#I try my best to draw certain physical features and I’m sure many others do

[lunathewafflelord]

I see a lot of art tutorial posts saying how to draw black people or fat people (just some examples I see most often, I’m sure this applies to other things) and a lot of them say “if you don’t draw x people well you’re a bad artist” and many people comment that on art posts where someone doesn’t draw a character’s body type (or other physical trait) accurately because apparently they didn’t even try to represent their body accurately.

Personally, I think it’s a bad message to tell people they’re a bad artist for not drawing certain traits accurately. While it may help some people, for many it’ll just discourage them from drawing as they feel like their art is bad.

Many people genuinely are trying their best at drawing certain body types or physical features, but since they’re still practicing it’s not going to look perfect. And that’s okay! Let people know how to improve, but don’t tell them they’re bad at art. People aren’t going to improve if they’re told their art is bad, it’ll just discourage them.

Insulting someone for drawing a character “too skinny” even if they clearly made an effort to draw their body as well as they could will just make them feel bad. Why not encourage them for trying to draw the character’s body accurately, and tell them how to improve on it? Provide reference images for certain physical traits and say how they could be applied to their style. Don’t insult them. Especially since many artists who struggle drawing certain traits are younger or beginners.

I’m not the best at drawing fat bodies or black features, but I am trying to improve on it. I have many sketchbook pages where I practice drawing different parts of the body. There’s always room to improve! But telling someone they’re bad at art doesn’t help. You can teach people how to improve without insulting their art.

So many tutorials have helpful information yet they can be quite rude towards people who don’t draw things accurately. People are more likely to listen to advice if you’re encouraging, not if you’re insulting.

(Note: I’m not black so I didn’t make any remarks about drawing black and other POC features accurately as I didn’t want to say anything incorrect. If you are black I’d appreciate your input! I’m just speaking from my perspective about drawing fat people, I’d appreciate perspectives of other people who are commonly drawn incorrectly!)

[sugadaily]

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

[realcube]

'you're..you're wearing that-' he hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, 'for me?'

navi | taglist | nsfw part two

summary ➵ on your first date with tamaki, he’s already wondering why you romanticise a guy like himself

content warning ➵ reader wear make-up, a dress and the accessories pictured above, very insecure! tamaki, mild angst & fluff

credit ➵  thank you to @suneater18​ for the request and the pics belongs to hippieartesanatos

the moonlight penetrated through the sombre clouds which waved overhead, creating a picturesque night sky for you to admire on your date; as if the heavens were smiling down upon you, congratulating you for scoring such a nice guy.  

well, at least, that is what you would’ve thought if your date was sooner to start. currently, you were shuffling on a park bench, fidgeting with your phone as your eyes flickered between the screen and the gorgeous sight above you, anticipating when your date will finally arrive so you can admire it together.

however, twenty minutes had passed since nine o’clock — the time you had both agreed to meet each other at — yet you were still sitting alone, tamaki no where to be seen. what make it even worse was that he was ghosting all your messages and calls. 

perhaps it was the first-date jitters speaking but there was a voice lurking in the back of your head, whispering that you have been stood-up. however, you were too ashamed to just get up and leave now, so you figured that you may as well call your friend and ask them to join you.

your eyes burned with tears which you choked back as your fingers worked on their own to search your contacts for your friend’s number. there was a part of you that believed you were being to hasty but you truly couldn’t bare to just sit here and act ‘hopeful’ any longer. with shaky hands, you tapped your friend’s contact as your thumb hovered over the phone icon.

“(y/n)!” 

you froze upon hearing your name called from a distance, your immediate reaction being to whip your head around to see who — or what — was in such desperate need of your attention that they were willing to yell your name from half-way across the park. 

and of course, it was none other than tamaki amajiki himself; dashing towards you at full-speed in a torn suit, muddy shoes and..his hair seemed to be unevenly cut. he wore a determined yet petrified expression as he came hurdling in your direction, a single stray tentacle dragging behind him as he ran.

a smile of both confusion and relief tugged at your lips, the pads of your fingers dabbing lightly under your eyes to rid of any puffy skin or dampness while simultaneously ensuring that you wouldn’t mess up your lashes or eyeshadow. 

“tama! you’re here!” you squealed, your hands automatically clasping together in excitement as he approached the bench, about to fall into the seat beside you due to how tired he was but pausing as he watched you spring to your feet and open your arms for a hug. his lips slowly curled into a weak smile, his expression softening and he didn’t waste a single second before throwing his arms around you, pulling you in for as tight of a hug that his worn biceps would allow him to.  

despite the fact he reeked of an ungodly amount of body spray, you still basked his embrace since this is the moment you spent the last three hours or so preparing for. you were quite shocked at how shabby he looked but you decided against questioning it, out of courtesy. but on the bright side, it really made you feel better about the outfit you had spent hours styling, yet you were still not completely sure about.  

tamaki suddenly pulled away from the hug so he could fall back onto the bench, letting out a hefty sigh and momentarily zoning out in order to catch his breath. you weren’t too sure whether it was appropriate to giggle or pout at the sight so you chose to not do either and instead, just awkwardly stand and stare at him.

a sharp inhale was all tamaki needed before he was finally able to sit up slightly and bow his head, folding his hands to you before blurting out, “i am so sorry i’m late, (y/n)!” and before you could even get a word in, he began his breathless explanation, “i got a small tear in my shirt and mirio said he’ll fix it but he made it even worse. then nejire said she’ll style my hair but she only knew a few male styles and said my hair was too long and before i could say anything she was chopping away at my hair-- and somehow mirio’s dog got ahold of my suit and it made the tears even worse! i was so stress and y’know when i’m stressed i stress-eat, so i began eating fish snacks and before i even knew what was going on, it was nine o’clock. so i ran here as fast as i could and i tried to manifest tentacles to help me move faster but it turns out i didn’t eat enough fish snacks so i only have one tentacle and i can’t even move it properly- look!”

the fact he said all of that in seemingly one breath left you stunned in place, with you eyes fixated on his rapidly moving lips until they instinctively shifted onto his single tentacle, laying dejected by his feet until it started squirming around. however, that was all it seemed capable of doing — squirming. 

“uuh,” you hummed, trying your best to stifle a snicker as tamaki was clearly in genuine destress. “it’s fine, tama! i was a bit worried that you wouldn’t show but it doesn’t matter, you’re here now so let’s focus on that.” 

your words somewhat calmed him down as his shoulders visibly relaxed, his red eyes tearing off the concrete ground to meet your kind gaze. a slight gasp escaped his lips as he noticed how gorgeous your make-up was, but before he could utter a compliment, his eyes went further downwards as he tried to process the whole of your outfit.

his cheeks immediately burned red at the sight; your stunning purple dress, shimmering heels and matching crystal accessories which were evidently worn to complement his own aesthetic. a certain piece which he was drawn to, was the golden, gemmed ear cuff you wore with pointed tips to form a similar shape to his own ears — one of his biggest physical insecurities.

“you look..” tamaki mused, momentarily cutting himself off to think of a word that would do you justice, “perfect.” his voice was hushed, hardly above a whisper but you were still able to make out what he said and a sheepish grin crept onto your features.

“thank you, baby!” you chirped, perking up slightly and giving him a little twirl, causing a burst of red to explode on his cheeks which he was quick to try cover with his hands. it was moments like these when he wished that hoodies were first-date appropriate, that way he could just sink back into his hood and pretend he doesn’t exist.

“you look really nice too.” there was nothing wrong with a little white lie every now and again. however, it wasn’t even said with the intent of being a lie as you secretly thought that the scruffiness kinda suited tamaki, like, he looked badass! like your prince charming who accidentally fell into a ditch.

your compliment didn’t help the increasing temperature of tamaki’s cheeks either, causing him to slump farther back in his seat as he muttered garbled speech under his breath. it took a good few seconds but eventually he was able to peer at you with a single eye through the inbetweens of his fingers,  “a-and i like your little ear cuff thing.

everything he said only widened your beam and make you feel more giddy, to the point where you were practically bounced in place, “thanks, tama! i saw it and immediately thought of you, so i bought it.” you stifled a squeal at how observant tamaki was being, praising all the small details of your attire which you thought would go unnoticed. “i decided to wear it today because remember how you showed me the tie you bought for our date?” you explained, vaguely gesturing at said tie which hung in tatters around his neck, “yeah, so, i thought we could match.”

it took him a few moments to process what you just said and while his brain was running on overdrive, you were met by his rapid blinking and frozen stature. having known tamaki for a while now, you knew how this was a fairly common occurrence when was truly stunned by something, so you allowed him some time in silence to consolidate. 

“so..” he started, trembling hand dropping from his face and onto his lap so you could see his whole bashful appearance. his gaze seemed to be trained on the floor, until he finally looked up to reveal the twinkle in his eyes, “you’re..you’re wearing that-” he hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, “for me?”

the thought that you were ashamed to be with him was something that constantly taunted him from the back of this mind. you were heavenly in a way that his words simply could not describe, though that didn’t stop him from trying. it was beyond him how a person as divine as yourself would even give him the time of day; let alone insist that he was beautiful, leave encouraging notes in his locker, comfort him when he shows even the smallest sign of being upset, give him praise on all the thing he was insecure about and so much more.

when he looked in the mirror, he did not see what you see. he viewed his ears as creepy and not a feature he should put on display, hence a part of the many reasons why he’s so fond of his hood. but here you were, all dolled up in his favourite colour just to showcase that you were with him. your ears decorated with pretty cuffs that made them look a similar shape to his, at first glance.

when he’d walk beside you through the corridors of the school or under the shade of the trees in the park, he’d feel the eyes of jealous passersby burn holes through his skin; despite the fact you weren’t even dating him yet, people just hated seeing a guy like himself by your side, apparently. 

he stopped eating before meeting up with you so he wouldn’t have any weird manifestation that could draw attention to himself. he started wearing his hood up at all times so people wouldn’t judge him for his elven ears. he refused to touch you just in case people thought you were dating and became envious of him, which would quickly turn to hatred. 

so why would you want to look like him? why would you want people to know that you are on a date with him? why did you act proud to be with him?

you quirked a brow at how confounded he sounded, thinking over your answer with a hum; you wore this outfit for tamaki and yourself because you thought it was pretty and it suited you. however, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was no need to give tamaki the full truth right now so instead you allowed him to enjoy his rare surge of confidence by replying with simply, “yeah, for you.”

you weren’t going to be surprised that he was flattered, by now you were well aware that tamaki held all your opinions on him in high esteem so that’s why you always tried to be as nice to him as possible — that, and it was just in your nature to be kind towards him when he’s been nothing but respectful to you back.

however, what you didn’t expect was to hear faint sobs from behind his hands and watch as crystalline tears poured escaped from the inbetweens of his fingers, racing down the back of his hands. “tamaki..” you murmured, reluctantly taking a seat next to him to wrap your arms around, rubbing comforting circles in his shoulders like you usually did when he was sad. although, you weren’t even completely sure that he was disheartened by your statement. 

“i’m sorry.” you spoke in a hushed voice, leaning in close to his neck until your nose brushed against his skin, resulting in him tilting his head so it rested upon yours. “are you okay?”

“please don’t apologise.” he croaked, stifling his snivels to try show that he wasn’t upset. “you did nothing wrong. in fact, you’ve done everything right. i’m the one who’s been messing up.” he felt your hand ghost over his own and without a second thought, he intertwined his finger with your own, freeing his other palm to place it on your shoulder and exposing his pale, tear-stained face is the process. 

“i know it’s hard but you should tell me what’s on your mind, tamaki.” you hummed, gently caressing the back of his hand with your thumb and planting a kiss on the damp skin of his cheek. his cologne was still suffocating strong but if you were to die, it would ideally be while cuddled up to him, under the celestial night sky. 

opening up had never been an easy task for tamaki; especially about a subject that concerned his physical appearance and emotions. but there was a knot in his chest that would simply come undone when he was with you. he couldn’t explain it, but all the barriers and walls he had established to avoid getting his feeling hurt or heart broken would come crashing down whenever he was with you. perhaps it was a familiarity, maybe it was your reassuring presence or might just be pure love and adoration. 

either way, he found him himself babbling on about anything and everything that bothered him with little regard for his own pride or secrecy, he voiced every thought that came to his mind in the moment. he told you just about it all — all his problems and insecurities —and you listened, offering him encouragement whenever he’d cut himself off, saying something along the lines of, ‘i-i’ll stop now, i sound silly’ or ‘you’re probably tired of hearing me prattle on’. though, of course you didn’t want him to stop until he had gotten everything off his chest as it was a rare sight for him to talk for such lengths at a time so the last thing you wanted to do was discourage him.

“i just..” tamaki stammered, coming to the end of his passionate ramble, “don’t understand why you want to be seen with me, let alone wear those.” he raised his shaky hand from your shoulder to gesture to your ear cuffs, “don’t get me wrong, they look cute on you, but i just don’t get why you’d want to have ears that look like mine.”

“because yours are beautiful!” 

he winced at the compliment and at how sincere you sounded, “well, i’m glad you think that, (y/n).” he muttered, not even having to finish his statement as the dejection in his voice made it obvious that he did not view himself in the same light. his gaze dropped to his feet which were shuffling uncontrollably,  “i don’t know why i’m making such i big deal about this. aren’t you annoyed?” 

your let go of his hands only to slip them around his neck and pull him into your embrace, you felt him tense up in your arms but slowly allow himself to relax his cheek onto your shoulder. “i’m not annoyed, baby. i get what you mean and it’s horrible that you feel that way.” all tamaki could do would tick his tongue in agreement. 

“i know i tell you this all the time but i honestly think you’re so attractive, inside and out. i was so excited when you agreed to date me, i could’ve died of happiness on the spot!” you chirped, momentarily jerked your head backwards so you could peck the tip of his nose, giggling as he scrunched his face up cutely at the sudden touch.

your angelic laugh rung through tamaki’s head, forcing his lips into a smile as he gawked at your adorable action. “i love you..” tamaki uttered, raising his voice ever so slightly to ensure that you heard what he said, “so much.” thanks to you, his sobs were now just mere sniffles into the crook of your neck. 

you inhaled sharply, eyes-widening at his words; you would’ve never thought he would be the first on to say ‘i love you’, but you were far from disappointed, in fact you felt yourself melting further into his touch.

you felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing slowly retuning to it’s regular pace as he squeezed his eyes shut, cancelling out all his other senses so he could focus on the way your body felt against his own. 

he wanted to be confident. he wanted to take pride in himself for you. he was tired of restless nights filled with tears due to his worries berating him for simply existing in your presence. 

it wasn’t going to be easy but he needed to start acting on everything you said. because eventually, it wouldn’t just be for you, it’d be for himself.

and of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by you when he started wearing his hood less often, when he began holding his head up higher as he walks by your side, the way he now shoots warm smiles at people who try to glare at him.

and five years later, how he didn’t bat an eye at deadly glare that the waiter — that had been subtly flirting with you all night — shot at him as he got down on one knee, in front of the whole restaurant. 

[princeanxious]

An idea I’m drawing stuff for:

Okay so g/t sanders sides au idea but where the tiny people are actually mini android/cyborgs made to accompany people /if they want to/ as companions to humans that can connect to technology and the internet. (Medium-big sized ramble under-cut)

They arent nessesarily helpers, but they can help humans w/ technology issues if they want(and there are lots of human laws in place that prohibit forced labor and captivity from this new sentient race, but as you might guess, just bc there are laws doesnt mean everyone follows them or gets caught breaking them) the rest of the world is kinda up for development but i can tell you these tiny android people sometimes come with additional features such as tails w/ audio jacks/place where the tail would go to insert an audiojack, eyes and fingers that glow, ear type varients depending on what time they were born/created, have as many bendable joints as a human, but their legs and feet are naturally a bit thicker/wider both for balance and more room for technology in their tiny bodies.

Theyre a very intermingled mix of liveform and android(and are probably best explained as just. Straight up aliens to planet earth), to the point that theres no actual way to seperate tech from bio-matter. And theyre so tiny that trying to seperate the two on such a small scale is still scientifically impossible at this current time. Damage and wear/tear to their body can heal quickly with enough energy, rest, and time, but losing body parts can be nearly detrimental to their health if said parts cant be reattached quickly. They are not strong enough to regenerate a full limb.

It’s not an immediate death if they lose a limb, but its very much an emergency due to how spread out their bodily function sensors are in their tiny bodies. Losing a certain leg can mean losing complete mobility of both legs and balance, or losing certain patches of memory, losing a certain arm can mean losing the ability to balnce well, or go nearly sensory blind(meaning they can see things, but no longer feel them that well.) the tail is the only bodypart that is not immediately detrimental to their health, just their lifestyle. Their tail is their only way to directly connect to the online world without assistance. Without it, they rely on adapter prostetics that wear out over time and need to be replaced on occassion.

That being said, in this au, Roman, Remus, and Janus are tinies in this world. Roman and Remus are twins, and both suffered an injustice of experimentation that involved one of their legs each being removed, and being reattached(successfully) to the other’s body, as a test to see how similar twin tiny’s bodies are and if the similarities assist any in surrogate limbs attaching successfully. Theyre rescued and rehabilitated amd rehomed together before anything more was done to them, but they live life knowing they have eachothers leg and function as if said legs are really their own, and it connects them in a very odd way that they cant really explain.(it comes w/ a bonus of being able to send messages to one another, but a con of being able to see a portion of the other’s memories, be it mental, or physical muscle memory)

They live with a group of humans, Logan, Patton, and Virgil, who are aware of their situation and have welcomed them into their home to live normal tiny lives. Patton and Virgil are brothers, and Logan is their childhood bestfriend. Remus tends to travel w/ Logan the most bc Logan isnt bothered by Remus’s constant hyperfixations on dark and grusome things.(they hold alot of convos abt dark literature and anatomy, and astronomy. Remus finds Logan’s voice soothing on his semi-irratic stream of thoughts, and talking abt astonomy helps sooth Remus to sleep the fastest.) Roman clings to Virgil mostly but passes inbetween Virgil and Patton pretty frequently depending on whose at work. (Virgil and Roman bicker about everything under the sun, but it’s still healthy for them. Virgil keeps Roman’s ego in check and Roman helps Virgil gain more confidence in things, especially things in public.)

Janus is.. well, he was born.. defective, in a way. No ones really sure exactly what happened, if there were dificulties in his development, or if his existance was fused semi-incorrectly with another while in the preverbial womb, but he is born with his body being partially down the middle on one side with another set of tiny genetics, leaving 1/4th of his body from one side of the head to just below the same side’s ribs to be a different skin & metal plating color. One eye glows gold, the other a bright milky white, the same going for either hand w/ his finger-tips on the same sides. Pure snow white skin, plating, and hair is unnatural, and its theorized to be a permanent glitch in his physical coding seeing as the ‘other tiny’ that had yet to combine correctly would not have developed any physical traits until birth to mimick a combination of it’s parents, it’s physical attribute coding would remain dormant and thus not addapt with the rest of the body.

This leaves Janus visually different, and physically different. He has his own two legs and tail so that part of his body functions normally, but the arm that is inter-functionally dormant leaves him with terrible balance issues(thus leaving him to require a cane) and his on the same side that is similarly dormant leaves him functionally blind in said eye and deaf on said side.

He’s developed an extremely defensive personality because he refuses to be pitied for something he was never in control of. He’s plenty independent without help and beyond grouchy. Has been known to bite humans who try to help him but wont listen to him, hard. He’s never been allowed to live a normal tiny’s life because the parents he was born to gave him to humans to ensure he lived, then got retroactively babied since. His foul temper has lead to a difficulty in the homing process, and the humans are almost about to give up on him when Virgil walks in one day, curious about homing a third tiny to help stabalize the twins antics and frustrations born from there only being the two of them.

Janus is just as foul at first as he is to everyone who approaches him, because he fully expects pity. Instead of Virgil moving on in rejection/dismissal of the rude behavior, Virgil just chuckles in amusement. “Oh boy, you’re fiesty huh?” “Have to be, lest people think they can do and think whatever they want about me. Better to give them my worst so they don’t get any god-complex over my disability, right?” And Virgil relates, and isnt hesitant abt mentioning his own struggles w/ how rudely people treat him w/ his general anxiety disorder and chronic depression.

Virgil manages to convince Janus take a chance and come home w/ him. And then Janus meets Patton, and things go so much better than anyone expected them to go. I mean, they get worse before they get better, but the getting better is so much further than any resulted backtracking. Janus likes Patton, and is uber protective of him. No one knew Patton to bicker much, but oh boy, does he bicker with Janus, often abt taking care of one another. Its all out of love and care, and its honestly jarringly sweet. (Patton gets Janus hooked on chocolate chips, and may or may not bribe him with a bottle-lip full from time to time if it means making Janus relax.)

[galahadenough]

Knives Out

Original content is so difficult to find sometimes. We are in a world where so much exists at our fingertips, instant access and instant gratification. We hear the same stories over and over. This can be good at times. Part of what makes up a good story is the familiar. It can be a familiar character, a familiar moral, a familiar plot. Deviating too far from the familiar can make a narrative difficult to understand or relate to

Unfortunately, this can lead to the feeling that things are over done. Too many remakes. Especially Disney remakes. Especially Cinderella remakes. (Back to that in a minute)

Knives Out is one of my favorite movies. I saw it a few times in theaters, even bought a physical copy of it. There is so much I loved about it, and it felt like a breath of fresh air in a world where new franchises are becoming more and more rare in the world of movies.

Spoilers ahead!

Daniel Craig was brilliant. Interesting and humanly fallible.

I adored their use of perspective, the way visual or verbal changes would occur with each retelling of a story to show a combination of human lying and human error. How Harlan Thrombey’s murderer was revealed early on, but it was once again explained through multiple perspectives, making it not as clear cut as it seemed at first.

The tone of the movie was one I very much enjoyed. It wasn’t humorous, but it wasn’t as grim or dark as the plot could lead to.

There is so much good to say about the movie, but this isn’t a review I’m writing.

Let’s get back to Cinderella.

As much as I enjoyed Knives Out from the beginning, I enjoyed it even more when I realized it is a Cinderella adaptation.

It features an overworked, under appreciated, poor young girl whose wealth and status is improved through her connection to someone else and her own innate kindness.

She has the wicked/evil stepfamily through Harlan Thrombey’s family. They are in a similar position, where they are associated with her through another family member. They are kind on the surface, which is similar to the “kindness” of taking in Cinderella after her father dies. They even offer to take her in at a couple of points in the movie when they expect to get the inheritance. They are cruel and manipulative and pay little attention to her unless they gain something.

Harlan Thrombey plays the role of both the prince and the fairy godmother in the way he gave his inheritance to her and in the way he orchestrated her success to the best of his ability. The detective can also be seen filling parts of those roles.

Even little details draw back to Cinderella. When leaving the house after the death, Marta was told to make sure someone noticed what time she was leaving. That time happened to be midnight. There is also the fact that her shoes were what almost and finally did give her away. The prints in the mud, the mud tracked on the carpet, and the blood spot on her shoe. Her inability to lie could even be a reference to certain adaptations of Cinderella, such as Ella Enchanted.

One of my favorite parts of this adaptation is how kindness is a theme. That is a strong theme for Cinderella stories, and I love how it is used in this movie. Marta is kind, but it feels different than princess movies. My memory isn’t the freshest, but I remember her attitude with Harlan while playing Go was brusque. She treats him like a friend instead of a patient. She jokes with him about “doing drugs,” and she barely smiles throughout the movie. There is no makeover, no transformation. She has a moral dilemma about whether to confess to his murder or to protect her mother, both choices lacking selfishness and being about other people. She chooses to try and save Fran even when it would implicate her. At its core, her decisions and actions are based on kindness.

This movie is very much a Cinderella story, and this is the type of remake I’d like to see more of, if you can call it a remake. It uses the basic beats, the basic story, but it doesn’t try to be a Cinderella story. It stands on its own.

[fyeah-bangtan7]

SUGA: “This is the only thing I know how to really do”

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

© source

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober 2021, Day 2

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.) This is more magical aphrodisiacs than a physical one, but I think it still fits. Had been tossing this around for a bit, as well as how I wanted to end it. I’d like to write more with Urianger, but, as much as I love him, his dialogue really breaks my brain mostly (and in saying that I hope the dialogue here is suitable!). Summary Practicing archaic spells is risky at best when done in a proper setting safe from tampering or reasonable error. When mischievous pixies or illusions get involved, things can go rather awry, even for an experienced caster.

Tags/Warnings Aphrodisiacs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Magic, Oneshot, Prompt, Reader-Insert, Sex Pollen, Slightly Dubious Consent

Kinktober 2021, 02: Aphrodisiacs (Reader x Urianger Augurelt)

It was a day not unlike many others. Well, at least a day in the life of the champion who served some goddess of light and carried on their shoulders the fate of not just one world, but many. You had been granted a blessed respite among the numerous tasks that needed tending, thank the Twelve. Though, that respite didn’t mean you could afford to simply lie idle in the meantime. No, even on a day of rest, there were preparations to attend to, subjects to learn and study. Preparations that ought to give you a greater chance of success in your seemingly impossible ordeals.

Your preparations had taken you to Lydha Lran that day, home of the fae, to the little cottage estate that Urianger had taken up residence in during his time among the pixies. There had been some ancient, ritualistic spell, many eons old, unearthed from among the multitude of equally old tomes. You were unsure whether it had been Urianger’s discovery alone, or the pixies or nu mou had a hand in things as well. Whatever the case, Urianger seemed confident in the spell’s beneficial nature.

You had agreed without hesitations. After all, why shouldn’t you trust your fellow scions and dear friend? True enough, Urianger had been guilty of grand falsehoods in the past, but they had always been for the greater means to aid the scions and keep the world from calamity. Through all that, his loyalty had been proven unwavering.

With the assurance of your steadfast trust in mind, you had met him at his little home away from home one morning, not long after the sun had peeked past the horizon. As usual, it took some fussing with the pixies, over yourself and Urianger before they had been eventually convinced to disperse and grant you some privacy and silence. You had to admit, though, that it was always rather cute just how fond of the elezen man the pixies were.

Everything necessary for the spell had been gathered before and was carefully put into place around the room, to the finest detail and marking. Standing amidst glyphs and drawings, surrounded by tables, books, shelves, and various research aids, you cast a subtle glance toward Urianger. His nose pointed toward the pages of the ancient book, concentration written across his features. He ran his fingers lightly over the page, and his lips subtly, as if becoming better acquainted with the words staring back at him from the archaic tome. He paused briefly, before seeming to read a line over once more.

As he turned his focus from the tome, you looked at him expectantly. “I believe all is in order,” he stated, “On they leave, we may begin.”

“Let’s get started then,” you declared with a firm nod to match your eager tone.

With another swift glance at the tome’s musty pages, Urianger set about speaking the incantations, loud and clear as a bell, peppering in the various gestures and other necessities of the spell. You breathed a soft sigh to clear your mind and relax, to let the magics take hold. There was no room for aether stirred up by any potential lingering nerves associated with your heavy burden to the First and Source now.

The spell wasn’t long, its invocation taking only a minute or two, and at first, there was little difference in you. A sense of slightly energized refreshment, surely, but you had been imagining the spell’s effects to be something more noticeable or impressive. Yet just when you were about to ask Urianger if he was certain the spell had succeeded - or if mayhap the effect was one of the delayed kind - you were struck silent.

Your breaths came a little harder, sharper, and each gulp of air made you feel hot and tingly. Each breath seemed to draw down and into your center, bring with them a prickling warmth that wasn’t quite unpleasant. From that center of heat, the sensation crept outward to each extremity, to the tips of fingers and toes. Once the tingling warmth had enveloped you completely, it intensified, roaring hotter under your skin.

You were in no pain, though, and it was hardly even something you truly label as discomfort. It was simply something like a burning, a yearning for something to scratch the itch the tingling left in its wake. Despite leaving you unscathed, the feeling startled you.

“Is aught amiss?” Urianger asked, concern breaching his speech as if he could read the shock and newly spun worry on your face. Something for sure told the man something wasn’t quite right.

“I-I’m not quite sure. What-what does the tome say the spell should feel like?” you asked uncertainly, having to almost force the words out.

Your whole body throbbed now with the heat as if your blood was surging alongside it, too. It was a most distracting thing to feel, making it hard to focus on your words. The incessant heat seemed to only be fueled to greater heights when Urianger had spoken, brief as he had been.

Urianger’s pale eyes shot down to the page, quickly skimming again. Your heart skipped when noticed them widen slightly in what you could only assume was surprise. “I-What manner of trickery is this?” He flicked several pages, back and forth, as if searching for the spell that had presumably been right in front of him. “The incantation from before, ‘tis gone, and a new spell doth remain in its place,” he said, almost in a hush, as if in disbelief.

“Then what-aah,” your words faltered, the strange sensation choking your speech for an instant. “What spell was cast? I feel rather… hot, prickly almost,: you hesitated, trying to properly describe the sensation. It was something beyond prickles or tingles, rather something that had become a pulse, settling in your core and making you feel jittery, anticipatory.

Pale gold met your eyes when Urianger spoke again, and there was alarm, concern, and something akin to embarrassment. “A ritual many eons past, cast proceeding an ancient version of Eternal Bonding. A magic to ensure the newlyweds suffered no difficulties in the night thereafter,” he explained. His tone and demeanor would have seemed level enough, given the circumstances, were it not for the rosy flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks.

“To ensure newlyweds suffered no difficulties?” You repeated, turning the words over in your heat-addled mind. You shuddered when the meaning, at last, struck home, giving the pulsing and heat in your center much more gravity.

Somehow, the book itself must have been magicked or disguised until the illusioned page’s spell has been cast. It had been an illusion great enough for Urianger not to see through, and he had unintentionally cast what was essentially the magical equivalent of a powerful aphrodisiac upon you. What you felt was not some horrid pain or sinister curse that would leave you in dire straights or with loss of life and limb. Though understanding that didn’t make the newly understood effect it had upon you any easier to resist or endure.

Each new second your eyes lay on the handsome elezen who seemed so shamed by his mistake magnified the ravenous heat in your gut by some degree as if he were some catalyst for it. Though perhaps in a way he was, in a way, though you had never told him outright. Here and there you had taken hints or advice from Thancred on flirting and subtly invitation, struck down by what seemed to be Urianger’s sheer obliviousness to the attempts. Hanging around him when you had spare time or making excuses to aid with his research, any effort you could spare to convey your feelings without actually speaking them had been worth it to you. Your desires had never been made quite plain, though.

Yet the potent sorceries coursing through you now were demanding you make it clear, and in the rawest and most physical sense. The intensity with which it was beginning to consume you was frightening on its own, even if it was otherwise harmless, only inconvenient.

“W-well, undo it then!” you insisted, your words wavered, your focus directed toward disobeying the spell and not besetting Urianger like some beast in heat.

Another quicker flicker of his eyes to the page, frantic searching, and another flash of regret. “There is naught I can do to dispel it. The spell must run its course.”

The admission made your stomach sink, though the rolling heat was more than happy to fill the emptiness left in its wake. You reeled, wondering if you should just flee, get far from the one man who had the greatest effect on your desires, even if he was unaware of it. Yet, the idea of being alone and ensorcelled to be boundless horny in the trickery-filled land of Il Mheg was not much more appealing of a prospect. The consequences you faced out there could likely be much more grave.

“Urianger, I…” you forced yourself to stop, cursing your traitorous tongue, already trying to decide for you. Would you go mad if you didn’t satisfy the howling desires in your gut and your mind? Such a spell suited to assist such sacred tradition seemed far more a curse than a boon. “There is a way,” you muttered, words low in shame and apprehension.

“Pardon?”

“A way to dispel it, I mean.”

If Urianger rejected your solution, rejected you, it would only compound the physical strain of the spell with an embarrassment that would surely never recede. But your muddled brain shouted at you, compelling you to just try . Never had you thought in your wildest dreams that this would be the manner in which you solicited Urianger, in any sense.

Urianger wasn’t daft, though, to be certain, and his eyes thinned at your proposal that a solution existed. “Prithee, explain what manner of dispelling thou doth speak of?” he asked cautiously.

For an instant of indecision, you weren’t sure whether to put it delicately or be straightforward and tactless. The latter won out though as another burst of heat blossomed in your core, radiating outward with startling swiftness. “In short, Urianger, I need you to fuck me.”

The crude words set Urianger’s cheeks aflame immediately. Though you imagined he’d already had an idea of what you meant to say, you hadn’t seen him quite so flustered in many moons. His new knowledge of what the spell was for didn’t protect him from the rush of pink and red to his cheeks, no matter how much he might have been prepared. Your stomach sank a second time as Urianger was silent for a moment, looking to be struck dumb by your bluntness.

“Nay, the spell doth color thine words and cloud thine judgment,” Urianger denied with a quick shake of his head.

In that instant, you silently cursed and blessed him for his sincerity. But you knew where your desires had lain dormant before the spell-twined mishap. The spell hadn’t clouded your judgment, only brought them seething to the surface and shattered your ability to keep them bound in silence. You shook your head fervently, ignoring another wave of throbbing heat.

“Trust me, please. I know what you think the spell has done to me, but even now I wouldn’t dream to ask anyone else to dispel it in such a way,” you explained, as coolly as your predicament allowed.

You punctuated your words with a pleading gaze. A plea to believe in your words. A plea to rescue you from the torrid heat tormenting your entire body. A plea, as you had so crudely demanded of him, to fuck you.

Several more heavy seconds passed, a resolve overtook Urianger, a notable flicker in the set of his lips and his amber eyes. “Very well, I shall do wilt though has asked of me to dispel the magics plaguing thee,” he agreed at last, and hope flared alongside the heat.

You sensed as if there were more Urianger meant to say, by the way his lips opened again for a bare instant before closing again. You didn’t need to be a mind reader, or to see into memories or have any gift to understand what lingered beyond his lips.

‘I pray thou wilt feel the same once the trouble sorcery has fled thee.’

You set upon Urianger, despite your insistence that he dispel the magic, overeager to soothe its effects. You slung your arms around him, pressing your lips to his urgently. He stiffened at first, despite his assent, but the tenseness loosened steadily. Large palms fell over your biceps, gentle and warm, neither trying to urge you closer or push you back. You pushed even further into the impromptu embrace and the desperate kiss.

Urianger pulled back, and the concern in his eyes that had never left shone back at you. “Twelve, thou art on fire,” he noted.

The heat of your form then was not just your imagination. It suffused not only your skin but your clothing as well, emanating off you in a way Urianger could easily feel despite the layers between you.

Feeling your plight for himself seemed to encourage Urianger, enlightening him to your desperation. You silenced his alarm with another kiss, moving slowly backward and pulling him along with you, though not allowing his frame to move an inch from your own. When the backs of your legs met the tome-strewn table, you shifted back, leaning your weight against the heavy wood. You tore one hand from the embrace, clumsily sweeping it behind you and displacing several heavy, leather-bound tomes. The thud of one colliding with the floor caught your attention only passingly before the concern was brushed away.

Urianger’s movements remained slow, uncertain almost as if you might draw back and change your mind at any moment. As if he still didn’t quite trust the certainty of your words from before. In the back of your mind, you were grateful for his respect, even if in the forefront of it a cacophony of carnal demands screeched. In spite of his hesitation, his touch was firm, and it comforted you somewhat through the raging heat of desire, even as it stoked the flames higher. His skin felt wonderfully chill to your burning body, and you clung to him more earnestly with each second passed.

Beneath the turbulent, intense arousal brought on by the magic, a buried part of you wished things could have happened slowly, enjoying each new lingering touch and glance and kiss. But there was no time for that now, no control left to support such a manner, not on your part. All that was left was the unbridled need that bade you reach for the skirts of Urianger’s flowing outfit and his small clothes beneath them and drag them down. A multitude of emotions flashed through his golden eyes: surprise at how bold the spell had made you, uncertainty at being so well exposed, and racing hints of his own burgeoning desire.

He was only half-hard beneath his small clothes, and you seized him in your grasp without a second thought, stroking him fervently to full mast. Urianger gasped and groaned at your unfettered, brazen attention, burying his nose against your sweltering skin for a time until your brought your hand away.

Next, you set about prying your own clothing keeping him from you, and his hands gently aided you in your task, until you were bare to him. You urged him even closer, wrapping your hand around his cock once more, the sight of his lurid, flushing erection sending you into an even greater lust-fueled frenzy.

“Urianger, please, please,” you begging instinctively, the desperation taking over again.

Eyes hooded, seemingly infected by the waves of desire rolling off of you despite his initial reluctance, Urianger did as you bade, moving to fit himself between your thighs. Laying his hand over yours, he guided his head to your entrance, well-soaked and dripping. He slid effortlessly through your sopping lips, and when his thick head slipped inside, there was no discomfort to be found. There was only pleasure, euphoria even, a body high that was nigh incomprehensible, as if the magic burning blood made it sing as you began to fulfill its purpose.

[katelyn--renee]

Out of the Fire (Part two)

Title: Out Of The Fire (Part two)

Fandom: Supernatural AU

Main Characters series: Reader, Lieutenant Firefighter!Dean Winchester, Lawyer!Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester (Moore), Nurse!Lisa Braeden (Formerly Winchester), Ben Braeden-Winchester, Harper Winchester (OFC), Charlie Bradbury, Firefighter!Benny Lafitte, Firefighter!Jo Harvelle, Firefighter!Castiel Novak, Claire Novak, Mechanic!John Winchester, Firefighter Captain!Ellen Harvelle, Mechanic!Bobby Singer, Doctor!Arthur Ketch, Nick Vaught and many more!

Pairings: Dean x Reader (eventual), Dean x Lisa (past), Reader x Nick (past), Lisa x Ketch (current), Sam x Jessica (current)

Word count: ±2200 words

Series summary: A slow burn romance. Reader is trying to get away from her troubled past and start fresh; a new name, new town, new friends, and a new job. A clean slate. After years of planning and saving, she is able to open her own business. With the help of her best friend and business partner, Charlie Bradbury, and her new flirty firefighter friend, she is hopeful, even when disaster strikes and her past threatens to catch up with her years later. 

Part two summary: Flashback to when you first met your green eyed hero and their budding romance. 

Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fire or mentions of fire, fluff (so much fluff), angst, eventual smut, mutual pining, alcohol abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of domestic abuse (physical, verbal), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of adultery/cheating, mentions of death, dangerous or life threatening situations, stress, descriptions of injuries, blood, hospital scenes, character death. 

Author’s note: Here is part two! I hope you enjoy this chapter and all it’s fluffy goodness! :)

A special thank you to @that-one-gay-girl and @deanwanddamons for being the wonderful beta’s that you are! Your feedback is always appreciated! Check out their awesome work and spread some love!

All graphics and dividers done by me! :)​

If you like this story, please don’t hesitate to leave a like, comment and if you’re feeling extra generous, share! Your feedback gives me live and motivation! If you would like to be tagged in the series, please don’t hesitate to ask!

Thank you and let’s enjoy this ride together!

<<-- Read part one, here!

Out of the Fire Masterlist!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

About five weeks ago.

The shop was busier than usual, but being the final days of summer, it was expected. It wasn't anything you or Charlie  couldn't handle, of course, but it sure did make for long days and even longer nights of cleanup. 

"Charlie, table two needs refills, table six never got their vanilla lattes, and table four is ready to pay." You announced as you joined your partner behind the counter with a handful of dirty mugs and plates, having just made one of many rounds through the seating area.

The two of you danced around each other gracefully, moving in harmony as you switched from one task to another. “On it.” She acknowledged, already preparing the missing drinks and throwing in a complimentary pastry for the mistake.

You set the pile of dishes down into the sink before turning to the next customer in line, flashing him a friendly smile. “Yes, hi, how can I help you?” You greeted urgently, looking up to meet a set of stunning green eyes. You faltered slightly, taken by surprise by his strikingly good looks.

He smiled, almost bashfully, as he began to place his order, seeming not to notice your hesitation. “A round of coffees, black, for me and my buddies ,” He motioned toward the booth near the large bay window which was occupied by three other bodies; two men and one woman, all of whom adorned matching uniforms. “Cream and sugar on the side. Oh, uh, larges… or eh, talls?” He added with a sheepish chuckle, clearly unfamiliar with the coffee house lingo.

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from smiling more and potentially embarrassing him. “Venti.” You corrected him playfully. You saw the confused look on his face, his head cocking like a confused puppy, before adding, “For our ‘large,’” 

You used air quotes to emphasize your point, rolling your eyes at the technical terminology. “It’s venti.” You saw it the moment he understood what you were telling him, and he chuckled again, not missing the way he ducked his head to hide the slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

 “Never too old to learn something new.” He chuckled again and winked at you, the gesture setting butterflies loose inside of your stomach. It was your turn to look away this time, your face hot with a blush. He fished his wallet from his dark blue cargo pants, looking at the assortment of baked goods.

“Throw in a few of those bagels and croissants, too, please.” He added, casting his gaze down at the display case once again. “Oh, and a piece of that cherry pie.” He added almost dreamily, pulling out a couple of twenties. 

Upon further inspection, you took notice of the soot and ash that dirtied his face and darkened his hair in certain places. He had dark circles under his gorgeous eyes, too, clearly exhausted after a long shift. You glanced in the direction of his crew members, finding much of the same. “Long night?” You asked, trying to be friendly as much as you were curious.

“I look that rough, huh?” He teased, a look of mock offense accompanying his handsome features.

 You shook your head, a smile still curving your lips at the corners, “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You clarified hastily as you calculated his order  into the register, making a point to leave off the coffees; it was the least you could do for him… eh, them, right?  

He winked again and laughed, the sound deep in his chest, assuring you that he was only teasing. “I know you didn’t,” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, watching your face and the way you tried to suppress your smile. “How much do I owe you, sweetheart?” He asked, glancing down at the display screen. 

The term of endearment made your heart flutter slightly, and you couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto your face again. You swallowed the feeling down, pressing the enter key before you read aloud his total. 

“That’ll be $19.94, Mr. Firefighter.” He rose a questioning brow at the total, glancing up at the menu prices. “Coffee’s on the house.” You added quickly with a closed-lip smile, your eyes sincere. “It’s the least I can do for your services.” 

Several emotions seemed to make their way across his face, contorting it briefly before settling on gratitude. “Thank you.” He said, his voice genuine. He held out one of the twenty-dollar bills, paying for his order. “That was really kind of you, truly.” He smiled softly, glancing down at the name tag attached to your apron. “(Y/N).”

A smile formed on your lips before you could stop it, and your cheeks flushed at the way he said your name, your eyes finding the name embroidered onto the left side of his dark blue button-up shirt, opposite of a silver badge over his heart. Red patches were on either sleeve, proudly showing off the station they serve. “It’s no trouble, Lieutenant Winchester...” You promised with a sly smile. 

He laughed, appreciating your observation. “Dean.” He insisted as you accepted the bill. Your fingers touched, brushing against each other softly. The touch, however slight, was like an electric shock, igniting every part of your body. 

There was an annoyed grunt behind the firefighter, but the two of you paid little attention to it. You put the money into the till and collected his change, but Dean insisted that he didn’t need it. He walked backwards to his table, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth. The two of you couldn’t seem to stop watching each other, nor did you want to, silently flirting with your eyes. 

You giggled when he bumped into an unoccupied table, watching as he almost knocked over its contents and awkwardly fumbled with the accompanying chair that nearly fell over. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled self-consciously, trying to conceal his embarrassment. He ducked his head when he got back to his table, his friends giving him a hard time. 

He hid his face in his palms as a dark-haired man with scruff and blue eyes clapped a hand against Dean’s shoulder, booming with laughter. “Smooth,” You heard the blonde female tease, snickering at her partner. You watched them as you gathered up their order, blushing when you caught him stealing a few glances your way. When finished, you brought their order out to them personally, earning you another wink from the fireman.

The rest of the shift went by in a blur, unable to get those emerald eyes out of your head. Charlie had seemed to notice your distraction and, in perfect Charlie fashion, commented on it as you were closing up shop. “That fireman sure left his mark on you, huh?” She teased, a knowing smile drawing her lips up. 

You scoffed at her and tried to play it off like you didn’t know what she was talking about… and failing. “W-What? No - No, I - Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlie.” You muttered, locking the doors and placing the keys into your pocket.

She looked skeptical and cocked her hip, propping a hand there. “Uh-huh, sure.” She stated, waving her hands. “And I’m not the Queen of Mordor.” She said sarcastically, “Oh wait, I am.” She said exaggeratedly with her hands thrown in the air, referencing her extracurricular activity of LARPing. 

You rolled your eyes fondly at your best friend; she’d dragged you along to her LARPing weekends on more than one occasion, and you’d humored her, going along with it because it made Charlie happy. “You can’t fool me, sista, now spill the beans.” She insisted, following behind you with the broom as the pair of you cleaned up.

You sighed, wiping down one of the tables and the chairs that joined it, already knowing that you wouldn't win this battle against the feisty redhead. “I don’t know…” You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought about the encounter. “I can't explain it, I don’t know how to explain it… but there was just something about him… y'know?" You recalled, picking up one of the chairs and putting it on the table. "I just… I can’t quite put my finger on it…"

Charlie giggled, "Bet you wish you could." She teased, clearly hinting at more than she said. You gasped and feigned innocence, throwing the towel at her. Charlie laughed more, catching the soiled cleaning cloth before it collided with her face. "Oh, come on (Y/N)! I know that look in a woman's eye. I’ve seen it dozens of times! You want him. Bad!"

She threw the cloth back, and you caught it with ease. "Jeez, you make me sound so desperate." You grumbled, not denying Charlie's observation, despite the dramatics. 

Charlie hadn't missed a beat, and she grinned, a cocky sparkle in her eyes. "So you do like him." She chimed accusingly, clearly happy to be right.

You rolled your eyes again, moving onto the next table as Charlie continued sweeping under the one you'd just cleared. "Okay. Yeah, fine." You admitted, "I thought he was cute and charming and sexy in that uniform," 

Charlie made an ‘I-knew-it’ face, but you continued before she could make a sly remark, "But it doesn't matter. It's not like I'm ever gonna see him again." You stated with a reluctant sigh, spraying down the next table with the cleaning agent, trying to hide the disappointment lingering in your voice. You began to scrub at a stubborn spot on the table, trying to distract yourself.

Charlie frowned sadly, reading into your mood, and leaned the broom down against the table before closing the space between you. "I'm sorry for being pushy. It's just that you work all the time. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?" You were about to answer when she held up a finger, "Other than this café. This doesn't count, this is work." 

She had a point. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done anything that didn't involve this little shop. "Exactly. I just wanna see you have some fun and that," She thumbed over her shoulder toward the door, referring to Dean, "was fun." You chuckled softly, your cheeks getting warm at the thought. 

"You deserve to live a little,” She put her arms on your shoulders and squeezed affectionately, “Especially after what that snake put you through." You frowned at the reminder, dread coiling inside of your stomach and a frown pulled at your lips at the mention of your ex, Nick. 

Like always, Charlie didn’t let you get too lost in your thoughts, "And who knows, maybe he has an equally attractive sister for me." She added with a playful shrug and a giggle, effectively distracting you. "Fate works in mysterious ways, sista; you never know what she might throw your way." She added mysteriously, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect. 

As it turns out, Charlie was right. Fate did work in mysterious ways because, in the weeks that followed, Dean continued to show up, sometimes with his crew, but mostly by himself. The times he showed up varied, depending on his work scheduled, which you soon noticed was quite busy. Regardless of the hour, he always showed. 

It wasn't long before you memorized his order by heart; a venti coffee, black, and a slice of pie; whichever flavor was baked for the day's special. The flavor never seemed to be an issue for the firefighter, but it didn’t take you long to realize that cherry was clearly his favorite, with pecan  a close second. 

The pair of you flirted and subtly got to know each other as time went on, teetering somewhere between acquaintances and friends. He’d flirt. You’d flirt. But it never went any further than that.

Charlie teased you about it the whole time, of course. She wouldn’t be your best friend if she hadn’t. You’d just roll your eyes or shake your head every time she’d urge you to "grow a pair and ask him out already." 

You wanted to. Of course, you wanted to; you’d be an idiot not to want that.

But you didn't, of course, because you were too embarrassed and too afraid to act on your feelings. You'd done that once before already, and you paid one hell of a price for it. Hell, in a way, you still were. Nick left such a nasty scar on your heart; you weren't sure if you could ever love again. You were in a constant state of fear, afraid of being hurt again.

Charlie, being the wonderful best friend that she is, always tried to remind you that love… true love… would never hurt you. That real love was the stuff of magic and fairy tales. That what you had with Nick wasn’t love. It helped, a little, but that fear never truly went away, you just sort of learned to live with it.

Maybe someday you’ll feel differently.

And there you have it. Part two is complete. I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I did. Awkward/adorable Dean is one of my favs. Haha. 

As always, thanks for reading! 

Read part three, here! -->>

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278​

Out of the Fire (series)

@vicmc624 // @anotherspnfanfic // @krazykelly // @compresshischest09 // @thefamilybusiness  

[pearl-blue-musings]

Perchance to Meet pt. 3

whoops is it time for a little bit of angst??? i think it’s time for a little bit of angst. 

warnings: cussing, suggestive language, attempted assault, sexual assault, stalking, unwanted advantages,smut, angst, another smut warning cause i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute, please 18+ cannot stress that enough 

masterlist for my writing

Part 4 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One date had turned into three which sprouted into many many more. Despite having challenging schedules, the two new found lovers made time for each other. Aizawa didn’t really think he’d get a chance like this but here he is, standing outside the bookstore he frequents as often as he can with a tiny goofy grin on his face.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

He stutters out a response upon seeing the outfit his girlfriend decided to wear. It wasn’t an easy thing to squeeze out of the man, but after the fifth date and the first time she spent the night at his place the couple made it official. Even his co-workers couldn’t believe the sleepy man had a girlfriend on top of everything he already does… But here she is, wearing one of his favorite outfits of hers as they meet up for a brief date.

“I was about to drop dead if I had to wait any longer,” he whispers as he leans in to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “I love the way you look tonight.”

(Y/n) looks away embarrassed. Even though they had been dating for over three months now, she still couldn’t get used to Shouta’s flirting and downright cuteness. “T-thank you, Sho. I’m glad you get a few hours before your patrol shift starts.” She looks to him with bright and eager eyes that he could get lost in forever. “So, where are we going?”

It takes a little willpower in Aizawa to hold back a smirk as he enjoys the view of her impatience adorn her features. He’s not sure who will be more excited for the date, him or her.

“You’ll see,” he snickers. Her eyes roll as they stroll along the street. The setting sun ahead of them litters the sky with beautiful purples and oranges; a few clouds line the skies giving the world around them an ethereal feel.

They continue to walk for about ten more minutes, having mindless conversation about anything and everything, from how he’s going to be a homeroom teacher for the next year, how she wants to add a café portion to her bookstore to draw in more people and have more income, it flows seamlessly.

Soon they stop at a store front that is unfamiliar to the woman. Once she sees that her lover has stopped, she looks to the sign and suddenly her face lights up.

“Shouta, shut up are you serious?”

He leans down to her ear, “we’ve walked by this before and I’ve always noticed how your eyes linger here. So I got us reservations.”

The sparkle in her eye is unfazed as the grin on her face only gets wider.

“A cat café!? Shouta, I can’t- I mean you took me? Here? God, you’re amazing! I just-“ she ends her sentence by pulling him by his jacket collar and kissing him lovingly. After his initial shock, he cups her face with his warm hands and deepens the kiss. The feel of his lips on hers is a sense she never wants to tire of; she’s practically addicted to it already.

Aizawa hesitantly pulls away, “as much as I’d like to continue that, we don’t wanna miss our reservation, Kitten.” He kisses her on the cheek and pulls her inside the establishment. Once inside, the couple gets swept up in the ambiance of the place. (Y/n) had an inkling that this date wasn’t just to make you happy, but to make a certain cat lover of a man next her happy too. She had picked up on his love of cats and strays on their other dates and she may or may not attempt to adopt one of the cats as a surprise.

Two hours went by too quickly in the couples opinion, but they had to sadly leave. Their stomachs and hearts full, the two begin their walk back to the bookstore. A deep voice breaks the content silent. “I really don’t want to go on patrol tonight.” (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrow at his statement and silently urges Aizawa to continue. “I want to keep looking at you like this. So happy and content… I wish our schedules weren’t so crazy.”

“I do too,” she breathes, “but that’s how it is and I get it. I mean, we both know each other at this point and know that we’re busy. It’s life, we do what we love and hopefully someone will be there with us you know…”

The momentum of the conversation slows as they reach the bookstore. The words she wishes to say fill up her lungs begging to burst from her lips as she stares at the pre hero before. She gulps whatever anxiety she has and blurts out the words she’s wanted to say all night.

“I love you.”

Black eyes widen at the proclamation and then soften once he sees the shyness and slight fear (Y/n) poses in front of him. He steps up to her, staring at her lips then back to the eyes he can get lost in forever and whispers, “I know, I love you too Kitten,” and softly kisses her lips.

***************************************

“Hey, it’s (Y/n), I mean, yeah it’s me… But where are you? I’ve been waiting outside the club for about 10 minutes now. I know your patrol ended half an hour ago. Just call me back okay?”

(Y/n) grouchily hangs up the phone and pouts. She knew he was out late which is why she wanted him to pick her up from work so she could spend the weekend at his apartment. Aizawa had just finished the first week of school as the new 1-A homeroom teacher and his girlfriend knew he would need sometime to relax. Begrudgingly, of course.

She looks to her phone again and sees that it’s approaching 2:30 in the morning. Normally she doesn’t take closing shifts because of the bookstore, but wanted to align her schedule with Aizawa’s for some time together. After almost a year don’t you think he would have been a little more considerate of this fact? This wasn’t easy for her with the new café being added to her store and having to hire new employees; she needed this one little thing.

“Fuck it, I’m walking by myself.”

Clearly a bad idea. Blissfully unaware, she sullenly walked away from her second job and toward Aizawa’s apartment. The city at night wasn’t always the safest and she knew that, but she had been waiting for more than 20 minutes for Aizawa to show and he hadn’t so she took matters into her own hand. She kept her bag close to her body as she sped walk, attempting to keep her roaring thoughts at bay.

Her phone buzzes which halts her mind, and herself, and she stops in her path. She reaches in a sees a text from him saying “omw”. That’s it? And just now? Barely being on her way, she decides to turn around and go back to their original meeting place.

Bad idea number two. Roughly, she bumps into a stiff being and trips back a few steps. In front of her is a man in a long coat and hat, covering most of his identity. “Excuse me,” she mutters past him, but is abruptly stopped when his hand grips her forearm.

“You don’t remember me.”

“Sir, let go of me.”

“Why don’t you remember me?!”

Panic rising in her, (Y/n) begins to struggle against her assailant. “Sir I have no idea what you want from me! Please let me go.”

The man, clearly hysterical, pulls her into a nearby alley and slams her against the brick wall. The woman winces in pain and tries her best to not cry in front of this stranger. “Please, just take my bag… Don’t hurt me!”

“…Why don’t you remember me? You served me for months at the club. Months! You always made my favorite drink, always made me feel better. I love you (Y/F/n)! I always gave you extra tips when I came in and now I find that you’re thinking of quitting?! Is there someone else? I left my wife like you said I should because I wasn’t happy!”

The more the man rambles, the more she starts to remember. He went by the name Shuichi Oda and from what she gathered had a rough night. Obviously a drunk, it seems like things haven’t been going well for him. She remembers having some brief conversations with him to make her patron feel better but… Damn it! She knew that this was the downside of her quirk, some people took it too personally.

“Look, Shuichi-“

“You do remember me!” He exclaims and pulls her into an unneeded hug and starts to pet her hair. “I’ve been waiting for you to be alone for quite some time. Your quirk made me feel better. You, made me feel better.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she shakily tries to reason, “I’m just a bartender. It’s my job to make people feel better.”

The man hits his head with his fist, frightening the woman. “No! With you, it’s different, see?” After he says he leans in to sloppily kiss her, holding her still against the wall behind her. His hands begin to roam in places they shouldn’t which make tears start to form in her eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he wipes a tear from her face but she moves out of his reach. “Don’t be scared, I love you. And you’re gonna come with me and be with me forever okay?”

“Please,” she screams, “let me go! I have- mmph!”

“Sh sh sh sh, we can’t have you screaming! Others could hear and try to take you away from me!” The hand he placed over her mouth is now covered in tears from her eyes. She bites at him, but his maniacal smile only gets bigger. “I don’t feel physical pain darling, just emotional.” As soon as he says that, his wandering other hand goes toward her breast and he sighs in contentment. “Oh how I’ve longed for this-“

“That’s enough!”

Soon Shuichi is being thrust into the air. He’s wrapped up in bindings and hanging from a nearby streetlamp. Eyes glowing red stare at the apprehended man and pull the wraps tighter, causing him to cough in pain. Aizawa tugs on the wraps to make the man hit his head on the light and pass out. Luckily some sirens are heard closely as someone walking by heard her scream and called for the police. Aizawa was on his way and followed the direction of the police cars hoping it didn’t involve his lover.

An hour later finds the couple walking into the pro hero’s apartment. A strong silver blanket is still wrapped around (Y/n)’s body as they make their way in. They both take off their shoes and settle in silence as the events of the last hour replay through their minds. They don’t even bother to eat anything and start to get ready for bed. Her pajamas are partially on when he sits down on the bed and mumbles, “why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Hm? What was that?”

Sighing louder, her turns to face her. “I said, why didn’t you wait for me like you were supposed to?”

(Y/n) scoffs as she pulls his shirt down her body. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I wait? Why were you late?” Her question came out more forceful than she intended but it had been a very long day. “I rearranged my schedule so then we could get off work around the same time for once. Where the hell were you?”

“Don’t give me that,” he states getting louder, “school went late so I began my patrol late.”

“Would it have killed you to tell me that instead of keeping me waiting?”

“Would it have killed you to wait where I wanted you to? Then maybe tonight wouldn’t have happened.”

Her mouth flew open at his assumption. “Are you saying me getting attacked was my fault?!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as his frustration grows. “If you had just stayed there and waited I was going to get there.”

“Yeah sure! But did you forget the part where that nutjob has been following me for months? He would’ve gotten to me regardless.”

“That’s because you’re too kind. Letting people think that all their problems and issues will go away with just the right fix!”

“You’re ridiculous!” You yell, “Is that really what you think of me and my quirk? Is that what you think I did to you?” (Y/n) moves around the bed to get face to face with him to prove more of her point.

He stands up off the bed to look down at her. “It could be like that for him or any other guy you’re kind to or use your quirk on. All you had to do was wait!”

“And we’re back to where we fucking started. You were late! What was I supposed to do? Wait for the next guy to come along and fuck me over in the middle of the night?”

“(Y/n) that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Oh is it? Then why do you keep putting the blame on whether or not I waited?”

“Look,” he recedes slightly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me being late, but you can’t just walk around by yourself like that!”

“Fuck off, yes I can! I’ve done it before why does it suddenly have to change now?”

“Because I fucking love you, idiot!”

Throats hoarse after the shouting match, black eyes shut as he sinks into the bed. (Y/n)’s conviction begins to falter as she follows him onto the mattress. “Shouta?”

He takes a deep breath in attempt to control himself, “I know I should have told you I was late, I’m sorry. But, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. When you weren’t there, I panicked.” He leans onto her shoulder while she rubs his back soothingly. “I was so scared for you. When I saw him touching you, I saw red.”

(Y/n) breathes deeply taking in his words, “Sho…”

“I don’t want to lose you, or have you be hurt because of me. I’m a pro-hero and a teacher at a prominent school, I’m bound to have some enemies.” He sits up to meet her gaze, holding her face in his hands. “That guy hurt you because of you and I wasn’t there.”

“Sho, it’s not your fault.”

Silence falls over them, letting the weight of their words settle into their beings. He brings her forehead toward his as fresh tears fall from her face wetting his skin.

“Kitty cat, I’m sorry for yelling.”

She kisses him lightly, “Me too.”

He kisses her again, and again, and again, Until the light, chaste kisses become deep and full of lust. Her hands find solace in his hair as her lips grant his tongue entrance. He pulls her closer to him, hoping that she can feel his erection through his pants. The feeling of him grinding against her sleep shorts elicits a moan from her mouth that makes him harder. They break for air, a line of saliva connecting them as their pupils dilate.

“Fuck I wanna keep going but you’ve had a long day.” He tries to pull away from her only to be brought in for another breathless kiss. His hands automatically went to her hips. “Kitten,” he moans into her lips.

“We have the whole weekend for me to treat you right. The whole weekend for you to be screaming my name, calling me daddy,” he smacks her ass at that comment earning a hiss from (Y/n) which ended up making her even more wet. “But we need to sleep.”

“Fuck you Shouta,” she whines. “I wanna fuck you now. I’m already so fucking wet for you and I know your dick is itching to be in my mouth or better yet in me.”

Aizawa grunts at the implications but stays strong. “No, sweetie. As much as I really want to, we gotta sleep.”

“Please I want to forget he touched me so please do something or else-“

At that she’s quickly pinned to the bed with the strong man above her. “Don’t forget,” he whispers, “you asked for this.” He slowly drags her bottoms down her legs, exposing her dripping sex to him. It took everything in him to not move too fast. Once her pj bottoms were thrown across the room, he situates himself between her legs, rubbing his hands up her calf, to her thighs enticingly slow. A pressure is felt on her hips as she’s being held in place by her lovers grip.

On instinct her hips buck slightly, eagerly awaiting what’s to come. The feel of his breath on her inner thigh sends her thoughts into a frenzy, only for him to place his lips around the sensitive skin. His kisses are feather light that they almost don’t feel like they’re there, but she’s reminded as soon as his teeth make contact with her skin. A whine escapes her lips at the action, making Aizawa growl.

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so wet for me.”

“Mhm, ah, only for you Daddy- ah fuck!”

All his restraint came undone at the pet name as he wrapped his lips around her folds, sucking and tonguing her with earnest. The way his tongue would flit in and out of her wet hole drove him crazy; it was like she was made for him and only him. He continues to lap at her folds, already starting to feel the pressure build up within her.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum for Daddy this early, eh? All I’ve done with eat you out and I’m not full. Plus,” he sneaks a finger into making her hiss and cuss, “I don’t think you’ve had your fill yet Kitty cat.”

Her moans and whines are music to his ears as he doesn’t let up his ministrations. Now two fingers deep into her, he begins to scissor her open while sucking on her abused and pronounced clit.

“Ah, fuck Sho. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” (Y/n) is breathless as her back arches off the mattress for the umpteenth time. She can feel him smile against her as he lifts up to face her. “Then cum Kitten, cum for Daddy.” His motions speed up and upon hearing her scream out his name mixed with curses, he lets up. God, she looks beautiful like this. Her body is covered in a glimmering layer of sweat, her stomach moving in time with her rampant breathing as she comes down from her high. No one else will get to see her like this, no one. Aizawa wipes away sweat from her brow and leans in to let her taste herself on his tongue. The action alone is enough to make him want to burst, which he is tempted to do.

“Damn, you’re still so wet and slick for me,” he notes swiping a finger against her to reaffirm.

“Babe, rollover. I wanna ride you.”

The lovely man above her lifts an eyebrow at her request, “as you wish, princess.” He is then forcibly pinned, almost like what happened to her not too long ago. “Fuck, you look so hot from down here babe.” He knows that she needs this, to feel to be in charge and take the lead. So he doesn’t help her line up the tip of his hard cock to her entrance, and he doesn’t push himself up into her like he wants.

A wanton moan escapes his lovers lips as she finally settles herself on his cock. She feels the grumble and twitching from her his dick inside her and the feeling is euphoric. The pro-hero’s breath gets shallower as he waits for her to move on him, again holding himself back from taking charge. Once she starts bouncing on his cock, all he can do is whisper and moan out praises and curses. “Fuck, Kitten. That feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah babe? You like the way I’m riding your cock?”

He hisses, “fuck yeah. Please do it more- unf.”

Suddenly he feels a new and ecstatic feeling as she gyrates her hips in ways that have him seeing stars. He’s trying to figure out if there’s some kind of pattern. And then it hits him.

“You spelling your name on my cock, yeah?”

A gasp for air is heard from both of them before she responds, “I’m just, ah, letting you know who this belongs to baby.”

“Ah fuck, Kitten, I’m gonna cum soon. But first,” his voice lowers as he grabs her breast in his hand. His thumb flicks over her nipple, earning another moan before he wraps his lips around it. His tongue continues to work the hardening bud as his hand kneads her mound. His free hand works its way to her clit and begins to rub it fiercely.

“Fuck Shouta, if you keep doing that…”

A slick pop is heard as black eyes bore into lust filled ones. “I know Kitten, we’re so close. Come on, let Daddy cum. Let me cum inside baby.” “Yes, yes ah fuck- FUCK!”

The melodious sound of moans and whimpers fill the once noiseless bedroom as the couple comes down from their highs. They fall onto each other, sweat covered and full of love for each other. Their breathing starts to slow the more they wait out, still being connected by their sexes. (Y/n) is the first to move as she slowly removes herself from her boyfriends embrace, whining at the loss of contact. Aizawa leans up slightly to take in her form and beauty.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some water.”

He pecks her cheek and leaves the room. Once he returns, he sees (Y/n) and fondly smiles. She had finally fallen asleep after everything was said and done. He rolls his eyes but continues to clean up their little mess. He leaves her water glass on her nightstand while he had finished his.

Aizawa pulls the covers over the two of them as he cuddles into his girlfriend, watching her sleep soundly. She looks ethereal right now, no problems or stress on her features.

“I swear I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ha ha hahahahaha it’s so long whoops but yee if the option is there the taglist is open!  @kiribaku-queen @shinsouskitten @therealwalmartjesus @prk-pyo @cupcake-rogue

[icequeenoriginal]

What if you made a fanfic where bowceit puts a spell on roman where roman sees bowceit as virgil and virgil as bowceit

Author’s Note: I am so so so so so so so sorry. You asked this over a year ago, maybe longer but I got so distracted that I did not get to it until now. I was never going to abandon this, even if the AU is basically over. I hope it was worth the wait. I love the prompt by the way.

Mario AU belongs to @sugarglider-s

A03 link 

Warning: Brainwashing, mistaken identity, misunderstanding, fighting, villain but sympathetic Deceit, crying, yelling (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairings: Prinxiety and Logicality 

Title: The Original is Always Better

~

It was supposed to be a fun day.

It was rare for Patton’s and Roman’s free days to line up with one another, even rarer for Patton’s, Logan’s, Virgil’s, and Roman’s free days to line up but on a Saturday at the end of the month, the stars finally aligned for such a thing to occur. They would have to thanks Remy next time they see him. 

Patton had come up with an idea for them to have a picnic on Emile’s island. They could make a whole trip out of it. They could visit Emile, swim in the ocean, lay on the beach. 

“That sounds like a perfect idea dear,” Logan replied, which made Patton smile and blush.

Roman nodded, “I can bring my beach ball, I haven’t used it in ages!”

“Could be nice to get some sun for once,” Virgil added.

And so the day was set, they would leave before sunrise in Patton’s pink plane. That way they could get as much of the day in as possible and a certain snake wouldn’t see them leaving the Mushroom Kingdom.

Patton and Logan spent the day before preparing the food as well as packing. Roman and Virgil meanwhile, came up with games as they packed. 

It was going to be a great day.

Keyword: Was.

~

As the main four were happily planning their getaway, Bowciet was sulking in his throne room, nothing his servants weren’t used to. 

He had suffered another bitter defeat by the Sarcastic Brothers. Plan after plan, he could never win. He would get so close and those annoying jumping brothers would always stupidly find a way to beat him. 

And the worst part? After they were rescued, the princes would go on and on about how they were so happy that they were saved by their wonderful boyfriends.

“What do those princes even see in those two lowlife peasants plumbers anyway?!” Bowciet exclaimed.

“Because they’re cool?” A Gomba suggested.

“Because they are kind?” A Koopa offered.

“Because they don’t kidnap them?” A hammer bro adds.

Bowciet growled and blew fire at them, making them run out of the room in pain and fear. Bowciet slumps back into his chair.

What his minions said was absolutely ridiculous. They were completely not cool, cool people do not ruin the plans of a king! They were both a four at best and they weren’t THAT strong. Logan could jump pretty high sure, but he was as boring as a textbook. How could Prince Patton ever be attracted to that? And Virgil, an anxious freak who jumps at his own shadow, Roman likes that?

Bowceit knew he would be a much better match for the princes but they never give him a chance to prove it. They usually turn their back to him when he puts them in their cells and ignores him. How rude of them. 

No matter how many presents and compliments he gives, they never give him a chance. Roman even had to gall say they both could not stand the sight of him.

Wait.

They could not stand the sight of him.

But they could stand the sight of those plumbers.

Bowciet smirked, his newest plan was forming in his mind. 

He summoned a Magikoopa to his throne room.

“Yes, your majesty?” The Magikoopa said as it entered the room.

“I need you to make me a spell, as quickly as possible.”“What kind, your majesty?”Bowceit smirked, “Illusion”

~

As much as Virgil hates getting out of bed early, and boy does he hate it, he was very happy to find out that the seats on Patton’s plane leaned as flatly as possible. He sleeps through the entire plane ride with Roman run his fingers through his hair. Virgil breathes in Roman’s scent. He smells like the flowers in his garden and the tea he makes. Mainly honeysuckle and strawberry, it causes Virgil to dream of running through the fields with Roman. It is them alone, with only the flower-covered valleys and the warm sun. 

In his dream, Roman’s smile rivals the sun, as if it doesn’t do that in the real world. Dream Roman runs a bit of head, a gap is starting to form between them. It made Virgil a bit nervous but Roman only looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Follow me!” Dream Roman shouts happily, “Don’t stop following me.”“Never” Virgil whispers.After a few more minutes of Virgil chasing Dream Roman, Dream Roman stops and stands in the middle of the endless field. 

Virgil stops a few feet behind him and pants, trying to catch his breath. Dream Roman turns to face him and lifts up Virgil’s chin gently. Virgil blushes and Dream Roman smiles at him.

Dream Roman smiles back and says, “It’s time to wake up Virgil.”

The dream ends as Virgil begins to blink, he feels someone is shaking him awake. He turns to the source of the shaking before immediately freezing when seeing how close Roman’s face is to his.

It did not matter that this was how Virgil normally wakes up, Roman always makes him freeze with how beautiful he is. Virgil can’t help himself as he scans every feature of Roman’s face as if he was seeing Roman for the first time.

Roman smiles softly at him, flashing his pearly white teeth, “Hey sleepyhead, we are here.”

Virgil nods quickly, face completely red with blush. “T-Thanks Ro.”

Roman kisses his forehead before pulling him up and out of his seat. Virgil can barely keep up as Roman runs out of the plane, having to hold down his hat as they go. 

Virgil has to squint when the light suddenly hits his eyes. Once his eyes adjust, he gasps at the sight in front of him. The beach sand is crystal white and very warm when Virgil touches it. The water is cyan blue, so clear that you can see the fish swim through it. The palm trees are ten times Virgil high with huge lush leaves. It wasn’t like Virgil hadn’t been to Emile’s island before but you don’t really have time to stop and smell the roses when an evil snake monster kidnaps your boyfriend.

Patton quickly rips off his shirt and jumps into the ocean to swim around, having changed into his swimsuit on the plane. Logan soon joins him, making sure to put out the picnic blanket and the picnic basket.

Virgil yawns, “I think I’m going to take another nap. The warm sand is just too tempting.”Roman giggles, “Okay then babe. I’m going to make a sandcastle next to you then.”Virgil had to physically stop himself from swooning. He knew that Roman had a bunch of stuff planned for them to do together and Virgil knew that Roman generally did not want to give up what he comes up with but he always does it for Virgil. Virgil is always his priority. 

Virgil pulls Roman into a kiss before laying down. 

Roman blushes, “What was that for?” Virgil wasn’t always one to initiate kisses.

Virgil covers his face with his hat to block out the sun and to hide his blush, “Just felt like it.”

Roman smiles at Virgil, his heart soaring with love for his boyfriend. Virgil always found a way to be sweet without trying. It was one of the things Roman loved about him.

~

Virgil woke up again to someone shaking him. This time it was his brother so Virgil was far less jumpy this time.

“What’s up, bro?” Virgil asked sleepily 

“We are about to eat lunch and I figured you would want some,” Logan replies 

“Lunchtime? How long have I been asleep?”

“You slept through the entire morning.”

“Did I miss anything?”“You missed Roman joining us in the ocean then he and Patton make this giant sandcastle,” Logan says as he points to a sandcastle that is about two stories tall. It looks like a miniature version of Patton’s castle except on the front, instead of a glass window with Patton holding a rose, it is a drawing of Patton and Roman made into the sand. Roman peeks his head out of the sand castle’s window and waves, “Virgil! My love! You are awake! Look what we made!” 

Virgil’s eyes widen in shock at how big the castle is and how it can hold both Roman and Patton. Roman does not seem to notice this as he exits the sandcastle with Patton.

They all sit on the picnic blanket and Patton serves the food. They eat are given their favorite sandwiches and favorite kind of chips. Patton also packed potato and macaroni salad for them all to share. 

“What do you guys want to do next?” Roman asks between bites.

“Hmm…Oh! What if we went for a walk around the island?” Patton suggests.

“That sounds absolutely wonderful Patton! I have been meaning to take note of the flowers around here to expand my garden!” Roman replies

Virgil snickers, “Do you even have any garden space left Princey?”

Roman waves him off, “I can just start a fourth garden.”“FOURTH?!”

“Instead of debating Roman’s plant obsession, we should finish our lunch so we can begin our walk,” Logan says while waving his hand to silence his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

The other three nod in agreement and eat their food in relative silence.

~

Once they pack up their things and changed on Patton’s plane, the four head deeper into the island. They pass by plants and bushes that are twice their size but they oddly seem to be walking on a mostly clear path. Roman runs a bit ahead, hardly able to contain his squeals as he sees all the plants in front of him. He scribes a quick drawing of them into his little orange notebook. Virgil is standing next to him, holding his umbrella and smiling at his boyfriend’s antics. He adored Roman’s passion and will do anything to not let that fire die.

Eventually, the four come across an empty field. It has patches of leaves all around it. They all look at one another, something feels off. It seemed too quiet, none of them were used to pure quiet.

Patton squats in front of one of the patches of leaves. “It looks like the bed Emile has.”

Logan nods “The Emiles must collect leaves and make beds that they sleep on.”

“Why aren’t any of them here?” Virgil asks, nervousness creeping into his voice. 

“They might all be doing something right now.” Roman offers, hoping to calm his boyfriend.

No one else replied, there was no way it was something as simple as that, it never was. Patton moves to investigate another pile of leaves when it suddenly begins to shake. Before Patton can react, a Goomba jumps out, causing Patton to yelp. Patton falls on his back as the Goomba lands just by his head. Logan quickly stomps on it and helps Patton up.

Two dozen more Goomba jumps out from under the other piles of leaves surround the four of them. The four each take out six Goombas but don’t have time to celebrate when more of Bowceit’s minions surround them. 

Roman bursts into laughter “No originality Bowceit? Oh well! I’m going to make this fun for me! Whoever defeats the most minions gets the first swing on Bowceit!”Logan, Virgil, and Patton all exchange a look before all smiling and nodding. Unbeknownst to them, Bowceit was smiling too, his plan was working exactly as he expected. 

The four fought the Koopas, not noticing that they were being moved further and further away from each other. They push Logan and Virgil to one side of the field and Patton and Roman to the other side. Once they were where Bowceit wanted them, he sent Hammer Bros. towards them.  They throw their hammers between the two groups, forcing all four of them to be on their own and surrounded by Koopas. 

Bowceit smirks and walks out from behind the tree, receiving glares from all of them. “Well, well, well…look what the Koopas dragged in.”

All four of them groan, making Bowceit hiss at all of them. “Rude.”

“What do you want Bowceit, this time?” Logan says, annoyance and bitterness dripping from his mouth. 

“Oh please Logan, as if you do not know,” Bowceit replies as he looks at his gloved fingers.

Logan rolls eyes, “Of course…well since you are up to your old tricks, I might as well use mine!” Logan then jumps up in the air, well over the enemies. He lands a punch square into Bowceit’s jaw. As the two begin to scuffle, Virgil takes out the Koopas on their side to go help Logan fight Bowceit. 

On the other side, Roman starts to take out the Koopas near him. That is when he notices that the Koopas near him and Patton are running towards Virgil. Roman immediately feels suspicious. Bowceit normally sends the most amount of Koopas at Roman. He looks around and that’s when he spots it.

A magikoopa, directly diagonal from Patton waving its wand, ready to cast a spell. Roman runs to Patton as fast as he can.

“PATTON!” Roman yellsPatton turns to him confused, “Huh?!”The magikoopa fires the spell.

Roman shoves Patton out of the way and yells in pain as the spell hits him and knocks him to the ground. 

“ROMAN!” Virgil shouts and jumps over the group of Koopas. Logan kicks Bowceit away from and turns to the group of Koopas, ready to take them out so they can’t stop Virgil. He pauses, confused when he sees that they are not following Virgil, just standing. Logan turns his head to Bowceit and sees him smirking. 

Virgil quickly helps Roman up, “Ro! Are you alright?”

Roman blinks at him before grabbing his arm and throwing him across the field. Everyone but Bowceit freezes in shock. Virgil hits a tree and rubs the back of his head in confusion.”

Bowceit smiles, “Not the one I was intending,” Bowceit shrugs, “But I can’t complain!” Bowceit walks to Roman and smiles, opening his arms. “Excellent throw my dear”

Roman giggles and blushes. Bowceit takes cups his face and Roman leans into his touch, shattering Virgil’s heart.

Bowceit turns his head to Virgil with the evilest grin on his face as he carcasses Roman’s cheek. 

Virgil went numb. 

Virgil will be the first to admit he has a lot of fears. Some odd like jumping too high he gets lost in space and some serious like burning to death in lava. This, however, was worse than any fear of his.

Bowceit winning. 

He had gotten one of the princes. His prince. His Princey. And Roman looked happy in his arms. Roman’s normally kind and playful grin was replaced by a devilish and evil grin. And his eyes…

Oh god, his eyes.

One thing Virgil loved to do was just stare into Roman’s eyes. Roman’s eyes are normally warm, brown, and playful. His eyes now…they were ice blue. Piercing ice blue that sent daggers into Virgil’s heart. 

Bowceit picks up Roman bride style pulling the giggling prince close. Bowceit sends him a wink and runs off with Roman. 

Logan, who has been frozen in shock the entire time, takes a step forward only to have to dodge a hammer throw at his head. Logan narrows his eyes at them but something purple catches his eyes.

Logan sees his brother shaking, on the verge of tears. Logan is livid. He jumps up and stomps down hard on two Goombas. He angrily but silently takes out the rest of Bowceit’s minion in the area. Logan is panting by the time he is finished but ignores it to run over and check on Virgil.

Virgil clings onto his brother as he tries to get himself to breathe. This was not the time to panic, but it was also the perfect time to panic. Did this have to be Virgil’s life right now?

It took a while but Virgil was finally able to get his breathing normal enough to think straight. Patton made sure to give him a big hug just to make sure.

“Okay, okay,” Virgil pulls away from him “So what the heck just happened?!”“Language!” Patton shouted. Just because it is a stressful situation does not mean he will be allowed to curse.

Virgil blinked at him before shaking his head, “What happened to Roman?”

Logan pauses for a moment before replying, “Clearly, he has been brainwashed in some way. Most likely by whatever that spell was.”

“Right, right, great, great! Now how do we fix it?!” Virgil asks, already feeling his panic returning. 

“Well, it’s a spell, right? We need to find a magikoopa,” Logan offered.

Virgil nods, “Right, right. That makes sense. Of course, it makes sense. Is it always this hard to breathe?” Virgil says as he pants.

Patton pats his back as Virgil tries again to catch his breath. 

Logan puts his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, “Virgil. You are my brother. I will do anything for you. I will get Roman back.”

Virgil smiles and puts his hand on one of Logan’s hands, “Thanks bro, now let’s go kick some magikoopa butt!”

~Roman laughs as “Virgil” carries him through the island. “Virgil” jumped through the air, making Roman hold onto him tightly.

This was surprising to Roman. Virgil was never this energetic after a fight Bowceit. Though, to be fair to him, this time did not require traveling through nine different worlds to get to said fight. 

Roman was happy about this small change. Normally his poor stormcloud would be too drained to want to do anything but cuddle in their shared bed. Roman wouldn’t mind if it was because Virgil enjoyed it, he minded that it was the only thing his love could physically do that did not strain his body.

Well, now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to admire “Virgil’s” jumping skills. He knew both Logan and Virgil hated their jumping ability but that did not make it any less impressive. Though, Roman did think it was odd that “Virgil” seemed to land so loudly. He figured Virgil would be the lightest on his feet, after Patton and him of course. You can’t spend your youth dancing and not be.

Roman had no time to think about it as he gasps, nearly jumping out of “Virgil’s” arm. “Virgil” stops moving to prevent Roman from falling out of his arms. 

“Stop! Stop here!” Roman demands.

Bowceit raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Look at those flowers!” Roman untangles himself from “Virgil’s” arms and motions to the flower field in front of him, “I have never seen such amazing and huge flowers!”

Bowceit would admit that the flowers in question were…okay looking. They were very tall with bright pink flower petals. The petals were very vibrant pink with white accents. Bowceit feels his piranha plants were much nicer.

“We have to see more of it!” Roman shouts as he points to the field. 

“Maybe later, I have something much more fun in mind.”

Bowceit had a plan. He would convince Roman to come back to his castle and marry “Virgil”.

“What could be more fun than this?” Roman asked perplexed. What could be more them than running through a flower field and fall into each other’s arms only to stay there and watch the sunset?

“Well I was thinking we could go to Bowceit’s castle–” Bowceit begins only for Roman to cut him off.

“Pffft, we spend enough time there, too much time in my opinion,” Roman says with a laugh. 

Bowceit did his best to hide his annoyance with that statement. The spell may make him look and sounds like Virgil but unless he acted Virgil, there was a chance Roman could peek through. 

“Yeah but you knocked him out, maybe we could trash the place?”

Roman made a very perplexed face and Bowceit sucked in his breath. After a few moments, Roman bursts into laughter. “We do that too much too. Come onnnn, please?”

“I just…had a funny prank idea we could pull on him!” “Virgil pushed.

“I promise we can do that next time but when are we going to have a quiet moment and who knows how long these flowers again?”Bowceit did not have time for this. Another problem with the spell was that it only lasted until the sun went down. That is what he gets for rushing the creation of the spell but he wanted this done today. So much for being eager.

How would Virgil react to Roman’s begging? He knew virtually nothing about the younger plumber due to not caring to. The only thing he knew was he got upset easily which either led to tears or him getting punched in the face by the purple plumber. 

He did once overhear Roman describing a painting Virgil apparently did for him to Patton when they were both in his dungeon but he doubted it could help him in this situation. Unless…

“Alright, but just long enough for me to get a…drawing in,” “Virgil” replies, almost hesitantly. 

Luckily for him, Roman’s pleading face morphs into a soft accepting smile, “Of course dear. Then we can do whatever you want afterward.”

Bowceit smirks, “Excellent.”~

A magikoopa was flying peacefully when a green shell suddenly came flying at it. The magikoopa had no time to react before it was knocked right off of its broom and falls to the ground. 

The magikoopa screams as it went tumbling to the ground. It hit the ground with a thud and it grips its head in pain. 

Once its vision cleared, it gasps as it sees it is surrounded by a very angry Virgil, Logan, and Patton. All three of their arms are crossed and they are glaring daggers into the magikoopa.

The magikoopa scrambles onto its butt as it looks at the trio, absolutely terrified. Before it can try to escape, Virgil grabs it by the robe and drags it to make it face to face with him. 

It squeaks, “Don’t hurt me! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Virgil growls out, “You were there! You cast a spell on Roman! Now tell me what you did to him!” 

As Virgil is talking, Logan walks around him to be behind the magikoopa. “Just so you know, Patton and I won’t hold him back.”

“In fact, we will help,” Patton says, his voice sounding like a horror movie villain.

The magikoopa began to sweat profusely. “It-it was an illusion spell!” it squeaks out.

“What kind of illusion spell?” Virgil asks, tightening his grip on the Magikoopa’s robe.

“It made Bowceit look like you and you look like Bowceit to Prince Roman! If it hit Prince Patton, it would have done the thing to Logan!”

 “That must be why Roman attacked you when you touched him,” Logan says as he rubs his chin in thought.

“Alright so now tell us how to break the spell!” Virgil shouts. 

“I am not telling you anything!” the magikoopa says, acting as if its voice was not completely shaky.

However, before Virgil could do anything, Patton rips the magikoopa away from him.

Patton glares at the magikoopa with nothing but malice with his eyes. “You are going to tell him so we can save my best friend or you are going to deal with me,”

“Like you can hurt a fly!” The magikoopa barks at Patton.

“I only hurt those who deserve it, and you for one, deserve a lot.” Patton throws the magikoopa to the ground in anger. He pulls out his umbrella and swings it down on the magikoopa.

“WAIT!” the magikoopa screams.

Patton stops just as the umbrella is about to hit him. “Yes?”“I’ll tell you everything! I swear!” the magikoopa pleads, getting on its hands and knees.

“Then start talking,” Patton says with a glare. 

“There is no way to break the spell!” Patton winds up to swing again.

“BUT! THERE’S A BUT!” the magikoopa “The spell will end when the sun goes down! His plan is to marry the prince before then as you!”

“Anything else?” Patton asks

“Bowceit Jr. made me come up with a spell to make himself taller.” the magikoopa replies, looking down at the ground in shame before bursting into tears. 

The three of them look at each other, very uncomfortable. They slowly back away from the crying magikoopa and head off to find Roman.

~

Roman had a great time in the flower field. He was able to collect some seeds of the flower and have a nice walk through the field with “Virgil”.

Though “Virgil” seemed to be awfully quiet, not having anything to say to him.

It strikes Roman as odd. Sure, Virgil was always one to keep to himself. When Roman would boast and brag to his Thomases and Talyns, Virgil would walk silently next to him with a smile on his face as he intently listens to whatever Roman has to say.

However, when they are alone, Virgil becomes the more talkative one. He would go on about his adventure with Logan, his ideas for songs, and anything that was on his mind. 

Roman figures that something must be wrong. With him being uncharacteristically pushy earlier and with him not saying anything, there must be something going on in his mind. 

“Mind if we rest in the tree for a bit? My legs are a bit sore.” Roman asks while pointing at a tall tree.

“Virgil” shrugs and follows him. Bowceit knew it was a bit late in the afternoon but he was sure they still had enough time to complete his plan. He goes to sit next to the tree but stops to watch Roman climb the tree. 

“What are you doing?” “Virgil” asks.

Roman stops his climbing. “What does it look like? I’m sitting in the tree.” Roman replies, almost laughing.  

“But why?”

“Because we always sit in trees together?” Roman replies, looking very confused. 

“Oh? Oh! Of course! Sorry, I completely forgot.” “Virgil” scrambles up the tree after him. Roman continues to climb up confused. 

Roman sits on a high branch that overlooks the island. Bowceit could see that the sun was beginning to go down. He frowns, he is running out of time. He was nowhere near his castle with the wedding chapel. He doubts that there were any wedding chapels on Emile’s Island, there were hardly any buildings at all.

“Alright, what is wrong? Don’t tell me it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be frowning if something wasn’t wrong.” Roman asks, his arms crossed so there was no room for discussion. 

Bowceit was stuck. He began patting his sides nervously, it was a habit he has always had ever since he was younger. 

As he was doing that, he felt a small box in his pocket. The ring! He had completely forgotten that he had it on him with everything going on. 

Bowceit tried to hide his shock at discovering the ring but he clearly did not do it well as Roman cups his face. 

“Stormcloud, tell me, please. You know you can tell me, anything babe.” Roman asks gently. 

Bowceit’s finger’s rest of the ring box. This was his last shot. 

“I have something to ask you,” “Virgil” asks as he slips his hand into his pocket. 

Roman is confused, he knew Virgil put his hands in his pockets when he was nervous but he had no idea what was making Virgil nervous. 

“Will you…?”

“Will I?”“Will you…tell me why you like me?” 

Bowceit didn’t know what possessed him to ask that question. It was always lingering in his mind. Why them and not him? He was a king after all! With minions and a huge castle,  not to mention very adorable children. So why did the princes date the plumbers? They are plumbers, what exactly do they have to offer?

Roman’s frown was deep that Bowceit was so sure that it would cause permanent frown lines. He takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, I am only going to say this once more. So make sure it stays in your brain this time because you know I hate repeating myself.” Roman emphasis his point by poking “Virgil” forehead. 

“Alright, alright, I get it.” “Virgil” replies, waving Roman off, “Just tell me.”

Roman makes a show of clearing his throat, tapping his chest, and do some vocal exercises. “Alright. First off, I demand as your prince and loving boyfriend that you never doubt our relationship again. I know you get anxious about a lot of things but we should not be one of them, my stormcloud. I adore you. I love how cautious you are but are still willing to jump over literal lava when I am kidnapped. You are strong and a hero. But that is not all I like. I like it when you sing when we sit together under a tree and read a book. I like doing nothing and everything with you because it is you. You are an amazing artist and musician. You are an amazing brother and boyfriend.”

Bowceit is shocked, to say the least. He has never heard Roman talk this soft or sweetly. The ring felt heavy in his hand.

“And secondly, I don’t just like you, I love you.” Roman says as he puts his hand on “Virgil”’s hand that is resting on the tree branch. 

Bowceit looks down at their hands before looking up at Roman’s face. He is smiling, the most loving smile Roman had ever given him. Roman’s now blue eyes seemed to shimmer with joy and love.  

This is all he ever wanted from the prince. And yet…

It felt wrong. This was wrong. 

He squeezed the ring box. He had to make a choice. 

~

As this was happening; Logan, Patton, and Virgil seemed to be running around like chickens that have lost their heads. They first headed straight for Bowceit’s castle after talking with the magikoopa. They were shocked when they did not find Roman but rather the danger noodles making a gigantic pillow fort in their father’s throne room.

They headed from world to world afterward but they could not seem to find Roman anywhere. They made it back to the Mushroom Kingdom before deciding to take a breather. 

Once they arrive, Virgil walks up to the closet tree and punches it. He immediately regrets this action as his anger quickly turns into pain. He sticks his wounded fist into his mouth to silence any curse words that threaten to escape. 

Patton pulls him into a hug, gently rubbing his back. He rocks Virgil back and forth in an attempt to soothe him. Virgil tears up, though he is not sure if it is because of the pain or the sadness he has been trying to suppress all day. 

Once the pain dulls, Virgil pulls away from Patton, and Patton lets him go. Virgil tends to pace when he needs to calm his mind down. 

Virgil paces in front of Patton’s castle, almost biting his nails but stopping when he remembers he has gloves on. “AGH! Where could they possibly be?!” Virgil shouts in anger.

“We will find them, Virgil,” Logan replies.

“No, no. No, we won’t!”“Virgil–”

“No, no Logan, don’t you dare! Don’t tell me we will! Because we have looked everywhere! We went to every Zone, fuck, we’ve been to his castle! And even if we do find them, they probably are already married. That’s probably why we can’t find them because they’re on their goddamn honeymoon! It’s over! He’s gone!”

Virgil pauses, the weight of his words hit him, “He’s gone…I lost him.” He nearly fell backward from it. He begins to hug himself, trying to catch his breath. 

Logan is completely lost. He wants to reassure his brother but he doesn’t know what he could possibly say to help him. He had no logical positive explanation. The logical explanation is that Virgil is right. He did not know what to do. 

Luckily, Patton does. 

“So you’re just going to give up?” Patton says, making the two brothers turn to him. His pink sleeved arms arm crossed and he is glaring at the pair. 

“You guys are only heroes when it’s easy for you? Now that you’re in a hard spot you’re just going to stop?” Patton says angrily 

“Well, dear, there is not–” Logan starts but Patton silences him with a hand raise. 

“Don’t ‘dear’ me! And don’t you dare say there is nothing you can do! What would Roman say? What would Roman DO? Do you think he just sits around and waits for you guys to save him?’“No…” Virgil replies “He never gives up. H-He would keep trying…”

“That’s right! So you need to do that too!” 

Virgil is silent for a few seconds before standing up straight, “You’re right…”

“What was that?” Patton says, his face morphing into a smile. 

“You’re right!” Virgil shouts, determination coming back to him, “I am not going to give up! Because I am not a quitter!”

“That’s right! So what are you going to do?!”

“I’M GOING TO BREAK BOWCEIT’S FACE!”Patton blinks at him, “…What else are you going to do?”

“Oh uh save Roman. THEN BREAK HIS FACE!”

“Okay, kiddo.”

“I WILL SEARCH EACH ENDS OF THE EARTH AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE TO BREAK THAT UGLY SNAKE’S FACE!”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” Logan chimes in. 

Both Virgil and Patton turn to him and say, “Huh?” 

“Think about it, where was the first place we checked when we knew Bowceit had Roman?”

“Bowceit’s castle, but he wasn’t there,” Virgil replies, still confused. 

“And when we saw that they were not there, where did we go?”

“To every other place, we know Bowceit has a tower.”

“So that means we didn’t check…?”

“…THE ISLAND! THAT SON OF A BITCH NEVER LEFT THE ISLAND! WE GOT TO GO!” Virgil screams before taking off in a run. 

“Virgil! Kiddo! We have to take the plane!” Patton shouts after him. 

“Oh right.”

~

“Cover your eyes and follow me.” “Virgil” instructs Roman as they climbed out of the tree. Roman raises his eyebrow skeptically but covers his eyes with one hand, using his other hand to take “Virgil’s” hand. 

They walk for a while before Roman hears what sounds like running water. “May I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet, not yet, Count down from..from 300.”

“300?!”

“Virgil” sighs, “Please? For me.”

Roman rolls his eyes behind his hand, “Okay, okay. But this surprise better be worth it. One, two, three…”

Bowceit steps back from Roman with a frown. He shakes his head and runs away as quietly as possible.

He could not believe that he was actually doing this. He should be jumping at this opportunity and fast, the sun was starting to go down. He looks over his shoulder at Roman still counting. He sighs and continues to walk away.  

Damn his stupid conscience.  

~

Once the plane touches the ground on the island, Virgil runs out of it. He is prepared to rip this island to sherds to find his beloved. Luckily he only has to run for a bit before he finds Bowceit. 

He jumps up and goes to punch Bowceit but Bowceit dodges. Virgil lands and gets into a fighting set “You…”

“I’m not here to fight,” Bowceit says putting his hands up in defense. 

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Wow, that’s a first, but I do not care. Where’s Roman?”

“He’s down that path,” points, “He’s fine, just counting.”

“What? Why is he counting?” Virgil asks, prepared to hear something about a bomb. 

“He’s counting down until the spell breaks. Go and get him.” Bowceit says. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

“Because I’m heading to my airship by myself. But don’t believe me, it doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Virgil stares at him, and he can’t find any indication that Bowceit is lying. “…Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t want to win this way.”

Virgil looks at him in utter shock. 

“Oh pick up your jaw from the ground plumber. Don’t read into this. I will marry one of those princes, just not like this.”

Virgil couldn’t hold back his smirk, “Not if my brother and I have anything to say about it.”

Bowceit smirks as well, “We will see.” He salutes Virgil before stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking off. 

Virgil’s smirk morphs into a relieved smile. He takes off to Roman, he’ll break Bowceit’s fave another day. 

~“Three…two…one…” Roman removes his hand “Oh my gosh…”

The lake he had been brought to was surrounded by Evening Primroses and Moonflowers. The sky was filled with bright beautiful stars. Roman smiles at the scene before turning around. Standing behind him is Virgil, staring at him with his bright brown eyes. 

Roman runs over to him and takes his hands. “This place is beautiful. Did you find it on one of your adventures? Wait, don’t tell me. I want to listen to the wonderful sounds of this place.” Roman looks around with a smile before his eyes land back on Roman.

His brown eyes. His soft, warm, and oh so loving brown eyes. 

“Stormcloud, why are you crying?” Roman asks as he cups Virgil’s hand and wipes the tears away with his thumb.

Virgil lets out a watery laugh, “Nothing baby, I just love you so much.”

Roman kisses his nose “And I love you too. And I will always love you.”

Virgil grins, “I know.”

~

Taglist:

@corkeecoderyt @Per-seph-o-nee @Ohshrekmyheck @3milystuff  @Asymmetricalgarbage8888   @fairytailtwists  @sanders-sides-rebloger  @sanderssidesfluffyangst  @unikornavenger @0callmevirge0 @gloomingwitch @roxiefox24 @ijustreallylovesanderssides @unisaurioamorfo @mycatshuman

[snowbellewells]

CSSS20 Fic: “One Little Ray of Hope”

Merry Merry Christmas @let-it-raines!!! Can you believe we ended up being each other’s Secret Santas?!?  It was all I could do not to spoil the surprise yesterday when you posted your amazing story gift for me, but here I am finally with yours in return, and I truly hope you will enjoy it.

You mentioned that you like friends-to-lovers and mutual pining, which I genuinely tried to do to the best of my ability. However, I discovered neither of those things are actually types of fic I have done much.  This comes out more like bantering crushes, and Emma-in-denial-finally-admitting-what-everyone-else-already-knows. I did set it in the Enchanted Forest for you, and I tried to mix in the humor and the feels so it has a bit of everything. And there are Christmas touches but it isn’t holiday overwhelming. I got to the stopping place I envisioned though, and it just wasn’t enough. I hope you will forgive me if I say this is only Part One and there will be a Part Two coming shortly once the holiday hoopla dies down. (In all honesty, I was anxious that my story was for you - I love your writing so much, and I am not at all sure this measures up! And then I read your gift and was even more blown away.)  Still, here’s hoping this brings a smile to a shipmate like you who has been so friendly and kind and made me smile with your writing all year long!  Part Two - and hopefully some fic cover art - to follow soon!)

“One Little Ray of Hope”

by: @snowbellewells

               Though the fire in the stone hearth was blazing merrily, the lights from their lamps combatted the dark sky and frigid wind blasting flurries of snow outside their windows, and the jovial voices of many of their regulars mingled on the air to make things cozy inside the little inn and tavern, Emma Swan still shivered at the winter's chill. There, was some hint of frost that wouldn't go away, forming small icy crystals inside her chest - one particular voice that always stood out from the rest to her ears, was missing. She cursed herself for noticing, cursed him for being so unmistakable, and slammed an empty tankard onto her tray as she cleared the just-vacated table more violently than she had meant to.

               Naturally Ruby would be passing by just then, on her way to wait on some exuberant new arrivals, and she playfully arched one of her dark brows with a teasing smirk. "Looks like someone's a little frustrated this evening."

               From over her shoulder, where Emma hadn't even realized anyone was nearby, Tink tittered with a playful little giggle to Ruby, "Well, you know, we do seem to be short some of Emma's favorite guests this evening…" pirate was not her special anything. Honestly, she was just tired, overworked, overheated, and ready for some fresh air away from the evening crowd. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that Captain Killian Jones, with his unfairly blue eyes and his stomach-flipping accent wasn't here pestering her and getting in her way. What did she care if his farewell to her before he set sail nearly two months' back was that he would return in time for the Yuletide festivities? False hope and nonsense, all of it anyway…

               And yet… tomorrow was Christmas day, her traitorous mind whispered as she plunked her heavy tray of dishes on the counter where the Widow Lucas - the proprietor of their inn, and 'Granny' to all of them - was serving up orders and Ashley was doing dishes as fast as she could to serve warm bread and hearty stew on them once more. Again, her approach was none too gentle, as she huffed out a breath of air and pushed her hair from her face impatiently.

               "Careful there, my girl. Any dishes you break will be comin' from your pay," the widow threatened idly. Granny put on a tough front - one had to in a rough and tumble harbor town - and she meant business if she had to bring out her crossbow from where she kept it close to hand beneath the counter, but she was a soft heart beneath the necessary bluster and hard shell. She loved all "her girls" and most of her patrons dearly, wanting them to know they were welcome and cared for in her inn - and while many like she and her granddaughter had little in the way of blood-related family, she aimed to give them a feeling of home in her place.

               Emma smiled slightly, acknowledging Granny's words without comment, despite knowing the older woman would do no such thing. She unloaded the dirtied tankards and bowls more carefully into the soapy water for Ashley and forced herself to draw a couple of deep breaths as Granny loaded her up with the next order.

               Just as Emma moved to lift the tray and move off again, Granny placed her own hand over Emma's kindly, keeping her there until Emma met her eyes. "Don't let Ruby irk you. She means no harm," was the quietly offered advice, to which Emma nodded sagely, already knowing as much. It was only when Granny winked and added, "Of course, if you're awaiting some handsome sailor, I wager he'll be here soon," that Emma let out an exasperated huff and spun away to the sound of her boss and pseudo-grandmother's laughter at her back. Shaking her head, she seethed, 'Everyone thinks I'm waiting for Jones…. Well, I'm not!'

               The night went on without much further interruption; the snow fell in continued flakes, swirled and eddied by the window and pilling up on the windowsills. Inside their crowded tavern, however, the cozy warmth continued to rise right along with the songs and laughter of those gathered within. Soon Emma found her face flushed, cheeks pinked from the heat and close quarters. Even as the gathered crowd began to dwindle, slowly trickling out the door and homeward in twos and threes, as she, Ruby, Tink, and Ashley began to wipe down empty tables and see to storing up leftover food and seeing drinks stoppered and sealed for the night. Granny had gone upstairs nearly an hour before as the midnight hour had come and gone, claiming her old bones needed the rest, and Mulan, who did not appear the musical type, but who had once confessed when more than a bit tipsy on dwarf mead that her parents had seen that she was learn all sorts of marriageable skills in the hopes of seeing her matched with a smart, dashing husband before she had left hoe to make her own way - had switched from plunking out bawdy sea shanties and reels for the gathered revelers and lighting begun pecking out chords to a few softer and slower Yuletide carols as a background accompaniment to the cleaning and the quieter murmurs of those who still lingered in conversation over their last drinks.

               Not long after, Ruby silently slipped out the kitchen exit in back with the solemn huntsman who came every night to break bread and drink not at all other than to drink in her presence and bask in her company had stood and followed her like a silent shade as she beckoned from the doorway. Ashley had headed upstairs herself for some rest in her own apartments, as had Tink, saying the last town gazette's gossip section was calling her name. Mulan had paused at the door before heading to her own house a couple streets over, telling Emma she would make rounds of the block first, to see that all stragglers had gone home, and no trouble was lingering about them before she left.

               Emma thanked the beautiful warrior sincerely, knowing that it was no more or less than the other woman did every night, determined that these friends who took her and all others at face value, welcoming all lost and weary travelers without trying to change them were safe and secure. She would see no harm come to the Widow Lucas and her adopted "sisters" on her watch; Emma knew Mulan took that charge upon herself as a sworn duty. The rest of them would never have put such weight on her shoulders, but each one of them also slept easier knowing Mulan was nearby. The slim build, shining curtain of silky black hair and delicate features could have long ago earned Mulan the hand of any prince, pirate, or nobleman who laid eyes on her, but those physical attributes all deceptively hid her strength, speed, and core of deadly steel if anyone threatened harm to those she loved.

               "We'll be alright," Emma assured again, as Mulan bid her goodnight. "Everyone was in good spirits this evening. No fights, no trouble. Please rest easy once you get home. I can't imagine anything should happen until we see you again tomorrow."

               "As you say," the raven-haired woman replied simply, and with a slight dip of her head in a bow, she turned and slipped into the night with such soundless agility and grace that she seemed to melt into the darkness - unseen in mere seconds.

               Closing the door at last, Emma latched it securely, making certain the tavern and rooms above were locked properly for the night. She then began to move about the large, open main room, blowing out the candles still left aglow on scattered tabletops and snuffing out the wall sconces as well as she made a final pass around the main space. At last her final chores were complete, one last lit candle in her hand as she stood before the front window, looking down the moonlit street toward the docks for a moment longer. Captain Jones and his crew had yet to be seen in town, and while she could tell the others she didn't care - could even tell herself that in the light of day - here alone in the silent frosty night, Emma couldn't help wondering where he might be, and if he were well.

               "Jones, if you're out there," she murmured, hoping only the snow and ice and the Christmas star would hear her, "Take care or yourself… and be safe 'til we meet again."

               She had crossed the darkened room, placed her hand on the stair rail and was on the first step up to the second floor, when she heard the lightest rapping at the side door into the alley. Pausing there, Emma held her breath, listening uncertainly for the knock again, hardly daring to hope. She only had her candle in hand, the shadows long around her. Were Ruby and her huntsman still outside keeping each other warm despite the winter's chill? Could there be a prowler who had lain in wait until their self-appointed guardian had left for the night, or might it be the visitor she had been promised? The face she had looked for in anticipation every time the inn's door had opened to welcome a new patron that night? She would deny it to anyone, but those dark brows arched up into his windswept hair in challenge or jest, over eyes as blue as his beloved ocean, had been sorely missed; she had hoped to see him home again for Christmas more than she wanted to allow herself.

               She drew nearer to the side entrance, not wishing to give any her presence if the person on the other side bore ill intent, but straining to hear all the same; seeking some sign she was right and to confirm the feeling she had about who awaited on the other side. Gathering her courage, Emma reached for the fireplace poker beside the large stone hearth. Its embers were now dead for the night, but only a short while ago it had been blazing hotly, heating the entire space. She was not some frightened child at any rate; she'd hold her own against any intruder if the opened door led to a nasty surprise.

               Sure enough, the rapping came again, more firmly and with the added hushed entreaty, "Swan? Are you still about, Lass? Emma Swan! It's Captain Jones if you're still about and wish to see your sailor!"

               Her concerns brushed aside at the tones of that voice she could not mistake, Emma let the metal of her makeshift weapon clatter against the stone as it dropped from her fingers. With an exuberant little cry, she was at the door and lifting the latch in a second. The candle in her hand flickered and nearly went out with the stunned breath that left her upon glimpsing his handsome form once again after so long away.

               To his credit, Jones didn't tease; instead looking rather stunned himself as his gaze appeared busy drinking her in as well. Soon, he slipped inside out of the blustery chill and, seeing that her hand holding lighted taper was shaking considerably, he took it from her with care and reached to light the nearest sconce, casting their immediate surroundings with enough warm glow by which to see.

               Finally, she regained enough of her faculties to speak, and Emma stuttered, "It seemed you were not coming, Captain. Ruby mocked me all day for my foul temper and Tink joined in of course to say it was due to my missing and certain pirate and his crew. The busybodies!" she scoffed. But then she reached across the space between hem to catch his hand. "I did worry you might have been arrested, or hurt, or wrecked…or lost…any number of things. Or perhaps I gave you no clear assurance, and instead you had moved on, not to return."

               Killian shook his head just barely, looking troubled that she could even think he would abandon or fail her so easily. "Hardly Lass," he stated fervently, a sort of fiery glow in his eyes she had not seen before. I did say I would return by Yuletide, did I not? A pirate I might be, but I still have my honor.  It would take more than the increased vigilance of the Evil Queen and her forces to keep me away."

               Emma sucked in a worried breath at the cause of his delay. They all hoped to keep far under the notice of the usurper monarch - as cold and cruel as she was darkly attractive, she would end a life as easily as snapping her fingers, and at the slightest provocation, real or imagined. Life had been all the harder and more fraught with danger since Regina had wrested the crown from her kind and gentle stepdaughter Snow White, the rightful heir to the crown. If Killian were wanted by Queen Regina and had snuck back into her borders only to keep his promise, Emma could not bear to consider what would happen if he were discovered.

               Now was the moment of truth, before anymore needless time slipped past. It was time she told him what she had realized while no teasing friends or rowdy onlookers were listening in. "I missed you," she finally managed to croak out around the lump in her throat. "Thank you… Killian…for keeping your word."

               He dipped his head to look into her eyes where she had dropped her gaze to her feet. A strong, calloused hand, warm and gentle in its intent, tipped her chin back up to stare into his searching gaze. "Of course, Swan - Emma. All I could have wished for this holiday was…" he paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously and a hand coming up to worry the spot behind his ear - gesture she had long ago noticed signified nervousness. But he plunged on determinedly, "was to see you again, to see you and give you this."

               Pulling a small pouch from some inner pocket of his long leather jacket, he held it out to her with sparkling eyes, appearing almost boyish for a moment in his eagerness to see her open his gift, and whispering "Happy Christmas, Emma," as he placed it in her upturned palm.

               Emma's mouth formed a surprised "O", having not expected or hoped for anything more than his safe return. Opening the ties, she tilted the soft material until the item within spilled out in her hand. Holding up a long, golden chain with an exquisite stone of lovely pale green, near to jade in color, swinging from it, she was enchanted by the pendant he had brought her. "Oh, it's gorgeous," she breathed, rather stunned at how nice the piece of jewelry was.  She wore (or even owned, to be honest) little of such finery.

               "It's sea glass," Killian explained, taking the piece back in nimble fingers when she offered it, then turned, lifting her long hair so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten it for her. "Though sailors believe sea glass is good luck, that it keeps the wearer safe, and I would always wish you to be so, I knew it had to be yours because of the color. It reminded me vividly of your eyes…" Though the necklace was secured, his fingers still grazed featherlight along her skin, causing prickles of awareness to course throughout her body, and his own voice had turned decidedly husky.

               At last, Emma turned to face him once more, breaking the trance between them, but needing to thank him, and for him to see how touched she was by his gift, even if her voice was breathless and her words trembled with emotion. "I don't know what to say. You shouldn't have, but I adore it all the same. I'll treasure it, Killian. Truly." And without further hesitation or pausing to think and second guess, Emma threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly to her. "Thank you," she whispered against his chest, breathing in the salty, spicy essence of him and nuzzling against his chest. She realized with a force that almost knocked her off her feet that she never wanted to let go.

               She felt Killian Jones' fingers thread through her hair, stroking gently, reverently as they stood there wrapped up in each other, swaying slightly in the candle glow and the howl of the wind outside. Emma felt they might indeed stay that way forever, and that neither of them would mind at all, until more rapid knocking interrupted their silent moment. The door handle rattled urgently, and she heard a nervous voice she recognized as Killian's first mate's speaking in hurried words. "Cap'n, you told me to summon you when an hour had gone. I've already seen one patrol of black guard go by. If they notice the Jolly in the harbor…"

               "Aye, Smee," he gritted out, stopping the anxious flow of words. "Head back and make ready to sail. I'll follow in a moment."

               He sighed as he turned back to Emma, tracing his thumb over the apple of her cheek and pausing to caress the dimple in her chin as he cradled her face in his hand.

               "You have to go," she acknowledged reluctantly; hating it, but understanding and wanting to see him safe, just as he did her. Her words were wistful, wishing he could stay there with her - or that she could run away with him - but it was too much, too quickly, no matter how she dreaded being parted again so soon.

               "I must, for now," he affirmed, the regret lacing every syllable of his words. "But I hope that now you know I will return."

               She nodded mutely, her mind trying to memorize every detail of his face, his voice, his touch, until she could see him again. "And I will be here waiting for you," she promised with equal intent.

               Bending slightly, Killian brushed his lips against her cheek, his stubble tickling her skin and again making her shiver at the sensation. It was the lightest and most gallant of kisses, and yet it only served to make her burn for more - for him to take her in his arms, for those firm lips to kiss her everywhere, for him to take her to her own apartments, or back to his cabin. It would keep her burning for however long they might be kept apart.

               As he had to leave, heading out again into the dark night, Emma stood at the door watching until the very second his vanished from her sight, no longer able to deny how anxiously she would await his return.

[phoenotopia]

2020 October Update

So... we've launched. And our launch was... actually kind of... bad...

This is a dev blog, so I'll speak on it. But before that, we do have the game's steam page up. If you're anticipating the PC release, please do visit the steam page and add it to your wish list. It would help us a lot.

VISIT STEAM LINK

...

So what didn't go so well?

1. We launched in Nintendo's Americas and Europe territory. If you've been following the release, you'd know that America got the game first. We didn't move to launch in Europe at all since I thought the EFIGS languages (English, French, Italian, German, Spanish) were pre-requisites for Europe. By the time I learned that this wasn't necessarily the case, and attempted to course correct, the damage was done. We had half the allotment of keys to do outreach, and maybe some European outlets that would've covered us, did not.

2. When the game launched, rather than a victory lap, what we experienced was more of a public lashing. We did get some reviews that praised the game highly, but just as many reviews lampooned the game for its high difficulty or other failings. I've since released two patches (or 3, depending on how you count it) to address the difficulty. A lot of overnighters. If you recall in the last blog post, I thought it'd be a good start if we got 20 or so reviews on Open Critic. But we've only 8 as of this writing, and the aggregate score isn't so hot. So that's a fail by my metric.

3. A publisher reached out to us because they were interested in physically printing the game! Yay! But... to advance our talks, they wanted to see the game's sales numbers to ensure that there's a good chance their investment could be recouped. And unfortunately, the game's sales numbers are pretty low. They backed out :(

Some hard lessons were learned. The biggest lesson for me concerns how well we playtested the game. Looking at the original playtester list, it's a short list. You may recall from a previous blog post that our ability to test was severely hampered by technical limitations. Add to that, a lot of people on this list are objectively really achieved players. We're talking power ranked in Smash Bros, regular tournament goers, and people who've played and bested every Souls game. And as the maker of the game, I am most blind to the game's challenges.

Now, I'm definitely more of the opinion that you prioritize PC development first. I still have some reservations about some stages of PC development. But if you do PC/Steam first, you have the great benefit of being able to do Early Access, which gives you access to a greater testing pool. I now view it as an invaluable part of the equation. If we had been able to do Early Access for 1 or 2 months before release, we probably could have ironed out most of the game's difficulty and balance problems. Hard lessons, indeed.

There were a lot of other notable events that occurred over the past 2 months - the travails of press outreach, realizing my own limits as a developer, feeling defeated and getting back up again, etc. There's too much stuff to chronicle or go into detail. But it wasn't all bad.

Some good things did happen...

We got a publisher to publish for Japan! It came as a huge relief, because clearly, we don't know what the heck we're doing.

The publisher has been an invaluable source of information and feedback. They've recommended some changes to the game to improve user experience. Some of these changes I was hesitant to do at first because they concerned systems I thought integral to the identity of the game. But after trying it, I have to admit, they're good changes.

So a Japanese version of the game was moving ahead. And it looked like that'd be it. I wasn't planning to move forward with any other language translations due to the game's low sales and our funds being depleted. 

But, I was approached by a translator who urged me to move ahead with translations. He told me he was willing to work for only a small price initially and then be paid the rest after from a percentage of the game's sales until the cost of the translation was paid in full.

I was surprised translators were willing to work under such a model since it's entirely likely the game's current low sales trajectory would continue and they wouldn't earn back the full cost of translation. But I was also flattered they were willing to take a risk with me. After that, I approached some others with the same hypothetical deal, and long story short, we're now moving forward with French, German, Spanish, Portuguese and Russian translations. As for why these languages in particular, they were languages for whom I had contacts (because they reached out to me at some point in the past). And also because they were deemed more likely to be profitable based on their home country's gaming market/buying habits. I'd be personally happy to have my native language be represented, but it's not expected to be a profitable territory. But if the game does better in the future, it may justify the costs of translation. There could be a chance!

The plan right now is to get the game supporting these first round of languages and then to patch that into the Switch version as well as launch the PC version with these languages - all in December. A lot of things need to align for this to occur, so a delay isn't out of the question. It'll be busy... I'll update the blog again in latter half of December, probably near the game's PC launch date... OR to announce a delay. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Fan Support

While the past two months have been grueling, one good thing remains constant - fan art! Thank you everyone who submitted. It means a lot to me and the team!

Big thanks to Pimez who's taken on watching over the reddit community as moderator. He also combs the other communities and makes sure I see every new art piece. Despite juggling his own life and all these tasks, he still found some time to draw.

Pimez's piece reminds us that just because the new game's out doesn't mean we can't still celebrate the original flash game. The jail dog is a dog found only in jail and only in the flash game. I imagine Gail is just tossing a stick, and they're playing fetch.

A new artist to this scene æv draws both the Phoenix logo AND a super cute picture of Gail playing the flute. So precious, you want to pinch her cheek. Even the Sand Drake is enthralled!

Another new artist, beet4ppy arrives on the scene with two pictures! One features a no-nonsense battle-hardened Gail looking stoic and tough! Kinda reminds me of Vinland Saga actually. The other, a more cheerful group composition - I must say I'm a big fan of Fran's classic anime-style eye!

A returning artist, Cody G, returns with a picture depicting the tribulations of cooking. Gotta love Gail's frantic expression! I've heard the complaints, which is why we've added an option to slow the cooking mini-game down. An improved button font is also on the way.

Gamesing with two undertale x phoenotopia crossovers. Thomas being a robot builder makes sense taking a role similar to Alphys. But why is Alex dressed like a clown? Perhaps there is a hidden meaning here... 

A new artist, Warotar, draws both a pooki wearing Gail's clothes and Gail wearing pooki clothes. Awww. The pooki is a bit scary - it kinda reminds me of a tragic event in a certain anime. But the Gail is adorable!

POL#5655 submitted this one to KM's discord which made its way to me. Here, a stylized Gail appears unnerved by the dark red eyes stalking her in the background. Are they bats or something more sinister?

A new artist, MilesCPW, arrives on the scene with three rare well-vectorized arts! Love it! One scene depicts Gail balancing a bomb on her head - that's a speedrunning trick I only learned about recently after someone emailed me a video O_O

The other drawing gives us new insight into Katash - he could actually look cute if he wasn't trying to kill you.

And the bees... Okay, this one got a chuckle from me :D

A returning artist roccy_chair draws this heart-warming scene from the beginning of the new game. Aww. Mika doesn't get much screen time for story reasons, so it's nice to see her represented.

UnrealWorld_32 returns with another drawing of Gail in Panselo, this time capturing a more idyllic time. I like the tranquil nature of this piece. And Gail does in fact play the guitar, denoted by the guitar in her room.

Returning artist shafiyahh draws a nice portrait of Prince Leo - looking regal and princely. I like the storybook art style of this piece. It made me immediately think of "the Little Prince" - one of my favorite books actually!

Negativus Core returns with a beautiful group composition of Gail and the gang - flying from a Switch shaped window - totally sensible considering the game is only Switch right now. As usual, I'm impressed by Negativus Core's use of challenging angles to frame a more dynamic shot of the characters. Great job!

And it wasn't only artists bearing the banner. I'd like to give a big shoutout to everyone in all the game's little communities (from the reddit to the discords to this tumblr). I've seen this community help newcomers with gameplay and walkthrough advice, discussions, updating the wiki, and so on. It does bring a smile to my face. Thank you everyone!

[plumoh]

[NatsuYuu] along the seams of shadows

Rating: G

Word count: 2079

Summary: Natsume Reiko is a pitiful and lonely human.

Note: AO3 link. A look at Reiko through Madara’s eyes.

Madara’s ears twitch when the tree branch starts creaking and the leaves fall down in a whirlwind of irritating pests. He’s two seconds away from threatening whoever is disturbing his nap when laughter reaches him—a plain, boisterous laughter that leans towards mockery instead of pure joy.

“You really are just a cat, Madara!” the voice says, as close to his face as ever. “Napping on a nice patch of grass, under the sunlight?”

Madara cracks one eye open. The sun is still high in the sky and the breeze that ruffles his fur is a pleasant addition, accompanying his solitary nap far away from noisy and ridiculous small fry. But he can never escape the unpredictability of an annoying, weak human.

“If you say another word you will become my afternoon snack,” Madara warns.

The laughter becomes louder, and in the sunlight that makes shadows bigger, pale hair shines brightly while unnatural eyes glimmer with an even more vivid color.

“I’d like to see you try, you big lump of fluff.”

Natsume Reiko smells like mischief, power and loneliness.

***

This forest isn’t big enough to swallow all the rumors that float around. There is no god protecting it and spreading rules to abide by, which means that everyone is free to do as they like, much to Madara’s displeasure. He’s a magnificent beast with strength that rivals that of a god, capable of destroying entire areas of nature and banishing youkais, but people here treat him like he’s the latest entertainment, to be jeered at by everyone and nobody.

He is not a simple creature that lazes around, and he definitely is not a human child’s pet.

“You should have eaten her long ago if you’re so irritated by these rumors,” Hinoe tells him, looking far too too smug for someone who is, without a doubt, clinging the most to that girl.

“It requires too much effort,” Madara growls, flicking his tail impatiently. “Reiko probably doesn’t taste good anyway. I don’t like my prey jumping and running around, it’s exhausting to look at.”

“You are the most boring beast I know.”

Madara rolls his eyes, turning his head away. “That’s a bold accusation when Misuzu is right here.”

“Misuzu is funny, at least. You, on the other hand, are boring.”

Hinoe draws from her pipe and exhales noisily, chuckling when some of the smoke gets into Madara’s eyes. Madara groans and rises on his paws, lifting a cloud of dust and dirt along with him, and a few little plant youkais scamper off deeper into the forest with squeaks. Madara watches them flee for their lives, feeling vindicated.

“I am a respected and intimidating beast, that’s what I am,” he huffs.

“Yeah, a beast that still refuses to play a game with me because he’s scared.”

Hinoe bursts out laughing while Madara tries his hardest not to simply snap and leave. Reiko jumps down from a tree (why is she always climbing trees?) and lands onto Madara’s back, her lips curled into a grin that could have been fueled by the sun’s spite, bold but burning.

Sometimes, Madara finds himself unable to make sense out of this girl appearing and disappearing from his life like a tornado.

“I told you I don’t have time to waste on your ridiculous games,” Madara says.

Reiko tilts her head, never ceasing to be the arrogant and confident person she poses as whenever she makes her words sharp and cutting.

“Hinoe is right, you are boring,” she snickers.

Madara’s tail hits the ground in annoyance, and he shows the barest hint of his teeth.

“Don’t you have human things to do, instead of bothering me during my peaceful rest?”

Reiko shrugs, sliding off Madara. She smooths over her skirt and passes a hand through her hair, as if they’ve never seen her in a dishevelled state or covered in mud after an encounter with rambunctious youkais. She stays silent, her smile frozen, but her eyes are blazing with a quiet, raging fire that sends chills down Madara’s spine. She’s only a young girl, inexperienced and foolish, running around and upsetting the natural order of things in this forest—but behind all this brashness, Madara senses something deeply unsettling.

“Human things aren’t as interesting as coming here and hearing you grouch like an old man,” Reiko answers. “Hinoe, you said you wanted to show me a new curse.”

Madara ignores the way Hinoe coos at Reiko like she is the most precious creature she’s ever seen, and observes. Reiko is someone they shouldn’t mess with, that is for certain; Madara doesn’t quite know yet why he cannot shake off the feeling she’s wrapping them around her finger.

***

Madara being Reiko’s pet becomes more of a joke than a real fact believed by everyone, and ultimately it doesn’t change anything in the way Madara’s strength is perceived. The others make fun of him for letting her live in spite of the influence she has on his image as the greatest beast of the forest, but for the time being he’s one of the very few who didn’t get his name down in the stupid book, so there.

There has been some turmoil and unrest in the neighborhood, lately. A vicious youkai destroying everything standing in its way, threatening small fry for information and leaving behind trails of blood that scare the weakest of them. Madara doesn’t feel particularly concerned about this kind of rampage, which happens a lot more often than people would believe. It’s best to let it pass and not get involved in this youkai’s affairs.

That is what he would have done, were he alone. In times like these, Madara remembers why he chose to live in solitude and not surrounded by other beings who have the survival instincts of insignificant bugs.

“The destroyed trees fall down and block some roads in the forest,” Reiko grumbles, tapping her foot. “People can’t circulate anymore, and cleaning that mess up will take many weeks.”

Madara sighs, glancing at the area of destruction. The claw marks on the trunks indicate that whoever they’re going to go up against might rival Madara in size, while the pace at which the forest is being attacked tells them it’s also nimble on its feet. Not an ideal situation, then.

“Why do you care about that?” Madara asks, turning back his head to look at her. “You don’t like the people of this town, and they don’t wander in the forest as frequently as you do.”

Sometimes, imperceptibly, Madara catches a flicker of pain in Reiko’s eyes at the mere mention of her own desires. It’s not a physical pain, nor is it a pain associated with the events she’s currently dealing with—it comes from within, deep from her soul and emerging in her gaze for one second. She hides it well. She carries this pain everywhere she goes, but she hides it well.

Madara never comments on it. He watches her school the features of her face back into ones she’s crafted over the years, all mischieviousness and no nonsense. Reiko grins and acts like the royal princess she has become in this tiny pocket of otherworldly space she is the only one to trespass into.

“I don’t like seeing people do whatever they want, like they’re owning this place,” she declares, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “The smaller youkais have been pestering me to do something about it. And it’s destroying my napping spots, too. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have your favorite tree cut down either.”

She’s an odd girl and a mystery Madara doesn’t pretend to understand. She’s confidence and contradiction and selfishness all at once, making it impossible to untangle the knots of her emotions—she uses words and rash actions to cover it up, like a nice tapestry concealing the damage done by a kid’s tantrum.

There is kindness in her selfishness, Madara thinks. Reiko obeys no one’s rules, and she makes up her own for her silly games, but her heart isn’t as corrupted as it may seem. And for this lost human shunned by everyone, doing small services unseen by her peers, Madara only feels pity.

He huffs, and takes off to find the troublesome youkai, whose name will end up tied to a piece of paper.

***

“That book of yours is useless if you’re not using its intended purpose.”

“Its intended purpose is to show off and to instill fear in my enemies.”

“You don’t have natural enemies, foolish girl, you’re creating them yourself.”

Reiko tips her head backwards and laughs, a sound carrying over the wind and echoing against the stone walls. She looks at Madara like he’s the one who has said idiotic things.

“It’s preemptive,” she says. “I’ve never felt that powerful before inventing the book.”

“The words that come out of your mouth are incomprehensible to me,” Madara grunts. “Humans are so unnecessarily complicated and confusing.”

“Don’t talk like you know how humans behave. You’ve barely had any contact with them.”

“And this is exactly why I find them annoying.”

Reiko smiles. She has her legs plunged into the cold but clear water of the lake, on this summer day that feels both too hot and too humid. Madara himself is lying down, head pillowed on his front legs and enjoying the slow pace of his day. He warned Reiko that playful and impish youkais would steal her shoes, that she had carelessly thrown in the grass, but she shrugged and didn’t find it particularly upsetting.

How strange, and how perplexing, to encounter someone who doesn’t adhere to any of the world concepts Madara knows. Reiko doesn’t belong to the realm of ordinary humans, and she has no knowledge of the exorcist community; she is an entity dancing on the blurred hinge of these worlds.

“I don’t need to use the power of their names, since I’ll never see them again,” Reiko finally says. “It’s only awkward if I happen to meet one of them and can’t remember who they are.”

“So you admit this book is useless to you,” Madara snorts. “Give it to me, then.”

Reiko scoops up water between her hands, and flicks it at Madara’s eyes. Madara wrinkles his nose and staggers back, glaring at Reiko’s self-satisfied expression.

“You’re a nuisance,” he tells her.

“And you’re not fun,” Reiko replies. “It’s my Book of Friends, so you don’t get to steal it from me. Attaching a name to a face makes it easier to call them friends.”

A pitiful human, truly.

“...They’re not your friends,” Madara says.

Reiko’s shrug feels measured. She gets out of the water, doesn’t bother drying her feet before retrieving her shoes (that are still where she left them) and putting them on. Madara’s eyes follow her movements, choosing to remain where he is.

“Maybe not,” Reiko concedes, her back turned on Madara. “I wouldn’t want to, anyway. But they gave me their names. Names are important, right?”

Natsume Reiko barges into their life without prompting and wrecks havoc on everything they know. She rips away their routine and replaces it with unpredictable events, summoned by her presence alone in these lands. She moves like nothing ties her down anywhere, but she’s restless. The tightness around her shoulders makes her small and fragile, when her entire attitude seems to prove she is none of that.

Madara doesn’t understand her. Her words and her actions are hard to parse, and he’s not sure she understands herself sometimes. She is simply grander than life itself.

“I hope you’ll play a game with me one day, Madara.” Reiko doesn’t fully face him but a small smile pulls up her lips. “You can’t run away from me forever!”

“Hmpf. I’m not interested in these childish games.”

“You’ll change your mind eventually!”

Reiko waves her hand and disappears in the forest, probably heading back to the home of her caretakers. Madara actually doesn’t know if she does live with them—she could have taken up residence in one of the old shrines with how often she visits them, for all he knows.

Madara curls up and closes his eyes. The Book of Friends, she’s called it. Such an innocent name for what is probably the most dangerous weapon against youkais—and it is simply used by a sentimental girl as a personal reassurance she is not alone.

Natsume Reiko already has friends. She just chooses not to see it.

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Takuto Maruki/Reader commission for the very lovely, very patient @furudolove for Persona 5 Royal. I’ve never played a Persona game and I don’t plan to, but I can hope I got the majority of Maruki’s character, in this. He’d so idyllic, and so delusional... He’d make a wonderful Yandere, if I knew a little more about the series. 

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, and Isolation. 

You could feel every detail of the cot underneath you.

It would’ve been impossible not to. Prominent, pointed springs poked through the thin mattress and prodded at your back, biting into your arms, your legs, any patch of open skin they could find and force themselves into without objection. You took it in, for a moment, your body too sore and your mind too drained to do anything but lay back and let the chilled air wash over you, too cold to be natural, too sterile. When you opened your eyes, you did so reluctantly, but there was nothing to ease your anxiety. Above you was a plain, tiled ceiling, glowing with an artificial light you couldn’t quite name the source of, not unlike the lamp you might place above the cage of a reptile, and the rest of the room seemed to fall into place as your eyes found it, a desk and a pair of chairs coming into existence as you struggled to comprehend the world you’d fallen into. They were white and unmarked, your bed bolted to a floor speckled with grey dots. Like the presidential suite of a freshly renovated asylum.

You weren’t certain where you were, but you were sure you’d never been here before.

And you knew you didn’t want to be any longer than you had to.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, your back aching under the strain, protesting any slight shift, as if you’d fallen too far and landed too suddenly. A similar pain was quick to make itself known in the back of your head, and thoughtlessly, you brought up a hand to try and soothe the knots of pressure tying themselves in the back of your skull. You hissed as your fingertips made contact with the worst spot, the area tender, bruised, but you didn’t have much time to investigate.

As soon as you’d begun to examine the area in earnest, there was a hand around your wrist, pulling your arm away gently and hesitating to release it when you failed to resist. Your attention turned to the man now standing above you, and suddenly, you were startlingly aware of just how muddled your mind had become, how difficult it was to formulate any thought beyond general observations about your current predicament. His features, although vaguely familiar, were blurry, unfocused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to try to put a name to his face. You didn’t have to, though, not when his voice was more than enough to identify him.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Your counselor, Takuto Maruki, explained. “I’d hate to see you hurt yourself this early on.”

You opened your mouth, but he was quick to hush you, letting your hand fall into your lap and repositioning himself, smiling as he lowered himself to your height. It was all you could do to stare in his direction, a million questions playing on your tongue, the least indescribable of which had to do with his attire, suddenly too formal, and the grin he was barely trying to conceal, wide and welcoming, only broadening at the slightest hints of your acknowledgment. “I know this seems strange,” He began, his speech rehearsed, as if he’d been preparing it while you were unconscious. “But there’s no reason to be afraid, anymore. You’re in a better place, now, a better reality, one where you can be what you’ve been trying so hard to be, with my help.”

“I don’t understand,” You whispered, drawing your knees to your chest, your voice smaller than you’d like it to be. The creak of the ancient bedframe threatened to drown it out. “I can’t… You want me to change?”

“I want you to be what you’ve always wanted to be.” This time, when he took your hand, he held it close to his chest, a wide, self-satisfied smile spreading across Maruki’s lips. As if he couldn’t be more proud, and expected you to be just as exultant. “You’re in so much pain as you are, (Y/n). I want to take that away. I’ll satisfy your desires, make you the person you want to be. Assertive, brave, confident.” He paused, squeezing your hand a little too tightly for the gesture to go unnoticed. “We’ll rule this place together. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted, and I’ll have you by my side. We’ll be happy.”

You blinked, once, twice, your gaze flickering from your knees, to the ground, to Maruki’s face, still alight with anticipation as he waited for your answer. You could only think to say the obvious.

“I’m sorry, but… I’d rather not.”

~

Maruki visited twice a day.

Or, it felt like twice a day, at least. It was difficult to tell, when the sky outside your windows was always dark and the lights were always on, remaining bright and untouched regardless of how many times you threw your few, meager possessions towards the unfaltering ceiling. You were given books to occupy yourself with, games and consoles to play them on, but the hours were long and he seemed to be the only company you were allowed. You were tempted to complain, but it was difficult to find your voice, when he was around. When anyone was around, really, but you tried not to think about that. Not when there were so many other things to keep your concern yourself with.

For example, the location of your prison, relative to the world you should be a part of. And, preferably, how you got back to the latter of the two.

When you asked, you didn’t dare think. You swallowed your nerves and spit out the words, keeping your eyes narrowed on the pad of lined paper in front of you. Maruki had handed it over the moment you expressed an interest in the object, but you had yet to decipher its contents. To you, it just seemed like a list of names, only a handful of which you recognized. “Where am I?”

“It’s complicated,” He answered, automatically. As if he’d expected you to ask this question sooner. “It’s… It’s my perfect reality. One where everyone can be exactly what they want to be, and have everything they long for. There’s more of it than-” He motioned vaguely around the room, clearly unimpressed with its contents. You couldn’t say you blamed him. “-this, but I didn’t want to smother you. I know how overwhelmed you can get, sometimes.”

“I’m working on that,” You mumbled, immediately longing to take it back. If anyone knew what you were working on, it was Maruki, the man who you considered to be one of your closest confidants less than a week ago. He was a kind man, and you’d trusted him… You still trusted him, honestly. It was impossible to stop, once you’d already allowed yourself to open up. “And there’s no way out of… ‘your reality’, is there? Without your help, I mean.”

Maruki took offense to that. He’d been seated at your desk, for the duration of this visit, maintaining a professional distance, but he stood when you brought up the topic of leaving. You heard a sigh as soft, measured footsteps made their way to your side. He hadn’t tried to close the distance between you two since you first woke up. Rather, he slid onto the end of your bed, his back coming to rest against the barred footboard, his legs left to intermingle with yours in the space between. It felt intimate, and as if by instinct, you were against it. “I don’t want you to feel like your a prisoner--”

“I am a prisoner,” You interrupted. “I can’t leave, so I’m a prisoner.”

“You’re a guest.” He sounded disappointed, but firm, his eyes flickering over your face and attempting to meet yours. You looked away, once again attempting to focus on his many, nonsensical lists. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to make you happy. I can make people different, here, and I can make you different.” He finished with a bright, broad smile, only realizing his mistake a moment after your hurt became palpable. “Wait, that’s not what I - You won’t be different. You’ll be what you’re meant to be.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, beaming forward like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be. “Nothing about you will change. If anything, you’ll be more you than you are now. Everyone here is. I can show you around, if you let me help you.”

“If I let you control me.” He opened his mouth, ready to provide another repetitive rebuttal, but you didn’t let him, biting the inside of your cheek as you fought to continue. “That’s what it is, right? You know I won’t fight, not once you’ve got me trapped in your little, perfect daydream. The only thing I can’t think of is why you don’t just-” You waved a hand in some vague, arbitrary gesture, attempting to vent your frustration physically. The effects were minimal, at best. “-do it, already. If this was really your reality, you wouldn’t keep asking for my consent.”

“It has to be your choice.” The declaration wasn’t triumphant, or altruistic, or anything less than pained. As if it hurt him to admit it. “I know you need to make progress. You want this to be your accomplishment, and I’m not going to take that away from you. I want you to be proud, (Y/n), I do, but I can help. This can be our achievement. I can make it so--”

“So I forget I hate myself?” Before you knew it, you were on your feet, your fists clenched at your sides and your vision red. You were angry. There wasn’t a point in denying it, why would you? He was the only person you’d spoken too in weeks, and it wasn’t like there was much to discuss. You had no one to protect your reputation from, and you refused to strive to prove yourself to Maruki. He didn’t deserve that. Regardless of how badly he wanted to try to act like he did, he didn’t. You were sure of that.

You had to be sure of that.

“I don’t want to be some brainwashed doll you can tow around as a shining example of how wonderful your fucked-up therapy is. I’m not who you want me to be, I’m not who I want me to be, I’m me. I have to be the one to deal with that, even if I have to do it on my own. There’s no quick-fix, or magic solution, or ‘cognitive wrap’, whatever you’ve been calling it. That’s not what I need.” You gasped, if only to stop yourself from losing your temper. You’d started to pace without realizing it, and when you came to a stop, you were facing one of the dull, white walls. It was fitting, you guessed. You didn’t want to see his response, not right away. “Remember the first time we met? When I went to you for advice?

His reply was delayed. It came with a soft exhale, ragged, but tamer than yours. Nostalgic, even. “You shook like a leaf. How could I forget?”

“I was terrified,” You admitted, letting a fraction of the tension in your body dissolve. “I was in a bad place, and it took me days to scrape up the courage to tell someone about it. If you’d made your offer then…” You let out a sad, breathy laugh, the sound as humorless as it was dry. “You said I had to believe I could make progress before I relied on anyone else. That’s what I’m doing. You can’t guilt me for following your advice.”

There was a beat of silence, a moment where you genuinely could’ve thought he’d begun to understand. Then, Maruki opened his mouth, and you were snapped out of that fantasy as abruptly as you’d been thrown into it. “I loved you back then, too. As much as I do now. If I could’ve done anything to end your suffering, I would’ve.”

You didn’t hesitate, your voice just loud enough for him to hear. “I think you should leave.”

“(Y/n), I--”

“Please, Takuto,” You interrupted, your nails beginning to dig into your palms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

There was a huff. A sigh. But, you didn’t look over your shoulder until the metal-plated door had swung shut, a lock clicking into place from the other side, leaving you more alone than you had been before he made his daily visit.

For whatever reason, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be getting a second, that day.

~

Isolation was a tenuous thing.

You couldn’t keep track of time. Not here, not in this room, not when the sky never changed color and you never really felt hungry or thirsty or much of anything at all, if it didn’t have to do with Maruki and his ‘perfect world’. But, after your first real argument, Maruki had stayed away long enough to make his absence known, rather than just a particularly long lapse between tense encounters. It might’ve been a day, a week, a month, but you didn’t care about the specifics.

It was long enough to make you miss him. You supposed that was all that mattered.

There was a unique intimacy in the hand he rested on the center of your back, the steady fingers of a practiced professional rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the space just below your shoulder-blade. He hadn’t gotten this close before. He could’ve, you wouldn’t have had the courage to stop him, but after so much time spent alone with your own thoughts, this was the first time you truly embraced his presence by your side, his knee almost touching yours. Anything to make it feel like you weren’t trapped inside your own head.

He allowed you to sit in silence for a moment or two, your face buried in your palms and your legs crossed, keeping you perched on the edge of the bed, allowing you to wallow in your own self-pity and a fraction of his, too. Maruki didn’t seem to mind. He smiled, the expression nothing short of nurturing, pushing you a little close to the cliffside between you and the flawless, guilt-ridden submission he so very much to shove you towards. The way he spoke wasn’t any better, just as kind. As sickeningly tender as the rest of his facade. “I pushed you too far,” He admitted, a half-hearted laugh lacing the edges of his confession. “Too much ground to cover, never enough time. I should’ve let you think.”

You sighed, the sound desolate, miserable. A poor imitation of something that should’ve brought relief. “It’s not… It’s not just that. I’d never really adjust to…” You trailed off, swinging your legs over the cot’s side, kicking idly at the well-scoffed tiles. “...Whatever this is. Maybe you should work on that. Make a Visitor’s Center for your next abductee.”

“I’ll make you the host,” He added, prodding your side with an elbow. “My offer still stands, if you’ve changed your mind.”

You leaned against him. You leaned against him, and you rested your head on his shoulder and you let out another labored, languid sigh, somehow more sorrowful than your last. “I think you know what I’m going to say, Takuto.”

His collected grin pressed against the top of your head as he pushed a kiss into your scalp, a gentle hand coming up to draw you into a one-sided hug. You allowed it, indulged it, even, smiling up at him as he pulled away. Maruki took his time standing, stretching idly and holding out a single hand, letting something long and golden appear in his palm, a staff that tapered off into a sharpened point on one end, and sprouted into a shining, petaled star on the other. You were shocked for a moment, both by the gaudiness of the object and how wrong it seemed in Maruki’s hand, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the new addition. Not when he was so quick to draw your attention away.

“I think I’m too nice to you,” He started, still facing the furthest wall. “That’s the common factor. I get ahead of myself, and then I try to make it up to you with time and understanding and all the things I assume you’ll want. That just makes you hostile, though. I’ll try something different, next time. Something less… personal. On my end, at least.”

There were a dozen things you could’ve said. Accusations, questions, everything in between and a handful of options you hadn’t thought of, yet. But, as soon as you opened your mouth, your eyes were closing, your body collapsing and a supreme sense of exhaustion washing over you, traveling hand in hand with dizziness and every other sensation that could’ve urged you to sleep. Every other tortuous thing Maruki could’ve forced onto your mind to bend you to his whim.

You felt yourself fall to the floor just as your vision went black.

~

You woke up on a cot that squeaked when you moved.

It was an awful noise, rusted out and worn down, and it only got worse as you forced your body to move, pushing yourself into a more respectable position with arms that didn’t want to cooperate. They ached, argued, screamed, and you had a feeling they would creak too, if they could. The room around you was blurry, blurry and smudged and alien, and you realized rather numbly that you didn’t know where you were.

You realized you didn’t know where you were, and alarmingly, you realized you didn’t care.

You didn’t have to. There was already a familiar face at your side, one hand clamped around your bicep and the other resting on your shoulder, holding you up when you failed to do so yourself. It was your counselor, Takuto Maruki, smiling as brightly as ever.

“I have an offer for you,” He said, once you’d regained your balance. “One I have a feeling you’ll like.”

Without thinking, you found yourself nodding along.

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Five: Clip 2

master list previous

...

Zondag 18:53

With hurried goodbyes to the people spamming ‘bye!’ in the chat, Robbe ended his surprise Sunday afternoon stream and immediately slumped against his desk.

During the semester, Robbe didn’t stream on Sundays. He preferred to spend the time studying with Yasmina or simply doing homework. His plan was to keep the same schedule for the summer, simply to keep things consistent, and save his Sundays for skating with his friends or hanging out with Sander. But the beach house trip was going to prevent him from streaming for three days. Once he got back, Robbe knew that he would need to get back on a consistent schedule.

Today’s stream was unplanned and a surprise, but it had been one of the best streams that he had in weeks. 

Normally, Robbe would’ve only streamed for three hours. It was what his body was used to and Robbe was rigorous about keeping his streams uniform. Occasionally, he would extend the stream or shorten it in thirty minute intervals. But, normally, he couldn’t extend the stream by more than an hour. Until today. He had just ended the stream a few minutes shy of five hours.

As soon as he started the stream, Robbe had felt rejuvenated. His good mood was helped by Sander’s “good luck <3” text when Robbe informed him that he would be disappearing for a few hours. But, in the midst of studying for exams and his stressed-out streams, he had missed doing this. He had missed streaming simply because he could and hanging out with his viewers, who he saw as his friends. It was fun and exhilarating and he had missed it all. 

Plus, the fact that Sander was probably watching him sent a thrill up his spine. It made him more excited than he would ever admit to any of his friends. But the extended time in his chair had stiffened his legs and his joints. Even though Robbe had taken multiple five-minute breaks, he was still tense. 

As Robbe stood, stretching his body as far as he could, his phone buzzed on the desk and drew his attention.

Sander: Amazing stream, Mr. Streamer. Even if I don’t know a thing about Fortnite. Feeling stiff? 

Robbe chuckled, picking up his phone as he moved out of his room.

Robbe: Yeah, I’m walking around the apartment. Might not sit down for another 30 min. Did you get any drawings done?

It didn’t take long to respond. 

Sander: Of course, I’m still working on your concentrated face though. Wanna see?

As Robbe sent him the affirmative, he headed out of his bedroom. Across the hall, Zoë’s bedroom door was slightly open and he glanced inside to find her sleeping. Zoë was curled up on her bed, wrapped in her gray blanket, with her hair tied back. Her laptop was perched on the edge of the bed, playing a show. 

As Robbe closed his bedroom door behind him, his stomach gave an angry growl, reminding him he had waited too long. Robbe quickly moved in the direction of the kitchen, where he could hear voices. Rounding the corner, he spotted Milan at the kitchen table with Senne. Both of them were drinking what looked like a cup of hot cocoa. As Robbe stepped inside, Milan cut Senne off mid-sentence to ask, “How was your stream?”

Robbe blinked, confused. “It was fine.” Senne turned to him, smiling nervously, as Robbe headed to the fridge to pull out the leftovers from earlier. “I’m just getting some food. It should only take a few minutes. Then, the two of you can go back to your top-secret talk that I’m not supposed to hear.”

“Oooooo,” Milan said, grinning wickedly. “Is someone jealous that other people go to me with top-secret information?” 

Robbe rolled his eyes and flipped Milan off for good measure. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” Senne said, letting out a sigh. Robbe grabbed one of the plates from the cabinets as he looked over at Senne. Despite being so sure of himself, Senne looked unbelievably nervous—like he was about to jump out of his skin. In all honesty, Robbe wasn’t prepared to see it. “We were just talking about the fact that I’m going to meet your mama on Thursday.” Robbe nodded as he piled the cold spaghetti onto his plate. “Do you have any advice?”

Robbe nodded again, placing the plate into the microwave. Once he started it, Robbe turned back to Senne and Milan, who were waiting on him. “There’s absolutely nothing you need to worry about, Senne,” Robbe said. “Mama is physically incapable of hating anyone. Even my dad and Thomas. As long as you love and take care of Zoë—which you do—she’s going to love you.” 

“There’s always a first,” Senne said. 

“If there was a first time, it would’ve been Thomas,” Robbe deadpanned. 

“Agreed,” Milan said. He reached across the table to take Senne’s hand in his own. “She’s going to love you, Senne. How can she not?” The microwave let out a beep. Robbe moved to pull his steaming pasta out. He blew away the steam as he crossed the kitchen, taking up one of the spare chairs. Robbe extended his legs out beneath the table, stretching them until they popped. “You love her daughter and that’s all any mother would want. Especially Marie.”

Robbe nodded. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“Okay,” Senne said, turning to him. “I’m trusting you.” Robbe chuckled, taking a bite of his pasta. “How did your exams go?” Senne asked. Robbe glanced over at Senne, who had turned in his chair. “I didn’t see you at the party Friday night.”

“Are you still going to college parties?” Robbe asked. 

“Only when my girlfriend is.”

“Oh, did someone spend the night with his mystery man that we don’t know anything about?” Milan asked, raising his mug to his mouth. Robbe rolled his eyes as Milan suggestively waved his eyebrows. Beside him, Senne took a sip of his hot cocoa. He tried his best to seem indifferent, but Robbe could still spot the suggestive look on Senne’s features. “Come on, Robbe. It’s a safe space. If we talk about it, I’m sure Senne won’t mind.”

Robbe was certain he couldn’t roll his eyes harder. “Sometimes, I wonder why you’re so interested in everyone’s love life,” Robbe said. Senne snorted. Thankfully, he wasn’t holding his cocoa anymore. Senne covered his face with his hand as Milan sent him an accusatory stare. “But yes, I did stay with him. We went to his apartment, he cooked, and we stayed in his bedroom all night, playing video games.” 

“Good,” Milan said, grinning. “You seem happy with him.” 

“I am,” Robbe said, nodding. He took another bite of spaghetti before letting out a sigh. Milan raised an eyebrow and Senne glanced over at him. Despite the growling in his stomach, Robbe dropped his fork on his plate and leaned back. “I just wish Thomas would leave me alone.”

“Thomas?” Milan asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Senne glanced at Robbe, asking, “Your ex?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Robbe said. “After my exam on Friday, as I headed out to meet ‘my mystery man,’ Thomas came up to me.” Robbe shook his head, letting out a sigh. “He gave me the watch back and told me that he wanted to get back together with me.” Milan’s eyes widened. “I was so angry that I couldn’t respond to him, but—uhh… the guy I’m seeing interrupted him and Thomas left soon after that.”

“Do you want to get back together with him? With Thomas?” Senne asked.

Before Senne finished the question, Robbe was shaking his head. “No,” Robbe said. “I don’t.”  

“If you don’t want to get back together with him, you need to tell that to Thomas face-to-face, Robbe,” Senne said. He crossed his arms over his chest as Milan took a sip of his cocoa. “He deserves to hear it from you in person. If he can’t understand, that’s on him.” 

“I know,” Robbe said, slumping back in his chair. “I’m just worried that he’s going to try and talk me into getting back together with him. Again.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Senne asked, standing up from his chair. “I don’t mind.” He moved to the coffee maker. As the machine whirred to life, he moved around, starting to make another cup of hot cocoa. Once the machine started brewing, Senne added, “I’ve always been pretty good at scaring people away. Plus my parents will pay for pretty good lawyers.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head. “No, but I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll probably end up asking Jens or Moyo to come with me. I just don’t want to be worried about my ex showing up at the apartment for the third or fourth time.” As Robbe picked up his fork, his phone dinged in his pocket. 

“You could always go to the police,” Senne said. 

Milan nodded. “He’s right, Robbe.”

“Yeah,” Robbe said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I just don’t want to have to deal with it. But if it gets too much and he keeps showing up, I promise that I will report him to the police.” Milan nodded and, from his spot at the coffee machine, Senne made an affirmative noise. 

“It’ll be okay, Robbe,” Milan said.  

Robbe nodded his head, turning his attention back to his phone. 

Sander: Sorry for the delay. Noor came into my room asking about dinner. Here are all my sketches.

Below his texts, a picture loaded in of a sheet of paper—or rather many sheets of paper—and Robbe had to stop himself from literally dropping his mouth open. If these were simply “sketches,” Robbe couldn’t help but wonder what Sander’s masterpieces would look like. In the middle of the page, his own profile was etched in with headphones over his ears. There were a handful of figures that looked like they could’ve been Pokémon, but Robbe didn’t recognize them. 

Robbe was so focused on absorbing each and every detail that he didn’t notice Senne walk up behind him. He peered over Robbe’s shoulder, holding tightly to the cup of cocoa with one hand. His presence behind Robbe had startled him, but Senne’s gaze was simply on his phone. As Robbe glanced up at him, Senne smiled down at the phone and gave him a knowing look. 

If Senne recognized Sander’s sketches, he didn’t say anything. In fact, Senne just returned to the table and struck up a conversation with Milan about work.

...

Zondag 20:34

[eligos-venator]

Layers of a Devil

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: “Eligos Venator.”

Eye Color: “Yellow.”

Hair Style/Color: “Long hair. Very long. Slight curl to it, but not really styled as much as I keep the bangs cut short enough to stay mostly out of my eyes. And the color would be black.”

Height: “Average for a hyur, short for what I am. Five fulm, eight ilm. Nearly nine ilm, but not quite.”

Clothing Style: “Business formal. I wear either equipment for the job at hand, my suit, or my suit. While I’ll wear less at home, you’ll never see me in anything less than a fitted suit unless something requires me to give that up for a time.”

Best Physical Feature: “My fangs.” With this, the man grinned, revealing a sharp set of elongated canines, slightly longer and thinner than the typical keeper miqo’te’s. “Inherited from a distant ancestor. I’ve yet to receive a complaint for how I use them when so inclined.”

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: “Starvation, namely. My efforts are devoted to staving it off as much as I possibly can. Beyond that, being discovered and those in Garlemald who knew me being potentially put to the sword for my defection.”

Your Guilty Pleasure: “Can’t say I have one. Not out of a lack of things that please me, but out of a lack of guilt or shame. Have you seen me? I’ve absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.”

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “There’s a few, but one of the biggest are people who refuse to accept the advancement of technology and how it might improve their lives. Some people just want to be miserable and let their quality of life suffer, as if that suffering is a badge of honor. It’s not. It is pure idiocy and unfortunately lends credence to Garlemald’s claims of other nations being uncivilized savages, unable to advance with time unless forced.”

Your Ambition for the Future: “Can’t answer that. I really don’t have any ambitions. No hopes, dreams, or the like. Mine all burnt up in that fire in Garlemald, and I’m still picking out the pieces and trying to forge a proper life from the broken parts.”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “Dammit.”

What You Think About the Most: “With how varied my jobs are? The one consistent thought that repeats would be consideration of what I’ll be cooking later, and how to best prepare and present what I’ve chosen as the dish for that day.”

What You Think About Before Bed: “Usually? Whomever’s in my arms.”

You Think Your Best Quality Is: “My intellect.”

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “Single, for a group may be fun, but it doesn’t allow one to build a proper connection. Individuals meeting privately allows for more in-depth discussion, which forms a stronger bond.”

To be Loved or Respected: “Respect me. I don’t care if you hate me so long as you treat me with respect. I’ll extend the same favor in kind. Hatred doesn’t mean one should cease being polite, after all.”

Beauty or Brains: “In myself? I have both, thank you. But in others, I’ll pick brains. Beauty is quite fetching but it only truly shines when the mind behind it is able to polish it and bring out the best one has.”

Dogs or Cats: “Part miqo’te, here. Do you really have to ask? Of course I’ll pick myself first, and so we’ll go with cats.”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “Absolutely, and absolutely not. I tell no lies, yet I’ll let you believe what you wish, and lead you astray. It’s both part of the game and a way in which I keep myself safe.”

Believe in Yourself: “Of course I do. One of my first proper life lessons was to believe in myself and care for myself, because nobody else will. And if you haven’t learned that lesson yet, best to take notes and keep it in mind for when fortune decides to give up on you.”

Believe in Love: “Sure. Some people love others. I may not feel those emotions written in a book the way others do, but I’ve seen enough in my life to believe it exists in some form or another for other people. For me, it’s far more vague and I can’t say I’ve felt the same thing written in novels. I might be capable of it, or I may not be. Who’s to say?”

Want Someone: “I’d be lying if I said greed didn’t have a hold of me in many aspects, as I always desire more. More wealth, more technology, more power, and more company. But it doesn’t necessarily always translate in the way you might assume. I’m quite content merely learning about others and playing the role of tolerated observer.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “Yep. Both as a performer once upon a time for a job, and as a janitor after hours, cleaning up after performances.”

Done Drugs:  “Also a ‘yes’ answer. I’ve dabbled in the past.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “Oh, constantly. This is my life we’re talking about now. I may try to retain a certain sense of self and not compromise some aspects, but I keep most of myself concealed and act according to any contract I may be under. Too many mistake me for a soulless professional because I bury that part of me that isn’t focused on business when working, and so assume all there is to me is a hired devil carrying out their dirty deeds.”

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color:  “Black for me. Not because I like the color, necessarily, but it’s normal for business suits and considered classy. Showing up in a pale blue suit doesn’t have half the impact a fitted black suit brings.”

Favorite Food: “None. I still refuse to repeat dishes if I can help it. My list of recipes to try has not shrunk by much in comparison to how it has grown with recent travels.”

Favorite Game: “Poker, five card draw. I’ll fail the first three hands, depending on who I’m dealing with, but after that? There’s always a chance of failure, but I can win from there on out, typically. It just takes time to burn a few hands to get a read on what cards are left in the deck still, and which ones are safe to swap out or hold for later.”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be:  “Don’t remember, quite honestly. I never celebrated it as a child. I just count up when the year counts up for convenience’s sake.”

How Old Will You Be:  “Twenty eight. Twenty nine. Somewhere in that range.”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “None of your business. Let’s say I was a lot more wild in my days at the Academy.”

Does Age Matter: “I prefer to deal with those around my age range or elder, especially when it comes to business deals. No offense to those who inherited money young and want me to aid them, but.. not interested unless the terms are mine. I learned the hard way back in Othard that no matter how good the paycheck is, it isn’t worth it if I have to spend all of my time thwarting my own client’s self-destructive impulses that come about from being young, reckless, and never having experienced failure in their life prior.”

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “In a word? Confidence. A lack of can ruin any mood and any evening, no matter how nice it may have gone before. Total self-confidence is hardly a must, but a certain level of it is required in order to ensure an evening goes well and doesn’t become awkward at any stage. Perhaps this is a tad too vague, but it’s hard to judge a personality without comparing it to another, and as each individual is unique, that’s an impossible task.”

Best Eye Color: “No preference. The body may be a reflection of the mind in some ways, but for traits one cannot help, they should not be held responsible for or find themselves excluded because of.”

Best Hair Color: “No preference. See previous answer.”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Do you really need to ask? I leave it to your imagination.”

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “Absolutely nothing that I’d tell an interviewer. You’re not getting a hit list off me. Not that you’d be able to find my bird anyways.” I feel: “Unfulfilled, and yet unable to progress due to my circumstances.” I hide: “Everything about me beyond my equipment.” I miss: “Not being surrounded by people who have never heard of basic quality of life conveniences.” I wish: “That I was immortal. What, did you expect some ‘pity me’ sentimental thought? First immortality, then the riches, and then I’ll consider.”

Tagged by: @vshesrexiv! Thank you for the tag!

Tagging: @mischiefandmystics @ffxiv-sunderedsouls @miqojak @zinniane @casualcatte @spellsandtales @thepyriteprince @placesyoucallhome @kich-rp​ @deadtail-ffxiv​ @desimirffxiv​ @thefreelanceangel​ @roguestly​ @maiden-born-in-snow​ @thegildedgun​ @wondereverlasting​ @ofswordsandseductions-ffxiv​ @bolt-from-the-dark​ @meepsthemiqo​ @yokasaris​ @yafaemi​ @lavender-hemlock​ @windup-dragoon​ @handofcards​ @va1kyn​ @neekaxiv​ and anyone I didn’t get with this that wants to do it!