#Unison Colour Pastels

[f1gments]

Road with a Seaview - Hayakawa Aki

lil birthday fic for number 1 Aki fan, @meownotgood 💋 💙thank you for responding to my crazy Aki fantasies with your own. I literally wrote this out of my ass lmao so forgive me if it’s not as good. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

content warning: nsfw - smut | vaginal penetration

Your eyes flutter at the morning sun that streams into the room, the golden light gracing your figure entwined in the sheets.

Warm lips press against your cheek along with the warm breath that lingers as cold fingers gently stroke your face.

Aki whispers out your name, causing you to emit a quiet hum from his touch, stirring you awake. He's kneeling beside the bed with the corners of his lips slightly quirked up.

"Good morning." is murmured in a deep and honeyed tone.

You greet him back with a large and sleepy smile on your lips, before Aki gently pulls you by the wrist with a c'mere, there's something I wanna show you, making you raise an eyebrow curiously but you follow him to where he leads you in the living room.

The aroma of coffee and mouth watering breakfast food hits your senses, and to your surprise there's an array of bacon, eggs, waffles, fruits and freshly whipped cream with an adorably decorated cake on the small coffee table where you usually have your meals.

A few pastel coloured balloons and streamers decorate the walls with Denji and Power who stand there with large grins on their faces and party hats on their heads.

"Happy Birthday!" they say in unison.

You turn to look at Aki as your smile widens. "Did you do all of this while I was asleep?"

He nods silently, cheeks dusting with rose petal pink. "I-I wanted to do something special for you since it's your special day after all." he coughs.

"Hey asshole, give us some credit too, we helped with decorating the cake!" Denji chides.

Power shakes a fist at him, yelling about how humans are nothing but selfish beings that take things as their own without giving credit.

"The only thing you two did do was almost burn down the apartment when I specifically told you not to come in the kitchen." He snapped with a scowl.

"And have many times do I have to remind you about your manners?!" he shouts, making them mumble incoherently under their breaths. You're sure one of these days Aki's bound to get high blood pressure from the amount of shouting he does with them.

You can only laugh at the scene in front of you and reach to give Aki a tight hug. You then lean forward to peck him on the cheek. "Thank you, Aki. This really means a lot to me."

Denji mutters agross at the display of affection before telling the both of you to hurry up and blow out the candles because he's starving.

After breakfast, Aki's standing in the doorway dressed in a casual attire that's all black with his hair down. You think he looks attractive in anything he wears, but you think you like him better like this. He tells you to get dressed.

"Where are we going?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a surprise."

The scent of fresh and salty water fills your senses along with the cool sea breeze that surrounds the both of you. You stand in your baby blue sundress, watching as the waves gently crash onto the shore, a couple seagulls circling the cloudy sky.

Calloused fingertips caress your hand that's entwined in his, as Aki gazes at you softly, admiring the way the wind blows through your hair and the delicate sunlight kisses the skin of your rosy cheeks.

It's just the two of you on the short getaway at the beach in his hometown, where Aki decides to have you all for himself. No one else around to ruin these precious moments with you.

A few minutes later, Aki decides to take you for an afternoon drive along the coastline of a small seaside town in the area. One hand rests on your thigh while the other stays fixed on the steering wheel. Earlier he constantly apologized for not preparing something more fancier or of your taste but with an elated grin you shake your head, you assure him that there was nothing that made you happier than being able to spend your special day like this.

You know that today is also the same day that the Gun devil appeared. So you appreciate how much Aki has put thought and effort into celebrating your special day despite the sadness and grief that it brings for him. He never forgets to visit his family's grave on this day and since you've become a part of his life, you usually go with him. 

Love is made from the pressing of swollen lips and the swirl of tongues while a low groan is buried in your neck. It's the slow languid roll of hips in the backseat while your dress is bunched up to your waist and your panties slid to the side as two strong hands grab your waist to thrust deep into you. Thankfully, the windows are heavily tinted to prevent the both of you getting caught by anyone outside. Not that you were parked in an area with many people around.

There's no sound better to Aki than the blissful moans of pleasure you let out that go an octave higher every time he hits the right spot.

He has your dress and lacy bra pulled down to your chest and begins to mark your body with shades of lilac and carnation as his mouth travels from your neck, down to your chest and the curve of your breasts.

His mouth then move to delicately nip at your earlobe, with a gently murmuring, ‘this feel good?

It's the way your eyes are rolled back from how he has you in your favorite position in the backseat - Legs up on his shoulder as he's pushing his hips deeper up into you.

His eyes never leave your figure, back arched and lips chanting his name over and over again like a prayer. A breathy right there, has him hitting the same spot non stop and when a gentle hand reaches to steady itself on his chest while you're looking up at him all teary eyed, has Aki fighting back the urge to cum right then and there because you never looked more beautiful under him like this.

Aki thinks if he were to die right now, he wouldn't mind. You have him wrapped around your finger and he wonders if you realize that. Not when you're desperately clinging onto him - or when the tight walls of your cunt has him drowning in pleasure like this.

Blue eyes that hold a mixture of love and lust look down upon you, his pace never faltering. Aki loves you in many ways - at any time of any day. But he thinks he loves you the most when he's buried deep inside you, eliciting the prettiest gasps and moans from you.

"I love you." he chokes out as his hips stutter and give one hard thrust before he's releasing his white hot liquid into you, to lay on top of you, careful to putting his weight on his arms so he doesn't crush you. He doesn't care to use protection this time because he doesn't want to deal with the hassle of cleaning the seats later on. 

Aki catches his breath, fingers moving to brush aside the strands of hair that cover your face that radiates in the afterglow. You smile weakly at him, cupping his cheeks to bring your lips to his. 

"Happy Birthday." He murmurs, before he deepens the kiss.

You decide that there is no better birthday present than the one before you. It comes in the form of a person who's heart is as wide as the ocean in front of you, if not even bigger. You get the privilege to see every soft and vulnerable part of him. The one where no one else does.

And you couldn't ask for anything more in the world.  

[sheepsdreamworld]

~ MYSMES CMC CHARACTER PROFILE ~

Full Name: Min Eunjoo

Name Meaning:

- Min: Cleverness

- Eun: Kindness, mercy, charity

- Joo: Precious

Nickname(s) and Why:

- Eunie (a shortened version of 'Eunjoo' - originating as a typo of Saeyoung Choi whilst laughing so strongly at something said in the chatroom that his hands shook. The name briefly became a playful tease, until settling as a very affectionate nickname for her. It's used almost only by Yoosung, Saeyoung and Zen.)

- Candyhead (by Saeyoung, inspired by her curly, 'cotton-candy-like', hair)

Age: 19

Birthday: 20th December

Gender: Female

Romantic and Sexual Orientation: Heteroromantic, demi-heterosexual

Nationality: South Korean

Languages Spoken: Korean (native)

Occupation: Freshman at SKY University, majoring in music theory and composition, but petrified of the inevitable aspect of performance.

~ ♡ ~

Height: 152 cm (5ft)

Build: Small and thin; frail, almost.

Skin Tone: Fair

Features:

Eyes - Although tenderly pink in colour, it is important to note that their appearance is innately startling.

Whilst the right is clear, bright and focused, the left is faded, glassy, partially closed and entirely blind. It moves independently, unable to look in unison with the other - forever slightly 'off', and forever an unsettling, mismatched gaze.

Nose - Long and thin

Smile - Although awkward, it is endearing, and surprisingly contagious.

Ears - Round and slightly prominent in shape. They tend to turn very pink when in cold weather, or simply when embarrassed.

Hair - Eunjoo's hair is jaw-length, naturally white, and often likened to a cloud for her soft-looking ringlet curls and how they bounce around her head and face when she moves, almost in every way imaginable.

Posture - Often hunched and with her head ducked when moving, standing and even sitting. This is attributed to not only her meek and unassuming nature, but her strong anxiety of being gawked at and 'pointed out' as an oddity amongst peers.

Gait - Depending on mood or situation, her speed can vary between a slow yet light, comfortable pace and a quickened, very anxious glide.

Typical Attire:

A lover of pastel colours, soft materials and comfort, Eunjoo's entire closet consists of hoodies, sweaters, fleeces and jackets, all of which are either plain or with gentle patterns. She wears sweatpants and jeans from time to time, but most often likes to wear comfy shorts, and in every weather, even bitter winter. Saeyoung Choi questions the safety and well-being of her poor knobbly knees.

In autumn and winter, she searches her messy bedroom until she finds the woollen hats, scarves and gloves which always seem to go missing as soon as winter ends, and her trusty sneakers are replaced with her pair of age-old boots and her beloved long overcoat.

Accessories:

- A pair of large circular glasses she must always wear, no matter how annoying. She does like their design, however, white with a pink rim.

- A straw sunhat or canvas bucket hat for the summer or particularly bright days. She loves these hats.

~ ♡ ~

~ FAMILY ~

Mother - Lee Ailiseu

Relationship - Unknown, absent.

Father - Min Seohyun

Relationship - Close and loving, yet somehow detached by the ever-present wall of his ambition and devotion to his growing company.

~ NON-FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS ~

- Kim Yoosung (first friend and unknowingly, is his crush)

- Choi Saeyoung (so-called comedy partner)

- Zen / Ryu Hyun (brother figure)

- Kang Jaehee (mother figure)

- Han Jumin (good-natured advisor with a side mission to convince her that dogs are, in fact, mightily imperior to cats.)

- V / Kim Jihyun (compassionate supporter, yet oddly elusive...)

- Ray...? (charming...)

~ ♡ ~

~ PERSONALITY ~

Temperament: Timid, passive

Most Common Mood: Anxious

Positive Traits:

- Kind

- Fair

- Considerate

- Loyal

- Devoted

- Compassionate

- Trustworthy

- Empathetic

- Helpful

Negative Traits:

- Sensitive

- Forgetful

- Cowardly

- Indecisive

- Hypervigilent

- Scatter-brained

- Clumsy

- Indiscreet

- Naive

Most Prominent Personality Trait: Kindness

Other Personality Info:

Although naturally very timid, Eunjoo is earnest, appreciative and genuine. Innocent is her demeanour in a single word; she is a sensitive soul with a pure heart, and struggles to take her own and others' emotions lightly.

Yet, by valuing feelings over logic in any dispute, she presents herself as one-sided - and even gullible, for consciously failing to accept other solutions.

However, and surprisingly, if she feels she must or even as an impulsive blurt, she will lie to cover her mistakes - to simply have her forgetful self seem productive; say if Jumin asked if she'd emailed a party guest, she might say yes if she hadn't at all, and then in a whirl of panic would catch up on the task. Or perhaps wouldn't. She might forget again. Jumin is known to probe her constantly with annoyed reminders to keep up with her duties, but in...a good-natured way.

Despite these rushed little lies, in difficult situations, Eunjoo will blatantly lie to protect her friends, excluding herself entirely.

In fact, in stark contrast to her passive nature, Eunjoo would not be the type to shrink away from sacrificing herself. But why would this need to be included in this profile, I wonder...

Talents/Hobbies: Music, a gifted pianist.

Biggest Fears:

- Social Isolation

- Being unwanted, unloved; feeling worthless to others.

Hopes/Wishes: Simply to love and be loved.

~ FAVOURITES ~

Favourite...

Possession: Her beloved electronic keyboard. It's almost purposefully not set up anywhere in particular in her apartment. It's on the move so often that it's comical - Eunjoo puts it in any and every room depending on her mood, or to rekindle inspiration for what to play. She longs to one day have her very own grand piano.

Person: An infuriating tie between Kim Yoosung and Choi Saeyoung -

Yet...

In another time and place...

Eunjoo may have no clear answer to this question - other than perhaps finding herself flustered, blushing, and wondering when would be the next she'd see her sweet...mint-eyed host...

Animal: Dogs

Food: Lollipops, cupcakes and chocolate

Flavour/Taste: Sweet

Pizza Toppings: Cheese. Just cheese.

Drink: Milk, oddly.

Colour: Pastel pink

Flower/Plant: Sweetpeas (kindheartedness, bliss and innocence)

Game Genre: Cute and caring (hundreds of hours have been spent farming, island-running and pet-keeping)

Movie Genre: Heart-warming, comedy, romance

Music Genre: Classical, occasional pop and acoustic.

Place: Her bedroom, specifically her bed.

Time of Day: Afternoon, and sometimes night.

Weather: Sunny

Season/Time of Year: Summer

Holiday: Christmas

~ ~ ~

Least Favourite...

Possession: Her weird set of talking kitchen scales.

Person: Strangers, anyone unknown - although she is only just uncomfortable.

Animal: Cats, rats, snakes, ostriches (shudder)

Food: Fish, soup

Flavour/Taste: Sour, spicy, honey

Pizza Toppings: Peppers, chillies, mushrooms.

Drink: Coffee (too strong and bitter) and energy drinks (she chokes ferociously on the fizziness)

Colour: Purple

Flower/Plant: The plants with weird but hilarious names. ('Eunie! What do you mean?! I thought you loved my herrieanus!' - Saeyoung Choi)

Game Genre: Horror

Movie Genre: Horror, suspense

Music Genre: Metal, rock

Place: Anywhere unknown.

Time of Day: None in particular

Weather: Rain and/or wind, stormy

Season/Time of Year: Winter

Holiday: New Year’s

Intelligence Level: High

Self-Confidence Level: Low

Self-Esteem Level: Extremely low

Optimist or Pessimist: Pessimist, no matter how much she tries to be positive.

Introvert or Extrovert: Highly introverted

Impulsive or Cautious: Cautious

Logical or Emotional: Emotional

Night Owl or Early Bird: Night Owl

Energy Level: Average, though rises or falls depending on situation.

General Sociability: Low

Sense of Humour: Vast, but silly and inoffensive - puerile jokes and slapstick will never not make her erupt with laughter.

Typical Sleep Routine: Awful

Skills: Efficient in organisation, planning, management and problem solving.

Handwriting: Messy

Memory: Good

Virtue Levels: (1-10)

Adventurousness: 1

Caring: 8

Confidence: 2

Co-Operation: 5

Courage: 3

Creativity: 8

Flexibility: 2

Generosity: 10

Honesty: 6

Loyalty: 9

Patience: 8

Perseverance: 9

Respect: 8

Responsibility: 5

Reliability: 7

Trust: 5

~ ♡ ~

~ BACKGROUND ~

Eunjoo believes she was odd from the moment she came into the world.

It was like she wasn't ready yet...and sometimes even in the present, she still feels like she isn't at all ready to face the world.

This is because Eunjoo was born far, far too early.

Months premature, her birth resulted with expected difficulties. Her eyes had not yet fully developed - they had not even opened yet in the womb.

Complete blindness was feared, but Eunjoo was blessed, her father claims, with only an impairment.

Her left eye is completely blind, and in the right, although with an average area of clear focus, she has no peripheral vision (sides/edges in the field of view), poor balance and near non-existent depth perception - she's unable to determine distance in how near or far something is, and is confused with changes in level. Eunjoo, for example, hates stairs, because if she looked down a flight, it would just...look like a floor with weird stripes across it.

She also has nystagmus, which is the involuntary and uncontrollable flickering/shaking of the eyes, which to anyone seeing for the first time can be startling, and even...disturbing.

When she was little, she never understood why people looked at her face so weirdly. Her loving father was always there to comfort her, but she never grew out of this feeling of shame - because it was a sense of hurt she was always reminded of, whenever she so much as glanced to a mirror. She is wordlessly and deeply embarrassed of herself.

And so, Eunjoo almost always wears sunglasses.

She needs them, anyway, to protect herself from the sun and its piercing rays...and excruciating artificial lights, which were everywhere...

They were both a 'cool accessory' and a disguise. They allowed her to hide, and shrink away from gawks at her freaky, jittery eye.

As Eunjoo never knew her mother, her father was all she had as a child, and he doted on her. He fast became and continues to be her hero and her guardian - but over the years, somewhat began to slip.

Her sense of balance and security began to fall, as her father's ambition and business began to rise.

Cheolsook Min is the head of Min Counselling, a company which has become successful both nationally and internationally.

Her father's successful company made them constantly move, uprooted from place to place around the country - and ingraining in Eunjoo, never a 'forever' sense of stability.

No home ever stayed nor fit; no school, no place - no friends.

School...

She was picked on, bullied - of course she was. She was different and dissonant and crudely stuck out, like the frizz of her cloudy hair on a rainy day.

Middle school, high school - ever-changing prisons; escaping bullies only to be confronted by more, wherever she and her father moved next.

But they were quiet bullies, hidden bullies, who muttered about her under their breath - who deliberately nudged her left side when passing, who tapped her left shoulder, who clicked their fingers to the left of her face - and laughed.

It was all like a game.

And it was rather ironic, for her father to be the famous face associated with therapy and compassion, to be largely unaware of his daughter's anxieties.

All of these things culminated to the present.

For the past few months, Mr Min has been abroad, meeting with his company's international ties, by which leaving Eunjoo to live alone.

Well, she was a college student now.

She should be living alone now...shouldn't she? That was normal...

But before he left, of course, her father gave her easy lessons on how to do so - on...how to live - and also to peel her from her childhood and teenage cling of co-dependence.

She had always gripped to the life-line that was him, in order to live with ease. But this now was to change.

Room by room, her cramped apartment became nicely organised, and her kitchen even got (what she thought of as) a shiny makeover. High cupboards were kept to a minimum, and all cutlery, cups, mugs, plates, glasses, bowls and even cluttered utensils were all neatly arranged on shelves, easy cupboards, drawers.

But she continues to be scared of the microwave, oven, dishwasher...and - wherever the washing machine was.

Her father taught her as basically as he could, his crabby and reluctant daughter, how to clean and cook alone...and to face all of those accessible gadgets she hated.

Technology...

It was annoying and unnerving, like the horrible talking weighing scales which lived in a corner countertop of her tiny kitchen, and its stiff robotic voice which still weirded her out.

Saeyoung kept offering to be its new star voice, but she refused each time with laughter, because that would be even...weirder.

''Ah! You have summoned me for service! Oh, yes. The Spectacular 7-0-7! Your favourite kitchen appliance!' Isn't that perfect?'

'No! I'd - never be able to cook with a straight face!'

'That's the point! Cooking is meant to be fun ~!'

~ ♡ ~

~ BEHAVIOUR ~

When...

In Public/Around Strangers: Eunjoo never sticks around any longer than she would ever need to be. She rushes each place and back again, forever trying to move as invisibly as possible - though she knows that it would never happen.

Of course people would want to approach her...and ask if she needed help - she was a slight-looking girl, who used a white cane.

They were always kind, well-meaning people, but the awkwardness of rapidly assuring she was okay (even though she more often than not, was not), her deep, burning blushes of embarrassment were painful...every time.

In Private: Totally relaxed. Eunjoo's apartment is her safe place and sanctuary. She is free to do whatever she likes, be it playing on her little keyboard, wandering her apartment whilst mumblingly humming or singing to herself, watching videos on her phone of funny fails, baking cakes, puppies (and sending the odd photo of a cute puppy to Jumin to prove that they were so very cute)...and her favourite of all - babies farting.

Around Friends: Happy, playful and kind, although never losing her characteristic timidity. The RFA were her first friends, and she was always there, somewhere, in the chatrooms; for texts, calls. She was always, simply, on her phone.

She was devoted to them...they had her heart and soul.

?#%!?)#!@?? NO.

T@he RFA are not%#?(!permi?%@tted to/@/?*)@%#!have her hea#rt o?%r her s?&!%oul.

Only I am.

?#%!?)#!@??

When Happy: Big smiles and big blushes. Her face glows.

When Upset: Silent, distant, withdrawn, an inward lament which would fast be released with a long bout of tears.

When Scared: Freeze.

When Angry: Any build up of emotion fills Eunjoo with a trembling sensation, but anger wasn’t one she knew well. She would not explode, but simply burst into tears.

Flirting: Absolutely clueless to the matter - yet - the enthrallment of Eunjoo's shyness with the eagerness to befriend could be easily confused, to some, perhaps, as flirting. (COUGH Yoosung)

In Pain: Eunjoo often feels physical pain. Her poor depth perception makes her bump and into bang things every now and then - and she was no stranger to concentration-induced migraines, by the evil glaring blue light of her phone and laptop...both of which she used far too much.

In Love: Freeze in confusion and terror, because what...was this?

When Valued: Total disbelief - shocked to a silent stare with eyes as wide as moons. She would feel pure bafflement, and tears.

~ ~ ~

Role in Story: Main Character, Narrator

%#?(!Toy.

~ ~ ~

[artvmisia]

TAG GAME

GET TO KNOW ME :) or don't lmao

I was tagged by @lovememadly92, thank you for the tag!

NAME:

I prefer not to use my real name on the internet, so you can abbreviate my url and call me artemis.

PRONOUNS:

She/her

STAR SIGN:

I'm a Libra and I love having my birthday during spooky season.

FANDOMS:

I have a lot of interests but would only say I'm a true fan of certain series. When it comes to TV/movies, my current obsession is with The Boys in the Boat, I also enjoy Band of Brothers a lot (I had a whole BoB sideblog for 6 months in 2013). I watch the Lord of the Rings Extended Editions at least once a year. I have really enjoyed House of the Dragon (I'm a big fan of the ASoIaF books and read Fire and Blood), The Queen's Gambit, The Mandalorian, Andor, and A Series of Unfortunate Events (major childhood favorite), to list some shows from recent years. My favorite movies of all time are both Wes Anderson movies: Fantastic Mr. Fox and The Grand Budapest Hotel.

I'm also a gamer, and Kingdom Hearts, The Legend of Zelda, and Fire Emblem are among my top favorites.

FAVOURITE COLOUR:

Pastel pink, and black.

FAVOURITE SONG:

I don't have a singular favorite song (does anybody?), but I do have ones that always put me in a good mood: Baby Good Night by B1A4 (kpop) and Bitter Song to Sugar Step by Unison Square Garden (jpop)

FAVOURITE AUTHOR (OF ANYTHING READABLE - BOOKS, FANFICS, ZINES, WEBTOONS, WHATEVER!):

I don't really have a favorite author these days but if I had to answer, Lemony Snicket/Daniel Handler is the one whose writing style I admire the most and has continued to influence my artistry from childhood on.

FAVOURITE FIC TYPE:

Mutual pining? One-sided is also good although I don't read many fics.

FAVOURITE HOLIDAY:

Halloween and Christmas.

HOBBIES:

Gaming, reading, occasionally making art. I call myself a writer but haven't written anything in over a year so I need to get on that.

FUN FACTS ABOUT ME:

I've technically been on tumblr since 2011/2012, but after around 2016 I gave up my original blog and jumped around a few others. Back to multifandom/personal blogging now and hoping it'll stick.

I was never a tumblr content creator until now, the first and last time I made a gif was in 2013. Boys in the Boat fandom, you're welcome.

Non-fandom interests of mine: ornithology, historical costuming, Victorian/Gilded Age/Edwardian social history

Tagging my bitb mutuals, @foxhollow18, @sidraofthewildflowers, @dustyjumpwjngs, @gnfard, @xxluckystrike

[zofia-cichy19]

Life Drawing Notes:

During my first term of life drawing, we had the opportunity to work in a numerous amount of approaches such as : black and white, colour and have recently started experimenting with inks and will be with paints.

When first starting life drawing, we were introduced to the different elements of tone: light, medium and dark. It is very important to use all these tones together as it can make a difference between a good and bad drawing. Aldous also introduced to us the concept of standing back and looking back at the drawing in 10 minute intervals. This allowed me to be brave with my work, just because a mark has been put down it doesn’t mean this makes the drawing final. Thanks to this technique, I’ve also become a bit more critical of my work learning that a drawing doesn’t have to be perfect at first sight. I think my favorite drawing from the black and white series down below would be the one where a model called Amanda came in for a session. I had to add different amounts of tone onto her body, and one thing that strikes me as important would be the way the light in the studio shines onto the surroundings. For example, the flower tapestry background that is in the studio every week, because I used light tones on the drawing for the model I incorporated darker shadows/ tones for the background which I believe made the drawing look much more professional and interesting.

One of my favorite pieces of advice and tips from Aldous would be looking at the model and taking out specific marks and lines you can see from the model and marking it out on paper without looking. I believe about 5 weeks into our weekly life drawing classes, Aldous also introduced us to the stick method when drawing from life. This consists of taking a stick and squinting one eye and using it to measure a part of the models body at an angle. Afterwards, I would place the stick back onto the paper and use the stick to draw parts of the body. I like this technique because the drawing done after matches the model directly in proportion and I think it’s a good skill to grasp upon when first learning how to draw with realism and proportion.

As the weeks passed on, as a class we got introduced into working with colour. The techniques involved were: chalk pastels, oil pastels and colored markers. My favorite technique and one that resonates well with my work would be colored marker. My drawings with this technique were successful down below because when using a marker, I focus imperatively on defining the lines and specific mark - making techniques. I find that markers are less harsh than for instance using a pencil to create that same line when drawing. I love having the freedom to experiment and another thing I really like is matching colors in unison, for example the use of pinks, purples and oranges. Even though most of these drawings were successful, I did also create some that were classified as failed attempts for me. For example, I did a drawing which consisted of a man and instead of filling the drawing around with fineliner in the middle like I did on the outside, I used the color yellow which I don’t think matched my intended colour scheme very well.

As we progressed into November/ December months, one thing that I remembered that Aldous spoke about a lot would be to fill the page when drawing. He said that a drawing shouldn’t have bits of white left upon unless of course it is intended, and instead we should use another color to fill in the composition. To challenge this however, I used colored paper instead to see if this would distort or change the perspective of my drawing altogether. This is where I probably did one of my favorite pieces so far in the academic year, I used brown paper and chalks in the colour green, pink, orange, white, blue and black. I then realized that at this point I created cartoon like figures of life drawing. This was a complete turning point for me in terms of style because I feel like I experimented and created something I didn’t know I was capable of doing. I loved the idea of having faceless figures, and added extra emphasis on the background which links to what Aldous says about filling the page up with colour ( something that pops out to people when they come across the drawing).

As well as participating in life drawing classes, Aldous regularly introduced to our class, the concepts of warm - ups before starting life drawing class. For example, we had to draw a different number of squares without looking at the paper: small, medium and large overlapping each other. At one point, Aldous made us come up with scenarios in our imagination such as : fire, water, earth and air within our own bodily sensations. We had to use this sensation and incorporate it into our drawings, this added a sense of more imagination and flair into our work rather than just drawing.

In yesterdays session, we finally starting moving on to wet mediums ie the inks. I haven’t used ink for a long time so I had to get used to it however I loved how simple and easy it is to glide across the page. In my blue/ black/ purple ink painting, I accidentally created dripping sensations going down the page : this added some different type of texture and feel to my painting, making it more original which was what I was striving for. One thing I need to improve however is my use of colored tone as I mostly did line strokes on the woman I was drawing. This would also challenge me in a productive way as sometimes I get too comfortable using one type of technique. Sometimes it’s the things we’re scared to try or experiment with that turn out way better than we anticipate. I cannot wait to start experimenting with paint now that is the new year, overall I had a very good term in life - drawing and I cannot wait where my drawing takes me in 2024.

[bizzyybrains]

The Top 10 Benefits of Enrolling Your Child in Drawing Class

Parents often wonder what the best activities are for their children to help them grow and learn. Drawing is one of the most beneficial things a child can do to help develop creativity, problem-solving skills, and hand-eye coordination. This blog post will discuss the top 10 benefits of enrolling your child in a drawing class!

What will kids learn in drawing class?

The drawing class in gorai will focus on helping them learn the fundamentals of traditional drawing. These include learning to properly use different art materials, such as pencils, coloured pencils, markers, and pastels; developing an understanding of perspective and composition; and sharpening their observation skills. The classes also seek to nurture a love of creativity in children by introducing them to different drawing styles and encouraging them to express themselves through art.

In the drawing class, kids will explore various techniques that can help bring their visions to life on paper. They’ll learn about shading and blending with pencils or charcoal, creating texture with markers or pastels, experimenting with colour theory using different mediums, and much more. Instructors will also guide how to draw from life, teaching kids to look for details and accurately capture them on paper. Visualisation skills are also essential — the instructor will help the students learn how to break down complex images into simpler shapes, allowing them to draw anything they see with greater accuracy.

Ultimately, the goal of these drawing classes in gorai  is to give children an outlet for self-expression while also providing them with essential artistic skills they can use in their future pursuits. By teaching kids these fundamentals in a fun and engaging way, they’ll develop a better appreciation for art overall — along with newfound confidence and pride in their creations!

The classes will also provide a space for kids to connect with other creative minds and collaborate on projects, allowing them to experience the joy of working together on something they’re passionate about.

By enrolling in this drawing class, your child gets exposure to various artistic concepts — from sketching still-life objects to painting landscapes — that can help spark their own original ideas. With guidance from experienced instructors, they’ll learn how to craft beautiful masterpieces and take pride in their own artwork. It’s an opportunity that has the potential to open up a whole new world of creativity!

Benefits of enrolling your kids in dance class

1. Encourages self-expression – Drawing is a form of expression and allows children to express their emotions and feelings in an outlet other than words.

2. Improves hand-eye coordination – You must use your hands and eyes in unison. It helps your child learn how to use both at the same time while also improving fine motor skills.

3. Strengthens problem-solving skills – Since art is subjective, it encourages children to think critically about what they are creating and how best to get there.

4. Enhances creativity – When kids get exposure to different artistic styles or techniques, new ideas can spark from within them, encouraging creative growth and exploration.

5. Builds self-confidence – Creating art is a feeling of accomplishment and can boost confidence in your child for future endeavors.  

6. Develops spatial awareness – Spatial awareness is important for everyday activities like crossing the street, understanding directions and playing sports. Drawing helps to build these skills as children need to keep objects in perspective while they create their own artwork.

7. Improves focus and concentration – Drawing requires patience and, often, long attention spans, which will help to improve your child’s ability to stay focused on tasks at hand and be more attentive in class.

8. Teaches discipline – To complete an artwork or project, there needs to be discipline in focus and approach taken. This helps children learn the importance of following through, meeting deadlines, and working hard to get results.

9. Connects children with their heritage – Drawing can be used as an educational tool to help your child explore different cultures and heritages, which shows expression through artwork.

10. Fun! – Last but not least, drawing classes can help make learning fun for your child and allow them to express themselves creatively and enjoyably.

Takeaway

Searching for drawing classes near me provides many options, and enrolling your kids can have many benefits, including improving hand-eye coordination, enhancing creativity, building self-confidence, developing spatial awareness, and more! These skills will carry over into adulthood

[shaymusart]

My new art video is now live on YouTube! Please give it a thumbs up <3

[mariesdeluluworld]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙁𝙞𝙫𝙚: 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 & 𝙐𝙣𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡

More and more Harry realised that even though his mother and aunt were twins, they were not the same. No matter how similar they were—though they had totally different aesthetics and viewpoints—his aunt was not his mother.

Case in point, the home his aunt and cousin live in was bright. It hurt his eyes to look at it—it was different from what he was used to. It looked as if it was plucked from an impressionist painting and plopped onto a piece of land outside Ottery St Catchpole in Devon. Harry narrowed his eyes at the sight of roses with their heads still attached and tulips growing in the front of the house.

His aunt really was strange, allowing those pesky red flowers to keep their heads and not behead them. Thorns really were the much-preferred choice, in Harry’s personal opinion.

As Harry studied the large house, his aunt was rambling on about how they—he assumed she and her husband—built the house after they graduated from Hogwarts and how it was their pride and joy. Beatrice just stood there, silently, as she, too, stared at her home. Harry wondered if she felt the same as he did. The house was just too happy. It reminded him of the houses back home, all of them happy and white, with bright flowers blooming brightly. Harry preferred the dead trees and the tall sentient willow tree that lived on the grounds of the Addams Manor, Ichabod.

“Shall we go in?” Aunt Ophelia didn’t leave room to object, and Harry followed his aunt and cousin inside. If the outside was ghastly, the inside was worse. The walls were painted pastel colours and had splashes of yellow and orange splayed here and there. There was no grey nor black in the house. Flowers practically grew everywhere. And somewhere in the house was the sound of laughter. Not the terrified and sadistic laughter he and his siblings were used to, but joyous and reaching-inducing cheerful laughter. It turned his stomach.

“Richard? Cordelia? Olivia? We’re home!!” The cheeriness of his aunt’s voice made him sneer. His mother would’ve never held such a tone. It would’ve been cold and vindictive.

Harry watched as two little girls, one sporting the same blonde–yellow like hair as his aunt, and the other black hair, dark as night, like Beatrice. Like his mother and Wednesday.

“Mummy!” the black-haired girl jumped into his aunt’s arms, and… Harry didn’t understand what she did, but she looked as if she was squeezing his aunt Ophelia. It reminded him of a snake coiling around its victim.

The yellow-haired girl simply stared at Harry. Her blue eyes were studying him, taking in his appearance. He did the same and was repulsed to find her dressed in a horrid pink dress with frills and bows. Wednesday would’ve gotten shears snipped them off, claiming she wanted to hang herself with the fabric.

“Harry, dear,” Harry looked away from the ugly, pink-dressed girl. “I would like you to meet your other cousins, Olivia,” she gestures to the black-haired little girl. Olivia waved and smiled brightly at Harry. While Harry simply nodded in greeting. “And that’s Cordelia.” What a fitting name for her. Cordelia, what a horrid name for a horrid girl. Harry had many questions for her. First, why did she choose to wear that hideous colour? And second, did she hear of hair dye? Her hair was literally the colour of the sun.

“Girls, this is your eldest cousin, Harry. Say hello.”

“Hello Harry.” They spoke in unison. “Hello, cousins,” He responded.

“Darling? You’re back already? I’d expected you to be gone all day,” A man bounded down the stairs. He wore a three-piece suit and square glasses on the tip of his nose. He had dark brown—almost black hair—that was cropped close to his head.

“Richard, darling, meet my nephew,” Harry watched as his aunt walked towards whom he assumed was her husband, meeting him at the last step of the stairs, holding her hand out towards him. Richard clasped his hand in hers and Ophelia pulled him towards Harry.

“Harry, this is my husband, Richard. Richard, this is Harry. Morticia’s eldest boy.” Richard offered Harry his hand.

Harry stared at the hand, his cold green orbs eyed the piece of flesh in front of him. Realising that Harry wasn’t going to shake his hand, Richard coughed awkwardly and turned to his wife. “Um, h-h-has Ophelia showed you to your room, H-Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Not yet. Are you some sort of doctor?” Richard gulped and nodded. His hazel eyes flickered back and forth to his aunt. “Why y-yes! I’m an h-healer at St. Mungos. H-how’d you know?”

The green-eyed boy smirked. “I can smell it on you. The darkness. The curses. The death. The antiseptic. You smell like death. I like it. Reminds me of the cemetery.”

Richard’s smile fell from his face, and he cleared his throat. “Oh. H-h-how nice.” A pregnant pause filled the air. Harry could hear the wind whistling outside.

“Uh, Harry, let’s go get you settled in, shall we?” Harry nodded his head and noticed how Ophelia shot her husband a glare. Strange.

Together, aunt and nephew climbed up the stairs, as Ophelia led Harry to the room he’d be staying in until September 1st. Together, they passed paintings–both muggle and magical as they walked down a long corridor.

“This floor is where the girls’ rooms are, and where your room is as well.” Harry watched as Ophelia pointed to a few of the closed doors in the corridor. They stopped at the last closed door of the corridor and Ophelia smiled at him.

“Harry,” her voice dropped an octave. It was no longer the high and bubbly tone she carried. “I know that you aren’t exactly used to…” she waved her hands around. “--all this. I know that being raised in my sister’s home, you’ll have a different taste of comfort.” Harry watched her, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he looked at his aunt through his lashes.

“So, dear, I’ve done something.” She smiled and opened the door.

Unlike everything in this house, this room—his room—was black. There was no colour, nor flower tainted the dark oak furniture. It was plain, but reminded him of home. If only he could close his eyes and try to think of the smell of dust coating the home.

He walked in, taking in everything. The walls were bare, but there was room for decoration. The window was covered with heavy curtains, blocking out the light. Perfect for protecting his pale skin. The bed was simple and had striped black and white sheets and a black comforter. It reminded him of his own bedspread back at home. Pushed in the far corner of the room was a bookshelf with a desk next to it. Across from his bed sat a dresser, and behind a door was a small closet.

“I know it’s not much, but…”

“No. It’s … not horrid.” Ophelia cracked a smile.

“I’m glad. I’ll have our house-elf place your belongings in here.” Harry watched as she left the room, calling a name, before he was left alone to his own devices.

~~~

After dinner—which was strange and unusual (Harry asked where the brain was from the cow–they had roast beef–and his uncle and cousins stared at him as if he was an alien and Harry sighed and explained that his grandmama always saved the brain for him when they ate animals, which caused little Olivia to turn green.)--Harry saw that his empty room was no longer empty. His books were on the bookshelf, his clothes were hanging and in the dresser, and his desk now had quills in a pot, ink-wells and parchment sat neatly, and the picture of his family sat on the wood next to a simple lamp.

Harry thought this was what his aunt called a house-elf doing and he couldn’t really complain. He was exhausted. The day was eventful, and Harry just wanted to sleep and dream of the night. However, as he got settled in bed, he couldn’t force his brain to turn off.

All he could think about was the wizarding public. How they all reacted to him. He didn’t like it–to be worshipped as if he was a god. All he wanted was to hone his skills and learn how to control his magic and see his parents' roots. Maybe learn something else about them besides their demise.

As Harry slowly started to close his eyes and slip under the effects of sleep, a pair of orbs stared at him. Silver orbs.

A/n:

Short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed.

[what-the--curtains]

There are No Wolves in The Desert

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

Part 3 - An (in)Decent Proposal

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Summary: Oberyn makes you an offer you cant refuse.

Authors notes: Whoop here part 3 sorry this is taking SO long but I have no MOTIVATION (sang like jean ralphio)😭 Thank you for reading and sharing and commenting I love y all so much💕💕💕💕

TW: Mentions of incest (walder frey), mentions of alcohol, fighting

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged: @evyiione @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial @ayamenimthiriel

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The large wooden doors of your room slowly creak open rousing you from your restful slumber. You open one eye allowing yourself to adjust to the sun's bright rays that were coating your room's walls, brightening their pastel hues. You cautiously shift up, gaze locked on the door fingers clutched around your knife. Your fist relaxes as two figures enter the room, the first belonging to Shana who you recognized from last night and the other, to a younger girl. Shana walks towards the long table placing down the assorted fruits, breads and wine while the younger girl sits on your bed, slowly unscrewing a teal coloured jar’s lid. Your eyes follow her as she leans forward.

“Are you a Targareyn?” she asks, hand slowly hovering towards your face, intent on applying a cream to the area that had been forcibly rammed into a wall last night.

“No,” you respond, shifting back and out of her reach.

“You look like one,” she offers scooting closer to you determined to sooth your wound.

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, causing her to duck her head down in embarrassment, noticing her reaction, and feeling somewhat guilty you continue “My father was though, so I suppose in a way you are correct. You have a sharp eye, what is your name?” you query hoping to relieve any embarrassment.

“Kaina” she responds, eyes still on the bed spread.

“How old are you, Kaina?” you question, watching as an easiness washes over her as you allow her to apply the salve to your broken skin.

“Six and ten” she says, meticulously dabbing the mixture onto your face.

“Has the prince..ever.. propositioned you, ” you ask cautiously, curious as to the character of the man whose home you had been invited into.

“No, he has no eyes for children,” she says, redonning the jars lid.

“Which is more than you can say for the men of Westeros,” Shana quips as she appears at your side offering you a bowl of fruit which you take with a thank you. You pluck a raspberry from the bowl and pop it into your mouth, the freshness and sweetness delighting your tastebuds.

“That is very true, I knew of one man who married his own daughters,” you say, causing the two women to look at you horrified.

“When you age are you allowed to stay in the palace?” you query, ignoring their disdain for the practices carried out by the Frey family.

“Yes, we are allowed to stay or leave in order to continue our training if we wish,” Shana states

“Training?” you press.

“We are allowed to study here, I took up healing. Others like Shana learn to cook, others care for animals, or they train to fight, whatever they choose and they are allowed to come and go as they please,” Kaina states.

“You’re treated well here then? ”

“Yes, very much so” they both respond almost in unison.

“And are you paid well?”

“Yes, the princes both believe any service provided demands a payment. May I ask why you ask so many questions my lady?” Kaina ponders, her good nature causing you to smile.

“I am no lady, but I do take great value in the way a man treats his staff, especially those who hold less power than he. If I am to make a deal I wish to know whom I am making it with. I have no need to help abusers, ” you state as she recaps the salve that was now absorbing into your skin.

“A wise woman,” Shana states. “The prince is a good man, as is our king.”

“Neither of them would marry their own children,” the younger girl says standing again, horrified.

“Well that is good to hear,” you say with a soft chuckle,

“Do you need us to dress you my lady?” Shana offers, despite already knowing the answer.

“No I am quite alright thank you,” they curtsey and leave you to dress for the day. You pull on the lightweight leather armour before redonning your cloak, opting to leave the hood down, no point in hiding who you were now, at least while you were within the palace walls.

You stroll leisurely down the palace steps, admiring the limestone architecture and the gold detailing glimmering under the mid-morning sun. You watch the heat ripple as it rises off the metallic features. The day's warmth bears down on your face, even in the winter the dornish heat was nearly unbearable and infinitely warmer than Winterfell. Your head turns towards the sound of children laughing and you watch as two small blurs disappear round a corner, in chase of the butterflies flying throughout the palace. You continue through the garden hand ghosting along the Ivy leaves that snaked through the metallic fencing containing the gardens perimeter. You could easily see yourself getting lost amongst the vines, the winding paths leading off in multiple directions towards unknown destinations. You would return here another time, to truly admire the flora created by the old gods and the new. You stay true to your path for the time being, hoping to locate Oberyn so he could make light of his supposed proposition. You follow the faint metallic clammer echoing in the distance, the sound growing louder as you approach a large wooden arena. The training grounds were large, offering a place to train and exhibit the ornate and hypnotic fighting.

Their style was known across the seven kingdoms for being elegant and deadly, a combination you found paired well with at least one dornish individual you knew.

The arena's overhang offers you some shade, a luxury not afforded to those in the arena, you come to rest your forearms down on the palisade allowing your wrists to drape over the bannister as your shoulders relax. Oberyn's armour glimmers in the sun illuminating the sweat beaded over his tanned skin, a few loose strands of hair plastered to his forehead. You watch as he skillfully knocks his opponent to the ground before turning to you. You watch his charismatic features light up as he strides towards you allowing his opponent to regain his footing.

“Your beauty is greater than the messengers lead me to believe,” he states loudly, causing you to look down and shake your head, unsure what he hoped to achieve by shamelessly flirting with you.

“So you were spying on me,” you respond, ignoring his charms, much to his dismay. Your constant dismissal of his advances leaving him wondering if he had finally found someone immune to his charisma.

“We spy on anyone we think will be an ally or enemy to us, “ he says glancing back, not dropping his guard despite his opponents retreat to the arena's far side.

“Must be a long list,” you offer as he places his spear against the panelling, splashing his face with water before bending down to take a drink from one of the taps found throughout the city.

“Prior to his death, we wanted Robb Stark on our side, and you, or Lady Stark wherever she may be, we were told she was a ferocious warrior, ” he states, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“Don't believe everything you hear. Though I suppose she owes you her life, perhaps a lesson in calligraphy would suffice, your handwriting is quite distinctive,” you smirk watching his head turn in faux shock before returning to his opponent.

“My time was better spent elsewhere,” he shouts back, blocking yet another shot brought forward by the palace guard. Turning he gracefully sweeps the legs out from beneath the man the entire ordeal lasting no longer than a few minutes.

“Pleasures of the flesh have far greater value to me than a pretty note,” he states clearly, turning to gauge your reaction. Despite you declining his advances the subject of sex appeared to have little to no effect on you. There was no giggle or blush that often came in the women of westeros who are told sex is a sacred act for man and wife.

“Too much time doing as you please and not nearly enough time spent doing what you should,” you state, a line your mother had frequently said when you trapsed throughout the forest instead of doing your housework. He looks at you, confusion and glee dancing on his face at your manner, or lack thereof, around him. Being a prince he wasn't used to such a direct tone. Others typically behaved themselves around him, either out of fear or admiration. Though neither were nearly as tantalizing as those who readily disregarded his status with such cutting wit.

“On your left,” you remark, allowing him to catch the oncoming hit just in time. He nods for the man to leave the arena leaving you alone with Oberyn.

“Shall we?” he calls out, and you cock your head to the side.

“You said you wished to practice, you care to try your luck,” he asks, swinging around grinning as he gestures to the large space.

“Luck won't have anything to do with me beating you,” you quip hopping over the panelling and into the arena.

“You need four weapons to defeat me?” he taunts from afar. You shoot him a look as you stab your knife into the ground before removing the quiver and bow placing them against the wall. You turn on the tap and splash your face with the water, flicking the remainder off your hands as you turn and walk into the sun towards your opponent.

“Just two which by my count is one less than you,” you offer.

“I only have one,” he explains

“The spear is long, has two ends, two weapons. Besides you have a shield. Shield counts as a weapon,” you state.

“And you don’t choose to fight without one,” he says, dropping the shield so you have no excuses for his impending victory.

“Don’t need a shield if the enemy is dead before they can reach you,” you explain.

“Cocky”, he says twirling the spear hitting the blunt end into the ground before pointing it forward and bending at the knees in preparation.

“You say as if you are not yourself,” you retort, arms reaching back and removing the swords twirling them before entering your own stance. He’ll make the first move, of that you're sure. He does as you expect, allowing you to stop the hit with your swords crossing them into an ‘x’ and using their combined force to push his spear up and to the side as you uncross them. His underestimation of your strength leaves him off balance as you spin around aiming for his knees. He manages to regain his footing and jumps easily over your sword showing off the flashy fighting style you’d expected of a dornish prince.

“Perhaps not as poor a fighter as you thought,” you state, ducking as he swings his spear around to hit you. Without breaking motion he spins the weapon above his head bringin it down almost hitting you had you not dropped to the ground. Rolling behind him you twirl your swords around and jab the hilts into the back on his knee. He falls to his knees and before he can formulate his next move you stand and kick his weapon out from his hand. He teeters forward and you grab him by the hair tugging it back exposing his throat. You bring your blade to his neck watching his Adam's apple bod as he swallows, eyes looking up to you with what one could only describe as admiration.

“I believe that's a match,” you say, removing the blade and pushing his head forward. He remains kneeling, half in shock, half aroused.

“One and done?” You chide watching as he remains on his knees. It was a sight you could get used to.

“Now there's something I've never been called before,” he chuckles, composing himself and standing back up “You're better than I thought,” he remarks bending to retrieve his spear.

“Is that what the men and women of Dorne say to you?” you taunt, watching as his eyes light up, a smile etched on his face as he searches for a response. “ I was a soldier before I was an assassin,” you explain, closing the silence for him.

“Women are allowed to fight in the north? Perhaps you all are more evolved than I had thought,” he states.

“I never said I was allowed to be there,” you admit, causing him to chuckle. “A murderer, a mercenary, and a liar. What other charming traits do you possess,” he queries winking at you.

“And here I thought the Red Viper was said to have a way with words,” you quip back much to his delight.

“One to one, drop your other sword,” he says, turning back towards you.

“That’s hardly fair,” you retort, more petulant than you’d have liked.

“I thought you would know by now, life isn’t fair,” He remarks and you grit your teeth but do as he requests jabbing your other sword into the ground.

“I should ask you to chop your spear in half,”

“Stop putting it off” he says, shining the spear���s point on his sleeve. It's different now he seems to have sussed out your style and in mere seconds. He lunges forward and you mirror him but he pulls back quickly, dancing out of reach from your sword which swings aimlessly in the air, throwing you off balance. You find your footing just as he sweeps your feet from beneath you knocking you on your back. He swings down but you block it with your forearm, managing to use your free hand to swipe at his ankle. Noticing your movements he jumps back, releasing the pressure of his weight from your arm allowing you to get back up.

“You’re bleeding,” he states, weapon falling to his side, upset at having marked your skin with his blade when he’d much rather have done so with his mouth.

“Stop trying to distract me,” you hiss, upset at being bested so easily. Rushing forward your weapons meet in the air. Metal on wood sounding out as you hack into the spear hoping to break it. As you split the spear in half he allows your force to carry you forward and he maneuvers behind you. A harsh tap on your wrist causes your hand to retract dropping your sword which clammers unhappily to the ground. The spear's blunt end wraps around your waist pulling you into him, his strength more apparent than ever. He brings the bladed end up bracing his arm against your chest and pointing it towards your heart, your body now pressed tightly into his.

“Match,” he whispers softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He lets you go after a minute when he feels your body relax into his, letting you walk off in defeat. He turns back to pick up the broken end of his weapon, and as he does a dagger flies by his head sticking in the wall mere inches from him.

“Chest isn’t a definite kill. The throat is,” you say, your time spent healing leaving you attune to your enemies anatomy.

“I'll add cheating to your growing list of qualities, ” he tuts, throwing the dagger back sticking it in the wall near you. “I could have you hung for a stunt like that,” he states, sauntering over to you.

“Did you have a proposition for me? Or did you only wish for me to come back here so you could be smug?” you query and he laughs watching as you remove the wrist guard from your bloodied arm assessing the gash you’d procured during your fight. He comes over to you placing his hand under your upturned arm caressing it as he looks down at the cut with disdain.

“Come, you should go to the palace healers,” he says softly, offering you insight into why so many found themselves in his chambers.

“No need,” you say, removing the skin to skin contact you so desperately longed for. Grabbing a handful of leaves from a nearby bush you place them in your mouth, chewing them into a paste and rubbing it into the cut, “my mother was a healer. That tree, its leaves cauterize the wound, less pain than fire, less scarring as well,” you state upon seeing his confusion. “Your proposition, my prince?” you ask his eyes going from your arm to your eyes.

“More of a request I suppose. My niece Arianne has gone missing since our last meeting, she was running away somewhere, towards something but someone else got to her first. We have our suspicions as to who has stolen her, but we need evidence prior to the accusation. I had my birds fly around and ask whom to contact, it seemed that you were the one for the job,” he explains.

“Is that so. How do I know I can trust you?” you ask, he’d found you and he’d been good thus far, but anytime you were shown kindness you were hesitant. In your experience it nearly always came with a price.

“I'm sure you're aware, but they have murdered my sister, and my greatest love I will not allow them to take anyone else I care for,” he says, fire in his eyes. It was the most serious you’d seen him. His usual jovity lost in a stoic expression, reminding you of another man you once knew.

“I believe your intentions to be true, but that is not cause for trust,” you explain, watching as nods his head slowly in agreement.

“You cannot trust, because you are unable. I understand why, so I fear nothing I say will ease you, but I swear, no harm will come to you here.”

“Not until you have what you want, at least” you mumble.

“And after,” he reassures, his tone nearly leading you to believe him.

“And apart from payment what's in it for me? If I am to uncover a truth that could start a war. I've spent too long hiding away to risk being found,”

“You have no risk, they think you’re dead, proclaimed it themselves, even if you showed up, they'd never be able to say otherwise. Apart from that, a chance at family,”

“Family,” you scoff, the concept long forgotten. “My family is dead” you say, a lie you told yourself to keep you away from Winterfell, though it was a lie likely to be true, knowing the Lannisters obsession with tying up loose ends.

“The Starks are rising again, Sansa is back in Winterfell, Arya is assumed alive and Jon is leading at the wall,” Oberyn lists off the rumours that had passed by his ears, but they were only whispers, nothing solid enough for you to cling too.

“Even if what you say is true I am nothing to them,” you say, tone remaining level despite the knot forming in your stomach.

“You are there sister,”

“I am not, not anymore, not after I failed them,” you confess.

“How so?”

“You asked me why I was here, I was here to find and plead my case to Danearys Targaryn. At Robbs behest, to help destroy the Lannisters,” you finally admit, a heavy sigh exhaled as you do.

“And I take it you never did,” he watches as a sense of shame, or perhaps it was guilt, wash over you, a crack in your armour.

“You help me find Arianne, you help me bring her home and I will help you reach the mother of dragons,” he states earnestly.

“You know where she is?” you ask head quickly, turning to him.

“Not yet, but I found you, and you were dead, someone alive,” you watch as he pulls a face “should be no problem.”

“And why would you help me,” you query, still unsure of his true motivation for recruiting you.

“An eye for an eye, or perhaps it's purely selfish. An assassin can only go so far. A dragon, now that can take down a lineage,” he says looking down at you.

“I cannot promise her safety, I will not mince words, for all we know Arianne may be dead,” you explain.

“I understand this. Think it over, your welcome to stay here as long as you please, it has been a while since I have faced new opponents, and ones with different training, sloppy as it may be,” he quips, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

“I could say the same of you,” you retort quickly.

“I've never been described as sloppy,” Oberyn states, only partially offended at the insinuation.

“Perhaps you surround yourself with people aiming to please you for too long,” you say, accidentally bumping your shoulder into him, the sudden contact causing a heat to rise in your stomach.

‘Perhaps,” he laughs, noting your flustered reaction, when a man approaches handing him a note which he reads intently. You take the moment to admire his strong features as they concentrate on the note. His brow was furrowed, pouted lips mouthing along to the scripture of the letter before dropping it down to his sides. “As much as it devastated me to do so, I must take my leave from your company, my Lady,” he bows, excusing himself to consult his brother before you can correct him. You continue to stroll through the garden watching a mass of colours bloom around you. You sit on a stone bench wondering how you’d ended up here, wondering if your family was in fact dead, and if any of the Starks truly remained alive.

“You’re the white wolf aren’t you?” you hear a voice call out behind you causing you to laugh.

“What?” the voice demands

“It seems I have many as many names as there are kings these days,” you state.

“Any of them true?” the voice asks as you turn to see the eldest sand snake, Tyene. She was Oberyn and Ellaria's daughter, their first born. She reminded you of Arya, the hardness on her face caused by the brave facade forced onto her.

“I was sorry to hear of your mothers passing, ” you say, turning to face Tyene ignoring her previous question.

“Were you?” she states accusingly.

“I was, she produced and trained all of you after all. You were the only people in Dorne who actually scared me,” you admit.

“If it's any condolence the Shadow Tracker had reached our ears, and my mother was quite impressed with you as well,” she says, knife twirling between her fingers “How did you find him, my father?”

“Unfortunately your father found me. He needs my help, to find your cousin,” you explain hoping to ease her weariness about your place in the palace.

“Who better to take down a lion than someone who lost everything because of them,” she states, trying to see where your allegiances lie. Tyene was always wary when an unknown woman arrived. Concerned they are seeking to use her father to gain power. “Added bonus you look as you do I suppose,” she continues, knife dancing between her digits.

“I wonder why beauty is always what it comes back to? I would be here no matter my face,” you state.

“While I believe you would have been hired, my father has an eye for pretty things. You would have been paid but you wouldn't have been welcomed back to the palace,” she scoffs.

“Are you sure of that?” you question, unsure if she was being truthful or spiteful.

“Yes,” she replies matter of factly

“Well, I'll take that into consideration. Your cousin, Arianne, where was she going the day she disappeared?” you question.

“I don't know,” she mumbles, knife stalling for a moment.

“I don't believe that.”

“We searched her room, we found nothing, nothing but this,” she says, retrieving a small book and handing it to you.

“You give it to me freely?” she hesitates letting it go but her grip eases allowing you to take it.

“If what they say of you is true, perhaps you are the only one who can find her. She can't be left for long. She can't defend herself. All she knows is stitching and art and reading,” Tyene spits, eyes glistening slightly.

“All of which are valiant professions and skills, ones I wish I possessed. They foster patience, skill and planning. They forge a strategic mind, which comes in handy especially when taken by the enemy, ” you explain, your words easing Tyene, though the worry in her eyes remains.

“So she may still be alive,” she questions hesitantly.

“I do not think they killed her at least not yet,” you sigh, tapping the book against your hand “Thank you for trusting me with this,”

“Thank me by finding her,” Tyene says standing up and continuing on her way, leaving you to read Ariannes journal pages.

That night you can't sleep, you stroll through the garden admiring the flora, the colours are ones you'd never thought possible before.

“Running off,” a familiar voice asks and you turn to face the prince who was sitting on a stone bench a book placed precariously in his hands.

“Would you stop me if I was?” you query, returning on your path.

“No, though your dress indicates something else is the reason for your late night adventure,” he says standing up and walking slowly towards you.

“Insomnia, the plague of the guilty,” you state, taking a tiger lily in your hand admiring its markings “even in the summer the north fails to grow such things.”

“Even the plants know, the cold is no place to live,” Oberyn offers, book grasped tightly behind his back.

“Have you been?” you ask, removing your hand from the lily, eyes trailing up to the moon flowers that were glowing under the starlight.

“No,” he huffs, as if the question is preposterous.

“Then how would you know?” you respond smugly, eyes glancing up at him admiring his features as they relax into defeat before glancing down to you brow still furrowed, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “The trees are unlike anything you have ever seen, taller than buildings, older than the race of men. They’ll be here long after we crumble. Their red leaves against the white bark, the time of the old gods still etched into existence. Have you ever seen the snow my prince?” you query turning to face him.

“No, though i've heard the mountain peaks here can get it this time of year, but i've never been possessed to seek out the cold,” he admits, the colour of your eyes more prominent under the full moon, your poetic retelling almost enticing, or perhaps it was just the lips they fell from drawing him in.

“I miss it sometimes,” you confess, offering him a rare glimpse of softness he’d yet to see, “There's no feeling quite like that of being under furs with the one you love, the warmth of a fire as the cold breeze blows over you,” you continue, shaking your head at your ridiculous notions of tranquility.

“It is still warmth you crave then,” he says and you laugh.

“I suppose you're right,” you admit and he chuckles, enjoying your laugh, more melodic than he would have expected. Without your armour he could see the scars scattered across your body, not prominent but there. Evidence of a harder life than he’d expected from a person married to a would-be king.

“Are you not used to such ghastly sights my prince?” you query, his eyes widening at being caught admiring your form.

“I have seen scars before, and yours are hardly what one would qualify as ghastly ,especially considering the body they find themselves etched into existence on. I am merely curious as to their origin, each body tells a story after all,” he says following closely behind you.

“And what is my story” you ask, spinning around to face him.

“That your careless, ” he begins, watching as your eyes caution him “but only for those you are willing to risk your life for”

“Interesting,” you say, running your tongue along the cusps of your teeth, turning and walking on ahead, his eyes following you, feet doing the same.

“Am I right” he asked, more curious than ever. You shrug your shoulder annoying him slightly, not accustomed to your lack of openness.

“And your scars?” you question stopping to smell a lilac bush, he watches as the fabric dips low enough to reveal your chest.

“I have none, I am not careless,” he says, eyes on your newly exposed flesh, you snap your eyes to him “do not mistake my tone, you are a strong adversary, but you take unnecessary risks.” He states.

“Yet here I am,” you say standing up crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yet here you are,” he says, taking continuous steps to you until the space between you both is closed. He’s staring down at you, both hearts beating fast. You raise your gaze to meet his, momentarily lost in his eyes, forgetting your train of thought for a moment.

“I...I will help find your niece,” you sputter out, quickly turning your back to him.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says letting out a quick sigh at having missed an opportunity to envelop you in his arms and bring you back to his chambers.

“Goodnight prince Oberyn,” you say, not looking back as you begin the path back to your room, your head filled with his image despite your persistent attempts to expel him from your mind.

“Goodnight Lady Stark, or whoever you wish me to believe you to be,” he calls back, watching as you disappear from view.

[wagner-fell]

Spiders Are Ugly And Other Lies Capitalism Has Told Us (part one)

“Dad,” Astrid called out, shutting the coral coloured front door behind her. “Are you home?”

She dumped her cream tote bag spray painted with the words ‘Washing Machine Heart’ in big, rainbow letters onto one of the stools facing the granite countertop. The rest of the Merry Hoes followed suit. It was weird seeing a person as chaotic as Astrid in such a calm environment.

They were all spending the summer in LA with Astrid and her Dad. It had taken a while for Kevin to convince his family it was a good idea. Especially because he and Blessica had finally put years of pinning behind them. Making out on Kit’s bed at Mina’s third birthday party certainly wasn’t the way they had envisioned it but as the longing was over with, they were happy.

The Chu’s didn’t love the idea of their son living in a different country for three months with his girlfriend but we’re on board once Kevin assured them there was no possible way Blessica could get pregnant.

Kit wasn’t officially sleeping at the Yang’s but at the Institute with his boyfriend. Julian wasn’t so thrilled about the situation but Emma was. She was positively ecstatic about having a training partner as skilled as Kit was, courtesy of Jem and Tessa. Though staying a thirty minute drive away (on the wrong side of the road, Mari noted) wouldn’t keep Kit away for long. Even now he was with them instead of having his own reunion make out session.

Speaking of making out…

Mari rested their chin on the top of Astrid’s head and wrapped their arms around her middle. “Why don’t you show us your room while we wait for your dad to get home.”

It was kinda perfect, Mari often remarked, that she realized her feelings for their best friend weren’t so platonic as she previously led herself to believe at the same time they and Kit realized they were better off as just platonic.

Astrid hit her hand playfully. “That’s not fair!” she whined! ”How dare you take advantage of my constant hornyness when my God-fearing Presbyterian father could be in the next room? Shame! Shame on you, shame on your family, shame on your cow.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘dishonor’”, said Kit, who didn’t even look up from his phone when he addressed her, “but go off I guess.”

Astrid looked like she was questioning all her life choices up to this point. “A white boy knows Mulan better than me.” She shook her head in disgust. Mari could feel the loose hairs of her girlfriend’s ponytail ticking her exposed collar bone. “Mulan.”

Mari laughed before softly brushing their lips against Astrid mop of bleached strands of pastel yellow, pink and blue mixed magnificently with her natural inky black.

“Is hornyness even a word?” Kevin wondered aloud as he observed the knickknacks placed at even intervals utop the kitchen cabinets. Blessica was with him. She was gazing at one of a crab steering a ship when she spotted a slim piece of paper taped below it.

“Ast,” she called. The both looked in her direction, despite Blessica needing the attention of one. “Your dad says he won’t be home till seven. Emergency at work.”

“Which leaves us more than enough time to pack and head over to meet Ty, Dru and Thaìs at the arcade,” said Kit. He finally turned his phone off and shoved it into the back pocket of his ripped jeans. “Marstrid can do the ol’ devil’s tango then catch up to us.”

‘Marstrid’ wrinkled their noses. “I thought we agreed on Astari, Christopher.”

“Astari sounds gayer,” confirmed Kevin, his eyes never leaving the miniature decorations.

“Not to be rude but why does Astari sound gayer?” asked a visibly confused Blessica.

“Because,” answered Mari, unraveling herself from Astrid to slide onto one of the bar stools and reaching into the Jolly Rancher jar, blindly searching for a green, “Astari has ‘star’ in it. Star equals astrology. An obsession with astrology is the price you pay for the gay agenda. Besides, Marstrid sounds like an old southern lady.” Then she furrowed her eyebrows and swiveled to face Astrid. “Southern is Texas, right?” Astrid nooded, a smile so big the Cheshire Cat would be jealous.

Without looking, she stuck her hand in the jar and pulled out a green apple flavoured hard candy on her first try. She held it out to Mari, who snatched it out of her hand with an angry huff.

“Hey, Ast, where do you guys keep the crisps?” asked Kevin when he finished inspecting all the knickknacks.

“Uh, under the barbecue sauce, I think.”

Kit’s eyes lit up. “So I’m sitting there”- Astrid understood what was happening in just enough time to quote- “barbecue sauce on my titties” in unison.

Mari put her head into their open palms, still sucking on the pity candy. “Why is this my type?”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” asked Blessica as Kit attempted to parallel park outside the location Ty had texted him to meet at. Key word, attempt. When Tessa had taught him to drive, he’d been such a disaster at parallel parking she had instructed him to ‘take the underground when tight spaces might be a possibility.’ Which he prided himself in doing. But this was America and the underground was called the subway, so, technically, no rules were being broken.

“Yes, Blessie, I’m certain.”

“Okay. Just checking cause a few turns back the GPS said-”

“Blessie!” He nearly crashed into the car in front of him.

“Right. Shutting up.”

When Kit managed to park with minimal damage and the three were about to exit, the voice of Nicki Minaj boomed from his pocket. Ty was calling him. He accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hello Tiberius.” There was giggling from the other end of the line. A groan soon followed it.

“It’s been a year,” came the annoyed voice of Dru. “Get over your British kink already.” Kevin’s laughter echoed from the backseat.

“Hey Ty!

“Hi Kevin.”

”Hey Dru!”

“Fuck off.”

“Ouch. Why do you feel the need to hurt me so?” Blessica laughed.

“Hey…Thaìs?”

“Here,” replied Thaìs cheerfully.

“Are you here yet,” asked Ty.

“Uh, yeah! We were just getting out of the rental car when you called. You didn’t tell me it was going to be crowded. I had to parallel park!”

“What are you talking about?” interrupted Dru. ”There are only four cars in the parking lot.”

“But,” Ty countered, “there are lots of Billy’s Fun Zones’ around here. You guys must have got mixed up and taken a wrong turn. I could have sworn I sent you the correct location on GPS.” Maybe Ty said more on the subject but Kit could hear anything or see anything except the superior smirk Blessica was giving him.

He covered the speaker. “Not. A. Word.” And no word came out of her mouth the entire ride to the correct Billy’s Fun Zone but the ‘I told you so’ look on her face spoke loud enough.

Kit slid back into the booth next to Ty, handing him his pretzel. Ty kissed him on the check in gratitude.

Dru and Ty were right. About this one being empty. He told him he had heard about it from Alyssa. Her pack frequented it often. They were left alone because, well, there was no one else there to bother them.

“Where are Astrid and Mari?” he asked.

“Fucking. I think. Or maybe just making out. I’ll know which one when they finish.” When Ty gave him a puzzled look he continued, “Astrid describes it all to me in full detail. I honestly don’t know whether she doesn’t have a filter or she just needs someone to scream to about how amazing Mari is.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“True, true.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Ty picked up the conversation again. “When Thaìs first met Astrid, she had a huge crush on her. They got along great. I always thought they would end up together. Or hook up at the very least.”

“Huh, that’s funny,” observed Kit.

“What is?”

“When me and Mari split, I was planning on trying to set them up with Thaìs. But then I caught her ans Astrid making out in a storage closet at school. Which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid cause they were in there so I wouldn’t be sad Mari moved on when I opened the door in the first place avoiding her to call you.”

“Hmmmm.”

The gears in Ty’s head were visibly turning. Kit loved watching this process. An idea was forming in his boyfriend’s genius mind, he could sense it.

“What is their stance on monogamy?” he asked finally.

“Um, fuck, hold on. Mari sent me this whole speech about it.” Kit scrolled through his phone at a rapid rate before he saw what he was looking for. He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:52 AM: monogamy is just another lie capitalism has fed us

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:55 AM: like, for example, the notion that house spiders are ugly and to be feared

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: it’s just to sell bug spray

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: same with monogamy

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:56 AM: pointless!!!

Mari_da_bisexual_whore, sent 1:58 AM: in conclusion, if I want to join a polyam cult, who tf is the government to stop me?

Kev-Kev, sent 2:01 AM: mari please go to sleep

Bless-ing_to_the_world, sent 2:04 AM: ^^^^^^^^^^^

Mitski_my_love, sent 2:05 AM: preach!

Mitski_my_love, sent 2:05 AM: go off queen

By the time Kit was finished with his dramatic reading, Ty’s plan was fully formed.

“That settles it! We are going to play matchmakers!”

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

Alyssa, Ty’s friend mentioned is @thechangeling OC, not mine.

@the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @adoravel-fenomeno @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @illusions-give-reasons-to-live @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @sofiatheskeleton @cncnbr @its-taff @noah-herondale-lightwood @maxboythedog @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @book-dragon-not-worm sorry if I missed anyone LMK if you want to be added or removed from The tag List!!

[thatslikely]

Mill Boy - F.W.

Mill Boy- Fred Weasley x fem!reader [1800s muggle!au]

warnings: mentions of child labor

word count: 3.4k 

a/n: probably part one of a minseries? y/n and fred are about 10-11 in this so part ii could possibly be a timeskip

“Mum, can I go play? Please?” you pleaded, doe eyes shiny and prominent. Your mother, a hard working housewife, was bent over the sturdy kitchen table, dousing dirty dishes in scalding water, preparing them to be piled with the beef warming in the flames of the stove across the airy kitchen.

“Fine, Y/N, just please don’t get your dress dirty. Your father worked hard to afford such a fine cotton. He wouldn’t be pleased to see it ruined, now would he?” You eagerly nodded in agreement, ready to go enjoy the meadows lying across the walls of your humble residence. It was a beautiful spring day, most enticing one yet. Birds fluttered through the lush, brilliant cedar trees, enjoying the tranquil air that comes with the season. Ox-eye daisies dotted the expansive hills, all the way down to the slowly trickling creek. 

You slipped your muddied boots over the clean, cotton socks adorning your feet, grabbing your hat to shield your youthful eyes from the golden star above right after. You slipped it over your locks, which were neatly tied into pig-tails with silky, baby pink ribbons Mother bought you for your birthday. 

You skipped through the propped back door, little giggles of delight humming through your throat. Any traces of the harsh winter that stormed the land only a few months prior were washed away with the glimmering sunlight, which coerced the wildflowers to bloom from buds to petaled cups of sweetness.

With a smile, you followed a path of vibrant, woolly blue violets, carefully plucking their stems for a nice arrangement to become the perfect centerpiece for dinner. The colour, in your opinion, complimented the pastel pinks of your dress perfectly, filling you with even more glee. How you wished that you could spend all your time out of the confines of buildings, having fun and being free of responsibility.

It was most unladylike to go splashing in the cool water of the stream, and you would surely be scolded for it if you chose to do so. You had attempted to conceal your submersion in the winding brook once before, but the liquidy footprints you left on the floors of your house quickly outed your escapade. Fearing another stern talk, which was not pleasant in the slightest, you simply skipped to its edge, astutely observing its reflective surface with admiration. 

The crystalline liquid glossed over smooth stones adorned with moss so peacefully, its pace never wavering, not even for a second. The mere idea of something perpetually in motion, never having to stop and take a break, as you did many times after a long day of running in the fields, chasing butterflies, astounded you. 

Everyone had to go to sleep, or stop for a breath every once in a while, right? Scampers, the stray which adored your family’s covered porch, went to bed at odd times, most often at noon. And yet, he still slept. The grocer down the lane kept his shop attended every time you’d visit, but the windows would soon be curtained and dim when the moon came out to rule the seemingly never ending sky.

You prodded the cool creek with your finger, letting the water continue to flow past it unbothered, as if it were nothing but another stray twig. The thirst for answers dripped down from your mind, enveloping your body in a sensation that couldn’t be mended by simply drinking the water. You were amazed, and you had to see more, know more. You followed the bends of the stream, far beyond the view of your house.

Nobody had ever outright stated that you shan’t see where it goes, where the water ends, so naturally you had to discover it yourself. Maybe you’d be met with a secret alcove, your own private pocket of the boundless world. Alternatively, maybe you would stumble across a small house entangled high up in the branches of a tree, and fly up to its entrance like a fairy from a tale recited before bed. Or even, most enticing of all, maybe there was a prince waiting for you where the water ends; a prince who’d sweep you off your feet, offering you a chance to live in a magnificent castle situated in a far away land. 

You hummed songs that your frilly-dressed peers would chime in unison during recess, filling the still air. The toes of your boots leaped from one large rock to another, balancing on their flat surfaces like a game of hopscotch. 

The soft, sweet humming echoing through his cove from a ways down the creek instantly perked Fred’s curiosity, luring him in like a siren’s song. He halted his stick-poking of the ants inching up the burly trunk of the ancient tree, swinging his gingered-head down, so his vision lay unobscured by the low-hanging branches. 

No one ever came to visit Fred when he lay slouched in the safe, knotted branches of his tree; whether it was because his family couldn’t locate him or the fact that they were aware that he needed a break, he didn’t know. Days spent in the mill were painful and excruciatingly long, so during the few spare moments he had to himself, he’d spend it talking to the lush wildlife surrounding him. He’d never be talked over by the weeds or birds, they’d just sit and listen, exactly what he needed. 

He nearly fell to the grassy ground trying to find the source of the melodic songs, curious to see who dare disturb the previously hidden Fort Fred. He imagined himself as a skillful militiaman, like his brothers, ready to charge and overtake the enemy, even if the music-maker was nothing near a threat.

Just as he was about to jump down to investigate on his own two feet, the source was finally revealed. An absolutely beautiful girl- a princess, rather, approached the tree. She was dressed in a light pink gown, as if she had just come back from a royal ball. Her singing brought serenity all around, as if she were somehow communicating with the birds and butterflies, allowing them to chirp and flutter along. At the same time, however, her well-loved boots and hat altered her look to something of a daring adventurer, exploring the unknown paths of thicket.

“Hello,” you said angelically, clasping your hands together across your waist. You were completely surprised to meet a companion on your previously solo expedition, and a dashing, amiable one at that.

You’d never seen this particular boy at school before; he seemed different than all your icky male peers. The boys at school would tug on your pigtails during tests, claim you were infested with disgusting germs at recess, and chase you around the yard tauntingly. But this boy’s features resonated nothing but kindness: the crinkles around his eyes from smiling, light orange freckles all across his nose, his shaggy, fiery red hair topped with a patched-up flat cap.

Maybe there was a prince at the end of the brook after all.

The friendly-appearing boy hopped down from his perch in the tree, smoothing out the wrinkles and leaves in his suspendered trousers and white button up with a suspicious look. “And who would you be, miss?” 

“Erm- my name’s Y/N. What’s your’s?” You couldn’t help but smile, and your cheeks prickled as if a ladybug were crawling across them.

He stepped closer to you, his composure open and honest. “I’m Fred, Fred Weasley. I live down the way, near the mill.”

“Nice to meet you, Fred Weasley.” You did a proper courtesy, just as you had been taught so many times before, then adding, “what’s a mill?”

Fred’s jaw dropped, as if it had no hinges. “You’re joking, right? You don’t know about the mill? I work there just about every day of the week.” He pointed further down the creek, opposite the direction of your house, astonishment swimming in his mahogany brown eyes. 

“I’ve never heard anything of the sort. What do you do in a mill, exactly?” 

“Well, there’re these big, loud machines that're always moving. They get power from this huge wooden wheel upstream that’s always spinning. They make tons of pieces of fabric out of wool. Maybe I even weaved some of the cloth used to make that very dress you’re wearing right now.”

You marvelled at his descriptions, even the simple way he spoke, articulated his words. Those utterly despicable boys at school would’ve just stuck their tongues out at you disrespectfully, not giving you the time of day, but Fred couldn’t be more different. He spoke to you as if you two were something of equals.

“Oh wow.” You were barely able to suppress a flustered giggle. Why were you feeling so, mushy around Fred, the sensation comparable only to the consistency of porridge? “I didn’t know you were so talented to do that.”

“Aww,” -he blushed, scratching the nape of his neck- “I mean, it’s not too difficult, you could probably do it if you tried. After a while ‘course.”

“Nonsense.” You not-so-nonchalantly rubbed your palms up and down your dress, noticing beads of perspiration accumulating on them. While doing so, the bushel of hooded violets resting in your pocket became evident. You pulled one from your stash, saying, “do you want one of my flowers? I picked them down near my house.”

Fred swore at any moment, if anything were so much as to touch him, he would burst. He’d never experienced these, admittedly strange, feelings before. It felt like his last meal wouldn’t settle in his stomach, or as if he’d just run a horse’s distance by the way his heart was pounding out of his chest. Was he sick? Should he go tell mum?

“I, erm, of course,” he stuttered, barely capable of moving his lips to form coherent words. “You have e-excellent taste in flowers, miss Y/N.”

“Thanks. I picked plenty, for a nice centerpiece at home. Mum always loves flowers.” You fiddled with the frills and layers of your dress, doing something to occupy your energetic fingers. Fred studied the flower intently with his brows furrowed, tugging on its petals and anthers. 

After Fred was satisfied with his examination of the violet, he said, “you know, there’s some really pretty yellow flowers growing down by the mill. They’d go perfectly with these here.”

“Will you take me?” 

“Of course I will. We’d best get going, though. Don’t wanna miss dinner.” Fred gestured for you to follow his lead, walking through the knee-high blades of grass as if he were wading through a river. When he quickly noticed your look of apprehension, not wanting to dirty your dress or have an unwanted animal encounter, he grabbed your palm with a grin, forcing you to trail behind him.

You two distantly followed the path of the creek, adventure flowing through both of your veins. Fred’s grip on your hand was gentle, despite the calloused patches scattered over his skin, no doubt a result of the ‘large machines’ he described working on in the mill.  

After a while of giggling and jogging, the distant outline of a building across the stream was visible. Its four walls were composed of rough, grey stones used as bricks; it’s roof was sealed with jagged pieces of slate, some out of place. But the biggest surprise came not with the building itself, but to the right of it. A humongous, wooden wheel spun through the rill, rhythmically splashing the previously tranquil water as it continued flowing. It was as if everything today was out of a fairy tale, but this was the most outlandish of them all. A giant wheel, spinning in pace through the water? 

“Well, we’re here.” While Fred usually dreaded returning back to the mill, as his time within the confines were never pleasant, tolerable at best, he was glad to be here with company and a different mission. He wasn’t going to be making fabric today, no, he was on the search for bundles of corn-yellow flowers, with the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on. True royalty, a princess through and through.

“Wow. That wheel’s ginormous! How does it work?” This time, it was your mind that curiosity flooded, and it ceased to relent. 

“Erm, I don’t exactly know. All I know is that the creek pushes the wheel, for some reason. I’ll ask Dad about it sometime, he’ll know.” You nodded appreciatively, satisfied at the promise of an answer. 

 “Now what do you say we go find some of those flowers?”

“Yes please!” You started peering around the water’s edge, attempting to spot any signs of cheerful, yellow flowers.

While you continued digging through ferns and bushes, searching for gold, Fred enchanted you from a distance across the shaded meadow. “I think my brother Percy said that the flowers are called Golden Alexanders. He’s one to always go a bit heavy on books during his breaks.” 

‘You’ll have to ask your brother how they got their name. The first part’s fairly obvious, the Alexander portion not so much.”

“I’m gonna have to ask everyone in my family questions if I keep showing you new things by the looks of it,” he giggled, walking around the grassy plateau with his hand shielding his eyes from the setting sun. 

“Teacher always tells me during lessons, ‘curiosity killed the cat’-” 

“Poor kitty,” Fred muttered.

“-But satisfaction brought it back. So you best bring me back some answers tomorrow, because I don’t exactly fancy dying.” Fred’s eyes widened with his new, highly-important mission. “I’d at least wish to go out in a heroic way, not at the hands of my own unquenched curiosity.”

“That’s quite the big word.”

“I know, I learned it the other day!” you giggled, covering your toothy grin with your hand. “Isn’t it cool?” Fred responded with a handsome, wide smile and concurring nod. His eyes were filled to the brim with joy; they reminded you of warm evenings sitting around the crackling fire charring logs and embers. 

You scourged through the brush for a while longer until the soothing trickling of water was interrupted by Fred’s distinct voice, shouting, “Oh, I think I found some o’er here!”

You skipped to Fred’s direction, the toes of your boots patting the grass lightly. Fred was leaning down over a small patch of Golden Alexanders, watching a few bumblebees buzz between the central stigmas protected in the wreaths of small petals.

Without thinking, you swiftly wrapped your arms around Fred, his back pressed to your chest tightly. “Thank you, Fred. These’ll look great. You’ve got quite the eagle eye.” Your cheeks burned, and your soft arms were swept with tiny goosebumps.

“It’s no problem, really. I’m just glad you’re happy.” You unleashed Fred from your grasp, nearly tumbling to the ground with flusteredness. The porridge-ish feeling was back, and your now-wobbly legs weren’t exempt. “Your smile’s contagious, you know.” 

Fred’s reaction to your hug was slightly different, but equal in magnitude. His chest puffed as if it were fluttering with butterflies that would glide low near the grass, his neck, which tingled after your every exhale, was burning like brush, and his breath all but stopped, which he paid no mind to. 

To distract himself from the foreign sensations racking his body, he pointed to the revolving wheel sputtering the crystalline, flowing water, saying, “Do you think it's possible for me to climb the wheel? I’d wager I could.”

“You’d be a madman if you did.” You daintily trailed behind him like a curious cat, spying on his actions from afar.

“Then I guess I’ve got to do it.” He stepped one foot on one of the damp wooden beams, which proved successful until the churning of the wheel shook off his balance. He stumped to the group with an ‘ow’, groaning, “Princess, you were supposed to catch me.”

“Sorry,” you cheekily giggled, suppressing your smile with your cupped palm. You looked in all directions but Fred’s to avoid an assumed scornful glare, but instead you were met with a chuckling redhead, his umber eyes screwed shut with laughter.

Childish titter occupied the still Spring air, blending in with the trickling water and occasional melody chirped by a lone sparrow or two. Your fingers intertwined with Fred’s to prevent you from falling backwards into the puddles of sludge strewn through the sunset-soaked blades of grass.

Eventually, Fred could be your stabilizing tether no longer, and you both fell backwards, hands still locked playfully. You started to get up from the soft cushion composed of a plethora of plants before the flat-capped ginger motioned for you to remain relaxed on the ground, the large tufts of your gown and all. 

You complied, and before you knew it, you were making out the shapes of pink-hued clouds, improvising tales and fables to enchant Fred with.

“That one looks like a rabbit, doesn’t it?” you would say, or “that one looks like a mule-”

“-riding on a carriage!” Fred finished, giggling in unison with you. As your throat erupted with chuckles, you and the prince beside you clutched your stomachs which were rattling with joy.

After a while of staring up at the deepening sky, you said, “I think I’ve got to go back for dinner, Mum’ll be expecting me.” Fred immediately stood up, quick as a soldier, and he outstretched his arm chivalrously to help you sit up as well.

“I’ll walk you back, don’t worry. Who would I be to let a princess such as yourself brave the wilderness alone?”

“How kind of you, good sir,” you replied with a joking curtsy and exaggerated accent dripping with poshness. Your fingers intertwined with Fred’s again for the second time that day, and this time they felt more familiar, as if you could pinpoint every sun-owing freckle or crease in his pale skin.

Your connected arms swung rhythmically as you both relaxedly walked towards the direction of your humble residence, careful to avoid stepping on dotted ladybugs that scurried through the grass. Occasionally, you or Fred would release a clever wisecrack or randomly twirl, basking in the pink rays of sunshine that gradually depleted, but for most of the trek home, you stayed quiet, simply enjoying each other’s company: a luxury that was hard to come by in Fred’s house of nine.

When your house was finally visible on the thin line of the horizon, Fred’s eyes couldn’t help but light up. Your home didn’t look much different than the Weasley’s, save for its size being half as big. Your chimney wasn’t as crooked and worn by the elements as the gingered clan’s was either, but the young boy didn’t seem to notice. All he could see was an elegant castle suited for no one but the best.

At long last, you arrived on your back porch. The door was wide open, where your mother leaned her aproned hips against the frame with a smile. Wonderful aromas wafted from the kitchen to you and Fred’s nostrils, beckoning you to take a seat at the dinner table and dig in. “Now who might this be, Y/N?”

“My name’s Fredrick Weasley ma’am.” Youthfulness glinted his eyes as he reached his hand to shake your mother’s. “I go by Fred.”

“You’ve got quite the firm shake,” she said, suppressing a chuckle, “I hope you and Y/N had fun today? By the look of her dress, she did.”

Your cheeks burned like a tin fresh out of the oven as you looked down in horror to see brown splotches of dirt strewn across the fluff and frills. “Mum, I-”

“Shh, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” you mother cooed in a whisper, eyeing the oblivious redheaded boy next to you, who was equally smudged with mud but complemented with a sweet, wide-mouthed smile.

“Well, Y/N dear, it’s dinner time. Does your guest Mister Weasley care to join us?”

“No thank you, Miss Y/L/N, I’ve got to be on my way back to my home as well.” Fred pulled you closer to him, so that your chest was mere inches away from his’. A sudden burst of confidence pumped through his veins, and with that, he gave a light pack to your cheek. 

Your eyes widened with shock; his lips left a tingly imprint on your nerves as he turned back around towards the creek. I’ll never wash my face again, you thought, cupping your cheek with your palm. 

“Bye princess, I’ll see you tomorrow, promise?” he shouted, giving you a final wave. 

“Promise. Bye, Mill Boy. See you then!” And with that, he was off following towards the water in which he came, the orange sunlight turning his figure into a fading silhouette. 

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[mythicamagic]

The Colour of Love: Sesskag oneshot

This oneshot is dedicated to @chierafied​ as thanks for all her hard work and organisation in the sesskag community, particularly on tumblr for sesskag week and monthly prompts. She's also a wonderful sesskag author and always offers advice or a kind word ^^

Rated T

Summary: Shippo puts a spell on Kagome that allows her to see emotions in colour. It's fun to test out on her friends, but why is she seeing an awful lot of magenta around Sesshoumaru whenever she comes near? Sesskag oneshot

The Colour of Love

"I just need to test it on someone. You'll help, won't you?"

Kagome eyed the ominous glowing beverage in the fox's hands dubiously. She winced and picked up a basket, walking away with every intention of weaselling out of the conversation.

"Shippo, no offence, but the last time you tested something on me for class, horns sprouted out of my head and green pimples covered my face for an entire week. I'm not super keen on being your guinea pig this time, buddy."

His tail twitched and lowered, but her words did little to deter Shippo. He followed the miko as she attended to her chores; freeing swaying sheets from where they'd been hanging out to dry and folding them neatly into a basket.

"Oh pleeassee, Kagome! Sensei oversaw my casting process this time- there's no danger, honest! It's not even that cool of a spell."

Kagome arched a brow, lifting off another sheet and smoothing the cool creases. That was odd, Shippo always preferred the flashier spells. "What does it do?"

"It would let you see everyone's emotions in colour."

She tilted her head, "in colour? How would that work?"

Shippo grinned mischievously, holding up his cup and shaking it gently. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Giggling, she thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip. "I guess it sounds pretty harmless. And this is for a grade?"

"Yes!" he nodded rapidly, eyes widening as his tone became pleading. "Sensei already graded all the other kids! I'm the only one who hasn't passed yet, and everyone else in the village refuses to help me! I'd owe you big time, Kagome. Please?"

Giving a large, put-upon sigh and folding the last of the sheets, Kagome squatted down before him. "Alright, alright. I just have to drink it?"

Green eyes brightened, and he handed the cup over eagerly, the contents nearly spilling. "Mhm! The effects should only last for a few days~!"

The glowing blue shimmer within her cup didn't exactly fill Kagome with confidence, but she didn't want to stifle his progress. It was wonderful that Shippo could advance in his magic at a kitsune school. Secretly, she felt somewhat guilty about the subject. She hadn't been able to witness his growth for three years after being stuck in the future.

Steeling herself and deciding to support him, Kagome downed the foul-tasting concoction. Coughing and blinking away thick tears that stung her lashes, her tongue roved around in her mouth as though trying to escape the taste of sour candy mixed with spices and mint leaves. What an odd combination. Shaking herself and noticing Shippo watching her worriedly, blue eyes widened as a faint shade of grey coiled and moved around the outline of his body like a shining aura.

"I-I think I see it?" Kagome gasped, reaching out and trying to touch the thing, though it had no solid form.

"Really?" Shippo lit up, the colour immediately becoming a tentative yellow, which only shone brighter into a canary hue when she nodded.

Giving a happy cheer, Shippo asked her about any side effects, which were none as far as she could tell.

They then decided to walk around Kaede's village together, Kagome noting any people they passed by and the colour of their current emotions. Shippo hurriedly took notes.

"There's Miroku meditating-" Kagome pointed to the quiet meadow they passed where the monk sat calmly, having gained two pupils to teach. Monks in training. Inuyasha had voiced his doubts that it would last long once the monks witnessed Miroku's less than savoury habits.

"His aura thingy is lavender and seems controlled," she observed in a hushed tone.

The little kitsune made a noise of affirmation, writing that down on a trailing scroll. "I think purple must be linked with spirituality then? This is great info!"

Giggling, she nodded, noticing how faint the pupil's auras were. She wondered if her own focus on spirituality would be strong or weak.

Moving on, noticed Sango outside her hut, who seemed absorbed in rocking her infant son while he dozed. Her twins were playing with some spinning tops that Shippo had given them.

"What do ya see, Kagome?" he tugged at her pant leg.

She hummed, gaze gentling. "Sango is radiating a kind of baby pink glow. The twins are like yours earlier- yellow and excited."

"So I guess love is pink," Shippo nodded.

Noticing something, Kagome waved a hand slightly. "Hold on-"

"Hm?"

Kaede and Rin were walking towards them, engaged in conversation. The little girl chirped on about something or other, while Kaede nodded indulgently.

"Kaede and Rin have pink auras too, but it's different. It's a pale pink, more like a pearl."

Shippo tapped his small chin with a pen Kagome had lent him. "Hmm…"

"I guess it makes sense since there are different types of love, don't you think?" gently prodding him, she smiled.

"Oh! So like they're feeling something kinda similar to Sango, but different."

"Right," Kagome grinned wider, proud of him. "Familial love for Sango, and platonic, friendly love for Kaede and Rin."

The old miko and her charge stopped to greet them on the path. "What are ye both up to today?" Kaede's single eye slid down to the scroll questioningly.

Kagome waved it off. "Just some schooling."

"Yeah, but it's fun! We're testing magic!"

Rin gaped at Shippo, aura turning green. "Aww, can I help them?" she turned to Kaede with a pout, clasping both hands and making big brown eyes even wider.

"Ye have your own training to attend to, Rin. Come along," the old woman kept walking with a dusty chuckle.

Whining good-naturedly with a now agitated orange glow about her, Rin trudged after her guardian, giving a despondent farewell to Shippo.

At that moment, foul cursing filled the air. The loud, booming swear caused nesting birds to take flight from their trees near the village.

The miko and kit shared a dry look.

"Inuyasha," they sighed in unison.

Needless to say, their former travelling companion's emotions glowed a vibrant red- outshining even the robe of the fire rat. He held his sore thumb, having accidentally hammered it while fixing a neighbour's chicken coop. Kagome wisely hid her laughter, feeling a plume of affection for him, since he'd taken it upon himself to help a neighbour.

I wonder what colour surrounds me when I look at Inuyasha, she wondered, fishing out a small mirror. Unfortunately, she couldn't see the colour. Though they'd broken up after a couple of weeks of dating, that candle of first love between them wouldn't be snuffed out completely. Since she couldn't coax that flame any higher than a tiny, nostalgic flame, she wagered it to be a kind of pastel pink colour.

After a few hours, Shippo looked down at the list of emotions they'd observed. "I think I got most of em' for now. We did great today, Kagome! Thanks so much!"

She giggled and ruffled his hair. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. I need to collect some herbs now, so if I see some new ones while I'm out, I'll let you know," Kagome grinned, leaning a basket against her hip. "I'll be able to see these emotions for a few more days, so no sense in turning in your test results early."

Shippo gave her a brief hug, before racing off to go organise his notes. Beaming with pride, Kagome walked out of the village and up a hill towards Inuyasha Forest with a small skip in her step. She'd helped! And luckily there'd been no side effects or worries of any kind.

Maybe I should help him out more often, she mused, noticing a certain Daiyoukai step out from beneath the shade of trees, powder blue shifting around his aura calmly. Smiling amiably, Kagome lifted a hand in greeting as their gazes met- before freezing.

Sesshoumaru's expression didn't change from its usual combo of placid, haughty and stoic. However, the energy surrounding him immediately dyed a deep, vibrant colour.

Kagome's breath hitched, eyes widening.

It plunged into a bold magenta hue, becoming a solid outline that coiled and thrummed.

She did not understand what it meant, but that she could elicit a change in emotion from him at all felt startling.

He stared at her, unblinking. As he drew closer and closer, Kagome tried to make sense of what he could be feeling, but his guarded eyes refused to risk any secrets being revealed.

"Miko," he acknowledged in his usual crisp, silky baritone. His way of a greeting.

"Sesshoumaru," she said, muscles tensing as he passed by, the silk of his billowing sleeve brushing the hypersensitive skin of her arm. Kagome blinked rapidly, reeling.

Shifting to watch him leave surreptitiously, she watched the magenta remain long after they'd parted ways, spying him duck into Kaede's hut to pay Rin a visit.

What the heck was that about?

Maybe it wasn't anything worth noting. Surely, just like anyone else, the Daiyouki had various emotions linked to things. People elicited different feelings from him; that was perfectly normal. But his mood had changed so swiftly upon seeing her that Kagome couldn't help but feel curious. What did magenta mean? Had she offended him? Did he always feel that specific emotion around her, or was it a one-off?

Turning on her heel, Kagome dismissed her task of fetching herbs in favour of seeking Shippo out again.

---

"What does magenta mean to you?"

"To me?"

Kagome nodded seriously.

Thinking for a moment, Shippo hummed and nommed on a lollipop, leaning back on the log he'd perched upon outside. "I dunno, it's a pretty colour but not a favourite. Can't get much use outta it with my crayons."

"No, I mean like - surely there has to be some demon opinion of magenta? Is it associated with a powerful emotion or something?"

Shippo shook his head, consulting the forgotten scroll. "My guess is- since purple is spiritual stuff, Sesshoumaru feels uh...like you remind him of holy things?"

Huffing out a sigh, she flopped down beside him, placing her chin in her hands. "Doubt that. He didn't seem calm," she mumbled, remembering the vivid intensity of his unblinking stare. "Hm, maybe since red- which is anger- and darker blue- which is sadness- has to mix to make the right shade of magenta, that means Sesshoumaru is both angry and sad when he looks at me." Kagome's stomach dropped. "Oh God, do I make him smad?"

Shippo snorted and tossed his lollipop aside to shake her arm, noticing the dazed look of worry glazing her eyes. "You don't make him smad."

Kagome remained unconvinced. The kit groaned, hopping up and grabbing her hand. "You don't! I'm sure it was just a coincidence he was feeling magenta around you. Let's go see!"

The miko stumbled after the exuberant fox, not fully realising where he intended to go until it clicked they were heading toward Kaede's hut. Kagome's heels abruptly dug into the earth, dragging. "Shippo!" she hissed. "He's visiting Rin- I don't want to interrupt."

"You won't be, it looks like they're saying goodbye already."

Blue eyes widened and her attention snapped up from the fox to land on some distant figures up ahead. Even from far away, Kagome could see the pearl pink aura coiling around Sesshoumaru as he lay a gentle hand upon Rin's head of brown hair. The girl beamed, giving off her own warm shine.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, heedless of her own approach now. She realized then just how personal and vulnerable the emotion spell could be- how rare and revealing it was to witness Sesshoumaru experiencing such a wholesome bond, free from violence. Enemies could potentially use it on each other to find out secret information easily.

The Daiyoukai seemed to inhale- abruptly stiffening and lifting his hand away from Rin as claws twitched, curling into his palm. Kagome witnessed the moment his aura bled darker, slipping from innocent pink into the strong shade of magenta- just as he turned his head in their direction. Golden eyes pinned her in place. Sesshoumaru seemed to grow tense and watchful, showing none of his previous warmth.

Shippo paused when they weren't too far away, glancing up and noticing Kagome's pale expression. "Uh... has it happened again?"

"It's even worse than before," Kagome whispered.

"Kagome, Shippo!" Rin called over to them, waving. "Are you still playing with magic?"

This seemed to catch Sesshoumaru's attention, ripping his heavy gaze away to land on his ward. "Magic?"

"Mhm! They're doing some kitsune homework with a spell," she smiled, seeming to gain a devious expression and hurrying over to grab Kagome's freehand, pulling her the rest of the way towards her lord. "Kagome! You should take a quick break and sit with Lord Sesshoumaru. Share some tea together!"

Horror churned fierce and fast through Kagome's system. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and prolonged exposure to her would no doubt suck for him if magenta was an irritated colour.

"That is unnecessary, Rin," Sesshoumaru uttered, confirming Kagome's suspicions. She winced a little anyway, wondering why it stung. "This one was just passing through, I will leave now."

Making a noise of complaint, the girl's grip tightened. "Well then, she should accompany you! W-we need medicinal herbs and you didn't gather any earlier, did you Kagome?"

She willed the earth to swallow her whole. "N-no…"

"Then it's decided! She can walk you to the forest since she's heading that way." Rin poked and prodded them to get moving. In all the confusion, Shippo slipped away to make some notes, giving Kagome a thumbs up- which she returned with a death glare.

Wondering what had come over Rin but being trapped by politeness to refuse, Kagome grimly started walking alongside Sesshoumaru, picking up a basket from Kaede's hut.

I shouldn't feel guilty or weird around him, she thought, trying to ease her worry. If he's getting bent out of shape just from seeing me, that's his problem. I'm pretty confident I haven't insulted him recently.

Kagome nodded silently to herself, endeavouring not to let Sesshoumaru's secret magenta emotion matter so much-

"You appear well."

Jumping, Kagome whipped her head up to the regal demon. "Huh?" she blinked, heat touching her cheeks. "Oh! Thanks!" the magenta outline grew bolder, much to her chagrin. "You look nice too. Aha-! I mean not nice- well, you look handsome- but in a good health way! Not a 'compliment on your looks' way. That's totally what I meant. "

Open mouth, insert foot.

His aura only seemed to fluctuate more, and Sesshoumaru's lips thinned. Kagome inwardly groaned. No doubt he hated her even more now!

She decided an attempt to smooth over everything was in order. "Sesshoumaru," she said, taking a breath. "I know we might not be what you'd consider close, but I'd be totally fine with talking about anything that might be bothering you. Even allies can talk about that stuff."

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, looking as though she'd blurted out a foreign language. He then faced forward, features becoming tightly controlled. "Nothing unsettles me, miko. It is a foolish, human sentiment that I should be 'bothered' by anything."

Kagome rolled her eyes, mouth twitching. Proud, stubborn guy. She didn't know why she found it kind of endearing.

"Why are you so certain I am troubled?"

Her steps faltered before she strode on, biting her bottom lip. "I have a knack for feeling out these things. A woman's intuition," she grinned, noticing his stare rove lower, south from her eyes.

"Hn," golden eyes lingered. Kagome wondered if she'd gotten something stuck in her teeth. "Your intuition is certainly lacking if you are only just noticing something amiss."

A victorious noise escaped her and she immediately swooped in on the slip-up. Sesshoumaru seemed to wince. "Aha! So something IS wrong!"

"Miko-"

"It's just that you've been dealing with it for such a long time that it's become almost normal to you. That about right?" she grinned.

Kagome took his moody silence as a 'yes.'

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it earlier. Shippo's um...spell...has made me extra sensitive to how others are feeling," she revealed a half-truth. "I just can't work out how you're feeling. Heh, you're mysterious even when I've got magic to help me understand you."

"You wish to understand me?"

"Well, yes? You're our ally. As established; I'd like to be your friend too."

"I see."

"Sooo...?" Kagome hedged as they arrived at the border of the trees. The Daiyoukai stopped and turned to her once they were beneath the branches, having stepped under cool shade. Kagome quieted, wondering at the assessing, guarded look he pinned her with. Why should the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru guard himself against her of all people?

Pale lips quirked, and he hummed, giving a haughty, arrogant smirk. "Figure it out yourself."

Her mouth fell open. Ire immediately simmered real and hot beneath her skin. "That's not helpful, Sesshoumaru! The whole point of having friends is to share stuff! You can't expect people to know how you're feeling without you telling them, I'm not a mind reader."

He moved in slightly closer then, leaning down. Kagome swallowed but tensed her legs to keep from bending back, holding her ground and straightening her spine. It proved difficult. Sesshoumaru's cold features had a way of unnerving even the most hardened warriors. It was the lack of empathy or emotion in his animalistic gaze; the terrifying sense that something was missing; humanity.

But...

Kagome's eyes strayed to the magenta aura that only blazed thicker and larger, practically drowning her. The spell revealed, albeit without his consent; that Sesshoumaru was a man of feeling. In fact, whatever emotion plagued him, it roared stronger than any other persons she'd seen that day. Besides all that, she'd witnessed his care of others before. Been on the receiving end of it when he'd saved her a few times.

In the shade's hush, he tipped his head slightly, silver hair falling free from behind a pointed ear. "I am not a being that 'tells' other's information freely. Demons can glean enough from my body language, scent and actions enough to understand my feelings."

"And I appreciate that," Kagome said in a softer tone. "But I'm not a demon."

"Rin-"

"Is a child who has spent a lot of one-on-one time with you. I'd also wager that while she understands a lot of your intentions...she doesn't always understand you either."

Sesshoumaru begrudged her point, though seemed ever unwilling to let his mask slip to reveal anything.

Searching his gaze, she wet her dry lips. "What does the colour magenta mean to you?"

His aura flared, and Sesshoumaru surprised her by leaning back and stepping away. His features became a mix of things, the colours changing for the first time around him- grey, yellow, black, fluctuating on magenta and orange before settling on a particular shade of red that made her squeak.

No way- is he embarrassed?

"Why ask that?" he asked in a removed, steady tone. If she focused though, Kagome could pick up on the faint slip in his voice.

Kagome for once couldn't answer, heart hammering in her ribcage. She wasn't sure what to interpret from his reaction, but the colour obviously meant something to him. Shaking her head, Kagome waved it off.

"Never mind. I'll take your advice and work it out for myself."

He blinked and arched a brow, seeming to recover from his surprise. "Oh?"

Kagome made a noise of affirmation, turning on her heel and taking a few steps away. Pausing, she flashed him a smile over her shoulder. "And if I guess correctly, you agree to start telling me the important stuff. Deal?"

Sesshoumaru's face flashed with intrigue. Slowly, thin lips curved. His expression transformed into something quietly eager, the colour aura deepening into blazing magenta once more.

"Hn."

---

After asking near everyone she could think of for their input or ideas, Kagome ran into a brick wall, utterly stumped. That was- until she heard a certain irritatingly high, grating voice.

"But WHERE did Lord Sesshoumaru go?"

"I don't know, he said he was just passing through."

Jaken.

If anyone had insight into Sesshoumaru, it would be the little green imp. Kagome hurried in the direction of the helium sounding voice.

Finding Rin and Jaken by the village well, and struggling to pull a bucketful up together- Kagome quickly lent a hand, hefting the bucket up onto the side. The little girl grinned and thanked her, while Kagome crouched before Jaken, causing him to squeak.

"W-what is it? What do you want?!"

"I need to talk to you," Kagome said seriously. Resting her hands over her knees and leaning forward intently. "Magenta. Tell me your thoughts on that colour."

Bulbous yellow eyes widened. "Hah? Have you lost your senses, strange girl?"

Rin pouted and lifted the heavy bucket down, spilling some water. "Just do it, Master Jaken. If Kagome is asking, it must be important."

Kagome smiled a little, before schooling her features back into complete seriousness.

The imp sighed and squinted, before thinking for a moment. "Hmm, well. I would of course associate it with the most illustrious Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"H-huh? Why?"

"His cheek and wrist stripes are that exact shade! Don't you pay attention to anything?"

Kagome realised he was entirely correct. They matched up perfectly. Excitement built in her chest, feeling like she was FINALLY getting somewhere with the big mystery. "So it's linked with him… I see. What do you think the colour represents?"

"Haven't the faintest idea," he tilted his head back with a haughty sniff. "But since they adorn Lord Sesshoumaru, I can only conclude that it must be a royal, prideful colour."

Her elation fizzled out. Kagome wilted, sighing and standing once more. That didn't fit at all. No way would Sesshoumaru feel pride while looking at her.

Stepping away with the dismal thought that she was back at square one, she paused upon noticing a tugging on her sleeve. Rin clutched the trailing end of it, looking up at her in quiet earnest. She bit her lip and seemed to struggle with something. "I-I'm sure the answer is there if you just try asking more questions, Kagome."

The miko softened and petted her wild hair, smoothing the locks back from her face. "You really think so, kiddo? Because I'm kind of stumped right now."

"Mhm! I don't know what homework you're helping Shippo with, but if its causing you to take an interest in Lord Sesshoumaru, I encourage you to dig deeper!"

Kagome wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about the subject, her smile becoming a little confused. Nonetheless, she decided to take the advice and try again.

The right question…

Grabbing the back of Jaken's robes and tugging him back before he could walk off, Kagome knelt down. She decided to shift her focus. "Those markings on Sesshoumaru's face and wrists- I was wondering if they mean anything."

"Bah! Such things have a multitude of uses! Ahem!" he lifted up a tiny green claw. "Firstly, they are to show that he is poisonous."

Kagome stifled a giggle behind her hand, smiling with her eyes at Rin. "So he's like a flower."

"No! Nothing like a flower! He is deadly!"

"Poisonous flowers exist- but never mind that," she waved off. "What else?"

"Second, the positioning of the markings represents various things. The ones on mi lord's cheeks represent superior jaws, the wrists and ankles represent superior strength in his arms and legs, while the hips represent that he will produce superior offspring."

Kagome turned steadily red, wondering how low those stripes hooked down his hips. She hadn't even known he possessed hip stripes and was now picturing him half-naked. Kagome quickly shook the fantasy away. Rin didn't seem to understand that last part but thankfully remained quiet.

Jaken continued on, bolstered by such a captive audience and happy to talk about his favourite subject. "Lastly, they are to catch the interest of a mate."

"They... are?"

The imp nodded with vigour. "If you were the slightest bit observant, you'd notice that the vibrancy of his markings has emboldened recently. This means he is displaying for a female."

She had noticed that, actually, but Kagome hadn't thought anything of it. She felt close to a conclusion then, so achingly near to the truth. Swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry mouth, Kagome soldiered on.

"I saw that the ones on his cheeks had become bolder. What about his crescent moon?"

Jaken waved a tiny hand, "the moon is just to show which clan he belongs to. In relation to your original question, it is the magenta markings that are paramount. They are intrinsically linked with all that I noted; intimidation signals and mating."

Kagome nodded, inwardly reeling. She mulled this over and thanked him for the valuable insight. Magenta obviously meant more to Sesshoumaru than she'd ever thought.

In light of Jaken's words, Kagome found herself having to observe a certain set of emotions. Since mating was on the list, she reluctantly wandered in search of a known pervert.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she took Miroku to one side. After explaining the situation in a succinct manner, she took a breath.

"I need you to get horny for your wife."

Miroku stared. He then pushed back his sleeves, clearing his throat and righting his collar. "My time has come."

Kagome's eyes widened and she held up her hands, "wait- I'm not asking to be weird or anything. M-maybe I should explain more."

He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, patting. "No further explanation necessary, Lady Kagome. If this is in service of deeper understanding between allies, I am more than happy to help. Observe."

Miroku breezily walked away, gravitating towards Sango who had set down their son, attention on the crawling toddler. Kagome groaned and buried her face in her hands- shifting some fingers aside to witness the moment Miroku's calm blue aura darkened.

For a moment, panic leapt down her windpipe as it deepened into purple, hovering over magenta- before the aura settled on a lush hot pink.

The sound of a slap sounded out, Sango moving away from Miroku's groping hand. "I've told you before; not in front of the children!" she hissed.

Her husband laughed airly, stroking his cheek and giving her a fond smile. Kagome's heart warmed slightly, witnessing the hot pink glow into a warm pinkish red.

I think that must be the colour of love.

This, unfortunately, didn't answer any of her questions.

The possible things Sesshoumaru could be feeling toward her made the miko's stomach twist into knots. She went over what to say in her head a dozen or so times- and then a dozen more. It was no easy feat to wait on pins and needles for the demons' return. Inevitably though, word of his return reached her a few days later.

---

Sesshoumaru had been spotted by the trees bordering Inuyasha Forest so she'd set off alone immediately.

Since the sun beat down mercilessly, Kagome was unsurprised to find him by water. Elevated temperatures were likely brutal on those who regularly wore armour- evidenced by the fact that she walked in on him very much without it. Sesshoumaru knelt by a river, eyes closed and hankimono parted- exposing a thin sliver of firm, pale muscle. His head slightly dipped forward, hair held over one shoulder as one hand cupped cool water and splashed it over the back of his neck. Droplets ran down the length of his throat to dip around his collarbone- some sliding down his back. Sesshoumaru massaged the base of his skull, before cupping more water and repeating the process, long fingers running over the back of his glistening neck.

Kagome stared. She'd suddenly never been so thirsty in her life.

His lashes fluttered open to glance at her. His continued silence prompted her to clear her throat and murmur; "I'm not sure if I've got it right."

"Explain."

Kagome felt a blush rise to her cheeks and panic erupted in her chest. She suddenly wasn't ready. She wasn't nearly as ready for this as she needed to be. Approaching the Daiyoukai dressed in a white tank top and dungarees had not been the plan but she'd impulsively sought him out without thinking about it.

His voice turned softer, almost coaxing. "What conclusion did you reach?"

Kagome bit her lip and felt the need to explain her process of elimination. "First off; I feel like I should be honest with you. I can see the colours of people's emotions around them due to a spell Shippo used on me. That's why I was asking about magenta. It's...it's the emotion you keep feeling whenever you see me- I just had no idea what it meant."

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider, exposing the liquid honey swimming inside, glinting in the afternoon sunlight with interest.

"I asked Jaken about the colour since he has an insight into you more sound than other people. He told me that magenta was linked to your markings- which can represent intimidation signals and m-mating interest."

He arched a brow, something unnamed flickering over his expression. Kagome began pacing back and forth before him. "So! The first thing I did was follow Inuyasha into a fight. There was a weasel youkai bothering a farmer. I noticed Inuyasha's aura turned a brownish, orangey-red during the fight and concluded that was likely aggression! So I figured you weren't feeling defensive around me," she gave a nervous giggle. Why was the sun so damn bright? The humidity only elevated the spike of nerves pricking the back of her neck.

"Next came the... other thing," her voice dimmed and Kagome evaded eye contact. "I noticed Miroku feeling uh...frisky around his wife. His aura turned hot pink- so it wasn't magenta- not that I thought you could ever feel that way about...me," she babbled. "Hell, I've consulted Shippo's scroll a thousand times. I've run through all the emotions we could find and- gah! I couldn't find anything that explained magenta. I guess I failed in figuring out what's bothering you," her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You went to all that trouble?"

Kagome lifted her gaze to his, loosely holding her arms. "Well, yeah. I kind of realised that I wasn't being fair to you the other day. You shouldn't be expected to verbalise your problems if you're not comfortable doing so. It's a different method than what I'm used to in order to communicate- but if you're happy doing that I won't push you to open up to me."

Since she'd failed to work out his problems, however, Kagome grimly figured there was no hope of them being friends. The thought somewhat bothered her. Sesshoumaru was a solid, assuring presence to have around. It would've been nice to have a deeper insight into the inner mechanisms of his cerebral mind.

Maybe priestesses and demons just can't understand each other.

A shadow fell over her, bathing Kagome in shade. She looked up, finding his curious, burning gaze bearing down on her.

As usual, magenta coiled and expanded around him. So large and encompassing.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head slightly. "Some actions do not require words in order to understand them."

Kagome could only blink, face heating as he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted it up- before her heart burst into overdrive in time with lips pressing against hers.

Her squeak came out muffled, hands scrambling uselessly and finding his shoulders, quickly lurching away from the firm muscle to hover uselessly in the air. Sesshoumaru grabbed one of her hands and forced it to his broad shoulder, holding it there as he explored her open mouth.

The miko reeled, dazed eyes picking up the shining magenta aura before her lashes slid shut. Kagome let out a breathy noise as his tongue slid over hers, reciprocating for a moment before her mind caught up with the situation and- WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE DOING?

Kagome's palm pushed against his broad shoulder, ripping her mouth away from his and panting. Sesshoumaru remained close, breath shuddering slightly, gaze hooded.

"That-" she started, having to lick her lips. "That requires MANY words, buster. So many words are needed to explain what the hell just happened."

The Daiyoukai managed to look put out, eyes turning flat. "It seems your ignorance requires a lack of subtlety, but I do not mind. If it is necessary to have you- I will adapt and explain myself."

"To... have me?" Kagome's breath hitched. Somehow magenta was all she could see- his cheek markings so bold and bright.

Sesshoumaru's jaw ticked, eyes squinting and attention shifting away as he seemed to gather his thoughts and construct them onto his tongue.

"Magenta is the colour of love to inuyoukai."

He said it so easily. After all that confusion and so much second-guessing, Kagome was almost angry with him. Almost. The rest of her brain was too focused on processing the unthinkable thing he'd just said and the implications behind it.

"But...your markings…" she croaked.

"Have little to do with it- though Jaken's explanation was not incorrect."

Kagome shook her head, searching his face. "I just...I'm struggling to understand h-how? I mean, you can't feel that way about me."

"Why not?"

"B-because!" she squeaked, cheeks blazing red. "Isn't love a bit of a leap? You barely know me."

Sesshoumaru huffed, placid features shifting to become slightly guarded. He didn't know when it had started happening for he was in the middle before he even knew he had begun, but more and more, he sought her opinions and company. She spoke well and intelligently after all- had destroyed Naraku and the jewel with such power and finesse that had made his instincts stir. "I know enough. This is not something recent. I have watched... and wondered for some time."

"Wondered... what?"

"If it was possible to bridge the gap between us. Perhaps it was foolish to think we could be compatible."

He had a point. Even a spell hadn't helped her understand him any easier. But when Sesshoumaru slowly stepped back, quiet disappointment simmering behind his blank mask yet clear in his eyes- something like panic possessed her. Kagome grabbed his sleeve, blushing harder.

She wasn't sure why alarm had shot through her- but the idea of losing their soft, hopeful flickering flame before they'd even coaxed it brighter to see what heights it could reach felt like something she'd regret forever if she let him go.

Kagome stepped closer. "Not foolish. This is just really unexpected for me."

Golden eyes roved over her face questioningly.

"The colour of love is different for humans, so it never even crossed my mind that THAT was what you've been struggling with. Jaken mentioned you were displaying for a female but- wow," she murmured, gentling. "Thank you... for telling me. No one's ever said that to me before."

Sesshoumaru's expression warmed, just a touch. He inclined his head slightly and Kagome felt an odd flutter in her belly.

"I'm not in the same place as you emotionally but- if- if you'd want to try this human thing called 'dating' we could give it a shot and get to know each other better."

"Hn," Sesshoumaru gave her a considering look, and she almost thought he might decline before the ghost of a smile tilted up his lips. "What is 'dating?'"

Kagome's face burst into a grin, and she took his clawed hand. "You're gonna love it. It involves a lot of talking."

He gave a mock groan, aura glowing brighter.

Naturally, Shippo passed his test with flying colours. His sensei was particularly impressed by his observation of both human and inuyoukai emotions in particular.

He decided to use the spell on himself several months later, laughing and chasing Rin around the village, happy to see the yellow aura dancing around her. Something of note he noticed when rushing by was a certain miko and demon lord practising archery together in a field. As Kagome corrected his large stance, hand guiding his elbow down slightly as he aimed, the warm colours of pinkish red and magenta entwined, lacing like long, seeking fingers gently interlocking.

End

[lonelyloverliv]

Potential

He had left her in the early hours before sunrise, alcohol staining their insides, still trickling idly through their veins and words. They had whispered sweet goodbyes into each other, holding their kiss a little too long. Sleepy eyes breaking the embrace, a yawn shifting through both. The door closed abruptly, and she sauntered off to bed. Hugging herself delicately, yearning his embrace for just a moment before sleep swallowed her whole. 

~

The morning started like most after being with someone. She woke to a pile of clothes on the floor and two half-drunk glasses. Limes turning sour green. She sifted between messy bedsheets, reaching for her phone, needing to know if he had reached his destination safely. “Night… sleep well…”, the text read. Along with a few inconsequential emojis scattered throughout, but they seemed earnest and thoughtful. She wouldn’t reply yet. She would reply after she had sorted out the slight inconvenience from the previous evening. Shifting her body through a sleepy haze, she rose, bones protesting the movement, brain arguing that they should stay in bed for a few moments longer. She had less than 24hrs and the sooner she dealt with the subject of “potential growth in her womb”, the better… or at least more effective.   

Slipping into shower, she mulled over the previous evening. It was like she could feel him seeping down her thighs, the remnants clinging to her, finding the best place to rest. She remembered the way his body shuddered under hers, the way it made her feel perversely powerful. A woman’s sexuality is one of the most dangerous things in this world. Even more so when they knew their power. She was currently treading between the two. Knowing exactly how to capitalise from this energy and not wanting to. Dipping her toes shyly into both ends, wondering which pool she would tread too far into. The pool that she so desperately wanted to drift into was currently closed for renovations. The tiles changing to make sure the façade was a complete representation of the actual her. It was insufferable, the way she was being submerged into the consciousness of knowing how to weaponise herself again. How she could craft these caricatures. Constantly analysing every slight movement, the tone of her voice, the words spilling out after one too many drinks. That was the hardest to control. To slip through the cracks, but vehemently needing to stand out. To be sophisticated, but cool, with subtle hints of quirkiness. The juxtapositions even within her real personality were exhausting. The tiles smattered around, varying from innocent pinks and harsh yellows. Deep purples and complex blues, pastel greens, and muted orange. Some intoxicatingly black. Others pearlescent white. The configuration constantly changing. Sometimes it was tidal waves of colour, other times it was an abstract rendition of Water Lilies. In this moment of her life, it seemed as though the purples and blues had taken precedent. Muddling together to create a series of uneven circles, reminiscent of something bubbling underneath. Thoughts trying too hard to break the surface. Right now, all she wanted was a disco ball of colour. Tiles spread evenly, darkness emerging into light.  

Soap swilled in the bottom of the drain. A condom was meant to be a safe bet. But was anything truly ever safe when it came to sex. The act itself was animalistic. Raw. Meant for moments exactly like this. “A growth”, or a child, if she felt like putting it fondly. The visceral nature of sex though - surrendering to another, moving in unison, wondering how this person came into existence and not knowing how long they would be a fixture in your life. Now that was sex. Knowing one has absolute authority over your body for an undisclosed amount of time, that was something sacred. That was what terrified her most about sex. Not “the growth” or the potential of one. This is why there were options. Plan B’s and subsequently C’s (if it ever got that far). Heck some people even opted for fucking Plan D… So why did she feel this pang of humiliation. 

She dried herself, examining her body. Her stomach. It was the thing she had always struggled with most about her body. The softness seemed in complete contradiction to her whole essence. She despised the way it made her feel gentle. She grabbed at the flesh, holding it firmly in her hands. Women were meant to be slight, lean, but also well-endowed with curves. To have enough to hold onto but not so much that it bulged through their clothing in obvious ways. The words “not pregnant… yet?” etched themselves across her belly in a blueish purple. Like the way her veins spread like roots across her pale skin, only visible to her. She released her grip and watched the fat wobble lightly. She sighed. The ticking in her head growing louder now. Taking control now, it pushed her towards the first items of clothing she could get her hands on. A pastel purple tank top and denim skirt. Virtuous in its approach. Remnants of make-up from the night before powdered across her eyes - not so virtuous. The countdown banging at her temples. She closed the door behind her as if on que. The beat slowly drilling itself into her footsteps.     

~

The ticking subsided for a moment as she stomped into the pharmacy. She was enveloped in fluorescent white lighting, the kind that makes even a healthy person look emaciated. The confidence she previously had was lost as she saw a middle-aged man behind the counter gathering prescriptions idly. He was weathered. Leather hands grasping the pill packets firmly and his slightly shaky voice giving off the fact that he was nearing his 60’s. The woman at the counter was barking at him, devulging every facet of her extensive morning routine, which included several types of pills and various nasal sprays. 

“Do you have the one that makes the back of your throat numb? My last doctor prescribed it too me! You know the one” she stated in a shrill voice. 

The pharmacist nodded, laughed gently, and explained to the woman in depth what this nasal spray was also capable off. The ticking in her head rising again. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment young lady”, the pharmacist threw to Lily. It was like her impatience was radiating off her. 

Young Lady. 

Her body heaved involuntarily. The words competing against the ticking, until they morphed into one. Young… Lady… Young… Lady… Young… Lady… She inhaled deeply, knowing exactly how this interaction was going to play out. 

The woman in front of her grabbed her things abruptly, stubby fingers trying desperately to gather it all. 

“Thank you”, again in the intrusive tone. 

The pharmacist smiled and said, “Have a great day”, waving to her as she thudded down the aisle past Lily. “Now miss, what can I do for you?” he spoke softly. 

He was too friendly, eyes beaming at her, wondering what exactly a young woman of her mostly healthy looking (besides slightly bloodshot eyes from booze and little sleep) person needed. 

Miss 

Miss

Miss

Miss

“Uhhhhh, I need the morning after pill”, she said awkwardly, but loud enough that she would not let him know how uncomfortable she was finding this interaction. Immediately his body stiffened. It was instinctive. Her eyes trailed to the counter. 

“Right…” he said. Like a disapproving father figure who’s just met the third disaster of a boyfriend. “Has it been less than 24hrs?”, he continued. 

Tick. 

“Yes”, she replied firmly. 

Tick. 

“How old are you?”, he countered. 

Tick. 

“24”, she pushed back. 

Tick. 

“Right well… I’ll need to see some ID” he stated, moving to the stack of shelves which she only assumed was full of other feminine specific items. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

Tick. 

By the time he was back her ID was on the counter, sitting idly, waiting for him to examine it. He picked it up, creased fingertips holding it up to the light, as if making sure it wasn’t a fake. She scoffed slightly. 

“Mmm”, placing the packet on the counter now along with her ID, “You know this isn’t considered an effect method of birth control, right? Essentially you should not be using this as the only form of birth control”, he finished. 

His eyes condemning her. Confused, dazed, hungover, shocked, her body froze. Tongue at a standstill in the roof of her mouth. She blinked at him for a moment, eyes wide with horror. Bile seething its way from her chest into her mouth, as if to warm up her tongue. 

“Well, sometimes Plan A doesn’t exactly go to plan now does it”, she retorted, words sticky and indignant. 

Smiling smugly, eyes burning into him as she snatched the little box and her license. She turned her heel, trying to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. 

Tick, tick, tick. 

A minor beep of a credit card and she was onto the street.   

Step. 

Step. 

Step… 

Her body felt heavy with shame. Feet slamming themselves against the pavement. The anger and humiliation driving her forward. Legs melting further into the cement with every step. Sweat dripping from her forehead, pooling under her eyes, dissolving the remaining make-up further into her pores. Chest hot with rage and embarrassment. The packet burning a hole inside of her pocket, making it so obvious just how irresponsible she was. 

~

Slamming the door of her apartment, she examined the little package in her hands. It was like most pill packets, but the mauve boarder caught her attention. Why was it that every kind of feminine product had to have these reminders that you are the owner of a uterus? Feminine, delicate, and soft. Moments before, having a uterus had been the most embarrassing thing in her world. To be a fertile, pure creature, unaware of the consequences of her actions. Purple flashed vividly across her vision. How fitting, that her outfit matched this tiny box. Fertile and young and dumb. But she was none of those things, she was tainted, rebellious, smart, secure. She knew how important and impactful this speck of white compressed powder was. She knew there were consequences to her actions. 

She opened it up. Examining the sizeable leaflet within. She had always wondered how they had compressed such a vast amount of information into something that could be folded into a tiny piece of paper, shoved inside an even smaller box, with an even smaller pill. She laughed. She supposed it was like how a fully grown human exits out of such a tiny hole. How it is stored within such a tiny space. How much room it will eventually take up in the world. Scanning the document for the most pertinent information, “don’t take whilst pregnant… can cause nausea, spotting, etc. etc. etc…”, she found all the basic symptoms of both pregnancy and menstruation. How were women ever to really know which they were? Fertile? Infertile? Ready? Not ready? Having a baby or aborting a semblance of cells? 

She tried to fold the destructions as neatly as they had previously been but struggled to find the exact formation. She tossed it, frustrated. Embarrassed. Disillusioned. Hysterical. All the words used to make women feel small. She examined the pill, covered in foil, ready to be consumed. Flashing bright white, like a knight in shining armour. This was her saving grace. Unveiling it from foil, it burst into her hand. The chalky consistency leaving the slightest amount of residue on her skin, like the seed that was currently trying to find a way to cling inside of her. Take ownership of her body. Like the men she had slept with. Like the men she flirted with. Like co-workers who told her she should be flattered when a drunk boy grabbed her ass whilst she was working. Like the manager that slapped her in the face. And just like the chemist.

She held it delicately up to her eye. She thought of girlfriends who took this little pill like it was a party favour. Choosing this as the alternative to any other birth control, for fear that their catholic mothers would sniff out the fact that they were having premarital sex. She thought of women who had escaped by taking this very tiny, insignificant, pill. She thought of women, legs sprawled on examination tables, hoping to die, scared shitless of the man who had just raped her but finding slight comfort in this tiny white tablet. 

She swallowed.

No more words tattooed across her supple belly. 

No more fury burying itself inside of her chest. 

No more ticking. 

A reply. 

It was done. 

[qballycusartsy]

Vera Kavura

Ukrainian contemporary artist

August wildflowers

Unison colour, pastels on paper

[fredweesleyismyslut]

Fred & George Weasley x reader Poly!headcanons

A/N:

Okay, so this might suck really really badly but bare with me I haven’t really written many headcanons before and me being the talkative little pig I am I ramble too much because there’s so many thoughts flying around and then I end up writing a whole bunch so I’m sorry and I will definitely try to improve in writing more headcanons but for now...I hope you enjoy!!!!  

request: Hello if you write for poly relationships could you please do nsfw and sfw headcanons of the Weasley twins x chubby slytherin reader who is just the purest thing on earth and she wears cute skirts and resses in pastel colours and loves cute plushies pretty please?

SFW

 Okay okay so, everyone is very surprised first year when you’re placed into Slytherin.

This is because during the train ride you just seemed so pure you were wearing your favorite pastel colored dress and looked basically like a real life doll

Essentially you were the human embodiment of an angel and no one could imagine you hurting a fly

You met the Weasley twins on the train ride and thought they were funny and as you were placed into Slytherin they both shared glances with each other clearly surprised as most thought you’d be a Hufflepuff

Well, yknow, as they say don’t judge a cover by it’s book

You were, however, the nicest Slytherin, you were constantly helping others, giving compliments as you passed people in the halls

Anyways, let’s get to the juice details now, you stayed friends with Fred and George all the way up to your fifth year, when they both started acting weird around you

It was as if they both couldn’t be around you at the same time, or else it was as if they were competing for your attention like two cats

Then, one fateful day, they came up to you at separate times and confessed to you, you spent the whole day thinking, stressing, not able to focus on your studies, until finally your friend asked, “What’s wrong?”

“How do you pick between your two favorite things, like let’s say you want cookies but you also want to have the yummy pastries on the side as well?”

Her response, sent a bell ringing through your head, “Why not both?  I mean is there a reason you have to choose?”

As soon as she said that you shot up, “I gotta go do something.”  You found Fred and George and pulled them aside, “Do I have to pick between you two?  Because I love you both...and I don’t want one without the other…”

The twins shared a glance with each other, eyes glinting with mischievous, as they responded in unison, “Yes, we quite like that idea, darling.”

 Since then, you were dating both  boys, whenever, you had classes together, they would send little notes flying your way ranging from cute things like, “You look wonderful today, y/n.” “You look great in that dress.”  

- You could tell apart the twins easily, unlike everyone most of the time, which resulted in them trying to play tricks on you a lot

You would play along for a bit before finally saying, “I can tell you two apart ding dongs, I’m not your girlfriend for no reason, now stop it or I’m ignoring you both for the rest of the week.”  After that threat, they would immediately stop, begging for attention

On days, that you were feeling down about yourself because you didn’t look like the other pretty, popular girls they would cheer you up

They would bring your favorite treats, snuggle you between them, and say sweet things like, “Well, you look absolutely divine, y/n.  And we love you, we prefer you this way it’s perfect for both of us.”  Then, they would immediately start to tickle you, till eventually you accidentally kicked one of them off the bed then they’d burst in laughter

They are also especially protective of you knowing how kind and pure hearted you were and get quite heated if anyone insults you.  As soon as someone even utters an insult your way it’s like their ears twitch and they turn around immediately, defensively standing in front of you ready to throw a punch.

Due to this there have been plenty of times you had to hold them back from beating someone to a pulp, and having to calm them down in a corner telling them it’s fine to which George responds, “It’s not fine.  They’re insulting you and honestly you shouldn’t be fine with it either.  You shouldn’t be fine with them walking over you because imagine if someone said stuff about us, you’d be angry right?  You should be that angry when someone says that to you too...but we won’t go throwing punches if you don’t want us to?  Right, Fred?”  As Fred huffs before nodding and pulling you closer to calm his anger.

Dates with the boys are usually very light hearted you would go down to Hogsmeade and eat snacks together, or they’d set up a little picnic for you with cute foods that they tried, keyword tried, to make knowing that you like cute things

They also buy you cute plushies or clothes that they think you’d like and bring it on your dates saying, “It reminded us of you so….we got it”

Next thing you know, you have like 50 different plushies crowded in your room and you don’t know how to nicely tell them to stop bringing you so many plushies because it’s too cute but eventually one of your roommates tells them off when the plushies start to fill up on their side of the room too

One time they made cookies which were very cute, but almost broke your tooth off as you took a bite, resulting in you having to go to Madam Pomfrey

After that incident, they usually just buy the snacks or have their mother send them food as you love her cooking as much as she loves you especially because you keep her troublemakers in check

Sometimes though they will purposely make nasty things to see if you’d either pretend to like it and keep eating or actually tell them off, it’s their little mini social experiment/prank on you, which you catch on eventually, and whenever you notice that evil glint in their eyes you purposely play along and make sure they eat their nasty food first to see how long it takes till they break 

Basically, these boys are just really sweet and treat you like you’re a freaking empress 

NSFW

Now onto the spicy spicy details….

Fred usually initiates the contact, as he does with their pranks

He’s more so the dominating one as George follows along or sometimes watches before he jumps in, not able to handle the teasing you give him

Anywho, whenever you’re feeling down, especially being self deprecating, they both take you and show you just how much they love you, let me paint a picture:

As said, Fred usually initiates contact, you’ll be studying in the library and he’ll slide his hand up your thigh, watching as you shiver slightly from the contact goosebumps rising on your skin

Nonchalantly he asks, “Is it cold in here, darling?”  Playing his game you reply, “Nope.” and smile smugly

This will, of course, set off his slightly competitive spirit as his hand goes further, tracing the outline of the fabric covering where you need the most friction

Then George comes into play, being just as mischievous he’ll play his brother’s game, sliding his hand up your other thigh as they both continue to stare at their books as if potion ingredients were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world

A slight moan escapes, as Fred’s finger starts circling your clit, wetness pooling in your center as they both tsk, “Y/n, you’ll have to be quiet, we are in the library after all.”  

Anywho, ahem ahem, there’s usually a cycle you have going to make sure everyone gets the equal amount of attention, first it’ll be you and Fred as George, next you and George as Fred, lastly, all three of you

Fred will be pounding into you relentlessly, to blow off steam, especially if they lost a quidditch game, as George plays with your clit as you suck on his cock.

However, rough or gentle these boys are the aftercare is to die for

It’s filled with cuddles and jokes as the boys talk about what pranks they’re working on or new things for their joke shop

They usually clean you up, offer to give massages, and even if you decline they’ll both caress your bunched up shoulders working out any knots, as they trace your skin softly with their lips

But be careful, sometimes they’ll offer you drinks but in reality, it usually has some type of thing they’re planning for their joke shop, so sometimes you might end up being a guinea pig(They do test it on themselves before they test it on you though they’re not complete monsters)

[rosepetalmark]

flowers in your hair

↬ Johnny Suh x Reader ↬1.8k Words ↬Your allergies and creating art are two things Johnny holds dear to his heart

You hated the outdoors. Anything to do with bugs, dirt, and even plants made you itch and sneeze and scared that you’ll get some rare unknown disease and die because the innocent looking flower you picked by the bench turned out to be poisonous. 

Johnny on the other hand, enjoyed nature and embraced it to its fullest. Every day he’d make time to bask in the grass, and soak up all the sun while working on his latest art inspiration. 

Today, he decided that sitting in a field full of sunflowers would be ideal for his newest project, and what would make it more worthwhile and perfect was if you, his girlfriend  were with him to occupy his time and add further enjoyment to his favourite hobby. 

Horrible idea on his part because you’re allergic to flowers, and tall fields of grass would most likely break you out into hives and have you coughing up a lung. Johnny wouldn’t bat an eye though, because despite loving you with all his heart, he had a knack for making fun of you and the simplest inconveniences that occurred within your life. 

He always says you’re over dramatic when it comes to your “spring allergies” and that nothing like some water and the fresh air will clear your mind and nasal passages. 

He’s a dumbass, and he really will be the reason you die one day. 

But Johnny didn’t care, because as long he had you, a bottle of allergy medicine for your sneezing and itching, and his paintbrushes, he was content, even if you spent a great amount of your time in this damn sunflower field teary eyed and stuffy nosed. 

“Johnny, please tell me we can leave soon, I'm itching way more now than I did when i had the chickenpox as a kid,” you whine, rubbing your hands across your bare arms to provide you with any relief as you watched the bees swarm past you in their search for some nectar in the flowers nearby.  

“Mhm,” he whispers, continuing to stroke the paintbrush across the now detailed page, completely oblivious to the words that just left your mouth. 

This always happened. Whenever he took you somewhere new, he’d completely block out the world, yourself included, in order to capture the essence of life whether it be through his camera or canvas. 

Of course there was silence, why wouldn’t there be. Every time Johnny asks you to accompany him anywhere outdoors, you always think you’re going to explore and embrace nature, and every single time you are wrong, because the second you find something beautiful to look at, he sets his small backpack down and busts out either his camera or painting utensils to capture it. 

You’d say it pissed you off at times, but art is his passion, and you’d never do anything to get in the way he feels so alive and free whenever he consumes himself with something as minuscule and simple as a paperclip. He finds the beauty in anything and everything, never ceasing to amaze you with the wonderful creations he illustrates. 

“Johnny,” you say a little louder, unamused with the silence you receive, and the continuous strokes he continues to make on the page. 

You call his name again, and again, and again, and it’s only the third time when you yell out his full name, that he finally drops the brush on his palette and focuses his attention on you. 

“Were you not listening to me?” You question, seriously surprised that out of all the times you’ve called his name, he either completely ignored you or has gone def within his 25 years of life. 

“Oh, I was listening,” he hums, raising his eyebrows whilst providing you with his staple cheeky grin, one he always does when he wants to get on your nerves. 

Always a cocky one that guy, and how you manage to stay dating him truly blows your mind. 

Sighing, you focus your gaze away from the way he picks up his paintbrush again and gently strokes baby blue across the page, looking towards the tall stocks of sunflowers gently breezing in the wind a few feet away from you.

“You’re such a crappy boyfriend,” you chuckle, picking up one of the untouched pastel crayons and examining its fluorescent blue hue.  “You never pay attention to me.” 

“I never pay attention to you, hm?” He asks, causing you to stare back at his now stoic stature, face still focusing on his notebook and nowhere on you, but more contoured and rigid this time.

“Well, you’re speaking to me now yet your attention is never on me, always on whatever you’re painting or drawing,” your tone slightly angered. 

Obviously you were lying. Johnny was the most attentive boyfriend you could ever ask for, always checking in on you and ensuring your day goes smoothly, always hanging out with you when he’d rather be napping or out painting or doing photography, and almost always is down to make out with you whenever the opportunity arises. 

You just like to pull his leg most of the time because it’s funny seeing how riled up he gets when he believes that you think he’d rather focus on his hobbies over having conversations with you. 

“Here,” he signals, shoving his book in your direction, encouraging you to look through the worn out leather book he kept hidden for months, wanting you to see what he has been working on secretly whenever you were together.

Confused, you run your fingers along the enclosed ribbon on the cover of the sketchbook, hesitant to allow yourself in the work he’s immersed himself in for hours whenever the beauty in nature took over his attention span away from you.

Raising his eyebrows, he nods in a manner that demands you open the book. “If I don’t pay any attention to you, look through the book.”

Untying the string , you decide that whatever is in this book isn’t a secret anymore, because it wouldn’t even be in your hands if Johnny didn’t practically throw it at you to shut you and your curiosity up. 

The first few pages are beautiful, really. He has a way with his sketches, always seeming so simple yet so realistic you’d think they were actual pictures edited just to appear more striking to the eye. 

“Nature really is what inspires you hm?,” you ask, more of a rhetorical question because you already know the answer that’ll come from his mouth.

Chuckling, he brings his body closer to yours so his chin is resting on your shoulder, watching as you delicately turn the pages of his book. “Yeah, but there’s something more encapsulating that ends up being my muse, just keeping looking through.”

Golden sunflowers, vibrant pink sunsets, the giant pumpkin you both visited at the fall fair last year, everything you two experienced together when hanging out was documented in this book and reinvented through his drawings or paintings of them. 

And then you saw a sketch of yourself. At first you thought it was cute, because he’d always draw you and all your other friends whenever he got bored. But four pages later all you found were several pages filled with you, ranging from when when he placed different coloured tulips in your hair that one time you went on a walk in the new community garden not far from your favourite ice cream shop, or when you experimented with makeup and put glitter all over your eyebrows. 

Every moment you deemed minuscule and fun was captured so deeply in Johnny’s eyes, that he decided to relive it all again through the many strokes and colours that seamlessly came together to create something so beautiful. 

Your breath was absolutely taken away.

You always thought nature is what captured Johnny’s attention the most, but turns out it’s always been you. 

“I’m. Wait Johnny this is so-,” you begin to say, but your words become jumbled and your emotions a tangled mess, leaving you with tears in your eyes and so much more love for him in your heart than you’d ever had before, all because he drew some pictures of you. 

“Do you like them?” he questions, raising his eyebrows, awaiting your answer of approval, his question only promoting the waterworks to begin and your head to aggressively nod. 

You place the notebook gently on the blanket you two were sitting on, and crawl into his lap, pressing your body closer to his as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

They were absolutely perfect. He was perfect. 

Everything Johnny Suh says and does is absolutely incredible and you’re so incredibly lucky to be dating the cheesiest, most loving goofball the earth has to offer. Even if he’s a giant pain in your ass 97% of the time. 

Pecking his cheek, you stare into his gleaming brown orbs. “I absolutely love them, Mr. Johnny Suh, and I love you a million times more.”

Tightening your arms around his neck, you couldn’t help but embrace this moment for much longer. You don’t care that you’re five seconds away from bursting into hives and that your throat feels like it’s closing up. Holding on to your very sweet, thoughtful boyfriend for as long as you could right in this moment was all that mattered to you. 

“I was joking by the way, I know you care about me alot and pay more attention than most boyfriends would and I appreciate you tremendously.” You could start to feel the tears well up in the corners of your eyes, because you honestly don’t know what you’d do without Johnny. 

He was your best friend, and has been such an uplifting, inspiring person ever since he entered your life your freshman year of college, the thought of him not being in your life one day was a scary thought you never wanted to come true. 

“I love you always.”

“I know babe”, he whispered, kissing your cheek and running his fingers delicately through your hair, trying to calm you down as he could sense you were feeling rather overwhelmed. 

“I wouldn’t keep dragging you to places you hated if I knew you didn’t love me,” he exclaimed, bursting out into a loud, body shaking laugh that provided you with the comfort to let your tears go, and laugh in unison with him. 

Lifting you off his lap, Johnny grabs his art supplies and gently places them in his bag, grabbing your hand and pulling you up from the dry, matted grass you were both sitting on. 

“Where are you dragging me?” 

“Back to my place.” He winks, quickly pecking your lips before intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you into the direction of his car. 

“It wouldn’t be romantic to be making out with my girlfriend that I love very much in a sunflower field if she kept sneezing in my face, wouldn’t it?”