#I GUESS I could just make a generic head shape and paint the face on >:/ or find one that's retexturable

[diabolocracy]

Also I made my boy in SecondLife the best I could.

I can't find any appropriately scruffy-punk clothing for the base I'm using... And it's the most decent skeleton body on SL that is bento enabled and works with Kemono clothes and that skeleton head in particular. Tried to mess with transparency in retexturing some items but the alphas get all fucky and it looks terribad.

Speaking of which there's a surprising lack of bento skulls that aren't overly realistic... And only one decent Gaster head.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Stone Heart AU: Scar pt I

As much as Yuu tried, she still ended up in trouble in trouble sometimes. Be it with Ace and Deuce, or just running late from acting as Crowley’s unofficial gopher, it was something. The punishments usually weren't that bad though, sometimes even relaxing.  

Like right now, it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as she scrubbed the statues down on Main Street. It was odd, having the dreams that she did that painted the Great 7 in shadows instead of light, but it felt...right. Balanced.  

A story about a maid who would be going to a ball was the current dream cycle, though she didn’t get the feeling this one was going to relate to any upcoming overblots. While they didn’t happen as often, she occasionally just dreamt of things like this. While there was a lot to ruminate over, like the stepmother and Professor Trien, right now it was just a catchy little song sung by the fairy stuck in her head.  

“Put it together-” The King of Beasts statue wasn’t in bad shape at least, “and what do you got-” Just had to get the moss out of his eye, “Bippity Boppity Boo!” 

The eye blazed green, cracking open with a clap of thunder!  

Yuu fell, catching herself with her hands. Shit! Did she break it? Damnit, she couldn’t afford- 

Wait. It looked fine. Just a wet statue.  

“Maybe I just need to finish this up.” She muttered. “Lack of sleep must be getting to me.”  

The atmosphere had changed, the tension of a storm about to break open. As she finished the King of Beasts, she clocked her progress and ran, feeling like eyes followed her until she turned the corner.  

Malleus must be in a mood, she thinks, watching the dark clouds forming and the green smoke that seems to be spilling out the fence of Ramshackle. It isn’t the right shade of green though, more muted and not as...saturated? The gate creeks ominously and it doesn’t take her long to notice the figure sitting on the porch of Ramshackle.  

He is hunched over, a shawl tossed over his head that was once bright with color and design, now faded to grays, browns and darker reds like blood. His left eye is as green as the Diasomnia mage crystals, clear and unclouded, and the right faded as the green smoke around him. A gnarled staff is gripped in his hands, a gourd tied to the top with a handful of what might be rib bones along with some sort of dried fruit she thinks.  

This isn’t a harmless man, her instincts can say that much, but...he doesn’t feel like a threat. He could be. He’s choosing not to.  

“How can I help you?” Yuu asks, getting a bit closer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a teacher here?”  

He chuckles, making the pointed beard shake, but it’s not cruel. “I suppose that depends on you. I think you are in need of a teacher. And I am in need of a place to stay.” 

“What do I need to learn?”  

“Magic.”  

“Ha!” Yuu can’t help it, barking a laugh. “You are mistaken. I have no magic of my own.” 

“No, cub, you have magic, just not Wonderland magic. You have the Old magic, older even than General Lilia, the same as I. These teachers cannot help you, but I can.”  

He removes the shawl’s hood from his face, revealing a pair of brown lion ears and a mane that puts Yuu’s hair to shame. Even braided in parts to keep it out of his face, the long black hair stretches all the way down to his curved spine. A tail thumps against the dusty steps,  

“Afterall, you freed me, didn’t you?”  

It takes some explaining, a quick meal shared on her dining room table that feels even more rundown than usual with actual royalty sitting down. Thank the Seven that Grim was asleep beforehand, his new Spelldrive practices tiring him out in the evenings.  

“So, are the others...the same? Petrified?”  

“Yes, though you aren’t ready to free us all just yet. I was an accident, correct?” 

She flinches, nodding. “I mean, I guess? Sometimes I have dreams. Alternate tellings of the stories around here it feels like, or added details? Most of the time they follow an Overblot, but this one just felt like a non-threatening one. I don’t have these as often.”  

“Precognition is a dangerous magic, especially with no guiding tools.” 

“I dont know if-” 

“You dreamt of mine, did you not? Leona Kingscholar? The Phantom still was a part of me, drawn from my form and magic.”  

Yuu blinked, shrugging. “I mean, it didn’t stop it.” 

“No, but you were more prepared. You were willing and ready to accept Leona’s trauma and show compassion because you witnessed me make the exact follies and look at how that ended.” he huffed, taking a sip from his water. 

She hadn’t considered that really. It just felt natural, to show them kindness after all of it. But they were alike. Really alike. And the actions Leona had taken paralleled his perfectly.  

“Do you think if somebody had done so with you, you would have listened?” 

“Oh cub!” He laughed, and this one felt harsher. “I would not have. I was far too hardened. But Leona...he will be better.”  

“Well, I better try and at least get a bed ready for you.” She said, taking both of their dishes. “What do I call you though? King of Beasts is a bit of a mouthful.”  

He tilts his head, as if considering. She gets the dishes loaded and leftovers put away before he finally answers.  

“Taka. My Mother’s Son.” he says. “That’s who I wish to be now.”  

Yuu smiles, sticking out her hand.  

“Nice to meet you, Professor Taka! I look forward to learning from you.”  

For just a moment, he sees Simba, and Nuka and Kovu and Vitani. He sees Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. He sees naive and friendly and believes in him, for as little he has to offer, and still finds him worthy.  

He shakes her hand and hangs his stone heart to air out.  

[kuradex]

I wanna know about your art style. How you draw like that??

i tried putting down considerations as well as a (very) general step by step of what i do; if there's anything more specific you want me to explain lmk i guess?

first off, general (self imposed) constraints / purpose of project -- this informs what i draw & how i draw it

i.e. "kuradex" is pretty different from my normal art (my 5 latest rough illustrations):

or my monster hunter charms:

or my pokemon tcg contest illustrations that im not allowed to show until june (😉):

although i've said its for merch purposes, ive started drawing these because i wanted to practice conveying "liveliness" and noticing key features / nuances of a given design, but i didn't want to spend a large amount of time on each one.

so what i came up with is

i want to draw things on-model in terms of proportions ( + take note of weight / tapering of shapes / etc )

no backgrounds & minimal "props"

experiment with / practice line/texture/color/flow/rhythm/etc

spend <1 hr on each pokemon on average (this is a bit more difficult for me to track, but for example, the cyndaquil line took me less than 42min to color, combined, and means at some point in time instead of focusing on cleaning up the art as much as i can, i stop after cleaning up most of it)

that said, the pose & the rhythm/flow of lines are key in conveying liveliness, and if i have a concept in mind i usually end up going with it, but i may go thru a few if i dont.

i consider pokemon origin / lore or a key point in its design, and if i'm particularly stuck, i try looking up pokemon card illustrations for inspiration. (i noticed the research i do is essentially a truncated version of how Atsushi Furusawa does research before doing an illustration.

(& even despite all this i do get stuck sometimes and don't exactly understand a pokemon and just opt for "as cute or cool as i can make it i guess?", but i think it's part of the process...?) (theoretically things that are A Shape should be really easy to draw but with what i want to practice in perspective i find them difficult...)

this is from my latest paid req but these are my first sketches of chesnaught -- i was thinking of how one of its inspirations is a warrior / tanker from RPGs, so i drew a pose where it's shielding its face.

i do another pass and take note of details.

in general i draw overlapping shapes and erase (it's a bit visible on one of the spikes)

because i opt for quickness i start coloring at this point -- i just use a colored "color burn" sketch layer for the "lineart" & colorpick official art & lay down messy flats & set the color layer to 60%

60% multiply layer for shadows. i tend to use both hard and soft brushes

for bigger projects i would use 2-3 shadow layers to create more "layered" shadows

here i use overlay layer (60%). this is just throwing colors at it and seeing what works and doesn't work. i personally prefer to throw red under the eye and a yellow or blue near the top of the head. this is mostly done with a soft brush

before this point, everything is under the rough lines, but now i start drawing/painting over it

i just color pick the colors that have been laid down from the previous steps and clean up / render textures (making the green on its arms look fuzzy) / fixing anything that i forgot or looks too off (i.e. the spike on its shoulder and the way the tail curves)

I could potentially keep cleaning this up, but this is where i usually stop 🫡

[homestuckreplay]

Pesterlog Timestamps

I’ve wondered before about pesterlogs not having timestamps the way real instant messages generally do. Some pesterlogs begin with a timestamp - ‘-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 --’ (p.26) – but that doesn’t show the time between messages. It might be harder to read and would probably make the screen more cluttered, which is my guess as to why they’re not there, and for the most part it’s extraneous information.

But there’s one pesterlog that I think would really benefit from timestamps for each message, and it’s the late night unanswered messages Dave leaves for Jade on page 829. This page is such a great insight into Dave’s head, and there’s this clear ebb and flow to his thoughts that feels like bursts of frantic typing interspersed with pauses to wait or do other things. We know the messages start at 05:14 Dave’s time (CDT), so here’s what it might look like with timestamps.

05:14 TG: hey

A classic greeting; testing the waters and giving nothing away.

05:17 TG: oh 05:17 TG: youre asleep again arent you 05:17 TG: or do you even know if you are 05:17 TG: i still dont know how that works 05:17 TG: its like nothing means anything 05:17 TG: its so cool getting hella chumped by your coquettish damn riddles all the time 05:18 TG: i dont know why i believe anything you say im like the grand marshal of gross chumpage 05:18 TG: waving around my faggoty chumpductor baton 05:18 TG: assitant director of chumpography 05:18 TG: celebrated author ernest chumpingway 05:18 TG: wait weak 05:19 TG: chumpelstiltskin 05:19 TG: uh 05:20 TG: chumpeldipshit 05:20 TG: yeah

Dave’s first ‘hey’ must come from seeing Jade online, and these kids are very responsive to each other, so it probably only takes a few minutes of no reply before Dave realizes that Jade has fallen asleep while logged in. Instead of a quick ‘talk to you tomorrow’, he quickly descends into rambling about how ‘nothing means anything’ due to Jade’s ‘coquettish damn riddles’. Dave’s emotions don’t show on his face but they do show in his hands (p.464) and it’s not surprising that he lets some things slip in the middle of the night, maybe even hinting at some feelings for Jade.

In Dave’s earlier/later conversation with Jade (p.382) he’s a little thrown off by her powers, but overall staying calm. Here, late at night and without someone to bounce off of, he’s getting frustrated and talking himself into a corner, workshopping his own jokes, maybe coming up with a word he’ll reuse in a comic someday. These messages are very stream of consciousness, and only pause when the chump puns stop flowing through his fingers and need due consideration.

05:22 TG: youre asleep y/n? 05:23 TG: a/s/l? 05:23 TG: s = species 05:23 TG: baboon? 05:23 TG: kangaroo rat? 05:23 TG: if kangaroo rat yiff twice plz

By this point in the story we know about Jade’s interest in furries, and that Dave is (ironically?) supportive of this. I’m sure this is an excellent source of humor for Dave and something he jokes about all the time. I could read lots into the ‘s’ being species here, where it’s typically sex (biological sex, used synonymously with gender) only the traditional ‘s’ isn’t something that’s relevant to Dave. I know that he does not intend that meaning and is just making a furry joke. Maybe these are jokes Jade gets annoyed at, and Dave is poking at this in case she’s ignoring his messages and this gets her to respond.

05:27 TG: ok well youre not saying anything so i guess whether youre nonawake or unasleep or whatever youre just not around and im wasting good material 05:27 TG: even worse im wasting a killer fursona here 05:27 TG: like 05:28 TG: i dont know like a wide open v shaped leotard and a fuck ton of body paint 05:28 TG: some like sinewy back arching cirque du soleil looking motherfucker 05:28 TG: always low to the ground gettin a good prowl on 05:28 TG: like i dropped my keys in the dark 05:28 TG: nimblest son of a bitch who had the gumption to glue a nasty pair of latex cat lips to his face 05:28 TG: for a reason that wasnt a joke

Dave goes into his second set of rambling messages, forgetting that he’s annoyed at Jade as he enters full fursona creation mode. He’s ‘wasting a killer fursona’ but he literally can’t stop himself from doing it – he either doesn’t think of saving his ideas until Jade’s around, or he wants to give her something silly to wake up to. The ‘i dont know like’ gives the sense that Dave started typing not knowing how the sentence would end, and also downplays his ideas before he even gets to them. But as he keeps typing he forgets to be so self conscious for a few messages. He has an artistic vision and a great vocabulary and is using all these evocative words – ‘sinewy’, ‘arching’, ‘prowl’, ‘nimblest’ and ‘gumption’ paint a picture of this proud and athletic creature. One that doesn’t resemble a kangaroo rat at all, which is even better. Dave’s imagination is all over the place.

05:32 TG: jade hey 05:32 TG: where are you 05:32 TG: seriously im sitting here tonight with a fucking bag of kibble jacked open on my lap and primed for goddamn bear 05:32 TG: and youre gone

After running out of steam on his fursona, Dave might try turning his attention elsewhere for a few minutes, and then remember that he’s tired, lonely, and didn’t get any validation on his recent jokes. These are the most heartfelt and open his messages get. I don’t think Pesterchum has a ‘delete’ option, otherwise Jade wouldn’t have seen these ones. Dave’s still got furries on the brain here as he goes straight for an animal metaphor, and once again he’s thinking of himself like the victim of Jade’s attacks, and the bear attack is a lot more visceral than just getting chumped by her riddles. There’s a desperation behind Dave trying to restart the conversation with another ‘hey’ followed by a ‘where are you’ that he knows by now won’t be answered. It’s so lonely, but it doesn’t feel selfish; the ‘bag of kibble’ metaphor reads like Dave knows Jade would enjoy this conversation and he wants her to share in this with him.

05:34 TG: btw my name is Akwete Purrmusk 05:34 TG: hardest buttock in the jungle 05:34 TG: tempered steel

Dave has a disease called ‘commitment to the bit’ and it’s terminal. He also needs to make a quick recovery from those actual feelings he expressed above. By this point in the conversation I have a visual in my mind – it’s a big black cloud in Dave’s mind of all the problems he wants to avoidthinking about, and two shining bats at either side marked ‘talk to Jade?’ and ‘kangaroo rat fursona’ and his thoughts are rapidly ping-ponging back and forth between those to avoid all the bad in the middle. So with Jade not responding to his pleas, of course he returns to his two standards of imagination and wordplay, adding to the slightly cursed but incredibly well drawn mental image of Akwete.

05:38 TG: hey yeah just wanted to give you this remix i finished 05:38 TG: here turntechGodhead [TG] sent gardenGnostic [GG] file "explore remix.mp3" at 05:38

It is at this point in the conversation that we learn Dave had a reason for messaging Jade. He probably wanted to drop this into conversation casually like it was no big deal, and might have distracted himself into forgetting about it until now. It’s also possible he wasn’t intending to send it, but was embarrassed by all his ramblings above, so came up with a quick excuse. ‘Explore’ was originally written by Jade (in-universe) and we learn on the next page that it’s not the first time these two have collaborated. Dave is outwardly confident in his musical abilities (p.339) and has the ready-made excuse of irony that makes it easier for him to share his art, protecting him from negative responses. Jade is also reluctant to criticize others, so all those factors combined means Dave is probably comfortable with sending Jade his remix.

05:41 TG: so yeah 05:42 TG: you dont have to respond to any of that btw 05:42 TG: ill probably forget half the shit i said anyway 05:42 TG: talk to you tomorrow

Maybe Dave’s finally heading to bed, or maybe he doesn’t like to leave things hanging (p.445), but he rounds out the conversation and officially signs off. By both taking the pressure off Jade to respond, and claiming that he’ll forget what he said, Dave denies any importance to his own thoughts. Maybe he hopes Jade will scroll to the bottom and see these messages first, and ignore everything from above. He definitely feels ashamed of some or all of what he’s said – whether it’s the general practice of sending a large volume of messages to someone who’s offline, the hints towards his own loneliness, the possibility that his new fursona could be serious and unironic, the remix as the whole basis for conversation, or all of the above. Dave has a tendency for speaking without thinking and then regretting what he’s said, struggling to meet the high standards of self control that his bro has set for him, and since he can’t go back and fix his slips, this is his only way of correcting them.

Dave’s hope to talk to Jade tomorrow wins out over his embarrassment, and softens the couple of messages before it – Dave is dismissing his own thoughts, not the overall idea of talking to Jade. He’s not the type to send a ‘<3’, but it feels implied.

[sunoorintarou]

Catharsis: Vivid

Phos!Reader x (Platonic) Nobara Kugisaki

Warnings: Regret, self blaming, general angst, usual Catharsis warnings

Notes: this was supposed to be smthn cute with Phos and Nobara but ig things happen💀

Nobara's eyes were trained on the bottle of nail polish on her desk. A bottle of dark blue.

She picked up the nail polish, beginning to paint her nails. Unwanted memories began to cloud her vision, memories she could never forget no matter how hard she tried. Memories of you.

"But I don't like nail polish. It smells weird." You had frowned, shaking your head.

It was late at night, and you and Nobara had decided to have a sleepover in her room, gossiping and giggling the entire night thus far.

You had offhandedly mentioned your inexperience with many things, like makeup and nail polish, immediately causing Nobara to want to change that.

"I picked this colour out just for you, though." Nobara pouted, holding a bottle of dark blue polish. The colour perfectly contrasting the bright red she usually wore.

You saw the hope in her eyes, will going weak before nodding, holding your hand out to her.

Nobara immediately perked up, smiling brightly as she began painting your nails.

"There, there! Look how pretty!" She smiled, showing you your perfectly painted and manicured nails.

You glanced from them to her bright face, smiling softly. "Yeah, I guess they're not all that bad."

"Let's take a picture, they look pretty together!"

Nobara paused, setting the bottle of blue nail polish down, watching as it dried.

After that, it was tradition for you to come back to her whenever they chipped or peeled for her to redo them, letting her experiment with different styles and shapes.

Almond shaped with plain deep blue nail polish was your favourite, and she had agreed they suited you the best.

Nobara paused, eyes widening as she looked at her own nails. Almond shaped with deep blue nail polish. A stark contrast to her usual square shaped with shiny red polish and occasional gold designs.

She stood up, walking to her cupboard as she opened it, grabbing her signature bottle of red nail polish. The last time she had gotten one was more than a month ago. She remembered the day vividly. You had chosen that one for her, after all.

The bottle was still full.

She looked over at the blue polish, realising it was the one you had always worn. Her eyes went wide.

It was half empty.

Nobara sighed, putting the red nail polish away and going back to her chair, bringing her knees up to meet her chest as she examined her nails.

She wondered if you were still wearing the same nail polish. Whether you still wore the same perfume she had picked out for you. If you thought of her when you felt sad on those long nights after longer days.

If you remember how she'd stayed in your room with you, holding you close as you cried in her arms. Remember how you'd spilled the beginnings of your true feelings to her and made her swear she'd never tell anyone.

Perhaps if she'd been faster, if she'd questioned you more, if she'd spent more time with you, spoke with you more, held you more. Perhaps you'd still be with her.

After that night, however, she began to doubt. Not you, but herself.

Just how much did she really know about you?

She knew your name, your age, that you liked banana milk, that your favourite Sanrio character was Cinamoroll. She knew you liked sleeping and loved your friends. But that was just material, physical.

Your family, your friends, your life before you came here, your goals, your dreams, your passions, your hobbies. Did you ever have pets? Have you ever had a boyfriend? Did you even want a boyfriend? Marriage? Kids? A family?

Your childhood, where you were from, hell, Nobara didn't even know your surname.

Did she ever, for a moment, really know you?

Were your smiles real? Your laughter? The way you felt about everyone was genuine. That was something she didn't doubt for a second. The way you cared about everyone, making sure no one got left behind, making sure no one ever felt alone.

How was it that you were the one that got left behind first? The one who felt the most alone?

How long had the storm in you brewed til you could no longer ignore it?

Just what had happened? Was it Yukio? Just Yukio? Something told her it was more than that. So what was it?

What was so horrible and twisted, settling under your skin, making it itch and crawl, causing you to scratch at it, scarring your skin, causing you to destroy yourself?

Nobara sighed. Asking herself these questions wouldn't bring you back. No what if or should have would.

Instead, all she could do was lament and pray that in another life, she'd never let you leave. In this life, however, she swore she'd find you and try to atone for her sins. If nothing else, she just wanted you to be happy, even if it was without her.

[brokenstarwishes]

Colors of the Shadows

At request of Dela- here's a little snippet from whats going on while an unconcious birb and sadness are out of comission in a certain rp thread~ TW for mentions of self-harm, self-destruction, and general self-talk.

If yall want more of these tidbits that talk more about Sol, Dela, and their universe I guess let us know???

Mentions of a handful of folks from a server we're in, including @novafollowstheuniverse

Well…Ripping the whole soul out of your chest wasn't what you expected. You couldn't get up even if you wanted to- both your body and the soul itself being so weak, so exhausted after the last month or so of events both in the sketchbook and in general. But that doesn't mean you were entirely unconscious. Just…somewhere else. Somewhere where life and death meet, somewhere where the whispers of the silent can become heard once more. Somewhere…where you could both talk, freely.

"Stars, that hurt." You groaned, a hand on what you…figure was your forehead. Your memories were returning, slowly, just enough for you to know that you were definitely in trouble later. You were dizzy- Stars above were you dizzy- but you could just about make out the…area?…you were in. You weren't…quite sure where you were. Shades of all types danced across your vision, yet formed no shapes- just endless amounts of…colors. It made your head hurt. Just as you were about to get up to question what had truly happened, another groan caught you off guard- jolting a little before turning towards the voice. ( "You aren't the one who had to tear your blinding body apart, shut it." ) Delaisser… Your saddness that had formed more recently from your newer traumas, of scars that still hadn't fully healed- and eventually did take over. Right… in its own grief, it had torn you out of your body. "A little dramatic, aren't we?" That earned you a pointed glare from the shadow, causing a little snicker from your form. In the colored light, you could see it for what it truly was… And…Stars- they looked like a little kid. Hunched over, with half of your soul… baby blue, just a few shades muted. Scars were already starting to form in the tears it had created across his chest, painted a deep red as a result of the broken Wishcraft dagger that had been used. Half…of you.

You…slowly sat down next to them. This wasn't the first time confronting yourself- so this time you weren't nearly as frantic, nearly as horrified. You look down to yourself- half shaded in, with your own half of a soul- bright baby blue. You barely looked present- just barely clinging on to what you had left. You figured if Dela had spent any longer in your body…if you hadn't woken up, you would've been lost entirely. As Delaisser sat up themselves, you glance back over to them…Its bright eyes staring into your softer ones. They looked scared…so scared, so nervous. One of you needed to talk first…so…you guess…

"Guess we know what that knife felt like for It, huh?" You joked, a half smile on your face. You felt the swift bap on your head, causing a laugh. ( "That's not funny, Stars!! You're really messed up, you know that?!" ) "I know…" You sigh, running a hand over your face. Or…lack thereof? You couldn't tell, your brain just outright would not process shapes…let alone features. Dela watched your movement and looked away itself. ( "What was the point of going through all of this again?" ) They asked you, looking at what you figured was the floor. You pause at that…After all, what could you even say to that? "… I guess I just…didn't want to lose anyone else. I lost my partners, my family, my friends, so many times… I couldn't bear to deal with it again- to the point I was willing to throw everything away…just to keep it from happening." You eventually respond, sheepishly. ( "Not that I was much help with that…" ) It admitted, with just as much pensiveness. You laid down, staring at the infinite everything. In this moment- you were…apart of it all. You...guess you had time to kill. Silence fell between you both, for a short time, before you decided to speak again. "Can I ask you something, Del? Can....Can I call you Del?" ( "Not that it's going to matter much, but sure." ) "...What was the point of all of this? The impulsive thoughts, the violent urges, the self loathing-- all of it?" You turned your head slightly, looking at your shadow from the corner of your eye. It seemed to shift a little in discomfort. ( "...I was just saying what you were saying to yourself. Over, and over, and over again. What you wanted to do, over and over again. It's not my fault you have no sense of emotional regulation, Solaris." ) "I-" You pout a little at that last remark, but decide to let it slide for the time being. Besides...it had a point. Everything in Dormont, everything before, and even now- you still didn't know how to contain all your intense emotions without them just...exploding out of you inevitably! "...You're right... I don't. And it ends up often hurting those I want to protect. Even when I have good intentions, or when I think I'm doing things for their benefit- it often just...hurts them." ( "Pyxis, Mal, Nova, Ben, Yourself... You've hurt alot of people- not just by your actions, but by your own assumptions of how they percieve you and how you assume they'll behave." ) You...couldn't argue with that. Tears well up in your eyes, but...you don't cry. You're not even sure if you could, anymore. ( "You have to ask yourself; does that make you a monster? Or does that make you someone who...just needs someone who will work with them?" ) You sat up a little at that. What...what exactly did it mean by that? As if reading your mind, Dela continues. ( "What happened in the aftermath of your huge meltdown in the House? Your family was there for you- even if they were still irritated with you. They understood you aren't a lost cause- just someone who needs time and help. What happened when Mal saw you try to off yourself for the first time? They still eventually forgave you...and even felt guilty themselves about the whole ordeal." ) You listened to it explain, looking away... those were, in fact, things you had done- whether you liked it or not. You still felt the sting of the dagger, felt the exhaustion of all the craft you used- though both could be also be due from practically pulling the same damned stunt a second time... and this time, you weren't sure if you would get a second chance to make it right.

( "My point is- even when you have been at your worst...the people who do truly care about you WOULD be there for you, if you're willing to LET THEM actually be there for you." ) "But...I don't understand... WHY?! I've done so many bad things- things that most people would HATE ME for doing..." ( "Does it matter?" ) "Huh?" ( "Does it really, truly matter why?" ) "Well, yeah but-" ( "They're still going to care about you whether or not you know why they do. It's not going to change how they act- and by doing worse and worse things to try and get that sort of reaction you expect from them you'll just end up pushing them away!" ) "..." ( "Is that what you want?! To be alone again, after everything you went through to get here!?" ) "...No..." You sigh, and admit defeat in that regard. You lay back down, staring at the sky. The colors...they were all so pretty... "But... Don't I deserve it?" ( "Do you?" ) "Stars above, could you give a straight answer for once?!" ( "I'm you, you know the answer to that." ) You groan as Dela lets out a cheeky little laugh. You could just make out the cat-like grin on their features, although it was all blurry- like the watercolor pages of Her sketchbook.

"Isn't this supposed to normally go the opposite way?" You remark, after a beat. Dela gives another laugh- it's a bit rougher than yours, hoarse and exhausted- before it responds. ( "Probably. But I'm also apart of you. Part of you that wants to help..." ) "Yeah, good job at that." ( "Your impulse control is garbage!" ) It pouts at that, crossing its arms (you think) and looking away. You laugh again, and sigh. "...Is any of this going to matter? I mean... you kinda did destroy my body- better or worse. Which, THANKS by the way." ( "Hey it's not my fault you were basically beating on my chest from the inside out! And....And..." ) For the first time since you two had started talking, it didn't seem to have an answer. After a good moment of hesitation, it sighs. ( "...I don't know. That place wasn't exactly relegated by any of the Aspects. It's entirely possible that by doing that we're..." ) You both fall silent.

( "I do get the feeling Nova wouldn't let us die so easily, though..." ) Dela reminds you, and you give a soft laugh and a small nod. "Let's hope she has any idea what she's doing..."

( "You didn't answer your own question, by the way." ) You...pause. You had forgotten the question already, hadn't you? You look away sheepishly, and Dela laughs. ( "Do you deserve to suffer for your actions? Do you deserve to be alone again after all you've done?" ) You sat there for a moment. You...didn't know the answer to that. You wanted to say yes, of course, but that was also because it was you. So...what would Mirabelle say? What would Odile say? What would... What would Isabeau say?

"...No one deserves to suffer the same way I put myself through. Actions do need to have consequences, yes, and that's...that's something I believe in... but the way I go about it is... ineffective at best." ( "-And self destructive at worst." ) Dela finished for you, nodding in agreement. ( "I think its from one of your memories...one of the ones thats faded away, anyway. Something with your family...but you tend to push 'punishment' way past the point of being equal to the crime you've supposedly comitted. It's...it's hurting you, and everyone you care about." ) "But...but what can I even DO about that?!" You remark, frustrated, hiding your head in your hands, "What can I DO about these feelings that are too much- the need to be punished in a way that FEELS equal to what I deserve?! Why can't I just-!?" You were tearing up again, and you...simply sigh. You can't feel the way the tears roll down your cheeks.

"Why can't I just let myself be happy?!"

For a good few minutes, there was silence...after all, what could another half of you say that you didn't already know? Dela thought it over for that time, clearly deep in thought, before eventually giving a shrug. ( "If you're struggling with regulating your self-destructive tendencies...struggling with the need for an equal- fitting- punishment, why not ask those around you? Or do something you actively know is healthy but avoid?" ) "Huh?" ( "I'm not saying shove all of our mental health responsibilities onto them, but maybe asking around for a few ideas might...help. Or at least bring some insight into someone who is more emotionally regulated." ) You...thought about that. And gave a small nod...at the very least- it was worth a shot. More than what you have been doing before.

( "As for why you can't let yourself be happy... It all comes down to a sense of confidence, Solaris. I don't... WE don't know what it is...but something growing up made us believe that we'll always be responsible for the things happening around us. Isn't it time you let that go?... Let the past go, so that you can face the brighter future?" ) "It's....It's not that simple-" ( "I know... Stars, I know it's not easy. But it's gotta be better than not trying at all--" ) "I AM TRYING!" You exclaimed in frustration, barely feeling the little drips onto your leg, "I've BEEN TRYING to become a better person and STARS ABOVE IT'S SO EXHAUSTING! I try to be the better person, to be the person that can actually HELP people- but people only ever just--!! JUST--!!!" You yell into your hands, just to get the frustration out of your body. Your body- or soul, in this state?- was glowing that bright red color... The same color as broken wishcraft. So...was this anger, then? You'd think about it later- if there even was a 'later' to go to. You wanted to kick SOMETHING, but there was...NOTHING in this weird colored void. So you settled for angrily punching the air a few good times until the glow settled back down. Dela watched your tantrum for a good moment, before sighing and looking down. ( "I... I know you've been trying. The road to getting better isn't linear, remember? Odile told you as much... But, you can't give up yet- yeah? Even just knowing how to move forward is better than not moving forward at all. Eventually, it'll become easier...eventually, it'll become second nature to you. To us." ) "...Why are you helping me, Dels?" You ask, rubbing some of the wetness off your face- tastes like salt?? Why are you able to taste from your hand-- nevermind. ( "Because I don't want to be a monster. Just like you. I just...want to protect us. Protect you, if you'll let me. I just want to move forward. But that's something you have to choose to do- rather than just saying it and moving on." ) Dela gives a small sigh, and looks outward. ( "That's all I've been ever trying to do. Trying to protect us, by going with what you intrinsically think is right... but, obviously, I've realized you aren't exactly the best teacher in protecting yourself." )"Rude." Though, still true. You fall quiet again, for a moment, scooting a bit closer to lean towards the shadow. They sigh, and put a vague motion of their arm over your shoulder in comfort. Weirdly, it felt nice...not quite warm, like the snuggles you were still getting used to- not quite cold like death itself... but something else. Something you couldn't describe. But it was comforting in a way...

If... if this was how things would end for you two, you don't think you'd mind as much. At the very least, you'd finally get some rest.

( "Promise me something, Solaris?" ) You turned to the shadow, it's eye just barely visible even this close. ( "If we get through this... if we somehow don't just keel over entirely... Please. Let others in. Let them help you, let them care about you...let yourself be happy. Please?" ) You...weren't sure if you could promise that. You felt you were still a far ways off from being anywhere close to better...but... "I'll...I'll try. For everyone. I don't know if I can promise to do so for myself, not yet...but I can do so for others sakes. So they won't have to bury a loved one... I can promise that much." Dela smiles at you, and offers a hand. You feel something form as you grab it in turn, a more solid feeling. Your vision seems to finally focus a bit better, just able to makeout Delaisser's face. A small smile, with... way too many teeth for what is definitely a small smile. Your expression softens. You may not be better yet, but you...want to try. You want to try, to make others proud. To make yourself proud. You'll try, and try, and try again if you have to. But you'll do it... if to see that smile. [ You got Memory of Shadows! You'll try to always remember this. ] "If even your own shadow can believe in you, you have to have some hope still, right?"

[toska-writes]

“Shiny”

Summary: After a few complains from worried troopers your master ordered armor for the 2 of you. And now some boy were excited to help you customize!

Paring: Cody+212th x Reader (guess what?!? Plaaaaaaaaatonic!!! WOO)

Warning: None! Just teeth rotting fluff!

Word Count: 1375

Read here on ao3! (✩)

You wouldn’t say your reckless on the battlefield, nor was your master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It just seemed when it came down to it all you were shot at a lot.

Like all the time.

So after a few bullets caught in the ribs or the arms here and there worried some troopers of the well being of their beloved Commander and General.

*Cough cough Cody cough*

Your comm buzzed as you made your way to the training rooms to meet your master, it was odd though because you were supposed to meet with Obi-wan later for your scheduled training.

“Hello master. Cody” You waved to them both already eyeing the boxes that layer by their feet. “What’s this? I though training wasn’t until 01600.” You stopped in front of the two.

Obi-wan let out a laugh and then explained. “We finally got our shipment in, apparently the GAR thought it be a good idea for some armor for the two of us Y/N” He with the help of Cody opened the two packages. “Even if it’s minimal it’s still better then none.”

“You can say that again.” Cody said under his breath.

“Aww Cod’ika gets nervous when we’re shot at.” You joked bumping arms with him.

Obi-wan passed you a breast plate with shoulder coverage as well, some arm and hand braces were included. He himself also had a set similar.

Your mouth hung open as you ran a hand over the white plaster. All the possibilities running through your head.

The awe clearly showed on your face and for the second time your master laughed. “Please go enjoy decorating it Y/N it’s lovely to see you this happy.” Obi-wan placed a hand on your shoulder

You bowed slightly trying not to drop everything you had in your hands and smiled at Cody hoping he would follow you.

“Everyone is quite excited to help with the painting.” Cody strolled next to you. “It’ll be good to touch up our own armor as well.”

You laughed as you started to run a little faster down the hall, making Cody try to keep up with you.

“Slow down there Shiny before you drop something.”

You turned to look at him. “Oh no don’t you start that-“

Cody’s cheerful laugh cut through your sentence. “Sorry sir buts it’s the perfect opportunity.”

You rolled your eyes as the pair of you turned down one more corridor and were finally met with the doors to the 212th barracks.

“Hey commander.” You herd Boil as he started to lay some tarps around the floor of the conman room.

You saw Trapper watching from a perch on one of the couches “We don’t want anything getting ruined now do we.”

Boil and Crys joined the commotion in the room arguing quite loudly as they fought over what seemed to be a can of paint.

“No no the shades all wrong! It’s brighter than that.”

“Are you color blind or something Vod? Maybe got hit one too many times?”

You laughed at the too rolling your eyes simultaneously with Cody.

You finally dropped all the fresh armor on the trap after Waxer finally got it nice and smooth.

Wooley, Longshot, and Gearshift all stumbled into the room, arms filled with piles of armor. Some were definitely in better shape than others.

You flashed them an excited smile with everyone joining you around the pot of orange paint that was so special to the entire battalion.

Peel finally joined the group with extra colors such as red, white, and black.

“Now let’s get started.” Cody clapped and everyone dug through the pile to find their own individual armor.

You grabbed the center piece and started at it for a moment. Carefully you reached for a paintbrush, chatter from your brothers around the room filled your ears.

“You know cyare if you wanted I could help you make your own sun design and then we could match.” Cody suggest grabbing a paint brush of his own.

“I love that idea Kotes!” You smiled back finally getting brave enough to dip your brush into the orange paint.

Waxed and Boil chimed in. “Could we do a form arm brace if the commanders getting the chest plate?”

“Of course, and if anyone else wants to do the other feel free.” You added. The brush touched down on the white, you mapped out half a circle at the cut off that would be right about your belly button.

One more stroke, then another. “Kriff.” You swore quickly, a rouge line got away from you.

“Woah there shiny need some help.” Waxer leaned over your shoulder.

“Really everyone’s doing that now?” You asked in question of the nickname.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Waxer questioned again now bending down, grabbing your paint brush to assist you.

You watched him for a moment before he went back to work on the other part of the set with Boil again.

About a quarter inch above the half circle you made another think line, making a ring.

Cody joined now in the painting of the rays that matched his own sunshine. At one point even Wooley joined trying to speed up the process.

You looked up to see that Waxer and Boil now finished their respective brace, it was in the geometric points that adorned the patterns of their own armor.

The other brace was being occupied by Gearshift who was painting a small ring of yellow that would circle the area where you could put your comm.

The armor was coming together now, every seemed to be just finished up their touch-ups when you announced ‘done’ very proudly.

“Wow it’s looking good commander.” Trapper smiled.

“Yea not bad for your first time Shiny.” Crys laughed with his brother.

“Now how longs that gonna last? Hmm?” You questioned leaning back into Cody as the armor had to dry.

“At least until the first campaign you wear it in.” Cody explain. “Until then your the teams new Shiny.”

The woosh of mechanical doors made everyone freeze. “Huh it seems the council meeting made me miss all the fun.” Obi-wan came to sit down beside you a Cody, resting a hand on the other man’s thigh.

Chatter filled the air once again as the group waited for the paint to finish drying on all of them.

After some time passed your master said. “Well now Y/N I hope you plan on trying it on for us.”

You couldn’t agree more, just up from your spot of the floor you rushed to the newly dried armor and slipped the first piece over your head. The clasp in the front was definitely easier than the ones in the back, thankfully Longshot was there to click them in for you.

The left shoulder covering was designed with the Jedi Order symbol in red matching the one your master also had. The other was the same stark white that you started with.

You slipped on the arm and fore arm piece each side coming together nicely.

Some cheers went up around the room as you spun round for them all to see.

“Now where’s the lightsaber holder on that one?” Cody quipped.

Obi-wan leaned into him to try and suppress his laughter.

The armor felt right, how you fought so many battles before without it was insane.

“Oh one more thing.” You added before you forgot, unhooking the front chest piece you laid it in the middle of the room. “Everyone needs to sign it.” You pointed to the empty backside still without marking.

Obi-wan and Cody were the first the sign. The Boil, followed by Waxer in what could be argued as an obnoxiously large font.

Soon everyone finished there signature, some neater than others but it was the different personality’s they all had that really blew you away. No it was just to get the other troopers that weren’t here to sign it as well.

“It looks pretty good for a shiny.” Cody came up to you as you clicked the armor back into place, he did the same with his own.

The two of you stood side by side, the painted suns never seemed brighter

[bluegekk0]

Any tips on how to draw PK's head and horns? I've not been able to figure out a good, consistent way of doing it myself yet.

well, for starters, i significantly simplified their shape. if you compare fpk to canon pk, his design is much rounder, and his horns are considerably shorter. it's mostly a stylistic choice (though the roundness of the horns can be explained in the au), but it makes them much easier to draw + they help to give him a more streamlined look, which fits fpk's lizard aesthetic, although i think it would work with different interpretations as well

this is generally how i approach his headshape. very round and salamander like, with a subtle snout, especially visible from the side. of course, this can vary as i'm very inconsistent when i draw, but this is more or less what i try to go for

his head is very round from the top, and the neck meets the lower jaw at an angle, which allows him to lay his head flat on the ground and gives it a more elongated appearance than what you'd see in a more "human" like neck position

like i said, the horns are probably the biggest deviation from his canon appearance. if you've been following me for a while, you'll notice that i gradually made them shorter and rounder with time, and this is because, well, it's significantly less headache inducing to work with. plus i really like the spade like shape, i think it flows very nicely. when i draw the crown, i start with a dome like shape with lines that are angled towards a singular point, and then just add details + more pronounced tips. if you want a more canon-like look, you can always make them more "wavy" even if you decide to shorten them

different perspectives is something i still struggle with, but i think the design choices i went with make it a little easier. the dome-like shape for the crown becomes a kind of cylinder, and the longer and flatter head also helps with figuring out how he'd look from the bottom (once again, toothless from how to train your dragon comes to the rescue)

the thing that i still haven't figured out is the side horns. i make sure they're visible no matter the angle, but what would they actually look like? i'm afraid this is one of the things that will remain in the "cartoon logic" territory, but i've seen various different interpretations similar to these, so perhaps you'll figure something out. all i know is that, if there's a ridge or a line of spikes on his head, they end somewhere on the lower jaw (they don't go around his entire head). i guess the closest to what i do when i paint would be the smooth ridge, and if i had to choose one option, it would probably be this one. but in most of my art i simply just pretend it's not there haha

i hope this is somewhat helpful. i don't know how to do tutorials and i suck at explaining, but perhaps you'll find some inspiration in these. i tried to sketch out what a more "human like" appearance could look like, with a shorter and flatter face, but it just looks goofy no matter what. sorry haha

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Compiling and analyzing Dave’s reptilian qualities

Ok so I have done a lot of analysis on DSAF Dave. Like more than I probably should have given that part of his appeal is that we don’t know what the fuck this man is. As you probably know my leading theory is that he’s some kind of alien.

But let’s cast the theories relating to what Dave actually is aside for a moment, and focus more on what Dave is very heavily implied to look like.

Yes, we do get art of how he looks in the game, and that is where I am getting a lot of my evidence for what he might realistically look like, however since these depictions are drawings, all semi, but not completely realistic, some missing important details that we do know.

Dave is most comparable to a combination between a lizard and a human, more along the lines of being just a humanoid lizard rather than a fusion. I guess lizard people don’t run the government, they just work at shitty pizza places.

Now Dave being not human is one of the few things we know for sure, not only is it pretty clear that just simply deformities, even in a fictional setting, probably can’t make a person look, and function the way Dave does. Not only that but Doggo himself has stated Dave to be a Cryptid, which is not a species, rather in this context I think just means he’s an inhuman humanoid who just kind or coexists.

Now that we’ve got the not being human out of the way, let’s talk about what a hyperrealistic rendition of Dave Miller would look like, in reference to him being reptilian, comparing his physical traits to one’s that exist in the real world to paint a picture of how he’d look.

First things first, general body shape. We know from a lot of art and his sprites that Dave is rather slim, in fact, most of the cloths he wears seem to give off the impression of being too big, or at least too wide. This, alongside his coiled neck has made me see Dave as being particularly snakelike, and in fact, I think that his neck would look like the body of a snake. As for his head, while I don’t recall ever seeing it from the side, from the front it’s very humanlike, although it may be more reptilian from a side view, we just don’t know that, however I find it likely it simply is very humanlike.

As for facial features, this is where it gets more snakelike. Dave does not have visible ears (he likely has ear holes on the sides of his head), he does not have a visible nose (it could be a very narrow snakelike one), and weirdly, he doesn’t show his teeth often, but we do know Dave probably has teeth because there is one image of him in the tapes in which he had human teeth, so Dave does have human teeth. Dave’s face is also visibly wrinkled.

To get into a detail I have not yet talked about, his hands. Dave’s hands are very interesting as they are probably the part of him the most similar to a real animal that isn’t a human. Dave has long fingers, and no visible fingernails, which is important because all primates have fingernails, unlike most other species which tend to have either talons, claws, or neither. On top of not having visible fingernails his fingers also come to a sharp point.

These strange hands have an almost exactly matching real world counterpart.

The hands of a marine iguana. Of course Dave’s fingers are longer and the composition is more humanlike, but it’s not a stretch that something with hands like the marine iguana could evolve to have hands like Dave’s.

Now, the point I’ve been sort of dancing around. Dave is purple. He also has purple blood, which is not seen in reptiles but does exist, although that’s not relevant right now because his blood has absolutely nothing to do with his pigment. Dave says ingame that he has a “scaly hyde”, I believe sometime during the good route of the third game. Dave is purple because his scales are purple. Scales are a thing seen on no actual depictions of Dave, but he definitely does have them, it’s something that’s always peeved me because he’s never drawn with arguably one of his key inhuman traits. This also means that Dave probably canonically CANT grow hair due to a lack of follicles. Now the size and shape of Dave’s scales is not known but I do believe they are probably relatively small and flat to his body. Also as a side note, I take Dave’s multiple shades on his body as canon under the belief that Dave has multiple shades of purple scales.

Now, why is he purple. This question actually matters quite a lot. There are 3 possible answers. The first is camouflage, unlikely and in fact impossible unless he comes from a place in which purple is a common pigment. The second is sexual selection, specifically akin to that of the peacock, the bright colour of the male peacock is due to the females of the species finding that trait desirable for the exact reason that it’s not, since the bright colours make it easier to be spotted by predators only the strongest survive, the brighter the pigment the stronger the bird would have to be, and thus to survive with this bright pigmentation means the peacock is genetically better as a mate than ones with duller pigments because in a counterintuitive way it actually means the offspring will have more overall fitness, Dave being bright purple could be a similar strange evolutionary path. The final reason Dave could be purple is that it could potentially be a warning sign, it’s common in nature to not want to be seen so having a bright, rare pigment is never ideal, unless you WANT to be noticed as part of a survival strategy, in order to encourage larger predators to avoid eating them many animals develop not only poison or venom, but a bright colour as well, it’s less common with venom because venom is less defensive more offensive, but reptiles are rarely actually poisonous and far more likely to just have a deadly bite, and that’s not to say none employ this warning sign, I’m not saying Dave is venomous but I’m also not saying he isn’t.

This is all the reptile Dave evidence I have thus far although I may find more. Now you are all ready to invision what a realistic rendition of DSAF’s Dave Miller would look like.

[jackdawsfavorite]

My first grade teacher had this paper mache…art piece, I guess, of a six foot tall woman in her classroom. She was a human in approximate shape only, with eyes and a red dress painted on and gray yarn for hair. She sat on top of a big cupboard and the teacher said she walked around at night. As a six year old, having a giant doll-woman made sense. We all thought she was neat.

one time I stayed later than usual at the after-school program, late enough that most other kids had been picked up and it was just a few of us being watched over in the schoolyard. You know how creepy it can feel when a place that’s always been full of people is empty. The sun was setting, and we started psyching ourselves up about Teacher’s big paper mache woman who walked around at night. It was almost night! Our classroom window looked out on a corner of the schoolyard! Maybe we’d see her!

We ended up crouching outside the window, daring each other to peek into the dark room. Some did and said they saw her. One boy, always a hard skeptic, looked repeatedly and said there was nothing there. On my first try, I went up and down so fast I didn’t even see the classroom. The second time, saw her.

The figure of the paper mache woman was on her feet among the desks, her limbs moving slowly like she was walking underwater. Her head was mid-turn towards the window, and imposed over her flat doll features like a reflection in the glass was the face of a woman. An articulate face, her brows furrowed and eyes squinting as she tried to make out who was peeking over her window sill.

I dropped to my knees and didn’t look again.

Obviously Teacher’s doll wasn’t walking around. There was no one in there. I was just so hyped up that I saw someone anyway. I value the memory because it makes me aware of how easy it is for the human brain to trick itself even for senses we generally consider reliable, like seeing what is in front of you and not seeing what isn’t.

so when this kid in yellowjackets sees a man with no eyes in the mirror while her dying grandmother is freaking out about “the man with no eyes!” I’m like Well that could be anything.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 11

As the party approached the towers, Sentry at the front, the guards at the steps inclined their heads. “W...Welcome back, sir!” Sentry blinked as he looked at the two. Completely unfamiliar to him, a pair of humans he couldn't recall seeing before in his life. But then again, if they claimed to recognize him, that could be useful, a way in without too much trouble. “Ah, thanks. Brought a new group of True Souls and all that. Praise the Absolute.” He gave a care free little salute as he walked past. The rest of the party followed somewhat hesitantly, confusion apparent on their faces, but as they weren't stopped and the guards didn't offer a second glance their way, it seemed unwise to question it. The entrance hall was vast with high ceilings and various groups of people milling about up to a wide array of tasks from buying and selling to drinking, to playing games of chance. Sentry paused a moment, unsure of which doorway to enter, scratching the back of his neck as he thought it over, turning his head as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Kroger, Karlach, and I are going to go look for Jaina.” Wyll whispered, his expression solemn and determined as he tilted his head subtly in the direction prisoners were being led in. Sentry nodded his approval.

“That makes sense...Huh...guess I'll head the other way then.” He turned his eyes towards what appeared to be a kitchen. “I'd better follow along and make sure you don't drink something toxic again.” Astarion's fingers brushed Sentry's arm as he joined him, walking side by side with him through the doorway, leaving Lae'zel, Octavia, Gale, and Shadowheart in the entryway together. “I would love to figure out if they've got a library here.” Octavia suggested, bouncing on the soles of her feet eagerly. “Not a bad idea, with any luck we'll find some information about what makes this General Thorm tick.” Gale agreed, looking in the direction of the meeting hall ahead and its winding stair case. “I would hazard a guess it's upstairs and far from the prying eyes of this group.” Lae'zel frowned, but followed the two wizards, Shadowheart close behind. Both knew leaving a pair of curious wizards unattended in a necromancer's den was not a particularly wise course of action. --- Sentry peeked through the doorway of the kitchen, his lips curling into a delighted smile at the sight of three large, healthy gnolls milling about stirring pots and occasionally sweeping absently at the floor. “Oh! They're beautiful! Look, Astarion! Those markings, the fur texture...this breed comes from a little wooded area near Neverwinter. They're fiercely loyal and did you know there's a legend that one of their matriarchs nursed a great hero?” “How is it you don't remember how you got aboard the Nautiloid, but you've an encyclopedic knowledge of gnolls?” Astarion raised a brow, staring in disbelief at Sentry. “Well, I remember about gnolls. I feel like I've got a sort of kinship with them.” He explained. “They just feel like family to me, I can't really explain it...I'm going to go introduce myself.” Before Astarion could yank him back or remind him to exercise just a little subtlety, Sentry was walking into the kitchen and towards the gnolls, pausing briefly and turning his head as he noticed a gnomish woman chastising one of them.

“Now Barnabus, we use a spoon to stir the soup, forget the axe, love.” She cooed. “Well, maybe the axe gives it more flavor, did you think about that?” Sentry cut in, arms folded across his chest. “Gods, we're finished.” Astarion clapped a hand across his face and shook his head as he watched Sentry insert himself into the conversation. “Also Barnabus isn't a common name for a gnoll, it's hard on their mouth shape. Why're you calling him that?” Sentry added. “It's the power The Absolute gave me. I've civilized these gnolls, taught them a kinder, gentler way. Would you like to see?” The gnome folded her hands with a smile Sentry found particularly unsettling. Sentry was about to reply, his expression incredulous and indignant, but Astarion grabbed Sentry's arm and stepped up beside him. “We'd love to. Show us your gnoll taming tricks.” The vampire gave an unctuous smile, pouring on the charm as he whispered to Sentry through gritted teeth “Don't start something we can't get ourselves out of, darling.” Sentry gave a sour frown and rolled his eyes, but stood there beside Astarion, watching the gnome intently. “Oh, what shall I have Barnabus do?” She asked, tilting her head in thought. “I know!” Sentry felt the woman's mind connecting to the gnolls and in that moment, he felt a moment of weakness in her hold. He could see himself in his mind's eye reaching out to caress the strand of consciousness connecting her to Barnabus and without hesitation, he gripped and tugged, snapping it like an overused lute string. The gnoll fixed his gaze on the gnome, a growl escaping his lips as he raised up his claws to attack, the gnomes eyes widening as she staggered backwards, stammering out a protest that died on her lips as she was mauled. Sentry gave a contented smile and looked up at the gnoll. “Stunning, really just amazing creatures you are...” He patted the gnoll's shoulder fondly, the feeling of the fur beneath his fingers was familiar, comforting. “Maaaaster retuuurns.” The gnoll cackled. “Mooore prey sooon?” “Anything you want, sweet boy.” Sentry nodded his head. “Ti'ka be happy tooo see youuuu....We tell heeeer you back.” The gnoll licked Sentry's face, leaving a long, slimy trail of slobber, which the tiefling didn't seem to mind at all, gently patting at the gnoll's snout with a happy smile and laugh.

Astarion folded his arms across his chest, watching the scene before him. He should have been disgusted, he should have been annoyed, but he had to admit, he liked seeing Sentry like this. It was...dare he admit it? Cute. --- The smell of blood was heavy in the air when Wyll, Kroger, and Karlach made their way down the stairs into the dungeons. The floors were running red and the bodies of the guards were strewn across the stone floor, weapons broken, bodies seemingly trampled and punctured as though with hundreds of tiny spikes. A wooden door to the left had been bashed in as though by massive hooves and strange prints were visible in the blood. The three looked to the room, approaching slowly. Before they entered, a tiefling woman, tall and imposing, loomed in the doorway, holding an injured drow woman gingerly to her, one arm slung over her shoulder. Her bright violet eyes stared straight ahead at the party and an unnatural cold seemed to engulf her deep purple skin and her pale white braids. The silence was deafening and seemed to last terribly long. She regarded the group like a hunting predator and then took a step towards them, her eyes meeting with Wyll's. “They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend....Ketheric Thorm and my sister made an enemy of me when they hurt her....” The tiefling began. “Let her recover in your camp, I will join her there and tell you what I know...” Wyll paused a moment, considering the offer. They needed all the help they could get, but then again, he recognized the drow. She had been one of the leaders back at the goblin camp, one of the ones who would have killed the tiefling refugees as well as the druids. Still, if this woman could help, if the information she had could rescue Jaina, that was worth it. He nodded. “Alright.”

The tiefling woman nodded in reply before pausing to add. “Oh, the warden is dead as well, by the way...There are digging tools in her old office belonging to some of the prisoners...Behind the walls there was a dock, perhaps they can escape by boat...no one is here to stop them anyway.” “Thank you.” Wyll replied quietly. --- Sentry gently pushed open the door at the other end of the kitchen and slowly walked through the door, Astarion still behind him. Immediately, both men paused, pupils dilating as the scent of blood hit their nostrils. The room was relatively clean apart from the clutter of storage crates and alchemical tools, and yet the scent permeated the air. Sentry closed his eyes and let himself drift a moment as another memory swam into focus. He was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and he sat cross legged on a stone floor with a girl five or six years younger than he was, everything about her pale and colorless except the red marbling of her white skin and the pale gold of her hair. “Now see, Orin? The blood goes into this mixture, which keeps it from drying up too quick....” He held up a small glass bottle. “Cork it like so...” He popped a cork into the top. “And then we simply shake it to mix it all up.” He grinned, passing her a vial of a clear liquid and gesturing to the limp corpse of a dwarf beside them. “Now you try.” The little girl copied Sentry's instructions slowly and carefully, her brow furrowed with concentration to get it just right. “Like this, slaughter-kin?” She asked. “Yeah, that's it! Maybe Tomi even has something to play around with the colors a bit too, but you've got it!” He beamed. “I can't wait to see what you make with it.”

The memory faded and Sentry found himself back in the present, watching a drow woman working at a bench laden with mixtures and vials. She noticed him and approached with an unsettling smile on her face. “Ah, True Soul...I wonder if you might be willing to assist me in an experiment. You would be adequately compensated, of course.” She grinned. Sentry noticed her eyes danced past him to Astarion fairly often, the vampire hadn't quite noticed yet, but Sentry instinctively stepped in front of him. “That depends entirely on what sort of experiment.” Sentry folded his arms across his chest and looked over at her work bench, trying to get an idea of what she was playing at. “I need blood that has been touched by The Absolute...”She began. Sentry's eyes fell on bits of discolored brain matter and chopped up tendrils on the bench and he raised an eyebrow. “Don't play coy, you know about the tadpoles. You want blood from someone who's been infected by a mindflayer. That's why you're messing around with intellect devourer parts. But fine. A little bit of my blood won't kill me and I suppose I could use every advantage I can get.” He held out his arm to her. “Wonderful...You may feel a slight pinch....just a little prick...There!” She drew a small amount of blood from the tiefling and turned, bringing it back to her table. The clink of glass and the bubbling of liquid was the only sound for a moment and then she returned, handing Sentry a potion. “For your troubles....although...I do have a far more powerful potion, one of a kind really...and I could offer it to you if only...well, that vampire, he's yours, is he?” She nodded towards Astarion. Sentry blinked, looking back to Astarion and then to the woman. “He's a person.” “That's not what I asked.” The woman replied. “You're his master?” “No, he can do what he wants.” Sentry was beginning to like this woman less and less with ever passing moment as he bristled with annoyance. He looked back at Astarion, noticing that he was now paying full attention to what was going on. “Well, any way ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to be bitten by a vampire...if he'll bite me, I'll give you the potion I mentioned.” She continued, gazing past Sentry at Astarion with a look of intense lust in her dark eyes.

Astarion gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “You want me to bite you?” He looked incredulously at the woman for a moment, then at Sentry, and finally shook his head. “Hmm no...sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to decline.” His eyes focused on Sentry for a moment and the tiefling noted a look of fear in his eyes. “What?! But this is a one of a kind offer.” The woman scoffed, turning to Sentry. “Talk to your pet, make him see reason!” Sentry glared down at the drow, drawing himself to his full height and folding his arms sternly across his chest. “He said no. That's the end of it.” There was a threatening edge to Sentry's voice, one that brooked no argument. Astarion visibly calmed, but stayed behind the paladin for the moment. “Fine. It's your loss.” The woman sniffed, turning back to her work. As the two men left the room, Sentry paused and turned to look Astarion over, he could see the vampire was shaking just a bit and frowned. “Are you alright?” He asked, his expression softening to a look of a concern. “That woman was....a lot...right?” Astarion winced, looking away. “Let's....let's talk about this later...somewhere less open.” The tiefling nodded his head. “Yeah, sure. Sorry. Should we go find Wyll and the others? If they've found the prisoners, they could probably use some help.” Astarion gave a small nod, following Sentry.

--- Sentry had to focus intently to fight down the anger at the way that woman had treated Astarion. He could feel it boiling in his veins. It gnawed at him, painfully dragging another long forgotten memory to mind.

He was small, nowhere near the imposing figure he cut now. He felt a tightness at his chest where he could feel thick linen bandages wrapped, binding it down. The feeling of heaviness at his chest beneath those bandages sent a wave of nausea and wrongness through him. His body ached and he could feel a cold, hard floor beneath him in the small, dark room he was contained in. His silver hair was long and hung limp down his back and over his face, which had yet to gain its prominent burn scar. He was vulnerable, naked except for those bandages and a small sash wrapped around his waist. He heard voices approaching the room. A hissing whisper of a woman's voice, eager and excited first. “It is an honor you've come to us, my lord! I assure you, she is ripe and ready for you.” The woman simpered, voice quivering in awe as the footsteps drew closer to the door. “Hm...good...and do not worry if she should put up a fight...I think I would prefer it.” A deep male voice replied. The door swung open and Sentry could see a tall, imposing figure in armor standing beside a tiefling woman with horns like his, her head shaved and marked with Bhaalist symbols in ink and scar. Her deep violet eyes gazed down on him with a mixture of pride and envy. The man's yellow eyes held a terrifying lust that made Sentry's stomach turn as he scurried back against the wall, his back pressing against the hard stone with nowhere else to go. “No...please...I...I can't...I still hurt....Mother, please....” His voice was high and young, and he knew that he was afraid, beginning to panic. His tail was raised and twitching back and forth and his mismatched eyes were wide in terror as he looked at the man who was so much larger than him. Even if he did try to fight back, it wouldn't matter. His sharp nails dug into the ground beneath him. “Hush, girl! This is an honor. Lord Sarevok himself has come to make use of you. Imagine the bounty you would provide your father if this union bears fruit.” The woman's smile was manic and wild as she stepped back, letting the armored man enter the room and then shutting the door as she left.

Sentry closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, his heart hammering in his chest as the man's footsteps approached and a large, thick hand wrapped around his throat. “Come now, Vereena...Do as father commands. He made you for this.” The man's voice was like the growling purr of a predatory jungle cat, his grip was iron, inescapable. Sentry's only choice was to let his mind drift away as he became vaguely aware of his body being laid down on the cold, hard ground, and his legs being spread. And then there was only pain. --- “Sentry?” Sentry's eyes blinked rapidly and he gave a sudden yelp of surprise before realizing he was standing face to face with Karlach and Wyll, Astarion still standing by his side and Kroger staggering back, releasing his wrist which he'd been holding.

“When did I get here?” Sentry asked, rubbing his head awkwardly, fingers brushing over the stubble of the shaved areas and the jagged, cruel scar at the back of his skull. “We were on our way to look for the others and you were oddly quiet and pensive, so I just followed along, I assumed you had another of your headaches or something.” Astarion explained. “Then, when we ran into Karlach, you proceeded to just stand there and stare into space, the others arrived and you still didn't react, so the good doctor here decided to examine you.” He gestured to Kroger. “It was all quite dramatic.” “You okay, soldier?” Karlach asked, examining Sentry's face closely for signs of pain or illness. “You didn't look so well and then you kinda just cried out a bit...I guess it's a good thing we're in the dungeons so that sound isn't out of the ordinary to hear.” “Any sign of Jaina?” Sentry asked, looking around the entry way, taking in the blood and corpses that still littered the floor. Wyll shook his head, worry obvious across his face. “Not a trace of her...But, we did find the Iron Hands as well as some of the Tieflings, they're working on breaking through the walls to get to some docks on the other side, we can guide them to Last Light across the water once we have access to a boat.” “It was our task to ensure all the guards were well and truly dead and the scrying eyes were inactive.” Kroger added. “Not that it was much work, considering someone had arrived before us to free a prisoner and slaughtered most of them.”

Sentry looked past Kroger, his eyes focused on the damage to the corpses. Slowly, he slipped past the rest of the party and knelt down, examining the wounds. “These guards were trampled...The thing that killed them was giving off an abnormal chill...and on top of that, it had something sharp extending from its hooves...” He explained. “Look, some of the blood is even frozen...Whatever did this is not something to be played around with...” He frowned curiously, trying to consider what kind of creature it may have been. He had a feeling he'd encountered it before, but his scarred and damaged brain couldn't quite remember. The sound of stone collapsing interrupted any attempt at further thought as the party turned in the direction of the noise. A familiar dark haired tiefling woman poking her head out from the cell and calling to them. “We've broken through! Are you coming?” “Hells yeah!” Karlach pumped a fist triumphantly. “Let's get these guys back to the inn and regroup.” She hurried towards the cells and the newly formed hole in the wall, Sentry following close behind with Astarion not far behind. “But what about Gale and Shadowheart? And my sisters?” Kroger frowned, looking back towards the stairs. “If you prefer, you and I can rejoin them. After all, the boat already seems quite full.” Wyll offered, placing a hand on Kroger's shoulder. “Just one moment...” Kroger nodded. “Sentry!” He called after the paladin, who stopped and turned around. “I found this in the House of Healing! It's got the name Octavia mentioned carved in it. Bring it to Halsin!” He removed a small lute from his pack and ran a few paces forward, tossing it to Sentry, who caught it and nodded his understanding.

“Thanks, doctor.” Sentry turned and continued on his way to the docks. --- Ketheric regarded Jaina solemnly, absently running a hand over the smooth, skeletal head of his faithful hound which padded up alongside him. “Miss Thalassia, you make it a point to assure me I can't be a monster because I am a loving father, but that's just it...it is possible to be both, it's only a matter of how far a father is pushed for love of his child.” Jaina gave a gentle frown and took another sip of wine. “I didn't imply that, I only meant that it's never too late.” She explained. “You can make a different choice, follow a new path. Isobel is alive and well now and if she's all that matters to you, which I truly believe she is, then her love and approval are more important than whatever promises you made to Myrkul, to this Absolute.” Ketheric gave a hollow smirk and shook his head. “You don't even know what The Absolute truly is and you presume it couldn't rip my daughter away from me as easily as she was returned?” “Any evil can be defeated.” Jaina replied matter of factly. “It's only a matter of knowing it and discerning its weaknesses. Besides, even in fighting a god, numbers and resources matter.” “You truly don't know what you're suggesting...”The general shook his head. “But anyway, your friends still haven't come to your rescue, so indulge me in another story to pass the time.” Jaina thought a moment and nodded her head. “As I mentioned, my twin brother and I grew up on the island my father's crew called home. We were happy there, safe.” She smiled fondly, toying with her glass in her hands as she recalled. “We wanted so much to be pirates like our parents when we grew up...My father used to set his cutlasses at the blacksmith shop to be tended to after every voyage and the blacksmith was an older man, prone to aches and pains, and so Tibs and I learned how often he needed to sit down out of view of the counter and we stole the cutlasses to play with....We fought across the beach...”

Their swords clashed together on the beach as they ran after one another, their laughter echoing across the sands. Jaina's long sunshine colored hair rippled in the wind behind her as she played. Tibs own sandy hair was pulled back into a ponytail out of his face and both were dressed in simple linen tunics and trousers, barefoot as they dashed across the warm sand. “Surrender, villain!” Tibs laughed as he thrust his sword forward, his laughter faded and his bright smile slid into a look of horror, his eyes wide as they fell on his cutlass slipped directly through his sister's chest, blood blossoming on her white tunic as she staggered backwards and slid to her knees, blue eyes going cloudy as her hand shakily moved to the wound, staining her grey-blue skin with blood as she collapsed into the salty surf. “No...Oh no...Jaina...please don't die...please don't die, I'm gonna go get mom and dad!” The boy sniffled, staggering back from his sister's limp body and turning to run, kicking up a cloud of sand as he run, tears streaming down his face. “Such a worthless sacrifice....Small, weak, just a slip of a thing...” A voice hissed from behind Jaina. Her eyes flew open and she was beneath the waves, deep in the dark and floating, her long hair floating above her as she hung suspended there. Her skin's shark-like qualities becoming far more obvious under the sea. Strange finlike growths bloomed from her elbows, wrists, and ankles as she floated there. Long black hair swished like seaweed past her and a face with deep, eloquent black eyes examined her intently and the thin, fish-like lips curved into a wicked smile, the grin revealing long, sharp, needle like teeth. The woman's legs ended in long tendrils like an octopus' legs and her body was covered in shimmering scales and elegant fins.

“And yet....you come from oh so loyal a family line...And you've a capacity for rage....What a fine conduit you could be, my little guppy...”The woman cooed, a long nailed finger, the texture of a jagged, shattered seashell tapping Jaina's tiny, freckled nose, the woman's expression clearly savoring Jaina's look of fear. “Yes, I think that suits me....” She turned and waved a hand carelessly as she began to swim away. “Now run along, child...mother is calling.” Her laughter echoed as Jaina's vision began to blur and fade again. “And when I woke up, mother was cradling me in her arms and trying with all her strength to heal me.” Jaina explained, raising her head to look Ketheric in the eye. The half elf regarded the young tiefling, his expression empty, unreadable as he looked her in the eyes. “But you see, there is the difference between myself and your own parents, miss Thalassia...You were returned to them....It took me three gods to bring my Isobel back. Only Myrkul did not deny me...And as such, he has never had a more faithful servant.” --- As the boat pulled into the docks of The Last Light Inn, Sentry climbed out first and held out a hand for the other passengers, helping them each out in turn. Karlach grinned and laughed out loud when it came to her turn. “Well thank you, Sir Ojeda. Makin' me feel like a damn Princess here.” Karlach chuckled, grabbing Sentry's hand and pulling herself onto the docks before them. She gave him a joking little curtsy as they joined the rescued prisoners on dry land. Sentry folded his arms and rolled his eyes as the Harpers checked the prisoners for tadpole influence, though he had to admit that he was relieved when they found none and he smiled as he watched them make their way into the inn to rejoin with their loved ones. He watched Alfira and Lakrissa hug eachother tightly, he watched Rolan and his siblings reunite, sure to stand back from them and avoid interrupting. He examined the lute Kroger had given him and took a deep breath, making his way towards the makeshift infirmary where Halsin was waiting, still tending the unconscious Flaming Fist.

“Hey...”He smiled gently at the druid, reaching out gently to him. “Kroger found this in Reithwin...It's got this guy's name on it, maybe it could help?” Halsin beamed at Sentry. “Music can often trigger memories, so perhaps it could serve to wake him up as well. Play a few notes.” He suggested, the excitement in his voice far from hidden. Sentry bit his lip, about to protest. He wasn't much of a musician, but seeing Halsin's eyes on him in this moment, he had to try. With a deep breath, he plucked the strings gently a few times, watching anxiously for just a moment before the human jolted upright in his bed. “Thaniel is in danger! He's still trapped in the Shadowfell!” The man gasped. “Whoa, hey....calm down, buddy...Halsin is a druid, he can help your friend.” Sentry assured the man, patting his shoulder gently. “Halsin?” “Any information you can give me will help me to find him, any small clue to where he might be...” Halsin added gently but urgently. The man thought a moment and took a deep breath. “There...there was lavender...every time Thaniel was near, I could smell lavender.” He recalled.

“I can work with that.” Halsin nodded, standing up and looking to Sentry. “You've done so much for me so far, but I'm afraid I must rely on you once more, my friend.” He took Sentry's hand in his, the tiefling blushed and looked up into Halsin's eyes, vaguely considering how seldom it was that he was the one looking up. --- The two made their way out to the edge of the water behind the inn, Sentry watched as Halsin climbed up on a small hill and turned to face him. “I have communed with Silvanus for years to learn this spell...it is something that I, and I alone must do.” Sentry regarded him with concern, reaching out to Halsin. “But you'll be by yourself...what if there's trouble....please, there has to be a way I can help...” The tiefling took the larger elf's hand gently. Halsin gave Sentry's had a reassuring squeeze and looked deeply into his eyes. “You will be the light that guides me home.” A smile crossed Sentry's face and he nodded. “You can count on me...I mean...I am a paladin, being a guiding light is kind of my specialty.” He grinned, gently letting go of Halsin's hand as he walked off into the portal leaving Sentry standing before it. Sentry watched the portal anxiously, waiting for Halsin's return, until he heard a sound behind him and turned around to face several shadow creatures skulking towards him. He cursed quietly under his breath and drew his axe.

It felt like hours and Sentry was battered and bleeding, down on one knee in front of the portal, blood dripping from his nose and mouth as the shadow creatures closed in on him, but he couldn't give up, Halsin had not returned yet. He gripped his axe tightly and winced, staggering to his feet, swaying slightly. “I made a promise...I'll defend this portal till my last breath.” He spit blood onto the ground in front of him, the coppery taste still filling his mouth, and he braced himself for another attack. Then, as quickly as it had begun, a blinding light issued from the portal and with a feral screech, the creatures fell to ash around him as Halsin stepped out of the portal, an unconscious child in his arms. Sentry looked up at him with relief and smiled before he collapsed on the ground at his feet, the world spinning out of focus. --- When Sentry opened his eyes, he was laying on a bedroll in the camp, Halsin was kneeling beside him while Astarion stood by, arms folded across his chest as he gazed with worry at Sentry. Karlach was tending the fire and it seemed the others had made their way back to camp as Kroger approached with his pack and sat down next to Sentry, beginning to apply various salves to his wounds.

“What I don't understand is why neither of you thought to ask any of the rest of us for help. Sentry's not a one man army and he isn't invincible. You put him in serious danger expecting him to guard you alone!” Astarion frowned. “Is that concern I hear?” Sentry grinned. “Oh don't give me that, you know damn well I need you for whatever Raphael intends to ask of me.” His red eyes darted away from Sentry, but the tiefling could tell he was covering up how he felt. “Nope, you were worried about me.” Sentry chuckled. “Admit it, you'd be upset if I died.” “I believe most of us would be.” Halsin cut in. “I'm sorry I put you in danger, Sentry...But now I'm free to accompany you and do my part in ending this curse. Once you've healed properly, I'll be by your side should you need me.” “I'll be fine, you're all fussing over me like I'm fragile.” Sentry slowly began to sit up only for a deceptively strong green skinned hand to press him back down. “Stay. You're going to re-open your wounds, I haven't had a chance to close them yet because they need to be disinfected first.” Kroger insisted. “You are worse than a child.” “Speaking of children, Halsin, how's that kid you rescued?” Sentry asked as Kroger continued to clean and disinfect his wounds before slowly beginning to close them with his magic. Halsin sighed and shook his head. “Thaniel is stable, however it's like there's a part of him missing...We must find it...But rest assured, I will be at your side every step of the way.” “But that is a task for tomorrow, for now, sleep.” Kroger insisted as he packed up his supplies and got to his feet, his large, luminous green eyes staring Sentry down as he pointed a finger accusingly at him.

Sentry rolled his eyes with a sigh, but laid back down on his bed roll and closed his eyes as the rest of his companions dispersed to their various sleeping spaces. --- Sentry's eyes flew open only a few hours later and he could feel the world spinning around him. He looked over at the mat Astarion lay meditating on and began to walk towards it as though in a trance. His hand wanted to go for his axe, but he pushed the urge down and roughly shook the elf, who blearily shook off his trance. “Hello darling, looking for a cuddle?” He gave a charming smile as he sat up, looking up at Sentry. “No time for joking, you're in real danger...That curse...the one that made me kill the bard....it wants me to kill you...if we don't stop me, you'll die...I....I don't want you to die...” Sentry bit his lip nervously, his body beginning to tremble a bit. Astarion raised a brow. “I see...That certainly IS a dilemma...” He paced around Sentry for a moment, frowning deep in thought. “One moment...” He headed back to his tent and returned shortly with a length of rope. “Astarion, this is no time for kinky games.” Sentry frowned. “You're in danger!” The elf sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “Rope has many, many uses, dear Sentry. Right now, we're going to use it to keep you from doing anything you'll regret, now arms behind your back, darling. I promise I'll be as gentle as I can.”

A moment later, Sentry as bound like a tightly packed bed roll and laid on his side, a gag of white cloth tied around his mouth as he struggled and squirmed, drooling and snarling. Every now and then he managed to break through the haze and give Astarion an apologetic look or a sad smile. The elf, to his credit, never left Sentry's side, even occasionally running a hand through his silver hair comfortingly despite the risk. The last thing Sentry managed before falling unconscious fully was a grateful smile.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Well, at least I have FINALLY gotten Mom’s Mother’s Day stuff mailed.

I had a devil of a time with it.

The sculpey made me frustrated beyond belief. At least six years old, hard as rock, hours of grinding with my fingers getting raw, and I worked enough into usable shape. Then the sculpey would NOT stick to itself. It was mushy in my hot hands, yet would crack at the same time. I tried to get around the attaching things like heads and arms, I tried to make them from one lump of sculpey. That doesn’t ever go well for me. I had to sculpt aspects out of natural sculpting order. I was too ambitious for the materials, which made it even worse.

It looked awful. Rough sculpting , with squished bits and cracks.

And then I had to paint it.

UGH. Dried up paint, worn out brushes, I actually sat on a brush breaking it in half…..

Let’s just say that at one point I painted the eyes on one face from 7:30 pm till 4 am. I was washing it off and starting over repeatedly, then had to redo the face. Paint built up. And guess what? It still took me two hours the next day before I threw my hands up and declared “It’ll do…maybe.” I have NEVER had so much trouble painting a damn face. Worst eyes ever! I’ve made a mermaid with eyes more suited to a frog!!

Any other time it would be okay. I’d just pick the best from several options. This time everything took so much longer than usual, and I have been so overwhelmingly busy, that I couldn’t even finish a back up. I have one, but it’s only half painted and too fragile to mail anyone. No choices.

Honestly, it should have been one night getting sculpey usable, one night to sculpt, one night for adjustments and baking, two nights to paint, and one night for any final touchups and pics. I have spent double that! Everything was so hard. I may have screamed in frustration a few time.

Then, making it all worse, it turned out I couldn’t afford to buy a card, so I would have to make a card.

A card from the stuff I had. Old stuff. Stuff I’d had to pack away 10yrs ago. The markers had dried up. The paper wouldn’t work with the colored pencils. I used a glue gun to attach flowers I made from tissue paper and pipe cleaner stems, only to get hot glue all over the damn place, including me (Lots. OUCH!) and the floor (joining a lot of paint). I added glitter, but the glue I used for that took so long to dry (still damp 24hrs later!) that it was touch and go if I could pack it before the post office closed at 5pm.

Oh god, I made better cards when I was four! And would you believe I spent five hours trying to make these disasters??

So I devoted many, many hours to making Mom’s gift and cards, and it all ended up an ugly mess!!!

I sure hope Mom sees the love behind it all and not the hideous reality. I wish I weren’t so utterly disappointed in what I made.

**sigh**

But, it’s mailed in time to get to her. I guess that counts for something.

Maybe.

I wish I could just buy her something, rather than trust myself to make something worthy of her. Most the time it works out, but sometimes…… Well, generic grocery store flowers would be an improvement !

[erin-bo-berin]

i love your whole dad!steve concept it truly makes my heart burst! set in the singlemom!reader verse, could you do something where it’s steve’s birthday and the reader surprises him with an adoption certificate asking him to adopt the baby?

That would be the CUTEST THING. Oh yes, I’m so excited for this! I have to use this gif because imagine how stunned and surprised and just shocked in general he would be. My heart 😭 (also, fun fact: I ended up including my little fur baby’s name in here)

“Surprise!”

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shi- uh crap out of me!”

Steve put a hand to his chest, eyeing the toddler in your arms, glad he’d caught the swear just in time. These days, she was repeating anything she heard so he’d tried to be extra careful what he said when he was around her.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you smiled, putting the little girl in your arms down so she could greet him too.

She went flying the short distance between you and Steve, running over to him to hug his legs.

“Happee birfday daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her small arms around his legs.

He smiled, bending down to pick her up.

“Thank you baby girl and mommy,” he said looking over at you, the smile lighting his face.

“I got you pwesent,” she said, beaming up at her daddy.

“Did you now? What did you get me? Hmm, a tie?”

She shook her head emphatically.

You raised a brow, amused, “You? I’m a tie?”

He stuck his tongue out at you, playfully.

“Let’s see,” Steve resumed his guessing game with his and your daughter, “Is it…a book?”

“No!” she grinned.

“Is it your favorite stuffed bunny named Hoppy?”

“No, silwee!” she giggled.

Still working on her pronunciation of the word, “silly” came out much cuter and funnier than it should’ve, causing Steve to laugh with joy.

“Is it a million kisses for daddy?” he asked again, then started attacking her face with kisses, giving her numerous ones all over her face.

The little girl squealed with joy. It was one of her favorite things her daddy did, was give kisses.

“Mommy have pwesent,” she finally said when Steve stopped, pointing towards you.

You held a print out caked shaped design that the toddler had “painted”. But, at the top, you’d done a little activity with her. You’d dipped her entire finger into different paints and made a few “candles” out of her finger prints at the top of the cake. It had turned out adorable.

“What is this?” Steve asked, taking the picture, looking at it.

The smile hadn’t left his face yet, but it grew even brighter as he looked at the picture.

“Did you do this for me, sweetie?” he asked.

Your daughter nodded with a smile.

“Mommy hepped.”

“Mommy helped?” he translated.

“Yesh.”

“Well, I love it,” he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you so much princess.”

“You welcome, daddy.”

“The kids, Robin, Eddie, Nancy and Joyce all dropped off their presents earlier,” you chuckled, nodding to the pile of wrapped presents and gift bags on the couch, “The living room looks like Christmas currently.”

Joyce and Mrs. Wheeler were hosting a cook out party for Steve at the Wheeler’s house this weekend for everyone to gather and celebrate your boyfriend, but most of the gang had decided to drop off their gifts for him early, on his actual birthday. Today, he was celebrating with you and your daughter.

“Well I guess that means someone is going to have to help open all those presents. Who should it be?” Steve tapped his chin, thinking.

“Meme! Meme! Meme! Pwease, daddy?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, of course you can.”

He kissed her cheek.

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here,” he said, following you further into the kitchen.

“I fixed spaghetti since the munchkin requested it,” you said, sparing the little girl an amused glance, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Pagetti!” she cheered.

“Well, then I’m in luck because your spaghetti is my favorite,” he smiled, giving you a kiss as well.

“No,” your baby whined, trying to pull Steve’s face away from you.

She was currently going through a bit of a jealous phase where she wanted Steve’s attention at all times.

“Hey, now that’s not nice, sweetheart. There’s enough of daddy to share okay? See, look. I can give you a kiss as well.”

He kissed her cheek, then her forehead to prove his point.

“Now, can you say sorry to mommy?”

“I sowwy,” she frowned, not liking to upset either one of you.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothed, running a hand over her hair.

“Go get cleaned up, dinner is almost ready, okay?” you told Steve.

“You heard what mommy said. Let’s go wash our hands okay?” he bounced her in his arms.

“Oh I got a present for you, too, but I’ll give it to you later, if that’s alright?” you said.

“Oh,” he smirked, “That’s more than alright.”

“Steve!” you huffed, hitting his chest playfully, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, but can it be arranged? It is my birthday after all. I deserve some dessert.”

He gave you a grin, with a suggestive little wiggle of his brows before he walked out with the little girl, heading towards the bathroom.

“Besides cake, I mean!” he hollered.

You laughed, shaking your head at the audacity of him.

•

It wasn’t until after yours and Steve’s daughter was down for the night that you got the chance to give Steve your present.

True to his word, he’d let her help him open his gifts. She was a mess after the spaghetti dinner though, so bath time came first. Per Steve’s request, you and he gave her a bath together. She absolutely loved the extra attention, having both mom and dad with her for bath time was a rare occurrence. It was usually one or the other.

While Steve got her into her pajamas, you drained the bathwater and cleaned up the bathroom, not leaving it for later when you knew you’d be too tired to deal with the mess.

With hair still wet from the bath and in fresh pajamas, Steve set her in his lap and let her help him open presents. He let her pick which one to start with and it was off from there. You had a kick watching both of them, the toddler just as excited as Steve was. You appreciated how he included her in so much; you appreciated it more than he probably knew.

It wasn’t until the last few presents that her energy drained and the tell-tale signs of her sleepiness kicked in. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, beginning to fuss at the mention of bedtime.

She fell fast asleep just before the last present and after opening it as quietly as he could—even though it didn’t disturb her the slightest—Steve carried her to bed and tucked her in.

He was tidying up the floor when you walked back in the room, picking up the pieces of wrapping paper and tissue paper from gift bags that had been carelessly thrown by an excited two and a half year old.

You hid the gift behind your back as you entered, biting your lip nervously. You were afraid that he might not like it as much as you’d hoped he would when you’d first received it. It was a medium sized rectangular gift box, wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, but it was what was inside that was the true gift.

Steve was chuckling to himself when you first entered and now he looked up, seeing you, filling you in on what was amusing him so much.

“I can’t believe Henderson got me four cans of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. What a kid.”

“Steve? Why don’t you sit down?”

Sensing your somber mood, he sat on the couch.

“What’s up?”

You sat down next to him, revealing the present from behind your back.

“Happy birthday.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into him before kissing your temple.

“I know. But I wanted to. Go ahead, open it.”

He tore into the wrapping paper at a much more normal speed than that of the excited toddler earlier. He peeled away the wrapping to see the gift box you knew was underneath. He peered at you curiously before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a small stack of papers. Steve’s brows crinkled in confusion as his eyes scanned over the paper on top.

“What’s this?” he asked.

He looked back down at his gift, his eyes widening when they landed on the word “adoption”.

“Is this…?” he started, not quite sure how to finish his sentence.

“It’s adoption papers. To legally adopt baby girl. Make her a Harrington,” you finished for him.

He stared at you, blinking. Then he set the box aside, taking your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You saw tears in his eyes. You also saw a smile on his face. He was so happy and that erased any nerves you’d felt before he’d opened it.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He kissed you then, holding your face firmly in his hands, trying to convey his gratefulness, his happiness, his love, in the single kiss.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he made sure you knew his answer when you two had parted.

“I’d love to adopt her.”

It was the best birthday Steve had ever had.

[heartfullofleeches]

Clown Reader reminds me of those old cartoons that were supposed to teach children stuff and shit. I keep imagining them going to an event about their show and they accidentally come face to face with their yandere, who was been taking photos of them the whole time. While Reader is asking if they came with a child or sibling since they are "a little too old to be here" the wandered is frozen in place as their crush is finally talking and noticing them lol

"Hey there. You're a little older than our usual audience. Babysitting a family member?"

The fan in question freezes in place; tightly clutching their camera and a small piece of paper. They had wondered from the general area to avoid suspicion, but at the same time you stepped away from the meet and greet area to do some walking around; catching them off guard with a sneak attack - and sending them into cardiac arrest.

What do they do? What do they say? You really do smell like pumpkin pie, just like your third episode said, and you're way cuter up close than they could ever have dreamed. In the mass of their fan-crazed hysteria, you sneak a look at the paper.

"What do you have there, friend?"

Their camera was a modern day Polaroid; the snapping as many pictures as possible between intervals of processing time and shoving them in their bag. This page was none other than a small piece of the large collection that they had conjured that afternoon. Smiling, you pull the flower shaped pen from your shirt pocket; the red flags flying over head like arrows.

"For the little one, I'm guessing? Or maybe yourself? No judging here. I'm on break, but at the same time there never really is one from making people smile."

You sign the picture; finishing your signature with a winking smiley face and a wish for a swell day. You hand it back to them; fingers brushing against theirs momentarily. Their weight almost comes too much for their legs to carry as you continue to flash your prized smile. Even with the ring of red paint around them, your lips looked sweeter than you smelled. Maybe even enhanced it. They clear their throat.

"U-uh... well. I'm actually here for the local children's hospital. Do you mind signing a few more? Maybe a dozen... or two?"

[jishyucks]

one plus one ‣ hhj

‣ pairing: hyunjin x gender neutral!reader

‣ genre: fluff, meet-cute

‣ wc: 1.7k

‣ summary: In which you ask Hyunjin for his interpretation of a painting and his pretty brain leaves you wanting to see him again; alternatively where you're so absorbed by a painting that you were unaware that someone saw you as the work of art

‣ warnings?: none I don't thinkkkkkk, genuinely just fluff and cozy-type feelings  

‣ an: idk why but this was fun to write even though I don't really like first meeting fics lmaoo (×_×;) but I hope it's a good short read for everyone!

There’s really no telling how long you’ve been staring at the painting.

Maybe it’s been seconds, minutes, hell, it may have been hours since you’ve crossed paths with the artwork and yet you still find yourself sitting directly in front of it with hopes of interpreting it in a way that satisfies you. 

Although you couldn’t really grasp the interpretations running through your head, you’re able to take in the greater or lesser details of the painting. At first glance, the main object of the painting looked like nothing more than a blob—well, a blob with no better way to describe it. It did, indeed, look like a blob, but a multicoloured blob. Some may even say that it looked like a bunch of blobs swirling against each other to create shapes and images. 

But the longer you look at it, the more you can make out that the artist had painted two individuals embracing each other rather closely. It was only difficult to distinguish because the setting of the painting was dark. A majority of it was painted in shades of black—if that was even possible—like you were watching the scene happen inside of a dark room and your eyes did not have enough light to generate colours for your brain to process. 

A small portion of the painting held colour—the area behind the two lovers. You can confidently say that it was a partially covered window, the curtain being a blue-teal colour. Compared to the inside of the so-called room that the individuals were in, it was bright outside. You guess this could be part of the interpretation, but you wanted to take everything in before you start analyzing it. 

The last detail that you felt made the story was the way that the two lovers are practically melting into one. Their faces are indistinguishable, making it hard to make out where they meet. You could guess it was somewhere in the middle, but you could be wrong. 

The interaction between the two, described in one word, was passionate. Somebody looking at the picture could say that they were very much in love. The only problem now was what type of love it was. What type of relationship did they hold for such passion to be held between them? Why were they in such a dark space, almost hidden from the bright world outside?

You can guess that the minds of an optimist and a pessimist would work differently. A romantic and aromantic. Maybe even simply what stage of life a person was present in. And despite the many ways that a human’s mind worked to create these stories, you really really wanted a satisfying interpretation.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice whispered beside you. Though you weren’t startled, you were still questioning how someone had managed to approach you without your knowledge. Maybe you were that immersed in the painting. 

“I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out its meaning,” you laugh quietly. You turn your head, eyes meeting those of a guy your age. What catches your attention first is his hair that hugs the nape of his neck. He’s wearing glasses that are big enough for the bottoms to kiss his cheeks and his lips were very pink. Yes, it sounded weird to be noticing some stranger's lips at first glance, but his lips really were pink. 

“I know,” he says without hesitation. He snorts a little bit before he holds his hands up, “Not to sound creepy or anything. I just have been here for a bit too and just noticed you here.” His eyes dart away in slight embarrassment but they look back to you again. 

“Valid,” you nod, “What do you think about this?” You jut your chin out to point to the painting sitting in front of the two of you, “I wanna hear it.” 

He hums, leans forward and reads the small plaque pasted on the wall beside it, “The Kiss… Edvard Munch.” He leans back to his original position and looks up at the painting. 

As odd as it sounds, you watch him as his face moves in a way that reveals to you that he was thinking. You watch his eyes scan the artwork just like yours did when you first saw it. But something about how he looked at it gave away that he’s seen it before. His brows furrow together as he presses his lips together, diving deeper into concentration. 

Just by the way he’s analyzing the painting, you can tell that this man loves art. Whether it be for leisure or whatever the opposite of leisure was (work?), you can easily make out that art was a big part of his life.

You think you asked the right person.

“I’ve heard a lot of people interpret the painting negatively,” he begins, “that they’re losing their individuality because of love. That they, alone as themselves, won’t exist because of love and it gives love a bad rep.” 

You nod along to what he’s saying before looking back up at the painting. You can see why people interpret it like that. It’s probably the darkness and the obvious fact that you really can’t see the faces of the two lovers separately. But you didn’t like that interpretation. 

“Then there are others who make up an entire Romeo and Juliet type story.” He shifts in his seat and continues, “That we’re looking straight into a scene where the two are hiding because of forbidden love.

“I can’t really cover all the interpretations I’ve heard, but most of them were very… pessimistic?” He tilts his head, “But then again, Munch never got married so I guess that’s why people always thought he was miserable.”

“I wanted to hear what you thought of it.” You say. Sure it was interesting how many others analyzed the work of art. You wondered if there were any good interpretations to it. There obviously would be, but you’d understand why there were so many negative ones. The painting was covered in rough, dark strokes. 

But you know what they say… in darkness, there’s light. 

“Me?” He huffs, “I have the most mediocre understanding of this painting and I don’t think you would want to hear it.” 

“Try me,” you push. You’re curious. Even if the way he made sense of the piece was average, it was still worth hearing. 

“Well…” he bounces the heels of his feet against the ground beneath the two of you, “I see it as love that’s private but not secret.” He lifts his arm to point at the open window, “The window’s open just enough for people to see in but it’s not open all the way and they’re not exposed. There’s still some light bleeding through the curtain, but again it isn’t all the way transparent.

“They’re still very comfortable enough to be embracing each other to the world's end, to the point where they’re melting together to, in a way, become one, but not completely. You can still make out that they’re two different people, but their love unites them.

“And I guess… my interpretation’s something like that.”

You gawk at him, “I don’t understand why you thought that that was mediocre. I actually… really like your interpretation.”

“Really?” His brows raise, “Thank you.”  

You both sit in silence, hearing the hushed whispers of other visitors in the museum. The atmosphere’s comfy despite you speaking and sitting next to a random man who you don’t even know the name of. 

“Did you come here alone?” He speaks up. 

You nodded, “If I came here with someone then I wouldn’t be able to sit and observe a single painting.” Turning back to the painting, “And I don’t think my friends would really enjoy going to a museum.” He nods but you don’t see. “How ‘bout you?”

“I came here with two friends,” he retorts, “But I lost them somewhere along the way.” You exchange quiet giggles. 

There’s a part of you that’s wishing to ask for his name. The question’s at the tip of your tongue, but you’re not quite sure whether you actually should ask for his name, only because you’re also not even sure that you’ll see him again. There’s also the fact that he seems too perfect—simply judging by how he presents himself. 

A notification on your phone turns your screen on, finally giving you a proper look at the time. 

“Oh shit,” you cuss and stand up abruptly, “It’s almost seven?” You knew you'd been there for a long time, but not that long. Time’s gotten ahead of you. You’ve been at the museum for five hours.

“Seems like it,” he nods and pushes himself to his feet, “Do you… have to go?”

You nodded, “I’ve got dinner plans.” Then you blurt, “With my mom. Dinner plans with my mom.” Why you had the urge to let him know that is beyond you, but a feeling in your stomach leaves you satisfied. 

“That sounds nice,” he grins, “I probably have to go look for my friends.”

For a moment, you both just stand there in silence. He’s mustering up something to say, you can tell by the way his eyes search the floor and how his lips slightly open and close, words hanging by a thin string. 

“My name is–“

“Hyunjinie!” 

He’s interrupted by someone entering the gallery. Despite the person having only exclaimed the name, their voice bounded against the walls of the large gallery, the name carrying easily through the air. 

The head of the boy in front of you turns in response to the call, “Hannie!” He calls back before holding up a finger to his lips. 

“So? No one’s here!” Then he begins waving him over, eyes wide like a young child’s, “Come here! Felix found something you’ll like!” 

“I’ll just follow!” Then he turns back to you, eyes sparkling, “As I was saying… My name is–“

“Hyunjinie,” you tease subtly, “I heard.” You hold your hand out and watch as he takes it to shake. You’re relieved that he made the very move you were contemplating on doing, cause that means he wants to see you again, too.

“My name is Y/N.”

°•. ✿ .•°

an: after reading this I hope you know what one plus one equalsヽ(>_<ヽ)

[startanewdream]

Don't drink and kiss

For @everythinghasreason. Happy (early) birthday! 🎈🎉

(Link on AO3 later)

Rated T; 2.5k.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You didn't kiss me last night," Lily says, the words leaving her lips before she can control herself, very much like everything she remembers saying the night before.

Specifically an impromptu admission of exactly how she feels about her fellow Head Boy, who looks at her now with a startled expression on his face, the grin he had been spotting ever since she had first seen him in the morning slowly melting away from his lips. He watches her face as if he is trying to read her thoughts—and isn’t happy with whatever he is seeing there.

For a moment she thinks James will turn his back to her, ignoring her altogether, but then he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets as if to keep him from messing his hair, and his face rearranges its features in the most carefree expression he has ever spotted.

"You were drunk," he says as if she needs a reminder, as if her head hasn't been buzzing all morning.

"So?" Her voice is still relenting on a strange bravado. Lily wonders if the alcohol is still fuelling her. "So were you."

"So I was," he agrees slowly. "And perhaps I'd rather snog someone who will remember it the next day."

"I would have."

James blinks, unsmiling. "I don't think so."

"I remember talking to you. And I… I said things, James. I know I did."

His eyes flash with something she doesn't understand. "That bit about how you can't stop thinking about me? Pretty sure you were talking to the firewhiskey."

His tone is teasing, but Lily hears the heaviness and while she'd thought that James would find some joy in hearing her confession, a sudden fear grips her heart. Perhaps she misunderstood everything: their banter, their conversations, their distracted touches. Their flirting. Perhaps he was never flirting back with her.

Shame floods her. Now she understands why he hasn't kissed her. Gods, how foolish did she act?

"Yeah, I drank too much," she agrees, voice dry, accepting his easy way out. "I will pay more attention next time."

He takes a second longer than necessary to answer her. "Already planning the next hangover, Evans? I am actually impressed."

She laughs, humourless as it is.

"One can never promise something they won't fulfill, Potter."

James looks at her, eyes searching for something in her face that Lily doesn't understand, before he takes a step back.

"You are right on that," he says, chagrinned, and with a nod from his head, he turns away from her.

She can’t help but feel as if she disappointed him somehow.

______

Lily picks up piece by piece what happened that night.

It's like solving a jigsaw puzzle. The borders she already has, all those pieces that remind her how loose she had felt with the first taste of firewhiskey, fuelled by a desire to do something daring.

James is there in those pieces, telling her to go easy even as he is already tipsy with his own shots of alcohol. It was his cautious caring warning that made her get her second taste, urging herself to just tell him how she felt.

By the third shot she called him for a dance, though they didn't dance as far as she remembers—the alcohol was enough for getting her the nerve to do it, not the ability. She remembers how they mostly tripped over each other, laughing and falling on a couch.

There is a gap between the fourth and the fifth shot, but she remembers that by the sixth shot they were together in a corner of the room, and staring at him, the words spilled out of her. The alcohol had acted as some kind of protection, a barrier against any fear, as Lily told James exactly what she had been feeling for him for a while now.

That's how far Lily has, so she collects the other pieces by hearing conversations, asking nonchalant questions to her friends, to his friends.

No one seems to know all the details, but from Mary she gathers how they slowly danced at some point that Lily attributes to the fourth or the fifth shot. Remus mentions watching James returning to their dorm very late in the night, grinning as if he had just won the Quidditch cup. Dorcas asks her if they are going out because she saw them holding hands at the end of the party. Sirius grumpily tells her she is a fool and refuses to say anything else.

Lily has a good picture by now, incomplete as it is. If her jigsaw puzzle was a painting of Hogwarts, she would have the lake and the forest already, but the castle, the center of the puzzle, it's still blank.

Then her dreams help her.

They don't make sense and at first Lily blames her imagination for just shaping everyone’s comment into what she wants. From Mary's comment, Lily dreams of her arms around James' neck, playing softly with his hair while he holds her waist, their feet moving together though they aren't really moving. Dreams aren't supposed to be this sensorial, but she swears she wakes up feeling his musky scent, the softness of the curls of his hair, as if he was there with her.

From Dorcas' tale, Lily dreams of steady hands, of feeling the callousness due to years of Quidditch practice, of a warmth that ran from his body to hers as they experimented holding hands, fingers intertwined together. He holds their joint hands, raises them and places a kiss at the back of her hand. Then he brings their hands over his heart; it’s beating fast, and it's because of her.

Neither Mary or Dorcas' tales were so colourful, so vivid, but Lily dreams of it and the edges of the castle are visible by then.

But no one tells her anything else and still Lily dreams more.

She thinks of hazel eyes shining with her confession, a hand touching her face, putting strands of her hair out of her face and leaving a trace of fire where he touches her.

She thinks of a sigh, hand falling back and a hopeless voice. You are just drunk, Evans, you don't mean that.

But she does, and she tells him and she makes a dangerous promise. He stares at her for some time, still unsure, but she knows there is only truth in her face. Then he believes in her, leans closer very slowly, still giving her plenty of time to draw back, to give up, to say she doesn’t want this.

Lily doesn’t remember much from that night, but she knows she wanted that kiss. She wanted him, long before she got her first taste of alcohol.

Her puzzle is almost complete, only two or three pieces missing that she can’t seem to place right. It feels as if she is assembling that puzzle in the dark, hoping the pieces will fit but unable to see the whole picture. She thinks of soft lips and warm hands, taste of firewhiskey and a musky smell, her name in a sigh, being held in place to keep from falling apart and she knows she would if not for him.

Her heart quickens when she realizes there is only one last piece missing, and a longing for something she should remember, but can’t, floods her.

A week after the first Quidditch match—a week during which, almost displicently, James avoids her—Lily seeks for him at last.

His friends are there in the Common Room, talking quietly to each other, but James isn’t in sight. She approaches them carefully; Remus and Peter nod at her, but Sirius frowns unhappily, giving her the same hard look he has thrown at her all week.

“Hey,” she calls, keeping her voice light. “Do you know where James is?”

“Why?” Sirius asks, crossing his arms and ignoring Remus’ nudge. “Decided to mess up with him a little more?”

Lily bites her lip. “No, the opposite.”

“Quite late for that—”

“He went for a fly,” Remus says, cutting Sirius. “You might find him in the Quidditch pitch.”

“Thanks,” says Lily, looking outside. The sun is setting. Then she glances back at Sirius. “I really want to fix this.”

“Then stay sober,” he says, and Lily flinches, but she supposes Sirius is right.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch is long, and her heart paces up with each step Lily takes. She knows what puzzle she is finishing by now, and she knows what piece she is missing, but despite her best efforts, she can't find it.

It bothers her a lot.

No wonder James is mad at her.

She doesn't see him flying in the Quidditch pitch and she is almost going back to the castle when she spots a lonely figure in the benches. She would recognize that messy hair anywhere, so she ventures the stairs to reach him.

James doesn’t turn to look at her, not even when the benches crack under her weight, doesn’t blink when she sits next to him and she wonders if he could recognize her from a distance as well.

“No more flying for today?” she asks, her voice light, eyeing the broomstick next to him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t actually fly. Thought about it, but then…” He grabs a bottle on his other side, lifts it in a mock salutation. “Drinking was better.”

And to prove his point, he takes a generous sip of the bottle.

“Getting drunk alone? That is just sad, Potter.”

There is a soft sight that could be scornful, but just sounds sad. “Tried getting drunk together. Didn’t work for me.”

She swallows dryly. “No, I guess not. I...I really messed that up, didn’t I?”

At this, James finally looks at her. His hazel eyes sweep over her face, in search of something that he doesn’t seem sure about, because he asks: “Did you remember after all?”

There is the faintest hope in his voice and Lily hates herself for being unable to give him the answer she wanted to have. “No.”

“Oh.” He runs his hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, his face shines with guilt and regret. “Look, Evans, there is something—”

“We kissed,” she cuts him off, nodding, knowing it even as her mind is unable to actually grasp that memory.

James tilts his head slightly to the side and Lily wonders if he did the same while they were kissing. She has been wondering a lot these days, hating that blank space in her mind that she wishes more than anything she could fill.

“We did,” he admits, but there is none of the particular happiness Lily would associate with it. James looks just miserable. “And I am really sorry about it, I didn’t want to take advantage of—”

“You didn’t,” she assures him, fidgeting with her hands, fighting back an urge to just hold his hands.

“You don’t even remember it, Lily.”

“I remember enough. I remember telling you how I felt.”

“That was the firewhiskey talking, not—”

“The firewhiskey gave me courage, not words. What I felt—what I feel—had nothing to do with how much I drank.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “Still, I should have known better. I shouldn’t have—”

“There is only one thing I’m truly sorry, James. And that’s for promising you I would remember and then—”

“You didn’t.”

“I broke my word,” she agrees, sorrowful. “Can… can you forgive me for that?”

He blinks, staring at her for a long minute before grabbing the bottle next to him and reading the label. “Maybe there is some kind of insanity essence here.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying you’re sorry for forgetting it, not for what we did. I spent this whole week feeling horrible for leading you—”

“Is it so hard to believe that I fancy you?”

His gaze strays back to her.

“It depends. What have you drunk today?”

Lily smiles softly. “I haven’t had a sip of alcohol today.” She hesitates a second before sliding on the bench, closer to him. “I can let you get close to check if you want.”

James almost smiles too. “I’ll trust your word.”

“James—” she touches his hand now, watching him carefully for any sign he is repelled by her, but she finds none. His eyes fall to her hand and he watches with fascination as her hand traces his fingers, climbs over his arm, reaches his neck. She touches his hair, sees him shuddering under her touch; his skin is warm with the alcohol. “I really like you. And I would very much like to kiss you again for the first time.”

He sighs, his smile tender now. Lily expects him to move even closer, to close that annoying breach between them, but instead all he does is hold her hand, leaning into it and closing his eyes, before he kisses softly her wrist, over her pulse. His lips are warm.

When he opens his eyes, James just shakes his head. “I’m seeing you double and while it’s actually very nice seeing two Lily Evans, I think I should go.”

“Sure,” she says, hoping to not betray her disappointment. He rises, swinging dangerously on the spot, and she takes a step closer. “Help?” she offers.

James nods, accepting when Lily places her arm around his waist, steadying him.

The walk back to the castle is silent, but Lily doesn’t think it’s heavy. For all his silence, James seems to be only thoughtful. They ignore everyone else’s look and because he doesn’t complain, she helps him get back all the way to his dorm, until he is sitting on his bed.

James holds her hand as she is turning to leave him alone. His eyes are burning, but if anything, he looks only resolute.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?”

“Is this alcohol talking?” she asks teasingly. He grins.

“You know, alcohol gives courage, not—”

“Not words,” she finishes for him. “I’d love to go with you. With one condition.”

“I don’t throw up over you right now?”

Lily laughs. “That would be nice, yeah, but actually, I would reinforce a non-alcohol policy.”

“Only butterbeer,” he agrees, beaming. And then before she can say anything, he approaches her face, tugs strands of her hair behind her ear and places a kiss at her cheek, his lips barely touching the corner of hers.

For the warmth that spreads from where his lips touch her down her body, Lily feels drunk again.

“See you tomorrow, Evans,” says James, laying more comfortably against the pillow in his bed, lips curved into a hopeful smile.

“I’ll wait for you with a Hangover Potion,” she promises him, watching him fondly.

“And that’s why I love you,” he whispers, sighing, and he closes his eyes, falling into a quick sleep.

Courage, she thinks. Not words.

Hopefully he will remember this little declaration the next day.