#but I wanted to draw the dress from the first volume cover

[bigbrainbiology]

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

[nimpnawakproduction]

The ultimate reference sheets for all of Vash's outfits in Trigun maximum (with commentaries)

IT IS DONE. I'M FREE. Now I can forget all about Trimax and draw Trigun stampede designs only hahaha (just kidding I have things for Trimax on the stove).

Trigun bookclub was an awesome initiative, I loved the manga with my all heart and wanted to honor Nightow's designs ;w; I also wanted to help my fellow artists with references for Vash's clothes because DEAR GOD it's difficult to understand how the hell he dresses himself in the morning. I have a lot of fun dressing and undressing him like a barbie doll. My hyperfixation is completely healthy.

I put a "read more" section to avoid spoilers :) !

The July coat

The very first coat in Trigun chronology and the one he wores during the destruction of July ! There is not a lot of panels to take references but I tried to stay as close as possible to the manga. I don't know what number of prosthesis he had before but let name this one Prosthesis 1.

Scars map

Next, nakey Vash ! There's A LOT of changes between one panel to another. Scars changes places and forms panel to panel and the design evolved from the first chapters of Trigun, the time we see him naked as Eriks and his undressed state while he was a prisoner on the Ark. I drew the scars that appeared more than once or were in clean view in a panel (but really you can do like Nightow and draw as many scars as you want without thinking about consistency, this boy has been in a meat grinder)

After July underclothes

Or the jumpsuit that gave me grey hair. His suit does not make ANY sense, I don't know how the hell he dresses himself in the morning with this. My solution is that it's very long gloves and chaps strapped to a belt. The position and shapes of the belts changes IN EVERY PANEL. Same for his knee guards, sometimes they're here, sometime they cover his shins, sometimes they are tiny..... I gave up in the end and draw them as we see them in the very last panel he wears this suit. But damn he looks good in it.

Also in all of the 13 volumes, there is not a single panel with a clear view of his holster (I checked...) so here is my interpretation.

This is prosthesis n°2, the design is a little different from the first one so I guess Prosthesis 1 got destroyed (this happens a lot).

After July coat

The very first Trigun coat he wears in the manga ! Very simple, very basic, it gives him impossibly wide shoulders but Vash deserves it. The first one is worn Post July until Vash's confrontation against Brilliant Dynamite Neon. The second one is the state of his coat after the sandsteamer incident. He loses his prothesis after his fight against Monev the gale. He meets Wolfwood with only one arm and stays that way while he fights Knives for the first time.

Eriks

I took liberties with colors because there's no colored panels with Vash as Eriks. Yes I drew him without suspenders because he has them for like 5 panels and then Nightow drew him without them for the rest of Eriks arc so I made choices ;w;

I love the fact that Vash choose to wear tight jeans even in his casual outfits, this boy will not let his skin breath. This is now Prosthesis 3 ! It's way less advanced than the ones he wore in the rest of the manga, the other ones seem to replicate skin.

After his years as Eriks

And now the first Maximum coat, he wears it until the famous Yuri hospital arc! Finally an undersuit that makes sense, I love it, too bad Nightow-san decided that I had to suffer and changed it again to add BELTS EVERYWHERE. We only see his legs in this part of the manga so I gave him the same top because I can.

The tubes he has on his waist are filled with bullets, he can connect them to his prosthesis to have a mini machine gun.

We are now at Prosthesis 4 !

Hospitalization on the Home ship

The famous Yuri hospital phase! Vash definitely shared his wardrobe with Wolfwood, you can't tell me otherwise.

The first outfit still shows Prothesis 4 but he keeps it for like 5 minutes and lost it again against Nine-lives. I don't really know if the prothesis comes with the integrated glove or if there's synthetic skin under it but why would he keep the glove on if it's not intergrated?

The second pictures is the different outfits he wears during his convalescence. I took liberties with the colors, I drew this in like 10 minutes, everything seems easy when you don't have to draw BELTS. We are now on Prothesis 5 ! Nightow drew it as a regular arm so I guess Vash wears gloves on top of it??????

Back on the road in pursuit of Knives

He wears this one after his stay at Home, throughout the Dragon's nest ark and until his 2nd fight against Knives.

I liked the design of his jumpsuit until I looked closer at the panels and saw that the design change ON EVERY ONE OF THEM. Knee guard on only one knee? No kneeguards? Two??? WHO KNOWS ??? I tried to make it work but really go wild with this one, even the author does not know how his pant looks.

Still prosthesis 5, BUT UNTIL WHEN?

Prisoner on the Ark

THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. Did they even feed him at least in 7 months? Those pictures are the definition of the drenched kitty cat left under the rain. Give this man a blanket and a therapist.

Bye bye Prothesis 5 ! And see what I mean when I say that his outfit does not make sense????? It comes out in parts????

After his imprisonment on the Ark

The last suit in the manga! He keeps this coat until the end of the story. From this point, only his hair changes (or the color of his coat).

I adore the little angel wing symbol on his left arm, such a cute addition. Too bad it appears in one of the most traumatic event of his life.

Speaking of his jumpsuit...The return of belts.... But at least this outfit stays relatively coherent except for his kneeguards who appear and disappear panel from panel but most of the time he doesn't have any, so no kneeguard it is. Prosthesis 6 hello !

Final battle and end of the story

It hurted to drew those outfits ;w; And working on the design of his coat when he fights Legato made me realize where Orange studio took inspiration to chose the colors for Vash's coat in the final episode of Stampede ! Great job ! I tried to color the same effects as one of the illustrations showing dark Vash but I'm not really good with colors..... He actually radiates energy but with some purple undertones, I took some liberties because those are my drawings I do what I want.

I'm not sure at 100% that he has a tuft of blond hair left when his outfit turns black but his hair is all black at the end of the fight. His prosthesis is destroyed at the end of the fight. He got another one in the final chapter. So 7 prosthesis throughout the story!

[ikroah]

I pushed my soul in a deep dark hole, and then I followed it in, I watched myself crawling out as I was a-crawling in. I got up so tight, I couldn't unwind, I saw so much, I broke my mind… —“Just Dropped In (to See What Condition My Condition Was In),” The First Edition (1968)

It Keeps Right On A-Hurtin’ #28 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding VII

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Transcript:

Notes

Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to type those words? "End of Volume 2?" We have been on Volume 2 for just over three years. Obviously it's unfair to compare it to the breakneck pace of Volume 1, because... I got burned out (I got better), I got divorced (I got better), and most importantly, I've spent all three of these years overhauling my approach to art, which is to say, I got better. My canvas size doubled because my initial naive approach of "smaller pages means less art, which means faster art" was holding me back: I wanted more art, and the subjects of too many panels had gotten flubbed due to what was basically a pathetically low rendering distance. I revamped my approach to coloring entirely, leaning into a vibrant, saturated, and faux-comic halftone style that I vastly prefer to my more grounded, gradient-driven work beforehand. I changed IKROAH's font (Unmasked!), I changed Agnes's appearance slightly (she's far less gaunt, which was an early design choice I've thrown away, plus I think I'm much better at drawing her consistently now), and so much more. Comics are a time-consuming artform and while a lot of what made this volume take so long was out of my control, and well worth not pushing myself through, the total reinvention of how I actually make comics was the single best thing to come out of Volume 2.

It's a lot of lessons and groundwork that I'm very eager to take into Volume 3, which I have spent every single one of these years viciously impatient for. Now, it's finally here. See you at the cover reveal.

Original Pencils

Something that I have been working a lot harder on with my art lately is inking: actual inking, not merely "outlining" and figuring out the rest by the seat of my pants digitally. I've come to realize that the fewer steps of my production process that I try to do digitally, the more fun it is to make art as a whole, and inking was something that I was very intimidated by for the longest time. What happens if I mess up! It's permanent marker, after all! But after all the practice that I've done, I'm really happy with how bold and confident the shadows are on this issue, and they're perfect for how moody and dramatically lit the whole thing is. You can compare the pencils to the inks to the final products and really see how I planned out the overall composition.

Transcript

INT. LUCKY 38 PRESIDENTIAL SUITE, VERY LATE AT NIGHT. The lights are all off in this luxurious, distinctly pre-war abode. It is almost empty.

RADIO: Welcome back to the program, folks. This is Mr. New Vegas—and I hope I'm not coming on too strong. We've got some news for you, coming right up.

The only real light in the suite comes from the glowing screen of the Securitron VICTOR, standing in front of the private elevator.

RADIO: Tops Hotel owner Benny has been killed by an unidentified assailant. According to his fellow Chairmen, shots were heard in his private suite, and his body was found inside. They are urging all visitors to please keep an eye out for suspicious individuals and behavior on the New Vegas Strip. The new head of the Chairmen, Benny's former right-hand man Swank, consoled mourners: "If I know my pal Benny, he's swinging with the Big Cat Upstairs as we speak. Or he's chasing some angel broad with cans as big as her halo!"

RADIO: In other news—

In a guest bedroom off to the side, ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY is sound asleep. Her belongings are neatly folded on the dresser, except for the cocktail dress that she was wearing, which has been thrown onto the ground.

RADIO: —refugees at Bitter Springs are giving startling accounts of the legate known as Lanius, who is said to be Caesar's top field commander. One refugee told us the legate took over an underperforming squad of troops by beating its commander to death in full viw of everyone. The legate then ordered a tenth of his own force be killed by the other nine tenths. And you thought your boss was a pain!

RADIO: You know, I think all news, whether it's good or bad, brings us closer together. Don't you?

Directly across from the elevator, across from VICTOR, are the shut doors to the master bedroom.

RADIO: These headlines, brought to you by Vault 21...Vault 21! Everything is better when you experience it...in a vault.

Inside the master bedroom, AGNES SANDS sits on the edge of the bed, wide awake. The RADIO plays from her PIP-BOY, which provides a slight amount of light in the dark room.

RADIO: Gonna play a song for you right now—it's about that special someone, that you can only find once...in a "Blue Moon."

"Blue Moon" begins to play from the radio. AGNES's head remains lowered in rumination.

Suddenly, the radio broadcast cuts out.

SFX: KZZRRRSSHHTTZ

RADIO: Has your life taken a turn?

A NEW VOICE speaks on the radio. It's dreamy, seductive.

RADIO: Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind?

AGNES remains in thought.

But then: she lifts her head.

And she looks over at the radio.

RADIO: If so, then the Sierra Madre Casino,

The PIP-BOY displays: 11.09.81, 4:13. <<Signal Unknown>>

RADIO: in all its glory, invites you

AGNES listens.

RADIO: to begin again.

AGNES is now somewhere else.

EXT. MOJAVE DESERT. At sunrise, AGNES SANDS is perched atop a ridge somewhere in the desert. Her overcoat billows behind her, and her shoulder-mounted flashlight beams straight ahead. She looks manic. In one hand, she clutches her duffel bag, full of every belonging she has. Her other hand is wearing her PIP-BOY, and the radio broadcast continues:

RADIO: Come to a place where wealth, excitement, and intrigue await around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort. Make new friends...or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert, under clear starlit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our scenic Villa rooftops. Countless diversions await. Gamble in our casino, take in the theater, or stay in one of our exclusive executive suites that will shelter you...and cater to your every whim.

Below the ridge is a pile-up of wrecked shipping containers. One of them opens up toward the surface like a gaping throat of metal. It leads somewhere, deeper into the earth.

RADIO: So if life's worries have weighed you down—if you need an escape from your troubles—or if you just need an opportunity to begin again—

The source of the broadcast signal is coming from INSIDE.

RADIO: —then join us.

AGNES descends into the container, revealing a makeshift staircase of sheet metal that leads into darkness.

RADIO: Join us, let go, and leave the world behind...

The signal from inside the tunnel is now audible. It overlaps with AGNES's PIP-BOY...

RADIO: Join us, let go, and leave the world behind...

Until she sees it.

RADIO: ...at the Sierra Madre Grand Opening.

A pre-war, art deco type radio, sitting on a metal pedestal. It speaks to her.

RADIO: ...at the Sierra Madre Grand Opening.

AGNES stares at the radio, bewildered.

She barely notices the HULKING FIGURE about to grab her from behind.

RADIO: We'll be waiting.

END OF VOLUME 2

[sloppysequinz]

Mona and Lacy’s Sunday Morning

Sequel to this story. Return of the girlfriends!

Mona blinked blearily as the sunlight hit her eyes. Was it morning? Her head spun. She was definitely still drunk, at least. The last thing she remembered was….flashing the bartender for shots? Was that before or after the bouncer had offered her pills for head?

She heard a groan next to her. Looking over, she saw her girlfriend Lacy, pretty blonde hair a rats nest, raccoon eyed from last nights makeup. Mona smiled. At least they had ended up together. She hated when men thought they could bring Lacy home without her.

But, glancing around, she saw they were in their own bedroom. They were both naked, sprawled on their king-sized bed. They hadn’t bothered to get under the covers—probably too drunk or too busy fucking each other to sleep. Mona could feel last nights mascara caking up her eyelashes. Their dresses and heels were piled by the door. There was a half-empty handle of vodka on the dresser. All things considered, a pretty tame Sunday for the two of them.

Lacy moaned again, nuzzling into Mona’s tits. Mona rolled over to let her girlfriend snuggle into her, petting her pretty blonde hair and trying to gently work out some of the mess.

“How are you, baby?” Mona asked gently.

“Uhmmm…fugged up, mommy.” Lacy responded weakly. “I sink I’m drunk.”

“I think you’re more than drunk.” Mona chuckled, pinching Lacy’s cheek. “The boys were generous with you last night.”

“Yeahhhhh….” Lacy grinned up at her proudly. Mona sat up and manhandled Lacy on to her stomach. Lacy giggled and flipped bonelessly around. Mona eventually gained her prize, her pretty girlfriend’s ass, presented for inspection. She slid her fingers between the artificially rounded cheeks, exposing Lacy’s hole. It was red and inflamed and dried cum was splashed onto the cheeks on either side. Lacy moaned as Mona slid a finger inside. Cum dripped out as she fingered it, an enormous volume of cum—more than even Mona would have expected. She stopped her inspection, ignoring Lacy’s protesting whine.

“Very generous indeed~” she teased. She let Lacy clean the cum off her fingers, eager and greedy tongue lapping it up. Lacy looked at her adoringly as she swallowed the mix of strangers cum, drugged and drunk pupils blown wide even under the morning sun. Mona resumed stroking her hair and Lacy snuggled into her lap.

“It’s a shame you can’t get pregnant, puppy.” Mona mused. “You’d be such a pretty whore mother to some stranger’s baby.”

Lacy giggled. “Would be a puppy’s puppy.” She slurred. Mona giggled back.

“You’re right, puppy. So smart.” Mona praised her. Lacy wiggled her butt as though wagging her tail. Mona leaned down to give her a kiss. “Do you wanna sober up, baby?” She asked gently.

“Noooooo” Lacy replied. “I feel good, mommy.”

“Ok, honey.” Mona replied. She wiggled across the comforter to rummage through the bedside table drawer, pausing only to take a pull from the vodka bottle. She pulled out a bag of edible gummies and returned to her beloved dog. “Here,” she said to Lacy. “Puppy treats.”

“For bein’ good?” Lacy asked sweetly.

“For being good.” Mona affirmed. Lacy obediently opened her mouth and Mona began feeding her gummies, following each one with a kiss. Lacy chewed and swallowed, trusting Mona to take her where she wanted to be. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5….that should be enough for now.

Mona ruffled Lacy’s hair as she swallowed the last one. “Get some more sleep.” She ordered. “You’ll feel even better when you wake up.” Lacy obediently snuggled into the soft bed. Mona ate a couple of the gummies herself, then grabbed the vodka and staggered into the bathroom.

First, a shower for her. Then, a big breakfast—the edibles were gonna hit both their stomachs hard after yesterday’s liquor dinner. Then, drawing a bath to wash her dumb slut inebriated puppy girlfriend in.

Mona took another pull of vodka and stretched languidly, foreseeing a lazy day ahead of her. The world started to tilt and she smiled.

Sobriety could wait until tomorrow.

[rangosmango7]

started maybe writing a drarry fic but it’s just a culmination of a bunch of fluffy, sad ideas at the moment, but here’s a cute little scene

Draco and Teddy feels:

Wedged in between an abandoned ice cream parlor and a post office was a small brick storefront, framed by climbing roses and showcasing various mis-matched, antique objects through the front windows.

All Draco saw was a warm light and a shield from the oncoming storm– then all he saw was Teddy Lupin, peeking up from behind that old wooden countertop and surrounded by millions of antiques covered in years of dust.

It took a second, of course, for Draco to fully register the fact that those gray-blue eyes were an exact replica of his own, and he blinked a few times when, for hardly a millisecond, the curls on the top of that small head flashed platinum before returning to their natural turquoise hue.

Draco finally steps inside after a moment, his brow furrowing as he hesitantly watches the small boy scramble off of whatever stool he had currently been perched upon. His eyes widen slowly as Teddy, quite determinedly, walks right up to him.

He’s dressed in a blue and green striped sweater with denim overalls; there’s a bright blue pin on the front pocket that says “Assistant Manager” and mismatched socks peeking from the top of the worn muggle sneakers on his small feet.

The boy gestures to their right, drawing Draco’s attention to a shelf full of antique decanters in a myriad of different colors, “These a-are new— Haz says they’re hand-ade,” Teddy says informatively, staring up at Draco with bright eyes, and if Draco weren’t overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things in this enclosed space and the presence of his estranged cousin in a muggle resale shop, he’d find Teddy’s breathless stutter dreadfully endearing.

“Ah— handmade, you say?” Draco asks after a few awkward moments, finding himself at a loss and just barely stopping himself from running right back out the door.

The second he’d laid eyes on the boy, the first feeling to wash over him was pure shock— the second was pure shame.

His mother spoke of her sister, Andromeda, often. Never in front of his grandparents or Lucius, but when they were by the fire, just the two of them, late at night. His mother would stare off into the fire and he would ask— he always asks what’s wrong.

She would smile, so, so sadly, and tell him stories about Andromeda. Once, with a wave of her hand, she conjured the night sky, moving her hand over the Andromeda Galaxy with reverence. How bright, how damned beautiful was her sister? So encompassing and lovely, was her sister.

He’d never met Andromeda, nor her daughter, but he had met Remus Lupin. He’d met Remus Lupin and he’d said horrible things about the werewolf; about Teddy’s father. Teddy Lupin, his own blood, left without parents because they died so that he and the rest of the world could continue on.

Teddy’s parents who would undoubtedly hate Draco, who wouldn’t want any part of his life touching Teddy’s, because Draco Malfoy was— is— an entitled, bigoted Death Eater, and hadn’t spared a thought for Andromeda nor her orphaned grandson after the war.

The shame soaked through him deeper than the downpour did, but he found himself stuck in place.

He’s learned something new, today; it’s quite difficult to turn down the conversation of a bright, happy Teddy Lupin while he beams up at you, straightening his spine and puffing out his chest pridefully at the opportunity to inform you about antique muggle decanters.

Teddy nods enthusiastically, grinning wide, “Yes! Haz says they’re from the eight-teeth century, and not to touch them because when I touch glass things the-ey break, so I don’t touch them— but I think he would let you! I don’t think you break things yo-ou touch.”

And, wow, wasn’t that just a punch to the gut he wasn’t expecting this morning.

“I’m afraid we have the same habit of breaking things,” Draco says dejectedly, flashing Teddy a small smile before actually getting a good look at his surroundings.

The store, while seeming rather small from the outside, is full to the brim with all sorts of objects. The walls are lined with bookcases, chipped wardrobes and various posters, signs and paintings. There are shelves sticking out from the walls and the odd piece of furniture, creating a haphazard maze, of sorts, that seems to extend so far back that Draco isn’t sure exactly where it ends— if it ends. He suspects some sort of (illegal) extension charm and his brows furrow further.

There are tea sets and glass lamps and VHS tapes and muggle cameras and clothes. Draco isn’t exactly sure how anyone could ever manage to navigate this mess— it doesn’t matter, though, because he isn’t planning on staying long, really; only until the rain stops it’s assault on London.

Teddy seems to be able to navigate the mess just fine as he takes Draco’s hand, leading him further and further into the maze.

They stop in front of what Draco gathers is one of those muggle record players— Granger has one in her small cottage, and Draco had gotten several lectures on how delicate the black discs are, having been on the receiving end of many “don’t touch the needle!”s and “you’re as bad as a toddler!”s every time he attempted to use the damned thing.

Teddy picks up a record from one of the surrounding crates and holds it up to Draco with a grin.

“Two fo-or one sale!” He says brightly, and Draco hesitantly takes the object from the boy, straightening up to give it a good once over.

While every other record seemed to be covered in dust and packed tightly away, this one was smooth to the touch as Draco ran his fingers over the image on the cover. A man, standing in front of a brick building at night. There was a sign above his head reading “K. West”, and in the upper-left corner it read: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.

“I’m not sure I understand…”

Draco’s squinting, rereading the words in the hopes that they’d change into a sentence he was able to even begin to understand.

Teddy snatches it from his hands, walking over to the record player with a little hop in his step, smiling excitedly over at Draco before he removes the black disc from its sheath with an impressive amount of care for a toddler.

“This was daddy’s fa-avorite, Haz says,” Teddy tells him softly, and Draco’s heart seizes and stutters and the least he can do is stand there like a dolt and listen to Ziggy Stardust.

He watches with barely suppressed intrigue as Teddy gently eases the needle onto the disc.

He steps back as a calm piano plays through the cluttered store, filling up the space with an easy tune, a strong voice and a steady beat.

He’d never heard music quite like this before, not even at Granger’s, and there’s something overwhelming tugging at him as he looks over at Teddy, watching him drum his little fingers against his overalls. He can’t help but smile a little when Teddy lifts his gaze, grinning up at Draco and bobbing his head encouragingly.

“And he was alright,

The band was all together

Yes, he was alright

The song went on forever”

Draco concedes to the boy's silent encouragement, bobbing his head along with Teddy, prompting a sudden giggle out of his small cousin.

Teddy starts mouthing the words around his grin.

“And he was awful nice

Really quite paradise

And he sang all night,

All night long

Oh, how I sighed,

When they asked if I knew his name,”

“Teddy!”

They both jumped at the distant call, and Teddy quickly scrambled to stop the record before whoever called for him rounded the corner.

“I’m no-ot supposed to play the records when Harry’s not here,” Teddy whispers, shooting a wide eyed, guilty look Draco’s way— as if they were both in trouble.

haven’t attempted really writing a drarry fic because good god the amount of feelings jam packed into these things is crazy and i’m gonna have to do my best to sort through it all 🫡

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Lettuce-In-Law

Fandom: The Artful Dodger Pairing: Jack/Belle Rating: T Word Count: 2166

Summary: The first marriage proposal of the evening might be ill-conceived, but the second is quite sensible.

There is something in the manner of the man—the bank man, the man under whose nose their father allegedly thrust a shovelful of dirt—as he descends to one knee that conjures in Belle’s mind some sort of toy with springs. As if he might pop up from his propositioner’s crouch with unsettling and mechanical speed. But he is not a toy, and this is not a game, despite the party invitations and the pretty foursome of Foxes in evening attire. The scrape of chairs as they all turn to look scratches a rough match of pain down her sternum. It’s starting, but it’s damn inconvenient timing, so as Fanny’s premature “Yes” leaps from her tongue, Belle employs equal haste to rise from her chair, trying to stand up straight so she will be taken seriously, trying to fill her lungs that she might have breath to scream over the unfairness of women dressed like dolls so men with childlike expressions might be overcome over dinner and fall at their feet.

The pain has a rhythm like a hundred thousand soldiers stamping the earth, like the roiling sea that tosses the great ship constructed in hubris, threatening to reduce it back into the splinters of the boards of the wood from which it was made. The pain is the Army and the Navy at once, and Belle is withstanding their onslaught while the man—Oliver Twist—proposes marriage to her sister.

“—a brief but significant acquaintance—” Twist is calling it as Belle marches down the length of the table opposite the lovers’ tableau.

“—knew from the very instant—” he is claiming when she grips the corner of the table, feeling Jack’s eyes on her, pushing off and fighting her body’s impulse to double over.

“—and the security I could provide you thanks to my comfortable position, my generous salary, and my valued friendships must not be weighed against the simple pleasure I shall feel each time I am graced with your radiant smile, though of course they are factors which you are welcome to consider. So, in conclusion…” Twist says, very much sounding as though there is a great deal more he intends to say.

“No,” says Belle. It’s so easy, actually, to get straight to the point.

Twist looks up at her with disbelieving eyes as she sidesteps him and stares hard at her sister, who is utterly aflutter and barely restraining the second assent that will probably come at a startling volume and pitch.

She yearns to tell Fanny more than she knows she has time to say, with pain sharpening its knives on her very bones: that a brief acquaintance is not enough to judge whether this is a man to whom she will want to show her drawings, that a lifetime of security is insufficiently fantastical for someone who practices kissing on bananas, that they weren’t little girls for this, for this, no matter what society would have them take on faith.

“Fanny,” she groans from between her teeth.

Her sister’s wide eyes are on her.

“Belle,” she replies.

Belle takes another step and staggers, sinks, slams the heel of her hand to her chest like a seawall against the hot swell of pain, looks up to see…

…Jack on his feet next to her sister. With Belle on her knees, closer to his chair than Fanny’s after the collapse, and holding her hand in such a way that it could easily be mistaken for an emotional gesture, a tender covering of her heart, she can feel what this looks like even before she registers the reactions of those assembled.

“I knew you really liked him!” Fanny exclaims, clapping her hands together and expressing at least as much joy over this horrible, accidental proposal as her own (which is more proof Belle is too winded to wield towards discouraging the rushed match).

“My daughter is so full of modern ideas!” their father chortles, acting to hide his discomfited uncertainty and recast his child’s erratic behaviour in front of the important guests. “Imagine the woman doing it instead of the man! Quite entertaining! Good fun!”

Belle’s gaze swings to Sneed, trying to smile, ignoring what his medical training must be urging him to see in favour of humouring Governor Fox, agreeing in order to stay in his favour. Coward.

She looks again to Jack, who would and will not ignore her pain, but her glare repels him. He stands while she kneels, and it is another humiliation at his hand, that hand that cuts so quick. After the way he spoke to her, she would never ask him to be her husband. With her eyes, she tells him, but she can feel other eyes too, eyes in the heads of people who are waiting, and she doesn’t want those people to think she’s weak. The invalid or the charade? The pity or the forced congratulations from everyone but Fanny (whose congratulations would be genuine) and their mother (who would abstain altogether)?

“Your radiant smile,” Belle says, a deadness in her eyes as the pain storms inside her, turning her nerves to lightning strikes. She lifts a hand to Jack, offering it to him.

“The security of your comfortable position,” he responds, sliding his fingers across her palm to take hold.

She would howl with laughter over the bad-mannered boldness of using the words to declare that he’s taking her for her money—possibly her parents’ greatest fear—if she had the faculty. And if she didn’t despise him.

When Jack pulls her to her feet, his eyes, all concern, do a rapid dance with hers. Then, he smiles tightly around at the people applauding with what is likely more confusion than delight.

“Get me to my bedroom,” she quietly begs.

“Allow us a few moments to collect ourselves,” Jack tells rather than requests of the room, giving his and Belle’s respectful goodbyes with a sharp nod.

He guides her out, supporting her weight, apparently before her parents can decide what to do or how to stop them.

“May I continue now?” Belle hears Twist inquire, and sighs in relief when Fanny says, “Maybe you’d better not.”

—

Jack exhales in frustration, pacing. Belle’s hands flail behind her back as she attempts to unfasten her dress on her own.

“Just let me help,” he says. Again.

“I will do it myself. You are not my servant. I’m not some sort of princess.”

“Unfortunate choice with the crown then, wasn’t it?” he questions snidely, pointing at the tiara tucked into her styled hair.

Belle groans in annoyance, then pain, her hands flying to cradle her front as her breathing grows rapid and shallow. Jack lunges towards her, attempting to straighten her posture in order to ease the passage of air into her lungs. It’s exponentially more worrying when she doesn’t bark at him to keep back or slap his fingers from her neck as he seeks her pulse.

“Take a seat,” he entreats softly. “Please.”

She allows him to steer her to the edge of her bed. Without waiting—why make Belle waste precious breaths on manners?—Jack sits down too, shifting backwards until he can use both hands to open the back of her dress. The action exposes a white chemise and, over top, a corset he’s morally loose enough to know how to slacken with a few artful tugs.

“Deeper breaths now,” he urges, rubbing firmly alongside her spine with the heel of his hand.

“The trouble isn’t my ability to inhale,” she wheezes, undermining her words, “it’s the pain.” At least she’s finally speaking to him about what’s going on. Jack’s sure that a dialogue, formed around mutual respect, is crucial to— “You nitwit.”

“Well. I’ve never had to undress someone who hates me before. Stand,” Jack requests.

Belle does, and Jack moves quickly to unfasten the rest of her black gown. It slips partway down on its own, but he gets off the bed to work it past the large skirt she wears beneath.

“I don’t hate you,” she argues while he struggles with the fabric. “I just don’t care about you at all.”

“Oh, then I’m sure we’ll be very happy together. Big happy family: you, me, Lady Fanny, and the Lettuce.”

“The Lettuce?”

“Just a special term of endearment Fagin and I have for our dear Mr. Twist.”

Jack huffs, dress successfully around Belle’s feet, and glances up to realize he now occupies a pose identical to the one Belle did earlier. He is the future Mr. Belle Fox, twice over. It’s hard to say whether she notices, hands on her waist and jaw clenched as she seemingly attempts to master another surge of pain. He’s always believed he would do whatever possible to heal the misfortunates who landed on the operating table, but he looks at Belle and wants to do more than what’s possible to heal the ache in her, even when she prods at the ache she’s put in him. He pushes to his feet and removes her loosened corset, the avowal that she doesn’t care squeezing his heart as he sets her free.

“I didn’t mean to propose,” Belle asserts, holding his gaze firmly in hers. “To make that perfectly clear.”

“I’m not actually sure that you did—though, admittedly, I was rather swept up in the romance of the moment: the most despised acquaintance of my former life producing a deeply off-putting display of emotion, succeeded by you crumpling to the ground in obvious pain.” A sarcastic smirk pinches the corner of his mouth as he reanimates the horrible scene. “I nearly swooned.”

“Yes. Well. Good.” Jack’s eyebrows twitch upward. “Good that you understood,” Belle clarifies crossly.

“Thoroughly. The glorified butcher has gotten it through his thick skull.”

“‘Glorified butcher’? I would never—”

“No, but your mother would.”

“My mother…?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insists with a sigh. His arms go around her to feel for the ties of her underskirt. Neither of them comment on how she sags a bit in his hold, how his fingers slow when her hands run up his arms. But she’s only using him to hold herself up.

The underskirt, heavy like a raincloud, falls.

“Lie down,” Jack says. “I’ll examine you.”

“My mother,” Belle repeats, maneuvering herself onto the pillows he readies for her head. “She doesn’t speak for me, whatever she said to you.”

“Seeing as you don’t know what she said, how can you be so sure you disagree with her?”

“I know two words of what she said, and I know that they hurt you.” She grips his wrist and he feels compelled to meet her eye.

Jack can’t say it aloud—that he was hurt, twice, first by Lady Fox’s blunt, belittling language, and then by her daughter’s easy rejection of him (triggered, of course, by his preceding rejection of her). And Belle can’t apologize, apparently, not properly, though her expression steps in when the words don’t come. They speak better with their hands though, don’t they? Surgeon’s hazard. Jack swallows and rotates his hand to clasp hers. They share a gentle smile, and then he shifts his focus to the tiara she still wears.

“Lady Belle,” he says with a teasing smile, and, gingerly, lifts the ornament from her hair. Belle settles more comfortably into the pillows.

“Is the pain more or less acute when you’re lying down?” Jack asks as he walks over to her array of medical instruments, lightly twirling the tiara, trying not to think about how easily he could conceal it inside his vest pocket, trying not to wonder whether the stones are obsidian, onyx, or—when they catch the candlelight and give off a cutting gleam—black diamonds.

“Less, just now, but that could be because you’re here.”

He looks back at her over his shoulder.

“Really?”

“No,” she says with a wincing grin, “though there is some relief in not having to pretend my condition is milder than it is to ensure your pride isn’t wounded when you realize you can’t save me.”

Jack stares at her following the rush of words, in the silence that seems to ring. Into the stillness bursts the crack and fizzle of fireworks. He doesn’t care. The heart in his chest thu-thumps.

“Save you?”

She says his name and he almost returns to her side instantly, but his training takes over. He turns back to the table, casting his softening, distorting gaze over the scattered instruments. How can he choose when he can’t see?

“They’re useless,” Belle says, and something in her voice ruptures. “Just come back.”

Steady, Jack tells himself. He draws a long inhalation through his nose and reminds himself that he’s always steady, a cornerstone of his profession. Sure grip on the handle of a saw, tight pinch of his fingers on a needle.

He reaches out with quaking hands and takes up the stethoscope, leaving the tiara there to shine.

[look-at-the-soul]

New traditions

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader

🎄 I wrote this one shot to celebrate @runnning-outof-time almost 2.5K, K congratulations 🎉 you’ve made a few celebrations before but timing wasn’t on my side and I couldn’t finish the story on time, now your Bingo celebration came just in time as I had this Christmas idea ♥️ so it couldn’t be more fitting, I hope you continue to do more celebrations and posting more incredible stories -one day I will catch up ☺️-

Summary: Setting up the Christmas tree together, becomes a new tradition for Tommy, Y/N and Charlie, let the beautiful the season do its own magic and make your wish, you might find your favorite Shelby doing something he wouldn’t normally do. 😉

Special thanks to @lyarr24 for the food recommendations 🥰

 After taking a shower, Tommy got ready. The second floor was oddly silent, Y/N was nowhere to be seen and Charlie wasn’t in his room. But as he reached the first floor, he heard a low conversation and giggles and small chorus of a song.

“Go around the tree, and keep the ribbon with the little loop like this,” Tommy saw Y/N pointing at a piece of ribbon perfectly placed.

“Like this?”

A hand on her hip, her jeans hugging her legs, her ass was hidden by an oversized sweater Tommy swore belonged to him. “Beautiful, see? It wasn’t so hard.” Y/N nodded at the kid as she walked to the fire place, there was a garland decorating the top of it. As Charlie kept singing and messing up with the lyrics, Y/N took something out from a shopping bag.

Tommy’s heart caught up in his throat as he saw three Christmas socks in her hands.

One for him, one for her and one for his son, with Charlie’s name embroidered.

“Y/N look! Dad can help us with the star, we don’t need the ladder anymore.” Charlie pointed at him, still frozen in spot.

“We didn’t want to wake you up, so I asked Charlie to help me set up the Christmas tree.” Y/N explained as she walked towards him, giving Tommy a small peck on the lips, she tasted like hot chocolate and cookies.

“Will you help us Dad?” Charlie asked showing off his smile. Charming just like his father.

He had a busy morning ahead, but as Charlie ran to Y/N and they both pleaded with puppy eyes, he couldn’t say no.

“Alright.” He cleared his throat, pushing away the emotions, or at least trying to. “What can I help you with?

“Mr. Shelby I brought some coffee for you.” Frances announced placing the tray on the table, after asking if he wanted something for breakfast and Tommy answered that he didn’t, she left the drawing room.

“Charlie I think we can turn up the volume of the music now.” Y/N winked at Tommy, brushing his lips one more time as his son went to choose the playlist . “I have a surprise for you, later.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows in surprise, “are you going to dress up as Mrs Claus?” he licked his lips suggestively.

Hitting him in the chest with the Christmas sock, Y/N looked over at Charlie, lost in the gifts she had wrapped already, trying to find out the content of the package with his name on the tag.

“No what I had in mind, but that sounds like something you’d like.” Y/N answered while a soft blush covered her cheeks.

“Gloves, red lipstick, high boots, singing Jingle bells...” Tommy pressed his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Y/N couldn’t stop the laugh, as his hands squeezed her waist.

“You left me alone this morning.”

Feeling his arms locked, she was pressed dangerously close to his toned body. His lotion was addictive.

“Thought you were tired from last night activities.” She whispered opening the top button of his blue shirt. “Charlie almost caught me this morning.”

“Oh you wore me out, but I could always go for one more.” As Tommy smiled, small lines formed around his eyes. Lines of happiness as Y/N liked to call them.

“Dad do you know what Y/N got me? She says it’s heavy and its got thirteen letters.” Charlie complained interrupting their conversation looking up at his father.

Breaking the embrace, Y/N smiled at the mini-Tommy, he was just as curious as his dad, trying to get hints and clues since they started decorating early that morning.

“Nope, she went alone to shop in peace, says I don’t have patience.”

“You don’t.” Y/N interjected adding some crystal render to the decoration on top of the fireplace.

“So you don’t know?”

Pouting, Tommy shook his head.

Truth is he did know what present Y/N got his son, it was a beautiful horse collection that included three books and a set of horses figures, he knew Charlie would love it. But he wouldn’t ruin her surprise.

Tommy saw Y/N smiling at Charlie’s complain. He had asked Frances already.

“If its any consolation, she doesn’t want to tell me what she got for me.”

“That’s because is a surprise!”

After fixing some of the lights that didn’t work, he got up from the floor with a groan.

“Right, I hope you clean up everything after you finish, I gotta go.”

“What? Where?” Y/N popped her head from behind the tree with a look of a disappointment in her eyes, Christmas ornaments hanging from each finger. “I thought we’d spend the day together decorating.” She was hoping they could make it a beautiful new tradition.

With a loud huff, Cyril joined them only to keep sleeping peacefully next to the fire.

“I won’t be long, I just have to do something.”

“Daaaad.”

Guilt shot through his system, two pair of eyes looking at him accusingly.

“You promised to watch the Grinch with us.”

Part of Y/N’s Christmas ritual consisted of decorating the tree, bake cookies and watch a Christmas movies marathon.

“And Home alone too.” Charlie added.

And suddenly he felt like the worst person in the world.

“Fine, I’ll do it on Monday.” He gave in after a few seconds, there was no way to escape the Christmas decoration.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled, it was their first Christmas together and she was looking forward to the whole process.

“Really? Are you staying?” Y/N placed the tree ornaments back in the box and walked to were he was standing. She still wasn’t used to him working during the weekends. Lifting on her tip toes, she brushed her lips against Tommy’s. As he nodded, a beautiful smile appeared, and she pulled him by the neck to kiss him one more time. “You make me so happy.”

That’s all he wanted to hear. He would do anything just to see Y/N smile.

“I’m hungry.” Charlie complained.

“See I could go leave the papers and buy some food.” Tommy offered.

Y/N made a sound with her tongue and tilted her head. “I know that trick... we can order lunch in the app and get it delivered here.”

“What do you want?” He wrapped his arm around her waist, as Y/N leaned her head against his chest.

“Fish and chips!” Charlie demanded excitedly, running around.

“Where did he get all that energy?” Tommy asked looking at the ceiling.

Y/N laughed and inhaled his scent. “He’s your son, what did you expect?” Walking to her phone, she started placing the order, while with her free hand, she gave Tommy some ornaments. He made sure to get her approval before hanging each piece.

“Can you add extra ketchup for me Y/N? Please.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Charlie placing the teddy bears with matching scarves under the tree, he was so polite.

“Of course sweetheart.” And as she said that, an arm sneaked around from behind.

“Where are you buying lunch from?”

“From Harry Ramsdens’, is that alright?”

“Yeah, love that.” Tommy kissed her neck and then the spot behind her ear that made her toes curl. Taking his wallet, he gave her his credit card.

“I think the tree is ready.”

Almost, Y/N thought walking to one of the boxes.

“Do you like this star, Cyril?” The dog sniffed the item, and Y/N moved it back just in time before he could lick it. “I think that’s a yes.”

Touching Tommy’s arm, she moved her eyes to Charlie, who was touching the crystal angel ornament he chose to remember and honour his mother.

“The tree needs the final touch son, do you want to put the star?”

“But it’s so high, I can’t reach the tip.”

Without further explanation, Tommy gave Charlie the star and took him in his arms. Lifting him above his head, the kid was able to set the star in the highest part of the tree. Struggling a bit when he started to laugh as his father’s fingers tickled his ribs.

“Are we ready now?”

“l’ll do it!” Charlie smiled running to take the remote to lit the tree.

“3, 2... 1!”

Turning on the lights, the three of them remained quiet for a moment, admiring their work.

It was probably one of the simplest thing he had ever done, but it meant so much. Sharing a moment with his son and girlfriend, listening to his happy voice singing and laughing with Y/N, telling her what he wanted to ask Santa, Tommy thought that this would be a happy holiday for him, not like the previous or when he was about his son’s age.

Swallowing his emotions, he was grateful for the doorbell ring interruption. Cyril stormed out barking.

“I’ll get it. Charles, help Y/N with the plates.” He instructed walking to the door.

 After finishing their lunch, Y/N walked to get one of the presents and then back to the dining room.

“I was going to wait until Christmas Eve to give you this, but I guess we can open one present early.” She still had another present for him wrapped, it was a beautiful leather cover for his new iPad with a matching briefcase.

Tommy looked at her surprised, he wasn’t expecting the big box was for him.

“Go on, open it.” Y/N encouraged him with a smile.

Tommy left his cigarette on the tray. His heart fluttered with joy as he found what was under the shiny paper.

“Wow it’s so cool Dad.” Charlie spoke for him.

“When did you get this?” He asked in shock, looking at his girlfriend.

Y/N knew she scored when her eyes found Tommy’s. “Yesterday, I couldn’t resist it.”

“Can we assemble it?” Charlie’s eyes were fixed on the train set.

“Why don’t you open the box? We’ll be there in a minute.” Y/N offered to give Tommy a moment, he was suddenly quiet. Turning to look at him, she was now worried. “If you don’t like it I can ask for a refund.”

Before she could finish, Tommy was shaking his head.

“Thank you.” Sometimes, if she looked closely and he was caught off guard, she could see his emotions right in his eyes. This was one of those rare moments. “This is the best present you could give me, love.”

She didn’t know, but she was healing old open wounds, she was giving his inner child the love he sometimes couldn’t find.

“You’re welcome babe, I’m sorry it took you a few years to get the train around the Christmas tree you wanted, but it’s better late than ever.” Her hand came to rest on his cheek in a caressing motion.

Tommy closed his eyes the moment when his forehead touched hers. “Can’t believe you remember it.”

When they talked about how they would spend the holidays, somehow Y/N managed to get inside the deepest parts of his soul, where no one else was allowed to, and he ended up sharing a memory of his childhood and how he always loved to see the stores full of Christmas decorations and one store particularly placed the tree next to the window with a train going around the base.

“Are you going to help me or what?” Charlie shouted from the drawing room.

Burying his fingers in her hair, Y/N felt him smiling against her lips.

“He sounds just like you.” She chuckled intertwining her hand with his to walk to the other room.

“It has the track sections, the caboose and the little cabin with the driver!” Charlie exclaimed happily, he already had the pieces ready on the floor.

In silence, Y/N snapped a photo of Tommy and Charlie from behind, without them knowing, without a pose as they were setting the track, her boyfriend had a beaming smile, genuine, the kind that hurts your jaw after smiling so much.

“Put the batteries there, no turn that one.” Tommy instructed his son after stepping back.

The train started to move around the tree and Cyril inspected it, barking a couple of times, while Tommy struggled to find the right words to say. How could something so small mean so much?

He couldn’t stop the thoughts of those times when there wasn’t enough money for dinner, decorations or presents.

“I have something for you as well.” Tommy announced, then turning to Charlie, he whispered something in his ear and the kid ran upstairs.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see in a minute.” The smirk Y/N saw didn’t help, but he insisted on covering her eyes. “Charlie can you take it out from the bag please? Be careful, it can bite you.” He joked winking at his son as Y/N tried to hide herhands.

“Tommy!”

“Y/N!” He imitated her voice.

Seconds later, his hands moved away from her eyes and she found Charlie holding a music box with a small village inside.

“How...H-how did you know?”

“I asked Isaiah to be my eyes while you were shopping, he mentioned you kept coming back to watch it, after he drove you back home, I asked him to go back to the store to get it.” By the surprise in her eyes, it seemed like he got the right present.

“It needs a key to work.” Y/N stated, taking the box from Charlie’s hands.

“Right, about that...” Tommy offered her his hand and she pressed her palm against his, he turned it around, placing a key chain with two keys. “We’ve talked about taking the next step in our relationship.” His thumb was moving in slow circles in the back of her hand. “You’re so important in my life, my son loves you as much as I do. And we spend most of our time together... here. So I want to ask you if you would like to move in with me?” Charlie cleared his throat. “With us, I mean.”

One was the key to musical box and the other one of his house.

“Tommy yes! I want to move in with the three of you.” She pointed at Cyril, who only moved his head to get comfortable.

Placing his hands on her cheeks, Tommy pulled her for a kiss.

“It’s going to be so fun Y/N!” Charlie hugged her after they broke apart. “Will you stay tonight?”

Y/N blushed, she usually sneaked out before the sunrise, but that morning Charlie caught her walking from Tommy’s room.

“Will you stay forever?” Asked Tommy with a smile that reached his eyes.

“If you want me to.”

“Now we can watch a movie!”

“You can pick the movie, I will get the popcorn.” Y/N told Charlie who was already running to the other room.

But before she could walk to the kitchen, Tommy grabbed her by the arm and pulled Y/N back for a deeper kiss now that his son wasn’t looking.

“Are you really living with us?”

“It looks like that.” Y/N ran her fingers through the shaved sides of his head.

“That means I get to have you in my bed every night?” His lips went to assault her neck, nibbling gently.

“Starting tonight.”

“I’ll make sure you get a drawer or two.” He joked.

“That’s very generous from you.” And she pulled him before Charlie could start shouting that the movie was about to start.

An hour later, they were cuddling in the big sofa, Tommy placed his free hand wrapped around Y/N’s back. She was caressing Charlie’s hair, he fell asleep on her lap in the middle of the movie, in her other hand she was holding a glass of wine. After the movie finished Y/N took the book she bought for Christmas, another new tradition she wanted to do, buy books for her loved ones and read every night until Christmas Eve.

She knew there’s was something magical about the season, Tommy even agreed to wear the matching socks she bought for them, maybe next year she could convince him to wear matching pajamas.

Tommy looked at them; Y/N snapped a photograph of their legs tangled, with the fireplace in the background, Cyril could be seen there as well.

“Are you posting that to your Instasnap?

Y/N had to suppress a laugh to not wake up Charlie.

“Instagram baby.”

Rolling his eyes he added. “Whatever. Same shit.”

Unlike the movie, he wasn’t home alone. He had exactly what he needed to be happy.

***

A/N: Do you have any special traditions? You know it’s just a bit crazy because I decided to open my blog on Christmas Eve last year and my very first post was a Tommy/Charlie photo, so this just seemed to be the perfect match for the holidays. I hope you like this story, if you do, your thoughts and comments are the best gift you could give me 💝

Master list

This is the combination I chose from the Bingo:

Tag list:

@lyarr24 @datewithgianni @runnning-outof-time @gretelshelby @cloudofdisney @cillmequick @zablife @moral-terpitude @cutecurly-hair @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @lespendy @gypsy-girl-08 @onlydeadcells @peaky-cillian @shelbydelrey @forgottenpeakywriter @esposadomd @stevie75 @strayrockette @the-forest-witchh @elenavampire21 @peakyscillian

If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know :)

[illarian-rambling]

For the ask game:

🧡- what's your character's worst irrational fear?

💚- What does your character like to wear? Why do they wear the clothes they do?

🖤- What kind of music would your character listen to?

💕- What's your character's fatal flaw?

❤️‍🔥- Would you character go to heaven or hell? Where do they think they'd go?

Oh my, thank you! These are a lot (not a complaint) so I'll just answer for the original Mortal God cast

🧡- What's your character's worst irrational fear?

Astra's worst irrational fear is losing her ability to do magic somehow. This is irrational because book magic isn't intrinsic like sorcery. It'd be like being worried about forgetting how to read.

Mashal is dead terrified of bugs. This might seem strange for a (basically) robot, but it's not the biting or stinging that gives him the heebie jeebies. It's the idea of bugs getting into his chassis and him not noticing until they've laid a bunch of eggs in there. He's always paranoid during the fall about june bugs, because those suckers get into everything.

Ivander is scared of the dark. This might seem kind of childish, but Ivander is a son of the city. Before the events of the story, he'd never even left Unity, a city famous for its street lamps. The idea of true, croaking, country darkness unnerves him.

💚- What does your character like to wear? Why do they wear the clothes they do?

Astra is probably the only one of my characters with a signature look. She is always wearing a long coat of plum silk, with fanciful gold embroidery and slashed sleeves with crimson fabric beneath, many bows and bits of lace poking out at various places. The lining is plastered with hundreds of multicolored ribbons, each stitched with a specific rune. She can pull these rune ribbons from her cuffs or hem to throw at people, producing some magical effect or another. She does this because embroidering her runes beforehand makes it so she doesn't have to spend the first half of every fight painstakingly drawing a single fire rune. Also, cloth and thread can survive the elements a bit better than paper and ink. Astra is very proud of her gaudy coat, as it sets her apart from the licensed book magic she despises.

Mashal goes for baggier clothes, as anything too tight will get caught in his metal joints and rip. He wears a bandana tied over his scalp because he's sad he has no hair. In general, he covers up as much of his bronze plating as he can. He doesn't want it getting scuffed or scratched.

Ivander, the pompous lordling he is, wears a three piece suit to every occasion. And I mean every occasion. The man robbed a grave in a cravat once. He prefers satin, as it irritates his skin less, and he's gotten it down to a science which colors flatter his blue-tinged skin. He always wears his silver, onyx-headed tie pin, which carries his illusion. He grew up being forced to dress finely and never really lost the habit. He does legitimately also just like dressing like a fop.

🖤- What kind of music would your character listen to?

I'll just include some examples :)

Astra: You Make Me Sick! by Ashnikko, Monstarr by Ennaria, Depression by Hillbilly Moon Explosion , and Garbageman by The Cramps

Basically, just anything she could tinker to while listening at egregious volumes to keep her energy up. She'd definitely dance around a bit too, while working on stuff. It's canon that Astra loves music, she just lives in a time where jazz is only now being introduced. This is what she'd listen to with all of our modern music at her fingertips.

Mashal: Call Me, Call Me by Steve Conte, Space Age Love Song by Flock of Seagulls, Chain of Fools by Aretha Franklin, and Out of Touch by Daryl Hall and John Oates

The man likes love songs, what can I say. His taste is a lot chiller than Astra's, and played at a much quieter volume. He definitely would stay up late, all in his feels while listening to music. I would peg him as a Swiftie, but I don't listen to enough Taylor Swift to know.

Ivander: Far More Blue by The Dave Brubeck Quartet, Misty by Erroll Garner, Glad to be Unhappy by Paul Desmond, and Lullaby by Ray Bryant

He's a jazz snob, no two ways about it. Unlike some jazz snobs, he does legitimately enjoy the music, but he also very much enjoys flaunting his 'refined taste.' I think he'd play Watermelon Man by Herbie Hancock, and Mashal would legitimately lose his mind.

💕- What is your character's fatal flaw?

Astra's fatal flaws are two-fold. Her lack of self-confidence translates into pride as an overcompensation. That pride gets her into serious trouble when she's too stubborn to let it go and show the uncertainty beneath.

Mashal's fatal flaw, I would say, is his habit of making decisions for other people. Yes, there's his drive for revenge at all costs, but that has kept him alive through many a tight spot. When he decides he knows what's best and chooses something for someone that they might not want is when things get messy.

Ivander’s fatal flaw is his unwillingness to ask for help. He thinks he has to do everything by himself because that's how the world has treated him for the most part. However, he'll learn that if he crumbles under the weight of a burden he insisted on bearing alone, he might just take some other people along with him.

❤️‍🔥- Would your character go to heaven or hell? Where do you think they'd go?

Astra prays, when she bother to pray, to Erani, the Illarian goddess of ambition. This is a good fit, and Astra would hope she'd end up in the goddess's heaven. She will, as she ends up fulfilling her ambition, which is all Erani cares about.

Mashal is an adherent to Loqang, the god of loyalty - a common path of worship for Illarian soldiers. He worries about going to hell, since after his incident, he doesn't remember the oath he swore when he became a knight of Sulu'Oku. However, Loqang is a cool guy, and he respects loyalty to one's friends just as much as loyalty to an institution or code, so Mashal is getting into heaven.

Ivander has long been promised to Timaz, the god of greed, and since he's very aware that he's gotten on the god's bad side, he lives with the knowledge that he's condemned to hell. There's not a lot he can do about that. From my perspective, he's made friends with a halawemavish spirit of secrets, so maybe she can pull some strings.

Hope you all enjoyed this one!

[thesmallmeggles]

Zanzo Headcanons in No Particular Order

Autism + Cerebral Palsy + Hearing Loss + Quad Amputee (@treemintart was first on this, I just co-opted it)

Based on research I did on bionic prosthetics, I think it'd make the most sense for sense for Zanzo's limbs to be osseointegrated - contact between bone and a sturdy metal like titanium. Nub - metal rod - cybernetic limb snaps into rod and covers nub. (Peppermint and Chai might have this set-up too. And maybe Rekka.)

His cybernetic limbs are battery powered. They need regular charging to function. (There were a handful of instances where Zanzo's limbs shut down from his lack of attention. He's more distressed when it happens to his arms than his legs.)

There's an extra collapsible wheelchair stashed in a storage closet in R&D for this precise reason. And also one at Zanzo's residency, which I assume exists somewhere on the island.

He can feel pressure in his cybernetic limbs, but that's all.

Even if his CP only affected one limb or one side of his body, Zanzo would want all of his limbs to match.

Motor Stims: rocking, hand gestures, fiddling with neural implants and other objects

Zanzo has moderate - moderately severe hearing loss (40-70 dBA range) - difficult to hear conversation, vacuuming, alarm clocks, and other sounds of equal or lesser volume.

He turns his aural implants to a lower audio setting while he's working to minimize distractions. Also does this if he's overwhelmed. Has gotten startled from folks walking in while he's in the zone.

The Jojo villain oc cosplay is Zanzo's mask. If people deride him for being "weird" regardless, it's gonna be on his terms.

The pillow is custom. Zanzo anonymously commissioned an artist to design the cover. He hugs it whenever he feels lonely or stressed. Also sleeps with it.

He owns a pair of blue light filtering glasses. Sometimes he remembers to wear them.

Zanzo joined the internet in his early teens, haunting ye old chat rooms and forums. Published lots of fan art. These drawings often included a dual blade wielding green haired character.

He discovered anime around the same time and it changed his life. His main interest is in action-adventure and mecha series.

He watches anime subbed regardless of whether it's dubbed in English so he doesn't miss any dialogue. Because he's hard of hearing. (Also his parents used to yell at him for having the tv volume too loud.)

He enjoys playing action-adventure games like Metroidvanias and fighters. Occasionally breaks or hacks games for fun.

Gacha games are dangerous for Zanzo. He will be compelled to dump everything into getting the pulls he wants. Not to mention they distract him from other tasks. Zanzo had a few apps on his phone, but uninstalled them.

I don't think Zanzo's much of a pet person. In the cat/dog sense at the very least. If he did have one, I think it'd be something small and low maintenance - like a rodent or a lizard.

Zanzo first dyed his hair in his late teens/early twenties, inspired by his favorite fictional character. He stopped when Vandelay hired him, and picked it up again after his promotion, figuring Kale wouldn't care enough to chastise him about it. He was right. (This is dependent on Vandelay's stance regarding colored hair, which we don't have any canon info about. I imagine the department heads have more leeway in regards to dress code.)

I learned from the Hi-Fi wiki that the BRUT-1L has a "baby rocking mode". My proposal is that Zanzo intended this for stimming. Maybe he couldn't justify making something that specifically self indulgent, so he knocked two birds out with one stone by also making BRUT-1L a combat gardening robot. (Zanzo doubts his neurotypical coworkers would understand the appeal.)

Zanzo has a private YouTube/Twitch (or whatever the Hi Fi Rush equivalent is) account. Content ranges from playthroughs (and game breaking), reviews/analysis, unboxings, and showing off his various robotics projects. (Including ones that shouldn't be unveiled to the public yet.) He has a small, but dedicated following.

Does Zanzo know how to sword fight? Kind of. He understands the principle at the bare minimum.

[miminmimikyu]

Every time with PPPPPP I keep thinking "am I reading too much into this" (-> probably -> who knows! -> no way to confirm now!). Today, I'm really impressed with how much the volume extras of volume 7 & 8 pack a punch despite them being really really simple. So I'm going to read (too much) into it again x_x

Volume 7 covers the end of the 4v4 piano battle, Chocho's death and its direct aftermath (ch 53 - 61).

After each chapter there's an extra page that's blank save for a stave with a single note like this, similar to the rings the sextuplets wear/wore:

(excuse the crappy phone quality, this twitter thread by @/ppppppupdates has the extras from all the volumes pulled from the digital versions which are much clearer. I've linked to a few of them here and there).

The first note is C (Do) and the note moves up the C major scale with each chapter. To me, this came off as "very ominous countdown". You reach the end of the chapter, turn a page and BAM, the note's crept up again. It took me out of it for a second while still building suspense and still maintaining the flow of the story. The last note is B (ti/shi). This happens after chapter 59, which is when Chocho dies. So the scale was counting down (ok, up) to Chocho's death, where the chapter ends on a "pi-----"/"beeeeep" sound effect.

I know the fact that the scale doesn't end on C probably has more to do with there only being 7 siblings + only 7 chapters preceding this moment, but I also like how the scale remains unfinished. Since the last note (B/ti) is the very unstable 7th degree in the scale my brain automatically wants the melody to resolve to C but it's cut short like Chocho's life is

(There are still two chapters in the volume after that but the extras are more like the previous volumes: Most of it is Sadame-centric, like the cover (little graphs depicting his ability, the acknowledgment page is a warped version of the electronics shop where Sadame and Meloli and the inside back cover is of Meloli and Sadame). Also, there's a conductor's baton for Furusu and the results of the popularity contest)

Volume 8 already immediately sucker punched me by having no one on this page. Then, in a break from the small drawings between chapters from previous volumes, each of those pages has a full-page portait of each sibling, starting with Reijiro, Mimin, Fanta (all smiling), then Sorachika, Don and Shikato and finally, after the final chapter-- a smiling Brilliant (?) Lucky dressed in the clothes he's wearing on the cover of volume 8.

The final extra pages are small items representing members of the Otogami family

Rejiro and Mimin

Fanta + the three pairs of polyhedron earrings might refer to Sorachika, on an Shitako?

Sorachika (scarf), Shikato (apple) and Don (score)

Gakuon, though I think it also could be referring to Brilliant Lucky as he's also associated with the necklace and his portrait has him wearing it while Gakuon/Sorachika(?)'s hand reaches for it

Lastly, there's a melancholic acknowledgments page (a room almost completely empty except for a piano) and the back inside cover (depicting the end of a measure, quite a definitive "the end" imo)

Interestingly, none of the extras depict or refer to Mediocre Lucky (unless the final portrait is what would have been Lucky's final form after, idk, he and Brilliant Lucky accept each other). Maybe this is fitting because his only appearances in volume 8 are 1) passed out in the cemetery in chapter 64 and 2) in that rigid, almost caricature-like form in chapter 70 where he's banished to the darkness by Brilliant Lucky.

All in all I think these extras make the volume end on an even sadder note than chapter 70 did on its own. A lot of them just remind me of stuff that we won't get to see: A happy Brilliant Lucky never appears in the actual story-- the story ends with Brilliant Lucky lashing out in anger and rejecting Mediocre Lucky. And if that final portait is (Mediocre) Lucky himself, then it's also a version of Lucky that we never got to see-- Lucky didn't get this good ending. Even the personal items on the extra pages are split between "siblings Lucky has saved" and "siblings Lucky has not saved" (& Fanta): Arcs that we got vs. arcs that we never will get.

[thyandrawrites]

Hi,

I just want to say thank you for the time and care you have put towards analyzing Dabi/Touya. Even though I have always been invested in his character ever since the day I stumbled on MHA thanks to the captivating Volume 30 cover, for a while, I had many conflicting thoughts/emotions about Dabi I could not sort through on my own. Your writing has helped me better understand these nuances and appreciate the beauty of his character.

I have not drawn anything for a quite a while, but today is Dabi/Touya's birthday so I figured I should dress him up in something nice. I hope the drawing lightens up your day, as it does for me.

p/s: It is late in the night so my language is getting weird:') But I won't have time during the day tomorrow so I tried my best to write to you now.

Hi! It's really sweet of you to send me such a nice message :') It makes me really happy that you found my analyses helpful. Dabi's a fairly complex character so I totally get where you're coming from. When I first started the manga, tt took me a while too to get a cohesive read on him :') But that's what makes him so interesting, isn't it?

Anyway, gosh, that fanart looks amazing!! You said it's been a while since you last drew something, but you def don't look rusty to me! Your style is really pretty and I'm loving the vibes of this piece :') I think Dabi's one of the few characters in the cast who can pul off almost any outfit, and I can see now that definitely applies to cute bunny shirts too ahah

Thank you so much again, both for the support and for sharing your art with me!! I'm honored that you thought of me!

Happy Touya day to you too!

[cookietastic]

Thank you @dykesynthezoid

This seemed fun so I'll try it out 😭

3 ships:

1. Lawrusso- I'm a basic bitch. Leave me alone😭. Come on fam it's rivals mixed in with 35 year history mixed in with in with the problem with toxic masculinity mixed in with breaking the cycle of abuse mixed in with different ways of coping and realizing they aren't healthy (ex: Johnny drinking and Daniel totally thinking that pretending everything is fine or going from 2-10 VERY fast)- Just smacking Lawrusso on the head like " this bad boy can fit so much shit-damn go to therapy together."

2. Samtory- Wanna rewatch the series again and focus on them more really adore them/love their dynamic. Like it's funny walking into the show and seeing Robby and Miguel interacting and going on this is supposed to be our Johnny and Daniel? And then you see Tory and Sam interacting and you're like not only is this supposed to be our Daniel and Johnny but also- hello?👀

3. I have list, but to mix it up with different fandom- Grayghost- Danny, and Val really was that end-game feeling. I remember jokingly saying they had to keep Val out of season 3 as much as possible because if Danny even made eye contact for more than 1 minute, that would be it. It's funny cause they seem like the most natural relationship out of the whole show, yet the one they want people to like last minute is the one they had a whole episode on why they shouldn't be together/not ready for that.

1st ever ship:

Damn- I don't know to judge this one. Cause it can range from anywhere to I thought they should be together when I first saw something or searched content for it. Going with Alice and Kyo from Alice the 19th aka the manga set I found at goodwill at 12-

I am 1000% sure 12-year-old me should have not been reading this with all the dark shit happening

Last song:

Little too cringe to put here lmao

Currently reading:

Well listening to- Paper Backs From Hell by Grady Hendrix talks about the history of Horror from paper backs in the 1970s-1980s and dealing with topics of art on the covers grabbing your attention as well as the wild stories within them.

Little book summary

Take a tour through the horror paperback novels of two iconic decades . . . if you dare. Page through dozens and dozens of amazing book covers featuring well-dressed skeletons, evil dolls, and knife-wielding killer crabs! Read shocking plot summaries that invoke devil worship, satanic children, and haunted real estate! Horror author and vintage paperback book collector Grady Hendrix offers killer commentary and witty insight on these trashy thrillers that tried so hard to be the next Exorcist or Rosemary’s Baby. Complete with story summaries and artist and author profiles, this unforgettable volume dishes on familiar authors like V. C. Andrews and R. L. Stine, plus many more who’ve faded into obscurity.

Last movie:

I was supposed to watch Friday the 13th yesterday

I could be wrong cause my friend and I saw a bunch of movies that weekend but "Lost cat corona," which now has one of my favorite movie quotes said/top 10, aka "HAVE YOU SEEN MY FUCKING CAT?"

Currently consuming:

Crustables and gummies fruit snacks- Because I have the diet of a 4th grader on summer vacation

Currently watching:

Art videos- I like listening to things while drawing, and artists rambling about stories or their own art experiences are one of them.

Currently craving:

Go Go Curry 😭

I'm always so happy when I get to do these things/when people tag me! But feel like I'm annoying when tagging people- Just know you don't have to do this! 😭

@we-serve-spirits @babyhellboy @schnuffel-danny @snaileo @raveyardantics @they-bite

[moonlightheretic]

Venom of the Gods- Chapter 1-Snippet (Rough draft)

“Venetori? What in the void are they doing in these parts?”

“Maybe they fancy sight-seeing…” Elle remarked sarcastically before she tempered her tone when realization took center stage. “…or they were after the artefact too.” Their stone bodies draped over each other as they swarmed the ground beneath the harmonious artefact. Curled over like deceased spiders, their legs and arms rigid but still conveying a frantic motion halted in time. “They didn’t succeed.” Elle cocked her head and dribbled her foot, “Sorta odd how they are assembled, looks like they died all at once…they were trying to flee from something. Caught from behind like that.” She glanced back at the slain professor and his entourage. “Looks like Venetori got to them first though. “We aren’t the first to travel here, that is for sure.”

“You don’t think whatever came for them…isn’t still here?” Athan inquired with curiosity, a little too chipper for her liking. He was such a peculiar fellow.

“I think we would have confronted it by now. However, that doesn’t mean this place isn’t trapped.” Elle thrusted her fists into her hips and sighed, “I am going to investigate a way to free it without getting us skewered or something worse.”

“I’ll be over by the mural.” Athan jabbed his thumb in the direction of the previous room, already with his dagger in his hand.

Elle followed him out and wandered over to the remains of the archaeologists, there could be a clue here…these people wouldn’t let one stone go un-turned, surely, they would have documented any devices for hiding traps, right?

She rummaged through their equipment, their packs and their pockets but found nothing of use. Her eyes fell on a well-dressed human male, his chest slumped into his knees, his arm folded in between. She crouched down and with her hands on his shoulders, she pried him apart. Looped inside the crook of his arm was a heavily bloodstained journal. ‘He protected his work until the end.’ She observed with a grimace. “I am sorry.” Elle couldn’t help feeling guilty, using his work to profit her own, but there was no other option.

 Inscribed on the leather journal:

‘The Art History of the Elvhen Empire Volume Six’

‘Notes of Prof. Perrick Montague’

‘The University of Orlais’

She whistled low in genuine amazement, “Fancy, fancy.”

“Find something?” Messere Athan hollered from the other end of the room, chipping away at the mural.

“Perhaps!”  

 She flipped through the pages of the blood-stained journal with sincere interest, the professor’s notes were fluid and well scripted, a word or rather a name was repeated, Ghilan’nain. She squinted at the name, attempting to make sense of it. She turned another page, this time to a detailed rendition, a sketched figure with an upside-down crescent crowned her head. Above her head was written, Ghilan’nain. She rose to stand when her legs started to tingle, pulling the page close to her face. It looked familiar. She swiveled on her heel slowly,the rest was smeared with dried blood from her shoulders’ down, but bloody fingerprints accentuated the adjacent page, and with caution she willed her fingers to peel it back. Sloppy and broad, this bloody message was written in evident haste covering more sketches of this Ghilan’nain, now facing the mural Athan plucked jewels out of.

‘SEVEN EYES.’

Elle gulped nervously and felt her heart plummet to her stomach. Not sure why those words overwhelmed her with dread, and she wasn’t so sure she wanted to figure that out.

‘A strange thing to write as your last words.’ But who was she to judge? She reasoned with herself, achieving very little success.

Her eyes left the page to compare the drawings to the sight before her. She wasn’t here to frighten herself. Business, Elle. Don’t get distracted. She allowed the memory of her father’s admonishment playout.  But her vision swelled with the figure who had his back turned to her and something felt wrong.

Messere Athan swirled a blue vile as he gazed up at the mural, his back straight and shoulders relaxed, he rested all his weight on his backfoot. His body language continued to befuddle her; he acted like he was enjoying the artwork at some haughty soiree.

She pinned the Lyrium vile with her eyes, lowering the journal in her hands, as the man drew it to his lips and downed it in one large gulp.

“It is rather unlucky for you that I am a Templar of the Southern Chantry. Unlike those neutered dogs in Tevinter.” Messere Athan allowed the vile to shatter on the floor as he twisted on that backfoot, hand on his sword. “Magister Alexina sends her regards.”

[uhlatcha]

BEGINNING OF END - ATEEZ DREAM CATCHER AU - CHAPTER ONE: MINJI'S DREAM

AO3 | WATTPAD | MASTERLIST | VIDEO TEASER | PLAYLIST

STORY SUMMARY: A group of teenager boys found confort in each other and in the dreams they share, but what they don't know is that a group of girls in a boarding school not far from their city, who hide a powerful secret can change completely their lives, puting not only their dreams in danger, but also the destiny of the world.

FANDOMS: DREAMCATCHER AND ATEEZ

WORD COUNT: 2352

GENRE: FANFIC, SCIFI, FANTASY, MISTERY.

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction influenced by Ateez and Dreamcatcher respective lores. I used a lot of references and canon stuff, but also made some changes so both worlds can work together.

NOTES: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, ANY FEEDBACKAS ARE WELCOME.

CHAPTER ONE: MINJI'S DREAM.

The dream was always the same. A younger version of Minji was sitting in a large room in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. The place was completely dark, except for the light coming in from a skylight in the ceiling.

She is sitting at the table in the center of the room, on which there is a book. The blue leather-bound volume had a curious symbol engraved on the cover, an hourglass in the center of a circle very similar to a globe.

"The universe is divided into many dimensions." It's the phrase on the first page of the book, and when she turns the page, she finds once again the drawing of an hourglass, this time, hand painted on the page covered with characters that she didn't have time to read, because her attention was attracted by the sound of footsteps echoing through the warehouse.

As she looks towards the sound of steps, she sees a silhouette emerging from the shadows, walking towards her. Her heart tightens, it's as if suddenly she can't move. As she gets closer, she realizes that the silhouette belongs to a boy. He would look very normal if it wasn't for his blue hair.

Dressed in black and carrying the curious object portrayed in the book, the blue-haired boy calmly approaches Minji, a faint smile on his lips, as if to transpose her.

She feels like she should run, that's what she wants to do, but her body simply won't move, so she continues sitting, just staring at the boy, who just reaches the light, extends his hand, nodding his head so that the girl takes the golden hourglass he carries.

Minji reaches out and takes the artifact. The boy smiles at her and nods. He doesn't say anything, but something seems to click when the girl picks up the artifact, as if the object should be with her. The boy takes a step back and a bluish light begins to emanate from the hourglass and Minji wakes up, sweating and panting, sitting up in bed in a sudden movement.

"Are you okay?" Siyeon, who was sitting on the bed on the other side of the room with a book resting on her knees and a small flashlight in her hands, asked.

Minji nodded. She didn't remember the first time she had that dream, but it had been with her for years. And the feeling she had when she woke up was always the same. That she couldn't escape, that even in the real world, when she was awake, he would find her. The blue haired-boy.

Which was ridiculous, since Minji had never seen anyone even remotely similar to the blue-haired boy in her dreams. How could someone who didn't exist pursue her? Persecution didn't seem like the most logical word to describe the situation, but that was exactly how she felt.

Siyeon was still staring at her, more curious than worried, she pointed the flashlight at her roommate, who squinted her eyes.

"Had a nightmare?" She asked.

"Kinda." Minji answered, with a confused expression.

"How can you kinda have a nightmare?" Siyeon asked and Minji just shrugged, trying to find a more comfortable position on the bed.

She signaled to her friend that she was going to go back to sleep, or at least try, and instructed her to do the same. Siyeon agreed that she should,since the light might bother Minji and their new roommate, the girl who arrived at the mansion that week, and still didn't exchange a word with any of the girls from the school.

But it still took her a while to abandon the book in her lap, she had to finish it, since it would be discussed the next day at the book club, a book that she should have already finished, but wasn't even halfway through, what made her worried that Sua would get mad at her for not finishing the reading in time.

What she didn't know was that Sua hadn't finished the book either, and was very busy at that exact moment, in another corner of the mansion, with other books and a not-so-benevolent purpose.

****

"Maybe she can't speak, just like Minji?" Gahyeon suggested.

"Gahyeon!" Handong scolded the girl, poking her with the elbow. "You shouldn't say things like this."

The girls were at their usual table at the mansion cafeteria, and Minji was sitting right in front of Gahyeon, drinking a cup of tea, beside her, Yoohyeon, Minji's best friend, was looking with an annoyed face at Gahyeon.

"I'm not mocking her or being mean." Gahyeon protested "Is it wrong to say the truth now?"

Handong couldn't believe the youngest. She just turned to Mnji, saying that she was sorry for her friend's behavior. Minji just brushes it away. Gahyeon wasn't trying to hurt her, they were friends, she was just a little unconsciously mean from time to time, a lot of the richest girls were sometimes, but it wasn't the case at that moment. And it wasn't like she said something wrong, MInji couldn't talk, she was mute. But assuming the new girl was mute too just cause she didn't approach anyone, was kind of wrong.

"Maybe she's just really shy, or nervous." Siyeon suggested "It's normal not to feel so comfortable around new people."

They were talking about the new girl, the one who was sharing the room with Minji and Siyeon. She arrived at the beginning of the week, and all the girls knew about her was her name: Dami.

The girl was attending all classes since she arrived, but never talked to anyone, even to the teachers, she just ignored everyone and kept walking alone through the school.

"I heard she came from a mental hospital." Gahyeon whispered.

"Okay, I had enough of you for today." Yoohyeon said, getting up.

"What? I'm just saying what I heard." Gahyeon protested.

"You shouldn't spread everything you heard from your rich mean friends." Yoohyeon scolded her.Then she turned to Minji. "I see you in class."

"Are you coming to the book club meeting later?" Siyeon asked as the girl walked away. "Sua will get mad if you don't."

"I'll be there." She answered without turning around.

Siyeon sighed, less worried.

"Where is she, by the way?" Minji asked, not obtaining an answer. The one who could give an answer was the one who just left: Yoohyeon, who was Sua's roommate.

"She's probably in the library, or in the photography club room." Handong pointed. "She's spending a lot of time there lately working on a project."

"I don't understand how she stands to stay in that dark room for so long. I find that room suffocating." Gahyeon commented.

"I have to agree with you on that." Siyeon said. She was still with the book in hand, now a lot more close to the end. She would have finished it by the evening before dinner when the book club meeting was scheduled.

The bell announcing the end of the breakfast and beginning of classes rang, interrupting the girl's conversation. The girls started to get up with their trails.

"Are we going to the corner shop tonight?" Gahyeon whispered to Minji after they left the cafeteria. "I'm running out of snacks."

"I don't think it is a good idea." Minji pointed out.

"But it has been more than two weeks since the designated break! We always go to the corner shop after the book club meetings!" Gahyeon sulked.

"I think Minji is right." Handong pointed out "We can't go out and break the curfew when there is someone else we don't know well enough sleeping in their room.What if the new girl snitches us?"

"WAIT?" Gahyeon said. making the other three girls stop in the hallway. "So you having a new roommate we don't trust means we are never going to sneak out of the academy again? UNTIL WE GRADUATE?"

"I hadn't thought about it." Minji pointed out, seeming worried about that possibility.

"We need a solution, really quick." Siyeon said, as the girls headed to their respective classes.

****

"So hum... Dami, how were your first days?" The counselor asked.

Dami was sitting in his fancy office, the room filled with bookshelves would be very cozy and inviting if the circumstances were different. The counselor seemed like a decent guy. Hair well cut and neat, clothes clean and ironed. He wore a placid expression as he watched, waiting for an answer that didn't come.

It didn't matter that he seemed like a nice person, she had already learned not to trust anyone. Dami didn't want to talk about how her first week had been. In fact, she didn't want to talk about anything.

And yet, everyone around her continued to direct questions at her.

What is your name? Where are you from? Why are you here? Do you want to sit with us? Almost everyone at the academy seemed so friendly, always kind and curious, willing to help her with whatever she needed. Of course there were also some people talking shit on her back. She heard some girls in the bathroom speculating about her and the circumstances that led her there. But they were a minority, as far as she knew.

She didn't expect that when she found out she was going to a boarding school. She expected spoiled rich girls, hateful teachers and a horrible place.But the academy was a pleasant place, an old house but very well maintained and cared for.

Many of the girls who lived and studied there were very rich indeed, but there were also girls like Dami, who were lucky enough to end up there after not very fortunate circumstances.And they all recognized how lucky they were to be there, being well cared for and receiving a good education.

Everything there seemed perfect, and that was what bothered Dami the most. How could a place like that exist?

Coming from where she came from, after what she'd been through, all the perfection of that place seemed elusive. The real world wasn't like that, was it?

"I know new beginnings can be difficult" the man who seemed to realize he wouldn't get an answer began "But I hope you start to feel at home here soon."

Home... Dami didn't understand the meaning of that word.

"I'm sure the girls are excited to meet you." he guaranteed. "Your roommates..."

"About that" Dami spoke for the first time, causing the man's eyes to light up.

"Can I have a room of my own?"

The glint in the counselor's eyes disappeared.

"The girls weren't nice to you?" he wanted to know.

"Quite the opposite" She had to admit it "They are very kind and polite."

The counselor smiled, proud of his choice to her roommates. But soon his smile faded in confusion.

"But if they are so nice, why do you want a room of your own?" he wanted to know.

"I still don't feel comfortable sharing a room after... You know." she didn't finished the sentence, she didn't had to, he knew what she was talking about. "I'm not sleeping well yet, and when I fall asleep... Sleepwalking starts again."

"Are you still having sleepwalking episodes?" he asked, worried, taking notes on his notepad.

"Yes." Dami lied. She hadn't had any sleepwalking episodes since arriving at the academy, at least she hadn't had any signs of it when she woke up, but she didn't want to share a room, so she needed a convincing excuse.

"It could be dangerous to the girls, I don't want to hurt anyone" she added.The counselor pondered for a moment.

"Having roommates is important for your socialization." He commented "But if sleepwalking worries you I can see if we can get you a private room. On one condition.

Of course, everything was going too well as she'd planned.

"You need to socialize in other ways... Join a club, maybe?" he suggested.

Dami didn't want to socialize, she wanted to stay as far away from everyone as possible, until she could think of a way to escape that place.

"I can try," she agreed, just to try to reel the man in.

"That's great" the counselor said, opening one of the drawers in his desk and taking out a sheet which he handed to the girl. "You can choose and fill out the form." he said, handing her the list of clubs and sports teams. He really wasn't willing to be tricked, but Dami wasn't about to give up a room of her own, so she skimmed through the list, analyzing the available options. Dancing, music, volleyball, photography... Everything seemed to require a lot of effort, until her eyes found the right words.

"Reading Club". she announced, and the man smiled, satisfied, handing her a form to fill out.

"That's great" he said "I'll ask Siyeon, your roommate, to accompany you to your first club meeting, she's one of the founders of the club, she'll be very happy to welcome you as a new member."

Dami didn't answer. She wasn't the least bit interested in the club, she just thought it would be the easiest to deal with on the list.

"Actually, I think they have a meeting tonight before dinner." the counselor announced, making her even more disappointed with her decision. "You will love it, the girls are very smart and always choose amazing books."

She wasn't really interest in all of that, bit she would have to pretend for a while if she wanted to be free. And God, how she wanted it.

****

Sua caressed the black leather cover of the book she was holding. It was a really old and rare exhibit. She had been taking care of the book for a while but soon it would be in someone's else hands.

It was almost time.That was all Sua could think about. She had been working on that for so long...

She was stuck in her own world when the bell announcing the beginning of classes rang. She had to go to class, so she protected the book, putting it on a velvet bag and hide it in one of the drawers of the studio table, locking it with a key.

If anyone entered the photography club room, they wouldn't find the book. Not that anyone wanted to be in that room recently, or that anyone could do something with the book.

She left the room and ran to her class. She still had a lot to do for her project, but it had to wait. Soon everything would be ready as she planned.

[priestessofspiders]

A Visit From Uncle Umbra

I must have been about 5 years old when I encountered the book. My mother recently had gone to visit my grandfather, and brought back a couple boxes of old belongings. After an early dinner, my brother, my mother and I started looking through the boxes. There were dolls, stuffed animals, a board game or two, and several books.

Now, I hadn't yet learned to read by that age, though not for lack of trying. I remember I once borrowed my father's reading glasses and sat on the couch, trying to will the symbols on the page to manifest into coherent sentences. I thought that the glasses would help translate the seemingly bizarre hieroglyphs into sounds in my head, but there was no such luck. As I helped my mother and older brother search through the cardboard boxes filled with childhood treasures, my eyes drifted to a small book. It was gray in coloration, with a drawing of a man in a wide-brimmed hat and dark suit on the cover. His face was covered up by his black hat, and his hands were in his pockets. The art style was cartoonish, but strangely detailed and grotesque in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on. Looking back on it now, I'd almost be tempted to compare it to German Expressionism. The book had a title in angular block letters, but I couldn't make the symbols transform into words in my young mind. Clutching the book, I pawed at the sleeve of my mother. "Mommy? What does this say?", I mumbled, showing her the slim volume. I was embarrassed by my inability to read, something that my parents and 12 year old brother seemed to be able to do so easily. My mother looked up from a small pile of stuffed animals, glancing at the book before saying, "It says A Visit From Uncle Umbra dear." I stared at the book's cover, looking at the man in his black suit who I assumed must be the titular Uncle Umbra. I kept focusing on his head, as if maybe I could will the hat to come off so I could see his face. The book made me feel uncomfortable, but there was something drawing me to it. It felt similar to the sensation one feels looking over the edge of a cliff, that unexplainable urge to jump. "Mommy?", I said, looking back up at my mother with pleading eyes, "Would you be able to read this to me?"

My mother sighed, looking around at the mess that had been made of the living room. "Your dad and I have a dinner date tonight, but I'm sure your brother would be more than happy to read it to you". She stared pointedly at Oliver, who was currently looking through the various knick-knacks with poorly disguised boredom. "Ugh, mom do I have to?", he groaned, tossing aside an old box of crayons. Oliver had reached the stage in development where spending time with his younger sibling seemed more like a chore than anything else. My mother ruffled his hair, before saying, "Yes you have to dear. C'mon, its a very short little book, shouldn't take you more than a few minutes. Now, I'll be right back, I've gotta get ready." With that, she walked off to the bathroom, dusting her hands off on her dress as she went.

With all the enthusiasm of dying slug, Oliver slunk over to me, petulantly grabbing the book out of my hands. He flipped through the pages, and his brow furrowed with confusion, before a mischievous grin crossed his face. “Alright Chloe, you're sure you want me to read you this book? This one specifically?” I nodded enthusiastically, smiling as I said “This one pacifically!” Oliver chuckled at my mispronunciation and sat down with me on the couch, opening up the book to the first page. On the left hand page there was a picture of the eponymous Uncle Umbra, hat covering his face and hands in his pockets, as he walked up a hill. The right hand paged contained writing which was inscrutable to my young eyes.  My brother read out loud the text on the right hand page, “All dressed up in his suit of black and gray, Uncle Umbra is coming today!”

I giggled at the rhyme, but I felt slightly nervous in the back of my mind. Why did my brother make that weird smile, and how come I felt so drawn to this book? Deep down I could sense there was something wrong, but I didn’t understand how or why. My brother flipped the page. The left hand side showed Uncle Umbra in the woods now, walking among towering pine trees. A full moon hung overhead, and his shadow stretched eerily out behind him. I heard Oliver read out, “He walks beneath moonlight, through slumbering groves, he reeks of old eggshells, lost children and cloves.”

As my brother flipped the page, I caught a glimpse of something pale underneath Uncle Umbra’s wide brimmed hat, as if he had started to turn his face to look at me. Before I could say anything, Oliver had started reading the next page, “You must stay quiet, stay hidden away, Uncle Umbra is coming today!” The illustration on the left hand side showed a blond haired girl, hiding behind a couch. The shadow of a man with a wide brimmed hat leered menacingly on the wall, and she clutched a small teddy bear. I noticed that the teddy bear looked just like one which I had been given for my 4th birthday. Before I could process what this meant, my brother had already turned the page once more.

"A mischievous smirk with white teeth like sharp knives, of unruly children, sunlight he deprives", said Oliver with a wicked look in his eye. The illustration showed Uncle Umbra holding a large black sack with gloved hands, the arm of a child sticking out of it. Below the brim of the hat, I could see a wide, evil grin. The teeth were pointed and arranged in shark-like rows, overlapping with one another in a chaotic jumble of razor sharp enamel. I felt myself starting to cry. My brother turned the page.

"You ought to go hide, you ought to go pray, Uncle Umbra is coming today!", cackled my brother as I looked in horror at a close up picture of the little blonde girl's terrified expression. I realized that she looked just like me. My heart was pounding in my chest, and tears poured from my eyes, but I couldn't stop looking, and I couldn't tell Oliver to stop reading. It was as if I was paralyzed.

Before I knew it, Oliver had turned the page once more, it showed the little girl staring wide-eyed in bed, hiding under her covers. In the background I could see the sinister figure of Uncle Umbra standing over the bed, sack in hand. His teeth glinted in the pallid moonlight. "You must never sleep while he visits your house, or he'll take you away, while in bed you drowse", recited Oliver, his voice dripping with malice.

The page turned, showing a close up of Uncle Umbra's face, still partially covered by his wide-brimmed hat. I could still see his horrifying shark-toothed smile. "If you can see him, run far far away, Uncle Umbra is coming...", Oliver whispered, turning the page before shouting, "TODAY!!"

I shrieked and fell off the couch absolutely horrified. It wasn't because of Oliver's decision to yell the final word of the book in my ear, although that didn't help. It was what I saw after he turned to the last page. I was greeted by an image which still haunts me to this very day, a vision straight out of a nightmare. Uncle Umbra was looking up to stare at the viewer directly, his white, pupiless eyes boring directly into my very soul. He had no ears, and just two holes for nostrils. Even though it was just a drawing, it radiated the most intense feeling of evil I'd ever experienced. I heard Oliver laugh uproariously as he closed the book and tossed it on the ground. My mother walked in, scowling. "Oliver, what did you do this time?" she shouted, helping me up to my feet and pulling me close. "Nothing mom, I just read that book she asked me to read, guess it was a little too grown-up for her", my brother said, still chuckling to himself. "Go to your room," my mother demanded, pointing down the hallway. "But mom-" he started to whine, before swiftly being cut off. "I don't care about your excuses young man, you go to your room and we'll talk about this more tomorrow." Oliver huffed and stormed off to his room, stomping his feet as he went. My mother turned to me, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry your brother scared you," she said, gently petting my hair. "How about I get you a bowl of ice cream, then you can brush your teeth and head off to bed. We'll only be gone for a couple hours, when we get back you can sleep with us tonight if you're still scared." I nodded, wiping a tear from my eye. My mother scooped me a small serving of vanilla ice cream, kissed me on the forehead, and left with my father for their date night. The taste of ice cream swiftly helped me forget the horrible book, and soon I felt comfortable and happy. Being the dutiful child I was, I rinsed out the bowl when I was done, put it in the sink, and brushed my teeth. I climbed into bed and turned off the light.

As I got comfortable, I reached over for my teddy bear before stopping. The sight of it reminded me of the book, of the child hiding behind the couch from the shadow of Uncle Umbra. Instantly, my feelings of comfort and contentment fled, and I was left with a cold fear filling my mind like ice water.

I knew I wasn't allowed to leave the lights on until my parents got home. I'd get in trouble for wasting electricity and staying up too late on a school night. As scared as I was of Uncle Umbra, I didn't want to get lectured by my parents. Instead I grabbed a flashlight from my bedside table, and flicked it on. My father had bought it for me after I wet the bed due to being too scared of the dark to get up and use the restroom. I moved my flashlight over the darkness of the room for what felt like hours, but there was nothing there. Each time I thought I spied some grotesque figure lurking in the shadows it would turn out to be something mundane, like a cabinet or pile of laundry. As the minutes ticked away, my eyelids grew heavier, and vigilance was steadily replaced with exhaustion.

I must have drifted off by the time I heard it. A raspy, evil voice like grass in the wind. "Chloe...", it spoke in a sing-song voice, "I'm going to get you Chloe..." I grabbed the flashlight and clicked the button rapidly, beginning to hyperventilate as I realized the battery must have died. The voice continued to mock me. "Chloe... I'm going to take you away..."

There was a noise from across the room, the creaking of a hinge. I stared in horror as my closet door opened up, dimly illuminated in the moonlight. I was shaking as I strained my eyes to see what was there, but in my heart I already knew what I'd see. As I watched, a gloved hand pushed aside the door, and a pale face peaked out from my closet. It had pure white eyes, a wide brimmed hat, and an unnerving grin composed of rows of shark-like teeth. Uncle Umbra was stepping out of my closet. I shrieked and fell out of bed, scrambling for the door, but it wouldn't budge. I heard the voice again, closer now. It laughed raspily and said, "Don't try to escape Chloe..."

I turned around and screamed louder. Uncle Umbra had stood up to his full height, and to my child mind he seemed taller than any skyscraper. The reek of cloves and slimy eggshells burned my nostrils as I watched him lift up an enormous black sack. Without warning, the door behind me opened, and I fell to the ground. I ran screaming down the hallway, running into my parents' room and locking the door, turning on all the lights. I hid in the wardrobe, clutching the useless flashlight like a crucifix. A couple times I heard banging on the door outside and a muffled voice, but I wouldn't come out, I didn't want to be taken away. About an hour later I heard the door open and the someone step into the room. I tightened my grip on the flashlight and held my breath. The wardrobe door opened and I screamed, running out and flailing with my flashlight as some kind of makeshift club... right into the knees of my father. After a lot of reassuring words and hugs from my parents, I eventually calmed down. They told me that it was just my brother pulling a very mean prank on me, and that everything was okay. Oliver was grounded for a week for his cruel joke, and the book was donated to a thrift store. Over two decades have passed since that night. I am now 26 years old, Oliver is 33. We were talking recently at a family reunion, discussing childhood. I mentioned how much of a brat he was back then, laughing as I related the story of his horrifying prank. He was laughing too at first, but got quiet when I brought up seeing Uncle Umbra coming out of the closet. After I was finished telling my story, I asked "Oliver, seriously, how did you make such a convincing costume in only a couple hours? I know time can distort your memories but Jesus that thing still gives me the creeps." Oliver looked at me dead in the eyes, a look of confusion on his face. "Chloe, I didn't make a costume. All I did was talk in a scary voice and hold the door shut when you tried to run out."

[venerable-sun]

Star-Crossed Lovers (Aaravos x Reader)

Trigger Warning: Angst, a brief allusion to sex if you squint but nothing at all explicit. Potential grammatical errors that come from writing after drinking half a bottle of sangria.

Summary: Thousands of years in the past, you find love between stacks of old magic books. Unfortunately, the world doesn't want you and Aaravos together.

2.3k~ words

Before Aaravos, your days are spent surrounded by books. 

The daughter of a widowed mother, you are nothing but thankful for your apprenticeship at Elarian’s royal library. The kingdom outside suffers with famine and disease, so you keep your head down and count your blessings for the small wage you earn that you are able to send to your mother. 

Not that you don’t love the books, of course. They provide a comforting hug between their covers, and on especially bad days where the despair seems too much to bear, you often imagine yourself taking a nap in them, pulling the pages up beneath your chin like a blanket. 

It is in the library that you first met him. 

You murmur to yourself underneath your breath, mentally counting the shelves as you put away returned books. Turning to survey the cart you pull behind you, you’re too late to stop yourself from running into the tall man in your path. 

You both tumble to the ground, books raining down around you as the cart is knocked over in your fall. 

You mumble an apology, head down as you scramble to pick up the fallen volumes. A speckled hand stops you by grabbing your wrist, and you look up to its source in shock. As you gaze into the purple face of the elf before you, you realize two things: first, that who you ran into was not a man at all, and second, that he was the most beautiful being you had ever laid eyes upon in your life.

“Not to fret,” he stands languidly, drawing a curious shape in the air. The books fly back to their places on the shelves as if they had been there all along. He stoops down and offers you a hand, a small smile on his face. “No harm done, see?” 

The deep baritone of his voice has left you speechless, and you can only stare at his hand held expectantly out in front of you. You grab it with a shaking grip, relishing in the way it tightens against your own as he pulls you up. 

You don’t know what to say as you stand before him, significantly shorter than he and much more insignificant. Elves aren’t common in Elarion; in fact, this is the first time you’ve ever seen one with your own two eyes. But they have always fascinated you, especially the tales of their wonder and magic that you’ve read about in your books. You’ve always longed for the chance to meet one. 

So of course, not that you’re standing less than two feet away from one, the first thing out of your mouth is, “What are you doing here?” 

To your great chagrin and relief, the elf tips his head back and laughs, a joyous sound that you makes you want to both listen to it for the rest of your life and slap your hand over his mouth so your boss won’t come stamping down the aisles to see what all the commotion is about. 

“You humans do have such a way with words, don’t you?” He contemplates with a certain gleam in his eye, the twisted smile never fully leaving his face. His gaze flicks to the now empty cart behind you and back. “I’m looking for a very specific book, perhaps you can help me find it?” 

And so you lead him through the shelves to a book on ancient Draconic runes, so old that its spine is cracked and the pages yellow. The elf flips through it gingerly, humming in approval. 

“Excellent. When must I return it?” 

“Keep it for as long as you need it,” you find yourself saying, even though the library’s policy is only a week for such. “It’s a great book, you can’t possibly learn everything from just one read-through.” 

The elf raises a single white eyebrow. “Oh? You’ve read it?”

You flush under his curious gaze, averting your eyes back to the floor. “Magic intrigues me,” you say, fiddling with the sash of your dress. It dawns on you then how you must look to him: poor, dirty, a wanna-be scholar in patched robes when compared to his elegance. “T’is nothing but a flight of fancy.” 

A slender lilac finger lifts your chin to meet his gaze once more. He moves close to you, the sudden proximity making s blush spread across your cheeks despite yourself. “Thirsting for knowledge is not something to ever be ashamed of.” His golden eyes peer into yours with such sincerity that you can’t look away despite how such closeness would appear to an onlooker. 

Just as quickly as it came, it was over as the elf took a step back from you just as the head librarian turned the corner. “There you are! There’s more books to be shelved up front, come on!” 

He grabs your wrist and pulls you away before you can protest. You look over your shoulder at the elf, who watches you with that damned smile until you pass out of his sight. 

    ~~~

You’re shocked the second time you meet him, standing beside the small desk in the furthest corner of the library you’ve been granted. You never thought that you’d see him again, nor that he would seek you out personally. His face brightens when he sees you approach, the shimmer on his cheeks seeming to shine with more vigor. 

“I find myself in need of more references,” he produces a rolled piece of parchment from the inside of his robes and hands it to you. “Perhaps you can help me?” 

You read over the list of titles and meet his expectant gaze. “I th-think the head librarian might be more help than I.” You curse yourself internally for stuttering, but there’s just something about this charismatic elf that leaves you flustered. 

The elf chuckles and grabs a lock of hair that had fallen into your face, tucking it behind your ear. You freeze as his fingers graze your reddened cheek, afraid that any movement will acknowledge just how dazed he leaves by his presence alone. “I do not want the head librarian to help me, I want you, (Y/n).”

You attempt to gulp back the shivers that race up your spine at hearing him say your name. “Th-that’s not fair. You know my name and I don’t know yours.”

The elf trails his fingers down your arm, his fingers twining your own for such a small fraction of a second you’d wonder if it had really happened if not for the way jerked his arm back at the touch. He seems to compose himself for a moment before letting his usual coy smile spread across his face. He presses his right hand to his breast, inclining his head down to you. “Aaravos, at your service, my lady.”

This time, you do nothing to fight the blush that blooms across your cheeks. 

~~~

He returns every day after that. Now, your days are not only spent with books, but with Aaravos. 

    Hours pass by with you sitting next to him, your heads bent conspiratorially over books as you debate their topics. You try to ignore the way his gaze lingers on your form as your job eventually pulls you away from your secluded corner of the library, or the accidental feather-light touches over your shoulders as he reaches for a tome over your head. You tell yourself that these actions have no hidden meaning, that Aaravos has lived for millenia and could never be interested in such a poor human.

You are but a blip in his incredibly long life span, and your feelings of infatuation will fade when he inevitably moves on to something much more interesting. But the way your steps quicken as you walk to the library every day, the way your day brightens at the sight of him is no lie. You’ve fallen head over heels in love with the elf. 

“I want to show you something.” Aaravos says suddenly. You put down the book you’d been in the middle of shelving to look at him. “Can you meet me on the roof here, at midnight?” 

As if you could ever say no to him.

And so that is how you find yourself huddled on the roof of the library, the full moon casting a cool glow over the rooftops of Elarion as you wait for him. You shiver slightly as a cool breeze sweeps by, only to be enveloped by warmth a moment later. 

Aaravos clasps his cloak around you, chuckling to himself at the way it pools at your feet. You burrow into it, releasing in the warmth and scent of him. His white hair gleams pale in the moonlight as he spreads out a blanket for you to sit on. You resist the urge to run your fingers through it, instead turning your attention to the brilliant smattering of stars above your head. 

“They’re beautiful,” you breathe, eyes alight with wonder. 

“Indeed you are.” You’re hyper-aware of how close Aravos is to you, only a hair's-width away. Your motions bubble up underneath your skin, and you can’t stop the words that pour out of your mouth. “I wish you wouldn’t tease me so.” 

The elf looks absolutely anguished, and guilt curls in your stomach at causing him pain. “I truly do believe you beautiful, my starlight.” You force yourself not to get distracted by the endearment, looking him square in the eye with what you conveys your seriousness. “I don’t understand, Aaravos. You are an elf- powerful, strong, magical. Everything I’m not. How can you possibly find me beautiful? Why do you keep coming back?” 

A fond smile pulls at his lips, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hand as it cups your cheek. The stars on his skin twinkle brighter than those above you as he moves in close. “You are so much stronger than you think. Not to mention funny, witty, and so intelligent. You are unlike anyone I have ever met in all my years, human, elf, or otherwise.” He wipes away the tears that have begun to overflow down your face. “How could I not fall in love with you?” 

That last part is no louder than a whisper, his lips brushing yours before he finally pulls you into a searing kiss. He groans into you, a deep, guttural sound that has you quaking to your core. The kiss grows more fervent as you press yourself to his chest, your fingers tracing the pinpricks of light that litter his skin. He lays you back onto the blanket, and that night shows you just how much he truly loves you so that you will never need to question it again. 

~~~

“I call it dark magic.” 

In one hand Aaravos holds flickering flame painted black. In the other, he holds a withering phoenix feather. 

You can barely contain your curiosity as you examine the black fire he holds further. “How does it work?” 

With a wave of his hand, the fire is extinguished, and he replaces it with your hand as he pulls you close to him. “I’ll explain everything to you later, just know that I have found a way to keep us together, forever.” 

You hum contentedly into his chest as his arms wind themselves around you. Whom else could boast that someone loves them to the point of creation?

~~~

Elarian is on fire. 

You can only watch in horror as your beloved library is burned to the ground, going up in flames as fast as a forest in drought. A roar sounds in the distance, and through the smoke on a nearby hilltop you can see the outline of a monstrous dragon. In front of him, a flash of white hair that you could identify even in your sleep. 

With burning lungs, you fight your way through the crowd of confused townspeople fleeing from the dragon. You stumble up the hill, clothes singed and covered in soot. 

“You have violated the sacred order of our magic.” The dragon rumbles, his light blue scales a stark contrast to the burning red around you. 

“I have violated nothing!” Aaravos shouts, shoulders shaking in a rage you have never seen from him. “I work to unite elves and humans together!” 

It is then that he notices you. You reach for him, and he catches you just before you collapse to the ground. He brushes the soot off your face as best he can, doing his best to comfort you despite the fear shining in his eyes. “I’ll get us out of this, my love. I promise.” 

The dragon watches the two of you in stony silence. He raises his claw, drawing a rune in the air. 

A flash of white light blinds you, and the last thing you comprehend is Aaravos’s howl of fury. 

~~~

Time passes differently here, in the replica of the library where you’d once worked. You spend your days, or what you think are days, at least, reading and putting away books. Just as you’d always done before Aaravos came into your life and turned it into something wonderful. 

You’ve long figured out that this is not your actual library, merely an illusion built to keep you complacent. Imprisoned. Anger churns in you. Imprisoned for what? Loving one whom the world deemed you not meant to love. Loving one who would go so far as to invent a magic just for you, so that you may wield it as your own and never grow old by his side? 

You are anything but complacent in your prison disguised as your paradise. Aaravos will come for you, you’re sure of it. And when he does, the both of you will get your revenge on all those that had conspired to keep you apart. 

And so you sit patiently and wait, for nothing can keep two star-crossed lovers apart for long. 

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