#and I’m not saying my colored pieces look professional at all!

[cattysapien]

here’s my art hot take.

I think digital artists rely way too heavily on blending modes and it hinders a lot of people’s skills. For example: I often see people using multiply layers to shortcut making shadows or shortcut making palettes. And I’m not saying this is a bad thing! They are great tools, and I myself have done this. But also speaking for myself— I had a lot of impostor syndrome when coloring pieces because I knew deep down that I didn’t really know what I was doing, because I didn’t take the time to learn and instead took the route of using shortcuts like blending modes. I think people tend to forget about lighting/color theory a lot and would rather do quick fixes to their pieces instead of taking the time to learn. but frankly, it is just as important as learning anatomy and it can make the difference between an amateur vs professional looking piece

[slut4sugu]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓- spencer reid x fem!reader

including: two sweethearts inlove + early relationship cuteness

a/n: happy Friday my loves! + next is someone also highly requested <33

The fluorescent lights of the BAU conference room hummed quietly, casting long shadows as the team huddled around the large table. A particularly gruesome case had them all on edge, the details of the victims’ disappearances and subsequent discoveries weighing heavily in the air.

Spencer, as always, was meticulously reviewing the case files, his brow furrowed in concentration, muttering to himself as he pieced together the fragmented puzzle.

You, his girlfriend and fellow agent, sat beside him, your hand resting gently on his arm, a silent offering of comfort and support.

You knew how these cases affected Spencer. His brilliant mind, while a gift, also made him deeply empathetic to the suffering of others. He carried the weight of each victim, each lost soul, within him. You admired his strength, his unwavering dedication to justice, but you also worried about the toll it took on his sensitive heart.

As the meeting adjourned, the team dispersing to follow up on leads and analyze evidence, you lingered behind, watching as Spencer remained engrossed in his work. He was so focused, so completely absorbed in the details of the case, that he didn't even notice the others leaving. You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for the brilliant, quirky genius you loved.

You leaned closer, gently placing a hand on his cheek, drawing his attention away from the files. He looked up, his hazel eyes, usually filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, softened as they met yours. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips. That sweet cute tired ass smile. God, Come hell or high water he still looks so handsome.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice rough from exhaustion.

"Hey yourself," you replied, your thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. You knew he was running on empty, both physically and emotionally. You wanted to offer him some comfort, some reassurance, a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

"You okay, sweetheart?" The words slipped out before you could even think, you both hadn’t talked about pet names or anything like that yet however, Spencer was aware of your nicknames for the others. (And was slightly jealous that you’d only call him Spence.) Well, until now.

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He paused for a moment, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before being replaced by a soft, almost shy smile. He wasn't used to such terms of endearment, especially not in a professional setting.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't planned on calling him that, not here, not now. But the word felt right, natural, a perfect reflection of the deep seated love you had for him. You held your breath, waiting for his reaction.

A blush crept up his neck, coloring his pale skin a delicate pink. He looked down at his hands, a small, almost bashful smile playing on his lips. He didn't say anything for a moment. but the gentle squeeze of your hand in his spoke volumes.

“Yeah, I’m..I’m fine.”

You watched him, your heart overflowing with love. You realized that he wasn't embarrassed or uncomfortable. He was simply surprised, pleasantly so.

He finally looked up, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. He still didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips, told you everything you needed to know. He liked it. He liked being your sweetheart.

You smiled, relief washing over you. You leaned in and kissed him softly, a tender, reassuring kiss that spoke of love and understanding. Your heart fluttering as you felt him smile into the kiss, the faint smell of slight cologne and old books.

As you pulled away, you whispered, "I love you, Spencer."

He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. "I love you too, angel," he replied. His tone so soft and sugar sweet. A tone only ever used when talking to you.

It was your turn to swoon now <33

BONUS

still can’t used to you calling him sweetheart until like a week goes by

Derek over heard you calling him pretty boy after seeing him in glasses after a while, and after seeing Spencer’s flushed face he busted out laughing.

almost cried when you called him the most beautiful/prettiest guy you’ve ever seen.

Can’t go to sleep after this without hearing you say, “Love you g’night sweetheart.”

[velvettte]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+ ONLY)

boss nanami kento x secretary f!reader, handjob, nanami is hardcore daydreaming and lusting

nanami kento considers his lust to be something shameful.

he knows it’s completely natural—it was how half of history had ever been made—but he always prided himself on choosing his relationships based on loyalty and mutual trust.

all of that went to hell the second you entered his office.

you smiled at him shyly, gently closing the door behind you as you walked up to him with a piece of paper in your hand, presumably your resume.

“hello sir,” you said sweetly, your voice so perfect and melodious that he felt his heart stutter in his chest. “i’m your new secretary. here is my resume containing all my previous positions in case you were curious.”

he doesn’t even bother to look at the resume, opting to look at your face and memorize the details.

has he ever seen anyone with lips so soft? or eyes so luminous? or a smile that was….

he needed to cut that out.

“i’m honored you’ve chosen our company to work at,” he says, offering you what he hopes is a polite smile. on the inside he’s so flustered he can hardly think, focusing on any point of the room so he doesn’t give into the growing heat he feels in his lower belly.

“it was a great choice you say,” and he turns his gaze up and oh dear.

in the midst of his panic he didn’t realize that you’d chosen the worst possible outfit to wear to meet him.

the dress was absolutely stunning, a color that complimented your skin and hugged your silhouette so well that it seemed almost magical.

he could nearly imagine what it would be like beneath. how soft and supple your skin would feel against his hands. he’d take his time to caress your skin and to learn every inch of you, the scars and the softness both.

he really, really needed to stop.

“it was the best choice,” you continued, unaware of the dilemma nanami faced at every second. “i’ve heard absolutely great reviews about your leadership, sir.”

he decides to test the waters once more and finds himself regretting it instantly. you’ve made your way onto the chair in front of his desk now, hair loose from its professional bun and framing your face.

your eyes are so much prettier from this close, he thinks briefly, his heart stopping when you take out a tube of lip balm and smooth it over your lips.

oh god.

he could feel his length twitch as you gave him the biggest smile.

“so, now that introductions are over, do you have a task for me?”

“yes,” he nearly jumps, handing you a folder of assignments that would definitely be more than an hours of work. “these files need copying and some emails need to be sent. do you think you would be able to get through some of these?”

“all of them,” you say determinedly, taking the files from him and oh how his hands yearn to feel the spark that came from that touch.

you scurry out of his office, and nanami sighs, looking down to confirm what he knew was inevitable the second he saw you.

he was so hard, and all it took was a smile and a touch from you.

he gently palmed his bulge over his pants, shivering at the gentle contact. quickly he from his chair and locked the door. the last thing he wanted was for you to come back and see him as pathetic as he was right now.

he unbuttoned his pants and released himself, unsurprised at the bead of precum that had gathered at the tip.

against his better judgement, he gently wrapped his fingers around his dick, slowly moving up and down.

he thought of how beautiful you looked in that dress and skated his thumb to the tip, groaning at the sensation.

as he moved his fist yet again, he was interrupted by a fantasy of you doing this instead.

your hands around his dick, whispering sweet nothings in his ears and moving your first at a tantalizingly slow cadence. you who’d listen to his groans and tease him, touching his tip and his sweet spots just enough to get him whining.

he could feel himself harden even more beneath his fingers, rubbing his tip yet again and groaning in pleasure. he shut his eyes, thinking of your hands, your eyes, your body.

he, sinfully, thought about how you’d take him into your mouth, your hands and tongue working in tandem.

he could feel the knot in his stomach tighten when he thinks about how warm your mouth would feel around him.

against his better judgment he whispers your name, velvet against his lips, and with another stroke he’s seeing stars, hips arching as he comes.

he gasps for air, looking at his mess and wondering just how he’ll ever face you.

he gently cleans himself up, thanking whatever power there was for having a tissue box nearby.

he unlocks his office and sits there, a furious blush on his face when you walk into his office again.

“hello sir,” you smile, “i hope all these files are arranged to your liking.”

“that was so fast,” he says, looking through what could only be described as immaculate work. “these are all perfect.”

“i’m so glad,” you grin. “say…i know it’s a bit unprofessional, but do you think you could give me a ride to my apartment tonight? i am so sorry for asking…my metro card just ran out of swipes.”

“i would love to,” he says in a heartbeat, his own heart thudding wildly.

god, he was a goner.

all feedback is appreciated!! if you want to be added to my taglist for general posts or certain ones, feel free to send an ask <3

[stylesispunk]

"A broken ankle, karma rules"

no outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: you slipped on ice in front of your neighbor Joel and he ran to help you. warning: none besides a broken ankle, "peach" is reader's nickname, and probably grammar mistakes because I wrote this too fast. Word count: 2,6k a/n: This is the last piece of writing for the Christmas season! It's a short one but a lovely one. I'm actually dying because it's too hot here in my country (perhaps because Pedro is here) I hope you have a lovely Christmas Eve, take care of yourself and I hope there is so much love for you on your way!

dividers by @/plum98

It has been five months since your neighbor, Joel had moved to the house next to yours, in a neighborhood mostly habited by lovely elderly people, you were the youngest woman in this street, and the sweetheart, loved by everyone around. Well, you, your kind heart, warm personality, and the delicious pastries you baked since you were a professional baker.

And of course, the arrival of Joel changed the course of events at the neighborhood, at that sunny morning when he parked his car in front of his house, full of his belongings, clearly indicating he was taking the house.

At first, you didn’t understand the commotion outside when you spotted 3 of the ladies chatting and laughing with an unknown guy on the cobblestones in front of your yard, just when you were leaving for work.

As a shy person, you sometimes hated the new introductions and tried your best to avoid them, but this morning it seemed like the odds weren’t in your favor. Once you stepped outside your door, the three heads, well now four, turned to you, smiling, and the chatting stop abruptly.  You could swear the eyes of the stranger wide at your presence. You felt the rush creeping up your cheeks and swallow, making your war downstairs your porch.

“It’s our lovely baker here, come on sweats pea, let us introduce you both” one of the ladies said, her name was Betty and he was a lovely woman in her 80s.

You walked towards them, avoiding the lump in your throat and the stammer on your heart at the presence of the men next to Betty.

“Look, Joel. She is our lovely peach. Well, that’s not her name but we all call her that because she bakes the best peach tarts in this town” she beamed.

“Hi, nice to meet you, peach” he smirked, “I’m Joel” he took your hand to shake, and you swore there was an electric touch once your hands made contact.

"Joel, you have tried her peach tarts" Betty asked with a sly smile.

Joel, catching on to the playful matchmaking, replied, "I would love to."

As you blushed at that, Betty seized the moment. "Well, you're in for a treat! Peach, why don't you tell Joel about your baking journey? It's such a fascinating story."

“Well, I’m actually have to go to work but I-you. I’m, we can’t talk later” you replied, shyly, making your  

“And again, nice to meet you, Joel. I” you smiled, trying to avoid looking into his eyes.

It has been five months since that morning and you could say you and Joel got along well since then, you wouldn’t say you were both friends but you clearly could say you were on good terms and he was a great neighbor.

Since then, you had found out he was single, no wife, not girlfriend and not daughter, but he did have a dog that always switched his time between your house and his, trying somehow to pull you and Joel together.

And now, as the winter sky painted hues of lavender color in the horizon, you found yourself bundled up in a cozy blanket, sitting on the bench outside your doors with a steaming cup of tea cradled between your hands. The air was crisp, and the soft glow of holiday lights adorned the houses, casting a warm and festive ambiance.

Joel, with his dog by his side, approached quietly, the soft crunch of leaves beneath his boots announcing his presence. The winter silence was interrupted only by the distant sound of carolers and the occasional jingle of bells from some houses, and his presence.

"It's enchanting, isn't it?" Joel remarked, his breath forming a mist in the cold air as he settled beside you.

You smiled, the warmth of the tea contrasting with the chilly breeze, "Yes, there's something nice about winter evenings. Especially on the eve of Christmas."

Joel nodded, his gaze capturing the twinkle of Christmas lights around the neighborhood. "Absolutely. It's my first winter here, but there's a special charm to this season."

He turned to you, taking a look of your side profile looking at the sky. He hadn’t really paid attention of the beautiful features adorning your face. For him, you were clearly a gorgeous woman, but right now in the quietness of a winter afternoon and gorgeous colors around, he thought you looked breathtaking, and his heart stopped beating for a second.

He cleared his throat, “So, any plans for tomorrow night?”

You contemplated your answer for a while before answering the question, “Well, I’m just driving to my parents’ house. We aren’t really a big family so I’m spending the night with them” you smiled, turning to your side to face Joel “What about you?”

“With my parents. I mean they’re coming and my lil’ brother and kids. They all want to know the place I’m living now” he chuckled.

“If is not a bother, I would love to ask you if you could bake a peach tart for me?” his big brown eyes shone under the soft light left of the day “you promised once you would bring me one but you didn’t so…”

Your heart fluttered at the genuine warmth in Joel's request, and the winter chill seemed to retreat in the face of the newfound connection between you two.

"Of course, Joel. I'd be happy to bake a peach tart for you. It's the least I can do for my neighbor and his family," you replied, a grin spreading across your face.

Joel's eyes lit up with gratitude, and he flashed a grateful smile. "Thanks, peach. I can't wait to taste one." He stepped up from beside you and flashed you another smile “So, see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll knock at your door with a peach tart.” you beamed.

As you got ready to drive to your parent's house, your mind was filled with the joy of giving and the anticipation of the holiday night.

Before hitting the road, you took extra care in preparing the peach tart for Joel. The sweet aroma of baking filled your kitchen, creating an atmosphere of warmth and festivity. Once the tart was baked to perfection, you carefully wrapped it in a festive box, adding a touch of holiday magic with a ribbon.

The night before, the snow had painted the neighborhood in a blanket of white, transforming the cobblestones and rooftops into a winter wonderland. As you stepped outside, the chill of the morning air nipped at your nose, and you couldn't help but marvel at the serene beauty of the snowy landscape.

With the box in hand, you made your way carefully towards Joel's house, navigating the slippery cobblestones with caution. The snow had turned the quaint neighborhood into a picturesque scene, and the holiday lights twinkled against the snowy backdrop.

But just before you reached the stairs of the porch, your misstep, slipping on the icy pavement. A gasp escaped your lips, and time seemed to slow for a moment. The festive box containing the carefully prepared peach tart tumbled from your hands, landing with a soft thud on the snowy ground. Your heart raced as you tried to regain your balance, but the slippery surface had other plans.

“Damn it!” you yelled, at the impact, and you winced as you felt the cold seeping through your winter attire.

Just as the echoes of your frustration lingered in the air, a door creaked open. Joel, having heard your exclamation, rushed out of his house with concern etched on his face. His eyes widened as he took in the scene, the fallen box, the snowy ground, and you, trying to gather yourself.

"Peach, are you okay?" he called out, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You managed a sheepish smile as you felt the flush on your cheeks, "I'm fine, just a little clumsy in the snow."

Joel hurried over; his steps cautious on the slippery pavement. "Here, let me help you up," he offered, extending a hand.

But you yelped in pain as you tried to stand up, a sharp twinge radiating from your ankle.

Joel's expression shifted from concern to alarm as he saw the discomfort etched across your face. "Hold on, Peach. Don't force yourself up. Are you hurt?"

You winced, clutching your ankle. "I think I might have twisted it. It hurts."

Without hesitation, Joel carefully crouched down beside you, his eyes scanning for any signs of serious injury. "Let me take a look," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

As he examined your ankle, you couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. The peach tart, now forgotten in the snowy commotion, lay beside you. The chilly air seemed to intensify as Joel's worried gaze focused on your ankle.

"I'm no expert, but it might be best if we get you inside and have a closer look," Joel suggested, his concern evident on his voice.

You nodded, appreciating his attentiveness. With Joel's support, you managed to stand, albeit with difficulty. Together, you limped towards his front door, the snow underfoot now a hindrance rather than a picturesque setting.

Once inside, Joel helped you settle into a chair. "I think it might be a good idea to have a doctor take a look at your ankle. I can drive you to the hospital."

But instead of uttering a word, you started crying. Embarrassment and sadness clouded your mind, with a possible broken ankle you wouldn’t be able to drive to your parent’s house and you just had ruined Joel’s tart.

Joel, seeing your distress, knelt down beside you, his expression a blend of concern and empathy. "Hey, it's okay. Accidents happen, and your health is what matters most right now. We'll figure things out."

“But I ruined your tart” you sobbed, into your palms.

“I don’t care about the tart now, but you, okay? Let me drive you to the hospital” he said, looking out his car keys.

“No, Joel, I can drive myself” you insisted, attempting to push away the feeling of being a burden.

"Don't be a dummy, peach," he said, using the endearing nickname. Joel gently took your hands away from your face, looking into your eyes with sincerity. "Your health is more important. We'll figure out the rest later. Let me help you."

Feeling embarrassed, you nodded, realizing the truth in his words. With Joel's support, you allowed him to guide you to his car, the winter chill contrasting with the warmth of his concern.

As Joel drove carefully through the snowy streets to the hospital, a quiet and comfortable silence settled between you two. The twinkling Christmas lights outside seemed to blur in the background as your thoughts focused on the unexpected turn of events.

"I appreciate your help, Joel," you finally said, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, a reassuring smile on his face. "That's what neighbors do, right? Look out for each other. Plus, I wouldn't want you driving with a potentially broken ankle."

Your previous accident hit you again, and you sighed. "This wasn't how I imagined spending Christmas Eve."

Joel nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Life has a way of surprising us. Perhaps, something good may happen after this” he said, looking to the front of the road.

Arriving at the hospital, Joel helped you out of the car and into the emergency room. As you waited for the doctor, the events of the day played in your mind. Despite the unexpected twists, you found solace in the genuine care Joel had shown towards you right now, as he took care of you by holding your hand tightly as you both wait for the doctor to attend your ankle.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor finally arrived, breaking the quiet tension in the emergency room. Joel stood by your side, holding your hand tightly, offering a reassuring anchor as the doctor began to assess your ankle.

The doctor examined the X-rays and then turned to you with a composed expression. "Well, it seems you have a broken ankle. Nothing too severe, but you'll need to be cautious and follow the recommended care for a proper recovery."

You nodded, absorbing the news with a mix of resignation, and the doctor continued to explain the care instructions, detailing the use of crutches, the importance of keeping weight off the injured foot, and the expected timeline for healing.

Joel listened attentively; his concern evident in his eyes. However, to your surprise, the doctor, with a knowing smile, glanced between you and Joel.

"You're fortunate to have such a supportive boyfriend," the doctor said, assuming Joel was your boyfriend.

“Oh, he is-“

“Of course, everything for taking care of my girl” Joel interrupted, playing along with the assumption. He smiled warmly at you, as the grip on your hand gently tightened.

You exchanged a surprised glance with Joel, realizing that he was choosing to support the charade. The doctor continued, providing further guidance and answering any questions you both had.

As the appointment concluded, the doctor left the room, leaving you and Joel alone once again. You couldn't help but feel confusion at Joel’s behavior.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, curious.

Joel looked at you with a sheepish grin, his eyes reflecting a mix of playfulness and sincerity. "Well, it just seemed easier at the moment. Plus, I didn't want to complicate things. It's not like it's hurting anyone, right?"

“oh” you said, your tone disappointed.

“And because I think you are beautiful” he said, once he felt the disappointed in your voice “And I don’t care about peach tarts when I would rather taste the lips of the person who bakes them” he confessed.

Joel's confession hung in the air, and you found yourself caught between surprise and a growing warmth in your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to disappoint you," Joel said, a hint of concern in his eyes.

Your disappointment had quickly shifted to a mixture of surprise and something else—a fluttering sensation in your stomach. "No, Joel, it's not that. I just didn't expect—"

He gently interrupted, "Expect the unexpected, right? Life has a way of surprising us, I told you earlier” he said, smirking.

"Beautiful, huh?" you teased, attempting to lighten the moment.

Joel grinned, "Oh, absolutely.” He continued, "And as for the peach tart, I'd gladly trade it for a taste of something sweeter."

With a subtle shift, Joel leaned in, closing the distance between you. The moment felt like a suspended breath, a pause in time where the unexpected had become a canvas for something beautiful.

Your heart raced as Joel's lips met yours, the taste of your lips was just as sweet as he imagined, and the world outside, covered in a blanket of white, seemed to fade away as the warmth of your new found connection met in both of your lips moving against each other.

As the kiss deepened, you started to feel breathless, a rush of emotions swirling within you, and you even felt grateful for breaking your ankle because it led you to Joel.

the taste of the shared kiss created a sense of completeness, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together on this snowy Christmas Eve. The initial disappointment and frustration had given way to a profound appreciation for the serendipitous journey that had unfolded throughout the day.

When the kiss finally broke, you found yourself looking into Joel's eyes, a silent language being spoken between looks.

“Yes, definitely sweeter than a tart” Joel remarked, a playful glint in his eyes.

Joel remarked, the playful glint in his eyes creating a shared laughter that echoed in the quiet space.

You chuckled, the joy of the moment enveloping you both. "I guess breaking my ankle wasn't the worst thing that could've happened today."

Joel grinned, "Who would've thought a slip on the icy pavement could lead to all this?" His eyes held amusement

“Merry Christmas, peach,” he said, kissing you again.

[lxveuntold]

the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

copyright © 2024 by daizymax / lxveuntold. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Shorter list this time, but longer points. I expect this one to be more divisive, but it is what it is, and this is what ‘no one tells you’ about writing, after all. This one’s all about feedback and how to take it, and give it.

1. Not everyone will like your book, no matter how good it is

I’ve said this before, granted, but sometimes you can have very arbitrary reasons for not liking an otherwise great story. For example: I refuse to watch Hamilton. Why? Because everyone I knew and their dog was trying to cram it down my throat when it came out and I still don’t really like musicals, and didn’t appreciate the bombardment of insisting I’ll like it simply because everyone else does. I’m sure it’s great! I’m just not watching it until I want to watch it.

It can be other reasons, too. I won’t read fanfic that’s written in first person, doesn’t matter how good it is. Someone might not watch a TV show because the primary cast is white or not-white. Someone might not watch a movie because an actor they despise is in it, even if the role is fantastic. Someone might not watch or read a story that’s too heavy on the romance, or not enough, or too explicit. I went looking for beta readers and came across one who wouldn’t touch a book where the romance came secondary in a sci-fi or fantasy novel. Kept on scrolling.

Someone can just think your side character is unfunny and doesn’t hear the same music as everyone else. Someone can just not like your writing style with either too much or not enough fluff, or too much personality in the main narrator. Or they have triggers that prevent them from enjoying it the way you intend.

How someone expresses that refusal is not your job to manage. You cannot force someone to like your work and pushing too hard will just make it worse. Some people just won’t like it, end of story.

2. Criticism takes a very long time to take well

Some people are just naturally better at taking constructive criticism, some have a thick skin, some just have a natural confidence that beats back whatever jabs the average reader or professional editor can give. If you’re like me, you might’ve physically struggled at first to actually read the feedback and insisted that your beta readers color-coded the positive from the negative.

It can be a very steep climb up the mountain until you reach a point where you know you’re good enough, and fully appreciate that it is actually “constructive” and anything that isn’t, isn’t worth your time.

The biggest hurdle I had to climb was this: A criticism of my work is not a criticism of me as a person.

Yes, my characters are built with pieces of my personality and worldview and dreams and ideals, but the people giving you feedback should be people who either already know you as a person and are just trying to help, or are people you pay to be unbiased and only focus on what’s on the page.

Some decisions, like a concerning moral of your story, is inadvertently a criticism of your own beliefs—like when I left feedback that anxiety can’t just be loved away and believing so is a flawed philosophy. I did that with intent to help, not because I thought the writer incompetent or that they wrote it in bad faith.

I’m sure it wasn’t a fun experience reading what I had to say, either. It’s not fun when I get told a character I love and lost sleep over getting right isn’t getting the same reception with my betas. But they’re all doing it (or at least they all should be doing it) from a place of just wanting to help, not to insult your writing ability. Even if your writing objectively sucks, you’re still doing a lot more just by putting words on paper than so many people who can’t bring themselves to even try.

As with all mediums subjects to critique, one need not be an author to still give valuable feedback. I’m not a screenwriter, but from an audience’s standpoint, I can tell you what I think works. Non-authors giving you pointers on the writing process? You can probably ignore that. Non-authors giving you pointers on how your character lands? Then, yeah, they might have an opinion worth considering.

3. Parsing out the “constructive” from the criticism isn’t easy

This goes for people giving it as well. Saying things like “this book sucks” is an obviously useless one. Saying “I didn’t like this story because it was confusing and uncompelling” is better. “I think this story was confusing and uncompelling because of X, and I have some suggestions here that I think can make it better.”

Now we’re talking.

Everyone’s writing style is different. Some writers like a lot of fluff and poetic prose to immerse you in the details and the setting, well beyond what you need to understand the scene or the plot. Their goal is to make this world come alive and help you picture the scene exactly the way they see it in their minds.

There’s writers who are very light on the sensory fluff and poetry, trying to give you the impression of what the scene should look and feel like and letting you fill in the missing pieces with your own vision.

Or there’s stories that take a long time to get anywhere, spending many pages on the small otherwise insignificant slice-of-life details as opposed to laser-precision on the plot, and those who trim off all the fat for a fast-paced rollercoaster.

None of these are inherently bad or wrong, but audiences do have their preferences.

The keyword in “constructive criticism” is “construct”. As in, your advice is useless if you can’t explain why you think an element needs work. “It’s just bad” isn’t helpful to anyone.

When trying to decide if feedback has merit, try to look at whatever the critic gives you and explain what they said to yourself in your own words. If you think changing the piece in question will enhance your story or better convey what you’re trying to say, it’s probably solid advice.

Sometimes you just have to throw the whole character out, or the whole scene, whole plot line and side quest. Figuring out what you can salvage just takes time, and practice.

4. Just when you think you’re done, there’s more

There’s a quote out there that may or may not belong to Da Vinci that goes “art is never finished, only abandoned.” Even when you think your book is as good as it can be, you can still sleep on it and second-guess yourself and wonder if something about it could have been done better or differently.

There is such a thing as too much editing.

But it also takes a long time to get there. Only 10-15% of writing is actually penning the story. The rest is editing, agonizing over editing, re-editing, and staring at the same few lines of dialogue that just aren't working to the point that you dream about your characters.

It can get demoralizing fast when you think you’ve fixed a scene, get the stamp of approval from one reader, only for the next one to come back with valid feedback neither of you considered before. So you fix it again. And then there’s another problem you didn’t consider. And then you’re juggling all these scene bits and moments you thought were perfect, only for it to keep collapsing.

It will get there. You will have a manuscript you’re proud of, even if it’s not the one you thought you were going to write. My newest book isn’t what I set out to write, but if I stuck to that original idea, I never would have let it become the work that it is.

5. “[Writing advice] is more like guidelines than actual rules.”

Personally, I think there’s very few universal, blanket pieces of writing advice that fit every book, no exceptions, no conditions, no questions asked. Aside from: Don’t sacrifice a clear story for what you think is cool, but horribly confusing.

For example, I’m American, but I like watching foreign films from time to time. The pacing and story structure of European films can break so many American rules it’s astonishing. Pacing? What pacing? It’s ~fancy~. It wants to hang on a shot of a random wall for fifteen seconds with no music and no point because it’s ~artsy~. Or there is no actual plot, or arc, it’s just following these characters around for 90 minutes while they do a thing. The entire movie is basically filler. Or the ending is deeply unsatisfying because the hoity-toity filmmaker believes in suffering for art or… something.

That doesn’t fly with mainstream American audiences. We live, breathe, and die on the Hero’s Journey and expect a three-act-structure with few novel exceptions.

That does not mean your totally unique or subversive plot structure is wrong. So much writing advice I’ve found is solid advice, sure, but it doesn’t often help me with the story I’m writing. I don’t write romance like the typical romance you’d expect (especially when it comes to monster allegories). There’s some character archetypes I just can’t write and refuse to include–like the sad, abusive, angsty, 8-pack abs love interest, or the comedic relief.

Beyond making sure your audience can actually understand what you’re trying to say, both because you want your message to be received, and you don’t want your readers to quit reading, there is an audience for everything, and exceptions to nearly every rule, even when it comes to writing foundations like grammar and syntax.

You don’t even have to put dialogue in quotes. (Be advised, though, that the more ~unique~ your story is, the more likely you are to only find success in a niche audience).

Lots of writing advice is useful. Lots of it is contradictory. Lots of it is outdated because audience expectations are changing constantly. There is a balance between what you *should* do as said by other writers, and what you think is right for your story, regardless of what anyone else says.

Just don’t make it confusing.

—

I just dropped my cover art and summary for my debut novel. Go check it out and let me know what you think!

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 82

Another one that I love!~ Gonna be a lot of those from here on if you couldn’t tell!

Junko’s the Ultimate Fashionista (in the english release at least but hey Ultimate Gyaru has to have a little crossover right??), so of course she handles Mikan’s wardrobe the moment she’s allowed to. So . . . Extremely cute scene of her having Mikan try out clothes to see what she does and doesn’t like. 

An opportunity for Junko to pamper Mikan, AND i get to draw Mikan in a sweater???? Heaven. Also like are we all in agreement that sweaters just look fuckin amazing on Mikan?? Like I admit, I think I just like drawing Sweaters on Mikan but they just make her look so much cuter because of how god damn cozy she looks in em. 

Unfortunately that’s all I have to talk about for that topic? I think? So instead let’s shift over to a recent development involving Junkan!

I’m in the midst of working on the Junkan Christmas Eve comic, which hopefully will be getting posted on time a few days after this, and during the process of making there’s been something new with my current abilities.

I have officially hit the point of proper freehanding on these two.

Y’see this probably won’t make too much sense but i’ll do my best to explain. 

So normally when it comes to sketches I’ve done things a bit less proper compared to more professional artists. I usually get a little start on the anatomy, and then just start sketching all the character details and moving out from there. It isn’t often that I do a full sketch for the basic anatomy of a character, I only do it when I really wanna not fuck up a pose. And as you also know up till now only one piece in this event was drawn normally. Everything else is a sketch that i cleaned up and colored, or just a sketch. 

This is because generally speaking I can’t do art using my normal pen tool without a sketch to work off of, it requires a lot more finesse to use the G-Pen both because of the larger shifts that can occur in line width, and the slightly looser feel it has compared to my Pencil Tool. 

That’s all to say that I have drawn Junko and Mikan so many fucking times that I can just, draw them without proper sketches now. I’m at a point where I just need to draw the head, torso, and legs for an anatomy sketch, and then with the G-Pen I can just, draw from there. That’s big for me personally, and also fucked up because god how even??? There hasn’t been a drop in quality either so far, i’m still able to refine the expressions and i haven’t fucked up with the arms too much yet, I’d even say it’s resulted in some of my favorite Junkos and Mikans period.

Now, the catch is that again, this is only Junko and Mikan. I could prooooobably get to this point with Mukuro eventually just because her design is much simpler compared to other DR Characters? I struggle with getting her colors right rather than linework, but that’s about it and still not really useful in my main line of work unless I memorize every character that’s ever existed, and it took like 150 fucking times for Junkan I can’t do that for an obscure RPG character that I might get commissioned once and then never again. 

It’s also not something that I think i’ll apply to my normal Junkan works, because I am a perfectionist to a fault when it comes to pieces I care about and I want to make sure every detail these is exact. I need to be meticulous for ship art like this, every detail is important. And I can maximize that with sketching.

This new skill is basically useful for one thing. Speed. 

I pride myself on my efficiency, even if I have waned over the years due to burnout and overwork, when I get into it I can fuckin move with my art. And so if I need to say, make a 28 page comic in under a month? Being able to mostly skip an entire phase of the art process is very, VERY useful, ESPECIALLY because it’s a comic. Something which generally takes more time than my normal art by nature of it’s format and what it involves. When making the Comic for Day 60 it was all sketches, which was equally fast but could leave small imperfections at the time that either went under my radar or I just let slide because i was trying to be efficient. 

This is basically perfect for having to speedrun a Junkan comic, it’s all the speed with the usual amount of visual quality.

So in short . . . I’m turning into a nightmarish hell machine but specifically for drawing Junkan. I am genuinely curious how much farther I can go up from here, like, what the hell else could I be capable of with this???? Am I just gonna learn how to fuckin beam the art onto the canvas with my brain???

Moral of the story is just get mind numbingly obsessed with a ship and I guess you’ll get better at stuff??? I have no idea, i’m still kind of processing the comedic value of what this year has been because I was desperate for these two to make out. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[reallydumbdannyphantomaus]

The Apocalypse Club

(ao3) (art 1) (art 2)

Valerie, Kwan, and Paulina find out Danny's biggest secret while Amity Park is invaded by a strange new ghost. Now, all four of them have to work together to save the day. ...If they can stop fighting each other first.

Hey!!! this is my @invisobang piece for 2023!!!! it hits in at about 15k words and i got to work with @minnowmarsh and @trolithfoxyflint for the amazing art that comes with it! now you crazy kids have fun reading :D

----------------

“How,” Valerie said when she could talk again.

Danny shrugged and looked away. His face was tinted green, though whether from nausea or the swirling portal on the wall of the lab, she couldn’t say. Kwan didn’t look much better, ashen gray, hair sticking up in all directions from how much he’d been pulling it. Paulina’s eyes hadn’t left Danny’s face since…

Well, since.

“Is that the most important question right now?” he said, rummaging in the desk.

Yes, she wanted to scream. But it wasn’t, and she knew it wasn’t, just as much as she knew that he was avoiding the question.

But she was a professional. She’d worked with… Danny… before. She could put aside her personal feelings until they were safe.

“What’s the plan?”

“We need allies,” he said, still not looking at her. “The only place left to find them is the ghost zone.”

“What?” Paulina said. “You want us to—to go in there?”

“What about our families?” Kwan said.

“Isn’t it super dangerous in there?”

“Look, your families’ best chance is if we get help. And you don’t have to come with me, but I think it’s more dangerous to sit here and wait.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. How was she ever friends with these two? Here they were, whining about danger, when they were missing the most obvious issue with this plan. “Where are we going to get allies in the ghost zone? The whole thing’s just full of ghosts!”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but for a moment his eyes flashed acid green. Her hand snapped to the ectogun on her hip. “You’ve worked with ghosts before, Val.”

“No, I’ve worked with you before, and who the hell knows what you are.”

The words spilled out her mouth like poison, acid. She didn’t know if she meant them or not, but she did notice his full body flinch.

(She filed away the sore spot for future reference.)

“Jesus, Val,” Kwan said, running his hand through his already messed up hair.

She looked away. “Sorry.”

“Look, I have allies in the ghost zone. Even some enemies who, push comes to shove, will help me out if only so they get to kill me themselves. I’ve never seen or heard of this ghost before, okay? If it’s this powerful, and I’ve never heard of it, that’s a really, really bad sign. We need all the help we can get and we can’t afford to be picky about where it comes from.”

Valerie stared harder at the wall. Her skin crawled at the thought of making nice with ghosts. “Easy for you to say.”

“I’m working with all of you, aren’t I?”

Valerie’s eyes snap to meet Paulina’s, then Kwan’s. She’d forgotten, somehow, that Paulina and Kwan (and she, once upon a time) had always treated him and his friends like garbage. She’d forgotten that for all that Phantom was her enemy, she’d once used his cousin (or whatever that relationship actually was, who the hell knows anymore) as bait to capture and torture him.

“Fine,” she said. Deliberately, she dropped her hand from her gun. “So how are we doing this?”

--

The ghost zone was a lot… greener than Paulina expected. It made sense, in retrospect: green was the color of ectoplasm after all, but in her head she always imagined it to have more of a Sam Manson aesthetic. Black. Maybe some purple. But deep and dark and depressing.

(Last time she saw Sam Manson, Manson’s eyes were totally black and she was clawing at Paulina’s face, spittle flying from her mouth. Not a totally unexpected reaction, she had to admit, but there was no intent or reason, just pure feral violence.)

“So,” she said, “where exactly are we going?”

“The Far Frozen,” Fenton said, hands white-knuckled on the steering. “I have friends there.”

“It, uh, sounds cold,” Kwan said. “I didn’t bring my jacket.” More like a swarm of zombie-football players had tried to drag him down by his collar and he’d only escaped by letting his letterman jacket slide off.

“Frostbite’ll have coats.”

“And what is Frostbite?” That was Valerie, still glaring at Fenton like he’d pissed in her Cheerios. Paulina really didn’t understand what her issue was. Sure, Paulina was shocked to find out that Fenton was her beloved ghost boy, but she was more awkward than angry. Valerie seemed to take the whole situation personally.

“He’s a yeti.”

“A yeti? A dead yeti?” Paulina crossed her arms. “Are you telling me that yetis are real?”

“Look, not all ghosts were once alive. Sometimes, they’re the ghosts of beliefs or ideals or stories. Things we used to think about and believe in. Pandora’s here, too, along with a lot of pantheons, but they won’t tell me if they were ever alive.” Fenton’s lips curled up in a little smile and his face softened. “I’ve been trying to weasel it out of them for months.”

They lapsed into another brief silence before Fenton spoke again.

“Look, if you have any other questions… now might be the best time. It’ll be a bit before we get to the Far Frozen, and I don’t know if we’ll have any time after that.”

Paulina had a million questions, but she couldn’t think of one she wanted to ask right now. How? Why? When? That could all wait until after the day was saved. Her nerves were still twitching and she dug her fingers into her wrist to stabilize, remember the now and not two hours ago, watching Star, black-eyed and snarling with one arm bent out of shape, leap for her throat. She said nothing.

“Are we… just gonna stay in the For Frozen?” Kwan said. “Like, while you save the world?”

“Far Frozen, and yeah. That was the plan.”

“I’m not staying in some frozen wasteland so you and your ghost buddies can fuck up saving the world.”

Paulina couldn’t help staring at Valerie. What the hell was she talking about? Phantom—Fenton—Danny had saved the world plenty of times before.

“I was talking about Kwan and Paulina, Val. I know you’d never stay out of it.”

Valerie curled her lip. “Just so we’re clear. I have to keep an eye on you, anyway.”

“What is your deal, girl?” Paulina said. “If you two are our best shot at saving the world, being pissy at each other isn’t going to help.”

“Stay out of it!”

“The world is ending! We don’t have time for you to be stubborn.”

Kwan shrank back at their raised voices. “Uh, I don’t think this is a good time to fight, either.”

“Of course you don’t. Since when do you ever think for yourself?”

“Hey!”

“Shut up! Just be quiet, all of you. Jesus.” Danny turned around to glare at them, his eyes flashing green. “Valerie and I have worked together before even though she hated me. We can do it again.”

Paulina wasn’t so sure about him using “hate” in the past tense there, but Valerie was nodding.

“I can put my personal feelings aside to save the world, and fuck you for thinking anything different. But then, I guess you never thought much of me, did you?”

“What are you—”

“Seriously? You have to ask?”

Paulina bit her lip. When Valerie’s dad lost his job, Valerie lost everything. Including her friends. Like Paulina. No, she thought after a moment, I suppose I don’t.

Danny groaned from the front. “I changed my mind. No more questions. Let’s just… be quiet.”

Paulina had to agree.

--

The Far Frozen was, in fact, cold.

Kwan shivered in just his black t-shirt, but truthfully, his letterman jacket would’ve only helped so much. This was a bitter cold, a deep-winter cold that took three blankets, a hot chocolate, and fuzzy socks to banish.

Kwan really hated the cold.

“Great One!” the yeti in front of them said, arms (one of flesh and fur, the other of ice and bone) spread wide like he was offering a hug. Was it some kind of yeti cultural thing?

Fenton jumped up and embraced the creature. Apparently, it was just an offer of a hug.

“What brings you to my domain?” the yeti said once he put Fenton down. “And with such strange company as well!”

Fenton rubbed the back of his neck. “We need your help, Frostbite.”

Kwan’s teeth started to chatter. Valerie and Paulina’s arms were dotted with gooseflesh, alongside his own. How was Fenton not fucking freezing?

“Can we have this conversation inside?” Paulina said, rubbing her arms.

“W-w-w-with jackets?” Kwan’s chattering teeth brought out a stutter. Embarrassing. “Ma-y-be a f-fire?”

“Of course!” the yeti said. “Your fragile human bodies require excess warmth to survive. Please, follow me.”

The yeti, who introduced himself as Frostbite, led them to a cave where they were each presented with a delightfully warm coat, almost thick enough to banish the cold from Kwan’s bones.

(Almost.)

Valerie spent the whole trek glaring at Frostbite like she expected him to turn around and start biting the second she took her eyes off of him. She kept one hand on her blaster the whole time. Kwan couldn’t imagine going through life with that kind of paranoia. It must be exhausting.

The cave itself was almost cozy. It was decorated, had furniture and artwork and books like it was someone’s office. With a jolt, Kwan realized that it was an office. Frostbite’s, most likely. On the wall, there was a portrait of Phantom (Fenton?) standing victorious. What the fuck.

“What’s with the whole ‘Great One’ thing, by the way?” Kwan said.

“It is demonstrative of our unending love and gratitude for the Great One, who saved us all from subjugation at the hands of the villainous Pariah Dark!”

Valerie snorted. “‘Villainous.’ Like you’re not.”

Frostbite tilted his head in confusion. Kwan hated to admit it, but it was kind of adorable. “I am unsure what your meaning is. I assure you that we denizens of the Far Frozen have no villainous aims with any friend of the Great One.”

“I’m not gullible enough to believe you.”

Frostbite opened his mouth to reply again, but Fenton cut him off.

“Just ignore her, Frostbite. You’re not going to change her mind and we don’t have time to argue. A new ghost is attacking Amity Park, and we need your help.”

--

It all happened so fast.

All four of them escaped by sheer luck. Kwan managed to dodge the football team and hide in the bleachers next to Paulina, who’d nearly been bitten by Star and Sam in the bathroom. Valerie put on the Red Huntress suit as soon as she realized what was happening, giving her some protection against the spreading infection. And Danny?

Well, Danny could fly.

Danny stumbled upon the other three by chance, checking through the school for anyone who’d managed to avoid the plague, though he didn’t have much hope. He’d found Kwan, Paulina, and Valerie—two useless people and one who absolutely hated him.

Still, he couldn’t leave them there, unprotected. He grabbed Paulina and Valerie hoisted Kwan on her hoverboard and they’d raced to FentonWorks.

He’d intended to stay in ghost form the whole time, but he hadn’t realized that the infected were still capable of reason, at least on some level. That their attacks weren’t mindless. That his mom could hit him with an ectogun that would short out his powers, however temporarily.

And now three new people know who he is.

Three new people who he can’t trust in the slightest.

(What if they tell people? His parents? The school? The Guys in White?)

But he can’t worry about that, because the world is ending.

“I see,” Frostbite said after Danny had explained the situation. “This is… worrisome. If it escaped—”

“It? Frostbite, do you know what this is?”

“Mm. It sounds like Pestilence.”

Danny frowned. “Like… pesto?”

Paulina scoffed and whacked Danny on the head. “No, idiot. Pestilence. Like disease and stuff.”

“Yes. Considered by certain branches of Christianity to be one of the four Horsemen that herald the apocalypse.”

“One of four? You mean there’s three other horse-guys?”

“Indeed. The belief in this specific end of days has largely died out in the modern day, so the Horsemen became ghosts. However, they were so dangerous, so suddenly, that we ghosts banded together three hundred years ago to seal them away. If one of them is out…”

“...then the others might be out, too.” Danny rubbed at his forehead. “This gets better and better. What are the other three?”

“War, Famine, and Death,” Paulina said, counting them off on her fingers. Valerie raised an eyebrow at her. “What? Everyone knows that.”

“You are correct, Delicate One.”

“Um, my name’s Paulina.”

“None of those sound good.” Kwan scratched his head. “Also, why is Death separate? Don’t War and Famine and Pestilence all kill people? Does Death extra kill people or something?”

Frostbite shrugged. “How should I know? I’m already dead.”

“Can you be dead if you were never alive?”

“In any event,” Frostbite said, “your best chance is to put Pestilence back before any of the others break free.”

“And how are we supposed to do that, ghost? We barely escaped in the first place!”

Valerie had a point: they knew what they were fighting, now, but it didn’t solve the problem of we can’t beat this guy. Danny rubbed his temples. Maybe if he could get Skulker to work with them, Skulker would help convince the rest of the Ghost Zone and they might actually have a shot.

“Your best chance is finding the Panacea.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows. “The what?”

“Panacea is, like, a mythical elixir thing that can heal any disease.” Danny, Kwan, and Valerie stared at Paulina, who was tapping on her phone. She looked up at them and rolled her eyes. “What? Everyone knows that.”

“Okay, so where’s this Panaderia at?” Valerie said.

“Patience, Suspicious One. Allow me to explain.”

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“The Panacea is hidden in the far reaches of the Ghost Zone, near Pariah’s Keep.” Frostbite pulled out the Infi-Map from his desk and rolled it out on the desk. “Legend tells that Pariah wanted it for himself, but could never get through its protections.”

“Protections? Like—ghosts and shit?”

“Not quite. The story goes that there are three trials one must overcome to obtain the Panacea. The first is a trial of courage. The second is a trial of compassion. And the third is a trial of truth.”

Valerie threw her hands up in the air. “What the hell does any of that mean?”

“The legend does not specify.”

“Of course,” Paulina said, “because when the world’s at stake, you want as much ambiguity as possible.”

“Quite.”

Courage, compassion, and truth. Well, Danny was decently brave. He spent half his time fighting ghosts, at least, and protecting people. It had to count for something. Compassion… he could probably work on that part, but he did care about people. That’s why he protected them. Truth?

That was a little stickier.

He lied, all the time. It was for a good reason, but he wasn’t sure the trials would see it that way. Maybe he would just have to tell the truth in the moment? Ugh, this whole thing was so complicated.

Maybe Valerie would do better at the truth thing. Though, she also had a secret identity. Whatever. They’d figure it out.

Lost in his thoughts, Danny didn’t notice Valerie approaching him until her hand wrapped around his arm and she pulled him away.

“Woah, what are you—” Danny squeezed his eyes shut as he was yanked back into the bright light of the outside. The snow sparkled in the glow that permeated the Ghost Zone almost like sunlight, but half as warm.

“If you and I are going to do this, we should have a plan.”

“A plan for what? We don’t even know what these trials will look like.”

Valerie’s hand tightened around his bicep. “So you just want to fly in blind? Hide behind me and let me figure it out so you can swoop in and ‘save the day’ or some bullshit?”

“That is not remotely what I—”

“Save it! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. For years. And I—I actually thought that you cared about me, which is the really stupid part.”

“I do care about you, Val.” Danny reached for her arm and she flinched back. He sighed and stared at the ground.

“No, you don’t. You can’t. Ghosts don’t care about anything or anyone. You just like the attention. You like the praise. You may have everyone else fooled but I see what you are. No more tricks, Phantom.”

Danny choked out a laugh. “And you wonder why I lied to you.”

Valerie sneered. “No, actually. It all makes perfect sense, ghost.”

His eyes stung, which was stupid. They really didn’t have time for him to go cry in a corner because Valerie didn’t like him. But his feelings didn’t care about the facts, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said, and he tried to ignore how his voice cracked. “Let’s just get through this.”

“Yeah,” Valerie said. “Let’s get through this and then never talk to each other again.”

He’d really thought he could talk to her, if she ever found out. He’d really thought he could convince her. That hurt the most, he realized: he’d always known she’d be mad, but after what happened with Dani, there should’ve been room for them to be friends as Valerie and Danny and as Red Huntress and Phantom.

He was the stupid one, it turned out.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Valerie turned away. “It is what I want.”

“Okay.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“So—”

Distant screaming cut Danny off.

Somewhere along the way, wires had gotten crossed in Danny’s brain. Screams of terror and pain were usually a sign that people should stay away. If some did get closer, it was usually out of curiosity and panic would take over once that curiosity was sated. Danny, of course, ran straight for the danger every time.

So he wasn’t surprised, exactly, when one of the yetis, eyes dripping black, lunged for him. He’d run into enough fights that ducking out of the way of her claws was second nature. Beside him, Valerie blasted the infected yeti away. Of course. Valerie was just like him: she ran into danger.

“We need to get out of here!” She fired again at another yeti, snarling in the snow.

Danny reached for the electric cold in his chest, but it was still weak and flickering from the gun his mom had used. He was powerless.

“Danny!” Before he could blink, something slammed into him and he was speeding away from the yetis on Valerie’s jetboard.

“Wait—Wait!” Struggling to stand on a fast, open-air vehicle, he pulled himself up using Valerie’s shoulder and she shot him a withering glare. “We can’t just leave them there!”

“Us getting infected doesn’t help anyone, and you trying to play hero to get on my good side won’t work anyway.”

“I’m not—” The jetboard tilted to avoid a leaping yeti. “Why won’t you listen—”

“I did listen to you! And you lied. So I’m done with that.”

Valerie angled down to the cave entrance where Kwan, Paulina, and Frostbite were and jerked to a stop. Danny couldn’t stop his momentum and tumbled off onto the floor of the cave, landing at Paulina’s feet.

“Um, hi?” Paulina said.

“We have a problem,” Valerie said.

--

Apparently the “problem” was a horde of zombie yetis right on Valerie and Danny’s tail. Paulina thought “problem” was underselling it a bit.

One black-eyed yeti burst through the opening, only for Frostbite to slam his flesh arm into it, knocking it into another oncoming yeti. He then hit a panel on the wall and sealed the cave shut. Panting, he lumbered over to Danny, green goo staining his pristine white fur, grabbed the map-thing off the desk, and thrust it into Danny’s arms.

“Great One and friends, you must take the Infi-Map and find the Panacea.” The yeti looked down at the goo (his blood?) and groaned in pain. “I fear I shall soon turn as well.”

“Frostbite…” Danny said, reaching out one hand like he wanted to comfort him. And wasn’t it weird, to think of a ghost needing comfort?

“Great One, you do not have time to worry about me. Help me by bringing back the Panacea and saving us all. You must go now, before I lose my rationality and attack you as well.”

Danny squeezed his eyes like he was staving off tears. “Okay. I—okay. I’m sorry.”

Paulina felt bad for the dork (hero), really, but they so didn’t have time for this. She latched onto his arm and yanked him away from Frostbite, who was starting to snarl. “Thank you, Mr. Frostbite,” she said. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Everybody hang on,” Danny said, opening the map. Paulina tightened her grip as Valerie and Kwan grabbed on. “Take us to the Panacea.”

Frostbite jumped at them, teeth bared, and the map whisked them away in a green light. Paulina wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was not it. The sudden acceleration stole a scream from her throat, and the rush of air brought tears to her eyes. The last thing she saw was Frostbite’s icy arm, outstretched, and then she could see nothing but motion.

There was nothing to do but hang on for dear life, then all of a sudden they were standing again, in a cavernous hall. Paulina wobbled on her feet, then vomited.

A hand rubbed at her back, and she turned to see Kwan, awkward half-smile on his face. “You okay?”

The hall was massive and crumbling, stone pillars in pieces. A mosaic pattern tiled the floor, and she looked up to see a perfect reflection in the roof, except for a couple of holes where the swirling Ghost Zone peeked through.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Except for, you know.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, that.” She bent over and spat a couple times, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. She’d lost her water bottle sometime in the multiple life threatening situations they’d been in in the past 4 or so hours, so saliva was her best option. “We weren’t supposed to be here. We were supposed to just sit there in that frozen wasteland and be safe. I can’t do this, Kwan.”

“But you have to, now,” Valerie said. Her voice was firm, but not unkind. “We’re all here, and there’s no half-assing this like you half-ass school, alright?”

“Excuse you?”

“We both know you could do just fine in school if you tried, Polly! You’re smart, girl. And we need smart on this mission, not smart trying to be stupid.”

Paulina stared for just a moment, then laughed. “Girl, that was the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever heard.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. “At least it was a compliment.”

“Setting our bar real low here, huh?”

“Paulina, when my dad lost his job, you all dumped me as soon as you heard. I lost everything, and then I lost all my friends. You’re damn lucky I’m not just cussing you out.”

The words were almost humorous, but there was a bite to Valerie’s tone now. Paulina couldn’t blame her.

“Listen, I wanted to say—”

“Guys!” Danny's voice echoed through the chamber. “I found something!”

Paulina swore as Valerie and Kwan both ran over to where Danny stood in front of a massive double door.

“Is that—”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I think it’s the entrance. The trials are probably through here.”

“So,” Kwan said, pushing on the giant stone doors, “how do we—”

As he spoke, the doors lit up and slowly, slowly, rumbled open.

“Huh,” Kwan said.

It was dark inside. The glow of the Ghost Zone seemed to come to a complete halt, swallowed by whatever was beyond the threshold.

Paulina didn’t like it.

“Let’s all go through together,” Danny said.

Paulina nodded, grabbing Danny and Kwan. She couldn’t speak, her mouth suddenly dry. Why was she here? She wasn’t ready for something like this. She couldn’t save the world! Oh god, she needed to get out of here—

As one, they stepped through the door.

--

Kwan blinked.

“What?”

It was the Casper High cafeteria, except the Casper High cafeteria should be overrun with Pestilence’s zombies right now. But there was Dash and Paulina and Star (wasn’t Paulina back—where—what—what… day was it? Tuesday? Right, right. They had an essay due in Lancer’s class. Of course. Kwan had stayed up all night writing about… writing about…)

“Dude!” Dash said, waving Kwan over. “You ready to pummel Brantford tonight?” The last part of his sentence became a shout, directed at the whole cafeteria. Students applauded. Dash stood with one leg on his seat and one on the table, a true showman. Over in the corner, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, and Tucker Foley rolled their eyes. Dash threw his milk carton and beaned Fenton (Danny?) in the head. Milk splashed down his head.

Something twisted in Kwan’s gut.

Dash let out a roar and ripped off his shirt, tearing it in half. The cafeteria screamed in approval.

Kwan grinned up at Dash. For all his flaws, Kwan loved this guy.

(black, black blood dripping from his mouth and eyes, Dash snarling, reaching for Kwan—)

Kwan jerked back and tore his eyes away. Dash didn’t notice as his best friend looked for the exit. Kwan’s heart pounded. It wasn’t real. Not real. Just a bad dream. Or was this…?

In the background, Valerie (his friend? not his friend? no, no, they’d dropped her because she’d lost everything, right? but no, no that was cruel, too cruel even for Dash and Paulina, that couldn’t be right) was sneaking out the door just as Danny Fenton gasped and rushed in the same direction.

Something wasn’t right.

“Hey dude,” Kwan said, “I gotta run to the bathroom.”

Dash didn’t acknowledge him. He was leading the cafeteria in the Casper High fight song.

Kwan ran after Valerie and Fenton (Danny), bursting through the cafeteria doors just in time to see them turn the corner. “Wait!” he said, sprinting toward their shadows. Rounding the corner, he saw the Red Huntress and Danny Phantom (Valerie and Fenton—Danny, Danny, it’s Danny, Danny wants to be called his name, remember that he has to remember that—it was Valerie and Danny behind the heroes, he knew that, though he wasn’t sure how he knew) fighting a ghost.

It was massive and ugly, all claws and teeth and glowing fur. Kwan couldn’t see any eyes, but he’d learned after years of dealing with ghosts that that didn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t see. It had six legs and two jaws that opened in concert to let out an earsplitting screech.

Glowing green spittle flew out of its unholy maw and landed on Kwan’s letterman jacket. Gross.

The ghost slammed Danny into a locker with one leg and used another to pin Valerie to the ground. It lowered its face to Valerie’s, ready to take a taste.

“Hey!” Kwan said, throwing the first thing he could grab—his phone—at the ghost. It bounced harmlessly off its head, but startled the ghost enough that Valerie was able to slip out of its hold and Danny was able to knock it down. A flash of light from Danny’s thermos, and the ghost was gone.

“Are you okay?” Kwan said. Valerie’s suit retracted and Danny transformed back into Fenton. Both of them were bruised, Danny cradling his ribs, but they were upright.

“We’re fine,” Valerie said with a glare.

“Hey,” Kwan said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah, right.” Danny snorted and looked away. Kwan could still see milk in his hair.

Kwan frowned. “Look, I know it wasn’t much, but I’m just a guy! I did what I could!”

“Yeah, you did. Probably saved our lives with that phone.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You only care because we’re heroes!” Valerie got in his face so he could clearly see the bruise lining her cheek. “You wouldn’t care if we were hurt because your bestie decided he wanted a punching bag. Helping the Red Huntress and Danny Phantom isn’t a risk to you. It makes you a hero! You’re so cool for helping to save the day. But you’d never help Valerie and Danny because what if someone saw ?”

“That’s not…”

“Face it, Kwan. You’re a coward. Always will be.”

Then they were gone, and Kwan was alone in the middle of a destroyed hallway.

--

“Kwan,” Dash said, “we need you to be on your a-game for this. They’ve got a real beast on their D-line, and you’re the only one with a chance of keeping him off me. I don’t wanna spend the whole game with my ass on the grass, so I’m counting on you, okay?”

Kwan blinked. They were huddled on the field, in full pads. Dash was giving the pre-game directions. It was gametime. Wasn’t it lunchtime? Or… was he… what?

“Kwan!”

“Uh, yeah! Yes. I’ve got it. Big guy, coming right at me. Yep.”

Was he going crazy? Something was wrong. Something other than what Valerie and Danny had said to him.

(And it was wrong, it had to be. He wasn’t a coward. He faced scary stuff all the time—a hazard of living in Amity Park. He couldn’t be a coward.)

The nameless d-lineman stared him down, eyes black as pitch behind the grill of his helmet. Kwan took a deep breath as he lined up against him. He could do this. This was easy. He was made for this.

A flash of green in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head just as Dash hiked the ball, and his mark blew right past him, laying Dash on the ground while Kwan stood, dumbly staring at the green he knew had to signal another ghost attack.

“Kwan!” Dash ignored the hand offered by one of the other offensive linemen. “What the hell, dude?”

Kwan jerked back. “What?” He took in the scene: Dash, with a clump of grass stuck in his helmet and dirt on his jersey. The ball, being moved backward by the referee. His teammates, glaring at him. “Oh. Oh, sorry. Just—I think there’s a ghost over there?” He pointed at the green light.

“So?” Dash said. “There’s always a ghost. Leave it for Huntress or Phantom to deal with. We’ve got a game!”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Danny and Valerie could totally handle it. They were heroes. It’s what they did. And football was what Kwan did. Division of labor and all that stuff.

And the thing is that Kwan was really good at football. He was the best left tackle in the state, easy. His coach said he could be the next Tony Boselli—though, hopefully without the injuries. With his mind on the game, no one got even close to Dash before he’d thrown the ball.

The forest glowed again. Kwan ignored it. There were eight minutes left on the clock for the second quarter.

A piercing scream floated over the field. Kwan turned to see Valerie, in her Red Huntress gear, slam into the ground head-first before being dragged back into the woods like a limp puppet.

“Oh shit.” This was bad. Valerie was hurt, bad. She wasn’t half-ghost like Danny. She was just a person. She needed medical care, and fast.

Could Kwan help?

Should Kwan help?

Kwan shook his head. Head injuries were no joke; he’d heard it from Coach often enough. Valerie needed help, and she needed it now. There was no time to wait for someone else to realize the problem.

He turned to leave the field.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dash said, catching his arm just as he reached the sideline.

“She’s hurt,” Kwan said. “She needs help.”

“We have a fucking game to play.” Dash’s fingers curled in the grill of Kwan’s helmet and jerking him around so their helmets clacked together. This close, Kwan could see the faint line of Dash’s eyelashes, the bright blue of his eyes. He thought about apologizing. He thought about kissing him.

How long had he been in love with his best friend? More importantly, how long had he let his best friend be an asshole because he loved him?

“I’m an idiot,” Kwan said.

“You don’t hear me arguing! Now get back on the damn field.”

“No.” Kwan almost continued, almost listed everything wrong with Dash, all the times he’d put everyone else around him down, all the people he’d hurt, how he’d hurt Kwan, even, but Dash would never, ever hear him. He knew that now. “I’m outta here,” he said instead, ripping off his helmet and sprinting toward where he’d last seen Valerie and Danny.

The world vanished.

Kwan blinked, and he was back in the chamber, staring at Valerie, Danny, and Paulina. “A test of courage…” he said to himself. 

It was just like the room they first came into: a little more together, more whole, but otherwise almost identical. Across the room was another massive set of double doors. He turned around and saw the door, the first chamber beyond it. He’d barely stepped inside. It couldn’t have been more than a second or two.

“Yeah,” Valerie said with an eye roll, “that’s what we’ve been say—”

Kwan cut her off by sweeping her up in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I never stuck up for you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I was too scared to help you even when I knew it was wrong.”

Valerie froze, stiff in his arms. “What?”

“You were right, this whole time. I was a coward and a jerk and I’m sorry.”

Kwan could feel Danny and Paulina’s eyes on him, but for right now, all his focus was on Valerie.

“What the hell are you—”

“I was a really terrible friend to you. We all were. You were hurting and we all made it worse.”

Valerie pulled back. “You’re serious. This… you mean this.”

“Yeah. I mean it more than anything I’ve ever said to you before.

“You—do you think I’ll forgive you? Just like that?”

Kwan let her go. “No. You always could hold a grudge.” He looked her in the eye. “I still needed to say it.”

Valerie nodded, a rough jerk of her head. “Okay. Just so we’re clear. Not forgiven.” She looked off-balance and confused. It figured, since Kwan had very much just dropped this on her with no warning. Whatever vision he’d received, it seemed like it was limited to him and only him.

“That’s okay. Let me know if it changes?”

Valerie stared at him for a long moment, brow furrowed, before it smoothed and one corner of her lips curled in a smile. “Whatever.”

Kwan grinned. “I’ll get there.”

Paulina coughed. “Uh, not to break up a tender moment, but can we save it for after we get the magic potion?”

“Unfortunately, Paulina’s right,” Danny said. “Not that this isn’t great, but we need to figure out the test of courage. We’re running out of time.”

Kwan was pretty sure he’d already seen it, but he didn’t even know where to begin with explaining. Instead, he said, “Danny! You, too! I was also a jerk to you, when you didn’t deserve it and I knew you didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry about that. I wanted to be liked but I—”

“Woah woah woah,” Danny said. “I… appreciate it, but we really don’t have the time right now, dude.”

“No. No, see, this is exactly the time. I think this is my test, okay? Well, some of it. Part two, or whatever. Part one was this weird vision thing that I had to go through like some kinda fucked up dream. And I think part two is—well, bringing it into the real world.” Obviously, he couldn’t bring the ghost attack and the football game into this real world, but realizing he was wrong? Taking responsibility?

He could do that.

“How is apologizing to us a test of courage?” Danny said, head tilted in confusion.

“I was scared of… something really fucking dumb, now that I think about it. And I hurt people because of it.” Kwan glanced at Paulina, who was looking anywhere but his face. “I’m not going to let it control me anymore. And I’m sorry that I ever did.”

Silence for a moment, like the room was holding its breath, then the entire chamber began to shake. The doors at the end of the room swung open and revealed another pitch black unknown beyond them.

“Wait. That was it?” Paulina said. “You’re telling me the Ghost King couldn’t get through these trials, but Kwan did it by saying I’m sorry?”

“Woo!” Kwan said, pumping his fists in the air. Take that, Mr. Lancer’s final exam. Who was going to achieve nothing in life now? Not Kwan, he passed the Trial of Courage. Official and capitalized. Helping to save the world and all that shit.

“Well, let’s not look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Are we all ready for the next chamber?” Danny said.

Paulina coughed. “Hang on, does anyone have a breath mint? My mouth still tastes nasty.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kwan fished in his pocket and held out a stick of gum.

“Thanks.”

“Ooh, can I have some?” Danny said.

“Sure, dude!” He grabbed three more sticks of gum, handed on to Danny, who grinned, stuck one in his mouth, and held out the last one for Valerie. “Val? You want in on this?”

Valerie stared at the gum like she thought it might bite her. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. She took the gum with her thumb and forefinger, delicately. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s get a move on.”

As they headed for the inky blackness at the far end of the room, Kwan felt something grab his arm. He whirled around to see Danny, hand curled around Kwan’s elbow.

“Thank you,” Danny said, “for, y’know.”

“The gum?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not—I meant for apologizing.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah. Honestly, should have done it forever ago. Just kept coming up with excuses, y’know?” Kwan laughed. “An apology was really the bare minimum.”

Danny let go of his arm and started walking again. “You’d be surprised. I can’t remember the last time anyone apologized for hurting me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Dude, that’s messed—”

They crossed the threshold.

--

Paulina was much more confident going into the next chamber. These trials were easy! If all Kwan had to do was apologize, then compassion was probably something like saving a kitten and truth was something like—well, she was less sure about that one. Maybe just telling a secret? Or something?

Except—something was different. Last time, they’d walked in and immediately the chamber had brightened. Kwan apparently had some weird vision as part of his trial, of course, but none of that happened.

Instead, it was still pitch black, and she could no longer feel Valerie’s arm where she’d latched on, or Kwan’s hand. “Guys?” she said, and her voice was swallowed by the void. “Hello?”

“—see her haircut?—”

“—the look on his—”

“—honestly thought I liked her!”

Paulina’s voice, first a whisper, then louder and louder until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts. Her laughter, shrill and piercing, reverberated through the space. She pressed her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to block out the noise. Her head started to pound and hot tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She was sure she yelled the words, but she still couldn’t hear over her own laughter.

“Why? Why should I stop?”

“It hurts. It hurts!”

“Aw, but that’s never stopped you before!”

It was so loud. A sudden, sharp pain in her ear and she could feel warm liquid on the hand covering it.

“Please! Please! I’ll do anything!”

Suddenly, silence. Paulina fell to the floor with relief. She pulled her hands away from her head; the right one was wet and smelled of metal. Liquid dripped from her ear—had it started to bleed?

“Anything?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Entertain me!”

“I—what?”

In front of her, stark against the black of the room, Valerie appeared, then Danny, then Mikey, then Sam Manson, then Tucker Foley, more and more and more of her classmates, standing and blinking in confusion at her.

But she was with Valerie and—or was she? But Manson was definitely not—this couldn’t be real. Was this real? She stared at her hand. Was she real?

“Paulina?” Valerie said. She sounded like she was underwater. The black of the room turned into a hallway. Casper High. It was—Friday. There was a football game she had to cheer for. She needed total focus for that. If only the stupid voice would leave her alone.

“I said entertain me!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Valerie stared at her. “It’s your name, girl. Are you okay?”

“Make jokes! Like you always do. I gave you your material and everything!”

Material? Paulina looked at the crowd, and realized that all of them were… well, losers. The voice just wanted her to make fun of them?

Nothing she hadn’t done before.

“I’m better than you, apparently,” Paulina said, ignoring the pit in her stomach. “What were you thinking with that outfit?” It was a dumb, dumb comment. Low effort. It was just—in that moment, Paulina couldn’t think of anything to mock. Nothing about Valerie seemed worth jeering at.

Valerie looked down at her—admittedly, fine—shirt and frowned. “Jesus. What is your prob—your ear’s bleeding!”

Sure enough, pus and blood painted the palm of Paulina’s hand, and she could still feel something rolling down her neck.

(“Still”? When did this happen?)

“We need to get you to the nurse’s office,” Manson said, crouching down beside her. Why was Paulina on the floor?

“Oh,” she said. Manson offered her a hand up, and she took it. “Thank you. Sorry, Valerie. Your shirt’s fine.”

A piercing screech, metal on metal, filled the air. Paulina doubled over, hands back over her ears.

“That wasn’t funny, Polly!”

She could feel hands on her arms, but her eyes were squeezed shut and she could hear nothing but the voice and its (her) hideous laughter.

“You just want me to be mean!”

“Duh! Mean is funny, right?”

Paulina opened her eyes just enough to see Valerie, Manson, Foley, and Danny in front of her, concern in the lines of their faces. Danny’s mouth was moving.

“Look! It’s the little tech weirdo. He names all his phones. Like, unironically.” Foley stood up and directed other students away. Danny moved past her to do the same on the other side of the hallway. “Or the ghost kid. His parents were already freaks, and now he’s an extra special kind of freak. Easy money.”

“Please. Please just stop.”

“Entertain me, and I will. Tit-for-tat, babe.”

Paulina felt a sob jump out of her throat. Why wasn’t she just doing it? It hurt so bad. She’d do anything for it to stop.

So why wasn’t she doing this?

“I don’t want to!” she wailed. What she must sound like. What she must look like. Surrounded by people who had every reason to hate her, bleeding and crying and talking to nothing. “Pick something else!”

“But you do it all the time.”

“I change my mind, then!”

Was it that simple? All along? Could she just—change her mind? Be a better person?

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt people anymore!”

The noise, somehow, got louder. Paulina vomited. Something wet trickled from her other ear. She wanted this to end. But she didn’t want to hurt people to do it. Why did she only get two options?

“So you’ll get hurt instead?”

“No!” She curled in on herself, falling back to her knees and closing her eyes again. “You’re choosing to hurt me. You could choose not to!”

“And, what? That’ll make it better? You’ll forgive me and we’ll be best friends?”

If Paulina could think clearly, if she could do anything beyond speak the first thing that sprung to her lips, she might have lied. She might have said “Of course I’ll forgive you” so the stupid voice might listen to her. This, however, was not a choice she had the brainpower to make right now.

Instead, she said: “Of course not! You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Then why should I?”

“Because I’m a person and it hurts!”

“You’re a little late to that realization, querida. Wasn’t Valerie a person when you ditched her? Do you think you can be Valerie’s friend again after this? That you can prove yourself to her or something?”

“I can’t fix it! But I can stop making it worse!”

The noise stopped. Blessed silence returned.

Paulina looked up through tear-blurred eyes and saw Valerie, Danny, and Kwan crouched over her. She couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ears

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat ached. She must have been yelling, before. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The exhaustion hit her all at once. Her ears pulsed with pain as she continued to babble apologies. The ground shook beneath her and Kwan caught her before she could topple over. A hand rubbed at her back, soothing circles, and she curled into Kwan’s chest.

“Think ‘m gon’ sleep, now, mkay?” she said, and then she was out.

--

“Holy shit,” Danny said, collapsing next to Paulina and Kwan and brushing the hair out of her face. “Is she—is she okay?”

Kwan held his fingers over her wrists. “I think so. Her ears are bleeding, though.”

“What happened?” Valerie said. “Your trial wasn’t anything like this!”

“I don’t know! It’s not like I’m an expert.”

“Stop yelling,” Paulina said, shifting against Kwan’s chest. “I can’t really hear you anyway.”

“Polly!” Kwan said, naked relief on his face. “Are you okay?”

Paulina pointed to her ears. “I can’t hear you, querido. My ears—it was really loud. In the trial.”

Dried blood still stained her neck. Danny had a feeling that “really loud” was an understatement.

In halting sentences, Paulina explained her trial. The voice, the laughter, the deal for making the pain stop. Danny was impressed; he wasn’t sure he would have withstood it, in her position. He could understand, now, how Pariah wouldn’t have made it through the trials.

They asked questions throughout, which Paulina couldn’t hear. It got a little better when they spoke slower and enunciated, but it would be a struggle until her ears healed, Danny feared.

“Let’s go over what we know,” Danny said, counting off on his fingers. “One, in both of the trials, only one person was picked to do the trial. Two, neither of you remembered it was a trial while it was happening, right?”

Kwan and Paulina both shook their heads, though Paulina winced as she did it. “It felt real,” Kwan said. “Like—I knew something was wrong, but whenever I tried to focus on that wrongness, it vanished.”

“I knew it was a trial at first,” Paulina said, throat scratchy, “but when it got too loud, I couldn’t really think straight. Then I was in school, and I completely forgot about the trial thing, even though the noise was still there. I forgot it wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Danny wanted to apologize to Paulina, for getting her involved in this, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t exactly appreciate it. She looked rough. Dried tear-streaks on her face that she hadn’t wiped off yet, hair a mess like she tried to rip it out, blood trails from her ears. They were pretty sure she’d burst both eardrums during her trial.

(It was a little over-the-top, Danny thought, to torture someone in a trial of compassion. Paulina had her flaws, sure, but that didn’t mean she needed to be hurt to learn a lesson. Kwan’s trial had really lulled them all into a false sense of security.)

(He could see, now, why Pariah Dark could never make it through.)

“Three, the trials seem to pick people on purpose.” His eyes slid over to Kwan and Paulina. “I think it picks based on those who… struggle the most with the thing the trial is all about.”

“Huh?” Paulina said. Right. She could only kind of hear right now.

“He said the trials picked us because I’m a coward and you’re mean.”

Danny winced. “That’s not—”

“Oh. Well, duh.”

“So, if truth’s next, it’ll be you, right?” Valerie said, looking Danny up and down.

“Hey!”

“You’re the one with the big secrets here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget that you have a secret identity, too?” Danny felt like Valerie was probably right, all things considered. His secret was, ultimately, way bigger than hers.

Still, she was getting on his nerves. He’d known she had a grudge against ghosts, especially him, but this was getting ridiculous. For fuck’s sake, she’d worked better with him on Skulker’s island, when she thought he was a full ghost.

“No, but my dad knows all about it. And so did you, apparently, though you lied about that, too.”

“Oh, wow, two whole people. Except that I told your dad, not you. And you never told me anything! I happened to find out on my own.”

“Uh, guys?” Kwan said.

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Okay, yeah. But we broke up because I didn’t want to endanger you. And now it turns out you can take care of yourself just fine!”

“Oh, so if you knew I was half dead, we’d still be together? That’s my fault now?”

“Of course we wouldn’t. But I lied to you to protect you. You lied to me to protect yourself!”

“Yeah! I did! Now think for, like, two seconds about what I needed protection from!”

“Guys!” Kwan said. “Could you stop?”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it will be me. But not because I lie more than you. Maybe these tests are meant for humans only.”

Danny felt his eyes flash green. “So that’s what this is about? You hate me because I’m a freak?”

“I hate you because—”

“Okay!” Kwan said, jumping between them. “I think this conversation needs to stop immediately, before you both say… even more things you will regret. Valerie, dude, I know we’re just now trying to maybe be friends again, but as your maybe-future friend: you’ve gotta lay off.”

Danny stared and blinked at Kwan a couple times. Was Kwan… defending him?

“You’re taking his side?”

“Yeah, I am. I think you both need to cool down, but you’re wrong about this. And I think you know it, too.”

Valerie huffed. “I’m not wrong.”

Danny was so, so tired. “Okay.” He turned away and walked over to Paulina, who was still on the ground, and offered her a hand.

She stared up at him before grabbing on and pulling herself up. “She is wrong. She’s just… stubborn.”

Danny sighed. “You heard all that?”

“Bits and pieces. I got the gist. Hey, do you think the Panacea will fix my ears?” Danny opened his mouth to reply, but Paulina kept talking. “Never mind. What I mean is: sorry you had to hear that. I know you care about her, you know? It must really suck to hear this stuff from her in particular.”

“Yeah, I knew she wouldn’t take it well, but I didn’t think she’d take it this badly. I mean, she was okay with Danielle!”

“I’ll be real with you, I only caught like half of that, but, uh, who’s Danielle?”

Oh, duh. Danny smacked himself in the face. “Right, sorry. Danielle’s my half-ghost cousin. Well, we call each other cousins, but technically she’s my clone. She’s her own person, and all that but—yeah. Anyway, the guy who cloned her is also a giant asshole and he was planning to melt her down to study her remains, but Valerie helped me save her.” This time, he spoke a bit louder, and made sure to enunciate so Paulina could try to read his lips too.

“Dude. You have a clone?”

“Yeah.”

“Someone cloned you?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, that’s about right. He’s a real fruitloop, that Vlad.”

“Hang on—not Vlad Masters?”

Danny laughed harder. “Yep!”

“What the fuck, babe!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Why?”

Danny started to answer, then thought better of it. It was, after all, a long story, and he had a feeling that, although she was great at faking it, Paulina was still only catching parts of what he said. “I’ll tell you when your ears are better,” he said, tugging on his own then pointing at hers to make his point clearer.

Paulina rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that! This is some juicy, juicy gossip”—Danny flashed her a panicked look—“that I will take to my grave and never speak of again.”

Paulina kept talking as they rejoined Kwan and Valerie. Mostly jokes about how he should change his ghostly outfit (“Seriously, querido, you’d look great in a crop-top!”) or about him out-gothing Sam (“You went and died! Manson will never be that hardcore.”).

Maybe he and Paulina could be friends after this.

--

Valerie was sure she was right.

She was sure she was right as she and Kwan waited in stony silence for Paulina and—for the others to join them. She was sure she was right as they walked in a group, the other three linking arms while she refused Kwan’s hand. She was sure she was right as they crossed into the black.

She was less sure when the room stayed dark.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said. She worried at her lip for a moment, then yelled, “I’m the Red Huntress! Is that the truth this thing wants?”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny said. “I already know that, Val.”

Valerie grinned, just a little. It wasn’t like anyone could see her, and the fact that he was here, too? Vindicating. “Well, look at that. It’s both of us!”

“Yeah? It’s both of us. Together. In some strange room. In the dark.”

“Okay, well I said my big truth. You say yours.”

“What? Why?”

“We need to get through this trial, dumbass!”

“Trial?”

“Yeah, the truth trial. Obviously we’re both in it—wait. You don’t know it’s a trial! Ha, then this is totally your trial and I just got pulled in for… reasons. I knew it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why is it so dark? Where are we?”

Valerie waved him off, though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, that’s not important. What is important is that you need to tell the truth. Probably to me, which is why I’m here.” Yeah, that made sense. He needed to tell the truth about how he’d hurt her, how he’d hurt everyone, how he’d played hero to earn his fawning fans. He needed to stop pretending to be something he wasn’t. And she was here because she deserved to hear it directly from him.

“What truth? Again, Val, what are you talking about?”

“Stop calling me Val. We’re not friends.”

“What do you—”

“Did the trial make you forget? I know you’re a ghost.”

“Oh.”

“I destroy ghosts.”

“But… But I’m also a human.”

“You’re a liar, is what you are.”

“For good reason.”

“No, I’m a liar for good reason. You’re just a coward!”

There was a long moment of silence where Valerie could only hear her own heaving breaths. Then, softly: “Wouldn’t you be?”

“No!”

“Really? You wouldn’t be the slightest bit afraid that people would try to kill you?”

“No one would kill you.”

“You said you know I’m a ghost and then immediately threatened to destroy me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Oh? How was I supposed to take ‘I destroy ghosts’ then? A joke?”

“Stop trying to turn this around on me. You’re the one who needs to tell the truth!”

“What truth? You already know the secret!”

“I’m talking about the rest of it! How you lie and manipulate people, how you fake being a hero, how you ruined my life!”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Gah! It’s impossible to talk to you about this shit.” There was a rustling sound, like he was walking away.

“Hang on! You can’t walk away; you still need to complete your trial!” She ran to where she heard him moving, tripped, and then she was falling, falling, falling…

…and landing with a thud in the same black void.

“She’s a ghost! And I destroy ghosts.”

“But she’s also a human!”

Was that… her? Back when they had been talking about Danielle. Danielle, who was human and ghost and just a little girl. Valerie and—they had saved her from Vlad, who was also human and ghost.

“Was this a trick, too? Was Danielle a liar, too?” she yelled. No answer. “Where the hell did you go? We aren’t done here!”

“Valerie?”

Valerie twitched. That voice—

There, bright and glowing against the blackness of the room, was Danielle.

“Valerie!” Danielle said with a grin, flying forward and giving her a hug. Valerie returned it with stiff arms.

“Hey, you… Uh, I’m looking for your… cousin. Do you know where he is?”

“Danny? No, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m kinda off exploring the world, y’know? Anyway, how’ve you been?”

“I’m—good. Look, I really need to find him.”

Danielle floated up and shrugged. “Well, he’s not here, but I can help you look.”

Valerie nodded. “Thanks, kid. And, uh, would you mind changing back to human?”

“Huh?” Danielle landed on whatever passed for the ground in this featureless void. “Why?”

“It’s just—uncomfortable, is all.”

Something strange passed across Danielle’s face.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I’ll be a lot faster if I can fly.”

Valerie clenched her fists. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

Danielle’s answering smile was tense as she lifted herself through the air. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Wait, if you leave how will”—Danielle zoomed away with an impressive burst of speed—“we find each other. Great.” Valerie groaned and slumped to the ground. “They just keep running away, huh?”

“Yeah,” Star said, “I wonder why that is.”

Star and Valerie were on a hill, watching the stars. Star was really good at finding constellations, seeing connections where Valerie saw points, seeing a picture where Valerie saw light pollution, so stargazing was always fun with her. She’d always loved space because of her name, she said. She wanted to know all about what she was named after.

The moon was full and bright. Valerie could see Star clearly, half-swallowed by the long grass. It was a cool, pleasant night. Peaceful, in all the ways Valerie was not.

(She was looking for someone. To do… something.)

“It’s ‘cause they know I’m right,” Valerie said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you need to be less sure.”

“What are you—”

And Valerie was falling again.

--

Detention with Lancer. Never fun, not even when he kicked his feet up and fell asleep. She and Phantom had both gotten it for skipping class to fight ghosts. The ghost himself was sitting in the back of the class, balancing his pencil on his nose and staring out the window.

After a long moment of silence, Phantom said, “You don’t have any questions for me?”

“Already know all the answers.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d I fight Pariah Dark?”

“For attention.”

“I thought I would die.” Phantom’s tone was light, conversational. This isn’t a big deal to him, just a fact. “Like, all the way. I thought that suit was gonna kill me if Pariah didn’t kill me first.”

“You’re lying.”

The pencil fell to the desk with a clatter. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Whenever I say anything you can’t argue against, you just claim I’m lying.”

“It’s because you’re a liar,” Valerie said without thinking.

“See! There you go again. Not addressing my actual point, just deflecting.”

Valerie opened her mouth to refute again, then paused. Calling the ghost a liar had become reflex. She didn’t have to think about anything he said if it was all a lie, after all. Then again… “But you did lie to me.”

“Yeah. I’ve been lying to everyone for years now.”

“So why should I trust you?”

Phantom shrugged. “Have I ever hurt anyone?”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t start.”

“You could say the same thing about literally anyone, though.”

“You ruined my life!”

“You told me you liked being a ghost hunter. That you like your life as it is right now. Was that a lie?”

Valerie grit her teeth. “No.”

“Then why are you so upset with me?”

“Because you lied!” Valerie yanked her hair in frustration. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not because I’m a ghost?”

“No!”

Valerie gasped even as the word came out of her mouth. Lancer grumbled in his sleep at the front of the classroom and shifted to the side. Phantom grinned at her, showing off the fangs in his mouth.

“Wait, no, that’s not… I’m also mad because of the ghost thing! Ghosts are evil.”

“Am I evil?”

Yes, she wanted to say, but her lips wouldn’t form the word.

“Is Danielle evil?”

Danielle, screaming, dissolving into goo, and Valerie put her there—

“No.”

“Are you angry? Or are you using anger to cover the hurt?”

“I—I’m not—”

And Valerie was falling again.

--

“One of these days, ghost,” Jack Fenton said, shaking his fist, “I’m going to catch you and rip you apart molecule by molecule!”

“She’s a ghost!” Valerie said. “And I destroy ghosts!”

“Ghosts are nothing but the imprint of a human consciousness manifesting in ectoplasm after death,” Maddie Fenton said, shocking the ghost on her table as it screamed. “They don’t actually feel anything.”

And then—

Frostbite slammed the door closed, even though he got infected. Even though he was a full ghost and shouldn’t have cared about them at all.

And Danielle flew away, young and eager to explore the world. A child, who’d never really been free before.

And Danny—

Danny laughing with her. Danny hiding with her from Dash and Nathan. Danny forgiving her for being mean in school. Danny begging her to help him save Danielle (a child, who’d done nothing wrong and Valerie had given her away to a man who would destroy her). Danny, just as invested in protecting that stupid flour sack for their grade. Danny, revealing her to her dad, smug little grin on his face. Danny, who could’ve died that day and no one would have ever known what he’d done for them.

Something ached in her heart.

“No,” she said, choking on a sob, as the scenery around her changed again. “No, I can’t be this wrong.”

She was in a lab, now. Jack and Maddie Fenton stood to her left. To her right stood two GiW agents. On the table in front of her, strapped down, was Phantom.

Was Danny.

“Ms. Gray,” one of the agents said, “we were so pleased when you brought us your capture. Such a unique specimen will fuel our research for decades.”

Valerie swallowed. Danny stared at her, uncanny green eyes boring into her own. He didn’t say anything.

“Decades?” she said.

“Of course! We’ll take it slow; we wouldn’t want to destroy it before we’ve learned everything we can. Not like some people.” He looked over at Jack and Maddie, who rubbed their heads sheepishly.

Decades. Decades as a test subject. If Danny was just a ghost, it shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t feel anything.

Right?

Valerie couldn’t look away from his face. He looked scared.

“No,” she said. Her fingers clenched into fists

“Hm?” the other agent said.

“No, I won’t let you do this. It… This isn’t right!” With every word she spoke, she became more sure.

Danny was afraid. It wasn’t a lie or an act. He was really, truly afraid.

“Valerie?” Maddie said. “Dear, you know it’s not a person, right? It can’t actually feel.”

“You’re wrong!” She stepped forward, pulled out her gun, and blasted away the restraints holding Danny down. “I’ve been wrong, too. This whole time.”

“It’s out!” one agent said, pulling his ectogun and firing. “Recapture maneuvers, now!”

“What did you do?” Jack grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Danny flew around the room, avoiding the ectoblasts from the agents and Maddie. “What did you do?”

“The right thing,” she whispered. And she knew that, this time, she was correct, and it hit like a bullet to the chest.

Then she was soaring, ripped out of Jack’s grasp, flying through walls and agents until she was outside the building, in Danny’s arms, free.

He set her down on a rooftop across the city. “Thank you,” he said. “I couldn’t—”

Heaving sobs burst out of her. “I’m sorry! God, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I—Huh?”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just didn’t want to admit it. For so long, Danny.”

“Are you okay?”

Valerie laughed. “No. I’ve been convincing myself that I was right and ghosts were all evil all the time because if they weren’t… if they weren’t, then what was I even doing?”

Danny’s face, inexplicably, softened. “Val—”

“And then I found out your secret, and all I could think was that you lied. That you didn’t trust me. And I knew why! But if I acknowledged it, then I had to acknowledge everything. All the—all the ways I hurt you. What if I hurt other ghosts that did—didn’t deserve it either?” Valerie hiccuped. “I—oh, God, I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster. You’re human. This is the kind of mistake that humans make. Me included.”

“I would have let Vlad destroy Danielle if you didn’t talk me out of it. I would have been fine with it!”

“But you didn’t. Don’t torture yourself over things you didn’t do. It doesn’t help anything.”

Valerie’s throat was sore, aching with each new sob, but she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I made you a liar in my head so I could keep lying to myself. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny’s arms circled around her, and she let her head hit his shoulder.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

--

Kwan didn’t expect Valerie to come back crying.

He’d kind of figured she’d get the trial. She’d been so sure it would be Danny that Kwan thought it had to be her. Like, cosmically or whatever. And after Paulina’s… whatever that was, he knew it would more than likely be intense. But ever since her dad had lost his job, Valerie had lost her softness, too. She didn’t cry when she was upset anymore. Instead, she got angry. She got even.

But when the light flashed on, Valerie was huddled on the floor, hugging herself, sobs heaving from her chest. Her face was dark and splotchy, dark stains of mascara trailing down her cheeks. Time was Kwan would have run to her, put his arms around her, rocked her back and forth. But this wasn’t that Valerie, and he wasn’t that Kwan.

He walked slowly, and knelt beside her.

“Valerie?”

“Oh God,” she said, choking through her sobs. “I—I really messed up.”

Kwan couldn’t help but turn his head and stare at Danny, holding Paulina up across the room. If she meant what he thought she meant… well, he couldn’t exactly argue.

“Yeah,” he said. She looked at him, tears still dripping from her eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Valerie lifted a shaking hand and wiped at her eyes and cheeks and chin. “Ugh, nasty.” She looked tired more than anything. “Yeah. Yeah, I gotta do something, right?”

“You should probably start with walking. I don’t think he’s gonna come to you.”

Kwan stood with her, holding her elbow as her knees started to tremble. He glanced over her real quick, looking for any injuries like Paulina’s, but whatever had messed her up seemed to be more mental than anything.

That didn’t stop her from almost collapsing when she took her first step, grabbing on to Kwan’s hand at the last moment.

“Val!” Danny said, making an aborted gesture like he wanted to come over to help.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just give me a sec.”

Kwan didn’t quite buy it, but she was determined. He kept his arm out, just in case she fell, but with each step she became steadier, almost normal by the time she reached Danny and Paulina.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong about you. About everything. And I knew it, see, but I didn’t want to face it. So I just kept lying to myself. And I hurt you because of it. And I’m sorry.”

Danny froze, staring at Valerie in disbelief. “Oh,” he said.

Kwan looked over at the door at the far end of the chamber. He awaited the tell-tale rumble, the sign that they’d finished the last trial and the door was opening, but nothing came. Confused, he stared at Valerie, who shook her head.

“I don’t think I’m done just yet,” she said, sitting down in front of Danny. “I’ve done a lot of talking since this started. Said a lot of things… things that I regret. I haven’t listened, much. I think I need to listen, now.”

“Listen to what?” Danny said. “Like, what am I supposed to say?”

“Anything you wanted to tell me.” Tears spilled over her eyes again and her voice broke. “I’ll believe you. I swear.”

Danny laughed, just a little. “Even if I said the sky was green?”

Valerie pointed at one of the holes in the ceiling that revealed the swirling Ghost Zone outside. “Isn’t it?” she said.

Kwan couldn’t help but laugh at that, too, just as Danny and Valerie fell into giggles. Paulina mostly looked confused, but Kwan didn’t really have a good way to explain it to her right now. He waved her off.

“Well, I guess—Vlad’s a half-ghost, too. I thought you should know that.”

“Oh, uh, I already did. Know that, I mean”

“You did?”

Kwan held up his hands before they could get any deeper into that discussion. “Wait, wait—the mayor?”

“Yeah. He wants to kill my dad, marry my mom, and make me his evil half-ghost apprentice. So. It’s uncomfortable at best but sometimes I egg his house.”

“You egg his house?”

“After he cloned me, I figured all bets were off.”

“He cloned you?”

“Jesus, is that where Danielle came from?”

“Who’s Danielle?”

“My cousin. Well, technically, yes, she’s my clone, but that’s weird so we just call each other cousins.”

“Yeah,” Kwan said, feeling faint, “that makes the situation much less weird.”

Danny shrugged. “It’s just my life, dude. You get used to it.”

“Hang on,” Valerie said. “I don’t think we can gloss over the fact that Vlad Masters wants to murder your father, marry your mother, forcibly adopt you, and clone you, and the proportional response is egging his house?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s not proportional but I’m not rich enough to do much more than be petty. If I reveal his identity to anyone then he’ll reveal me, too. Mutually Assured Destruction, and all that. Only so much I can do outside of that.”

“Okay. Okay. Shit. This is crazy. I hate this.”

“Tell me about it. How did you know Vlad was a ghost, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I flew back to check on him after Danielle. And he was. Monologuing.”

Danny laughed again. “Of course he was. He’s such a little loser. You know his cat?”

“Yeah, Maddie—oh shit, that’s your mother’s name.”

(What the fuck, Kwan thought. What the fuck the mayor was so creepy.)

“Yeah, heh, well, the cat was my idea.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I told him he was so lonely and pathetic that he should stop trying to get my mom to love him since she never would and instead fill that hole with a cat. I still can’t believe he listened to me.”

They broke down into laughter again. Kwan thought it sounded a little hysterical, but he figured they deserved to go a little crazy.

After they calmed down a bit, Valerie wiped at her eyes. “What else?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, is there anything else you want to say to me? Stuff to tell me?”

(Kwan actually wanted to spend a little more time on the whole the mayor is an evil ghost thing, but this wasn’t his show.)

And Danny talked.

He talked about walking into his parents’ portal, thinking it was broken. About turning it on while he was still inside. About how much he sucked with his powers to start. About Ember McClain (she’s a ghost?) and Spectra (she’s a ghost?) and the Lunch Lady. About how scared he was, fighting Pariah Dark. About how much fun it was to fly. How funny it was to mess with Vlad.

Sometime, in the middle of all this, the door opened. Kwan and Paulina both felt the rumble, both looked at the door, but Valerie and Danny were too engrossed in their conversation to notice. Paulina opened her mouth to say something, but Kwan shook his head. The fate of the world didn’t rest on them moving immediately. Thirty more seconds wouldn’t matter.

After another minute, Paulina raised her eyebrows at him, jerking her head at the door. Kwan bit back an instinctive retort. She wouldn’t hear it anyway, and she wasn’t wrong. They couldn’t wait forever.

“Uh, guys?” he said, when there was a slight lull. “Not to interrupt, but the door’s open.”

Valerie and Danny’s head whipped around. “Oh,” Valerie said. “Right.”

Kwan winced. They’d been having a good time! Getting along! He’d been hoping for that since the beginning of this mess and now that they were there, he had to break the tender moment up. Unfair.

Necessary, but unfair.

“We’re done, right?” Danny said. “I mean, this last one should be the Panacea?”

“Should be,” Valerie said. “Unless we fucked up somehow. Or that legend was wrong.”

Kwan peered beyond the opening, but just like every other time, it was pitch black. They’d only find out for sure by walking in.

“Hang on a sec,” Danny said, eyes squeezed in concentration. Before Kwan could ask what he was doing, a bright white light engulfed the room.

When Kwan could see again, there was Danny Phantom, standing in place of Danny Fenton.

“Woo! Finally!” Danny said, floating up and doing a couple flips.

“Wait,” Kwan said, “could you… not do that before?”

Danny laughed. “Of course not, dude, or I’d’ve been in ghost mode the whole time. Ghost Zone is dangerous and all. That gun really knocked the wind out of me; I only just got the connection to my ghost half back.”

Kwan had been kind of avoiding thinking about Danny’s ghost half because he wasn’t really sure what to think. He didn’t have a problem with it, not like Valerie did, but it still felt… weird. How could someone be half-dead? Wasn’t it, like, painful?

Watching now, the grin on Danny’s face as he unleashed a bright explosion of ectoplasm like a firework over their heads, he knew there was nothing to worry about. Danny was half-ghost. Danny was happy about it.

It was good enough for him, Kwan decided.

He glanced over at Valerie. A smile played around her lips. Paulina was cheering beside her, elbow resting on Valerie’s shoulder. In a moment, they’d all link arms and walk through the last door, a truly united front.

Kwan cheered with Paulina as Danny landed. Valerie’s almost-smile became a grin. Danny bowed, a huge sweeping motion.

He could get used to friends like this.

--

“If we walk through this door and there’s another trial,” Danny said, looping his hands through Kwan and Valerie’s elbows, “I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Kwan and Valerie laughed, but Paulina groaned. “I can’t wait to find this stupid Panacea so I can stop missing all the good stuff! Stop being funny while I can’t hear!”

Danny couldn’t help laughing again as they stepped over the final threshold.

Immediately, the room lit up. Danny raked his eyes over the other, making sure none of them were shaken up or hurt like they’d been before, but they all looked the same.

“No trials?” he said, just to be sure.

“No,” Valerie said. Kwan shook his head.

Paulina rolled her eyes. “I still can’t hear you.”

Danny gave her a thumbs up, then pointed at her, and shrugged.

She giggled. “Okay, yeah, I’m good. No trials or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

With that settled, Danny examined the room for the Panacea. At the far end, raised on a pedestal on a dais, was a white, crystalline bottle, glowing just slightly.

The Panacea.

Kwan whooped and raced toward it. “Wait!” Danny said, afraid of another trap.

Kwan made it to the dais, but stopped at Danny’s shout. “Sorry! I got excited.”

“Yeah, I get it, but we need to be careful.” Danny floated up next to Kwan, Valerie and Paulina right behind him. “Maybe… Maybe you should all step back.”

“What?”

“Danny, no!”

“What’d you say?”

“Listen! I’m faster than any of you. If something gets triggered I’m more likely to be able to get away.”

“But—” Valerie started to say.

“Am I wrong?”

“No—”

“Look, I appreciate it. Really, I do, but I think it’s best if I get the thing. Just in case.”

Danny couldn’t exactly explain why, but he was absolutely certain that he needed to be the one to grab the bottle. Everything he said was true enough, but there was something else niggling in the back of his mind that said he was the only one who could do it. He couldn’t let anyone else touch it.

“What’s going on?” Paulina said to Kwan in what she probably intended to be a whisper but was loud enough for everyone to hear. Kwan pointed to Danny, then to the rest of them, then pointed to the other side of the chamber.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help,” she said, “but thanks, querido.”

“Are you sure?” Valerie said, steady gaze meeting his own.

Danny swallowed. “I’m sure.” He wasn’t sure why he was so sure, but he was.

She bit her lip, then nodded and stepped back, pulling Kwan and Paulina with her. That trial really had changed things; just ten minutes ago, Valerie would never have listened to him like this.

Once they were far enough away, Danny took a deep breath and grabbed the Panacea.

It came off easily, but before they could take a moment to celebrate, a bright green box formed around him.

Of course it did.

Danny reached out to touch the green wall, and a painful zap had him yanking his hand back. So no walking through. Ugh.

“Oh, come on!” Paulina said, tearing at her hair in frustration. “We passed your stupid trials! Just let us save the world!”

“Don’t worry, dude!” Kwan said. “We’ll get you out of there.”

It hit Danny all at once, a certainty that he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Valerie had already run up to the trap, Kwan and Paulina close behind, and was examining it. Probably looking for a way to get rid of it.

She couldn’t, though. Not like that.

“Val! Take the Panacea!”

Valerie, sharp as ever, narrowed her eyes at him. She’d already caught on. “We aren’t going to leave you here, Danny.”

“You have to.”

“No way!”

“What’s happening now?”

Kwan pulled out his phone, typing something before showing it to Paulina. She gasped. “Are you stupid? We’ll figure something else out. Don’t go playing martyr on us now.”

“No, listen! You have to. This is my trial, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every trial picks something that we suck at, right? Well, this one picked me.”

Kwan frowned. “I don’t—”

“It’s trust. I—look, I’ll be honest, you three are not high on my list of people to trust with my secret. Or, at least, you weren’t.”

Valerie opened her mouth, then winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s… fair.”

“But how can this be a trial? No one else’s trial took place in the real world!” Kwan stopped himself, furiously typing on his phone to show to Paulina. “This is the real world, right?”

“It’s real,” Danny said. He knew it like he knew he needed to grab the Panacea, like he knew exactly what needed to happen next. “This trap won’t go away until we put the Panacea back. But when we put it back, it’s gone forever. We’ll never find it again.”

“So, if we get you out…”

“We lose the Panacea.”

“No, no, no! We’ll figure something else out. There has to be another way.”

“Guys, guys, chill. You just have to bring it back when you’re done, okay?” Danny held out the Panacea through the force field. It passed through just fine. “I’m not offering to stay here forever. Just until you get back.”

None of them moved to grab the bottle. “But… but how are we supposed to fight the ghost without you?”

It was a fair question, and Danny wasn’t sure how he would have answered it yesterday. But the Panacea would be Pestilence’s ultimate weakness. And they’d faced plenty of stuff on their own today.

Danny wiggled the Panacea. “You’ll figure it out. I’ve got faith.”

(He was lying, just a little. But this wasn’t the truth trial, and what was faith without a little doubt?)

Valerie hugged herself. “I don’t know that we can,” she said. She straightened. “But we have to anyway, right?”

“Pretty much,” Danny said with a laugh.

“Do you have, like, snacks? For while you wait? Do you even need to eat?” He opened his mouth to respond, but Paulina shook her head. “Never mind, I can’t hear you anyway. Just… be careful?”

He couldn’t do much else, trapped as he was. He smiled and gave Paulina a thumbs up.

Kwan reached out and took the bottle. “How come you get to know it’s a trial, anyway? I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Fair.” Kwan started to move away, then paused. “We’ll figure it out. Promise.”

“I know,” he said. (Did he?)

“See you soon.”

Danny’s palms were sweaty under the suit. “See you soon.”

And they left.

--

Waiting sucked.

He was more bored and more anxious than he’d ever been in his life. Sure, he’d talked big about trusting the others. He even meant it. But he’d lost his phone somewhere in this whirlwind of a day, so he had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Two hours? A day?

Okay, it definitely hadn’t been a day, but still. He worried. Valerie could hold her own, and Kwan could throw a decent punch, but was that enough against a veritable army? Even with the Panacea?

He wasn’t used to sitting aside and letting other people save the day.

(It was the right choice. It was the only choice. He hated it.)

He drummed his fingers on his knee. He tried a few breakdancing moves, fell, and laid on his back for ten minutes. His bladder started to ache. He thought about pissing through the barrier, but he couldn’t risk the chance that it would instead ricochet. He squeezed his legs together. He sang Billy Joel songs at the top of his lungs until his throat started to hurt.

“Jeez, you are not a singer, my guy.”

Danny’s head jerked up at Kwan’s voice. There, crossing the threshold, were Valerie, Paulina, and Kwan, hair and clothes a little messed up, but looking perfectly fine.

“You’re back!” He stood up and attempted to meet them, only to slam into the barrier, zapping himself once again. “Ow.”

“Of course we are,” Valerie said, a smirk in her voice. “Never a doubt.”

“This Panacea stuff is amazing.” Paulina pointed to her ears and wiggled the bottle. “Fixes everything. I love hearing and sound.”

Danny laughed, relief tingling down his spine. It worked. They did it. They won.

“Thank fuck,” he said. “Now get me out of here.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Paulina said, tapping at her chin and frowning. “This stuff is pretty cool.”

Before an icy hand of fear could grip his heart, Kwan and Valerie were already yelling at Paulina.

“Polly!”

“Come on, girl.”

Paulina giggled, waving her hand. “Sorry, sorry. Wrong crowd.” She passed it through the barrier.

He snatched it out of her hand and placed it back on its pedestal. The barrier fell, and the room rumbled once again. As Danny stumbled to his friends (yeah, they were friends, weren’t they?), the chamber collapsed in on itself, leaving just the four of them, floating alone in the Ghost Zone.

“Guys,” Danny said, “I have to pee so badly.”

And they collapsed on each other, laughing. It didn’t help the burning in his bladder, but he could wait a minute or so more.

--

All four of them had split with little fanfare, exhausted from the day's events. He'd sent a quick text to Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, promising to explain everything tomorrow, and promptly fell asleep.

Jazz drove him to school and he gave her a rundown on the way. She smiled at him. Patted his shoulder. Said she was proud of him for making such a hard choice.

“Wasn't much of a choice,” he said with a shrug.

“That still doesn't mean it was easy. You did good, Danny. And now maybe you've got some more people, too.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

The thing was, Danny had watched The Breakfast Club once, with Sam and Tucker. At the end, Sam looked over at him and said, “Bet they go back to school the next day and never talk to each other again.”

Tucker blew a raspberry at her. “Boo!” he said. “You're no fun.”

“Yeah,” Danny had said at the time, “They're all friends now. They aren't just going to give it all up to go back to how things used to be.”

“They spent one afternoon together in detention,” Sam said. “How life changing could it be?”

Danny pointedly did not think about that conversation as he walked up to Casper High the day after Pestilence's defeat. He didn't think about it as he pushed open the front entrance. He didn't think about it as he opened his locker. He definitely didn't think about it as he saw Dash shove Mikey to the floor.

Business as usual.

“Hey.”

Danny jumped, smacked his head on the locked door, and turned to see Paulina standing behind him.

Paulina giggle. “You good, cariño?”

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Danny rubbed the stinging at the back on his head. “You'll give me a heart attack.”

“Can you get a heart attack?” Paulina tilted her head. Danny thought for a moment: his heart didn't actually beat in ghost form so theoretically...

“...Don't ask me that.”

“Hey, Fenturd! Leave Paulina alone.”

And there was Dash, looming behind him like Skulker, but only half as scary. Danny managed not to flinch as he turned to face him.

“I started talking to him, Dashie.”

Dash blinked in surprise. “Well,” he said, “he still shouldn't bother you.”

“He isn't.”

“Oh.”

Dash stood for a moment, mouth open, like he couldn't believe any of this. Danny could hardly believe it himself. But then Paulina rolled her eyes and said, “Seriously, Dash, that's enough. You can go now.” She punctuated her sentence with a dismissive wave.

“I—what?” Dash shook his head. “No, no, this doesn't make sense. Polly, are you—are you still possessed?”

Still possessed. Did Dash think that Paulina had been under Pestilence's spell? Or did he think she was somehow under Danny's spell? What exactly did everyone else think had happened yesterday?

“Just because I want to talk to Danny and not—”

“But he's a loser—”

“Don't talk about him like that!”

Dash's mouth flapped like he wanted to speak but no words came out. “I—you—what did you do to her, you little freak?” He turned on Danny, who had pressed himself into his locker, caught in the middle of this argument. Grabbing Danny's collar, he hoisted him up, knocking his head against the locker door again. Ow.

“I didn't do anything! Maybe Paulina just grew up!” Danny had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. Even now, when the obvious answer was to just get this whole thing over as soon as possible, he still had to sass Dash.

Paulina's perfectly manicured hand wrapped around Dash's wrist. “Seriously, Dash, he didn't—”

Dash ignored her, shoving her off. Paulina stumbled back, then hit the ground with a thud.

“Get off of him!”

And there was Kwan, pulling Dash off of him, arms looped under and around his shoulders. Danny sank to the ground, rubbing at his head. To the side, he saw Valerie help Paulina up before they both turned to glare at Dash.

Despite the twinge in his scalp, despite the stares of the rest of the school, despite his own lingering exhaustion, Danny couldn't help but smile. Take that, Sam. The Breakfast Club lives.

--

“Kwan?” Dash pulled away as soon as Kwan loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

Kwan ignored him and turned to Danny and Paulina. “You guys okay?”

Before either of them could respond, Dash shoved him. “Hey!”

“What is your problem, dude?”

“You're the one who suddenly came at me!”

“Yeah, because you were hurting Danny and Paulina.”

Dash blinked, like that hadn't occurred to him. It probably hadn't. Sometimes, Kwan thought that Dash didn't realize that everyone else in the world was a person, too. That they all had thoughts and feelings of their own. To Dash, everything was all Dash all the time.

(It wasn't entirely true, Kwan knew. He remembered a different Dash, eight years old, crying over Old Yeller and pretending he wasn't. Swiping at stray tears and yelling it's just dusty it's allergies don't laugh even though Kwan was crying, too. He doesn't know when exactly the pretense became reality, but he'd lost his Dash a long, long time ago.)

“Sorry Polly,” Dash said, not even looking at her. “But she’s acting weird. Fentonio’s using his parents’ ghost stuff to control her or something!”

“He is not!” Paulina yelled.

“Do you have, like, proof, or are you just pulling this insane theory out of your ass?”

They had long since attracted a crowd. Danny had slipped over to Valerie and Paulina at the front of the mass of students, and behind them stood just about every person in the school. Even Mr. Lancer, who by all rights should have been stepping in and stopping this, was standing by and watching. Like he was curious how things would go.

Asshole.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to back off of Danny and everyone else!”

Dash straightened up and pushed up his sleeves. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Who’s gonna make me.”

The crowd around them went wild, frenzied kids hooting and hollering at the prospect of a fight. Kwan made eye contact with Danny, Valerie, and Paulina. Paulina pointed at Dash, rolled her eyes, and faked a gag. Valerie gave him a thumbs up. Danny mouthed sorry at him. Behind them, Lancer hid his face behind a book.

Kwan wasn’t stupid. He knew what Dash was asking for. He knew Dash thought he’d win the fight, easy. He’d always won before, after all. Except—Kwan had been stupid in love with him. And a Dash who won was way happier than a Dash who lost.

The truth: Dash was a quarterback. Decently strong, for sure, but his main job was throwing the ball around. Kwan was an offensive lineman. His main job? Throwing people around. When the playing field was level, when Kwan didn’t pull his punches, there was no competition.

If Dash had thought about it for more than a minute, he would’ve realized that there was no way he was stronger than Kwan. But he’d long since lost that kind of self-awareness.

Kwan could be sad about all the ways Dash had changed tomorrow. Today was for kicking his ass.

Dash pulled his arm back to throw a haymaker. Without pausing to think, Kwan sidestepped the attack and swung an uppercut, hitting Dash square on the jaw with a nauseating click.

Dash flopped to the floor, mouth hanging open. Blood dripped down his chin; he must have bitten his tongue. For a moment, he froze, staring at Kwan in shock.

“You’re an ass,” Kwan said, “and I’ve been an ass right next to you. But I’m sick of it. Paulina’s sick of it. Everyone else in school is sick of it. I’m not holding myself back just to make you feel better. And I’m not gonna let you keep being a dick, either. So I suggest you stay down.”

Dash opened his mouth to say something, but Kwan cut him off. “I don’t wanna hear it,” he said. “Just… grow the fuck up, dude.”

And he walked past his oldest friend, bleeding on the ground, toward the cacophony of students and his 3 new/old friends.

“Jeez,” Valerie said, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder, “you’re so dramatic.”

“That was… public,” Danny said. The students started to disperse, heralded by Mr. Lancer. Lancer looked over at Kwan, nodded in something like approval, then shepherded people into their classrooms, leaving the four of them alone in the hallway just before the bell rang.

Kwan scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry you got in the middle there.”

“No, no, I mean… thanks for stepping in, but are you guys gonna be okay?” Danny’s eyes flicked between Paulina and Kwan.

They looked at each other. Paulina giggled. Valerie shook her head with a smile.

“Yeah, dude,” Kwan said. “We’re gonna be just fine.”

[likesunsetorange]

to the anon who’d asked for more outfit moodboards, i decided to go and make make some more for each of the mikasa’s in my au’s and kind of explain my reasoning behind each!

i’m such a visual person, and to me, i think fashion is such an important part of a person’s personality, so i think a lot about my characters’ personal aesthetics, just because i think it helps me envision them as a character more!

so here are all the ones for mikasa in all my main au’s, and i’ll also include the previous ones i’ve done so they’re all in one place together!

— 𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚

to me, dol mikasa is very much “girl next door” kinda vibes! when i think of her, i think of a girl you’d have in one of your classes, like she’s the girl you see in class and think “oh, she’s pretty and dresses nice.” but she’s also a very simple person at the same time, and like half the fic, they’re at their apartments, so she’s also a pretty cozy/simple person at the same time! i also like to think she’s a bit girly, but not overly girly, so there’s a lot of softer colors in her style. BUT in addition to her softer and simple style, we have to remember dol mikasa was once a party girl, so there’s def the typical “going out” outfits in there too lol (also she wears scrubs five days a week, so she’s used to wearing a uniform so her being a bit simple with her fashion kinda makes sense) also i just imagine her wearing overalls, people who work with kids ALWAYS wear overalls to me in my head idk.

so the keywords i’d describe dol mikasa’s style are probably: comfortable & casual, but still a bit girly! she’d be djerf avenue if she were a brand!

— 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚

so for bodyguard mikasa, i’ve mentioned that she really loves fashion, it’s one of her main indulgences! so she definitely cares a lot more about her clothes than say dol mikasa does. so for bodyguard mikasa, since she is rich, her style is definitely a bit more preppy, but she’s also an artist, so her style does have a bit more of a slight “quirky” and artistic flare to it! she def has a typical new york girl edge to her style too when i imagine it, and one of the key things to remember is her signature ribbon! so that sort of coquette aspect is def incorporated into her style, just a bit more with a “mikasa” touch! her style is definitely honed in to be more elevated considering she’s been forced to keep up appearances bc of her parents as well, so that’s one thing to keep in mind! i see her as a very “put together” person! as a result i see her kind of wearing a lot of stuff like flats and heels, things that make her look very “dressy”! she’s not a casual person by any means, she’s always dressed to the nines!

but i like to think once she meets eren, since he’s definitely way more casual than she is, her style starts to change a bit, and she’ll start wearing things like sneakers and stuff, something she probably didn’t wear as much!

the keywords id describe bodyguards style are probably: preppy with an artistic touch! but the particular brand that reminds me the most of her style is the mirror palais 2024 valentine’s day collection!

— 𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚

so for e2l mikasa, i think her style is probably my personal favorite, just because it’s the most similar to my personal style, but also because it’s just so fun! similar to bodyguard mikasa, e2l mikasa is also pretty artistically inclined, so her style is a bit colorful and fun! she definitely wears a lot of color, and i’d say it’s very whimsical! her style reminds me a lot of realisation par and mirror palais overall, that’s how i’d best describe it! since she’s an art curator, she definitely has to dress a bit more professional at work, so her style would have a lot of blouses and professional wear overall, but she still manages to incorporate fun pieces and include her personal style, so i don’t think she’d lose her fashion sense just because of her job.

overall i’d say her style is probably artistic and whimsy! it kinda reminds me of a european summer tbh!

— 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚

because the foundation of this au was basically inspired by bella hadid and her boyfriend, when i think of model mikasa’s style, i think of bella hadid! but on top of that i also think of cute cowgirl inspired fashion! so i think model mikasa’s style is a mix of those two. i think she definitely is still gonna be a fashionable model, but once she becomes more intertwined with eren, she’s def gonna put her model flare on cowgirl fashion!

so i would describe her style very plainly as: high fashion! (which is why i just used images of off duty models haha)

— 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚

so cowgirl mikasa is def opposite to model mikasa in regard to her cowgirl aesthetic. i def see cowgirl mikasa being a bit more “tomboy-ish” (i use that word extremely loosely)! like she’s definitely girly, but i see her wearing more casual things, so more sneakers, overalls, and t-shirts! she’s a working girl! so i think her style would be a lot of denim since she definitely has to make it work for her work life, but i think she would overall wear a lot of neutral tones with maybe a few fun prints! she just gives country girl basically but she’s a cutie LOL

i’d describe her style as maybe casual & maybe retro? idk the word to describe it but i think the moodboards make up for it LOL. the brand she reminds me of is tecova (a boot brand, very fitting)

— 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚

okay for academic rivals mikasa, there’s this specific influencer i actually found that is the perfect person (tingting_lai on ig) for all of mikasa’s little socmed posts and her aesthetic, so i’m actually just basing her aesthetic off of hers LOL! i just kinda see this mikasa as someone who’s mostly fashionable and kind of well put together, but also simple, because this mikasa, if we’re being completely honest, is fucking uptight. she’s always stressed but cares a lot so i think she would wanna seem out together, but also sometimes can’t be bothered to do the most, so i think that’s why she’ll opt for simple things that look good! also i think sometimes she’ll opt for stuff like hoodies like a typical college student (and maybe she’ll end up stealing eren’s hehe)

so her style is probably: simple but put together! if she were a brand i’d say maybe aritzia!

i think it’s really fun to make all these moodboards and i def think it’s a fun way for me to characterize my characters! i love fashion so much so it’s honestly just something that i have fun doing! but i def don’t think it’s essential, more so something that i just really enjoy :)

[charlieg1rl]

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄!𝐀𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀!𝐀𝐔

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏.𝟗𝐊

𝐒𝐒:𝟓

The gentle chill of fall clung to the air as you walked alongside Hyunjin through a high-end boutique, the smell of fresh leather and expensive perfume filling the space. The golden hues of the leaves outside contrasted with the polished, modern interiors of the store. You were trying to keep your cool, but the fact that Hyunjin was walking beside you—so calm and composed—only added to the strangeness of the situation.

“I still can’t believe I’m shopping for an outfit to meet your parents,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at him.

Hyunjin smirked slightly, as though amused by your disbelief. “Well, I told you, it’s important that you look the part. My parents are… particular.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” you mumbled sarcastically, trying not to sound too anxious.

Before you could say anything else, a woman with impeccable style approached you both. She was tall and elegant, with her hair tied back in a sleek ponytail and a measuring tape draped around her neck. You could tell from her confident stride that she knew exactly who Hyunjin was. She greeted him warmly, flashing him a smile.

“Hyunjin,” she said, her voice soft yet professional, “It’s good to see you again. What can I help you with today?”

“We’re here for something special,” Hyunjin replied, casting a brief glance in your direction. “An outfit for a family dinner. Something formal but comfortable.”

Her eyes flickered to you, scanning your figure as if mentally measuring you in seconds. “Got it. I’ll grab a few pieces that will work for the occasion.”

You stood there awkwardly, watching as she disappeared into the racks of clothing. Hyunjin, as usual, seemed completely at ease.

“Do you always shop like this?” you asked, looking around at the lavish surroundings.

He shrugged. “Not all the time. But for something like this, it’s better to get professional help. You’ll look amazing.”

Before you could respond, the stylist returned with a few carefully selected pieces draped over her arm. She handed you a set of clothes, her eyes sparkling as if she knew this was going to be a game-changer.

“I think this will be perfect for you,” she said, guiding you toward the fitting rooms.

You stepped inside, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers as you inspected the outfit—a pleated white skirt paired with a white button-up shirt. It had a crisp, formal look but also something subtly chic about it. On top of the shirt, she had given you a cropped pink camisole, fitted just enough to add a soft pop of color. The stylist had also included a pair of sheer stockings, the final touch to pull the whole look together.

Slipping into the clothes, you took a deep breath and adjusted the camisole, making sure everything was in place before stepping out to look at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t expected to like it, but the outfit felt surprisingly… you.

You smoothed out the pleats of the skirt as you stared at your reflection, admiring how well it all fit together. There was something soft yet refined about it—exactly the kind of look that might impress someone’s parents.

Just as you were turning to examine the fit from another angle, you felt Hyunjin’s presence behind you. He had moved so quietly that you didn’t even notice until you saw him reflected in the mirror. His eyes scanned the outfit before they met yours in the glass.

“You look good,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone wasn’t overly complimentary or teasing, just honest.

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your chest from having him stand so close.

You were about to move away from the mirror when Hyunjin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a fluid motion, he opened it, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a tiny ‘H’ pendant.

Without saying a word, he gently lifted the necklace out of the box and stepped closer, moving behind you. His fingers brushed the back of your neck as he unclasped the chain. Your breath hitched slightly as you watched him in the reflection, carefully placing the necklace around your neck and fastening it with a practiced ease.

“There,” he said quietly, stepping back to admire the final touch. The ‘H’ pendant rested lightly against your collarbone, catching the soft light from above.

You glanced down at the necklace, then back at him through the mirror, your fingers brushing over the small initial. “The ‘H’—is it for you?”

“Of course,” he replied, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “It completes the look.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his confidence. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin shrugged, meeting your gaze in the reflection. “My parents will expect something like this. You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, remember? This way, it looks like you’re wearing something personal, something meaningful.”

You swallowed, the weight of the necklace suddenly feeling heavier than it should. This was all supposed to be fake, just a well-crafted lie to help him out, but now—standing there in this carefully chosen outfit, with Hyunjin just inches away—it felt a lot more real than you expected.

“Right,” you said, trying to shake off the strange feeling in your chest. “Just an act.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin replied, his voice steady. “It’s all part of the show.”

You nodded, looking away from him and back at your reflection. For a moment, everything seemed so perfect. Too perfect. You straightened up, tugging slightly at the hem of your skirt before turning to face him directly.

“Well, what do you think?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood with a smile. “Will this impress your parents?”

Hyunjin’s eyes scanned you once more before he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. You’ll do just fine.”

You had just adjusted the hem of the skirt one last time when you saw Hyunjin disappear toward another part of the boutique. You didn’t think much of it, assuming he was giving you a moment to adjust to the idea of meeting his parents while dressed up like this.

As you admired yourself in the mirror again, trying to get used to the perfectly curated outfit, Hyunjin reappeared, holding something small and elegant in his hand. It was a sleek, white purse with delicate gold detailing—a perfect complement to the outfit.

"What's that?" you asked, eyeing the purse suspiciously.

Hyunjin held it up with a faint smirk, dangling it in front of you as though it were the final missing piece to a puzzle. "For you. It matches the look. You can’t go to dinner without a proper accessory."

"Wait, are you serious?" Your brows furrowed as you eyed the pristine purse. It was obviously expensive. “Hyunjin, this really isn’t necessary—”

“Of course it is,” he interrupted casually, like it was no big deal. “You’re meeting my parents. I’m not sending you there without everything looking perfect.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head slightly. "I already have a bag."

“Yeah, but it doesn’t match,” he said simply, as if that was reason enough.

He extended the purse toward you, his gaze firm. “Take it, Y/N. I don’t want to argue about it. You’ll look amazing, and that’s what we need, remember?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders once again. This wasn’t just a casual dinner with his family—you were stepping into his world, pretending to be someone you weren’t. Every little detail mattered.

With a sigh, you finally accepted the purse, your fingers brushing his briefly as you took it from him. The leather was soft, almost buttery, and you couldn't deny that it went perfectly with the outfit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, holding the purse close. “But seriously, you didn’t have to.”

Hyunjin shrugged, his usual calm demeanor never faltering. “It’s all part of the deal, remember? I need you to look convincing. And this will help.”

You glanced at him, wondering if this was how he always operated—cool, calculated, and so used to getting what he wanted that even something like buying a purse for a girl didn’t faze him.

“So, what’s next?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation moving and avoid thinking too much about the weight of this whole arrangement. “Do we practice some lines? Or rehearse how I should act in front of your parents?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “We don’t need to rehearse. Just be yourself… sort of. Be confident. My parents are big on appearances, but they’ll like you.”

You blinked, surprised by his faith in you. “You’re oddly confident about this.”

“I’m good at reading people,” he replied, his smirk softening slightly. “I know you’ll do fine. Besides, I’ll be there the whole time.”

Somehow, that didn’t make you feel as comforted as it should have. You took a breath, turning back to the mirror one last time to assess the complete look—the pleated skirt, the fitted camisole, the stockings, the necklace, and now, the small white purse resting lightly in your hand.

Everything about it screamed “perfect girlfriend,” and yet you felt anything but.

Still, this was the deal you’d agreed to. You just had to play the part.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice steady. “I’m ready.”

Hyunjin nodded, the corners of his lips curving up in approval. “Good. Let’s go impress my parents.”

As you stepped out of the boutique, the crisp fall air greeted you, the scent of fallen leaves and distant pumpkin spice lattes filling your senses. You adjusted the purse on your shoulder, feeling slightly more confident in your outfit. Everything felt like it was falling into place—almost too perfectly.

Hyunjin walked beside you, his strides long and confident. You could sense the buzz of excitement in the air, mixed with your own nerves. Just as you were about to head toward the parking lot, Hyunjin paused and turned to face you.

“Here,” he said, his voice low and a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes, “hold my hand.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden request. “What? Why?”

“Because if we’re going to make this convincing, we need to look like a couple. And couples hold hands.” He smirked, a teasing glint in his eye.

You hesitated for a moment, the butterflies in your stomach suddenly taking flight. “Isn’t that a bit… much?”

“Just trust me,” he urged, his tone softening. “It’ll make things easier for both of us.”

After a beat of silence, you sighed and reached out, intertwining your fingers with his. His grip was warm and firm, and you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, despite everything.

“See?” he said, looking down at your joined hands. “Not so bad, right?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, okay. Just remember, this is all for show.”

“Of course,” he replied, his expression serious yet playful. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it a little.”

With that, you both started walking toward the car, hands still linked. The world around you faded slightly, your focus narrowing to the warmth of his hand in yours. It was just a simple gesture, but it somehow made everything feel a little less daunting.

As you approached the car, you stole a glance at Hyunjin, who looked uncharacteristically relaxed. Maybe holding hands wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

tags: @estella-novella, @beccasmecka

[buttercupjosh]

White Horse

(Gif credit to @pyotrkochetkov)

Word count: 2,588

Genres: strangers to lovers to exes, angst

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve had pieces of details of this fic in mind for a while and one night, I just decided to write it all out. This story is based off of the song “White Horse" by Taylor Swift. It is shorter than what I normally write but I decided to challenge myself a bit with a word count limit (my goal was to make it under 3,000 words). It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set in the future and this season. However, the season is still ongoing at the moment and anything can happen or change so don’t hold me to what occurs in the fic and if things do change in real life, I’m not going to update this fic to reflect that). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?” -Night Shift by Lucy Dacus

By all definitions, Raleigh, North Carolina was not a small town but sometimes it felt like it was. The Triangle had a lot to offer but was a bit of an underrated place; Raleigh wasn’t as bustling and busy like other places in the South but you loved the city you called home. One of the very few things that brought people together there was college sports and Canes hockey. The Carolina Hurricanes were the only professional major league team in town so the team’s likeness was everywhere you looked. Seeing their faces around town, you would have never imagined that you would actually end up dating a player from that team.

You met your hockey-playing boyfriend in an untraditional way. You had worked for UNC Health and being a sponsor of the team, the company hosted a raffle for an employee to win a ticket to represent the company at Canes Bash. You surprisingly won and represented the organization well with your kind and respectful demeanor. That demeanor ended up winning over the heart of Canes forward Andrei Svechnikov. Andrei knew that this event was to spend time with season ticket holders and sponsors to get them to bring in more money for the Carolina Hurricanes Foundation but he was so enamored by you in the brief interaction you had. Throughout the rest of the evening, Andrei was pulled into all different directions around PNC Arena but his eyes kept gazing around the room to try to find you again. Not giving up on his quest to reconnect with you, he ended up writing his phone number on a napkin and giving it to Gracia Skjei to give to you. Before setting out on her journey to look for you in the sea of people, Gracia went into the bathroom and actually ran into you on her way out. She handed you the napkin with Andrei’s number on it; you couldn’t believe that a hockey WAG was casually giving you the phone number of her husband’s teammate and the teammate in question was a star on the team. You were taken aback that your short interaction with Andrei had impacted him so much that he wanted to talk to you more.

You did reach out to Andrei and on a Saturday after a morning skate, you met up for the first time since Canes Bash for smoothies. As expected, that first laidback date of getting to know each other more led to a formal dinner date where you saw a more fancier side of Andrei and it all led up to establishing a loving romantic relationship.

Being with Andrei was like being in the starring role of a box-office smash romance movie. Your relationship with Andrei was almost too perfect in such a way that other people could be jealous of it. Due to Andrei’s status as one of the top Canes players, people knew about your relationship with him and sometimes would stop and ask you for a picture. You had an amazing, loving boyfriend, who was everything you ever dreamed of and more. You lived together in a beautiful shared home and had a small goldendoodle named Charlie. You had an amazing friend group with the other WAGs and got along well with all of Andrei’s friends and family. You got to go on lavish vacations with your handsome partner, who wasn’t afraid to show you off to the world. You had it all and all you needed was a ring to top it all off. Like any other couple, you and Andrei’s relationship did have its challenges and struggles but these disagreements and setbacks didn’t cause your relationship to crumble. The image of living in presumed perfection would soon be broken in the most unexpected way.

————————————————————

The annual Canes’ moms trip was approaching soon and Elena, Andrei’s mom and possibly your future mother-in-law, was coming to support her son. It was going to be her first time at the new home you shared with Andrei; you had spent the whole week trying to get everything in order for her arrival and her subsequent stay for a month after the moms trip. You were excited to get to see and spend time with Elena but that excitement soon shifted.

You knew what time Elena’s flight was supposed to land and the amount of time it would take for Andrei to get home after picking her up from the airport but it seemed like Andrei was running unusually late. On the shared location app on your phone, you could see that Andrei was home from picking up his mother from the airport but you saw that he had been sitting in his car in the garage for over 15 minutes after arriving. Concerned, you went to go check on Andrei and Elena to make sure that they were okay but you accidentally caught him in a heated exchange in Russian with his mother. You didn’t quite understand what he was angrily saying but whatever it was about, it had him on fire. Elena’s eyes gazed over at you and the waterline of her eyes looked like it was filling up with tears. The arguing between mother and son stopped once Andrei noticed you were standing in the doorway. The color on Andrei’s face immediately drained from red with anger to white with fear. He quickly got out of the car, opened his mom’s door, and helped with her luggage. Elena gave you a tearful hug before going up to settle in the guest room. It was odd that she didn’t say anything upon seeing you and the atmosphere of the house was still thick with tension. You asked Andrei about what happened and why he was extremely upset with his mother but he just muttered something under his breath in Russian. He refused to look at you as you questioned him but you could sense that Andrei was frustrated and that something deeper had to be going on. Elena came downstairs to grab some water before giving a cryptic answer to her child’s behavior.

“Andrei, I love you but you know what you have to do. If you really love y/n, you would tell the truth”, Elena said before slipping out of the kitchen with her glass of water.

Andrei bursted into tears after his mother left the kitchen. You had seen Andrei cry before so this wasn’t a new sight for you but you wanted to know what was bothering him. You tried to comfort Andrei but he coldly shut you down and you had thought Elena was going to comfort her son but she did not. You sat in a worried silence for what felt like an eternity and the only sound in the room was Andrei’s heavy breathing from crying. Once Andrei fully stopped crying and rehydrated, you calmly asked him for one last time what was wrong and he took a deep breath before revealing what was causing him so much distress at the moment.

“I’m a dad,” Andrei quietly said, “I have a son back in Russia and I’m sorry that I never told you.”

You couldn’t quite believe the words you fell from the lips that you loved to kiss and felt like you were frozen in time, still trying to process the information that you just received. You were in disbelief and began pacing around the living room as Andrei explained what happened.

The summer before you met, Andrei was still deep in his playboy ways and ended up getting a girl named Lana pregnant back in Russia. Since their relationship was merely a hook-up that resulted in a child being conceived, it was hard for Andrei to believe that he was the father of her child but once Alexei was born, he couldn’t deny the baby boy. Alexei had Andrei’s eyes, the same brown ones that you adored, and dimples in his cheeks, just like his dad. While he was visiting his family during the off-season, Andrei took a paternity test and as everyone expected, he was Alexei’s father. You were in Russia with Andrei when the test was conducted but you didn’t know that was what his doctor’s appointment was for; the day of the test, Elena took you shopping. After the paternity test confirmation, Andrei did meet Alexei once as a baby and he was overcome with emotion to see the reflection of some of his genetic features as he held his small precious son in his large arms.

Andrei was stuck between a rock and a hard place; he had already moved on from his fling with Lana with you and he wasn’t interested in moving Lana and their son to the States so he decided to send them checks monthly to provide for them while they remained in Russia. His family was still involved in his child’s life, spending time with Alexei and keeping Andrei up to date on his son. Andrei didn’t like controversy or drama so if he kept the information about Alexei confidential, he didn’t have to worry as much about it coming to light because it was being managed in the dark. He also expressed that he felt like he wasn’t ready to be a father at that time but he would want to be a father when he’s older. You understood where Andrei was coming from but felt like it was a bit unfair that you got this great life with him while the mother of his son and his child didn’t have that with him. His son was over a year old and he barely knew Andrei in the way that you had known Andrei in the time that you had been dating. Putting a timeline together, you had also concluded that Lana was pregnant when you met Andrei and had given birth by the time you started dating.

Suddenly, a much more painful realization came to light: if Elena had not talked to Andrei about keeping his secret child from you when she came to visit, you realized that Andrei possibly would have never told you about Alexei. You and Andrei did discuss marriage and having children so you knew he was serious about experiencing those things with you and had dreamed of a happy ending together but a future with Andrei didn’t feel right anymore because you could have gotten married and had kids with him and never known a single thing about Alexei. You were right: Andrei never had a set plan in place or moment in time to tell you about his son because he was handling it behind the scenes and that’s all that you needed to know.

How could you ever trust Andrei again if he was able to keep this big of a secret from you? He didn’t have the common courtesy to tell you about his son so what else could he be hiding from you? You honestly believed in Andrei but he let you down and now, you don’t believe a single thing from him going forward. Throughout your relationship, you also had to deal with rumors of Andrei’s alleged cheating and you trusted that he remained faithful to you but now, you weren’t so sure since he just proved that he was so good at keeping secrets from you. You knew that this had occurred before you had gotten together but after this revelation, you realized that you didn’t want to be with Andrei anymore. You thought you truly knew Andrei but it was like the man that you fell in love with turned into a stranger.

You weren’t a princess and this wasn’t a fairytale with a happy ending; Raleigh wasn’t Hollywood so there was no reconciliation plot device or changes to the script to make everything better. Although you loved your job, you were also even more upset because Andrei promised to always provide for you and wanted you to quit working but he was also providing to a part of his family under the table; transparency and honesty were so important to you and all of that was out the window. Maybe you would be more open to staying with him if he had told you sooner instead of dragging you along for over a year without a clue. Andrei had thought that if he could fulfill his role as a father by financially providing for Alexei back home and building a future in the U.S. with you, he would be fine. He also thought you would be more accepting and willing to work things out after finding out the news but he destroyed all your trust in him.

Andrei begged you on his knees for your forgiveness and for you to stay with a puppy dog look, like how Charlie would whenever he wanted treats, but it was too late. The damage was already done and he had to accept that. Andrei was like a knight in shining armor, strutting around on his white horse to save the day but he wasn’t allowed to catch you. In one swift fall, the relationship with the prince in your love story was over. Andrei had to step up to the plate and realize that he couldn’t create an ideal life with someone while keeping huge secrets. Andrei having a secret child was a huge obstacle to overcome and you stepped out of his way so that he could focus on effectively co-parenting with Lana and being a more present father to Alexei; maybe someone else would be stronger enough to be involved with Andrei but that person was not going to be you.

It wasn’t easy to walk away from all that you had with Andrei because you truly did love him. He was a great dog dad to Charlie, his heart was deeply ignited for those that he loved, he was so humble and caring to others, his touch was the most comforting feeling to you, and he always knew how to make you smile. Andrei had the face of an angel and brown eyes that you could easily get lost in but you couldn’t even look at him the same way. You felt so naive and foolish about living in a fantasy with your relationship with Andrei and you should have known better about your presumed picture perfect relationship. A part of you wanted to give him another chance but you felt so betrayed by Andrei and had a difficult time overlooking how he hurt you. You apologized to Andrei and forgave him for keeping such important information from you but you did not want anything else to do with him. This incident made you realize that you deserved better than this and deserve to be with someone who would actually treat you well so you did what was best for you.

In the days since you split from Andrei, Elena and her son went on the moms’ trip and you began packing your things with help from Gracia Skjei and some of the other WAGs. They were going to miss you and you would miss them too but you needed to get out of Raleigh and start fresh somewhere new. As you drove with Charlie as your passenger, you looked up for a brief second and saw the face of a man that you once loved on a billboard. You watched the City of Oaks disappear from your rearview mirror and headed towards whatever awaited you in the rest of this big world.

[accio-victuuri]

BJYX - Thursday Madness ( 12/7/23 )

I don’t know what’s with this date that they both decided to attack us with updates. We were prepared for WYB, because the event was planned tho he still surprised us with some bits. I swear when I saw the alert on my phone for XZS update I was 🫢🫢🫢. They are both feeding us so well.

Here’s my attempt at doing a recap of the candies ( and other things ) we got today. This may not be all inclusive, I only added the popular ones being talked about.

let this lovely boy invite you in….

Our day started pretty early when WYB posted on his Weibo. All of the attendees of the event were actually sharing some pre show photos on their accounts and some of us were waiting what’s he gonna post. Everyone else were sharing professional photos but then WYB goes ahead and shares a b&w photo that tells us he is still in bed 😂😂😂 this bitch. I also feel like he didn’t want to shoot outside the exclusive “town” cause there are people going around and they may crowd if he does opening shooting. The night he arrived, 12/6, everyone saw Lele / Yanyan around but no WYB. So he was really trying to not be seen unless it was time for the show.

The photo itself is kinda mysterious tbh. It’s like something you can send to your s/o and be — “im waiting for you” HAHAHAHAHA! Tho I think for WYB he can send a more explicit one to XZ 🫢🫢🫢 So we get the PG version. What we noticed is the channel he is tuned in is CCTV 5. He said this in an interview with XZ, that when he is alone, he keeps the TV open with CCTV 5 and Volume 3. So he’s still doing it! Also, this was taken using his Leica M11 b&w. I feel so happy knowing that! He is still on his photography hobby. Too bad he couldn’t go around the venue cause i bet there are lots of sights to see. The Leica CPN is only getting stronger. ☺️ ( I have already talked about the Leica CPN at length, so just search it on my blog ). Side note, even if the photo was so simple it went on HS #7 lol. His power.

Then it was time for WYB to make his appearance and he didn’t disappoint. First of all, he was in YELLOW. BXG color. Yeah, it could be a stylist choice or whatever. But this is a clowning space and I think we are free to interpret it as a sign for us.

But what’s more glaring is his hat. It looks so much like the one he wore at CQL concert & fan meet. Also reminds us of the whole One Piece CPN between them ( the post i’m linking is a starter but there has been more examples since like this one ).

To be fair, WYB is someone who loves a good old hat/cap. from his bucket hats & caps — that is more for anonymity. It also extends to his performances like 11/11 finesse or the initial photoshoot for ROMW. What i’m saying is, we should not forget the fact that this is his personal preference as well and not entirely because of candy. Tho I have to say that the style is interesting. Why does it have to be so close to that? It���s like he is bringing us back memory lane.

WYB is honestly so beautiful today. He always is but there was something about his aura. He is chill. He was genuinely interested and i found it sweet of him, during the boat ride, he was clapping for Rocco, like applauding him for the event i guess. In the meantime, on Weibo, the top hot search were people criticizing the “boat” thing on GQ ( literally something like GQ boat embarrassment was the tag ) As soon as the live started it went on 1 or 2. I don’t know if Bobo saw that but I just like how he showed his appreciation to Rocco, and by extension, his team. That’s just my interpretation and it could be a completely different thing but knowing WYB, he is very generous with acknowledging people.

I also want to address another “candy” some cpfs are laughing about, it’s a fancam where Rocco moves to sit with WYB before the boat sailed and WYB smiled and said no. They were interpreting that as WYB doesn’t want Rocco to sit with him. Speculating that as he doesn’t want to get close cause ZZ will be jealous. But if you look at it, he was asked if he wants to switch seats. WYB declined. He was okay with his position. I guess some people have some beef with Rocco & GQ and that’s fine. However, what we feel about certain things is not the same as what the boys would feel. I also think that at this point, It’s in WYB’s best interest to have a good relationship with people in the industry. For example him attending 10c Starlight, even if a lot of his so/os hate Tencent ( and with good reason ok sure ). He is only extending his reach and it’s better to not burn bridges.

That got serious, so here, have some comparison between the gremlin in 2018 to now. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

I was cackling at the comments that they should have invited XZ so they can be paired up and quarrel for 9 mins 😂😂😂😂

NEXT UP IS GG’s VLOG. I don’t know why it slipped my mind, they usually post on Thursdays, but anyway —

The first thing is the BGM for the exercise section of the vlog Hans Zimmer/Richard Harvey《Preparation》 which was used in the 2015 movie The Little Prince. A favorite CPN symbol among us. Another glaring one is Uptown Funk. Hello. Bruno Mars? That’s WYB’s thing. Yes, ZZ has his own team who edits these but I am one of those that believes ZZ approves the final cut. He is also asked about certain choices cause let’s be honest — his suggestions matter cause he knows what looks good. He is a professional in that aspect too.

Next is his hand held fan! It’s the same brand but a different design. They finally upgraded!!!! 🥹🥹

This scene (p1) with ZZ’s fondness for leaning on railings and balconies. It reminds me of the fake rumor before that WYB hates it when he does that.

XZ has a habit of lying on the balcony guardrail in a daze. Sometimes on a higher floor, WYB feels unsafe and won’t let XZ get close to the guardrail. Except for shooting, XZ is prohibited from approaching the balcony guardrail.

I would have loved to get some more day to day bits of his vacation cause there is usually more candy in that. I want to see him roaming around, like this part, these two love to mimic what they see and take a photo beside it. Tho this is mostly GG’s thing. They really have the same braincell.

LASTLY, Let’s discuss XZS 🤝 YBO.

XZS starts talking about the hot wind, which is most likely talking about the weather in Singapore. But then minutes later, here comes YBO talking about a comfortable breeze. Lol. The the hot could also allude to that “summer” since WYB decided to remind us all with his photo and hat. Then YBO’s caption, drawing more attention to his hat, knowing that CPFs are clowning over it.

and what time did they post their last set for the day?? 00:38. These clowns. Zhan Bo. 🫢

Some are saying it’s out of character for XZS to post stuff like this when there is an event going on. For example today, the hot search is filled with talk about GQ. Which I can agree on to some degree, but his team have been posting mostly on Thursdays and they are already “due” for a vlog. However, when they have a vlog ready, the fans can usually see it on Weibo, we know that there will be something coming and i didn’t see any talk of that today. Or maybe i missed it? Others are clowning that this is his “answer” to WYB’s strong candy today, i personally don’t think so but it’s all good for us cause we have so much content!!!!! 💛

BONUS: this transition 👀👀👀👀. Their editors are dating!!!!!!

[kyuhu]

AAA NEW LIETPOL COMIC! And it made me so happy, giggling and kicking my feet! No matter how many Lithuania, Poland, Baltics or Lietpol or anything within whatever this category is, I WILL NEVER GET TIRED OF IT! the hit of dopamine I get when I see a new art from you just makes me feel overjoyed. As an (not professional teen) artist I love the way you color your characters, I’m always mesmerized by it and I don’t think I’ll get tired of your art anytime soon at all. As soon as I saw it I was like “OMG! OMG!” And the energy I felt, I feel like your depiction of them always is so interesting to me however you depict them and the latest art is so so so cute, I love cute stuff too. I now got the motivation to draw but oh god I wish I could draw comics cause I’m still at the level where I’m not sure how to…

Wow thank you!! What a nice thing to say. It makes me very happy you like the characterization tbh, because everytime I draw them I have like 6 moments where I'm like is that OOC? Are they too silly? So that's reassuring to hear haha. It's so cool you found motivation to draw after seeing the comic?! Like I'm inspired by so many artists and a piece I drew beeing partly an inspiration to somebody else is the specialest thing to me ;v; thanks for that! I really hope you'll have the best time with whatever you decide to draw.

Comics are as so many other things a matter of practice imo. There was a time where I went I can never do that, like my comic tag is still called comic attempts which is kinda telling about how much faith I had in my work back then.

Very much unasked for, but I'm going to ramble a bit a lot about what I think is helpful when starting a comic (imo) under the cut haha.

The essential part to get started can be broken down to three things, which are, at least to me, Idea, panel set up and then obviously drawing the action.

Writing a comic just for the sake of writing a comic never works for me. I need to have at least a rough idea to get going. This can vary from a specific punchline, to just a single image or action I consider fun to draw. It's helpful to write/sketch your ideas down, which is probably the most art teacher advice ever, but what can I say, it works imo. Be it a piece of dialogue that you came up with or just a single expression, just safe it somewhere and you have a base to work with! It doesn't even have to look fancy at all.

See that little Lud (like you can't even recognize it as Lud) stick figure on the bottom left there? This was my starting point for the lipstick comic together with some random bits of dialogue which are barely readable I guess so I typed them in the image description :D

As soon as you notice one image isn't enough to show what you want to show it's time to consider making a comic (like even two panels can be a comic for starters I think).

One of the essential parts is that usually a comic manages to show the passage of time and therefor depicts an action. So before you plan any further it's good to figure out which action(s) you want your comic to show, based the ideas you wrote/sketched down. Try to put it into words if that helps, like 'Character A reacts positively to Characters B's new hairslyle', or 'Character A hugs Character B and they are flustered about it' (maybe start with something simple even if it seems uneventful at first :D)

After you roughly know what your comic is about you can go on to the panel set up. For me it's always best to figure out how the comic starts and how it ends at very first because I tend to get lost otherwise. If you've got a panel or expression you desperately want to incorporate keep it in mind so it adds up with your start and end point. As the author you decide what the comic emphasizes on and where you want to direct the readers vision, which is the fun part imo :D

sketch down a few panels and try to adjust them. You can always change and discard them again, no need to make it pretty, just do stick figures if you like. Here is an example from the Liet and Lat dad comic. This particular sketch emphasizes on expressions, because their expressions where the most important silly part about it to me. Try to keep in mind what you'd like to show or what type of joke you want to make while doing your panel set up drafts.

Even with everything in mind this can be difficult though. So what always helps me is to imagine some type of grid to keep the pages balanced. Like if I do a comic with several panels on a canvas, I go by the rule of only deviding the canvas (say A4) into three parts at maximum horizontally as well as vertically. (Of course how you do it is completely up to you, there are great examples with more panels and crazier panel set ups, but especially at first I figured one tends to enthusiastically throw in panel after panel and then ends up with something hard to work with.)

I hope the idea comes across a little, like you can adjust the sizes or shapes of the panels (square, rectanglular, trapezoid etc.) as you wish, do only one or two panels in a row but try to keep it at 3 at maximum if you want something easy and clear to start with c:

It's also completely fine to not do the set up from scratch and maybe use a guide or references if that makes it easier for you! Here are some free to use examples. Looking at other comic pages and focusing on the panel set up of those can also help to come up with your own variations imo :D

The shape and size of the panels should at best be directed by the action. Like I said you guide the readers vision and present what's important. You could for example choose a big canvas to get an overview over the room the action takes place in, or devide movement into several panels to focus on what a character does. To get the hang of this is once again a matter of practice though. The more often you do it and the more examples you look at, the easier it gets imo :) start with something you deem super easy (maybe two or three panels or a single reaction to something only) and go a little more crazy with each comic idea.

keep in mind that the reader should at best get what's going on though (I struggled with that several times already and nothing is as sad than to post something and get a bunch of confused comments/tags afterwards no offense though, that's not the readers fault 99% of the time 😅). To prevent this it sometimes helps to look at your comic while hiding the dialogue imo. Like dialogue (if you choose to have it) of course is a set part of your comic as well, but if you only even roughly get what happens, or are able to set a specific mood without it you're on a safe side. You can also show your comic to a friend and let them explain it to you afterwards to see if your point came across. :D Kudos to my sister here.

Don't forget to put down the rough dialogue at the panel set up part already though! It's frustrating if you have to puzzle the speechbubbles in at the end and block half of your comic composition :c Plus speechbubbles also help to adjust the reading flow a little and can hide parts that are hard to draw but shhh.

Incorporate things you're looking foward to draw to keep you motivated. (That's a very me problem tbh) and take breaks and reread the thing to see if the pacing is too fast or slow.

Haha yep, that's it.

[randomnonsensedragonage]

A Rival?

Selana Lavellan x Solas (pre-relationship); Background Rora Surana x Cullen Rutherford - 1283 words

Summary: Selana is starting to become interested in Solas, but is worried she has competition in the form of Solas' new assistant.

A/N: This fic features a little cameo from Rora, who is the warden in my main DA canon. I always had this AU idea of her showing up and helping the Inquisition if she doesn't get recruited by Duncan. I thought it would be fun to include her in this universe, and this is the result!

Read on Ao3

When Selana entered the cabin where Solas had set up his research station, he was hunched over one of the long tables with his new assistant, Rora, beside him. They appeared deep in discussion, his bald head and her brunette head nearly touching. Selana’s stomach twisted.

Rora Surana had arrived just a few weeks ago, one of the many new souls making their way to Haven as news of the Inquisition spread. She was an elven apostate as well—though unlike Solas, she was originally from a Circle—and was quickly put to work assisting Solas with his research. From what Selana was told, Rora was a talented mage and researcher with a strong interest in the Fade. It was a perfect fit.

Selana cleared her throat, and they both looked up. Solas straightened, coming over to greet her.

“You have returned,” he said.

Rora, hanging back at the table, nodded at her. “Hello, Herald,” she said in a soft voice.

Selana nodded back. Rora seemed perfectly nice, very polite and diligent. She was sure Rora’s relationship with Solas was purely professional. And even if it wasn’t, that didn’t matter. Solas was a good friend, and that was all.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Selana said, turning to Solas. “I wanted to show you something.”

Solas’ eyes gleamed with interest. Selana pulled out the small object, wrapped in a plain, white handkerchief lent to her by Varric.

“I found this near a rift,” she said. “Vivienne thought it might have been touched by the Fade in some way.”

Solas took it and unwrapped it, revealing a piece of obsidian shot through with green light the same color as Selana’s mark.

Solas held the rock up to the light, eyes narrowed.

“I’m not sure how significant it is,” she said, “but I thought you might want to take a look at it.”

And it made me think of you, she thought.

Solas smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “It is quite fascinating. Rora?”

His assistant stood up, hurrying over with a clipboard.

“Will you add this to the sample table?” he said.

She nodded, and Selana’s heart sank as she watched Rora take the rock and add it to a table laden with other, similar objects.

Things had been odd between Selana and Solas ever since that day several weeks ago. They’d been chatting at their usual spot, and Selana asked him about himself, particularly his interest in the Fade. He explained how he became a traveler in order to see more of it.

“To find interesting areas, one must be interesting,” he said.

“Well, it’s not the worst reason I’ve heard to go out and enjoy life,” Selana said.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “In truth, I have enjoyed experiencing more of life to find more of the Fade.”

“How so?”

“You train to flick a dagger or an arrow to its target. The grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit.”

Selana’s mind ground to a halt, not quite understanding what he was saying. Unsure what else to do, she laughed.

“So, you’re suggesting I’m graceful?” she said.

Her tone was joking, but his expression was completely serious when he responded.

“No,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.”

A shiver passed through her at the memory, and not an unpleasant one.

Until that moment, it never occurred to Selana that Solas might be attracted to her, nor had she considered him a romantic prospect. She didn’t join the Inquisition for that. All she wanted was to close the Breach and get home as soon as possible.

But now that the door was open, she couldn’t help noticing Solas in a new way. When they talked now, she noticed things like the broadness of his shoulders, and the way his peaceful presence calmed her. It was confusing, distracting, and not altogether welcome when there was so much to worry about.

The next day, Selana returned to find Solas and Rora standing together outside the cabin, in the same spot where she and Solas often chatted. Solas said something to Rora that Selana couldn’t hear, and they both laughed. Selana watched Solas’ face, the way his eyes crinkled with amusement when he laughed, and felt another twinge of jealousy. The two of them were so right together, Solas broad-shouldered and neatly dressed, the taller of the two, and Rora so small and dainty, with long, light brown hair that always seemed to shine. Selana couldn’t help but think of her own appearance, her boney, muscular frame, and her dull brown, unmanageably curly hair that she needed to wrangle into a ponytail to control at all.

She hung back for a moment, and considered leaving. But then Rora gave Solas a wave and headed back inside the research cabin. Selana approached.

She couldn’t tell if he was glad to see her. There was a happy glow to his face, but maybe that was just from talking to Rora.

“Did you get a chance to look at that sample?” she asked, by way of conversation.

“Not yet,” Solas said. “There is much to do.”

Selana’s heart sank, more than she would have liked.

“You and Rora seem to be getting along,” she said. She thought her voice sounded bitter, even to herself, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh yes,” he said. “She has proven quite helpful. Her knowledge of the Fade is surprisingly in-depth.”

Selana’s heart squeezed. She knew she was no match for Rora when it came to magical knowledge.

“That’s… great,” she said. She cleared her throat. “Must be nice to have someone to talk to who’s on your level.”

She must have done a poor job hiding her feelings, because Solas’ expression shifted to one of concern.

“Rora is a fine assistant,” he said. “But when the work is over, you are the one I most look forward to speaking with.”

Selana swallowed around the lump in her throat.

“Why, though?” she said. “I don’t know anything about the Fade, or about magic.”

“That is not all that matters,” Solas said. “You are still intelligent, and thoughtful. You give me new things to think about. And… you are my friend. Is that so hard to believe?”

It was unusual for him to stumble over his words, and it caught Selana off guard. But his words filled her with warmth. Even with his new assistant, Solas still took the time to speak with her, still listened to her questions with care and interest. It was silly for her to have worried. Solas was her friend, and that was all that mattered.

She smiled. “It’s not hard to believe,” she said.

Selana didn’t worry about Rora after this. Not just because of her conversation with Solas, though.

A few days later, she walked by the training grounds to see Rora and the commander chatting together. Selana was too far away to hear what they said, but she could sense a charged atmosphere, even from a distance.

She watched them curiously for a moment. Both their faces were flushed. The commander looked away, scratching the back of his neck, and Rora clasped her hands nervously as they spoke. Their conversation was punctuated with shy smiles and nervous laughs. Selana remembered then that Cullen, too, had been in a Circle in Fereldan for a time. Was it the same one Rora had come from?

Selana shook her head and walked away before they noticed her staring. None of her business, but it seemed like Rora’s interests lay elsewhere. Selana couldn’t help but smile to herself as she hurried off to visit Solas.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

// So A Snake Walks Into A Bar. inked 06 //

prev << 06 >> next

*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations.  Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16.  Reader discretion is advised.*

The Winged Viper was easily the seediest bar on this side of town with at least one bar fight ending in someone being dragged out the back door every night, the kind of place where eye contact with the wrong person might just end with you being pulled from your stool by the collar of your shirt, whiskey breath in your face as you blink through the insults. But there was something about the dingy establishment that always brought you back. Maybe it was the drinks where the shots were poured just a little too long or maybe it was the Halloween skeleton that just stood by the door year round, donning different hats and decorative pieces for the changing of the seasons. 

Or maybe it was him and that stupid smile on his face as he raised his hand in your direction, waving you over, pausing only for a moment to laugh at something the bartender had shouted at him. Yeah, maybe it was Daishou Suguru who already had your drink sitting on the strangely sticky table, a basket of onion rings ready to share. This had become the Friday night routine years ago when you had both outgrown the loud music and overpriced shots of the clubs downtown, always a little too crowded by the city’s college students. Instead, you both had begun opting for the not-so-quiet and only ever so slightly less crowded atmosphere of The Winged Viper, just becoming a part of the regular group of bikers and college professors who found the bar just as endearing.

Daishou’s crooked smile greets you as you slide into your seat across from him. He’s washed the ink from his hands and replaced the collared shirts that he favors in the shop for a simple t-shirt, showing off the tattoos that flowed down his arms, transforming himself from the professional artist into just another guy to blend in with the crowd. 

He can’t even get a word out before you’re dropping a binder on the table. That stupid black binder that Kuroo had stuffed full of drawing assignments for you. A waste of paper. A waste of your apprenticeship. “The fuck is this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as he flips open the proof of deforestation that you had just slammed in front of him.

And then he’s laughing.

Face relaxing as his fingers weave through his hair, bright laughter ringing through the bar. “You’re fucking kidding me! This is insane, Y/N.”

“No, trust me! I know! I’m the one drawing 300 fucking lines everyday! ‘Ru, I’m going to lose my mind and it’s barely been a week,” you say, rubbing your face between your hands.

His lips quirk into a teasing smile, raising his eyebrows at you. “You know, I’m pretty sure I told-”

You don’t think it’s possible to roll your eyes harder and Daishou can only chuckle at your dramatics, watching as you fully lean into the eye roll and stare at him with a playful annoyance written across your face. “Yeah, yeah. You told me so. I thought you were just talking shit! I didn’t think he would actually be this terrible! Suguru, the closest I’ve gotten to tattooing is washing his ink cups. How am I supposed to learn if he won’t even sit down and tell me a little about what he’s doing? I don’t even know what the machine feels like in my hand! How do I turn it on? Do I do the linework first or do I do color first? Is it like watercolors where I start light and go dark or do I-”

“You’re thinking too much. It’s been a week.” That playful grin sinks into something more sincere as he looks at you from across the table, taking your hand to really get you to focus on him, except now you’re not focusing on his words, but rather the way his hand fits so nicely in yours and his thumb running over your knuckles, the soft brush of the calluses of his hands from years of tattooing and drawing. His mouth is moving and you’re sure that whatever he’s saying is important, but fuck. Have his eyes always been that green? They’re crinkling as he says something that makes himself laugh. Maybe you should laugh too? His fingers are finding the spaces between yours and you see him stop talking.

Fuck.

You’re supposed to say something.

“Yeah, I completely agree,” you say.

Daishou clicks his tongue, waggling his finger at you in mock disappointment. “I knew you weren’t paying attention.”

“I was absolutely paying attention!” You object. “I was listening the entire time.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Sure, Y/N. And just what are you agreeing with?”

“I’m agreeing with what you said! It’s not my fault if you don’t remember what you said.”

“Gaslighter.”

“Okay, fine. I wasn’t listening! What did you say?” You sigh.

“I was saying that if Kuroo doesn’t work out, you can always come apprentice with me,” he offers, locking eyes with you, sincerity swimming in the green. 

Friends. 

That was the label that you two had settled on back when you had met, back when you had drunkenly stumbled to bed with him.

Just . . . friends.

A heavy pause between the words to fill in all that was unsaid, time to see his eyes dart down to your lips before reaching your eyes again.

Just friends.

A confirmation as your hand drifts from his shoulder to his chest, eyes following the path of your fingers as they trail further down his body to hook onto the belt loop of his jeans, a firm tug to pull him against you, the only invitation he needed to push his mouth to yours, pressing you back against the wall as his hands found your waist.

Just friends who sometimes make out.

Shirts are thrown across the room and pants are kicked off in the least sexy way possible as he nearly trips over himself, but it’s fine because his mouth is on your neck, pushing you back down on the bed, teeth grazing skin in that way that never fails to have your mouth falling open.

Just friends who sometimes also have sex.

His hand squeezes yours gently, bringing you back to the present moment. You don’t want to look at his face as you pull your hand away, because you know there would be a flash of sadness swimming across his eyes, no matter how hard he denies it. “I can’t, ‘ru,” you say.

“Why not? I can teach you everything he can and I promise, I won’t make you polish the tile with my boxers.”

“Ew! Is he going to make me do that?”

Daishou winks, smiling at you softly. “I won’t give him any ideas. But I’m serious, Y/N.”

You blow out a sigh. “I know you are, but this is something I have to do on my own. I really appreciate it, but it’s not going to feel right if I let you mentor me. It’ll feel too easy, like the whole opportunity was just handed to me on a platter.” You couldn’t let yourself do that. It was the one thing that had held you back from apprenticing with Daishou in the first place. He was a brilliant artist and one of your best friends, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feelings that he would’ve just given you the apprenticeship without having to really work for it. He would tell you that that wasn’t true, that you really did deserve to apprentice with him, but that couldn’t stop that nagging in your head.

Besides, Kuroo’s work aligned more closely with your own style. Daishou had fallen into the realm of realism, being able to push colors in a way that seemed like a picture had been printed directly on the skin. But, Kuroo– He was an artist unlike any you’d seen in your life. Pushing the boundaries of composition and form in ways that didn’t just utilize the shape of the body, but enhanced it, finding ways to draw the eyes around unlike any other tattoo artist you had studied. He was everything you wanted to be and more. There was no one else that you wanted to learn from, but fuck–

He was a prick.

And you weren’t about to forget that, especially when he wouldn’t even look at you when you walked into the shop the next morning. His head was buried into his newest flash sheet, inks spread over the counter as he pulled an outline, but you did see those amber eyes quickly dart in your direction before returning to their work.

“How was your date?” Kuroo muttered, leaning back from the page to examine his handiwork from further away. You could see his features scrunch in distaste as he re-wet an area of ink to remove some of the pigment to try to fill the space again.

But, you’re too busy rolling your eyes as you hang your jacket by the door. “It wasn’t a date.”

He snorts, dipping his brush back into the blue ink. “Sure it wasn’t.” 

“Why do you care?”

“Did I say that I care?”

You round the counter to stand opposite of him, busying yourself with making a pot of coffee to only further enable Akaashi’s caffeine problem. “Then why would you ask how it went?”

“I’m just trying to be polite,” he says, pushing a smile that really looks more painful than anything. “We’re going to be stuck with one another until you either finish this apprenticeship or quit, so my apologies for trying to make this a little less dull for the both of us.”

“Yeah. Okay, fine.”

“So? How was it? You never said.”

“Because it wasn’t a date, Kuroo.”

He finally looks up at you, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Does he know that? Because guys don’t look at people like that unless they’re into them.”

You roll your eyes, helping yourself to one of Akaashi’s clean mugs as you pour yourself a cup of coffee. You raise the pot in a silent question to Kuroo who just gives a slight nod in answer. Two steaming mugs on the counter. Cream and sugar for him. Black for you. 

“We’ve talked about it.”

“And?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a nosy bastard?”

For the first time since you’ve known him, you swear Kuroo smiles at you, a true genuine smile as if he doesn’t hate your presence after all. There’s the faintest glint of mischief in his eyes as his lips shift into a smirk. “I’m not nosy. I’m just curious.”

“Curious about things that don’t concern you, like usual,” Akaashi states as he passes behind you to refill his mug from the fresh pot. He turns his attention towards you. “Ignore him. He’s a gossip at best, and meddlesome at worst.”

“I do not meddle!”

Akaashi slowly draws his eyes away from his mug to stare blankly at Kuroo. “Do you want to tell that to Tsukishima or should I?”

“Okay, so I meddled once,” Kuroo states, splaying his hands out as if it was only natural to get in the middle of another person’s business every now and then.

You didn’t know that it was possible to roll your eyes with such overwhelming drama until you saw the unparalleled amount of sass that Akaashi threw into that single movement. Steel blue eyes met amber in a look that could only be described as complete and utter disbelief. No words passed between the tattoo artist and the clerk for a long moment, just facial expressions of exasperation as a silent conversation took place.

Until Akaashi gave up, groaning in frustration. “You sent that poor barista flowers every week on Tsukki’s behalf! You can’t do that, Kuroo! You can’t go to the coffee shop and flirt with him and then say, ‘Oh, hey! Actually, my friend is really into you’. That’s meddling, Kuroo.”

“It wasn’t even that bad,” he scoffs.

“Tsukki got blocked and you’re no longer welcome at that coffee shop.”

“So, he wasn’t into my pick-up lines! How is that my problem?”

“You harassed him!”

Amber eyes dart over to you at the stifled snort that you were trying to hide behind your hand. The sneer that you’ve come to know all too well pulls at Kuroo’s features. “You got something to say, kid?”

You choke down your laughter, struggling to swallow those final giggles as you shake your head. “Nothing! Nothing. It’s just not surprising that you don’t have any game.”

“I have game!”

“Yeah? And that’s why you’re still single and trying to weasel your way into my love life?” You tease, leaning forward against the counter to push the nonchalance as you quirk an eyebrow at him.

But his mouth just grows into a smirk as he matches your posture. “So you admit it? You’re seeing him?”

And that was all it took for you to push away in frustration, hands in the air as you walked away from this nightmare conversation. You’d rather be repainting the walls with a detail brush before you had to put up with his shit any longer.

Silence dances in the front of the shop allowing Kuroo to return to the flash sheet in front of him. It stays that way for a while, the clacking of Akaashi’s keyboard being the only thing to fill the silence in the early hours of the shop.

He doesn’t even look at Kuroo when he starts talking again, eyes solely focused on responding to the floods of e-mails from the previous evening. “Do you care?”

“About what?” Kuroo mumbles, swishing his brush in a glass of water, watching the water turn to that same electric blue color that he had been using only moments before.

“You know what. Daishou and Y/N.”

Kuroo’s scoff is enough of an answer, but just to further push his point, he looks up to look at the clerk. “No, Akaashi. I don’t care.”

And Akaashi just nods, glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye to where Kuroo was staring at the curtain towards the back of the shop, the direction that you since disappeared as if he was willing you to return. “Sure.”

{Taglist: @boosyboo9206 @zamorazz @universal-s1ut @localgaytrainwreck // never miss an update! send an ask to be added to the inked taglist!!}

[celerydays]

What program do you use to make your fanart? Is it on just an average ipad or is there special ones just for art? Your work looks so good! I’m wanting to try digital art but unsure where to start :)

I use the Procreate app for all of my digital art! ✨

It should be available on any iPad 💗 I personally invested for my birthday this past year and I have the 12.9" M2 iPad Pro, but I'll even occasionally use my fiancé's iPad Mini and the Procreate app on there in a pinch since it's so small and portable~

The only real difference is that performance might suffer a bit, the larger an art piece is or how many layers your work has, depending on the iPad. But if you're just starting out, I probably wouldn't find that to be much of an issue!

(More rambling about digital art origins under cut ✨)

There's definitely a learning curve, especially if you're more used to drawing traditionally! It can help to still sketch traditionally (if that's what you're used to) and then upload a photo of your drawing to your tablet to work over digitally (this is personally how I started out and I used to just make little digital doodles by tracing and coloring over my traditional sketches.)

A small doodle from my sketchbook that I traced and colored digitally, from around 2011-2012, I think? Uh, happy Doctor Who day today!

My very first digital art set up was actually a tiny Wacom Bamboo tablet where the drawing space probably wasn't even bigger than my hand, and a super old bootleg version of Photoshop CS2 which was already a version that was 7 years too old for the time (CS5/CS6 was the most updated version by the time I had started on digital art).

Everyone else in my class had the bigger/fancier/professional-grade Wacom Intuos and I remember my professor taking one look at my baby tablet and just going like "how tf are you drawing on that" lmao.

But still! Experimenting and doing little exercises can get you a long way – I would say to approach it with similar exercises you would do as if you were learning to draw traditionally for the first time.

Shade in circles/nail down basic lighting. Gesture drawings. Random scribbles. Just things that help you get used to the feel of digital art!

Test out different textures you can achieve with one brush, then expand it to see how other different types of brushes can behave and add to the experience.

For proof that even just one brush and not the best/most updated tools can work: these are two of my first more "serious" digital art projects I did in college (with my tiny tablet and mega outdated version of Photoshop) and 99% of the rendering was just done with the "soft airbrush" brush.

But even then, we were taught to create our base sketches traditionally and upload them to the program to work over.

Then one day I decided I wanted to just be able to also do all my sketches digitally and just worked on getting used to sketching straight on my digital program. It was then that besides the all-powerful undo-redo buttons, I started to really make use of the transform/canvas flip/liquify features which I don't think I can live without now lol. (Caveat: I'm now a little too dependent on those features so I keep a traditional sketchbook to do silly doodles in occasionally to exercise my hand because sketching traditionally without the buffer of those digital tools is pretty difficult for me now lol.)

That was a little long-winded, I'm so sorry hahaha. I hope something in this rambling could be taken as somewhat helpful for starting out on digital art!! 💗