#bonus mystery space in the lower left corner

[kami-ships-it]

annotated floor plan of Cap's office

[agentlizardofowca]

I can't copy the shape because mobile, but I'd love a DVD Bonus for "Store Your Nemesis Under Your Bed"!

(HumanPerryAU Takes place after the ending of Store your nemesis under your bed: Phineas just admitted that Perry hid a mysterious man under his bed. To avoid having to talk about it, Perry ran away and hid in his bedroom. Link to the fic for those who are curious)

Candace cornered them with tense shoulders and flashing eyes. There was a sharpness to her that set Ferb on edge. Curiosity he expected, but the hard line of her eyebrows was obsessive.

"Tell me about the man." She breathed the words hard and rushed into the space between her and the brothers.

Mom and Dad were upstairs, trying to coax Perry out of his bedroom, where he'd escaped to after Phineas spilled his dirty secret.

"I didn't see him, Candace." Phineas said in a happy tone, completely unaware of the tension in their sister's shoulders. "Ferb pointed it out to me."

Candace swiped her hair over the other shoulder and gazed at Ferb. She knew he usually preferred to let other people do the talking, so she usually posed her questions to the room at large.

Ferb appreciated this. He liked it even more that every once in a while Candace broke that pattern to include him.

What do you think Ferb? Or Are you okay? Candace wasn't just curious, she was also very genuine. Something she and Phineas had in common. Ferb loves his siblings so much.

"I couldn't see him very well, he was under the bed."

"But you knew he was there?"

"I could see his eyes."

Candace parted her lips, but Ferb already knew what to say.

"Blue."

Candace hummed. "I wonder who he was."

"Do you think Uncle Perry will tell us?" Phineas asked optimistically as if their uncle hadn't just fled from the dining table.

"Why did he feel so guilty? It's not like we don't know he likes men. Did Dad forbid him to take his boyfriends home? He wouldn't," She scrunched her nose as she thought. "Right?"

"You think that was his boyfriend?" Phineas asked and he tapped the tip of his nose as he pondered. Romance had always been a mystery to Phineas, and apparently, the concept of their uncle having a love life was foreign to him. Isabella was fighting an uphill battle.

"Who else would he hide away under his bed?" Candace asked as if she genuinely wanted a serious answer.

Phin shrugged. "They could just be friends I guess."

"Maybe he secretly ordered pizza, just for himself." Ferb joked.

"That still doesn't explain why." Candace squinted the way she did before she was going to make someone else's business her own. She ignored Ferb's last remark and left the room to go join her parents at Perry's door.

Ferb just shrugged, they weren't going to figure it out unless Perry wanted them to know. And if Ferb knew one thing about his uncle, it was that he was good at keeping secrets.

Phineas wished Candace good luck as she stalked out of the room. "There is no way Perry is going to let them in now." He point out to Ferb, who nodded in agreement. A moment later he paused as he noticed something peculiar over Phineas' shoulder.

A slipper landed in the grass outside the window.

Ferb angled his head to see. He recognised it, and his eyebrows rose in bewilderment. Was Perry really that desperate to escape?

A moment later, a foot lowered from the roof. Another moment later a second foot followed, this one was wearing a matching slipper to the one in the grass.

Only one person in this family would be crazy enough to climb out the window and jump off the roof.

Ferb watched with amusement as Perry landed with a soft thunk on the deck outside. He hopped to collect his slipper and put it on.

By now both brothers were  both staring out the window, watching this happen.

Perry knew they were there, so he waved when he turned around.

Obviously they waved back, they weren't rude.

Phineas hopped off his chair to opened the sliding door. "So, what's the plan?"

Perry scratched at his hair and shrugged awkwardly. 「Ice cream?」 He offered.

Ferb allowed him and Phineas to be herded into Perry's car. It wasn't until they were about to leave the driveway that Candace and her parents popped their heads outside. Phineas happily waved them adieu as they drove off.

[upirium]

The Ghoul Dens: Ghouls and Their Rooms

Below the cut is a fairly large thread of my own headcanons complete with 'illustrations' and descriptions about just where the ghouls stay.

Keep an eye out for any funny tiny little details I've put in my pictures. I recommend looking at the image full size.

The ghoul dens are a sort of vast network beneath the main church, comprised mostly of the same stone and architecture throughout each room. The upper floor of the ghoul dens is reserved for the current band ghouls, and it has a strange aura about it that doesn't quite make sense. The mystery of why a ghoul's room is exactly as large or small as they'd like it has never been revealed.

Ghouls are given the freedom to find what type of style they want for their room in due time.

A majority of their space is in one somewhat long and confusing hallway; a ghoul common room and kitchen is at the center of the ghoul den maze, while a long hallway wraps around in a perfect square to branch off the other ghoul rooms. Suspiciously, it always seems to be the perfect amount. There is a set of stairs that lead to the lower ghoul dens somewhere at the back of this 'maze.

The Common Room

Reserved specifically for the band ghouls, or ghouls of importance. Pretty standard stuff. There's a TV in there, a gaming system, a bookshelf. It leads directly to the kitchen. Ghouls are often found here in piles.

The Kitchen

A largely ignored space for a long while until the Prequelle era. It was mostly used for snacks and storing drinks. While it's still used for this, Mountain sometimes ventures up to the main kitchens to steal ingredients. He likes to cook.

The Flesh Wall

Despite the band having a kitchen they can't subsist on human food alone. This has been remedied by the fact that it wasn't just ghouls summoned from Hell, but other creatures. Somewhere in the lower ghoul dens there is a chilled room crawling with living, self replicating meat. Inedible to humans but has the nutrients ghouls need to stay healthy.

There is a photo that I won't post here because it's quite body horror-esque, but if you want to see it you can click here. It's an old picture that I kind of need to rework but you get the gist.

The Ghoul Rooms

Swiss

From a world draped in excess, Swiss expects no less. He has the largest room and probably the 'fanciest'. Don't let the fancy exterior full you, there's weed hidden in every corner thanks to Mountain.

His bathroom is on the right.

Dew

Dew doesn't care all that much about his room, so he doesn't care about making a mess of it either. The laundry and cleaning ghouls are on high alert with this room and he still manages to throw clothes all over the place before they can get to them. Dew's closet is against the visible wall and his bathroom is on the right.

Dew's Bathroom (a bonus)

The only reason Dew gets a bathroom pic is because I needed it for an RP. The largeness of bedrooms does not really extend to bathrooms and they're usually quite small.

The only reason it's so clean is because of the cleaning ghouls.

Mountain

Mountain is so incredibly large a bed won't do, so he sleeps on a series of pillowy cushions and blankets. The couch is only there for company and he doesn't use it often. Mountain is very into plants and boho aesthetic. His closet is on the left, which leads into his bathroom that sadly does not have a bathtub he can use properly unless he's glamoured.

Aether

Aether likes things clean and neat, so he gravitated to a more modern aesthetic. Having Dew in his room makes his teeth itch because he does not respect the whole cleanliness aspect of it.

If you ever came in here and saw a black tear in space and time and no ghoul, it's because he's trying to be left alone.

He doesn't have a closet, but his bathroom is on the right.

Rain

Rain likes smaller and more enclosed spaces, hence the bed. He also took a page from Mountain's book and really enjoys plants and pretty lights. He reads a lot and can often be found curled up in his bed reading from the shelf that's built into it. His closet is on the right, which leads into his bathroom.

Cumulus

Cumulus fell into the trap of pretty lights as well, but has taken it to a much greater excess. She likes to steal tea from the common room kitchen and curl up with a book in her reading corner.

She occasionally paints and has a surprising knack for it, leading to the paintings that keep appearing on her wall in haphazard states.

Her bathroom is on the back wall. She doesn't have a closet.

Cirrus

Cirrus prefers the dark. She has her light bulb set to purple half the time because it's way easier on the eyes. She enjoys gaming quite often as well as working out in the gym.

She has started collecting pictures and posters, some of them from Cumulus. She has a strange collections of drawings of Dew. It's not that she's collecting them because of him, but because brothers and sisters sometimes like drawing the ghouls. Dew has stated multiple times he wants none of the pictures so Cirrus takes them so they're not thrown away.

The art she has now are from brother Ryuzato, sister Blanche, brother Atlas, and sister Ynlatus.

Other pictures include: a photo of her and Cumulus, a spicy photo of Cumulus, a picture of a celebrity she thinks is kinda weird looking but also kind of hot, a photo of Dew blepping she stole off the internet, and a picture of a cat that fills her with a sense of profound sadness and loss.

The Lower Dens

Though not pictured the lower dens are where the non-band ghouls stay. Retired ghouls that haven't been 'banished' stay here as well, though their rooms are not nearly as nice. Still they're kept to a part of the lower dens that are nicer than that off the staff ghouls and other such beasties. The ghoul laundry room is in the lower dens.

The Lower Lower Dens

There's another set of stairs down in the lower dens that leads to the crypts. The grave ghouls reside down here.

Further still is the dungeons, or the prisons rather. Where bad and naughty ghouls go to have a timeout.

There's also a strange room covered in sigils that every ghoul fears nearing, though many do not know why. But they swear they've heard screaming.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet uglies, 41, Sternclay, NSFW?

Here you go! And if you're a fan on "Let me be good to you" this has very similar vibes.

41: I’m at the 24/7 gym at 2 in the morning and I thought I was alone so I’m singing in the showers, but when you start singing with me, I’m startled and slip so the first time we meet, we’re both wet and naked

Stern blames the playlist he had on at work for the fact his morning devolves into chaos. He works better to the blues (or 2000s pop hits, but those don’t feel right when going over files on suspicious incidents in Appalachia). So he hums as he rinses the remnants of his workout down the drain. He’d never sing where someone can hear, but since no one is here.

I want a little steam on my clothes

Maybe I could fix things up so they'll go

What's the matter daddy, come on, save my soul

He goes to rinse his hair and realizes the song is still going.

I need some sugar in my bowl, I ain't foolin'

I want some sugar in my bowl

His lizard brain yells two separate messages; “baritone voice very hot” and “oh god who’s there.”

The second message leaps into the driver seat and, in his attempt to turn, peer out of the stall, and be sure it’s just another patron, his foot finds the traces of soap on the floor.

“Shit” He falls backwards out of the stall, thudding to the floor.

“Oh fuck.” A man emerges two stalls to his left, soaking wet and flailing for a towel, “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so used to singing along with the radio. Are you okay?”

Joseph scans his body, finds nothing broken, “Yes.”

“Thank god.” The other man flicks shaggy hair from his face. In the split second before he gets the towel around his waist, Joseph’s gym manners fail him and he glances down. At least he’s getting several weeks worth of masturbation fodder from this humiliating moment.

“Here man, lemme help you up.”

Joseph takes the offered hand, then grits his teeth and swiftly turns to grab his own towel from where he hung it. He’d rather not show a stranger his ass, but this is how his night is going. As he turns back, he spots the other man quickly redirecting his stare from his ass to the floor.

Once both showers are off, Joseph changes and packs his bag. The stranger is at the mirror, tying his hair back and combing his beard.

“I’m sorry, my singing probably startled you too.”

A shrug of broad shoulders, “I work in kitchens, I’m so used to background noise some of it barely registers. And I always have the radio on when it’s just me in the mornings.”

“Hence the singing along?”

“Yeah, and why I’m here so early. I try to get my exercise in before work. Gotta admit, when I joined this gym I didn’t expect anyone else would be in for a 2 a.m workout.”

“My hours are all over the place. I’m with the FBI and when I’m on a case I tend to, um, lose track of time. Or work way later than I should.” He shoulders his bag, raises his hand in a wave, “it was nice meeting you. Even it was alarming at first.”

“Same to you” the man smiles at him over his shoulders, “and if you’re ever here at zero dark thirty again and want a gym buddy, I’m happy to keep you company.”

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

It’s a month before Joseph runs into him again. He swipes his card at the gym, finds the clank of a weight rack in place of the usual silence. The man from the showers smiles at him as he puts his bag near medicine balls, and when he’s done with his set he crosses the 80s-colored carpet to join him.

“It’s much nicer to see you when I can see you coming.” Joseph smiles politely, not catching his own subtext until the other man blushes.

“No kidding. I, uh, this may sound weird, but could I work-out with you? I’ve been doing the same routine for years because it’s what I know, but it gets so fucking boring.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company, though be warned that I do a lot of core and don’t use the machines all that much.”

“Totally fine. I’m, uh, I’m Barclay, by the way.” He holds out his hand and Joseph pictures twisting it behind his back while pinning him over one of the benches.

Instead, he shakes it, “Joseph.”

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

“I’m serious about skipping this if you need to” Joseph starts up the treadmill as Barclay jogs on the one beside him, “if you’re on your feet all day at work this could make that really uncomfortable.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

It’s the truth; he may not be as in-shape as Joseph, but he’s still pretty fit, and they only do thirty minutes of running. But it’s equally true that he’d rather suffer some extra-sore legs than lose out on a half-hour of his limited time with his friend.

He’d been hoping for someone to spot him and maybe teach him some new lower body exercises, with the added bonus of having some basic things (like music taste and bonkers work schedules) in common. What he’s gotten is someone with a dorky sense of humor, and extensive knowledge of cryptozoology and mystery novels, and the stamina to make engaging conversation about those things while running or working a rowing machine.

It helps that Joseph is so hot that he could caramelize sugar just by looking at it. The glimpses he caught of him when they met were tantalizing; the way his dark hair gradually loosens from it’s gelled state, the way his cheeks turn pink when flushed and sweating, the few times his voice turns truly breathless? Barclay is ready to get on his knees and beg for him to do obscene things in the locker rooms.

What makes this desire impossible to shake is the suspicion that it’s shared. He’s caught Joseph looking at him in a way that isn’t just about his form, and when he shows Barclay a new exercise he stands closer and lingers longer than strictly necessary. And his Freudian slips are so frequent and obvious they may as well be Freudian nightgowns.

Just when he thinks Joseph can’t get any hotter, the agent texts him around their three month mark of working out together warning that he’ll be late. When he arrives, Barclay drops the five pound plate he was moving.

Joseph hasn’t changed clothes. He’s in a full, black suit, shined shoes, and a silver and blue tie that Joseph wants him to take off and loop around Barclays throat instead. The agent smiles with a promise to be right back, seems bemused when he returns to find Barclay in the exact spot and position he left him.

“You okay, big guy?” The nickname is one of the many ways he built a home for himself in Barclays daydreams.

“Uh. Uh, yeah, sorry, got lost in thought. I haven’t started on the full workout, did some extra stretching since I’m kinda tight from yesterday. You wanna do weights first?”

“Sure.”

Their routine lasts about an hour. It’s an act of god that Barclay gets through it unscathed. Joseph is even more hands-on than usual, and his cologne (bergamot and citrus, if Barclay has his scents right) hasn’t had a chance to fade. The most distracting element of the whole morning is his friend’s voice; there’s an edge to it, like a knife in a velvet sheath, and Joseph gives fewer suggestions and more orders.

Barclay wants him to sound like this forever. But only if he can rearrange his life so that he can follow every command.

After a very cold shower, he falls in next to Joseph as they push through the double doors into the warm night. When he reaches his car, the other man touches his cheek.

“Drive safe, big guy.”

He wonders if Joseph can feel him blush in the dark, “I will, agent. I promise.”

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

“I told them to get those dark spots checked” Joseph shakes his head at the notice on the door informing them the gym will be closed for the next two weeks to repair massive water damage in the ceiling.

“I’m just bummed I won’t get to work out with you. It’s not as fun alone in my apartment.”

“You could come over to mine, if we can find a time where it works.”

“I’d love to.”

Barclay double checks that the address on the apartment in front of him matches the one Joseph sent, while trying not to fixate on the text that came with it.

Joseph: Be ready, big guy, I’m going to work you hard

He knocks on the designated door, pushes it open when Joseph calls for him to come in. There’s a yoga mat on the floor and a stationary bike in the corner, and far too little space for two grown men to work out together.

“Do you want me to help move the couch? That might give us...more...room.”

Joseph, in his full suit and dress shoes, leans against the kitchen doorway with a confident smile.

“Y-you’re not working out with me, are you?” Barclay’s hopes hurry to the front of his brain, tripping up his tongue.

“No. I did mine earlier today.” He runs a finger along Barclay’s chest, “I designed a special one, just for you. If you get through it all, you get a reward.”

“What kind?”

Joseph leans in to kiss him softly and swiftly, “I’ll let you fuck me.”

Barclay’s hands fly out to grips his shoulders as he groans, “fuck, babe, really?”

“Really. But first, you have to pick two things from this list.” He hands Barclay a sheet of memo paper with a neatly written list of the lewdest exercises he’s ever seen. He’d offer to do all of them, but then he might not have enough energy to enjoy his reward.

“The, uh, the push ups and the crunches.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Please?”

“Okay, big guy, we’ll do those. Get on the mat, push up position.”

Barclay hurriedly obeys. Freshly shined shoes step onto the top edge of the mat.

“We’ll just do thirty today. I’ll count. Ready?”

He nods.

“Good boy. Down, one”

Barclay bends his elbows, only stopping when his lips touch the top of Joseph’s shoes. He holds there a two-count, then rises.

“Down, two.”

He repeats the motion, keeps time with Joseph’s count as a hint of polish curls into his nose. It should be boring, maybe even degrading, but fuck him if it isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s done in years. Joseph is so put together, so poised, Barclay feels like an unkempt beast next to him in his gym clothes. Yet he’s letting him kiss his lovingly shined shoes, telling him he’s a good boy as he works up a sweat.

“Down, thirty.” Joseph joins him on the floor as Barclay sits back on his heels, “well done. Now, on your back please.”

Barclay lays down. Joseph grabs a silver item from the side table and holds it in front of him. It takes his lust-glazed brain a second to grasp it’s a cock cage.

“Can I put this on you? You’ll have to wear it the rest of the workout.”

“Ohfuckplease.”

Joseph leans forward enough to kiss his chest, then shifts his shorts down to his thighs and locks the cage into place.

“If you need to stop, just say red. Okay?”

He nods frantically.

“Okay?” Joseph repeats with a stern look.

“Okay.”

“Good boy.” Joseph lifts his legs and sets them over his left shoulder. Barclay whimpers as there’s a snap of a latex glove and a pop of lube. Joseph smirks as Barclay whines at his teasing touches.

“Two sets, forty each. Go ahead and count in your head.”

“Okay” He curls his body, only gets through two more crunches before a finger presses in. “fuck!”

“Focus, big guy.” Joseph kisses his knee.

“I am, I’m focusing on the fact you’re a fucking genius.”

“If you lose count, you’ll have to start over” he presses in the second finger, “and that means longer until your reward.”

“I’m, I’m on twenty!”

A kiss to his calf, “Keep going.”

By the time he hits the second “forty” his legs are burning and Joseph is stretching his ass open with three fingers. He pulls them free but keeps Barclays legs in place, tugs the glove off and removes a blue, silicone plug from his jacket pocket . It slides in comfortably, but Barclay whimpers his name all the same.

“You’re doing so well Barclay. Are you ready to keep being my good boy?”

“Yes, please yes.”

Joseph sets his legs on the floor, guides him to his knees so he can pull his shorts up, and then helps him to his feet, pausing to kiss him sweetly and run his lips along his neck.

“Twenty minutes on the bike. Whatever speed you like.”

Barclay eases himself onto the seat, starts pedaling and watches longingly as Joseph heads into the kitchen saying he'll be back in a minute. The plug isn’t too uncomfortable to sit on, so this should be a breeze.

He hunches forward with a moan as it starts vibrating. Joseph strides back into the room, remote control in hand, only stopping to give Barclay another kiss and run his fingers through his hair before dropping onto the couch.

“Let me know when you’re done.” He picks up a copy of Empire and starts reading, heedless of Barclay’s increasingly loud moans.

The vibrator starts and stops, sometimes a gentle buzz and sometimes a furious pulse, and Barclay fights to keep the pedals going under the onslaught, desperate not to lose time and eager to please the man stealing tender, hungry glances at him from the couch.

“Time” He gasps, pulling his feet free from the pedals. Joseph is up and to him before his legs have a chance to wobble. Once he’s on the couch, shirt soaked with sweat, Joseph straddles him and kisses him demandingly, mouth moving from lips to cheek to neck without a care for sweat.

“Will you be a good boy and let me get off on you?”

“You know I fuckin will, fuck, babe, wanna be so fuckin good for youAH, ohgod” He throws his arms around Joseph, clinging and groping as he grinds on the cage and the aching cock within it.

“You look so good like this big guy, exhausted and obedient for me.”

“Yes, yesyes all for you, Joseph, please cum on me.”

“I will baby, don’t worry.” He brushes their lips together, “do you want some more kisses while I do.”

“Uhhuh” He whines, the noise only growing as Joseph kisses him and works his hips recklessly, his hands slipping up Barclays shirt to squeeze his pecs and toy with his nipples. When the tempo of his jerking hips changes, Barclay holds him tighter, needing to feel the way his body tenses and shudders as he cums more than he’s needed anything in his life.

“There” Joseph grins, panting, and pulls the key to the cage from his breast pocket, “now you can have your reward.” He slides to the floor, yanking Barclays shorts with him on the way. The cock cage hits the carpet and then a wet, enthusiastic mouth swallows him almost to the root.

“Ohfuck, Joseph, babe I’m gonna cum in like two seconds you, you might wanna-”

The agent pulls off, lazily licking the head, “I don’t want cum on the carpet, big guy. So be a good boy and cum down my throat.”

He gets exactly three and a half ecstatic thrusts into Joseph’s mouth before his orgasm knocks the breath from him and he cums, moaning out thanks as he does. When he’s spilled the last of it, Joseph sits back, breathing deep and wiping his lips.

“J-joseph? Will you, uh, will you kiss me again?”

The other man clambers into his lap, bitter taste on his tongue when Barclay glides his own against it. When he finally stops to breathe, Joseph pets his beard.

“Was all that okay?”

“So fucking okay. It was incredible. I, I feel so fucking good. Sweaty, but good.”

A kiss on the cheek, “Shower is just down that hall. Go get clean while I order dinner.”

“Okay.” Barclay looks at him with dreamy hope, “do you, uh, wanna do this again sometime?”

“Often. If, um, if that’s okay with you?”

Barclay nods, “as long as we can still work out together? I like doing that with you.”

“Of course, big guy.”

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 9: Ch 3

Previous

Summary: Syco and the unnamed Space Explorer question their choices.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

Their arm springs towards me. My sword goes right through them. The book I had let go of several moments ago, the one I could not read, shakes. The unknown figure before me grunts as their hand begins to shake as well. A jerk later, and the book goes flying towards them. They catch it. Quickly, I realize they are a known figure. He is Sakhra’s brother. Ex-brother? I am thousands of light-years away from that desert planet, so why is he here? Does it have to do with Sakhra’s reasoning for not coming with us? I hope he’s okay and that his brothers and sisters do not cross paths with Syco anytime soon because when you are desperate you no longer care. I should do something about that. He trusts me. I should end it before the boulder hits the ground, but it's my stupid humanity that stops me from doing so. Emotions help you see, but it also keeps you from doing anything of substance. I am not strong enough, Ojos. I am sorry.

Two sets of eyes, who now have eye bags underneath them, seemingly stab me. Then, look down at the now open book. It’s not even a minute before their eyes finish scanning through it. Closing it, Sakhra’s ex-brother opens up with, “Another unrelated one, but not completely useless.” 

He slides the book in his sleeve before scanning around the circular wall of books around us and turning back around to the opening behind him. I opened my mouth as he looked both ways, watching out for any guards that may be around, so I could press for answers. Just like then, his steps are precise, gentle. It’s an excuse. I do not want him to stop. I want to know where he is going. I want to know what interested him in coming here. I want to know if I am making the right choice. 

A broad-shouldered figure causes the stairs in front of me and the column my four-eyed leader is hiding behind to creak as he walks down it. He waves his flashlight across the hallway. It passes through me, and not too long after, he does as well. Turning the corner, the once cultist heads up the stairs. I do as well. When landing on the second floor, he goes right into scanning the books that have been carelessly scattered all over the walkway. Three of them are balancing on the handrail. Soon I am leaning over them as the cloaked figure proceeds onwards. Right when I am about to lose sight of him, I also scan. A million books. There have to be at least a million books on the first floor alone. Even if Shiitakee tried to validate Saamuki's theory, one that is “going to change everything”, we would not come close to finishing the first floor. A month and we would barely make it halfway. I wonder how Saamuki is doing. By now, Shiitakee is back on the ship drooling and snoring, waiting for us to come back after just flipping through three books, but he is not useless. Apparently, not. I do not know much about him. He’s known Syco for a long time, years, yet Syco trusts me more than him. Why? Unlike Commander Knox, Shiitakee has not proven himself to be untrustworthy. He has not snitched on us peeking in on The Commander being on life support. Maybe there is more to his whining. I hope this all is not another convoluted plan for Syco to see just how small his inner circle has become. Shiitakee is with our unconscious bodies, after all. I stretch and yawn as he becomes interested in a book with torn and stained pages. 

He is pressing his hands and sliding them across a dead-end by the time I stop trying to reason my realizations. There is a third floor. I saw it from down there. So, why is there a dead-end? His middle and index fingers glide across it, collecting dust and causing a spider to skitter away. He flicks away the grey spot on his fingers and leans closer to the trail he made. The figure, now triumphant, has to move behind a large stack of books when footsteps close in. I think I hear him cuss. Another broad figure, though this one is slender, comes this way with a flashlight. Pointed on the wall, he spots my companion’s handiwork. He steps towards it, squinting. "Hm." He waves his flashlight around. The universe works in mysterious ways, it seems. If I am being honest, I have to say I love it sometimes. Most of the time, I hate it. Now? Well, I am not sure. His watch blinks green. It vibrates with a soft buzz. He leaves and leaves my relieved, cloaked companion to wander back to the wall and fiddle around some more with it until a click is heard. A chunk of the door slides inwards to the left. Somehow the room beyond looked darker than outer space. As soon as he steps inside, the door begins to slide back into place. I follow, going through half of the closing door. Another click. The door shuts, locking us in darkness. Then, locking us with an illuminated staircase thanks to the flashlight he pulled out of his sleeve. I wonder what else is up his sleeve. 

Against the winding staircase are two brick walls. Among them are paintings. Dust makes it hard to see who or what is painted. It’s not like they’re important to the mission, but one of them catches my eye. Five scratches, a claw, tore through the face of a well-dressed man with a scowl and a balding head. I touch the torn cotton page, press against it, and I, thankfully, find out the deed was done much time ago, but this means its cause is lost to time. I do hope it stays that way. I do not want to confront its cause anytime soon. Although, the universe has an odd way of connecting me with people I would not ever think I would be in the presence of. 

I certainly would not have imagined being in the presence of that. This floor is just like the others. Books had been mindlessly placed wherever on nearly every crook and cranny. Although, besides being a lot smaller than its predecessors, this one has the added bonus of having a statue of a caped figure pointing towards the window. The statue has a faceless mask. Rounding it, as my companion mutters about his plea to find what he is looking for while shuffling through book after book, I see that same symbol that was all over that town square, a circle with a dot inside, directly plastered at the center of the statue’s cape. I step back and grip the handrail. Turns out I am not the only one discontent because he too is not any better at finding out what he is looking for. Pacing back and forth, he mumbles something. He nearly trips on a book while doing so, which he kicks away. Eventually, he squeezes the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb, using the hand of the arm I stabbed days ago. Then, proceeds to groan but is cut short by the opening of another entrance. All four of his eyes widened. He throws himself behind one of the many stacks of books. 

A secret door slides inwards from the statue's podium in the corner of my eye. A striking figure with a faceless mask and a cape appears in its doorway. My eyes dart back and forth from this newly arrived figure to the statue. Both are one and the same. 

The figure bends down and seizes the book my companion had just kicked off the ground. They turn to me. One minute into this figure’s arrival and I am already getting a bad feeling about them. They turn and stride towards me. Their cape trails behind them. I really thought they could see me. I should know by now it would be impossible because I trust Saamuki, but it is just the vibe I get from them that causes me to think so irrationally. Of course, they do not notice me even as they step next to me. Upon gripping the handrail with one hand and throwing the book to the first floor with the other, which fell with a deafening slam, I find out why the library is the way that it is. Swatting the side of the cape with the newly freed hand, they groan while lowering their head. Their voice is deep, but there is a bit of femininity to it. “Those insolent imbeciles.” Tightening their grip on the handrail, I hear friction. I think I hear a crack. Maybe the wood beneath their terrifyingly big hand split. I am not sure. I am too weary to check.

Raising their head up, but with hunched shoulders now, they continue, “At least I have this place, the only place left in the universe where I can finally be alone and away from those bastards.”

Magically, a parchment appears in their free now glowing golden hand. With a deep inhale, they then proceed to write down the reason for their annoyance. It goes as follows: “It would be ignorant of me—a failure of my due diligence—to dismiss my duty within the council. Therefore, I understand each of us is in charge of distinct positions. However, at times, our positions must blend into one another as those occurrences involve imprecise issues. (This should be common sense to the others by now. Apparently, not. I presume they do it on purpose.) I seek out fallacies, although it is nonsensical to say such as it is an obligation. I was born to feel this way. Refer to ‘On the Creation: Between Mortal and God’, edition five if confused, or dare I say, forgotten. My duty, in the summary of chapter eleven of the previously mentioned book, is to provide reasoning and logic to the Lords of the Universe.”

I froze. I can not make a sound, and I for sure can not do anything with this information. Right here. Right in front of me stands the point of this all. Before I barked, and now I can not bite. The Lords of the Universe are the executives of the universe and commanders of Watchers. They are the reason why Syco dehumanized me. Most importantly they have my people. Their cape and the vibe they gave me make sense now. Supposedly, I am to confront them soon enough. I want to do something, anything but run away. I can not, though. I could touch them, and they can not touch me, I hope. My computerized sword would not do much good. One blast and I would just be teleported back to the ship, thousands of light-years away. It is useless, so I have to remind myself to remain silent. My companion tries to do just that as they raise their head from the small wall of books. Because the Lord is still facing away, they proceed to get up and move towards the secret door we came out of. He is quiet as per usual. The Lord continues to scribble down on their parchment, but they stop once he reaches where the door should be. 

“Ah, the famous knife-wielder I have heard so much about.” He freezes. The Lord, turning to him, has the parchment fade away with the fading of their glow. “And before you ask, yes, I did know you have been here since I stepped foot on this floor. I did not react until now because you were of no danger to me. You still are not. You as well, human.” I pull both my dagger and staff out. The Lord lifts their hand. Continuing, “There is no need to become barbaric. I plan to let the both of you go after a brief interrogation.”

[nightwingshero]

Full bingo angst answers for Wren please! 💋💕

Thank you, baby!!! Kinda hitting it where it hurts today, huh?

TW: Mentions of self-harm, alcohol abuse, and child loss...just kinda...it’s angsty. Sorry guys. 

💙 What would your OCs last words be (or if they’ve died what were their last words)? What were their final moments like? How did they die?

Probably...man, knowing Wren, she’s gonna go down fighting and defending a loved one. She...Wren will use her Wrath to draw the attention to herself, even if she knew it was a battle she wouldn’t win--sacrificing herself to give the other person a chance. Her last words...would be deep and meaningful, something that would hit hard. She would either quote something with a deep meaning or something so pure from the heart...I could also see her saying “Free...I’m finally free.” Or maybe being excited to see her mom again. 

💧 What’s the worst pain your OC has ever been in? Mental or physical? What was the cause of this?

That’s a toss up between her father blaming her for her mother’s death/being mentally and emotionally abusive or the car accident and losing the baby. Both had Wren spiraling in very different ways, both still giving her nightmares to the point of insomnia some nights. Then also losing John later in life. It hits her hard to know that her life partner died sacrificing himself for their son, and that he’s just...gone. It’s hard for her to bounce back from it. 

🔷 Has your OC ever had to leave something behind or abandon something they didn’t want to? Have they ever had this happen to them? How has this effected them over the years?

There’s a locket, a gold locket with a tree on it, that her mother used to wear before she died. It was one of the things she held onto dearly after her mom died, because it was pretty much all she had. Her father got rid of most of Lily’s things, including the piano, and so Wren clung to it through her childhood, drawing strength from it. It “mysteriously” disappeared after her father found out about it, just a few days before she left for college. In turn, she stole her mother’s ashes to scatter them, but it still haunts Wren. It had a picture of the two of them together.

🔵 Has your OC lived through any particularly traumatic events? Does this event (or events) still effect them or have they tried to bury it? Is there a reason why this event is so traumatic for them?

JFC, where to even begin? Honestly, the cards are stacked against her in the worst way, I feel for her. The biggest ones would be abusive childhood, losing her mom, unhealthy relationship with college professor, the horrible car accident, the drinking problem that followed...Wren tries her best with it, truly. It still effects her, mostly through panic attacks (triggers) and her nightmares. She will fall into depressive episodes as well. Most of the time, she will bury it though, like, she’s guarded--if you’ve been through some shit, you could probably pick up on it, you know? But with anyone else, you can’t tell. She hides it well. 

❄️ What is (one of) their biggest regrets or biggest mistake they’ve made? Is there anything they can do to fix this or is it so far gone there’s no point anymore? Is this something they dwell on a lot?

Wren...Wren is on the path of learning what she can and can’t control, and it’s...going as well as it can, because she has such a control issue. She tries to tell herself to not dwell on the things she can’t control...but the thing with Wren is that she needs to feel in control. The biggest ones would be the college professor and the path she took after the car accident. Wren hates giving parts of herself for it to be taken for granted or advantage of. She also sees the alcoholic chapter in her life was a little too close to her father than she cares to admit. But well...you can’t fix the past. 

💦 Does your OC have any self destructive habits? Addictions? Urges? What is the cause of these or the reason for them?

Wren used to have a drinking problem, mostly because of an emotional thing versus having to have alcohol. She just used it as an outlet, but most of the time, it just lowered her walls and made her more emotional in a self-destructive manner--depressive, angry, and antagonizing. She would start fights, which is why she got in trouble and got her shit together. Wren internalizes too damn much, overthinking and jumping to conclusions based on her own observations because she’s not one to trust someone else’s intentions or words. While Wren isn’t judgmental, she’s very open minded and accepting--she can be quick to judge in cases where you’ve invoked her wrath. Did some shit when you were young? Who hasn’t, I still care and accept you. You just crossed and betrayed me? I’m going to make it my personal goal to make life hell for you-- She also has a tendency to use her wrath to push people away and then close off, hurting them both in the process. 

🌊 What is your OC like at their most depressive? In the middle of a breakdown? Having a panic attack? What are they like with dealing with anxiety and stress?

Wren during a panic attack starts with her not being able to formulate actual coherent sentences because her mind is going so damn fast, and her hands shake. Her muscles will stiffen, making her super tense and she shuts down mentally. Most of the time, she will curl up on the ground (in the corner of a room, etc) with her legs hugged to her chest, forehead against her knees. Mostly to hide her face and to make herself as small as possible and to provide herself some sort of comfort (sometimes she’ll grip her hair, too). If someone catches it (if they know what to even look for), they can intercept and help kinda deter it. But Wren internalizes, closes herself even more, buys a ton of whiskey or wine, and just sits with her dark feelings. They consume her easily, which is why she usually tries not to drink when she’s down, it makes it too easy to spiral. Wren handles stress the best she can, but she internalizes that too. Anything negative has a chance of coming out in the form of wrath, so she can be a bit...yeah.

☄️ Does your OC struggle with their emotions and trauma? Do they find it easier to open up to strangers or those close to them if at all? Do they tend to hide their pain from everyone?

Wren struggles hard. Like, she has a harder time coming to terms or understanding the why behind everything, and has a constant struggle with her desire to change what happened that her emotions and traumas don’t fully get resolved. She’s so desperate to be free of it, but there are times where she’s holding her own self prisoner for it due to guilt and heartbreak. She will never open up to strangers, she doesn’t trust people easily, you have to have earned your way close to her before she’s confiding in you. She hides her pain (or tries to) from everyone, including herself. You have to actively pursue Wren and be supportive consistently for that to spill from her mouth.  

📘 Write a sad journal entry, an unsent letter or short sad drabble. + bonus, give a theme!

A piece from Wren’s journal while going through therapy:

"I wish...it starts off normal, and it’s inconceivably misleading, but it draws me in anyway. Then...then its sneaking up on me, so before I know it, I’m in the deep-end, drowning in something dark and sticky, feeling as if it will become my second skin and suffocate me in the process. That’s when I start to hyperventilate, desperate and clawing to find the surface, but I can’t. I start crying, my chest constricting in panic. I turn...I turn and I see an open door, the inside is even blacker than what’s around me and I slowly start getting pulled back into it...and he just watches--laughing and taunting. I cry more, because there’s nothing else to do. Until the hand...it grabs me and yanks me back...I wake up then, screaming and panicking before the door slams shut. I take a shower once I wake up, because I can feel the hand, I feel the darkness on my skin. I don’t sleep most nights. Not anymore.”

🔹 Does your OC have any scars? What are the stories behind them? Do they have any mental scars? Talk about the effects of their trauma in general on their day to day life.

*Nervous Laughter* Scars....alright...so, Wren growing up would often resort to self-harm to cope, unfortunately. She avoided her wrists and opted for her inner thighs, aiming to hide the marks better. Once hitting college, she moved on from it, until the car accident. She started again once she spiraled, even using it a bit as she stopped drinking. It didn’t happen too often, just in major low points. She dropped it completely after she started going to therapy, learning to try and find healthier coping mechanisms. Wren’s traumas come out daily in the form of her having to be in control of herself and situation at all time. She’s the one driving, she makes her own choices, she sits on the outside in booths at diners and whatnot, having the option to leave when she wants. Wren hates feeling trapped and is super claustrophobic because her dad would lock her in the basement or her room for hours at a time. She buys a Jeep so she has the option to remove the top and the doors, everything in on her terms. You don’t touch her unless she wants you to, you don’t come visit her space unless she wants you to. Things like that. 

[rosettahart]

Glass-says: Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Ao3 link

Summary: Patton tries to convince Virgil to become friends with Logan. He has no ulterior motives whatsoever...

Warnings: None that I could find.

Chapter 3

Virgil finished adding the requests onto the cue and slid his headphones down to his neck with a huff, closing the laptop in front of him. He checked the time on his phone. 10:44a.m. He had a few more minutes before Math started, but he wasn’t sure if he was going or not. He checked for any new messages, dejected when he noticed that Princey hadn’t responded to his texts. Maybe he should go to Math. It would at least keep him busy until lunch.

Virgil got up to stretch. He couldn’t hear anything so he assumed that Patton had left him to his work to go do something else. The quiet was calming. Virgil took a deep breath, enjoying the peace.

“Virgil, you have to become friends with the new kid!” Patton squealed, making Virgil jump and clutch at his jacket in panic.

If Virgil became friends with Logan, then Patton wouldn’t have to worry about him not having any living friends. Logan would also have a new friend, and as an added bonus, Patton could get to know the beautiful teen better.

“Give a guy some warning before you barge in yelling! Do you want me to curl up into a panicked ball on the floor!?” Virgil lectured Patton, removing his glasses from his bag just so he could glare at the ghost.

“Sorry, Kiddo. I’ll be more scare-ful next time.” Patton grinned, elbowing his friend.

Virgil grimaced.

“Were you meaning the same dude we almost ran over? The one I knocked to the floor in the hallway not even two hours ago?” Virgil asked, a skeptical look on his face.

“Yes, him!”

“Yeah… I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Any sane person would avoid someone who’s seemingly out to get them.”

“But you’re not out to get them. Both times were accidental. He’d understand-”

“Let me cut you off there, Patton-” Virgil raised a hand, preparing to explain himself.

“Virgil, you need to stop coming to these conclusions.” Patton took hold of Virgil’s hand, looking into his frustrated blue eyes.

“But I can’t help it. I-”

“Just give him a chance. I think the two of you could become really good friends. All you have to do is introduce yourself and apologize on my behalf… Since I can’t really do that myself.” Patton chuckled lightly, lowering his gaze.

Virgil let out a sigh. Patton was clearly still feeling guilty for that morning and the only way he was going to get over it was if Virgil gave the friend thing a shot. He rolled his eyes. Wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Before he could give it another thought (and probably back out), he let the word slip. “Fine.”

Patton immediately tackled his Kiddo into a hug, squeeing in excitement.

“You’re gonna love him, Virgil! He’s smart and cute and perfect and amazing, and-” Patton ranted, his eyes practically sparkling.

“You already have a crush on him.”

“This time is different, Virge, I can feel it. It's a new kind of crush. He's just so…dreamy.” Patton gushed.

“You've literally had a crush on at least three percent of the students and you've only been here for a little over three months, Pat. Also we just met Logan this morning! How is this time different?”

“This feeling is just… well, it's just not the same. I don't know how to explain it.”

The bell rang, pulling Virgil's attention from the pining ghost. He collected his backpack from the ground and shook his head at Patton jokingly before packing away the glasses.

“Bell, I guess we should head to class.” Patton laughed, pulling Virgil's arm into his own, smiling to himself.

Virgil faked a groan at the spirit, giving in to the smile that crept up on his face. He exited the technical booth and theatre and out into the library. It was a huge open space with plenty of places to study in comfort and books for days. Virgil could see students running to the change rooms below, beyond the huge glass wall overlooking the gym to his left. He continued on to the hallway, the Math classroom door now straight ahead. Students were filing in one after another.

Virgil anxiously reached for his hood with his free hand, but it was intercepted, Patton gently pushing it back down. He felt his friend’s head lean against his shoulder  comfortingly. Patton lead him into the room. The teacher wasn't there yet, so his classmates weren't all settled in their desks. Virgil felt Patton practically bursting with excitement for some unknown reason and was suddenly dragged to the back of the class.

There, sitting in the back row, was Logan Steele. He was going over some of the questions in his Math textbook. Virgil realized this all too late as Patton stopped them to the right next to the boy’s desk. He was ready to turn around and make a run for it, when Logan gazed up at him. There was no avoiding this kid. It was like fate was trying to make the two friends already. Fate, or maybe just Patton. Virgil felt a little push from behind to get the two closer.

Logan stood up from his seat and extended his hand out to Virgil after fixing his glasses. Patton squeezed his pal’s arm. He was a ball of energy, practically bouncing up and down. Virgil swallowed, unable to bring his own hand up so Patton moved from his left arm to his right. He brought the hand up, putting it in Logan’s.

“Go on, Kiddo. Just say hi.” Patton encouraged, letting go of his friends arm so he could watch the two and provide support.

“Hi…” Virgil managed to get out, shyly peeking up into Logan’s eyes from behind the safety of his black bangs.

“Greetings. I’ve been meaning to offer my apologies regarding the events that occurred earlier this day. But was unable to, as you ran off before I had gotten the chance.”

Wait… why would Logan feel the need to apologize for nearly being run over? He had been standing on the sidewalk! Virgil took his hand back, trying to understand.

“You want to tell me you’re sorry?”

“Yes, I believe that is what I just explained.” Logan confirmed.

Mr. Wilkes finally entered the classroom, everyone taking their seats. Logan reluctantly took his, slightly upset that he had been interrupted, but quickly reminding himself that he could continue after class and that he should focus on the lesson. Virgil sat in the desk to the right of Logan’s and swiftly removed his textbook, notebook and pencil from his bag.

It was difficult for Virgil to pay attention to what his teacher was explaining on the whiteboard. He kept glancing over at Logan, hoping it would help him figure out the strange teenager. When the bell finally rang, it had felt like he had been in there for ages.

Virgil packed up his things and then turned to Logan before he could lose his courage that he had been building up all of class.

“Why do you feel the need to apologize to me? I almost ran you over! I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness, not you!” Virgil pointed out, the words spilling from his mouth at lightning speed.

“While you did almost drive over me, you also sped off after I said something that obviously upset you, and for that I am sorry.” Logan responded patiently, closing his bag and resting the strap over his shoulder. “Shall we continue this conversation over lunch? Or is our business settled?”

Virgil stared at Logan in surprise for a second before following him out of the classroom and over to the stairs. He could hear Patton joyfully hopping down each step, close behind.

“Ask him to join us!” Patton pressed Virgil, nudging him.

“Well… I mean if you want to you can join u- me. Only if you want… I eat up in the technical booth, it’s much quieter in there compared to the cafeteria.” Virgil offered, shyly.

“That will be adequate.” Logan stopped at his locker to put away some of his things before retrieving his lunch. He grabbed his Social Studies and Language Arts textbooks and followed Virgil as he awkwardly lead Logan over to his locker, pulling out his lunch and trading out his own textbooks.

They took a shortcut through the theatre and into the booth that overlooked all the seats and the stage through a one way mirror. The stage was decorated with props and painted scenery in preparation for the production they were putting on next week.

Logan and Virgil situated themselves on the bean bag chairs in the back corner of the room, Logan uncomfortably attempting to find a good professional way to sit in the thing, while Patton giggled uncontrollably as he gave up and opened his lunchbox. Virgil hid a smirk behind his hand as he pulled out his own lunch.

“Virgil, may I inquire as to why you were wearing glasses earlier? From my observations you have no need for them.” Logan queried.

Virgil swallowed a bite of his chicken wrap whole, sweating.

“Um… They're non prescription glasses?” Virgil lied. He couldn't exactly tell Logan about Patton.

“May I see them?” Logan questioned, unconvinced. Why would Virgil wear non prescription glasses to school only to cast them aside at the first sign of another person? The only reason for the non prescription glasses would be for style, would they not? They had to provide some purpose.

“What do we do!?” Patton squeaked, clutching onto Virgil's arm. He was not ready to meet Logan yet. He needed at least another day to fawn over him unnoticed.

“You can't!” Virgil blurted out, but quickly backed up the statement as he noticed Logan's furrowed brows. “I left them in the car.”

Logan pushed up his glasses, sneaking a glimpse at Virgil's left sleeve that had bunched up a few seconds ago but was now smoothing itself out. This wasn't the only thing Logan had noticed. The way Virgil had tripped over thin air, the way his jacket had been pushed against his back as he fell into that other student, the way he was seemingly dragged by something over to his desk to meet him and the way he unnaturally raised his arm to shake his own. Logan was only just beginning his investigation into the mystery of what Virgil was hiding, and the outburst had only proven his suspicions that it was tied to the glasses somehow. There had to be a logical explanation for all the strange anomalies that followed the boy, and Logan would find it and the sooner the better.

Chapter 4

Taglist:

@kittiebrick @absolutesandersidestrash

[crispyimagines17]

“Musas: Becoming one of them” (Chapter 1) -  [A Bill Skarsgård and Alexander Skarsgård story].

Summary: Bill moves out with his brother and future sister in law while he looks for a place to live in; without being aware that his remain could trigger a catastrophe between Alexander and him.

Warnings: Strong language.

A/N: An apology because it’s too short. We hurried to post this chapter because we wanted you to have a taste of this project. Enjoy!

Muse (Verb) /mju:z/

In mythology, the Muses were nine goddesses who symbolized the arts and sciences; walking throughout the centuries, the name was destroyed into hundreds of meanings. But settle one universal for all beings, a muse is the source of an artist’s inspiration.

But she keeps denied in it.

Neither she could answer why most of the sheets were all about his features. Maybe two hypotheses crossed her mind, but none of them satisfice her brain; One of them was because his characteristics were so simple, they made him look just as a masterpiece: soft cheeks that combine his milky skin; big green eyes, always watching impassive and emotionless; golden strands of hair falling throughout his forehead. Oh yes, for an artist this was a “take your breath away”.

She was tracing skillfully with pencils the curve of his lips, these ones had a beautiful shape; lower lip was thin, the other not, showing a perfect structure and symmetry.

“Shit”, she whispered slowly, gliding her fingertip to the sheet to acquire more shades.

Bill heard her voice, but didn’t take interest in asking. There was no friendship between them, just familiar faces when the holidays or birthdays arrived. He considered a lot of projects to match, since she will become part of the Skarsgards in the future. But for the moment, there was no idea that captured him.

“Going for some juice, want anything?”

“No, thank you.” She stopped paying attention to her task, to give him a warm smile.

Bill’s stomach clenched at her words, wonder how lucky his brother got a girl of that league; the little he had heard, he pictured her just the way his parents wanted his partner. And he felt a little bit of jealous for Alexander.

The dinning room was quiet, more than usual. Everybody was in their own thoughts and eating was just a bonus. Bill’s eyes were focused in the pinkish tomato soup, picking it up with the spoon and letting it fall.

“How was your day, kid?” Alexander speaks, making Bill lift his eyes to his brother.

“Usual. I can’t find a good place.” He shrugged his shoulders. “This is not like home, Alex. I don’t know how do you manage living in ‘Phonywood’.”

“But if we stayed in home, we’d have never gone beyond. It’s a huge sacrifice, kiddo. But at the end, the rewards are worth it. Promise. Who knows, you could find a girl who fits your puzzle pieces together.”

“Sounds so fuckin’ cliché.” Both brothers released out a chuckle.

Alexander peeped at his lover sweetly and slipped his hand with hers, unleashing again the envy of Bill.

“Perhaps Alex, I could find someone like Elizabeth.” Her eyes filled with curiosity.

“Who is Elizabeth?”

Alexander watched his brother furiously, not even the high levels of alcohol in his bloodstream could keep him calm of what Bill just said.

“Alex didn’t tell you about her?”

“Enough, Bill.” Alexander warned him.

“Why? She has the right to know.”

“But it’s none of your business!”

“If it’s something personal you don’t want to share, for me it’s fine.”

“Alex, isn’t the time to say something to your lover?”

Full of annoyance, Bill’s brother looked at him with eyes burning inside. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Bill?”

“Fuckin’ chill, Alex. It was just a funny comment to light the atmosphere.”

“Not so funny to me.”

“Fine, I apologize. Never going to happen again.”

“Alexander, don’t be too harsh on him. He’s just trying to swing the mood.”

“Someone fuckin’ understands.” Bill point his finger on her. “Jesus.”

“Can you leave? I will talk to you later.”

She knew that Alexander was pushed to his limits, and hope that his brother won’t screw with his mouth, and for brief moments she spotted that Bill’s eyes change, more soft and worried.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Alexander.”

“Just leave, Bill.” He nodded, getting up from his seat leaving the couple alone.

“Are you okay?”, she asked gently placing her hand in Alexander’s shoulder.

“Of course not, that stupid kid… he shouldn’t mention that.”

“He apologizes, I saw that he was truly sorry.”

“He can’t keep his damn mouth shut.”

“Alex!”

He realizes that she was talking and stopped his actions, still spilling ager between his eyes.

“We should go to the bedroom and talk about it, this is not the place and time.”

“I think you’re right. Come on.”

The only sound provided by the house in that moment was a blast of the door supply by the couple’s room. Alexander set a foot in it and the quiet atmosphere among with the whiteness relaxed him, removing slowly his suit and deposit in the couch. He brought his fingertips to both of his temples, squishing flimsy and producing a brief relief.

“Fuck, I need your touch.” He whispers to her, crawling his eyes and extend his arms. But she never came, leaving a burst of cold air hit him in the chest.

When he reopened his eyes, she was sitting in the corner of the bed, glancing to him for an answer. But what could he said, the topic may bring misfortunes for  both and this man is not ready to let her walk away.

“I didn’t understand your attitude towards, Bill. It was obvious that he touch a frail string.”

“With who the fuck was Elizabeth.” He could still taste the bittersweet by pronouncing her name.

“Yes, and I will understand if you don’t want to talk about her.”

He left her words die for a couple of seconds until he mentally prepared himself for the news.

“Elizabeth was my ex fiancé. In those years I was crazy about her, wanted a family by her side. She was my only friend when I came here, and she left me for someone else, just before days of our wedding.  Sorry for not bringing that subject.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Alexander.”

Her feelings for him they seemed to grow by seen it in all the stages. And to carry on for that disappointment, her heart began to clutch.

“My little ball of sunshine, my muse, precious, beautiful.” She launches towards him and began to stroke his hair, continued murmur sweet little nothings in his ear.

“You are flattering me, stop.” A chuckle escapes from his mouth.

“I hope that with my kisses and love you could find your healing from all those rough relationships.”

“I will, if you stay. Giving the next step together.”

“But…”, her voice was interrupted by Alexander’s index finger.

“Let me show how much I want this.”

With Edith Piaf singing at the background; the love started to consume.

Hands slipping throughout her hair to deeper the kisses; noses touching, smelling their essence, breaths mixing, eyes closed, sense his hands rubbing ever scar of hers, lips brushing.

She cupped his face with her hands treasuring the nibble on the chin, looking at those fierce blue eyes.

Maybe this was the proof she needed to spend the rest of her mortal life with him. A situation which he displays his past, and that kind of pain connect more.

“Yes…” , she murmurs, provoking Alexander to smile in the kiss.

A loud bang could be heard echoing throughout the house. Bill closed the door heavily and fell round on his bed. He needed to get the hell out that place.

Living there was like breathing the suffocating perfection of his brother and his darling, all day long. Quite unbearable.

He needed fresh air, outside from their aura.

Alexander’s brother opened the window of his bedroom that took to the street. A good jump and he’d be free.

He looked back in the room to take his black jacket, when noticed it wasn’t where he believed: at the foot of the bed. Bill looked around every corner of the room with no trace of his jacket; he checked in the closet, and nothing; maybe it’d be under the bed, but only found an ashtray, socks and garbage.

As he kept wondering where else does the jacket could be, the picture of it left in the sofa at the living room went to his mind.

“Fuck”, the boy murmured, closing his eyes for being so stupid and taking a deep breath, maybe to catch enough strength to walk back there. Another deep breath was necessary until Bill rolled his eyes and opened the door.

Contrary to what he expected, the house was relatively quiet. The sun was about to set and the light of the happy couple’s room was on. However, even if they were in the room doing God knows what, Bill couldn’t risk being heard out. Carefully, he took the knob on his door and turned it to close it. Then went downstairs, taking care that each foot stepped on the right place without making any noise. Following the same process as he did upstairs, Bill glanced around the living room, but strangely didn’t see his jacket. He looked over each chair and sofas, when, at last, found it fallen at the floor by the side of a little table and the soft brown sofa in the corner of the room on which a lamp lay decorated by his brother’s wife. Surely Bill himself had let his jacket fall when got up from there.

Disposed to raise it, the youngest brother grabbed his black jacket but an unexpected discover provoked a soft change in his lips’ corner, almost a smile: a secret drawer in the little table. With a slight pull, the mysterious drawer was opened, revealing a journal and several pencils for drawing of different types. It was nothing else but the very soul in paper of his sister-in-law.

“Which secrets does the perfect sister may hide?’”

Bill wondered, imagining a bunch of words written by hand revealing her deepest thoughts. But words were not found in its pages. Instead, the first page presented a full blank space and at the bottom her maiden name written delicately to pen. The next pages left him muted: Perfect traces of the moon, the sun, a street, small landscapes, profiles of people surely friends or family. Bill continued to leaf through the notebook, seeing each of the drawings so detailed, until he reached the section of his brother; just when he was getting tired to see so many strokes of Alexander poses, he found something that caught his attention completely: soft curved lips, wide eyes, and his own face. It was him, Bill, in different poses and accented in parts by his lips, his hair, his eyes.

Bill’s eyes were scanning every page and detail of the journal; his misbelief was disturbing his head into a point of no return. Does Alexander know about this? How could he handle this situation?

Alexander’s brother let a piece of breath escape him as he recharged his back on the brown sofa. He spent a few minutes observing the same pages of himself, over and over again, until the darkness forced him to turn on the light. Bill moved away the journal from his sight holding it on his lap; his eyes were blank, evidently lost himself for a few seconds in the shadows of the living room, and then, as if a strange force ran down his back, he returned to himself and closed the journal delicately. The youngest man tried to place it back to the drawer the same way he found it; Bill closed that secret hiding place and went to the fridge for a beer that took to his room where he spent the night deep in thought.

People say things get better in the morning, but the house remained strangely silent. Bill had just woken up, almost at noon after a restless night. Walking downstairs, he noticed that the dishes were still unwashed but had already been used, probably for breakfast. The boy wondered where could the only woman in home may be.

Meanwhile, his future sister-in-law was in her own oasis of relaxation: a room at the end of the first floor, where she had all her art pictures; 'that trash' as her father used to call all the art stuff. Today, her inspiration sourced from classic music: Chopin’s Spring Waltz as background and a coup of coffee with a taste of cinnamon as beverage. Wrapped in herself, she didn’t listen at all the slow steps of the other soul who lived under that roof. Her young brother-in-law remained standed, leaning against the door frame and observing curious the total abstraction of his sister-in-law in that painting on which she worked. They could’ve stayed there forever, but Bill doesn’t believe in what 'forever' means.

“Hey there.” He knocked the open door and entered the room.

“Hey.” She answered, distracted.

“Just wanted to apologize for what I said. I thought you knew about Eli…” , but he was interrupted by she, who silenced him abruptly.

“It’s okay, Bill. Don’t worry, alright?” , she glanced at him, serious but calmed.

“Guess Alex and you had a reconciliation. It should’ve been fun…” , Bill let out a laugh with a spice of sarcasm on it.

“Okay. What’s your point?” , her eyes that used to be sweet were now iced.

“Nothing. I’m just saying…” , Bill kept his sarcastic mode on to see her reaction.

“Well if you are just saying, maybe you can keep doing that in other place of the house.” She stood up to face him.

“Hey, didn’t your mom told you it’s impolite to interrupt people?” 

“And didn’t your mom told you you should go and take care of your own business?”

“Alright, Miss. You’re good playing this game, but what about the other you play yourself?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking, my dear, about your secret journal.” As a man who knows his fortune, Bill started to use the only power he could use against her: knowledge.

“I don’t know what do you mean with secret journal.”

“Oh, of course you know what I mean. I found your little drawer and it had a journal hidden in it.”

“You’re drun…”

“No, I’m not and I’ll show you.” Bill took out from his pocket the same journal she carefully hid. But maybe not enough for him not to find it.

“Now you can’t deny what I saw. I understand why you draw my brother a lot, he’s your lover, but me?” , he leafed through the journal as he spoke, pausing in the pages his drawings were.

“It’s not what you think…” 

“Yeah, I know it’s not what I think. Alex and you are just the perfect couple, who could ever be tired of it. The thing is, I liked it.” 

“You did?” 

“Listen, I don’t really have anything to do this days nor you. Also, guess I inspire you.” She remained silent but expectant, trying to deduct his next words “I want to see your real skills and not only sketches.”

“So?” 

“I’ll be your muse. Paint me.”

The entire building was wrapped in a brief silence, which adorned the feelings of surprise that surfaced from Alexander’s wife. Until it was broken by her.

[dipulb3]

2021 Audi E-Tron Sportback first drive: Slipstream SUV serenity

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-audi-e-tron-sportback-first-drive-slipstream-suv-serenity-3/

2021 Audi E-Tron Sportback first drive: Slipstream SUV serenity

Make no bones about it: Audi’s all-electric E-Tron SUV may have received high marks from professional auto reviewers and new owners alike, but it hasn’t moved the automaker’s sales needle in the US. In all of pre-pandemic 2019, the Audi sold fewer than 5,400 E-Trons here — less than an average month of Q5 sales. It’s amidst this frustrating backdrop that the 2021 Audi E-Tron Sportback model whirs into dealers, its racier slope-back roofline hoping to catch both eyes and sales.

Based on visuals alone, the E-Tron Sportback has undergone the now industry-standard four-door-coupification process more successfully than most luxury crossover SUVs — EV or not. From the windshield header forward, the Sportback looks the same as its more traditional two-box sibling and indeed, it has nearly the same height. However, owing to its dramatically plunging rearward greenhouse and frameless windows that clean up its roofline, the Sportback looks simultaneously lower and arguably more stylish, adding in a dash of athleticism. The Sportback isn’t just slipperier to the eye, it enjoys a 0.28 coefficient of drag, 0.02 better than its boxier relation.

Audi E-Tron Sportback First Edition is one slick electric SUV

See all photos

Range and charging specs are only part of the story

On the performance front, the Sportback is all but identical to the standard E-Tron, but a number of incremental improvements across both body styles increase appeal. Among the changes, Audi upped the available battery capacity slightly, increasing the customer-accessible portion of this 95.3-kilowatt-hour pack to 86.5 kWh — nearly 3 more than first-year E-Tron models. This translates to 218 miles of range and EPA estimates of 76 MPGe city, 78 highway and 77 combined. (The rest of the pack is held in reserve to preserve longevity.)

When it comes time to juice up, the Sportback supports Level 3 150-kW quick charging, which can jolt the battery from 0% to 80% in around 30 minutes. More common Level 2 chargers (like those most EV owners install) can replenish an entire pack in around 10.5 hours. Each E-Tron also comes with 1,000 kWh of complimentary charging through the Electrify America network.

Speaking of filling up, the Sportback is available with dual charge ports, one on each front fender. Especially for city dwellers who live in condos or apartments with tight access to charge points, this unusual bonus feature could be a major quality-of-life enhancer.

This Plasma Blue E-Tron Sportback First Edition is one of 200 coming to our shores.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

To be clear, the Sportback’s aforementioned range figures are unremarkable — a base, Tesla Model X Long Range Plus has a 351-mile claimed range, but starting at around $80,000, it’s nearly $10,000 pricier than a 2021 E-Tron Sportback (more on pricing in a minute). Of course, while smaller than the Audi, the Model Y Performance comes in at 291 miles for far less money (around $60K) and there’s a slower, less-expensive Long Range spec with 316.

In my experience, however, with both this Sportback and with previous E-Tron testers, Audi EVs achieve their range estimates with relative ease, almost regardless of driving behavior or ambient conditions. Conversely, Tesla’s stated ranges usually feel like best-case scenarios. As with all things, your mileage may vary, but the real-world range gulf between these rivals is likely far smaller for most drivers than these vehicles’ window stickers would suggest.

Performance beyond the numbers

I start with these performance comparisons if only to get them out of the way. For better or worse, it seems impossible to review a new premium EV of any stripe without acknowledging how they numerically stack up to offerings from Elon and Friends. That said, I’m likewise here to propose an alternate view, which I think delivers a fuller picture of luxury electric life in general, and this E-Tron Sportback specifically.

You’ve likely found that all EV reviews from the humble Nissan Leaf to the Porsche Taycan wax rhapsodic about the instant torque and silent running inherent in battery-powered vehicles. Especially for those coming out of a convention internal-combustion-engined (ICE) model, that’s certainly a valid first impression and it’s absolutely the case with this E-Tron Sportback. And while that notion speaks to the innate serenity of electric power, this Audi takes that sense of wellbeing to a higher level, both in the way this SUV goes down the road and the way its cabin and tech make you feel.

As is typical for EVs, there’s not much to look at under the hood. Lift that plastic lid and you’ll find the charge cord.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

The Sportback’s two-motor powertrain routes 355 horsepower and 414 pound-feet of torque to all four wheels by default, rising to a temporary 402 hp and 490 lb-ft in Boost Mode. The latter setting is enough to whoosh this 5,750-pound softroader to 60 mph in a drama-free 5.5 seconds. That’s reasonably quick, but again, not headline- or Instagram-worthy stuff by today’s EV standards. What makes the Sportback impressive is the utterly placid manner in which this performance is conjured. Yes, it’s quiet. Yes, it’s linear. And yes, it feels endlessly repeatable without apparent degradation in performance during hard driving.

While it feels uncharacteristically new-age-ish (and somewhat nebulous) of me to say, the tactile quality of the E-Tron’s cabin materials and the precision of their assembly contributes to that aura of slipstream serenity. There’s no doubt about it, the fit and finish of the E-Tron Sportback’s interior is worlds more luxurious and of noticeably higher quality than something like the Jaguar I-Pace, let alone anything Tesla has ever made. The last new Tesla Models X and Y that I drove dazzled with their accelerative urgency, but their high-performance spells were momentary broken by surprising amounts of wind noise and the occasional mysterious creak or graunch from beyond the firewall and rear hatch area. By comparison, even with frameless windows, the Sportback is one of the quietest vehicles I have ever driven.

The E-Tron’s other performance attributes are tuned harmoniously, too. The standard adaptive air suspension is remarkably compliant over greater Detroit’s indifferently maintained roads, even riding atop this example’s upsized 21-inch tires. With the Drive Select controller set to its firmest detent, the E-Tron’s ride is more than livable and cornering attitude is flat, doubtlessly aided by the weighty battery pack slung low in the chassis. I prefer keeping the steering set to Sport for a heftier feel when charging down a winding road, but no matter the setting, the steering is precise but numb.

Like other modern Audi models, the E-Tron Sportback feels tech rich and very well assembled.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

A word on omissions and creeps

A note about the braking: Audi worked particularly diligently to blend the EV powertrain’s regenerative braking with traditional friction binders and the results do nothing to erode the Sportback’s air of overall effortlessness. Unlike some EVs, they’re easy to modulate thanks to consistent feel.

However, there’s one key thing the brakes don’t do nearly as well as many other EVs: one-pedal driving. While Audi worked in a user-selectable setting with stronger regenerative braking than early E-Trons, it’s not close to being enough to enable one-pedal driving. According to company officials, Audi engineers deliberately chose to limit lift-off regen in the name of maximum efficiency. Admirable as that may be, lots of EV drivers tell Roadshow they quickly fall in love with single-pedal driving and not offering a driver-selectable setting to accommodate this popular customer preference feels like more than a minor exclusion — it feels both shortsighted and needlessly overbearing.

Similarly, it’s also odd that Audi’s coders haven’t made a forward-creep setting available. Manual-transmission cars aside, nearly every modern vehicle rolls forward slowly from a stop when the brake pedal is released, as when pulling away from a stop sign or inching forward in a left-hand turn lane. Not the E-Tron. You have to nudge the accelerator. You get used to this, of course, but if the goal is to make transitioning from a traditional ICE model as easy as possible, this is an omission.

The E-Tron comes with standard 360-degree, top-down camera coverage for easy parking.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

Interior and infotainment tech

The cabin certainly feels a bit more intimate and racier, but that’s mostly when looking in the rearview mirror or if you’re seated in the second row. TL;DR: Plenty of leg, knee and toe room, but headroom is a bit tight for those over 5 feet, 9 inches and the windows don’t roll down very far.

As far as cargo volume goes, it’s largely unaffected by the coupification process. The Sportback offers 27.2 cubic feet of space behind the rear seats, or 54.5 with them folded (decreases of 1.3 and 2.0 versus the standard E-Tron, respectively).

Beyond that, the Sportback’s insides are pure modern Audi, which is to say impeccably assembled, tastefully decorated and rocking an impressive tech hand. Thanks to a trio of large displays, one for the Virtual Cockpit gauge cluster and two for the touchscreen MMI infotainment system, when the power is off, the E-Tron Sportback’s cabin look is almost eerily minimalist, particularly when rendered in darker colors like this one. That doesn’t mean it’s boring inside, though. By comparison, the Model Y’s pared-back dashboard and single display may nail the minimalist yoga-studio-on-wheels aesthetic, but thanks to its significantly cheaper materials and occasionally frustrating controls, Fremont’s finest doesn’t deliver the same sense of serenity and solidity as the Sportback. 

You take the Tesla. Namaste in this Audi, friend.

Second-row space is quite good, though those taller than 5 feet, 9 inches may want to slouch a little.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

E-Tron Sportback model years and pricing

Earlier, I mentioned that the E-Tron Sportback sits between the Tesla Model Y and X in price and indeed, it does. That said, further explanation is necessary. Due to COVID-19-related production and shipping hiccups, both 2020 and 2021 model-year Sportbacks are trickling into dealers more or less simultaneously and unlike Team Elon, all E-Trons remain eligible for the full $7,500 federal tax credit.

A very short 2020 model-year run consists of two models: A midrange Premium Plus spec that include features like adaptive cruise control, 360-degree camera suite and 16-speaker Bang and Olufsen 3D audio for $78,445 (including $1,045 for delivery). The other choice is an all-boxes-checked 2020 Edition One like the example seen in these images. It adds the Prestige Package, which includes features like the aforementioned twin charge ports, head-up display, massaging contour front seats, full leather (including dash, armrests and center console) and even an air ionizer/fragrance dispenser. Just 200 Edition One models will be sold in the US and you’ll be able to spot them on the street by their special Plasma Blue metallic paint and the 21-inch bi-color wheels shrouding orange brake calipers. Price? A heady $89,540 with destination.

Interestingly, for the 2021 model year, Audi significantly retooled the E-Tron Sportback’s model line, enabling a much lower starting price. A new entry-level Premium trim starts at $70,145 delivered and it’s rather well equipped, including standard features like four-zone climate control and 20-inch alloys. Mid-trim Premium Plus models add ventilated 12-way power seats, matrix LED headlamps, B&O audio, wireless charging and a driver-assistance package, among other features for $79,045 delivered. Go whole hog on a Prestige to net nearly all of the features from the Edition One and you’re looking at $83,345 in your driveway before any federal, state and local tax incentives.

Modestly slicker than its more upright E-Tron sibling, Audi is hoping this Sportback can jumpstart their EV sales.

Chris Paukert/Roadshow

It’s worth noting that a base Sportback is $3,700 more expensive than a regular E-Tron, a strategy that’s in-line with the industry’s “four-door coupe” SUV pricing trend: Same vehicle + different style – usable space = more money. While this value calculus perplexes your author, consumers have been supporting this type of math since the 2008 BMW X6, so more power — and profits — to ’em.

Overall, the new E-Tron Sportback combines impressive luxury with a fluid, unflappable feel. What this SUV doesn’t really muster, however, is an experience that’s materially much different than the standard E-Tron. The idea that the Sportback is sportier is largely an illusion and it would’ve been interesting to see what might’ve resulted had Audi elected to give this model its own driving character. Regardless, if you’re looking for luxury, quality and serenity now, the E-Tron Sportback delivers like few vehicles — electric or otherwise. 

[pywriting]

Tide of Fate IX

The evening was thick with warning, and it was no more apparent than in the corner of the wood where the Hawk held court. The wagons were arrayed between the trees in manner most strange, a small village of wood and dyed cloth. In the heart of the space, was the trio of wagons of the Lady of the Hawk; they were more resplendent, more intense, and more grand than any other. A great bonfire roared there, unattended. Eerily so. There was a notable lack of people in the carts; in fact, it was silent, save a discordant humming that turned sweet by turns.

Nesrin Thori’thal was slow walking through these foreign woods, never once betraying his discomfort to the surrounding emptiness. The eerie feeling was thick to him, causing him to feel more as if he were wading through a deep pond than anything. The sweet song was only adding to this rather discomforting scene he'd found himself in. Yet where else had he to go? There was no solution for the trouble he faced, and so he would turn to these skeptical, alternative moves. Witchcraft of more shady business... Someone who could produce the results that he wanted... that he needed.

He stopped as he came to this central place. Looking over the great bonfire, it reflected off the fine gold hues that he'd traveled in. His stature was thin, yet intimidating, those intense eyes peeking over a cloth that held the bottom half of his face more a mystery.

He waited... he did not call, for that is what the man who directed him here said to do. Whomever this woman was that could work miracles, he was certain she would be arriving soon enough... Just given the time.... Time that he could wait still.

Abruptly, a figure came forth through the bright hues of the bonfire, as if it spit her out before him itself, the flames licking at her heels. The sweet song seemed to die away and quiet in anticipation for the honeyed voice that would soon follow her appearance.

“Welcome, traveller.” The soothing tones lilted on, “Do you come for a meal and rest from your vigors?”

Nesrin had no time for this play, cutting straight to the point with an even tone that set forth his business clearly, “You are the woman by the name of Dasia, are you not?”

There was a cant to the woman’s head, a slight tinkle of jewels knocking against others as she moved to emphasize the movement itself before she asked, “I am the woman you seek, if you seek…help.” She stepped forward, her form fully coming to focus.

She was a beautiful woman of a full figure, soft as a mother, yet her hips swayed like a maiden in her first bloom. The man, though, was not distracted as she continued on, “And what can I assist you with…my Lord?”

He adjusted his stance, facing her completely to let his attention set only on the woman now before him. He studied her, like a specimen in glass, judging and measuring to set forth any signs to what her game truly was, to discern any more knowledge before he fell too deep into a belief of a fraud.

“I hear you are a woman that can get me the results I need. A woman that can craft some change that will get me to my desired ends.” He spoke in a cool, even tone.

Quick as ever, she replied, “Anything can happen, if you know the ways and have the means. What do you want, My Lord? Tell me your heart’s desire.”

“My wife-to-be has a knack for disappearing, of losing focus on what matters the most. For such, I want to not only find her, but be assured that I will not lose her once again.” He stated, “To anyone.”

The words were hiding the venom in his veins, the frustration of a prize that kept slipping away that lead him to such extremes as to believe in some woman in the woods to give him what he wanted.

Dasia’s smile held the promises that he had known to expect. “Oh, a matter of the heart-- I do so love those.” Her eyes, a deep amethyst, seemed to glint like metal as she matched his harsh stare for one of her own.

“A binding, a finding…easy, easy, but harder to make her want it. Does she love but wander far, or should I find means to make her see only you?” The woman swayed herself forward, like the rock of sea waves coming around rocky shores, her hands opened and welcoming him to her ideas. The man did not move from his spot.

Nesrin found no need for lies, and he knew Taliorinth honestly. She did not love him…not completely. No matter what he would say or do, there was always a distance between them, where all he gave was complete devotion to her.

“Clarity…of who it is that is most devoted to her would be an added bonus,” he said simply.

“Delightful.” She laughed softly, a sweet sound that wrapped about the pair. “I can do this for you, easily. The heart is so easily won, and lost, and won forever. I will need a price fulfilled…but for a token of my kindness and a promise for better things to come, I can offer you something to prove my worth.”

Nesrin was a man of proof, of action. The offer was a pleasant idea, something to prove that this whispered lead would come to something worthwhile in the end. He asked, “And what is that?”

Dasia’s lashes lowered, and she spoke on. “A root for a rambling rose, but what else.” She hummed, “Rosehip root, soaked in moonlight, dried in autumn wind, sweetened with honey and liqueur…and sealed in a peach.”

Nesrin refrained from allowing himself a snort at her poetic words and how they matched to those sisters so sweetly. “So you can do research. You’ve eyes and ears. What is that to prove of your worth to me? That you know how to listen well?”

Dasia bowed her head demurely. “That I know what it is you want and can offer it.” From her skirts, she brought forth a peach, hard yet but on the cusp of ripeness.

The man focused on such, especially as it was tossed towards him with an easy throw.

She continued, “Give this to your girl, and find me again if you like what you see. You are a business man, my Lord, and I will not ask for payment, for what I cannot provide. I warn you though-- this peach may be used once, and upon the morning after you shall lose the taste of it-- and her the memory of the gift at all. You will see but a glimpse of what I can make for you with the right tools…and payment.”

Nesrin would hum, inspecting this mystical fruit he’d been given as an offering. “A single day of a gift. To prove your worth,” he summarized, looking back to the woman. “And how is it to work, then. Explain to me this gift. You say I may like what I see, but what is it that I shall expect in change?”

Dasia opened her hands. “A bite of a peach, and she will remember your smile when you look at her. A half-dozen, and she shall forget the smiles of others, for all will pale in comparison to the hue of your eyes. If she licks it down to that pebbled pit…” She licked her lips. “She will forget any name but yours, and crave for nothing more than the wholeness of your attentions.”

“This is but a night. I can offer more, and you shall see it. Do not attempt to tarry in her graces after dawn, however-- the spell is short. Purposefully, short.”

“Merely a taste, I understand such.” Nesrin let out a slow breath through his nose. “And must I be in her presence when this peach is first eaten? I fear questions may arise if I would simply offer such a thing to her in these current times.”

Dasia beamed. “Oh no, this was made without you, and only needs a hint of you to seal it’s magics.” She turned to face the fire then, tossing something into the flames. The flames roared, the hue of their fierceness changing to pink, like petals of a rose.

She continued on with her dramatics, speaking again, “Kiss but the skin of it, and it will be marked. And she will never know such love as she feels for you that night.”

Nesrin looked to the fruit once more. “And this will cost me nothing in return. This one gift.”

The woman lifted her hands to the flames. “Consider it a promise to be fulfilled-- one night is nothing, compared to a lifetime.”

“This is true.” He agreed, thinking of just the what-if’s of this small promise. All that it could potentially bring and the joy it would bring him.

“You will return when you see what I have to offer. After all, what good is a business woman, if she refuses to give a sample of her wares?” There was an almost teasing tone in her voice, one he’d think was more akin to that eldest rose than he’d like.

He looked back to Dasia, curling his fingers around the fruit protectively. “And if I do like what is offered, what is this price I may have to pay? Can you tell me that now?”

Dasia turned back to face him, all smiles. “I can. I shall need things to make the charm, and things to buy my skills. I need from you, a lump of gold, thick as your finger and half as long, rose quartz that has come from a thief's hands, three roses-- in red, and black, and white. I will need a thorn stabbed with her blood, and then left to sit in noontide for three days.”

She hummed again, going on, “In payment, I wish for a feather from a bird that has never touched the ground, silk spun by a holy woman, and--” She paused. “Well, the last of my requests will wait until you see the peach at work and return to me with a Deal. When you wish to see me, drop a coin marked with a drop of your blood into the loam and leaf litter; I will find you.”

Nesrin raised his brows as she spoke of her list of needs and her payments. He thought over it only for a moment, passing it over to memory soon after. He took in a breath, continuing on, “Then we shall see how things end and if I shall return. If what you say of this fruit is true, then you will surely see me soon again. If not…then I would not hold your breath for my arrival once more. No need to waste time for something unwanted, after all.”

He’d place the fruit to his pocket, assuring it would be safe before he stated, “There is nothing more you need from me, yes?”

“Not a thing. I do not give gifts idly, My Lord, but I think you will enjoy what you see.”

“We shall see.” He would not feed into the act of this too far, “With nothing more, I shall be on my way then. Ih ope for both of our sakes, that you will see me soon again.”

Dasia smiled, looking back to him from her fires, “I know I shall, Lord Thori’thal. May your rose bloom-- or not-- eternal, as you wish it.”

Nesrin’s eyes never left her, the words stabbing closer to the truth of matters unspoken and hidden then he would have liked. She was a woman who gathered her whispers well, it seemed, and he would make note of such to be wary in the future.

Without another word, he turned, leaving her presence at the same pace as he arrived, listening as that humming slowly started up again, the woman’s voice trailing him as he left.

Tide of Fate Story Index Here 

@stormandozone 

[kazibug]

September ArtSnacks Review

AAAA – UUUU – AAAA !!! BOXING THROUGH SEPTEMBER!!!

… Sorry

* Not pictured: the Mystery Flavor Dum-Dum that was basically eaten before the contents of the box were fully unwrapped

So there were some really fun goodies this month, including another colorful sticker to be added to my collection, waiting for the day when its delicate skin will be ripped apart, exposing its adhesive innards, doomed to live the rest of its existence plastered to whatever surface I see fit at the time.

… too much? Eh. Well. It’s a sticker. It doesn’t have feelings.

No. NO DON’T I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT

Ahem. Anyway. Our first tool this month is the Plumchester P4 Fineliner. This is an Artsnacks exclusive brand, so you aren’t going to find this at your local art store, or even on Amazon! (which is saying a lot these days) Like the name implies, it’s a .4 nib, which is a nice midpoint between fine and broad for lining.

The ink does feather a small bit, so the smoother and less tooth your paper has, the more success you’re going to have with this. The best quality I had with this was actually just on plain old 8.5x11 printer paper. It also stood up well to the ‘wet test’ – the paper actually started to warp before any ink bled. So yes, I’d go so far to say that this would pair well with your wet mediums!  

I actually think the coolest thing about this pen is the fun little ‘window’ that the cap has, which allows you to quickly glance at and recall how wide or fine .4 actually is. I know I can’t think of that size off of the top of my head at least.

Next is something to give one final taste of summer as temperatures are dropping into the lower 40’s F here. The Stabilo pointMax Pen Set comes with four awesomely vibrant colors to add a delicious splash of neon to your pieces. The tip is a durable nylon versus the felt that they look like they might be (though they are still labeled as ‘felt tip’) and apparently is specially designed to maintain a .8mm line width. You can also supposedly leave them uncapped for 24 hours and they’ll be just fine. Great for your local space cadet! … *looks at self in mirror*

What I find really cool about these is that the colors that come out are actually true to the pen bodies! And as it claims, the line width does stay extremely consistent. The ink is water based, so as you can see, it does not play well with the H2O

And next up we have the Mark Henry of writing utensils.

… You think I’m kidding.

THIS IS A PENCIL ON STEROIDS. It even comes with its own straight jacket so it doesn’t go into a Hulk-esque rage and destroy your city. The Alvin Draft-Matic Mechanical Pencil is the MAN’S PENCIL. With .9mm of pure testosterone, it will cause you to grow a full head of hair on your dominant hand while you bench press a car with your other. It weighs approximately 600 pounds and in order to refill the graphite you need to smash a beer can on your chest.

Seriously though, this guy is heavy. It’s definitely a high-quality pencil, and if you do a lot of traditional drafting or sketching, I’d highly recommend it, especially if you love thick bold lines. It has a grip built into the design, which for being steel, is actually quite comfortable. I enjoy being able to twist and turn and pull my pencil when I draw, so despite it working well, this is kind of a drawback for me.

There’s also a small rotating view to show which type of MANHOOD graphite you have inside of it. Very useful if you work with multiple mechanical pencils!

Now shave off your hands and clean up your mess with the MOO Professional Artist Eraser. It gets bonus points for being named a ‘Moo.’ As you might be able to tell, I sent it for a test run before I took its picture, so that’s my bad. It’s quite soft, but holds up to pretty vigorous rubbing. This eraser is interesting in that instead of leaving behind eraser ‘dust,’ the residue sticks to itself and bundles up into thick strands for easy cleanup

Like so! That’s all that was left behind after erasing those chunks

End Results:

I pieced together this fun neon/modern D.va for this month’s challenge, and while I confess I was hesitant to use such bold colors with limited blendability, I LOVE the end result of this, and it has inspired me to do more in similar themes.

This month’s box retail value basically broke even with the subscription price at a total of $24.69. These are all awesome supplies, especially with Inktober around the corner. So if you’re putting a list together of fun inks, definitely stick these on! You won’t regret it!

[dreamhimcloser]

MARK | M

Word count: 3,109. Summery: There was always something off about Joshua. You didn't know if it was the way he dressed, his gesture or the secrets hidden in his eyes, but something about him just made you… question him. Warnings: Sexual themes. It’s pretty much pwp with a little of both Ps. This picture just gave me a hard time.

There was always something off about Joshua. You didn't know if it was the way he dressed, his gesture or the secrets hidden in his eyes, but something about him just made you… question him.

Even when you got closer to him, you still questioned him. Your friendship wasn't false in no way and you really did enjoy spending time with him. You wondered if he noticed the way you watch him from the corner of your eye sometimes. Your friends started blowing it out of proportions when they did notice the looks you gave him, but interpreted it as affection of the non-friendly type.

You were a bit surprised to hear the rumor spread a little different then how your friends put it – soon the other students started whispering about the two of you watching each other when the other wasn't looking.

You knew your reason for the looks, and you were left with no clue as to why Joshua has been looking at you.

Maybe he did what the rumor said, you wondered when one study break Joshua offered to take you on a date, with his eyes down casted as if he was giving his full attention to the pages of his history book.

You agreed nonetheless. You knew you could date him without shielding yourself against his mystery, and maybe as his girlfriend he'll confine in you more.

He didn't.

You went through the first year of your relationship with ease and affection. Joshua told you he loved you on Valentine's Day, under a cloak of red hues and fairy lights. You believed him – his eyes hided many words but not the words of affection he felt towards you. You said it back, and you meant it just as much as he did.

Everything seemed normal, like your relationship is some fairy tale story you encounter in books or television shows. Your friends never failed to express their jealousy at the piece of paradise you found, and even Joshua's friends gushed about the differences you caused in him.

You started believing it might be normal, maybe whatever red lights flashing through his eyes when he lowers his walls around you didn't matter as much as you thought they did.

You moved into a cozy little apartment not very long after, just enough space for a bedroom, living room and a study room for Joshua. It wasn't too far from where your parents lived too, which was an obvious bonus. You got to wake up to the same area you considered your home since childhood, only with the addition of the man you loved.

The moment of discovery happened during your second week in your new home. You entered his office for something – you couldn't remember what the moment you stepped through the door. As you stood there and wondered what it was you needed from the one room you rarely ever entered, you noticed a box hidden away by the shadows the corner of his office casted. You've never seen that box before, not even in the move.

Since you covered all of the boxes that arrived, this one had to be newer.

You walked over, weighting in your mind what an invasion of privacy it'll be if you checked what's inside that box. A part of you was hoping for sex toys if you were honest – your sex with Joshua has always been pretty vanilla, and you got the feeling he was holding back for some reason. You tried encouraging him before, to take more action, try out things he liked, anything. Whatever crossed his mind; He smiled shyly and pecked your nose before going through the same vanilla routine again.

Maybe it'll invade his privacy, sure, but maybe it'll help you understand him better.

That excuse actually cleared your conscience enough to bend down and open the box.

Now, you couldn't quite say you were surprised by what you found there. You felt like it should have surprised you on some level, it's a shocking discovery. You thought back though, about Joshua's clothes, his slip of tongues and his general behavior towards other people. Sometimes he sounded like an old man trying to fit in with the kids. You found it charming most of the time, so you never really stopped to think about it too far.

You reached into the box and held one of the blood bags closer to your eyes. It was O positive, like your blood type.

You've heard about vampires before. You saw interviews with them, heard about researches and even watched a show about them cuddled against Joshua's side. They were feared at first, but then the government went on a wide information campaign to explain they no longer pose a danger to human kind. Labs across the globe has been working on some kind of synthetic blood for them to consume, and just when the product has been tested to be affective did they bring their kind forward to the public.

The vampires who craved the spotlight and never got it in their shadows were happy to show their face and help the campaign in their favor, for a few minutes of fame. Some even became "the face of vampires" to the public. Most still liked the darkness better, since prejudice is always going around, for all types of differences in people.

You guessed your boyfriend was one of them.

You flipped the bag to see the seal of the blood company, the one behind the show you saw with Joshua.

It might sound insane, but your first thought on the matter was a fleeting wonder about Joshua's age. You knew vampires' life span was much longer than humans', but you didn't know by how much.

It would explain Joshua's secretive eyes and everything odd about him.

You placed the bag back to its place, before closing the box and walking out of Joshua's office. You'll confront him on this soon, with gentleness and understanding and a sprinkle of anger for keeping this from you for the three years you've known each other, and the little over a year you spend as a couple.

But first, you needed to do some research yourself.

The very first topic you looked for was the sexual kind. You weren't very surprised to find that yes, a part of vampires' sexual acts require drinking from their partner – vampire or human. That's why Joshua's been holding back all of this time, everything sexual you've done lacked flavor for him without your blood on the tip of his tongue.

You never expected this discovery would make you this frustrated with him.

  You gave yourself a few days to come around and think clearly on the matter. Joshua noticed the change in your behavior the same day you discovered his secret, but he chose to give you looks and say nothing. He didn’t say anything when you gently rejected his attempts at having sex either.

You knew he didn’t think it’s your period since, well, he can probably smell the blood in the air when it does. It sure as hell explained why his showers took twice as long like he was the one with the period instead of you.

You watched him each day that passed, and knew deep in your heart that this man loves you. You also knew he must be fighting his secret as well, Joshua loved sharing his world with you and he must have been scared about this part. Fighting with him over not telling you something you’re logically supposed to be terrified about seemed unfair on every single scale – it made you happy that you waited to realize that instead of just bursting on him.

The best course of action you could think about was to let him know you found out and don’t care in the same breathe. You could always seduce him with your blood, maybe he’ll freak but if you’ll get him hot enough before he might not think with his head until he drank your blood and saw for him that everything was alright.

You waited until the weekend rolled around again, to give you time to have sex and a long conversation that has to follow. Joshua agreed without thinking too much when you asked him to just stay home this weekend without any plans at all. You cooked lunch, feeling Joshua’s eyes pointed at you the entire time. He must have felt your intentions in your attitude and knew he’s getting a treat today – he just didn’t know how big of a treat he’ll be getting.

Right after you finished eating he shooed you to wait for him in bed as he takes care of the dishes. You thanked him with a peck on the lips and a suggestively subtle brush of your fingers down his chest. You made your way to your bedroom, feeling yourself already getting wet from the mere thought of the way Joshua would react to what you have planned.

You laid with your back against the headboard, fixing your bra beneath your shirt to make sure everything will be in place when Joshua will finally get your clothes off. The underwear set you chose to wear on this day were a themed choice – both pieces being lacey and blood red colored. He may not get the joke before he gets them off, but it amused you enough to keep.

You listened to the flow of the water from the bedroom, your hands straitening the sheets around you. You’ve had sex with Joshua so many times in the past, and how nervous you were of this time caught you by surprise. You honestly didn’t know what to expect from him, the blood thing will probably bring out some colors you haven’t experienced before, but you couldn’t know what to expect exactly.

“What are you thinking about, little lady?” You lifted your eyes to see Joshua leaning against the frame of the door, his arms crossed across his chest.

“You,” You opened your legs in invitation and your boyfriend didn’t miss a heartbeat before he made his way in quick steps to the bed and crawled between them. He leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The shape of his lips quickly turned into a smile when you wrapped your legs around him to pull him closer. As you expected, he was already getting hard, just from the idea of being with you. So far everything was normal.

“Want to tell me what caused the break before we do this?” Joshua cradled your head between his hands, and his hips gave you different signs as they pressed harder to your core, thrusting very slowly.

“After,” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck, kissing him on the lips. “First, I have a surprise for you.” Joshua’s eyebrows rose as one of his hands traveled down to slip under your shirt. You nodded to tell him he was right. He smirked at you and moved back onto his knees, helping you to rise enough from the bed to allow him to peal your shirt away. He gasped; his eyes running over your new bra as he took in the little it hid from him eyes. You had to interrupt his feasting just enough to pull his own shirt off, your hands running down his chest to reach his belt.

“Josh,” You leaned up, matching your lips to his before speaking. “I want you to mark me. Can you do that for me?”

You didn’t miss the small hesitating sign that came with the small frown to Joshua’s eyebrows. He wasn’t sure about this, like the first time you asked him almost a year ago, only this time you knew exactly what reason stood behind it. “Are you sure? It’s – “

“I’m sure, that’s what I want from you right now,” You said in a calm, but serious voice. It didn’t help Joshua’s judgment that you were already one step ahead with his opened belt and zipper. Your fingers started brushing along his happy trail; you knew just how much it affected him.

Joshua dropped his forehead against yours, “You didn’t let me touch you long enough to get me to agree to that?”

“Among other things,” You giggled, your fingers coming to a close around his semi hard member. His hips stuttered, overly sensitive from being touched after a long while where he only had his right hand.

“Such as?”

You flicked your wrist just the way he liked to get a clear groan from him, “Mark me and find out.”

Joshua dragged his nose along your cheek and downwards, small puffs hitting your skin as he reacted to your touch. You pushed his pants down to give yourself more room, your thumb brushing along the slit to catch the gathered pre cum. His lips pressed into the skin of your neck, and you tilted your head away. His kisses became harsher, but he failed to use teeth on you. His tongue peaked out to taste you and you allowed him to keep his slow pace as long as he’s still progressing. You wanted to kiss his own neck so hard, but you couldn’t effort to pull his focus from what he’s doing.

His member became harder in your hand and this is where you noticed the change – he usually wouldn’t get so hard from such light touches. Just being close to a main vein for more than a second is doing it for him, and you lightly scolded yourself for not noticing how he avoids bringing his face closer to your neck before.

His mouth opened and you held your breathe in in anticipation, only to let that breathe go when he sucked your skin between his lips instead of bringing his teeth into play. “Josh,” You whined, your hand closing tight around the base of his cock. “Use your teeth.”

“Y/N – “

“Please,” You drew yourself closer, opening your neck in offering. “Bite me.”

“I can’t.”

You sighed and brought both of your hands to Joshua’s face. You felt him stiffening when you pulled his face back to fit your foreheads together. He spent at least five minutes with his nose stuffed against the main vein in your neck, your research suggested his fangs would already be peaking out. He was probably worried you’ll see them.

“I know why you can’t,” You looked him in the eye as the same thumb you thumbed his cock with pulled his bottom lip down and there it was – the edge of the sharpest tooth you’ve ever seen. That simple sight turned you on much more then you expected. His eyes widened at you, and small noises came out of him as he searched for words. “It’s okay. I know, and I want you to. Don’t hold yourself anymore.”

As you spoke, you lowered your other hand to grab his cock again, giving him exactly the amount of pressure and speed you know he likes. His eyes hooded with the resumed touch, but you could still see the fear swimming in them nonetheless.

“Are you sure?”

You moved the hand that was on his face to the back of his hands, your fingers fitting perfectly in his hair to hold it tight, tilting his head and pushing his mouth against the skin of the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. “Please,” You asked again, and you knew he could hear the desperation clear in your tone.

You weren’t sure if he ever drank directly from anyone before, so maybe he was scared of draining you, but you trusted him. Even though he kept this from you for so long and if you wouldn’t have found out yourself he would’ve probably never told you – you trusted him. With your blood, as well as with your life.

Joshua moaned, his hips thrusting into your hand as he took a deep breathe in, with the smell of your blood. You could feel the tip of that tooth drawing a small line across your skin, making you clench around nothing with how hot it was.

Joshua wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands keeping your shoulder steady as he kept thrusting into your hand. You could tell from the force of the jerking of his hips how much this turned him on, how good it’s making him feel.

He whispered your name into your skin before he opened his mouth, two scratches throbbing before he sunk in a bite around your skin.

You cried out, your body burning like it was set on fire from the bite alone. You felt Joshua’s cock twitching in your grasp as he thrusted his hips faster into your fist. You stopped moving your hand now, the shock from this new sensation you discovered with his bite taking away every bit of attention you had to give. You could feel the pull of blood, lightheadedness and pleasure mixing together and rolling your eyes to the back of your head with the intensity of it.

You barely made out the whimpers of words Joshua was mumbling from the depth of his throat before the twitching of his cock stopped for it to stiffen, shooting strings of cum all over your hand and your lap. The orgasm that washed over him was more intense than anything you ever watched him go through, and you regretting not being able to see his face at a moment like this.

The pulling stopped from your throat and Joshua pulled back, breathing heavily as he brought his own forehead to yours. You could feel drops of blood trickling from where he bit you. You brought the clean hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You looked at Joshua’s face, finding nothing but satisfaction written on his face.

“I’ve never done this before,” Joshua confessed, a breathless chuckle leaving him. “I came too soon.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted us to have an entire weekend for this, babe,” You moved in to peck his lips, intrigued by the coopery taste that your blood left on his lips. “To explore this.”

“You’re the greatest,” Joshua held your face as he kissed you deeper. You noticed how he pushed you back to rest back against the sheets and allowed it, deciding to give him the control now that he’s aware of your intentions. “If we’re already going for bite marking though, the next spot has to be your thighs.”

You giggled at Joshua’s wink before he descended downwards, “You can mark me all over for all I care.”