#how did Art not turn to dust idk

[sparrowseagles]

biohazardous levels of yearning recorded in the New Rochelle sauna

[numbuh424]

.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

[maythearo]

I kinda accidentally been away :(

When I take a hiatus you'll see I don't announce it beforehand because it usually just happens instead of being a planned thing, so I apologize if I made people worry about me (again) but I'm doing fine! A plethora of things happened in the time being, and I feel like it's relevant to mention them here for some clarity. (I didn't intend to make this post so long, I'll crop here so it's easier to navigate)

First I feel like I have been falling out of love with art as a whole. My interest in a lot of stuff has been fading away, I haven't been keeping up with twst for one, and since a lot of my inspiration comes from the stuff I'm hyperfixating on I barely have been creating anything. My uni assigments so far were uninspired at best lol it sucks my mood relies so much on art and vice versa. The only times I feel actual joy is when I'm hanging out with my friends every now and then, I'm mostly alone through the rest of the week.

And it's with this habit of going out that I fluctuated towards using less social media. I don't think I ever liked having a presence online, and that's something I've been doing since highschool for no reason that matters to me anymore. Just quitting isn't something I can do because first, I think it's important getting my news from it; and second, I still want to do commissions, and I'm aiming to turn my socials into something more professional in the near future, rather than the life diary that I had a tendency of building them as. Of course there's nothing wrong with making socials a personal thing, it's just not my style, and with my anxiety of being perceived I realized I can only handle so much of it lol

I also had some personal losses, and it feels like a lot of people around me were having a hard time with theirs coincidentally, so that made me kinda sad too. I won't specify much but I think that's worth mentioning.

The tldr is that I'm lost, I don't know how I got here, and I feel like it only gets worse the longer I stand around doing nothing but I prefer to think that sometimes things get worse before they get better, I know they will get better.

I'm writing all of this from the perspective of how I feel at the moment, the conclusions I'm taking with this kinda depressive state of mind, so I imagine things can still change once I begin to feel brighter again, who knows.

Thank you for everyone who left kind messages on my askbox after all this time, idk if I can reply to all individually but I did read them and I appreciate them very much! I hope everyone is doing well too and staying safe.

And on a side note I'm sorry to the people who asked other things related to my art/blog way before I took this break, I wanted to answer them in a fun way but they've gathered too much dust by now and my inspiration is long gone. I think I'll be cleaning up my askbox since the longer I leave it unnatended the more overwhelmed it makes me feel 😥 I messed it up this time I admit, I apologize again to everyone I kept waiting.

I have a few old drawings I haven't shared here yet, maybe I'll post them if I manage to remember it :)

[pixelatedraindrops]

RAINCODE COMIC COLLAB~☔️

BEHOLD THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR!!

3 full weeks of work and its finally completed!

So @kazinsblog and I did another raincode art collab together but this one was a HUGE project! This one's a full 18 page comic!

Idk if you all remember the comic idea that Kazin was planning to do that involved Yuma overworking himself until he gets sick and then gets tended to by everyone else. But when I saw it, I decided to ask her if she was willing to possibly collaborate on it, remaking it where she sketched it and I colored it.

Kazin's Beta images: 1 2 3 4

So here's the results of all that work. We've been at this since December 17th so this has been an almost full month collaboration. And of course mine's a bit more altered to my own style as well as adding my own touches and making it a little more whumpy/extreme... X'D I also freehand drew shinigami in my version as well.

Both our versions look pretty different! The only thing that are the same are the poses. So feel free to check out Kazin's traditional version as well!

Since its an 18 page comic, I decided to put it under a keep reading so it won't clutter everyone's timelines. Also, I will be narrating the pages because I love narrating sick filler type stories. So brace yourself for a VERY LOOONG post!! Def need time to read this one! (and no purple tinted filters here this time!)

Also note: If the writing is blue, it means the character is thinking, just like in the game! :)

And I apologize on the inconsistency of Yuma's bangs... I thought it was one way before so half of the comic he looks like he has square bangs... oof XD I fix it around page 10

ANYWAY, hope you enjoy this soft buffet, Raincode Community! 🌡️💕

(Page 1)

Our story begins on an ordinary day in Kanai Ward. Rainy gloomy and depressing as ever. Our little victim... wait... XD I mean protagonist Yuma decides to go out to investigate more about Kanai Ward to try to track down it's supposed ultimate secret. Yakou sets him off wishes him well and tells him to be careful. However, as he's out, he finds out a lot of people in the city need help. Because of his good nature and unable to turn down someone in need, he decides to help whoever he can. (the ultimate side-questing lol) Before he knows it, he's soaking wet and he had helped 10 people in total. Time passed and it was almost evening so he returns to the submarine. Yuma was completely unphased by this. (and he didn't dry himself off for 4 hours due to being occupied with tasks)

(Page 2)

Yuma returns to the Agency's submarine to greet his chief holding his meatbun order. (that also got wet) But Yakou notices that the trainee is sopping wet to the core and shivering. He immediately loudly demands that he sit down so he can tend to him. Yuma does as he's told and sits on the checkered sofa. Yakou rushes to the shower room to grab some small towels to help him dry off. But because Yakou is so panicked, he ends up being very rough in drying Yuma, pulling his hair and causing the small boy pain. After he dries him off, he tells Yuma he isn't allowed to leave anymore for the rest of the day and demands him to rest. Yuma tries to retaliate using puppy eyes, but it doesn't work. Yakou is immune.

(Page 3)

The next day Yuma asks Yakou if he can go out to work after he finishes his morning chores around the place looking very eager. Yakou still looks a little concerned by how tired Yuma looks, so he tells him to not go out alone. He assigns him a partner to go with the rest of the week.

On the first day he's paired with Halara. The two of them are asked to investigate the art gallery of Ginma. (maybe after the nail man case) But over time, Yuma starts developing a lingering cough that persists for quite some time. Halara asks Yuma is he's okay, to which Yuma lies saying that it's due to the dust of the room. But of course being sharp, Halara isn't buying it. But they decide to not persist him further.

On the second day, he's paired with Desuhiko. They're asked to go help out at the Aetheria Academy with another case (not murder related this time) However on the way to the school and in Ginma, Yuma starts slowing down, he's shaking and is a little wobbly. Desuhiko notices this and asks if he wants to go to the cafe for a drink. Yuma nods and as they go to the cafe and order some coffee, Yuma takes off his hat and coat and Desuhiko finally realizes how pale he looks. He's even slower at replying to him as he speaks, as if he's in a daze. Desuhiko decides to take Yuma back to the agency after this.

(Page 4)

On Day three, he's paired with Fubuki. But he doesn't even make it to the case as when he goes to the sun and moon hotel to meet with her, Fubuki notices and points out that Yuma's face looks red. The boy clearly had a fever building. Yuma argues with her but Fubuki persists. The two of them try to go to the case but Yuma nearly collapses. So Fubuki returns him to the agency.

On the fourth day where he's supposed to be paired with Vivia he spends a majority of the day passed out. Vivia decides to watch over him using his forte to not disturb him. During the night while he's asleep, his breathing gets more labored and he's completely restless. Vivia looks at him deeply worried for his dear friend's well being.

The next morning Yuma somehow finds the strength to get himself up. Maybe that one day of rest was enough. But Yakou insists that he stays put today. Angrily yelling at him to be still and take today off as well.

Meanwhile, a certain two seem to notice each other...

(Page 5)

Vivia's spirit notices Shinigami and decides to give her a warning. Make sure Yuma listens to Yakou and doesn't leave. Giving her the iciest glare, Shinigami fearfully agrees.

But this effort would be for naught, despite how he feels, Yuma's relentless determination forces himself up, putting on his rain attire and heads up the steps of the sub to the outside when Yakou isn't looking. Shinigami does what she can to stop him, but he doesn't listen...and Shinigami being a ghost, there was nothing she could do to physically hold him back. All she could do was follow, and prepare for the inevitable.

By some miracle he makes it to the church, up the stairs to speak to the nun. Who tells him to play therapy again for the townsfolk. He nods and heads to his first client. But when he returns to kamasaki to speak to him, he can barely make out what he's saying as he lets out a few more coughs.

Once he leaves the client, before long, Yuma could hear something in his body snap.

(Note: I direct most of the story, but Vivia conversing with Shinigami in spirit mode was actually Kazin's idea! So credit to her for that, So silly and fun! ^^)

(Page 6)

Yuma's body had finally reached it's limit. All the fatigue, chills and body aches had hit him all at once at full force like armed weaponry. His head began throbbing, he was shaking violently and uncontrollably, he felt nauseated by the rain's smell, and his body heat and the lingering dizziness was unbearable. He found a safe corner in the alleyway of Kamasaki to collapse. Telling Shinigami she was right and he should have listened to her, while the burning fever and cold rain wrecked his delicate frame even further. His voice was hardly audible, but Shinigami still heard and practically tells him to go back. But Yuma had no strength left...

Then like clockwork as they finish speaking, he could hear his name called. At first it sounded kind and questionable. But that rapidly changed, the voice now angrily yelling out his full name. As he looked up this voice belonged to...Yakou. He looks down at the boy in pure disappointment and anger.

Turns out a certain someone was tailing him. And alerted Yakou what happened just in time.

(Note: I make the red darker the more extreme the temperature and lighter the less extreme. I got to experiment with all sorts of new ways to color fevers hehe~ >w<)

(Page 7)

Yuma shockingly looks up at Yakou. Oh no, he was so BUSTED! Shinigami even says as much. Yakou practically scoops Yuma in his arms carrying him back to the agency. As he was lifted Yuma's world begun spinning. He could barely hear the chief nagging him in a panicked tone. It was all distorted and it was making his head hurt more. Yakou placed a hand to his cheek and was shocked by how hot it felt. All Yuma could do was apologize and hope his world stops spinning and that Yakou eventually stops yelling... (also I put numbers for the order to read the speech bubbles in)

Upon returning to the agency, Yakou dries Yuma off, asks Desuhiko to give him a warm set of clothes to borrow and put him to his own bed. Grabbing a basin of very cold water, washcloths and a digital thermometer. He placed one of the wet cold cloths under his bangs and upon reading the boy's temperature, it was high. Almost high enough to visit the ER. Yakou was even more mad, but speaks in a non yelling tone. Giving Yuma another stern warning to not leave the bed. To which Yuma weakly agrees to.

But Yakou's back to yelling again, feeling paranoid Yuma would be missing by the time he gets back from getting the supplies. So he drills that message right into the boy's already throbbing head once more. Everyone else in the office awkwardly listen in as the sick trainee gets scolded.

(Note: Just an FYI, Yuma's speech bubbles being wavy is a sign his voice is raspy and the text being a bit hard to read means his voice is hardly audible)

(Page 8)

Yakou leaves Yuma alone and walks into the office in his raincoat telling the other detectives that he'll be leaving soon and to watch over Yuma in his absence and NOT let him leave. He is so full of anger and anxiety that he yells at all of them too.

Everyone agrees and as Yakou leaves, they all discuss among themselves Yuma's state the days they were partners with him. He was in bad shape. And he only got worse as the days went by. They all knew.

(Page 9)

Meanwhile back in Yakou's quarters, Yuma was getting lectured yet again. This time by his death god partner, Shinigami. The poor trainee only wanted peace and quiet to make the pain in his head go away, using what little energy he has remaining speaking in his head he tried telling her to stop.

But the aggravated spirit persisted, saying that as his mentor she had the right to scold him just as much as Yakou. She continued her rant, until an abrupt sound from her master shut her up.

The few coughs that came from Yuma eventually erupted into a full blown coughing fit. The coughs sounding more wet, rough and serious. After coughing 10 to 15 times in a row Yuma was exhausted. Shinigami looked down at him panting with concern and pity in her eyes. She decided to stop the lecture for his sake.

After the fit, Yuma was left raggedly breathing. As Shinigami gave him her permission to rest and take it easy, he didn't answer. He couldn't. That fit completely mangled his throat. He was not able to speak vocally or in thought process anymore due to his head being in too much pain. As was the rest of his body, aching and burning. So he didn't answer her. All he could do was hope sleep would eventually take hold of him to make all this awful heat and pain stop even if for a just moment.

(Note: That's the penalty Yuma... x'D Sorry I gotta make him suffer lol. Also this is the only page that’s actually read left to right. I messed that up, sorry!!)

(Page 10)

After some time passed it was time for the Master Detectives to all take part in taking care of Yuma. The whole agency had a day off to do this. So upon his return, Yakou instructs everyone to look after Yuma in 2 hour shifts through the day. Even if it was just to watch him sleep. He couldn't be left alone.

Halara was first. Their task was to help Yuma take the medicine that was bought. There were three types of medicine for him to take. Antibiotics (white pills) for the general illness symptoms, painkillers (red and white pills) for the headache/fever, and finally...cough syrup. (aka his least favorite... XD) Halara made sure to be very gentle with Yuma propping him upward as his whole body was burning and he was very shaky. He even had trouble drinking the water, so Halara had to get a mug instead so they could help him drink it by holding the handle, and using the other hand to support his back. Despite the struggle, Halara worked diligently to complete their task as a caretaker in full. (as for who paid them to do this...idk I'll leave that to your imagination XD)

(The cough syrup idea was inspired by this fic :3)

Desuhiko had the second shift and the whole time he was waiting for his turn, he was writing a song for Yuma. Having the delusion that his angelic voice would lul the sick boy to sleep, he played his guitar and began singing. Yuma's headache did improve enough to speak in his head now, but that wouldn't last, as the loud noises from the guitar made his head pound even further with every strum. Shinigami begs for the noise to cease fire on her poor eardrums, but Yuma doesn't have it in him to stop Desuhiko. The gesture was kind so he decided to try to listen to the whole song, despite the noise. He does eventually tell him to stop though (using hand gestures) when another song comes afterward. So then the two spend their time conversing for a bit, (though desuhiko does more of the talking as yuma just nods or makes small noises/hand gestures due to his throat still hurting too much to talk) Desuhiko even telling him he could keep the sweater and shorts he had lent to him. To which Yuma softly smiles at him as a thank you before he eventually falls asleep again.

Fubuki has the third shift, and her task was to feed Yuma the warm vegetable soup that was bought earlier and that Halara had just finished making, along with Fubuki's help. She volunteers to feed him as she remembers a time she was ill as a child in the clockford mansion and one of her servants tended to her, feeding her soup just the same. Unfortunately, because this was a memory of her early childhood, she repeats similar phrases as the servant did when she was feeding Yuma, who was clearly not a small child. Yuma's fever had dropped enough to where he could find a bit of strength to try and sit up on his own now, and his once mangled throat’s condition had improved for him to speak a little bit. As he listened to Fubuki's rambling he tries to play along with her despite the whole thing being a bit embarrassing for someone his age. At least the soup was nice and warm. It felt good going down his very sore throat.

(Funny Fact: The order that Yuma is both partnered and tended to by each detective, is the same order as the chapters in game he's partnered with them LOL)

(Page 11)

It was evening, and now it was Vivia's turn to take the fourth and final shift. At first he was just going to sit and watch Yuma while he read his book quietly, but Yakou suggested that he read one of his books out loud to Yuma to help him relax better like a bedtime story. Vivia was unsure at first, as he's never read to anyone before. But he decided to give it a try. He asks Yuma what his preference in literature is before he starts, and Yuma tells him he enjoys detective novels the most. So he pulls out the novel that was in his reading list and begins to read it out loud to him. Turns out he was quite a natural at narrating, and his slow voice was very soothing. Yuma felt so relaxed that he felt like he would fall asleep any minute, but he tries to stay awake to listen to the story a bit more. Shinigami however, conks out immediately. (fyi: yes this is the novel Vivia talks about in his final gumshoe gab. I tried to make up stuff based on it.. X'D)

Once the clock strikes 9pm and night falls, the Master Detectives all wish Yuma well and leave to return to the hotel to retire for the night. It was just Yakou and Yuma now. Yakou, who had just come back from another errand, walks over to Yuma who was now fast asleep. He looked a little better so Yakou removed the towel from his forehead and places his hand onto it. It still felt warm but no longer as hot as it did hours ago. Meaning he was out of the danger zone, much to Yakou's relief. He places the towel back in the water basin wringing it out and re-applying it to his forehead. Then he lets out a yawn. He was pretty tired. He decides that instead of sleeping in the office on one of the sofas, he'd stay by Yuma's side. His removes his jacket, goes and turns off the overhead lights, sits down and places his head down on his desk. Then after telling the sleeping trainee goodnight he turns off the small light by his desk.

OKAY FUN FACT: The comic WAS going to end here going on to the final page... Buuut~ We were STARVING for some good ol' Yakou Fathero :3 So... Enjoy these bonus 6 pages of Yakou having a shift of his own to look after Yuma in the middle of the night. And its the longest shift.

This ones for you Yakou Fathero fans! Eat your fill!

(I know we sure did :3)

Also I apologize if the lighting here is inaccurate ;w; I tried my best I'm no pro LOL

(Page 12)

A little past midnight, Yuma was stirring in his sleep. Making all sorts of groaning sounds as if he was in pain. He was likely having a nightmare. This is confirmed by his eyes suddenly opening and him violently flinging himself up screaming, and the cold cloth flying off his forehead.

This sound wakes Yakou up immediately as he puts his glasses back on asking Yuma if he's okay. He flicks the light by his desk on to check on him. Yuma's found shaking with tears in his eyes stating quietly that it was just a dream. Yakou sympathizes with Yuma as fever dreams were usually not fun, but a fever NIGHTMARE was always bad. The chief offers the shaking trainee some water to try to help him settle down.

(FYI: Shinigami is going to be absent from this part of the story because I think her banter and antics would ruin the fluff, so she'll just be lurking above in the shelf like a cat the whole time.)

(Page 13)

Yuma accepts the water practically snatching it from Yakou's hands and quickly gulping it down. Yakou tells him to pace himself not wanting him to choke. Once he exhales from the water drink, Yuma sheepishly apologizes for waking Yakou up with his scream, feeling like a burden. Yakou reassures him it's okay and decides to ask him the question of why he pushed himself this far while he was still awake. Hard enough to make himself sick. Why did he do it?

Yuma was surprised by this but decides to try to tell him. He hands the water glass back and began talking. Under his raspy voice and somewhat heavy breathing, he says that he wanted to be useful as he felt like a burden to everyone since he lost his memory. He also says that he likes helping others and that it feels familiar to him. Determined to try to unlock a core memory of his past he kept doing this, even to the point of pushing his limits.

Then he suddenly stopped speaking...

(Page 14)

...aaand cue the coughing fit. Yuma's throat got scratchy and irritated after his long explanation, causing him to cough about 5/8 times in a row. Not as bad as his previous fit but it was more than enough to startle and worry Yakou.

Yakou quickly hands Yuma the water glass he had just taken from him hoping it would soothe his throat. He tells him that helping others is a good thing but he shouldn't push himself to the point that his health gets affected. Yuma quietly nods and as he sips the water still shaking, Yakou feels bad and decides to apologize to him for being harsh before. Stating that he only lost his temper because he was scared and worried for him. He also places his hand to Yuma's cheek in both comfort and to check his temperature. It felt slightly warmer than a few hours ago.

Yuma quietly apologizes to Yakou for worrying him, still holding the water glass. Yakou forgives him. Then he takes the glass from him and then the towel that fell off Yuma's forehead. He grabs a fresh one and soaks it in the basin wringing it out and places it back on the trainee’s forehead unintentionally a bit roughly. Yuma groans and shivers a little from the cold of it.

Yakou then lies Yuma back down, tucking him back in trying to make him comfortable. But his actions were a bit too comforting. He was not meaning to in any way and he wasn't sure what came over him, but he was treating Yuma like a little kid. Yuma notices and feels a little embarrassed by it, but decides to only say it in his head.

Yakou decides to do one more thing before he lets him go back to sleep.

(Note: Hey far as anyone's concerned Yuma, you are practically his BABY when you are having a sick day, so deal with it hehehe :3c)

(Page 15)

Temperature taking page time :D (my favorite, teehee! I know some cultures and in anime they take the temperature under the arm, but there's just something so endearing and adorable about a sickie with a thermometer in their mouth <3 OKAY MY RAMBLING ASIDE...)

Yakou is now a bit concerned that Yuma's fever spiked again after that little harsh coughing fit so he decides to take his temperature one more time before letting Yuma go to sleep again. Yuma obliges and goes along with it opening his mouth as the device is inserted.

After 15 seconds the device beeps and Yakou takes it out. Yuma shyly pulls the duvet up to his face and hides as he meekly asks if its any better feeling a little nervous. Yakou responds that it is better than it was the first time, where it was a dangerous degree.

However, he still wasn't out of the woods yet. The fever was still there and although it went down, it was still in the red. Yakou states that he's still feverish to which Yuma just apologizes. Poor thing just wants this to be over, he really doesn't want to trouble anyone anymore.

(sorry yuma I can't let you off that easily hehe 😈)

(also yes I put an instruction manual for how the thermometer works, I am so obsessed that I even give the thermometer lore LMAO. Sorry if I'm inaccurate in any of those readings. I used google... ^^;)

(Page 16)

Yakou places the thermometer back on the desk and tells Yuma to go to sleep. Saying the fever will likely break by morning. To which Yuma states that he's in Yakou's bed and that he should return to the checkered sofa so his boss could sleep, attempting to try getting up. But Yakou puts a hand on his shoulder stopping him and denies this and says his desk is fine and that Yuma needed the bed more than him.

He also says that if Yuma had another bad dream that he would be there for him. Yuma smiles at Yakou quietly thanking him as he's tucked back into the duvet. Yakou pats it gently telling the trainee to close his eyes.

It isn't long before Yuma is back to being fast asleep. (and shinigami too)

Yakou monologues to himself for a bit groaning at how much trouble this small detective has been for him since he showed up. But then he switches his tune and places a hand to Yuma's head petting it softly. He says he's happy he's working hard for the sake of his memories but right now he needs to work on getting better. Saying it would help everyone in the agency if he wanted to help people.

He wishes him well continuing to pet his head for a bit longer to soothe him before going back to sleep himself turning the light off again.

(Page 17)

2 hours later, Yuma was stirring and whining in his sleep once again. Yakou groggily wakes up wiping his tired eyes upon hearing the soft noises the small trainee was uttering. And he was crying again. Can only be one thing: Another nightmare.

Instead of turning the light on to wake him up, Yakou moves his chair close to him sitting at his side. Not saying a single word. (cept in his head lol) He reaches his hand for Yuma's as it twitches and he takes hold of it gently.

Yakou eventually leans on the bed as he does so and falls asleep sitting up again. Yuma's groaning and and heavy breathing begin to settle down a little as he felt Yakou's presence close by.

Then he smiles as he closes his hand in his sleep holding Yakou's hand back, leaning a bit close to it. He felt safe again... <3

(Note: This poor thing has way too much trauma... ;w; I headcanon that he's prone to night terrors on occasion, but when he gets a fever, its even WORSE. Fevers do be messing with your head... x3)

(Page 18 Final)

The next morning when Yakou wakes up, he checks on Yuma. He still felt slightly warm but he looked much better. Seemed the worst was over and it would likely last just one more day.

When he's fully awake and at his desk, Desuhiko shows up asking Yakou if Yuma's okay and offered to wake him up. Yakou denies it saying Yuma needed one more day of rest, the fever may have been only slight now, but in the rain it would rise again easily.

Desuhiko agrees and declares that he's going to work hard today. Likely to make up for Yuma's absence. Yakou teases him and the two have a bit of a banter.

Yuma meanwhile is asleep peacefully. Still having a slight red tint to his cheeks, but he's able to sleep a lot easier now. His fever was slowly but surely breaking. (now in the yellow) Shinigami sleeps beside him, making sure she protects him from any nightmares in yakou's absence. (after all only SHE can give her master nightmares)

He wakes up fully recovered the following morning thanking everyone for taking such good care of him, and he makes sure to not push himself anymore. And continues searching for the city's ultimate secret while pacing himself to help others from now on.

THE END ❤️

(I practically made this into a sickfic in its own right... XD)

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!! This is just a little artist credit page I made for Kazin and I c: Also art semi-face reveal?? xD Kinda?? Idk lol (we just two gals that like our sick comfort haha x3)

Anyway thank you again Kazin for doing this with me!! It was hard work but it was a blast and the final result came out amazing. Its surely a project I will cherish forever~ 💜🩷✨🌡️

A wholesome story to start 2024 on a good note.

[egosweetheart]

hi, this isnt an actual art post, i just wanna share a thing i did recently. so hazbin hotel came out. i have mixed feelings on it, but the important thing for this post is, i wanted to redesign some of the characters.

i did angeldust, alastor, lucifer, and husk, because those seemed like they needed the biggest push design wise.

i've seen a lot of redesigns that come for the shows entire design ethos rather than just addressing individual issues, which are all cool and good, but i really wanted to meet vivzie where she's at and focus on improving what's already there with the lore that's available.

i will not be doing any actual fanart for the show or talking about it beyond this post. which, btw, is going to be long as fuck.

tdlr: i did some paint-overs. theyre under the cut next to the original design.

alright, so this one is the most different. why? idk i think alastor could be really cool, but none of the things in his original design speak to his themes or personality at all. if he's a deer, why are his horns hidden? if he's half creole, why is he beige? if he cares about his suit enough to take it to a tailor over one rip, why are there rips in his design?

this is also the start of my crusade against bowties.

so i get the idea behind lucifers design. hes the ringmaster, the rest of the sins are his circus, it makes sense, its very cute. it just needed editing. there's so much white in his costume, it all clutters together visually, you dont know where to focus, and the pops of red just make it even more confusing. by moving all the white up, it keeps the focus on his face. i also gave him a beard because he looks like charlies brother and i'm not allergic to facial hair. i also removed the apple from the hat because it seemed redundant.

i dont know if im 100% happy with how husk turned out, but i am happy he's more readable now. he was so cluttered before, but i removed a lot of it in favor of leaning into the disaster ex-magician angle, and making his vibe slightly more 70's. also, cats with mustaches are adorable, and i like how disheveled he looks in comparison to alastor. alastor is ruining this mans life and i think it should be a little more obvious in his design.

ok this one is personal for 1 reason and 1 reason only: he does not need a fucking bowtie. it just floats there with no visual anchor, right underneath a choker that's essentially doing the same visual footwork and thematically says so much more about angel dusts situation. i also noticed he has like, a feather bustle in the poison musical sequence? so. thats staying to make him more Spider Like. he deserves extra fluff.

the show is overall very whatever to me. i just wanted to see if i could tweak these to make myself happier with them, and i succeeded, and that's all that matters.thank u if you read all this, i wrote it at 1am. MWAH i love you

[destinygoldenstar]

I LOVE seeing headcanons related to Kai's powers. Like in the show he uses his power as a light source and that's cool, but people online go beyond that and come up with cool ideas of variety he could do as an elemental.

My favorites include:

The flame shield we saw with his True Potential. With how destructive fire is, you'd think his would be offensive like Zane's is, but no it's the opposite. I think that's poetic with how True Potential functions with the master's discovery of themselves. Zane's is raw power from his heart and soul because of his acceptance of his identity. Cole's is strength from his strong will to stand up for who he is no matter the weight and pressure. Jay's is teleportation and flight because... faith trust and pixie dust? Idk that one confuses me a little, someone help me there. Kai's is a shield because he is a brother at his core. That's his fighting purpose. It's to protect his family, blood or surrogate. His fire is a protection barrier for the people he loves.

Speaking of family, the idea that he has a higher body temperature than the others, and it doesn't affect him negatively. Maybe it causes heat strokes in intense environments, but idk for sure if that's a problem for him. So he's just a space heater half the time. Especially for his siblings like Nya and Lloyd. You're cold? You're sick? You're cuddling with Kai and staying warm, and he ain't letting you go. Unless you're Jay, then he might tell you 'can't wait to go to your funeral knowing I could've changed that outcome'. (Lloyd goes limp cause he's part dragon)

The flames change colors when in certain sources like the crystals from Elemental. I never knew I needed that. But I think Kai would just like to play with it around Lloyd to cheer up the angsty child, and Lloyd likes it because ooo pretty lights. Imagine using this for like a bedtime story for someone. He also would do it to frame other people for pranks. 'Oh the ashes are green well clearly Lloyd did it' 'Oh its rocks it's gotta be Cole'. It almost never works.

He's afraid of water because he can't swim. That's how I interpret it. So when you splash him with water, he's just frowning. And it depends on who does it. If it's Nya, he goes, "...ok." If it's someone else, he goes, "What'd you say to me?!" If it's someone like Jay, he goes, "So you have chosen death." My point is that despite the water paranoia, he likes taking baths, especially before bed. He'll tell you he hates them, because they make him do it before bed. They do it to calm him down because if he goes to bed mad, or has a panic attack, or has a nightmare, his powers could go off the fritz and he burns the bedsheets. He likes it as a calming thing, away from stress of the day. He also likes the bath salts, again his flames changing colors with that stuff. Half of the time it's ingredients from that Sereni-tea from that Wu's Tea shorts. It's a therapy medicine for him.

BLUE FLAMES. YUS. This is one that I wish we actually saw in the show because that would be awesome. He doesn't use it very often because it's hard to control and maybe damaging, but that's why he only uses it when he's just... out of control of himself. Imagine a nightmare of a situation where an enemy just takes it too far. Severely injures one of his siblings, for example. Then you just see the fire turn blue... you'd run for the hills if you were them. That man is angry. ANGRY angry

These aren't mine. I did not come up with these. I've just seen these scattered online everywhere, and I love it, and I love art of it.

[jasongotdrip]

i had a thought. again. this may be one of my biggest yaps. +2 tiny arts included. Except it’s all horrible. It’s 2:30 am and I’m running on just straight brain power😭

wtf was charlie doing walking around during an extermination💀)

I had a daydream except it’s 2:30 am so night dream except im not really asleep but whatever. I imagined charlie found her and brought her back to the wherever and she just started YAPPING. Because she’s excited to have someone around, probably. She’s a lonely lil princess. I was thinking of a lot of different scenes this could happen in but I thought of this one the most. Charlie knows Vaggie is a “sinner” so she just casually mentions how she’s the princess, knowing (but not caring) about how most sinners disrespect her while even knowing her rank. So like she doesn’t care because she knows ‘this person won’t treat me better’. Or smth. Idk. Anyways. Keep in mind they’re not in the alley, but instead they’re… somewhere. Does charlie own the building of the hotel yet? Idk but we’ll just say yes for now because I don’t know where else they would be. Not Lucifer’s place, obviously.

but still, how/when did vaggie find out that the random girl who picked her up off the street was the literal PRINCESS OF HELL

P.s. charlie probably clipped vaggie’s hair out of her face for the sake of the bandage but i was too lazyz to draw it

CAN I JUST SAY??? CHARLIE WAS KIND OF ASS IN THE ALLEY SCENE. LIKE. WHY ARE YOU TUCKING YOUR HAIR BEHIND YOUR EAR. YOU CAN NOT BE DOWN BAD ALREADY LIKE I KNOW VAGGIE IS HOT AND SMEXY BUT GODDAM. LIKE YOU FIND THIS EYELESS WOUNDED GIRL IN THE STREETS AND ONE OF YOUR FIRST REACTIONS ARE LITERALLY WATTPAD LOOKING. (*tucks hair behind ear cutely snd looks away*) LIKE SHUT UPPPPPP.. I LOVE CHAGGIE BUT… THAT JUST IRKED ME. CHARLIE WOULD BE “OH NO I HAVE TO HELP THIS PERSON BECAUSE CLEARLY THEY GOT HURT FROM THE EXTERMINATION!! I HAVE TO GET HER PATCHED UP OR SHELTERED!!” NO!?? INSTEAD, SHE JUST TURNS FRUITY. OF COURSE SHE IS FRUITY.

i am.. so sorry for that. um. Anyways.

I like to imagine Charlie took Vaggie home, washed her up and they have a slow burn starting somewhere in there. Vaggie probably listened to all Charlie’s rants and dreams, while helping her slowly kick start the hotel’s physicality. They become better friends and begin to trust each other. because like, they’re all they got. Vaggie has no where else to go and charlie has no one else as loyal as Vaggie. So naturally they become dependent. Then romance ✨

. I know what i said about charlie tucking her hair behind her ear, but she was probably just noticing how pretty she was or sum. But still, you are in the middle of a warzone honey please stop being gay for a second 😭

but who had feelings first? Charlie, maybe because she already thought vaggie was pretty. But there’s also vaggie.. like of course she’s going to grow fond of someone who picked her up and started taking care of her when no one else would. Maybe they both started at the same time lol

No one really knows when they met Angel Dust but obviously before pilot right? I thought of a funny interaction that would kind of help the feelings be more known, if they weren’t established before they met Angel. Like there definitely are feelings in the air but they’re brought to attention by something snarky Angel Dust says when they first meet

THERE ARE SOOO MANY THINGS I COULD PUT FOR HIM TO SAY BUT I JUST CHOSE THIS CUS HE DOESNT HAVE A NOSE

Vaggie: CAN YOU SMELL MY FIST IN YOUR FACE??

then chaos. But like.. charlie and vaggie think about it. Then idk. That’s as far as my brain will take me. Hyperfixations help me yap a lot but it all stops at a certain point. There are so many ways chaggie could have been developed so it’s hard to just say one. So i kinda jjst want to see how it goes and how much they’ll show us of their backstory. I’m sorry for yapping.😭😭

[surely-galena]

idk how often lead paint are used (if at all)

but for total shits and giggles, in the crackiest way possible, i imagine marius using lead paint, sometimes accidentally drinking the paint water

and then someone tries to assassinate him with poison and it doesn't do shit because as it turns out, the poison isn't as strong as lead and marius sort of built a tolerance to lead poisoning on accident.

cue assassin freaking the fuck out because the poison had no effect

idk where that came from

Hi Rose!! :D

I did some surface level research for this ask because I thought that lead paint wasn't used any longer, but that's actually a myth... just not in the way I thought it was. When I think of lead paint, my mind goes to historical artists who poisoned themselves through their paintings, but the articles I skimmed were all about lead paint used for industrial/homeowner purposes. There is, however, Lead White paint for artists, but this is pretty expensive because it isn't produced as much and there are safer alternatives for artists to use, too. Money isn't a problem for Marius, so let's say he ends up using the fancy lead white oil paint for his art.

I read through this transcript of an episode from This Podcast Will Kill You on lead poisoning (tw for discussions around child experimentation) and essentially, adults are at lower risk than children because they don't absorb as much lead into their system. Also, absorbing lead through inhaling it is much worse than ingesting it because it gets into your system through your lungs. So even if drinking lead paint water sounds bad (and likely is), it would probably be much worse if Marius had been exposed to lead dust. Both are still bad though!

Plus, since lead has a sugary taste, Marius would probably be able to identify that he was drinking paint water on his first sip (and hopefully spit it out). If he doesn't... then Marius what are you doing.

Now I couldn't find a good source on this, but according to this Wikipedia article on Mithridatism (building up an immunity to poison), it is not possible to build up a tolerance to heavy metals (e.g. lead). This makes sense to me, but take it with a grain of salt since I didn't find anything to back this up.

Also, in the scenario with the assassin, let's say that Marius did somehow have a tolerance to lead poisoning. The chances of the assassin using lead would be a lot lower compared to something fast and lethal (belladonna and cyanide immediately come to mind but you may have to fact check that). So Marius would have an immunity to a different kind of substance and would still end up getting poisoned.

But say that nothing happens to Marius, like you said, and the assassin starts freaking out (as they should). Then this implies that Marius has either knowingly or unknowingly been building up a tolerance to a different kind of poison than lead (which means he's been going through symptoms of mild poisoning over and over again), and not only that, he's been continuously poisoning himself to keep up that tolerance.

Who's responsible for that?? Vyn and Luke, in some attempt to save their friend before he gets assassinated in the future? Giann von Hagen, bragging about his tolerance to X poison to Marius and thus putting ideas into younger Marius' head? Payton, who somehow predicted what kind of poison future assassins would use???

I hope I didn't lose you with all that rambling, haha. It's still a great scenario even if I didn't focus on the comedy/crack part as much, thank you for the ask!!

[daisymylove]

Sword catcher spoilers, speculations and theories about "Ragpicker King" and some ramblings ahead, proceed at your own discretion.

So I'm 90% sure Vienne is alive and we will find it out when lin comes to the palace to treat her

She has an official art and there was a whole snippet about her, I don't see the point of making all that fuss about a character that was going to have three interactions with Kel (speaking of which, I kind of shipped them even tho I know ana will be his end game 👉🏻👈🏻 am I the only one?), kill some random guys and bite the dust. On top of that her arc was about to get so interesting. She is a trained assassin, oath bound to protect this little girl, whom she loves deeply, until she dies, but then her charge was murdered, and her life's mission came crashing down on her. The angst, the potential.Her dying would be a huge waste.

I don't question Jolivet's loyalty, at least not now, but Markus is not a mentally stable person (btw whats up with him? does anyone have a theory?).I think he lied she was dead bc markus may have killed her otherwise and, as dangerous as she is, Vienne may be more useful to them alive than dead with the possibility of a war looming over.I also don't discard the possibility that he may have personal ties to vienne and/or her family. The whole covering her with his cape could have been a show of respect for the black guard if she's really dead, like kel thought, but compounding with the fact that, even tho she charged on conor, jolivet did nothing to either stop or harm her, it struck me as oddly affectionate. Anyone can correct me if im wrong, but I dont remember kel mentioning anything about an accent, which makes me assume she speaks their language on a native level, so there's that

One thing I didn't like was that this trained bad ass assassin was completely unarmed during such an important event.Kel is always armed, even when impersonating conor he had a dagger on his person. Granted, it's easier to conceal weapons on male attire, but it would've been more realistic if she'd had at least one dagger, had been forced to use it and thus was left unarmed. Its not enough to tackle all those guys, as kel himself thought, but she wouldn't have been helpless.

I'm also 90% sure Lin and conor are going to have sex on a beach, I'm willing to bet money on it.I've read way too many books by Cc to not recognize her foreshadowing. Besides, she's fond of writing sex scenes on peculiar locations.

The "yes I'm the goddess come back" may have been scheming on Lin's part (loved that btw) but I'm sure she actually is the goddess come back. She will also be queen, as the prophecy foretells. Charlon saying to luisa "dance for your future court", but Lin ending up being the one to actually dance also reeks of foreshadow.

Now to the ragpicker king, we know almost nothing about andreyen and I have a lot of speculations. First I thought he was the Makabi, what about the ragpicker being a figure that has always existed in Castellane, his symbol being a bird and his having a bowl that allegedly belongs to makabi's lineage. But when he said ragpicker king is a title, which he inherited from another, I put it in the back burner (it hasn't been discarded tho, im not discarding anything for now and he would hardly tell kel "yo I'm this immortal entity and have been forging my death over and over for centuries" if that were the case) in favour of thinking he's the Maharam's exiled son. He's the right age and it makes sense for a boy that has been shunned by everyone and left to fend for himself to turn to crime.

What has been nagging at me, on the other hand, is that he matches Lin's vision of Suleman from her dreams. Pale, tall, handsome, long black hair and when his eyes were going to be described the dream was conveniently interrupted. I'm not saying he is suleman for sure, idk how that would work in practical terms -- is he an immortal and suleman never actually died at the sundering? unlikely, considering Lins dream and how vivid it was. Is he a reincarnation? Under that line of thinking he could be both the exiled boy AND suleman on a single person -- and he could have no relation to him whatsoever, the physical resemblance being just a coincidence (but really?) and I'm just crazy.His interest in the stone and magic in general checks out for both suleman and exiled son, so it isn't really an indicator.

I rather liked andreyen, merren and Ji an, tho, I really don't want him to be the bad guy, but as previously said I'm not discarding anything.It seems pretty obvious to me that he wants to use lin and her abilities in some way, much like he has a use for kel, but that doesn't necessarily mean he has nefarious goals or anything

I think Anjelica, Aimada, the malgasi princess whose name I don't remember now and the prince with the huge bank account will make appearances, they have been mentioned way too much to not feature at all

and what was that dream kel had with fire and phoenixes? There's something there, I can feel it

anyway, that's what I have so far

as a side note, I'm a bit drunk and haven't proofread this properly (i never do when writing on this blog tho, sorry lol), hope its coherent enough

[bluehairlaunch]

Top 7 WORST Dragon Ball Transformations

Honorable mention: Beast Zarbon

Because they turned my muscle twink into a bear...

Super Saiyan God

This fucker. As much as I like Battle of Gods, this redhead continued a trend that started with a green tinged Broly and ended with orange fucking Piccolo and a cast of otter pop flavored Super Saiyans.

At least Super Saiyan 4 wasn't just a recolor of a recolor...

Orange Piccolo

Speaking of lazy, visually unappealing, late stage capitalism embodying recolors, Piccolo is orange now. Yes I know he hasn't been relevant in a fight since his introduction in the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament and briefly when Toriyama remembered against Second Form Frieza and Imperfect Cell, but it's ok, don't worry kids, HE'S ORANGE.

Super Android 13

How is there still downhill from a trucker hat? Do you like this? Leave a comment on this webzone if you like this? Explain why you like his Vegeta hair and 90s earrings if you like this. Detail your obsession with blue skinned gingers if you like this.

Third Form Frieza

Why is he a xenomorph? Why is he a xenomorph?! I guess I wasn't expecting him to be a xenomorph, which is typical for Toriyama, but WHY IS HE A XENOMORPH??? Like it's weird he's the alien from Alien, right? And it's weirder that he's almost 1:1 the pirate robot Goku fought in OG Dragon Ball

Fifth Form Cooler

Oh fuck you. You fucking piece of shit. Fifth form? You're so non-canon it hurts. This couldn't just be his second form or idk his third form, since Frieza's second form was already Cooler. But it's his fifth! And Goku has to be there, because it's filler, so the threat needs to be bigger. It's not like the Frieza race are shapeshifters. Of course they're not dipshit, they all follow the same template. They're like the evolution chart detailing prehistoric ape to cromagnon man to blond guy. And this is his fifth form!

Imagine if this had been a Piccolo movie set while Goku was on Yardrat. We have Frieza's bro, who's not just miraculous stronger despite never doing anything about it, but he's still more powerful than the second form Frieza Piccolo fought. Idk. Fuck Coola

Super Buu

This one is basically a Dragon Ball IQ test. At first glance he looks ok, maybe even cool. However, those with sufficient gray matter can easily ascertain that he's actually garbage, and that Fat Buu was the best design all along. He's just so generic looking, which is almost impressive for a guy so pink and sponge-y looking. Oh. And his transformation includes raiding people's wardrobe without realizing that shit don't even match

Super Saiyan 3

See, a bad transformation isn't just about aesthetics. And don't get me wrong, the aesthetics are also awful. That caveman brow, the Raditz hair, those obscene spikes. But no, the worst part about Super Saiyan 3, the thing that I truly absolutely despise, is how effortlessly it cheapens Super Saiyan and Gohan's feat of going Beyond Super Saiyan

Because everyone had that thought the second Trunks arrived and went blond. That they could do it. Gohan, Vegeta, Ghost of Nappa, and any other Saiyan that might be out there. All of them could go Super Saiyan now, it's not prophecy after all. And that leads to the question of escalation. What next?

Well the Cell Saga answered this. Gohan was next. He went Beyond Super Saiyan. The boy did what his dad don't, he fucking mastered that shit. Then out comes Super Saiyan 3 like a baaaaad fart. But it only gets worse. It's a flawed, incomplete transformation that only works if you're dead. It's strong, but burns through energy faster than the body can collect it. And that's that. Dragon Ball ends, Goku saving the day without even using his new form. Dragon Ball GT introduces SS4 and DBS provides a crayon box of recolors for you to shove up your nose, all the while Super Saiyan 3 is left in the dust. It came, we all saw it, it sucked.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Common Grounds / Chapter 11

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Derrick the Asshole Ex (needs his own warning), case stuff (any inaccuracies about how the FBI works is my own lack of research), two GODDAMN ADORABLE IDIOTS in love, unprotected PIV sex, feelings feelings FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELIGNSGS

Summary: Derrick does his damndest to ruin your night, but it turns out that one asshole can't stand in the way of....... love.

A/N: IDK it's 10:30 and I'm sleepy thanks everyone for encouraging me to finish this goofball of a fic but especially @littlebirdsbookshelf who is the loveliest of humans and beta read *most* of this chapter before I yeeted it out LOL. There will be an epilogue to follow!!! Thank you everyone for reading!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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“This is quite the change for you,” your ex says condescendingly, looking around the gallery with an expression of disdain. “How the hell did you go from shilling your crap online to booking the nicest event space in the area?”

“Derrick, stop—”

“Oh, wait—I think I’ve figured it out,” the man sneers. “I like to do my research on who my ex-fiancée thinks she should fuck. Special Agent Pike, was it? Art Crimes, right? What a coincidence!”

Your heart seems to stop beating. Marcus’s head snaps toward the two of you, his eyes dark and full of warning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Derrick icily.

“She’s using you, you know,” Derrick continues, looking at your boyfriend with a glint in his eye. “It’s what she does. She can’t make it on her own, so she picks men who will bankroll her little hobby and then leaves them in the dust after she bleeds you dry.”

“That’s not true,” you say through clenched teeth. “You don’t know anything about me. Or him. Or us.”

“Don’t I?” he retorts. “What if I were to, say, make a scene right now? Start yelling that this entire place is swarming with cops? Would that be a problem?”

You panic, eyes shooting to Marcus in horror. It looks as though he’s about to say something, but he pauses, blinking rapidly a few times—listening intently. Shit.

Derrick laughs. “Oh, isn’t that rich? You’re perfect for each other. You’re using him to get a leg up, and he’s using you for his little sting operation.”

Your ex’s volume is getting louder and louder. Heads are starting to turn. You scan the gallery frantically—a large number of waitstaff is starting to converge on the same area off to your right. Marcus looks conflicted. Desperately, his eyes flick between you and Derrick, even as he takes a few halting steps away from you. Maybe Derrick was right—but maybe it’s you who needs to cause a scene. Time seems to slow down; suddenly, everything seems crystal clear. You give Marcus a small, reassuring smile before turning your back on him and starting down your ex.

“You can’t just come here and try to ruin the life I’ve built!” you exclaim, speaking loud enough for the surrounding patrons to hear. As predicted, most people’s attention is now turned to the unfolding drama rather than the quick footsteps of Marcus, surrounded by several waiters, heading toward the back of the gallery.

“It’s over, Derrick! You can try to goad me all you want, but the truth is, I’ve found all I need without you. And you’re wrong—I’m not using him at all. I love him!”

The last words are damn-near shouted. They seem to echo in the crowded gallery.

Marcus stops in his tracks, whirling around on the spot to stare at you, open-mouthed.

“I love him!” you call out, looking right at Marcus as you say it again. “I love him.”

Even from across the room, you can see his lower lip tremble. But then—he turns away, looking as though doing so causes him unimaginable pain.

Attention starts to turn to Marcus, rather than the apparent row between two ex-lovers. Shit. You need to escalate this, and fast.

“Anyway, you couldn’t please a woman if you tried!” you hurl the out-of-the-blue accusation at Derrick, who looks murderous. “Like, even if your dick wasn’t that small, the real problem is that you don’t seem to have any idea how to use it!”

The crowd titters, and you keep going, feeling emboldened.

“Yeah, turns out orgasms are the one thing you can’t buy,” you quip. “Or at least, you can’t. I can buy them just fine—got myself a vibrator the day I walked out and left that awful engagement ring on the counter.”

A large, meaty hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle slightly. Agent Bear, as you’ve begun calling him in your head, who looks rather comical in his waiter’s tuxedo, leans down the foot and a half it takes for him to murmur in your ear.

“That’s enough. C’mon.”

“I—I was trying to—”

“I know exactly what you were trying to do. You did good, kid. Boss wants you out of the building for this next part.”

You let the behemoth of a man escort you through the kitchen and out through the dock entrance, leaving Derrick, sputtering and red-faced, behind you.

“I can’t believe I just yelled about my ex’s dick size at my first art exhibition,” you murmur to yourself as you follow the man toward the surveillance van around the corner.

“As distractions go, it was certainly creative,” the agent offers placatingly.

“What’s going on?” you ask when you reach the SUV. “Is Marcus okay? Is the guy in custody?”

“Everything is going as expected,” the agent tells you, which isn’t the most detailed explanation, and you sigh in frustration.

“So why am I being escorted out of the building?”

“This was always the plan,” he explains. “Marcus didn’t want you anywhere near the op until the building was cleared again, safe or not.”

“Why?”

The large man gives you a funny look. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

He purses his lips thoughtfully, as though trying to find a way to choose his next words carefully. “I haven’t known the boss for that long, mind you, but I know this—he’s stubborn, loyal, and goddamn fucking protective about the people he cares about. And he spared no expense once you agreed to come on board—bought a bunch’a new equipment because he couldn’t run the risk of any blip in communication. Hell, he’s been putting the whole fucking team through dry runs at the venue for the past month and keeping us late at the shooting range to make sure we were all sharp. This whole damn thing has been planned out to the letter, and he made it pretty fucking clear what would happen if a single hair on your head even came close to being harmed. I dunno what your feelings are for the man, but I thought you had to know already—he’s head over heels crazy for you.”

“…Oh.”

“You yelling you loved him across the damn room—that wasn’t part of your little scene-stealing strategy?”

You shake your head solemnly. “Of course not.”

“Good.” The agent nods, his jaw set. “Good. That’s good.”

“What happens to the show?” you ask quietly. “Is it just… over now? Everyone goes home?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can go back in once the team clears out. Pike didn’t want this to cause too much disruption. Said this was your first exhibition, that right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“He didn’t want to sell you short. Made sure that the event would be able to continue after all the Feds leave,” the agent says with a wry grin.

“Is it safe?” you ask warily.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “But I’m your assigned security detail for the rest of the night anyway.”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “Sorry you have to play babysitter to the boss’s girlfriend.”

“Nah, my pleasure. It’s because of you we were able to put this whole thing on in the first place.” He pauses, looking off to the side and nodding imperceptibly. When he speaks again, it’s clear he’s not addressing you anymore. “Copy. I’ll take her back in.” Standing, he holds out one giant palm to help you up. “Your time to shine, kid.”

“Is Marcus okay?” you ask again.

The agent snorts. “‘Course he’s fine. Suspect is under arrest and the team is headed back to HQ to finish up and get the perp booked. Said he’d come back as soon as he could.”

You nod, walking back through the now-empty kitchen. Guess you had to get here early if you wanted snacks, you think with a wry smile. There are fewer patrons milling around now, but that only means you can have longer, more meaningful conversations about your pieces with people who are genuinely interested. Checking your phone for any messages from Marcus, you realize you have hundreds of new notifications on your Instagram page, and a handful of online sales. It really was a success. Staged or not, maybe this exhibition is going to be the break you need.

The gallery finally starts to empty as the hour draws late. Pretty soon, the lights are being turned off and the doors locked—and Marcus still isn’t here.

“I can drive you home,” your security detail suggests. “Pike can meet you there, instead.”

“He said he’d be here,” you say in a small voice.

The man holds up his hands. “Up to you.”

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally, you hear quick footsteps echoing in the large hall, and you look up from the not-so-rousing game of Solitaire on your phone—which you insisted on playing, even with your battery at 20%.

Marcus.

You jump to your feet, heart in your throat. Agent Bear mumbles a goodbye and exits out one of the side doors, but you hardly notice. You can only stare at the man at the other side of the room.

He stares back.

Both of you seem to move at the same time. Marcus crosses the gallery in several long strides and you rush forward to meet him. You collide in the middle, lips bruising and hands gripping hard. He crushes your body against his, one hand around your back to press you closer and the other holding your jaw firm as he kisses you—deep and passionate and so full of emotion you feel as though you might burst.

When the heat subsides and the movement of your lips naturally begins to change–slowing, gentling–Marcus’s breath is shaky on your face as he carefully brings both hands up to cradle your cheeks. His eyes bright and shining full of moisture, his thumbs gently trace the curve of your cheekbones.

“I love you, too,” he whispers ardently. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeat back. A tear slips down your cheek; Marcus catches it with his thumb.

“I love you,” he says again. “Baby, that might have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do—turn my back on you like that.” “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t hold it in anymore, not when Derrick was saying all those awful things. I just needed you to know that none of it was true.”

“Couldn’t hold it in anymore?” Marcus repeats, searching your face with a growing smile.

“ I—I’ve never felt this was about anyone. I can’t help but think it whenever I look at you.”

Marcus brings his mouth to yours in another passionate, electrifying kiss. Your cheeks are damp, and you can’t tell whether the cause is you or him. You’re hardly able to take notice anyway, the way his kiss consumes you. It’s everything; he’s everything, and you love each other, and everything is finally going to be okay.

“I love you,” he whispers again. “You were amazing tonight; I was so proud of you.”

“It went really well,” you say, smiling. “I got more sales than I expected, plus a ton of hits online. And I got to say some really cathartic shit to Derrick as a bonus.”

Marcus chuckles. “Wish I could have seen that.”

“I told basically the entire gallery that he couldn’t please a woman.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiles, fondly, and presses one last kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I’m so late coming back. Are you ready to go?”

You thread your hands together and nod. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter, just want to be in private as soon as possible.”

Marcus’s eyes darken; his smile turns mischievous. “In that case, my place is closer.”

“That settles it.”

Despite the proximity of Marcus’s apartment, he might have broken at least five traffic laws on the way in his haste to get you alone. You nearly run down the hall to get to his door, and when it bangs open, you’re both reaching for each other with similar fervor.

Your back hits the wall with a soft thunk as Marcus pushes you backward, not so much kissing you as devouring you. Your hands thread into his hair in an attempt to ground yourself, nails scraping against his scalp until he groans brokenly. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he rasps. His hands are hasty in their actions–getting access to as much of your skin as possible in as little time–and you both moan together as he roughly pulls your blouse from being tucked neatly into your slacks and his warm palms slide up the bare skin of your sides.

You frantically join him, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt and trying to pull his pants down without actually undoing them.

Marcus laughs giddily without breaking the kiss, trying to unbutton them at the same time you’re already shoving them down his hips. He finally manages to kick them off, along with his underwear, with his lips still stubbornly fused to yours. Your pants receive the same treatment, both of you too lost in the moment to be methodical in your actions as fabric is shoved haphazardly out of the way. 

When your legs are likewise bare, one leg automatically hooks around Marcus’s hip in an attempt to get him closer, closer, closer, and he obliges enthusiastically–pressing into your core with a soft grunt. 

It’s not enough, not nearly enough, you need him in you, and he must feel the same, because with a little growl of frustration, he reaches around to pull your other leg around him as he lifts you off of the floor and presses you up against the wall to finally be able to sheathe himself within you in one fluid motion.

Your head thunks against the wall as you draw a ragged gasp of breath into your lungs. Marcus’s lips automatically attach to your bared neck, his teeth scraping gently against your skin as he starts to frantically pound you into the wall. The sound is obscene–the slap of your bodies, the frantic, blissed-out noises of pleasure you’re both making, and the loud, rhythmic thunk of your bodies as they hit the wall over and over and over…

…You hope, for Marcus’s neighbors’ sake, that this is an outside wall.

He drills into you–deep, impossibly deep and your back arches to meet his thrusts, but each movement causes your spine to rub painfully into the wall, your core is already burning as you try to stay in place, and despite how fucking good he’s fucking you right now, your orgasm remains elusive.

Marcus suddenly lets out a rather undignified noise, his face contorting into discomfort rather than pleasure, and before you know it, the mood has changed and the two of you are laughing yourselves breathless at the awkwardness of the position.

“F-Fuck, my back,” he manages to gasp out in between giggles. You tip your head back as your chest heaves with peals of laughter, and you feel yourself sliding slowly down the wall as Marcus’s strength gives out and the two of you collapse into a still-laughing, undignified heap on his entryway floor.

“Always looks so hot in videos,” you say, voice still wavering with mirth.

“Bit harder in real life,” Marcus chuckles, finding your lips again and giving you several soft, smiling kisses.

“Got a better idea,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Bed?”

“Too far,” you argue. “Sit up. I’m gonna–”

Marcus scrambles into a seated position against the wall, and you follow him immediately–climbing onto his lap and sinking down onto his cock with a soft whimper at the stretch of him.

“Baby,” he whispers, soothing the little wrinkle of discomfort on your forehead with his thumb as his eyes flick over your face, cataloging your reactions. 

“‘S’okay,” you reassure him breathlessly. “I’m okay.”

When you start to rock your hips, grinding yourself on Marcus’s cock, your mouth falls open with overwhelming pleasure.

“Fucking love you,” you murmur, and he responds by trying to pull you closer even though there hardly seems to be any space between you already.

“Never gonna get tired of hearing you say that,” Marcus says, voice rough with pleasure or emotion–you aren’t sure which.

“I love you,” you tell him again, and his eyes slip closed with what could either be agony or euphoria. And perhaps it’s both, really. You’d understand. The emotion burns so strongly within you that the reality of it almost hurts. Your heart aches with it. 

Your movements increase in intensity as you chase the feeling building deep inside you. It’s not simply arousal, and really, it never has been with Marcus. It’s a deep sense of joy, satisfaction, and safety. Maybe you’ve always known it–Marcus is it for you. The realization almost makes you lose track of the moment–you’re not with your body, you’re elsewhere, looking down on the two of you, desperately entwined on the floor not two feet from the front door.

“Wanna feel you come for me,” Marcus murmurs, one hand leaving your hip to rub little circles on your clit. “Baby, please.”

The action causes arousal to surge within you; you feel yourself getting even wetter, and Marcus can feel it too, because he makes a low noise in his throat as he watches you ride him.

“Never gonna get tired of this either,” he rasps. “The way you look when you’re about to come undone–fucking divine. That look you get, like you can’t believe you can feel this good… fuck, the fact that it’s me that makes you look like that–” He cuts off with a broken sound, his grip on your hip bruising as he loses himself in the moment.

“It’s you,” you say shakily, nodding frantically as you chase your release. ���Only you. You’re the only one who could ever make me feel like this.”

You don’t just mean the waves of pleasure building within you, and Marcus seems to understand, because his eyebrows turn upward in awe, his lips parting as he gazes up at you with nothing short of reverence. 

“Show me,” he says quietly, his lips barely moving. “Let go. Come for me.”

A few more halting, violent rocks of your hips is all it takes before you slump onto Marcus’s chest, unable to hold yourself upright as the feeling sweeps throughout your entire body. He holds you close, taking over the motions and fucking up into you as you convulse with aftershocks. You’re hardly aware of how loud you’re being, crying out and whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder as he fucks you through it, but as you come down, you can hear his soft, lilting voice in your ear.

“So good for me, honey–fuck, you feel so good. Look so beautiful when you come, my pretty girl. So fucking beautiful all the time, I can hardly believe you’re mine.”

You whimper softly and tighten your hold around him as you nod into his shoulder. “I need–” you start, not entirely sure where the sentence was going, but Marcus nods anyway.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He surges forward, gently depositing you on your back on the floor before covering your body with his and fucking into you with abandon.

“F-fuck, mine,” he rasps. “Mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp–each thrust punching the air out of your lungs as Marcus chases his release. “Yes, yes, yes, yes–”

It doesn’t take long before he stills, burying himself deep inside you with a low groan of your name. For a few moments, the only sound is your labored breathing as you both come back to yourselves. Marcus gently touches his forehead to yours, his soft exhales shaky and wavering against your cheeks.

The air is thick with something–emotion, tension, or maybe the opposite: relief. The moment itself feels like an exhale, like your shoulder muscles can start to ease downward. Like if you needed support–or anything–you know there's someone you can depend on. 

And he, you. 

“...Are you?” Marcus asks–quietly and hesitantly, as though he’s ashamed to say the words out loud. “Are you mine?”

You bring your palm to his cheek and watch his eyelashes flutter at the soft touch. 

"Depends… are you mine as well?"

He pulls back, pure sincerity in his gaze as he looks in your eyes. 

"I think I was waiting for you this whole time," he intones quietly. "I'm yours. Of course I’m yours. Completely, and unequivocally."

You smile and bring his face back down towards yours for a kiss.

“How’s the back?”

“Hurts.”

“Wanna get off the floor?”

Marcus looks sheepish. “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yeah, oh my God, I need to lie down.” 

You giggle–breath hitching in the middle as his softening cock slips from you. With twin smiles, the two of you gingerly get up, grabbing your discarded layers of clothing and heading toward Marcus’s bedroom. He collapses on the bed with a loud sigh and scrubs his hands over his face.

“I think I aged five years during this op,” he grumbles as you plop down beside him.

“I thought everything went according to plan,” you offer, frowning in confusion.

“Oh, it did. I haven’t had any single mission in my career go better, but… Fuck, there’s a reason for that. I’ve been running the whole damn team ragged for a month, doing drills and–”

“–keeping them late at the shooting range?” 

Marcus frowns. “How did you know that?”

“My security detail told me about the pains you took to keep me safe. Or rather, how you ‘made it pretty fucking clear what would happen if a single hair on my head even came close to being harmed.’”

“I–I can explain–”

“He said you were ‘head over heels crazy’ for me,” you say, raising one eyebrow coyly.

“Well,” Marcus drops his gaze and grins widely, showing his teeth. “That’s certainly accurate.”

“Why did you ask for my help, if you spent the last month stressed out of your mind?”

He bites his lip as he seemingly gathers his thoughts. “To be completely honest, I said what I said that first time in the moment, without really thinking about it,” he explains. “But once Pandora’s box was opened, so to speak, it was hard to just… put it all away. The more I thought about it, the more it was perfect. Not only does the team get an ideal setup to catch a long-time art thief, but you get an opportunity that precious few artists are ever awarded. I couldn’t… it couldn’t not be you.”

You frown slightly as disparate, confused thoughts swirl around your brain. “I never asked to be a charity case–”

“No,” Marcus interrupts. “Oh, God, no–it was just—Well, we had to ask someone to put on a fake art show, and all things being equal, I wanted it to be you.”

“Why?”

Marcus’s gaze softens. “Because I love you, silly. Head over heels, remember? You’ve given me so much, and I just wanted to give you this.”

Your breath hitches at the devotion in his words. His eyes are so full of love, you don’t even know what to say. In the past, you’ve been so used to “gifts” being double-sided and deceitful. You don’t know what to do with Marcus, who simply… gives you things. Because he wants to. 

“Thank you,” you finally whisper. 

He smiles slowly, eyes brimming with emotion. “I was so proud of you. You know that, right? Every time I would turn and look at you, I just–” he cuts off, shaking his head and looking down. “Baby, I was in awe of you. I just need you to know that.”

“I know that.”

You risk a glance at the clock, and wince. 

“Oh, my God. It’s two am.”

Marcus grimaces. “Guess we get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“I’ve got an opening shift.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Of course you do,” he groans.

“I’ll be quiet,” you promise.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll get up and make you coffee.”

“You… you don’t have to do that,” you tell him hesitantly.

“I want to,” Marcus corrects. “I’m here with you. We’re doing this–everything–together, right?”

You reach over to turn off the bedside lamp, and then settle back against his warm side.

“Right.”

[mayorofcattown]

Some fun news, I got a printer! Like an actual decent printer for printing art stuff, so now I can make prints (and hopefully bookmarks?) at home instead of having to use print shops every time, so I'll be able to add new prints to my shop more easily, and do smaller runs of them

I'll probably still get stickers manufactured else where cause I like the quality of those fine, and also you need those cutting machines to cut them out and those sound like actual nightmares to use from everyone I've known who has one lol

Anyway I did a bunch of tests with different paper, and I've put them under the read more if that's interesting to anyone

I did some lil a6 test prints on some photo paper I got (top is satin, bottom is matte) and they turned out Very Nice. Colours turned out super good especially, and surprisingly close to digital even without converting to CMYK, which is good cause the main issue I was having with local printers was the colours (especially darks) being super off (which is probably my own fault, but still)

(ignore the bad cropping on the top right zelda I fucked up the cutting of it lol)

You can see above the difference in sheen better. My photos don't really do them justice (my room gets like no sunlight and my phone is extremely average) but difference between them is otherwise pretty marginal. The satin does seem a little truer to the original colours and slightly better definition I think? But you can only really tell if you stare at them both for ages. Dust does seem to stick to it more tho which is a bit annoying.

I do like the look and feel of the matte tho... The matte is supposed to be a thinner gsm than the satin but weirdly it feels sturdier? idk how paper works man. but either way the matte is also way cheaper so I'll probably stick with that.

Now I just have to figure out how to do bookmarks. I'm thinking I'll probably get like a cold laminate film for those (I think that's what people use to make stickers harder wearing?), these photo papers are a bit too thin on their own otherwise (the bookmarks I get printed are 350 gsm, while the matte is 230 gsm) and its probably easier to get the laminate than photo paper that high gsm.

and then I also have to figure out double sided printing... I guess I could stick two sides together but that seems like it'd be a) a pain and b) fall apart to easily. That's a problem for future me tho.

[jiveyuncle]

Hi omg!!!!! I just saw the book you posted for TNAHP and I am dying! It looks GLORIOUS!!!!! Turned out so beautiful binded like that! And the art is absolutely stunning, may I ask what company printed it? Like what shop did you use? I’ve wanted to print certain stories just for myself so badly over the years but there are so many places and I can’t decide and this is exactly what I’ve been looking for!!!!! 😍😍😍 thank you so much for sharing!

Hi, anon! Thank you! 💕 I was so happy getting to hold it and put it up on my shelf! Look!!! 😭💕

I want to preface everything I’m about to say with this: if you use a third party service to print any material (fics, art, art in fics, etc.) please, please, please reach out to the author/artist and get permission to use the service before printing! It doesn’t matter if someone else already has permission, make sure *you* have permission. Also consider if the art in the fic belongs to someone other than the writer (like if the work was a collaborative piece or if it features fanart of the fic) and get permission from them, too! You may have to wait for a response, or you may never get one (in which case, don’t print without permission), but it really is worth it to make sure the authors/artists feel comfortable and confident that they keep control over their own work.

This is the first service I’ve used, and I have no experience binding, so I’m just sharing what I did and what I noticed with my untrained eye.

First, the service I used is Barnes and Noble Press. Here’s a link:

You can make books publicly for sale or books strictly private for personal use. If printing fanfic, be certain that you are creating a “personal” print. It will appear like this in your projects section (note the “PERSONAL” banner above the cover art):

As you can see - the price is pretty decent as far as books go! After tax, shipping, and handling costs, this book turned out to be $21.82.

You can choose how you want to customize the materials your book is made up of. Different materials cost different amounts (i.e. printing color pages inside is going to increase your price a lot). If you don’t know where to start, here’s the preference settings I selected for my copy:

Now, understand that they are not editing your book for you - you’re still going to have to do all the formatting and arranging in a document yourself and designing your own cover (so be prepared to still spend a lot of time on this project). They simply print and physically put all the pieces together for you.

Lastly, I want to address quality. While this is far better quality than I could manage on my own, it’s still not 100% up to quality of most books I can purchase in a store. For comparison, I’ll show a couple side-by-side images of the fic print next to my favorite published book, The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater.

Dust jacket: Feels great! Literally no complaints.

The hard cover: A bit cheaper feeling. Definitely noticeable difference with a printed visual texture instead of real texture. The printed texture creased and wore away to reveal the white beneath. It’s visible here after just a few openings of the book. Also, unfortunately, you cannot customize the hardcover under the dust jacket, so no spine labels and you’re stuck with this color blue:

Finally, my biggest concern, the binding of the pages: looks a lot more like a paperback that had its cover glued onto a hardcover than an actual standard hardcover. Again, I’m no expert and idk if that’s normal, what anything is called, or how this affects the lifespan of the book, but you can even see where the spine kinda hovers away from the hardcover casing and how that compares to the The Raven Boys.

Anyway, the service isn’t perfect, no, but it works for what I wanted, looks nice, is user friendly, and allows me to hold a fic I otherwise never would have had the opportunity to. I appreciate it for that.

Hope this was helpful! Print responsibly 😊

[whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell]

Vatic - Chapter XVII "Tryst"

Series Description :The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister. 

Chapter Description : Y/n finds out what Otto has been plotting.

A/n : Sorry for my extended absence

Warnings : Mentions of underage marriage, weapons, kissing, incest

Pairing :  Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 5.7 K

Horses hooves against the soft damp dirt, leather and metal moving as they rode further into the Kingswood. 

There was one guard ahead of them, the sound of his armor was the loudest to Y/n. He was the closest. While the guards behind them were far more faint. The sounds of leather came from Theobrand and Y/n respectively. This was not the first time they had ventured out into the Kingswood, but it was a first for two reasons. 

Theobrand had hired someone to make her something fit for an archer. With leather and warm fabric. It was the first time Y/n had ever had boots similar to the ones Aemond, Theobrand, and even Aegon wore. The time she’d gone to practice with Theobrand, she’d worn a pair of shoes in the same style as the ones she wore with her dresses. The kind that were a thin fabric with a thin sole. Whenever they came out into the Kingswood, she’d often get a bur stuck in the fabric of the shoe, or it would end up in the shoe, and once, there had even been a stick so sharp it had stabbed into the shoe. When it had happened, she’d sworn she was fine, but once they’d returned to the Keep, she found she’d been bleeding into the shoe. Now, there was a small scar on the anterior side of her left foot. 

Another thing that was different, was that she did not carry her old wooden bow. Rather, this was the first time tha Y/n had taken her dragonbone bow with her at the request of Theobrand. He thought she was ready to begin practicing with Rhaenyra’s gift. She’d grown quite a bit since she’d received it for her name day. As had the rest of her siblings, though Aemond seemed to out grow all of them within the past few months. 

Dragonbone was a hefty material, meant only for those who were adept in their style of combat, heavier than a wooden bow, and lighter than steel. Dragonbone was a rarity. The type of material only the highest of lords could possess and truly turn into a weapon if they had the means to. 

Y/n’s bow had gone untouched for years now, Sitting like a prized piece of art on her wall, awaiting the day she would climb a chair to retrieve it from it’s home. When she had pulled it down, her hands were coated in dust she had to wash off at the washing stand in her chambers. 

“We may stop here,” Theobrand announced, pulling the reigns of his horse to bring himself to a stop as Y/n followed his actions, as did the guards. 

“Little Princess, get off your horse for me,” He instructed. 

The princess did not question his request. She hardly ever had. Y/n only gave a curt nod and secured one foot in a sterup and swung the other foot off of her horse, coming to stand on the soft dirt ground. A light rain had come through the day prior, and it was rumoured that a rainstorm from the Stormlands would travel through King’s Landing soon. But Y/n didn’t think much of it. 

Theobrand also got off of his horse, pulling his own bow from his back. “Take out your bow.” 

Y/n reached behind her, grabbing her bow and pulling it off of her body, holding the heavy material in her soft hands. Despite how heavy and the potential danger the weapon could cause, it was beautiful, and just as smooth and bright as the gemstones in the jewlery she wore at home. As smooth as the sapphires of her most worn waistchain 

Theobrand hummed for a second, “Aim without an arrow,” It was a common instruction he gave her. He did it everytime they began practice, and even more so whenever she had a new bow to practice with. As she had gotten older, she needed larger and better bows. And hopefully, this would be her last. Y/n turned her body to be in the correct position, having a firm grasp on the grip of the bow, the fingers of her spare hand grabbing the bow string, pulling it to bebeside her cheek, her eyes trained on the bellyside of the bow. 

Theobrand approached her, kicking a bit at her feet to correct her stance in the most minute ways it hardly even mattered. He then reached out and readjusting her grip on it. “This is a warrior’s bow, Little Princess. It must be held differently.” Theobrand’s nickname never bothered her. It reminded her of when he had first begun training her. Only nine when Rhaenyra had brought him to King’s Landing from some of the most northern reaches of Westeros to train her. She’d been missing a tooth when they’d met. 

“Of course,” She agreed. The grip he changed her hands to was uncomfortable. The weight of the bow dug the smooth hard material into the side of her knuckle of her index finger. She tried to hide her grimace, but Theobrand noticed. 

“Does the weight hurt?” The tone the older man used was not that of a true question, but of knowing amusement. And knowing exactly what she would say next. 

“No, Of course not.” 

“Some archers wrap the grip of such bows like this one in a soft material. It helps to custimize a weapon, and to make it more comfortable to hold. This is the largest bow you’ve ever weilded, I would not blame you if it is uncomfortable.” 

“It hurts my hand,” She finally confessed, dropping her posture, now holding the bow in both hands. “It feels as though it is digging into the bones of my hand.” She gave a bitter chuckle, now looking up at Theobrand who had his arms crossed with a grin. 

“Well,” He began. “I will not be turning back anytime soon. I do suggest you learn how to suffer through a discomfort and build a callous.”

“Mother says callouses are only proper for men. A lady’s hands must be soft. It is why we use thimbles when we embroider.” Y/n retorted. She could practically hear her mother now if she were to find a callous on her hands. 

Aemond and Aegon both had them from years of training with swords. Both had scars on their hands from small cuts, and Y/n had done a well enough hiding the small cuts and scars on her own hands from her moments of foolishness when she fumbled an arrow and cut her hand. A majority of the time the small nicks were on her fingers, blending into the bitten and scabbed cuticles surrounding her nails. 

“Dragonbone is a rare material. It shares a similar quality to Valyrian steel,” Theobran told her, taking his own bown and pulling a arrow from the quiver that was slung over his back. “It is one of the sturdiest materials known to man. Difficult for a weapon maker to carve weapons out of it. It requires such a skill that it is scarcely seen in the realm. It’s a durable material. Unlike a wooden bow it does not need nearly as much maintenance.” Theobrand nocked the arrow, facing the woods surrounding them. “You do not need to polish and seal it like you would with wood. It does not splinter, warp, or buckle when exposed to water for vast amounts of time. . . And it is the most flexible and long range bow known to man.” He finished his sentence with the firing of the arrow, allowing it to fly through the air. And somewhere within the woods, they heard a ‘thunk’ as the steel arrowhead lodged itself into a tree trunk. 

Y/n looked at him curiously, brows furrowed. 

“You try.” He told her. “We shall see if your attempt is worth you putting up with the discomfort.” 

His amusement at her discomfort was not endearing to her. It often times was, but in the instance of being out in the woods, with royal guard surrounding them, and nothing but forest surrounding them from where they were, had her glaring at him as she reached behind her, pulling an arrow out of her own quiver that was on her back and quickly nocking it, the fletching tickling her cheekbone as she aimed in the same direction as Theobrand had, steadying her breath before she let the arrow go. 

Y/n dropped her posure immediately after hearing the ‘thunk.’ 

“Let us see,” Theobrand encouraged, beginning to walk into the treeline. Y/n was not far behind him, urging the lead guard to stay with the others and the horses. Going through the bristle, Y/n brought the bow closer to her chest, keeping it from hitting the ground or the trees they were weaving themselves through. 

She had not even realized how close behind him she truly was until he came to an abrupt stop and she slammed into his back. Stumbling back away from her, she held her nose, rubbing the bridge as Theobran turned to look at her, completely unfazed by the incident as he pointed to the tree in front of them. There was one arrow lodged into the tree at Y/n’s eye level, completely straight. Then a second one, lodged in at an angle and far closer to the roots than the other one. 

The lower arrow was just barely in the trunk of the tree. Just the tip of it in the bark. While the other one, the entire arrow head was lodged into the tree. 

“Dragonbone bows have such force behind them that the arrows loosed from it  could travel such a distance that a traditional archer could not even fathom. I once visited my brother at the northern wall. . . They had an old dragonbone bow in the armory. I had never seen one before, so one of their archers gave a demonstration. They shot an arrow up at the wall with it. And when we took the wooden lift to the top of the wall. . . We could not find it.”

“Did you ever find it?” Y/n inquired, her finger coming up to her arrow, delicately running her finger across the fletching. 

“A few rangers came back from an exposition from over the wall. Looking worse for wear. A couple of wildlings had attacked them, and they somehow made it out with their lives. And as they had been on the trip back, not far from the wall, an arrow came falling from the sky, hitting one of ther rangers in the thigh.”

Y/n turned her head to look at Theobrand, and incredulous look upon her face as she did. “What?” 

“It is the longest range weapon.” He said simply.

Y/n looked back to her arrow, reaching out to grab the cresting and the shaft, pulling as hard as she could on the arrow. Struggling for a moment before Theobrand assisted her in pulling it out. 

With the force that the arrow came out, both of them stumbled back a few paces. But she held the arrow in her hand. The steel arrowhead was covered in an amber colored sap. 

Y/n placed the arrow back in her quiver. She pulled her braid over her shoulder, looking at the ends of her silver hair where the red ribbon had been tied off. It had also been braided into her hair. It was a long velvet ribbon gifted to her from Helaena. It had black embroidery along it. It was a beautiful ribbon. 

The Princess shoved her bow into Theobrand’s hands, using both of her own to undo the tie her braid was in, and began to undo the braid, collecting the ribbon in her hands as she did, allowing her hair to be let loose in waves , and as she finally had all of the ribbon in her hands, she allowed the silver strands to fall over her shoulder and down her back. 

Reaching back out for her bow, Y/n  held it by the lower limb of the weapon, beginning to wrap the grip in the ribbon, making it softer and easier to hold. And once she had tied it off, she held it up, and the discomfort was gone. 

“Certainly innovative, Princess. Come, let us find something to hunt.” Theobrand did not give her time to catch up to what he meant before he began walking further into the woods, but once she noticed him walking away, she soon caught up to him. 

Y/n with care, stepped over the rough roots that stuck up out of the soft dirt ground, The soft clover that looked as though it had sprouted from the ground overnight being pressed into the ground whenever one of them stepped on it, only for the clover to slowly push itself back up once they had stepped off of it. 

“It is nothing more than a quarrel between shepherds that I’m sure Lord Tyrell can come to an agreeable solution for both of them before it has any ramifications.” Y/n’s mother spoke, her back was turned to her as she had entered the royal apartments, however, her grandsire had instantly laid eyes on Y/n. 

His ever prying and suspicious gaze took in her appearance, from the small amount of mud on her leather vest, her free hair, and her bow clutched in her hands as she and Otto made eye contact, holding it as he made his reply to her mother. 

“Lord Matthos Tyrell is an imbecile.” 

“I am aware of his nature. But I am as aware as you are that in truth it is not him who controls the land surrounding Highgarden, but Lady Tyrell. It has always been truth that women-”

“have influence in their households.” Y/n finished her mother’s words. It had gotten Alicent’s attention then, and the auburn haired woman finally turned to look upon her daughter. 

Her mother’s brown eyes took her in before she released a sigh. The youngest Targaryen daughter didn’t need to be told that her mother disapproved of her craft. It was something she’d made clear to Y/n from a young age. She was not allowed to practice the art of the sword with her brothers and nephew as a child, but Y/n had not let up. She could still recall the days when all she’d been allotted was an old bow that gave her splinters, and a single arrow.

“Darling, you look a mess.” Alicent finally spoke to her. 

“Theobrand and I were off in the Kingswood.” Y/n spoke as Alicent approached her. Her mother’s soft hands coming to tuck back the loose hair behind her ears, before she bagan to fiddle with a chunk that was over her shoulder. It was reminiscent of when her mother gently stroked her hair as she braided it back when she was only a child. 

“I was made well aware of your whereabouts.” Alicent told her, her spare hand fixing the leather material of her vest. a habit her mother had picked up when fixing Y/n’s bodices. “Lady Maris tried to find you, she seemed quite displeased when she could not.” 

A hum bubbled up from Y/n’s throat, a habit she’d begun to pick up from Aemond. 

“She finds my disappearing acts troubling.” Y/n confessed with a grin, taking in her mother’s appearance. The green silk of her gown was embroidered with beautiful gold thread and beads, the soft fabric reflecting the light that seeped into the royal apartments from the windows. 

Her mother shook her head in disapproval. “I find that you have gotten far too adept at the act of disappearing.” Despite her mother’s tone, Y/n knew she found it to be an endearing quality. “Go change into proper attire, Darling. Then go find Lady Maris.” 

Y/n did as she was instructed, walking away down the corridors to her bedchambers, asking for one of the maids to follow her so she may assist her in dressing herself. 

Once the Princess was changed and presentable, with her hair combed through and shining like molten silver, she had placed her bow back on its display, and stored the quiver away in her wardrobe. 

She’d found Lady Maris in the gardens, sitting under a gazebo in a wooden chair, with a glass of pink wine, and overlooking the blackwater, the ships coming to and from the ports, carrying many different kinds of goods to be traded and sold. 

“Whatever is on your mind, Maris?” Y/n pondered aloud as she came under the gazebo as well, taking a seat right beside her friend, joining her in gazing over the blackwater. 

Maris Tarly’s gaze felt like a heavy weight as the redhaired girl looked over Y/n’s form as she leaned over to rest her arms on the stone wall separating them from the stoney and water filled fall below. 

The sound of crashing waves against the rocks below and seagulls cawing in the distance was a familiar sound. One that Y/n had only ever associated with being in the Red Keep. They had shared many moments like this one. Sitting in a silence, enjoying one another’s company, and a beautiful view that you would find provided from the various rooms, balconies, and spots in the garden of the Red Keep. However, the silence that presided over them now was not one that was comfortable for either of them. The air between them was thick, unnerving. Ominous. 

“Your Grandsire. . . And Lord Reyne.” Maris confessed after a moment, extending an arm to Y/n, and when the Princess had turned her head to look at her friend, Maris had the glass of wine in her hand, offering it to Y/n. 

With a hesitant gaze, Y/n took the glass from Maris, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip of the pink liquid. It was sweet, and it smelled of spring. 

“They are conspiring against you, Princess. Dealing with one another for their own benefit, even if it means your own detriment.” 

Maris’ words were calloused, and sharp. It was a familiar tone. The same she had heard in Maris’ voice on Aegon and Helaena’s wedding night. 

“What?” Y/n’s own voice was low as she stared at Maris. The girl’s amber eyes trained on the ships in the water, her jaw clenched in deep thought. “Why would my own Grandsire conspire against me? He has nothing to gain from me-”

“If I may speak freely, Princess, you are mistaken.” Maris cut Y/n off. 

“I’ve always given the freedom to speak freely, My Lady.” She reminded

“Otto Hightower is a conniving, lying, scheming, power hungry, little man.” Maris was sitting in such a way that the Princess could feel the rage seeping off of the Tarly girl. “It is a common trait among second sons. They feel inferior to their elder brothers on the very fact that they do not inherit the titles, wealth, or power, so they feel the need to find and take it somewhere else. Even if it means putting their family at risk.” Maris then looked at Y/n, strands of her red hair being picked up by the gust of wind that came to them from the bay. “He’s in negotiations with Lord Reyne to have you married to Ser Raymond.”

Her words had stunned Y/n into silence. The lump in her throat and her blood feeling cold prevented her from speaking. She desperately wanted to say something, anything, ask questions, but in the moment, she could not even open her mouth as Maris’ striking eyes were burning with a fury that had been well kept all morning, her pupils so small they looked like the tip of a needle. She looked half a woman crazed. 

“He feels as though you have wasted your chances with every other suitor in the court. Ser Raymond is the only one who shows any legitimate interest in having your hand in marriage-” 

“He does not wish for me!” Y/n stood so suddenly that the chair she sat in toppled over onto the stone. She had not even realized she’d shouted till Maris stood up as well, trying to grab Y/n to calm her. 

“He wishes for my name! My blood! He wishes for a power that it is only granted by house name! That is only given by the house of the dragon!” 

Maris grabbed onto Y/n’s wrist, “Princess, please-” Y/n snatched her wrist out of Maris’ grasp. 

“It is clear can you not see it?” She inquired. “The houses of the Westerlands only lust for power, especially House Reyne. The Lannisters lust for the power they had before Aegon’s conquer. ‘Kings of the Rock.’” Y/n bitterly chuckled. “And Reynes? They want to be as respected as the Lannisters. They want their power! They believe themselves to be one in the same,  both cats, just of different color coats. The only way for them to gain such power is to be in the King’s favor! And with the King indisposed, they must deal the vulture ruling in his place.”

“Y/n, lower your voice,” Maris finally grabbed Y/n’s arms, holding her still. In this state, the Princess was sure they must both looked crazed to one another. With Maris’ eyes wide, and pupils hardly even there, and Y/n? with her outburst and a toppled over chair beside them. 

“Your anger is justifiable, expected even. But you cannot allow it to rule you-” Maris’ hushed anger made Y/n look around the gardens, the only person there was on the other end, by the roses, completely unaware of their words, but Maris must have seen something else, as she quickly hooked her own arm with Y/n, and faced them towards the bay once more. 

In the corner of her eye, she could see Lady Reyne walking out into the gardens with her daughter, Lady Eleyna Reyne. Both were perfectly dressed in the white and red colors of their house, with gold embellishments. The two women had arrived in King’s Landing from Castamere a week prior, and suddenly, the explanation as to why they would have left Castamere under Lord Robert’s brother’s watch became clear.

“Ser Raymond is perfectly gallant, and kind. But it is not him making the arrangement, it is his father, Maris. It is clear what he wants.” 

Maris seemed to become cautious of their environment now as her free hand came to squeez Y/n’s arm in comfort. “And what is that?”

“He wishes for his own bloodline to be seated on the Iron Throne.” Y/n muttered, watching as a ship with the sigil of the free city of Volantis. 

“Yes, he does.” Maris agreed. “But how would you suspect he’d accomplish that? When Rhaenyra is set to inherit the throne? And Prince Jacerys is her heir?” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, tensing as she heard one of the Reyne women laughing in the garden. 

“I would expect. . . Lord Reyne is playing a long game. . . He expects me to marry his son, produce children, and when Prince Jacerys’ own children are born, Raymond would negotiate a betrothal between one of our children with the oldest child Jacerys has.” 

She could tell Maris was nodding. Y/n did not know why she was suddenly so angry at the very prospect of marrying Ser Raymond. He presented himself as a good man, and Y/n had even attempted to ease Aemond’s own nerves about the knight, but now? The thought of being married to the man enraged her. 

“What do you want to do?” 

The question, although whispered, felt as though it echoed through the gardens and against the surface of the bay below them and back to their ears. She did not feel as though she had much of a choice in the matter. Her ears felt as though they were ringing. 

Did her mother know? 

The ringing came to a stop, and she then looked up at Maris. “How do you know this?” The question did not disturb Maris. She did not even appear to blink in response to the question. 

“Cup bearers, maids, stewards. . . They all whisper awful gossip in the corridors. They do not realize that rumors whispered in corridors echo like none other. Some rumors they echo to one another have merit.” 

Aemond’s presence was of comfort to her. For four nights now, Y/n had stared at her grandsire with such hatred she prayed to the seven that he choked on his food at every dinner. She had almost gotten her wish tonight. It had the corners of her lips wanting to tug up in a grin, though she had fought it. But he had only been coughing to clear his throat to continue babbling something political to her mother. 

Y/n peacefully lounged on the chaise, with a book in hand, and a candelabra on the end table beside her providing the light she needed to follow the words on the page. Her night gown allowed the breeze from the balcony to cool her skin from the rage she was bottling up like it was a precious wine intended to be shipped off to some distant land. Aemond was sat on the ground, his back against the chaise, and his head resting on the side of her thigh that was on the edge of the cushion. 

Her fingers were running through the silky strands of silver hair that she had brought to be draped over her lap. She had not even realized how long he allowed his hair to grow, but it suited him. He’d once told her that he liked to look intimiatating to the men at court. With an eyepatch covering his sapphire eye, the scar showing on his cheek and forehead, with long silver hair that was reminiscent of the old portraits of Aegon the Conquerer. 

But the moon had long entered the sky, and almost every other soul in the keep had found itself at rest, their’s seemed to be the exception. But Aemond had shifted from beside her, standing on his feet then, and turning towards her with his book now closed in his hand, the ribbon bookmark placed between two pages well into the book. 

“Must you go?” 

Aemond hummed, reaching a free hand down to brush some of her hair out of her face. “I have already stayed longer than I tend to in honor of your name day, sweet sister.” He replied. 

Y/n grabbed the ribbon bookmark of her own book, putting it between the page she was on the page she had just finished, snapping it closed and sitting up straight. “Yes. But must you go?” Y/n repeated the question, holding her hand out so Aemond would help her to her feet, which he did without even a second thought. 

“You know I must. Ser Criston insists on an early training in the morrow.” 

Y/n sighed, looking down at her book and placing it down on the chaise, and looking up to her brother. “Then I shall walk you to your chambers.” 

Aemond grinned at that, setting his own book down as well. In truth, it was her book that she was allowing him to read. Aemond then turned to the large table in the room, grabbing the lantern. The table was low enough to the ground so that if you sat on the ground it would be at your chest. 

Her brother reached for her hand which she gladly offered to him, happily following him to the wall, where he pulled the entrance to the passageway open, and began leading her into the thin and dark passage.  

They walked in near silence, the only sounds heard were their own footsteps, his in boots, and her’s bare against the stone, and their breathing that echoed against the stone walls around them. 

The eventually reached his chambers, where he pushed to stone wall enough that it finally peaked open, allowing the candle light from his room to seep into the passage. 

Y/n stepped into his chambers right after him, looking around the familiar room as he placed the lantern down on the table beside the passage so she could take it back with her. As she examined the room, she noticed the sword that was placed to be leaning against the wall, still in its sheath, the steel hilt glittering in the candle light. 

Aemond and had begun to unbuckled the green doublet he wore. revealing the white tunic he wore underneath. 

Y/n noticed the stack of books on the floor at the foot of his bed that seemed to have grown since the last time she had been in his chambers. It made her smile, as did the spare eyepatch that she spotted on top of his bed.

Then her attention was back on Aemond as he approached her, She could not help but to notice how he appeared before her, having rid himself of his doublet and somehow of his eyepatch, showing her the sapphire freely. 

Aemond reached for the lantern and put the handle into her hands, but as she looked up from the candle flickering inside of the lantern, she noticed just how close Aemond was to her, not that it was abnormal for him to be so close to her, but in this moment, it was different. 

They seemed to both be examining each other’s features, and they seemed to have both noticed the close proximity. But neither made the move to step away. And all at once she recalled seeing his sapphire for the first time, how she could feel his breathing when he’d reached for her waist chain with the sapphires on it. That was how close they were now. If someone had seen them on that day, they would have told them it was improper. If someone were to see them now? She was sure he entire keep would be awoken by it. She did not even wish to know what their mother would say. 

But as she held the lantern in one hand, she brought one to rest against his chest. She was not even thinking as she did it. But with her palm pressed against the thin fabric of his tunic, she could feel his heart hammering against his chest. But she did not push him away. 

No, instead he only stepped closer to her, their chests now pressed against each other, and so close that her eyes could not even bring his features into focus, it was mostly blurry as she felt a hand on her hip, and his other hand coming up to hold the side of her face.

His heart was now hammering against her own chest, to the same beat as her own. His scent completely surrounding her as looked up at him. The oils he used on his hair to keep pin straight mixing with his natural scent was almost as intoxicating as northern ale. 

It happened all at once, him resting his forehead against her own, blocking out most light so all she could see was his lilac eye, sapphire, and his scar, and not even a second later, she was closing her eyes as he came impossibly closer, his lips meeting her own.

Her stomach felt as though it was sprouting wings to try to fly away, and she could hear her heart in her own ears. 

Y/n knew she should pull away and run back to her own chambers, but she couldn’t find herself able to. But he had pulled away first, only to look down at her. 

With the anxious lick of her lips, Y/n could taste Aemond on them. Her stomach flipped at the taste, and she found herself bringing the hand resting on his chest to then bringing her fingers to the back of his neck, gently urging him to do it again with a small tug. 

And he did. Without an ounce of hesitation he kissed her once again, the hand on her hip then coming to wrap his entire arm around her back, squeezing her to him as though she could get any closer to him. 

This was wrong. According to the Faith of The Seven they were sinners now. Even if they were exempt due to the very nature of their house, it had been engrained into Y/n from a young age by her mother that it was wrong. 

But despite all the talk her mother had done about it, Y/n could not help but to find it silly now as Aemond kissed her and held her this way. She simply could not find it in her in the moment to feel guilty for being in her undergarment in front of her brother, nor could she feel guilty for enjoying the feeling of his lips against her own.

As Aemond broke away from her only for a second, both of them briefly catching their breath before he moved his lips against her’s once more, she felt. . . almost peaceful. As though what she’d heard from Maris was no longer relevant, and that she was meant to be between Aemond’s arms, with his body against her’s and the taste of him against her lips. 

It felt like it was too soon when Aemond fully pulled away from her, no longer holding her so tight against him, and his lips no longer on her own, it felt as though a warm blanket had been torn away from her in the cold of night. 

She went to protest his actions, but he kissed the crown of her head. “You must go, little sister.” He muttered against her hair before he pulled away, leaving a gently kiss on her lips before stepping away. 

Y/n could only nod and turn away with the lantern in hand, stepping down the passage back to her own chambers. 

For the rest of the night, she could only smell him on her, and taste him on her lips.

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[attyrocious]

uncle brought over my stack of art school era (2013~) artwork plates thats been gathering dust in my old dorm and i kinda wanna share a few. bear with me almost all of these are abstract shit bc you know...fine arts academia. idk

one of the first plates and single-handedly is to blame for my disdain of drawing straight lines: color mixing chart we have to mix poster color paint for each square and i was poor so i only had the primaries

i had a pretty high grade here iirc but anyway this is so fucking pointless what the fuck am i gonna do with this and now i just hate rulers and ruling pens

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color theory/scheme plate and im here to announce that yes, turning brain off and adding as much detail as possible has been a decade old technique apparently

principles of design plate?

ngl i still like this one bc look at it

the concept of horror vacui has stayed in my brain and tbf my prof liked it bc it looks like i put effort. i did, technically, but like how i draw now, its just therapeutic to not think and just move hands instead

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printmaking plates! lino-cut prints, to be exact. many stabbings happened in the making of these. i think the way i do inktobers have been mostly derived from these. and lino-cuts print is something ive been wanting to pursue but its such an expensive and space consuming medium and that makes me sad. anyway,

prompt here is reframing fairy tales into Philippine culture/setting. so hansel and gretel in a sari-sari store

i used OCs for the characters here, and the owner of the' taller boy 'hansel' hasn't been my friend for years now but damnit i still love this concept and she's not ruining this for me

prompt for this one is 'morning'. so here's me in my depression college dorm, booting up for the day. rip to my childhood Buttercup doll, i don't know where you are now

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last im willing to show is this pest-eaten watercolor landscape painting of UP Lagoon.

look, we had to go out into a mosquito-infested area at 3pm (the start of our watercolor techniques class) and paint this before 5:30 (end of class) but in practice its less than an hour time bc the sun was setting and we can't see shit anymore let alone what color that one flower is.

turned out p good still i think