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aldbooks · 1 year ago

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hello! how are you? How were your days off?I hope you enjoyed ☺️☺️Am I coming to ask for your writing? 🙈🙈 I can't help it 😃Would it be possible that you have one of Elain jealous hidden there? I need something like this to be able to continue my week ☺️☺️Thanks for creativity 😌😌

Hello! Thank you. My time off was very nice, wish I'd had more of it but don't we always?

Sorry this took a little bit to get to, I was very busy this week. Let's see what we can do. How about a snippet of a scene from a work I'm currently drafting. It may or may to remain in the final draft.

"You're staring," drawled Helion, suddenly appearing beside her.

Elain clutched the goblet of fae wine in her hand tighter in an attempt not to flinch as she was ripped out of her thoughts. "What?" she asked, a bit harsher than she intended.

Helion's golden eyes sparkled down at her in amusement before raising to where her gaze had been glued just a moment before. On the fire haired prince lounging across the room in his new throne, surrounded by fawning females.

One of them, an olive skinned female with silky dark curls and sensual curves was bold enough to plant herself in his lap, stroking her fingers through the open collar of his shirt.

It irked her. Irked her that these females acting like he was their property when they'd only been introduced mere minutes before. Irked her that he did not stop the female's explorations of his body in such a blatant manner. Irked her that he smiled and laughed at whatever she said in a way he'd never done with her...

Holy hells... she was jealous. An emotion she'd never experienced in connection with her erstwhile mate.

"If you disapprove of the attention he's getting," Helion mused. "You could just- turn away. Or... you could do something about it."

Elain sputtered. "I- couldn't care less what he does. He is free to do as he pleases. He certainly doesn't need my approval."

"Indeed? Is that why you've been drilling holes into each female who has dared to approach him for the last half hour?"

"I have not," Elain said, even as her gaze bored into the face of yet another female, a blonde this time, leaned against the unoccupied arm of his chair, thrusting her bosom in his face as she pushed aside of lock of his hair and toyed with the earring at the tip of his pointed ear.

She sat on his left where his golden eye roved over her, though she appeared undeterred by the gruesome scars covering half of his face. None of them seemed deterred by it. Many even seemed to be enamored of the scars. As she watched, the blond ran a red tipped nail across his brow, skimming the edge of the scars and made some comment that drew a smirk from him.

Elain realized she was glaring as Helion said dryly, "of course not."

"You approve of this behavior?" she asked, just barely keeping the snap out of her tone. "He is your heir, a prince. You believe this is appropriate behavior of a representative of this court?"

Helion gave her a dry look. "Flower, you've been in my court long enough ow to know the answer to that. I came by my reputation honestly, after all. Like father, like son."

Elain felt her cheeks flame hot as anger surged. She had indeed been in the Day Court long enough to know exactly what sort of mischief Helion liked to get up to, though he had not engaged in any of it since receiving word of Beron's death in anticipation of finally claiming his mate. The thought of Lucien doing any of the things she'd seen Helion do...

Helion laughed, reading her thoughts. "If it bothers you so much," he lifted a brow. "Do something about it."

Elain gulped the last few swallows of wine in her cup hoping they would cool her and knowing they would do the opposite. Before she had time to think, she slammed the cup down on the tray of a passing server and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring Helion's deep chuckle that followed her.

When she reached the dias, everyone stilled, looking curiously at her. Lucien watched her with the same sardonic smile he'd worn each time they were in company since his arrival. The female in his lap sneered at her and Elain had to fight the instinct to snarl.

"Lady Elain," Lucien drawled, lounging in his seat. "Are you enjoying your evening?"

Elain dipped a polite curtsey before meeting his burning gaze. "My lord, I believe you promised me the next dance."

For a long moment, they held each others stare as she waited to see if he would play along with her game or reject her. Lucien's head cocked to the side, studying her like an interesting insect and she felt her cheeks begin to burn with humiliation. He was going to say no. Why shouldn't he? She'd humiliated him all those years ago, turn about was fair play.

Just as she prepared to slink away in shame, Lucien grinned. "So I did."

Elain's relief was profound but short lived as he raised the hands of each female on either side of him to his lips and gave them a kiss. "Forgive me, cherie. It seems I have other obligations."

With a wink and a charming smile at the other ladies around him, He gently set aside the one in his lap and rose, stepping down to stand before Elain. Holding out his hand, he bowed slightly as the final chords of the song playing ended and the dancers prepared for the next. "My lady."

There was a hard edge to the words that let her know exactly how pleased he was with her interruption of his evening's entertainment but he was far too polite to ought but acquiesce to a lady's request.

Laying her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor and was further humiliated to realize the next dance was one of the more sensual variety that required partners to move in wholly indecent holds and patterns. A lover's dance. But there was nothing for it now.

She gasped slightly when Lucien's warm hand slid around her waist and pulled her against him, his thumb brushing over the skin of her exposed back. She could feel the muscles of his arm beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as he hand came to rest on his bicep. Her body was pressed fully against his torso and, when they took their first step, his thigh pressed between hers, rubbing against her with each movement.

The hand holding hers gripped it tightly as fire sparked in his eyes but his steps were flawless as he led her through the dance executing perfect dips and turns and lifts, their bodies brushing together all the while until he was breathless and on fire.

When the music came to an end, he hauled her against him for the final pose with one of her legs wrapped around his hip as he leaned back so only the toe of her shoe was on the ground and he was fully supporting her against him, their nose less than an inch apart.

A wave of desire clouded her senses as his spicy, warm scent enveloped her and his lips feathers over her cheek as he brought them to her ear. "Don't ever, ask me to do that again," he hissed before setting her on her feet and turning away with a curt bow.

Elain stood int he middle of the dance floor, stunned and breathless she watched him stalk out of the ballroom.

#ask box #elucien #lucien x elain #elain x lucien #elain and lucien #lucien and elain

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chloedoesart · 1 year ago

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what got you simping so hard for the conductor in the first place.

This reads like you asking me if I am insane, so let me just clear one thing up before we begin: yes. I am.

cracks knuckles okay anon, you asked for it. You get the whole story. I'm not holding back.

It all started when a dear friend of mine began playing this little indie game called A Hat in Time—you may have heard of it—and posting a lot of content from it in our discord server. One of the characters stood out to me, and I quickly learned upon asking her who he was that this character checked all of my boxes.

And by that I mean boxes for kinning, not simping. That comes later.

Even before I knew of AHiT's existence, I was on my way to working in the film industry. One of my goals in my career is to create a western on par with the classic Sergio Leone films. I grew up riding horses and traveling in the wilderness, so westerns are naturally close to my heart.

On top of that, I have been associated with knives, fire, and my general chaotic nature for many years. Birds of prey have been my favourite animals since I was very young, and I grew up in love with trains of all types (Thomas, ridable miniature railways, the Polar Express, etc.). Someone even told me that they thought I was Scottish before they'd heard my voice.

My point is, Conductor was immediately on my blorbo list. Of course this grumpy Scottish bird movie director with a huge knife and a chaotic alignment was going to be my favourite character! How could he not?? I actually ended up buying AHiT for the DBS chapter just because I was so excited to have a film studio represented in a video game.

Well.

Little did I know I would fall for this guy in a different way barely a month later.

I've always had a big ego—cough cough like someone cough you get my point—so it's no surprise that I'd fall in love with one of my kins, aka someone that's just like me. However, what I wasn't expecting was for it to happen so fast and so much. I rarely simp for characters, and when I do, it usually takes me a while to get to that point.

I remember the very first time I got a lil flustered and had that terrible thought of "oh no, do I simp for this guy?" with Conductor. My friend and I had made a little kinnie AU with our sonas as the Hat characters we kinned, and she at one point drew my Conductor sona (which eventually evolved into my current bird sona) with canon Conductor doing a funny Team Rocket pose, for fun! Right?

Wrong. Because what she'd unintentionally done was drawn Conductor and I holding hands. And when I saw that, I thought about how I want to hold his hand and oh gods wait do I like him???

And it was all downhill from there.

It didn't take me long to accept my fate and start pondering all of the ways I liked his character in a new light. My friend's constant support only sped things along, really. What's funny about me is that I sort of grow attracted to a character's traits and personality first, and only months later find the actual physical attraction. I think that has a name, but I don't really like labeling my orientation or fitting myself into a box.

I hope that very long story helped kind of lay the foundation for what my simping has become today, AKA nearly two and a half years of self-insert nonsense and a nearly 433,800 word roleplay.

Maybe you're still wondering why I like him, to which I must respond, so many reasons. That's a whole separate post worth of material. I love his fearlessness, his passion, his tough yet deeply caring nature. I love his detail-oriented brain and his over-confidence in himself. I love how he tries so hard to win, every year, just to maintain his place on top. He values himself and his creations, and I admire that. I want to nerd out with him about movies and trains while we sharpen our knives and drink whiskey. I love how he's old fashioned, like me. And so much more.

If you're curious as to how I think our relationship would line up, I did do this shipping meme last year that is still fairly accurate and fills in a lot more of the details. Really, it all comes down to two nerdy chaotic people who have large knives and way too much confidence.

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dirtbag-linecook-kyloren · 2 years ago

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brain machine broken today and yesterday but tomorrow is my first of two days off and I’m really hoping to get some Good Shit done

But until then I’m really excited about my revision of the first scene so you all can have it early!!!

(jokes on you the likes and shit are little dopamine hits I’m gonna use to write tomorrow. I live for validation.)

When Hux parks, turning the keys in his engine and taking a deep breath, his mantra begins. There are no words, as so often the English language fails him. Instead it’s a rhythm, a four count tapped from index to pinkie, his thumb moving down the line to a song only he knows. His apron is sprawled over the passenger seat from last night and Hux tucks his red bull into one of the pockets and slings it over his shoulder. He opens the door, grabs his coffee, then Phasma’s, climbing into the late morning sun and wishing he was still in bed. At half past ten, the doors to the Millennium Falcon are already unlocked. Mitaka stands behind the host stand, his gaze locked on the computer and his hands gripping a ceramic travel mug so tightly, Hux worries it might break in his grasp. “How bad is it?” Hux asks, leaning over to look at the computer screen. Then, he feels his own hand start to flex, the straining of disposable plastic under his fingers. “It has to be a joke booking,” Mitaka says. “Right?” Before Hux agrees, before he says anything else, he walks around the stand and clicks to open the booking, reading the notes. 25 people, 12 children. 9th birthday party, bringing own cake. Allergies per child emailed to management last week. “Who has their kid’s birthday party here?” Hux wonders aloud. “If they bother to email, though, I doubt it’s a joke. You check with Rey, but I’d set the tables up.” “We’ll have to put them along the wine wall,” Mitaka replies, wrinkling his nose. They both leave the host stand and walk into the dining room, looking around. Truly, there is no other place to seat a party larger than ten at one table. Since his first days of training, where he stood at Sloan’s elbow and watched her wait tables, Hus felt the existence of the wine wall was tacky. A dividing wall? Fine, a perfectly normal feature to have in a restaurant. It served to separate the main dining area from the bar seating. A dividing wall with over four hundred bottles of wine stored on it? Tacky, even if all the wine was good. Hux has sampled every wine offered at the Millennium Falcon; most of it isn’t good. “One of them is going to break a bottle,” Hux states before looking to Mitaka. “Make it Rey’s problem, I’ll let the kitchen know.” “Be careful,” Mitaka says. “They’ve been in a foul mood this morning.” Hux reads between the lines and heads back to the server alley so he can set his things down and clock in. The half an hour before customers come crawling in is a sacred time. Hux opens the blinds, checks all of last nights side work, and starts the tea and coffee machines. He grabs drink pitchers from the dish pit, turns the key on the soda machine, and fills the ice bin. After ensuring that all the front of house trash cans have bags, he finally allows himself a moments of peace, leaning against the prep table that runs along the back of the alley. His view of the kitchen is clear. Over a decade ago, Leia Organa and Han Solo were freshly married and looking to open their first jointly-owned restaurant. They followed the current trends in many places, when designing the dining room, and chief among them was the open kitchen. A chest high counter, a foot of space, and a shelf, the bottom of which held heat lamps, leaving the top clear for plates and to go containers. Here, at the start of the line, there was only the barest view of the kitchen. This drew the eye rather quickly to the end, where a large, plexiglass shield surrounds a wood-fired grill the size of a twin mattress. The concept of open kitchens fell out of fashion right in time for both the marriage of Leia and Han and the economy to fail. Han spent most of his savings buying out Leia’s half of the restaurant, and had no money left over to remodel the inside, so the plexiglass stayed, just like the log columns and dumb, expensive dividing wall. With his shit all sorted out and ten minutes to open, Hux’s morning becomes a waiting game. Phasma, at the station closest to the server alley, is still setting up her line. She;s working on something at a cutting board out of view, so it would be useless for him to approach until she’s finished. But the clock will soon tick over to eleven and the doors will open. They’ll both have to do their job, leaving no time for idle chatter. Luckily, Phasma piles something into a pan and cleans her knife and board, so Hux grabs both of the coffees and heads over. He closed last night, so he has at least seven more hours of restaurant gossip than Phasma does. Before he says anything, he passes her coffee over the small section of counter with no overhang. Other servers use it mainly to place chilled forks and pepper mills. Hux and Phasma have turned it into a perfect space for conversation. “You’ll never guess who’s officially dating,” Hux says, grabbing a soufflé cup of spiced pecans. Phasma gives him a look about it but says nothing, proving that she, at least, is in an exceptionally good mood. “Dameron and Finn,” she parrots back, and Hux frowns. “You could have let me have fun with the reveal,” he tells her, “I had a whole bit about their awkward flirting, and now I don’t feel like sharing it.” “Finn has already made multiple sappy posts on Instagram about it,” Phasma says, pulling out her phone and turning it to show him a truly hideous slide show. “They’re children, honestly.” “Gross.” He pauses a moment to drink his coffee, and then remembers the literal children’s birthday party that’s going to happen in their dining room. “Also, I hope you cut plenty of chicken tenders.” It only takes a second to lay out the details of the party, during which Hux plays his favorite game, stealing croutons until Phasma hits him. Today, he almost hits a new high score with twelve. As they’re discussing how strange it is to drag a dozen children two a nice steakhouse, a voice in the back of the restaurant starts screaming. Practiced in dealing with this, they continue talking, tuning out shouts about broken sauces and wasted product. When the yelling stops, Phasma shoots him a look. “And yet,” she says, “women are the emotional ones.” Her joke is punctuated by a sip of coffee, and she raises the cup in thanks before setting it on top of the window, just out of customer’s sight behind all the plates and containers. A few minutes to open Rey comes out of the office, clipboard in hand, and posts on the cork board the section chart and side work assignments. As opener, Hux already knows that he’ll have tables one through five until the full staff is on, where he’ll go down to just the first three tables, all of them booths along the entrance wall. His side work will be butter and forks and he’ll have to roll thirty silver; just another Monday. Heading back into the alley, Hux ties his apron and takes a deep breath, tapping his mantra on both hands before adding sugar to the tea, his last task before the doors unlock. It’s then, of course, that Ben Solo decides to stalk into the alley, a glare set so deeply in his face , Hux worries it may get stuck. “Who’s serving the party?” Solo asks, voice devoid of inflection. It could be worse, Hux supposes. He could still be shouting. “That would be a question for someone else,” Hux replies. “Aren’t you lead server?” “It’s a loose role,” he says, aiming for a joke, but either way Solo chooses to take the comment is fine. Technically, Hux took the title of Lead over from Sloan when she went to part-time. In reality, she was still doing most of the duties alongside him. Either way, assigning large parties was not the task of a server, lead or no. “I have things to do,” Solo says, and Hux rolls his eyes. “I’d suggest you go do them, then.” And then, Hux is left in blissful silence, allowed to savor the last few moments of quiet. At least, until a pot drops in the back, and the sound of Solo’s wordless shout echoes up into the dining room. Three months ago, Hux’s quiet mornings were ruined when Han Solo hired his son as a line cook and keyed manager. Family business, or something. But for all that Solo had, in theory, worked at a Michelin star restaurant, there was much left to be desired from his workplace behavior. If one server told another the kitchen was having a rough morning, what they meant was stay clear of Ben Solo. A semester and a half from graduating and leaving serving behind, Hux has tried his best to bear through the insufferable nature of Solo. He just counted down the days until he never had to see his stupid face and even stupider pants.

#hands off hands out #kylux #kylux AU

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matryx7728 · 9 months ago

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dear god

1: medibang, krita, ibispaint

2: i can only draw most things facing right except for the fucking v models from ultrakill i have to draw them at least facing somewhat forward i don’t know

3: i can’t really understand what this question means at the moment my reading comprehension is fucked sorry

4: gabriel ultrakill .. 💔💔💔 cant draw him good for the life of me

5: i show like everything i draw to a very small discord server of very close friends but i hardly post any of my art anywhere else so

6: there’s way too much here for me to list

7: painting. like on a real canvas i love it so much but i just can not do it

8: i was gonna make a thing with my current sona and my old sona ghat j could redraw like every month or something but like i kind of just Didn’t

9: i name my files mostly just the thing i drew. like if i draw my oc v0 i’ll name it like ‘v0 doodle.png’ or something however @cikdik would have a very good answer for this question

10: i hate drawing all clothes i don’t know how to do it

11: music very loudly always my v0 playlist mostly

12: probably arms but when it comes to anything animalistic the face and the legs

13: i don’t really have one of these as far as i can remember

14: body horror, gore, horror in general things like that i also like religious themes a lot but that’s just cause i really really like ultrakill

15: anywhere i have access to my phone or my tablet i guess

16: reference images which is funny cause that’s all i fucking draw half the time it’s either that or whatever character i’m drawing just standing there side profile and it’s kind of frustrating

17: i don’t eat when i draw but i will drink. mostly flavored water, tea or juice

18: not much i draw digitally most of the time for the past like four years

19: uhhhi have no idea unless robots count and i don’t think they do

20: not really any specific thing but i make my sketches very fast apparently like for mostly anything i’ll take at most like maybe 20 minutes for a sketch or doodle i think

21: that kind of like. scraggly roundish art style i have no idea how to describe it better but i love it i just try to draw more angularly you know

22: absolutely none unless you count constantly cracking my knuckles as a habit

23: no i don’t know how they work i’m trying to figure them out though

24: no i hardly ever remember to use references and i think that’s not good for me but hey

25: j can’t remember anything named specifically but it happens often

26: i don’t really have many actuall like. pieces and if i do i haven’t posted them so

27: no my dumbass always goes straight in and then i’m like shit hold on and then doodle a million other things while i’m halfway through and forget what i’m doing

28: artfight if that counts this year will be my third on artfight

29: like uh. mostly everythjng j think the only media that really influences my art has been wings of fire and ultrakill i guess

30: i don’t post most of my finished art like at all i don’t have many pieces to go unappreciated but like. that one time i made that shitpost of gabriel and me and @cikdik ‘s ultrakill angel ocs on the ‘save the turtles. that’s a fucking frog’ video i think that’s my magnum opus /j

@cikdik (i tagged you like twice already in this sorry) @athiav2 @adriaue

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game

Didn't see a lot of artist ask games, wanted to make a silly one.

(I wrote this while sick out of my mind last year and it's been collecting dust in my drafts, I might as well let it run free) 1. Art programs you have but don't use

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

3. What ideas come from when you were little

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

9. What are your file name conventions

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

12. Easiest part of body to draw

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

14. Any favorite motifs

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

23. Do you use different layer modes

24. Do your references include stock images

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

#that took so long jesus christ #ultrakill #i guess #tag game

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atomicallysound · 1 year ago

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27/7/23 - late

growing up is hard. it’s 4am right now. well, 3:56am if you wanna be technical about it. i remember the first time i stayed up until 4am i was 8 or 9 years old and i stayed up cuz i was was watching american dad with my sister… then she went to bed and i went playing on my computer. i was listening to spanish flea by herp albert on loop for like three fuckin hours, i remember cuz i drew my oc cakies playing the trumpet. it was actually a pretty good drawing for what i could do at the time, with my fucking mouse and mspaint and all — but that’s besides the point. after all that i went on minecraft and joined random servers and started arguing with people just to be annoying. man, it was so entertaining! it got to 4am at that point and i remmeber thinking “wow, this’ll probably be the latest i’ll EVER stay up!” then my dad came home from wherever the fuck he was and i went to sleep.

but about that… isn’t it something how when you were a kid; staying up was this monumental unheard of action? i always felt so wild staying up to even midnight. now it’s like whatever. just another night.

i’m not even tired yet. i’m TIRED, of course, but i’m not sleepy. i have this fucking headache too. and i can’t stop sneezing, so even if i could sleep, i’d be too busy sneezing to do anything about it. i think i’m getting sick. i don’t know where from since i haven’t really gone anywhere since i quit my job. man, i really fucked myself over by taking a nap earlier! at like 3 or 4pm i was depressed as all hell so i thought i’d sleep it off. it worked, i felt better when i woke up, but i woke up at like 8pm and royally fucked my sleeping schedule… oh well, i’ll just drink a shit ton of coffee tomorrow. or, later, i guess… i don’t really consider past midnight to be “tomorrow” until the sun rises. i don’t really drink coffee anymore… i used to be all about it but the last time i drank it was a deeply terrible latte from like, 3 weeks ago…

i got that deeply terrible latte because i went to starbucks to have a table to write at, and the employees were all having a lovely conversation with eachother and i suddenly felt sorry as hell for coming up to them because then that meant they’d have to stop talking just to give me my stupid drink. i wanted to jump out the fucking window at that point but i’d already walked up to the counter, and i wanted a caramel macchiato but i couldn’t remember if that was simple or hard to make — and i didn’t want to be any more of a bother than i already felt i was, so i decided to order the most basic simplest drink i could think of so they could go back to their conversation sooner, and ordered just an iced latte, please.

maybe i shouldn’t have gone to starbucks anyway because the latte sucked, it was like four fucking bucks for this muddy puddle water with a few ice cubes in it, the table i was writing at sucked & was sticky, these girls behind me kept laughing in my direction and i couldn’t tell if they were laughing AT me or just laughing & happened to look near me, i felt like an idiot, i didn’t even have anything to write about, the fire alarm kept going off cuz they were testing it, honestly why am i even talking about this? who cares? what is wrong with me? why do i feel like the scum of the earth for daring to buy a drink from people who make drinks for a living? maybe there is something wrong with me… or maybe it’s just starbucks. i don’t really like starbucks that much. 90% of my starbucks visits where id buy something have been thoroughly unpleasant. there was an incident with a certain vegan breakfast sandwich. there was a muffin i bought to share with my friend who then decided she didn’t want any and i had to sadly eat this muffin by myself while she just watched. there was a hot chocolate i burned my tongue on. but i will admit, their caramel macchiatos are good.

the birds are singing outside. it’s like 4:30 now. 4:29 if you wanna get technical about it. how have i spent half an hour writing already?

i kinda wanna stay up and go watch the sunrise. but at the same time… sleeping sounds good. goodnight friends

-yellow

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icey--stars · 2 years ago

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Didn't You

This is one of my submissions for a writing contest in a Discord server I'm in! Our goal is to create a original story (fanfiction included) from a song prompt.

** My song prompt was Didn't You by Call me Karizma. **

It isn't my best work, but certainly not by worst and I personally love the storyline I created.

Please keep in mind these are original characters I made myself! :)

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TWS: Suicidal thoughts, minor blood, major character death, swearing

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I was almost to the throne room, Finion still behind me, fighting off the guards who’d attacked us. I cut down the last one with a dagger thrown to the throat, images flashing in my mind of the maps Fin and I had stolen together not even a week ago, telling me which way to go through this maze of a castle.

“Come on, Fin! You’re getting slow!” I exclaimed playfully through my spiked metal mask, only slightly muffled. I didn't see the pained expression on my friend’s face as I went to tear out my dagger and sprinted down the fancy, nicely decorated hallway.

Fin joined me at my side a half moment later, running faster to catch up to me as we ran for the throne, where the king probably was. If not, we’d search for him to complete the job.

“I’ll get the guards, you get the job,” Fin panted as soon as we hit the doors of the throne room.

I breathlessly nodded and then tore open the door in front of me, sprinting into the room, running right past the guards who charged Finion who’d run in first. I spotted the king on his throne, attempting to draw a fancy looking sword from a sheathe. I threw my dagger expertly, knocking the sword from his grip by the force of the throw. I marched forward, unclipping my hood, revealing my messy brown hair. Just in case any of the guards decided to find a way to get away from Fin, or new guards came into the room, I needed to be able to see into my peripherals.

“Stop!” The king shouted as I drew another dagger from my boot. “Stop this now! You are under arrest-”

“Shut the fuck up your majesty. I’m here for money, nothing more. So shut your trap and let me slit your throat,” I growled.

The king continued his desperate shouting, but the guards were already down as I went to hold a dagger to the man’s throat.

At that exact moment though, everything went wrong.

An arrow whistled through the air, knocking my dagger out of my hand and just barely missing my fingers as I flinched back. My gaze shot over toward Finion. The only one with a bow in this entire room. He held the bow, dropped it and ran at me.

“What the fuck Fin?!” I shouted, backing up a few paces as the man running at me drew daggers. I contemplated drawing my twin swords from across my back. But it was Finion. Finion. Why the fuck had he fired a shot at me?

“Stop Erix! Stop now!” Finion shouted loudly.

“What?” I spoke, stepping off the dais away from the king as Finion rushed to get between us. “What the hell man?! I almost had him! What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m not letting you kill him!” Finion continued, stepping towards me threateningly with daggers in hand.

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a moment. There was no regret in those eyes, no signs of anything off. Nothing. Just Fin’s normal brown eyes.

I didn’t draw my swords, instead I just continued to back up as Fin continued to challenge me for grounds. “What are you doing?” I asked more calmly.

“I’m done with this Erix! I’m done! You’re done! I’m not letting you kill him-”

“Did magic just suddenly come back or some shit!? You wouldn’t-”

“I would Erix! I would! Think I won’t betray you or some shit!? Yes I would! I’m not letting you kill any more innocents just for some stupid cash! This is my king! And I am the Hand of the King.”

A sudden jolt of emotion filled up in my chest. An old pain I’d felt numerous times. Fin really wasn’t joking. He was betraying me. Just like I feared from the beginning…

A dagger was suddenly thrown at my head and I just barely dodged the killing blow.

I drew my swords, and cold-hearted fury slithered into me. “Very well then, Finion.”

Stop myself from having these feelings

Against the fury, affection still welled up. Finion, the person who I trusted beyond anything. Old memories of our spars together came up as I launched myself forward, my sword coming down toward his shoulder, just barely being stopped. I pushed back the affection, pushed back every feeling I’d ever had as I fought the person who I trusted the most.

Guards came in, not even a moment later. A few went to defend their king, but I was out of daggers to throw, and out of everything besides my wits and slowly failing strength.

My arms were caught soon enough, swords thrown across the room. Too many guards, not enough time. Fin shoved me to my knees as I groaned, glaring up at him.

“Knock him out, take his weapons, send him to the dungeons, but keep that mask of his. Gotta have something to prove who he is,” Finion said to the guards, backing up.

A boot slammed into my head and I was knocked clean out.

———

Sitting in a dungeon cell with a pounding headache certainly wasn’t what I had been hoping for after being dragged away into the darkness, but I supposed it could have been much worse when it comes to the king who you literally tried to kill. How long had it been since I got knocked out? Two days? Four days? I banged my head lightly against the wall in frustration.

There wasn’t any escaping this, now matter how much I wished I could. Too many guards, no way out of the cell in the first place and I didn’t even know where I was in the castle, despite the maps I’d memorized. Maybe that had been what Finion had been hoping for.

Haunted by the past I’m reliving

I closed my eyes tight, pained by the similarity to one of my many past experiences. Another time I was to be sent to the execution block. Different kingdom, naturally. I’d gotten myself into deep trouble after assassinating the prince’s father in that kingdom. Finion hadn’t gone in with me that time, so I was on my own. But I at least had Fin then, helping me from the crowd as the rope was settled over my head across my collarbones. As soon as the rope went taunt, a dagger flew through it, setting me free with only a mighty bruise. But this time? I doubt anyone would come to rescue me, or even bother to stop the execution.

Gods… why had Fin decided to betray me? I was so close to completing the job. Killing the king, and then running off away from this stupid city into the forests beyond, filled with who knows. Magic still exists there, some say. Guess I wouldn’t be able to find out now, despite looking forward to it.

But Fin. Finion. Why, at the very moment I had a knife to the king’s neck, had he shot his arrow and then proceeded to try and kill me, claiming I was in the wrong, and that he’d been working for the king after everything?

“Fin, why me?” I thought aloud, pursing my lips tightly. “Fuck.”

“Be quiet in the cells!” A guard yelled.

“Oh fuck you!” I screamed right back.

“You’ll be dead soon Erix! Shut your trap!”

Why am I staying alive?

I sighed in defeat. Goddamn it. This really is how Erix, the great Assassin from the East, was going to die? Really? It seemed like a joke, but at this point… what did I even have to live for? To be honest… I didn’t have anything.

My family was long dead, my friend betrayed me, and any possible ally I once had, was either long dead or working for someone else, unable to come to my aid, if they even knew. Even my client couldn’t do anything. It was a private transaction, and as if they would even care if some random assassin was to die.

And this job wasn’t one you live for. This kind of job sends you barrelling into near-death situations, and into the depths of your mind like this.

Give me death, I’m ready and willing

I contemplated ending it all right here and now. It’d be better, right? Rather than dying by the rope or sword through the heart, that’s for sure. At least I’d pass by my own violation. Well… forced to by my own violation.

I sighed heavily. I supposed a job like mine will only lead you this far. The execution block. Perhaps it was time I finally made my way to the afterlife, paying for all I’ve done wrong in my life, before hopefully finding some peace.

———

The guards came to get me an unknown amount of time later. I did sleep once, but the cells were dark with no windows. I didn’t know the time nor the day. My little metal mask was put on to mark me as the Assassin from the East. Everyone knew that mask. My hands were tightened behind my back and my ankles each with a heavy weighted ball to prevent me from running. But I just followed limply, dragging those balls and chains behind me, obeying the orders given to me. Head down, head up, climb the stairs, stop moving my arms, stop talking, and anything else someone could imagine to order a notoriously deadly assassin into doing.

But my mind was loud, despite my clear physical docileness. My thoughts screamed at me that there was nothing to live for, and that all I should wish for is death. I wouldn’t end up where anyone I loved was, no. I’d have to pay for my deeds before reaching that afterlife. Someone like me didn’t deserve peace. I wondered slightly where these thoughts had come, but inside… I did know. A life like mine doesn’t let you do anything without damaging the mind beyond true repair.

I walked hesitantly into the light, my eyes blinking furiously against the sun. But I did see where crowds waited beside a raised stage. I grit my teeth as I heard their gasps. A public execution?! Really Fin? Just couldn’t let me die in peace? As I walked up the execution platform, I scanned the crowd. Nothing amiss.

Except one tussle of jet black hair. Fin.

“FIN- YOU-“

The guard slapped me as I yelled. I growled in frustration, jerking hard.

But I knew Fin heard me. I spotted him walking closer.

All these words said meant to kill me

The king made his presence known not too long after. My entire list of crimes was read off. The classics, theft, murder, manslaughter, attempted assassination of a monarch, actual assassination of a monarch and a bunch of other fun things. So many words, so many stories where I almost died, flashed before my eyes.

I saw someone bring a sword out. Seems I was to bleed out then, I guessed.

“And now, Erix, you are given one last chance to speak, and prove your innocence before your death, or share your last condolences, as is per tradition,” the king spoke. “Despite attempting to kill me,” I heard under his breath. I scoffed at that remark.

My mask was taken off, my scarred, burned lower half of my face out for the world to see. I flexed my jaw, glaring at the king before turning and making direct eye contact with Finion, who stood at the front of the crowd, watching me.

“I’m not going to try and prove my innocence. I’m not that dumb. I know what I’ve done. Though, I have a few words to share with my betrayer. Finion,” I addressed, glaring at my friend, now turned enemy. For some reason, my heart ached at the use of that word toward Fin. “I hope you get what you deserve. I trusted you. You know how little I trust. I accept my death. If anyone I eventually trust is just going to betray me, there is no use in living this lifestyle. Fuck you Fin, fuck you. The gods have a special place of payment for you.”

Why can’t I escape to the sky?

“And to the other people here, know I didn’t have a choice in this life. I was forced to kill. It was one of you who burned my face. And now I rest in death, where I will pay. I hated this world anyway.”

The king continued after a few beats of silence. “Should anyone protest this execution, speak now or forever mourn.”

Fin remained silent. The crowd didn’t breathe a word.

I glared at Fin as the executioner took a step behind me, raising the sword to spear me through the heart.

“You never were my friend,” I said to Fin and closed my eyes, holding back my scream as the sword suddenly went through me.

”Hooray” when I die”

A loud cheer of celebration went up into the air and then I blacked out, never to awaken again.

You got what you wanted, didn’t you?

“This was a mistake,” Finion breathed, eyes clearing as the body crumpled to the ground.

#writing #writer #assassins #original story #original character #original work #execution #ocs #song prompt #writing competition #mywriting

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heropaws · 4 years ago

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You know what they say about clowns?

THEY ALWAYS GOTTA TRAVEL IN A CIRCUS!!!

icons inspired heavily by @lupineear ‘s style yet again!!

@rollingskiesrp

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years ago

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Humans are weird: Night of Bloody Velvet: A Earl Von Morgan and Tilith story.

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

One of the many functions a diplomat must adhere to is that of attending dignified parties, looking your best, and speaking often while at the same time saying very little. So when the ambassador of the geode species held a party celebrating his off springs birthing day, Earl Von Morgan was obligated to attend and put all of the three too good use. Though after two hours of “mingling” Morgan was feeling so bored out of his mind he pondered that if he leapt from the nearest window to make his escape whether or not he could survive the fall or break every bone in his body from the attempt.

As another server passed by Morgan’s table he finally caved and reached for a glass from their polished serving tray. He had resisted the drinks as long as he could to maintain his wits, but now he was in dire need of some sort of healthier distraction than fantasizing about his plunge from a five story building.

The server had not even bothered to stop for him as he reached out and it was only by the slimmest amount of luck that he was able to grab hold of a glass and remove it without spilling its contents all over his formal attire. He watched the agitated server continue their skillful shuffling through the crowded ballroom before looking down at his drink and realizing he hadn’t the faintest idea what it was.

“I wouldn’t sip that if I were you;” came a soft familiar voice from behind, “I doubt human organs are strong enough to handle it.”

Morgan recognized the voice near instantly and stood up with a smile turning to see his counterpart ambassador Tilith. Her hive body was adorned with a gown of the finest silks Morgan had ever seen in reds and oranges so vivid it was as if looking at a roaring fire bellowing in the wind. Her face was hidden behind a veil of silver strands, but beneath one could see the outline of her mandibles as she spoke.

“You underestimate a human’s capacity for otherwise toxic beverages.” Morgan boasted, puffing out his chest playfully. “Why I once entered a drinking contest of my homeland and damn near sent the beer hall into bankruptcy with my thirst!”

Tilith chuckled at the boast and drew up alongside him as they walked away from the table and into the milling crowds. “I’m sure you did, though I am most sure that liquid mercury is quite different from your normal beverages.”

Morgan looked at Tilith at this statement, and then back at the silver liquid drink in his hand as the realization struck him. When no one was looking he swiftly deposited the lethal beverage on a nearby table and turned around back to Tilith.

“If I were a paranoid man I would say that the geode ambassador just tried to have me murdered.” Morgan said half-heartedly. Tilith put a calming taloned hand on his shoulder.

“The geode’s drink it as easily as you fill your lungs with air.” She remarked offhand, her head turning back to the ballroom as the other guests continued to dance and mingle. “Besides, I would hardly think this party for dignitaries would be a spot for an assassination.”

“My dear, we are in a room full of politicians,” Morgan said, “there is no more likely place for someone to die in the entire galaxy.”

As the party continued into the night Morgan had rarely left Tilth’s side, and if he had been reading Tilith’s subtle body language Tilith was enjoying the company as much as he was. Morgan enjoyed being a real politician, the quietness of a small room with other likeminded fellows debating each other in politics, looking for weaknesses to exploit and deals to be made. These parties were nothing more than showing up, looking important and then fending off the tidal wave of hangers on each jostling to make a first impression in some desperate bid for power. But with Tilith here he at least had someone to have thoughtful and fun conversations with, and for that he was grateful. He was enjoying himself so much that he had forgotten to take his cane with him from the table, though he had only brought it out of habit more than actual need for support.

When the clock struck midnight the band ceased playing. Morgan and Tilith had been sharing a rather enjoyable dance and despite his best intentions Morgan couldn’t help but find the evening getting better than he had ever imagined.

The geode ambassador rolled on to the stage. The ball like construct of rocks slowly began unraveling itself until it appeared as a roughly humanoid appearance. Personally he thought the ambassador looked like a child’s failed art project, but he kept that amusing remark to himself.

Raising his hands to the crowd, the geode looked as if he was about to give a speech when a loud clattering tore from the side of the ballroom.

A server stud shaking and coughing violently in a shattered mess of glass and mercury as they appeared to have dropped their serving tray.

“That’s odd.” Morgan heard Tilth mutter to herself.

“Dropping a tray?” Morgan replied. “Most accidents like that are common; I’m just amazed it hadn’t happened sooner.”

To his surprise Tilith shook her head and pointed a talon finger at the server. “They’re Obari.” She said. Some part of Morgan’s confusion must have shown on his face as she continued. “Obari are hyper spatially aware of their surroundings; they wouldn’t even budge an inch even if in the middle of an earthquake.”

While impressed, Morgan still didn’t seem to grasp the oddity of the notion as he looked at the server. They were hunched over a nearby table using it for support, the spilled mercury running down their velvet vests like the veins of some living machine. Several other staff members were approaching them to help them away as the geode ambassador began speaking into the translator once more when another loud clatter stopped them.

From the other side of the room near the main entrance another pair of servers had dropped their platters and were now similarly hunched over nearby tables shaking violently. Like the first server they were Obari but each began bellowing. Morgan couldn’t understand their language but he was smart enough to know when something was in pain.

There was another loud clatter, and then another, and another, and another until every Obari server had dropped their platter; each emitting a loud painful sounding screech that made the rest of the guests cover their ears. Morgan was likewise covering his ears when he saw the geode ambassador motion to some of the security personnel that had been patrolling the room. As the guards approached the staff they became ever more violent with their shaking as did the volume of their wails.

“This does not look good.” He remarked to Tilith with what he had intended as a whisper but had instead been a shout of his own to be heard over the screeching. Tilith had looked at him with a cocked head he had come to know was her attempt at mimicking human confusion when all hell broke loose.

No sooner had the first guard taken hold of an Obari server did the server reach for a nearby knife and slash at their throat cutting a jagged gash easily several inches deep. The guard collapsed to the floor with hands clutching his bleeding throat when the Obari lunged at the second guard who had begun reaching for their sidearm.

In an instant the ballroom became filled with screams as the Obari servers turned rabid; attacking anyone within arm’s reach and dismembering them in ever increasing violent manners.

The guests around Morgan and Tilith panicked and began running in every direction trying to get away. Morgan found himself pushed away from Tilith and thrown to the floor by the stampeding masses. He felt a splatter of something warm thrown across his face and as he opened his eyes found it to be the still warm blood of a nearby guest who had just been decapitated. The Obari was still holding the severed head of its most recent victim when it looked down and saw Morgan lying helpless on the floor.

Through the forest of running feet Morgan saw his cane still at the table where he left it and made for it as the Obari dropped the head and lunged for him. It was nearly on Morgan when an unlucky attendant ran in front of the Obari in their confused attempts to escape. The Obari adjusted their body unnaturally and avoided being knocked over by the attendant and drove their bloody fingers into their chest cavity. While it became enthralled with finding the center of the human stomach Morgan got to his feet and reached his cane at last.

In one swift motion he withdrew the hidden pistol from the canes handle and trained it at the Obari who had finished removing the spine of the unfortunate soul that had given Morgan the chance he needed. He fired off a single shot at the crazed alien but to his surprise it shifted its body once more and the bullet went by harmlessly and embedded itself into the wooden floor.

Morgan remembered what Tilith had said about it being hyper spatially aware and cursed. The thing must have been able to sense the bullet incoming and adjust its body to avoid the trajectory.

The Obari sprang to its feet and once more lunged at Morgan with outstretched bloody fingers. Morgan fired off another shot and just like before the alien dodged supernaturally. It was then that Morgan remembered he still had the cane hilt in his other hand and just as the Obari had finished dodging the second bullet he had swung the cane with all of his strength. To his surprise the Obari did not dodge this time and took the swing fully in the face sending it sprawling to the floor.

Not one to miss an opening Morgan trained the pistol and fired again while the Obari was still recovering from the physical blow and to his luck the bullet finally hit the alien square in the head. The Obari twitched for a moment before tumbling over to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

It seemed that despite their enhanced senses the Obari were terrible at multi-tasking. They could only use their abilities once per event and there was an exploitable window that one could use to get them.

With a moment to breath Morgan took in his surroundings. The ballroom was in complete chaos as the twenty Obari staff who had previously been servicing the event cut bloody swathes through the guests. The geode ambassador was no longer on stage and Morgan had little time to wonder where he had fled to when he caught sight of the Tilith on the opposite side of the dance floor.

She was slowly being backed into a corner as two Obari hemmed her in, their hands clutching the scattered knives and forks from the tables. One made to grab her throat when Morgan saw Tilith’s hand move with frightening speed to impale the Obari in turn. The Obari must have seen the attack coming as they warped their body and bent out of the way just before Tilith’s hand struck. This gave the second Obari an opening and they drove down a pair of bloodied knives into one of Tilith’s leg joints. Green ichor sprayed out and Tilith yelled in pain, retreating further into the corner as her injured leg left her stumbling.

Morgan hefted his gun and cane in each hand and rushed to the hive ambassador’s aide. Sprinting across the dance floor Morgan had to navigate the obstacle course of deceased bodies of guests that now lay strewn everywhere; nearly slipping in several pools of blood.

Another Obari popped up from its latest victim and made to block Morgan’s path, entrails still hanging from its mouth. Morgan swung with his cane but instead of dodging it like he had expected the deranged alien grabbed hold of it with both hands and refused to let go. As he struggled to get his cane free he heard the screech of another Obari from behind and ducked reflexively.

He had done so just in time as an Obari flew passed his head with hands outstretched to no doubt strangle the life from him, and impact head on the Obari still clutching his cane sending them both tumbling to the floor. While the pair were trying to get back on their feet Morgan steadied his pistol and put a pair of bullets through their heads as they were distracted.

“Morgan!”

Getting to his feet once more he heard Tilith call out to him as she was no squarely backed against the wall and bleeding from several wounds to her legs. The two Obari still circling her like sharks slashing out with knives every now and then to open a new wound in Tilith’s exoskeleton. She had little time left if he did not do something now.

He reached down to retrieve his cane but found that the dead Obari that had been clutching it still had a death grip on it and refused to let go. Having no other choice Morgan left the cane and rushed to Tilith firing multiple shots to distract her attackers.

Perceiving the new threat both Obari turned to face Morgan as he fired on them and as before they warped their bodies to dodge the bullets at the last moment. What the Obari on the right however failed to notice was that while dodging the bullet they missed Tilith picking up a nearby table chair and swinging it as hard as she was able straight into their head. The Obari went flying into a table at hand and Morgan could hear a loud cracking sound that was no doubt their neck snapping from the impact. That just left the Obari on the left.

While Tilith had been taking out one of her attackers the other had seen their opening and lunged with a knife outstretched ready to pierce the hive ambassador’s eye and cut straight to her brain stem.

Morgan fired his pistol but to his horror it clicked empty.

Time slowed down as he watched the mad Obari come ever closer to Tilith. He saw the look on Tilith’s face, the realization that she couldn’t move fast enough to block the attack; that this was most likely to be her last moment of existence before returning to the great collective. A dark pit formed in Morgan’s stomach as he watched and it consumed his very being until all that remained was a simple truth he had come to realize over the last few months.

He loved Tilith.

It was a surprising thing for him to learn that even in his old age but the time he had spent with Tilith, this strange alien from beyond the stars, had been the best moments of his life.

With that singular focus all that was left to him Morgan drew back his arm and threw his pistol as hard as he could at the Obari. The alien was mid lunge but was still able to distort its body to avoid the pistol. It was not able to avoid Morgan charging at it screaming his lungs out like a madman.

Morgan grappled his arms around the alien killer and continued his mad dash while carrying the thrashing Obari. He felt the knife it was holding stab into his back but a strong otherworldly conviction took hold of him and Morgan blocked out the pain.

He had just enough time to see Tilith watching him with utter bewilderment. Morgan smiled despite it all, knowing that he had once more surprised her with human behavior. He kept that smile as he and the Obari slammed into the ballroom window, shattering the glass outward, and tumbled down to the cold ground below.

In those final moments as he fell, Morgan couldn’t help but laugh as he realized he was going to put to the test his theory from earlier in the evening after all.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #writing #original writing #earl von morgan #tilith #Assassin

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ducktracy · 3 years ago

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Do you have any art advice for people looking to improve their art?

my top three pieces of advice would be: surround yourself in what you love/actively look for material to be inspired by, draw draw draw, and keep a positive and open mind.

i really think that looking for inspiration is half the battle. your art is YOURS. it always will be. no matter how much you may try to imitate others, your art will always have your own distinctive fingerprint. GOOD. own it. search for material that inspires you and speaks to you. find what you like about the art of others—what works? what doesn’t? what speaks to you? what do you want to emulate? why? how can you make it your own?

i have a private Discord server where i send myself various resources, and i have an entire category dedicated to art that inspires me, sectioned off into channels depending on what the art is. save things you like, save things that appeal to you, save things you want to try. there is NO shame in using references and they are so, so beneficial. it varies for everyone, but i personally have been told i have more success when i use references in my own work, so USE YOUR RESOURCES!

it doesn’t have to be just art, either. photographs, games, YOUR OWN EXPERIENCES! music is a very big factor in my own art. i have an archive where i save snatches of music in cartoons (usually inconsequential music cues, purely melody based) and often sift through that and will incorporate the feelings i get from that music into my own art. “oh, i like this chord that plays in the music when Daffy does this. it feels bold, energetic, and makes me nostalgic—i want to incorporate the nostalgia and boldness i feel from this music cue into a piece.”

obviously not everyone does that and it’s hard for me to describe accurately because it’s admittedly a very deeply personal, weird, hard to describe connection HAHA but what i’m getting at is that that inspires me emotionally and artistically, so i incorporate that into my art and you should too! surround yourself in what you love and build a giant repertoire of resources. go outside your tastes and comfort zone, find out what you like and incorporate it!

and, yes, i know nobody wants to hear this, but if there’s anything i’ve learned while working on SpongeBob, it’s that practice makes perfect. results won’t be immediate, and it can be incredibly frustrating. i was (and still am to an extent) INCREDIBLY hard on myself when starting out and had a very real fear that i would get fired if i drew something wrong (all me being irrational) and i thought i’d never get better. but, funnily enough, drawing the same characters over and over and over again really does help you get better and this is advice i’ve been told myself by my colleagues. and it’s true! it’s frustrating, i know. but you WILL improve the more you draw. the forms will come more naturally. you may feel it gets harder, but that’s just because your eye is getting sharper and you’re growing to the point that you’re able to catch mistakes you weren’t able to previously. THAT’S GOOD! art is a very gradual process and results won’t seem immediate… but you also can’t get better if you give it up (which, there is no shame in doing, but if you do want to get better, pushing through and doing it more is the way to do it). it really is true.

and finally, a positive outlook is really important. art is hard. it is frustrating. i try not to broadcast it for the reasons i’ll be listing, but i am VERY self deprecating when it comes to my own skills and have internalized a lot of really negative, harmful things. it’s hard not to be hard on yourself. but you will always be your harshest critic. let that be a comfort instead of a detriment. chances are, people will not see the same mistakes you will, and people will not go “wow, this is horrible”. i am a bona fide QUEEN of overthinking things, and can be quick to make assumptions. a good rule of thumb to combat the “everyone hates this” feeling is if they don’t say it, they don’t mean it. if i show someone my art and they don’t say “this is awful”, then i’ll assume they aren’t thinking that either. the alternative is equally true and even MORE important—if someone compliments your art, it’s best to assume that they genuinely mean it.

i think it’s important to accept any and every compliment you get, even if you personally don’t agree with it. and when you don’t, just say “thank you” and move on. if you reject a compliment and say “no, it’s terrible” or if you introduce your art in general with any negative self talk like “wow this looks terrible haha but here you go”, even if you mean it in a joking manner, people will believe you. people will be less inclined to offer the genuine compliments they have and will not want to engage. i know how hard it is to take a compliment, but the best thing you can do is thank them and listen. there are good people in this world who mean the good things they say to you. embrace it!

i guess that’s more in regards to reception rather than drawing itself. it’s imperative to keep a positive mind and reassure yourself that art is a process, you will continue to grow and thrive and improve, whether the results are gradual or not. ask yourself why you draw in the first place, what set off that spark, and hold it close. encourage others and encourage yourself. know that one had drawing is not the end of your career or your world. there will always be ups and downs in the art world—embrace it! ask what you did that you don’t like, ask how you can fix it, and ask how you can embrace it. be appreciative of old art and always keep going.

i know this is very general and much more philosophical rather than actual, physical drawing advice. i’m still learning how to improve myself. art is incredibly subjective and INCREDIBLY personal—the experience varies for everyone, and what may work for me may not work for you. keep an open mind, surround yourself in what inspires you, draw what makes you happy (not what you think will please others), and ALWAYS. KEEP. DRAWING!!!

it’s a journey, but if it was an easy one it wouldn’t be nearly as rewarding. i KNOW you’ll get to where you want to be. keep your chin up and know we’re all in this together!

#i shouldn’t apologize it contradicts what i said in this but i do apologize for such general advice #i mean every word and it’s not me trying to be dismissive i just don’t have as much physical advice because art varies so much for everyone #but these aspects have all helped me a lot and i hope they can at least be of inspiration!#anonymous #long post

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dandywonderous · 2 years ago

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Twisted Wonderland JP vs EN release schedule redux

Awhile back I made a post comparing the JP and EN release schedules for twst. In that post I drew a few conclusions, mainly:

1. fears about EN releasing content at a “rapid fire pace” seemed largely overblown and somewhat driven by people’s vague and soupy memories of early 2020

2. about one new summoning banner a week-ish, with two weeks for events, was always the intended pace of twst and it was probably covid that changed this (I feel pretty vindicated on this point because JP is getting 3 new SSRs this month not counting Leona’s bday)

I’ve been seeing EN called rapid fire a lot again lately because book 5 released early compared to when it did in JP. While this is true, I still feel like this is not the shakeup people are making it out to be. I still don’t feel like EN is in turbo mode.

But first, a quick correction(ish) to my last post: because exact dates and times for story releases for JP were harder for me to find than for the EN releases, I was relying mostly on the schedule of summoning events on the wiki. Someone pointed out to me that each part of Scarabia’s chapter release was broken into two, so JP got the book in smaller chunks than EN did. HOWEVER these still happened over the same days:chapter ratio as EN from what I can tell and the summoning banner for Kalim was 13 days in JP and 12 days in EN, while for Jamil it was 7 days in JP and 12 days in EN, so this doesn’t really feel like a big change to me. I am guessing Book 5 for JP was similar, so someone can fill me in there.

NOW once again, here’s the comparison, updated through Ghost Marriage (which will be Phantom Bride in EN but for now I went with Ghost Marriage for consistency).

Once again, I’m sorry it’s a picture.

So, a few interesting things here to note.

1. While we got book 5 early we got the second half of book 4 a bit late. Basically they flip-flopped book 4 pt 2 and the event that followed it, then changed it from Fairy Gala to Beans Day 2.

2. As a result we got Fairy Gala a few weeks later than JP did. Fairy Gala is also the event that breaks the “two weeks for events” rule in JP, with Ghost Marriage returning to about two weeks (I was just going off the start day and end day, going by the actual hours an event may be less/more full days than I have stated) and Wish just slightly over at 16 days.

3. We got the first joint exam a few weeks earlier, so we did get less time to prepare for it than JP. So that is kind of a bummer. But it wasn’t like we got the event months earlier or anything. We also couldn’t have GM Ace or any of the other GM cards like JP did because we’re getting GM over 40 days later.

4. We did not get the flood of individual pickups like JP did, but we got that event where you would get an exchange key for the exact SSR you wanted if you hit pity on the pickup instead, which is a much better deal assuming you have a boy you’re willing to go to pity for. Though this did not include Octavinelle pickups, which is either a good thing or a bad thing depending on how you’re wanting to do your scouting.

5. We got book 5 over a month early but we’re getting ghost marriage over a month late so it was a flippy-floppy kind of like book 4 pt 2 and bean’s day.

Basically the big thing to see here is that we are 158 days-ish out from server launch. In that time we have had two more story releases than JP had, the same number of large events (we just got beans 2 instead of ghost marriage), the same number of training camps, we had culinary crucibles in place of all the pickup banners JP had, and we had 1 joint exam, same as JP (just slightly earlier). While it’s true that we have gotten some content earlier or in a different order than JP, this still to me does not feel like BREAKNECK SPEED.

My point with all this is please don’t catastrophize to the point that people worry the game is going to shut down. And I guess you can log a complaint saying things are too fast if you want to but personally I would be pretty bummed if we had to wait even longer for things.

That’s just my two cents. Make of it what you will.

EDIT: also I failed to mention but do realize that we’re getting both Ace and Idia SSRs for ghost marriage when obviously that did not happen in JP. So that’s a pretty big change from the scouting side of things (if not for the event itself). This does put points in the “moving too fast” bucket.

#twisted wonderland #i know i probably won't change anyone's mind with this #except i know I did change one mind last time haha #i just get tired of people saying that jp has always been slow like the amount of time it took for book 5 and early book 6 to come out #was ever meant to be normal #it pretty clearly was not

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ending-the-cycle-ask · 4 years ago

Note

Mod! What would you look like in your ‘Stickmin Style’ ?

*Ahem* WELL…~

I’m in a big super long serious rp on the EtC server, and I technically play as myself~ This is the Stickmin version of me I use for roleplays :)

This is the base character I started with. I also use this version of them for less structured one-off roleplays. (They have fire powers because I’m the arsonist god now~ >:)c )

This is their updated character sheet from after they quit the Toppats and join the government. They work as a combat medic under their friend Kevin now :)

And this is the Captain, my character from a Roleswap AU version of the rp, where they’re a member of the government instead, and my rp partner’s (@eriksartworld) character, Kevin, starts as a Toppat (instead of as a soldier.) We’re actually doing an rp for this AU right now—-

Before this rp started, I barely drew my character at all, but now, I’d say at least half my camera roll is just full of the drawings we’ve made of our characters throughout these two roleplays 😅 Their character dynamics are absolutely wonderful and I love this rp so so much—- It’s practically a novel and a half, combined, but I’ve still gone back and read them from beginning to end a couple times each—- ☺️ -Mod Mello 💎

#askmodmello

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tvdiaries-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Old Flame: Pt. 17

Warnings: Cursing, tobacco use

Word Count: 4694 (the longest chapter so far!)

OLD FLAME MASTERLIST: CLICK HERE

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Klaus roared throughout the courtyard, furious that you are nowhere to be found after you successfully snapped his neck. The moon was out the last time he’s seen you but waking up, the moon had disappeared and now it’s daylight. He usually wouldn’t have woken up this late from a simple snapped neck, but you took a page out of his book and stuck a vile of vervain in his system after successfully finding his vervain collection.

Hayley and Jackson were across the way on the second floor, having a quiet chat beside the railing. “Who?” Hayley asked, puzzled.

“Y/N!” Klaus shouted, fuming as he’s glancing around the vicinity.

Kol stepped out of one of the rooms on the second floor after hearing a frantic original. Hayley and Jackson stepped inside the nearest room, figuring Kol could handle Klaus. “I thought she was with you, Nik?” Kol brought up.

“Apparently, she said she was fine last night.” Klaus raced towards his brother who sauntered inside the bedroom he’s occupying during his stay. “Then she snapped my bloody neck and disappeared with the stake.” He retrieved his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed your number. After a couple rings, he nearly cursed after being sent to voicemail. It wasn’t a surprise to him since almost every time you’re in a dire situation, your phone is never answered. But, Klaus figured he’d try.

“What happened to her when I left to speak to Esther?” Klaus asked, jaw clenched.

“If I tell you, give me your word that you won’t be cross with me.” Kol eyed him anxiously.

“What did you do?” Klaus muttered in an alarming tone.

“All I did for Y/N was a favor. I had no control of how she’d react.”

“Spit it out, brother. What is it?”

“She was worried about her friend, Kai Parker.” Kol answered. “Figured Esther was behind it, so she requested I find out. Turns out, mother sent him to a prison world and there’s no fixing it.”

“And that’s the reason for her lunacy?” The hybrid’s nostrils flared in aggravation.

“It is.”

“Good riddance. I don’t know what Y/N sees in that imbecile.” Irritation pricked at him.

To add even more stress, an angry Finn Mikaelson immediately walked in, magically breaking one of the vases on the table. “Where is she?”

“Finn, please, join us.” Klaus said with blatant mockery.

“Don’t make me ask again.” Finn sneered.

“I assume you’re referring to our mother. Fear not, she’s tucked away somewhere perfectly safe.” Klaus added. “You’ll never find her.”

“You think you’ve won. Let’s see how long that arrogance lasts, brother.” Finn glared at his brothers before turning around and marching away with heavy steps.

Klaus tried reaching you again but was sent to voicemail. That alone ticked him off and he was close to throwing his cell phone at the brick wall.

“I’m going to find Y/N. You’re coming with me, Kol.” Klaus made his way out of the bedroom in lengthy steps.

“Oh, splendid.” Kol responded back, trailing behind his brother.

Reaching the courtyard, there were a handful of Hayley’s wolf allies and Marcel’s group of vamps gathered together. Klaus is aware that it’s Hayley and Marcel’s attempt for them to make a truce for the bigger picture.

“Klaus, stop!” Hayley blurted, Klaus and Kol stopped in their tracks.

“Finn spelled all of the exits. We can’t leave.” Marcel added.

Klaus put a palm up at eye view, slowly reaching out until his skin sizzled against the spelled blockade, letting out a faint groan from the affliction. He threw his healing hand down to his side and shifted his view to his youngest brother, expression hardened. “Fantastic.” Klaus muttered sarcastically.

(Meanwhile…)

After disappearing into the night, you booked a suite at the Ritz-Carlton. You’re aware that Klaus has plenty of connections, so you assured that you didn’t put a card on file in case he traces it. Instead, you compelled the staff to allow you to stay for free. You even took extra precautions and showed them a photo of Klaus so that if he ever steps foot into the Ritz-Carlton, they’ll notify you right away.

Having your humanity off so far has been dandy because you had no care in the world. If you were your normal self, there’s no doubt that you would be following Klaus around like a lost puppy during one of his missions and the thought made you sick to your stomach right now.

You woke up this afternoon to your suite nearly trashed from the little party you decided to throw last night because you gathered a handful of good looking people from bourbon street and plenty of liquor to keep you inebriated throughout the night. A man and a woman stayed overnight, thanks to your compulsion. You knew you’d be famished this afternoon and fresh blood ultimately did the trick for you.

After an incredible shower and devouring your sinful snacks, you compelled your victims to bandage up their wrists and be on their way. Housekeeping began tidying up your suite after you made your way out.

Though your craving for blood is fulfilled, you desired a hot bowl of gumbo, so you threw on your sunglasses and trekked through the quarter, crossing your fingers that your pesky beau isn’t looking high and low for you in the area. Your heels clicked along the cement, wearing your best black dress sitting pretty just above your knees.

Gumbo Shop was what you decided on and the friendly host sat you down at a table inside, farthest away from the windows. She did as expected by leaving a menu with you and handing you off to a server.

Within the hour, all of your cravings are satisfied so you left a generous tip for your server and went on your merry way. You weren’t sure what you planned to do next, so you allowed the city to decide for you. A street performer captured your attention so you stopped to observe.

Out of the blue, you spot Finn Mikaelson nearly walking past you in a rush. “Hi Finn. Why are you always so glum?” You teased, brow raised. He put a halt to his steps, hands behind his back. He wore a dark suit, the jacket fully unbuttoned.

“No use in going home anytime soon, dear Y/N.” He implied arrogantly. “Nobody can get in or out, thanks to my spell.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but alright.” In the blink of an eye, Finn strolled away. “Change of plans I guess.” You smirked.

(Later…)

Entering through the gates of the compound, you discovered over a dozen people in the courtyard. It seemed like they were not enjoying themselves whatsoever. There were a few familiar faces as well, including Marcel, Josh and Hayley. You wondered if Klaus or Kol managed to get trapped here as well since they weren’t in the space from what you can see. Your presence seemed to catch everyone’s attention though.

“Don’t you all look cozy.” Your haughty tone was obvious.

“Y/N wait!” Marcel alerted. “Don’t take another step. Finn put up a boundary spell.”

“Thanks for the heads up Marcel. But I already knew that. I bumped into Finn earlier.”

“But you came anyway?” Marcel raised a brow in suspicion.

You shrugged your shoulders in response, leaning against the wall close enough to the invisible barrier. Once everyone else besides Marcel realized that you were no help in freeing them, they were no longer interested in your presence and went back to sulking.

“Ah I see.” He came to a realization. “You’re here to gloat. Why?”

“There you are.” Klaus appeared from the shadows. His edge of irritation returned and drew a scowl over his face.

“Here I am.” You were feeling exceptionally smug. While examining your fingernails, you planned to get a manicure after this foolish conversation.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?”

You showed uninterest without any eye contact as you pulled a cigarette and lighter from your purse. You placed the toxic stick in between your lips, lighting the end of it and taking a puff effortlessly as if you’ve always been a smoker. Klaus glared at your repulsive act.

“I’ve been around.” You responded after exhaling, finally making eye contact with the hybrid.

“Care to explain why you felt it was necessary to render me unconscious for hours on end and then scurry off to god knows where.” With a brisk elevator look, he motioned a nagging hand at you. Klaus was displeased with your outfit choice without him there to claw the eyes out of every man that looks at you with hungry eyes.

He almost asked you about the whereabouts of the white oak stake, but he remembered that there are ears around that he doesn’t trust.

“The thought of having to explain to you bores me.” You fake yawned. “So I don’t think I will.”

“Something’s different about her, Nik.” Kol added, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m aware. Her humanity must be off.” Klaus made his way closer towards you, stopping as close to the barrier as he could. You stepped over to be face to face with him, sniggering.

“There ya go.” You snorted in amusement, the toxic stick weighing at your sides, carelessly flicking off the ash on the grounds of the compound. “You really aren’t the dumbest Mikaelson, Nik.” Klaus ignored your unnecessary comment, his firing eyes following the cigarette going from your mouth to your sides.

Kol began sauntering over to his brother, standing side by side. “Oh sister. Your humanity, eh?” He shook his head in disappointment, arms folded across his chest. “I thought you were bigger than this.”

You dropped the half finished cigarette on the concrete by your feet, crushing the butt with the ball of your stiletto. “My favorite Mikaelson brother is disappointed in me.” Your hand flew to your chest, fake pouting. “I’m crushed. I really am.”

“Stop this nonsense immediately, Y/N.” Klaus said, a scowl strewn across his face.

“Or what?”

“Do not test me.”

“Well last time I checked, you’re trapped in there while I’m free out here. So joke’s on you, my love.” You teased.

A sinister chuckle left Klaus’s mouth. “You shut off your humanity for whom? A useless dullard.” You stared at the ceiling, placing your hands at your hips. “Out of all the choices Esther has made in life, I’d say that sending Sir Malachai Parker back to the prison world was the best one.” He grinned, hoping to have hit a nerve to get your humanity back. “It pleases me knowing that he will be stuck there for all eternity. All alone.” He chose his words carefully and perfectly.

Suddenly, your hands fell and your blank eyes set onto Klaus’s, unmoving. By your reaction, there was a glimmer of a chance that it worked. You grasped both of the Mikaelsons’ undivided attention.

“Nice try.” You cocked your head to your side, your once unreadable expression is now evidently complacent and it boiled Klaus’s blood. His hands clenched at his sides as he’s trying to hide his defeat from you. Kol just simply sighed at their defeat, aware that it was a longshot anyways. “I’m bored. Bye boys.” Without a care in the world, you turned on your heel and departed the compound.

Once you were out of sight, Kol turned to face his brother who was still looking at the spot you were once standing at, unable to mutter any words. “Nik?” Kol murmured, careful not to overwhelm him.

After a beat, Klaus continued to ignore his brother and vacated the spot where he stood. He made his way towards a vacant section of the compound. Kol followed behind him.

Before Klaus could touch the handle of one of the doors on the first floor, Kol attempted to acquire his attention for the second time. “Brother?” Klaus puts a halt to his long strides, taking a deep breath.

In the blink of an eye, he vamp speeds to Kol, barely leaving any space in between the two as his murderous eyes bore into Kol’s. “Don’t.” Klaus warned through clenched teeth. That dangerous tone itself informed Kol to leave him alone in the meantime. And just like that, Klaus swung the door open and violently slammed it behind him, causing a few of the other vampires and wolves to flinch.

Your mani and pedi finished in an hour. You began scouring the quarter for inspiration on what other shenanigans to get into again. After walking in and out of a few gift shops along the way and stopping to tip some of the street performers, you finally stumbled upon bourbon street.

Normally you’d throw your money at the bartenders in one of the many jazz clubs, however, house music blared through one of the other clubs and it instantaneously called your name. Males and females in their 20s occupied this loud space, yet, you didn’t mind one bit because they’re of your age compared to your 1000 year old lover with anger issues.

Dancing and mingling with these fine people made your current cold heart wish that Camille was here to join you. But you wouldn’t dare risk having her call Klaus or Kol and informing them of your whereabouts. Who knows, you might end up snapping her neck dead for doing so and you didn’t care to waste your energy. Marcel and Josh could be trusted not to tell a soul, however, they’re trapped in the compound.

You released your sharp teeth from a poor soul’s neck on the dance floor undiscovered. The warmth of her blood brought you satisfaction. “Go wipe that up in the restroom.” You compelled her and she walked off like a zombie.

(Meanwhile…)

The longer time passed with the magical barrier being up, the more Marcel and his vamps’s hunger grew for blood. It wasn’t looking good for Kol and the werewolves. They were practically walking blood bags.

To make matters worse, Klaus’s patience started running out. He needed to get to you before you caused any havoc or came to any harm. This is the first time you’ve ever turned your humanity off so he has no idea what to expect. The feeling made him sick to his stomach. Not to mention, the white oak stake can be anywhere but he trusts you’re smart enough to have it hidden somewhere good.

The entirety of the barrier will not diminish until nightfall and they couldn’t wait that long. But to their luck, it’s a miracle that Davina fancied Kol. She received a phone call from him, needing her assistance for a spell to lift the barrier and she put whatever she was doing on hold to come to his aid.

They were almost certain that the spell would work. However, being that Finn is channeling something extremely powerful, they were only to be given 60 seconds for the barrier to be down. The plan was to have the wolves, Kol and Klaus exit the vicinity.

Davina and Kol now stood face to face with the invisible barrier in between, palms as close to touching as it would allow them. Small, lighted candles lined up in front of the witches and a circle of salt surrounded them as they continued muttering their spell to one another.

Due to the spell taking its course, all of the vampires needed to resort to cowering in the shadows until after Kol and Davina’s spell die out. Klaus and the wolves were allowed to wait beside the barrier.

A gust of wind abruptly flew through Kol and Davina, causing the candles to blow out and some of the salt to scatter. They exchanged smiles and were relieved to have the chance to touch palms.

“Okay, Jack. Now!” Hayley announced.

“Come on, let’s go.” Jackson didn’t hesitate to rush his pack out of there, guiding them towards the exit along with Hayley.

“Remember, 60 seconds!” Kol reminded them. He was eager for the werewolves to egress and then he followed suit.

But before Kol could take another step, Klaus dashed to him, holding him by the shoulder. “Slight change of plans, brother.” In a trice, he threw Kol in the air until he landed about 50 feet away, grunting in pain. “I no longer have to treat you like anything but the treacherous liar you truly are.” The hybrid spat. Davina’s neck snapped to him, bewildered.

“What the bloody hell?” Kol gradually sat up, feeling just as confused as Davina.

“Where is she?” Klaus questioned, vampires eyeing his brother hungrily while they still waited in the shadows.

“Please, they’ll kill him!” Davina pleaded.

“Well, he should’ve thought about that before he betrayed our sister.”

“What will Y/N think?!” She added.

“Not to worry about my beloved’s opinions of Kol’s predicament. Let’s just say, she’s not herself today.” Klaus replied to Davina before returning his attention to the mischievous Mikaelson, who now rose to his feet. “Rebekah never made it to her new body, did she? Seeing as how you casted the spell, and well, you’re you. I’d hardly call it an uncrackable case.”

“Rebekah’s fine, Nik. It was a prank.” Kol quicked marched towards his older brother. “Nothing more than what you lot have done to me.” He pointed a nagging finger. “But I guess it’s different when it’s one-” The magical blockade was up and running again and its wrath burned Kol’s pale hand, causing him to reel backwards and hiss in pain.

“Barrier’s back up.” Klaus flickered his eyes at the ravenous vampires coming out of the shadows. “And those vampires look oh so hungry.”

Kol grew anxious as the vampires made their way to him like a predator ready to take down its prey. Davina’s eyes began to well up in tears, yearning to come to Kol’s aid.

“I was willing to welcome you back into my home, but you had to return to your selfish petty jealousies.” Klaus said. “Well, let’s see how they help you survive when you’re stuck in there!” He stormed off towards the exit without the thought of a glance. He felt no remorse whatsoever for his little brother.

(Meanwhile…)

The sun began to set and it was no secret that you look damned good in the tight dress and towering heels. A handful of men even offered to pay for your drinks and you obviously obliged although you could’ve easily compelled them to. This made your job much easier.

Since you were pretty buzzed and in an amazing mood, you allowed one of the pathetic men to dance with you, only being allowed to touch your arms or your waist.

Due to the substantial amount of liquor in his system, his confidence was at an all time high and he attempted to lean in for a kiss. You snorted at his juvenile gesture and turned the other cheek. “N-Nice try. Fun’s over.”

“Oh come on.” He insisted. As you were about to free yourself of his hold, he tightened his grip on your waist and it caught you off guard. Little does he know that you aren’t human, so you prepared yourself to use your vampire strength to free yourself. You smirked, allowing him this minor moment before you stripped it away from him.

The drunkard fool leaned forward once again to press his lips onto yours while his hands stroked your waist. You rolled your eyes, snickering as you seized his wrists. “I said-” In a flash, he was thrown across the dancefloor but it wasn’t because of you. Some of the clubbers' attention were focused on what just happened and others acted like nothing happened. Before he could think to stand to his feet, one of the sizable bouncers roughly brought him to his feet to begin dragging him out.

Everything happened so fast and you focused your view to the only person standing beside you to your left. Klaus Mikaelson. “Oh fuck you, Nik.” You grimaced at your inessential savior, your heels rapidly clicking off of the dance floor towards the exit. As much as you wished to vamp speed away, you were smart enough not to do it in the public eye. Humanity off or not.

Instead of hiding off in an alley, you stayed put by the entrance of the club where passersby can clearly see you, leaning against one of the brick walls. You searched through your small purse until you found a cigarette and lighter, but as you were about to light it, rough fingers pulled it out of your mouth.

Klaus didn’t mutter a word, but you can tell by the expression on his face and his body language that he was seething inwardly. You were revelling in the moment. “I’m a vampire. I can’t get lung cancer, idiot.” You scoffed at him. As much as you want to try to light another cigarette, you know that Klaus is just going to toss it.

“We’re going.” He grabbed a hold of your bare upper arm, signaling to follow him or suffer the consequences. You shook his grip off, unphased by it.

“You’re hilarious.” You said, keeping your feet planted to the ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m serious, love. This isn’t a game. Let’s go.” Klaus remarked, towering over you.

You peered up at him through your lashes, shooting daggers. “Did you forget? I don’t fucking care. Now leave me alone.” You shot him a glare and attempted to walk past him, but he stepped to the side as a wall.

“You out of all people know what I am capable of.” Klaus started. “And yet, you are determined to incur my wrath.”

“Your wrath?” You snorted. “Okay then, show me. Right here, right now. In front of all of these people.” Klaus took a peep over your head, unmoving. You hummed in amusement. “I thought so.”

You wasted no time and began trekking down bourbon street’s sidewalk, unsure of where you are headed as long as it’s away from Klaus. You freed your cell phone from your purse and began endlessly scrolling through social media, ensuring not to bump into anyone coming your way.

To your misfortune, Klaus materialized beside you, walking on the outside of the sidewalk. “Oh, you’re still here.” You said dryly, eyes never leaving the screen.

“In what world is this heretic worth your humanity?” He asked, disgusted. His eyes flickered from straight ahead to you.

“My world, apparently.”

“You know, you have people that could have helped you. There’s Stefan, Damon, Kol.” One by one, Klaus counted up to three fingers in the air before going back to relaxing his hand at his side. “Even Rebekah, if it weren’t for Kol’s foolish prank.”

“Good to know, Nik.”

He gazed at you, swallowing before speaking. “You also had me.”

“I can see that since you keep following me.” You finally peeled your eyes from your phone, throwing it back in your purse, raising your chin up at Klaus. He briskly narrowed his eyes, not allowing your cold response to get to him.

“Oh come now, sweetheart. Let’s not make this difficult for the both of us.”

“You’re making it difficult for yourself.” You waved an airy hand. “Now shoo, you’re killing the vibe.”

“Alright then, Y/N. I’ve been far more patient with you.” Klaus creeped up behind you and swiftly cracked your spine so that you were comatose. Then, he scooped you into his arms so that he held you bridal style.

To his luck, his swift, yet flawless gesture didn’t get a second look from anyone in the crowd. It seemed as if you were absurdly tipsy and he prevented you from falling to your knees. He felt a pang of relief and his tense shoulders relaxed knowing he can safely bring you home.

(Later…)

Finn’s barrier spell throughout the Mikaelson compound is now nonexistent. It is dead silent and the only two souls occupying this vast structure are you and the original hybrid for now. Your limp, unconscious body is tied to a wooden chair including your wrists and your ankles.

Klaus has been pacing for the past few minutes, conjuring up different plans to mentally bring back the woman he loves, instead of this facade of a nightmare that is taking over. And hell, if it weren’t for your humanity switch, he would revel in tearing that dress off of you and making love to you until the sunrise.

The sudden sound of your groaning put a halt to his steps. He watched as your head steadily moved up and you cracked your neck. Your eyes caught a glimpse of your surroundings which appears to be one of the many rooms in this godforsaken building. You raised a brow at your lover who is standing merely a few feet away just ahead of you. “This doesn’t look like the Ritz-Carlton.” You said in your head.

“It would be impolite if I didn’t ask how your catnap was.” Klaus commented, wearing a shit eating grin.

“It was fantastic.” You returned his cocky expression with a flashing smile of your own.

“Now that I have you where you can’t simply walk off, let’s get to business then, shall we?” Klaus took amble strides towards you and kneeled until he was at eye level with you. “This will only take a second.” He noted, voice low enough for only the two of you to hear.

As soon as his irises stared into yours, you turned your chin to the right, but Klaus was quick to seize your jaw with his strong fingers, shifting your view back to him. You knew exactly what his intentions were at that very moment.

He’s going to compel you.

The location of the white oak stake is still unknown to him and since he is closer to getting you back to your normal self, he’ll finally get the stake back.

“Get on with it already. I don’t have all day.” You implied. Klaus kept his frustration in check from your moronic remark and went on with what he intended to do.

Your eyes focused on his, observing his pupils fascinatingly growing and shrinking. "You will put an end to this madness and turn it back on.” He released his grasp on your face.

You blinked twice and your lips parted, chest rising and falling. “Nik.” You paused. “I-” Klaus began freeing one wrist from the bindings.

“What is it?” He asked, concerned.

As soon as one wrist was free, you sneered at him and before he could blink, you tore off the arm of the chair, flipped it over so that the sharp bit pointed out and stabbed Klaus in the neck with it. “Ah!” He called out, face contorting from the unexpected laceration.

Obviously, you could have simply kept playing it off as if your humanity was back so that Klaus frees you of all of the restraints. But, you wanted to poke fun at him instead. Inflicting pain onto Klaus was significantly more gratifying right now.

“You really thought you had me there, didn’t you?” You let out a burst of laughter. Klaus cried out in pain while pulling the stick of wood out of his neck and tossing it to the floor, taking heavy breaths as the gash healed. “Nice try, Nik. But I’ve been drinking vervain as of late. Thanks to Stefan and Damon for the tip.”

Instead of inflicting the pain back to you or snapping your neck to shut you up, Klaus stormed out of the room to overlook the courtyard from the railing. As much as he wanted to rip the railing off from his frustration, he shockingly kept his cool and an idea came to mind. He obtained his cell phone from his pant pocket and dialed a familiar number.

After many rings, his call was answered.

“Klaus?” The voice on the other line said.

“Hello, old friend.” Klaus grinned, oddly comforted to hear their voice. “I’m in need of a favor.”

A/N: Hope you guys appreciated the longer chapter!! I know the last one had a lot of Y/N x Kol moments, so I gave you guys more of Y/N x Klaus moments in this one. I have to say, it was quite fun writing with Y/N’s humanity off. And it was especially fun writing Klaus’s responses to it lol...Oh and I’m sure you guys can guess who Klaus’s ‘old friend’ is :)

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

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more of ghost!dream! what can i say, i love this au a lot. here are the previous parts [1] and [2] if you want to read them first - this picks up right after last time, again :D

tws: death, grief (as per usual for this au), very briefly mentioned torture/abuse (what quacktiy’s been doing in pandora), prison arc/pandora’s vault, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms (c!sam is still very emotionally repressed, go figure)

Maybe he should’ve carried the kid; it probably would’ve been quicker, at least. Fran sidled up to him, tossing her head easily as she brushed against his leg. When he looked down, she seemed to be staring at him judgmentally.

“What?”

She barked sharply, prompting a sleepy mumble from the kid trailing behind them, and Sam rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. Arguing with a dog now, really? You really are losing it.

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” Sam sighed again, cutting himself off before he said something he regretted. The words were colder than he intended as it was, making the kid flinch from the corner of his eye, and something in him stirred uncomfortably at the sight, far more familiar than he wanted to admit. Fran’s eyes were dark as she kept staring at him, feet padding softly against the grass as she nudged against him again.

What do you want me to do?

She held his gaze for a second longer before turning around, tail flicking to the side as she made her way to the shimmering image of the kid following them. Figure it out.

He huffed, making a small hissing sound through his teeth, ignoring the way his cheeks heated in embarrassment. He knew he was...cold, to say the least, had gotten used to everyone’s strange looks and shuffles away from him quickly enough. The prison left no room for vulnerability, not when every mechanism, every ounce of power in the prison, every person on the server was left in his hands, not when he was the only one standing in between the greatest danger that they had ever known and the peace that they had fought tooth and nail for. He’d learned how to lock every part of himself in a maze of redstone and blackstone and obsidian, learned how to hide away under layers of netherite and a metal mask. And- perhaps, at first, he’d flinched away from the slight fear in Puffy’s eyes, the hesitance in Tommy’s voice, the way that Ponk-

He swallowed, moving faster. He wasn’t going to think about him right now.

He was cold. He’d been cold as the Warden and he was cold, now, because he’d been the Warden for so long that he’d forgotten how to be anything else, because the walls that he’d thrown up between the part of him that lived under the sun and never wore more than a gold chestplate and the part of him that knew nothing but an endless checkerboard of grey and black had cracked over the days and weeks and months spent pacing, restless, around the same black box, from every piercing word Quackity spoke, from the bone-deep exhaustion that he could never shake. Fran barked again, behind him, and the kid giggled softly, the sound bright and weightless and warm; the weight of the mask on his face suddenly felt oppressive, and his hand came to brush against the polished edges. What did his voice sound like, warm? Did he even remember?

“Sammy!” He stumbled to a stop, the voice in his ears still unfamiliar in its familiarity, adrenaline making his heart flutter, “Slow down! You’re goin’ too fast!”

He stopped, not realizing he was holding his breath until he felt something- someone, right, knock into the back of his legs. He turned himself around carefully, finding the kid staring up at him with big, drooping eyes.

“M’tired,” he mumbled, leaning forward to put more of his weight on Sam, stumbling slightly when Sam drew backwards. “We’re almos’ there, right?”

“...yeah,” Sam looked away, pointedly looking over his shoulder to avoid having to meet the kid’s gaze, eyes finding the stone face of the mountain that he’d made into his home. “Just a few more minutes.”

“‘Kay,” he stepped back, arms coming down to his sides from where they’d been wrapped around Sam’s waist, and the weight that had suddenly settled over his ribcage eased off as well, finally letting him breathe. He began to turn back forwards so they could continue their walk and finally actually get inside the base when he felt something tug at his hoodie sleeve.

He watched, with something a little like a mix of muted horror and fascination as Dream grabbed his hand, carefully threading his fingers one by one in between Sam’s own until his hand was loosely clasped around the ghost’s, beaming at his accomplishment as he squeezed his hand firmly. It was something he’d done before, with Bad’s never-ending insistence that they stay together for safety at the slightest sight of danger and Sam usually relegated to wrangle the younger kids as one of the older and more “responsible” in the group, and the familiar weight of Dream’s hand in his own had him choking on memories he’d half-forgotten.

“Sammy?”

Even as a ghost, his grip was tight; there would be no way for Sam to ease his hand away without alerting him of his intentions. He swallowed around the thickness in his throat, feeling Fran walk up to his other side and circle around his legs.

“Let’s go.” His voice was rough, though the mask probably distorted it too much for it to be too noticeable. He pressed his shoulders back, let his right hand hang as a dead weight as the ghost swung it back and forth, humming idly as he did so.

“We’re almost there,” he said, looking forward towards his mountain, its western face shining golden by the setting sun, and didn’t know if he was talking to the ghost by his side or himself.

---

Thankfully, the actual process of getting into his base ended up being much simpler than the walk back to it. The sight of the various redstone mechanisms - hoeing the dirt and having a door appear from nowhere, especially - had the kid thoroughly perked up from where he’d been half-asleep by Sam’s side, and he’d fired off question after question as they made their way inside. The excitement was an easy distraction and he latched onto it with maybe a little too much enthusiasm, giving off-hand explanations as he dug through his chests for wool and wood.

The ghost, just as he’d always been, was an endless fountain of curiosity, following eagerly to look at his automatic potion brewer and sugarcane farm and furnace set-up, face scrunching in confusion when Sam tried explaining any of the redstone but watching intently anyway. Fran, seemingly exhausted from the walk - which, admittedly, had ended up being much longer than any of them expected - had almost immediately padded off to her room to sleep, leaving Sam alone with an all-too excitable ghost and far too many questions that weren’t going to get answers any time soon.

As the kid finally took a second away from running around to watch, fascinated, as the minecart in Sam’s furnaces dutifully circled back and forth with a few stacks of cobble that he’d thrown in there to smelt as a demonstration, he let himself step away, dragging a hand across his face with a low hiss of distress. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of Dream coming back as a ghost, honestly, had hardly thought about the future at all beyond the need for Quackity and himself to keep their mouths shut. It was an oversight, in hindsight, and he was lucky that he was the one to stumble on the kid instead of virtually anyone else on the server, but now-

Sam turned, watched as the kid rocked back and forth while watching the minecart make another round around the track. What was he supposed to do, now?

He would have to keep Dream here, obviously. All of the work that he and Big Q had put in to keep their actions secret could be blown with one careless pair of eyes on the newest phantom of the server; it’s not like they were particularly hard dots to connect. Speaking of Q, Sam felt the same uneasy prickle of something crawling up his spine, and he shook his head to clear it. It would probably be best if his business partner didn’t learn about this...complication, either, or at least not until he had a little more figured out. So it was left to Sam, in the end, to figure out what happened to the kid and to watch over him, as it always did; prime, there must’ve been someone out there laughing at the irony, making sure that he’d never be able to escape the seeming never-ending task of watching the same person.

It was fine. It would be- easier, this time, as long as he stayed far away from the rest of the Greater SMP. It’s not like anyone would notice anything different, considering how much time he’d been spending in the prison for the last few months, and at least his charge would be more willing to stay in one place than last time. All he had to do was keep them sufficiently out of the others’ prying eyes, at least until he and Quackity figured out a suitable explanation for the prisoner’s death to give to the others. Until then, his job was the same as it had been for months; of course, there were differences, but at its essence, did they really matter? Dead or alive, black walls or grey, he was still the Warden and Dream his...responsibility.

It would be fine. The ghost didn’t even remember anyone else; keeping him in one place would be easy. He’d been the Warden of Pandora’s Vault for months, what was a little time watching over a kid? An amnesiac ghost at that, naïve and far too trusting - it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Right?

---

They ended up converting George’s abandoned room into a bedroom, of sorts, for the ghost. He’d been fascinated with the door going inside, had played with it for a couple minutes before his earlier exhaustion caught up to him and he’d settled on top of the bed, watching as Sam hastily brushed off dust and made the room semi-presentable. It was largely empty; he’d added some initial furnishings when he first built it, but George never really officially moved in, ended up caught up with one thing or another until everything went down on the Sixteenth, and everything since then had been so thoroughly chaotic on both ends that he really hadn’t bothered checking in on either Sapnap or George, leaving both of their rooms to do little more than collect dust. He ran his fingers over the blue-green planks, regret washing over him suddenly like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head. When had all of them grown apart? When did their home become this?

His hands slammed a little too hard on the next bookshelf he came too, eliciting a sharp gasp from the ghost behind him. He whirled around, winced at the sight of the kid cringing, a hand clasped firmly over his ear, and forced the tenseness out of his shoulders with a heavy sigh. The tiredness, it seemed, did more than make the ghost a little quieter and less excitable than the kid in his memories. Sam moved to the next bookshelf, running a damp cloth over the top edge; there was a newfound skittishness to him, an unfamiliar tendency to jump at loud noises and sudden movements. He’d always been cautious, masked even in Sam’s earliest memories, but there had always been a boldness that simply...didn’t exist anymore.

“I’ll leave you to it, alright?” He looked back, watching as the ghost ducked under the pink covers - he hadn’t been able to find anything other than a couple blocks of pink wool in his chest from who knows how long ago - and moving towards the door.

“G’dnigh’, Sammy.”

His voice was soft and sweet, and the cold feeling from before was back, a block of ice nestled in his chest that he couldn’t get out.

“...goodnight, Dream.”

#long post #ghost!dream au #tw torture #tw abuse #tw unhealthy relationship #tw death #tw grief #pandora's vault #prison arc #tw unhealthy coping mechanism #my writing :D #my asks !!

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