry.

Of course, it still found other ways to be sexist.

Mage who quietly manipulates flames

Tao Class: Mage Species: Elf Gender: Female Age: 48 years old Height: 178 cm Weight: 45 kg Place of Origin: Guardiana Starting Level: 1 Starting Weapon: Wooden Staff

A quiet lady who swore loyalty to Guardiana

She was a maid at Guardiana, but her talent was recognized and she began practicing magic with Princess Anri. After Anri left to study in Manarina, she became the only mage in the castle.

Tao's personality is the opposite of Anri's, she's quiet and keeps her feelings to herself. Also, she's exceptionally polite. It's also an opposite personality to that of her sister Diane, who joins the force later on.

An useful character who can play attacking and supporting roles as needed

She has unusually high HP for a mage, but her defense is low as expected. You don't want her taking hits from the enemies.

Her magic skills are somewhat unique compared to the other mages. Her only offensive spells are fire ones. Restricted to only this line of magic, she excels in it. Besides that, she learns plenty of support magic that others cannot use.

___

Prideful member of the Royal Order of Knights

Mae Class: Knight Species: Centaur Gender: Female Age: 22 years old Height: 197 cm Weight: 178 kg Place of Origin: Guardiana Starting Level: 2 Starting Weapon: Bronze Lance

Closed off in a wall of pride, a brave woman who can't be honest

A typical centaur. They are already arrogant in general, and with her also being the daughter of Knight Captain Varios, her pride truly knows no bounds.

She was prejudiced against the protagonist, who had superior swordsmanship skills despite being from the inferior human race. Once they had to fight in the same team, she finally began to accept him. It's not typical of her to honestly accept others.

Spare no effort in raising her as your main fighting power

As expected of a girl, she's good at walking around. Since her movement and agility are superb, you want to use her for swift attacks. Her attack and defense are low, so have her advance alongside plenty of teammates. Because she grows steadily, she's sure to become a vital member of the force. Her HP growth is slow, but her initial HP is high so there isn't much reason for worry.

[obligatory eyeroll at the joke there]

Kind old man who loves his family

Gort Class: Warrior Species: Dwarf Gender: Male Age: 233 years old Height: 142 cm Weight: 97 kg Place of Origin: Guardiana Starting Level: 2 Starting Weapon: Hand Axe

Starting a new leaf and letting go of the past

He used to be a warrior of the kingdom. His strength was number one, and his name was well known throughout the land. Currently he is retired, and lives with his daughter, granddaughter, and dog. However, he cannot forget the glories of the past, and lives his days drinking and grumbling at the bar.

When Runefaust killed his family, he realized he could do nothing by himself. With that revelation, he joined the force.

With outstanding sturdiness, he runs at the very front

Because his attack and defense are high, you should use him to break through the enemy lines. He lacks agility but his movement is great, so he can still advance quickly.

He grows steadily as he levels up, but his defense in particular rises quickly. Since he becomes exceptionally sturdy, you can have him lead the force in the very front, or use him as a decoy.

____

Traveling priest with a past

Gong Class: Monk Species: Giant Gender: Male Age: 57 years old Height: 248 cm Weight: 203 kg Place of Origin: Depths of Sirius Mountain Starting Level: 1 Starting Weapon: None

A man who severed ties with his race, training his spirit

A trainee monk in a journey to train his body and spirit. Along his journey he meets the protagonist and joins the force.

Being quiet, polite, and honest, he is well trusted by his allies. In the past, he lived his days plundering and pillaging as it is typical of giants, but started to reform after a certain incident. Becoming a monk was also a form of atonement.

Be on your guard while low leveled

Having trained his body along his spirit, he is more resistant and powerful than the priests, however he can only use basic healing spells. Also, while his attack is exceptionally high, he fights bare handed and ends up being weaker than the other warriors. His defense is also lower than that of the priests at first, so he shouldn't be at the front. Let him take part in standard battles to raise his level to a good point.

[Some notes: Most of the text and the game's class refers to him as モンク, which is just katakana for the english "monk". The page title however does use 僧侶 (souryo), which is usually the word used the priest class, but can be translated as monk as well. I could have translated it as monk for consistency but i like to make it clear that these terms overlap a lot in the Shining world, even if the gameplay part will then discuss him as distinct from the priests.

Also, the country guide later on will show that his place of origin, Sirius Mountain, is to the north of Prompt in East Rune.]

Girl with a heart of gold

Khris Class: Priest Species: Cantaul Gender: Female Age: 17 years old Height: 174 cm Weight: 38 kg Place of Origin: Alterone Starting Level: 2 Starting Weapon: Wooden Staff

A mild mannered person who keeps to herself

A priest who worked as a close aide to the princess of Alterone. She's an ordinary kind of girl, though unusually reserved. Out of everyone in the force, she resembles Tao the most, but she's even more timid. Being shy has always been her nature, but being constantly tormented by the cruel princess drove her to becomes even more withdrawn recently. She's incredibly meek.

Let her run through the battlefield restoring HP

She learns magic unusually fast, becoming capable of using high level spells faster than the other priests. Like Lowe, she learns both healing and support magic, but is better at healing than Lowe. She can learn both the single target healing spell Heal and the mass healing spell Aura.

She has no agility, so she tends to be the last to act in each turn.

____

Beautiful princess with regal demeanor

Anri Class: Mage Species: Human Gender: Female Age: 18 years old Height: 158 cm Weight: 42 kg Place of Origin: Guardiana Starting Level: 3 Starting Weapon: Power Stick

The kind that surpress her feelings and acts with reason

The princess of Guardiana. As the firstborn, she's the first in line to inherit the throne. She has a talent for magic rare among the people of Guardiana, and went to study in Manarina.

As the heir to the throne, she's brave, and smart as well. Without letting herself be carried away by her emotions, she comes to lead the Shining Force alongside the protagonist.

She saves allies in a pinch with offensive magic

A mage skilled in all types of offensive magic. Particularly skilled in cold magic, to the point where no one compares to her on that.

She can assist others, and is even better to breach the enemy lines herself. However, her defense is incredibly low, and so is her HP, so she has no resistance to enemy attacks. She should attack while behind someone else.

[I had already heard that this guide was worded vaguely and left unclear if she has siblings. The other guide however clarifies that she’s an only child.]

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Headcanon} Butcher Boys

I~ love Leatherface. I doubt that’s a surprise to anyone at this point, but what may be a surprise is--well actually I don’t have a good segue from that point to the point that I want to write about him, today. I’ve been obsessing over him again, so I wanted to talk about him because he doesn’t get talked about enough.

Anyone could likely guess that’s why I started paying attention to him in the first place. Boy stirs up my Mama Bear like nobody’s business for lots of reasons.

Now, I should mention I sort of split things up a bit differently than what is considered “canon” in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre universe--there’s actually two Leatherfaces: Bubba Sawyer, and Thomas Hewitt. In my head, when it’s just me and my embarrassing thoughts, I merge the two together because it’s easier, but in terms of roaming about the Haus, Bubba and Thomas are both here. Why, you ask?

Because twice is nice, and two adorable Leatherfaces are better than one, why are you asking me stupid questions.

I’m planning on doing dual headcanons so I can talk about the difference and similarity between the two boys, and really just allow me to gush about them because I need to. I’m going to be writing them with the ‘you’ perspective being a random member of the Haus wanting to read more about Leatherface; I’m not sure how Moni feels about the boys (they absolutely adore her already, but I told them they have to wait until I get the all-clear) so I won’t throw her onto their laps...

...yet...

L E A T H E R F A C E The Texas Butcher

First things first, we need to talk about the physical differences between Bubba Sawyer and Thomas Hewitt, because it’s one of the easiest ways to tell them apart, and that way you’ll know who I’m talking about when I refer to them by name for the rest of the headcanons.

And just, you know, because staring at them is nice. ♥

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba’s a big boi

He’s doughier than Thomas is

Round belly and thick thighs, this Texas Cinnamon Roll is A+ for cuddles

Bubba runs hot (boy’s practically a furnace 24/7) but doesn’t seem to notice the heat

0/10 affected by the cold

Don’t let the squishy boy fool you, though; he hauls meat for a living and he does heft a full-sized chainsaw around every single day

There’s fat, but it’s just insulating muscle

Bubba’s got biceps to make any man jealous, and those thighs may jiggle when he walks but they’re tree trunks that have to support his towering frame on top of the bodies meat he hauls day in and day out

If you’re worried about Bubba’s physique being a hindrance, don’t

Bubba’s hair is shorter than Thomas’s, but that’s mostly because it’s curly

Thick, bouncy, unruly dark brown curls that he doesn’t do a thing with

Seriously, someone needs to wash this boy’s hair, I promise it’s worth it; he’ll giggle and try to sit still, but he’ll bounce a little, excited just because you’re paying him attention

Bubba wears a full face mask, always made of someone else’s face/skin, held together by thick leather twine that he ties at the back fo his head

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is another Biggun

Thomas appears taller than Bubba, but that’s because Bubba is wider

Thomas would argue he has more muscle than Bubba, but there’s really no way of telling; this argument is touted mostly just because Thomas’s muscle is easier to see

Another round belly boi, though Thomas’s chest is broader and his gut is smaller than Bubba’s

Arms, arms, arms

Thomas’s forearms are the stuff wet dreams are made of; thick and veiny, because he’s another butcher who spends his days hauling meat and victims back and forth

Legs like tree trunks, a back broad enough to sleep on, and since Thomas is heavier-handed than Bubba is, his fists really carry the appearance of sledgehammers

Thomas has the power and desire to back that up

Thomas’s hair is longer than Bubba’s and it’s straight--except during humid weather, when it gets a little wavy

His hair is black, not dark brown, but just as thick as Bubba’s

Like Bubba, Thomas doesn’t give two shits about his hair and you’ll need to wash it for him if you want it done

And he does want you to do it, because that means you’ll be close to him

Thomas wears a partial face mask, that has to always at least cover his deformed nose, jaw, and chin. Unlike Bubba, Thomas will wear regular leather, and since it isn’t a full face mask, it doesn’t have facial features, simply an open slit for his mouth

What makes them both Leatherface:

Both Thomas and Bubba suffer from facial scarring and disfigurement due to a degenerative disease and self-mutilation

Bubba’s scarring is more pronounced, as his disease is more aggressive and he’s more prone to self-mutilation than Thomas

This is due to two reasons; one, Bubba is an abuse victim with horrific self-esteem issues, and two, he’s a masochist who enjoys the sensation of pain

Both men suffer from heavy disfigurement in their noses, which leaves their noses all but gone--

Bubba is easily the shier of the two when it comes to his face; he wears a full face mask vs Thomas’s half-mask, and he will not be seen without it if he’s not around someone he loves and trusts

Thomas also wears his mask faithfully around the Family, but he seems to exude a different aura than Bubba so one might assume he isn’t as shy--don’t let the Big Guy fool you. If you’re not one of the two people he loves and trusts, any attempts to take his mask off will result in aggression

Growling, squaring his broad shoulders, and glaring as he pushes your hand away from his masked face

Bubba will just blubber and whine, and duck his head out of your grasp until you stop

Any attempts to remove either of their masks from anyone outside of the Family will get the motorized end of the saw

Personality

Bubba is the teddy bear of the two; he’s squishy, cuddly, and eager to please. Because he’s been abused the majority of his life that’s led to a Pleasing Complex, where he is constantly, desperately searching for acceptance and to know he’s done a good job

Thomas comes from a family that was more supportive and he doesn’t have Bubba’s pleasing complex as a result, but that doesn’t diminish Thomas’s need to provide for the Family and ensure he’s doing his part

Thomas is more the quiet protector or enforcer out of the two; he observes, he’s defensive and overprotective of what’s his, and he is dangerously unforgiving

Loyalty and Family are both incredibly important to both men, and neither one will hesitate when it comes to killing to protect or defend anyone who calls the Haus home

Because of the abuse in Bubba’s past, he is quick to over-correct bad behavior and will overcompensate to correct even the slightest mistake

Both Thomas and Bubba share an incredibly strong work ethic, which has been ingrained in them by their original families for years and years

Both men are mute as a result of their degenerative disease

This has led to incorrect assumptions that either or both men are slow or retarded; there’s been no proof of this.

Bubba cannot read as his family never tried to teach him (as they themselves treated him as though he was retarded) and Thomas never put much stock into school (he didn’t/couldn’t attend due to his disfigurement) but he is able to read simple words and sentences

Bubba can recognize his own name when it’s printed

Thomas knows ASL but most aren’t aware as he doesn’t usually sign back--this is by choice, by the way, not because he can’t

Despite not being able to speak, Bubba is a noisy boi

Giggles, sighs, inquisitive noises, moans--Bubba likes to express himself and will do so in any way he can

Thomas is the quieter of the two, as Bubba prefers to babble like a toddler, expressive even though he can’t actually speak

Some mistakenly believe Thomas can’t make noise but that isn’t true. His noises are deeper than Bubba’s, and he prefers grunts and groans to giggles and soft sighs

Bubba is not afraid of expressing emotion

Thomas is more reserved about the showing of emotion, but if he is shown emotion he will reciprocate immediately

Bubba answers to any variation of his name, but sadly he will also respond to any negative names people call him due to his family taking to call him “Retard” when he was growing up

Do not call Thomas anything negative if you like your head where it is

In fact, just call Thomas by his name; no nicknames outside of Tommy, just to be safe

Both men answer to Leatherface

Quirks / Traits

Both Thomas and Bubba prefer chainsaws over any other weapon of choice and it’s become something of a security blanket for them both, as it’s a way for them to defend themselves and the Family

While he’s working, Bubba prefers hammers and butcher knives

Thomas prefers meat cleavers or his bare hands

Bubba is an excellent cook

Seriously, let this boy cook for you and you’ll have a belly to match his in no time; he’s been responsible for cooking for the Sawyers for years and it shows. He knows his way around any and all cuts of meat, and if you praise him a single time over his cooking he’ll be trying to feed you constantly

Thomas knows how to cook, but he prefers to prepare the meals and leave the actual cooking to Bubba or someone else. It’s not that he’s against cooking, it’s just he’d rather do the hacking and slashing. He likes his hands dirty

That is also where the boys differ

Bubba was raised to believe it’s Family against the world, and was taught to murder through abuse and thus was never actually taught it was wrong. Any attempts to tell Bubba that killing people is wrong will be met with confused puppy head tilts and blubbering to the contrary

It can’t be wrong if it’s for the Family!

As a result, Bubba is fiercely protective of the Family and the Famlly property, and he’s a saw first, ask questions never kind of guy

Be patient with him, he doesn’t know any better and he thinks that’s how it’s supposed to be

Thomas, on the other hand, knows better. He was raised to understand right from wrong and he knows that, on some level, killing and cannibalizing people is “wrong” in the eyes of the law

But the law is wrong

Thomas won’t care if you try to change his mind about that; he likes the way people taste and he doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t Family, so you may be wasting your time trying to convince him otherwise

Besides, Thomas is a butcher, and he slaughters farm animals all day. There’s no way that’s right but killing people is wrong. He’s a simple man but he’s not stupid

Bubba does not leave the Haus properties; he has a wide array of masks but all of them are made of human flesh and he can’t exactly leave the safety of the Haus properties wearing someone else’s face

Thomas will leave the Haus properties; he might get weird stares wearing his half-masks but he’s a hulking behemoth anyway, so he’d be stared at regardless

Bubba enjoys classical music, especially when he’s working

He knows he’s hideous (why do you think he hides behind someone else’s face?) but the music is so pretty it makes him think of pretty things, like flowers and sunshine, and for a little while he can forget his own face while he sits and listens

Thomas prefers bluegrass or rock

He needs something loud, and he likes that some of the songs he can relate to on a more emotional level. Music can help him express himself as he can’t speak, and he likes the way it feels

Bubba only likes cold drinks; sweet teas, sodas, milk!!!, and beer

Thomas is fine with anything; he will drink black coffee, and he prefers darker ales when he’s drinking beer

Affection

Both boys are absolutely touch-starved and crave affection, so there’s never a worry anything is considered “too clingy” for them

Bubba is unused to positive touch at all, so he’s going to be over the moon with the smallest gesture

A pat on the head? He’s cooing

A hug? Hope you don’t have anywhere to be as he’s not letting go

A kiss on the cheek? You’re not crying, he is

Bubba will openly seek out and ask for affection, and he’ll be clingy even when he shouldn’t be, as the boy isn’t afraid of being hit or pushed away

Unlike some abuse survivors, Bubba isn’t discouraged by anger or shows of aggression, so even if you try to push him away, he’ll shuffle to the side and then immediately try again

You’ll have to forgive him; he’s touch-starved and in desperate need of some TLC, preferably 24/7

Thomas doesn’t come from an abusive background (per se) but he also was never really given affection so he’s just as touch-starved as Bubba is

Thomas won’t seek out affection like Bubba, but he’ll make it clear that’s exactly what he wants

Oh, you were putting your hand there? Well, his just happened to be there before yours

Were you going this way? That’s nice, so was he, and you won’t mind if he walks close to you, right?

You’re going to bed? He’s already in bed waiting for you, you’re the little spoon, good night

Thomas is always the Big Spoon; that’s just his preference as he prefers to curl his body around yours, one arm beneath your head, his other arm curled completely around your middle, and he’ll sleep with his cheek against yours

Thomas sleeps between you and the door always, because he’s distrusting and overprotective, which makes for an overbearing combination so i hope you don’t mind being smothered and also never out of this man’s sight just in general

Thomas is a wall of muscle and he’s pretty intimidating up close, especially since he can’t speak...and he likes to stare at you until he falls asleep

You’re just...the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he’s a man who has known a lot of ugly in his life. You can’t blame him for wanting to appreciate beauty now that he finally has it

I hope you used the bathroom before you got in bed, because Thomas’s grip is like iron. You’re not getting up without him

Bubba will switch between the Big and little spoon; depending on how his day went or what mood he’s in when it’s time for bed

When he’s the Big spoon, he prefers to sleep with you facing him, but given Bubba’s a big boi he’s plenty tall enough to bury his face in your hair, his arm around your lower back and the other around the middle of your back, keeping you locked to him all night

Remember when I said Bubba’s a furnace? This boy generates heat

You really won’t need any covers with him, but he likes snuggling under them with you anyway

Please don’t try to leave him in the middle of the night; if he wakes up without you, he will panic, and he will be a blubbering mess by the time you come back to bed--it doesn’t matter if it’s just to go to the bathroom, wake him up to tell him because the fear of losing you terrifies him

If Bubba’s the little spoon, he still prefers to sleep facing you, so anytime he opens his eyes you’re the first thing he sees. He sleeps with his head buried in your chest, his arms cinched tight around your middle

Other sleep arrangements include--

Sleeping on Thomas’s chest

Bubba half-crushing you by insisting he sleeps on top of you (especially if you are prone to getting out of bed without telling him)

Being wedged between both bois, trapped with zero hope of moving until both of them are awake and ready to let you go for the day

NSFW

You don’t need me to tell you, do you?

Everything is bigger in Texas

You don’t need to worry about any disappointments in the bedroom when it comes to the Sawyer boys, because the downstairs matches everything else

Girth, length--it’s all designed to leave you shaky, sore, and pregnant

Bubba’s cock has more girth, but Thomas has him beat in length

Bubba will stretch your walls to the point of discomfort and he won’t know any better, because he’ll be too busy burying his face in your neck to stifle the needy, wanton cries he’s making because you’re so tight

Thomas will knock your bottom out and he’ll take your scream to mean it’s good, he’s good, keep going--and he will, because he can’t stop now that he’s finally, fully inside you

Bubba, despite being raised on a farm, has very limited sexual experience. He’d seen his uncle’s magazines that had been stashed under the bed when he was living back home, but he didn’t understand what he was looking at

But what Bubba lacks in experience, he more than makes up for in eagerness

This boy is a pleaser in every sense of the word, and you’re going to have a fight on your hands if you’re wanting to please him for once, because he can’t keep his hands, his lips, his body off of yours long enough to understand there’s things you can do to him

Thomas has a little more experience than Bubba; he was also raised on a farm, but he paid more attention to the animals and he knows what breeding looks like

And trust and believe, Thomas will breed you

You’ll barely be able to get ahold of the edge of the mattress to steady yourself on your hands and knees before Thomas is drilling you into it, perhaps misunderstanding that the deeper he is, the more likely you are to be pregnant

You’ll have to forgive him, he’s just so needy...

Bubba is a S/switch, but he’s predominantly a submissive

Bubba’s kinks include praise, humiliation (abuse has unfortunately warped his masochistic tendencies into thinking this is love), S&M, littlespace (Bubba is both a little and a Daddy, depending on the situation/day) edging/orgasm denial, incest (Bubba comes from a close Family), forced feeding (you’ll be on the receiving end of this, every time), lactation, roleplaying (he’s got a wildly overactive imagination, so he’s extremely good at this), marking, necrophilia, and cannibalism

Bubba will pretend that he doesn’t like when you fight him, but he’s spent his whole life chasing down victims; he gets a thrill from the chase and the capture, so if you run from him, he will chase you down

If you don’t expressly tell him not to, he will chase you down with his chainsaw

But don’t worry, he won’t hurt you with it! He’ll just make you sit right on top of it’s vibrating handle until you’re a shaking, sticky mess, terrified of the spinning blade and trusting the iron grip around your middle not to let you slip and be split right in half

After-care is hugely important for Bubba even after normal sex, especially if he had his mask off during

Kisses, cuddles, letting him hold you as tightly or as closely as he wants, taking baths together, eating together--it doesn’t matter what you do, just be there with the Big Guy and he’ll be happy

He just needs you

Thomas is a Dom. Full-stop, he does not submit and he will expect you to, eventually

Thomas’s kinks include DD/lg (Thomas is a strict but caring Daddy Dom), edging/orgasm denial, S&M (Thomas is both a sadist and a masochist), forced feeding (again, this one is entirely you), breeding/forced impregnation, rape, necrophilia, marking, cannibalism, pet play (Thomas has a thing for collars and leashes) and bondage

Bubba doesn’t exactly like you in his workspace (it’s dangerous! What if you get hurt?!) but Thomas likes you down there--but on his terms. You’ll either be strung up on a meat hook (hung by a rope, not impaled--unless you tell him you want to be) with your feet barely touching the ground, so he can touch/fuck you as he likes while he works, or you’ll be lying in a pet bed beside his workbench so he can drop onto his haunches and feed you scraps through the day

Like Bubba, Thomas enjoys chasing you down, and even if you tell him not to...he may still chase you with his chainsaw. He’s pretty attached to the fucking thing, and he likes how wet you get when you’re scared

Thomas loves when you fight him, so go right ahead

Thomas takes aftercare seriously, and please don’t forget that he’ll need some of that, too. Thomas is a Dom but he’s also a man with a broken soul, so he’s going to need you to stay close to him, to stroke his hair or let him brush yours, to take baths together or let him slowly come down by marking you as much as he wants. It makes him feel better, to know you’re his

No matter the situation, the boys will have rules for you, and they do expect you to follow them

Bubba’s rules include do not talk to strangers, no leaving the Haus property without telling him, do not eat without him, do not go to bed without him, do not get out of bed without him, and no going into his workspace without him

Thomas’s rules include no talking to strangers, no leaving the Haus without him, do not go to bed without him, do not get out of bed without him, do not leave his sight if you are not with the Family, do not cover up his marks

Punishments for rule-breaking generally means a spanking, and both boys have hands calloused and large enough to count as a paddle, so you’re really not missing out on anything since they don’t use toys

Bubba prefers to bend you over his lap, but Thomas will bend you over any surface or even force you against a wall

If you continue to break the rules, the punishments will escalate to orgasm denial, branding (yes, that kind of branding), being tied to the bed/restrained, forced orgasms, and even forced impregnation

The boys will never punish you in a way that separates you; neither of them could stand the separation

Bubba doesn’t actually like punishing you (well...maybe he does, a little) but Thomas is entirely fine if you want to challenge the both of them left and right. They’ve both got a heavy hand--

But you knew that, by now, didn’t you?

[lilac-5ky]

ah, ah, ah I wanna cheat XD so Kid Gintoki that's always bullying the reader 'cuz he find her cute when she's crying (Even though he always deny it) but later on he realize that he likes her\( ^3^)/

A/N: Since this had 2 parts, I had to screenshot the second part of your request ;-; Somehow doing extra work, ah, you are so very welcome (PAY MORE NEXT TIME jk jk). Well, anyways, I improvised quite a bit with this buuuuut I feel like it's not too far off! So yes, you are very very veeeeeery welcome now!

P.S. CHEATER OMG ;-; shame shame shame

Plot: Female reader getting teased (borderline harassed) by kid!Gintoki, yet comforted by kid!Takasugi, both showing their feelings in a different way.

Warning: SFW ofc.

ofc i had to use a gif of them fighting, plus this one has all the characters I mention :p how convenient :p

"Now, it's time for Y/N to show her progress. Gin, can you spar with her?" Clenching your fists harder against the bokken, you gulped. Why did it have to be Gin? Anyone else would have been fine to fight against, even if you ended up losing, losing to Gintoki was the equivalent of getting tortured and teased for days on end.

You weren't sure why the silver haired boy seemed to hate you to this extent and as far as you were aware of, you'd never done anything to wrong him. Yet ever since you set foot in Shoka Sonjuku, ever since Shouyou sensei let you study at his school, a girl among boys, Gintoki always seemed to had it in it for you. Doesn't matter if you did or said a thing, he would always find the opportunity to make fun of you.

Most days, that was fine by you. Even if his words were rather hurtful at times, you had grown accustomed to it. If that was a price for a better education, for staying with Shouyou sensei, for making friends of your own, then so be it. Before you had joined the school, you were just an ordinarily plain girl, your future dictated to you by your own gender; spending your early years learning how to be a good housewife, finding a proper man to marry and then putting all you had learned to practice. Such a life, although appealing to most girls your age, was never particularly appealing to you. Why settle for such mundane things just because you were a girl? Why couldn't you receive the same education as boys your age, why did you have to sit and watch the Amanto claim your country, why couldn't you take a stand against them?

Joining Shoka Sonjuku, you had found the place where you belong to. Even when you were the only girl in the class, you had managed to find the acceptance you so desperately longed for. Sure, Gintoki seemed to hate your guts but thankfully, his friends didn't. No matter how cruel he could be, as long as you had Katsura and Takasugi backing you up, you always had a reason to smile, a reason to keep you moving forward and that was good enough.

You could do it, you have worked hard for it, you won't let him defeat you this time. Although your own words sounded comforting in your brain, when Gintoki made his way in front of you, your conviction begun to die out. With his lazy eyes and his rather bored smile, he looked as if he wasn't standing before an opponent worthy of his time, as if you were nothing to him and frankly, that wasn't far off from being the truth.

Breathe slowly, in and out, keep your posture and strike!

Before you knew it, your bokken had fallen from your hands, leaving a loud noise as it hit the other side of the dojo. Looking down at your hollow grip and then at him, you were trying to grasp what had just happened. You could have sworn you landed a hit, yet why was your sword all the way there? Why was he so cocky, playing with his own bokken between his fingers? Why was the room so quiet, why was everyone burning holes through you with their eyes?

"Shouyou-sensei, how many times do I need to fight her for you to see she doesn't belong here?" The boy said as he picked his nose. Flicking his fingers, he walked closer to you, tapping his bokken against your chest. "Y/N, day after day you keep raising your sword against me, yet day after day you grow weaker. What are you trying to hit? A fly? A mosquito? Where is it? I can hit it for you, no need to use such a thing to strike it." Clenching your fists, you felt rage burning through you. Why did he have to humiliate you in front of everyone like this?

"Gin, that's enough. Y/N, pick your sword, you can try again, just like you practiced, okay?" Shouyou's mellow voice was enough to soothe your nerves. He was right, you had practiced so hard for this moment. Just because you dropped your sword, didn't mean the fight was over. Quickly, you dragged your feet to the other side of the room, picking it up before returning to your spot. Gintoki sighed, taking a couple of steps back, assuming a fighting stance.

Charging at him with all you got, you felt resistance once your bokken crossed his, forcing you to stagger. Trying your best to keep your balance, you took another step back, aiming at his sides yet he was faster than you, parrying your hit in time. Again and again you tried, yet every single time he was faster, defeating you easily without even breaking a sweat. He was too strong, ridiculously strong.

After letting you charge at him countless times, Gintoki finally took initiative, attacking you with all he had, his bokken hitting your shoulder with such force that you fell onto the ground. Grimacing, you instinctively wrapped your fingers around your shoulder, rubbing at it in an attempt to soothe the pain away.

To your surprise, Gin leaned before you, extending his hand for you to grab. Hesitantly, you accepted it, allowing him to pull you back on your feet. "What are you even fighting for? You can't protect anyone, you are nothing but deadweight to us. Just quit already, perhaps if you dress pretty enough, someone will pity you and take you in. This school isn't for girls like you." The boy whispered once you were standing up.

"Sensei, I think Y/N had enough for today. Maybe it's time for a break." Dropping his bokken, Gintoki disappeared in the background without hearing sensei's answer.

"Gin is right. Everyone, you can rest now. Keep up the good work, you are progressing so much already. We'll practice again tomorrow, class dismissed."

"Y/N. Are you okay?" You weren't sure how much time had passed. Even after everyone had left the dojo, you were lost in your own thoughts, trying your hardest not to cry in front of everyone. As much as you wanted to prove Gin wrong, as much as you wanted to show him that you were more than just an average girl, you knew that his words were right. If you couldn't even beat him then how could you possibly dream of reaching higher, of protecting your country, of going against your own predetermined fate? Even when his words were harsh, it only stung because of how true they were. A deadweight, that's all you were.

"Y/N?" A different voice was calling out to you, yet you couldn't do as much as answer. You knew that the second you'd open your mouth, the tears that were clouding your eyes would come running down, a cold rain you wouldn't be able to hold back. Lifting your head, you peered at at the two boys, their blurry forms blending into one as they looked down at you.

"Zura? Takasugi?" Your voice was shaky, coming out as a whisper while you did your best to push your tears back. Even if they were your friends, they didn't have to see you in such a weakened and pathetic state.

"We asked if you were okay, you've been standing here ever since your duel. And it's not Zura, it's Katsura." His comment would have otherwise made you smile, yet right now, forcing yourself to do this much seemed impossible.

"I- I'm fine. Got a bit distracted, that's all."

"Oh, I see." Even though Katsura seemed to accept your words, Takasugi was looking at you in disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Well, we just wanted to check on you, but if everything is fine, maybe it's time to go. Take care, Y/N, goodnight."

Once the boys were gone and you were alone, you brought your hands to your face. Just when had things gone wrong, you begun to question yourself. In the past months you had worked so hard to catch up to them, you had spent hours upon hours of hitting the wooden dummies with your bokken, practicing every move so hard that your fingers were filled with blisters. In your brain, you could picture it so perfectly, you could see yourself defeating him, yet in reality, you could barely touch him with your sword. You are just deadweight to us. His words kept circling your brain and before you knew it, you were softly whimpering, tears burning through your palms as you did.

"Thought you'd be still here." A voice caught you off guard, forcing you to turn around only to see Takasugi leaning by the door frame. Rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, you tried to pull yourself together while the boy walked closer to you. "It's Gin, right?"

"Wh-what are you doing here?" You asked once you had managed to calm down. No matter how much you tried to hide your own feelings, you could never hide them in front of Takasugi. The boy was ever insightful, being able to read every expression of yours clearly. You could lie to everyone but him, a fact that both scared and comforted you.

"He said something, didn't he?" Cutting to the chase as always.

"He... it doesn't matter." Even though Takasugi was your friend, you could never forget that he had been Gin's friends first, as much as the two of them liked to pretend otherwise. No matter how Gin made you feel, you didn't want to turn Takasugi against him like that. Besides, it was something between him and you, Takasugi had nothing to do with it.

"It obviously does, or else you wouldn't be crying here all alone."

"What he said was the truth, though."

"I'll be the judge of that." After a while of considering his offer, you ended up sighing. He was so persistent yet you knew that he meant well.

"He said that I was a deadweight. That I should quit and hopefully, I can be a nuisance to someone else. That this place isn't for girls like me and..." Repeating his words, you felt tears welling up your eyes once again. "It doesn't matter. He was right, I am useless either way."

"That bastard..." Hearing him talk like this surprised you. It wasn't as if he was the most well mannered boy of the class but for a boy his age to speak like that? "Always running up his mouth, being up to no good." Takasugi said as he scoffed. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn that he looked more irritated than you did.

After a while of awkward silence, you quietly sobbing, him kicking the wooden floor, Takasugi moved away from you. Following him with your eyes, you watched as he picked up on two bokken, walking back towards you.

"Here. Fight me." Fight...him? Although you had never sparred with him before, you knew better than to challenge him. When it came to duels, Takasugi was just as good as Gintoki was, being completely on par with him both speed and strength wise. To fight him meant to get humiliated in front of him once again for the second time in just one day.

Before you could say no to him, he threw the bokken at you. Having no choice but to grab it, you took it between your hands, looking at the wooden sword and then back at him. He wasn't going to back down, his green orbs reflecting sheer determination. While looking at him, you couldn't help but compare him to Gintoki; whereas the silver haired boy underestimated you from the moment he stood before you, Takasugi was looking at you as if you were his foe, as if you were his equal. This was all you'd ever wanted, for others to stop looking down at you, to be someone worthy of challenging.

Clenching the sword within your hands, you pushed all thoughts away, focusing on everything Shouyou sensei had taught you. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, raising your bokken over your head. Takasugi followed your movement, instinctively taking a step back as he parried it. You retracted your weapon, your eyes inspecting his body closely in search of an opening. There had to be something you could do, somewhere you could hit, just focus, focus, focus!

In the time it took you to think things over, Takasugi jumped closer to you, his sword clashing into yours as you barely managed to counter his hit. Fighting him, you felt the same strength you had felt while fighting Gin. He truly was a force to be reckoned with, you noted, diving to the side. Just when you thought you had managed to get away from him, he pranced at you again, your swords crossing over and over again in a flurry of strikes. You didn't have a chance to breathe, your body acting on its own, unable to do anything other than parry over and over again. Even though he was just as fast and just as strong as Gin, being able to at least keep up with him was all you needed to keep on going, to make you believe in yourself.

The more you kept fighting, the more confident you begun to feel ,yet, even when you could keep up with his speed, you found yourself unable to keep up with his stamina. If this kept on going you were sure to lose, you had to find an opening now, no matter what. Concentrating as hard as you could, you looked at him once again. He was panting and his rhythm was a bit off, more frantic and aggressive than before and that was when you saw it; his left side was completely unguarded. Takasugi was so focused on attacking you that he had let his defenses drop. It was now or never and you knew it.

With the last drop of resolve, you dived forward, tapping the blade onto his left shoulder with all your might. To your surprise, it hit, it actually hit, forcing Takasugi to fall onto the floor. Although he didn't see it coming either, his eyes still held the same familiar calm when you reached forward, your body hovering over his.

"You aren't useless." His voice was slightly breathy as he spoke. Looking down at him, you felt your own heart beating faster. Was it because of the intense sparring session or was it because of his words? No matter the case, for a second you found yourself lost in his eyes, forsaking all of the sorrow and helplessness you were previously feeling. What, what is that, you asked your own self. What is this feeling, why am I-

Cutting through your thoughts, Takasugi tackled you onto the ground, your body falling hard against the wooden floor as he jumped on top of you. "But you still have way to go." A winsome smile on his lips as he brought his bokken against your chest. The way his body felt against yours was enough to make you blush, your heart pounding so hard that it felt as if you were about to have a heart attack.

After a minute had gone by, Takasugi pulled himself up, his bokken in hand while he moved back towards the sword stands. Putting it back in place, he kept his back turned against you the entire time, avoiding your stare. Perhaps it was for the best that he didn't see how flustered you were, you thought to yourself as you watched him walk towards the door. Instead of leaving, he stood still for a moment as if he was silently contemplating something.

"Take this. Zura made it." Before you could answer, he was gone, leaving nothing but two onigiri to stand where he once did.

The image of his face reappeared in your brain while you munched on the onigiri, yet this time a light red tint was staining his cheeks, one that made you wonder whether he'd blushed while leaving this behind or, whether it was all a figment of your imagination. Whatever it was, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. Besides, the onigiri was delicious.

The next day, you found yourself standing before Shouyou sensei and the rest of the students, idle chattering going back and forth between them while they waited for practice to begin. You spotted Takasugi and Katsura standing by the door, Takasugi briefly glancing over at you while they conversed. You raised your hand to wave at him hesitantly, yet he turned away in an instant. Sighing, you turned your attention back to Shouyou. It wasn't a first for him to be acting moody, yet all you wanted to do was thank him, for the food and for the sparring. If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be standing there again, you would have given up.

"Alright, gather up now. Gin, how would you like to fight Nishimoto-"

"Sensei. Let me fight him, please." The words came out of your mouth before you had a chance to realize what you were saying. Its gonna be fine, you reassured yourself as you walked to the center of the dojo. Everyone was looking at you yet this time, you didn't feel as scared.

"Very well. Y/N, you can go first." Stepping out of the way, Shouyou sensei moved to the far back, making space for you and Gintoki. The boy seemed half asleep, his hair all tangled up and his lids half closed as he made his way towards you.

"Still here? Why can't you quit already, this is so bothersome." He said while yawning.

"I won't quit just because you said I should. I'd much rather keep holding onto this blade until I can defeat you." You weren't going to back down this time. Even when your hands were slightly shaking as you grabbed your bokken, there was no going back. If you could stand your ground against Takasugi, then you surely could do so against Gintoki.

"Can't be helped I guess. Let's get it over with, I haven't even had breakfast today." Gintoki went on, patting onto his stomach. Even now, he was still underestimating you.

Clenching your fists tighter around the bokken, you moved closer to him, assuming a fighting stance. Blinking slowly, the boy let out another yawn before raising his own sword, aiming it at you. The look on his eyes was the same as the one he had yesterday, a fact that only increased your motivation as you took a step forward, making the first move. Gintoki was able to parry your hit, yet you didn't give him a chance to breathe, going for another hit as soon as your blades crossed. To your surprise, he was barely able to counter that one, slightly staggering as he lowered his bokken against yours.

"Not bad." He exclaimed, fending you off while he took a step back. You didn't care for his petty acknowledgments now, all you cared about was defeating him.

Again, you closed the gap between you, your sword flying at him only to cross his again and again, the hollow sound of wood hitting wood with each clash. Your practice with Takasugi was proving to be quite valuable, considering how before you weren't able to reach as far while fighting Gintoki. Still, you were reaching your limits, your arms slowly growing stiff as you kept attacking him, yet this time you couldn't find an opening no matter how hard you looked for one. Even when you could keep up with him, there was no way to defeat him, something you came to realize once his sword hit your stomach, forcing you to the ground.

"It's rude to make someone sweat so much before having breakfast." Gin exclaimed as he walked towards you, his bokken pointing at your body. "Sensei, can I go now?" He shifted his attention to Shouyou, letting his bokken drop onto the ground beside you, once again not bothering to hear sensei's answer, not bothering to give you another look. You had failed again.

Although you could hear Shouyou's reassuring voice in the background, telling you that you did well, your eyes stayed glued at Gin's back as he left the dojo. Why couldn't he say one good word to you already, goddamn it. Why couldn't he acknowledge your effort? You had worked so far, you had reached so far, yet he, he...

Your tears stung your eyes as they fell down your cheeks, making you lose your train of thought. It was pathetic to be crying in front of everyone yet you've had enough, you couldn't take it anymore. Even though you had lost, the fact that he had once again turned his back on you hurt more than any kind of wound he'd ever inflict on your body.

"Gintoki!" Takasugi's shriek snapped you out of your thoughts as the boy ran towards the door, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Blinking your eyes, you saw Katsura running behind him, the two boys going after Gintoki. Before you could think things through, your body moved on its own, getting up on both legs as you dragged your feet behind them.

Once you were out of the dojo, you looked around, yet they were nowhere to be found. It was as if they had vanished into thin air. What was that all about, you wondered, unable to figure out what was going on. You kept on walking, circling around the area until you heard muffled voices coming from behind the trees. Moving past them, your eyes located the three boys; Takasugi having pushed Gintoki onto the ground while Katsura kept pulling at his sleeves.

"Stop fighting already! If Y/N knew you were fighting over her, she would-" Over... me?

"Cut the mediation, Zura, let him have at it. Taking it out on me is all he can do, it's not as if he'd be able to ever tell her." Tell me what? The more you listened to their conversation, the more you wanted to interfere yet somehow you found yourself glued in place.

"Gintoki" Takasugi growled, lowering his punch at the boy's face. "At least I'm not humiliating the girl I like in front of everyone." The girl he... what?!?

Only after all three had turned to face you, did you realize that you had gasped out loud, unable to hide your surprise. Did Takasugi like you? Did Gintoki like you?

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Katsura asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he looked at you. Still, you couldn't face him, your eyes going between the two boys who were still lying on the ground. Gintoki's lips were slightly parted, blood running from his lower lip while Takasugi looked at you wide eyed, his cheeks flushed red and his hair all messed up.

"I..." What could you possibly say? You were finding yourself at loss for words, in spite of the questions rushing through your brain. "Is it true?" You asked in a quiet voice, disbelief written all over your face.

"Is what true?" Katsura played dumb, pretending as if the scene you had witnessed had never occurred, when it most definitely had. "If you mean about Takasugi and-" Before he could go on, Takasugi got up, tugging at the boy's sleeve as he dragged him away. Looking at them over your shoulder, you could see Takasugi lowering his head while Katsura kept looking back, protesting at the boy's actions.

"That idiot Takasugi." Gintoki's voice forced you to turn around, watching as him get back on his feet. His clothes were muddied up, leaves stuck in his silver hair from all the struggle. Once he was up, he looked away from you, spitting blood onto the ground. "Tch, I'll make him pay as soon as I-"

"Is it true?" You repeated your question, this time directing it at him. Instead of answering your question, Gintoki shook the dirt off his clothes, making his way past you, completely ignoring you.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going to answer you on empty stomach. Come, you are buying." Having no other choice, you reached a hand inside your pocket, feeling a handful of coins underneath your fingertips. At the very least you could afford his portion. Letting out a sigh, you went after him, following him through the woods to the streets of Edo.

Fortunately enough, Gintoki chose a dango stall that wasn't too far away from Shoka Shonjuku. He was considerate enough not to go for something too expensive, you thought to yourself as you watched him munch on his dango stick. Holding onto yours, you could barely force a bite down, the knot in your throat being enough to suffocate you.

Once he had eaten, he threw the stick onto the ground, sucking on each of his fingers to clean them off. The two of you had stayed in compete silence the entire time, the sounds of the city being the one thing to keep you company.

"So?" You were the first to break the silence, unable to contain your own curiosity.

"For a girl, you are such an eyesore." Gintoki stated, annoyance hindering his voice. "Even Zura could make a better girl if he wanted to."

"Did you call me all the way here to insult me?" Ignoring your question, he went on. "Just look at you. What kind of girl is covered in bruises? Whose girl's hands are full of blisters from sword fighting?" He paused momentarily, furrowing his eyebrows as he inspected your face closely. Hesitantly, he reached out to you, placing a hand near your forehead, grazing a bruise with his fingertips. You weren't even aware of that one, most likely it was the result of your recent sparring.

"Y/N, why can't you live life like a normal girl? Why do you have to fight with us, what is it that you want to protect?"

"Because I... I want to beat you." Your answer was enough to catch even you by surprise. If anyone had asked you the same question in the past, you would have listed tons of reasons; because you didn't want to live an average girl's life, because you didn't want to get married off, because you wanted to protect the people around you, your own country, even. Yet when he asked, all you could think was him, how much you had worked to beat him, how much you had struggled just to hear a single compliment from his lips. As long as he acknowledged you, nothing else mattered, as long as he did that one thing, his constant teasing was something you could tolerate.

The boy studied your expression, as if he was trying to see right though you. Eventually, he turned away from you, his attention falling back to the busy road before you. Although you couldn't be sure, you could have sworn you caught glimpse of his smug smile. "You don't need to beat me to prove your worth to me. In fact... you already have beaten me a long time ago."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you hear what Zura said?" Your eyes were wide open as you looked at him, too nervous to say a single word to him. Peering at you with his maroon orbs, he scoffed. "Are all girls as dense as you are?"

"I... I like you." His words pierced right through your heart, echoing through your head. It was hard to believe what he was saying, considering how he'd never done anything other than tease and humiliate you, yet somehow, you could tell that his words were genuine. The way your heart begun to beat faster, the way you felt the dango tumbling through your stomach was enough proof of that.

"So... you don't hate me?

"Hate you?" He repeated your words while chuckling. "Don't be so stupid."

"Then why did you do all these things? Why were you so mean to me?"

"Because, I wanted you to give up. And if it wasn't for that shithead Takasugi, you would have. In reality, no one likes to see the girl they like all bruised up. No one likes to see them wield a sword for no reason. I don't know what or whom you want to protect but let me do that for you. What I'm saying is... Y/N, let me protect you."

His words had left you dumbfounded. You didn't know what to say, how to answer him, you didn't even know how to feel about all that. Only minutes ago, you had considered Gintoki to be your biggest rival, yet now he had spoken to you about his feelings, feelings you would have never guessed he had. Even if all this was nothing more than kid's talking, his confession was enough to make you waver. You had never considered things in such a manner, to you Gintoki, Takasugi even, were only your classmates. Yet now that you were looking at things more clearly, perhaps it wasn't completely one sided. Perhaps behind all this frustration and competition, there had always been something more, something you couldn't properly identify at your age. Perhaps it wasn't victory that you sought, perhaps all you longed for was his approval.

"Gin..." You said his name out loud, yet you weren't entirely sure what to say to him. All you knew was that despite everything he had done for you, his words had filled you with an unfamiliar feeling, one that tiptoed between extreme happiness and even more extreme anxiety. Still, you had to let him know how his words made you feel, how he made you feel.

Gintoki scoffed once again, shaking his head dismissively as he got up. "We talked enough. It's time to go back before Shouyou sensei sends Zura to find us." Turning his back on you, he begun to walk away when you jumped forward, hands tugging onto his sleeve, forcing him to stop. The boy flinched, his eyes looking at your hands and then at your face. Gulping, you let go of him, wiping the sweat of your palms against your kimono as you felt your cheeks flush red. Once again, you found yourself unable to utter a single word, the sound of your heart being more than enough to distract you.

Suddenly, the boy reached forward, claiming one of your hands in his, forcing you to look up at him. Although his eyes looked as bored as ever, this time a shy smile was carved onto his lips, one that was meant for your eyes only. Instead of saying a thing, he just nodded, taking another step forward, only this time, your fingers were laced together as the two of you made your way back.

A/N: In other words, I gave in to creative freedom :p Had to somehow make Gintoki mean and I had to justify it kinda so yeah this is what I came up with. Hopefully it's decent, heh.

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[antariies]

Visions of the Past: The Departing

Summary: The Commander never told Braham about their first death at the hands of Balthazar. Years later, he finds out in the worst way possible.

Characters: Pact Commander, Braham, Aurene, Balthazar

Notes: Commander’s POV (2nd-person); set before Jormag Rising; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; 5.6k words, CW: blood, gore, character death, anxiety attack; the departing is and will always be one of my favorite instances and it sucks that we never got an emotional confrontation about it between braham and the commander. hope i did it justice. enjoy!

—

“Commander, can I use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” Braham asks one day, apropos of nothing, sliding into the seat across from you.

You slam your glass of water back down onto the table with a loud smack, screwing your eyes shut and leaning forward as you choke on your drink. After a few seconds of intense coughing and waving away Braham’s apologies, you finally clear your throat enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, squinting at him in confusion, “you want to… what?”

“Uh, use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Only with your permission, of course.”

“…Ah,” you nod slowly, letting the question fully sink in. You bring the glass of water to your lips again as you search for the right words. “That’s…”

A complete and total invasion of my privacy, your mind supplies helpfully.

“...a strange request,” you mutter into the cup. The only thing stopping you from shutting him down on the spot is the fact that it’s Braham. He wouldn’t ask this of you without a damn good reason. “And you want to see them because…?”

At this, Braham lights up, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what the lost Spirits said. About how I need to be a better leader if I’m going to beat Jormag, y’know? So I figured, since you’re the best leader I know-”

You can’t help the fond eye roll you give him.

“-if I got to experience some of your memories, then maybe I could learn from them,” he finishes, nodding once in determination.

“It’s definitely an unconventional way of learning,” you remark coolly, resting your chin on your hand as you level an even, challenging stare at him. You’ve cowed countless soldiers and politicians with this look alone, honed to terrifying perfection over the years.

Undaunted, Braham sets his jaw and meets your gaze dead on. “I know nothing can replace first-hand experience, but I think this would be a good way for me to practice without, uh,” his eyes flicker down for just a moment and he swallows hard. “Without the risk.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, but you don’t miss the way he absently fiddles with something small and wooden in his free hand and-

Oh, you think, recognizing it and finally understanding. Oh.

It’s been months, but the memory of your first day in Bjora Marches stays fresh in your mind.

It had been freezing cold in the barracks of Jora’s Keep when you and Braham had gotten locked in, but the ice that froze in your veins when you watched him stumble upon the mangled body of his former guildmate was colder still.

“Alva,” he’d whispered, stricken with grief as he sank to his knees beside her body.

“I’m sorry, Braham.” The words sat like ash on your tongue, tasting the same as the first time you had ever offered your condolences and every time after that. You never really got used to it.

“Garm… used to rest his head in her lap.” Braham had pulled her head into his lap then, smoothing her hair out of her face with the utmost care. You turned away to give him as much privacy you could, but the dead silence in the barracks meant you heard every hitched breath and muttered prayer to the Spirits. When he returned to your side after a few minutes, he was clutching a small wooden figurine.

“It’s Wolf,” he explained softly when he caught you looking, “Alva made one for each of us, but I gave mine back when I left, I… I had no idea she’d kept it all this time…”

.

.

.

He carries it everywhere now: a constant, physical reminder of his failures as a leader and as a friend.

You know the feeling all too well.

Unbidden, an acrid tidal wave of bitter jealousy swells up inside you. It’s not fair. You never had the chance to practice leadership because you were thrust into your rank, your title, in the middle of a war. You had no one to guide you. Every lesson you learned was written in blood and people paid for your mistakes with their lives.

The wave reaches a roaring apex, then swiftly crashes and breaks against the rocks of your guilt and better judgement.

It’s not his fault, you tell yourself, that you were given the short end of the stick. If you had had the opportunity to practice, to learn from someone else’s mistakes without risking the lives of anyone under your command, wouldn’t you have taken it too?

Of course, you think, picturing the Pact Memorial that still stands in Caer Aval to this day, of course I would have.

“Of course,” you say, gaze and voice gentle, “I think that’s a great idea, Braham.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting- wait, what? Really?” He stares at you incredulously, the beginnings of a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I honestly didn’t think you would say yes so-”

“Well, now that you mention it,” you start mildly, before stifling a snort and shaking your head in amusement as he scrambles to retract his words. “Yes, Braham, I’m sure. C’mon, let’s go before I actually start having second thoughts.”

As he helps you clean up the remains of your lunch, you can’t stop your mind from dredging up every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the past eight years. You shut your eyes in a fruitless attempt at blocking out the memories, a long-suffering sigh trapped in your lungs.

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, you’ll be in control of the memories you show him. What could go wrong?

.

.

.

“Hey, Aurene- oh. She’s not here.” Braham says, stopping at the entrance of Aurene’s lair.

You walk past him, a smile stretching across your face as you look around the room. It teems with plant life. Curtains of ivy hang from the tops of the room’s arches while giant Maguuma lilies and dozens of other flowers grow out of cracks in the floor, reaching toward the sunbeams that stream in from the open skylight. Clusters of Aurene’s iridescent Brand crystals cover the walls, filling in the holes left by years of neglect.

In the middle of the room, the Scrying Pool gives off a faint light of its own, its waters swirling lazily as you approach. The spot where Aurene normally sits is vacant, though, just like Braham said. Closing your eyes, you reach out to the bond you share with her. It hums at the edge of your consciousness, quiet and comfortable when you’re not actively talking to her. You give the slightest tug.

‘Just checking in. Where are you?’

A few moments later, a familiar sight flashes in your mind. A vast stormy sky, filled with blue-tinted thunderclouds and stretching as far as the eye can see. The Mists.

Then, Aurene’s voice in your head, clear as day. ‘Trying to figure out what Jormag is up to. So far… I still have no idea.’

“Are you talking to Aurene?” Braham asks. You nod. “Tell her I said hi!”

‘Braham says hi.’ you relay.

‘Hello, Braham!’

‘Alright, we’ll let you get back to it.’ You smile inwardly, a rush of affection warming your chest. ‘Be safe. I love you.’

‘Love you too, Champion.’ Aurene croons happily in your head.

“Aurene says hello,” you say, opening your eyes. “She’s keeping an eye out for Jormag in the Mists right now. I don’t think she’ll be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Braham says, slight disappointment coloring his tone, “Does that mean we can’t use the pool?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t hurt to try, though,” you answer, walking over to it. Kneeling as close to the edge as you dare, you lean over to look into the waters. Your reflection wobbles with every ripple from the pool’s constant, self-sustained swirling and you study your distorted face until you catch some movement above your mirrored shoulder that doesn’t seem to be from the pool.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn lightly, tossing a flat, unimpressed glare over your own shoulder.

Braham, to his credit, looks sorry for maybe half a second before grinning in a way that is decidedly far from it. Still, he concedes and backs away from you with his hands slightly up in surrender. “Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I would never,” you lie, turning back to the pool so he doesn’t see your smile. You make a note to push him into it at the first chance you get. “I’ve used the Scrying Pool a few times now and I can tell you that it’s way easier to view your own memories rather than someone else’s. Feels different too.”

When you first used the Scrying Pool to view Ryland’s memories, it wasn’t anything like Kas’ glamour during the All-Legion Rally. You weren’t just wearing his face and spectating from inside his head, you were Ryland. You felt everything, including his thoughts and his emotions, as if they were your own. It had felt so real that after waking up, it took a few seconds for you to realize that you weren’t him. Aurene had to calm you down as you scrambled around for a flamesaw that was never yours and shouted for a warband you were never a part of.

You can only imagine the state you would have woken up in if you had overstayed your welcome in Ryland’s memories.

It was different with yours, though. Those were easier to fall into, like slipping into a dream, and you always woke up from those with complete clarity.

Speaking of your own memories…

“I think I know the perfect one to start with,” you say, dipping a hand into the pool and focusing on a memory you’ve already used it for. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to access a memory without Aurene here, never mind control it. You don’t even know if two people can go in together, or whose body Braham would end up in. So you start off easy. Something you both remember. The leather of Braham’s armor creaks as he settles down next to you and does the same. He watches on in awed silence as the water glows brighter, swirling faster and faster until a small whirlpool forms in the center and pulls at the lily pads closest to it.

A familiar darkness crowds the edge of your vision and you let yourself fall backwards into the memory.

.

.

.

It’s not hard to spot Braham when his blood-red hair contrasts so starkly against the bright, white snow that covers the land and comes down heavy from the sky.

That, and he’s also waving at you from where he stands outside the gates of Cragstead.

“Hey!” he greets once you’re in earshot, shouting over the wind, “Hey, thanks for coming.”

You glance around. “Just us, huh?”

Braham grimaces. “You heard what Brimstone and Whitebear said. I tried sending out notices too, but…” he shakes his head, determination hardening his features. “Nevermind that, we have to go. My friends are in there.”

Turning your eyes upwards, you catch sight of billowing plumes of dark smoke as they start to pour into the sky. A strong gust brings the stench downwind and both you and Braham wrinkle your noses in distaste at the same time.

“No time to waste,” you nod. “Let’s go.”

You tighten your grip on your weapons and follow closely behind Braham as he leads you through the driving snow to the heart of Cragstead, cutting a path through the strange alliance of Flame legion and dredge along the way.

This is an evacuation mission, first and foremost, you remind yourself. Your gaze sweeps over the empty lodges and homesteads, searching for people. It’s not so different from the evacuation missions you used to do with your order when Zhaitan was still alive and a threat, its Risen minions encroaching further and further into the homes of Tyria’s minor races.

You find the villagers soon enough, all rounded up into small groups in the center of the town and trapped inside shimmering domes of fire magic. An equal number of charr and dredge guard each dome, their mechanical weapons whirring and spitting the occasional flame.

Braham growls at the sight and hefts his mace, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.

“Wait,” you caution, throwing an arm out to stop him from charging in. “We can’t just rush in. We’re way outnumbered.”

“We took care of those other guys just fine,” he argues.

“Those were just stragglers we picked off,” you gesture at the domes scattered around. “Here? There’s a dozen of them and only two of us. We can’t take them all in an open fight-”

Braham makes a frustrated noise and you hold up your hand.

“-which is why we switch tactics,” you finish, flashing a sharp grin at him. “They haven’t noticed us yet. Here’s the plan.”

The thing is, you’re no stranger to being outnumbered. Your entire time in Orr was spent leading handfuls of people on high risk, high reward missions, after all. It was kind of your specialty.

So it’s with practiced ease and calm authority that you explain your plan now, laying out a classic divide-and-conquer strategy that’s gotten you and your small squads through countless skirmishes against all odds.

It’s a flawless ambush, all things considered.

You and Braham hit them hard and quick, fighting in tandem as you push the offensive and give them no time to react or warn their allies before you cut them down. And with the help of his protective guardian magic, you two manage to free everyone without a single casualty.

“Where are the others?” Braham asks immediately as he helps an older man to his feet.

Despite his clearly injured arm, the man pulls him into a quick hug before answering. “They were chased up the mountain, to the shrine. I wasn’t- I wasn’t fast enough…”

“It’s okay, Haslo, I’ll go. Will you be-”

“We’ll be fine, thanks to you.” Haslo claps him on the back. “You and your friend be careful!”

When Braham looks over at you, you nod. Of course I’m coming with you.

The trip up to the shrine is shorter than you expected, but you think that might have something to do with the lack of flaming charr or dredge along the way. That only puts you more on edge and you ready your weapons, wary.

You don’t hesitate for a second at the entrance of the cave, charging in to catch the massive Flame legion charr and his grunts off guard. You’ve only known Braham for a few days and fought alongside him for less, but you two fall into a steady rhythm almost instantly, barely having to exchange words. You make quick work of the goons, letting him take care of the hulking charr. Braham doesn’t even let him get a taunt out, stunning him with a shield bash before swinging his mace into the charr’s snout with a brutal, deadly uppercut, spraying blood across the cavern walls.

With the threat taken care of for the time being, you and Braham free the rest of the villagers and escort them down the mountain, dispatching any stray Flame legion or dredge who tried to escape in all the chaos. While there weren’t any casualties, fortunately, there are still plenty injured, so while he talks to some of the other villagers, you help tend to the wounded as best you can. They have a long walk to Hoelbrak ahead of them, and you don’t envy them the trip.

You’re tying off a bandage when you hear him call your name.

“There you are,” he says, stopping in front of you. “Hey, thanks for everything. Really, I mean, I don’t know if things would’ve turned out as well as they did if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, tilting your head at him. “What are you going to do now?”

“After we get everyone to Hoelbrak, I’m gonna find out where all these Flame legion and dredge are holed up so we can track them down.” He pauses, then rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Uh, that is, if you still wanna come along…?”

You smile and cross your arms. “Guess I’ll see you soon, then?”

The pleased grin Braham gives you is warmer than any hearth and twice as bright.

“See you soon!”

.

.

.

“Oh no,” Braham mutters, the first thing you hear as you blink away the last of the memory. “Oh, Spirits, noooo.”

“Something wrong?” you ask, keeping your voice light even as you eye him up and down in concern. It was his first time using the Scrying Pool, after all. Had it affected him differently?

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I just… I just can’t believe I used to wear my hair like that.”

You keep a straight face for an admirable three whole seconds before bursting into snickers. When Braham groans and buries his face in his hands, you only laugh harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, smiling, “I thought it suited you.”

He glowers at you. “You’re just saying that.”

You make a non-committal noise and wiggle your hand in a “so-so” gesture. He groans again, falling backwards onto the floor.

“That was really cool,” he says after a while, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. “Being in your head, I mean. I felt so… in control the whole time. Like I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Leaning backwards on your hands, you tip your head back and close your eyes. “You were impatient—well, you still kind of are—but you handled yourself better than some soldiers twice your age. And you’ve only gotten better since then. Give yourself a little more credit, Braham.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him flush at the praise, sitting up abruptly.

“Thanks,” he coughs into his fist, fighting a grin. “So, uh, any more memories you feel like sharing?”

You hum. “Several, actually. Ready to go again?”

.

.

.

You, grabbing the handles of a cannon with both hands and holding on for dear life as The Glory of Tyria lurches to the side, sending Destiny’s Edge, Pact soldiers, and Risen alike sprawling flat on the deck. When the airship finally rights itself, you waste no time, bracing your shoulder against the cannon and shoving hard until you have Zhaitan directly in its sights. The Elder Dragon is on the verge of death, pieces of its own body sloughing off itself as it clings desperately to the side of the tower. You take a deep, steadying breath and fire.

You, the only thing standing in between a crowd of fleeing civilians and a swarm of cutthroat Aetherblade pirates as they drop down from their airships. Lion’s Arch can be rebuilt, but lives can’t be replaced. You do a quick headcount, zero in on the weakest-looking one, and leap into the fray.

You, tracking down your teammates one by one as you tear through the dark, vine-twisted labyrinth under the Silverwastes, an undying behemoth of a Mordrem wolf hot on your heels. You lead them all safely through the maze, driven by the fierce desire to protect your friends. You will not lose anyone today.

You, the legendary Pact Commander, at your best.

After a few back-to-back trips down memory lane, you both decided to take a short break. For his part, Braham had opted to swing his legs over the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. When he asked whether or not it was okay to do so, you just shrugged and told him you had already cannonballed into the water before. Multiple times.

“How are you feeling? No headaches or anything?” you ask after a few minutes of rest.

“Nope. I do feel pretty commander-y, though.”

You snort. “Commander-y?”

“Mhm. I’ve been in your head too long. Any second now, I’m gonna start spouting a bunch of your expert advice.” Braham clears his throat and puts on an exaggerated voice that you swear sounds nothing like you. “‘Remember, it doesn’t matter how long the hog’s been dead. It doesn’t matter that it’s been sitting in a toxic cloud. You can always try to eat it.’”

You roll your eyes and swipe your hand through the water, splashing him. “Okay, that’s it, I’m revoking your pool privileges. We’re done here.” You pause, expression turning thoughtful. “Actually, I think we are done here. I don’t think I have any more memories to show you. None that would help, anyway.”

“Hmm, what about your time in Elona? I wasn’t there for that.”

“Uh, you definitely were,” you say, shooting a quizzical smile at him. “Or do you not remember storming Joko’s palace with me?”

“No, no,” Braham laughs, waving dismissively, “I meant before that. I wasn’t there for… ugh, what’s his name again? Balthazar?”

For a brief, blissful moment, you only recall the part where you killed him.

Then your free hand flies to your chest on instinct, ghosting over a wound that no longer exists.

“What about him?” you ask, a little louder than necessary. You cringe inwardly, but Braham doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, everyone told me you somehow took control of Joko’s Awakened army and got them to fight on your side,” he shakes his head, chuckling. “I didn’t believe them at first, but that sounds exactly like something only you could pull off.”

You can hardly hear yourself over the frenetic pounding of your pulse in your ears. “Did they… tell you anything else?”

“Not really,” Braham frowns, finally turning to face you. “Why, is there- woah, hey, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Commander?” His voice spikes with worry.

Swallowing hard past the lump in your throat, you try again. Still nothing.

You’re so preoccupied with trying to force yourself to speak that you don’t even realize your other hand is still in the pool until you feel the tug of an old memory on your consciousness.

Ripping your hand out of the glowing water in a panic, you can only stare in horror as that does nothing to stop the ancient, powerful magic from pulling you helpless back into the dark.

.

.

.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It doesn’t.

You throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging a fireball as it blazes past your head. Ducking behind a crumbling pillar, you press your back up against the stone and try to catch your breath.

You’ve bought yourself some time, at least.

This is a fight you know you can’t win, but the walls of flames surrounding the spire prevent your escape, so your only hope is to keep Balthazar distracted until reinforcements arrive.

“Any second now,” you mutter, and you don’t know if you’re trying to reassure or convince yourself.

You grit your teeth as another wave of pain wracks your body. There’s a nasty gash in your side, larger and deeper than the rest of your cuts, and it oozes sluggishly, soaking your armor in blood.

It’s bearable for now, but you can’t afford to be slowed down.

“Are you hiding, Commander?” Balthazar sneers, “How pathetic.”

Your answer to that is to dart out from behind the pillar, launching a flurry of attacks along his flank and back. When he twists around to send a volley of fireballs your way, you just tuck yourself into a neat dodge-roll, avoiding them all with ease. If you wince and stumble on the landing, you pretend not to notice and hope he didn’t either.

“Aw, you missed!” you taunt, sounding way braver than you feel, “How pathetic!”

Balthazar’s face contorts in fury. “Enough!” he shouts, and both the flames surrounding him and the spire seem to burn hotter than ever.

Before you can react, the ground beneath your feet erupts in a column of fire and you scream as your world is engulfed in a white-hot inferno. When the initial blinding agony finally passes, you find yourself sprawled out on the ground, pointed stones digging into your back and your weapons flung too far out of your reach.

Get up.

You only manage to twitch your fingers.

Get up. Now.

Your throat burns raw. When you try to speak, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a pained whimper.

GET. UP. BEFORE BALTHAZAR-

You sense Aurene before you see her.

“Ah, the scion, finally come here to defend her champion.”

Finally…?

It clicks. Your heart stops.

Balthazar’s been toying with you this whole fucking time.

It’s impossible for you to form words, let alone make any sort of loud noise, so you try to warn Aurene through your shared bond instead, panic rising with every passing moment that she doesn’t respond.

‘GET AWAY,’ you practically roar at her, ‘TRAP. IT’S A TRAP. YOU’RE FLYING RIGHT INTO A TRAP, TURN AROUND, PLEASE-’

And Aurene roars right back at you. There are no words you can hear—you don’t think she’s old enough for that yet—but she can convey her feelings through the bond and right now she’s drowning out your desperate warnings with them. She refuses to abandon you. You are her guardian and her champion and she loves you and you promised over and over to protect her so she promised the same and weren’t you the one who taught her about loyalty in the first place?

It takes one self-sacrificing idiot to know one. You would laugh if you weren’t so fucking terrified of losing her.

Your vision swims and you only catch glimpses of Aurene’s skirmish. She’s a bright blue blur, swerving expertly in the air as she dodges fireballs and lets loose her devastating dragon breath every time Balthazar tries to swat her out of the sky. Snarling, he launches some sort of phantasmal chains at her and-

No.

No, no, no, nonono-

“Aurene!” you scream. The exertion sends you into a coughing fit, but you don’t care.

You’re crying now, too. You don’t care.

Balthazar is saying something, but you stopped listening to him ages ago. It’s a monumental effort just to crane your head towards Aurene, your vision clearing long enough to see her staring at you, eyes blown wide in fear as terror rolls off her in waves.

She tries to apologize and you rush to soothe her.

‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ you reassure, ‘you have nothing to be sorry for, I love you so much, it’s not your fault, never your fault.’

Maybe you’re projecting a little. Whatever.

You only stop when a giant metal boot steps squarely into your line of sight, blocking her from view. You glance up.

Balthazar towers over you, his giant, flaming greatsword hovering menacingly by his side.

The fear that lances through your gut is primal.

You can’t die yet. Not here. Not now.

He notices the way your wide eyes trace his sword and bares his teeth in a humorless grin. Oh, he’s enjoying this, relishing the power he has over you.

“I thought you would put up more of a fight, given your reputation,” Balthazar remarks casually, circling you. With a lazy wave of his hand, his sword floats over and suspends itself in midair right above your chest.

Your already labored breathing dissolves into short, shallow gasps.

You can’t die. You’re not ready.

He lets the sword hover for a few more seconds before grabbing the hilt with both hands, raising it higher over your body. His face twists with hate, eyes blazing molten gold as they bore hungry and vengeful into yours.

You don’t want to die.

The edge of the blade glints orange from an indifferent sunset.

Please.

There’s a sickening crunch as he swings it down hard into your chest, punching through your armor and sternum and crushing most of your ribcage in the process. Then the blade severs your spine and you lose all feeling in your lower body.

Distantly, you think you hear someone scream, high-pitched and anguished. Was that Aurene? Or Taimi? Maybe both.

Certainly not you, although you’d tried to. What remains of your lungs are filled with more blood than air at this point, and it pours out of your mouth when you open it.

I’m sorry, you think, but you can’t remember what you’re apologizing for. Or who you’re apologizing to.

You’re so tired of blood. Tired of pain. Tired of feeling.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It does.

.

.

.

The only reason you don’t wake up choking back a scream and clutching your chest like Braham does is because you’ve relived this in your nightmares far too many times for it to rip that kind of reaction out of you anymore. Still, it takes you longer than normal to push yourself into a sitting position and even longer for your pulse to even out. Fighting the urge to curl up and disappear from the world, you rush over to where Braham sits hyperventilating.

“Hey, Braham, hey, look at me, you’re okay, you’re okay. You’re here, you’re alive,” you reassure, and you’re surprised at how calm you sound. You work on getting him to match your breaths, counting out every inhale and exhale.

“Oh, Spirits,” he chokes out after his breathing steadies, his voice nearly cracking as tears prick in the corners of his eyes, “that was… how- h-how did you survive that?”

Your mouth shuts with an audible click. Biting your tongue, you look to the side, carefully avoiding eye contact.

You could lie.

Lie and tell him the airship made it just in time and the medics brought you back from the brink with a miracle. Another close call, but you pulled through like you always do. Spare him the pain, the grief. It’s been years, and there are more important things to worry about right now. It would save you both so much trouble.

“Commander?” he asks softly, earnestly.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I didn’t,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Deafening silence, for a beat.

Two.

Three.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Braham says eventually. When you finally bring yourself to look at him again, his brows are furrowed in confusion. He stares at you in concern, scrutinizing. “You’re… definitely still alive.”

“I sure am.” Neither of you miss the tired bitterness that bleeds into your sarcasm. You wince and sigh, running a hand over your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s a long story.”

And to this day, you still haven’t told anyone all the details. You’re not sure if you ever will.

“Who knows?” Braham asks.

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, Rytlock, Canach, and Kas were there when it happened. Taimi… overheard.” You don’t know which is worse: being the one to hear you die, or finding your body after the fact.

They’re not the only ones who know, but they’re the only ones who matter. Even then, you swore them all to secrecy.

“Taimi called me around that time,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Did she…?”

Braham shakes his head. “She was crying too hard,” he says, speaking slowly as he focuses on remembering. “She said something about you, but she couldn’t get the words out. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she just hung up on me. Then she called me back a day later to say it was nothing and to pretend it never happened.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else.

“I always wondered what she was trying to tell me,” Braham smiles sadly at you. “Guess I know now.”

You swallow hard. “You’re… taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“I’m not the one who died,” he shrugs, even as his hand comes up to brush across his chest absentmindedly.

But you know how it felt, you think, How I felt.

The thought hangs in the air, unspoken.

“Are you okay?” Braham asks after a while.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, automatically, “I’m fine.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He looks pointedly down and you follow his gaze.

Your hands are shaking where they rest in your lap. Gritting your teeth, you clench them into fists. They don’t stop.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, more to yourself than anything. “I’m fine.”

The shaking travels up your arms until your shoulders are trembling as if under an invisible weight. This is so embarrassing, so humiliating. You’re pathetic. You-

You don’t resist when Braham pulls you into a warm embrace.

“It’s been years,” you mutter, blinking rapidly against the itchy heat behind your eyes. “I thought I’d be over it by now.”

“It always hits you when you least expect it,” Braham says quietly, “I’m sorry, Commander.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. You know he knows you hate pity, but this is the farthest thing from it. “When did you get so wise?” you tease.

“Learned it from you,” he says, voice tinged with pride, and now it’s your turn to flush. He squeezes you tightly once before letting you go. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” you say, and this time you mean it. You breathe in deep, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “I’m okay. Thank you, Braham.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grins, and promptly shoves you right into the Scrying Pool.

His boisterous laughter echoes off the walls and drowns out your indignant spluttering. When you pull yourself out of the pool, drenched and dripping water everywhere, he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a dead sprint down the hall.

You chase after him, smiling, and leave your memories behind you.

[mxtcha-tea]

and that's how i met you mother

✎desc; love at first sight with shiratorizawa (honestly, not all of them are love at first sight but ignore that)

✎pairing[s]; shiratorizawa 3rd years x f!reader (separate)

✎genre; fluff, crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; just an excuse for me to write lovesick boys💗 (I can’t do Shirabu, Kawanishi and Goshiki’s part cause I ran out of ideas🤸‍♀️🚆)

Ushijima

It would just be a normal day in his class, learning and stuff like usual

Then after the teacher finished explaining and hand out the tasks, he'll went through his pencil case and couldn't seem to find any pen

Ushijima frowned at that and looked throughly in his pencil case but with no luck, there's none

He swore that he had put some inside, maybe his mind slipped a little?

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention as he turned his head around to make eye contact with you

You're holding out one of your pen to him with a neutral look,

"You can have it," Ushijima look at you surprised, does that mean he can just take it from you? That's a little absurd

But he didn't question it and nodded, slowly taking the pen from your hand and continue studying

The pen doesn't really sit right in his hand, it's not being his and literally someone else that he doesn't have the chance to talk to

He'll spare a glance at you every minute (ngl, he's complimenting your side view internally)

And when you caught him looking at him, he'll just blink and slowly look back at his work with a light blush on his cheeks

(Istg it's so cute)

After the class ends and before you can leave for lunch, Ushijima caught your attention first,

"Here, thank you for lending me this. And unfortunately, i can't take it from you"

You're just looking at him with a dumbfounded look before taking the pen from him,

"Ah, no problem, um..." "Ushijima Wakatoshi"

You nodded at that, scratching the back of your head "...Ushijima. And it's [y/n]"

Both of you are just standing there in front of each other but it's not awkward, surprisingly

It's as if you two are waiting for one of you to speak and end the convo

(Spoiler alert; none of you wanted to end the convo since both of you find each other interesting)

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your pen a little, "Okay, see you after this, Ushijima"

He nodded at that and with that, both of you went to your separate ways

'[Y/N], YOU AWKWARD BASTARD! THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING, I BET HE THOUGHT THAT YOU'RE WEIRD NOW!'

Ushijima's just walking towards the gym with a fairly visible blush across his cheeks as he look down

"Ushijima..."

"[y/n]..."

"I guess he's fine..."

"I guess she's fine..."

Ushijima Current Mission!

Trying to figure what other scenarios he can drag you in to have a convo with you again

Good luck Wakatoshi~!

Tendou

You and Tendou have talked with eachother a couple of times but it's nothing more than that

And Tendou actually want to talk more with you (at first for friendship points but y'know...)

Today, you look more beautiful than ever to him today

It's not like you're not beautiful every other day (he thinks you're pretty so that's why he kept on having a convo with you)

And he caught into that

Somehow, he can't help bet stare at you in a distance and he tried his best to avoid getting caught

(Tendou's scared that you find him creepy for looking at you all the time and he don't want that thought to flood you mind)

Then, you came to him to explain about the work your science teacher gave since she's absent for the time being

And you can bet that he doesn't hear a single thing you said because he's too focused on yourself

It's kinda like in those scenes in manga where the main character stare into the main interest

The main interest looking as beautiful as ever with flowers around them

Pretty eyes, angelic face, kissable lips

For him, you're perfect and he even thought that you might be an angel in disguise

No matter how you even see yourself, he would always think that you're fascinating, adorable, enticing—

"Tendou, are you okay?"

The redhead snapped out from his thought and got caught by you

By now, his face is literally mocking his hair color as he chuckled nervously,

"Ah, I'm fine! It's just that..."

He was about to stop mid sentences but thankfully he still got that crumbs of courage and just goes with it,

"...you look pretty today,"

Tendou said with a closed eyes smile, peeking an eye open and trying to see your reaction (ngl he's nervous)

You blinked

Before you literally exploded at that which is what make him surprised in his seat

You fake coughed, looking away and avoiding eye contact,

"Thanks...."

[love meter +10!]

If this is an actual manga or anime, there could've been hearts dancing around him

Timeskip to Tendou at his home and squealing quietly to himself (he can't let his family hear him fanboying for someone in his school lmao)

"We're totally going to marry 3 years from now on~" he says to himself in the mirror with so many confidence

(I just love it when Tendou act like that, let him have his moment)

"Haha, thank you gods for creating me and [y/n] in the same world,"

Tendou's Current Mission!

Getting to know you better and give tons and tons of compliments, just like in the simulations! Specifically otomes and dating games

Try your best Satori~!

Semi

It was another day, another practice session

Except that it went longer than Semi expected, he managed to run from the gym to the main entrance

But before he can even put on his shoes, heavy rain started pouring down

He look at the dark grey sky, resting his forehead onto the shoe locker with one shoe already in his foot while the other in his hand

Sighing, Semi thought about asking to come with Tendou and Yamagata since he didn't bring his umbrella

But on second thought, he realized that they prolly forgot theirs too

And all 3 of them have to run under the rain again like last time

Yamagata and Tendou: "We can avoid the rain if we're fast enough!"

He shivered at that their words and the thought of getting terribly sick again

And before Semi's brain can process a strategy for himself, he was caught off guard when an umbrella was opened next to him,

"Ah sorry,"

In those few seconds, everything went slow motion when your eyes catches his

(He swore it felt like in the anime)

He can feel his cheeks flushing a little but thanks to the wheater, it's not obvious

"Hello?" Semi snapped from his thoughts, shaking his head before focusing on you again,

"Sorry, sorry, um—" "You don't have an umbrella?"

He blinked, shaking his head slightly

It's a pretty peaceful staring between you two with the rain hitting the ground as background sounds

Until you lift your umbrella up, and pointed at the small spot next to you with your thumb,

"Here, I'll help you,"

"Eh?"

Semi was flabbergasted a little at your statement but would he decline it?

Of course not,

"Just tell me where your house is then I help you go there,"

And that's how he find himself back at his house's entrance with you in front of him,

"And that's why I just let you walk with me for the afternoon,"

"Is that so, oh wait! I haven't known your name, and you prolly haven't known my name either..."

He scratched the back of his neck before looking at you with a smile,

"The name's Semi Eita, thanks for the walk back home,"

Your lips parted a little before in turns into a tooth rotting smile,

"[y/n], no problem and thanks for the company, Eita,"

An arrow pierced through his heart as his face is literally the color of Tendou's hair

And just like that, you left him on the entrance with a funny expression upon his face

Cutting the scene to Semi punching his pillow (rip pillow)

"You already caught me off guard already but you really had to look at me like that...."

Semi's Current Mission!

Try to find you the next day after first period and try not to be awkward with you and his convo after the eventful day

You can do it Eita~!

Yamagata

Let's just say that,

Yamagata went through the late anime girl scenario

But with his toast falling down from his mouth while running towards his school

And his stamina almost running low despite being a volleyball player and a libero

(His house's prolly far from his school, cut him some slacks sheesh)

He's pretty much stumbling a lot when he enters the school and speed walking up the stairs

Some of the students look at him weirdly but that doesn't become his main concern because a strict teacher is going first

Yamagata's almost there, almost reaching his classroom's door

But god had other plans and place an invisible rock in front of him

And as you can tell, he slipped on it and now facepalming the floor

(The sound is so loud my lord)

He groaned, shaking a little while trying to sit up from his position

The male look up and is now face to face with you, who's looking down at him

Okay he might be delusional from the impact but is he actually looking at an angel right now?

"Dude, you okay? That's gotta hurt from the sound that it made—"

Your words drowned inside his mind as he widened his eyes with pink tints decorating his cheeks

'This...THIS IS IT!'

"—also I think your nose is bleed—"

"PLEASE MARRY ME!!"

You flinched at that but keep a calm face, a little bit concerned that he may hit his head too hard

While Yamagata is just having heart eyes for you, sparkles around him after saying those words almost too confidently

He doesn't know what's in him that make him think that you're the one,

But he definitely can feel it

You sighed, crouching down while searching through your pocket and pulling out a small pack of tissues,

"I think we're going so fast right now but no, maybe 5 years later or never,"

"Does that mean you agree??"

"I don't know, you're handsome but also stupid, a himbo I think,"

You wipe away the blood dripping down his nose, taking his arm, opening it and put the bloodied tissue on it before closing it, giving a light tap,

"Now go to the nurse office,"

"Will you be there for me?"

"No,"

You help him stand up, dusting his shoulder and walk away as if nothing happened

Yamagata watches you from the distance with a lovesick smile

Tendou laughed behind him with Ushijima and Reon next to him and Semi looking at Yamagata, confused,

"Hayato, I have no idea if you had your alarm on but you just came to school during recess,"

"She's perfect...also, I think I need to go to the nurse right now cause my head hurts,"

Yamagata's Current Mission!

Marry [y/n]

Have fun, Hayato~!

Reon

(He will have the best love at first sight cause I say so)

It was the school festival and it's lively in every corner of the school, the outside, inside the classrooms, even the hallways

Reon had just finished his part of his classroom and now can walk around to enjoy the festival

Honestly, it's a pretty normal day to him despite being the school's festival

The students of Shiratorizawa has always been this lively so it's good that they can be keep the atmosphere as how it is like any other days

Since the others are still working on their parts, Reon was all by himself

Sure, the quiet sounds without Tendou, Semi and Yamagata is fine but he prefer it being loud anyway

A short of way to fill in the boring silence

But what's the bad thing to enjoy the peace once in a while?

So he take a small walk outside the Shiratorizawa building

Stalls decorated the outside with students busy serving the customers

He was greeted by some of them as he greeted them back with a warm smile

Hands inside his pocket while looking at the sky every few seconds

Baby blue sky with fluffy white clouds, it is the spring afterall

It was at that moment where he turn his head around and caught your eyes

It was something between those few seconds that a lighting strike between the string connecting you two for a second

Reon knew he did from the moment you two clashed with each other so suddenly

It was...not love at first sight exactly,

But rather, familiarity, like,

'Oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you,'

The staring prolly lasted more than he expected before you snapped out from your thought, shaking your head,

"Sorry! Didn't mean to..." "But you didn't do anything?" He rose an eyebrow, smiling sheepishly and watch your panic slowly dissolves

"Well, technically yeah but It was bad of me to stare off at you like that,"

He chuckled, your heart clenching at that,

"Don't worry, I think I did it too...maybe both of us did,"

"Ah, yeah! Probably..." you fiddled with your fingers, visibly nervous facing him since he's basically a stranger even tho being in the same school,

"Reon Oohira," "Eh?" You look at him with confusion at first, while he just offers you a smile,

"My name, since we have...how to say it, meet each other? And I don't want to make you uncomfortable after all that so I think it's best if we introduce ourselves,"

Your heart's basically beating out loudly that you'll afraid that he'll hear it

But, that doesn't seem so bad, does it?

You mirrored his smile, this time more confidently than before,

"[y/n] [l/n], nice to meet you Reon!"

"Please,"

Reon put his hand onto your head, "Just call me Hira,"

You fainted

"She's interesting, I love her,"

Reon's Current Mission!

Get to know you better and honestly, there's nothing else to do after that other than asking you out

You'll do great, Oohira~!

[elliotoille]

Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing. 

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs. 

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully. 

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol

[sapphirelass]

Deal? - Remus LupinxDaughter!Reader

Hi! :)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swear, my next story won’t be about Umbridge XD

Word count: ≈ 2300

Warnings: Umbridge, angst, slight swearing

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I do not wish to criticise the ways of the school, however you have been exposed to some rather irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention” the toadlike professor threw a dark glance at a sandy haired student and smirked evilly, “extremely dangerous half breeds”.

The student in question raised her hand angrily, and glared at Professor Umbridge. “Yes?” the teacher smiled sweetly, “miss… Lupin, am I correct?”

“Yes, (Y/N)!” she began, “but that’s besides the point. Look, I know what you’re doing, but Professor Lupin was the best DADA teacher we’ve ever had, and I’d be more than happy to bet everything I own on that being quite a common opinion in this classroom!”

Most of her fellow classmates nodded furiously, and the young girl turned her head towards her professor, who immediately cleared her throat and declared: “Well, I’m afraid simply being a beloved teacher doesn’t really matter, dear.  Werewolves are still extremely dangerous creatures. They are beasts that are undeserving of respect and that should not be allowed to be part of our fine wizard community. They are uncontrollable, and highly likely to injure or possibly kill young witches and wizards, including their own children.”

She flashed a cruel, yet pleased, smirk as (Y/N) furiously stood up, despite Hermione desperately trying to force her down.

“You have NO IDEA what you’re talking about!?” she whispered angrily, her nails digging into her palms as her fists clenched. “You have probably never even met one of these so called ‘half breeds’, have you? No, you were most likely just told some bizarre stories containing more lies and made up facts than truths, and decided to put that worthless ‘knowledge’ - if you can even call it that - to use by spreading rumors and destroying the lives of innocent people.”

Umbridge looked frantic, and was about to speak up, but (Y/N) got there first. “I despise people who look down on others. People who claim to be better than everyone else. People like you. You certainly don’t deserve respect!”

She took a deep breath, and was about to continue when Umbridge’s shrill voice forced her to stay quiet. “That’s quite enough! Detention, miss Lupin. The rest of the week, five fifteen, don’t be late”.

***

A few hours later, (Y/N) made her way back to Umbridge’s office. She knew her friends had wanted to talk to her, but she had done her absolute best to avoid them all afternoon. She simply didn’t feel like explaining to them why she had done what she did. She’d gladly do it again though. Her father was the kindest, wisest, most incredible person she had ever met. He had done everything in his power to give her a good childhood, and no one had the right to insult him. She’d defend him to her last breath if that’s what it would come down to.

She knocked on the door carefully, and pushed it open when she heard a shrill, terrifying voice sing a sweet “come in”.

“Oh, miss Lupin, almost late I see!” she said arrogantly. (Y/N) didn’t have time to answer before her teacher continued. “Sit down.”

***

The detentions went on for another four days before Umbridge told her she didn’t have to come back the following evening, but that she better hold her tongue unless she longed for more. (Y/N) tried to keep that in mind, but still lost her cool a few more times before the end of the semester. However, the Christmas holidays were approaching, and though her red, swollen hand caused her to worry slightly, the idea of seeing her dad and godfather caused her enough joy to tip her mood over to “mainly happy”.

She stepped off the train with her friends, and immediately spotted her father on the platform.

“Dad!!” she shouted, and threw her scratched arms around his constantly scarred torso. “Merlin, I’ve missed you so much”. She buried her head in his shoulder, simply enjoying the feeling of love and safety that he somehow instantly gave off.

“Hello, darling!” he said gently, returning the bone-crushing hug. “I missed you too, believe me…”

(Y/N) wanted to stay like that forever, but eventually let go as she intended to at least try to keep her… problems… hidden. She had never really been able to keep secrets from her dad, and therefore didn’t want to do anything he would consider “out of the ordinary”. If she did, he’d figure it out, or persuade her to tell him everything within minutes, and she knew he’d feel guilty if he realized what she had done for him. She understood perfectly well that the scars on her hand were deep enough to be visible for the rest of her life, and that nothing she would say could convince Remus Lupin that it was not his fault. She was left with one option: He could not, under any circumstances, know. Ever.

They carried her trunk together, and walked a few feet behind the rest of the gang.

“So?”, her father inquired, “How are things? You all doing okay?”

“I suppose”, she answered, “Our new DADA teacher is quite a daft prick though.”

“(Y/N/N)!”, he muttered sternly, casually trying to hide a smile, “Are you sure that’s the right word? Sounds rather rough, doesn’t it?”

The witch shrugged. “No, I think it fits rather nicely. It’s almost as if she’s trying her very best to prevent us from learning anything helpful…”

“That’s… well, that doesn’t sound very promising, does it?”

“No, hence the slightly offensive description… But enough about her, how are you? Had any company while I was gone?”

The older wizard smiled, easily noticing the tone of his daughter’s voice switch into a far more joyful, energetic one - One he knew and loved!

“Oh yes, I’ve spent quite a bit of time at headquarters, and Sirius essentially isn’t allowed anywhere else, so we’ve done a lot of catching up. There is, believe it or not, a lot to talk about after 12 years without seeing each other, so it’s been very nice.” He turned to her, smiled even broader and added a quick “But I’ve still missed you.”, before quickening his pace to catch up with the others.

***

Later that night, (Y/N), Remus, Harry and Sirius were sat in the living room of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry and Sirius were playing catch with an old snitch they had found in the house, lazily throwing it back and forth. (Y/N) lay on a sofa, a thick leather bound book tightly clutched in her hands and her head resting on her fathers lap. He was deeply invested in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, and father and daughter were simply enjoying a nice, calm evening.

All of a sudden, Sirius grabbed the snitch, sat up straight and reached out towards his godson.

“Harry, what’s that on your hand?”

The dark haired boy pulled the sleeves of his jumper further down and mumbled a quiet “nothing”.

“Sure, let me see then”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry abo…”

Harry didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Sirius had risen from his seat and forcefully grabbed his left hand. The slightly faded “I must not tell lies” was still readable, and Harry winced as the look on his godfather’s face went from composed to furious in a matter of seconds.

“Who?”

“Sirius, I…”

“WHO?!”

By this time, both Remus and (Y/N) had put their books down, and were carefully observing the “argument”.

“It’s our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Umbridge. She’s quite generous when it comes to giving detentions. But mine’s really not that bad now. It barely hurts anymore…”

“That’s totally barbaric!? Moony, we have to…”

“Harry”, Remus interrupted his old friend with a worried look on his face, “What do you mean by ‘quite generous’?”

His heart practically skipped a beat when he felt his daughter shift uncomfortably, however it was Harry who answered.

“‘m quite sure half the Gryffindors have been to her office at least once by now. Even when you’re not really doing anything wrong, she’ll make up a ‘reasonable’ excuse…”

As Harry spoke, (Y/N) had unconsciously been pulling the sleeves of her jumper closer to her fingertips. Remus obviously noticed and made eye contact with Harry, nodding discreetly towards his daughter as if to ask if she too had… well… yeah? Harry closed his eyes, knowing full well how his friend wanted to hide her scars from her dad. It had taken hours of convincing before she had even let him, Ron and Hermione see, and he understood why she didn’t want Lupin to know. He did, however, not like the idea of lying to his former professor, and nodded slightly.

Remus closed his eyes looking simultaneously sad and angered, sat up straight and muttered “(Y/N/N)?”

The young witch took a deep breath and was about to move away from her dad, but he was faster and quickly grabbed her hand. He was very gentle, but she flinched anyways, as her last detention had taken place only a week prior.

“(Y/N/N)”, he repeated, “show me”

“Dad”, she mumbled quietly, “‘tis fine, don’t worry”

“(Y/N)!” His voice sounded far sterner now, “I’m serious. C’mere”

“No, I don’t want…”

“It’s not a question of whether or not you want to, Love”, Sirius explained before his friend could think of a response. “Show your dad.”

“But…”

“(Y/N/N)”, Harry mumbled, “Just… just do it”

“No! I can handle it! Stop making it sound like I’m too weak to do so!”

She felt a tear escape her eye, and stood up to leave the room when Remus waved his wand and locked the door.

Taking yet another deep breath, his daughter turned around, made her way across the room, pulled her left sleeve up and slammed her scarred hand down on the table for the other three to see.

“There! You happy now?!”

A flood of tears were streaming down her face, as her dad, godfather and best friend leant closer and read seven deep-red, awful, heart wrenching words:

***

I must not defend filthy half breeds

***

Remus put his head in his hands and stood up, while Sirius moved closer to his goddaughter and pulled her into a tight hug. Harry joined the embrace and comfortingly rubbed her back.

“why? Why (Y/N/N)?”, her father whispered quietly, his voice barely audible.

“I… I couldn’t…She… sorry…”

The usually calm, collected girl was completely lost for words. Shaking. She had no clue what to say, all she knew was that she had to let her dad know that she was sorry. Sorry for making him feel guilty. Sorry for causing him so much pain. Sorry for not being strong enough.

She walked over to him and noticed heavy, wet tears on his face too. Carefully she wrapped her arms around him, and together they sank down onto the cold floor. They sat there for what felt like hours before Remus finally spoke up, repeating his previous question.

“Why, darling?”

She met his sad gaze and collected her thoughts before quietly whispering “She keeps saying horrible things - pure lies - and she’s enjoying it. She’s throwing insults my way every chance she gets. If I don’t stand up and fight, everyone will think she’s right, and she’s not. Nothing will ever change unless someone works for it, and as soon as that someone backs down, they’ve lost. I’m not having that.”

He looks back at her, his eyes full of pride. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You mean besides being the most phenomenal dad imaginable?”

He chuckled softly, ruffled her (Y/H/L) hair and held his hand out. (Y/N) slowly placed her hand on her father’s and shifted her gaze towards the floor as he examined the neatly written letters. With a worried expression on his face, he grabbed his wand and moved it back and forth over the scars while quietly muttering a few carefully chosen words. The pain immediately became more endurable, and after putting his wand away the older wizard grabbed his daughter’s shoulders gently, and looked at her in a sad, yet determined way.

“(Y/N/N), as honourable as your intentions are, please don’t do this for me. I’m not going to tell you to back down, but if you’re going to keep it up, don’t let it…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting injured because of me. I’m not wo…”

“Yes, you are! Stop saying that! I’ll be a bit more selective, if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare tell me not to fight for you. You are my dad, my only family, and there is not a single person on this planet less deserving of disrespect, insults and hate. Dad, you’re amazing, and I’m not letting her fool people into thinking you’re not.”

After a moment of silence, a quiet, “I still don’t like it…”, escaped his lips.

“I know.” She sighed, “That’s why I originally didn’t plan on telling you.”

(Y/N) was fiddling with her fingers, not quite meeting her fathers warm gaze, when she suddenly sat up and said, “Let’s make a deal? I promise to choose my fights more wisely, and in return, you won’t blame yourself for the consequences of said choices? Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

Her father sighed, but reluctantly answered, “Fine, as long as you promise me one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t hide scars or pain from me ever again, no matter whether it’s physical or mental, okay? You’ll let me know, and let me help, always!”

She held her right hand out, her dad shook it and they shared a smile. This time, a true, pure one that actually reached their identically green eyes.

“Deal!”

~ L

Part 2 Oh, darling...

Masterlist

[elacular-kink]

Poly-Techhic character sheet

Poly-Techhic is a serial hiccup story about a group of polyamorous college girls. This is a description of the four main characters and may be edited later.

Picrews of the girls.

Susanna Jane Butler

Also called Susan and Susie Appearance: —4'10" (147 cm) —Very average weight and build —Tan skin —Chinese —Adopted by American Catholics. —Short, straight black hair —Bangs can fall over eyes. —Wears baggy clothes —Almost always has on a baggy hoodie with the hood up. Neurotypical (I think?) —(The author isn't, so...) Extremely gay Sophomore (AKA, 2nd year) Loves and is studying music —Plays multiple instruments —Piano —Is actually better at pipe organ —Guitar —Sings well —Learned how to sing in kids choir in her church. Is way less cool than she looks or acts —Is cooler than she thinks she is. Is great at telling people off —Is terrible at telling people good things. Has a hiccup fetish. —Has been like this as long as she can remember. —Has extremely big emotions and anxiety about it. —She's not able to get off without it.

Olivia Elizabeth Jones

Appearance —5'9" (175 cm) —Skinny —Isn't skinny on purpose, just naturally doesn't develop much fat. —Annoyed when people conflate thinness with health. —Very dark skin —Black (African American) —Nearly buzzed black hair —4C texture —Uses reading glasses —Keeps them around her neck on a chain for practicality —Everyone else says it makes her look like an old lady. —Wears very practical clothes. —All fabrics must be soft and/or smooth. —Clothes are generally tight. She dislikes having clothes that hang loose. —Doesn't care about how butch or femme it is. Autistic —Very blunted affect —Sincerely emotes only for huge feelings. —Still feels things when not emoting, just doesn't move her face much about it. —Hates social niceties —Is overly honest with people Aromantic —Does not feel or have a great understanding of romantic attraction. —Can still identify it in others —Bisexual with a female lean. —Considers Susanna her life partner, but does not consider her a girlfriend. —"See, this is why I explain it with 'it's complicated', Olivia." —Does consider Maya a girlfriend —"It means something different to her, and I can do that." Sophomore (AKA, 2nd year) Gets the hiccups all the time. —Doesn't generally mind them. —Has been shunned or punished for them in the past. —Thinks this is stupid. —This is part of why Susanna has been her best friend. —Almost nothing cures them. —No apparent medical reason, she's just very hiccupy. Kind of a troll —People don't expect it from her since she seems so serious. —Primary victims are Susanna and Maya. Extremely emotionally perceptive

Maya Heffernan

Appearance —5'4" (163 cm) —Feels taller because of her personality. —Also just often wears cleats —Both very muscular and very chubby —Built like a professional weightlifter. —Is capable of lifting weights like a professional weightlifter. —Is basically a physical freak with absurd strength, speed, and endurance. —Exercises constantly. —White —Ridiculously pale (Irish ancestry) —Covered in orange and brown freckles —Massive mane of curly red hair —Sheds red hairs everywhere. —Wears glasses —Including when playing rugby —Has prescription sports goggles —Almost always wears her rugby uniform. —She's number 7, the openside flanker —So she gets to tackle people! —A lot! —Dresses very butch outside of it. ADHD —Takes adderall occasionally when she needs to focus —Does not like how she feels on it. Solo-poly —Wants to avoid becoming overly dependent on someone or having them become dependent on her. —Still enjoys having romantic and sexual relationships with many people. —Keeps most relationships at arm's length. —Only forms closer relationships with other people with big poly energy. —Has gaydar, but for polyamorous tendencies. Pansexual —Not all pansexuals are sluts. But she is. —Fucks lots of women, men, and other types of people. —("But where are the men?" They're offscreen somewhere, shut up.) Junior (AKA, 3rd year.) Gives people nicknames —Whether they want them or not. —Will relent if they genuinely hate them. —Eventually... —Susanna=Susie —Olivia=Liv —Kiran=Kiki Chaos agent —Loves to disrupt people's lives. —Often for the better, sometimes for the worse, almost always for both. —Genuinely thinks this is fun and wants others to have fun too. —Actively trolls people —Frequently goes too far. —Extremely easily bored. —Will cause problems when bored. —If there's nobody to cause problems for, will cause problems for herself. Really fucking stupid. —Under no illusions about this. —Has always struggled with academia —Has no common sense —Has no impulse control —Is still alive because she's impossible to kill

Kiran Mandal

Appearance —6'1" (185 cm) —Very fat —Deep brown skin —Indian American —One parent is first generation, one parent is second. —Long black hair. —Wants to do interesting things with it, is too nervous to try. —Always wears a dress or a skirt. —Has yet to figure out what her fashion sense is, has been fairly conservative thus far. Autistic —Terrified of eye contact —Often makes it anyway due to masking. —Always tries to "win" eye contact. —Has a lot of difficulty socializing —Has very little experience doing so, which doesn't help. —Particularly with people her own age. —Extremely socially anxious and shy. —Stims and makes repetitive movements —Used to make a lot of sounds with her mouth, had that mostly trained out of her. —Has never been able to stop flapping when anxious or happy. —Is extremely embarrassed by this. —Sees it as a personal failing. Trans —MtF —Is on hormones —Has not been on them long. —Not very secure in her womanhood —Is rarely accidentally misgendered. —If someone misgendered her on purpose, the other three would kill them. Uncertain sexuality —Definitely likes girls. —Definitely really really really really really likes girls. Freshman (1st year) Really academically smart —Brilliant at the vast majority of what would be considered "nerd shit". —Particularly likes computer programming. —(Forgive me for my trans woman stereotype.) —Has studied under professional tutors all her life. —Speaks English and Hindi fluently, is proficient in Spanish —Currently being tutored and learning Mandarin. —(please don't expect me to know anything about any of these languages, German is super close to English and I'm still not learning jack shit) —Has very little "street smarts" —Very limited practical knowledge of the world. Family is stupid rich —Probably some tech sector shit. —Dad may be an insufferable tech bro. —She has access to a shitload of money. —She has no idea what money is actually worth, but is self-aware about that. —Has been insulated from a lot of normal people's experiences because of that. Vegetarian

[forever-rogue]

Honeyed Whiskey

A/N: This was not called for at all, but I was so inspired by THIS dress from yesterday. It’s just a little soft, gentle fluff. Enjoy! xx

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: references to sex, but nothing graphic

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

By the time he's lulled from sleep, far later than he normally would have preferred, the first thing he notices is the golden sunlight streaming in through sheer curtains and open windows. Instantaneously, a smile is tugging on his features and he shifts onto his back, stretching limbs made stiff by sleep. He's content and comfortable, already enjoying his days off, knowing they'd be spent with you. 

As soon as the thought of you crosses his mind, honeyed brown eyes slowly open again and he's blinking away the bleariness while reaching over to your side of the bed. But you're gone already, he notes with a light huff, finding nothing but cool emptiness where you normally laid.

Before he can get too lost in his own thoughts, he hears you. Its faint - soft and barely audible over the steady stream of the shower, but it's there. Crystal clear and beautiful, at least to his ears, he hears you singing softly under your breath along to whatever you had playing on the speakers. Rubbing away the remaining sleep from his eyes, he pulls back the soft, warm blankets and slides out from underneath. 

He's still naked from the evening before, but he doesn't even bother to dress or reach for even a stitch of clothing. He already knows you'll just strip off in seconds anyway. A beaming grin crosses his features at that; you certainly knew what you wanted and when you wanted it.

Almost as if you could sense him, you stopped singing for a moment and he hears the tell-tale rustle of the shower curtain, "Jack? Honey, is that you?"

"Hi Sugar," he poked his head and found you staring back with excited eyes and a head full of shampoo lather, "you're up early...need a hand?"

"Its the Farmers Market today," you reminded him with a crook of your finger as he stepped into the warm bathroom, "I don't want to miss it, besides you're taking me to brunch and everything!"

"And just who decided this?" his tone was teasing as he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed. You grinned up at him, pressing a kiss to his plush lips and batting your lashes innocently. He huffed in jest before reaching up and tenderly cupping your face, "I suppose I did, huh?"

"I'm sure that's what you were saying last night," you couldn't help but beam at him, "when I was on top - somewhere in between telling me how good I was and how much you love me."

"Well now, I definitely can't say no to you, Sugar," his hands slowly went from the side of your face and into your scalp as delicately massaged it to help wash the shampoo out.

"Jack, you don't have to wash my hair," you insisted but you definitely wouldn't have minded if he did. Showering with Jack was always an experience; something so intimate and sacred, especially when you took the time to wash and explore each other's bodies. You took the opportunity to shower together whenever you could, especially on lazy weekend days.

"I know I don't have to, baby," he insisted softly as he started to tender wash the lather, "but I want to. Let me take care of you, Sugar. You always take such good care of me, its my turn to love you."

"Well, who am I to turn down an offer like that?" a contented sigh left your lips as you keened into his gentle touch, "I am no fool. I love you, Jack."

"And I love you, honey."

»»————-　♡　————-««

You spent a long time in the shower, and by the time the two of you got you were both pruned. Jack's towel was slung low on his hips as he went to his side of the closet to grab some clothes for the day.

A sly little smile found its way onto your face as you dashed down the stairs and to the laundry room. You'd gone shopping yesterday and found something you'd planned on wearing today. As soon as you had seen it, you knew you had to have it, and you were positive that Jack would love it too.

"What happened?" Jack called down the stairs as you quickly slipped on your undergarments and the item of clothing.

"Nothing!" you promised as you bounded back up stairs to surprise him. Jack was standing in front of the full length mirror, buttoning up his shirt. The simple sight was still enough to take your breath away as you watched him for a few moments. His dark mop of hair was still damp and unruly, and you couldn't wait to run your hands through it.

You leaned against the door frame and cleared your throat in order to garner his attention. Jack slowly turned around, and when he was fully facing you, his jaw almost dropped. He slowly walked over to you, that look of adoration and devotion in his eyes that you were so fond of.

"You look beautiful, Sugar," he drawled as you slowly twirled to give him a look good at the beautiful yellow sundress you were wearing. It was breathtaking, and you had known from the moment you spied it that it was the one. Stopping just at your knees it was a beautiful, golden yellow with flowers all over it, with simple thin straps. The bodice hugged you just right and the little flare was perfect. You had a feeling Jack would like it too, "what a gorgeous dress on the most gorgeous woman in the world."

"Now you're just flattering me," you laughed lightly and put a hand on his broad, pushing him back ever so lightly, "do you like though? Really? I-I saw it and fell in love and couldn't help myself."

"Its not flattery if it's true," he insisted as he grabbed your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, "I love it - not nearly as much as you, of course, but it's beautiful. And you make it even more so."

"You really do know just what to say, don't you, my love?" you couldn't help but steal a quick kiss as you flounced past him to finish getting ready, "still up for brunch?"

"And then the farmer's market," he reminded you with a soft smile, "I couldn't think of a better way to spend my day."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Brunch was a slow, fun affair as the two of you ate and drank your way through probably too much food. You'd insisted that Jack could pick the place since you were technically forcing him to brunch. He'd agreed, but that quickly turned into him driving to your favorite spot regardless. A silly old fool you had lovingly deemed him.

By the time you'd reached the farmer's market, it was warm and everything was bathed in brilliant sunlight. Jack had quickly reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, as you walked around and looked at all the various little stalls. It was busy and bustling, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood today; funny what the first nice day in the spring could do.

Jack was the type of man that loved to show you off, but there was also a part of him that was fiercely protective, never possessive, over you. It comes from years as an agent; a tried and practiced thing. 

Whenever someone would stop the two of you, he'd always make sure you were front and center, getting all the attention you deserved. Today, in your new yellow sundress, that was no exception. There was something about today, how radiant and happy you looked, how kind and gentle you were, that set something off in him. Suddenly, as he watched you pick out some fresh oranges and apples from one of the stalls, he knew he had the answer to the question that had been on his mind. 

“Honey?” you turned back to him, finding him watching you with a dopey little grin on his face. You held out your hand to him, and Jack wasted no time in coming over and taking, effortlessly entwining your fingers, “what’s wrong, Jack?”

“Nothing’s wrong at all, Sugar,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before taking the large tote filled with fresh fruits from you, ever the gentleman. You used to try and fight him on little things like that, insisting that you were more than capable of doing things on your own, but it was always useless. Eventually you learned not to argue with your cowboy. 

“You’re just awfully quiet today is all,” you squeezed his hand in a sign of reassurance to let him know that everything was okay, “you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course,” he stopped suddenly so he was facing you, a half smile on his handsome features. After studying your features in his aviators for a moment, you gently pushed them to the top of his head before leaving in to give him a gentle, saccharine kiss. When you pulled back, you found a light tinge of pink creeping into his cheeks, “whatever was that for?”

‘Just because,” you shrugged lightly before taking his hand again and tugging on it for him to follow, “I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too,” he shook his head at your playfulness but both knew the words were true. You’d both been jaded in different ways throughout your lives, but this was the one thing you were sure about. You really did love him more than anything - and he you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You clutched onto your drink, or rather what was left of the smooth, honeyed whiskey, before turning to Jack and setting the glass down. You found Jack staring into the roaring fire across from you, his expression suggesting that a lot was going through his mind. 

You were across the small fire pit from him, the one he had lovingly built in the background for cool nights just like this and let out a small sigh. His drink wasn’t even touched and he’d hardly said more than a word or two the whole evening, leaving you to do most of the talking yourself.

“Alright, Jack, this is enough,” you stood up and flounced over to him, and sat down next to him, “what’s going on, Jack? Ever since this afternoon at the market, you’ve gone practically silent. It’s not like you, honey. I-is it something I did? Are you upset with me?”

“No, no, no it’s nothing like that at all, sugar,” he promised as he turned to you, a worried expression on his own face, “I am far from upset, or anything else for that matter. I’ve just had a lot on my mind today - lately.”

“What’s going on? I can help…” you watched with worried eyes as he stood up and moved in front of you, a thoughtful expression on his face as his hands dove into his pockets, “Jack?”

“We’ve been together for a long time now,” he started as you swallowed the lump in your throat, “honestly, it seems like there wasn’t any time in which I didn’t know you. It feels like we’ve always been together…”

“Oh my God,” you looked at him with pouted lips and a worried expression in your eyes, “you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

“What on earth...how...no, Sugar, I am absolutely not breaking up with you or anything of the sort,” he quickly insisted and you relaxed at his reassurance. Then why was he so...off today?

“Then what’s…”

“I love you more than anything,” he reminded you, and your heart fluttered in your chest as you nodded slowly, “and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you. I don’t know a lot, but that is one thing I do know.”

“I want that too,” the corners of your mouth turned up into that brilliant smile that still made Jack weak in the knees. Radiant and golden as ever as nervous butterflies fluttered about his stomach; he was sure you would be able to hear the nervous beating of his heart, “you’re my one, Jack.”

“And you are mine, Sugar,” he slowly kneeled, almost eye level with you as he got down on one knee and reached back into his pocket. Suddenly you knew - all the quiet moments, the little secret he seemed to be hiding, all the extra declarations of love, it all made sense now. Your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry then and there. He reached for your left hand and gently held it in his, “I have never been more sure of anyone or anything, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to build and grow our family together, all of it - I want it with you.”

“Oh honey…” you looked into those soft brown eyes and found that they were glossy with tears as well, “I...love you so much. I want everything with you too. Only you.”

“Well then I just have one very important question to ask you,” he slipped his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. He made quick work of displaying the beautiful ring inside. You looked between the ring and him, hardly able to believe this was happening, “Sugar, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and allowing me to be your husband?”

“Yes - yes,” you nodded as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He studied your face for a moment before delicately wiping away your tears, after which you put your hands on the sides of his face and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, “of course I’ll marry you, Jack. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes.”

“And just like that, you continue to make me the happiest man in the world,” he scooped you up in his arms and spun you around as he held onto you tightly, “I love you so much, Sugar.”

“I love you too, Jack,” you whispered against his lips, “tell me what finally made you ask? Was it the dress? I always knew yellow was your favorite!”

“Of course not, darlin’,” he laughed lightly, “it was all you - the dress was just an added bonus. How lucky I must be to have the privilege of getting to gaze upon such beauty everyday.”

“And what about me?” you asked in response, “I must be pretty lucky as well. I get you all to myself, the best man, and soon I get to call you my husband.”

“I suppose that makes us a pair of lucky fools,” he mused as you beamed at him, “what do you say we do inside and grab some champagne to celebrate? Just the two of us for now, before we tell the world.”

“I love the sound of that,” you agreed, “this is perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[mk-wizard]

Sailor Moon 90s Anime is STILL the best

Hi. I know I am on a Sailor Moon binge here, but after seeing all of Crystal, Eternal and on R (season 2) of the first anime, I want to get this all off of my chest... and before I go further, since these are all animes, I will refer to them as 90s, Crystal and Eternal. And after watching them all, I have to say that the 90s takes the gold medal as the best Sailor Moon anime so far and this is why;

1- It had the best pacing. - While I admit that sometimes, it went too far with the filler, 98% of the time, it worked with the 90s. It took its time to make you get to know the characters for better or for worse, it made you see different sides of them, it gave them a chance to truly develop and be multi-dimensional, and it made you care about them. When a death happened, it felt tragic. When a victory happened, you cheered. And when you saw what side characters did, it mattered. I mean, who can ever forget the contribution 90s Naru Osaka had to the story? And everyone who has seen the 90s anime cannot forget her. More on the character development and getting to know characters later.

Sure, it wasn’t true to the manga and even the characters had different personalities, but I let that slide by because when Crystal and Eternal did follow the manga to the letter, we didn’t get a chance to digest anything. The only characters who develop are Usagi, Chibi-Usa and the outer guardians, and for the last bunch, it was the bare minimum. Crystal and Eternal were fun rides and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like them, but they were like roller coasters. They gave you a thrill, but fast and been done. The 90s was like a slow scenic ride that gave you surprises, emotionally touched you, made you cry, made you laugh, made you root for the heroes and even at the age of 37 years now, I keep rewatching this series.

2- The art of the 90s was better because it was sketchy, dark and edgier. - I know Sailor Moon doesn’t seem like this on the surface because the heroines are lovely girls in cute costumes, it emphasizes femininity and all things pretty, it has a romantic theme and is all about love, but Sailor Moon is also one of the darkest, grittiest, edgy and violent magical girl animes I have ever seen since Magic Knights Rayearth. Sailor Moon has on screen deaths which were permanent most of the time, on screen stabbings and the drawing of blood, and fights that got so hardcore, that real punches and kicks were thrown. The dark edges, black line art and sharp edges worked with the atmosphere of the story. I mean, look at the difference between the halls Dark Kingdom of the 90s (above) and that of Crystal.

And if that is not enough to win you over, the characters were much more animated, organic and conveyed more emotion whether they were exaggerated or serious.

In Crystal, the expressions and body language was very dulled down. Not to mention, very stiff.

Everything is also too bright and soft which makes the characters look like velvet dolls with too much make up especially with the line art. I will give them props for adding better details, cleaner lines, the glow of magical items, and details in the gems, but everything else is all wrong.

Eternal was better, but still not quite there. The colours are still way too bright and the characters still look too much like dolls from having line art that is too wispy. And I really do not like how the eyes have this unnatural glow to them. The edgy scenes become lost with all this brightness.

3- We got to see that there was so much more the characters than just heroes or villains. - Since Usagi is the titular character, let us just talk about her in the 90s since I could go on forever about how much we learned about the characters. In any version of Sailor Moon, Usagi’s role as a Sailor Guardian has always been the core of the story and she does indeed show progress as one. However, the 90s tells us that no matter what, she is still going to be herself too which is just as important and she shows character development as just plain old Usagi too. The manga, Crystal and Eternal which only paint Usagi as not doing anything right except be a Sailor Guardian, but the 90s show her hidden talents and learning new skills. For example, she was bad at cooking at the beginning of the series.

However, by Sailor Moon R, she gets the hang of it and is able to cook a meal by herself. Yes, she is messy, clumsy, never gets the hang of making cookies and is nowhere near Makoto’s level especially when it comes to presentation, but she is good at cooking food.

Another hidden talent of Usagi’s is her drawing skills. She isn’t just good at drawing. She’s got talent at it, so in the 90s, Usagi is quite the artist.

And it is admirable that 90s Usagi is open to trying new things even if she isn’t good at them. She practices, she explores and tries to enlighten herself. Sure, academics, coordination and organization will never be her fortes, but she really does have other and tries to discover more.

In Crystal and Eternal, she is good at being Sailor Moon, she is a good friend and a good girlfriend, but that is it. She is one dimensional here and she isn’t the only one to painted like that. Everyone is only the obvious and that is all the audience gets.

4- Better character redemption. - I mentioned before that Sailor Moon had grit and was dark, but the 90s also made it more complex and did character redemption right. It was open to the possibility of bad people becoming good. For instance, the Black Moon Clan Specter Sister are unforgettable for being successfully redeemed.

Yes, I admit that the monster of the day would get killed by the hands of the Sailor Guardians, but they also clearly showed that the monsters were not people or even alive. They were made of energy, clay or sand. When the monster of the day was a possessed innocent, they were saved through exorcism. Very rarely was an actual person ever killed and even when they were, it was either by the hands of another villain, their own hand, self defense or as a last resort. They never used killing as means of dealing with every single bad guy.

Furthermore, the bridge arc about the Makai Tree that also served as a prologue to Sailor Moon R could be seen as a story about mercy, kindness and love. It stands out as the one time the big bad was actually a misunderstood big good being the Makai Tree herself. And even Ail an An were never bad, but were raised bad. And even then, they changed. This story is unique only to the 90s so far, but it was great and stood out for that reason.

In Crystal, the heroines will kill a person without a second thought which I am shocked that no one brings up how repetitive and contradictory that is. The pretty warrior of love and justice should by all means protect the Earth, but doing so by killing off the bad guy all time is not love or justice. I also think the caption in this picture sums up how I feel about how the one and only time bad guys were given a chance to be redeemed...

Eternal was better because the Asteroid Guardians got redeemed and saved. However, even then, I feel like there is still a double standard. They were one of the good guys to begin with and Sailor Guardians. In the 90s, the Amazoness Quartet wasn’t, but were given a chance to change anyway. I find it cool that the Quartet turned out to be Sailors and even better that they will go on to become Chibi-Usa’s team, but mercy is not just for your allies or for your own benefit. Everyone should be given at least one chance to fix their mistakes.

5- We got to know Mamoru better. - I admit that no matter the incarnation, Tuxedo Mask will never be as powerful as Sailor Moon except when he is King Endymion, but the 90s take on his character made him better even if they did omit his super attack being Tuxedo le Smoking Bomber. What the well dressed masked man lacked in firepower, he made up for in intelligence, insight about the enemy’s weakness, courage and skill. The only times he ever did get overpowered was either by bad luck or because it was intentional because he was taking a hit for Sailor Moon. And even then, he always got back up. He’s a real man like that.

More importantly, we get to know him as Mamoru too. Even before he confides being an amnesiac to Usagi, we see his struggles with feeling alone in the world from having no memory of his life before a tragic accident which also killed his parents. Now, him being a stern cynical person makes sense because I probably wouldn’t be pleasant to be around either if I lived with that. Once his walls come down, we see that deep down, all he wants is to belong somewhere and have a family. It should also be noted that 90s Mamoru doesn’t love Usagi because he is “destined” to. He loves her because he wants to. Even during that brief period where he broke up with Usagi was an act of love. The thing I also always liked best about 90s Mamoru is that even though he loves Usagi more than life itself, his life doesn’t revolve around her which is a healthy thing and he tries to encourage Usagi to be the same way for her own good. He is studying to be a doctor, he has a job and he even has his own crowd which I think is great.

In Crystal and Eternal, while I do see an attempt at trying to follow this trend by showing that Usagi and Mamoru were on their way to falling in love even before they got their memories back, I still find he was one note and we never really learn much about him that has nothing to do with Tuxedo Mask, Endymion or anything royal related. Sure, we know that he’s studying to be a doctor and is a genius to an extent too, but that is it.

I would like to end this by admitting that the 90s was not perfect either, but out of all the takes on the tale of Sailor Moon as of date. Crystal and Eternal were ok, but they just cannot stand up to the quality of the 90s. The only thing I can say I find Crystal did better than the 90s were the costume designs. Specifically, how they let Venus keep her chain belt, Pluto’s key chain belt, Uranus and Neptune’s shorter gloves, Uranus’s sword, Uranus having two earrings, Mercury’s suit is shoulder less which I always found suited her better, and I liked Sailor Moon’s brooch and necklace better in season 1.

And even then, I should have liked it if Jupiter’s antenna was always on display as it is just something I always found cute in the manga, I liked Mars’ five point star earrings better in the 90s, and I like how in the 90s, each of the Inner Guardians’ sailor stripes were a little different.

Of course, this is all my opinion. I would like to hear which of the animes did Sailor Moon right in your opinion and why. Thanks for reading and stay safe, and have a great day.

[newbornnebulae]

Truth is a loaded gun

The truth of the matter is, Dorian has grown to care for his friends. It's the only reason he makes the choice that he does.

A character study of Dorian in episode 5, because Robbie made some WILD decisions. Also on AO3

Dorian’s thinking of Dariax as he speaks to the disembodied voice that had visited his dear friend the previous evening already. As he bargains with it, his mouth moves faster than he can keep up. He’s bluffing, he thinks, when he says yes, yes he would trade the crown, an undeniable danger to the world in Poska’s hands, for his friend’s safety.

Maybe he doesn’t know himself as well as he should because when he searches inside for the lie that should be there, there’s only truth. He’s always considered himself a good man, reasonable, logical, moral… but he can feel the ring of honesty in his words; he would truly rather the whole of Emon burn down (again) than allow something to happen to his friend -friends, he corrects himself. 

It’s just that he can’t get the image of Dariax’s eyes gone jet black out of his head. The colour of his eyes are too lovely to be hidden in such an unsettling manner. The handsome dwarf doesn’t have enough self-preservation, or any for that matter. It’s all too easy for Dorian to imagine him falling prey to the crown and to the Spider Queen. Every time Dariax makes to reach for the crown with his bare hands, Dorian can feel his own chest constrict.

If Dariax were to turn into a darker form of himself, Dorian doesn’t believe he’ll have the strength to deal with it in the same way they’d dispatched of Alternate-Fearne. With the crown gone, there would be nothing of that nature to worry about. Dariax could continue to be his stupidly charming and pure self.

It’s beyond frustrating to Dorian that Orym had used Gilmore’s enchanted box just to send away a damned note. More than that, he’s upset with himself for insisting they hold onto the cursed crown in the first place.

Almost from a far away perch, he could see and hear himself snap at Orym unreasonably, time and time again. What makes it doubly worse is that Orym hardly ever responds in kind, doesn’t point fingers or place blame. It never makes Dorian feel better, only guiltier.

He knows it’s his own fault they are in this mess; the only reason Dariax is forced to continue carrying the crown is because Dorian had insisted they keep it. Dorian knows and the whole group must think it too. But all Orym does is quietly observe his outbursts. It’s annoying that Orym can remain so calm even as he confronts Dorian, while Dorian keeps having these hot flashes of anger he can hardly control.

Dorian finds himself to be more irritable as they traverse through the jungle, the heat and humidity of the place getting under his skin. Aside from his frustration with Orym, he eyes Fy’ra Rai with distrust, bristles at Opal’s prodding, and can’t help but grow annoyed at Fearne’s flute playing. It’s irritating when she plays poorly, the sound grating against his patience. It’s bothersome in it’s own way when she plays well, an uncomfortable jealousy prickling his skin.

The only person who hardly gets on his nerves is Dariax. 

Partly it’s from a sense of guilt. At Gilmore’s, Dariax had looked at him so earnestly. 

“If you want to keep it, we’ll keep it,” he’d said, unquestioningly supportive even when Dorian couldn’t give the group a good reason why. He’d seen how frightened Dariax had been after his dream with the Spider Queen. The dwarf had made an admirable attempt to act as though everything were fine, but it is plain to see that everything is not fine. 

There’s something so remarkably straightforward about Dariax, some would say simple-minded. As someone who doesn’t know the first thing about being straightforward, Dorian appreciates that about him.

Where Dariax is earnest and charming, Dorian is reserved most of the time and politely posh at his best. Dariax goes along with anything, easygoing and generous with his warmth. The only thing Dorian is generous about is imagining a generous amount of terrible scenarios that could happen. He can, at any given point in time, come up with more than twenty reasons why something is a bad idea. He’s rational in the worst of ways. 

As far as adventuring goes, Dariax has significantly more experience than him. The dwarf is never afraid to wander into the unknown. Dorian prefers to know where he’s going, how long it will take to get there, what dangers there might be, so on and so forth. It’s an effort for him to relax, something he’s had to learn how to do.

It was all learned, Dorian’s charm. Growing up, he hadn’t possessed an ounce of charisma. But he’d practiced until he could murmur polite platitudes in his sleep. He studied others, trying to figure out how people worked. He stood in front of his reflection, training himself to stand confidently, move naturally. Sheltered child that he had been, it had been important to have a certain image.

Slipping into Dorian Storm, a charming bard, was all the easier for it later on.

Unfortunately for him, the awkwardness still comes out sometimes. Dorian is still kicking himself for his display at Gilmore’s. Attractive men made it difficult for him to retain his composure or think straight. He’d gotten flustered again at the pageant, seeing Dariax in the clothes he himself wore everyday. 

He should consider himself lucky that he’d managed to remain cool in front of the group for so long. Next to Orym, he’s supposed to be the other reasonable one. Well, the group still likes him just fine and Dariax still looks at him with respect and admiration at the very least. 

While Dorian does his best not to read too much into the other man’s words -Dariax is the type to say things without thinking them through- he can’t help but think he’s Dariax’s favourite out of the whole group. Dariax looks to him for leadership, wakes him up after having a nightmare, sleeps back to back with Dorian out of everybody else.

It’s flattering, it’s nice, and it could be why Dariax is Dorian’s favourite.

It’s not the whole picture though. Dorian thinks on how he’d said to Poska all those weeks ago, “If Dariax doesn’t like you then I don’t like you.” Even back then Dariax had had his trust, as much as he’s able to give at least. Perhaps it has to do with the week of memories they’d collectively lost. Dorian doesn’t know how else he could have so much respect for a dwarf that he’s seen with shit in his beard. 

As much as Dariax seems to seek him out, Dorian gravitates toward Dariax in turn. It’s impossible for Dorian to be totally truthful about himself, but with Dariax, some foolish part of him wants to be. While the circus Dariax believes in does not exist, Dorian had not been completely dishonest about his situation. It’s the most he’s ever shared with someone. 

The thing is, Dorian has never had a best friend before, but if he had to guess, Dariax is the closest thing he has to one. Emon be damned, Dorian’s not ready to give that up anytime soon. 

[orbitluke]

your hair falling into place like dominoes - steve harrington

Summary: in a moment of boldness, Steve buys hair dye, causing your typical sleepover filled with movies and snacks to have a rather fun twist. (feat Robin because I love her <3)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (I don’t think I use any specific pronouns! Please correct me if I am wrong!)

Warnings: N/A 

Category: fluff, softboyfriend!steve

Word Count: 2643

Authors Note: I’m a bit scared about posting this because I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write! I also couldn’t think of a title, so you can have a taylor swift lyric instead that kinda relates lol. I appreciate feedback and I hope that this is somewhat ok! 

_______

Steve’s shift at Family Video had ended an hour ago. Rather than going straight home, he decided to walk downtown for a bit. He needed to buy a few things for later. You and Robin were heading over to his for a sleepover. An annual occurrence that had taken place since you and Steve had become friends with Robin whilst working at Scoops Ahoy.

He found himself walking towards Melvald’s General Store. He figured he could pick up a few snacks for you all. Steve greeted Joyce working behind the cash register, with a small wave; seeing her after a long gruelling shift made his night slightly better. There appeared to be a few customers lingering in each section. He took note of the reduced banners sprawled across the ceiling. It seemed even with Starcourt Mall gone the small store was still struggling. He made his way through each aisle, picking out each item he needed for tonight. He pulled his jacket a little tighter as he entered the frozen section. He picked up two pints of ice cream for you and Robin, smiling to himself as he recalled your previous sleepover, where you overindulged on ice-cream and laid across his sofa, groaning at how sick you felt. He took his time walking through the aisles, mentally checking off each item on his list. He wanted everything to be perfect. It had been a while since he spent time with you and Robin as a trio. He missed observing you and Robin stretched out over his couch, eat popcorn, and judge the characters on screen for their actions, however as he had picked up some extra shift at Family Video, your annual sleepovers had been pushed back. Steve’s gaze trailed along the aisles and towards the large clock that hung above the shelves. It was only 6:30 PM; he still had a while before you and Robin were meant to arrive at his house. You had spent the day at Hawkins library catching up on work you had missed. Steve’s parents were away on yet another business trip meaning he did not have to worry about any inappropriate interactions between them if they arrived early.

He could only imagine the tense conversation. 

He ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly, thinking once more, what could he have forgotten. His hand stilled in recollection as he remembered he needed to buy more hairspray. Despite using it less frequently, Steve still liked to have a bottle on hand. As he made his way through the hair care aisle, he let his eyes flicker over the different products, smirking to himself when he saw the overpriced shampoo you insisted on buying, claiming it made your hair just an ounce softer. It seemed Steve was not the only one with a haircare clutch. Without even thinking, Steve grabbed a bottle telling himself he could keep it at his place just in case you needed it. A part of him knew he would find himself using it. The scent of your shampoo brought him closer to you and filled him with an immense comfort he had never felt before. His cheeks reddened as he thought back to how he had purposely sprayed your perfume on his jacket so he could have a reminder of you. He shook his head at the thought, grabbing the canister of hairspray he used, however, accidentally knocking over a bottle of hair dye in the process. Fumbling over his feet, Steve tried to balance his collection of snacks in his hand. He unexpectedly dropped a packet of cookies, letting out a quiet string of profanities. Managing to shift his weight, he picked up the two items with ease, thankful he did not drop anything else in the process. Steve inspected the bottle closely. Burgundy Red Hair Dye printed out in bold lettering. The bottle seemed familiar, then Steve remembered back to last Autumn, where you excitedly came over before the Fall Dance, holding this bottle. You insisted on dying your hair so you could match the Fall decorations. He gleamed at your excitement. Steve thought you were so cool, always pulling off different colours. He wanted to try. He thought for a moment and decided he was buying it. Perhaps knocking the bottle over was a sign to do something he considered drastic to his hair. Steve was a perfectionist when it came to his hair. He would spend a good half-hour every day ensuring each curl laid perfectly. A part of him believed that his hair was the only reason why people liked him. Doing something different was met with great unease. He always wanted to experiment with his hair. Admittedly he relied on his hair a lot for his self-worth and was extremely reluctant to change it. He vividly remembers his cheeks staining pink as his dad made fun of him for using a large amount of hairspray. However, you had always encouraged him to do whatever makes him comfortable.

Steve slowly started experimenting with his hair, parting it differently, even allowing his natural curls to flourish. Something you admired. He was certain at the start of your relationship, you were only dating him because of his hair. It was silly thinking that, but the small ounce of unease gnawing at his brain told him otherwise. He believed he didn’t have anything discernible about himself, but you showed him otherwise. Admittedly Steve merely wished he were as confident as you, especially when it came to changing your hair. Steve admired how you experimented with your hair, often switching it up, claiming you were bored with your appearance. Steve swore you would suit any colour. Steve merely wished he had the guts to do the same. There was a looming judgement from his dad who would make snide remarks whenever he was around. It made Steve feel uneasy, but he still followed through with making these small changes to his hair. It was different but good. His decision was set in stone as he placed the dye onto his pile of miscellaneous food and made his way over to Joyce, exchanging pleasantries and ringing up his total.

***

As Steve pulled up to the driveway, he was made aware of how long his little shopping trip had taken, seeing two figures sat on his porch and two bicycles ditched on his drive. He found himself smiling, remembering Robin and you declaring your distaste for learning to drive. Instead, you insisted that you were both happy riding your bikes or stealing rides from Steve whenever he was free. 

"Hurry up Harrington I need to piss," shouted Robin, uncrossing her legs so she could stand.

Steve shook his head at Robin, rolling his eyes mockingly. 

“Gimmie a sec!” he responded as he stepped out of his car.

Steve shifted the grocery bags, so he could reach his house keys that were in his pocket. He felt a pair of hands steadily brush his lower back and grab one of the bags, preventing him from dropping it. 

“Thanks,” he smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"No problem, my love."

He unlocked his front door, barely able to say another word before Robin bolted past him and down the hall towards the bathroom.

"She chugged three ice coffees earlier. She insisted it would help her study.”

Steve grinned at your words, shaking his head. That sounded like Robin.

He tried to take the groceries back off you, but you pulled the bag back out of his reach.

“You go in, I have got this bag." You placed the bags on the kitchen counter just as Robin returned, wiping her hands on her jean-clad thighs.

“You know there’s a towel in the bathroom,” you laughed. Robin shrugged at your words.

“Ooh, what did you get?” she leant forwards against the counter and began picking out the items one by one. She nodded her head in approval at the assortment of snacks Steve had brought, spreading them out on the counter so you could see.

“Wait, what is this-” Robin was unable to finish her sentence as Steve snatched the bottle out of her hand.

“Hey!” Steve felt his cheeks redden. “It’s nothing. Let’s put everything away.”

“Awh C’mon Steve, what is it?” Unwrapping his hand, Steve gradually revealed the bottle, causing you to let out an excited yell.

“Finally!”

His cheeks reddened at your words.

“You’re finally doing something to that mop!” Robin grinned, reaching up to ruffle Steve’s hair. “I’m not sure yet,” he shrugged, placing the bottle on the counter suddenly insecure.

“No, do it!” you encouraged, “you’ll look great! I’ll help you if you want.” 

His heart warmed at your words.

“Really?”

“Yes!” You grinned already ushering the duo upstairs towards Steve’s other bathroom.

Unboxing the dye, Steve furrowed his brows at the instructions before asking, “Where do we start?” 

You snatched them off Steve, throwing them into the sink, insisting you did not need them. You were practically a professional after all. He was ready to protest, but you shushed him by placing a finger against his lips, causing Robin to laugh at your interaction. You pulled out the dye and developer before pausing.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, raising his brows with panic. 

“I need some Vaseline to line your head. Don’t wanna stain your skin,” you murmur, going over to the cabinet under his sink, rummaging through it.

“Aha!” you shouted in triumph.

"Here you go," you beam, gently opening the tub and caressing his forehead with the product, finishing by squeezing his cheek.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in protest, but secretly enjoying your playful actions.

"What can I do?" asked Robin, leaning against the doorframe observing quietly.

"You can go get snacks whilst I work my magic."

"Perfect!"

You tell Steve to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He lets out a playful groan before complying. You then wrap a towel around his shoulders, before mixing the developer and dye, shaking the bottle rapidly. He admired the way you furrowed your brow whilst in deep concentration. It was such a simple act, dying his hair, but Steve knew he would not trust another soul with this.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked, falling serious for a moment. You were aware of how anxious Steve could get, especially when it came to his appearance.

“Absolutely.”

You begin to part Steve’s hair, running your fingers through his hair to ensure it was all covered. Steve found himself relaxing at your touch.

“You’re gonna look so cool.”

“You think?” he quips, lifting his head so he could look at you. His heart fluttering as he watched your movements. 

You nod reassuringly as you continue to cover his hair. Steve smiles as you begin to hum a familiar tune. It felt so domestic sitting here whilst you did this for him. It was moments like this Steve treasured and kept with him whenever he felt down. 

“I love you,” Steve states, lifting his hand so he could pause your actions momentarily.

You glance down at him fondly, your heart racing at his words. No matter how many times you said those words to one another, it always felt like the first time. You reached down interlocking your free hand with his, squeezing gently as if uttering the words back. A silent gesture acknowledged by you both.

“Oh fuck!” 

A clatter sounded through the room, causing you to jump back and release Steve’s hand. Looking over your shoulder, Robin stood by the door, hunched over as she tried balancing the snacks. A single can of Coke rolling at her feet.

“Sorry!” she gasped, rushing to pick the can up.

“Here Harrington, take a cookie, it’s gonna be a long wait before we see the results.”

“It looks good so far,” she noted whilst moving past you.

“I just need to do the back and then we just wait,” you responded.

Surprisingly, it did not take long. You, Robin, and Steve had settled into his bedroom, an abundance of snacks surrounding you all as you spoke about your day. Robin updated you guys on the girl she was seeing. She spoke about their recent date, laughing at the way she fell whilst roller skating. The blush on her face whilst she spoke about the girl made you smile endlessly. Looking towards Steve, you share a nod, both silently noting your friend's infatuation. You then made your way back into the bathroom, guiding Steve by his shoulders towards the sink so he could lean backwards allowing you to rinse his hair. You detached his showerhead and turned it on, the water rinsing off the dye. Swirls of red, falling down the drain allowing you to note the change in Steve’s hair colour. You took the towel from around him, wrapping it around his head and fluffed his hair making him let out a muffled laugh. You quickly covered his eyes with your hands before he could turn around and see his reflection. 

“Not yet!” you squealed, nodding towards Robin, telling her to grab his hair dryer and comb off the counter so you could style his hair properly. She followed your lead, equally anticipating the result.

With one last brush of his hair, you finally allowed Steve to turn and see his reflection.

“What do you think?” Anxiety washes over you, uncertain by Steve’s reaction. He wore a pensive look, no clear indication of how he felt. Both you and Robin watched eagerly trying to gauge his response.

“I kinda hate it.” 

“What!” you exclaimed, sharing a look of panic with Robin.

He let out a boisterous laugh at your response.

“Kidding!” he chuckled.

He reaches up and runs a hand through his locks, noting the change in texture and colour. There was only a small change in hue, a deep burgundy colour, but Steve adored it. He felt good. His previous anxieties seemingly vanished as he turned to face you, wrapping you in a warm hug. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, pressing his head in the crook of your neck. You break the embrace, jokingly hitting his chest. 

“That wasn’t nice.”

You look up at him closely, noting the way his eyes seem to be somewhat brighter. 

“I do look cool though, don’t I?” he laughed playfully.

You hummed in agreement, admiring the way he looked. Crests of light falling through his window, highlighting the darker shades of red lingering in his hair. It was such a small change, but he still looked stunning.

“It will probably wash out in a week,” you note softly, “so we can always do it again if you like.”

“Or” Steve begins, trailing off slightly before gleaming mischievously, “I could dye yours and Robin’s hair.”

“Absolutely not dingus!” Robin protested, holding her hands up in horror.

You pat Steve’s back teasingly whilst also laughing at Robin’s words.

“C’mon let's put a movie on.” 

“I’m choosing!” Declared Robin, already making her way out of the bathroom.

Just as you were about to follow, Steve tugged at your hand, halting your movement.

“I mean it,” he begins, “Thank you for doing this. I feel like anyone else would have made fun of me for making this such a big deal, but you,” 

He looked down at his feet, almost hesitant with his words.

“You always encourage me. I really do love you.”

Robin leant against the bathroom door, observing your interaction, admiring the way you and Steve acted with one another. She smiled softly to herself, thankful that her two friends loved each other. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she thought you were a cute couple.

“I love you too.” you respond, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Breaking away you smirk,

“Oh, and Steve, thank you for the shampoo.”