#hey has anyone else only practiced side profiles so now that’s all they can draw or is it just me…

[themindbehindthejork]

I FINALLY FINISHEDDDD!

oh my god it looks so low quality also ignore how there’s like zero color I just don’t feel like doing it

[limitlessgojo]

Going to a Private Onsen with Gojo

NSFW Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, established relationship

Type: One shot. This is around almost 4k words.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW content, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, daddy kink, squirting, overstimulation, praising, dom!Gojo, breeding kink, slightly manipulative/ Yandere Gojo, degradation

Notes: finally got to finish this fic, my motivation just dropped halfway lmao. The inn house has rooms with private hot springs. Not shared like the communal ones in public bath houses. This is half fluff half smut.

The private hot springs per room are separated by bamboo trees and wooden walls. (With holes. So you know what's gonna go down👀💦💦💦)

You and Satoru finally get the chance to have a 2 day 1 night short break from work. He takes you to an inn, checking in a tatami room with a private hot spring (onsen) included. The place smelled fresh, and you could smell the flowers outside.

"We can see the hot springs from here love. What do you think? It's gorgeous isn't it?" Satoru wiggled his eyebrows at you. You both set your luggage down, making yourselves at home. The sun is still high up, it is only 2:00pm and the hot spring is steaming, the sunlight making the water shine and glitter.

"It's not bad at all; the room is quite big as well." You smiled. Despite knowing that you're only stroking his ego, you let it go for once. Just this once because it is a special break after all. He internally pats himself on the back, beaming at you. “Glad you like it. Let’s take a walk around the area and then come back for dinner.”

“Fine with me”. Both of you changed into traditional clothing first. Gojo into a Yukata and you into your kimono. He helped you tie your obi and do your hair up. "Look how pretty my kitten is." He practically purred out as he cinched your waist beneath his large hands. His hands felt like fire on your waist.

You flushed, softly calling out his name. "N-not now." You stared at his profile. All lean and muscular. Knowing his physique hidden under the blue fabric did nothing to help. 

"Not now." He agreed. But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. Still he held himself back.

So you both set out, exploring the town. The stalls were bustling with people. You both bought souvenirs for the students as well as omamori (charms) for various purposes. 

You visited the temple and just tried to relieve the pent up stress from the last few weeks. “The air is so cool and it smells really nice here.” The flowers were all in bloom, as it was spring as of now. Satoru, however, kept his eyes on you for most of the time instead of the scenery around him. 

“Yeah, it’s real pretty isn’t it? Wanna take some photos?”

“Good idea! I need a new lock screen pic of us Toru!” you smiled. Your smile unfortunately dimmed upon noticing other women staring at Satoru and batting their eyelashes at him (ignoring the fact that you were right beside him). 

You’ve always known that he was a gorgeous person, just thanking your lucky stars that he actually came around to reciprocate your feelings. “Hey”, Satoru cupped your face and turned it to face him. He was pouting. “Focus on me love. This trip is just for us.” 

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. AH! I wanna have a picture by that Sakura tree~”. You tried to be more enthusiastic and engaging, blocking out any jealous and negative thoughts. 

Seriously, it's not like you didn't trust him. Just that your insecurity gets to you sometimes. You quickly bat the thoughts away. Your thoughts came to a halt when you felt something soft on the corner of your lips. 

"Love you." Satoru murmured against your cheek. You turned to see his eyes under his drooping sunglasses just an inch away from yours. You couldn't help but sigh in admiration. Of course he knows how you feel. "I love you more Toruu~ Now let's go." You gave him a genuine and bright smile. Walking over to a shaded area near the lake, surrounded by tall grass.

He leaned down to press his cheek against the top of your head and placed one arm around you. His other hand was holding up his phone for a selfie. After you took some pretty and funny photos, he surprised you by bringing out a polaroid.

"Eh?! Since when did you bring that with you?" You asked him. Satoru gave a sneaky smirk, "Well. Since you talked non stop about loving the vintage aesthetic recently, I thought it would be good to make a small scrapbook or photo album of this trip." 

".... who are you and what have you done with my husband..."

"Hey! That's rude. I'm always nice and sweet." He pouted and widened his eyes, using a finger to push down his shades. "I knowww~ Just kidding Toru, I love your ideas. I'll help you with it then." 

"Of course you will pumpkin." He squeezed you against his side, not caring about anyone who might be looking at both of you being overly affectionate in public. 

He took pictures using the polaroid camera every now and then. Taking your hand and leading you around, Satoru did not give your thoughts a chance to move away from him. He didn't hesitate to tickle you when your guard was down and poked at your cheeks with the most annoying grin. 

After that it was just you and him. Enjoying your precious time together, undisturbed by anyone else. By the time the sun was setting, you dragged him over to an Izakaya. "Should we have dinner here?" You asked him. 

"Ooooh! Looks like they have good meat and eel. That's fine with me." He replied. You both enjoyed dinner and had a bit of sake. Satoru always looked cute with flushed red cheeks and that big stupid smile of his. "Well you look cuter than me for once Hun." He quipped back.

You smiled as you wiped that teriyaki sauce off the corner of his mouth for him. It was a really peaceful day. 

Walking back to the inn, you noticed a shadow moving quickly just by the corner of your eye. This is why you don't think about work during your free time. Feeling chills run up your spine, you turned to see a curse, staring straight back at you. "Ah shit I left my sword back in the inn." 

Not even having finished your sentence, you watched as Satoru flicked his wrist and took down the 2nd grade curse in an instant. "I told you not to worry darling. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." He tutted and booped your nose playfully, eyes shining. 

"Heehh~" you pretended not to be impressed but by the look on his face, you knew you didn't do a good job of hiding it. He just chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Toru I can't walk like this." 

It was like trying to lug a 190cm tall clingy infant. "I'll protect you with my infinity from all sides love." He looked really happy, just prancing around with you in his arms as you both made your way back to the inn. 

💜💜💜

You both settled back in and got ready to take a bath. It was a really good day and everything went smoother than you thought it would, knowing your chaotic and unorthodox doof of a husband. 

"Dinner was so good. This was a great idea Toru, thank you." You smiled up at him. He smiled back, so soft and gentle with you. The way he never is and never will be with anyone else.

"Now then, I'll be taking my payment from you." You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face. Your husband of 5 years still confuses you until this day. "I'm sorry?" you felt affronted as you asked the question. You had no problem paying your share of the bills, heck you earn a lot as a 1st grade Jujutsu sorcerer yourself. 

But Satoru spent about over a month pestering you about wanting to treat you to a short staycation with him. "Yes", he replied slowly making his way towards you, towering over your shorter frame. You stood your ground and craned to look up at him. 

"Thank you for the meal sweetheart. You will be my dessert." He removed his glasses and threw them aside to showcase his bright blue eyes. You shivered from the intensity, and his lips turned up in a smirk. His words were somewhat funny, but his tone was dead serious.

He wasted no time, leaning down to suck down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, after he pulled one side of your kimono off your shoulder. "Sa-Satoru!!, hah- ", his grip on you was way too tight.

"Baby, I am so sorry I can't wait any longer. Won't you be good for me?" Satoru asked as he took a step back and cupped your cheeks in his hands.

It's true that this man has no self-control, always palming your ass down the hallways at Tokyo Jujutsu High. But you rarely see him as desperate as he is now, that it was actually endearing to you. So you relented, earning a grin from the man.

He helped you out of your kimono, littering small kisses on your forehead and cheeks, before he started biting on one ear. 

Unclasping your bra, he reached down to grope your breasts. You stared at him as he suckled on one nipple while toying with the other. His eyes opened to meet yours, and you could feel the growing wetness between your legs.

You also reached up to pull his Yukata off, undoing the tie on his waist. "I love it when you hair is done up darling. I can bite as much of your neck as I want." He growled out against your shoulder, biting and sucking wherever he can.

Your mouth watered upon seeing the outline of his hard-on straining against his boxers. On the other hand, Satoru stared unashamedly as you pulled down your panties, keeping your legs together to keep your slick from dripping down your legs.

Impatiently, you reached up and ran your fingers through his locks. "Satoru~" you whined. He only smirked in response. In one quick movement, he gathered you into his arms and brought you over to the small washing area with the soap and shower-head. 

He was still in his boxers however. You just stared at it, drawing closer to press your hand and rub the outline. He let out a long moan, which led to you to quickly look up and snap out a hush. "The neighbours might hear us Toru." You whined. 

"Tch, Let them hear. They can't touch or experience us anyways. And I want to show off my lovely little wife." He leered down at you, finally removing his wet boxers and throwing it onto the ground.

His hard cock sprang up and slapped against his abs. As if moving by some force, you immediately dropped to your knees. Rubbing soap onto his waist, thighs, and finally pumping his cock with your soapy hands. You looked up to him as you "cleaned" him off with innocent eyes. 

Satoru wasn't impressed. "Don't tease me baby or you'll regret it." He pulled you up and brought you into a deep kiss. You both gathered more soap and started washing each other off.

With his hands moving slowly down the sides, Satoru didn't hold himself back from touching every nook and cranny of your body. From your neck, to your shoulders, down your breasts, going to your thighs and legs. His hands were rubbing at your skin, inching nearer and nearer to your cunt. Until he suddenly pulled away, making you cry out at the loss of contact. 

"Be good for me and let me clean you first kitten." He whispered.

No other words were shared as you both rinsed and washed each other off before moving to the onsen.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you in a hot spring." Satoru smirked as you both dipped into the water. You sat on his lap and clasped your hands behind his neck, straddling him. His hands gripping either side of you waist tightly. 

"No I don't know." You turned away from him as you rested your head against his chest. He hummed. Both of you resting for a bit. You were both in the same state, antsy for action, but trying to enjoy the hot springs at the same time. 

For a while you both just stayed soaking in the hot water. Until you started grinding down against him. He just stared down at your figure. Breasts spilling against his chest, the slope of your s line with your ass under the water. But you refused to meet his eyes.

Satoru didn't really like that very much. He pinched your thigh hard. "Ow!,' you yelped. "Toru what was-" you finally turned to look up at him, but faltered and stopped moving. His eyes were bright and his expression dark. "I thought my baby was going to be good for me tonight. You don't wanna beg me later just to come right? Or does daddy have to make you do just that?"

As soon as he said the word daddy you felt your insides clench around nothing, thighs quivering. He looked down towards your body, grinning at your response. He pulled you out of the water, sitting down on the ground beside it. 

"Suck me off baby and I'll consider making you cum."

You crawled over on all fours towards him. You kissed him first, then trailed downwards, licking off the water and sweat on Satoru's abs and the outlines of his hard muscles. He groans while staring at you, pupils blown so wide his bright blue eyes actually look dark for once. 

You can see the carnal lust raging behind him as you squeeze your breasts together while kneeling and licking his abs. You leave small butterfly kisses as you slowly make your way down to his aching member.

But, he groans as you skip past it and suck love marks into his lower thighs. "Pumpkin, please -UNGH, p-please don't tease so much." Satoru groaned. You smirked up at him, meeting his eyes while sticking your tongue out and licking one of his balls. Sucking it into your mouth and covering it with your spit.

He reached down to lift your chin up, thumbing your lips as he watched the saliva trickle down down side of your mouth to his fingers. The current sight of you is so lewd and dirty that Satoru almost came on the spot right there. 

You decide to humor him and move to licking the head of his dick, while grabbing a hold of the base and slowly pumping it up and down. Satoru threw his head back. He looked up, seeing the night sky and the stars twinkling while feeling hot pleasure run through his body. He felt like he was floating.

You tried deepthroating all of him in one go, but he was just too big. "Baby, your mouth is too small for daddy's cock isn't it?". You whimpered in response. Trying to swallow as much of him as you can while using your hand for the remainder of his length.

Quiet mewls escaped the sides of your mouth as you opened your aching jaws wider. Tears started running down your face. You didn't stop as you relaxed your jaw and took more of him, swallowing what you can while pumping. He bucked up without warning, causing your gag reflex to react. Then he pulled you off.

"That's enough for now. I wanna make sure I stuff every bit of cum I have inside of your pussy baby." He pulled you up over him, this time with his back to the floor as he spoke. 

"Lemme eat you out, I've been waiting for this all day." He was salivating at the sight of your pussy, positioned in front of his face. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. Impatiently, he tugged you waist down, smashing your lower lips against his mouth. You let out a loud yelp followed by heavy breaths and mewls as he ate you out.

Thrusting his tongue in and out of your walls. He loved the taste of you, always thirsty for more. You tried to grind your pussy against his face. But he held your legs in place with one arm, wrapping around your behind. The other hand was playing with your clit. 

In no time at all you were sobbing and cumming all over his face. Satoru didn't spare you one second of rest. He pulled away and lined himself up, pushing into you during your orgasm. 

He immediately started fucking into you earnestly, grabbing a hold of your waist and lifting it to pull you on and off his cock. "Toru, it's too much for me, I can't-" You could barely get the words out of your mouth as you slurred them out with your eyes shut. 

"Yes you can. I know you can. Because you're made for me and only you can do a good job for me like this love." Satoru grunted as he pumped into you like there was no tomorrow. 

He loved it when your walls clenched and squeezed against him tightly. Especially when your whole body shook during an orgasm. Whenever you open your eyes all you can see are the stars blurring due to your movements. You both came like that, with your backs arching. His cock stayed hard, twitching as it spurted and filled you up. 

He suddenly felt the sensation of eyes on him. As the user of six eyes, his senses were wide alert at ALL times. He looked to the side of the wooden wall, and saw dark eyes staring back at him.

He didn't stop thrusting. You whined and mewled as you ground your hips against his. "Fuck, such a slut for me. Love it when you cry and make those noises babe. Just look at me. I won't look at any other person, man or woman. I'm yours as long as you're mine." He growled out.

He pulled out to reposition you. Dragging your body on top of his. Your back against his chest. "Daddy, I want you. I want more!" You whined out. You positioned his cock at your entrance.

"Daddy will give his baby what she wants. You've been so good to me after all love." He smirked inwardly pushed back upwards into you, thrusting at a fast pace. (Satoru chose the position because he knew you were both being watched. He loves to make other men so jealous of him having you).

You could only squeal and try to hold yourself up against him, putting your palms against the floor. But it was no use. He grabbed your thighs and kept fucking up harder and harder, making it hard for you to hold onto anything.

"Yes just like that baby. You're so good to me. You don't need to think. I'll make it so that you don't have to do anything else. You only need to feel my cock yeah? My doll is the best when she is crying on my cock." He moaned out. 

The man on the other side of the wall was joined by a few other men. Satoru used his ability to see through the wall following the movement of their cursed energy and saw that they were touching themselves to you.

"Daddy, please more. Daddyyy~" you were slipping further into subspace. Soon you couldn't speak clearly anymore. Just babbling nonsense while bouncing on Satoru's lap and staring hazily up at the sky.

"I think we have company." He laughed out. You snapped out of your haze to see peeking eyes behind the bamboo sticks. Satoru just thrusted harder. "Let's give them a show of their lifetime hmm? I spy old men wanting some action. But they won't be able to touch you baby."

He reached up with one hand to grope your breast and the other stayed below to play with your clit. Sex to him was almost like an art form. He knew exactly how to play with your body to bring you to your strongest orgasms. 

You tried to cover your body up but he pulled your arms away. "Don't run away baby, daddy's here to protect you. It will be okay."

At the end of the day you trusted him and his six eyes, so you let go. Pussy clenching harder at the thought of being watched by unknown strangers.

"That's it, my angel. So good for me. You're leaking far more than normal slut. You like it when people watch you get fucked?"

He reached up with his cum stained hand to spit into it. Then shoved his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suckled on and cleaned his fingers for him. He continued to grope you as he pounded away.

Satoru wasn't too worried about the spectators next door. He can see them clearly. Several middle aged men (probably sharing a larger room) messily jerking off to both of you. He saw the way their eyes travelled across your breasts and cunt, which was oozing with his cum.

He hit a hard deep spot inside of you which caused you to squirt hard, a large amount of liquid spraying out. Satoru quickly put his hands over your clit and furiously rubbed at it, wanting to prolong your squirting. You were crying out loud at this point. It was just music to his ears.

One man groaned out, causing you to tense and tighten and Satoru to moan out.

"You love putting a show on huh baby? We should do this more often if it gets you tighter and wetter around me." He snarked out while you drooled and asked for more.

He didn't stop thrusting until he came a few more times inside of you, changing positions.

The men watched as you rode him, your breasts bouncing up and down, while you placed your palms flat on Satoru's chest. They stared at the cum flowing out of your pussy, being fucked back into you by Satoru. The way you both groaned as you clamped down tight and milked his cock.

Soon you found yourself laying on your side with one leg up with Satoru spooning you from behind. What was frightening was his stamina and power. 

His thrusts never lost strength and soon you just felt like his cock was drilling a space inside of you, just for it. You felt so boneless in his hands when you both finished, laying down on your sides.

"Babe…. You okay? We need to clean up." Satoru whispered against your shoulder.

You could only mumble incoherent noises. Squeezing around his softening length, still plugged inside of you to keep his cum inside. 

Satoru gave out a soft sigh. Then gathered you into his arms and took you away from prying eyes. He just turned and smirked at them as he walked away with you, butt naked.

The watchers were disappointed that the show was over. Satoru then cleaned you both with the shower head in the washing area and wiped you down with soft towels.

You stayed silent the whole time. Your head felt like it was in the clouds. Just letting Satoru do his way with you like a doll. "You were really good for me tonight angel. Nobody else can touch you but me." He chuckled darkly.

You just listened to his simple commands such as putting your arms up when he dressed you in your nightgown. 'I always love fucking her dumb.' He smiled to himself as he settled you into his arms in bed. 

"Next time I'll be fucking you in the water." He whispered. He brought you closer to him, tucking your head against his neck. Kissing your forehead and patting you to put you to sleep. 

🎇🎇🎇

The next morning you were absolutely horrified to see people staring at you, when you both left your room to check out. 'I bet they heard us last night. And who were the ones peaking at us?!?!' you frightfully thought to yourself.

Satoru didn't really care. Smiling brightly at the attendants and thanking them for your amazing stay at the inn. 

"Toru I really enjoyed my stay, but it's hard to be happy now knowing that we did it at the expense of our neighbours stay." You whispered, hitting him. "Darling I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the show." He winked at you, shameless as ever.

Suffice to say, you decided not return to said hot springs for a while out of shame.

End notes: 🙈 this fic started because I just thought of Satoru's abs wet with steam and sweat but it evolved during the last edit. Hope you guys enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated 💜

All rights reserved to Limitlessgojo.

[daisysliv]

nightmare | spencer reid

word count: 894

pairing: spencer reid x gen!reader

summary: in which you have a nightmare and go to your best friend, spencer reid

warnings: fluff, slight angst, nightmares, hurt/comfort? (the hurt is barely there but you get the point)

prompts: 10 - “I can’t sleep, can I stay here?” and 20 - “You make me feel safe.”

notes: based off this request from @spencerreid9, hopefully i didn’t make you wait too long! its short but sweet and i hope you like it <3

library

cm bookshelf

It was nearly 3am when you shot up in your bed, breathing heavily trying to draw air back into your lungs, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin.

You have had nightmares before about cases— it came with the job, but this one was different. this one didn’t just involve yourself in a life and death scenario.

No, it involved the whole team, a team full of people you love— people you consider family.

It was terrifying to even imagine all of them in a situation like that, not knowing how it would end and who would be making it out alive. You couldn’t imagine being in the BAU without any of them on the team.

More specifically, the team’s resident genius.

He was your best friend and has been since you joined the team, he was the first person to greet you when you walked into the bullpen and from that moment on, the both of you were practically attached at the hip.

Being his best friend was definitely everything but boring. On the contrary of popular belief, he was funny and enjoyed doing more than just working and reading.

If he wasn’t on the team, you wouldn’t feel like you fit in even though you’re close with everyone else. He was just the one person you knew you could trust more than anyone else.

Which is why, seeing him be shot in the dream— sorry, nightmare, startled you awake.

Hopping out of bed, you hissed when your previously warm feet hit the cold floor, and tugged on a jacket, and slipped your feet into a pair of slippers.

His apartment was just a floor above yours so it didn’t take long for you to arrive and knocked rapidly on his door for a few seconds, knowing it was enough to wake him if he wasn’t already awake.

( He’s a light sleeper. You had discovered that in your second month with the BAU. )

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asked, his voice laced with worry. “Do we have a case?”

You eyed him up and down trying to find any signs of if he was asleep or not because his tone didn’t get it away. “Oh, uhm… no. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was just reading through some files. Come in.”

For being the germaphobe that he was, his apartment surely was a disaster. It smelled of old books and coffee which was comforting but it was also a huge mess. There was probably dust collecting in his fridge from how little he actually uses it.

“You should clean up in here,” You joked and motioned towards the ever growing pile of books on his table.

He snorts. “Yeah, right, when we have a day off I’ll do that instead of sleep.”

It was your turn to let out a snort. “Please, like you sleep to begin with.”

“Good point. Now, the question of the night, why did you come over?” He plopped his body on the couch and held out a hand for you to take.

“I hate to be a bother but I can’t sleep, can I stay here?” You took his hand, lacing your fingers together, and sitting yourself down next to him on the small couch.

Your body instinctively curled into his side and leaned your head down to rest on his shoulder, a deep sigh leaving your mouth.

It was silent for a moment, the only sounds that could be heard was the low creaking of the pipes in the wall. “Course you can,” He breaks the silence.

Craning your head, you looked at him only to find him already staring at you. “Are your nightmares back?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, averting your eyes from his prying ones. He was trying to analyze you and you knew it. “Stop profiling me. We have a deal.”

During your first year in the BAU, you realized how awful it was to try and keep secrets from a group of profiles so you all formed a deal that you wouldn’t profile one another. Although sometimes, none of you could control it.

“I know, sorry, it’s just… why come to me with your nightmares? You know I’m not much help.”

“Well, for starters, you’re my best friend. You also live a floor above me so it’s convenient and I know I can trust you. Plus, you make me feel safe so that helps.”

A smile breaks out on his face and he finds himself squeezing your hand just a little tighter, and you curl your body a little more into Spencer’s side.

Silence fell over the two of you once again and you could feel the need for sleep building up behind your eyes. “Let’s go to bed.” You mumbled and the two of you reluctantly pulled yourselves up from the couch.

Spencer is the first to lay down, you follow shortly after, and the both of you are facing one another.

The two of you just stare at each other for a while— no words needing to be said.

“I’m glad I’m the one who makes you feel safe because you make me feel safe too.” You couldn’t stop the grin that spread out across your face.

Bringing your right hand out from under your head, you reach for Spencer’s left hand that was sitting just beside his hand, and laced your fingers together.

“Goodnight, Spence.”

“Goodnight,”

notes: if you would like to request something from the prompt list, you can find that here, just make sure you add what numbers they are when requesting!! if you wanna request something thats not on the list, go right ahead and send the ask in!

PERMANENT TAGLIST ( if it’s crossed out, that means you couldn’t be tagged )

@prettylittlemoonlight

CRIMINAL MINDS TAGLIST

@nomajdetective @prettylittlemoonlight @aayaissaa @ji5hine

SPENCER REID TAGLIST

@nomajdetective

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 5 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

This is a big one babes!! Hold on tight!! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

Contains: canon-typical discussion of violence, soft aaron hotchner supremacy 

wordcount: 1.8k

You barely saw Aaron on Sunday, despite being in his house the whole day-- Jack was practically buzzing with excitement the moment you came through the door, pulling you down to his height and wrapping his arms around your neck to squeeze you in a hug.

“Hey, little man, I’ve missed you!” You said enthusiastically, returning his hug. 

“I missed you too. And so did Daddy. He said you were sick so I drew you a feel better card,” he told you, dragging you over to the coffee table and brandishing the  piece of computer paper he’d folded in two to form a card. 

“I love it so much Jack! I feel better already. Let’s put this on the fridge, yeah?” You said, standing up and shooting Aaron a smile as you crossed the kitchen. 

“Can we play legos now?”

“Buddy, give her a second. She just got here.” Aaron tried to calm Jack down, but you waved him off. 

“Just let me put my stuff away, and I’ll meet you in your room, okay?’ You told Jack, who scurried off towards his bedroom.

Aaron must have found some other way to entertain himself, because you and Jack spent the whole morning together, only taking a break after lunch when it was time for Jack’s nap. He insisted that you put him down, and after three readings of Curious George, he was finally asleep. When you turned to leave, you saw Aaron sitting in the door jam watching you.

“He was so excited this morning you would have thought it was Christmas,” He remarks as you meet him in the doorway. 

“He’s a good kid.” You whisper, slipping out into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind the two of you.

“I’m lucky.” He agrees with you. 

“Come on, Hotchner, it’s not all luck.” You tease him good naturedly as the two of you move back to the kitchen. He saw you headed for the sink, full of dishes from lunch, and sped up to get in front of you.

“Ah, ah ah. It’s naptime.” He told you, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you around. 

Before you could stop yourself, you stomped your foot, not entirely unlike a child who needed a nap. “Hotch, come on!” 

“We’re probably getting called on something tomorrow, and sleep will be hard to come by, and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.” He tells you.

“You’re acting like you aren’t going to bench me, regardless of whether or not we get called on a case.” You accused of him, and he at least had the good grace to try and look sheepish. “I’m not tired. Can we just watch a movie or something?” You offered a compromise, and he nodded, leading you to the couch. 

You plopped onto the couch and picked up the remote as Aaron crossed the room to grab a throw blanket for the two of you to share. He spread the blanket across the couch and sat down, and you tucked your feet underneath you, unintentionally leaning in closer to him as you flicked the TV to a movie channel. Aaron stretched his legs out in front of him, extending one arm across the end of the sofa and the other arm around the back of it, conveniently making more space for you. As Hotch had suspected, it wasn’t long before your eyelids started to get heavy. 

“The dishes…” you mumbled sleepily. 

“I’ll take care of them.” He whispered, leaning in closer so you could hear him. 

“Later. It’s naptime,” you reminded him, your head resting against his chest in sleep. His arm came to rest across your shoulders and down your side, drawing you into him. He inhaled deeply, trying not to overthink. 

You’re her superior. His brain screamed. She loves Jack, not you. She loves Jack, but that doesn’t mean she wants to raise him. You’re too old, too cranky, too much baggage. This isn’t what you think it is. As much as he wanted to make himself believe all of that, as much as he wanted to accept that even if he knew he would go through hell and back for you, he could never have you, all he could focus on in that moment was the steady puffs of breath coming from your nose and landing on his chest. He realized, with a start, that it felt like walking into the wrong classroom your senior year of high school and locking eyes with the woman you knew you were going to marry.

  Aaron’s prediction had been correct-- Monday morning had found you jetting off to Kentucky, for the murder of three county paramedics-- by the time your plane had landed, another body had dropped. A firefighter. You all climbed into SUVs from the airstrip-- Hotch and Rossi off to examine the bodies, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss to the most recent crime scene, and you and Reid to the police station to the police station to work on the geographic profile. Normally you’d be off with Hotch and Rossi, and examining a body wasn’t technically field work, but you went with Reid with minimal pouting, knowing you were lucky that Hotch had let you leave Quantico at all.

You decided to let Reid drive, and you were fiddling with the radio when he spoke for the first time. 

“I keep… thinking about what there is to say to you, to communicate how much we’re all here for you, how much we all love you and we all want what’s best for you, and it feels like everything just falls short. I have an IQ of 187 and I still can’t find the words, but I can’t say nothing. I was scared for you. I’m proud of you, and if you need anything I just want you to know I’m here. I might not have the right words but I promise to listen, and to make sure you feel heard.” The words stumble out of Spencer awkwardly, but still strike you with their sincerity. You sniffle a little before responding. 

“I know, Reid. I know how much you all care for me. I’ve never doubted that for a second. Thank you.” You tell him, your voice thick with emotion. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I am.” You tell him with a confident nod. “Or, at least, I’m getting there. I did the hard part. I got out.” 

A few hours later, you were at the police station with Reid, narrowing the geographic profile and spitballing with victimology, when one of the local officers poked his head into your makeshift office-space. 

“Another body dropped. The town librarian.” 

“Two in one day?” You asked. 

“He’s spree killing now. He’s devolving.” Reid supplemented. 

“Do you think it was random? He was killing first responders. The librarian doesn’t fit.” 

“Could be,” Reid agreed. 

“Have you called the rest of our team?” You asked the officer. 

“Not yet.” 

“We’ll call.” You told him, and he nodded. You pulled out your phone and dialed Hotch as Reid crossed the room to call JJ. 

“Hotchner,” he said into the phone. 

“Hey, it’s me. Another body just dropped.”  

“He’s devolving.” Aaron sighed

“It was the local librarian.” 

“But he was killing--” He started, but you could hear the words he was going to say before he even thought them.

“First responders, I know.” 

Aaron let out a deep sigh. “If I take Reid off of babysitting duty, are you going to behave?” He asked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but I reserve the right to bitch about it when this is over.” 

“Noted. Tell him to meet us at the next scene, please?” He asks of you.

“Will do. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” Hotch said before hanging up. 

You sent Reid off to meet up with Hotch, and sat back down in front of your case files and notes, determined to find something written between the lines. After a tortuously slow thirty minutes, a thought occurs to you. You step into the police bullpen and get the attention of one of the officers. 

“Hey. Does this town contract out its EMS services?” 

“No,” the officer tells you. “They’re all employed by the town. They’re paid with a mix of taxpayer and grant dollars.” 

“So they’re government employees?” 

“Yeah.” The officer confirms, and you pull your cell phone out of your pocket, heading out a side door to get a little bit of air and some better reception to call Garcia. 

“What’s new bugaboo?” Garcia asks as she picks up the phone, and you can’t help but smile. The sunshine felt warm on your face as you paced the empty back lot of the police station. 

“Hey, Garcia. Is there any way to track if anyone in town has some sort of anti-government bias?” 

“I can look for fringe political groups-- if the unsub is a member, that might help, but it would take me days to just search through every resident’s social media.” 

“That’s okay, start there. Look for white men between 23 and 45. If I think of anything else that might weed it out I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, kitten. Are we talking strict anarchists here, or should I be looking at groups like--” 

Garcia continued, but you couldn’t hear her over the sound of a gun cocking and the sensation of cold metal at the back of your head. You gasped. 

“Sweetie? Did you think of something?”

“It’s time to put the phone down.” A voice said from behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. 

“Who was that? Are you okay?” Garcia asked.

“Go on,” the voice said. “Hang up the phone. Don’t be dumb.” 

You hung up the phone without saying another word to Garcia. The man dragged his gun down your spine, resting it against the middle of your back. “To think, I came here thinking I might kill a couple of cops, and I ended up with an FBI agent. Talk about an upgrade.” You tried to subtly reach for your gun, but it was useless. He strikes you in the head with the barrel of his gun before you can react. “Come on, sweet thing. I told you not to play dumb with me.” 

“You really think you can kill an FBI agent outside of a fully staffed police station without getting caught? And you’re going to call me dumb?” You asked, hoping that he couldn’t hear the fear laced in your voice.

“Who said anything about not getting caught?” He chuckled. “We all die eventually. Might as well make it worth my while.”

tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @zheezs14​

[seimeinotaka]

Rêverie (An OberonXGudako fic)

MASSIVE LOSTBELT 6 SPOILERS INCLUDING OBERON'S PROFILE AND BOND CE

Summary: Oberon has been unexpectedly summoned to Chaldea. He wonders why he is even there as he reminisces what happened in Avalon Le Fae. But it seems Ritsuka isn't leaving him alone, much to his annoyance.

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Once again, the story has major spoilers for LB6, Oberon's profile and Bond CE, as well as important plot points of Solomon, LB1 and LB5.

There's implied one-sided love, mentions of heavy topics such as loss, and mentions of deceased characters.

"Master, Master, you've gotten better at this!"

"Thank you, Gogh! I've been practicing a lot using the tips you and Oui gave me. Even Jeanne Alter praised my background, hehe!"

"Hey, I said it was passable. Pas-sa-ble!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru has been drawing something in the cafeteria, surrounded by many servants that come and go. No one asks what she is doing, they all seem to know or if they don’t, they don’t bother to ask.

It is so bothersome. Annoying.

So many people surrounding her, like an ultraviolet lamp that attracts all the bugs. Never mind that they end up getting zapped the moment they ever dare to touch it.

The people, the sound, the merriment, it all annoys Oberon, who only watches in silence as he eats some ice cream with melon.

To be able to smile like that, even after discarding all of those stories...Oberon doesn't hide a crooked smile. In the end, the lostbelts are no more than faint dreams doomed to end, forgotten by the winners, the panhuman history citizens. Ritsuka Fujimaru isn't different. For her, it's like reading the doujin the swimsuit berserker is making. Once the pages are closed, the story ends and it ceases to exist. She can choose to forget.

Truly detestable.

-

Oberon stares and then walks away, just as Ritsuka lifts her face. She looks around, the feeling of being watched faintly breaking her concentration.

But in the end he doesn't say a word as he leaves.

-

“Hey, you keep looking at Master!” Jeanne Alter slams her hands on the table where Oberon is sitting. Said Master is working again, too enthralled talking with Gogh to notice Jeanne Alter slipping away to talk to him.

“Does it bother if I do?” He gives her a crooked smile as she huffs and scowls. Though of course her face turns slightly pink.

“Tch, of course not! It's just your stare is getting on my nerves! Wouldn't you get distracted if someone is looking at you intensely?”

“I am a creation, not a creator. I wouldn't understand what you're saying. Besides, I wasn’t looking at her or you anyway,” he says mockingly.

“Hmph, whatever you say. Leave when Master is drawing, what she is doing is very important and I won't let you make it messy.”

“Hah, a page of your little comic? As if you need a lot of care. But fret not, I am certain that with your keen insight and guidance it will be something so memorable, up to the level of the famous writers here in Chaldea.”

“You bug...Bring it, I will burn you to a crisp! Moths do like fire, don't they? Surely you will feel at home then!” Jeanne Alter laughs. “I'll let you know that it is something so impressive that it would make you cry, if you're capable of that anyway.”

Though her Saint Graph right now is one of a Berserker, it seems the insight of the Avenger still exists deep within. After all, only those who are similar can recognize each other. Fake recognizes fake. Emptiness recognizes emptiness. Hate can only recognize hate.

Though come to think about it, Ritsuka has always been writing, he noticed she kept a small book on her, during quiet times. Perhaps a diary of sorts. It wouldn’t be surprising, to record everything she has experienced, as the writer of the winning history.

-

When we die, we'll become like those stories. Our lives are stories that might be discussed and forgotten, so it's not that different from your midsummer night dream.

A dream you forget once you wake up from your slumber.

“You're a tsundere,” Ritsuka says flatly as she rests her chin on her hand. She even dares to give Oberon a shrug and a smile, as if she can tell the truth between the lies.

“Ah, you're annoying.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, hehe!”

An obnoxious smile continues to be on her face, and he simply looks at her with unveiled disgust and apathy.

“Why am I even here?”

“Well, you answered the call, so you can only blame yourself for that.”

“What.”

“The rayshift system call can be refused. That's an inescapable truth. You lie a lot but there are some truths in your words. Or actions in this case. You wanted to be in Chaldea, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah there it is, your virtuous nature shining through. One day you'll be fooled by someone who is pretending to be your ally...ah, my bad, that has already happened, isn't that right? Maybe you should learn your lesson.”

“Ah, yes. But it doesn't change that you are here. And because you lie often, that means I can just take it whatever way I like. You'll just deny it even if I'm right. But you can't deny we get along pretty well!”

“We do not!”

“See, that's a lie!”

“Ah, I'm going to the cafeteria! Don't follow me!”

Yet we thrive on dreams, don’t we?

“How long do you think I've been in this business? Have you interacted already with some of the servants here? I can tell you don’t mind my company.”

“I quit, I'll break the contract!”

“So, one cube or two?” Ritsuka dares to offer him the sugar cube container, even holding some tongs, just to put the amount he requests in his cup.

“You really want a poisoned tea, right, wonderful Master?~”

Even if they are something that doesn’t exist, we yearn for them, even to make them a reality. No matter how impossible. No matter how painful.

That is why we can never get rid of them.

Even if we forget once the veil of dawn has ended, something of it remains.

-

“There's so much that is subjective. For example, you were Artoria's Merlin, weren't you? For a moment you were Merlin, that was her truth. There's different Merlins, I mean we have different Artorias here from different eras and classes. You were a different Merlin than the one I know.”

Ritsuka is busy trying different colors. Oui and Gogh got into a discussion on how to best get the tones she was aiming for, and they even went to do some research on their own. The reds of a forest seem familiar yet not quite right, not that Oberon was looking at the notebook.

It has to have a dreamlike feeling, that’s what she wanted, but that’s not easy to pour into a painting.

“What we see as a lie or as truth, it changes with our perception. Your lies and my truths might be different, but it's ok. In the end we have only one perspective. That's why lies and truths can mix, that's why contradictions exist. I mean, that is why you are here.”

“Here's some advice from the bottom of my heart, don't quit your day job, Master. Stick to the world saving and leave the philosophical dissertation to virtually anyone else.”

In the end, does the truth really matter?

Something that can change when you close your eyes. Something that is as fleeting as a moth's life.

Would anything change in the grand scheme of things?

To protect Ritsuka, Chaldea forged a story, one where Romani Archaman was at fault for everything that happened.

To the world that is on the verge of disappearing, that became the truth.

To everyone in Chaldea, the truth is that this girl worked harder than anyone to protect this world.

That was what Sherlock Holmes said once they met. Oberon didn’t like him, but in a way he seems familiar. Holmes is a great detective, but since he keeps everything to himself, he might be wrong the entire time until the last minute.

So it’s not like Oberon can take him that seriously.

Even so, he told him the story of the great journey before Panhuman History was at risk by the Alien God. A story of which he was somehow aware, but it seems different when it is told by someone else.

To Oberon, it was a story of selfish survival. A fitting story of those who fight in the mud to continue existing.

To Holmes, it was a story of humanity bravely fighting to avoid destruction. An unlikely event that might have inspired others. Or rather, that is how the Leonardo Da Vinci from that time would have framed it, since Holmes isn’t an author and the current Da Vinci is someone different now.

The events are there, what changes is our perception of them. Perhaps this is where truths and lies take root, the lie of today becomes the truth of tomorrow.

The lie allows the fake existence to continue even when the dream has already ended.

But in the end, everything will fade, so nothing really matters.

-

"Well, I don't know if it has a meaning, but doesn't that mean you can give it your own? Just like how I can take your lies the way I want."

"Aren't you a simplistic one? No, perhaps it is that kind of thinking that has let you get this far. What a naive Master Chaldea has. Though it helps you accomplish your goals. "

He is not sure why they are taking tea while chatting, but here he is. Perhaps it is to hide his annoyance, the Master won’t stop until she gets what she wants anyway, so he is just avoiding a pointless squabble.

"You can think whatever you want~ and in any case, even if the feelings of today will be nothing in the future, that doesn't mean they are worthless. Because they affect the you of today and that is the moment when you are alive.”

The joy of living, that is something Oberon can’t understand nor tolerate. It angers him.

Of course, he is an entity of the abyss so how could he comprehend that?

The will of self-destruction, the cessation of existence. That something is so fundamentally wrong that it must wiped out, for there is no way to fix something that crooked.

Faerie Britain wished for him because it had to be wiped away from all records, because it had no way of being salvaged.

Therefore, he can only listen to those words.

(Perhaps it is the envy of not having something? Perhaps it is the bitterness of no longer having something to do, to dream for? Or simple ennui that no matter what, in the end it doesn’t matter?)

Ritsuka ignores his silence, as she continues.

“I don't know but for someone who likes stories you don't seem like you're actually enjoying them.”

“Would you enjoy a story where you fade away like everyone in the lostbelts you have erased? Ah, my bad. Surely, as the winner you can afford to disregard those stories. Silly me, of course you would be able to believe that as the victor you can claim to be the true history. Panhuman history is in the end mankind's right path, after all, and everything else can fade into the abyss.”

Her smile is complex, almost a facade. From one angle it looks like a forlorn frown, from the other a faint smile. She plays with the spoon on her table.

"Hmmm, I wonder..."

 Dr. Roman, we finally beat the British Lostbelt. It was unlike any other places we were, and I keep thinking of Percival's words...

   I wish you were still here.

The sacrifice of someone can mean the whole world for a single person. The sacrifices of millions can become a mere statistic, a simple cold number to show how bad an event was. In the end, it doesn't matter.

What was once lost will never come back.

The void left in one's soul will never heal, it only becomes more bearable with time.

But even so, that lingering pain is the proof that someone was alive, that they left a mark on the others they met as one looks at the twinkling stars and reminisces of the never-happening-again past.

“Did you know the true opposite of love isn't hate but indifference?”

“Haaah? Perhaps you didn't think so but I was being honest about my suggestion. Thinking too much will only hurt your head. You should only focus on what's in front of you.”

“Whether you love or hate, you end up putting a lot of attention to the object of your affections, but if you're indifferent to it, it ceases to exist. Perhaps your hatred of everything is because there's something you cannot afford to lose.”

Titania was the wife of Oberon in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the only one who could accept the king's eccentric personality.

But in reality, she was just a creation for the story, a being who was never real.

Of course, there isn't a person like that in the world.

Someone who accepts a hollow entity like me.

“I don’t know, if Arjuna Alter was able to come to terms with his own humanity, well...nevermind. I was just thinking aloud.”

(Ideals are just that.

A concept not belonging to this world.

It is when you reconcile with the flawed reality that you can grasp your happiness, the one you have.)

“Heh-Hahahaha, that's rich, Master!”

This is so sickening.

Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) such an unpleasant existence. Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) a being born of hate, a destructive force whose only purpose is to rend everything to ashes.

But the fact is, Titania doesn't exist. This means no one could accept someone like him.

That is the unpleasant truth.

That is why people are entranced(poisoned) by falsehoods, lies to sweeten the body and protect the soul. It's a sweet elixir to hide from the harsh reality, the ultimate end of the journey of everyone, a pointless, worthless life. Because at the end of the dream, no matter what one has accomplished, it doesn't change the finale of this story and it is doomed to be forgotten. 

Just as the one princess from before, who also fell in love with the Fairy King. The one who tried to give fire to his cold body. But he didn't notice this, not even when her snow body had ceased to move, a protection of love.

So in the end, if it's not acknowledged, it is the same as it never had happened.

“Tell me, does it matter to you? Are you going to tell me you know how I feel? That you understand what I'm going through? Come on, tell me your important story, that everything is going to be alright as long as I'm not alone-”

“I can't. I don't know how you feel. Even if we had suffered the same, I wouldn't know how you feel.”

Her words or her smile, the same as before. He doesn’t know which but it cuts him short.

“All I know is the pain of losing someone important to me, but that's not what you're feeling, right?”

The Titania I wish for doesn't exist in this world. The Faerie Britain that gave birth to me no longer exists, even if I have accomplished my goal. 

I am merely a dream whose purpose has been fulfilled and thus, the curtain shall be down as I exit the stage.

The things I yearn for are merely dreams. Even so, I hope, because I saw it existed for someone else. For another Oberon, not the one I am.

The illusion of happiness, the hope of a love.

I don't know how it is to not be Oberon, the lying king. The king without any other purpose. The villain that has exited the stage having won, but now even that victory is pointless.

Then, why am I still here? 

“For what it's worth, I like you. You're nice company, lies and all.”

“You’re an odd one.”

“I've been told that often.”

“It's not a compliment, you have no taste.”

“You know, for Panhuman history I am the hero, ensuring our world survives. But to everyone else from every lostbelt erased...I am the worst of the worst, the villain that destroys their world.”

Ritsuka traces the notebook on her hands. The contents of the rest could be disclosed but Oberon doesn’t open any of the other pile of notebooks, so they all lie on her bed.

“Patxi cursed me for showing him a world that he thought was happier than his.”

Tears fell from her eyes as she smiled weakly. “I wonder if that was ever the right choice.”

“Panhuman history isn't the perfect utopia you can imagine. Humans seek hatred and war, there's suffering and agony. While some can lead happy lives, there's so many who can't even enjoy a warm meal or think of a future. Kirshtaria saw that, he wanted to make a better world because ours was so imperfect.”

“Why are we still going?”

“Why was ours the correct one?”

“Even now, I don't know. And I'm not sure if I'll ever know. Any justification might seem a rationalization, something to feel less guilty for killing all those people.”

“That is why I cannot forget, I cannot let the history of those lostbelts be erased. Even if I'm the only one who remembers,” her grip on the notebook tightened, “I can never forget them.”

Like a dream, one time Oberon caught sight of what she was drawing, finally reaching the dreamy red hue she long sought, depicting the autumn forest Oberon knew and hated.

The words depicting what happened in Faerie Britain, the stories of Artoria, Morgan, of Barghest, Baobhan Sith and Melusine, of Aurora, of Mike, of Ector, of Knocknarea, of him.

“Even if the rest of the world forgets, I cannot. That's why I want to record as much as I can. I caused them to disappear, remembering all of them is the least I can do.”

“That's guilt for you.”

“...Yes, I can't deny that. I've caused many people to suffer, that is why I cannot stop.”

“You're an idiot. Pursuing a fleeting dream that will only cause you to hurt, as your heart tears itself apart with these thorns you surround yourself with.”

“I guess. But someone has to do it right? But even so…

“I enjoy the moments with everyone here in Chaldea and I can say I'm happy.

But I also feel deep sadness for everything that I have done and continue to do.”

There are many contradicting truths, woven into each other.

Like overlapping threads in a beautiful(horrible) story.

“I could think Panhuman history is the correct one because it was there. There was a reason why it was chosen.”

“And if there isn't? If there is truly no meaning to your journey? That the reason your world was chosen was a mere whim of fate, a sudden lucky roll of the dice? That there is nothing special to your world that makes you worthy of the title of proper human history?”

“Then I guess I will have to make it so that there is one.”

“And if you can't?”

“Just because I can't doesn't mean I shouldn't try.”

“Trying doesn't mean you will succeed. Morgan tried her hardest, but in the end, she still failed, crumbling in despair as her Faerie kingdom burnt to ashes.”

“Well, that will come bite me when the time comes, but for now, that’s all I can do, right?”

In the end, as long as it entertains, does it matter?

What is the purpose of a story? To bring joy(tears)? To break one from that moment of boredom, of despair, and heal the soul even if just a little?

And in the end, does it even matter?

-

“I like this Saint Graph more.”

It’s been a long time since he has donned the clothes as King Oberon. Once the façade was over, once he could ascend, he has never worn anything but the colors of the depths of the abyss. Anyone else would think they are unsightly, hateful, depressing.

After all, the warmth of King Oberon’s butterfly wings makes children smile, makes people trust him. His monstruous limbs right now are not enchanting.

“I thought you were a butterfly girl. And I have been wearing these ever since, why are you even saying this up until now?”

“I just wanted to say that. I like the fluffy cape and the butterfly wings, but you sound less pained right now. And this outfit is cool too.”

In the end, perhaps Titania isn't meant to be someone who brings the sun to your eyes, with laughter so contagious that she makes the bitterness of a day go away. She's not a neverending warmth on a cold winter, nor a guiding bright star up in the dark sky. She's not the simple to your complicated, the light to your dark, the smile to your frown, the opposite of your miserable existence that brings joy to your life. An illogical being that accepts you in spite of your incompatibility. 

Was I wrong all along? 

A companion when watching a wonderful(decadent) play.

Someone who walks by your side in a crumbling world.

Someone whose company makes the poison more bearable and hell, tolerable.

Someone who simply loves me for who I am. Who gazed at the abyss, saw the void yet didn't run away.

Ah, this is so laughable, an amateur terrible tragicomedy, a hideous play with no sickeningly sweet ending.

(Perhaps it is because Titania is a wretched creature herself. Or perhaps because Titania's wings have been torn off that she understands a small fragment of you. Even if true understanding is a lie, a pipe dream. Titania has seen her own hell and can sympathize with yours, with the emptiness and resentment you hold. Not fearing it, not judging it. Just accepting you as the flawed existence you are.

If that is the case, then there is nothing beautiful about Titania.)

But even so...

"...You are..."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nevermind."

Ritsuka smiles as Oberon looks away. He grumbles about the cramped space as he hoards the bed, swatting a mosquito away while she writes in her diary. The boring stories she writes that he doesn't care about even if his fingers have traced those letters.

But even so, he stays.

Ah, love is a bothersome thing.

-

Thank you for reading!

Now, OH BOY WHERE TO BEGIN. Title comes from Debussy's Rêverie. I wanted to play with it, seeing that Oberon's Bond CE is called Pavane for a Dead Princess, which is the title of a melody by Ravel. I am sure it is no coincidence. Both Ravel and Debussy were considered the cornerstones of Impressionism in music, however, they both HATED being labeled like that.

Pavane for a Dead Princess is one of Ravel's solo compositions for the piano. However, unlike what the title implies, Ravel specifically said that it wasn't meant to be a melody of a funeral, but he wanted to evoke the idea of a princess dancing to the pavane. However, some people didn't really listen to him. So in this case, I think that rather than to see Oberon's CE as a funeral to Blanca, it is a way to celebrate her story, even if it didn't end on the happier note we would have wished. You can listen to it here

Now Rêverie is by Debussy and it's meant to feel like a dream, hence the name. The melody became a massive hit, though Debussy later hated this piece because he felt that he had written better pieces but this one was the one that made him famous. Since it was written when he was young, he felt he was still lacking a lot, but the melody became one of his most popular compositions nonetheless. I think that story ties nicely with what we perceive vs what others perceive. You can listen to it here

Now onto the actual fic, I had this vague idea when part 3 was released, especially after all the spoilers about Oberon's true identity. I really wanted to get him, and I was super lucky. In between getting him, his profile and bond lines being translated, I just got possessed to write this as a way to honor and thank him for coming home AND to give him a sort of happy ending after Avalon.

Oberon in that bed is thanks to that comic on Twitter where he is eating chips without any care and the kind reminder of his voice lines that in spite of him constantly complaining, he spends an awful lot of time on our room. Hehehe.

Best of luck if you are pulling for him! And once again, thank you for reading!

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 4]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

@we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy’s lovecraftian horror AU, with a bit of my own twist on the origin story. Emotional hurt/comfort. Body horror. Hugging your body-horror monster boyfriend. 

3,386 words

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had everything: great wealth (built on the backs of exploited workers), a grand estate, a beautiful wife, and many mistresses waiting in the wings. Yet after years of trying, he failed to produce an heir. Determined that his money could buy anything, the man scoured the world, searching for a solution. One day, his extensive resources brought him to an ancient castle in Lithuania, where the last descendants of a noble bloodline offered him a devil’s bargain—a book, a summoning ritual. He did not ask questions. His wife was finally with child.

The Chilton legacy was secure.

The moment Frederick was born, the life was sucked from his mother—a human sacrifice for his soul crossing into this world. That was what his father told him, at least. Frederick had no memory of clawing his way through the veil between worlds, of being anything other than an ordinary child with a distant father, a young, blonde stepmother, and nannies instead of friends. Until the changes began. Allison (or was it Kayla at the time?) fainted in the living room when he staggered in, screaming as smoke boiled from his skin, begging for help. His father only wrinkled his nose with disgust and calmly explained what he was.

“You must learn to hide this, Frederick. Never let anyone see you this way, or it will destroy the family name.”

And so, he learned the transformation’s schedule. Prepared for it. Knew how to hide it away and never let anyone get close enough to see the real him. But it wasn’t good enough. Try as he might, nothing Frederick ever did met his father’s expectations for the perfect son he had gone through so much trouble to produce.

Frederick grew into a bitter and lonely man with no one to care about, or who cared about him. He kept the world at a distance, hiding his shame behind expensive suits and lavish decoration.

Never once did he consider that he was not alone in this world at all.

 ***

I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal. Nobody can tell what he is.

This is how Will Graham describes the Chesapeake Ripper.

Every therapy session with Graham, every conversation overhead, the puzzle became clearer. At first, Chilton merely believed that Dr. Lecter was guilty of unethical practices—manipulating Mr. Graham in the same way he had manipulated Gideon. He felt such kinship with Hannibal. Learning a bit of dirt on him brought the ever-so-superior doctor down to his level, gave him something to lord over him—a little implied blackmail to strengthen their friendship.

They both had secrets to hide.

Dr. Chilton never would have guessed the final puzzle piece to convince him fully that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper would be the one everyone else laughed at.

“I brought you here to bear witness,” Graham said to Gideon through their adjoining cells.

“To tell Jack Crawford that I sat in Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt blue dining room? An ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace. And you, having a fit in the corner.”

Chilton perked up and quickly shared the audio feed to one of the junior therapists assisting him. You were reliable at editing his audio files, clipping and exporting segments he wanted to keep, but he was avoiding you at the moment. This was proof—irrefutable proof that Gideon had met Hannibal Lecter the night he went searching for the Ripper.

After his conversation with Graham concluded, an assistant was sent down to coax more information from him while Chilton’s research team listened in, keenly taking notes.

Gideon was not finished dropping bombshells.

With a casual lilt to his voice as if talking to a friend over dinner, he began to describe the Chesapeake Ripper. Skin like volcanic ash, reflecting no light. A red glow to his eyes. Black claws as long as steak knives. Antlers breaking through the inside of his skull, punching through the skin. All black as night—a form that shifted in the shadows, ever tricking the eye, unwilling to be known.

He’s the Devil, Mr. Graham. He’s smoke.

“Great. Gideon is delusional,” one therapist snorted. “On the bright side, this completely undercuts his malpractice case against you.” She patted Chilton’s shoulder. Chilton flinched.

“We should start him on antipsychotics. What do you think? Doctor?”

Chilton’s face turned ashen white. “Y-yes, certainly,” he muttered, staggering to his feet.

He moved for the door, but crumbled halfway there, pain ripping through his leg as sharp thorns grew beneath the skin. It was daylight. No. No! The transformation should not be starting for hours—he had plenty of time! He gasped out as another shock tore through him, barely containing a cry. His body convulsed.

“Doctor!” A therapist and a guard rushed in to help him to his feet. “Where does it hurt? If this is a complication from your surgery, we need to get you into intensive care right away.”

“No,” he brushed them off. “Only… psychosomatic. I need to— ah!” He gritted his teeth, mind racing to the one person he did not want to turn to, but the only one he could, and barked, “Get my secretary!”

 ***

Smoke was rising off of his burning skin by the time you rushed into Chilton’s vacated office. His eyes were wide with panic, but greeted you when you entered with—not relief, perhaps, because he was every bit as terrified as before, but with the anticipation of being rescued. His eyes pleaded.

“H-help. I cannot make it stop.”

You managed to get him into your car. The sun’s orange rays seemed to chase the beast away, clearing his skin and stopping his wracking convulsions long enough to cross the employee parking lot without drawing stares. He insisted on taking the back seat so he could hide—and to put more distance between you in case he lost control.

His chest rose and fell like a rabbit in a cat’s mouth.

“The way he described Dr. Lecter—anyone would think it was a metaphor! That he was crazy!” Chilton’s breath was raspy as you drove, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. He kept trembling, small patches of scaly skin appearing at random then swirling back inside. One pupil was a pinprick. His tongue occasionally became serpentine and got in the way as he frantically spoke. “But it was too specific, the details. Familiar. I always knew there was a connection between Dr. Lecter and me—a reason we were friends. It all makes sense now!”

“Hey, it’s OK,” you said, trying to sound soothing, though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you understand? Lecter is like me!”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That means you’re not alone.”

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” he shouted, and a spine tore through a seat cushion. “A cannibal, if Will Graham is to be believed, and loathe as I am to admit it, Graham is an excellent profiler. If the Ripper and I are the same… then that means I—”

“You are nothing like that!” Forgetting the damage his demonic tantrum was doing to your faux-leather interior, you had faith in him. He was a little withdrawn and more than a little vain, and it had garnered him an icy reputation around the hospital, but now you understood why. He wasn’t evil or malicious. He was frightened.

“God help me,” he murmured.

 ***

As soon as the garage door closed behind you, he scrambled from the car (scratching the handle), and retreated inside. He didn’t invite you to follow him home. But he didn’t forbid it, either, and you wanted to be there. All you had were panic-scrambled memories from the first time that made his transformation worse in hindsight than it was. Or maybe better. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you saw it again with clear eyes.

The electric kettle rumbled on its stand, hissing steam as you searched through Frederick Chilton’s surprisingly extensive tea collection for something herbal and soothing. Chamomile, you thought. With honey. Surely that must be good for demon-monster-werewolf things?

The sun was about to set and he was still reeling over Hannibal, and just as much from the premature transformation the revelation had triggered. And every time he cried, “This is not possible. How can this be possible?” the next convulsion was more intense.

He would probably just burn himself on tea.

A painful whimper came from somewhere in the house, and you followed it to a tiny panic room that opened behind a bookshelf. It was only about seven by nine feet with concrete walls and floors, bare except for deep scratches of varying age, like an animal trying to escape. The few chairs inside were metal. Difficult to break. Frederick faced away from you, staring at a hand that was too large for the rest of his body, capped with long black claws.

“Oh no, this will not do at all,” you tutted, shaking your head at the barren space. “How about I bring in some blankets? Let’s get you comfortable.”

His whole body shook. “You should go.”

“No. No way, not after seeing this prison cell. I am not leaving you like this.”

“I do not want to hurt you.” His shoulder jerked. A spike tore through his shirt.

“You won’t.”

“Seeing it again… will not be therapeutic for you,” he hissed, another spike breaking through. “Go before it is too late.”

“No!”

“Damn it! I am a monster—there is proof of that now! The FBI has no idea what it is dealing with!” Chilton began to pace the small cell, thoughts racing, features morphing into something grotesque and alien. “Does Hannibal know about me? Can he sense it? Is that why he confided in me? I always thought it was professional respect—hah! God, what if he…” A painful convulsion halted his pacing and brought him to one knee, gripping his side. His attention snapped back to you. “This is… dangerous,” he warned, then hacked violently. Fleshy, snake-like projections spewed from his mouth, and he quickly turned away again, hiding his face. “You should… you should be nowhere near all of this! You should not be here! Why did I let you inside?!”

A roar of anguish ripped through the air with enough force to push you back through the panic room door, just in time to avoid being impaled on half a dozen spines as they shot from Chilton’s body like lances. Chips of concrete clattered to the ground as they penetrated the walls. He screamed again, writhing to get free, but found himself trapped by his own violent transformation. Like an animal, he struggled and clawed at himself as if his rational mind had been overtaken by raw, volatile emotion.

“Take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself,” you tried to calm him, but you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking.

This was worse than last time. You were sure his spines weren’t half as long when you saw him in his office—even Chilton seemed surprised to be pinned.

You lifted your hands, palms toward him in a steadying gesture, and took a step back into the concrete room.

“Stay back!” he howled, thrashing. “Get away!”

It was tempting. Every muscle in your body wanted to follow his advice and run far away from the indescribable horror before you. But his eyes were still green. Were still terrified. And you had an inkling of why it was worse this time. Maybe he would hate you later for imposing, but it seemed more important right now not to leave him feeling… like a monster.

“It’s OK.” You took another step closer.

“No!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Shh, shh… I’m not afraid, see?”

Rigid spines sprayed from his back and shoulders in a 180-degree arc, leaving only his front accessible. You ducked under one and followed its trajectory to where it met the wall. It wasn’t just pinned by pressure—it had struck the wall with enough force to dig into it like an iron rod. Sawing through might be the only option for getting him unstuck. You wondered if that would hurt. Were there nerves in his spines? You stepped over the next one as you drew nearer.

“You should be afraid! I am just like him!” Chilton tried to turn his head away as you traversed his network of thorns and stood in front of him.

His face was almost entirely inhuman. Tentacles cascaded down from where a nose should have been, and when he opened his mouth in a snarl, they parted like wriggling eels—each with a life of its own—to reveal a jaw that split his face open vertically, crowded with rows of sharp white teeth. The more agitated Chilton became, the more dramatic the effect. Each time he spoke, you caught a flash of teeth that sent shivers racing down your spine. But you continued to move closer anyway, within snapping range.

“Hannibal and I… we are the same. Please—I do not want to become him. Do not let me hurt you!”

“You are not the same. You’re not a killer.”

Chilton let out a choking cry that was all too human. “I killed that nurse,” he said. Concrete groaned as his spines grew longer. A crooked horn sprouted from his head. “I killed Elizabeth Shell.”

“You… you didn’t kill her.”

His breath quickened again. Tentacles sprouted and died and resprouted from his face in a constant fevered motion. “I knew Gideon would kill! I lowered security! I knew what would happen—what I needed to happen to prove that he was the Ripper! I may as well have plucked her eyes out with my own hands and… and feasted on her organs. God… I am the Ripper,” he wailed.

“No…” It never occurred to you that Dr. Chilton would have done such a thing knowingly. Maybe there was something dark inside him that this creature was reflecting. It hurt to acknowledge, and yet maybe you both needed to. “You made a mistake. You did a bad thing, but… Gideon was already a killer. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I drove him to it, manipulated him… I am just as responsible as he is. I am a monster.”

“A monster wouldn’t feel this guilty! You made a mistake, but you won’t make it again, will you?”

Tentacles and spines stopped sprouting. His form stabilized as his wet eyes looked off thoughtfully. He seemed so pathetic… so innocent, almost. Despite the intimating spines and claws that added danger and height to his appearance, his body had the same mass—leaving his frame gaunt and frail, with ribs sticking out prominently. Hollow.

You wanted to protect him.

You knew that was your job at BSHCI. You knew that was why Dr. Chilton suddenly needed a personal secretary when he never had before. Someone to sit outside his door, take his calls, and warn him when visitors wanted to see him. You’d never met the doctor before he was attacked by one of his patients, but you recognized the signs of trauma—the way he flinched easily, avoided contact at first, then the way he clung to you when you earned his trust. The awkward little smiles. The way his cheeks turned bright red when his fingers brushed yours as you delivered his coffee. You couldn’t help feeling protective. Falling in love, even.

Though it was closed for the moment, his mouth was a dangerous black hole with alien arms ready to pull prey inside. It seemed impossible to get close without being dragged into its teeth by instinct. You couldn’t imagine putting your face anywhere near it.

Another step, and your forehead touched his.

“I... I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded.

“You won’t.”

You leaned into his arms, a hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was covered in fine scales that glistened as if they should be slimy, but were smooth to the touch, like a snake. Sharper thorns sprouting from his skin seemed to retreat before your caress.

He trembled with inner turmoil, hot breath puffing against your chin. Your eyes darted toward the motion of one of his claws rising behind you, and all you could focus on were the way each sharp talon caught the light. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking—if he was going to return your embrace, or prove to you that he was a monster. Would he slash you just to drive you away?

“I smell your fear,” his voice hissed accusingly.

For some reason, of all the reactions you could have had, you started to laugh. It was nervous and tight at first, but then building in confidence at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’ve got giant claws! Of course I’m afraid! But I’m not running, am I?”

You slid your hand from his cheek and trailed it over his bony neck and the ridges and spines of his shoulders, finding a path for your arms to twine around him. Cuddling closer, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hardly bothered by the writhing tentacles that draped down over you.

“I know you would never hurt me. You’re just going to have to keep showing me there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Shuddering, he breathed in your scent. All his senses were heightened by this form, and he was surrounded by you—your pheromones, your electric field, the radiant heat of your skin. It was like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of fine wine in his hand. He opened his palm and let his predator’s hand sweep harmlessly down your back, holding you close. He could sense the fluttering of your heart in his embrace. It was slower than a creature in terror—slowing the longer he held you. You were not afraid. And he could not imagine hurting you. Whatever he had been worried might happen, whatever awful things he might be capable of, he could never imagine hurting you. You were right. You didn’t have anything to fear.

He exhaled a long, steady breath of surrender. The long spines retracted, pulling out of the walls as they returned to their usual size. He could move again, but didn’t. Not for a long time.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” you sighed. The scent of your hair was intoxicating.

Eventually, you had to part. Chilton’s eyes darted away as you did—the inky scales on his face emitted a soft bluish starlight, which you were certain was blushing. You could not coax him to leave his concrete prison cell, but he told you where to find some blankets he could live with damaging—linen closet, second floor, third door on the right—and let you make a cozy nest on the bare floors. You made tea, and only cringed a little at his attempts to drink it. It was late, then. You were sleepy, and he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. His mind still raced over everything, still not certain of your presence and inexplicable kindness. You sat in the pile of blankets and had him rest his head in your lap.

“Give me your hand,” you asked, extending yours.

A clawed, scaly hand slid tentatively along the floor. You took it. Held it gently, first observing the long talons protruding like daggers from each finger before slotting yours between them—nothing sharp there. You let out a long sigh and leaned back against the concrete wall. His breath hitched.

He’d never had his hand held in this form, you assumed.

He’d never had his hand held at all, in fact. Not in many years.

It had to be a trap, he thought. No one had ever loved him before. No one could—not like this. Yet, as he fell asleep to your fingers massaging his temple and the soft murmuring of your voice, he let himself believe it. You were always there, protecting him. Smiling at him in the morning.

When you woke up, Frederick was human again, still fast asleep in your arms.

[cerastes]

It’s time for the sequel to the Abyssal Hunters post.

While it was an interesting exercise in trying to piece things together with limited information for me and hopefully an interesting read for you, free access to Files, Voice Lines, and the Grani event have painted a much clearer picture. I say “much clearer”, evidently enough, relatively, as the truth is still as murky as the Deep. They aren’t just going to show their entire hand until the relevant Event or Story Chapter comes out, of course, but what cards aren’t being held close to the vest show us a very intriguing story.

So as to not make an unreasonably long post, I’ll be dividing these by character.

In the initial post, we discussed Specter and Skadi. There’s many updates on that front, but today, I want to start with everyone’s favorite unknown material brick wall: Cuora.

“The personnel involved recalled that they found Cuora napping under the sun on the deck of Rhodes Island above the bridge. At the time, Rhodes Island had just finished a supply drop to a small Columbian town before sailing off. After waking up Cuora, interrogation revealed she had absolutely no idea how she got onboard.”

One day, Rhodes Island had just finished a delivery somewhere in Columbia when, out of the great, deep blue, Cuora was simply spotted on RI’s upper deck, getting some Zs in. She has no idea how she got there, she didn’t know her name, she didn’t know who she was, she didn’t know who these people were, no, Cuora knew only one thing: Baseball rocks.

“Operator Cuora is so innocent and naive, not even Oripathy could dim her spirits. And no one has the heart to reprimand her when she breaks a window for the hundredth time playing baseball. Operator Cuora clearly has an unusual passion for baseball. Her small round ball and black bat are practically her best buddies.”

She is so immensely cheerful and optimistic, even in the face of Oripathy, that RI personnel and fellow Operators can’t help but love the little bugger. Her Oripathy is low level (5%, 0.2u/L), doesn’t show any sort outer physical manifestations, and all she had on her when she was found were her baseball bat and her turtle shell-like backpack, both made from an incredibly advanced, indestructible material that not even the greatest minds in RI managed to reverse engineer.

Wait, what? Doesn’t this sound... Familiar somehow? Amnesia, no outer manifestation, a near-manic obsession with something, something completely incomprehensible and unexplainable by modern Terra science... Not to mention, while she isn’t an aquatic or an unknown species (she’s a Petram, turtle people, thus, amphibious), she shows no animal features, with her backpack being equipment, not a body part. She looks like a regular human. Hmm.

Indeed, her circumstances and Oripathy are similar to Specter’s: It went directly to her nervous system, gave her amnesia, and now she’s displaying mild manic tendencies. Narratively speaking, Cuora and Specter are meant to show us what Oripathy does to Aegirians, also known as Abyssals. Cuora’s low level Oripathy still causes amnesia, but otherwise, it causes minor mental damage, if at all, as Cuora might just simply be that passionate for baseball by default, but the manic-like obsession to the sport, using “manic” here clinically to mean “a state of abnormally elevated arousal, affect, and energy level”, might suggest that this is perhaps her favorite hobby that turned into an obsession due to the minor nervous system damage. She is far more adjusted than Specter and can interact with others normally, apparently being popular with some Operators.

Despite being cheerful, innocent, and supposedly inexperienced in combat, she picked up battle tactics with incredible ease.

“It is obvious that she is very proficient and highly experienced with the game of baseball. And yet, observation showed that Cuora possesses very little actual combat experience. With her familiarity with baseball, she has been able to grasp mission plans, objectives and strategies far easier than one would expect from an inexperienced Operator.”

According to Cuora, it’s because “playing baseball strengthens the body and builds teamwork”, but what I think is going on here is that Cuora used to be an Abyssal Hunter, and thus, does in fact have combat experience. The perceived “very little actual combat experience” mentioned in her profile is due to her, as an Abyssal Hunter, being used to fighting giant monsters, not similarly sized humanoid enemies. She picks up combat tactics and strategies with ease due to her being a seasoned warrior, thus, even if she’s got amnesia, as an ex-Abyssal Hunter, her mind is receptive to learning new forms of combat. She likely was clumsy for all of two drills before her muscle memory let go of the “we’re fighting giant monsters” mentality and embraced the new “we’re fighting enemies that are humanoid in shape and similar to us in height” modus operandi. After all, it is easy to adjust to something new when one has a strong base with something similar.

Much like Blue Poison, Cuora’s race is actually known and is an amphibian. It’s possible that amphibians are a sort of link-slash-spy community for the Abyssals to know what’s going on on the surface world. Cuora, of course, has no idea of any of this due to the amnesia, but perhaps she was ordered to spy on Rhodes Island or Columbia, developed Oripathy and thus amnesia, and then ended up either moving by residual instinct alone and found herself on RI or the town that RI was making a delivery to and then accidentally ended up getting on RI. My money is on the former: She wasn’t found on some non-descript random place in Rhodes Island, she was found on top of the bridge, not exactly a place just about anyone can reach or that one just goes to. This is purely theoretical, but I think her orders were to spy on RI specifically, but after developing Oripathy, the amnesia made her forget this, yet her instinct alone subconsciously carried her there as if there was some special meaning to it, perceived to her merely as “that place looks interesting and GREAT for a nap!”, which would be fine and dandy, except it’s the rooftop of a pharmaceutical-slash-PMC headquarters, not a bench in a park. After this, it was, subconsciously, mission complete, so next up was just her unbridled love for baseball, likely magnified due to the nervous system damage, as well as her new friends at RI that took her in.

“Cuora was accepted into Rhodes Island as an Infected under existing protocols. Her strange talent was discovered at that time.”

Cuora was brought in as a patient (as RI does) and that’s where they discovered, hey, what the hell, this girl is fit as hell, she’s got an indestructible baseball bat and an indestructible shell made from materials science can’t explain, and she’s actually pretty good at tactical combat... Let’s make her an Operator! (as RI does).

Regarding her bat and backpack, they are meant to show us just how advanced the technological level of the Abyssals is, at least when it regards metallurgy. Every known Abyssal has some sort of unexplainable power: Skadi has her outright insane strength that lets her crush any foe with ease, Specter has her outstanding durability that lets her shrug off attacks that would kill anyone else, Blue Poison has her ability to secrete immensely potent poison (others, such as Manticore, can also secrete poison, but Blue Poison’s is stated to be immensely, particularly deadly, represented in-game by Manticore’s venom simply slowing down the target, while Blue Poison’s actually deals damage per second), and Deepcolor has the ability to bring her drawings to life (to a certain degree; there’s rules and limits but she hasn’t explained them) and has command of her “Helpers”, tentacle creatures that are suggested to be organic yet mechanical at the same time. Cuora is an exception in that she’s not endowed with a special ability (that we know of) like the other Abyssals we know, instead showcasing to us the technological prowess of the Abyssals. This might mean Cuora was a lower ranked Hunter, and instead only possessed her strong gear and her combat experience. This could be congruent to her rarity compared to the other Abyssals: Cuora is 4*, just like Deepcolor, who, despite her abilities and power, is primarily a non-combatant, while Specter and Blue Poison are 5* and explicitly stated in their Files to be very powerful, and Skadi is a 6* that’s outright a living legend among mercenaries, bandits, and bounty hunters. Cuora might have been a lower ranked, perhaps even footsoldier-tier Abyssal Hunter, but it’s clear she makes up for not having a special ability by sheer ability and experience (and indeed, she’s far more useful than her rarity indicates, in a game where her rarity does not denote uselessness at all). 

So, all in all, Cuora is a very interesting window into the world of the Abyssals: Her Oripathy symptoms, placed side by side with Specter’s, confirms that Oripathy indeed behaves differently and maybe consistently (2 cases is too small a sample to make any bigger a statement) in Abyssals in comparison to surface world dwellers (Terrans?), her gear is a good look at how advanced Abyssal technology is, at least when it comes to making weaponry and armor, and seems to suggest that amphibian species are in cahoots with the Abyssals as intermediaries or vanguards.

But, most importantly? Cuora is a lovely brick wall, so cherish her, play ball with her, and when the times comes to face the past, be sure to stand by her side.

I’m planning on covering Deepcolor in the next post, oh boy, there’s things to say about her, so unless I change plans, look forward to that!

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 9, 024

Series: Colors

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Seven: Jealousy (but not just Ryousuke’s)

If there is one thing you must know about Kominato Ryousuke, it's that he cherishes his family. Ever since his first year in Seidou - the first time he’s lived away from them - he’s been using the phone installed at the back of the dorms every once in a while to call his parents. But he'd only ask about life back home and about his brother (now, though, Ryousuke is the one who updates them about Haruichi). When he is asked about his day, he would answer, but would keep it brief. And unless he would talk about the schedule of their official games, he never initiates a topic about himself. 

Except for tonight, even if he’s not enthusiastic about the reaction he’d get.

"I must be keeping you from practicing,” his mother says from the other line. “Just always take care of each other, okay?  'Kaasan and 'Tousan miss you and Haruichi a lot!"

"Okay." Then, with a practiced, casual tone, Ryousuke adds, "By the way, I've got a girlfriend now."

His mother gasps. "What?” Ryousuke swears she could hear her smile as she repeats, “A girlfriend?"

He then moves the receiver away from his ear to save himself from his mother’s squeals. 

"Ryou-chan has a girlfriend now!" she practically sings. "I’m so proud!”

“‘Kaasan…”

“My eldest son is really so manly~”

“Please stop.”

“I can't wait to tell 'Tousan! Why is he taking so long in the shower?"

"I'm sure he and all our neighbors have already heard you." He smirks. "Okay, that's all. Good night, ‘Kaasan."

"What? So soon? But you can't just drop big news like that and leave!"

"But weren't you saying goodbye earlier?"

"Ryou-chan!"

Ryousuke chuckles. "I'll tell you more about her next time. I have to do a few more swings before bed." 

"Hmph. Fine. Good night."

"Yeah, good night." Ryousuke hangs up with a relieved sigh. At least that’s out of the way. 

It's only been a week and a half since he asked Aya out, but letting his parents know about her doesn’t sound so bad. Besides, it’s an important life update, isn’t it? 

A smile creeps up on his face once again. The fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever he thinks about Aya resurfaces. He takes a deep breath to keep it from overwhelming him, yet the smile remains. Okay. Now, we practice. He then turns around to go back to the indoor gym.

Haruichi stands there, dazed.

Ryousuke immediately sets his mouth back to a thin line. "Haruichi."

"Aniki…"

A silent moment passes. 

And then Ryousuke clears his throat. "You should've taken the phone from me. 'Kaasan was so heartbroken because you never call."

"Eh?" Haruichi startles at the change of subject. "I-I was about to, though…" he trails off, awkwardly crossing his arms in front of him.

Easily recognizing Haruichi's stance, Ryousuke relaxes his shoulders and puts his hands in his pockets with a defeated sigh. He would not let this go anyway.

"Is it true?" the younger Kominato finally asks, his cheeks turning pink. "Th-that Aniki has a girlfriend?"

Ryousuke stares at his brother silently for a few seconds, before smirking and stepping closer to him. Then he karate-chops the top of Haruichi's head. "Eavesdropper."

"I didn't mean to!" Haruichi, with his hands soothing the top of his head, turns in his spot as Ryousuke walks away. "I really was just about to use the phone!"

Ryousuke playfully waves his brother off, but before he rounds the corner, he stops and looks back. And with the slyest tone he could muster, he says, "Don't get a girlfriend just because I have one now, though."

"What?" Haruichi's blush turns a deeper shade. "Of course I won't!"

"Haruichi!" A girl struggling with three canned drinks and her school bag catches up to the pink-haired first-year the next day.

Haruichi bows in greeting. "Good morning… uh, Aya-san."

Aya finally reaches his side, a look of confusion on her face. "Hmm? What's with the hesitation?"

"N-nothing!"

"Okay…” Aya shifts her belongings to hold up a yellow can. “Hey, are you up for lemon soda? I got lucky in the vending machine today. But I already got drinks for Kazuya and me, so…"

With an uneasy smile, Haruichi takes the free drink (that's more on forced into his hand). "Thank you, um, Aya-san."

The girl raises an eyebrow in suspicion and slight worry as they start walking.

Haruichi's discomfort matches the color of the lemon beverage's can.

Does he want to talk about something? Or did I do something wrong?

Haruichi clears his throat just then. "Um, this is very sudden, but what would you like me to call you now? I've been thinking of 'Neesan,' or if I should match it with Aniki's and call you 'Aneki.'"

Her eyes widen. "This is a surprise." Then she turns away to continue in a rehearsed, calm tone, "But what does your brother have to do with this?"

"Huh? I just heard that he has a girlfriend now."

That makes Aya stop in her tracks, bewilderedly staring at the boy's profile. 

Haruichi pauses as well to look back at her. "Aya-san?"

She glances around. Okay, no one seems to have heard. She then pulls him to the side (as best as she could with all the items in her hands). "You've heard. Like from rumors, or from Ry- Kominato-san himself? Has he been telling people?"

"I, uh, just overheard his phone call to our parents last night."

"Your parents?" Aya exclaims. She looks down at her feet and mutters, "He's already gone that far?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Huh?” Aya looks back up at him and laughs nervously. “Nothing! I mean, who cares if he tells everyone about his girlfriend?"

Haruichi gasps, and then his shoulders noticeably sag. "So it's not you?"

The sight makes Aya's heart crack. "W-what makes me the first one you'd think of, anyway?"

He shrugs. "Well, a lot of things. Aside from the seniors, you're the person who's around him the most."

Oh. Of course. He has a Ryousuke radar. How could I forget?

"You also talk about and act as if you've known him for a long time." The signature pink finally dusts his cheeks. "D-do you remember the first time we met at the train station? When you mistook me for him… I mean, I think friends - or more than friends - greet each other like that when they meet up, right?" 

Haruichi, I tripped at that time.

"Ah, and you also said Aniki isn't really as harsh as he puts himself out to be. That must mean you've grown close enough to notice that."

I just followed Ryou around a little too much…

"And you draw him a lot, too."

Aya blinks. "Wow, so even Haruichi thinks my drawings are declarations of love."

Haruichi only gives her a sad smile. "Well, I'm very sorry for mistaking you for—"

Aya cuts him off with a giggle. No one can really get past this guy when it comes to his brother. She manages to hold an index finger up to her lips. "Ssssh. Just keep it down, Haruichi."

He then almost blinds her with a smile brighter than the sunshine piercing through the school windows. "Wow. So I’m right?”

Aya nods.

Haruichi chuckles. “That's a relief. I uh, kinda don't want anyone else to be my older sister."

"Older… sister…" Aya repeats, inwardly gasping as she remembers why they are having this conversation in the first place.

"So… about my question…"

"Uh, well, it's up to you!  'Neesan' is sweet, but 'Aneki' is cool. It all depends on how you see me as an… older sister."

Haruichi's smile grows wider as he nods, oblivious to her racing thoughts. "Okay, I'll think about it. See you later!"

Aya watches the boy run excitedly to his class, his pink hair matching the blush on her cheeks. Of course Haruichi would think like that. If your sibling gets a significant other, you'd have to treat them like your own sibling too, right? She chuckles helplessly to herself. These brothers act fast…

"Your Kominato is right here, not over there," a voice suddenly speaks in her ear.

Aya gasps, feeling her heart on her throat. She turns to see the only other pink-haired student smirking down at her.

"What? Being called 'oneesan' sounds so appealing to you?"

“…How did you know that’s what we’re talking about?”

“I just figured he’d ask that, now that he knows.”

They also know each other too well. She straightens up to compose herself. And then she eyes him suspiciously. She wouldn't be surprised if Ryousuke had been going around telling everyone about their relationship. After all, he is the embodiment of his seemingly-favorite color – the color of jealousy. Oh. What if he likes yellow exactly because of that? "Aside from your brother, have you already told anyone in school about… us?"

Ryousuke slightly frowns in confusion. "No."

Her jaw drops open. "But you told your parents already?"

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Ryousuke nonchalantly replies with a shrug.

"But… but it's too early! And it's usually the other way around! Your friends first before your parents."

"And where did you even get that idea? From shoujo manga?"

She pouts. "You should've at least let me know first."

Ryousuke smiles apologetically. "Alright, I'm sorry. But what's done is done. My mom was actually very happy about it. She would’ve suggested I introduce you to her already if I didn’t cut the call early."

“She would do that?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. But we don’t have to go back to Kanagawa until after Nationals, right? So don’t think about that for now.” He then takes her school bag from her. "Here, I'll walk you to class."

"Oi, Ryousuke!" Isashiki Jun jogs up to the boy, with Masuko trailing behind him. But his grin vanishes when he spots Aya. He then turns to his friend with a reprimanding scowl. "Hey now, aren't you too old to go this far?"

"Huh?"

"I know you two are always at odds with each other, but if you're going to get physical now, it's time to stop."

"Uga!" Masuko says in agreement.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Ryousuke asks, growing irritated.

Aya looks back and forth between them, and then at the second- and third-years whispering and giving her and Ryousuke odd looks as they pass by. Are people still under the impression that we'd fight whenever we meet? Aya internally smirks. That's good, then. "I appreciate the concern, Isashiki-san, Masuko-san," she says as she pries her bag from Ryousuke's hand. "But Kominato-san isn't bullying me! He's just turning over a new leaf and attempting a rare act of kindness."

"What?" Ryousuke now turns to her in disbelief.

And that's when Aya realizes she’d just made a grave mistake. She gulps, and then manages to smile. "Anyway, thank you for the offer, Kominato-san!" She bows quickly before backing up towards the nearby stairs. "But I can manage this! I-I'll get going now!" She then dashes up the steps and into 2-B's room.

"About time the princess arrived~" Miyuki grabs his energy drink from her hands when she approaches.

As usual, Kuramochi has been sitting at her desk to talk to Miyuki, so he stands up to give Aya her rightful space. But not without sparing the panting girl a curious look. "Have you been running? There's still plenty of time before the first class."

She slumps in her seat. "Oh, he is going to kill me."

"Who? Ryou-san?"

Aya groans. “Yes.”

Kuramochi grins teasingly. "But haven't you two been lovey-dovey lately? Because you're apparently his girlfriend now?"

"I'm serious, Kuramochi."

The boy loses his smile. "Oh, you really are. What happened?"

Miyuki, on the other hand, laughs as he opens his canned drink. "Congratulations, Aya!" She pats her back quite harshly. "You're his girlfriend, though, so maybe he'd go easy on you."

"Hey, Miyuki!" Kuramochi warns as the brunette drinks. "This isn't the time!"

Miyuki then almost spits out his drink and makes a disgusted face. He taps the girl's shoulder with the can. "Oi, Aya. This has gotten warm now."

Aya grits her teeth and grabs the can. "I am never buying you a drink again, Bakazuya."

 Someone knocks on the Art Club's door later that day.

The third-year club president opens it. "Kominato-kun?" She looks behind her before subtly blocking Ryousuke's view of the room. "What brings you here?"

"I came for Aya. Is she still in there?"

"Did he just call her by first name?" another member runs up to the door with a huge grin on her face.

The club president ignores her and instead eyes Ryousuke suspiciously. "Makoto-chan? Why are you looking for her? What did she do this time?"

"I'm supposed to pick her up and walk her home."

Collective gasps are heard from inside the usually quiet room.

"I knew it!" someone shouts. "You really are a thing!"

"Oh?" Ryousuke tries to look behind the (taller) girl still blocking the door. "So she hasn't told even the club she hides in." Even if she’s the one who said I should’ve told my friends first.

"She's pretty secretive," the club president says, shrugging.

"I guess that's why she chose this club." Ryousuke gives an innocent smile. "If, for some reason, I’m not allowed to enter, then can you just get her for me?"

She laughs. "Nah, come on in. I guess she should be punished for keeping such juicy news from us." She then steps aside to open the door wider, revealing the back of the room.

The art club has apparently been using the back wall as a place to hang up their members’ framed artworks. And the first thing Ryousuke notices is Aya's famous drawing of his double play from a game one year ago, hung in the middle of it all. And in every row, more drawings of him almost outnumber the other club members’ work.

"She's over here!"

Ryousuke turns around to see a member waving at him from the center of the room.

The tables and chairs have been pushed aside to create a large space, where the club members are hunched over an unfinished banner. And there she is, the only passed out person on the floor.

"Senpai!" A first-year sitting beside Aya pokes her cheek. "It's time to pay for your sins."

Aya merely flicks the hand away and stays asleep. With the amount of commotion around her, it has to be considered amazing.

Ryousuke almost smiles fondly. He kneels beside her to gently shake her shoulder.

It’s only then that she opens her eyes. A small, confused frown mars her peaceful expression. "Ryou?"

Ignoring the sudden skip in his heartbeat, Ryousuke carefully pulls her up by the arm. "What are you doing down there? Are you that sleep-deprived?"

Aya successfully sits up with his help, but her eyes close again and she falls forward, holding onto his arm and laying her head on his shoulder.

It is important to note that Ryousuke is willing himself not to pull her closer, nor to even blush.  

She yawns as she replies, "I'm doing the good luck banner for Nationals. I'm supposed to be an assistant like the rest of the juniors, but the seniors assigned me to lead the project because of my apparent attachment to the team. Don't you think that's unfair? I just accepted a new batch of commissions the other day!"

Still trying to keep his calm, he smirks. "This side of you is adorable, Aya, but I don't think you should be saying all that in front of them."

"Them?" Aya repeats. She opens her eyes again and lifts her head to see the club members watching. Aya then immediately moves away. "W-what are you doing here, Kominato-san?"

She barely witnesses Ryousuke's smile turn upside down before two club members squeal and jump on her.

 "You don't need to be so stressed," Ryousuke says as they walk out of the school doors, her bag in his hand. 

"I just complained about my seniors in front of their faces. How can I not be stressed?"

"Ah, so that's what you're worried about."

Aya looks at him. "What else is there?"

"Are you being bullied, Aya? I already know that you like to draw me, but I'd think they're making fun of you by framing and hanging all those up."

"I-I just like to draw you…" Aya gasps. "Oh no, you saw all that too." She whines as she covers her face with her hands. Her voice muffled, she continues, "Now you know how much I like you."

Ryousuke's face immediately warms up. "Wha-"

"You're going to call me a stalker again," Aya adds in a softer and more worried tone, her hands moving to now only cover her red cheeks. Yet she stays oblivious to the boy's reaction.

Secretly sighing in relief, Ryousuke clears his throat to compose himself. "No, I won't. I promised I wouldn't call you that anymore, didn't I?" And then he starts walking again. "Because I do know we've agreed to go by first names."

Aya drops her hands and stares at him.

The afternoon sunlight hits his toned back, bathing him in the color of betrayal. Noticing she hasn't caught up, he pauses to look over his shoulder. "Hey, come on."

Aya hurries to his side, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. A yellow card. It's only been more than a week and I already caused a yellow card.

They continue walking in silence. The quiet street with only a few people passing by amplifies her unease.

"Hey," Ryousuke finally says, "sorry, that's out of line. Maybe you just aren't used to it yet. So it's okay. I won't force you."

"Is it really okay? I think it was really rude of me to just… drop you."

"Well… yeah."

Aya wrings her hands together. "I'm sorry too."

"It’s kind of my fault, too. I guess I am going about this too fast."

"Hmm, it's not exactly that. It did surprise me, but I think it's sweet that you and even Haruichi are already thinking of me as family."

"Then what's up?"

"I think I just… want to stay low-key? You saw how my clubmates reacted. I don't want everyone else suddenly cooing at me and at the development in our relationship."

Ryousuke looks back down at her. "So that's why."

Aya nods, smiling nervously up at him.

That makes him smile reassuringly. "Okay. I can live with that." 

"Thank you."

He then smirks. "Besides, you'll be the first one to slip up anyway."

Aya groans. "Oh, I already kind of did with Kazuya and Mochi, and now they won't let me live it down."

"'Mochi?'"

"Huh?"

"Who is that?"

"Uh, your partner in the field? Seidou's shortstop, Kuramochi? Oh my god, does no one else call him that?"

"Hehh?" he says in his characteristic teasing tone even as he turns away from her. "A nickname." His hand starts to ball into a fist. "To think you insist on being formal with me but have nicknames for other guys."

Aya giggles before grabbing his hand, pulling them both to a stop. "Ryou."

“Now you call me that?”

Aya opens his fist to intertwine her smaller hand into his. And then she brings their joined hands to her lips to lightly kiss each of his knuckles.

Ryousuke freezes, his own lips parting open.

"Don't be jealous, please? Just think of it like this. Since we're laying low for a while, I'll call you 'Ryou' when it's just the two of us." She steps closer to him to look into his eyes. "Isn't that more intimate?"

He gulps and looks away. "Just drop his nickname."

"Permanently? But he's one of my best friends."

Ryousuke sighs, looking back down at her. "Then at least when you talk about him to me." Not like you should even be, though.

"Okay." She stands up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Are we good now?"

Ryousuke feels like his soul had flown out of his body. He takes a deep breath to calm down, and then touches his forehead with hers. “You know, you missed.”

Aya pushes back from him with a laugh. “And you know what? I’m finally here!” She takes her bag from him and walks backwards to her apartment building's entrance. “Thanks for walking me home again, Ryou. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He could only chuckle in reply. The afternoon sunlight now falls on the side of his face, but this time, it makes him glow with joy.

"Ryousuke!" Isashiki's voice rings through the team's own mess hall the next day at breakfast.

"So loud in the morning," the pink-haired teen mutters, taking his seat at the seniors' usual table.

"You disappeared again after practice. Don't tell me you were out with your girlfriend!"

He picks his chopsticks up. "I was."

The place falls silent. A tray even falls to the floor.

"Th-that joke's old!" Jun replies. "It won't work on me anymore!"

He swallows his first bite. "Oh? But I'm not kidding this time."

Heads turn to the next best source of information: Kominato Haruichi.

The poor boy startles and looks to his brother for help. "A-Aniki…"

Ryousuke chuckles. "She wants to stay low-key, though. Maybe you're scaring her off, Jun?"

"Shut up! I won't believe it until I see it!"

He shrugs. "Suit yourself."

From the other table, Kuramochi asks, "But Ryou-san, won't your favorite artist get jealous?"

'Mochi.' Ryousuke had expected he'd be annoyed when he sees his underclassman, but now he realizes the nickname's a bit funny. He gives a strained smile to stifle a laugh. "Why would she be jealous of herself?"

"Who?" Jun asks.

"Just shut up." Ryousuke resumes eating, but continues to watch Aya's classmates from his peripheral.

Kuramochi laughs heartily as he nudges the bespectacled catcher sitting beside him. 

Miyuki loses his smile.

 Jealousy, Aya discovers, comes unexpectedly in different kinds.

She had heard that dating someone from the baseball team is hard because he'd have almost no time for you. And that being in a relationship with someone from a different grade often leads to clashes in schedule.

Now, Aya has to deal with both.

They can’t meet after morning practices. The boys have to freshen up before proceeding to morning classes, so the best interaction she and Ryousuke would have are discreet smiles whenever he would spot her watching outside the field. 

They can’t meet during lunch breaks. Recently, Miyuki has been ordering from her more often, and because that’s the only time she could sit down and talk with her cousin now, she stays and eats with him.

And during weekends, it’s either they are both studying for finals or Ryousuke has extra practice.

Aya would always have to wait for afternoon practice to end. It’s either she could be found sketching on a bench outside the practice field, or in her club room every other day when the art club is scheduled to meet. Then, they would take a detour to non-crowded streets on the way to Aya's apartment building, just to avoid getting seen by anyone from school as they hold hands or simply walk closer than normal friends would.

This has gone on for two weeks.

We’re nearing a month into this relationship now. Aya presses closer to Field A’s fence. I did say I want him to focus on Nationals, but now… She heaves a deep sigh to temporarily get rid of her thoughts and refocus on the morning practice. 

At the moment, Haruichi is on a roll in a batting cage while his older brother watches.

The competition for the jersey numbers is still fierce, especially with the second baseman brothers. Haruichi's progressive skills make him a likely candidate for the roster. But as long as Ryousuke is in the team, Haruichi couldn’t play unless Ryousuke gets subbed out. And would Ryousuke even allow that?  

But looking at her boyfriend's back, Aya could sense a faint yellow aura. The color of caution, of warning signs. Even if he hides it well, she knows Ryousuke is threatened by his prodigy brother.

Alas, Ryousuke picks up his bat to head towards another batting cage. But not without stopping in his tracks to look straight at Aya.

Again. He knows I've been here all this time. This has been happening more often now.

Ryousuke then breaks into a grin.

It's like… a sunflower drawn to his sun. Feeling her cheeks warm up, Aya smiles back and gives a shy wave.

Ryousuke nods as a silent morning greeting before continuing on his way.

Time may be Aya's enemy right now, but she has to admit that these limited moments they share, no matter how small, leaves her glowing with happiness that's as bright as the summer days. 

The next day, the students receive the results of their final exams.

“As expected!” Aya almost shoves her graded papers in Miyuki’s face. “You can never score higher than me. So I still won’t make your lunch for free!”

Miyuki sighs defeatedly. “Aren’t creative people supposed to be creative only?”

Aya gasps. “Then sporty people should only be sporty too!” She smirks. “Then again, you suck at other sports besides baseball, so I can’t really call you a sports guy.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m surprised, Aya,” Kuramochi says with a teasing grin. He distributes among their trio the lunchboxes Aya had made for them. “Having a boyfriend aside from being busy with your commissions still doesn’t stop you?”

Aya suddenly turns back to her desk to put her papers back. She mutters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Kuramochi,” Miyuki says quietly, opening his lunchbox. “She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kuramochi scoffs. “Maybe if you let her go on lunch dates every once in a while…”

Aya freezes and looks up at her cousin.

Miyuki gives their friend a deadpan stare.

“Wow, Kazuya,” Aya says. She smiles mischievously. “So that’s what this is all about.”

He turns to his food and picks up his chopsticks. “No. I just wanted to have good meals this season.”

“Sure you do~”

He looks up at her. “What am I keeping you here for, Aya? You don’t have someone else to meet during lunch, do you? You said you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Kuramochi nudges his arm. “Hey.”

Aya blinks. “R-right. Yeah. I don’t have one.” She lightly hits Kuramochi’s arm. “Stop making issues.”

Kuramochi rolls his eyes. “You two really are a family.”

 “You got the no. 4 jersey!”

“Yeah.”

“And I got the highest test results in our class!”

“Really? Congrats.”

“And Haruichi got included in the roster! What’s his jersey number?”

“…19.”

Aya squeals. “This is really a good day!” And then she sighs. “Except for Kazuya being too weird again.”

Ryousuke stifles his own sigh. “Really? I haven’t heard about this yet.”

She purses her lips. “Did you tell him something?”

“No. We don’t really talk outside of practice.”

“It’s just… whenever Mo-" she clears her throat as Ryousuke lightly scoffs, "whenever Kuramochi would start teasing me about having a boyfriend, Kazuya would suddenly get annoyed. He’s not even subtle about it, which means he must be really pissed. And I don’t understand because he used to always tease me about you! But now that we’re actually a couple…"

Ryousuke hums in thought. “I didn’t take him to be the overprotective type.”

“Overprotective?” Aya frowns. “But he already knows you, so what is there to be fussy about? Would you be the same if Haruichi gets into a relationship?” 

"I wonder. But it's not like that's on his mind right now, though."

"Yeah, because you could totally tell." And then she stops walking. “Wait, is this a new detour? I think this is the opposite way from my apartment.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m not taking you home yet.” 

Aya gasps in fake horror. “Is this what Kazuya is protecting me from?”

Ryousuke chuckles before taking her hand as they round the corner. “If he doesn’t want you to be happy, then I guess it is.” 

They stop in front of a café Aya had once mentioned wanting to visit. 

Now, Aya gasps in actual shock. “Ryou…”

“It’s a weekday so I don’t want us to be out late, but we’ve been together for one month now. I at least want to celebrate that.”

She tears her gaze away from the establishment and up towards Ryousuke. “You remembered.”

“Of course I would.” He tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Especially since you’ve been really pouty these past few days. Are you sure you still want to keep this a secret? Because this prevents you from spending all your free time with me, so now you’re missing me too much.”

Aya feels her cheeks warm up, though she’s not sure if it’s out of embarrassment for being too obvious, or because she suddenly finds that cockiness… attractive.

He gestures with his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

Aya nods. “O-okay.”

As Ryousuke leads them inside, only one thought crosses his mind. Now, please stop talking about other guys when we’re together.

 Today is the last day of school for students without club activities this summer. It is also the day after Seidou had triumphed over Maimon West in their first qualifying match.

The sun shines bright through the windows, seemingly giving spotlight to the third-year starters - Yuuki Tetsuya, Masuko Tooru, Isashiki Jun, and Kominato Ryousuke - as they walk through the hallways. Their fellow third-years crowd around them, congratulating them and promising to watch the next games.

Aya smiles proudly. Aside from the resounding cheers from upstairs, she had also spotted freshmen cheerleaders peeking into Class 1-B earlier, most likely spying on the two of the three first-year players yesterday. 

This game had not only showcased Seidou’s powerful batting lineup, but also officially debuted the first-year players - Furuya Satoru, Sawamura Eijun, and of course, Kominato Haruichi. 

If they get fangirls, that would mean more commission requests, right? 

But then she reaches a classroom that apparently has another kind of commotion.

Kuramochi is once again shouting at Miyuki's face as he holds the catcher by the collar, while Miyuki only laughs off everything the enraged boy says.

"They're fighting again?” a female classmate asks. “But they're always together."

"They don't have any friends," another replies.

"They have Makoto-san, though," a third classmate adds, following it with a giggle.

"I can hear you, you know," Aya says from the doorway.

"Oh!" the same classmate exclaims, and then smiles sheepishly. "Good morning, Makoto-san! Do you think you could break them up again?"

Aya sighs. This is certainly a sad reputation. She marches up to the two. "Hey, Mochi! I see you’re still overflowing with adrenaline from yesterday’s game."

The boys look at her in sync.

"But I need to take my seat now, so please…?"

"Tch." Kuramochi's frown stays, but he lets go and walks away without another word.

"What is it this time?" Aya asks, hanging her bag on the hook at her desk. 

"It's nothing," Miyuki answers with a chuckle, fixing his uniform.

Aya sits down sideways and props an arm on her backrest to keep slightly facing him. "Sure it is. Good thing you have me, the saving grace of this trio of loners."

"I don't know, Aya." Miyuki props his chin on his hand as he leans forward on his desk. "Are you sure you're still one?"

Aya raises a brow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Miyuki heaves a big sigh and sits back on his chair. "You're really gonna keep that act up, huh?"

“Oh, Kazuya. You’re just like me. You're in denial.” 

“Of what?”

“Of being jealous of someone taking your cousin’s time away from you. Not like there’s much to begin with, though.”

“So you’re basically admitting.”

Aya shrugs. “No point in lying to you now, so you might as well come clean too.” She smirks.

Just then, the bell rings. The students start to move back to their desks.

Miyuki smirks back at her. “Whaaat? I can’t hear you over the bell!”

Aya rolls her eyes before sitting properly, just as the teacher enters the room.

 Seidou plays against Murata East the next day, and it ends as another called game after Captain Yuuki hits a homerun.

Outside, Aya waits among the crowd to catch a glimpse of the team exiting the stadium.

“Miyuki-kun~!” a group of girls calls out when the famous catcher comes into view.

Aya does her best not to cringe. She understands why he has so many fangirls, but it just feels weird to hear people gush over someone she knows not just by looks, but as a person - insecurities, quirks, habits that may not be easily understood by others.

Is this what Kazuya feels now when he thinks about me and Ryou?   

The coach walks over to the team to give them instructions before they watch the next game.

But since Aya did not buy tickets for that, she has to leave ahead of them. As soon as she starts to walk away, her phone vibrates, so she stops to pull it out of her uniform skirt's pocket.

It’s our second game already and I still don’t hear you calling out for me? Isn’t Aya supposed to be my biggest fan?

She looks back at the team to see Ryousuke staring at her from afar with an obvious smirk. She types back: Am I supposed to? It’s enough that I came to watch!

Ryousuke chuckles when he sees the message, and then looks back up to wave goodbye to her. 

Of course, some of his teammates see that. But before they could spot her and connect the dots, Aya turns around and speed-walks toward the bus that would take her back to the school.

 With classes finally out of the way, Aya now has more time to watch practices. But even if Seidou had two practice days before their match against Akikawa Academy, Aya could only watch on the second day, because the media had hounded Field A the day before to cover Seidou first.

However, instead of practicing, everyone is lining up in front of the coach. 

Aya walks closer to the fence.

“To prepare for the game tomorrow,” Coach Kataoka says, “we’re wrapping up practice.”

Aya almost drops her sketchbook. So much for waking up early.

The coach finishes his instructions and dismisses the boys.

Aya remains standing there, her eyes trailing her boyfriend who is picking up his equipment from the dugout. Should I ask Ryou to eat lunch with me? But what if he has plans?

Ryousuke goes back out in the field, but stops a few ways away from his friends. “Haruichi.” 

She gasps. Did he just…?

“Join me when I hit off the tee later,” Ryousuke continues.

The younger Kominato gasps. 

Even his friends - Masuko, Yuuki, Isashiki, and Kuramochi - stop talking among themselves to watch them.

“Are you sure I’m good enough?” Haruichi asks.

Ryousuke chuckles. “What are you saying? You can hit, too. So, later!”

Now, if Ryousuke's friends are fondly dumbfounded, Aya squeals and jumps in giddiness. Now this makes it worth waking up early.

 “You finally talked to him!” 

“To who?”

“To Haruichi!”

“Of course I talk to him. He’s my brother.”

Aya nudges his arm. “You know what I mean! You talked to him in front of the others! It’s so cute.”

“Shut up.” Ryousuke takes another bite of his lunch.

Aya giggles. “I really like this shy side of yours, Ryou. It's so adorable.”

Ryousuke almost coughs up a lung. 

“Whoa, are you okay?”

“Stop attacking me like that!” He coughs harder.

Aya hands him his water bottle, biting her lip to avoid laughing.

“You always do this," he says when he calms down. "Maybe you need to pay for it.”

“This better not be…”

Ryousuke smirks. “Cheer for me tomorrow.”

“Ryou!”

“Aren't you inspired by me? I apparently overcame my hypothetical shyness to talk to Haruichi in front of the team.”

"Nope." Aya purses her lips, and then instantly brightens up. “But I do know how to pay you back.”

“And how…” Ryousuke trails off as Aya suddenly moves closer to him.

She raises a hand to cup one side of his face. She leans in, making sure to lock eyes with him. Her thumb brushes his lower lip slowly... until she wipes off a stray rice grain. And then she merely pecks his cheek before moving away so fast. 

Ryousuke’s mouth now hangs open.

“You had something on your face. I didn’t want you to go back to the field with it.”

“Why do you keep missing?” Ryousuke whispers, turning away to hide a smile.

 Unlike in practice games, more and more people are now finding time in their summer schedule to attend the increasingly intense official games.

Bottom of the first inning, one out. With Kuramochi failing to get on base, Ryousuke steps up for his first at-bat against Akikawa’s clockwork pitcher, Shunshin You.

"Ryou-san!"

Unlike in practice games, Ryousuke's fangirls are now also here. Closer to Aya. Sitting around Aya.

She has always been aware of them, and it definitely isn’t her first time to hear them cheer him on. But why does it make her feel unpleasant now? Besides, it’s the team’s third game already, and Ryousuke has been playing very well. It’s understandable that he would gain more support.

"Ryousuke-san!"

Yet a little spark in her stomach starts up and threatens to grow.

"If you're so annoyed with it," her art club senior, who had come to watch the game too, leans on her shoulder to whisper, "why don't you just publicly lay your claim on him?"

Aya keeps her eyes on the field. "That's pretty vulgar, senpai." She clears her throat. "And I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not his only fan, Makoto-chan. He's amazing, and girls in our batch have always known that." The third-year lightly pinches Aya's cheek to make the younger girl look at her. "You can't blame them for calling him appropriately." 

Aya swats her hand away and sighs. "I'm going to get bullied for it."

"No way. You're the only masochist to develop romantic feelings for him."

"What?"

Her senior laughs. "Just go greet him outside. Today would be the best time, because we're finally out of our school uniforms. And nothing says 'cute girlfriend' than your look today."

Aya consciously touches her hair before looking down at her sleeveless yellow dress. Because the weather has reached 30° today, she had styled her hair into a braided ponytail and picked out the lightest dress she could find in her closet, not taking into account its knee-length frilly skirt. She shakes her head. "I just think it's unnecessary and childish…" she mutters, turning back to the game.

Ryousuke uses his signature strategy: rack up fouls to tire out the pitcher. The eighth pitch is thrown high, so Ryousuke does not swing anymore. Because surely it would be called a ball, which would give him a free pass to first base.

Except it isn't.

"Strike!" the umpire shouts just as the pink-haired batter steps forward.

“What?” Aya exclaims. "But how?"

"I think the umpire's impressed with the pitcher," her senior answers. "He does keep throwing into the catcher's mitt."

"No…" Aya frowns. "Is that why they call him 'clockwork?'"

Ryousuke remains standing there, disbelief clear in his stance.

“Hey, Makoto-chan.” Her senior pokes Aya's arm. “Is he seriously thinking of fighting the umpire?”

She gulps. “I – he can’t be, right?”

Alas, Ryousuke straightens up and walks back to the dugout.

To beat Akikawa's clockwork pitcher, Kuramochi's speed and Ryousuke's strategic batting would be keys to put pressure on him. But now it had failed right on the first try. And that unlucky streak only continues.

Isashiki got on base, and Yuuki was able to hit the baseball far. Their left fielder desperately goes after it, only to fall flat on his face… but the ball lands straight into his glove.

A miracle. Aya slumps her shoulders. If Akikawa continues to make lucky plays like this...

At the bottom of the third inning, the batting lineup goes back up to Kuramochi. But because Shunshin is also great at fielding, he prevents Kuramochi from even stepping on first base.

And now, Ryousuke is back in the batter's box. He does not swing at the first pitch, but…

"Strike!"

"Again?" Aya almost shouts. "But that was so close to outside!"

Shunshin throws the next pitch.

And apparently, it's a breaking ball that pushes Ryousuke to swing and hit the baseball… straight back to the pitcher. A deciding out to end the third inning.

Once again, Ryousuke remains standing in place. He now glares at Shunshin, who stares him back down.

“Makoto-chan,” her senior says, “your boyfriend’s seriously pissed today.”

Aya crosses her arms. “Well, who wouldn’t be? That clockwork pitcher has gotten the umpire on his side! Ryou can’t even bully him now!”

The third-year raises her eyebrow in amusement. "Wow, I guess that makes you compatible."

The gloom finally lifts at the fourth inning when Coach Kataoka switches Furuya with the southpaw first-year, Sawamura (though it had still caused quite a scene when Furuya refused to give him the ball at first), because his presence ignites a fire in the team. After he gets the last out of the inning, Seidou starts the fifth with the cleanup batters, where Miyuki takes Isashiki and Yuuki home and finally ties the game. Defense has become sharper too because he is pitching with confidence.

But the batting lineup goes back to Kuramochi, and he strikes out. Ryousuke hits the baseball, but it goes straight to a fielder's glove once more, ending the fifth inning.

“Mochi… Ryou… what’s happening?” Aya bites her nails in worry.

The game then enters a standstill as both teams keep failing to score a run that would break the tie. That is, until the bottom of the seventh inning.

"Seidou High School has called for a substitution," the announcer says.

Aya gasps as she spots the new jersey number in the on-deck circle.

"Replacing Number 8, Sakai-kun: pinch hitter, Kominato Haruichi-kun!"

Aya immediately stands in her seat and shouts, “Let’s go, Haruichi!”

Her senior pulls her to sit back down. “How could you be so enthusiastic over your boyfriend’s brother than for your boyfriend himself?”

“Are you kidding me? Ryou is most likely as proud as I am right now!” She points to the younger Kominato taking his position. “Just watch.”

The thing with Haruichi is that pitchers tend to get haughty when they see a small boy using a wooden bat and stepping over the plate. What they don't know is that they are walking right into the bait.

Like today, for example. To attempt to intimidate him, Shunshin throws an inside pitch to Haruichi’s knees.

And like usual, Haruichi steps in just as the ball is released. And then he expertly hits it far towards left field. Taking advantage of the fielders’ bewilderment, Haruichi reaches first base and raises his arm for a fist pump as a blush overtakes his cheeks.

Cue Haruichi’s fangirls screaming over it. Including a certain brunette.

Sawamura, who has a history of not hitting any pitch at all, loudly steps into the field next. But he silently and professionally bunts to advance Haruichi to second base. And the crowd gets amusingly amazed.

“Wow! Perfect!”

“Why is he only good at bunts?”

“Nice one, Bunt Master!”

And now, Kuramochi is back in the batter's box.

The atmosphere grows tense as the Seidou bleachers and dugout cheer him on.

Aya fidgets with her hands as she mutters, "Fourth chance, Mochi. Please don't get shut down again."

Shunshin throws the first pitch, and Kuramochi smashes it to the right. Without wasting any time, he uses his cheetah legs to take him to first base.

The Akikawa fielder snatches the ball from the ground and gets ready to throw to first base. But Akikawa has run out of miracle plays.

"Oh, his hand slipped!"

"Akikawa made an error!"

And Kuramochi steps on the white bag.

“Finally, Mochi!” Aya shouts along with the wild crowd. She then clutches her senior's arm. "We're on a roll! We totally shook Akikawa up!"

Her senior chuckles. "Yeah, and now—"

"And now Ryou's up to bat!" Aya interrupts with a giggle before looking back at the field, her eyes zooming in to her boyfriend.

Just then, even without a lead, Kuramochi takes off again. Haruichi runs too, and Seidou takes second and third base.

Aya suddenly pauses, her eyes flitting from Ryousuke standing readily in the batter's box to Haruichi crouching on third. She gasps. "Oh my god!"

"Yeah," her senior says, "Kuramochi's taking revenge!" 

"The brothers!"

"What?" 

"The brothers are playing in the same field! In an official game!" Aya inches forward right then, drowning out her senior’s response as she focuses back on the field.

As soon as Shunshin moves to pitch, Kuramochi starts to run again, and Ryousuke changes his grip on his bat for a squeeze play.

In that split second, the Clockwork pitcher throws the baseball outside the strike zone.

But at this point, Ryousuke has been backed into a corner by Shunshin and the umpire enough. He would not give this up now. In his race against the catcher to get to the ball first, Ryousuke lands on his side, but successfully taps the ball away from home plate. And in an instant, he is up and running towards first base.

And Haruichi is right behind him to score a run for Seidou!

The ball rolls toward the mound, and Shunshin quickly picks it up. He throws it to first base to stop the older Kominato, not noticing Kuramochi already on third base and sneakily racing towards home plate.

But it's too late. The ball is in the air just as Akikawa desperately shouts over each other.

The first baseman catches the ball and throws it to home just as Kuramochi slides in.

"Safe!" the umpire shouts.

The crowd goes wild.

"Wow, two runs!"

"That's some super fast sliding!"

"His speed is like cheating!"

Aya, meanwhile, covers her mouth as if she could be heard among the crowd. Because her heart continues to beat so fast as her eyes continue to follow Ryousuke still advancing in the field.

The first baseman recovers from the shock to call out to their catcher still holding the ball.

But Ryousuke already reaches second base. 

"Nice run!"

“Nice run, Ryou!” Aya screams along in celebration, small tears of joy at the corners of her eyes. 

The Kominato brothers and Kuramochi combo starts an onslaught. Since then, Seidou continues to shut Akikawa down, scoring 3 more runs in the inning. Kawakami gets sent out to close the last two innings, and he does not allow Akikawa any more runs. 

With a score of 7-2, Seidou advances to the quarterfinal.

 The sun is shining brighter now, bathing the field with more light and warmth as the day approaches noon. It boosts Aya's happiness as she walks out of the bleachers along with the rest of the crowd.

"Oh, I still can't stop thinking about earlier!" a girl walking in front of Aya says, nudging her companion.

For some reason, this catches Aya's attention. She recognizes the two girls as Seidou students.

"Do you mean the seventh inning?" the other girl asks with a big grin.

Say no.

"Yes!"

The two friends squeal together. "Ryousuke-kun!"

And just like that, the spark in Aya's stomach reappears.

The girl in front continues, "The little brother and Kuramochi may have scored those runs, but they wouldn't have done it without him!"

The spark grows and spreads throughout her whole body, warming her up. She steps out of the stadium and meets the bright sunlight, but she knows it's not just the reason her eyes are stinging.

Yellow.

Ryousuke wears it like a brand.

Kazuya's aura spikes up in it quite often now.

And it's what she's currently coated in.

Jealousy because of people, as Aya had found out from those two, is the kind that is most irrational and all-consuming.

The kind of jealousy she never thought she would experience.

"Makoto-chan!"

The sudden shake on her shoulder makes Aya jump.

"Are you okay?" her senior asks. "I've been talking to you for a while now."

"S-sorry."

"Are we going back to the bus or do you want to wait for the team to come out?"

Refocusing on her surroundings, Aya sees Miyuki's fangirls right outside the stadium. They are getting ready to shout his name in an attempt to get his attention. To lay their claim…

"Woah, Makoto-chan!" her senior exclaims.

Aya drags her to the front of the crowd, right next to the noisy bunch.

"So I guess this answers my question. But why here?"

"I uh, want to see him right away…"

Just then, the names of the coach and the players ring out above the cheers and applause. 

The first set of players are exiting the stadium. Among them is Ryousuke, glowing with joy because of the victory. He is walking in between his friends, and as usual, is discreetly searching the crowd for her.

This is it. Aya's heart pounds. He would see me right away and I have to—

"MIYUKI-KUN!" One of the fangirls suddenly blocks her from view as their group starts to call out and wave frantically.

"Seriously?" Aya frowns as she watches Ryousuke pass by obliviously.

Her senior giggles. "Guess you don't have to try hard in hiding today… hey, where are you going?"

Aya weaves carefully, but with urgency, through the cheering crowd. Being short makes it hard for people to notice her – it’s  good for moving about, but it puts her at risk of getting elbowed in the face. Alas, she finds a free space in front again. 

Ryousuke finally spots her. He gives her a small smile before passing her by.

She suddenly hears giggles behind her, so she looks over her shoulder to find the two girls from earlier, as well as some schoolmates, looking at the players. This would be good. Aya takes a deep breath and calls out as loud as she could, "Ryou!"

The pink-haired third-year whirls around in shock.

Masuko, Isashiki, and even Yuuki who are walking with him also stop and turn, their eyes settling on the short brunette.

"Aya?" Ryousuke says cautiously.

She smiles brightly and waves.

His confused expression instantly turns into a happy grin. He then hurries back towards her. 

His friends stand still in shock, especially the usually loud Isashiki who now stares with his jaw hanging open. Meanwhile, their teammates coming up from behind them give Ryousuke a curious look. 

He finally stops in front of her. "Hey, Aya."

Seeing his excited smile, and the way he does not care at all about the people around them just to get to her, almost makes her swoon forward. She holds onto the long sleeve of his undershirt for balance. "I… I watched the game," she almost whispers.

Ryousuke chuckles. "Yes, I can see that."

She grins. "And I want to congratulate you! You were so amazing back there, especially when you caused the runs in the seventh inning!"

He chuckles again, now with a hint of embarrassment. "Don't say it like that. They got on base and I followed through."

"But still, you were very cool."

His grin grows wider. "Thank you, Aya." Then he drops his voice so that only the two of them can hear. "And it is a bit refreshing to be with you like this in public."

"Well…” She steps closer, enough to smell the mix of his natural scent and after-game sweat. She takes both of his hands in hers. "Maybe I don't want to keep it a secret anymore?"

"It's because she got jealous," someone suddenly comments beside her, breaking the moment.

They step away from each other, but do not drop their linked hands.

Recognizing Aya's club senior, Ryousuke asks, "What?"

"You've got fangirls, Kominato-kun."

"Ohhh."

Aya tugs at his hands to make him look back at her. "No, that's not it! Don't listen to her!"

"Of course, Aya!" Ryousuke lets go of one of her hands to pat her head. "I would only believe my girlfriend."

Her mouth hangs open.

Ryousuke now smirks, as if asking, Isn't that what you want to prove to them? "Anyway, I'll see you later. We have to watch the next game."

"Oh, right! Sorry."

"Don't mind that." He squeezes her hand. "This made my day better."

When Ryousuke finally reaches the bus, his fellow third-year teammates who are waiting for him outside greet him with teasing punches on the shoulder and pats on the back. Even Captain Yuuki gives him a thumbs-up sign. And Isashiki shouts in mock outrage when Ryousuke says something to him.

"Makoto-san, you're scary."

"I didn't know you had it in you!"

Aya turns around.

Ryousuke's fangirls are smiling at her.

"Congratulations! Though, everyone saw it coming."

"Yeah, it would have sucked if you two didn't end up together."

"And you two were not very good at hiding it, either!"

Aya is reeling from all the comments, but only manages to respond to the last one. "We aren't?"

Her senior pats her back. "What did I tell you?"

Aya sighs in relief. "Yeah, that felt good.” Her eyes then widen in realization, and she hides her face in her hands. "And embarrassing! I can't believe I just did that!" 

The fangirls coo at her, and her senior had to lead her to the bus that would take them back to Seidou.

On their way, Aya finally recovers enough to glance at the team's bus… just in time to see Miyuki watching her with a non-amused expression.

 Previous: Ryousuke and Aya

[somefinelipstickonthatpig]

Of Dreams and Memory Zestiria // AtlA AU // Oneshot #9

[Read on AO3]

As the gang begins to infiltrate the Fire Nation in order to save Muse, surprising revelations come to light.

tw // mentions of physical abuse

- o - o - o -

A frantic gasp shatters the silence of the fire prince’s bedchamber. Prince Sergei’s arms shake behind him, sweat beading along his brow. His chest rises and falls with every breath, entirely too warm even without a shirt to cover it; his blanket pools around his hips, also entirely too much. Instinct makes him kick his feet over the side of his bed, shoving his covers aside. His eyes dart through the shadows, but in the night, everything is still and calm. Tranquil. His balcony doors are still shut and bolted. The long curtains don’t rustle. 

With a withering sigh, he hides his face in his hands.

“Just a dream,” he lies to himself. “Nothing more. No need to lose yourself over this, Sergei.”

The past is meant to remain in the past.

…and yet. 

He can still recall with perfect clarity the twist of his stomach at a singular raised hand twelve years ago. Admittedly, the imprint the image had left on him has always struck him as strange. Why does such a thing affect him when he himself had fallen under the shadow of that hand so many times?

Maybe it was his tears, he thinks. Or perhaps it took finally seeing it happen to someone else to awake in me—something like empathy.

Ironic, Sergei thinks, as he uncurls and tilts back his head to his ceiling. 

The canopy above his bed is the same as it has always been for so many years.

“I haven’t had that dream in a decade,” Sergei murmurs. Which leaves one more important question, as tangible as the sweat he can feel beading down his temple. It draws a thin line down from his brow to his neck. 

Why now?

- o - o - o -

“Do I have to?” 

Dezel’s stance doesn’t change in the slightest. His extended hand remains pressed against Sorey’s chest, frown firm on his face. 

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Sorey caves. He reaches up to his ears. “But I like them.”

“And right now, those feather earrings are one of your biggest identifying factors,” Mikleo huffs. His arms cross over his chest and watches as the earrings pass from Sorey’s hands to Dezel’s. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t fall until Dezel finally pockets the earrings in Gramps’ travel bag. “If we actually want to sneak through the Fire Nation, then we need to make sure there’s no possible way anyone will recognize you. Now, for your hair.”

“First Atakk, then my earrings—now I have to take off my hair, too?!”

Mikleo rolls his eyes and play-punches Sorey’s arm. He fights the smile that wants to crawl on his face at the teasing and all-too-telling grin on Sorey’s face. “No. Idiot. We’re just wrapping your head. Word is spreading about your crazy hair. This scarf should do the trick.”

Sorey grins. “Should I be flattered? Ah, what the heck.” With one final sigh, he bows, head shoved towards Mikleo’s chest. “Might as well get it over with. Want to do me the honors?”

“I suppose.”

- o - o - o -

When Lailah hears dusty footsteps behind her, she turns and gasps widely, happily. “Why, Sorey! You’re hardly recognizable!” 

“Well, I think you’re being nice, but thanks anyway!” Sorey grins cheekily. For good measure, he gives a spin. The small tail of his yellow scarf, peeking out from where it’s tucked in at the nape of his neck, bounces with the rock of his weight. “How do I look?”

“Like a true citizen of the Fire Nation!” she hums and claps her hands together.

Sorey laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, you think so…?”

Lailah nods. “All of you do!”

Dezel hums and brings up the rear of their party. When he holds out Zenrus’ bag, Sorey takes it and loops it over his head gratefully. Of all, Dezel seems the most uncomfortable in the reds and deep blacks and browns of the Fire Nation jacket and pants hanging loose around his figure. “Then let us reunite with the Sparrowfeathers as quickly as possible. We should thank them for procuring us these garbs.”

Sorey looks up at Dezel, both hands wrapped around the bag strap. “You think Rose and Eguille made it into the palace okay?”

“They’re professionals, Sorey.”

“Yeah, and I know you said that before, but I still don’t fully get how that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“It means,” Dezel hums and walks past Sorey and out of the alleyway into the street. “That it should have been obvious to you long ago that selling imports isn’t the only business the Sparrowfeathers partake in.”

Sorey still doesn’t know what to make of that. 

Before he can follow his teacher out onto the street, Lailah puts a hand on his shoulder. “Sorey—listen. There’s one last thing we have to take care of before we depart. We need to change our names.”

Sorey’s eyes widen. “Everyone’s names?”

“W-well, most of the others should be fine, actually!” There’s a falter in Lailah’s voice Sorey hasn’t heard before, a hitch in speech that twists Sorey’s stomach and zeroes his attention on her, wondering if there’s something in her words he missed that he should have paid attention to. Something he should understand or know but doesn’t. “Rose and the others are from the Fire Nation already. Their names are fine. Mikleo and Dezel aren’t too obvious detractors. But you and I…well, just to be safe, we should call each other by different names until we’re out of the Fire Nation.”

“Really?” Sorey frowns. “Why? Do so many people know the Avatar’s name already…?”

“W-well—it’s—it’s just in case! You know? A precautionary measure. Yes!” 

And there it is again. That wobbly uncertainty.

Sorey watches Lailah for a long moment. Lailah has always been difficult to read, always smiling even in situations when Sorey isn’t entirely certain she should smile. When finally he nods, he doesn’t miss the relieved sigh that slips out of her. 

“Okay, so, we’ll go with something simple,” Lailah says, “There are many good names out there, so I’ll let you decide which one you want to use while we’re here…”

- o - o - o -

Boris doesn’t anticipate finding Sergei staring off into space at the window when he first walks in the crown prince’s quarters. At first, he turns around to duck his head out into the hall to make sure he’s walked into the right room before he turns around and observes his brother’s dazed profile. 

Huh.

Perhaps he can capitalize on this.

“Looks like someone still needs sleep,” Boris begins and clasps his arms behind his back, striding forward with long, lazy steps.

Sergei blinks, jumps, and turns. The instant he sees Boris, however, whatever fright had tensed his figure just as quickly slips away. He pinches the bridge of his nose and makes a sound low in his throat. “Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me?” Boris scoffs and places a hand over his chest. He staggers back a step. “Ugh! You wound me, brother.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Boris laughs, but when Sergei doesn’t join in, the smile fades. He strides closer to slap a hand over Sergei’s shoulder. “Wow. You’re out of it. What, did you wake up on the wrong side of bed?” 

“You could say that.”

Sergei’s voice is a quiet murmur. 

It reminds Boris faintly of a barren desert. Dry and wistful, waiting for the slightest chance of rain. What a morbid comparison, he can’t help but think: to compare his brother to a lifeless ground. Boris shakes his head and squeezes Sergei’s shoulder instead. “Well, I can tell something is troubling you.”

“Of course it is,” Sergei mutters. “There’s always a great many number of things troubling me.”

Boris rolls his eyes. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

“I simply—” 

It’s not the first time that Boris has seen Sergei’s eyes mist over. Sergei, for all of his stiff manners and rigid posture, has always had the more tender, weepy heart. He cries much more easily than his twin.

But it is the quickness of it, the suddenness of those wet eyes, that draws Boris up short.

“—he’s out there, Boris,” Sergei whispers tightly. “We know this, now. We know he is there. Somewhere. After all this time…and I had every opportunity to hold him again and lost it. How can such a thing make me as happy as much as it hurts me?”

Boris doesn’t need to ask who.

“Do you think he will ever know?”

He squeezes Sergei’s shoulder again. “I can’t say, brother.”

Boris doesn’t know what to make of the silence that follows. Is it mournful? Hopeful? Expectant? Or is it something else entirely?

- o - o - o -

“S—Daija! Hey! Don’t run ahead so fast!”

Sorey grins and spins around. “Ah-ah-ah! You almost slipped, Mikleo!”

“No thanks to you!” Mikleo scowls. “What are you doing, running around like you own the marketplace?”

“There’s food to eat, Mikleo! I’m starving! Plus, I haven’t had any of this stuff in like, ages, so I’m super excited to eat it again.” Sorey’s hands are tight around the bag strap over his shoulder. He’s practically running in place as he waits for Mikleo, Lailah, and Dezel to catch up. “Besides, what else are we supposed to do while we wait for Rose and Eguille? I remember there used to be these delicious roasted komodo chicken kabobs with lots of different veggies between ‘em—I don’t even remember what they were! But they were so good! I wonder if we can find some…” 

Mikleo’s face tightens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Sorey continues breezily. He splays a hand out, looking around at the food stalls they pass by, where fruit of various sizes and shapes sit on display. There’s a salty, savory smell in the air and Sorey breathes his lungs full of it. “Man! I haven’t eaten some of this stuff in ten years! This takes me back!”

Mikleo bites his lip. Idly, he scratches at one arm with the fingers of his opposite hand. “It does, huh…?” He catches sight of the palace walls, further down the marketplace. 

Above their heads, giant banners dangle in the air, red and gleaming. Their golden trim catches the light, framing the illustriously painted silhouette of a bearded, fire-crowned man who Mikleo has no doubt is Fire Lord Heldalf himself.

And with that face literally hanging over us, still he smiles?

“Is that…a good thing?” Mikleo hedges.

Sorey jerks around. His green eyes stretch wide.  “Huh?”

Suddenly, it’s very hard for Mikleo to meet those eyes. He crosses his arms around his middle. “I mean…you never…”

What am I trying to say here?

“You never talked a lot about what life was like for you in the Fire Nation before you and Gramps came to the South Pole. So I guess I always thought you hated it. Or you didn’t remember it.” And maybe, some part of a very young and impressionable Mikleo had enjoyed being able to be part of a positive change in a friend’s life and took pride, even, in the possibility that his home was the better home for Sorey. “Was I wrong?”

“What?” Sorey blinks and shakes his head quickly. “No! I—”

Sharply, Sorey looks away, too.

Mikleo watches him for a long moment. His chest twinges. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” Sorey shrugs but there’s something in his eyes that is far-away as if trying to recall something that he’s long forgotten. “I don’t remember everything, but what I do remember from over ten years ago isn’t…that great. I guess I just didn’t want to think about those parts. Y’know?”

Mikleo steps closer. He squeezes Sorey’s hand. “Yeah.”

Sorey smiles.

Mikleo tilts his head. “So…can I ask…?”  

“Ask what?”

“About what you do remember?” 

Sorey hitches a breath and looks away. “Uh—well, I—”  

“It’s the Fire Lord!”

“Fire Lord Heldalf!”

“He’s coming!”

Sharply, immediately, a commotion breaks out further down the street. Sorey and Mikleo share one look and jerk back as a procession clears the way, quick to hide behind the thinning edge of the crowd as a palanquin approaches. Mikleo holds tight to Sorey, as an ornate, golden palanquin is carried down the center of the street. 

It’s plush, regal. Upholstered with only the finest satin and cotton. The heavy, dark curtains are pulled back with golden ropes, and through the posts, and holes in the honeycomb half-walls, the stern, wide profile of the Fire Lord can be seen, his thick, dark beard curling over his chest. 

“Make way for Fire Lord Heldalf!” the attendants ahead of the palanquin shout, their backs straight and rigid, arms extended.

“Daija!” Lailah’s voice calls from far away, a worried note in her pitch.

Oh.

Time might have stopped.

Maybe it did.

About what you do remember, Mikleo had asked.

“I—” 

The Fire Lord doesn’t glance at them. Nothing in his stern countenance shifts as his palanquin is carried by. The frown on his square face doesn’t budge; his eyes stare at nothing. Perhaps they are nothing to him; all of them. 

But for just a moment, he is closer than he has been in ten years.

And it is enough.

Mikleo squeezes his hand. “Daija?”

The palanquin has passed.

Sorey blinks once, twice, and thinks he can remember plenty. “I know that face.”

“What?”

“I know—” 

A raised voice out of an angry face. There were always so many lines digging into the skin high above the man’s brow and around his mouth. It had always looked as if his face had been distorted, every time he would spit, No true son of mine would ever turn out to be a lowly nonbender—and it hurt, it hurt, so much that all Sorey could think of at the time to say over and over again, prostrating himself, was, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Dad—

“Bergs!” 

Sorey stumbles back.

Mikleo clasps his hands around his arms, eyes wide. A pale moonface flooding his vision. “So—Daija! Are you okay?! What’s wrong?” 

Sorey raises his eyes. Immediately, Lailah and Dezel are there, squeezing closer through the massive press of people around them. Her hands flutter towards him first before threading together in front of her stomach, shaking. Her fingers are clutched so tightly, her skin burns a brighter, pallid white.

“I think…” the Fire Sage says quietly and slowly, “…we should find a place to sit.”

- o - o - o -

The door opens with a creak, loud enough to break Sergei out of his reverie. He lifts his head from his fist as a young soldier strides in and respectfully bows. His eyes dart down to the reports and maps scattered across the table in front of him that he hasn’t been paying attention to all morning. 

What will Father say when he knows what little work I’ve managed to finish?

With a tight wince, Sergei rubs his forehead.

The soldier remains bowed even as her voice—unfamiliar to him—rings out: “A message for you, Crown Prince.”

“Oh?” Sergei waves her forward. “I won’t ask who it’s from. It’s undoubtedly Father again with another matter he wants me to address while he’s out. Bring it here, then.”

As she steps forward with the scroll held out, Sergei takes a glance up and takes in the strange, unfitting way the uniform falls over the young woman’s form. She’s short; the armor looks like it would have fit better on someone two sizes taller. 

“Are you a new recruit?” he asks as he takes the extended scroll.

The soldier ducks her head. “Yes. I’ve not yet been in the service for two weeks, your highness.”

“Mm.” Sergei nods. That explains it. His fingers catch on the edge of the scroll as he begins to distractedly unroll it. “When you can, inform your superior officer that the Crown Prince approves of you being fitted for more comfortable armor. I’d hate for you to be encumbered thusly by ill-fitting attire and unable to perform your duties.”

“Oh—” The soldier flounders for a second, her mouth flapping uselessly. Not for the first time, Sergei finds he hates the Fire Nation helmets that obscure half of every soldier’s face. A strand of red hair tickles her cheek, peeking out beneath the cover of her helmet. “Thank you, sir.”

Sergei nods and lifts a hand. “Dismissed.”

For a woman wearing armor much too large for her, she does not haste in making her departure. 

The scroll unrolls quickly in Sergei’s hands. His eyes fall upon the end first—a habit he has always had since he was a child, eager to see who sent the message before reading its contents—but as soon as he sees the name Sorey in scratchy, misshapen letters, inked at the bottom, he freezes.

He jerks up so fast, his knees catching on the edge of his table, nearly upending it and spilling papers and figures and quills to the floor. With little care for anything that has fallen, Sergei launches himself to the door and opens it wide.

“Wait!” he shouts into the hallway.

Only the men already standing guard jerk to attention.

Even when they search the entire palace, the redheaded soldier with the too-big armor is nowhere to be seen. 

- o - o - o -

Sorey sits on a large wooden shipping box, his back to a stone wall, holding his face in his hands. He hasn’t moved for several moments, bent and silent. Mikleo hovers at his shoulder, violet eyes traveling over the other faces of their small party as they wait. For a moment, he wonders if he’s the only one who missed what had transpired on the street. Lailah and Dezel’s faces both are unreadable: Lailah’s pinched and Dezel’s frowning.

“Are…you all right, Sorey?” Mikleo murmurs.

Sorey sighs tightly. 

“You remember now, don’t you?” Lailah says quietly. 

Sorey doesn’t answer. 

“I must admit, when I first met you, I had thought it strange you acted like you didn’t know at all, but…I don’t know. I figured you were young. Perhaps you forgot. Memory can be a fickle thing.”

“Remember what?” Mikleo asks. “What is it he’s supposed to remember?”

Finally, for the first time in several minutes, he speaks—and when he does, it’s defeated. Quiet. “That I’m a Fire Prince.”

Mikleo freezes. “You…” He spins on Sorey, body numb. “Wait, what?”

Sorey’s fingers press hard into his eyes before his hands fall.

This time, when he says it, he meets Mikleo’s gaze head on. “I’m a Fire Prince, Mikleo. Crown Prince Sergei and Fire Prince Boris, they’re my brothers. And Fire Lord Heldalf…I…he’s…he’s my father.” 

[cheonsans]

Summer Lovin’

Group: ULTRAVIOLET.

Featuring: All of UV, ab.z’s Nayun and Aeri ( @abzlnd​ )

Genre: Mostly just comedy!

Word-count: ~2.3k

Warnings: Some language but nah.

Summary: A companion piece to Avery’s! ULTRAVIOLET just want to relax and pass the time before they’re set to perform at a music festival, but ab.z’s Nayun has other plans for Siyun. 

“It’s too hot, and I can barely see my fuckin’ phone.”

Taesong’s voice is borderline a whine as he squints at the device in his hand, no doubt trying desperately to read whatever message Areum had recently sent him. It is sweltering, he’s right about that, and Siyun’s hand has hardly left the front of his silky shirt in the past twenty minutes, pulling it away from his chest in order to attempt the seemingly impossible feat of cooling down. In fact, the only two not complaining are Minsung and Jamie, the latter of which having said at least four times that the heat was nothing compared to home. King, on the other hand, is about as miserable as taesong.

The group is milling around waiting for the go ahead that the makeup artists are ready for them, and they are all equally thankful for the fact that they aren’t baking under layers of stage makeup that would have surely melted off by then. Siyun already feels like his hair dye is just about melting out of his hair, and he has to consciously suppress the urge to check the back of his neck to see if his hand comes away dripping in purple. After the recent change from silvery-blond back to a more saturated color, he’s still flinching like an idiot every time he sees a tuft of violet in his peripheral.

“So put your phone away and spend time with us, then, Taesong-ah.” Siyun replies to the other rapper, grinning at the absolutely disgusted expression he’s sent in return.

“What, and listen to Sungmin-hyung whine about being refused soju and Jamie yeehaw every ten minutes? I’ll pass, thanks.”

Siyun opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by King dramatically swooning, slumping against the purple-haired boy’s chest with a groan. Siyun stumbles back half a step at the sudden weight, but he’s used to it by now, shoving the leader back into an upright position just as quickly. It is simply too hot for any prolonged contact, even if King were ridiculously needy when he feels like he’s not getting enough attention. Considering how unrealistic that quota is to meet, they all resort to mostly ignoring his pointed sighs and impatient grumbling for the time being. Unfortunately, any unbearable attitude King would usually have is only exacerbated by the heat, which drains their patience as much as it brings out only the bitchiest sides of each of them.  

Maybe Taesong has the right idea, sticking his nose in his phone and waiting for the time to pass. The performances wouldn’t be for a few hours, and the group is more than well prepared, having gone through their setlist earlier in the morning. It’s nothing too special, just the usual few title tracks and a dance stage so King and Taesong could murder basically everyone watching, and being the impulsively natured boy group they are, they haven’t bothered practicing any further now that their designated sound-check and rehearsal time has passed. As King always says, if they fuck up onstage, it was meant to happen.

“Do you think someone would get me soju if--”

King is cut off by an unfamiliar and enthusiastic feminine voice, cutting through the sluggish, heat-induced reverie that has settled over the group.

“Hey! You!”

King whirls around immediately, brows raised and expression almost revoltingly hopeful.

“Me?” He rakes his hair back from his face, trying to make the action seem cool despite the fact that his dark locks are thoroughly dripping with sweat and not even remotely close to styled.  

“Not you, hag,” She croons, “I’m talking to Siyun!”

King’s expression falls without hesitation, settling in what Siyun can only describe as his bitch-face before crossing his arms. “I’m not even that old.” His defensiveness and disappointment shift to shock, however, that mirrors Siyun’s own countenance once they absorb her last words.

She’s what now? Siyun blinks at her, hand coming up instinctively to point at his own chest, as if she has to be mistaken. Both of the girls coming towards them look vaguely familiar, and Siyun tries his best not to laugh at the manner in which the louder one drags a taller girl behind her, much to the latter’s evident dismay. The taller idol clearly wants to be anywhere else, and Siyun figures she may have been dragged along simply as moral support for the clearly younger fan, but he’s proven wrong once again.

“Siyun-oppa,” The shorter continues, tone positively saccharine.  “You’re single, right?”

Siyun blinks at her, mouth falling open in disbelief at the bluntness exhibited by the female idol. While he’s more than used to disrespect from the other members of ULTRAVIOLET, this sort of blatant flippancy is a bit unheard of from anyone else. Thankfully, years of Jamie’s bullying have prepared him for this, and Siyun keeps his expression only mildly affronted. She isn’t done yet, however.

“See, cause,” She yanks the taller forward, putting her on display like a butterfly on a corkboard...or, maybe a piece of meat at the butcher’s. “I have it on good source that this unnie right here likes Siyun and you should totally do something about it ‘cause she doesn’t have the guts!”

Siyun feels heat rise to his face within seconds. He knows he should bow or thank her or something, but all he can manage is a very nervous laugh, his hesitancy prompting a snort from Jamie that’s poorly covered up. Siyun’s brain is drawing a complete blank, staring at the older girl, and he finally snaps out of it as she  begins to nervously stutter.

It occurs to Siyun that the reception from the other members of ULTRAVIOLET clearly isn’t helping the already embarrassing situation, any. King looks bitter and as judgmental as ever (his few brain cells are probably still working on a rebuttal for the hag comment), Minsung is more interested in a vaguely-dick-shaped rock he found, Taesong is still glued to his phone...and Jamie is, predictably, leering like the nosy maknae he is. It’s up to him to be the group’s ambassador, yet again, and Siyun normally wouldn’t have an issue, but the idea that someone like this pretty girl is interested in him before any of the others...all common sense goes out the window, leaving only what he hopes isn’t too dopey of a smile. 

He’s normally so good with names and faces, too, but all he remembers is that their groups had debuted at around the same time. Logically, he knows he could just glance down to read the boldly printed hangul on their shirtfronts, but his stomach turns at the notion of it seeming like he’s just staring at her chest instead. Rather, he wracks his memory, and while it’s a far less effective method, his brain does manage to conjure up imagery of glimmering stage outfits until oh!

“I’m sorry about, her…uh…she just–” Aeri (he remembers her name on his own, thank you very much, but a hopefully casual flick of his gaze towards her nametag confirms that) bows, and Siyun starts to mirror her instinctively, hands coming up in an attempt to reassure her, but the younger girl is already cutting in. He doesn’t hear what she says, too distracted by Jamie punching him playfully on the shoulder, probably in response to Siyun’s now probably completely red face. Maybe he can play the blush off as heat-related? The heat feels heavy and molten, dripping down his back and settling in the spaces between his ribs. A mosquito buzzes uncomfortably close to his left ear.

“No, it’s okay, really, I think--” He means to mention recognizing her and maybe offer some sort of compliment on their music, but King interjects.

“I think we need to go get ready.” He grumbles, already beginning to stalk off. Taesong follows without looking up from his phone, happy to leave the scene, and Minsung hurries after, his new rock still clutched in one hand. Jamie begins to urge Siyun after the group as the taller boy hesitates, bowing at the same time as Aeri, which prompts another bout of nervous laughter from the rapper as the crowns of their heads almost collide.

“Um, thank you, it was nice to m--” Yet again, Siyun is cut off, this time being bodily yanked by Jamie until he follows the group, face still warm as hell as they make their way into the shade to get their makeup finally done. Once they’re indoors and settling down, Jamie rounds on Siyun within a moment, grasping the elder’s face between his rough-palmed hands.

“Hyung, she was cute!” He practically shouts, squishing Siyun’s cheeks until the rapper lets out a prolonged whine of indignation. “Siyunnie-hyung has an admirer, oh, they grow up so fast!” The maknae cooes, feigning a swoon as he narrowly dodges a swat upside the head. “You should get her number, maybe try not to crash and burn next time. I thought you might throw up on her.”

“Jamie, please.” Siyun smiles tightly at him helplessly, holding up his hands defensively as the high energy Texan yanks at Siyun’s arm again and shoves him down into one of the makeup chairs. Siyun didn’t have a chance to blink before Jamie’s phone is out and AB.Z’s profile is pulled up and shoved into his face.

“Ooh, she’s from Florida…the land of alligators and the infamous Florida Man.” Jamie reads and embellishes, before breaking out in obnoxious laughter. “She’s taller than Sungmin-hyung.”

King glances up at the mention of his name, expression affronted.

“I’m tall enough to kick your ass, don’t test me. Ow, fuck!” The stylist ignores the leader’s yelp of pain as she combs through his hair with a bit more force than necessary, and Siyun fights down a bubble of laughter as she catches his eye in the mirror and offers him a wink.

“No one asked you, hag.” Jamie shoots back at the leader, and King looks as if he might haul himself out of the chair to break Jamie’s wrist if the makeup stylist weren’t between them. Unintimidated, Jamie continues. “God, she seems so sweet…the other one was Nayun, it looks like. I liked her vibe, she had major BDE.” Jamie scrolls through the group’s profile until he reaches the end, resting his chin dreamily on top of Siyun’s head. “You have to talk to her, promise me you’ll talk to her?” The youngest member is a hopeless romantic, and he pouts at Siyun in the mirror across from them, arms slung about the elder’s shoulders. He sways them both back and forth, Siyun a bit awkwardly from where he was sitting.

“I’ll try, okay? You know i’m not good with this sort of thing.” Siyun mumbles, sheepish, and he drums his fingers on the edge of the counter. While there’s certainly intrigue in dating, it’s not really something Siyun has ever let himself have time for. He tried to take up a more casual approach to relationships a while back, mirroring Taesong’s attitude then, but the long and short of it is that it made him feel absolutely awful. It had taken him weeks to get over the guilt of a handful of one-night stands, a consequence that no one else in the group seemed to understand. Since then, Siyun can’t remember the last time he had spoken to a woman he found attractive, beyond conversations where he didn’t realize he’s been flirted with until hours later, when it was too late to do anything about it.

“Excuse me? Look at yourself! Need I remind you who scored number six on that list of top 20 handsomest rookies of 2017?” Jamie insists, oblivious to the true root of Siyun’s hesitations.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” It’s much easier to stare at his tattoos rather than meet Jamie’s eyes in the reflection. “I just don’t wanna mess it up or scare her off. She probably just likes the idea of me and probably doesn’t want to actually get to know me, y’know? Most idols really aren’t like what they seem on paper, anyways. I didn’t get her number, either, so I doubt anything’s gonna come of it.” Not to mention the fact that Siyun doesn’t want to risk a relationship being publicized before he’s ready, not only for his own sake, but for the fans’.

“...Bullshit, but okay, think whatever you want.” Jamie backs off as a makeup artist approaches the two, shooing the younger out of the way. “I’ll leave you be, Romeo.”

“That’s such an awful nickname. They both die at the end, Jamie.” Siyun’s brows crease in the center at that, but Jamie waves off his concern.

“I know that. I read the manga version in middle school, thank you very much. Just shut up and think about it, okay? You’re a good guy, hyung...there are a lot of guys who’d be taking advantage of a situation like this, y’know? Just try to relax, and focus on having fun, for once! You deserve it.” For someone who seems to know more about obscure Animal Crossing facts than anything useful, Jamie can be remarkably insightful, at times. Siyun’s lips press into a thin line before he nods, trying not to melt at the endearing and brilliant smile Jamie shoots his way.

“I’ll do my best.” Siyun acquiesces as the makeup stylist begins to apply serum to his sweat-tacky skin, the scent of roses whisking away his tension.

When it comes down to it, his best is all he can really offer, anyways.

[comicteaparty]

June 20th-June 26th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from June 20th, 2020 to June 26th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

What is something you’re just not very good at right now writing and/or drawing in general?

Deo101 [Millennium]

mysteries. 100% I can not write mysteries!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ears

Deo101 [Millennium]

the connection between legs and torso. No not hips, I can draw hips fine, but like the movement aspect of it

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Action scenes. Orchestrating fights or big motions on the page... it doesn’t come naturally to me! I have to look at a lot of reference to see how other artists do it. Impact shapes, speed lines, anything to convey movement...

But I am slowly building a vocabulary of... fight shapes? I’m calling them fight shapes, haha

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I feel that

Your feeling I feel deeply

"visual library" is a term that comes to mind

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Composition. I just talked about this earlier today, but.... yup. Composition is my bane.

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

I'd like to get better at writing in general. I have a lot of trouble verbalizing things I see in my head, and so I gotta rely on images and thumbnails to get any idea across, sometimes. otherwise im a windbag and use 5000 words to say 0-1 things, lmao

carcarchu

I have trouble writing simply. I always want to embellish, add extra details, more characters and make everything more complicated and i worry it ends up making things unnecessarily convoluted

Drawing-wise i hate drawing hands

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

The legit thing I am worse at writing is fucking

Deo101 [Millennium]

omg

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

essays to convince people to hire me

Deo101 [Millennium]

OH OKAY

WAY TO CUT IT OFF

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

YEAH

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

OH

carcarchu

let her finish deo

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

comedic timing at its finest

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

omg

I was very confused for a sec(edited)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

but seriously like speaking of filling gaps this is what I'm legit struggling most with right now so any help much appreciated

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

raises hand

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I need to write a personal statement and every time I sit down to edit I want to die

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I volunteer as tribute

writing is basically the only thing I'm really good at

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

It's not the writing I hate

It's the writing about me

carcarchu

is that the thing where you have to write in 3rd person? like those blurb things on people's websites?(edited)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

It just feel so gross whoring out my deeply held passions and struggles for a spot in med school

No I'm talking about college essays lmao sorry for derailing

The blurb things are an interesting topic though!

Have you guys writtent those before and does anyone actually like writing them?

carcarchu

i had to write a blurb about myself for my university's website and yeah it was uncomfy

lemme see if i can find it

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I HATE writing those

because I just start like, "Crona J. is an artist and writer from Chicago......." And I have no idea how to continue

Deo101 [Millennium]

god yeah even just writing a profile or about me is hard enough!!!

I'm always like "deo - 22 - she/her - illustrator - webcomic author - student" and then i leave it

thats it thats all you get

depending on the platform i MIGHT put bi - disabled and thats it!!!!

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

yeah

half of the stuff I write doesn't even feel relevant to the audience either

who cares that I have been drawing since I was 12 lol?

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Mate I don't even write those. My bio is like "UCSD" "Read my comic"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

hahaha

Deo101 [Millennium]

I also always feel like when I see "ive been drawing since I was 5!" I kinda think like... well everyone has been -_- like this doesnt tell me anything, how long have you been an aspiring pro, how long have you been studying art...? that tells me more

so I never put that kind of stuff in my biod either

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

yeah, and also, I didn't go to prestigious school, so I don't even include my college

and I only have one comic project so far, just under a chapter

so what do I write?

Not that important an issue, but irksome nonetheless

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I don't include my school because it's prestigious, I include it because it's not an art college

Deo101 [Millennium]

owch

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I want fellow stem-y yet artsy people from my school to recognize me as one of them(edited)

DEO stop interupptung me at the worst points!!

Deo101 [Millennium]

i love jumping to conclusions. so no.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

If it's a bio where I can talk about the comics, I try to spotlight a few tropes/genres that'll catch the eye of potential readers. Not a full-fledged summary, just a quick hit of If You Like These Words, You'll Probably Like Reading It. ("Fantasy, comedy, shapeshifters, PTSD, time travel, cats")

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

And if it's gonna be personal, same deal with bits of personal info -- not trying to be a Comprehensive Biography, just pulling a few details that are relatable connection points

The problem with "I've always wanted to be a writer/artist/cartoonist" isn't just how generic it is, the problem is also the vibe of "here's my thing, your role in this is to support me"

Whereas if you say something like "I like drawing cute girls and writing fantasy," the response can be "oh hey, I like seeing cute girls and reading fantasy, tell me more!"

Or if you go with "Sailor Moon fan, will put extra cheese on everything," people can go "cool, that's relatable, we can like Sailor Moon and cheese together." It gets at your shared investment in a fun thing, it's not about expecting them to be personally invested in you

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I think perhaps the most fundamental thing is "you can't please everyone." I've never liked the 'random food related weird tidbit tacked on' thing because it feels too try-hardish to me, but I understand for other people, it's not a matter of trying too hard and is genuinely how they just talk.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Oh definitely, you hold out for a bio that connects with everyone and you'll never get it done

AntiBunny

Personally I'm not great at drawing cars. It's why all my cars early on in the comic were side view only, and old blocky looking things. It was all I could do. I've been getting better by using references.

Every so often I buy a little hotweels or matchbox car when I'm buying groceries. I aim for realistic ones based on real vehicles, especially utility vehicles like ice cream trucks, ambulances, fire trucks, and whatnot you'd see every day in a city. I keep a little box of them on my desk, so if the scene calls for a car to be visible, I have a reference that can help me get all the curves and angles right.

Sure beats drawing from memory, but also practice time in the sketchbook with them is a necessity.

Now crowd scenes are beginning to be my bane. Not because they're hard to draw, just because they're time consuming.

Suddenly I realize why old episodes of Sailor Moon has cities with people free sidewalks and empty streets.

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

That's a great idea, gathering the model cars! I should do that for a future comic.

kayotics

I also struggle with cars so, uh, my comic takes place in fantasy 1700-1800s

But also horses are bad too

Cars and horses! They suck

Deo101 [Millennium]

do what I did and make up an easier animal to draw than a horse ;)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Vehicles in general. Should just put everyone on roller blades and be done with it

Deo101 [Millennium]

I'd lov that tbh

kayotics

I’ve considered making something other than horses......

Deo101 [Millennium]

I highly encourage it, the people love it and also so does my brain

kayotics

Or else lean into them being ugly

Deo101 [Millennium]

heres the trick about horses though they look really weird and as small as you make their legs, when you think "this is way too thin..." youre wrong and their ankles are probably smaller than that

kayotics

The thing that gets me is their faces

Deo101 [Millennium]

... mask

kayotics

Hahaha

I should just make deer the normal mode of transport

Deo101 [Millennium]

that would be really cute tbh

kayotics

I love deer and they’re cute

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Just exaggerate them to the point where it looks like a style choice

Your people already have unrealistic proportions

Why not the horses too

kayotics

That’s how I draw buildings tbh because I hate buildings

Deo101 [Millennium]

I also gave horses dog mouths, maybe do something like that? someone can be like "horses dont look like that?" and as long as youre consistent you can say "they do in this world!!!"

kayotics

Oh god no that’s like a devil creature

Deo101 [Millennium]

yeah they look horrible but its fun

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I legit remember saying that to you deo lmao

Deo101 [Millennium]

ive had dog horse for years you didnt give me this

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Not the they look horrible part

kayotics

I’ve already got beasts, I don’t need horses to look WORSE than they did

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Bwah I remember

Time to archive dig(edited)

Deo101 [Millennium]

I love dog horse

kayotics

Honestly it’s good but they scare me

Deo101 [Millennium]

yeah... maybe instead give them cat mouths

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

https://discordapp.com/channels/472908933045026827/634081658018070549/688589449562423422

wait omg this is the message that led to your first dm to me lmao

Deo101 [Millennium]

is it??? omg i think it is... historical moment

dog horse brings us together

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Another point to convince kay to draw uncanny animals!

Deo101 [Millennium]

what I do to make birds fun to draw is making them sparkly

maybe try that

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

god you're gonna ruin kay's carefully crafted aesthetic

is this your competitiveness showing its face again(edited)

Deo101 [Millennium]

they can make it work! why do you doubt their abilities

make this the main mode of transport

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ah is that how it works in that case i have 10 shitty indie game ideas

make them pls

Deo101 [Millennium]

implying my ideas are shitty??? rude!

kayotics

I have an aesthetic?

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Or if you want to be very efficient, everyone in universe can teleport

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

lmao you have an excellent aesthetic

crona

i do that already

kayotics

Crona.... that’s my comic already!! Haha

Deo101 [Millennium]

kay does also have teleporting to be clear

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

don't underestimate my laziness!

Deo101 [Millennium]

LMAO

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

See

It must be great advice

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

oh crap you're right kay also does have teleporting

and unrealistic beasts, to be fair

kayotics

Sometimes on the same page

That’s the eyes I draw on the beasts

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Or be even lazier, and make it so that horses and beasts either don't exist or haven't been domesticated in that region. Everyone walks. Their feet hurt, but their calves are glorious.

Deo101 [Millennium]

you get it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

wait crona and deo also have comics where teleportation could exist

will you join us?

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

lol, yup

Deo101 [Millennium]

nope

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

(nah, I've already drawn horses. They're not so bad if you stare at photos)

sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)

drawing horses is fun!!

[multiple people are typing]

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

And there will also be hella walking, because the leg game must be strong, otherwise I'm not doing my job

Deo101 [Millennium]

ive decided that millennium is like really in the future but things like time travel, teleportation, warp speed... nope! You can go really fast in a spaceship but like nothin crazy

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

man these planets real close together then

or maybe people just live a really long time ...?

Deo101 [Millennium]

I just do my version of teleporting which is "wow it'll take a week to get there" and then its a week later

dont worry about it

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

nice

Deo101 [Millennium]

its not realistic, but its consistent

🌈ERROR404 🌈

ahhhh horses are really nice to draw imo, if i can get it right lol

Deo101 [Millennium]

I like drawing horses a lot I just never do it tbh

🌈ERROR404 🌈

something needs to fuel my addiction to cowboy culture

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Consistency is key tbh

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I just do my version of teleporting which is "wow it'll take a week to get there" and then its a week later

when my whole comic takes place in like a week lmao

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

if you decide that gravity doesn't exist in your world, as log as you're consistent with it, you're golden

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

in the unlikely event i get tired of drawing my comic i can adopt deo's strat "wow it'll take a week to get to the ending"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

My comic takes place in about a year (not counting flashbacks which span... uh... a very long time)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

"man sure seems like this conflict will take approximately a week to be resolved" "one week later"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

hahaha

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

"sure did get resolved"

the end

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

convenient

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i wonder if anyone's done that

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

One Korean series I followed for years did it

and everyone was pissed, as you can imagine

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

lol

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

better than cancellation?

Deo101 [Millennium]

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

what a way to go

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I'd honestly have preferred cancellation/ abandonment

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Just have a fan finish it for you at that rate lmao

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

OH that's a good discussion topic. If you got tired of your comic, or life got in the the way of you working on it anymore, how would you end it as quickly as possible?

Deo101 [Millennium]

maybe rephrase that a little

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I would toss it at my little sis, and she would do it for me, no joke

Deo101 [Millennium]

My little sister also would probably take over it for me

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

let's move to general?

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

eyyy!

Deo101 [Millennium]

but also I could just be like "They got an email that john died of old age its over now"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

MVP sisters!

lol

an email

what a way to end it

eliushi [Keyspace]

For me it’s panels. Past me thought that the four panel structure would make things easy. Nope. It’s limiting how I want to tell the story so... I’m trying to branch out now and looking for other inspirations for panel and layout

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Just change the shape of your panels. It forces you to be creative.

eliushi [Keyspace]

True true! I have those in upcoming updates

But my heart swoons for the page spreads

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

oh yes

They are so gorgeous, but difficult to plan

eliushi [Keyspace]

Initially I was planning on storyboards but now I’m more comfortable with comics I think I’ll be aiming for traditional layouts

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yeah, storyboards are an entirely different beast

Desnik

I'm currently working on clearly portraying character motivation

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I think for me I don't draw animals often and rip have to draw a few for the upcoming pages so I'm just doing my best at this point lol

AntiBunny

Panel arrangement is the heart of comics as an art form. It takes practice, and study to learn how the eye flows from one thing to the next.

And once you have a thorough understanding of the rules you can learn how to carefully break them to produce something truly eye catching.

If I had to say the simplest rule to understanding flow is, if you need arrows to tell you which direction to read, then you're doing something wrong.

DanitheCarutor

This is candy for my self-deprecating mentality. Lol Honestly though. I'm not the best at writing in general, I don't like doing it physically, avoiding it at all cost (outside of dialogue and poorly done bullet points on scrap paper.) so I don't really know if/think I'm particularly good at it. I remember the last time I tried to physically write something was back in high school, I still have it saved on my computer, but it was something else. Too many dialogue scenes and overly detailed descriptions of things and characters. I only made it a little ways before giving up with "You know, this will be easier to just show than describe.". Story and character wise for my current comic, I'm not sure how well it's turning out or how good it will be in the end, my brain defaults my work to mediocre so I tend to be totally blind to what I'm doing right. I know my characters aren't the best for sure since they're all fleshy flaw bags with too many flaws, and I know I could have presented certain scene changes and such better, but that's all I can think of objectively. The art portion is something I at least know I can execute decently, but my color composition is the worst. I'm aware that I need to improve it, and I know what needs to be done, but it's something I can't really accomplish with my comic since I just want to focus on finishing pages. I'll have to make time to draw up some throw-away illustrations to experiment with, which I hope to have a little bit of now that I'm not on a regular update schedule. Also I can't draw vehicles and architecture for the life of me, I've referenced and studied but I still can't wrap my head around it. ALSO extreme angles and perspectives are still things I need work on, like 4-point circular perspective, ground level shots and over the head shots.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

There's a lot of things I want to improve, but something I haven't seen mentioned yet: I would like to get better at deciphering feedback, how to glean useful things from multiple conflicting feedback.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Ooh that's a good one keii

I haven't really had to deal with that before though because all the negative feedback I've gotten is pretty consistent

Can I ask what the conflicting feedback you got is?

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Oh gosh, I legit spent a long, long moment trying to figure out where to even start

eliushi [Keyspace]

I really like this approach to feedback

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Yo Eli this is so good

eliushi [Keyspace]

Mary robinette is goals

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

this is spectacular already

wow

eliushi [Keyspace]

Pretty sure a wiser writer passed this onto me I have since used it a lot and it works for me

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

This is so so good Perfectly said about crits in creative fields

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

One example I can think of isn't actually something that was criticized, but showed up a lot in various ways: "this is (supposed to be) an exciting adventure romp centering Danbi" vs "this is an emotional journey story centering Ethan" ... Not a criticism, but two very conflicting interpretations. People who have one interpretation are shocked and confused when I tell them about the other one.

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Holy crap, Eli... This is one for the folder of absolute knowledge

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

woah, excellent advice

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

And yeah, that is a really good one. Symptoms are extremely useful, and diagnoses tend to be more useful in a conversation rather than a one-way "here is my diagnosis" thing

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I haven't heard it said before but the explaining eliminating a clean reaction rings so true to me

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Ahhh, this is literally the one document I have needed my entire life

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

also the helping someone tell the story they want

also the stream of consiousness, MAn

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I think I'll save that for my future high schoolers lol

some of the stuff said there is what I've noticed in the last few years critquing in academic settings but its nice to kno!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

People have given me stream of consciousness reactions before and they were the most helpful. Almost all the changes in the story from others' reactions were from stream of consciousness reactions, not intentional critiques

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeah, one of the most helpful "critique" I ever got was also completely unintentional

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

One of the most useful tips in this guide for me in particular is the "As a writer don't:" section. I struggle with it a lot.

On the note of things we are bad at in the comic-making process, I am very bad at taking critiques!(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

tbh for a long time, my biggest struggling point that's not in the "as a writer don't:" is "don't throw yourself into the void of self-hate." I'm better now, but boy, when it was bad, it was bad.

But perhaps that kinda thing better fits into "as a person don't:"

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I am pretty good at taking critiques, but pretty bad at giving critiques! Right now the point I'm at is I'm just gonna not give critiques until I'm more mature

But then after I decided that an amateur writer friend told me his story idea that I not only disliked but was sort of offended by

and I really wanted to tell him but I didn't know how to do it nicely...

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

ooof

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

oh no

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

yeah, that's really tough

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

rip I tend to do kinda a sandwich method. I had to say some rough things few days ago on a practice pitch run and I pretty much said

Deo101 [Millennium]

Uh oh

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

"Your idea is developing for sure, but I think you need to reconsider some of the world building choices you done. Have you thought of researching such and such."

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

That's basically what I said

But I think I had to say "research ffs" in increasing intensity like 3 times lol

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Oh, nice, the "let's give them compliments too so that they know I'm not just being mean" method

It's a good method tbh

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Rip it's not that like

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Deo might have something to say about this but it was about schizophrenics in a mental institution being portrayed in a real weird way by someone who didn't know anything about it(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Ooof

Deo101 [Millennium]

Ah man

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

ewww

Deo101 [Millennium]

I'll always stand by "asking people who've lived what you're writing about is the best form of research and can't be replaced"

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Yeah I would said the to the person consider researching more on the topic and interview folks who have schizophrenia

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Dude I brought you up lmao

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

and also like "is there a reason you want to depict it this way?"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

oooh

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I know I'm agreeing idk... Idk what else I'd have to say on the topic

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

That's a very good question to ask someone

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

and depending on their responses, I would just put my two scents in there that rip

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I always ask "what are your goals?" Before I ask anything else

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

critiques are kinda my strong point sinc eLMAO I do em all the time in my class

and teaching so yeah LOL

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Deo I mean I brought you up to this guy like saying "my friend messaged people online and they were super willing to talk to her you could do that"

Deo101 [Millennium]

OHHHHH gotcha

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I try my best to figure out what they want out of it and just deliever with some handful of suggestions

but I won't sugarcoat it unless you're a high school student or younger lmao

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I'm often told I'm a lil too harsh but like idk

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I wouldn't say sugar coating it per say... More just telling them what their strengths are too, so that they have an idea of where they're at

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

telling someone their strengths is just as useful as telling them their flaws

that way they can highlight them

like just because you story has no flaws doesn't mean it's good right?

gotta have stuff that stands out in a good way as well

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Someone once phrased it as "Let's list everything that's wrong here, and find out how we can fix them" vs "How do we take this to the next level?" and that really resonated with me. It's not about sugarcoating; it's more about helping them get to the next level in the direction they wanna go.

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

THIS

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I try to point out things that are going well, and I usually try to only point at things that ppl can work on immediately

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I should phrase my statement more clearly. But yeah Kei that's what I usually look for when critiquing

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

There's often no need to tell them "your writing is only at level 3, and that's bad because the max level is 99." Just tell them how to get to level 4.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I dont' see it like its something bad but something that is challenging to them at the time

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Unless they have extremely unrealistic expectations or whatever that are standing in their own way

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

just have to figure out how to get out of the hump

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Yep. I see this phenomenon in animation a lot. A good animation director will help you boost your existing work to something stronger, but still yours. A bad one will tell you to do it their way, and chide you for doing it ‘wrong.’

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

rip I know a person like that and lmao

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yessssss

That's why I always ask "what are your goals" to start

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yup

🌈ERROR404 🌈

I totally agree!!!! A LOT of the most important bits of great criticism is understanding exactly where the original creator was intending to go, and formatting your statements around helping them achieve that!!!!!!!

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Critiques are impossible if you don't know what the person is trying to achieve

🌈ERROR404 🌈

Just stating things that you would change if you were making it may seem useful and relevant to you the critic, but unless the creator is headed the exact same direction as you, they have just as much reason to invalidate the entire statement as they do to nit pick out the things they care to agree with

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Sometimes a prospective critic is simply too far removed from the target audience of the work, like on a fundamental level, and it makes it impossible to give them useful feedback. I think it's important to acknowledge that this can happen. It happens to me a lot and I just decline to give crits when it does.

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yeah, like don't ask me to critique a comic about sports lmao

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I agree on that notion, esepcially when seeing professional aritsts giving crits to folks starting out but it doesn't go as er ideal as they thought it would be

Deo101 [Millennium]

That's why I usually only seek out criticsm (for more than just general direction/advice) from people who's work I like

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I remember reading advice on getting beta readers, and it’s really REALLY important that they’re excited for your stuff. They want to make it better. They care. They can give critique, but they absolutely must be jazzed about your subject matter in some way, or else it’ll be a slog for everyone.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

for me, I have my peers who I contact daily and we give each other advice, tips

despite having er difference interests in fields, but we experienced a lot in our program lol

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yes... (Speaking of if anyone wanted to beta read my next comic uhhhh let me know id love to have u)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

very good point claire

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

100 percent agree Get people who are excited and know your vision

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I have a small group of writer friends who know all my goals and a lot of my stuff? So they make a very good little critique circle, and we all help eachother

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I'm always ready to beta read if it's a concept I enjoy

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

like people who critique comics they hate. I'm like, damn, tough work but also ?? why

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

(Be careful about people who are excited about what they think is your vision.............)

Deo101 [Millennium]

Fish is this a callout for me

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

slightly?

Deo101 [Millennium]

Ahsjfkdjdkskdjdjdj

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Keii I experienced the oppisisite like rip

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

it's just mystifying to me, I don't think it's wrong or anything

Deo101 [Millennium]

Also crona I'll send u when I'm at my comp

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

sure

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

What do you mean Tuyetnhi?

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Ohh that would be oof to deal with Kei

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I had to let a person down to reality bc I know they're excited about their idea but uhhhh

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

(Is it the fish romance?)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

it wasn't engaging to me

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yes that one qjdjfkskdkk

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

nor my illustration friends

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I don’t have beta readers but I think that’s how it all goes lol

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

and we were like

"AAAAAAA"

Deo101 [Millennium]

Oh that's awkward

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Ooooooohhhhhhh... oof

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I have a couple friends I send pages to sometimes but they're always really positive about it

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

It was a rough critique

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Having creative friend circles is so essential for growth and screaming at eachothers works for motivation too

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yessss

Also just the ability to talk about your process without having to explain yourself

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

agreed lol

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I occasionally tap my fiance's shoulder and shove my sketches in his face with zero context, just to make sure he can figure out what's going on without me explaining. Super helpful

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I feel like I have a couple friends where, when I read their stuff, I know things that would amp their work up tenfold. But until they ask me... I’m screaming inside lol

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

lol

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

my friend always makes me feel like i'm a better writer than i am because she thinks so much like me she gets everything i write perfectly lol. But then I post and the comments are like "wtf i'm confused"(edited)

eliushi [Keyspace]

Yeah feedback is most effective when both sides are open and invested

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Claire Senpai Wants To Help

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

also same crona(edited)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

It’s not bad, I just go I THINK I CAN HELP YOU MAKE IT AWESOMER AHHHHHH

eliushi [Keyspace]

Claire senpaiiii

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

But until then I remain still and supportive

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

why don't you ask them "can i suggest things?"

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I try and keep my mouth shut

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

or "do you want suggestions?"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

lol

eliushi [Keyspace]

I usually say what I like about it first and then. Are you looking for feedback?

Deo101 [Millennium]

Tbh hearing "can I suggest things?" Usually comes off kinda like "I see stuff wrong with this :)" which can hurt a little even then

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

YEeeeah

🌈ERROR404 🌈

At least for my comic, i have sent bits and pieces for critique from creators i am friends with , but i'm really hesitant promoting myself because I don't feel like I'm not at a place to even get a critique i'll be able to make anything of. O(--( i really don't know what I'd do if someone tried to seriously analyze my plot and break down the story right now

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

It's really hard, because a lot of people (myself included) get scared when someone else asks, "Do you need help?"

Deo101 [Millennium]

I usually trust ppl to say whether they're looking for feedback

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Its always so tricky to gague the reactions of that. Some people handle that better than others So i only offer when they open up

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Based on how people can get about even the offer of critique, yeah, I tend not to say anything. That’s their baby. If they want to open that door, then I’ll poke my head in

eliushi [Keyspace]

True too. I’m already in forums where feedback is wanted so I’m already in selection bias

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yeah, I like to only offer crits if someone is asking for it for that reason

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

for the record i'm always open to critiques

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

kinda mutal agreement on don't chime in unless asked lol

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah, at least in my groups we send things like "hey this and this are bothering me? Can you help?" And other than that it's just support

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yeah, that's a good idea

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

for both parties. For me, If it's something that I need thoughts I ask but otherwise, lmao my social circles ask me for help for their art stuff

Deo101 [Millennium]

We never agreed on that btw it's just kinda how it goes

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

That's a nice group way to handle that AND make the space more breathable for others who are more nervous about crit work

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

exactly

eliushi [Keyspace]

There’s a time and place for everything and feedback is no different

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah! Like here we have seperate chats for help and sharing

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yuss

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

When someone asks me if I'm open to suggestions, my reaction is usually "nOOoooOo..." but not always. I think it helps a ton if there's an existing rapport, like if I already know this person gets, REALLY gets, my work.

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

And that's okay Keii!

eliushi [Keyspace]

Yeah I’m super thankful for my betas for that

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yee same

eliushi [Keyspace]

It’s very rewarding when people are also invested in your work to make it better within your means and style

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Honestly u gotta do whats best for u and ur mindset in the end.

Deo101 [Millennium]

It also is a little but awkward to say "no I'm not open to suggestions' cause it feels like you're saying "I don't care to improve" when in reality it's more like "no... I'm happy with this and I don't want it to be soured"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I love the fact that if I post in #creator_art_share, nobody will critique me unless I ask. And if I post in #art_help, I can get that help. So incredibly nice

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Yes! Thats very respectful

eliushi [Keyspace]

So key

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Omg Deo.....such a mood LOL

Deo101 [Millennium]

I always feel so bad saying no thanks but it's like it looked good I thought

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

omg, I felt that in my soul

We beat ourselves up enough as it is

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Sometimes i know my work can be farty but... I dont also want perfection in every facet of my pieces too and thats okay! Some are learning pieces, others more indulgent

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah!

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I think I'd be very hesitant to accept ideas that will utterly break my core plot... unless someone comes out and outright tells me something about it is offensive or wrong or otherwise bad. But critique on the connective tissue between the bones, so to speak, heck yes. I've gotten some much better ideas from that.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

e.e even if i post in art share i would be honored to receive a critique from any of you

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Oh, if someone comes to me with suggestions that are that incompatible with my vision, I'm getting outta there.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

but i don't wanna post every single thing i do in art help hm

but maybe i should

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I am SO getting outta there.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I did had some suggestions that didn't... really help with my comic most of it are just comments and not pure criticism

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Just post it lol

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah it's probably best to leave crit in the crit section so as not to break that unspoken rule.

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

To signal to the rest of us

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Yea your vision is key, and i find that people who crit the work need a basic understanding of it for it to be a True Crit

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Yeah it's probably best to leave crit in the crit section so as not to break that unspoken rule.

good point

i wouldn't want people critiquing me to make others feel like it's okay to do that to everyone

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

A good attitude!!! Y'all are very respectable this is a wonderful topic

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yeee

eliushi [Keyspace]

I think the best feedback is one where it makes your work become more effective within your vision. Sometimes it’s finding the betas who are invested but I also find betas who focus on different crafts also can offer a lot of wisdom. I find it comes down to being open and it’s never a bad thing to ask for clarification

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

[also writes this down for a potential lesson actvity for high schoolers] (edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeah, a critique is supposed to help the work become a better version of itself, not a better [something else]

Deo101 [Millennium]

Mostly with true beta reading I am looking for "how clear is my work coming off to someone who knows nothing of my lore and backstory etc?"

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I like the idea of having at least one beta reader who's a writer, and at least one who's not. The writer can dissect things a bit more than a 'civilian' could while the civilian can look at surface-level things and react as the audience majority might.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

multiple beta readers are a blessing lol

Deo101 [Millennium]

Cause with my friends, they already know everything I'm planning, so i worry a lot that they are putting together things that a regular reader wouldn't

So yeah same thing as a "civilian" reader, sort of!

eliushi [Keyspace]

For sure. Within my critique group I have novelists, webcomic creators and artists. Those who read the complete script and those who haven’t. It’s important to have all sides I find

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Dang you people with your luxury of multiple beta readers... I don't even have one (but it's mostly my fault; my scripts are unreadable)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

omg lol

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i'm sure you could use many of us as beta readers if you wanted to!

varethane

that surface-level 'first gut reaction' crit can be SO useful

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I change dialogue too frequently for a beta reader to have a fair chance, lol

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I started early with one years ago, but now I have like 5-10ish but they can't help me at the same time lmao

varethane

I agree upthread with when it was said that some of the most helpful crit was given unintentionally lol

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

same. i asked some people, including deo and crona, for a beta read of a script a while back but then ended up changing most of it lol(edited)

eliushi [Keyspace]

Most of my betas I found in forums like these! I’m sure a lot of us want to help each other out!

Deo101 [Millennium]

I usually only share stuff once I have at least a solid sketch and dialogue is in

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

so much changes in the thumbnail/layout stage for me. SO MUCH. whole scenes get swapped/cut/extended

I never keep it the same way

Deo101 [Millennium]

I don't like to share scripts cause also I don't usually script much anyways lol

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

@keii’ii (Heart of Keol) As a long-time reader of HoK, I would be more than happy to beta read if you ever wanted it. Just throwing that out there!

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

same Lazuli like

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I'd love to beta read for anyone too

varethane

I prefer sharing sketched pages because my scripts usually change SO much in between being written and going onto the page

like, sometimes they're outright unrecognizable

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

@Deo101 [Millennium] Same. The couple times I really wasn't unsure about a scene, I had to find someone and give them cleaned up thumbnails

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah I don't share more than sketched pages with dialogue

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

SUPER cleaned up thumbnails

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

from thumbnail to final, like they aren't the same from before lmao

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Most helpful critique for me was just someone engaging with the story. "Man I love - and -, they're such good friends, but - pisses me the fuck off" and that was my intention, but i realized it was coming on a bit stronger than i liked and changed the next scene dramatically to make a future plot point where the last character needs to be trusted feel more earned(edited)

varethane

(anyone who seriously is down for beta reading, I have 3 finished chapters burning a hole in my buffer hhnnnnggggg)

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah cause also like, 80% of the crit is usually "well this paneling is unclear" kind of stuff too

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

also i don't mind if anyone is asking me to beta read

Deo101 [Millennium]

Which you can't do from a script anyways

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

or (I don't usually do this often but)

I'm also a sensitivity beta reader too

so if you have questions about POC stuff, asian-american, er mixed-asian or mixed-black experiences

I'm willing to help lmao

but i'm just one perspective to the table

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

A lot of comments, not critiques, have influenced scenes I put later too. Things to clarify, expand, emphasize. I take every comment like that as an idea. I love knowing what the readers hope to learn.

eliushi [Keyspace]

I’m in the midst of a 180k plus word count novel beta and alphaing a couple works but once that’s all done, happy to take a look too

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

holy

Deo101 [Millennium]

Wowie

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Getting trustful beta readers i gotta say again is so important bc sometimes when asking for some, u run into betas that are there to just exploit that privilege too (tho rare) And!!!! Be respectful of ur betas on the other side of the spectrum

Deo101 [Millennium]

Exploit how?

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

like to read your work early?

eliushi [Keyspace]

Definitely pick your betas wisely

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Usually just the free ride of Knowing the Story or the opportunity to just Constantly Crit (non helpful) bc of personal reasons

Deo101 [Millennium]

Damn

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I'm imagining having someone sneak in as a beta and reveal they're a rabid toxic fan trying to influence the plot to their liking. As an absolute worst scenario

Deo101 [Millennium]

Spooky

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Yea.... There's def ppl out there that would do that THOUGH RARE again. I think that's more of like Competition in the field or spite? But ive heard it happening and its not cool

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

like people just looking for a free ticket to complain about your work?

i can see that

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Oh yeah, I had folks like that before

after that I'm just like "thank you for your time" and block them after LMAO

Deo101 [Millennium]

That sucks :(

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

hhhhhhh

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Yea And u can always tell a sincere crit from a one that comes from a place of malice and ill intent pretty easy.

eliushi [Keyspace]

Exactly

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

oof

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Still!!! A horrible experience

Deo101 [Millennium]

:< yeah

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yeah.. I've never had anything like that happen, but wow... that's a terrifying notion

eliushi [Keyspace]

You tend to want to know your betas more than just them being a reader too. I like to think my betas are my friends and it’s a two way street where I help them too

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Some betas sign papers of confidentiality to avoid these instances of people running off with ur work too

eliushi [Keyspace]

There are paid betas but that’s business side and yeah Krispy

Deo101 [Millennium]

/stress

eliushi [Keyspace]

I don’t have them for mine

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Its scary bc we're all so small and our work is mainly for free U have to be wary of this

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I could easily see myself getting sucked into a bad situation like that I trust people too easily sometimes

but ugh... ya gotta learn

eliushi [Keyspace]

It’s good to know the risks. That being said, I think the rewards of having a good beta far exceed the bad apples. You have to set good boundaries

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Not that any of yall would do this omgjghg

Deo101 [Millennium]

Same Claire ajdjdnsdjjjdjdjdjddj

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

gonna steal all y'alls IDEAS

eliushi [Keyspace]

It’s also totally valid to say, hey something came up and I can’t beta anymore

Key is communication

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

lmao ya gotta kill me for my ideas

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Isossn Watch out for that Claire lady

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

https://tenor.com/view/laugh-giggle-mutley-dick-dastardly-snicker-gif-5552702

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Omg Eli yesssSSSSS that!!! Is important for both creator and beta to have that communication

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Oh no, my precious ideas!!!

Deo101 [Millennium]

Eh even if u steal my ideas you can never steal my characterizations!

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

just steal everything and make a horrible hodgepodge of all of our webcomics, like some sick frankenstein's monster

Deo101 [Millennium]

I don't think my ideas are the best part of my stories anyways :P

Ahsjdjfjdjfjdjfjdififiididkfkdje Frankensteins webcomic

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

my ideas are relevant to my cultural background so I'm like lmao

eliushi [Keyspace]

I learned from my novel days that ideas are dime and dozen and it’s the execution that counts(edited)

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I would actually love that tbh

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Oh no id read it tho XD

Deo101 [Millennium]

Massive crossover event

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

YES

PLEASE

eliushi [Keyspace]

Super smash bros when

varethane

lmao

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

hahaha

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I really want people going into healthcare to critique my personal statement, but I won't send it to anyone because I've legitimately heard of people stealing others' personal statements and getting both people rejected

Deo101 [Millennium]

Wow

eliushi [Keyspace]

That’s scary and unfortunate

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

ooof

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

it's almost worse than stealing a story idea because you're stealing like

someone's life story??

or their personality??

it's extremely strange to me

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah that's ??????

eliushi [Keyspace]

I would consider having a mentor look over your statement but that’s veering off creator babble territory

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

oh i am doing that and very very thankful to them

Deo101 [Millennium]

Good suggestion and good point

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

After recently seeing a whole comic style/theme completely and obviously lifted from another one... yeah, the things that make your comic yours? They can absolutely be stolen whole-cloth

It's scary

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

oh no

god what even is the fun in that??

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I don't know. I really don't.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

you know what i want to spend years doing? telling a story that's already been told, except worse!

varethane

D:

Deo101 [Millennium]

I've had someone steal designs before

varethane

dpsofasdj I am so curious about these cases now aaahhh

Deo101 [Millennium]

Ppl do steal stuff. But what sucks for them is I'm the one with a brain and I can make new things

eliushi [Keyspace]

I’ve seen similar styles but have not seen a purposeful recreation of another’s style whether as impersonation or plagiarism

Haruh2 (Colony Life)

i just read a webtoon that was "inspired" by an anime with many ideas from anime too

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

It was a case where I always thought the two looked surprisingly similar, but then... yeah, you learn more things and you go AW GOD OKAY

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

this, and offensive stuff, is a case where i think unsolicited critique is 100% okay

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah, though then it's the line of "is it offensive just to me? Or overall?"

Though I guess saying "this offended me" isn't horrible or whatever

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i think of the trend of lgbt youtubers making videos making fun of anti-lgbt crap and that's a case where i'm like yeah! pile on!

You have a good point and there are cases where something is almost objectively offensive

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah, and then there are other cases where ppl are offended by how I've decided to have no homophobia where it's like "okay sure but I'm not doing anything wrong"

But yeah there are definitely times where it's like "no that's bad for sure and I'm allowed to be critical of and mad about it"

I also think there's a difference between criticizing mass media and criticizing independent media

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Wait What what omg???? Thats???? So backwards

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

well, here's an anti-critique. it offends me when someone says that being lgbt must be hard and sad all the time!

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah! I'd agree with that LOL

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

can I just be happy

as a bi woman

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

"IT'S NOT LIKE MY LIFE THEREFORE IT'S INACCURATE"

Deo101 [Millennium]

Ahdjfjskfkdkckskfksdksk yeah

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

So true tho!!

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

God, I hate that argument

Deo101 [Millennium]

Though I do think that its worth it to open yourself up to that kind of critique to potentially reach the people who do need your story

Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§

Yes def agree

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

True true

If there's a blind spot you're missing, then for sure

Deo101 [Millennium]

Well, I was meaning more like "you can't please everyone, but that shouldn't stop you from trying your best anyways!"

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Ah! also true

Deo101 [Millennium]

Like not necessarily blind spots, but more like. Some people will be mad no matter what sorta thing

Yee

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

so tru

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Yeah for sure. I've tried to cover my bases on certain things in my own work, but I'm sure if it ever gets bigger, someone will be unhappy about something.

I'm not ready for that day, but... maybe it'll come

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah. Like I said I had someone get mad at me for not having homophobia

Where it's like... Okay stop reading then cause this isn't the story for you

Actually my friends replied to then and they did kinda turn around on their thinking, I think, so that was nice!

There's something I'm bad at for the question, is replying to my comments

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

oh? :0

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

okay sometimes i've said to my friends "yo weird ass comment, right?" and they've gone and defended me like way extra hard

i'm always grateful but also a little (edited)

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah same. .

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

too mch man

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah it's like Thank you but

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I do have some weird comments but the ones that I just kinda trying to offend me

I don't look at it till after a few months and respond to them calmly lmao

no point for me to just get rilied up for someone trying to get on my nerves but rip that's probably just me and how I deal with that stuff in irl too

I don't let my friends go after bozos lmao

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah for me I just like. Try really hard to be diplomatic, I guess? But it takes a lot of energy

When what I WANT to say is "lol read another comic then" or something but I try to think of a way to be nice

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yee I understand on that. for me I'm just say it as it is if at's the moment but for more heated comments I address them after a few months lol

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I haven't gotten any weird randos yet apart from... one legendary one But things are always calmer on your own site far away from Tapas/Webtoons

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I agree on that but lmao

I did had one angry commenter going agro for few of my pages

and I looked at it and I was like "Oh worm man"

they were just reacting to my characters being shit LMAO

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

OH WORM MAN

very good

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I ignore it tbh. I recently had someone comment "All lives matter" at the end of my comic because I included "Black lives matter" at the end. And I honestly knew i didn't have the mental fortitude to explain to them why that was so rude and missing the point.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

lol my mom is saying that stuff and i'm just like :|

okay mother

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I guess for writing for me, now thinking about it is that

on the prompt: I don't respond quick and I'm not really active much on interaction but I want to try more

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I haven't gotten any weird randos yet apart from... one legendary one But things are always calmer on your own site far away from Tapas/Webtoons

I really haven't either though! Just a few people saying mildly :| things, no hate or anything. Wt is not always as scary as its reputation

or maybe i'm in the eye of the hurricane idk

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

lol

I have had mostly good experiences too

Deo101 [Millennium]

I've had mostly good too!

I know I complain a lot but really I'm just salty and that's just a few bad things here and there

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

The comment I was thinking about earlier was just an innaccurate interpretation of characters' feelings. They thought some people had a romantic history. I wasn't going to respond but my friend went all "if you actually read the comic you would see th- " and I was thinking omg tone it down a bit

Deo101 [Millennium]

Bajsjdjekdjdkdjd

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

never underestimate the Friend Army

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I had a reader I didn't know defend me in the comments once. The original commenter was complaining about the length of my updates, and the other reader started railing on them. It was powerful lmao. I didn't even need to say anything

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Oh! same

Deo101 [Millennium]

I've had some ppl defend me or explain for me and it's like. Idk a special kind of magic ahahahah

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Oh for sure! It feels magical to know that some of your readers passionately love your work

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Update-length complainers are so cathartic to smack down. Not that I've done it, I just... like seeing it

You're getting a free comic. Made by a human with a life. Chill

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

All my comments are normal where are my weirdos

boogeymadam

someone take some of my weirdos, my comic attracts them

but not really because i accidentally gave claire one of my weirdos and i feel Sooooo bad

Haruh2 (Colony Life)

i feel im still a long way off from getting anyone with my comic

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

weirdos are contagious apparently

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

You don't have to be popular to get a weirdo

Sometimes like... you could have 1 regular commenter and that person is a weirdo

or not even a commenter, you show your work to a RL friend before posting it online, and the friend takes off their mask dramatically, and reveals their True Identity as a professional weirdo

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

for real, i was posting on SJ and had all of like a dozen followers and one guy went through and heavily critiqued a ton of my pages

Like technical stuff like paneling and flow of action?

Also said my female lead looks like a man and my animation was nauseating lol

Haruh2 (Colony Life)

heh well after i do this current update im working on, i'll be scraping how ive been doing updates and following some tutorials i finally found

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I like critique but even so that guy was :|

boogeymadam

omg noooo sorry that happened fish! D: unsolicited critics are some of the worst

DanitheCarutor

I guess that is the one thing I've been lucky with. I actually don't mind unsolicited critique, but I've never gotten any outside of one time someone corrected my character's grammar in the comments. Commentary like that is way more welcome than the occasional anonymous hate comment, and malicious article calling me a fetishist, which is all entertaining in its own way but not as easy to deal with. Now that critique is brought up I'm reminded that I need to work on how I respond to it. Like, I actually get kind of excited when someone takes the time to break down my stuff (even if it totally misses the mark with what I'm trying to accomplish), but I end up responding with a novel and sometimes it's worded in a way that sounds like I'm upset. I need to get better at keeping it short and sweet.

Feather J. Fern

I raise my hand to say I can't draw hands for the life of me still after praticing for a long time. I used all the techiques, tricks, and still my hands are just butts.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

make a universe where people have butts for hands

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

This is a really minor one and thankfully easy to correct after publishing, but: my ESL-ness shows sometimes, especially with prepositions and articles. My English isn't terrible; there's just some occasional "wait did they mean 'on' where they put 'in'..." That's on the surface level. I also can't do that 'just write the dialog and see how the characters bounce off each other' thing in English. I hadn't thought much about that until I started writing a story in Korean, and I was surprised how much easier it was to get flowin' with the dialog. I'm not toooo concerned about this one, as Get Flowin' is just one way of writing a scene. But it is a thing.

Feather J. Fern

Eightfish stop calling me out that I can draw butts better than hands okay(edited)

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

feather have fun drawing the gluteus maximus

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I see nothing wrong here

Moral_Gutpunch

I'm bettign most people here can draw hands better than me.(edited)

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

S’okay, my hand drawing is pretty bad

Feet is...also an issue

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

The best reference is the one attached to you, I always say

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

or make your so pose for you

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yes

That

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

looks back at comic and sees lots of guy characters with slender palms MHMMMM

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Hahaha

Lol

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

ahahha i have the same problem

some guys have thick ass fingers when i look at them closely omg

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yeah, everyone has pretty thin fingers in mine, because I have thin fingers(edited)

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Okay yeah not gonna lie I HAVE made my SO pose for me. Several times.

Oh yeah don’t forget

Guys can have hairy knuckles too

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I have had my SO pose his hands retroactively for me, imitating a panel I did And I was screaming inside LOL

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

this stuff makes me :00

Deo101 [Millennium]

I have hairy knucles and my hands are bigger than my dads

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Ughhhh, that's too much detail for me, Shadow

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Yoslslzlzrhlzxzzkhzhlztututs funnily enough my SO’s hands and mine are of similar length

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

For such a small person, I have really long fingers

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

reminded me of a convo i had with some friends

they sent a reference and said they thought it was unrealistic because of how much the tendons stick out

and i said, no, that's how mine look

and it was interesting seeing the differences

Deo101 [Millennium]

everyone share hands

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I mean, especially since your fingers are stretched, the tendons stick out lol(edited)

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Someone told me I have piano fingers

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

like i always think of my hands as the 'default,' because I see them the most but really there is much variation

deo has nice hands

look elegant

shadows hands look a lot like the rest of her :0

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Whhhhhhhhh

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

tall librarian

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

GJOXJPSLZLJZDXKXYOF

Yeah true XD

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

My nails are super long rn

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Holy shit the manicures

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I did it myself

Deo101 [Millennium]

thank U i have lovely hands that are big as fuck, and I can use as a ruler

because my pinky and thumb can stretch out exactly 10 inches

this cup is 10 inches tall

youre welcome

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I have stubby baby hands as well as double jointed fingers, so I'm very aware my hands aren't "average" looking. Yet if I don't pay attention, I tend to draw hands kind of like mine

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Hahahaha, Deo!!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

wow so useful i should measure my hands

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Me too tbh

Deo101 [Millennium]

I atually suggest it it comes in handy (ha) more than youd think

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i found a joint that measures exactly 1 inch and i use it so much

Deo101 [Millennium]

yeah!!!

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Whoooooa

Mine goes 8 inches

Deo101 [Millennium]

my hands are fookin hyuge bro

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Wait

8.5

YEAH YOURS ARE GIANT

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

exactly 8 inches

omg your hands are huge

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Mine stretch out to just under 7.5 inches

Deo101 [Millennium]

in yalls defense I also have ehlers danlos so theyre probably stretching more than yours too

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I have smol hands because I am smol

Deo101 [Millennium]

tiney

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Yus

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

surprised shadow managed to find a way to measure in inches haha

Deo101 [Millennium]

she said it wrong its actually 8.5 cm

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

8.5 inches

I used a ruler

In cm it’s 21

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

she said it wrong its actually 8.5 cm

hm maybe that's why she thinks hands are hard to draw

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

LMHfhgzmzjKfhl

Deo101 [Millennium]

because she has tiny baby hands and can barely hold the pencil... yes

its all coming together

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

I will slap y’all with my tiny baby doll hands

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

i'm learning so much about you all today

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Now you see my pain

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

o h wait do you play music crona?

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Uh... Not really. I've messed around on the piano, and failed at playing the French horn

Deo101 [Millennium]

LMAO

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Playing instruments is hard for smol hands

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

rip

Feather J. Fern

My tiny hands compared to my pen XD

Also I took the picture close up and at an angle so not cone cna make fun of my writsts which are narrower than my computer mouse

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

my wrists are also narrower than my mouse, and my mouse is pretty small

Deo101 [Millennium]

mine's about the same as my mouse

Feather J. Fern

Yeah I got a pretty small mouse too, I been told by people to eat more becuase of my wrists (It's an Asian thing apparently) and I'm like "First of all rude, second of all my health is not any of your concern random lady on the street"

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

yup

Tiny wrist solidarity!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Solidarity!

varethane

I don't have especially thin wrists but my hands are lowkey shaped pretty oddly. I only posted a photo of my hand petting a cat to FB and got a lot of comments like 'cute cat but what's with that hand????'

(it did look pretty weird from that angle. Like a noodle with a couple of noodlefingers at the end)

spacerocketbunny

Oh no Vare ;;;;;3;;;;;;;;;

[hellyeahheroes]

Uncanny X-Men #11 is Outright Vile

Women in refrigerators. POCs killed for white people narratives. Anti-vaccinator and pro-suicide messages. Return of FascistCap. This book has it all. So obviously, all kinds of trigger warnings below.

I will not be posting any pages from the Uncanny X-Men #11. Not a single one. At least aside from that first page which reads like a bad joke anyway. Yes, this stuff is an actual page of this book. And I urge others to do the same and not post anything from it. When previously I would find this book to just be awful at this point it has reached levels of being openly mean-spirited and spiteful. While Matthew Rosenberg talks on his twitter how he wanted to discuss serious topics in this issue, dealing with personal experience of self-harm and suicidal thoughts, neither he nor anyone else at Marvel took care to actually warn potential readers the book flat out shows a suicide scene for shock value and I have already heard reports it has triggered people. So I urge everyone to not post these pages less we trigger more people.

Yes, the book has a character commit suicide. The story has a subplot of Cyclops searching for Blindfold, whom Rosenberg claims to be one of his favorite X-Men. And after reading this issue I have flat out said on twitter and I will say it here - could have fooled me. Scott finds her too late, as she already has slit her wrists in the bathtub. So this is what her story amounts too. She dies so that Scott Summers can feel sad. Or sadder, he wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows since page one. A character created after 90′s and not popular enough to get resurrected in the next 20 years dies so that people who come back to life more often than Jesus can pretend death in comics still has a meaning. A woman dies so that a man can feel sad. The page above is right. Every X-men story really IS the same.

This is not delivered with any respect whatsoever either. On the previous page, we had Madrox telling Scott where he can find Ruth and to leave her alone and then we get a splash of her death with coloring and art so bad you had to actually study it carefully to realize she is, in fact, not naked. As far as lack of respect goes it is out there with that godawful Heroes in Crisis cover showing dead Poison Ivy, wrists slit, ass up. 

What’s more is that at the end we have a backup story, so-called Last Blindfold Story. Which pretty much explains that she did it because she’s been tormented by visions of her own death and cannot see any possible future in which she does not get killed. And this is very obviously a clear metaphor for invasive thoughts, all the dark scenarios people tend to run in their heads about how everything is going to turn horrible, there is nothing good awaiting us in life, no hope or future, just continuous series of crushing failures, disappointments, humiliations and all-around misery so it is better if we just killed ourselves. I know that feeling, even though I am not diagnosed with anything. I will say even I had these feelings to deal with after coming today from a, particularly disastrous day at work that made me dread my future and indeed made me think of killing myself. And then I’ve read this book and do you want to know how this whole story came out to me? It told me that this voice telling me to end myself is right, that every scenario I envision not only will happen but is inevitable and it is better to just kill myself. Thankfully, being spoiled the contents beforehand made it I reacted to the pages more with anger than getting put into an even shittier mood, I certainly did not need it. 

I do beleive Matthew Rosenberg, just like Tom King on Heroes in Crisis, means well, I really do. I do believe each of them is trying to tell a personal story. But we really need to sit down and talk about how the mainstream comics portray and handle topics like anxiety depression, other kinds of mental illness and disorders, self-harm or suicide because for every book that deals with it with respect like recent Unstoppable Wasp or Mister Miracle, and you notice these are always niche titles, we have a high-profile book that completely botches it for shock value and preserving the status quo. Rosenberg might be working through some personal issues but he does so in a way that doesn’t seem to realize the damage he is doing all around.

Speaking of shock value this issue also casually kills of Loa, one of Marvel’s very few Pacific Islander characters. Worse that scene, in the end, serves nothing, it is there to shock you and does not add up anything. You cannot even say that it was done to push Blindfold to her suicide or to show the situation really is that serious. It amounts to nothing in Ruth’s storyline and the latter is being hammered down through the entire issue anyway, this is completely redundant death done only to get people talking. How am I supposed to believe that X-Men writers and editorial really, as they claim to, care for these characters when they write something that treats them as disposable. Similarly, aging of Velocidad done from overuse of his powers is there only to nod Wolverine more into getting back into the game, something that so many other elements, including his conversation with Blindfold, already accomplish, making it redundant. What does that leave us with, however? Two POC characters killed or alerted beyond saving to show how serious the situation is and two teenage girls killed to make things look bad and grim for our manly heroes? For a franchise that prides itself for being a metaphor for minorities, X-Men sure treat women and minorities as nothing but props for stories about white guys.

When we are at treating other characters as props I cannot help but mention that Captain America, Black Widow, and Winter Soldier show up here to protect a mutant-hating rally from any mutants who would want to start a riot. And even though they tell you they want to protect both sides Cap sure didn’t step in when the mob tried to kill Cyclops for speaking his mind but stepped in only when he started fighting back. He had no real answer to Summers accusing him of protecting fascists either. I do wonder what do Mark Waid and Ta-Nehishi Coates think of their efforts to fix Captain America after Secret Empire being flushed down the drain for the sake of an outdated message of mutant isolationism. They did the same with Phil Urich, making him a coward who refuses to do his job out of fear of public opinion. And topped on some old-fashioned ageism by having Chamber, a Gen X character, go and tell Scott, a Baby Boomer, to give up...while Millenials are sacrificed to prop said Baby boomer’s story. And I don’t care Jordan D. White is ranting on twitter with Marvel sliding timescale O5 are now “true” Millennials, nobody cared for this thing in a long, long time and he comes off as bitter old man trying to pretend he is still young.

Speaking of the said rally we need to address the problem of the whole mutant vaccine plotline. And is it me or does the whole thing comes off as anti-vaccinators propaganda, with evil bigots trying to practice eugenics by forcing mandatory vaccines on kids that somehow work on something genetic? Is this really the way you want to use the mutant metaphor? To equate your heroes with a bunch of idiots who don’t want to vaccinate their kids for stupid and often bigoted reasons like assinine belief vaccines cause autism and they’d rather their kid died than be autistic? Is this really a message you want to be sending? Maybe next X-men will start wearing MAGA hats, proclaim Earth flat and draw comparisons to “blue lives” defenders?

It is not that the story is dark. I like dark stories. I love them even I’d say. But there is a difference between being dark and being pointlessly grimdark for the sake of it. One of the reasons why I read superhero comics and why I am a fan of Earn Your Happy Ending narratives is that I find inspirations in seeing superheroes being knocked down and still raising, still pressing forward until they win against all the odds and prove that yes, there is a reason to fight another day. But so far Uncanny X-Men made it abundantly clear this will not be another day in which I or my generation are welcome. I have no doubt X-Men will win in the end. but it will not be X-men with Blindfold and it will not be X-Men with Loa and it will be not X-Men with Velocidad. It will not be X-Men with any of the characters I care about at all. It will be X-Men that made it clear not only am I not welcome here, the book actively things the world will be a better place if I and my entire generation were gone so that it can relive good old days alone.

But hey, it had two guys beating up mooks on a splash page so it CLEARLY means the franchise is on the right trac /sarcasm.

- Admin

[margotryan]

hey cuties!!! my name is fiona and i’m here and i’m EXCITED!!!! this is margot (but her CLOSE friends call her marley) , and i apologize ahead of time. she’s hard to unpack, but she’s a whole lotta fun!! give this post a like if you want to plot!! i have some wc’s listed on my blog, but TBH i prefer brainstorming sometimes??? depends on the muses! but without further adieux, here she is!

CISFEMALE — ever hear people say MARGOT RYAN looks a lot like KENDALL JENNER? I think SHE is about TWENTY-TWO, so it doesn’t really work. The BARTENDER has lived in Livingstone for TWENTY-TWO. They can be +PASSIONATE, but they can also be -VOLATILE. I think MARLEY might be A SHEEP. ( f. 19. est. she/her. )

BASICS

full name: MARGOT JEAN MARTIN

nicknames: MAR, MARLEY ( given to her by her friends after watching marley and me)

age: 22

dob: feb 3, 1997.

zodiac: aquarius.

occupation: bartender/instagram model.

THE PAST

mar was born and raised in livingstone, vermont to an extremely successful lawyer couple. 

the ryans work out of new york city mostly, so growing up marley grew bonds with her babysitters, nannies, teachers instead of her parents

BUT they work there because they’re celebrity lawyers, getting paid a pretty penny for representing high profile criminals, as well as your everyday tabloid actress/musician/you name it. 

her whole life, her parents bragged about how their only daughter (unless someone wants a siblings plot?? im down!) would follow in their footsteps eventually

despite how some people might react after growing up in this lifestyle, marley always had a deep love and respect for her parents and their goal-oriented view of things. so, despite being more of a creative and having no real desire to fulfill her parents’ wishes for her career, growing up she would just smile and nod along at whatever they said

TW MURDER: in her freshman year of high school, she began growing popularity. (this is also when she met her boyfriend, kieran.) her parents were representing an actor going through an extremely public murder case, which meant everyone knew her last name. it started out as whispers and stares, and marley didn’t even know why. her parents could never talk to her about their cases, so she was completely unaware of the case until finally, one of her friends pulled up the article

she went home and began researching herself, and mar was genuinely interested in it. she watched the news and read all the gossip about the theories simply because she found the dark undertones fascinating. it was something she hadn’t really been exposed to in her life. everything had been glitz and glam and smiles and money and parties, and it was like she was seeing a different side of the world she never knew about

now that she was informed about the case, she began answering her peers’ prying questions. she wasn’t doing anything wrong since all her information was obtained from the internet and not her parents, and suddenly people seemed to be a lot more interested in her

it also didn’t hurt that this was around the time she started caring about her appearance. she was berated with paparazzi every time she left her house during this time period, and she couldn’t escape the watchful eyes even at school. so, with her parents’ credit card in hand she went on a shopping spree, redesigning her entire wardrobe as well as practically cleaning out sephora’s entire stock

kieran had been the first to notice this new look, and they soon began dating. he was her first love, and she was absolutely infatuated. perhaps an unlikely couple, but Marley couldn’t care less about that. she still doodled his name all over her notebooks, and told him all about her plans for their future

after some time, the case came to a close and by the time she graduated it was long forgotten about. but marley was never forgotten about. she solidified her place as the queen bee for the rest of her high school career. and just like she nodded along with her parents’ plans for her, she did the same with her popularity. her main focus, however, was on kieran. 

she ended up the captain of the cheerleading team, prom queen, as well as class president and valedictorian. 

she was never a mean girl, which is probably why she was so well liked. she was the kind of girl you looked at and you were like “damn, she’s so beautiful, there’s no way she’s nice too” but then bam. and then she’s smart too?? how could you not love her???

she was also a bit naive. because she’d never really experienced pain or any misfortune at all, she never even considered the possibility of anything bad happening to her. that was until she found out kieran had been cheating on her. practically the entire time they had been together. thankfully, this knowledge came to light after graduation, just before she was to leave for college.

this personality followed her through college, and yes, she did attend harvard like her parents had begged her to. it wasn’t hard considering her parents had attended there, and they’d donated more than their fair share to the school. however, it was because of the pain of being cheated on, and the alluring sense of being in a new place all on her own that she discovered her love for the arts. she began drawing, painting.. anything from portraits, to abstract pieces, to fashion designs. she also picked up the piano, and she did sing and write a little bit of music, but she was far too embarrassed of it to tell anyone. she won’t even sing in front of anyone. 

however, she entered harvard with a major in pre-law, but after taking a random art class as an elective her first semester, she changed it to business. she knew she couldn’t switch to art without an entire revolution from her parents, so she concocted some excuse about wanting to be the CEO of her own corporation. this, of course, was equally as acceptable to her parents 

but in reality, she just wanted to learn how to market herself as a creative. whether she decided to be an artist, a fashion designer, a singer, or whatever else it was, she knew a degree in that field would do almost nothing for her, while business knowledge could make or break her

THE PRESENT

Marley graduated in 2018, and moved back home to livingstone where she met who else but michael green. the two became friends soon enough, and her parents were absolutely thrilled

her parents were the main driving force between the two getting together. they hated kieran, of course, when they were together. but michael green was the golden boy of livingstone, so he was perfect for the golden girl of living stone. 

ever since high school, marley had been blissfully separated from the rest of her parents’ cases. however, she hadn’t escaped the courtroom just yet

although this time, she was taking the stand in defense of michael, her boyfriend, in the trial for the murder of kieran, her first love. none of it seemed real. it still doesn’t seem real to her 

she tries her absolute best to stay away from the entire situation. she hasn’t opened the app once since it’s been on her phone, and she hasn’t even spoken to her parents since court. 

she lives by herself in an apartment she pays for with her bartending job that her parents have no idea about. but, it pays her bills while she gets to create art - her favorite coping mechanism

but this is the first time she’s ever experienced hate online. she’d been receiving negative press from those same sites she had bookmarked on her laptop. ever since that first case she’d grown an obsession with the macabre, and frequently checked up on her favorite news sites, conspiracy theory sites, and other things of the sort. she knew so much about serial killers and other high profile crimes that she could probably conduct the perfect one and get away with it scot free. hmmmmm. anyway.

now these sites were posting about her, questioning her involvement in the whole thing. even she had to admit that her presence in the case was simply uncanny

but just like everything else in her life, she never asked for this. now, she wishes she could just go back to being the girl who got good grades, wore ugly wire glasses, and always had greasy hair. 

PERSONALITY

marley loves to shock people. whether intentionally or unintentionally, it constantly happens. at first glance, she’s just another rich, pretty girl who’s been pampered every moment of her life. after everything she’s been through, that’s the distance she likes to keep between her and most people. sure, she’s kind to everyone she meets, but it can come off as fake to those that don’t know her. she just has that face. queen of rbf. but, her true heart and her mind are reserved for those who have proven to be worthy of it. 

she is fiercely independent. that’s shown by the way that she defied her parents, while still maintaining her adoration and respect for them. she never had a rebellious phase, never let their controlling nature change who she was. she never lets people tell her how to think. and as she grows older and experiences more, she’s breaking her silence. she’s starting to not bite her tongue and smile and nod so as to keep being a nice little girl and not start any trouble. instead, she’s starting to voice her opinion, despite what anyone else thinks of it. 

she definitely has a laaaarge group of friends. the kind of person that just gets along with everyone?? if they’re so lucky as to keep her attention, that is. sure, she’s nice to everyone she meets and if they ask to exchange numbers she’ll oblige. but that doesn’t mean she won’t block that number as soon as she leaves or simply ignore all the texts and calls from her ‘new friend.’ if there’s something off about you, she cuts you off before you get too close to know too much about her. simple as that. 

but despite that she considers herself mainly a lone wolf. no one has your back like you do kind of thing. she doesn’t believe people have it in them to genuinely love and care for another person, especially when it comes to her. as far as she’s concerned, she has yet to see proof of that and she is a very ‘i need to see it to believe it’ kind of person

her inner workings and thought processes are certainly intense, but outwardly, she’s pretty laidback and likes to joke around. 

she’s also beginning to party more. she starts by drinking and trying drugs alone in her apartment, but if she met someone who was well versed in those kinds of things??? yeah they’d get into trouble

[sunchosens]

keep me here

pairing: andreil  word count: 2,963 read on ao3

This is real.

Andrew wasn’t sure at first but the smell of black coffee in the morning and the cluttered path of shoes through his room and the tangled blankets cloaking his body convince him otherwise. Reality settles in when he lounges on the couch all Saturday, inevitably getting roped into an inane, violent videogame by Nicky, Kevin glaring disapprovingly from the kitchen.

It’s real in the way the cold bites at his fingertips when he refuses to wear gloves for a morning cig, but insists on pulling on three pairs of socks. It’s the rush he gets on the court, closing out the goal, watching the opposing team’s strikers become angrier and angrier.

But most of all, Andrew thinks, Neil is real.

He might have laughed if someone had suggested that to him not even a year ago. But now, Neil might be the most solid thing in his life. When the lines between reality and not start to blur, Andrew feels loose and dizzy, like he could float away at any second. But then Neil will crawl into their bed, hesitating only a moment to judge the moment and kissing him gently, before flopping onto his back besides Andrew. He’ll look over at Andrew, that fucking glimmer in his eye and ask, “Coffee?” like he doesn’t already know what the answer is.

He’ll be the one to leave shoes all over Andrew’s rug, claiming that yes, he does need three pairs of running shoes, and no, he would not appreciate it if Andrew let Aaron sell them on eBay. Andrew will be lightheaded, ready to escape to the roof and dream about murdering his demons, when Neil will join him, hoodie tightened as much as possible and slide a carton of ice cream his way, like that could solve everything.

Neil’s a fucking idiot, no matter what Boyd and Wilds say.

That doesn’t make him any less real. And it’s not like Neil’s some magical cure all for the car crash of Andrew’s mind. It’s just, the bad days aren’t as often. More times than not, Andrew seeks Neil out, hoping for a glimpse of that breathtaking solidity.

Take right now, for example. Andrew’s pretty sure that if anyone even looks at him the wrong way, he won’t be able to hold himself accountable for what he might do. He’s sequestered himself away in the library, the wind chill a little high for the roof, even by his standards. He desperately wants a cig, but he’s not a goddamn junkie, and so he digs his nails into the palm of his hand, stifling the urge.

The whole reason he came to the library was to get away from people who know him, and Andrew’s not so sure he’s succeeded, seeing how Neil just stumbled into the library. His cheeks are bright pink and his hair is ruffled even though everytime he goes outside, Andrew tells him to wear a hat. Neil runs a hand through his windblown hair, unknowingly looking thoroughly debauched. Andrew is not pleased.

Andrew slouches down in his chair, trying to avoid what he knows is coming. Neil spots him, his face lighting up like a goddamn Christmas tree and Andrew mentally raises the percent in his head. Beelining towards him, Neil slings his bag onto the table when he arrives, loudly pulling out a chair and practically dropping into it.

“I was looking for you,” Neil wheezes, pounding his chest sightly.

“Did you run here?” He doesn’t want to engage, but Neil is panting and Andrew’s mind naturally goes into the last time he was panting and he has to shift in his seat.

“Yeah, away from Kevin,” Neil levels him with an accusing look, shrugging his jacket off and moving to open his backpack. Andrew stares back at him, deadpan. Neil flips his textbook open, seemingly unconcerned. “I figured you’d be on the roof,” he explains. “You weren’t obviously, but Kevin was. I guess he’s looking for you, too. He wanted extra Exy practice but I have a huge test tomorrow,” Neil gestures towards his book, “and told him I’d be right back.”

“You ran here.” Andrew states, not quite sure what to do with the information. Neil shrugs and Andrew sees right through him. Neil’s obviously concerned and trying to hide his feelings behind a mask of unaffected nonchalance. He knows that when Neil didn’t find Andrew on the roof or in the dorm that he would have searched all over campus.

The thought doesn’t make him want to be physically ill, which is a development. He can still feel the ghost of hands on his skin and the racket in his head hasn’t quite subsided so instead of leaning towards Neil, he slumps down further in his chair.

Neil looks casual, flipping obnoxiously through his textbook. He doesn’t say anything else and Andrew lets the silence fall over his mind, muffling out the cacophony. For a moment, all he can hear is Neil’s steady breathing, the scratching of his pencil on paper and the occasional turning of a page. He knows Neil knows it’s a bad day, knows Neil’s known it since Andrew said nothing this morning, choosing instead to hibernate under the blankets like his life depended on it.

But Neil said nothing, and the fact that he chose to seek Andrew out, even if it was just to spend time with him meant something to Andrew. The knots in his stomach ease up slightly, and he raises up in his seat. Neil glances up at him, the eraser of a pencil wedged between his teeth as he gnaws on the metal. Heathen.

Neil’s staring at Andrew like he holds the fucking world and usually, Andrew would be irritated by the attention, but today he stares back. Then Neil smiles, radiant bright brilliant, and Andrew has to look away. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying? I don’t think I hold the answers to,” he peers over at Neil’s textbook, “Advanced Calculus.”

Shrugging, Neil slams his book shut. He shoves it aside, dropping his pencil somewhere into the recesses of his backpack. “I was just doodling anyway,” he grinned, and Andrew rolls his eyes, snatching Neil’s notebook. “Hey!” Neil exclaims, halfheartedly reaching out to grab it back. Andrew gives him a look, glancing down at the paper.

He’s surprised to see himself, drawn in Neil’s steady hand. Fractions and formulas float behind him, but the drawing of Andrew, slumped down in his chair, hood over his face, remains real. Neil is looking at him, a curiously indecipherable expression on his face. Almost like he’s scared of what Andrew will think. Andrew sets the notebook down on the table, running his fingers over the drawing once, before carefully ripping the page out, folding it, and tucking it in his pocket for further study.

“That’s my homework,” Neil blithely remarks, like he didn’t just somehow change the entire course of Andrew’s day.

Andrew levels him a flat stare. “Do you want me to murder you?” Neil holds up his hands in mock defense, haphazardly shoving papers and his calc book back in his bag.

“You wanna get something to eat? Kevin threw out all the takeout last night,” Neil offers, carefully assessing Andrew. Doing the same to himself, Andrew wonders if he’s ready to be around others yet. He hasn’t thought of the past almost since Neil got here and decides he’d rather be with Neil in another place then sit here by himself. Not that he thought Neil would just leave if Andrew told him he wanted to stay.

He shoves his chair back in answer, throwing Neil’s backpack at him. Neil doesn’t grin but Andrew’s positive he wants to. He sees the twitch of Neil’s lips out of the corner of his eye and as Neil rounds the table to stand by him, Andrew pinches his wrist sharply. The touch is through a layer of clothes but Andrew feels a familiar wave of nausea, even though he was the one to initiate it. He snatches his hand away, reminding himself even though he’s not feeling quite as murderous, this is still a bad day where his demons lurk around every corner.

Neil curses, but merely sends Andrew a heated look. He seems to sense that Andrew’s not doing too well and shrugs his jacket on, zipping it up, his shirt getting stuck more than once. “Are you a fucking child?” Andrew snarls over his shoulder, attracting several disapproving pairs of eyes from around the library. Neil just laughs, breezing past him, holding the door open for Andrew, careful to make sure he’s out of the way.

“Want me to drive?” Andrew tosses Neil the keys in reply, even though every fiber of his being is aching to be in control. His urge to hurt something is returning and not even the biting cold is enough to distract him, although it keeps him grounded. He hasn’t felt detached since Neil can through the library doors, however and he’s trying to count that as a win.

The second he’s in the car and Neil sticks the keys in the ignition, Andrew cracks a window, digging through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes, his fingers trembling slightly. Neil doesn’t say anything, simply digs the lighter out of his pocket and cranks the heat so high Andrew can barely hear the rumbling bass playing on the radio.

They seem to be driving aimlessly for a while, sitting in silence, just the sound of the heater and the radio filling the space. Andrew doesn’t mind. It allows his mind to quiet, allows him to stare at the profile of Neil’s face, his brow furrowed slightly. Andrew’s on his second cig, passing it occasionally to Neil when they pull up to a small diner Andrew’s never been before.

Neil turns the car off, letting the keys drop through his fingers and into Andrew’s outstretched palm. He clenches his fist around them, the biting metal surprisingly grounding. Neil slides out of the car, but Andrew waits. He carefully tucks the keys back into his pocket, tries to spot Neil. His breathing is irrationally fast and Andrew slams his fist against the side of the car. Angry with himself, he climbs out of the car. Neil’s got his arms propped up on the roof of the car and the look he gives Andrew is surprisingly open.

Andrew thinks he appreciates this honestly, even unasked for, more than anything else Neil could give him. He knows Neil wants to help, knows he really can’t help, and this open, unflinching honesty is much more than Andrew deserves. But he’s a selfish person and he’ll take Neil’s unwavering support for as long as it’s offered.

Tugging his sweatshirt around him, Andrew wishes he had worn his coat instead. The wind is unforgiving and standing into it makes him feel like he can’t quite catch his breath. It makes him feel like he’s flying and it’s liberating. Neil goes to open the door, but Andrew shakes his head. “Order for me.”

Neil goes inside without question, leaving Andrew to kick at the cement. He sits on one of the parking stops outside the front, lighting another cigarette. He takes a drag, blows out the smoke, and lets the rest of it burn to the filter before he stubs it out. He fingers the knives inside his armbands, his fingers numbing. It’s almost 15 minutes later before he finally pulls himself up to go inside, the bell jingling cheerily above him.

Andrew’s not sure where Neil found this diner, because he feels like he just stepped back in time to the sixties. The booths are red and white laminate, the tiles the same color, although the white ones look like one too many cokes were spilled. There’s a jukebox in the corner, cheerily playing a Beach Boys song, and the waitress at the bar gives Andrew a hair too long of a lookover, clearly trying to reconcile his murderous expression with the neon orange sweatshirt he has on.

Andrew resists the urge to flip her off and makes his way towards the back where Neil has selected a booth where he can sit with his back to the wall. Andrew is slightly comforted by the reminder Neil has demons he has to fight as well.

He slides into the booth, grimacing slightly at the sticky feeling. Neil’s currently occupied with stuffing curly fries in his mouth, the plate in front of him looking like the site of a massacre. Neil overzealously uses ketchup and Andrew thinks it’s disgusting. Maybe Neil does it just so Andrew won’t snatch food off his plate.

There’s a chocolate milkshake, a giant plate of crinkle cut fries and a hamburger, plain except for bacon and a side of mustard. Andrew stares at the plate, unable to comprehend for a moment. He’s taken aback by Neil’s easy understanding of him, and the fuzziness of this morning seems like a distant memory. Andrew feels like he could feel any emotion he wanted right now, like he’s tethered to the ground by Neil’s hand.

He doesn’t say anything, just dunks three fries into his milkshake and stuffs them into his mouth. He’s about halfway through his plate of fries, Neil methodically picking apart the bun to his burger and occasionally trying to steal the bacon off his plate when Andrew’s phone starts buzzing on the table. He shoves it towards Neil, not in the mood to talk to anyone right this second and Neil takes one look at the caller ID before shutting it down.

Andrew’s phone starts buzzing again and Neil rolls his eyes. Andrew snorts, shoving another fry in his mouth. Swiping across his phone, Neil puts it on speaker. “Andrew’s phone, how may I help you?”

He can practically hear steam blowing out of Kevin’s ears, right before his accusing voice explodes out of the phone. “Where the fuck are you?” Kevin snaps, and Andrew would be pissed if he weren’t so amused by the look on Neil’s face.

“We decided to get lunch,” Neil replies blandly. “I was feeling antsy.” Andrew tries not to think too much into the way Neil covered for him, but he finds himself aching with the urge to kiss Neil senseless.

“It’s 3:30,” Kevin snaps, his voice taking on that emotionless tone that only happens when he’s good and truly pissed off. Andrew’s more confused by the time. He didn’t realize it was so late. Reaching over, he grabs Neil’s wrist, pushing his sleeve back to get a good look at his watch. Sure enough, it’s late afternoon. He’s not sure whether to focus more on the fact time slipped away from him, or the fact he’s holding Neil’s arm, and feels perfectly fine.

Neil’s trying to get Kevin off the phone, eventually just hanging up on him. He slumps down in his seat. “Fucker,” he groans, staring moodily across the table at Andrew. Andrew gets out of his seat, ignoring the way Neil looks up at him with confusion, only to slide into the booth on Neil’s side. “What are you doing?” Neil murmurs, like he’s barely breathing.

Andrew thinks if he can do this, can take control of the situation, he’ll be fine. He remembers the nausea of this morning, even touching Neil through his clothes and hopes he’s come down to earth more since then.

“Yes or no?” He won’t take this step without Neil, and the yes has barely fallen from Neil’s lips before Andrew kisses him.

It isn’t a nice kiss, not that many of them are, but Andrew is tender in the way he tugs on Neil’s hair to bring him closer, and the hovering of Neil’s hands over his shoulders make Andrew’s heart tighten. He trusts Neil and the fact he trusts Neil makes him angry and terrified beyond belief. He doesn’t ever want to stop feeling this way and knows if he ever does, his life would be meaningless.

They break apart, Neil panting slightly, his lips swollen and red and if they weren’t in a public place, Andrew would let Neil get down on his knees. The ache of this morning is gone, replaced by Neil’s breath against his face, the smell of the fries and the jukebox music, now playing a lively GoGos song.

“You okay?” Neil finally asks, the question Andrew knows has been on his mind since he woke to Andrew’s stony silence.

“118%,” Andrew whispers into his ear, enjoying the way Neil’s back arches slightly. Before Neil can say anything else, or recover his breath, Andrew’s kissing him again.

He thinks to himself, this is real this is real this is real. The thrumming of Neil’s heart underneath his palms is real and the flutter of his own is just as concrete. The lingering sweetness in his mouth from his milkshake is real and the music in the background is tangible. Andrew doesn’t know when “I hate yous” and percents became his own language for conveying emotions, but this is the most alive he’s felt today.

Neil’s fingers clenched in his sweatshirt pull him to earth and the insistent press of his tongue keep him in the moment. He knows they’ll have to go back eventually, have to face Kevin but Andrew isn’t thinking of that.

He’s lost in Neil, in this small bubble they’ve created for themselves. When they break apart again, Neil uses the opportunity to snatch another one of Andrew’s fries, and he scrambles for the butter knife to smack Neil on the knuckles. Neil lets out a surprised yelp, shock flitting over his features before he barks a laugh, his face open and pleased.  

This is real.

[songof-hope]

The Exuberance of Youth (1/4)

Young Philinda au. Melinda decided to give dating other agents a try, taking Phil up on his offer to get a drink. It goes better than either could have imagined. A fluff fic going through the stages of their relationship when they were young. I hope you all like it!

Prequel to Here’s Hoping but can be read as a stand alone.

(Can be read on AO3)

Some Time Ago.

“So about that drink you mentioned.” Melinda broached the subject while she and Phil were alone.

It had been a some time since Phil had originally brought it up. Since then she and Andrew decided to not take things any further. They liked each other but decided friendship was the only relationship they wanted from each other. She waited a little longer before telling Phil, she knew he would remember his offer and her agreement, and she didn’t want him to be a rebound if they were going to do this. Sure enough, when she did get around to mentioning it, he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“I take it things didn’t work out?”

“Andrew was great but we wanted different things. We decided we were better off as friends.”

“Oh I see.” He replied a little awkwardly. He didn’t want to be presumptuous.

“So I’m going out on a mission, it’s supposed to be a little over a month. Maybe when I get back we could talk about it.”

“We should.” He agreed, smiling at her forwardness.

                                                        -----

“You know, it’s cute when you’re nervous,” she teased, smiling brightly as she eyed the way he was picking at the label on his bottle.

“I’m not nervous.” He tried, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt about his lie. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone by the pointed look she gave him.

“I know all your tells Phil, I can tell when you’re lying,” she countered, her tone continuing to carry a light-hearted quality to it. “Come on, it’s just me. I already know you don’t have game and I still decided to get a drink with you. So quit worrying.”

He laughed at that, looking mock-offended. Her good natured jabs served to comfort him. He felt better knowing she wasn’t patronizing him but instead chose to poke fun at him just as she always did. It was her way of telling him they were doing well so far.

Their date seemed to have gone pretty well. Her jokingly dismissive nature put him at ease. They were already friends, he knew he was allowed to be himself around her. She knew him already. There was no urgent need to impress her by pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

So, deciding to push his luck further, he reached for her, drawing her closer with a hand at her hip. The other hand moved to tangle in her hair, giving her time to reject his intentions, before he brought his mouth to hers. He felt her smile against his lips before she returned the kiss, deepening it further. When he finally pulled back, breathing heavily, he opened his eyes to find her smiling back at him.

“I see you’ve been practicing,” she quipped. He knew in the back of his mind she would never let him forget that undercover op. He was nervous then, still a bit nervous now but significantly more confident and comfortable with the woman standing in front of him.

“See I told you I had game.”

She snorted at that. “That’s debatable.”

“But you’re willing to accept that it’s a possibility.”

“We’ll see,” she conceded for the moment, although not quite giving in, as she rolled her eyes.

“So I’ll see you at tomorrow morning's meeting.” He added and she laughed at his awkward transition.

“You will.”

She couldn’t resist pulling him to her by his jacket lapels for one more kiss before pulling back.

“We should do this again sometime,” she winked and turned to leave, effectively leaving him standing there awestruck for a moment before he recovered.

So maybe dating another agent wasn’t so bad, as long as that agent was Phil.

                                                       -----

Both Melinda and Phil sighed in relief as they sunk back into the cushions of Melinda’s couch. It was almost eleven and they had just finished their last portion of paperwork. It was finally done after much prompting from Phil and frowning from Melinda.

“See that wasn’t too bad.” Phil said brightly, as if he didn’t notice the way Melinda sunk into the couch with her eyes closed, also choosing to ignore the way she opened one eye to look at him like he was crazy for making that comment.

“You guys in communications academy must have been wild,” she commented, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“We just like to get it all done so we can take our time doing other things,” he said in a low tone, taking her hand to bring in up to his lips and press a kiss to it.

“Is that so? Taking your time doing what? Profiling, budget planning?” she joked, unable to keep the smirk off her face as she leaned in close to him.

“Well you know us communications agents, we’re nothing if not thorough,” he quipped back to her, his face inches from hers as he ran his hand up her thigh, revelling in the low giggle that left her before their lips met.

She had him pushed back against the couch in no time, feeling her heart warm at his excited smile as she hovered her lips over his.

“Stay,” she whispered, once again pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“You sure?”

“Everyone knows you pick me up for work anyway, it’s not like you’d be taking a different route, and you just picked up your dry cleaning so you have clean clothes.”

He couldn’t help but laugh that she was considering their tactical plan at a time like this, as if he needed convincing to stay with her, as if his hands weren’t already wandering.

“Okay,” he smiled before pulling her fully against him, laughing with her until they became too wrapped up in each other to focus on anything else.

                                                       -----

Months later, it was about seven in the morning on a Saturday and Phil and Melinda were already awake, their internal alarm clocks waking them earlier. The dim light of the morning was just starting to filter into Melinda’s window but they were too distracted to notice. Melinda was focusing on the way Phil’s hand traced down her side and over her hip and Phil was busy paying attention to the way her lips and solid weight felt against him.

They were interrupted by a knock coming from her front door.

“Are you expecting someone?” He asked, raising his eyebrow, his hands still traveling idly.

“Maria. She said she’d bring some files by for me.” She sighed against him, giving him one last peck before she got up.

“Does she know about us?”

“She probably does now, she knows what your car looks like” she shrugged, pulling on some clothes, “you’re welcome to hide in here if you want,” she winked at him before slipping out of her room and closing the door behind her.

When she opened the door she could tell Maria knew something by the smirk she had on her face.

“Hey Maria, come in.”

“Okay but only for a minute, I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything,” she grinned as she handed Melinda the files, “I saw Lola outside, is Phil here?”

“Yeah, he’s hiding,” she replied with an amused grin, it felt good to tell someone and she knew it was safe with Maria.

“Oh Phil! Come out and say hi,” Maria shouted with unnecessary gusto. “How long has this been going on?” She addressed Melinda who shrugged, unphased by Maria’s antics.

“A while.”

Maria smiled even wider as Phil stepped into the kitchen to join them a minute later with a sheepish expression.

“Good morning,” he said as he made his way to the kitchen, giving Melinda’s hip a squeeze on the way by. He began making coffee that Melinda kept specifically for him, using it as a way to avoid eye contact.

“I can’t believe she lets you have coffee here. Whenever I come over I have to drink tea.” Maria complained good-naturedly. Phil only grinned knowingly at her before focusing on his task again.

“You want anything?” Melinda asked, leaning against the counter.

“Nah, I gotta go actually. I just wanted to embarrass Phil first.”

“It’s fun right?” She shot back, running the backs of her fingers over his arm lovingly as he half smiled, the one he used when he felt awkward, and finished putting sugar in his coffee. “But in all seriousness we would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”

“Where would the fun be in telling people? I want to see how long you guys can keep it a secret.” They shared a conspiratorial smile, “well anyways, I gotta go, some of us don’t have the day off, let me know if you need anything else, I’ll let myself out. Bye Phil.” She couldn’t help herself to one last tease.

She heard him sigh before letting out a tired, “Bye Maria,” on her way out.

Phil turned to Melinda with a tired expression. “You did that on purpose.”

“No,” she didn’t bother to hide the smirk forcing its way onto her face, “but I did take advantage of it.”

“Well I’m glad my discomfort amuses you,” he commented in mock irritation.

��At least I didn’t tell Barton.”

“You did that for your own sanity, as well as my own, we’ll never hear the end of it when he eventually finds out.”

“Okay, let’s have a wager then,” she began and Phil rolled his eyes, she was queen of silent wagers, but let her continue, “first one to let it slip, does paperwork for a month.”

“Deal.” He knew full well that even if he won that bet, he would still end up helping her finish their paperwork, she could sweet talk him into almost anything, but the idea of purposefully keeping them a secret from Barton amused him.

With that, they shook hands, holding their grip as they leaned in to seal it with a kiss. It had become their unspoken handshake when it came to deals, one that both amused and excited them, trying to secretly execute it in public, smiling at each other when they succeeded, explaining it away as a weird partner quirk whenever they got caught, which was very rare.

                                                      -----

It had been nearly a month since Melinda was sent out on her mission and Phil had really begun to realize how much he loved her presence in his life. No one made fun of him with quite as much skill as she did and he didn’t want anyone else to make him feel the way she did when it was late and they were alone. He missed her. They had been dating a few months shy of a year and he missed the familiar rhythm they had when they weren’t interrupted with separate missions.

So when she finally called him to tell him she was back, he invited her over without hesitation. It didn’t matter how late it was, he just wanted her physically close, even if it was just to sleep. She must have felt the same way because she quickly agreed before hanging up. Not long after, because Melinda had a habit of driving much faster than necessary, he heard his lock turn and the door open before closing quietly. She didn’t leave audible footsteps but he kept his eyes on the doorframe, feeling his body relax when she appeared. She looked exhausted but still managed to give him a sleepy smile and “hey” in return to his as she made her way into his room.

She didn’t bother to go through with her night time routine. Instead she stripped down to her underwear and threw on one of his t-shirts, not caring that she could feel his eyes on her the whole time. When she turned around, he was already holding the blankets open for her and she easily slid into bed, curling into his chest.

“Do you want to talk about how your mission went?”

She hummed a negative response. “Too tired. Tell me about yours.” She responded, sleep heavily clouding her voice. She burrowed further into him, tucking her legs into his as she exhaled, allowing her muscles to relax.

His mission had been much shorter. Just a local retrieval that only lasted a few days. Most of his time was spent dealing with paperwork and smoothing over legalities. Still, he began recounting the story of how it went as he soothingly traced his fingers over her spine, making sure to emphasize the funnier moments.

She hummed amiably throughout his recount, too tired to let out a full laugh. She missed him while she was away too. She missed his jokes and the comments he had when they worked together. He was just getting to the climax of his story, telling the tale of how he saved Barton from an old lady threatening to beat him with her purse, when she suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of love for him.

She knew it was on its way to her, that feeling. She could feel tiny hints of affection any time he would speak excitedly about something or grace her with that tiny bashful smile he saved just for her or when he had tea waiting for her when she got to his apartment. But the feeling she felt as she snuggled in closer to him was one that needed to be voiced and she was never one to deny her instincts.

“I love you.” She sighed, amused at the way he stopped mid story to determine if he heard her right, subconsciously tilting closer to her.

“What?” Was his great response.

“You heard me.” She confirmed, smiling into his chest.

“Yeah?” His voice had gone soft, layered with something that sounded close to wonder. “I love you too.” He smiled into her hair, placing a kiss there.

“Good, now finish telling me about Barton getting beat with a purse.”

He chuckled and continued telling his story, running his hand over her back once again. It wasn’t long before her breathing evened out and sleep finally claimed her.

[justowrite]

Late night Stories(4)

genre(s): angst

summary:  I don’t anyone really knows something anything about Baz. Not like I do. 

And maybe I don’t know about enough about Baz either.

words: 1970

warnings: cursing

a/n:  i’m sorry for the delay of this chapter, I’ve been busy...anyway I hop you enjoy this and thanks for reading!! :D

AO3

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 5

***

Part 4

“This is ridiculous Simon.” I don’t dare to look directly at her eyes. “You have to get over this breakup, you two are friends.” Instead, I stare at Agatha on the other side of the living room, sitting on the couch. “Simon!” Penny calls for my attention.

I nod. “Yeah...you are right.”

And I think she was expecting me to fight more because when I finally turn to see her, she stares confused with her mouth open like she was about to speak.

I sit carefully next to Agatha, she doesn’t look up from her phone. “Hey…” Nothing. “Look, Agatha, I wanted to talk to you about…” She cuts me, still staring at her phone.

“I already told you, Simon, we are not getting back together.” I gulp, her voice is cold and unwelcoming, “I can’t love you, not like you want…”

“I don’t want that either.” She only gives a confused glance, after I interrupt her.

“I’m can’t keep going with something I can’t feel Simon.”

“No, it’s…no…it’s not that either…” Maybe I should have written her a letter, instead.

“Then what it is?” She finally let her phone down and turn to me.

“I…” I turn to see Penny, she only looks at me expectantly “I…I don’t want to lose our friendship because I wasn’t a good boyfriend. The least I can do is try to be a better friend.” I stare at my hands instead of confronting her.

I really want to fix things with Agatha. I’ve been thinking about it since last night (this morning?) talk with Baz. And Penny is right. Maybe she doesn’t love me, I can’t really blame for that. Especially if I am not sure I do either. But she’s been there, in all the missions, in all our fights for good. She doesn’t have to, she doesn’t have to be part my world. And I am no one to take that option from her.

I come back to reality as I feel her hand over mine. “It’s fine Simon.” I look up to her, she sighs and gives me a small smile, “You are right, we are friends.” I return the smile. 

Penny walks to us. “Finally done?” I nod. “No more love triangle.” She sighs relieved.

I turn fast to Agatha, she is completely tinted red. Something in my stomach sinks. “Agatha…you still want to be with Baz?”

“Simon, I don’t want to fight about this again.” Agatha gives a tired stare.

“No, it’s not that!” Impulsively I go for my phone in my pocket. “It’s just that Baz…he…” My mouth goes dry and the words get stuck in my throat. For some reason, I don’t feel I should tell them about what Baz told me.

“If you are going be like this Simon maybe we can’t make this work.” She stood up and walked pass Penny.

“He likes someone else!” She freezes and turns to me.

I look over to Penny, who shares her same confused look. “How do you know that Simon?”

“He…he told me.” Agatha rolled her eyes and left.

She didn’t believe me.

“You’ve been talking to Baz? On snapchat?” She exclaims as she looks up from my phone.

For the number of things that try to kill me on a daily bases I shouldn’t be as nervous as I feel under Penny’s stare. “Yeah…”

“You have strikes with Baz! No! You are BFF with Baz.”

I shake my head confused. “What?”

“Yeah, you have a yellow heart. It means you send the most snaps to him and he sends you the most snaps to you.” I take my phone back, and she points out the yellow heart next the flame.

Am I the person Baz sends the most snaps to? “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t know.” She said sarcastically. “I can’t believe you two. You can’t away from each other, can’t you?”

“He is being outside at 3 am of the morning almost every day now, he has to be plotting something!”

She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow. “And you plan to stop him from snapchat?”

“He said that too.”

Penny sighs exasperated, “Simon, don’t talk to him, you are only going to end up angry, frustrated and maybe burning Agatha’s house.” I glance Baz name on my phone when Penny’s phone rings.  After a couple of minutes of yeah’s and aha’s she outs down her phone and starts to pick her things around the living room. “I have to go, Simon, don’t talk to Baz.” She warns me and I only nod. “Love you.” She ruffles my hair and gives a smile before walking to the door.

“Love you too,” I answer before she closes the door behind her.

***

His Instagram is private. I stare at his profile picture. His profile picture is of him sitting on concrete, behind him the sunset just settled. His figure looks dark, more like a shadow. He is sitting side-wise, one of his legs is spread while he is using the other to rest his arm. He is looking into the sunset, so his face is not visible, instead, his hair falls elegantly in his shoulder.

Artistic.

I wonder who took the picture.

I’m not surprised to notice he has an extreme number of followers. Baz just seems like the person the people follow. I rest my chin on the pillow and extend my arm to keep looking at the phone from that angle. I mean just the way he enters a room makes you understand he is important and should be treated like such. Either for his last name, or for his numerous talents. Maybe not everyone knows every one of them, not like I do. Everyone knows how good he is at football, how eloquent he is at speaking and enchanting, how incredibly smart he is. But no one realizes hears him sing softly when he is focus reading or writing or heard him practice violin when he doesn’t know I’m waiting outside the door, or how he can read books faster than anyone I know (that’s something I will never tell Penny).

I don’t think no one knows that about Baz. I don’t anyone really knows something anything about Baz. Not like I do.

And maybe I don’t know about enough about Baz either.

Baz is in love.

I turn around again, but I stare at the ceiling this time. My phone was left behind.

Baz is in love with a boy.

I can hear the beating of my heart at this point.

I never thought about that. Baz has someone he cares about. Someone he misses when they are apart. Someone he loves.

I move my sight to the window, I don’t change my position. The moon is hanging in the sky, missing a piece of itself. Scatter around the stars, bright dots of incomplete drawings in the night.

They remind me of someone.

It’s almost too out of character for Baz. I can’t hear him saying, I can’t tell if how he would have said it, what face he would make. I’ve seen Baz like that. Something too hidden even for someone who lives with him. So I wonder how that looks like. Baz with a caring smile and with love in eyes instead of cold and deep greys. I wonder how it feels knowing a Baz, a vampire, a Pitch, someone above everyone else, thinks you are worth missing. I wonder how it feels to be adored by him.

I pick my phone up and unlock it. I'm sorry, Penny.

Baz I send him a picture of the window. It looks better when he takes the picture but the stars are there.

It takes him a couple a couple to open my snap, but when he does he immediately answers. What do you need Snow? It’s his fireplace, it’s on and looks like it’s out of a movie. How is his camera so good?

Why do the stars remind you of him? I take a fast photo of the ceiling, but it comes out slightly moved. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down my heart.

It’s his legs, partly illuminated by the fireplace. I’ve seen enough of his room to recognize he is on his sofa. Why do you care?

I stare at my phone, trying to find a reason, an excuse, anything…but I can’t, so I am honest instead. I want to understand you

Why? It’s his legs again. I don’t pay too much attention to it.

Because I thought I did. I don’t. I send him a picture of my feet at the end of the bed.

Why would you think that Snow? Why would you ever think you know anything about me but what I let you see?

And I think he is mostly right. I think he is really good hiding things. Especially about himself. Still…  I thought it was my job to. I thought that was the reason the Mage never let me change rooms, why the Crucible put us together in the first place. To understand you, to know what was going inside your head to be able to compete against you.

He shows me his bed, he is definitely in his couch. That’s why you want to know? To use it against me? That’s a little too low even for you, don’t you think Snow? I want to yell. I feel a knot in my throat and the beating of my heart is only pushing up more and more.

No, I would never involve anyone innocent into this… I don’t worry about the photo anymore.

He doesn’t seem to care either, it’s a moved photo too. He is angry, I don’t know why but I understand that if he were he would be spitting words at me. What do you think the attacks of the Humdrum are then? What do you think you expose Bunce and Wellbelove every time you go to one of your missions? You are the only reason you those dangers even exist at Watford.

My heart stops and so does my breathing. And you don’t think I bloody know that?? I send fast, then another. I do, I hate it, but I can’t leave. I could never leave Watford, Penny, or Agatha, not even you. I write as fast as my fingers allowed me to. I take another moved picture. It’s the only place I know I fit in. Or at least only place that I can come back to.  He doesn’t answer. My breathing is heavy, and my heart is pulsating so hard on my chest, I feel it might explode.

I should’ve listened to Penny. This was a bad idea. 

Baz didn’t need to know that. Why did say it? He of all people is the most interested in seeing me suffer.

I think he resembles the sky. I blink a few times before I remember what he is talking about. When I do he had already sent another one. It’s his window again. But it doesn’t have a caption. Neither it’s a picture. “Unreachable, I mean, beautiful to see impossible to touch. Only meant to be adored from the distance.” His voice is soft, a little raspy like he hasn’t talked in a long time until now and most notably sad.

The knot of my throat only intensifies, I sit up and feel the tears rush through my cheeks until they quietly disappear into the bed.

I decide to return the message and focus the camera on the window too. I start to record. I think of an answer. I laughed bitterly at my now blank thoughts, Yeah…I think I get that...