#i did not attempt to do that in the shading though . which may be why it looks bad

[lucksea]

now that artfight is over i can take some time to properly design them before i make new refs

[riddlesrose]

kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair. 

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now. 

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.” 

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm. 

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force. 

“i just had this ironed!” you frown. 

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face. 

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself. 

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly. 

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.” 

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm. 

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend. 

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant. 

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin. 

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side. 

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to. 

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time. 

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips. 

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes. 

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger. 

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released. 

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!) 

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction. 

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead. 

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head. 

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden. 

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?” 

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him. 

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most. 

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out. 

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him. 

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly. 

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you. 

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin. 

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails. 

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality. 

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop. 

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine. 

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter. 

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses. 

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining. 

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind. 

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath. 

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do. 

you cup his cheek, “malleus?” 

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.” 

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?” 

“yes.” 

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face. 

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?” 

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.” 

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips. 

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter One - Dinner and Diatribes

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: benji is (hot and) bothered, probably inaccurate depiction of knighting ceremonies

song: Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

a/n: I only fleetingly proofread this, please excuse any mistakes <3

prologue

It is a swelteringly hot day.

Humid, stale air presses down upon the kingdom, torturing anyone who dared to venture to so much as lift a finger.

Weather like this is not made for exciting endeavours.

In fact it is made for remaining in a shaded area, or within the castle walls or in the cool waters of the sea, but you are not granted any such indulgences today.

Your handmaiden, Marion, winces at your gasp for air. “I am sorry, princess. Would that I could spare you this, but a lady of your status simply cannot leave her chambers without a corset.”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “It is not your fault, dear. I shall suffer the confines of a corset, just as the common folk suffer their afflictions. ‘Tis but a small price to pay for a lavish dinner.”

Marion returns your smile but it does not look at all convinced, rather than dread-filled.

She does know her princess well, after spending many years in your service and loyally devoted. She knows when you are happy and she knows you as you are now, which is decidedly unhappy and yet determined to convince your surroundings of the opposite.

Marion does not understand why you always are so insistent upon these matters, she figured you might be a little less ashamed to be honest with your handmaiden, who had seen you bare after all.

But Marion also does not understand how hard it is to be outwardly emotional after being taught over and over, for years and years, that you may do nothing but smile tepidly and sit prettily.

You let her finish the lacing of your corset and briefly you clutch the back of your vanity chair. “God be good, that I might survive in this merciless warmth,” you mutter through a haphazard giggle.

Your handmaiden directs your gaze at your dresses. “I have picked out your simplest gowns, princess, should you think them fit for the occasion?”

A knighting ceremony has never happened in the time she had worked for you.

Or they have, but you were simply not the one to be doing the knighting, so the question of the wardrobe did feel rather overwhelming, with nothing to go off of.

Your head tilts slightly to the side as you take them all in and though you can feel your heart, in your now uncomfortably squashed ribcage, scream out for a thin and modest dress, you know deep down that it would be much better to wear something more precious.

To your knowledge, a fair share of the nobles were to attend this little festivity.

A sigh escapes you and you shake your head. “Might you fetch me the gown with the flowers embroidered? I do believe the king would like me to make a good impression upon our visitors tonight, it would be about due time that he attempted to convince me of marriage once again.”

This time Marion’s smile seems genuine, at the light ridicule of your father. “I shall see to it, princess. In the meantime, I think Ser Rodrick would like to bid you his goodbyes.”

You cannot help the pain this causes you. The notion of having to part ways with your former knight did not sit well with you at all.

Your robe drapes around you and the door creaks open.

Marion is always impossibly quick and quiet. She flits through the castle not much unlike a little mouse and you do not even know in which moment she leaves.

Whereas Ser Rodrick with his ever imposing silhouette was not ever subtle.

Your gaze meets his in your mirror and you think that you could weep right then. He seems to share this idea.

“I wish I were but a few years younger, princess, so that I could remain by your side a little longer.”

There is a thick clot in your throat, so thick that you may choke on it. “You’ve performed your duties beautifully,” you say, fighting tooth and nail against the tears threatening to spill.

Slowly you turn to face your sworn protector.

A man like Ser Rodrick, you found, is hard to come by. His kindness and honour seeks its match and after the many years together, he had long transcended his position and become more of a confidant, dare I say, friend instead.

He had known you from a sticky, wild childhood, through the years of your growth until now.

Long gone is the babe he was sworn to protect, with its clumsy movements and relentless howling, replaced by what you are now; the realm’s delight, a fair young woman, grown into the shape of a dedicated princess.

He bows his head down. “I shall miss you dearly, princess.”

Your laugh is a watery, wet thing. “Oh, you shall not. I will write you many letters. Your retirement shall not be as peaceful as you think, my good Ser.”

The setting sun reflects in the shine of his armour, a chest plate painted hues of gold and orange in this light. It bears the sigil of your father’s house and it heaves now with his heavy breathing.

“Your brother has asked me for guidance on who to pick and I put forward the youngest Lord Mormont. A northerner with a northerner’s honour.”

You nod, fingers fiddling with the belt of your robe, fiddling to find the right words now but they do not come to you and so you remain silent.

There could not be a good replacement for your knight, how could anyone ever understand you again, the way that Ser Rodrick had.

“Child, do not fret. I am away from court, not from the world,” he says. “And I shall reply to your letters with great pleasure.”

“How come you are not to be at the ceremony? Should my old protector not be there to see me off to my new one?”

Rodrick shrugs. “It is the way of tradition. I will be dismissed by your father and leave the court in mere moments.”

It is unfair really, it is almost embarrassing to you, to insult Rodrick and have him retire, like an old horse, as though he is no longer a capable fighter.

It had come as a bit of a surprise to you as well, not much of a warning of any kind had been given to you, before your father informed you not even a week ago of this rather drastic change.

The thought that you were to share every waking moment with a stranger bothered you relentlessly.

You cross the room quickly, manners and protocol thrown to the wind as you throw your arms around your knight’s neck.

It is awkward and tense, his iron and steel exterior boring into your soft flesh, but nonetheless he does not pull away, offering you comfort the best he can.

You are the third born child of the king, and though it was undeniable how popular you were at court and with the smallfolk, your father did not care much.

You were not an heir or a spare, you simply were there and as you bent and broke yourself to garner his attention, it was Ser Rodrick who would look down at the flushed cheeks you so often donned as a child and impose his gentleness on you.

As you grew you found yourself wondering how much the blood in your veins meant, what it mattered that the king had put you into your mother’s womb, when it was somebody else who you found yourself in the care of.

“Oh dearest, your mother would be so overcome with delight at the sight of you today,” he whispers when you finally pull back, one large rough hand on your shoulder. “What a marvellous person you’ve become.”

The hurt and love in your heart intermingle and threaten to burst through its seams. The gripping force in your neck does not fade and so, to the best of your abilities, you inhale a deep breath.

“You must visit soon, Ser Rodrick. Whenever you’ve grown sick of spending your days lazing about,” you attempt at a jest.

He shoves at you a little bit. “And you must remain out of trouble. At least for a few weeks.”

You huff. “I am nothing short of a saint.”

“You are,” he says. “You truly are.”

You dare not let the tears spill from your eyes and you dare not look into his, where you are sure you will find the same sheen as in yours.

“I must go, but rest assured a piece of me remains with you.“

In the most royal demeanour and grace you can muster, you curtsy to him. “I am indebted to you forever, Ser Rodrick.”

He kisses the back of your hand, unmarred and soft against his, not a speck of dirt beneath your well-kempt nails. “Farewell for now.”

You do not wish to say farewell and so you do not. You would see him again after all, at least on your birthday, you would certainly see to it.

Silently you watch him leave you behind and though you know that you are not truly without protection, you do wonder who else at court would ever be so honest and gracious with you again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You regret not having given into your desires, the moment you put on this wretched ball gown.

Though the sun is almost entirely gone now, its force still lingers in the air and you think you may be strangled by it.

With great urgency you cling to your wine chalice, about the third pour deep in hopes of ridding yourself of your sweaty discomfort.

It was a wonderful gown, a pale green shade, its bodice and hems embroidered with rosy flowers. The king always liked you in these distinctly girlish dresses, the perfect picture of an obedient and compliant daughter.

He sits to your right, drunk and distracted by his latest mistress next to him.

Lady Cathcart, a notorious sinner, as many liked to say.

Marion had once told you that Lady Cathcart was an expert at fellatio. You do not know what that means, but you assume it could only be of immoral nature.

Bile rises at the sight of them, unapologetic and public shame brought to your mother’s memory.

You avert your eyes and redirect them to your brother next to you.

His attire clashes with yours, a dark purple, not at all youthful and much more suitable for the heir to the throne. He looks just as annoyed as you feel, though you’ve gone to great lengths to hide it.

“Tristan?” You tap your chalice against his.

He breaks out of his reverie with wide eyes. “Sister.”

“When is the ceremony to begin?”

With nervous eyes he scans the room. It bustles with gowns and nobles and servants. “Not much longer,” he somehow ascertained through the sight of this. “Why do you ask?”

“I would like to be excused for a few moments,” you explain and your brother does not question why.

He was often a very crass and forward young man, but he did harbour a certain softness to his younger sister. With the wave of a hand he gives you permission and you do not wait any longer, your chair screeching across the floor immediately.

Fingers curled around your skirt layers, you make haste for the gardens, lest you fall unconscious before you get there.

It was too late to change your dress now, so the sweet solace of the royal gardens would have to serve you as an opportunity for a breath of air.

Air that wasn’t stained with the ladies’ expensive perfumes or the intense spices of dinner.

Air that wasn’t tainted with your father’s misbehaviour.

Your breathing had become quite laboured and you cursed the extravagance of your family, especially now, as your gown had become your body’s prison.

Guards open the doors and the moment you are out of prying eyes you drop into the grass beneath you.

It is no longer soft and ticklish, the way it had been a few short weeks ago, in the wakes of spring. The harshness of summer had turned it coarse and mean against your exposed arms.

It is not very suitable to lay around on the ground like this, but the stars above are spinning and you feel you could have died if you spent a moment longer upright.

Lord Mormont, you think to yourself. A very quiet man, your senior by a few years. You had only spoken with him fleetingly and never about anything of great interest, to either of you, you assumed.

It leaves you wondering whether he would become this constant distanced force in her life. Not only a protector but also somebody who would keep her in line.

In your many years with Ser Rodrick, you had worked out a rhythm with him. You had gotten used to one another and therefore, after so many hours spent together, a strong foundation of trust rests beneath your friendship. He had never chastised you for your shortcomings as princess, he had let you venture outside the castle walls with Marion and had not uttered a single word to your family.

You’re not sure that Lord Mormont would be so tolerant. Northerners were notoriously serious about their duties, he does not seem like the type to take lightly to things like this.

With your face turned upward to the moon and your mind racing, you do not hear the approaching footsteps until it is too late.

A face leans above you.

The young man has a crooked sort of look to him, not as princely as the faces you are accustomed to.

A scar graces his lip, accompanied by a bend in the slope of his nose.

Princes and noblemen rarely carried traits like this, he looks rather common.

Right now he also looks at you, rather confused.

“Looking for anything down there,” he teases as heat shoots into your cheeks, more than the high temperatures had already caused.

You sit up, fumbling to straighten your appearance at least a little bit, the rash movement sending you back into your previous state of low-level vertigo.

The man does not think to offer you a hand and you are once again taken aback by his…commonness.

“What is a lady like you doing, tumbling around in the gardens at night?”

His hands land on his hips.

Maybe he was the stable boy of one of the Lords that were visiting.

His clothing reveals no sigils to you, a simple black attire with a red cape.

No, he could not be highborn.

“What, cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes widen at the realisation that you are simply sitting there, not speaking.

“I felt a bit faint,” you explain. “Would you offer me a hand, young man?”

His brow raises a little but he extends one to you anyways.

Like Rodrick's, his hand is witness to hard labour, again a stark contrast to yours.

Unlike Rodrick though, he grips you with more force, all but yanking you upwards. Nausea brews in you.

“I thank you,” you mumble. What a queer young man.

He is more brave than a servant, to address you so haphazardly.

He grunts in lieu of a real answer.

“Tell me, what’s this place like? Seems like a fucking shitshow so far.”

It clicks then. He does not know that you are the princess. He thinks you to be of a lower house. It would make sense, with the position he found you in but your appearance surely does not speak to that of a lower house.

Men are always so indifferent to these details, they do not realise their worth.

You clear your throat. “Well, the royal family is rather kind. And there are many feasts and festivities held here. It can be quite interesting,” you say.

He shakes his head. “´Course you’d say that,” he mutters just beneath his breath.

You cross your arms. “What do you imply?”

“You capital people are all the fucking same. Insufferable flatterers.”

It is not often that people speak so frankly to you. You are not sure whether that might be why his words offend you or because he is simply wrong.

“I am no flatterer.”

His nose scrunches. “Yeah? You’ve never seen the princess and doused her in compliments? Never made eyes at her boring brother?”

“I would have you know that her brother is not boring and the princess is a very humble person. She does not care much for feigned niceties.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, birdy.” He lets the name roll over his tongue like it is a term of endearment, delicious and something to relish in.

Now you take a step back. “Watch who you are speaking to, you fool.”

He does not seem troubled by your reaction, lets one hand run through his wild dark hair. “And who is that?”

“A lady. You would do good in learning the pillars of chivalry.”

He laughs, bitterly and full of sarcasm. “Oh trust me I know chivalry and I know it well.”

The garden feels different now, charged with an energy you could not quite put your fingers on. He seems an iresome lad and you decide that you needn’t handle such treacherous behaviour displayed in front of you.

What a fool he is, to speak so lewdly of your family in the very heart of your father’s kingdom.

“Well then, you should learn to mind your tongue. This is no place for words as yours,” you spit and once more grip the skirts of your dress. “I shall bid you goodnight.”

He does not do the same, you think you even see him roll his eyes before you turn your back to him.

It is the curse of manhood to always think they have a right to something. It is what leads them into violence and wars and their own demise.

Women are not troubled with such foolery, women are taught to keep their mouths shut and they hold the wisdom of listening in high regard. It is why they always know the secrets of the castle before any of the Lords hear of it.

You cannot help but shake off your head at this rude intrusion of your peace, this imbecilic attitude.

He would learn his lesson soon enough, he would not make the same mistake unscathed with any other courtiers.

Before you enter again you reach into your hair, checking to see whether it had fallen apart in your short time on the ground, but Marion is too good at her job. Despite hours of dancing or riding or windy weather, it seems that no hair falls amiss no matter how intricate or complicated the style.

A blind man could have picked you out as the princess, you are sure of it.

Huffing and puffing with anger, you drop back into your seat next to your brother, willing this god-forsaken day to finally come to its end.

Your brother ushers a servant to refill your cup. “Are you quite alright?”

“I think my corset is laced too tight and my closest friend has left the city but other than that, I am splendid,” you reply, a misdirected hit of venom toward your innocent brother.

He nudges you with shoulder. “Are you not excited about meeting your new knight? I’ve heard great tales of him.”

You shake your head no and gulp down the sweet wine in a hurry. “I cannot imagine.”

“What? He’s more a myth than a man.”

Liquid goes down the wrong pipe and you nearly choke. “Mormont? In what world?” You ask, entirely incredulous.

Tristan’s eyes widen. “Father has not told you?”

Your eyes tell him to be honest with himself. When has their father ever given you the graciousness of staying informed? He hadn’t even told you of your mother’s death, leaving it to your oldest sister to do so. It does not come as a surprise that once again you are left in the dark about matters that directly concern you.

“It is not Lord Mormont. Father attempted to create peace in the Riverlands,” Tristan begins to explain.

An odd feeling of dread creeps into your bones. “And?”, you inquire, voice taunt but before your brother manages to get out an answer, your father rises.

He is drunk, he sways softly from side to side and you can see his Lady Cathcart’s fingers curl around his leg in an attempt to keep him steady. The room falls quiet, eager to hear their monarch speak.

Insufferable flatterers, the young man pierces your thoughts again.

Some bit of skin is pinched, right beneath your breast and it sends a sharp pain down your side when you straighten your back once more, harsh enough to leave you distracted.

It is odd, you cannot seem to find clarity today, your thoughts distant and flimsy, like water in your hands.

“A special honour shall be bestowed on one of you young lads. The honour of protecting the sanctity of our kingdom's delight, my beloved daughter,” King Alexander boomed, the slightest hint of slur to his words.

Polite claps follow suit and beneath the table you begin to twist the rings on your fingers.

“Now, our council has given great thought to our choice and we are certain that we have picked the most suitable man in the kingdom, for his reputation exceeds him.”

Whispers flood the room and it takes much of your self-constraint to not take your brother’s hand like a little child.

“Benjicot Blackwood, shall be sworn in, in our midst, tonight.”

Bloody Ben.

Tristan is right. There’s many tales to be told of the heir of Raventree, none of which have anything to do with knighthood and to you, all of them are terrifying. A man like that to watch over you with hawkeyes.

You would have much preferred the stoic Lord Mormont.

You swallow thickly.

“My dearest shall knight him herself.”

Your father has not looked at you yet, perhaps he does know that he will face nothing but contempt. He is a drunkard but he is a king and perhaps even a good one and it does take at least somewhat of a brain to be one.

You blinked, once, twice and then you smiled—a practised smile, not much alike to a real one—and got up.

The lightness in your head leaves your periphery blinded, but you have learned after many years of life under the watchful eyes of the nobility, to not stumble, no matter your state and with graceful steps you walk around the table reserved for the highest ranks.

Well, and Lady Cathcart.

Your knees bend very deeply before your father as his sword slices the air.

Nobody thinks to keep you up to date, but nobody needs to tell you about things like this. The manners and the conduct of behaviour at court are ingrained into your brain.

You do not have to be told when to bow or when to rise.

The sword is heavier than expected, it quivers a bit in your hold when your father passes it across the table to you.

It’s gorgeous, with engravings along its blade, flowery gardens, lush hills, stormy seas, it shines in the candlelit hall.

The grand doors creak upon and you cannot bear it any longer, you whirl around, all dizziness ignored, impatient to see the legendary bloody Ben.

At the end of the path he stands, simple black clothes, dark red cape and crooked nose.

Your jaw drops, only by a little.

From the distance parting you, you can’t be certain but Benjicot Blackwood looks about as surprised as you.

He shouldn’t be surprised, you think, he should be worried.

The sword is still awkward in the gip of both of your hands, but the face you make is practised.

Marion had once compared it to Rodrick’s steel armour.

It takes the man a torturously long time to finally reach you, each step dragged as though something was pulling him the other way.

He looks at you, like he wishes to challenge you, but he kneels, not with poise, moreso dropping before you like a sack of potatoes.

Through strands of hair he peaks up at you and it is a funny little turn, you wonder what you must have looked like looking up at him in the garden

Solemnly you clear your throat.

“ Wilt thou, upon this day, pledge thy fealty to the House Aprikate, and stand as a Knight of the Crown?” Your voice drips with an authority that feels strange on your tongue, an unfamiliar power vested in you.

“Yes, your grace.”

You almost feel bad for him, it does not seem so honourable to be kneeling like this, head firmly directed down, so clearly beneath you for everyone to see.

“Doth thou wish to abandon thy self, and be sword and shield for the sake of the greater good?”

This time he pauses a little longer. “Yes, your grace.”

You lift the sword from where you hold it against your mid, slowly and pray to god and all his saints that the tremble of your hand is not too noticeable.

With much tenderness you touch upon each of his shoulders.

“I do hereby dub thee, Benjicot Blackwood, knight of honour. May your courage and devotion become a shining example throughout all the land.”

And so it is done, your chest constricting and heart writhing within. You cannot say what it is that pushes you over the edge, but you see the way he looks at you, as though you have damned him to hell on earth.

Something jolts down your spine and finally your arduous work of remaining composed unravels, darkness cloaking your sight.

A gasp reverberates, mayhaps yours, but you are unconscious before your body tumbles to the ground.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // ONE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You meet Mai, Ty Lee, and Prince Zuko.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: this is my first ever attempt at writing for atla despite how long ago i watched it and how much i’ve written since then HAHAH. tbh i don’t expect much to come of it but oh well we’ll see how it goes!! also this is an alternate universe — the extent of which things have been changed will become more apparent as we go along. also apologies in advance if anyone is ooc, i haven’t watched atla in forever so idk if i’ll get it right!

There was a pile of glass on the nightstand when you woke up. It glimmered in the light, the fire refracting on the shards and forming tiny little rainbows on the wooden floor. Rusty streaks stained the faceted tips, though, and you winced as you tried to imagine how that quantity of blood could’ve made its way there.

“It’s yours,” a girl said. You startled, for you hadn’t noticed her presence, but it seemed like that had been her plan. She stood in the corner, her clothes a dull maroon, her hair glossy black and eyes a sharp, dark shade. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she regarded you, but her face was otherwise smooth, betraying nothing.

“Mine?” you said, voice cracking from disuse. “What do you mean? The — the blood?”

“And the glass,” she affirmed. “In some sense, anyways. Some of the pieces, we had to pull out of you, and others were apparently just lying around where you were found. At least, that’s what Zuko said. I’m still not quite sure why he went and collected it all to bring back, though…”

You squinted at the glass, trying to find some familiarity in it, but there was none. You had no idea why you would be surrounded by it, nor why it would be embedded in you. The girl waited for a second, but when you did not speak, she scoffed.

“Sorry,” you said automatically.

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for so long,” she said, an accusatory note entering her voice. “Zuko refuses to say anything, and it’s not like we can bully the crown prince himself into telling us what happened, so you’ve been our only chance at figuring everything out.”

“Oh,” you said, a migraine building behind your forehead as you tried to go through the events that had led to your presence here, in this austere room, on this plush mattress. “I — I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” she repeated drearily. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again. “I really don’t. I’m telling the truth.”

In fact, you were rapidly coming to the conclusion that you didn’t know anything. Your childhood, your family, your home…there was nothing. Where your memories ought to be was a bleak stretch like night, barely interrupted by flashes of blue. You reached for that blue, for that lovely shade like sapphire, but it was always just out of your grasp, something you could never quite touch no matter how much you wanted to.

“How about I tell you what I know, and we go from there?” she said. You nodded, though you were only half paying attention to her. The rest of you was fighting back a panic that threatened to twist your insides, a dread that was rotting through you, both sensations borne from the fear that you would never remember anything again.

“Prince Zuko was banished from the Fire Nation and told only to return once he found the Avatar,” she said. “He found him eventually, found him many times in fact, but he wasn’t able to capture him. It’s irrelevant, though — he did do something just as impossible. That is to say, he infiltrated Ba Sing Se.”

You thought that you were probably supposed to be awed by this, but considering you had zero idea what any of it meant, you just felt further confused. Still, you smiled at her, hoping she would keep talking until something or another made sense.

“Fire Lord Ozai couldn’t ignore the opportunity. He sent an army to the prince’s aid, and under his command, they managed to destroy the Earth Palace and depose the royal family. The Earth Kingdom’s in shambles, and all but the most secretive resistance efforts have vanished,” the girl, who had still not introduced herself, continued.

“I don’t see what this has to do with me,” you said, ducking your head.

“Neither do the rest of us,” she said. “That’s what you were supposed to know. For some reason, the fact is that upon returning from Ba Sing Se, the prince had your body in tow. You were wrapped in so many bandages we couldn’t tell what you were at first, and then we thought you must be closer to a corpse than anything, but he insisted you were alive, and that we had to heal you.”

“The prince himself did such a thing?” you said. Even you understood what the magnitude of that title meant, what kind of person a prince was bound to be. And if that was the case, if this mysterious Zuko really was the prince of an entire nation, then why would he have sullied his victory with care for the brutalized body of a random girl?

“He did,” the girl said. “It was the first thing he saw to. Not the reclamation of his crown, but that you were being treated with the best technologies the Fire Nation has to offer. Don’t you think it’s strange? Worthy of investigation? Don’t you agree that we should be curious about what significance you have?”

“Yes, um, naturally,” you said, taken aback by the rapid-fire line of questioning. Despite her initially bland facade, she was surprisingly intense, relentless, even, the stark contrast between the two personalities enough to make you curl inwards.

“Maybe he loves you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you, inspecting you critically. “I suppose it’d certainly be an explanation, though it wouldn’t give us any clues about who you are or why he might love you in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said, shifting in your seat uncomfortably. “I don’t even know my own name, let alone whether I was in love with someone.”

“Don’t even know your own name?” the girl said, raising her eyebrows. “You really are pathetic. I’m impressed.”

“I can’t remember anything specific about my life. I know general things, of course. The color of the sky. The way the moon looks. But the history of the world, my own existence…these are things I cannot recall,” you said.

She appraised you with the beginnings of something like sympathy flickering in her irises. Clenching her jaw and deciding upon something, she straightened her back and turned to the door.

“I should tell Zuko you’re awake,” she said. “That’s what he told us to do, the instant you regained consciousness. I’ve put it off long enough.”

“Wait!” you said. “What’s your name?”

She glanced at you over her shoulder. You blinked at her, willing her to understand — that before you could meet this prince, you had to know something. Even if it was only as small as this girl’s name, you wanted to have at least one thing in your head, a word or other such piece of knowledge that you could cling to, that you could form a barrier around your mind with.

“Mai,” she said. She did not elaborate before slamming the door shut behind her, but it was enough for you. There was this one constant now — you knew a girl, and her name was Mai.

As you waited for Mai to return with the prince, you busied yourself with inspecting the room you were quartered in. You had mistakenly called it austere due to the lack of decorations hung up, but now that you had the chance to look closely, you noticed that the wall itself was covered with intricate, swirling designs engraved by a firm, steady hand. The blanket that had been drawn up around your shoulders and was now puddled around your hips was made of silk and stuffed with feathers, and its quality was such that it all but shimmered. This was not the kind of room that just anybody stayed in; it was a room fit for someone of high rank. A lady. And a lady you were not, yet here you sat, in this room that made you feel entirely out of place.

Only a few minutes had passed before the door slammed open, but it was not Mai nor any sort of prince who entered. It was another girl, as bubbly and cheery as Mai had been cool and collected. She beamed when she saw you sitting up and looking around, bounding over to place her hands on your shoulders.

“Hi! Hi, hi, I’m so glad you’re awake!” she said. You tried to smile back at her, but the exuberance was so jarring that you could not do anything but brace yourself against it.

“Thank you,” you managed to say as she shook you. “Who are you?”

“Ty Lee!” she said. You noticed that she had a habit of ending every sentence with her voice ticking up in delight, like she was perpetually thrilled with the world. It was even more of a contrast to Mai than you had anticipated, and you felt your head spinning as you tried to keep up with the differences.

“Did I know you before?” you said. She cocked her head.

“Huh? No, I have no idea who you are, just like you have no idea who I am. You sure are pretty, though! Even prettier when you’re not all passed out,” she said, miming fainting before beaming at you expectantly. You tried to laugh, but it was an awkward sound, clearly unconvincing.

“The same to you,” you said. “Er. Obviously, aside from the part about passing out.”

“Obviously!” she said. “Now, just stay very still, okay?”

You froze in place immediately, wondering what she was going to do but trusting that it would not be anything harmful. Or, perhaps trusting wasn’t quite the right word for it — you just had no choice but to obey, because you had no other metric for what was correct. Whether Ty Lee wanted to help or harm you, you couldn’t know for sure, but either way she would do something, and since she was only the second person whose face you had seen, you had to let her do it.

She jabbed her pointer fingers into your neck, side, and wrists, all in a quick, precise succession. You waited for something to happen, but there was nothing, and when she raised her eyebrows at you, you could only furrow your own in a non-answer.

“Felt nothing?” she said. You nodded in the affirmative. “Interesting.”

“Was I supposed to?” you said.

“I dunno!” she said. “I guess we’ll see once the others get here.”

“What do the others have to do with it?” you said. At this, she winked and raised her fingers to her lips, as if you two were sharing some silly secret.

“If I tell you, then that’ll ruin things! We can discuss it later, but for now, you have to keep it to yourself, okay?” she said.

“Why?” you said. It wasn’t accusatory; you were genuinely curious.

“Let’s just say that certain parties would not be pleased if they found out what I was doing,” she said, giggling nervously and glancing at the door. “And those parties aren’t the kind you really want to offend, so please just keep your mouth shut!”

“Don’t want to offend? Who, like Prince Zuko?” you said.

Before Ty Lee could respond, there was a knock at the door. She scrambled away from you, so that she was standing in the same corner Mai had been in, looking demure and respectful. It was like she had never spoken to you in the first place, and when she had arranged herself suitably, she motioned towards the door.

“Me?” you said.

“Yes, you!” she said. “It’s your room, isn’t it?”

“I would hardly know,” you reminded her. She considered this before making a face in agreement.

“Right, there is that fact. Anyways, yes. This isn’t a hospital wing or anything, it’s your room, which means that when someone knocks, it’s up to you to tell them if they can come in or not,” she said.

“You didn’t knock,” you said. Ty Lee cleared her throat.

“Ah, well, I’m from a Fire Nation family! People of higher rank are allowed to do things like barging in on others,” she said. “I can’t tell you the amount of times Princess Azula has stormed into my room without warning.”

“I see,” you said, mostly because you didn’t know who Princess Azula was or why she merited mention. “This must be a servant or something, then, considering they’re knocking on even my door.”

“Probably,” Ty Lee said. There was another knock, louder this time, and you swore under your breath as you realized you had forgotten to answer them.

“Come in!” you said, folding your hands in your lap and looking over at the doorway, wondering who it could possibly be.

To your surprise, it was a boy. He was dressed in fine armor, his dark hair tied back in a regal topknot, his features angular and his eyes a sharp gold. His face was set in a frown, but when he saw you, you thought you picked up on the faintest trace of happiness. Almost immediately, though, it was quashed by a scowl, so that you could not be quite sure if you had actually seen it or if you had just been imagining things.

Behind him was Mai, looking as bored as she had earlier, though she seemed marginally more excited to see Ty Lee than she had been when you had woken up. You supposed they must’ve been friends or something.

“You should bow,” Mai said, directing the statement at you.

“No way!” the boy said immediately, waving his hands in dissent before you could even move. “I mean, ah, she doesn’t have to do that. It’s fine.”

“Woah! That’s crazy, Zuko, normally you’re all about honor and tradition and whatnot!” Ty Lee said. “It’s strange to hear something like that coming from you.”

So this was Prince Zuko, the boy who had, for some reason, saved your life. He was the only one who knew anything about your past. Your name, your identity, your origin…if you wanted to know any of these things, then your best chance at finding them stood before you, gazing at you with an inscrutable expression.

“Your royal highness,” you said, not bothering to get out of bed but dipping your head in what you hoped was a sign of respect anyways. He coughed awkwardly.

“Um. Yes,” he said.

“So,” Mai observed from the spot she had taken beside Ty Lee, “she’s awake now.”

“I see that,” Prince Zuko said. Mai rolled her eyes.

“Will you tell us who she is? Or why you insisted on saving her, maybe?” she said.

“Why don’t you ask her?” he said. “She’d know as well as I would. Maybe better.”

“I already tried,” Mai said. The prince’s scowl deepened, the corners of his mouth tugging further downwards at the offhand statement, his eyes flicking to you before returning to Mai.

“Of course you did,” he said. “And what did she say?”

“Nothing,” Mai said.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” Ty Lee said. “Not even her own name. You’re the only one left who can tell us anything about her.”

Something in Prince Zuko’s demeanor shifted at that moment. A despairing anger warred with resignation and defeat, but below the surface, some other emotion was hidden, kept locked tightly away, something that he was suppressing, so that no one could dare to even attempt to comprehend it.

“I see,” he said. “Is that the case?”

He was asking you. You did not look at him when you responded, focusing on the pile of glass still stacked on the nightstand.

“Yes,” you said. “Your royal highness. It’s the case.”

Prince Zuko considered this, and for a moment, there was an eerie silence in the room, as you all waited to hear what he would say. Who were you? Would he finally disclose it, or would you be further stranded in the darkness?

“Ursa,” he said finally.

“Your mother?” Mai said. He shook his head.

“No, not her. It’s — um, it’s her. Her name,” he said, jutting his chin in your direction.

“She has the same name as your mother,” Mai said flatly.

“Yes,” he said.

Ursa. That was your name. You didn’t feel some great reclamation of your identity upon hearing it; in fact, it meant nothing to you, except that at some point, people must have called you that.

“Is that why you saved her?” Ty Lee said. “Because she has the same name as your mother?”

“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s exactly why.”

“Really? We thought you might’ve been in love with her or something,” Mai said. “I guess this is in character enough, though.”

“How’d you find someone with a Fire Nation name in Ba Sing Se, though?” Ty Lee said. Prince Zuko gave her an irritated look; she only gazed at him innocently until he sighed and looked away.

“She had been taken prisoner on the front lines and brought to Ba Sing Se to be, er…tortured. For — for Fire Nation secrets,” he said.

“Why would they think an ordinary girl would have Fire Nation secrets?” Mai said.

“It’s not like Fire Nation citizens are easy to kidnap!” he snapped. “She might not know any vital information about the nation, but it was probably better than nothing!”

“Well, sorry for asking,” Mai said, rolling her eyes at him once again. It seemed her fuse was particularly shorter when it came to him, not that it had ever appeared to be particularly long to begin with.

“Do you think they got anything out of her?” Ty Lee said, in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject and break the tension. Prince Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” he said.

“I guess not. Not now that Ba Sing Se is ours and the rest of the Earth Kingdom has all but fallen,” Ty Lee said.

“Right. Even if they found out anything from her, it didn’t help them in the end,” he said.

“What should we do with her?” Ty Lee said. “Poor girl, she doesn’t even know her lefts from her rights!”

“Uh, I do know that much…” you interjected. Ty Lee paid you no mind, continuing to speak to Prince Zuko like you weren’t there.

“She can’t live in the palace like this forever!” she said. “But she’s like a blind little child, alone in the world. Where can she even go?”

Prince Zuko looked at you, and then he exhaled heavily. You swallowed, waiting for his judgment, knowing that he now held your life in his hands, wondering what he would decide, wondering what fate was in store for you. For Ursa. Since you both were one and the same, after all.

“Send her to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. They’ll teach her what she needs to know to be a proper Fire Nation girl,” he said.

“She’s not a noblewoman, though,” Mai said.

“Do you think the headmistress will argue with me if I say I want her admitted?” Prince Zuko shot back, though there was a tinge of insecurity, a questioning undercurrent, like he really wasn’t sure if he would get away with it or not.

“Nope,” Ty Lee said. “But do you think she — Ursa — can handle it? I mean, we were there, right, Mai? You remember how it was.”

“It’s a tough environment,” Mai agreed. You could tell what she was thinking: what place did a girl who came to the palace covered in bandages and glass, in the arms of a once-banished prince, have in a royal academy? “She’ll be eaten alive there.”

“And what if someone challenges her to an Agni Kai?” Ty Lee said. “Do you think she could win that? Is she that good at bending?”

“She’s not a Firebender,” Prince Zuko said.

“Why was she on the front lines if she’s not even a Firebender?” Mai said before pausing. “Never mind. I don’t feel like listening to your dramatics when you explain. But, you know, she’ll struggle that much more without bending to protect her.”

Prince Zuko’s face settled into a pensive mask of thought before he lit up, brandishing his pointer finger as if he’d come up with the idea of the century. Mai did not look amused, though Ty Lee seemed fascinated by what he might say.

“Ty Lee! You ran away from school to join the circus, right?” he said. Ty Lee went from looking fascinated to nervous, but she nodded.

“Yes, but I’m back now, so I don’t know why you’re bringing that up,” she said.

“My sister doesn’t have any immediate need for you,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Maybe it’s time you finally finish your education for good.”

“You want me to go back to the Royal Fire Academy?” Ty Lee repeated. Prince Zuko nodded.

“Yes, that’s right. You can watch out for her,” he said, jabbing his pointer finger at you.

“What will Azula say?” Ty Lee said.

“It’ll be fine,” Mai said. “If she needs you, you can just take a vacation from school or something. It’s better that you do this than laze around the palace.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you said quietly, speaking up of your own volition for the first time. “To anyone. I’m just grateful that you saved me, Prince Zuko. The rest of it is unnecessary. You don’t need to force the royal academy to accept me, and you don’t need to make Ty Lee come just to watch out for me. It’s enough that I’m alive. I can make my own life from here.”

“You don’t know anything. How can you expect to make a new life when you don’t even remember the one you’ve had until this point?” he said.

“I suppose there might be some benefit to Ursa going to school,” Mai added. “As long as she can survive the academy, it’ll be good for her. She can get caught up on everything she doesn’t remember, and it’ll be in an environment where her classmates are the children of the Fire Nation elite, so she can make further connections with people in high places.”

“Maybe she can find someone who has a brother she can date!” Ty Lee said, swooning.

“No!” Prince Zuko said. You all gave him strange looks; when he noticed, he turned a red as bright as his garb. “It wouldn’t be proper. You know, since you’ll be attending in my name and all; if you date anyone, it’ll reflect on me. So you can only date the people I approve of.”

“Alright. If that’s what you think is best,” you said. The last thing you wanted was to make things difficult for the boy who had, by all accounts, saved your life.

“I do,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Mai said from the corner. “You know, Ty Lee, this reminds me of when Azula took us to the zoo that one time.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess it does!” Ty Lee said, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Prince Zuko said.

“Is there a zoo nearby?” you said. “I don’t remember ever going to one. I’d like to visit, if it’s possible.”

“I’ll take you!” Ty Lee said. “When we have a break from school and classes and all.”

“So you’ll go with her?” Prince Zuko said. Ty Lee huffed.

“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? Besides, I’m sure Azula will be happy to hear I’m pursuing my education in my downtime instead of just doing nothing. And you know I’d do anything to make her happy!” she said before cartwheeling over to where you were still situated in your bed, throwing her arms around you affectionately. “We’re going to be classmates, Ursa!”

“I look forward to it,” you said genuinely. Ty Lee tapped you on the forehead.

“Me too!” she said.

“You are?” Mai said. “I don’t remember you ever liking the school, Ty Lee.”

“I don’t,” she said, abruptly wilting. “Everyone was so mean there. But my parents will probably be happy, and at least I’ll get to spend more time with Ursa! Maybe I’ll be the only one around when she regains her memories, and I’ll get to hear her story in her own words first.”

“For the sake of the prince’s mental wellbeing, let’s hope that’s not the case,” Mai said. Prince Zuko did not even respond, too busy inspecting the glass on your bedside to rise to the barb.

“Fine, then,” he said. “Make sure she’ll have everything she needs to attend the academy.”

“Which one of us was that pleasantly worded command directed towards?” Mai said.

“Whichever one of you has the time to do it, I guess,” he said. “This is the glass that came with her?”

“Yes. On the subject, why’d you go and collect so much of it? What a waste of time that must’ve been,” Mai said.

“I don’t know,” Prince Zuko said, sweeping the glass into the small bag lying on the ground by the nightstand. “I thought it might be important in healing her or something. I mean, you know, how could the healers understand what they were pulling out of her unless they saw it?”

Mai did not seem to believe him, but to your surprise, she did not question him further on the topic, only nodding. Maybe she respected him just a bit more than you had thought, though considering your original hypothesis had not exactly been favorable for the prince, this didn’t mean much.

“Where are you taking that?” she said instead, motioning towards the bag. “To dispose of it?”

“Yeah,” Prince Zuko said. “I’ll have it taken to the incinerator.”

You felt a twinge in your stomach. “Do you have to?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said.

“That glass is my only link to who I was before. Even if it was a bad memory, at least that memory was mine,” you explained. “I — I know it’s strange, but I feel like if you destroy it, you’ll destroy me, in some sense.”

“Ursa…” Ty Lee said, helplessly sympathetic, grasping your hands in her own. “It’s just glass. It can’t tell you anything about yourself, besides the fact that you were hurt during the fall of Ba Sing Se.”

“Your royal highness,” you beseeched Prince Zuko, who shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably at the title. “I know you have already done so much for me, so it is in bad taste for me to ask you for another favor, but please do not send that glass to be burnt away. Please save it. At least until I remember why it was there in the first place.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It’s waste material. Nothing good will come of you keeping it. Nothing at all will.”

“I just—” you began before breaking off. “Never mind. I’m sorry for asking.”

“Zuko, maybe you should just do it,” Mai said.

“Leave it, Mai,” Ty Lee said. “He’s made up his mind. Even we can’t change it once he’s like this.”

Both of them looked at him, but he only picked up the bag and tucked it under his arm.

“I’m leaving now,” he said. “Don’t come after me.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone in the room with Mai and Ty Lee. Both of them seemed sorry, and actually, unlike what you had expected, Mai was the first to speak up.

“I’m sorry, Ursa,” she said. “He’s always been the temperamental sort.”

“It’s okay,” you said, still unused to being referred to as Ursa, even if it was the name you had supposedly bore for your entire life. “He and Ty Lee are right, after all. It’s just glass. Trash. What use could I really derive from something like that? If that’s all that’s left of my old life, then maybe I’m better off not remembering at all.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Mai said. “But if it makes you feel better, we won’t argue, right, Ty Lee?”

“Hm? No, we won’t,” Ty Lee said.

“What’s gotten you all distracted?” Mai said. Ty Lee shook her head.

“It’s nothing. By the way, can you help me pack for the academy? I’m worried I’ll forget something,” she said.

“That, or you want me to do it all for you,” Mai said.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that!” Ty Lee said.

“I’m just joking,” Mai said, but since her voice remained that same steady deadpan, it was hard to tell. “Yes, I’ll help you, and I’ll get things ready for Ursa, too. That way she can leave as soon as Zuko gets her admitted into the academy. Let’s be honest — the sooner she can get out of here, the better.”

“That’s true,” Ty Lee said, though when she noticed your downcast expression, she rushed to reassure you. “Don’t feel bad!”

“It’s not a problem. I understand; you’ve already wasted so much time and so many resources on taking care of me. It’s only logical that you’d want me gone,” you said.

“It’s not like that,” Mai said. “There’s just people in this palace that you’d be better off never meeting. It’ll be good if you can get out before you have that displeasure. That’s all.”

“I see,” you said. “Then thank you once again for doing your best to look out for me.”

“We’ll leave you alone for a bit,” she said. “I’m sure this has all been a lot to process, so it’ll be good for you to come to terms with it on your own time.”

“Bye, Ursa! See you soon!” Ty Lee said.

“Bye,” you said, though your farewell was lacking much of her cheer. Even if Mai was right, you didn’t really want to sit alone. You had nothing to think about or do in the solitude, so what good would you gain from it? But you could hardly beg them to stay, not when you did not know them and they did not know you, so you only watched as they left you sitting by yourself in silence.

It was only when the moon was high in the sky that your door creaked open once more. You were still awake — you had been having trouble getting to sleep, so you had tentatively begun to walk around your room, testing your legs, familiarizing yourself with the motions of walking once more. When you heard footsteps, though, you immediately grew still, hoping that the visitor would be someone you recognized and not someone with more nefarious intentions.

You had been expecting, or perhaps hoping, that it would be Mai or Ty Lee, but to your surprise, it was Prince Zuko. He was not wearing armor, and his hair was loose and messy around his face, but there was no doubt that it was him.

“How much do you really remember?” he said without formality or even a greeting. “Hey. Tell me the truth, at least.”

“What do you mean?” you said. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“I mean, have you really forgotten everything?” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “There’s nothing but a vast darkness whenever I try to look back at the time before I woke up here. I don’t remember a single thing about myself. I didn’t even know my name until you said it.”

He cocked his head at you, trying to discern if you were being truthful, and eventually he must’ve come to some conclusion, because he just buried his face in his hands.

“Okay,” he said.

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” you said.

“It depends on who you’re asking,” he said. “And if you’re telling the truth.”

“I am!” you said.

“I believe you,” he said.

“Well…” you said. “There is one thing. Sometimes, in between the darkness, I’ll see something blue. I don’t know what it might represent, but I know that it’s there. It’s the only other thing I can recall — that precise shade like jewel-paint.”

“That could be anything,” he said.

“Yes, I know that,” you said. “That’s why I wouldn’t have even mentioned it ordinarily. Maybe something important to me was that color, or maybe there was just a blue tapestry on the wall where I was injured. There’s no concrete explanation, but I wanted you to know the full truth.”

“So that’s it, then,” he said.

“I suppose it is. On another subject, do you really mean to have me attend the Royal Fire Academy for Girls?” you said.

“You’ve already been accepted,” he said. “You’ll go. It’ll be alright.”

“Mai and Ty Lee didn’t seem to think so,” you said.

“You’re stronger than both of them, by far,” he said. “If they survived, you will, too.”

“Yet I’m the one that was captured,” you reminded him. “I don’t see how that makes me the stronger between us.”

A ghost of a smile flashed over his face. “You may not believe it, but at least to me, you are.”

“Did you know me very well, then, to be saying that with such confidence?” you said. “Before you found me that day? Were — were we friends?”

You didn’t want to say anything else, for it seemed presumptuous, but friends was close enough to what you were really asking that you figured the prince would understand.

It seemed that he did, but he did not appreciate the implication, for his face closed off and his posture grew withdrawn. Turning away from you, he pursed his lips.

“No,” he said. “We weren’t anything. You didn’t know me, and I didn’t know you. I only saved you because — because you and my mother share a name. That’s all.”

“It’s strange,” you said. “That name doesn’t even feel like it’s my own. Is it the amnesia that causes such a phenomenon?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But you shouldn’t overthink it. Have fun at the Royal Fire Academy, Ursa. I’ll give you a messenger hawk; write to me frequently. And — and if you remember anything…”

“If I remember anything?” you prodded.

“Tell me first,” he said. “Not Ty Lee. Not anyone else. Me.”

[kristinhateslife]

Okay so last night I was having an "art style panic"? I guess you could call it that? But I was feeling really bad, so i started drawing other peoples art styles and picking points and peaces out of it!

I did this last night when I was really tired and i used a pen so the drawings may not be how i usually do my drawings haha

Ok so first up we have @emjoyzhos-ej !! I recently just found your account but you have a very cool style!!

•Your skull shape is very unique, very rectangle

•your lines are very sketchy (most people I follow have this trait in their art..)

•when you color it looks like you mayy have rook inspiration from itsxroxannex? Idk i wrote that down, maybe it's not true but I guess i thought that last night

But I love your style! Your art is so cool and I had fun trying to replicate it!

Next we have @milkybnnuy ! Omg so I really like you!! Your art is sooo good

•You draw a lot of fell, so i made the drawing of killer like how you made that one fell killer drawing

•when you color you have a very paintly-style and that's cool!!

•your skull shape reminds me of an egg (i guess thats why i said "egg head" last night)

Up in the top I wrote "I did not replicate your art properly enough," and that's true! Your art is so unique and different from what i usually drew so i had a hard time replicating it! But nonetheless, i had a fun time trying and hope you ain't disappointed lol

Btw- I really like the way you draw your fuzz on hoods!! So satisfying to look at!

And now we go onto @voidzphere !

I've followed you for a while, and you're cool to be around and I like when you post! Though i had a hard time finding the art hidden around, I still was able to replicate it (luckily i chose to draw killer for this haha)

•so I see that you usually draw/post doodles, unless i just didn't scroll down far enough haha (plz tell me if you have drawn something big i wanna see)

•I noticed you have more pointy and thicker lines

•you have a certain way you draw your Skulls, I can't really put a shape or object here to describe it

Even though I couldn't find more drawings, I still tried! I hope you like it, friend, cause u cool

Here is @cherrio-krispz ! I just started following you last night, like seriously I had to search you up just now to figure out who you were cuz I forgot, but when i saw your art I immediately recognized you

•you have a very recognizable style!

•again, i did not replicate well.

•very painty-like when color

•sketchy lines, seems like you don't do line art?

•I like ur skulls, they look like skulls

OMG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO TALK ABOUT YOU. YOU. YOUUU. @somegrumpynerd OMG YOUUUUUU. I REALLY LIKE YOUR ARTTT.

•I LIKE IT

•very cartoonish

• noticable art style

•thick lineart

I LOVE seeing posts when they come out!!! They're really really cool and make me feel so happy when I see them! Keep going because you're so cool!

@spookeri haiiii

You're here tooo

i like ur art :)))))) a LOT . Same as the last guy, I get very excited when you post. Your DTIYS were fun, and yeye... Yeah

•Very flat colors

•flat lines

•cool looking skulls

•you have an "air-brush" shading style (i guess you could call it), which isn't a bad thing! Do what you want to do! But maybe try out cell-shading? Idk you don't have to, but idk i feel like cell-shading fits your art style

Also if you look in the bottom you can see a scratched out drawing, that was my first attempt haha

You can see it in the drawing below

@wyllaztopia !! I like your art :)) you have a very noticeable style and when you post I get excited as well!

•clean lines

•you make skulls longer than how other people make their skulls in this last

•I liked replicating it

Idk what else to say ... Its just all really cool!!

And last but not the worst

My art style!

My art style is

•cool

•easy to draw

•and funny lookin'

What did i learn from this whole thing i did? That everyone has a unique style, that even if they try to change it it still stays theirs and it's still unique

I also found out that everyone, small artists and big artists, has flaws! It's comforting to know that everyone has flaws so I know I'm just learning and getting better everyday

Another thing I got from this is that everyone's styles are always changing and warping. But thats fine! Because everyone's moving and changing, and the worlds always moving and changing!

So, don't be so hard on yourself if you're struggling to draw or find an art style, how you draw is unique to you and you'll like it one day

Just keep drawing everyday and you'll get there.

I suggest doing this challenge, on paper or digital, wether you color it or not, or post ot or not!

It's great to try out.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Omg I loved you papa head cannons , could you do one with papas and a shy S/O who finally gathers the courage to “steal a kiss/ confess their love” pretty please

(Sorry this took so long, been either dying in the heat or sick the last few days!)

Primo:

He’s definitely surprised. Not that you did it, he’d been suspicious there’d been something more there for a while. But that you picked him. 

Which will lead to a conversation making sure you actually know what you’re getting yourself into. He has no illusions about who and what he is, or how old he is. 

But if that hasn’t made you rethink, he is thrilled to have you there. 

He’d been hoping but ready to set that thought aside. Easier to let go than to end up getting hurt. 

The second kiss is returned without hesitation. 

Secondo:

He’s both surprised and impressed at the boldness, even if it took you a while. Not many people would take such a liberty without asking first. 

But then to know it’s not just lust driving you… that is certainly not what he’d expected. 

He is, genuinely, flattered. And, privately, quite touched. It’s not something he’s experienced often. Not like that. 

Despite the rumours, he is actually, surprisingly, gentle. He can be rough or imposing, but that isn’t what this situation calls for. 

HIs hand does find the small of your back almost immediately, though, pressing you closer. 

Terzo:

He WILL make a joke at first. Believing it was just a joke or teasing. You couldn’t really be serious. 

The whole attitude changes when he realises you were not, in fact, kidding. It’ll take a minute to really sink in and he may get a little upset that you’re carrying on the joke and making fun of him. 

When he gets it through his head, there will be A LOT of questions about why you didn’t say something sooner and just SO many hand gestures. 

Prepared to be kissed within an inch of your life. 

Your name is “amore” now. So just get used to responding to that now.

Copia:

Absolutely blue screens. 

So much blinking.

Turns roughly the same shade as his cassock. 

Starts and abandons several attempts at a coherent sentence. 

Once he manages to get his shit together, prepare to be kissed within an inch of your life.

[jackfrostsisterssisterinlaw]

Satoru Gojo x Y/N

A/N - I had to do something to heal my soul after jjk season 2. Heal with me. Go back to season 1 or the beginning of season 2 when it was all fun and games.

word count : 556

warnings : none

Satoru Gojo

Has a large wardrobe featuring several similar outfits of the same  dark shade of blue. He lets you borrow his clothes sometimes but becomes super grumpy if you accidentally tear a hole or get it dirty. He has a rack for an assortment of sunglasses and blindfolds which is off limits for you, only because he knows you’ll make him a lot less cool if you took to wearing sunglasses too.

Has a big ego. He’ll become the insecure partner constantly seeking validation saying stuff like “here’s a reminder that I’m the best.” And expect you to agree with him. It’s not really his insecurity but more his attempts at flirting so it’s a good thing you bear with the arrogance because he’s really trying to make you melt using his charisma rather than his abilities. (If he wanted to he could make you melt quite literally.)

Will forget your birthday. I’m sorry it’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s so chaotic and impulsive that it’s more likely for him to remember on the day and make a plan rather than plan a week before. He’ll have something amazing planned undoubtedly, you mean the world to him, but don’t ask him when he planned it. He has to constantly keep saving the world in mind, you can’t expect him to remember your birthday all the time.

Will make other people jealous of you. If you’re dating him trust me, the looks you’re going to be getting will be unpleasant. You’re going to feel like a dirty sock by the way they turn their noses down at you with distaste. They are just jealous because you did what no one else could. And that was to win Gojo’s heart. Roll your eyes and then kiss him. Help them understand the message.

Might have you yourself second guessing your worth. He’s gorgeous after all you’ll wonder why he isn’t with someone in his league. But you’re putting yourself down, he loves you for your personality and because of the butterflies you brought to life within his stomach so don’t let insecurities get in the way. There’s only room for one insecure partner and he’s already taken that role.

Has to impress you every day. You’ll wake up every morning to him experimenting with his abilities and trying something new. It’s entertaining as long as he doesn’t wake you up too early or make a lot of noise.

Loves pouting and getting his way. You fold like a foldable garden chair when he scrunches his nose and eyes, in order to get what he wants.

Brings you random things from his mission. He’s very spontaneous though so expect a wide variety of gifts ranging from a luxury cruise to a cursed finger.

Is extremely good with kids. You find yourself watching him bring himself down to be able to relate to children and make them feel safe. It’s one of the many reasons that made you fall for him.

Is powerful and will therefore protect you. It may seem he’s not looking out for you because he has to look out for the entire world, but trust me if he could only save one person, that one person would be you.

[everettes-requiem]

Hello Everette! How are you, my preciosu child after that homophobic crisis ?I came here to ask for your opinions on Norman Alexander, Kikita, Ann Dwight, Michael6 and Nathaniel to draw you all again!!

love you^^

(kisses to Kuni too)

im doing, alright, i suppose. i’m doing as well as i can considering we’re stuck on an island? or did you forget? i wouldn’t be surprised, i mean with the amount of people i’ve had to interact with who seem to be complete and utter imbeciles who can’t even think, what’s one more?

well, i will say that it isn’t the worst. going to the shore and sitting under the shade of a tree is nice, if you aren’t being bothered by the littluns who seem to constantly be everywhere all at once on the island, like pieces of rubbish on the street. or sometimes when i go into the ocean water to wash off my hair it makes me feel slightly better about the situation at hand it… reminds me of how my mother used to bathe me. ‘hough, my hair has grown out since then and tangles easily, and the water is cold, and my fingers can’t replicate her tenderness. but, it isn’t good either, obviously.

there’s things to eat on the island, various berries and fruits, but god knows if these ‘hings are fit for proper consumption in the long run. there’s pigs too, but merridew and his useless hunters can barely even graze the skin of one. not only problems of sustenance come up though. with the failed attempt at trying to get rescued and the tension that’s building between some people because of not only that, but disputes over chief. the place other boys thought of as paradise is bound to wither as the days pass. civilization is going to go to ruin, savagery will unavoidably take hold. the island isn’t protected from the corruption of war, after all

my concerns haven’t consumed me however, unlike that one littlun. i believe his name is percy? perceive? something along those lines, i can’t bother to recall it. all he does is cry and mutter nonsensical white noise under his breath, it’s incredibly annoying. they can all have their frolics around fires and pigs, arguments over chief and meat. as long as i don’t get dirty and tossed about, then…

i pray for our safety, or at least my safety, every night. i hold out hope that we’ll get rescued because god loves me, so surely i’ll get some safe… i have to get home. i can’t imagine how worried mam must be. i pray too, for her safety, that the war hasn’t taken her like how it crashed our plane down onto this island in the first place.

but i digress since i’ve been neglecting your question, which happens to be about other people, again. fine, whatever. i’ll try to keep it short and sweet, but if you’re the one asking about my opinion on them ‘hen of course you should listen to me no matter how long winded the answer may be. people should revere me, after all.

ann dwight, i don’t know much about her except she’s one of the few whose belongings survived alongside her. she holds little importance to me, unlike how she does to the littluns. i often hear the littluns call her mother, or mum, and she does play the part. nurturing, caring, a maternal figure. she one of the only people who can soothe one of those things to sleep, or to stop them from crying. in a way, to some extent, im thankful towards her because god knows that without her on the island i would have lost my mind. i hate children.

im indifferent about nathaniel, he’s just a childish kid who i can’t seem to understand, not like i want to either. he lives in his own world, albiet oftentimes he bleeds it into the real world. he plays pretend a lot, one of the only things i actually remember about him other than his name because it’s one of the only things he does. he pretends that he’s a vampire, he says he’s a vampire, he insists he’s a vampire. it’s as if he actually believes he is one, it’s something i truly don’t get. why would you want to? why put up a facade of something created by the devil?

loud and obnoxious, ‘hose are the first words that come to mind when thinking of michael. honestly, i don’t want him to even cross my mind because he’s just that loud and obnoxious. it’s as if i can hear his voice shouting in my head, which could very well actually be him shouting from across the island. no one even knows where he came from, he appeared at random one day when we were sure we had accounted for everyone on the island.

ever since then he’s never stopped blithering. at the very least he makes use of it by giving way for entertainment by unknowingly provoking merridew. speaking of that, he did propose an idea to me. something about calling merridew idiot in french? i still have to get back to him about that because he was yelling at me when asking and i got fed up and left. but, the idea does sound promising.

kikita… was choosing the most insignificant people, or the people who are total nuisances, on purpose? if so, she is definitely a nuisance. no, she’s more than that actually because who in their right mind and in gods name bites people? how do i know this? for one, i’ve seen it been done to the other boys. she’s bitten michael, she’s done it to ralph too, and i’m sure she’s gone around and bit a few more for good measure. that’s not what i’m getting at though, it’s that worst of all, she bit me.

god it was awful, it was as if she was stuck to me because no matter how hard i tried shaking her off she would not get off! human bites are no laughing matter you know. with the amount of bacteria that mingles in our mouths i was sure that i was going to foster some type of ugly disease if the bite broke ‘hrough my skin. luckily it did not, but it still left an indent on my pristine skin. putting her savage tendencies aside ‘hough, i am, somewhat partial to her though because she did push merridew to the ground that one time.

alexander kid? alexander kid… oh, him. you must be referring to norman alexander. yes, i’ve been made aware of him. it’s hard to miss him when he’s so unreal. don’t be mistaken, im not trying to say that “oh he’s so amazing, he’s out of this world!” even though that’s how many see him. littluns, other boys our age, adults alike. that would make me gag saying that about him, saying that about anyone really. what i’m trying to say is that he feels so synthetic, so superficial in a world full of authentic flesh.

there’s something about him. his smile, the way he looks at the world around him, the way words leave his lips. it’s all, unsettling to say the least, but it isn’t at all compelling. i think the most indicative part of him is his dodgy attachment to simon and how he’s seemingly close to merridew. rather, it’s more so obsession than anything actually. i would prefer not to speak about him much longer ‘hough, otherwise he might actually think i pay attention to him, something he would think most likely. he isn’t worth my time, none of these people are.

— everette ainsworth

[chloe-spade]

A Unusual (and Loud) Confession

Izuku sighs as he sits down on the stairs of his dorm. His mind races, remembering what happened in that dining hall earlier that day, but he groans whenever he thinks of it.

Back in the dining room, Izuku's attempt to enjoy his rice and meat meal was marred by a disastrous spillage of BBQ sauce on Todoroki Shoto as he sat down.

"Sorry. Let me get a towel for you!" Izuku gasped, getting up and grabbing a towel.

He rushed back as soon as he grabbed it, but as he rushed towards the table, Shoto got up, so they two crashed into each other. But since Shoto was only getting up, he fell backward while Izuku fell forward. Everyone saw that Izuku was now on top of Shoto, and Shoto seemed embarrassed but didn't say anything.

Izuku, feeling mortified, found himself on top of Shoto, his face burning with embarrassment.

"U-Uh," he stammered, but no words were spoken.

Shoto's face matched Izuku's in its crimson hue. "It's okay, Midoriya. Uh,I'm fine," he managed to say, his voice betraying his own embarrassment.

Izuku sprouted up and sprinted out to the front door. And that's where he ended up, now embarrassed and pondering whether he should go back to his room or not. But unbeknownst to him, Shoto was already back at the dorms. Izuku didn't know how he got there so quickly, but now he was much more nervous. What if he ran into Shoto again?

"If I use One for all," Izuku muttered to himself, "I might be able to. But I have to be careful so no one notices. Oh well, it's better than reliving an embarrassment."

With that, using One for All, Izuki jumps as high as possible to his room window and-

Missed.

Instead of going to his room, the fates above decided that he would go into Todoroki's room, but he was lucky that he was handed on the edge.

"Oh, come on," he muttered. "…How can this get any worse? Kacchan, perhaps?"

Izuku got up as the window opened, revealing Shoto, and they stared intensely at each other. Izuku didn't know how long he stared, but it was enough to make him realize how beautiful Shoto was when he wasn't training during the day.

"..How did you get here, Midoriya? " Shoto asked, tilting his head to the side.

Izuku's face immediately turned a deeper shade of red, and he scrambled higher into his room.

"Sorry, I have to go, bye!!!" he blurted out, his voice a mix of embarrassment and relief.

Shoto watched as Izuku entered his actual room window and closed his own. He could only chuckle softly.

"Midoriya," He remarked. "An odd friend, but a great friend. But why is my heart beating like this?"

Shoto sat on his bed and looked down at his dirtied uniform, remembering the incident. It was the first time he had lost balance like that before after trying not to during the horrendous training sections of his father and Izuku staring down at him and Shoto staring back, Shoto could feel like that moment meant something, but he doesn't know what.

"What's with Deku?" Ochaco asked, tilting her head. I mean, I have seen him like this before, but not to the extreme."

He may find out soon.

❄️

It was now the weekend, two days after what happened. Izuku had been trying to avoid Shoto after the window accident, which only Shoji witnessed. Luckily, he kept silent after talking to him about it. But everyone else knew something was off. Izuku never ignores Shoto, even when he is busy with something, so Ochaco knows something is up.

"After that incident, he has been a bit more… jumpy lately," Tsu replied."Though, there is a rumor by Mineta."

"What rumor?"Momo asked, fixing her hair.

"Oh, do tell. I love a good rumor." Mina giggled, along with Toru. "Give me the details!

"Well, they say that they both like each other. It's weird, consider that Ochaco LOVES Deku."

Ochaco's face got red, and looked away, pouting."Hey! I told you it's a little crush."

"Girls, that's enough.."Kyoka groaned."It's just a dumb rumor; why would we listen to a rumor? Especially if it's from Mineta? The pervert in our class? I wouldn't believe him for a yen."

"Because we don't know it could be true!" Mina argued.

"No, because.." Kyoka pointed behind him.

The girls turned around to see a very confused but flustered Shoto, whose face looked red like strawberries. He could only feel humiliated.

"H-how..how did you…"

"Not us," Kyoto spoke up. "Mineta. He's so tiny he could sneak in. And we only heard this from him."

Shoto's eyes looked down and sighed, his face now redder. "…Ah, I guess this is how girls feel when they have a crush.."

"Based on that reaction, you must love Deku, huh?" Mina teased. "Or else you would've just walked away if you didn't."

Shoto only nodded, looking down."I..I do. But I don't understand it."

"Ooh, wow, I never see you as a gay guy. It's so sweet!" Toru giggles. "And it's Deku? You have some great taste, Todoroki!"

Shoto gulps and sits down."Yes, but if my father knows. I mean, he can be very unpredictable. But knowing him and his desire for control, he wouldn't allow this."

"Ah, I understand," Momo smiles. "But I do know one thing. It's a part of you and you can't change that about you. And no one else but you."

"I want to accept this part of me, but…" Shoto trailed off.

"Oh, don't worry! We'll keep it a secret till you confess to Deku!"Mina exclaimed happily. "Girls' honor."

Ochaco nodded, agreeing, "We will keep this a secret until the end."

Unknown to them, Mineta overheard and smirked.

"Midoriya! Is it true that you have a relationship with Todoroki Shoto?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh! Kaminari owes me!"

🔥

The following day, Izuki was met by Tenya Iida, who stood outside Izuku's dorm room.

It took a moment for Izuku to process the question, but when he did, his face became red."What?"

"As Class Rep, I will need to know so we can talk about relationship plans in the future!" Iida explained. "It is customary to make sure that you two will be happy, but it will not distract you from your studies."

Izuku stood silent for a minute.

"Hey, Nerd!"Katsuki Bakugo screamed, his eyes red with anger, as usual. Behind him were Enjiruo Kirishima and Denki Kaminari.

"Calm it, Bakugo."Kirishima chuckled."Anyways, class rep, is it true or not?"

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT?!" Screamed a confused Izuku."Never mind, I need fresh air. Do not ask. And do not follow me."

Izuku grabbed a jacket and went to the first floor, and lucky for him, Shoto was not to be seen. Going outside and breathing made things much easier, but the confusion stayed.

He sat down and needed clarification. "Todoroki and I? Dating? What's with that?"

"Hey, Young Midoriya."

Izuku looked up."All Might!?"

In his weak glory, All Might was in the front steps, looking down at the green-haired boy."Congratulations on the new relationship."

"Oh no, you too?! I'm so confused?" Izuku panicked. "What happened?! Did I do something that made people think we were a couple? I mean, I don't think I did, but what if I did and now I caused a massive-"

"Calm down, Young Midoriya," All Might chuckled. "To tell you the truth, someone told someone, and someone told me that you and Todoroki were dating."

"Why?" Izuku mumbled.

"Beats me, kid. But do you actually like Todoroki?"

Izuku's face grows a light pink, and she looks down."I guess I can't lie about that, huh?"

"No, your face says something entirely different." All Might laughed.

Izuku sighs."Yes, I do, but Endeavor hates me after what I said to him at the sports festival! And if I want to keep my life, I must do it the right way, or I am dead."

"Ah! He's a man with ambitions, let's not talk about him any further, but if you like him, make sure to say so. He might find someone else before you even utter a word." All Might explained. "You might never get your chance."

Izuku sighs softly and gets up, only staring at the door.

"I'll try, but I don't think my voice will do anything; my body may do the talking, " he muttered as he walked inside.

Izuku took one more breath before entering the living room and looked around for Shoto, which wasn't hard as he saw Shoto drinking some warm tea at the dining table. Izuku needed to think this through, but All Might's words rang. If Izuku doesn't confess, Shoto may find someone else, and that thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

So, he just marched forward and stood before Shoto, who was now confused.

"Ah, good morning-" Shoto began to greet.

"Todoroki Shoto!" Izuku exclaimed, getting attention from Shoto and everyone in the room. "Everyone has been saying that we've been dating, and I know that's not true…but I want to make that a reality! I don't know if this is a good time to say all this, but I… I… I love you!" Izuku confessed, still looking down. "And I hope that even if you reject me or not, we are still the greatest friends." Izuku zoomed into his room, face utterly red with love.

Shoto didn't say a word and looked around as they watched Izuku zoom away.

"Did he just..?" Mins asked, growing evermore excited.

"He did!!" Toru squealed."He confessed!!"

The girls squealed as the boys chuckled and gathered around Shoto.

"D-did he…did he just… " Shoto's mouth couldn't even say a single sentence. "I…He said…"

"Yep, he just confirmed our rumors," Denki chuckled. "It would help if you went talk to him, though. Who knows what he's thinking about? Poor him."

"But I was right," Mineta teased. "That means Denki owns me 50 yen."

"Dude, I do not have that much," Denki pouted. "And I thought you were joking!?"

Momo giggled and patted Shoto's back, "I must agree with Kaminari. I think it's best to go see for yourself."

Shoto couldn't move and hid his face. "…I can't believe this is happening."

He steeled his nerves and walked upstairs, and Shoto was face to face with Izuku's door. He didn't know what to say to such a confession, but Denki was right. If he wanted to be official, he had to take the second step in making that relationship work.

"Midor- Izuku?" Shoto gulped. "I…I'm sorry if I didn't say anything before. I was very flustered, and I'll let you know that I accept your feelings." Shoto took a breath before saying "I love you too, Izuku Midoriya! I love you!"

Izuku gasped and opened the door."Really? I thought you didn't!"

"I wouldn't came here if I didn't mean it."Shoto whispered, fearing only the worst, but he was granted a kiss on the lips. It was short and sweet, but it was everything Shoto wanted in that small moment.

Izuku pulled away and softly cupped his cheeks with his hands."You're very adorable when you smile," he said.

Shoto blushes and looks down again."You truly got me."

"Ugh, I can't believe I did that in front of everyone," Izuku groaned. "If I had known you liked me back, I would've taken you to a cat cafe and confessed properly, but then the thought of someone actually confessing to you made me so upset that I just went for it. Ugh, I'm so sorry for embarrassing you for the second time."

"I don't really mind it," Shoto blushed. "…But would you still take me to that cat cafe I really liked?"

"Of course I would. I, uh, was hoping to ask you out. But this happened."

"I would love to," Shoto said, his eyes brightening. "How about we plan our date, and I'll take you tomorrow?"

"I like that, but I want to go now," Shoto admitted.

Izuku smiles and takes Shoto's hand. "A few minutes and we'll be there."

Shoto only nodded as Izuku closed the door, leaving him to walk back to his room, happy.

He did find out. And he was so happy that he did.

[soulofamy]

Her New Home

a small snippet featuring @ironladders's OC, a zaterran shapeshifter child who Syzoth adopts

"Wow," Mezali breathed. She had never been somewhere so colorful and full of pretty things to look at. She held Syzoth's neck as he walked with her on his hip. Though in her humanoid form, her tail still showed and wrapped around his arm. Her head turned every which way as she took in the sights of marble floors and columns, purple fabrics draped everywhere, and sweet smelling flowers potted in every corner. "It's big..."

Syzoth chuckled. "Do you like it?"

"Mhm!" she said with a nod and a wide smile. "I like the flowers."

"I like them too. Do you have a favorite among them?"

Mezali looked around to evaluate each flower she saw. "Hm..." The flowers presented in various shades of purple and blue. They were all pretty to Mezali, but it was hard to choose one that stood out. "The orange ones."

Syzoth stopped and turned to find the flowers she specified. "Would you look at that." He met Mezali's gaze and smiled. "They match your clothes."

Mezali giggled. "That's why I chose them." She resumed her attempt at taking the whole palace in before she landed on a woman in the distance clad in a long pink dress. Her eyes widened. "Is that the Empress?" she asked, pointing.

"Yes, it is. Empress Mileena." Syzoth explained to Mezali as she resumed her grip on him. "Would you like to meet her?"

Mezali nodded her head as she laid it against his shoulder. Syzoth began to walk in her direction and excitement began to bubble inside her. The closer she got though, the more nervous she became. Her nerves began to overshadow her excitement and she grew invisible inspite of herself.

"Empress," Syzoth spoke as they approached her, bowing his head. He didn't seem to notice that Mezali had disappeared. "I have returned from Zikandur. May I present to you my ward, Mezali."

Mileena turned to face him, though frowned. "...where is this ward, Syzoth?"

Syzoth glanced in her direction and raised his eyebrows, then pressed his lips together in thought. "That is a good question," he responded, his voice playful. "Hm...could she be..." he continued as he tickled her belly. "right here?"

Mezali let out a small giggle and the light around her flickered, momentarily allowing her to be visible.

"Or..." he tickled her again, this time under her chin. "Perhaps right here?"

Mezali could no longer hold her invisibility as she laughed.

"There she is!" Syzoth said with a chuckle. The Empress looked at Mezali with adoration in her eyes. Mezali was quick to hide her face against Syzoth's neck. "Can you say hello to Empress Mileena, Mezali?"

Mezali was quiet for a long moment. "...hello..." she said, not turning around to look at the Empress.

"Isn't she just the sweetest thing," Mileena said. "How did you come by her?"

Mezali readjusted and laid her head on Syzoth's shoulder as she tuned out the comversation. Her eyes fell back on the flowers decorating the whole palace and she grew evermore excited, knowing this would be her new home.

[queen-scribbles]

Occupational Hazard

Here we go, the Ody/Chance fic that started as an angst fill before it ran away with me big time. ~3k, immediately post-Agent story. ---

It was easier to infiltrate Coruscant than she'd anticipated.

A simple slice of the customs terminal and the infamous Cipher Nine was walking out of the spaceport long before her shuttle's engines cooled. She wasn't sure if that was a credit to her skill or a demerit against Coruscant security. That ease, however, was balanced out by the difficulty tracking down who she sought.

Despite the difficulty--and multiple databases she had to crack--she did eventually find herself in the correct wing of the correct hospital, rapping lightly on the doorframe of a dimly-lit room. "Hello, Chance."

It took a moment for him to react, clearly not expecting a visitor at this point in the day. "Legate." He frowned, cocking his head. "What happened to you?"

"A lot," she said reflexively, perhaps a touch bitter before it sank in what precisely he meant. "But this was Corellia." She raised a hand to trace the fresh scars around her left eye, half-shaded by her hair. "Tortured for information by a secret society I was working to topple."

"Did you?" he asked after a beat.

"I did, yes." But she didn't want to talk about Hunter now, that wasn't her purpose here. She shifted. "May I come in?"

He started, then nodded, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "They borrowed my chair for someone with visitors and I haven't gotten it back yet..."

"It's alright," she assured him, crossing to sit on the edge of the bed Up close she could see the haggard traces remaining on his face, though those wounds had healed. "I don't mind. How are you doing?"

He shrugged stiffly. "Better, but nowhere near ready to leave yet. At least there's less oversight here in long-term rehab, so I'm not getting poked every couple of hours. They mostly leave us alone except for meals or if we need something." He fiddled with the bio-monitor cuff on his wrist. "Legate, I-"

"Odessa," she interrupted. "My name. Odessa Isric. We should start off honest this time, hm?"

His ears were pink as he nodded. "I'd like that." He met her eye. "Sollen Rieves."

She'd learned that from tracking him down, but didn't point it out, simply smiled. "Nice to meet you, and I have to admit... that both fits what I expected and doesn't." A sheepish laugh. "If that makes sense."

"It's a good spy name, but I'm not a very good spy?" Chance--Sollen--said wryly.

His tone made her think it was a sentiment he'd heard--or overheard--but Odessa shook her head. "I'm not saying that." She studied him a moment. "And I can't imagine you had much time as an agent for someone to make that assessment."

"You aren't wrong," he muttered, wincing as he attempted shifting to a more comfortable position in the bed.

She gave him a moment to settle, musing on her own thoughts. Briefly as they'd worked together, she'd noted both his openness and kindness as things that wouldn't last long in the espionage business. Either they'd burn out or he would. But Taris had made that a moot point, by all evidence.

"Sorry," he mumbled, finally finding something that worked.

"No need to apologize," Odessa said with a small shake of her head. "You're still recovering."

"Which is going slower than some would like," Sollen said. "But a lot of the damage was internal, so there was only so much kolto could do. They're just antsy to see if they can send me back into the field or need to stick me somewhere else." He shook his head and cleared his throat. "But, anyway, what're you doing here, and" --he glanced out to the hallway, lowered his voice--"why don't you sound Imperial?"

She chuckled. "It can be called for, in this line of work, to carry or drop any number of accents at a moment's need. Including my native one." A small smile. "I can do a Mantellian farmer's twang, if you want an example...?"

Sollen laughed. "No, I believe you."

"I thought it best to not sound Kaasian on the Republic homeworld. As to the first part of your query... I didn't want to wait until you're out for that drink." Odessa started to reach into her jacket pocket, then paused, glancing at the bio-monitor screen embedded the wall nearby. "So long as you're not taking anything that would make that a bad idea?"

"Nothing that strong," he promised with a shake of his head. "Not anymore. Even if I was... it was the company I was looking forward to more than the drink."

"As was I," she said with a smile, slipping out the flask of Alderaanian honey brandy. "But this is very good."

He reached for the water cup on the bedside table, drank the little that remained, and held it out. "So we don't have to keep passing back and forth."

"Smart." She pour a little of the honey-shaded liquor into the cup. "To fruitful conversation, and a speedy recovery for you."

Sollen exhaled a wry laugh. "The second part'll take some kind of miracle, but thanks." He tapped the cup against her flask and they took a drink.

There was enough alcohol bite to make them both clear their throats, but the honeyed aftertaste came in quickly to soothe the tingling burn.

"That is very good." He looked down into the cup, then at her. "Expensive good. I didn't realize Intelligence paid their operatives that well."

"They don't," Odessa said with a small laugh. She swirled the brandy still in the flask as she debated how much detail to go into. "It was a gift. From an Alderaanian baron. His house was point of contact for a mission I had there, not long before being assigned to Kothe's team, actually. In the course of my mission, I... handled some things for the house that made him feel parting gifts were appropriate."

She didn't mention those things had involved unmasking his wife as funding terrorism or preventing a killik hive from absorbing the estate. Or that she hadn't reported the gifts to Imperial Intelligence.

"Ah, so they're bonuses," Sollen chuckled, taking another sip.

"You could call them that," she nodded with a smile as she followed his example. "I've done my best to savor them, but this seemed a worthy occasion."

"I'm honored." His smile faded and he looked down again, scratching at the rim of the cup. "About your assignment with us... Le- Odessa, I wanted to apologize-"

She knew where this was going, and was shaking her head before he finished.

"-for Taris. I should have..." The words trailed off as he looked up and caught her.

"There's no need," Odessa said softly, her own gaze drifting to the window.

"Yes, there is!" He frowned, tone rife with disbelief and indignance on her behalf. "It doesn't matter how scared I was, or how badly I didn't want to die, I shouldn't have done it. I should have trusted-"

"-that an alleged enemy defector you'd worked with for a few days would have your best interest at heart?" she finished dryly.

"You patched me up without needing the keyword, saved my life, so clearly it would have been the right call," he countered.

"But you didn't know that." Trusting people that much in spycraft would get you killed. "I'm not saying it was pleasant, but I understand."

"It's not really about what you would or wouldn't have done without the keyword," he said with a sigh. "It was wrong, and I knew it, and I did it anyway because I was scared. I'm..." He met her gaze, held it. "I'm very sorry, Odessa."

She had to admit, it made something in her chest warm beyond what brandy could accomplish to hear an apology, no matter how unnecessary. More so that he'd attached her name. Enough she had to look away for a moment. "I appreciate and accept that, and you're forgiven."

"Just like that?" He still seemed uneasy.

"Mm. Chance," she very deliberately didn't correct using his code name, "were I in Ardun's position; defector dropped in my lap right when I needed on, foolproof way to make sure this wasn't a trap or otherwise too good to be true, I can't say I would've chosen any differently than he did."

Sollen's grip tightened around the cup. "Really? Even knowing...?"

Odessa took a deep breath and nodded. "It's an occupational hazard for spies," she said softly. "We have to make hard calls, do unpleasant things, to accomplish goals for the greater good, and hope it's worth it."

Sometimes the greater good decides to stab you in the back for doing your job too well.

"I see where you're coming from," he said slowly, "but I don't know if I agree. Once you stop caring about the cost to individual people, or your cause starts demanding you stop caring, I think it stops being the greater good."

She chuckled and tapped the flask against the side of his cup. "Maybe you are too soft hearted for this business," she teased, taking another sip of brandy. "Maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe..." she sucked her teeth. "...maybe I wish I was more like that. More like you."

The rueful smile and eyeroll at her teasing devolved into a blush and a rather bashful expression by the end. "Maybe it's not too late for you. And... maybe it's irrelevant for me."

Odessa frowned, nails tapping lightly against the metal flask. That was the second allusion like that he'd made. "Irrelevant? Were your injuries that extensive?" He had lost a lot of blood by the time she patched him up in the half-wrecked hospital hall. But he'd gotten to a medevac under his own power and she'd thought...

Sollen nodded, setting down the cup. "I can show you...?" He waited for her faint nod of confirmation before tugging up the hem of his shirt. "This is after two surgeries, three times in a kolto bath, and my first month of rehab."

Medseal wrapped from his hip to just over halfway up his chest, and pocked scars showed higher up, healed as kolto could get them. For it to still be this significant after a year... She winced.

"Granted, the actual injuries only come about here" --he tapped a finger just shy of his navel-- "but it was awkward to keep just that covered, synthskin kept peeling, so they opted to fully wrap. Goes halfway down to my knee, too," he said, letting the shirt fall. "They had to take part of a couple ribs, thanks to how they broke, fix a bunch of internal damage, and they thought they'd have to take the leg, at first. Obviously they didn't, but..." He sighed. "Safe to say my future as a field agent still looks real fuzzy right now."

Odessa nodded sympathetically. "Mm. And... how do you feel about that?"

"Ask me again after another month of rehab," he said with a sheepish chuckle. "Once I know if walking is something I can mange on my own. That'll definitely clear things up. Not sure right now." He picked the cup up and took another drink.

"If you're not... enthusiastic about returning to field work, maybe it's not a bad idea to take other options under consideration," she said.

Sollen nodded absently. "The possibility of a desk job's been tossed around. Analyst or handler." He wrinkled his nose. "Not sure how I feel about that, either. Getting to know someone, multiple someones, and having to not just send them into but watch them deal with dangerous and stressful situations... don't know if I could do it. That might be worse than doing it myself." He gestured to the scarring that ran down the left side of her face. "How'd your handler feel about that?"

"Regretful, but what we were doing was important," Odessa said with a shrug. "And it's part of the job."

"Part of the job..." he muttered. "Well, I have a few months of medical leave to work our if it's a part I want to--or have to--deal with anymore."

"Best of luck with that." She rested a hand on his shin and gave a light, supportive squeeze.

"Thanks," he said wryly, finishing off the brandy. She held up the flask to offer more and he shook his head. "That's enough about me, though. What have you been up to? Aside from toppling secret societies, I guess."

"First of all, I came looking to talk about you," Odessa corrected. "To find out how you were doing, I was worried after Taris. Second, given how entrenched and widespread it was, toppling the secret society has been a bit all-consuming..."

She ran through the story, with most of the details, all the way from Isen Four and Belsavis through the Cabal's ship and her final confrontation with Hunter.

And accepting Ardun's offer to be a double agent. For real this time.

"So... you're working for us?" Sollen asked when she was done, voice pitched low as if to keep secret, but hopeful nonetheless.

"Mm-hm." Odessa picked at the side of her thumb. "I don't know how close to the chest Ardun plays his cards for... sources like me, so it may be that only he, you, and I know my new allegiance."

"Lips sealed, I promise. I know how it works." He smiled. "Thank you for trusting me. If I can ask... what made you accept?"

"I followed orders I didn't entirely agree with, did... things to protect the Empire that were those hard calls I mentioned, almost got myself killed to keep it safe." She sighed. "And my reward for doing my job so well was having my will shackled. Bound to obey whatever they said, because I dared defy a Sith, even one bent on destroying the Empire he was supposed to help lead. I gave everything and was still no more than a tool to them, to rewire as they saw fit." She winced at his expression. Had that much of her hurt bled through? "Sorry."

"It's alright." He studied her face, searching for something. "So what made the Republic seem any better? Kothe and I used the keyword and took advantage of the brainwashing, wouldn't that make us just as bad?"

He would make a good analyst. Examining information for method, not just the end result. "You aren't the ones who did it to me, put an override chip in my brain. You only used it because you were seriously injured and scared" --she reached toward his injured side, stopping before she made contact-- "which makes people do things they normally wouldn't, and Ardun..." She bit her lip. "Ardun was protecting his people. The Sith who ordered it done were protecting their power."

Once she'd started really thinking about that, it never failed to bring a thin smile to her lips. The all-powerful, fearsome Sith so afraid of a single Cipher agent that they shattered her loyalty with the very action meant to guarantee it. It was almost poetic.

"That makes it better?" Sollen asked skeptically.

She shrugged. "Between people and power, I'm far more on board with protecting the former."

"Then maybe you aren't as jaded as you think you are," he said, lightly nudging her hip with his knee.

"That would be nice." Odessa tipped up the flask to empty the last dregs. I have too many ghosts for it to be true, but it would be nice...

He frowned. "If the Empire thinks you're loyal, won't it raise suspicion that you're on Coruscant?"

"Perhaps." She tucked the empty flask back in her pocket. "Imperial Intelligence was dissolved, so I'm not officially an agent. And they think I have the Black Codex from the Star Cabal, thanks to a few... strategically phrased half-truths. No telling where leads from that might take me."

"But if it puts you under scrutiny..." There was worry in his eyes, for her, and it made her heart clench.

"I work well under scrutiny," she promised. "Part of what made me a good fit for Intelligence in the first place was my natural charisma and working well under pressure. My assignment with your team, for example. Even under such scrutiny Ardun used my keyword--and he wasn't wrong to do that, Sollen, Intelligence sent me to stop him--I could have taken down nearly the entire team. Left you to die on Taris, killed Saber, Wheel, Ardun himself, and brought his plan crashing down around his corpse. I was supposed to, that was my assignment, and the only reason I didn't is I didn't want to." A sharp, brittle laugh. "Call it my first act of rebellion after getting free of the... mental restraints."

He stared at her a moment, then chuckled. "You're a little bit terrifying, 'Dessa, and I'm glad your on our side now, even if you weren't then."

"Well, thank you." She hummed a wry laugh, smiling at Dessa. She didn't think he realized he'd done that. She liked it. "I've never liked to kill anyway, unless I have to, and in that case it seemed a good way to start pushing back. Besides," Odessa caught his eye and gave a meaningful smile, "I liked you, most of you. Some more than others."

That blush was back, climbing his neck and ears. "Thanks. We liked you, too... Some more than others."

He was starting to look tired, and she'd pushed this visit longer than was likely prudent regardless, but she wasn't going to pass up an opening like that. "Maybe we should do something about that some more than others?"

Sollen's brows arched, a smile starting to curve his lips before shifting to mild concern. "Do you think it's a good idea? Could get complicated."

"Oh, it will undoubtedly get complicated," Odessa said wryly. Just logistically speaking, with you stuck here... "And I have no idea if it's a good idea, but I want to do it anyway, so long as you do."

He let the smile bloom. "Oh, I do. I'd like to see where this goes." He reached out to tentatively brush his fingers against the side of her hand. "Whatever that means, far as making it work."

"I suspect a lot of me visiting you when I can," she said with a smile, catching his hand before he withdrew and giving a squeeze. "Since it seems your ability to travel will be inhibited for... a while."

He snorted. "Considering I can barely manage to hobble a lap of the room right now, I think 'a while' is being generous. Or politely vague." He squeezed her hand back. "It'll give me something to look forward to."

Odessa nodded, heart pounding. "For now, though, I should probably go. Let you rest and not push my luck."

"Can't deny I need it," Sollen let go of her hand with a reluctant sigh, then smiled. "Thanks for the drink."

She chuckled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "You're welcome."

"Next time I'm buying," he said as she headed for the door.

"I'll hold you to that," she said warmly, and slipped from the room, out of the hospital, back to her shuttle. It wasn't until she was strapped in and running preflight that Odessa's smile fully bloomed.

The promise of there being a next time was something she would look forward to as well.

[writingsofwerewolves]

An excerpt of my 90k+ word Kinky Thrawn Fanfic (jokingly called Fifty Shades of Blue).

Content includes discussion of kinky play such as CNC (consensual non-consent). No actual sex in this part, only planning for future kinky encounters.

~

Thrawn was laying across the bed with his head resting on my lap, allowing me to gently play with his hair. I savored every time he let me touch him in such an intimate way. He only allowed it on the occasions he intended to climax during our sexual encounters or after the encounter. Such touch caused him to lose control in a way he didn’t like to do often, though it was very fun when he did.

His hair stuck to his forehead due to the small amount of perspiration there from the strenuous activities we’d just completed. Both of us were still breathing hard, coming down from it. With a gentle caress, I stroked his hair from his forehead, trying and failing to return his hair to its pristine pre-sex state. It was a losing battle. I’d thoroughly mussed it in the throws of passion. Still, I enjoyed running my fingers through his soft black hair. Or… blue-black, as the books described it. Certainly it leaned towards the blue end of black, but I never would call it blue personally.

It was a rare sight for Thrawn to have his eyes closed, his brow relaxed, and a serene smile on his lips. He often thought of me as his artwork during and after sex, which I usually had trouble understanding. But with him relaxed and peaceful before me, it was easy for me to consider him my artwork. I’d done that. I’d gotten him to that state.

“Where is your mind, ch’acah?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“How do you know my mind’s anywhere, Grand Admiral?” I asked, continuing to run my fingers through his hair.

“I heard a change in your breathing,” Thrawn stated, an amused smile replacing the serene one. “Tell me.”

“I was just thinking that right now you’re my… bat ch’ast,” I said, tentative about using the Cheunh words.

Thrawn gave a content hum, his smile becoming peaceful again.

“How are your studies?” he asked, still not opening his eyes.

I let out a heavy sigh, “You want to talk about that now? We can’t just bask in the afterglow?”

He opened his eyes, quirking an eyebrow at me, “Should I take that to mean ‘badly’?”

“Slowly,” I corrected, “It’s a lot to learn.”

“You don’t have to learn it, [Name],” Thrawn told me, moving to sit up.

I sighed sadly, wishing I had more time to play with his hair. Though the sadness quickly faded when Thrawn’s hands moved to my shoulders and he started gently working my sore muscles. There were few things better than to be under his strong, talented hands.

“It is a bit much,” I admitted, “But I don’t want to disappoint you.”

As his hands continued to work, his lips found my ear, giving it a quick nip before whispering, “I would not be disappointed, ch’acah.”

“I still wanna try to learn enough to play the part convincingly,” I told him, a little breathless from his touch.

“There are other scenarios we can attempt that would require much less preparation on your part.”

“But this is what you brought up first so I assume this is what appeals to you the most.”

“Not necessarily,” he replied, “I had an opportunity to acquire a costume that was passable as a uniform, which is why this particular idea came up first. I have been intending to introduce the possibility of roleplay of various types for some time, I simply… did not find a moment that felt right to mention it.”

“So me finding the uniform was a strategic way of introducing the idea.”

“Precisely.”

“Fair enough… So what other types did you have in mind?”

“I would rather hear your ideas first.”

“You… uh… what?” I asked nervously.

He kissed my head and then pulled away so I could turn to face him, “You certainly have ideas of scenarios that may appeal to you.”

“Why would you think that?” I asked, my face blazing.

“I have seen you pleasure yourself, ch’acah,” he reminded me, “I have heard the words you mutter. You imagine a specific scenario when tasked with bringing yourself to orgasm. Is that scenario something you would like to discuss playing out?”

I swallowed hard and whispered, “Maybe.”

“While I strongly suspect what it involves, I would like to hear you say it,” Thrawn urged, his voice gentle.

“It’s… being used… against my will… for someone else’s pleasure,” I muttered, my face must have glowed like a sun to his eyes.

“We already skirt the edges of that with our normal games,” Thrawn pointed out.

“It… it’s not the same,” I admitted, “Being tortured for your amusement is… great in its own way. But it doesn’t quite scratch the same itch.”

“You want me to fuck you,” he stated plainly.

I nodded, chewing my lip.

“While you’re restrained?” he asked.

“Maybe. It doesn't have to be. You’re… uh…” suddenly it became a little harder to breathe, “You’re strong enough to hold me down while…”

“While you attempt to fight me off,” he finished for me, his voice becoming low and husky.

I swallowed hard again and nodded.

“With, of course, the knowledge that I would stop as soon as you said ‘red,’” he reminded me.

“Of course,” I agreed in a choked voice.

“I am willing to consider such a scenario,” Thrawn told me, “If you believe you will enjoy it.”

“What about you?” I asked, “Would… If it isn’t something you’d like…”

He put his hand on my cheek, running his thumb over my bottom lip, “I will enjoy it.”

I leaned into his touch, giving a happy hum as my eyes closed.

“One of my ideas is similar to what we already do,” Thrawn began, “Though with a… twist, I suppose you could say.”

“Hmm?” I questioned, still enjoying his hand on my cheek.

“An interrogation.”

My eyes opened and I raised an eyebrow at him. My mind immediately went to the infamous scene with Thrawn, Pryce, and Hera from Rebels where Pryce was torturing Hera. That certainly wasn’t something I really wanted to reenact…

“You would have information I wished to extract,” Thrawn explained, “And I would use… my normal ‘torture’ methods, as you call them.”

“So you’d deny me and/or overstimulate me until I tell you what you want to know?” I asked, pulling back from his hand so I could think more clearly.

“Yes.”

“Not to get caught up in details, but… anything specific? Am I making the information up…?”

“We can use a program on your datapad to generate a random codeword,” Thrawn explained, “Only you would know it. We would see how long you can hold out before you give it to me.”

I grinned at him, “Confident, aren’t you? What if I never do?”

He returned my grin, “Then you win. In fact, you could give me a fake codeword. If you convince me that it’s real and I cease the interrogation, then you win. If I extract the true word from you, then I win.”

“What’s the prize?”

“We can discuss a suitable reward for the winner, though I am certain the game itself will be worth playing on its own merits.”

“I agree, but it’s still nice to have a special bit of motivation.”

“Understandable,” he inclined his head.

“Just… uh… Question,” I ventured.

“Of course.”

“May I be allowed to employ some… dirty tactics?” I asked mischievously.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glowing a little brighter.

“Meaning…?”

“If you’re gonna take advantage of my weaknesses, I think I should be allowed to take advantage of yours.”

“You’re asking permission to touch me?”

“Yes.”

He sucked in a deep breath, his brow a hard ridge as he considered.

“Alright,” Thrawn agreed after several long moments of silence, “If you are able, you may employ whatever tactics you deem necessary. With of course the understanding that I may say red or yellow at any time.”

“Of course,” I nodded. “Safe to assume then that I’ll be tied up?”

“Always a safe assumption, yes.”

“So… you’ll torture me,” I began in a businesslike tone, “For a word. If I can convince you that a fake one I’ve given you is the real one, I win. If you manage to get the real one from me, you win. Both of us can use whatever tactics we want to accomplish our goals.”

“Exactly.”

“I love it. When can we get started?”

“Soon,” he promised.

[dee-in-the-box]

Mr and Mrs Kennedy asks coming up

1 - Which one of the Kennedy children remember their traits the best? (Their personality, their looks, etc)

2 - How did they actually look like? What were their personalities actually like?

3 - How old were they when they married/had Peter/had Jack/had Dee?

4 - What were their names?

5 - Which kid resembled Mr Kennedy the most?

6 - Which kid resembled Mrs Kennedy the most?

That’s all

hoo boy, here we go:

funnily enough, Jack does. he was really close to both of them (makes sense: when your parents are accepting when they find out you're trans and have helped you manage your autism (even if none of you knew that's what it was) then it's probably gonna make you really close with them!). it's why their deaths fucked him up so bad.

i might make art of it later, but here's my best attempt at doing a description: Mr. Kennedy - tall, lean man. got some muscle (grew up on a farm, and was also a soldier in WW2 for a bit). he has a prosthetic leg and walks with a cane (got shot in the leg and had to have it amputated; prosthetic leg isn't perfect and causes him to hobble around a bit, so he uses the cane to stabilize himself a little bit). he's got ginger hair, with dark green eyes, and is covered in freckles. slightly tanned skin. he's the youngest son of Irish immigrants. he's a rather calm man, but he's basically Jack if he had 2% more impulse control. also just a fun loving man. he's got a temper, but he's able to keep it in check. loves his wife and kids dearly. Mrs. Kennedy - shorter, and was described as "chubby" by family. only a year younger than her husband, and born in the same month, funnily enough. she's got freckles too, but much fewer than her husband. darker red hair and paler skin than her husband, with dark brown eyes. she's got a tooth gap, one that she'd pass down to her eldest son and daughter. a very warm, welcoming, yet calm woman. rarely ever swears (doesn't mean she hasn't cussed people out in her mind, however), and whenever she does, it's clear that something's serious. definitely a loving mother. very strong-willed; it's one of the things that attracted her husband to her.

their birthdays are in May, for reference. in order: Married - 1944; Mr. Kennedy is 20, and Mrs. Kennedy is 19 (yep, they got married young. neither of their families really agreed with their relationship due to multiple reasons, but Mr. Kennedy's family eventually was like "well, we don't approve of it, but if you're sure this is the woman you want to marry, then we aren't going to stop you." Mrs. Kennedy's family, however, couldn't even get that far. it was enough so that the Siblings only ever really had contact with that side of the family during holidays). Had Peter - 1945; 21 and 20. Had Jack - 1951; 26 and 25 (reminder, this is in March). Had Dee - 1967; 40 and 39. and, even though you didn't ask: Death - 1969; 41 and 40.

Names: Mr. Marshall Neil Kennedy, and Mrs. Diane Reynolds Kennedy (name previous to marriage: Diane Aris Reynolds)

Jack, surprisingly, despite being a trans man, actually ended up taking after his father a lot! got the same kind of hair, similar skin tone to his father (just a shade or two lighter), and has even been described as having a similar face to him. he is, however, not as tall as his father. body type wise, he takes more after his mother. even personality-wise, he takes more after his dad, even if he is more impulsive. (sometimes he wonders if his dad would be proud of him)

Peter takes after his mother, despite being tall and somehow skinnier than his dad. he's got dark red, curly hair like she does, and, as mentioned earlier, has a tooth gap. like Jack, he took after his mom: pretty calm, doesn't swear often and will actually scold Jack for swearing (mostly in front of Dee), etc. (he misses her a lot. he wonders if they think he did a good job, trying to look after his siblings, even if the world was against them)

[kmze]

It was Chad and James who brought back the familiar manipulative side of stefan in 7×07 when he psychologically tortured his mom just to convince her they needed to murder her bf after using his so-called truth even though he knew that truth wouldn't work on her.That's how shrewd Stefan was and those two writers stood out in my mind for that particular season at least because otherwise Stefan was being easily outmanipulated by simple manipulation tricks in others' episodes which seemed deliberate.Chad and James also wrote Stefan laying Calla Lilies at Liz's grave on her death anniversary.I would say it was a thoughtful gesture to, maybe, bring a part of his mom for Caroline's !?!Brett IMO was probably a Damon fanboy but he did write Defan well.Ironically he was the one who wrote Stefan letting Elena die in 3×22.

Yup I loved the murder Thanksgiving episode! I loved how Damon just sat back and watched the master work because Damon knew his brother was the master manipulator, I also loved how it paralleled with 6x19 that Stefan comes up with an elaborate theme to psychologically torture people he loves. I can't remember which panel it was at Epic Cons but someone asked Julie if picking May 10, 1994 for the prison world was because that's the day John Wayne Gacy was executed and he was a prolific serial killer like Kai (and Damon lbr). She said she did not realize the connection until that person mentioned it but said it was probably James and Chad who knew and picked it because they were always big on small details like that so the calla lilies connection coming from them makes sense, although in general calla lilies are used in funeral arrangements. They also wrote 8x03 where Stefan smacked Damon for being a little bitch who couldn't fight Sybil's mind control but Enzo could.

Speaking of Stefan being out-manipulated in S7 this reminds me of how you can see Dries' influence on the writers in how dumb he was in early S7 as opposed to clever again at the end of S7. 7x02 and 7x22 were both written by Brian Young a guy very influenced by who the showrunner was (plus BFF with CD). In 7x02 Stefan is a moron, he lets Damon plan way too much of the rescue Caroline mission even though he knows Damon is a flop (like he already had plan b going when Damon came back from his first failed attempt). Why wouldn't Stefan tell Damon to appease to Enzo since he knew how loyal Enzo was to Damon, and why wouldn't he move faster to rescue Caroline once in the house knowing they were on a time limit? Don't even get me started on the plot contrivance of Stefan flying out the window and Caroline falling down the stairs once Matt was alive even though they were standing right next to each other. Then you get 7x22 where Julie is back and CD is gone and Stefan is out here figuring out Damon's who plan to kidnap Lizzie and Josie on "brotherly intuition" because Stefan knew Damon wasn't going to respect Caroline saying no.

You're right Brett wrote excellent Defan but IDK if I'd say he was a Damon fanboy I think he more-so knew what Damon was, kind of a flop with pretty eyes. Like Damon is an easy character to write because he's pretty one-dimensional IMO; does something impulsive (check), says something snarky (check), blames someone else for his mistakes (check). Brett was also the showrunner for Legacies and I thought the musical episode poked fun at the audience with this. There's a scene where Landon (who wrote the musical) is holding auditions and everyone wants to play Damon because Damon is funny and sexy duh! Then Jed comes in and Landon is like "let me guess Damon" and Jed says no I actually kinda like Stefan, and Landon says "ME TOO!" then they fanboy about how he's the anchor to the whole story. I thought that was throwing shade at the audience who's obsessed with Damon whereas Stefan is a more subtle and nuanced character and not as popular.

I think Stefan letting Elena drown came from Julie but I also do think it was something that was hinted COULD happen throughout S2 and S3 and Paul hated it because it made Stefan look terrible especially in regards to the triangle of doom. Stefan was too consumed by his need to be the good brother who respects Elena's choices that he valued how Elena thought about him over her life! Damon on the other hand would let the world burn if it kept Elena alive, he didn't care if she hated him for eternity as long as she was alive. And Brett wrote Amnesia Stefan being flabbergasted that he would let his girlfriend die in 5x04. Then he co-wrote 7x21 where Stefan flat out mocked that decision saying "because I respected her damn choice she died and I lost her" and he refused to apologize to Caroline for doing it. He didn't care if she hated him as long as she was alive "the thought of you getting hurt, it's not an option I'm willing to entertain."

[last-flight-of-fancy]

time for some fluffy ff14 fic bc it's faster to write than draw. takes place between ShB and EW but i dont think contains any particularly major spoilers for either of those expansions.

WoL: Hallima, he/they Au Ra

Bonding time with the twins and a haircut

Hallima hears the door open to their room just a little too late, and for one panicked moment considers trying to hide before dismissing that idea out of hand. Absolutely nothing in this room had a single hope of successfully hiding their not insignificant bulk, and even trying would only make them look foolish.

Well, more foolish, as is proven when Alisiaie takes one step through the threshold, sees Hallima, and snorts laughter at them in a decidedly unladylike manner.

Alphinaud peers around her shoulder, curious, and though he doesn't double over the way Alisaie now is, he isn't fast enough to cover his mouth before Hallima can see it.

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up." They grumble, trying in vain to smooth away stray hairs and look even somewhat presentable. This fails.

"Pray tell, what are you even doing?" Alphinaud asks, hand still over his mouth but the laugh in his voice is unmistakable.

"Practicing my High Jump, what's it look like I'm doing?"Hallima is not pouting as they drop their scissors onto the wooden cabinet in front of them, and if it looks like they are then clearly it's the lip paint they're wearing (a very nice shade of blue-purple only a touch darker than their skin tone) and they need to change it immidietly. "You could have knocked."

"We did." Alisiaie puts her hands on her hips, still grinning but having regained her composure.

"Okay, maybe that was a sily question." Alphinaud says. "How about this then; why are you attempting to cut your own hair when I'm sure you could find a perfectly good barber just downstairs?"

"I didn't want anything complicated, just... Shorter." This statment of fact is followed by Hallima catching sight of themself in the mirror, which they give a baleful look.

"Uh huh." Alisaie gives them a once over. "And how's that going?"

Hallima deigns not to answer, grumbling under their breath and picking up the scissors again. 

"Hey now," Alphinaud stepsforward, making Hallima pause. He turns to Alisaie. "Surely we could render some assistance?"

"We certainly cannot do any worse." Alisiaie taps a finger to her chin in consideration.

"Do I not get a say in this?" Hallima asks flatly, already knowing the answer.

"After seeing what you've managed so far? Not a chance." Alisaie snorts, plucking the scissors from their hand and tugging them down to where the much shorter twins can reach more easily.

"Maybe I should do the cutting?" Alphinaud offers. "Seeing as how I am the one with some level of artistic inclination."

"An artist you may be but practiced with blades you are not." Alisaie counters, holding the scissors over her head when he reaches for them. "I'll do the cutting, you can give me your vaunted aesthetic opinion while I work."

Alphinaud pouts, but it's not a serious thing, and the two set to work with an ease that belies their complete lack of experiance. Hallima decides to hold still and let them at it with only a mild amount of trepidation.

(The twins were right after all, they couldn't possibly do worse than what Hallima himself had managed, which was an utter disaster.)

(Why do lizard people have hair anyway? This was a question that had never occured to Hallima before their trip to the Azim Steppe, assuming as they had that they were some kind of freak mutation. Anything goes with that kind of assumption. Knowing theirs is an entire species of dragon kin however, had rather turned quite a bit on its head.

Not that Hallima thinks about it much. Only deep in the night when sleep eludes them once more. Or when they're being forced to sit still while a couple of teenagers wave a pair of scissors dangerously close to their face.)

"Like so?" Alisaie says, taking Halima by the chin and turning their head. Alphinaud makes a humming noise.

"It's not bad. Maybe if we-"

"There's not much left to work with there-"

"I learned to do these braids back in-"

Hallima zones out again. The kids will either figure it out or Hallima will just have to go bald for a while. Not their favourite look, but it wouldn't be the first time.

(Hallima has more than enough money to pay a barber. Spends gratuitous amounts of it on weapons and armour in fact, but old habits died hard, and old habits insisted that money was to be spent on necessities only.)

"There!" Alisaie announces, grinning and proud, prompting Hallima to return to reality. "What do you think?"

Hallima looks into the mirror, and is surprised to find it's not terrible. Much shorter than initially intended, but that had been a forgone conclusion before the twins had even so much as made their appearance. Tight braids run in parallel waves across the sides, which Hallima has to turn their head to see clearly around their horns.

"They're supposed to stay in without needing to be redone every day." Alisaie says. "Though knowing our lives I'm not sure how true that would be for you."

"It looks great." Hallima says, with a genuine smile. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome." Alphinaud answers for both of them. "I'm still surprised though. Did you really hate the ponytail that much?"

"No, actually." Hallima shakes their head. "But with how things have been lately, I've barely had time to get my armour on sometimes, let alone deal with things like putting up my hair."

"I did notice you'd been leaving it down more often lately." Alisaie says, thinking back.

"And it was getting in the way." Hallima sighs. "I don't know how Estinian does it."

"And yet your makeup is always perfect." Alphinaud's tone is teasing.

"You can thank Aymeric for that, actually." Hallima chuckles, opening a drawer to reveal a wide number of small jars in a rainbow of colours. "When we left Ishagard he got me these enchanted paints as a parting gift. They're made to stay days at a time before needing to be reapplied. Much like your braids." Hallima nods to Alisaie.

"I think I've heard of these." Alphinaud leans over the drawer, taking in the array. "They're quite expensive though, even for Aymeric this many must have cost a pretty gil."

"Oh the first set was only three colours. He sends me new shades every couple weeks or so. I think there were eight waiting in my mail after we got everything sorted out in the First."

"Does he now." Alisaie's tone and raised eyebrow imply a great deal, which Hallima resolutely ignores.

"Still, these are only meant for the lips." Alphinaud interrupts whatever Alisaie might have said next. "That doesn't explain the eyeliner."

Hallima blinks.

"What eyeliner?"

"Wh- you mean to tell me that's just how they look?"

"Yes?"

Alisaie tugs on Hallima once more, and they try not to fidget as they stare down a very intent young elezen.

"Yup it's not eyeliner, they really are just like that." She pronounces. "You lucky bas-"

"Language." Alphinaud primly reminds, to which Alisaie pokes her tongue out at him.

Hallima feels themself smile, and then laugh in truth, a much needed lift to their mood after... everything.

They catch Alphinaud's gaze lingering over the frankly absurd number of coloured bottles, and has an idea.

"Considering how long those last, I have no idea how I'm going to get through them all. Would you like to help me?"

"Really?" Alphinaud is somehow surprised (he should know better by now, honestly), while Alisaie positively lights up in excitement, diving into the drawer and sifting through the colours like the kid she is.

"What have you got in red?" She asks, already pulling bottles out and setting them aside. Hallima's grin grows.

"Well, if you're sure..." Alphinaud hesitates a single second more, and then joins his sister with equal enthusiasm.

Hallima makes a silent (suckers) bet with themself that he picks some shade of blue.

[ro-botany]

Bonus Content & Bloopers for the fake marlear screencaps

(I love behind the scenes stuff ok can you really blame me)

Ripping animations to help with some basic expression work was..... it was an adventure.

The first image above is an attempt to blend Marth's "surprise" and "smile" faces together but I uh...... Hit the wrong setting in the dropdown. I nearly died from laughing too hard pff.

The Alears there are what happens when you import the characters face rigs with different settings (still screaming at myself for that one) and then try to use a facial expression from one of them on the other one of them. That was supposed to be an :0 face.

The FEH players among you may have recognized the setting of that piece as the scenery for S supports in FEH! Figured if I'm setting the scene in Askr anyway I may as well go for the cheekiest spot. :P

While it probably would've looked great if I'd modelled all that out, after the effort that went into getting the character models looking good I really just did Not have it in me to do that, so this scenery is... A complete and utter lie made of layered image planes.

This was part of why I opted to crank the depth of field so much in the final piece. Helps hide that everything aside from the guys themselves are crusty PNGs. :P It does a half-decent job of looking like a 3D scene even in motion though, so long as you don't rotate the camera TOO far.

I REALLY liked how these close shots of Marth and Alear for the first pose turned out, but in the end I didn't think they fit with the other two poses. There was a timeline where I modified the expressions a bit and made fake dialogue boxes where they're talking about how surprised and happy they are they can actually touch each other in Askr, but I didn't feel confident enough to write in their voices for that.. So in the final shots that story just gets to be implied in their poses and expressions instead.

For the hug shot, I feel it is important to reveal that Alear's head is clipping halfway into Marth's shoulder and armour there. It's fine though. Animate for the camera, professionals always say! If it isn't gonna be viewed from every angle it doesn't have to look good from every angle. :P

Engage renders their characters' eyelashes and eyebrows ABOVE their hair, no matter what, in order to help the readability of facial expressions. I wanted to stay true to that look, so I had to render their eyebrows and eyelashes separately and then combine them in post. Enjoy eyelash-free Marth and Alear. :P

You can also see some areas there where I had to manually fix some shading and outlines in post, too. Blender has a bug with rigging right now that was affecting the face shading in odd ways, so I painted over that; and the inverse hull method I've been using for most of the outlines is very much imperfect and needed touching up in some areas, lips especially.

Since these character rigs were.......... We'll say not intended for use in Blender, they were fairly tedious to get posed right. No rotation or location constraints. These were joint-only rigs with no connections between bones so you couldn't use the auto-IK feature to, say move the whole arm at once. (Which made hand posing the WORST THING EVER AAAA EVERY FINGER JOINT MOVES INDIVIDUALLY why did i pick TWO poses where hands were a critical component)

Part of my process ended up being doing rough sketches of what the final shots were going to be first, so I could keep in my head what sort of poses and expressions and camera angles I was going for. And by rough I mean ROUGH. I kept laughing looking at these little egg head guys for reference as I worked.

Engage's models also come with some "extraneous" bones; "piv" bones that I can't figure out what they do, spots where weapons and shields can snap to, "vol" bones for changing the thickness of specific body parts as defined in the big XML file of character proportions buried in the game. Unfortunately these bones overlap the actual posing joints in many cases, so until you get fed up enough to find and hide them all, you'll try to move the character around and end up doing shit like this by accident

(Me too Marth, idk what the hell his skeleton is doing either)

And as you may have noticed - no particle effects in these behind the scenes shots so far! That's because I both A) couldn't for the life of me figure out how to do that smoke effect, and B) couldn't render a particle system with anywhere NEAR the number of objects I would need to get a similar look to the game. So, I drew those in post! Shoutouts to the random sparkle and smoke brushes in my collection, you're the real ones.