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thebluemoonjune · 6 months ago

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The Sounds Of A Black Dahlia- Chapter 1

Summary:

8 years after marrying into a rich but cruel and messed-up family, Michonne, a loving mother and dutiful wife, finds herself in the middle of a brewing storm that may take everything she cares for, all while an unexpected member of the family returns, wanting to cause even more chaos and uproot her already troublesome life. AU Richonne centred. The first chapter is the prologue.

Michonne styled her butterfly locs in front of the mirror in her pink silk robe. The mirror captured a stranger, empty and bored eyes, the glitter of vitality gone, replaced by the dormant look of disillusionment, casting doubts on her own identity. She had already put on her make-up and just needed to put on her dress and jewellery. When she was finished with her hair, she got up and went to the long, red, satin, side-split, spaghetti-strap Chanel corset dress when Shane entered her bedroom.

“You’re still getting dressed? We’re gonna be late!”

Her cold gaze fixed on the anxious young man; her eyes narrowed, and she got a vertical wrinkle between her eyebrows. Her lips pursed slightly.

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to. However loud and gruff your tone gets with your whore, don’t try that bullshit with me. I’m not in the mood.” Shane took a breath, not wanting to argue.

“Baby…I didn’t mean to yell at you, but we’re gonna be late. It’s an important night, and this is important to me. You can be mad; I’m gonna need you to keep that attitude in check; when we get back home, you can yell, cuss, or whatever, but none of that horseshit now.”

“You can leave without me, or you can call whatever her name is. I’m sure she would love to get out of that cave you keep her in.”

“Can you behave for once?”

“I don’t know, Shane; can you be faithful for once? Can you be a good father for once? Can’t you be a man for once? No? Then do not rush me. If you want a pretty, supportive wife, fine, I’ll put on the mask, but do not rush me!” She zipped up her dress.

“Don’t bring the kids into this. You don’t wanna go there…I know you're mad at me, but... baby, it’s complicated.”

“Shane… I want a divorce.” She went for her silver heels, not looking him in the face. “Andre and Maliyah are young; we should do it soon rather than drawing this out and letting it hurt them.”

“What?” Not acknowledging his confusion, she continued.

“They’ll ask questions at first, but they’ll let it go. I want you to move out permanently so they get used to it quickly.”

“Baby, I know you’re angry. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I‘ll be downstairs; don’t forget the driver’s waiting.” He kissed her cheek and turned to leave.

Michonne let out a lengthy sigh as she watched her husband head downstairs. If she had known then what she knew now, she would not have married him. How could a man have two families? How could he say he loved her while being between her and another woman? How could he marry her, knowing that there was someone else? How could she still love that man? Those types of questions plagued her almost every day. She sat in front of the mirror yet again, staring at her perfectly coiffed face.

Come on, Michonne... This is an important night for our family; you shouldn’t delay any longer.

She stood up and stuffed her phone, breath mints, charger, hand sanitiser, and cosmetics into her silver sol metal oval clutch. She wanted to see her children before leaving, so she dashed straight to the room they’d be in while she was out. Shane didn't want her to work, so she didn't. Prior to the birth of her baby, she spent her days doing whatever she desired—having fun, going on trips with her best friends and school—all whilst she was being a wife to her husband. She made several adjustments after becoming a mother, not because she needed to, but because she chose to. Shane made arrangements for her to hire a nanny. Michonne, on the other hand, declined. She did not fancy her children being raised by a stranger, knowing her as their mother in name and name alone. She couldn’t have that. She would be there for her children every step of the way, no matter what. Her love for motherhood didn’t hurt either. As Michonne entered the room, the kids were play-fighting with the babysitter, Beth. It was hard for Michonne to find a babysitter she was comfortable with. Interview after interview and nothing. It was her friend, Maggie, who told her to give her sister a try. Shane preferred someone more professional, but Michonne decided to take a chance this time, not wanting to offend her buddy. She was overjoyed since Beth was a wonderful girl who was excellent with her children. Michonne employed this as a means to assist the seventeen-year-old girl in saving for college without relying on handouts.

“Did you two little troublemakers not see your mother?”

“Mama!” Her younger baby called her first and she rushed over. Michonne picked her up, kissing her all over her face. “You look pweety, Mama!”

“Thank you, Bubba!” She fixed the three-year-old’s messy curls and turned to her son, who was still up under Beth. “Peanut? Did you not see me?

Her son was only six—only six—but had a premature love for women. He had a crush on Beth, and he was no different when Maggie and her friend Sasha were over at their house. He never crossed any inappropriate lines, although she saw he had a wandering eye. She recalled telling Shane about it for the first time. He laughed for ten minutes straight. This was a bad habit; she'd have to kick early or risk becoming a grandma when she wasn't ready. She'd have to keep a close eye on him, especially as he hits his teenage years. It may be innocent for now, but every time she looked at her baby boy, she was reminded of how fast time flew; he would be a man before she knew it.

“I saw you, Mama! I didn’t wanna dirty your dress!”

“Oh, so it was for my sake?”

“Mhmmm!” Michonne laughed at his excuse and walked to him.

“Well, can I at least get a kissy wissy to go?” He got up from the large beanbag, planting a kiss on her cheek before rubbing the tips of their noses together. “You and your sister go to bed on time; don’t give Beth any trouble, okay?”

“Okay!”

"Tomorrow, the three of us will go shopping to get you guys bikes. Lia is old enough now for a little one and you’ve outgrown yours.”

“Really?”

“Only if you two behave.”

“We will, we promise, Mama!” Maliyah nodded in agreement with her big brother. “Alright. I love you both! But mommy has to go!”

“Beth, call me if anything! Goldie already got her dinner, so she’ll sleep on her own.” She gave her daughter to the teen.

“I will!”

…

As Michonne walked to the stairs, she saw her husband at the end, waiting for her with an impatient expression laced on his handsome face. Noticing her finally coming down, he let out a sigh of relief.

“What took you?”

“Well, one of us had to settle the kids, right?”

“Sorry…”

“You're the guest of honour; your father isn’t going to change his mind at the last minute either. Calm yourself.”

“You’re right,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks, we should go.” Her tone was flat, almost cold.

…

The two sat at the back of his Bentley, five minutes away from their destination. Tonight would be the night her father-in-law announced that she was handing over the reins to his son, her husband. She was happy for him, ecstatic even, but she was also exhausted.

“I need a `goddamn cigarette.”

“Not in the car.”

“Oh, you ready to talk to me now… I didn’t go there to fuck her, if that’s what you think.”

“What was that?”

“I went to pull her up about that shit she pulled at the store. I haven’t been intimate with her for a long time.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Does it?” It did and she hated that it did. “I know it feels unfair to you, but Chonne, I can’t just kick her out of my life; we got two kids together.”

“Bastards.” It was wrong of her to say; the children were innocent. It didn’t change things, though.

“My children nonetheless.” He licked his lip as he rubbed his head. “She was in the picture long before you; it’s unfair to her too.”

“And yet you married me. Young, naive, clueless me. All because she wasn’t up to your father’s standards. I made the perfect wife. Young, educated, well-off and from a good family. Having a black wife on your arm also showed you were open-minded and a little liberal.” She gave a sad chuckle.

“Is that all you think you are to me? Woman, I love you. It may’ve started out that way when we tied the knot, but not for long. Chonne, I love you…”

“Can you blame me? You’re Emperor Qianlong and I’m Empress Nara, I just haven’t cut my hair yet... Everything is business with you people. You keep saying that you love me; is that really true?”

“Of course!”

“Then why is she still in the picture?”

“She’s in the picture because we got kids. I’ve explained it all before.”

“Again, Shane, why is she in the picture? The last time we had a fight, did you forget what you told me?” She positioned her body to see his face. “Feelings for your mistress aside, you could be in their lives without her. You could take them. Do you think I would hurt them?”

“It ain’t like that. I just—” At the same time, his phone rang. “Rick?”

“Rick?”

“Yeah, Man… We’re basically here, pulling up now… Tell my old man, we’ll be up soon... later.” Shane ended the call. “Dad wants to know where we are.”

“Well, we’re here... You never told me your brother was back.”

“You been mad at me all day; I ain’t got the chance.” He hit her with a smile, which she rolled her eyes at. “We’ll talk tomorrow, like I said. You know what we gotta do, right?”

He kissed her hand once more, then her neck, pausing to inhale her sweet scent as he placed his head on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and rested her chin on him. She married him when she was barely twenty; he was six years her senior. He courted her for six months at the behest of their parents prior to proposing. He was her first time, her first kiss, her first love—her first everything. She had no clue he was already in love with someone else and had a son with her. What disappointed her the most was that both of her parents were aware. They were aware and pushed her towards him anyway. Now she’s tied to him in more ways than one. He got up from the creek of her neck as the driver, Gareth, reached the entrance of the building. Coming to a stop, Gareth got out, opening the car door for Shane, who in turn held her hand, guiding her out. He fixed her dress and interlocked their fingers, strolling into the venue. Michonne, understanding the show was on the road, adjusted. Her shoulders were pulled back and she held her head high as she adorned herself with an enormous smile.

There were many people in the vestibule. There, they saw the familiar face of one of her father-in-law’s assistants, Tara. She wore a black, knee-length dress, formal enough for the event but conservative since she was here working. Noticing them both, her shoulders dropped and her face lit up as she hurried over.

“Finally! Your father has been asking questions for the past fifteen minutes! You know he hates being late.”

“We ain’t that late.”

“Yes, you are! We started half an hour ago!”

“Come on. Stop. Let’s go in. Before your father actually changes his mind.” They went towards the main hall, hand in hand.

“Who else is he gonna give it to? That whore’s brat is like ten.”

“Is that any way to talk about your stepmother, hmm? She might be an insufferable bitch, but don’t let anyone hear you. He’s eighteen, plus, even if Alex’s young, there’s Monty or Rick; your father has always loved him like a son. He’s a brother you actually like.”

“But he ain’t a Walsh; he’s a Grimes. That old fox would never give my mother the satisfaction. The day that happens, hell gonna freeze over. He’s far too damn cold and petty for that.”

“They’re getting a divorce and still so sour. Flaunting his mistress and children, being close to Rick... What a petty bastard.” His guffaws echoed in the large hall room, causing strangers to search for the source. “Calm yourself.” She patted his back like he was a choking toddler. “It’s not like your mother cares. She’s no different.”

In the vast crowd, they could see John Castus Walsh, the man of conversation, standing in the middle of the room with his thirty-six-year-old fiancée, Andrea Holden, among a couple of business partners. Noticing their arrival, John smiled in their direction, flagging them.

“You recognise ‘em?”

“Yes, the tall slender one is Negan Smith, The woman Daniella Dane, her husband has recently become a shareholder in the company. Josh Cophe may be the COO, but he’s dangerous, so careful and try to get rid of him. The one in the silver-grey suit is Philip Blake; he’s a politician.” Her husband sighed at the information.

“So we play dumb... Any trouble with the other shareholders? Were their wives friendly?”

“No. They were great at the dinner, and you can trust Morgan Jones… Shane… Just because he chose you, doesn’t mean you’re safe. Many poisonous snakes lay in the grass.”

“I know… You ready?”

“No, but it’s not about me; it’s about you.” She stroked his chest, staring deep into his eyes. “This is your night; you worked hard for this and it’s finally paying off. Regardless of everything, Shane, I am proud of you.”

She hooked herself underneath his arm and they made their way to the others. She could feel her husband staring at her but she did not return his gaze, simply staring straight ahead. He tightened his hold on her and spun his neck straight, smirking.

“Ah, let me introduce you to my son, Shane, and his lovely wife, Michonne,” he whispered to Shane. “You’re late,” then said to Michonne. “You look lovely, dear,” he smiled. “Shane, this is Josh Cophe, Negan Smith, Daniella Dane, and Philip Blake.”

“You have a lovely wife here.”

“Thank you Mr. Smith! She’s my partner in crime, this one. You got someone?”

“My wife Lucille. She isn’t here, though.”

“Sad to hear it. Maybe she and my Chonne can meet next time. And you must be, Mr. Blake.

“You’re a very talented young man as as my friend said, lovely wife!”

“Thank you, Mr. Blake. Wait… you’re running for governor.”

“Yes, he sure is and I’m backing him; we’re backing him.” John added.

“I see…”

Shane glanced at Michonne, who tried her best not to roll her eyes at the shenanigans she was witnessing. Business. It was always business. John didn’t even attempt to talk to his son about Blake’s politics or policies. It didn’t matter. If John Castus Walsh was anywhere near a politician, it wasn’t to plan for the betterment of his community. Michonne was about to slip away when an annoying voice rang in her ear.

“Well, could you two be any later? Or did Shane have outside business to attend to?”

“Andrea… Sorry, but you see, I was with my kids... Not everyone can relate, but surely you’d understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed as he attempted to decipher the cryptic message.

“Exactly as I said.”

“Your right. Hmm, speaking of children. I know you love yours very much, and so does Shane, right? I know he makes time for��all of ‘em .” She made sure to draw out her last bit of words, twisting her knife.

Michonne looked Andrea up and down, a smile completely enveloping her face. She had to admit Andrea was stunning in her yellowish-green Valentino pleated strapless silk-blend gown. She had her hair in a beautiful French twist and a yellowish-green rhinestone flower clip to match. That, however, was where Michonne’s compliments came to an end. If she had to put words to thoughts, Andrea was, to put it simply, a money-hungry, vindictive, selfish, entitled, cunt of a woman who cared for nothing and no one other than herself. Not even her children were exempt from this, as they were simply insurance for her everlasting cash cow, whom she called a fiancé. Shane hated her to the moon and back. He could see through her from the day he met her thirteen years ago. It didn’t help that they were almost the same age either.

“Yes, something that everyone doesn’t do. You know, sex parties, drugs, trip here, trip there! Like shameless, egotistical, self-centred whores. No sense of responsibility, even to their kids... A sad state of affairs…” She tried to suppress her giggling, but ended up bursting into loud laughter. This drew attention from Blake. “Shane, sweetheart, I'm going to look for my parents. You know how much I miss them.”

“Alright, come look for me when done.” He knew she was lying and probably wanted to leave due to being tired of her quiet sparring with Andrea. She also hated her parents.

He gave her a demure kiss, sending her off. Michonne grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter and walked closer to a corner, not wanting others to talk to her until she was ready to go back to her husband. Sipping on her bubbly, her mind went far but was suddenly brought back when she heard her big brother’s voice over her shoulder.

“Mom and Dad are asking for you.”

“Mike! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.”He began to chuckle.

“Not funny.”

“Okay! Okay!” he threw his hands up. “They still want to see you, though.”

“What the hell do they need now?”

“Why do you assume they want something? Maybe they really want to see you.” Michonne's brows gently lifted as she silently awaited clarification of his nonsense. “Okay… You got me. They want you to talk to Shane about an investment in a project. I'm just giving you a heads-up.”

“They have some nerve. Was this her idea?”

“Well, I have a beautiful and intelligent sister who’s married to one of the wealthiest families in the country and an immodest and audacious mother who’ll make full use of her.”

The siblings stared at each other, breaking out in a sad laugh. They both knew it. Sometimes she wondered if she had been born a son, if she would’ve been forced, controlled and manipulated like her parents were regarding her marriage. She loved her brother, especially when compared to her sister Macie; however, part of her resented him. She fought most her life, trying to gain a fraction of what he had. He lived his life how he wanted for the most part and would inherit their estate when all was said and done. After all, a daughter is like spilt water when she is wed, unless her maternal family needs something, of course. She admittedly would inherit nothing. She didn’t like that; she didn’t like that at all.

“They get dust from me.” She said bluntly, eyes cold and proud.

“Naturally… Look, your mother-in-law and sister-in-law are here. Oh, your brother-in-law is here too, well, other bother-in-law. Saw Richard earlier chatting with a pretty blonde.” Mike peeped her expression, trying to find a reaction on her pretty little face. He saw nothing.

Her sister-in-law, Kendall, wore a long pink open-side Armani halter dress. The neck of the dress was pure silver rhinestones, and her raven hair wrapped tightly in a fishtail braid updo, diamond earrings on her ears and a face beat to the heavens. Kendall Oliva Walsh or K for short was the youngest of the Walsh line and the only girl in a sea of men. She was driven, plain-spoken, and outgoing. She lived life with little regard for anyone, in the best way possible. She started her own publishing company against her father and grandfather’s wishes at the age of twenty-four. Out of all the family members Michonne gained from her marriage, K was her favourite, not counting her kids. Michonne smiled. Kendall is what Andrea wishes she could be.

Her eccentric mother-in-law was no different. Dressed to the fucking nines. Draped open-back Valentino silk gown, her black neck-length hair slicked right back with a side part. She had her face painted with a smokey eye and a ruby red lip, just like her own. Huge white pearls on her ears and neck and marble white red bottom Christian Louboutin heels with a white Saint Laurent clutch under her arm, along with her thirty-year-old French boyfriend. Michonne could smell the money. Some people suggest that affluent individuals don't like to flaunt their wealth, but this couldn't be further from the truth, especially in the case of Eleanor Olivier Grimes-Walsh. Eleanor was a stern woman who had a fearsome and commanding presence. She was harsh with her subordinates and peers, protective of all her children and cold and ruthless with those she deemed her enemies. The deceptively beautiful woman, Eleanor earned her the moniker ‘Iron Woman’. Being a mother of four at fifty-five years old, she looked to be in her early forties at most. She valued her beauty and appearance as much as her intelligence. You could never hope to find a flaw nor would you dare to. Eleanor came from nothing and married into this world, where she fought tooth and nail.

She didn’t care what her Monty wore, as it was a boring, expensive tux like all the other men wore. The most she could say about it was that it was blue. Materialistic, aggressive, pompous, and unpredictable were all words that Michonne thought about the tall glass of concentrated ignorance. While Shane took after his father’s strong masculine features, Monty inherited his mother’s soft beauty, making him a ‘pretty boy’ and a sex-fueled one at that. She stayed away from him for the most part, unless it was a family occasion such as this one. Shawn Montgomery Walsh, better known as “Monty,” was many things and known for many as well but presenting his partners wasn’t one of them.

So, what interested Michonne the most about her ‘good brother’ was the woman at his arm. This was the first and Michonne was confused as to why. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was dark at the roots and light brown coming out, tied in a messy updo. She wore a white and green sleeveless dress and a white shawl covering her back, a yellow purse, and yellowish-green shoes with accessories to go. If she had to guess she was wearing one single brand, most people wouldn’t do that, not counting celebrities with endorsements. She wore the clothes; she had the man; she was at the event, but even so, she stuck out like a nail. Michonne could immediately tell that the woman wasn’t one of them; whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. One thing was for certain, though, Monty had already brought forth the woman, and so, she’d stay for a while. Oh, how interesting.

Given the arrival of the new party, she hooked her brother’s arm. Her eyes sparkled, understanding what was to come. Though she was trying to hide it, the corners of her mouth were twitching upward. In the corner of her eye, she notices Rick with his date making his way to her husband and father-in-law, same as Eleanor and her other children. Now that the whole family was here, it was time to return to her husband’s side. The event may have started but the show was just starting.

“You’re taking me with you?”

“Don’t you want to see something funny?”

“I’m sure it’s family business going on over there.”

“Probably, but you are technically family too. Just keep your mouth shut and be entertained. Besides, if Eleanor, Rick, and Monty can bring strangers here, I can bring my brother.”

She walked over with her brother by her side and fell in next to her husband. On her way over, John left with his associates.

The news will be delivered soon .

“Come on, Monty! Stop holding out. Who’s the girl?”

“Always in my damn business!”

“What are big brothers for? Come on, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, Magna. Magna Anders.”

“Girlfriend? Well, nice to meet you! Rick, you ain’t off the hook, man! And K, you’re by yourself.”

“Naturally! Why the fuck would I bring a man here? To look pretty?”

“You know she’s a fucking drugged-up slut. No proper man would want her.” Monty smiled at his little sister.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you dead dick prick! You’re probably riddled with syphilis. Syphilis riddled.” Kendall chuckled hard.

“Wicked ranthrough witch bitch…”

“Egotistical, small, dick twink-looking cunt.”

“Closet lesbian, dick tease.”

“I thought we were trading blows. I’d gladly give up men you sexist, inbred-looking, slack-jawed, drooling meatslapper.”

“Oh my God.” Holly and Magna looked at each other awkwardly, shocked at the unexpected turn, while Michonne sipped on her bubbly.

“Both of you stop that shit, right now. We’re in public for crying out loud! No need to get foul. Utterly fucking embarrassing!” Eleanor slapped Monty in the back of his head.

“I’m gonna take a gander and say… Companionship?” Directed the conversation back on track. Michonne looked at Shane with pity.

“Oh please! I’m smarter than that.”

“Can’t be that fucking smart; you’re an English major.” Monty quipped.

“Ignore him. Just answer the question.” Shane didn’t let up.

“A good dick down maybe, but companionship? Fuck no! Hassel Rick!”

“Kendall!”

“Sorry mother…”

“Rick.”

“Oh, this here is Holly. She’s my date for the night.” Michonne stretched out her hand.

“You’re very pretty, Holly. I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“Thank you.”

“She will. You don’t gotta worry about that.” Rick said it with slightly hostile eyes.

Michonne returned his gaze tenfold, not backing down in the slightest. His huge blue eyes gave her a playful expression, as if she were a mouse and he were the cat, like a tiger studying a bunny, until he began laughing softly to himself. His laugh was uncalled for and sounded more like an evil cackle than an expression of amusement. Andrea giggled at the side and Shane rolled his eyes at his brother's behaviour.

“Alright, alright. Stop teasing her.”

“So Holly, Magna, what do you think about our colourful family?”

“Well, like you said, quite colourful. Is it always like this?” They both gazed at her, truly intending to know.

“Oh Holly, stick around and you’ll find out!”

“There ain’t nothing you need to ask her for, Hol.” Rick cut in, making Michonne roll her eyes.

“Michonne! You look gorgeous, by the way!” Kendall attempted to break the tension her brother was stuck on causing.

“So do you, K!” They embraced. She turned to her mother-in-law. “You look absolutely stunning, Eleanor. How do you do it?”

“Ugh! You’re gonna let it go to her head! You know she loves hearing nothing more!”

“I stay stress-free darling. Never let small, egotistical men get the better of me or their whores.” Shane nudged his wife, not wanting her to add fuel to the fire. Michonne, however, did not care.

“I completely get you. What about you, Andrea? Surely you have your own methods?”

“Yes, Andrea, please share.” Kendall joined in.

“I just live my life without thinking of irrelevant people.” Eleanor cut in after Andrea’s words.

“Sure you do! You look… nice. My children’s money sure does wonders.”

“You mean my fiancé’s money.”

“Same thing! My children will indubiously inherit every red cent !” Eleanor waved her hand high with a booming laugh. “Is that not why we’re here? Surely you can swallow those facts, though I know you are as helpless as you are homely, Amanda.”

“What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to decipher the cryptic message from the bewitching woman ahead of her.

“It seems the wheel is spinning but the hamster’s dead.” She strutted over to Shane, holding onto his arm on his left while Michonne was on his right. Her tone was playful, like a child. “I know it was kept in the family, but I would’ve expected your fiancé to tell you! Tonight my son will be announced as the CEO of Briton!” Noticing Andrea’s expression, Eleanor feigned a look of shock. “Don’t tell me you actually believed that my pig-headed husband would make your son his heir now? You think, because you got a cheap ring after pushing out two bastards, all your dreams could come true? Let me explain this to you. There are shareholders, investors, and people with whom we have certain relationships. There is still Ronan. Even if John had the idea, my father-in-law would never allow it! What do you have to offer other than your vagina? You don’t even have shares. My children do and I would never allow you or your hellspawns to. You have no power and you can’t intelligently use the only tool God has blessed you with either; that just makes you a cheap whore. One thing I can’t stand a Shameless, Stupid, Slut. They’re a bad combination.”

Michonne could see her brother’s mouth agape from the side, not expecting all he heard. At the same time, John took the front. They all went to take their seats. Though she didn’t tell Shane her thoughts due to not wanting to get the wrong idea, she was befuddled as to why he decided to give Shane control now. John was a man capable of kindness, and his raising Rick was a testament to that; however, he was also one of the cruellest people she knew. He destroyed company after company and family after family to get what he coveted. There was a man who threw himself off a building because he lost everything. It was one of the reasons her parents sacrificed her to the altar; for safety. He was not Ronan’s original successor nor was he his first-born son; he was the fourth child of five boys. His brother Ronan III, eldest, at sixty-six, was currently rotting in a prison cell for the murder of their great patriarch’s third wife, Helena, who also happened to be her father-in-law’s mother. The second son, Patrick, the main choice for the heir, was found drowned in his tub at forty-two. The third son, Cillian, at sixty-three, was held in a mental institution. And the fifth son, Joseph, was born from the same womb as John, never stepping on his brother’s tail and taking what he was given.

All so strange, but hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil... It’s not my business.

What was her business, was the father of her children. John was the possessive type; at only sixty-one, she couldn’t fathom a man as litigious, ruthless, controlling and determined as him giving over his blood work to expand to this point—not right now. Ronan, she could understand; after all, he, his parents, and two older siblings came here as immigrants, and he built everything from nothing for his descendants, but John was not his father. Leaving a legacy may be part of it; all men crave to leave a legacy behind, but there was more of a driving force to his motivations. She suspected more afoot.

“My father, Ronan Lucius Walsh II, came here to America from the old country, Ireland, when he was but 4 years old. My family, like other people of their time, had many difficulties… They bought into the American dream; they could make it here. I’d be lying if I say that upon arrival, everything was fine and dandy. You could imagine the hardships of an immigrant in a foreign land, but they never once gave up on that dream, particularly my father. He basically started Briton on thought, prayer, blood, and sweat and look at it now! Twenty-one years ago, he stood in a similar position as I do now, with the same intentions. ‘Times are changing’. Those were the words my father said to me when he handed me the reigns, and they are what I say to you, Shane. I am proud of you, son. Come on, let them see you.”

Shane squeezed his wife's hand, kissing her temple. He got up and went to his father’s side. The last time she saw him this happy was when he met their little girl.

“All children look up to their parents and I’m no different. As the eldest, growing up, I could only hope that I live up to my father, not for myself but for my family. I am not perfect. Many people helped me reach the point that my old man felt comfortable that I was ready. My father and mother, obviously; my younger siblings; my beautiful children; and my amazing, beautiful wife. Now I get to work for them and our future and build upon what my grandfather and father left to me. I vow to uphold the very same morals and values that has been instilled in me, to protect my family name, to progress my community, and to build upon the legacy that has come before me. That I, Shane Johnathan Walsh, promise.”

Everyone stood up, clapping. Whether it was insincere or not didn’t matter. The old ‘white-eyed wolf’ had already named his successor; there was nothing else to add. What would happen after tonight was a different story. As John gave another speech, Michonne turned to look at Rick, only to find him looking at her. She broke eye contact as quickly as she made it.

Why? Why did he come back… Why now?

After they were done addressing the room, Shane, John and she made the rounds, meeting with business partners, shareholders, board members and so on. She stood by her husband’s side, doing her ‘wifely duties’—smiling when necessary, reminding him of information or names in his ear, charming the opposite party and their spouse—the typical tiring dance.

Why am I even doing this?

When he no longer needed her by his side, she quietly broke away, heading to an area where she could be alone for a while. She sat behind a shadowy section of a wall, in the back room of the lounge, pulled out her phone and began texting her friend Sasha, who should’ve been in attendance, when, all of a sudden, two voices could be heard having a not so ‘small’ argument.

“How dare you! You just announced that Shane would be given the company!”

“It’s still my company.”

“Does that mean you won’t hand over your stocks? You son of a bitch! How could you do this to my boy? Is he just your workhorse while you whip; He’s just a face?”

“When did I say I was giving him full control? CEOs are never in full control. I’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t get what you want.”

“Transfer ownership! Two male rats cannot exist in the same hole!”

“If he wants what’s mine, he’s gonna have to work for it! I can’t just give him what I’ve built… I gave him a chance. If he messes up, there‘s Monty, and even Alex thought he’s young now. Hell, there are many others that’ll fight for it—not Kendell, of course, but you’ll see.”

“He has been working for it! I’ll never get over the embarrassment of being of the same species as you. You are a monster, a demon, a malformation. The fact that you would even bring up that woman’s child but K isn’t an option.”

“You think because he does what the fuck he’s supposed to do—because he’s the firstborn, it’s all that matters. No, Livi, that ain’t how it works. He’s so weak.”

“All parents plan for their children. Can’t you see what you’re doing? You of all people should know!”

“And what do you think I’m doing? Strong men create good times and good times create weak men.” Michonne could hear him smirk at his every word.

“You won’t win!”

“Livi… I always win!”

Eleanor stormed out, slamming the door behind her. John left behind her as easily as he came, leaving her sitting in mellowing in her thoughts! She knew John was cruel but he was basically putting a target on his son’s back, leaving him with no protection! How in God’s name could he put his son on the chopping block just to see if he’d survive?

What the actual fuck! Oh… I can’t breathe!

She got up, nose clenching, making breathing difficult. Stumbling to the balcony for fresh air, her mind a mess with this new information. She did not know how Shane would take it; he craved his father’s approval. Her mouth opened and closed without making a sound. There was no backing out now—not enough and not soon enough to make a difference—that’s where they were at. They were foolish to think things would be this easy. Stakeholders, board of directors...

He was at everyone’s mercy, especially John. A CEO with barely any power. A fucking puppet… He won’t be a John Sigismund!

“Eavesdropping? Really?”

“Rick… What are you talking about?” Her expression was carefully designed and constructed.

“Earlier in the lounge, when Eleanor and John were talking.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I just follow the scent of treachery; that’s how I found you.”

“Why are you here?” He ignored the inquiry.

“By the way, congrats on getting everything you wanted. Gonna be a long ride from here, though.”

“Did you come here to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“Go back.” She had no intention of playing his game.

“I forgot to tell you… You look beautiful…”

Rick cracked a grin and concentrated on her for a long time, his gaze gentle. Michonne could almost call it romantic. While they processed the statement, she leaned back on the balcony railing, her eyes deepening and her head tilted.

“I like the beard.”

“Didn’t have time to shave before I got here. Should I keep it?”

“I still prefer your clean-shaven look.”

“Give it time. You’ll like it all the same.”

“Can I have one?” Her tone softened.

“I thought you stopped smoking.”

“I have.”

Rick peered at her, pulling out his pack and removing one of the cigarettes, which he placed in her lips. He didn't reach for his lighter, instead lowering his head and igniting hers with his, never once breaking eye contact.

7 years, 9 months prior

“Hey…”

“Hi…”

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Touché…”

“Rick?”

“Mmm.”

“I wanted to apologise to you… for how I reacted at the wedding. That wasn’t called for.”

“Nah, no need. Should’ve talked to you better than that. I can see how it sounded... I’m not really good with people.”

“Believe it or not, me either.”

“You seem like a lively person... can’t see that.”

“I’ve had two friends all my life; everything I’ve known about the world, I learned from them... My parents didn’t like me out much.” Rick didn’t respond, simply looking at her, waiting for her to go on. Lost in reminiscing, she did. “I met them when I was like six; we went to the same schools… Getting married, I realised… I don’t know so much. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, go on.” She looked at him with sparking eyes. She didn’t understand why he, of all people, would even want to hear her nonsense.

“There’s nothing particularly about me that stands out. I thought playing the piano and violin, painting, speaking multiple languages, and having the best grades made me great, and that everyone saw it like that too. I mean, it made my parents happy, my grandparents too… If I did well, my sister would be mad because everyone would praise me. I like seeing her mad; does that make me a bad person?”

“No, but I ain’t exactly the best person to judge so…” Michonne chuckled at his words.

He really is a socially awkward guy… What a weird response!

“You know… marriage is not what I imagine, at all…”

“Hmm?”

“Your brother doesn’t treat me badly or anything; I just thought…”

“Not some fairytale, huh?”

“No… I feel like an outsider here, with your family... in my home.”

“You smoke?

“Huh? Uh—”

Rick held out a cigarette; she took it and lit it for her. Unacquainted with the habit, her throat burned from the smoke, and she began coughing vigorously. She took it out of her mouth, handing it back to the owner. Without realising it, he spat out a globe of saliva. His eyes brimmed with tears of mirth, and the smile tugging his lips broke into a grin.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Her eyes blinked excessively, and her cheeks burned as she hit him with an accusing glare.

“You don’t gotta do things you aren’t comfortable with, you know. You’re your own damn person, with your own damn feelings. If you don’t like something, say it! Got something on your mind? Voice it! Don’t be a people pleaser; don’t want people walking all over you, right?”

“What?”

“And if they gotta problem with boundaries, fuck ‘em. Stay away from folks like that. Live however the hell you want. Not for your parents, not for Shane; just you.”

She studied him with unwavering attention, and he stared back at her with a quizzical brow, left hand in his pants pocket still smoking. He was much kinder than she gave him credit for. And he was different from the others. Standing here, she felt at ease. It was sparingly easier to talk to him.

Present

“Why did you come back?” Her voice broke. “You said you wanted nothing to do with this family—with the Walsh's... So why?”

“You know… On my way back, I thought, ‘What would I do when I saw your face again?’ Would I choke the life out you? Maybe I’d shoot you dead for all the pain you caused me, for your lies... Looking at you now... so many plans, and yet.. nothing. Even after all this time, I—”

A tear fell from her eye. She bent her head, not daring to meet his gaze, all while he paced back to her. His face was neutral but his eyes held a crazed look. He lifted her chin with his finger and wiped the tear that trickled down her face, tilting his head to the side.

“I would say that you came back because of Lori’s death, but that was three months ago. You didn’t show up for the mother of your child, then, but Shane is taking over and here you are…”

“And what if I said Lori was part of it?”

“So you admit there are other reasons.”

“I admit that you’re gonna be crying soon. John made it so.”

“How long are you going to be here?”

“Afraid?” He nibbled her ear and for a second, her body began to fall into old habit. “Ain’t gonna push me away?” His hand began travelling up her dress. “Ain’t afraid my brother might see?”

“Where is your date? She seems sweet, all draped in white.” Her whispered question stopped him dead in his tracks. He backed off, licking his lips as his blue pools gaped at her.

“Doing something for me.”

“Doing what?"

“Hmm… I wonder.”

“Doing what?” She stepped towards him. “Rick!”

“I expect a visit from you soon. I’ll text my number.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Shane. Specifically, the children…”

“Is this a threat?”

“No, darling… But you need an offer from me. I don’t wanna be an enemy to you of all people.”

“Says the man who wanted to strangle me on sight. Your words, not mine.”

“I still do. Ain’t that something?”

“And why exactly would you be an enemy?”

“You mean other than the obvious? Hmm, you’re gonna find out… in due time. I promise you that… Carl misses his aunt.”

“Tell Carl that—”

Her voice was cut by a blood-curdling scream overhead, all the way to the bottom floor. A chill of fear caused them both to sprint back to the balcony. Their jaws fell, their eyes widening in surprise, as if a charge of lightning rushed through their veins, temporarily paralysing them. It was Holly. She was laid out deathly still, blood pouring from her skull and nose, eyes stood unblinking. Seeing the grotesque scene, Michonne’s mind ran straight to Lori as she covered her mouth in pure shock and horror.

…

Keynotes-

Empress Nara originally a noble-consort named Xian, was the step-empress of the Qianlong Emperor who was elevated to that rank after Empress Xiaoxianchun ( She was apparently really sweet and the love of the emperor’s life!) died. She served for many years. During the 30th year of Qianlong's reign, the Step Empress accompanied the emperor on a tour of Southern China. As the group arrived at Hangzhou, the step-empress cut her hair which you weren't supposed to do unless in mourning of the emperor and empress-dowager, so she was basically wishing them dead and wanted the marriage to be done. This was a grave crime but she was so fed up that she said fuck it!

John Sigismund Zápolya, Ottoman puppet king of Hungary contested Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I of Hapsburg's claim to the throne. Boring man, but not so boring life! Was even exiled and made a return. Died childless though.

Would have made a proper note about the Qianlong Emperor. But that man had too many women and too much shit going on. He was good at his job but a shit husband hence the haircutting, but most emperors are terrible Husbands. Read a biography lol.

White eyed wolf . The expressions 白眼狼 (bái yǎn láng) – literally “white eyed wolf” and 狼心狗肺 (láng xīn gǒu fèi) – literally “heart of a wolf and lungs of a dog” are both used to describe a particularly cold-hearted, cruel person.

Prologue

Chapter-2

#richonne fandom #michonne grimes #alternate universe #richonne #richonne fic #richonne fanfiction #rick x michonne #Rick Grimes #Michonne

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badgraph1csghost · 5 months ago

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[Image IDs: 8 stages in the procedure of drawing Princess Daisy from Super Mario. It starts from a mitten-shaped polygon to a full line-art sketch of Daisy standing in 3/4 with her hands at her sides. ID end.]

In amongst various other things that happened today i discovered that a certain Nintendo princess can be drawn using the Bob Ross Technique of Drawing Girls that I mentioned back in January. (Link destination: my blog on Neocities, the post where i talk about that.)

I didn't get into how to draw the face, which is where a lot of people freeze up in this style. Basically, if you're agonising over how to draw the other eye, you're thinking too hard. Use simple shapes; even just plain ovals if you need to. Nose shape and placement, I just guessed at. This is why pencils and image editors have erasers, you know.

Go forth and draw pretty girls.

#i snatched her waist a little too much #but my hand was going numb and i wanted to finish this

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bluekoi22 · 8 months ago

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NO MORE ART REFS FOR ME

Sorry yall just art refs don't work with my style since it's always changing but I will give yall details the I want to keep in the designs since they need something to go off of (so like this is what to expect kinda) (also sorry for being American and using ft

-moon, she/her, big and friend shaped, round soft edges to give a more friendly shape, around 8 ft, camera like eyes and the face markings I draw on her are the same

-chasing, they/them, thin and willowy, looks to be falling apart, face marks can also stay the same, camera eyes that are titled to look sad, 5ft 4? Wing like antenna on the sides of their head

-sliver, she/they, thin and tall, looks to be falling apart mentally, camera eyes, a sprout like marking on for head and lines coming from the eyes to edge of the face diagonally, 6ft 1ish,

-suns, he/they, friend shaped but sharp, camera eyes, bad posture, looks seconds away from mentally breaking down, antenna are like you know those golden leaf crowns the Greek gods are always given it like those but triangle and copper, sun cheek pattern under eyes and a sun on their for head no face lines, 4ft 5

-nsh, he/him, thinish and resonates sassyness with posture alone, great posture, face is spilt into two parts a normal part and a screen, eyes are part of the screen and upper semi-circles most the time, diamond marking looks to have been crossed out forcefully, 4ft

-pebbles, he/him, sharp shapes but with rounded edges, resonates goober energy, screen face as well, eyes are lower semi circles most the time, two yellow dots by each eye, 3ft 9, oh also trans just though I'd say that

-Innocence, she/her, friend shapedish but still just looks sassy, screen face little heart marking above screen, oval eyes, wing like antenna, 3ft 7

Thats all for now

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hungryhorsey2 · 2 years ago

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artist ask meme! 8 12 and 14

8. show us at least 2-3 drawings from 1-2 years ago.

from two years ago!

[ID: A traditional lined drawing of a snow leopard over a pencil sketch. It is seen from the side, with it’s paw on a lightly sketched in body of a deer. It has various scars on its body. The fur and its markings are done in pencil. End ID]

this is from two years ago as well! it is a redraw of my old skeleton persona

[ID: A traditional pencil drawing of a skeleton character, dressed in a off the shoulder gradiented shirt and light jeans with various patches on them (a flower, a heart, the polyamorous flag and a rainbow). The character has differently coloured segmented hair and three small horns going to the back of their head. The space between bones is solid black. They are slightly leaning on their right leg, with their left hand in a resting position and their left hand being partially hidden behind their clothing. Their face has a happy expression, with one eye closed, as if winking, the other having a rounded pupil. The second image is a close up half-body shot of the same drawing. End ID]

12. draw one of your favorite characters in 15 seconds.

jinx.... my beloved. thats her. thats what she is.

[ID: A blue coloured line doodle of Jinx from Arcane on a white background. She is depicted as a circle for a head with a mischievous expression. Her braids are drawn in hastily drawn connected ovals. She has stick arms coming out of the braids, with her right one holding a small crooked knife. End ID]

14. what was something that you used to draw a lot that you don’t draw as much anymore?

i used to draw skeletons a lot around five years ago. still have the human (and some animal) skeleton memorized. dont do it as much anymore, but whenever i do, its very very fun. we do bones motherfucker!!

#allie.txt.#jinx arcane #long post #ask games #artist ask game #dontaskforfrozenyoghurt

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cartooncreaturelover · 2 years ago

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Periwinkle In Their Casual Outfit! | (she/them) | Clip Studio Paint EX

Here’s a doodle draw-over of my Dullatroll Paladin, Periwinkle, in her casual clothes! I made one version that has Peri’s real (visible) eye, & another that matches the doodle I used to make this, which was a simplified, sorta Hello Kitty type of eye!

Her “casual outfit” consists of a white, silky, puffy-sleeved shirt (tucked into their pants) with golden leaf & flower embroidery on the collar & ends of sleeves. She wears a pair of grey, cotton, wrap pants with a dark grey trim. Lastly, they wear a necklace with a silver, circular pendant of Goddyess Dubheasa's (they’re a homebrew Dullatroll deity I made) holy symbol with a pair of closed bird wings on the sides.

[ID: A full-bodied digital illustration featuring Periwinkle, a Dullatroll Paladin dressed casually with a light blue background! She is facing directly towards us, standing up with her arms at her sides. Their fur is a cool lavender with white fur markings on the tips of their ears, their cheeks, their eyelids, their hands, & their feathering; or the hair that goes over their grey horse-like hooves. She has cool purple hair with long bangs that swoop over to our right, covering her left eye; the hair on the back of her head is shorn & small tufts of it can partially be seen under her ears.

They're wearing a white, silky, long & puffy-sleeved shirt tucked into their pants. It has golden leaf & flower embroidery on the collar & ends of the sleeves. She wears a pair of grey, cotton, wrap pants with a dark grey trim along the waist & the bottom of the pant legs. Lastly, they’re wearing a necklace with a silver, circular pendant of God-yes Duh-vase-uh’s holy symbol with a pair of closed feathered wings on the sides. The symbol itself looks like an 8 petaled flower with 2 crescents surrounding it on both sides.

The second image is nearly identical to the first. The only differences are that Periwinkle’s visible eye is drawn in a simplified style, resembling a thin oval with an eyelash & the second image is missing a small vertical line on their upper lip for depth. End ID]

#D&D #D&D character #character design #homebrew #paladin #oc #my very own art #Periwinkle Grove #Dullatroll #non-binary #It took A WHILE to figure out a casual everyday outfit for Peri!#I'm happy with what I finally figured out for them!#I don't normally give my characters high-waisted pants but I now have a couple that only look good in such types of pants!

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hyuckshaze · 3 years ago

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Drowning in the Distance | Chapter I

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ terminal illness au! series ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ confined to a life of detachment from the only people on earth who understand them, the patients of saint evangeline’s can only watch as those around them drown in themselves, in more ways than one, while they themselves drown, in a much more literal sense. haechan is tired, tired of moving from place to place with no real chance of getting better. y/n is tired too, tired of living solely for the purpose of staying alive. maybe, just maybe, despite the space that separates them, they can guide each other to a life worth living.

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ongoing theme of terminal illness (cystic fibrosis); talk of christianity, the afterlife, heaven/hell, death; ongoing mention of surgeries, scars, medications, drug trials etc.

CHAPTER WORD COUNT ⇾‌ 7.02k

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

I | Y/N

✩‌

I trace the outline of my sister’s drawing, lungs molded from a sea of flowers. Petals burst out from every edge of the twin ovals in soft pinks, deep whites, even heather blues, but somehow each one has a uniqueness, a vibrancy that feels like it’ll bloom forever. Some of the flowers haven’t blossomed yet, and I can feel the promise of life just waiting to unfold from the tiny buds under the weight of my finger. Those are my favourites. I wonder, all too often, what it would be like to have lungs this healthy. This alive. To feel like I didn’t have to battle my own body every morning in order to make it through the day, to survive. I take a deep breath, feeling the air fight its way in and out of my body. I hold the breath for as long as I can, counting the whole 8 seconds out before coughing and spluttering for a gulp of oxygen. Would I still be cursed in the afterlife? Condemned to a life of struggle beyond life itself? I sigh; I’d once believed in God, in Heaven, but as things got harder and my health got increasingly worse, I couldn’t help but ask myself the big question. What kind of God, a saviour of the people, would leave the world in ruin? Would infect the unborn, the blank canvases, and denounce their lives as less worthy? It seemed too messed up, too abhorrent, to accept. My attention falls back to the art as my hand sinks, slipping off the last petal of the last flower, fingers dragging through the background of stars, each pinpoint of light that Yeji drew a separate attempt to capture infinity. I clear my throat, pulling my hand away, and lean over to grab a picture of us from off my bed. Identical smiles peek out from underneath thick wool scarves, the holiday lights at the park down the street twinkling above our heads just like the stars in her drawing. There was something magical about it. The soft glow of the lampposts in the park, the white snow clinging to the branches of the trees, the quiet stillness of it all. We nearly froze our asses off for that picture last year, but it was our tradition. Me and Yeji, braving the cold to go see the holiday lights together. This photo always makes me remember that feeling. The feeling of going on an adventure with my sister, just the two of us, the world expanding like an open book.

I take a push-pin and display the picture next to the drawing before sitting down on my bed and grabbing my pocket notebook and pencil off my bedside table. My eyes travel down the long to-do list I made for myself this morning, starting with “#1: Plan to-do list,” which I’ve already put a satisfying line through, and going all the way down to “#22: Contemplate the afterlife.” As often as fleeting thoughts on the topic seemed to pop into my head, to fully complete number 22 and come to a fulfilling conclusion was probably just a little ambitious for a Friday afternoon, but at least for now I can cross off number 17, “Decorate walls.” I look around the formerly stark room I’ve spent the better part of the morning making my own, once again, the walls now filled with the artwork that Yeji’s given me through the years, bits of colour and life jumping out from clinical white walls, each one a product of a different trip to the hospital. Me with an IV drip in my arm, the bag bursting with butterflies of different shapes and colours and sizes. Me wearing a nose cannula, the cable twisting to form an infinity sign. Me with my nebulizer, the vapour pouring out of it forming a cloudy halo. Then there’s the most delicate one, a faded tornado of stars that she drew my very first time here. It’s not as polished as her later stuff, but somehow that makes me like it more. And right underneath all that vibrancy is... my pile of medical equipment, sitting right next to a hideous green, plastic hospital chair that comes standard for every room here at Saint Evangeline’s. I eye the empty IV pole warily, knowing my first of many rounds of antibiotics over the next month is exactly an hour and nine minutes away. Lucky me.

“Here it is!” A voice calls from just outside my room. I look up as the door slowly creaks open and two familiar faces appear in the small crack of the doorway. Karina and Tzuyu, my best friends since early childhood, have visited me here a million times in the past decade, and they still can’t get from the reception desk to my usual location without asking every single person, both staff and visitors, in the building for directions.

“Wrong room.” I say, grinning cheekily as a look of pure relief washes over them. Karina laughs, pushing the door open the rest of the way.

“It honestly could’ve been. This place is still a freaking maze. I’ve got no idea how you can remember all the twists and turns.” A small frown tugs at the corners of my lips. Maybe because I’ve spent most of my life here. I brush off the feeling gnawing at my stomach and smile once more.

“You know that it’s almost always 302! Anyway, are you guys excited?” I say, hopping up to give them both hugs. Tzuyu pulls away to look at me, pouting, her dark-brown hair practically drooping along with her.

“Second trip in a row without you.” It’s true. This isn’t the first time my cystic fibrosis has taken me out of the running for some class trip or sunny vacation or school event. About 75% of the time, things are pretty normal for me. I go to school, I hang out with Tzuyu and Karina, I work on my app; I just do it all with low functioning lungs. For the remaining 25% of my time, however, CF controls my life. When I need to return to the hospital, which seems to be happening more and more frequently, I always seem to miss out on things like a class trip to the art museum or now our senior trip to Hawaii. This particular tune-up just happens to be centred around the fact that I need to be pumped with antibiotics to finally get rid of a sore throat and a fever that won’t go away. Despite practically being a qualified nurse for myself, these things had to be done in a place with constant monitoring. Well, it’s both the cold and the simple fact that my lung function has been steadily declining for the last few years, but suddenly decided to tank just before the one thing I’d been looking forward to most over the last few months.

Karina plunks down on my bed, sighing dramatically as she lies back.

“It’s only two weeks. Are you sure you can’t come? It’s our senior trip, Y/N!”

“I’m sure.” I say firmly, and they know I mean it. We’ve been friends since middle school, and they know by now that when it comes to plans, my CF gets the final say. Whether it’s two weeks or two hours, if my lungs say no, then it’s a no. It’s not like I don’t want to go, of course I do. It’s just, quite literally, a matter of life or death. I can’t go off to Hawaii, or anywhere for that matter, and risk not coming back. I can’t do that to my parents. Not now.

“You were the head of planning this year, though! Can’t you get them to move your treatments? We don’t want you to be stuck here.” Tzuyu says, gesturing to the hospital room I so carefully decorated. I shake my head, plastering a smile on my face despite the growing jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I should feel glad that they get to go, to have fun during spring break, and yet, the feeling continues to fester inside me as I look at them, the winning grin still stretching my lips across my face.

“We still have spring break together! And I haven’t missed a spring break slumber party with you guys since eighth grade, when I got that cold!” I say, smiling hopefully and looking back and forth between Karina and Tzuyu. Neither of them returns my smile, though, and both opt to continue looking like I ripped apart their favourite childhood stuffed animal.

I notice they’re both holding the bags of bathing suits and bikinis that I told them to bring, so I grab Tzuyu’s out of her hand in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Ooh, suit options! We have to pick out the best ones!” Since I’m not going to be basking in the warm Hawaii sun in swimwear of my choice, not tanning under the scorching UV rays on the sandy beaches alongside them, I figure I can at least live a little vicariously through my best friends by picking out their soon-to-be most worn outfit, their bathing suits, with them. This perks them both up. We eagerly dump their bags out on the comforter atop of my bed, creating a mess of florals, stripes and neons. I scan Tzuyu’s pile, grabbing a red item that, in description, falls somewhere between a bikini bottom and a single piece of thread, which I know without a doubt is a hand-me-down from her older sister, Momo. I toss it to her. “This one. It’s very you.” Her eyes widen, and she holds it up to her waist, fixing her wire-frame glasses in surprise. I watch, holding back a giggle as she stammers, staring at the red material that is so not her.

“I mean, the tan lines would be pretty great-”

“Tzuyu,” I say, grabbing a, much more modest, floral bikini, adorned with white lace, that I can tell will fit her like a glove. “I’m kidding. This one’s perfect.” She looks relieved, grabbing the bikini from me with a sheepish smile. I turn my attention to Karina’s pile, but she’s busy texting away from the plastic hospital chair in the corner, a big smile plastered on her face. I dig out a one-piece that she’s had since we took swimming classes nearly seven years ago, holding it up to her with a smirk. “How’s this, K?”

“Love it! Looks great!” She says, not sparing a glance up from her screen, typing furiously. Tzuyu snorts, putting her suits back in the bag and giving me a sly smile.

“Chan and Brooke broke up.” She says in explanation.

“Oh my god. They did not!” I say. This is news. Amazing news. Well, not for Brooke. But Karina has been crushing on Chris, also known as Chan, since Mrs. Zhao’s English class two years ago, so this trip is her chance to finally make a move. After watching her pine for so long, it bums me out I won’t be there to help her make a killer five-step “Hot Hawaii Romance” plan, nor be able to see it go down. Karina puts her phone in the pocket of her jeans and shrugs casually, standing and pretending to look at some of the artwork on the walls.

“No big deal. We’re going to meet him and Felix at the airport tomorrow morning when we get there.” I give her a look and she breaks out into a huge smile.

��Okay, it’s a little bit of a big deal!” We all chatter with excitement, and I hold up a cute white and blue one-piece that is super vintage, and right up her street. She nods, grabbing it and holding it up to her body, sighing in content. “I was totally hoping you’d pick this one.” I look over to see Tzuyu anxiously glancing at her fancy wristwatch, which is no surprise. She’s practically an Olympic gold medalist in procrastination and probably hasn’t packed a single thing for Hawaii yet. Besides the bikini, of course. She sees me notice her checking her watch and grins with chagrin.

“I still need to buy a beach towel for tomorrow.” Of course she does. Despite the many towels in her home, it’s only reasonable that she head to the mall and purchase a new one. ‘New place, new towel, Y/N’, she’d once said.

I stand, heart sinking into my gut at the thought of them leaving, but I don’t want to hold them up. I need to be happy for them.

“You guys have to get going, then! Your plane is at the literal ass crack of dawn and you both need to sleep! I know you won’t sleep on the plane.” Karina looks around the room sadly while Tzuyu twists her bag of suits downheartedly around her hand. The pair of them are making this even harder than I thought it would be. I swallow the mix of emotions that come bubbling up at this display. It’s not like they’re the ones missing their senior trip to Hawaii, spending what is supposed to be the best and most memorable two weeks of the year in a hospital room. At least they’ll be together. I give them both big smiles, practically dragging them to the door with me. My cheeks ache from all the fake positivity, but I don’t want to ruin it for them.

“We’ll send you a bunch of pictures, okay?” Tzuyu says, giving me the tightest hug that she could without hurting me. Even without vocalising it, they know that I’m not doing as well as I’m letting on.

“You’d better! Edit me into a few.” I say to Karina after pulling away from our tight hug, who is a wizard at Photoshop. “You won’t even know I wasn’t there!” Tzuyu looks at me once more, before pulling me into a group hug with the both of them. We stay like that for a moment, just enjoying each other’s embrace. “Come on, you know you gotta go.” I say softly. They linger in the doorway after the goodbyes, and I give them an exaggerated eye roll, playfully shoving them out into the hallway. “Get outta here. Go have a great trip.”

“Love you, Y/N!” They call as they walk down the hallway, turning back to look at me only once. Tzuyu’s eyes are cloudy as she turns away. I watch them go, watching until Karina’s bouncing locks are completely out of sight, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be walking out with them, off to pack instead of unpack.

My smile disappears, letting out a long breath of relief as I close the door and see the old picture pinned carefully to the back of my door. It was taken a few summers ago on the front lawn during a family barbecue. Me, Yeji, Mum, and Dad, dopey smiles on all our faces as the camera captures the moment. Between the chuckles and the sizzling of food upon the grill, everything felt perfect. I feel a swell of homesickness as I hear the sound of the worn, shaky wood of that front step, creaking underneath us as we laugh and get close for the picture. I miss that feeling. All of us together, happy and healthy. Well, for the most part. This isn’t helping.

Sighing, I pull myself away, looking over at my medicine cart. In all honesty, I like it here. It’s been my home away from home since I was six, so I usually don’t mind coming. I get my treatments, I take my medicine, I drink my body weight in milkshakes, I get to see Doyoung and Irene and then I leave until my next flare-up. Simple as that. But this time I feel anxious, restless even. Because instead of just wanting to get healthy, I need to get healthy. For my parents’ sake, because they’ve gone and messed up everything by getting divorced. And after losing each other, they won’t be able to handle losing me. I know it. If I can get better, maybe everything would...

No. Slow down. One step at a time.

I head over to the oxygen attached to the wall, checking the flowmeter is set properly, even though it always is, and listen for the steady hissing sound of the oxygen coming out of it before I gently tug the tube around my ears and slide the prongs of the cannula into my nose. I sink down onto the familiarly uncomfortable hospital mattress, and take a deep breath. I reach for my pocket notebook to read the next thing on my to-do list and keep myself preoccupied: “#14: Record a video.” I grab my pencil and bite it thoughtfully as I stare at the words I wrote earlier. Oddly enough, contemplating the afterlife in full seems easier than that right now, but the list is the list, so, exhaling, I reach over to my bedside table to get my laptop, sitting cross-legged on the new floral comforter I picked out yesterday at the store while Tzuyu and Karina were buying clothes for Hawaii. I didn’t even need the comforter, but they were so enthusiastic in helping me pick something out for my trip to the hospital, I felt bad not getting it. At least it sort of matches my walls now, bright and vibrant and colourful. I squint at my reflection in the screen while my computer starts up, frowning at the mess of long brown hair and trying to smooth it down, running my fingers through it over and over. Slightly irritated, I pull my hair tie off my wrist and resort to a messy bun in an attempt to look halfway decent for this video. I grab my copy of Java Coding for iPhones from my bedside table and put my laptop on top of it, so I don’t show any double-chin, and can have a shot that’s remotely flattering. Well, as flattering a shot as one could get when recording from a hospital, under shitty fluorescent lights, in loungewear with messy hair. Logging on to my YouTube account, I click on the ‘LIVE’ button, adjust the webcam, making sure you can see Yeji’s drawing directly behind me; the perfect backdrop.

I close my eyes and take an attempt at a deep breath, hearing the familiar wheeze of my lungs trying desperately to fill with air through the ocean of mucus. Exhaling slowly, I slap a big air-hostess level smile onto my face before opening my eyes and pressing the enter key to go live.

“Hey, guys. Have you had a good Black Friday? I’ve been waiting all day for snow that doesn’t seem to be coming.” I glance into the upper corner of my screen as I turn the camera towards the window, the sky a cloudy grey, the trees on the other side of the glass completely leaf-stricken. I smile as the number of watchers goes steadily past 3K, a fraction of the 75,384 YouTube subscribers who check in to see how my battle with cystic fibrosis is going. “So, I could be prepping and packing to go to Hawaii for my school’s senior spring break trip, but instead I’ll be spending this holiday in my home away from home, courtesy of a mild sore throat.” Plus, a raging fever. I think back to when I got my temperature taken on admission to the ward this morning, the firetruck red numbers on the thermometer reading a clear 104. I don’t want to mention it in the livestream, though, because my parents will definitely be watching this back later, if they aren’t already watching it live. As far as they know, I just have a niggling cold. “Who needs two whole weeks of sunshine and crystal clear waters and beaches and adventures when you can have a month of opulence right on your own front doorstep?” I recite the amenities, counting them on my fingers in front of the camera. “Let’s see. I’ve got a full-time concierge, unlimited pudding, milkshakes, ready-made meals, laundry service and as much oxygen as a girl could want and need. Oh, and Doyoung talked Dr. Moon into letting me keep all my meds and treatments in my room this time, isn’t he great? Check it out!” I turn the webcam to the pile of medical supplies and then to the cart next to me, which I’ve already pristinely organized into alphabetical and chronological order by the scheduled dosage time, which is also plugged into the app I made. It’s finally ready for a test run! That was number 10 on today’s to-do list, and the satisfaction of finally crossing that one off the list was immeasurable.

My computer pings, sounding with the comments that begin rolling in. I see one, simply writing Doyoung’s name with some heart emoji’s. He’s a crowd favourite just as much as he’s my favourite. Ever since I first arrived at Saint Evangeline’s more than ten years ago, he’s been the respiratory therapist here, slipping candy to me and the other patients on the CF ward, like my partner in crime Jaemin. He holds our hand through even the most bone crushing grips of pain like it’s nothing, a soft smile on his face the entire time. I’ve been making YouTube videos for about five years or so to raise awareness about cystic fibrosis. Through the years more people than I could have ever imagined began following my surgeries and my treatments and my visits to this hospital, sticking with me through near death experiences, awful fashion decisions and even my awkward braces stage.

“My lung function is down to thirty-five. Percent, that is.” I say as I turn the camera back to myself. “Dr. Moon says I’m steadily climbing to the top of the transplant list now, so I’ll be here for about a month or so, taking antibiotics, sticking to my regimen, the usual.” My eyes travel in the monitor to the drawing behind me, the beautiful, healthy lungs looming over my head, just out of reach. I shake my head and smile, leaning over to grab a bag from the second shelf of the medicine cart. “That means taking my medications on time, wearing my AffloVest to break up mucus, and-” I hold up the unappealing bag, filled to the brim with a beige liquid, “-a whole lot of this liquid nutrition through my gastrostomy tube, my G-tube, every night. If any ladies out there are wishing they could eat six thousand calories a day and still have a Hawaii-ready body, I’m up for a trade.” My computer dings over and over again, messages pouring in one after another. Reading a few to myself, I let the positivity push away all the negativity I felt going into this.

Hang in there, Y/N! We love you.

You got this!

I LOVE YOU! STAY STRONG :)

“New lungs can come in at any moment, so I’ve got to be ready!” I say the words like I believe them wholeheartedly, like I have no doubts. Truthfully, after all these years I’ve learned to not get my hopes up too much. With a loud ping, another message appears.

I’ve got CF and you remind me to always stay positive XO.

My heart warms, and I give a final grin for the camera, for that person fighting the same fight that I am. This time it’s not forced, it doesn’t feel fake. It’s genuine. “All right, guys, thank you for watching! Sorry it’s a little short today, I’m still settling in and I gotta double-check my afternoon and evening meds now. You know how anal I can be. I hope everyone has a great week. Bye!”

I end the live video and let out a long breath, closing the browser to see the smiling, winter formal ready faces on my desktop background. Me, Tzuyu, and Karina, arm in arm, all wearing the same deep-red lipstick we’d picked out together at the mall. Tzuyu had wanted a bright pink, but Karina had convinced us that red was the colour we needed in our life. I truly didn’t mind, though I’m still not convinced that Karina was right. Lying back, I pick up the worn Moomintroll plush resting on my pillows and wrap my arms tightly around him. Junnie, my sister, Yeji, had lovingly proclaimed him, named after a boy I’d met in the hospital when I had first been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. Renjun was terminal too, a cancer patient, but being four, neither of us really knew what that meant. Within my two years at Qian University Hospital, we’d become inseparable, spending every waking moment together, even being found curled up together, sleeping soundly in the book section of the children’s area. He’d introduced me to the Moomin franchise, excitedly chattering about their names and how cute they all were, showing me his drawings and teaching me all about them. Needless to say, I fell in love with the little creatures, and Renjun and I grew even closer. When he’d contracted some virus and the infection spread, when his frail body had given all that it had to give, the leukaemia had nothing left to fight. Six-year-old me didn’t understand at first, asking where he was, asking when I’d be able to see him again, asking when he’d come back. After Renjun’s death, my parents decided that moving hospitals was a good thing, a necessary change. The plush had been something I’d held on to tightly ever since, not daring to return to hospital without it. Junnie was my safety, my home in such an unhomely place. The years of coming in and out of the hospital with me have certainly meant that he had been loved, white patches of fabric sewn over spots where he had ripped, his stuffing tumbling out when I had squeezed too hard during the most painful of my treatments. There’s a knock on my door, and it swings open not even a second later as Doyoung busts in holding an armful of pudding cups for me to take my medication with.

“I’m back! Delivery!” When it comes to Doyoung, not much has changed in the past six months, or the past ten years for that matter; he’s still the best. Having just graduated early from his medical studies when I arrived, top of his class, he’d aged physically, sure, but he still looked the same as he did on that first day. The same short, dark hair. The same colourful scrubs. The same smile that lights up the entire room. But then a heavily pregnant Irene follows behind him, carrying an IV drip. Now that’s a big change from six months ago. I swallow my surprise and grin at Doyoung as he places the pudding at the edge of my bed for me to sort onto my medicine cart, then pulls out a list to double-check that the cart has everything I need on it.

“What would I do without you?” I ask. He winks.

“You’d die.” Irene hangs the IV bag of antibiotics next to me, her belly brushing up against my arm. Why didn’t she tell me she was pregnant? I go rigid, smiling thinly, as I eye her baby bump and try to subtly inch away from it.

“A lot’s changed in the past six months!” She rubs her belly, brown eyes shining brightly as she gives me a smile.

“You want to feel her kick?”

“No.” I say, a little too quickly. I feel bad and send her an apologetic look when she appears taken aback at my bluntness, her eyebrows arching up in surprise. I don’t want any of my bad energy near that perfect, healthy baby. That innocent, blank canvas. Luckily, her eyes travel to my desktop background.

“Are those pictures from your winter formal? I saw a bunch in your video!” She says, excited. “How was it?”

“Super fun!” I say, voice laced with excitement as the awkwardness melts away. I open a folder on my desktop filled with pictures. “Killed it on the dance floor for a solid four songs. Got to ride in a limo. The food didn’t entirely suck. Plus, I made it to ten thirty before I started to get really tired, which was way better than I expected! Who needs a set curfew when your body does it for you?” I show her and Doyoung some pictures that we all took at Karina’s house before the event while she hooks me up to the IV drip, tests my blood pressure and O2 reading. I remember I used to be afraid of needles, but with every blood draw and intravenous line, the fear slowly drifted away. Now I don’t even flinch. Despite my physical weakness, it makes me feel strong every time I get poked or prodded. Like I can overcome anything.

“All right.” Doyoung says when they get all my vitals and finish gushing over my sparkly, silver A-line gown and my white rose corsage. Tzuyu, Karina and I decided to swap corsages when we went to formal. I didn’t want to take a date, not that anybody asked me anyway. It was super possible that I would need to bail on the day, or wouldn’t feel well halfway through the dance, which wouldn’t have been fair to whoever was, or could have been my date. The two of them didn’t want me to feel left out, so instead of getting dates of their own, they decided we’d all go together. With the development in terms of the whole Chan situation, though, that doesn’t seem super likely for the end-of-year prom. Doyoung nods to the filled medicine cart, leaning upon the side of the cart as he speaks. “I’ll still monitor you, but you’re pretty much good to go.” He holds up a pill bottle. “Remember, you have to take this one with food.” He says, putting it carefully back and holding up another one. “Also, make sure you don’t-”

“I got it, Doie.” I chuckle. He’s just being his usual fatherly self, but he holds up his hands in surrender. Deep down he knows that I’ll be absolutely fine. I wave good-bye as they both head toward the door, using the remote next to my bed to sit up a little more.

“By the way…” Doyoung turns back as Irene heads out of the room. His eyes narrow at me and he gives me a gentle warning look. “I want you to finish your IV drip first, but Jaemin just checked in to 310.”

“What? Really?” I exclaim, eyes widening as I move to launch myself out of bed to find him. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he’d be here! Doyoung steps forward, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me gently back down onto the bed before I can fully stand.

“What part of ‘I want you to finish your IV drip first’ did you not get?” I smile sheepishly at him, but how could he blame me? Jaemin was the first friend I made when I came to the hospital, the only one who really gets it. We’ve fought CF together for a whole decade. Well, as together as you can get from a distance, anyway. We can’t get too close to each other. For cystic fibrosis patients, cross-infection from certain bacteria strains is a massive risk. One touch between two patients can kill the both of them. His serious frown gives way to a gentle smile. “Settle in. Take a chill pill.” He eyes the medicine cart, jokingly. “Not literally.” I nod, a real laugh spilling out, as a fresh wave of relief fills me at the news of Jaemin being here too. “I’ll stop by later to help you with your AffloVest!” Doyoung says over his shoulder as he leaves.

Grabbing my phone, I settle for a quick text message instead of sprinting down the hall to room 310.

You’re here? I am too. Tune-up.

Not even a second goes by and my screen lights up with his reply.

Bronchitis. Just happened. I’ll live. Come by and say hi later. Gonna crash now.

I lean back on the bed, exhaling as long and slow as I can. Truth is, I’m nervous about this visit. My lung function fell to 35 so quickly. And now, even more than the high temperature and the sore throat, being here in the hospital for the next month, doing treatment after treatment to hold back the inevitable bursting of the dam while my friends are out of thecountry is freaking me out. A lot. 35 is a number that keeps my mother up at night. She doesn’t say it, but her computer, more specifically her history, does. Search after search about lung transplants and lung-function percentages, new combinations and phrasing but always the same bottom-line idea. How to get me more time. It makes me more afraid than I’ve ever been, but not for me. When you have CF, you sort of get used to the idea of dying young, dying before your friends and family. No, I’m terrified for my parents. And what will become of them if the worst does happen, now that they don’t have each other. But with Jaemin here, someone who understands, I can pull through it.

The rest of the afternoon ticks by slowly.

I work on my app, checking that I worked out the programming error that kept coming up when I tried to run it. I put some Fucidin on the sore skin around my G-tube in an attempt to make it less firetruck red and more of a summer-sunset pink, sometimes it gets like that. I check and double-check my “At Bedtime” pile of bottles and pills. I reply to my parents’ hourly texts. I gaze out the window as the afternoon fades and see a couple about my age, laughing and kissing as they walk into the hospital. It’s not every day you see a happy couple coming into a hospital. Watching them holding hands and exchanging longing glances, I wonder what it would be like to have somebody look at me like that. People are always looking at my cannula, my scars, my G-tube, not at me. It doesn’t really make guys want to line up at my locker, not like the way they line up at my best friends’. I “dated” Jeong Yunho my freshman year of high school, but that lasted all of a month, until I came down with an infection and needed to come back to Saint Evangeline’s for a few weeks. Even after a few days in, his texts started to get further and further apart and I decided to break up with him. Besides, it was nothing like the couple out in the courtyard. Yunho’s palms were sweaty when we held hands, and he wore so much body spray, I would go into coughing fits every time we hugged. This thought process is not exactly a helpful or productive distraction, so I even give number 22, “Contemplate the afterlife,” on my to-do list a try, and read a few more chapters of Life after Life, but, pretty soon, I opt to just lie on my bed, looking up at the ceiling and listening to the wheezing sound of my breathing. I can hear the air struggling to push past the mass of mucus that takes up shelter in my lungs. Turning and reaching for my med cart, I crack open a vial of Flovent to give my lungs a helping hand. I pour the liquid into the nebulizer by my bed, the small machine humming to life as vapours pour from the mouthpiece.

I sit, staring at the drawing of the lungs while I breathe in and out.

And in and out.

And in and… out.

I hope when my parents come to visit over the next few days, that my breathing is a little less laboured. I told them both that the other one was taking me to the hospital this morning, but I actually just took a cab from a street corner, two minutes down the road from my mum’s new place. I don’t want either of them to have to face seeing me here again, at least until I’m looking better, more like myself. My mum was already giving me troubled and concerned looks when I needed to put my portable oxygen on just to pack my belongings.

There’s a knock on my door, and I look over from the wall I’m staring at, hoping that it’s Jaemin stopping by to wave at me and say hi. I pull the mouthpiece off as Doyoung pops his head in. He drops a surgical face mask and latex gloves onto the table next to my door.

“New one upstairs. Meet me in fifteen?” My heart leaps. I nod enthusiastically and he gives me a big smile before his head disappears from sight. I grab the mouthpiece and take one more deep breath of the Flovent, letting the vapour fill my lungs the best I can before I’m up and moving. Shutting the nebulizer off, I grab my portable oxygen concentrator from where it’s been charging next to my bed, press the circular button in the centre to turn it on, and pull the strap over my shoulder. After I put the prongs of the nose cannula in, I head over to the door, pulling on the blue latex gloves and pulling the strings of the face mask around my ears. Sliding into my white sneakers, I push my door open and step out into the whitewashed hallway, deciding to take the long way so that I can walk past Jaemin’s room, room 310. I pass the nurses’ station in the centre of the floor, waving to the young nurse’s assistant named Chaeyoung, who is smiling over the top of the new, sleek metal cubicle. They replaced that before my last visit six months ago. It’s the same height, but it used to be made of this chipped and wood that had probably been around since the hospital was built some sixty years ago. I smile, remembering when I was small enough to sneak past to whatever room Jaemin was in, my head still a good few inches from clearing the desk. Now it comes up to my hips. Chaeyoung had only been at Saint Evangeline’s for a year or so, but she was lovely and always made me laugh. Being only a few years apart in age, we formed a relationship fairly quickly. Heading down the hallway, I bite back a laugh of excitement as I see a small whiteboard stuck on the outside of a half open door, an array of pens stuffed into a small pot attached to the side, an overturned skateboard keeping it propped slightly open. I peer inside to see Jaemin fast asleep on his bed, curled into a surprisingly tiny ball underneath his plaid comforter, a poster of EXO’s KAI positioned directly over his bed, keeping watch over him. I draw a big heart on the board, my name inside the pink lines, to let him know I’ve been there, before moving off down the hallway toward the brown wooden double doors that will take me to the main part of the hospital, up an elevator, down C Wing, across the bridge into Building 2, and straight to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, the NICU.

One of the upsides of coming here for more than a decade is that I know the hospital just as well as I know the house I grew up in. Every winding corridor, every hidden staircase, every secret shortcut, has been explored over and over again. But before I can open the set of doors, a room door swings open next to me, and I turn my head in surprise to see the profile of a fairly tall, fairly thin boy that I’ve never seen before. He’s standing underneath the door frame of room 315, holding a sketchbook in one hand and a charcoal pencil in the other, a white hospital band like mine wrapped around his right wrist. I stop dead. His tousled, dark-chocolate-brown hair is perfectly unruly, like he just fell out of a DAZED magazine and landed right in the middle of Saint Evangeline’s Hospital. His eyes are a deep brown, the corners crinkling as he talks. But it’s his smile that catches my eye more than anything else. It’s slightly boxy, and extremely charming, and it has a magnetic warmth to it. My lung function feels like it dropped to 25. It’s a good thing this mask is covering half my face, because I did not plan for even remotely attractive guys on my floor this hospital stay, let alone DAZED-esque guys. Though, it’s not as if the mask does anything at all to disguise my mismatching outfit and worn sneakers.

“I’ve clocked their schedules.” He says as he balances the pencil perfectly behind his ear. I shift slightly to the left and see that he’s grinning at the couple I saw coming into the hospital earlier. “So, unless either of you plant your ass on the call button, no one’s going to bother you for at least an hour. And don’t forget. I gotta sleep in that bed, dude.”

“Way ahead of you.” I watch as the girl unzips the bag that she’s holding to show him blankets. Wait. What? Cute guy lets out a whistle.

“Look at that. A Girl Scout.”

“We’re not animals, man.” Her boyfriend says to him, giving him a big, dude-to-dude, bro-to-bro kind of smile. Oh my god. Gross. He’s letting his friends do it in his room, like it’s a love motel. I grimace and resume walking down the hallway to the exit doors, putting as much space as possible between me and whatever scheme is going on in there. So much for cute, huh?

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funky-lil-ghost · 1 year ago

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i LOVE showing people my art !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IDs (sorry some of them are a little brief):

1: A wide rectangular canvas covered in splatters and smears of paint in purples, blues, greens, pinks, reds, and yellows. The majority of the piece is covered with a blue wave of paint, with reds and pinks dominating one corner. A black rectangle stands in contrast with the playful finger painting, covered slightly by a golden circle with a bundle of wires glued to its center. Two keycaps from a computer keyboard have been glued to the canvas in opposite corners and dotted with paint. A purple plastic dinosaur has also been glued to the lower right area of the canvas.

2: Four pen drawings of a figure with a scarf having a very bad time in minecraft. He is shown waking up in a creeper crater after respawn, repelling down a cave wall to recover broken items, and glitching out of the world. The smallest drawing shows him from the waist up, looking dazed, with handwritten text that says “rlly fuckin haunted” (plain text: really fucking haunted /end plain text).

3: An acrylic painting where teal, red, purple and pink lines form straight edges which lead into a central curve, accentuated by small rectangles, thin lines, and empty circles in the white space. A human eye, outlined in red, sits between the lines at the top of the composition.

4: A drawing made with colored pencils and pastels, showing an abstracted landscape of yellow, green, and purple. Puddles of black sit on the edge of a yellow field, with rectangles crossing the horizon like a train. A powerline crosses the foreground, attached to a pole.

5: Another pen drawing of the same character seen in image 2. This time he is cowering behind a broken shield in a corner, besieged by skeletons and zombies.

6: The same character as before, caught in midair as he is tossed by explosive force from a creeper.

7: A marker drawing of a figure, white with brown hair and round glasses, sitting crosslegged on the bottom bunk. Xe is wearing rainbow socks and a large, black t-shirt with three skeletons on it as xe tries to open a pill bottle. Text below reads: “Child-safe lid, please, you know it’s me” (self-portrait) May 13, 2023. /end text.

8: A mixed media piece depicting a dark blue figure in the center, backed by a large triangle of pink, red, and orange. The figure has white, inward slanting half-circles for eyes and a circle of many colored dots and lines on its torso. It’s head is surrounded by large, concentric yellow ovals.

9: A small pen drawing of Ethoslab with big round eyes and tiny dots for pupils.

10: A digitally painted pencil drawing of Geminitay’s Hermitcraft character if she were on red life in the life series. She has blood dripping from her antlers as she grins menacingly toward us, sword dragging across the ground in front of her.

/end IDs

If you're an artist and are having trouble building followers, especially if you're new on tumblr or back after leaving, reblog this with some of your art. It will be visible to everyone checking the notes. Everyone keep checking the notes and follow whoever puts their cool art in them. People keep telling me I'm Tumblr famous so maybe this helps!

#my art

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years ago

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[KISS] Saturday 24 May 1834

7 25

12 10

fine morning goodish kiss last night and an hour’s play this morning I am really getting fond of her for the play was all my own bringing on F58° now at 7 ½ am - breakfast at 8 35 out at 9 ½ along the river to St Martin’s and there close by the water (no path - climbed over the hedge and wall) to opposite Easby Abbey where we wanted to be yesterday afternoon - Miss W- seated at her sketching at 10 ½ - left the 2 servants with her at 11 and sauntered back to Richmond getting into the path high for some fields length above the river – fine views of town - went into Bowman’s the bookseller’s and bought Tates Horatio restitutus and his 2 little works on the Greek metres and Greek prepositions - and bought the Richmond guide published by Bowman 2/. better than Robinson’s at 4/6 with bad incorrectly drawn lithographs - bought also Clarkson’s history of Richmond - very few copies remaining - the author determined the work should not be depreciated in price burnt all the copies in sheets (because the booksellers offered him only 5/. a piece for them and he would not have them sold to the public for less than £2) and there were only a few copies in boards that the Clarkson (his son) on leaving Richmond left with his attorney to be disposed of - back with Miss W- at 1 ½ and sent home the servants to dinner – we soon changed our station and went to sketch St Martin’s till 4 ½ - I reading my new guide book and asleep the while - then went to the parish church (St Mary’s) – good handsome neatly kept old church - stalls for the mayor and 12 [?] in handsome oak carving brought from Easy Abbey at the dissolution as also the handsome old font of Tees grey marble with beautiful oak carved top - the best pew in the church gone from the Yorkes of Bewerley, sold by the present John who inherited the Richmond property from his uncle - the stables of their one handsome place now cottages and the mansion house pulled down and not a trace of it remaining - had tried to see the grounds chiefly bought by one person but could not get it - should have had leave and keys from a Mr Smirfit - dinner at 5 1/2 - Mr Brown dined with us and sketched in Clarkson the St Mary’s font as it is, as to the inscription and shields not as Clarkson represents it thro’ his incorrectly drawing artist Mr Robinson - I had asked Mrs Stuart our hostess of the King’s head what she would take for 2 oval oak-carved frame pictures in our sitting room - outside of carved work 5ft. 7in. by 4ft. and pictures 3ft. 7in. by 2ft. 8in. - dimensions as given by Mr Robinsons sent for by Mrs Stuart to set a price upon the pictures or rather frames for the former not worth much - he said they the 2 should £12 or £14 - a picture dealer had offered £10 for the 2 frames - Mrs Stuart would let me have frames and pictures for £12 - and will wait my answer till the 10th next month - drove off from Richmond at 7 35 (Mr Brown off at the same time in a gig to Darlington to meet coaches in York tomorrow) and alighted at Mr Chamber’s Inn at Greta Bridge at 9 5 – fine, rich, beautiful hill-and-dale country – tea –wrote all the above of today till 10 35 - went upstairs at 11 20 – very fine day tho’ rather threatening rain at about 4pm and afterwards but held off and continued fine

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bbykpoper · 4 years ago

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Chapter 1 // Masterlist

GENRE: mafia au, fluff, a bit of smut, a smudge of angst if you squint your eyes hard enough, possible fantasy????

SYNOPSIS: A centuries old feud which kept itself silent suddenly ignites once again as two warring gangs face each other for the first time. A family of established immortals who came together after the war, a band of humans who began remembering their past lives and officials breathing down their neck threaten the world once again as fantasy and reality clash in the form of a young man hell bent on being in the lead and a young woman hell bent on ending this meaningless feud. A story will unfold before you now, questioning your morals as well as grinding your nerves to the edge.

“A princess turned assassin?”

“A coward turned prince?”

Who will survive the last wave of this war?

°˖✧

“My hands are stained with blood... yet again...” There came a soft whisper in the distance as droplets of red fell to the floor.

The strong stench of blood glided to the young man’s nostrils as he observed the scene before him. A body laid on the ground, it’s face unrecognizable as a young woman of short stature stood, her fists slightly bruised and bloody. Her strong willed eyes were trained on him and he extended his arm to beckon her towards him.

“You’re becoming more vicious in your battles.” He spoke as the young woman moved towards him, jumping down from the ring in which two other men began cleaning the now deceased body. “What seems to be bothering you?”

“It seems our rivals have decided to invade our business inside the ring.” The girl let her companion clean her fists as she observed the body being thrown out. “The boy they sent was said to be a rising star in their ranks, his ego decided to challenge me and he ended up where he is now. It angers me how much they seem to refuse to stay in peace and in their own lanes.”

“It seems that they wish to take over the underworld.” The man’s groaning blue eyes met her dark ones. “Forcas calls for us all. It seems he has had enough of peace as well.”

With a small nod she went after the taller man, covering her face more with the black mask she grew used to. It was rare to see her without it, but today she decided to keep her face free, so that it would be the last thing her poor oponent saw before she beat him to death without mercy.

“Would you like my jacket?” Her companion asked her as he noticed the attire she sported. A simple sports bra and leggings.

Not exactly an outfit she would like to show herself in before the head of their family, but the meeting seemed urgent, and she didn’t have time to change.

“No, it’s quite fine.” She simply stated, climbing into the black SUV after him. “The meeting seems urgent, has he finally come to terms with what it is we are to do?”

“By his tone of voice, I would say it’s quite serious.” Her companion placed his hand on hers, his eyes trained on the clear night sky as the stars twinkled in his eyes. “The stars have shifted drastically. Our futures are in danger Fae. Yours more so than ours.”

The woman didn’t say anything as she kept quiet beside him, allowing their fingers to weave together. They both felt each others pulse through their wrist, something which calmed them down and finally the woman could breathe more calmly and freely. The car took a swift turn into the outskirts of town and headed down the road, getting further on the outskirts. Soon enough the car pulled up to a large mansion in the middle of nowhere, two large men opening the doors for the two passengers.

“Good evening Miss, Sir.” They greeted them and both nodded their heads in greeting. “Leader is waiting for you in the war room.”

The small woman rolled her eyes at the mention of the room but still obediently followed their guide. As they entered she felt a sudden warmth crawl up her skin and she moved to the left, evading the overly excited man-child that hit her companion straight on.

“Why did you move?” He whinned turning to her. “I don’t want to hug Tae, I wanted to hug you y/n.”

“Stop whinning Jungkook.” Her companion spoke up as he helped steady him on his legs. “She did that to tease you.” He rolled his eyes along.

“Is that true?” He went over to her.

“A little bit.” She answered him with a small giggle. “You’re just super cute when you get frustrated.” She pinched his cheeks, laughing when he slapped her hand away.

“I’m a grown man, older than you not to mention and handsome.” He gritted out with a pout. “I’m not cute.”

The trio went further into the large mansion, small talk flowing between them with ease. The room they were going to was located on the first floor but deeper into the mansion, closer to the west wing. The interior was decorated like a European museum if you asked any person that came to visit. Golden chandeliers, paintings lining the walls, an elaborate statue here and there, and of course high doors and even higher ceilings. The young woman and her companion still kept holding hands as they were announced in the room and they took their respected seats at the oval shapped table housing 8 seats that were now finally full.

“Congradulations on your win y/n.” The tallest amongs them spoke up, a soft smile on his features. “I hear the young boy is unrecognizable.”

“Thank you. I tried to not let my emotions take over me.” She spoke up, swiftly taking off her mask. “But then he decided to open his mouth and I just didn’t have the strength to control myself anymore.”

“I’ve heard.” A small hologram began showing the file of the man who she had her fight with earlier this night. “Na Jaemin. The boy wonder of NCT who was supposed to quietly climb up in the ring but he just had to run his mouth next to our little y/n here.” The man laughed. “It seems he was favoured by their bomb expert Taeil.”

“Does this mean they will retaliate by blowing me up?” The girl raised her eyebrow earning a hearty laugh from her left.

“No no, they aren’t that dumb.” The man who sat next to her had the widest smile on his face, bopping the girl’s nose with little to no force at all. “They don’t know he is dead. Well, not yet at least.”

“They don’t know?” Tae asked from her right side.

“No. We made sure that people think that we just kindly locked him up somewhere.” A man next to Jungkook spoke up, drawing their attention to him. “For now, we made sure that nobody from that match says a word outside on the streets. We don’t need children on our doorstep seeking vengance.”

“I’m sorry.” She spoke up.

“Why are you apologizing?” The head of the table asked, visibly confused.

“I let my emotions take over and I killed him.” She sighed, slumping in her seat.

“Kid, your job is to kill off the pests we don’t need.” The man with distinctive red eyes spoke up to her, he stood up and walked over to her, earning Taehyung’s side eye. “Everybody that goes up against you in the ring knows what the fate is if it’s your bad day.” The man squated next to her, sliding his hand up her arm to cup her cheek. “Now I know you weren’t having a bad day, so what did he say to you that made you so angry?”

“He commented how he’d easily take me down and make me his little cock hold afterwards.” She said with an unamused facial expression, which had seven different men stare at her with wide, angry eyes.

“I say, we kill the whole den of idiots.” Jungkook said, already on his feet ready to leave.

“Take a seat Azazel.” The head of the table spoke up, silencing the whole room.

“My poor baby.” The hand gently caressed her cheek, pulling back and standing straight. “What should we do Forcas? The NCT pests have been getting bolder. And now they are trying to take us out from the business we began?”

“I know, though I have this idea which I think you will like.” The head of the table, a tall man with sleeked back grey hair, smirked with danger in his golden eyes.

°˖✧

On the other side of the city, deep in the abandoned district of Seoul, a group of men decided to come together this night, worried faces painting all of the newcommers. The two people standing guard at the front looked at each other when the final car pulled up and the two men walked in.

“Isn’t it weird that the big bosses are here?” One of the men spoke up.

“Yeah, but to be honest are you surprised?” The other sighed.

The inside was fairly nicely decorated, the inspiration coming from old Italian mafia films, the distinctive arches holding up most of the structure. The dinning room was currently occupied with seven people, two of them standing and facing each other in a heated argument. The newcommers that took a seat at the table sighed as they calmly looked up at the two standing men in the middle of an argument.

“Both of you, that’s enough.” One of the men spoke, his dark blue hair neatly styled as his eyebrow stood up in disapprovement. “Lucas, Baby. Sit down.”

With a groan the two addressed sat down with glares still present on their faces.

“Is everyone present?” He added on, looking over to his right hand man, a tall, fair haired young man.

“Everyone that needs to be.” He answered.

“Good. Johnny you may take over with the report.” The blue haired man said, loosening the tie around his neck while the fair haired man stood up and went over to the head of the dinning table.

“Thank you Boss.” Johnny spoke up and looked over his notes, his eyes stopping at the picture of the masked girl. “As you all know, we’ve successfully infeltrated the underground fight ring of the Bangtan hold and I’ve recieved intel that Na Jaemin has progressed in the ring. Sooner or later he will be going up against their top fighters. However, he has not conntacted his superior so what’s the deal with that Taeil?”

“I don’t know, he had strict instructions to conntact me when he jumped ranks in the ring but he hasn’t.” An aggitated man answered his question, barely looking up from his laptop.

“I’m telling you, the kid is fine. He’s probably just shagging a girl or two. Typical Jaemin stuff.” One of the men who was standing and arguing earlier spoke up, Lucas to be more precise.

“No! He is not.” The other, Haechan cut in. “He’s dead. He was made and they probably killed him!”

“Calm down both of you!” The dark blue haired man, Boss, yelled out. The silence following becoming eerie. “Let Johnny finnish and then on your own time go and beat it out or shoot each other but not now!”

“Thank you Boss.” Johnny smirked, turning to the table and throwing down a letter and a few pictures. “Haechan was right about one thing. Na Jaemin was made and we got this letter delivered today.” The reactions to the news of one of their own being made had them all turn serious, eyes fixed on the pictures on the table. “These are the three Bangtan members responsible for the underground fight scene.” He pointed to the first picture. “Azazel, lead recruiter whose blessing you need to enter the ring or even be thought of participating.” His finger moved to the second picture and his breath withered a bit in his thorat as he said the name. “Fae, leader and fighter. She is the one responsible and the big boss down there. They say nobody survives a fight with her.” His gaze stayed lingering on the picture until Boss cleared his throat and Johnny moved on to the last picture. “And lastly Solas, Fae’s right hand man, always by her side.” Then he raised the piece of paper from the table. “This is an invitation letter to a race they are holding tomorrow night. It’s signed by Forcas, their leader and it states that if we wish to know more information about Na Jaemin’s situation we better show up.It’s addressed to you personaly Moon Taeil.”

“What is their game?” The person in question turned his head to face the taller boy. “Why address it to me?”

“They are aware that Jaemin was under you. Which makes me wonder what more are they aware of?” Boss spoke, glancing at Johnny. “Brain, Johnny and Bulls Eye. You three will visit the race. Take one of the cars if yoou have to. Find out what they want, but be careful. We may never know what awaits at those organized races they hold.”

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #kpop fiction #mafia au #fantasy au #johnny seo imagine #johnny suh imagine #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #way v #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct scenarios #ikon #blackpink #bts

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blu00u · 8 months ago

Text

Also I wanted to point out differences between Blu (oc) and Blu (online persona)

My op (online persona) can open her mouth and have different eyes than the usual oval eyes

^that's a good example

Also I write my op's text with my handwriting

The oc can't open its mouth (well.. it TECHNICALLY can but they choose not to) and can only do the oval eyes, dot eyes and white eyes

^that's a good example

Also, I use an 8-bit font for them and they're shorter than my op. HAH shorty.

Another big difference is that my op uses she/her and the oc uses he/she/it/they (fun fact: he uses those because I don't wanna give away their gender, they're, as I like to call it, youshallneverknowtheirgendergender)

I'm choosing to ignore these instead of admitting they were drawing mistakes. /Ref

Look guys I made a silly barely understandable ref sheet for Blu (oc)

#idk how to tag it #maybe not a drawing?#yeah I'll tag it that #not a drawing (epic'nt)

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coffee-or-murder · 3 years ago

Note

Lemon: 7, 16, 21, 30, 36, 41; Danya: 4, 9, 20; Zimri: 2, 8, 11, 15, 34; Bells: 1, 33.

I may have gotten a little carried away >,>’

Lemon-

7. How would they react to eating something spicer than they expected it to be?

Lemon actually enjoys spicy food for the most part, but some spice just burns. She just downs her drink and keeps going though, because food is food and it should never be wasted, even if it’s making her face melt off. She coughs a lot, and gets flushed, but Bells didn’t raise a quitter!

16. Would they draw patterns in frosted windows/fogged up mirrors? What would they draw?

She would, but she’d also wipe off the picture after she’s doodled. Lemon would mostly do shapes like circles and ovals overlapping mostly, though she tried to do a coyote once and it looked so awful she never tried again.

21. Do they touch of mess with their hair/horns a lot?

Lemon has a thing about her hair thanks mom. She hates that it’s as long and thick as it is, but she also refuses to cut it unless she has too. She mostly un-braids and re-braids her hair to calm down and take stock of what she’s feeling, like a meditative gesture. Lemon will also twist the ends of her hair and pick at the split ends when she’s in waiting mode.

30. Have they ever tried to count their own freckles? Do they count other peoples?

Answered on Columbia’s ask

36. How often do they brush their hair? Do they do it gently?

Lemon brushes her hair every night she has time, and takes her time with it, normally putting it in a couple braids to keep it from getting tangled while she sleeps. If she’s really tired she doesn’t bother and just leaves it to be morning Lemon’s problem. Bells says she has a tender head, and yanking on her hair hurts enough her eyes water. On the road she keeps it in a tighter braid then usual, and will put it up in a bun to cut down on how often it needs to be brushed.

41. What’s the silliest thing they’ve used magic to do?

Answered for all casters here

Danya-

4. Would your character sing along to a vaguely familiar song, even if they messed up the lyrics as they went?

No, not unless Ed was egging her into it at least. Or one of her little cousins looked up at her with big sad eyes and asked her to sing along. She will enjoy the music in silence otherwise.

9. If someone gave them flowers what would they do with them?

Answered on Columbia’s ask

20. Do they like to keep plants/growing things in their space?

Very much so! She loves having green things everywhere, but she can’t keep a plant alive to save her life. She gets so caught up with work she forgets to water them for weeks on end, and is she was left alone to take care of the garden it would either be dead within a week or become a jungle of weeds. Thank gods she hired two gardeners oh no they’re both cute wow.

Zimri-

2. What’s their current hairstyle? Has it changed? Do they change it often?

Zimri has very long wavy beach hair that hits just at the base of her tail. At court with Prem and Avi she used to style it more, half up half down, adding jewelry or chords of shiny fabric into braids, but now that that life is over she mostly keeps it in a high ponytail. She lets it loose for performances and for very special performances will style it in the half up half down style she wore for court.

8. Are their hands steady?

Only enough to apply makeup. Other then that she’s pretty average I think. She can balance a sword on her head while she dances though!

11. How do they feel about casual endearments?

Loves them. Uses them all the time herself without really even noticing it. Zimri isn’t the best with flowery language, but when she gives you her attention she is very good at making you feel special. Her partners all have endearments she uses regularly, but in very soft moments she just uses their name. That feels more genuine to her then the endearments do.

15. What’s a sound they can’t stand?

Children singing. Does she love kids? Yes, they’re cute squishy things who are learning how to be people and she will keep them safe. Does she like hearing them sing? Fuck no, they’re always off key and pitchy and flat and sharp all at once. It’s like nails on a chalkboard to her. Once their voices settle she’ll be happy to teach them how to use their voices but until then please no singing around her.

34. What’s the first thing they think when they hear an alarm? What’s the first thing they do?

Minor flashbacks to when she attempted to murder the archduke to free his son, who was also her lover Prem, and failed. Hearing the alarms blaring as she ran, knowing her adoptive father would be the one sent to hunt her down. But once she snaps out of that she tries to take stock of what happened, and how she can best get out of whatever trouble she landed in. Guards are easy enough to tempt, and afterall she’s just a harmless girl won’t you help her?

Bells-

1. What kind of clothing does your character like to wear? Do they have a style? Anything they avoid wearing?

Despite taking a long break from being an enforcer for the Family, she still often wears parts of her armor in her day to day. She doesn’t normally leave home without her breastplate and gauntlets at least, but does also sometimes switch it out for chain mail under a larger shirt. Bells wears practical clothing most of the time, and favors warm colors like red and various browns with gold accents. Her formal wear is somewhere between masculine and feminine depending on the event, and she’ll wear her hair down instead of up in a ponytail like normal. They avoid clothes that are too tight or too unwieldy. You never know when a fight will find its way to you, and you should always be prepared. A long flowy skirt may be pretty but it isn’t practical.

33. Where are they in a group hug?

Depending on which group she’s with she’s either on the outside or somewhere in the middle. Benji and Nes are really the two who make her feel small, but they are seven feet tall so that’s not surprising. One of them is normally on the outside, then Bells, Lemon in one arm, and other cousins in between. In piles she’s normally in the middle with the other tall people, with Lemon and maybe another little cousin somewhere on her too.

#lemon dnd #dnd lemon #Danya dnd #dnd danya #Zimri dnd #dnd zimri #bells dnd #dnd bells

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creepy-spooghetti · 4 years ago

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 8 - Welcome to Our Freakshow

_____

Stirring awake, she tries opening her eyes, finding that it's exceptionally difficult due to her drowsy state. She waits a moment, collecting her bearings and slowly coming to the realization that, instead of leaning against a wall like she remembers doing, that she's laying on her back, on a seemingly cushioned surface. Like a bed. That's strange... did she sleepwalk? Or get up and get back in her bed? But she doesn't recall such a thing. Maybe she was just too tired to pay attention.

That dream though... This time, the dream was a bit... different than usual. There wasn't any static, there weren't any dead bodies, she wasn't in a completely different setting. All she remembers is feeling a rush of adrenaline, a moment of panic, then blackness. It was definitely odd, not that she's complaining any. If she had dreams like that all the time instead of whatever she's been experiencing recently, she'd be a lot more at ease. She can faintly remember seeing someone, or something, in front of her, trying to keep her quiet. It looked a little familiar, but she can't seem to figure out why.

This dream was a lot more up-close and personal, though. And it felt so... so real. Realer than her others have been, which is pretty baffling. What did the figure look like? Mostly black, with some dark blue? And a type of inky liquid? The whole incident is blurry to her, though she assumes it's because her mind wanted to make it all unnerving.

That voice, though. She knows she's heard that voice, before. Where? That's a total mystery to her, but maybe with some thought about the matter, she'll be able to place it. Or maybe it's all just in her head and she's never heard that voice in her life. She brings her hands up to rub her face, attempting to wake herself up a bit more so she can actually open her eyes and finally gathers the energy to sit up, if only slightly. As her eyes adjust to the moderate amount of sunlight spilling through the crack of the currently shut curtains right beside her, the first thing she discovers is that the scenery is... well, completely different from the bedroom she was in previously.

It's much smaller, being only big enough to hold an average-sized mahogany dresser to her left, a bedside desk to her immediate right crafted of the same wood, and sitting atop that desk is a lamp with a candlestick shade, a glass of room temperature water, and an unopened small pack of crackers; the kind one would receive from a restaurant. A window with simple brown and red drapes sits directly beside the desk, and across from her, on the other side of the room, is a shut door. She's unsure if it leads outside or to a closet of some kind.

The wallpaper in the room is white with occasional, tiny flowers colored a delicate shade of blue printed onto it, and the floor is made of hickory hardwood, part of it is covered by a thin, maroon rug of oval shape. The musty smell that the room itself puts off gives her the idea that it hasn't quite been used in a while, though the small cobweb dangling in the corner of the ceiling proves that theory. Either that, or it just hasn't had a proper cleaning.

Her heart skips a beat and she doesn't even try to slow her breathing for the time being. This isn't her bedroom, nor is it any other room in her Nana and Pops' house, at least not one that she can remember. As far as she can tell, she's in a whole other household completely. But why? Who brought her here? Her gaze travels down to her body, almost instantly seeing a bandaid stuck to the inward area of her elbow. What the heck...?

Instantly, she peels it away in one quick motion, tossing it aside and not giving the very brief discomfort it causes any thought, instead focusing solely on the barely-noticeable pinprick still very present in her skin. She knows what that is. That's where somebody stuck a needle into her arm. But who? And why? What did they inject her with?

This thought sends her mind into a frenzy as she fully comprehends the startling, unexplained situation, and she throws the blanket that had been apparently placed over her prior to her awakening away, and jumps to her feet, almost instantly being hit with a wave of dizziness once she does so. Shaking her head to rid herself of the disorienting feeling, she uses one hand to prop her body against the wall to ensure she doesn't fall down, and with the other, she pulls back the drapes hung in front of the window, sticking her head through the widened crack and squinting her eyes at the minor change in illumination.

She can barely see through the thick greenery grown in front of the glass and obscuring most of the outside world, though she manages to see the trees that surround, she assumes, the whole house. Her grandparents live in a heavily wooded area, yes. But she knows for a fact that the lawn around the length of their house is almost completely free of trees. She isn't in her grandparents' house anymore. So where is she? And how did she get here?

Without a stroke of hesitation, she curls her fingers beneath the bottom rim of the window, and with one swift tug, attempts to open it, trying again when it doesn't work. She doesn't know why she's here, and she refuses to stay long enough to get that information. If it weren't for this being totally unfamiliar territory to her, sure, she may have stuck around until someone explains it to her. But not only does she get a bad feeling from this room, this place, but she also has plenty of reasons to want to escape.

It's very apparent to her that she was drugged and brought here against her will. How? Beats her, although she isn't going to stop long enough to question it for too long. With wide, frantic eyes, she searches for a lever to unlock the window, seeing two of them on opposite sides of the frame and instantly pulling them toward her. Hopefully, this will actually work this time. She spends the next two minutes yanking upward on the window, hoping to the highest heavens that it will eventually fly open so she can get out. Her grandparents must be worried sick if they've been calling for her, and looking for her, and she isn't even in the house. She doesn't know where she is.

How long has she been gone? There isn't a clock in the room so she can't actively check, but she assumes it has to be around nine o'clock in the morning, given the angle of sunshine flooding in through the trees. It's only a guess, though. "Come on, just open, you stupid thing..." she mutters, really not wanting to use the door as her escape route. But if it has to be done...

Finally giving up on the window with an aggravated slap against the glass, she twists around, searching desperately for a weapon of sorts. If she has to wander out of this room in an unknown, likely dangerous house, then she sure as heck doesn't want to go out unprepared. Quietly, yet hurriedly, she opens the drawers to the dresser, then the one attached to the small desk, but to her misfortune, finds nothing. Everything is empty.

She looks beneath the bed, under the rug, behind a door that she discovers leads to the closet, though still sees nothing whatsoever that could be of use to her. It's almost comical how utterly defenseless she is right now, and she would laugh if she wasn't so terrified. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously, she feels worried tears prick at her eyes as she hesitantly walks toward the still-closed door, the one she is now confident leads to the rest of the house, and reaches out, wrapping her fingers around the knob.

With a deep breath and a mental pep-talk, she tries to twist it, her heart dropping when it, too, doesn't move. She tries again, after all, maybe it's just stuck? Nope. Whoever brought her here has locked her in and now she has no way of possible escape. What should she do now? The window obviously isn't going to budge, but should she keep trying? Or just wait until somebody eventually comes inside and attack them? It doesn't look like she has another option.

Her gaze shifts back over to the desk, then to the water still sitting untouched on its surface. Of course it's untouched. What is she going to do? Drink it? Only an idiot would do such a thing. But... that does look like a rather heavy glass. Heavy enough to lob at someone's head and hope they get knocked cold? Guess there's only one way to find out.

She snatches it up, not caring about the drops of water that fall to the floor from the action, and stands only a couple of feet in front of the door, drawing her arm back and getting ready to throw her only defense mechanism at the first thing she sees come into the room. Maybe she'll catch them off-guard, at least long enough that it will enable her to get out, for the most part, unharmed. Fortunately, she doesn't have to wait for very long, for soon she hears footsteps outside before the knob turns and the door slowly swings open.

Not taking time to pay attention to many details of the person entering the room, she launches the glass at them though only manages to strike them in the shoulder, the water from inside splashing out and either soaking that area of their clothes or hitting the floor, the glass following closely behind and breaking into several different pieces. The person releases a grunt of surprise, flinching back slightly and looking down at the makeshift weapon hurled at him, then shifting his gaze back up to the h\c-haired girl standing warily ahead.

She would have used that as a distraction and booked it past him and out of the room, and that's what she originally intended, had it not been for the unusually tall figure still standing in front of the door, blocking her path and making it impossible without a struggle. Dang, I should've waited until he was farther inside to actually throw it...

Once he tilts his head back up in her direction, she sucks in a sudden breath and hurriedly backs away in a mixture of fear and shock, trying to comprehend the sight before her but having quite a bit of trouble. That's what he looked like. That's what the figure in her dream looked like. Seeing him now, in real life rather than just her mind, she can remember that. This is why she felt so afraid. He's terrifying...

But it was just a dream. It should have just been a dream. Is he the one who brought her here, wherever 'here' is? She backs away so fast that she runs into the foot of the bed, nearly tripping though able to catch herself before she actually falls, and continues until her back hits the wall. He stands in the same place, staring at her through the black, empty pits replacing his eyes and realizing how alarmed she clearly is. Not that he can blame her for that.

He raises his hands in a non-threatening manner, keeping his posture mellow and speaking, voice deep. "Y\n... I know what you're thinking."

It knows my name? It knows my freaking name?? Her breathing quickens and her eyes frantically avert around the room, trying to find something, anything, to use as a potential weapon, but her luck runs dry. She stays silent, waiting to see what move he'll make, if he'll even make a move.

"...But you're okay. No one's gonna hurt you." He takes a small step forward, keeping his hands up to show her he isn't holding anything. She only backs farther up into the wall, narrowing her eyes up at him and remaining silent. "You were brought here so we could protect you."

'We'? There's more of them? She parts her lips, nervousness coursing through her veins as she contains the tears trying to spill over and onto her cheeks. "Wh...who are you?" She tries to make it sound like a fearless demand, but it comes out as a meek whisper. No, stop it! He can smell fear!

He hesitates a moment. "You... don't recognize me, but I'm Jack." Her eyebrows furrow incredulously as she stares at him, gaze unwavering. "What I told you about moving here with my mom, that was a lie. I do live here, but... I'm with a group of people. Not my mom."

"I don't believe you," she manages to spit out, tone venomous and looking past him, through the door, into what seems to be a hallway. This... this seemingly eyeless freak is Jack? No, Jack was normal. This person isn't. But she has to admit, his voice does ring some bells in her mind.

"You don't have to. Point is, you're here for protection. Nobody here is going to hurt you in any way, you don't need to be scared."

Right, and I should trust the guy who drugged, kidnapped, and brought me here to his 'group' against my will for what reason? "Let me go," she says, voice hardening and muscles tense. He shakes his head, taking another step forward.

"That's something I can't do."

"I don't want to be here. Let. Me. Go." Her hands clench into anxious fists, heart pounding what feels like a thousand miles an hour as he takes yet another cautious step forward. Maybe I can incapacitate him then run like a madwoman through the door.

"You need to stay here. Somebody dangerous is after you, and this is the only place you'll be safe."

"Says the one who shoved a needle into my arm and pumped me full of whatever-the-heck it was you used to knock me out with," she retorts, fiery attitude returning in full form due to the alarming and unexpected circumstances. She hears him let out a sigh, muffled by his navy blue mask.

"I only did that because I knew you wouldn't come with me willingly."

"Oh gee, I wonder why." She scoffs, eyeing the door now a couple of feet behind him and contemplating her chances. Just come a little closer, buddy. I dare you.

"Look... I know you're scared and don't know what's going on. I can explain it to you, you just... need to pay attention." He steps even closer. "We don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah...?" Her timid, soft tone is very intentional, and he tilts his head slightly at the sudden shift in expression and eases even nearer.

"Yes, Y\n. I promise." She uses the wall to brace herself as she lines her foot up with her target, mentally preparing herself for what she's about to do.

"Wish I could say the same." Before he has time to react, she brings her knee up and forcefully rams her foot between his legs, causing him to double over in pain and give her enough time to dart past him and through the door, grabbing the knob as she does so and slamming it shut behind her to spare herself as much opportunity as she can. Briefly, she checks for a lock, only seeing a keyhole and figuring out he must have the key, so she glances to the right, thankfully spotting what she guesses is a door to the outside world.

She rushes down the hallway, past another door across from the room she was just trapped inside, and directly into a small living room with nothing but a maroon sofa slid in front of a covered window, an armchair at a 90-degree angle, and a coffee table in front of both with a few meaningless items scattered on top of it that she could care less about. Heading straight for the door, she turns the brass lock up and yanks the door open, blinded by her motivation to escape and be as fast as humanly possible.

Yep, just as she suspected. She's surrounded by forest, overgrown grass, and overall a poorly maintained lawn. She can only hope that she doesn't trip over any of the obstacles between her and freedom. What's most hazardous is the fallen branches and rocks hidden by foliage, so hidden in fact, that she wouldn't know that they were there until she was eating dirt. The sun's light is mildly obscured by the large number of trees looming over her, but she can see her surroundings clear enough that it shouldn't cause a problem, at least not one too big.

She leaps off of the small, wooden porch and into the lengthy grass, using it as momentum to gain more speed and hurrying in-between the many trees. She has no idea where she is, but the trees seem to be, overall, the same kind that grows around her grandparents' house, so she has hope that she's at least in the same general area. Could she have been hauled off to a whole other state? Surely she wasn't asleep for that long, right? ...Right?

She sticks her hands out and swipes the brush and low-hanging branches out of her way so she doesn't get stabbed in the eye and have her vision rendered. That would be a very bad thing, so of course, she wants to avoid it. Occasionally, she feels the sharp impact of various plants scratch up her arms, twigs getting caught in her hair, and briars sticking through the thin material of her socks since she didn't have any shoes on while sleeping, though ignores it, for the most part, focusing on finding a trail, a road, something other than pure forest. Something to lead her back to civilization so she can get hold of the police, and in hindsight, contact her grandparents. They must be so worried about her. How long has she been gone?

The temperature isn't extremely hot yet, but she suspects it will be steadily rising the later into the day it gets. Adrenaline pumps through her body, her mind not fully able to comprehend what just happened. Did she really just escape her kidnapper? How often does that happen? Maybe she does have a chance of survival, after all. Well... she does as long as she doesn't get caught, again. If he wasn't intending to hurt her before, he for sure will after being kicked in the nuts. She's no dude, but she can imagine that getting hit in such a... sensitive area, can't feel very good.

Not that she cares about that right now, anyway. He had it coming. Past the erratic beating of her heart, she can hear the crunching of greenery beneath her feet as her speed gradually increases. The farther away she gets from that house, the more of a chance she has to escape. But then he'd track her down, again. He knows where she's staying. He took her from her own temporary home. But then does that mean... what did he do to her grandparents?

She's shaken from her thoughts when she hears the faint bark of a dog, the sound drawing closer and closer no matter how fast she runs. Oh no... They have a freaking dog, too? Now I'm dead for sure! Quickening her pace does nothing whatsoever, and not even a minute later the barking is so close by she swears the dog itself has to only be a few feet away. Oh no, oh no, oh no, please don't—

A sudden blunt force takes hold of her ankle and tugs her back, causing her to lose her balance and fall forward with a pained grunt as the force becomes firmer. She isn't stupid, she knows that the dog just bit her, and she likely isn't going to coax it into letting her go. After all, if that guy and his friends regularly kidnap random people then they probably have a lot of runaways. This is nothing new to the dog.

She can hear the dog's low, threatening growls from behind her as its teeth sink through her pants and into the flesh on her leg, hard enough to leave indents but she doubts it will draw blood. She could be wrong, though. Her breathing is quick as she attempts to collect her bearings, wanting desperately to get away before whoever owns the dog comes to collect her and send her to the inevitable... whatever they do to the people they forcefully take here.

She swallows a cry of fear, keeping her eyes planted down to the dirt that broke her fall and meekly trying to pull her leg out of the dog's mouth. It becomes apparent to her that it isn't going to let go when it shakes its head and drags her a couple of inches backward, heightening the volume of its snarl. It sends another bolt of pain up through her ankle, and she winces, wracking her brain for solutions to this particular situation. If only she had watched more National Geographic then maybe she'd know what do to when a potentially rabid dog attacks...

Maybe... it plays fetch. Yeah, she mentally scoffs, 'fetch the human'. Unfortunately, she doesn't see any stray sticks around that could be thrown, not that she could reach very far even if there were. Hesitantly, she twists her head around to look at her captor, eyes widening when she meets the narrowed ones of an unusually large Husky, its gaze boring into hers and sending another twinge of pain through her leg when it bites down harder.

Her eyes travel down to the inflicted ankle, seeing not pointed, regular canines, but instead flat, human-like teeth, greatly catching her off-guard and making her gulp. What has she been thrown into? First some guy without eyes leaking some black, runny goop from his sockets, now a dog with human teeth? What's next, cyborg zombies from space? How does this even exist? It should be impossible.

But here she is, and here it is, latching onto her leg without mercy and being very real. "H-hi, doggy..." she starts, voice shaky and soft as to not alarm it and send it into full-on attack mode instead of just catch-and-keep mode. It releases another unfriendly growl, its eyes holding aggression. It's obvious this animal—if you could even call it that—isn't trustful of her in the least. Something she considers very hapless. "Let me go, please..."

She's so distracted by the freakish-looking dog that she doesn't hear somebody else steadily approaching, not until they're standing directly above her, their shadow blocking the sunlight and casting shade over her body. She doesn't even want to look up for fear of seeing something even stranger than a dog with actual human teeth but also doesn't want to seem weak in front of a possible deranged psychopath. What's the worse it could be though?

Don't jinx it, Y\n. Giving into both temptation and her strong urge to remain as bold as possible, she cranes her neck and her eyes trail up, taking notice of his converse shoes, ripped jeans, white hoodie with... questionable red stains, and shoulder-length black hair. Interesting style. His eyes are a bright, icy shade of blue, and the bottom portion of his face is covered with a black bandana being used as a makeshift mask. Why would he need a mask? Ya know what, I don't wanna know.

"Well, hello, girlie," he says, voice low and gruff as he stands in a casual-looking demeanor and gazes down at her. "Ya know, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye." She sends him a glare, her tone mundane and holding a sense of obviousness.

"We never even met." He raises an eyebrow in response, bending his knees and squatting down closer to her level.

"And whose fault is that?" She doesn't answer, instead continues mildly struggling against the dog's grasp and glancing at him expectantly. He looks at her with the same expression.

"Call it off." She assumes that this canine belongs to him, either that or he's used to its presence because he isn't freaking out about it. He stares down at her, unblinking, and the dog bites down harder, making her intake a sharp breath of discomfort. "Please. It hurts."

"Oh, it hurts, does it?" He takes his hand and pulls his 'mask' down around his neck, revealing the very noticeable scars that look to have been messily carved into his cheeks, forming a crooked, permanent smile. She withdraws slightly, a bit alarmed by his disfigured face. Sure, it's definitely freaky and raises inquiries, but it's not as unnerving as random men showing up with featureless masks and no eyes who kidnap you in the middle of the night. "I do believe that's the point."

She stays silent, taking in his odd attributes. Those cuts, no matter how healed they may be, look like they could burst open any second. Did he do that to himself? What kind of sick freak would carve a smile into their face? Then again, who would own a dog with human teeth? He smirks—at least, she thinks it's a smirk—and leans in closer, causing her to scoot farther away. Well, as far away as she can get, considering her current restraint.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He's probably well aware of the thoughts racing through her mind and is taking pleasure in making her uncomfortable, but her expression hardens, not willing to show him that he's getting to her.

"No." She takes a glimpse at the dog still holding onto her tightly, refusing to let her go. "Dog got my ankle." He snorts in what she takes as amusement, his gaze shifting down to the dog briefly as well before he meets her eyes again.

"Fair enough." He snaps his fingers, rising to his full height and pulling the bandana back up over his mouth and the bridge of his nose, once again hiding his slightly disturbing facial features. "Smile, let go." As soon as the command leaves his mouth, the dog, who she now knows is called 'Smile' for fitting reasons, immediately releases her ankle and takes a step away from her, attention on the male of average height.

Once the action is completed, she flips on her back and sits up, bending her knee and examining the affected area. The bottom leg of her pants is not only soaked with saliva but also ripped in various places, and worse, she can see blood coming to the surface of the torn skin beneath. So I was wrong... Scowling at Smile, she rubs at her ankle, not even considering fleeing the scene again. Smile would most certainly catch her, and a failed attempt at escape isn't worth an injury, especially one disabling her to walk.

"Good boy, Smile," he says, patting the dog affectionately on the head and earning an excited bark in response. "You have a fat, juicy steak in your near future." She rolls her eyes when Smile wags his tail, grumbling in protest and wincing when she hits a particularly raw area on her ankle. The man nudges her leg with his shoe, hard enough that it'll likely leave a bruise later, and she narrows her eyes up at him. "Hey, if you didn't want to be dog chow maybe you shouldn't have tried to run away."

"Well, maybe your buddy shouldn't have kidnapped me."

"You kiddin'? Jack isn't my buddy. And I didn't even want you here, but the others thought it was the 'best call'." Before she has time to process it, she feels his hand wrap around her arm before she's effortlessly pulled to her feet, stumbling a bit and having to lean against a nearby tree for support since he let go as soon as she was up. "Trust me dollface; if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here."

Her nose scrunches up in disgust at the abrupt and very much unwanted nickname, watching as he starts walking back in the direction she originally came from while he pulls out a phone, scrolling through something unknown with his thumb and looking back up at her as if waiting for her to do something.

"Well? I don't have all day, ya know. I've got things to do." He signals ahead of him with his head, implying what he expects of her. She is currently zoned in on the small device in his hand, though. If she can get her hands on that, she'll be able to call the cops and get out of here. Back to her grandparents... if something hasn't been done to them. She will kill every person here if she finds out one of them killed or hurt her Nana and Pops, even if she dies in the process.

He continues staring at her for several more seconds, almost seeming confused as to what she's looking at so intently until he follows her gaze and it leads him to the phone. Raising his eyebrows knowingly, he grins from behind his mask, holding the device between his thumb and index finger and waving it in front of her face.

"Oh, I see. You want this, don't cha?" She presses her lips together into a firm line, shifting her e\c eyes back up to his mostly-covered face and giving him an indignant glare. "What, you gonna call the police? Get us arrested?" A dark chuckle escapes his mouth, and he takes a step closer to her when she doesn't answer. "Lemme let you in on a little secret, girlie." She leans her head back as he gets way past her personal boundaries, staring her directly in the eyes as his entire aura grows dangerous and whispering. "Cops don't scare me. I've dealt with way, way worse than guns and tasers."

The mere tone his voice holds is enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up from unease, though she doesn't break eye-contact, no matter how much he may be trying to intimidate her right now. What the heck is wrong with this person! His words almost sound like a threat, and she has to hold her breath to stop it from shaking.

"Keep that in mind next time you try and get out, k?" He brings his hand down onto her shoulder, giving it a rough pat before spinning around and continuing to walk ahead of her with Smile by his side, and she doesn't miss the way he discreetly pulls the shiny blade of his knife out of his hoodie pocket, in clear view of her, before putting it back and acting as if nothing happened. She gulps, quickly figuring out that this dude is not to be messed with. Not without proper defenses, at least.

She tries to slow down her accelerated heartbeat, remaining completely still until he looks back at her with an evil glint in his icy-blue orbs, once again silently telling her to get a move on, to which she hesitantly obeys. If she were to try and run, she'd surely be caught. She doesn't want to get on this guy's bad side, not until she has a weapon of her own so maybe she'll have a fighting chance. Limping a few feet behind him, sharp pains zip up her leg each time she puts weight on the injury, and she stares at the man's back, watching as he presses the phone to his ear.

"I got her, don't send the others out to look." An incoherent voice erupts from the opposite line, and she tries to listen in on what's being said, though fails. "Well, call them back. It isn't that hard." What sounds like a scoff can be heard from the phone before he takes it away from his ear and shoves it back into his jeans pocket, seemingly done with the short conversation. "You better pick up the pace back there. I'm not gonna frickin' carry you if that's what you expect."

"Over my dead body," she retorts, though makes an effort to walk a bit faster to avoid making him mad, even at her disadvantage and the pain it causes.

"That can be arranged. Smile." She eyes the dog warily as it raises its head in attention, subconsciously shifting closer to the male in front just so maybe she can use him as a sort of shield before she's completely mauled to death. "Shall we teach her not to say such a thing without actually meaning it?" Smile whines, she can't figure out if it's in agreement or confusion, but for her sake, she hopes it's the latter.

"I do mean it." Her words are strong, a lot stronger than she expected considering the nerves jumping in her throat, but she's satisfied nonetheless. He's quiet a moment before clicking his tongue, glancing back at her with crinkled eyes, and shaking his head.

"Heh. Ya know, maybe you won't be as annoying as I thought."

"Oh really? Gee, thanks," she mutters, biting the inside of her cheek and dreading what's to happen when she gets back to...Jack's house. He certainly won't react well to her reappearance considering what she did to him. Was he telling the truth? Is he actually the Jack that she met just a couple of days prior? But... she doesn't see how that could be possible. Jack looked like an actual human being, but this person looked completely different... He is wearing the same attire, though, and his voice is undeniably similar.

If that is the case, why would he bring her here, to a place full of weirdos, Jack himself being one of them? As far as she knows, they seemed to hit it off pretty well. So why would he kidnap and put her in danger? Cause he's a psycho. Just like Joker wannabe over here.

"Now, I think we both know what happens if you try and get away, again." She stares at the back of his head, unimpressed, as she wraps her arms loosely around her torso to soothe herself a minuscule amount. "Not that I care, of course. Frowny face just wants you alive, I could give less of a crap whether you become Smile's dinner or not if I'm being honest."

"Yeah, you already established that. I appreciate the concern, really." Sarcasm practically drips from her voice, as she tries to form some kind of escape plan in her mind.

"Hey, what else am I here for?" Rolling her eyes and releasing a small huff, she looks down at her ankle as it steadily leaks blood, knowing she'll have to doctor it soon before it gets infected. Who knows what that... thing is carrying? Considering her no doubt unfortunate situation, she shakes her head in disbelief.

My God... what is going on? And why am I involved with it?

#Creepypasta #x Reader #female reader #Creepypasta x reader Creepypasta x female reader #fanfiction #Jeff the Killer #Smile.jpg #Eyeless Jack #Y\n L\n

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autisticoolatta · 4 years ago

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Brooo!!! Tell me more about character design!!!

TYSM FO. R SENDIGN THIS BUBBY <3

ok so. i will tlak ab my science team bcs hyperfixation <3 they range from human passing to so very nonhuman but none of them are really human ! this is going under a cut because it is so very long

darnold is most human , he looks p mcuh normal but he consumes things that should absolutely kill him VXBSB.. hes around 5′7 , i draw him w a square-ish shape language bcs hes intelligent and relatively sensible but round corners cause hes v kind !! i hc he enjoys old-timey fashion so i give him a bowtie & suspenders under his labcoat ! he also gets dimples bc cute.

gordon is p human at first glance but if u look closer he has slightly pointed ears and his canines are a little longer than average. he also has retractable claws like a cat , benreys like wtf didnt you say it was weird that i had claws ? and hes like nah its weird you cant retract them. also its barely noticeable but gordons hair moves veery slightly when hes emotional becayse heehoo. hes around 5′9 and has a relatively wide rectangle silhouette bcs hes hard-working and trustworthy ! post-game he mostly wears comfortable casual clothes like sweaters and knee-lenght shorts. dresses like a dad :^)

coomer mostly looks like a regular friendly old guy , but he has a buncha cybernetics hidden under his clothing bcs of course he does ! the extendo-arms are visibly metallic but his leg enhancements are mostly internal. hes 5′4 and has a v much circular silhouette ! friend-shaped !! he wears kind grandpa clothes.. shorts , hawaiian shirts , vests etc ! and yes he wears crocs <3

forzen is also pretty human-passing in terms of appearence , though he Can and occasionally Does subtly shapeshift.. and she also consumes things that would be so deadly to humans. like motor oil and rocks :) hes seemingly immune to bullets and has fangs but only sometimes. shes 6ft tall and her shape is p much square ! he wears an outfit v similar to his military uniform bc everyone was like dude get some new clothes wtf. so she was like FINE *buys near-identical red beret , fishing vest , huge backpack , camo pants and boots*

tommy.... WAY too tall 2 be human. hes 7′8. taller than gman. his silhouette is very tall thin oval :) round edges again bcs hes kind ! hes lanky but a lot physically stronger than he looks. he also consumes inedible things like computer keyboards. he has fangs , his eyes glow in the dark and he can use sweetvoice to a basic extent ! he also wears suspenders and bowties along w comfy baggy clothes like sweaters & chunky sneakers or crocs ! he also wears a lot of chew jewellery and he loves patterned socks :) he also uses a cane because being SO fucking tall isnt v easy on yr joints ! he uses crutches on worse days.

bubby is. also very tall but nowhere near tommy. hes 6′5 ! he has noticeably very pale skin & neat rows of pointy teeth (altho some are probably chipped). they also have almost-clawed fingers , v pointy shape language with a tall thin rectangular kinda silhouette. theyr not v physically strong most of the time so theyre pretty scrawny. his strength works on cartoon logic tho so he can be strong sometimes if it makes the situation funnier hebfhebr.. in-game he wears p much exactly the scientist uniform w no added stuff , but post-game hes like oh shit ! i casn do what i want now !! and goes out and buys a shitload of leather jackets and chunky shoes and gets so many piercings. awesome. the piercings & studs on their clothes also add pointiness to his design :^) oh and ! they use crutches because spending most of your life suspended in goo isnt very good for your muscles .

gman ! 7′5 so also inhumanly tall. he has pale greyish skin and is pretty clearly not human , he also has fangs & his eyes glow perpetually he Cannot Turn That Off. he doesnt necessarily eat inedible stuff but he has uncharacteristic reactions to foods , like alcohol doesny affect him at all but he drinks a pint of sparkling water and wakes up in a hollowed out tree stump in the woods at 4am 2 miles from his house. he can also teleport , make himself invisible for a limited time , levitate , and shapeshift ! he has a tall thin rectangular silhouette similar to bubby , but a little wider bcs hes more imposing & strong. when hes not in one of his 50 identical suits , he wears dad clothes also; hawaiian shirts & shorts and of course... socks & sandals.

finally benrey ! he4s so small. simply small as fuck. hes generally around 4′4 , but he doesnt really have a consistent height bcs hes constantly shapeshifting because he can. they also shift their weight occasionally and their hairstyle is never consistent at all. they have pale greyish skin , the face shadow ofc is permanent as are their eyebags , and he also just . doesnt have a nose. he can smell he just doesnt have one. probably has no ears either. he has a round silhouette but sharp uneven teeth & generally p messy hair , cause hes unassuming and laid back but Can fuck u up if he wants to. which generally they dont bcs they dont actually like being in physical conflict much at all. they use a wheelchair post-canon bcs dying does that to u <3 he doesnt mind tho , he and tommy deck it the fuck OUT w stickers. he wears casual clothes like hoodies and sweatpants , and has a seemingly endless hat collection... chullos , helmets , ball caps , beanies , you name it ! i usually draw them with a specific hat based on the situation , like im doing an animatic of the callmecarson spelling bee and benrey has a ball cap that says “im a keeper” with a pic of a bee on it. awesome

OK THATS LIKE ALL I HAVE tysm for letting me infodump BSKJKD... if u read all of this im proud of u <3

#juice posting #long post #headcanons #character design #hlvrai #bapsys

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arolla-pine · 4 years ago

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I, Marinette - p.8

(8) – The Miracle Box

That was unbelievable! I’d just started feeling comfortable as Marinette! And now I had to start all over again?!

“Bugaboo?” Ladybug asked me tenderly, kneeling by my side.

“Woah… That was totally unexpected…” I sighed staring at my palm covered by some little blackholes – a proof that Cat Noir had already used his “Cataclysm” spell.

“What now?”

“We have to use this Cataclysm, otherwise I’ll hurt you or myself, or I’ll destroy the Louvre Palace…” I muttered.

Ladybug found a bird feather and popped it out in the air. I caught it and it turned into dust instantly.

“Thanks…” I murmured. “It looked like an Amok, you know?”

“It seems like both of us used the superpowers…” Ladybug sighed looking at a dotted red globe in her hands. “We’ll transform back soon.”

“So, we’d better go down from the roof.” I suggested and stood up.

“Still remember how to use the staff?” Ladybug winked at me in a very Cat Noir’s style.

“You bet!” I laughed.

But I wasn’t amused. I waited for Ladybug leaving towards the Seine and assessed the Cat Noir’s weapon. I repeated to myself to trust to my instinct and to body memory, yet I was terrified at the idea of another air means of transport… I would have to go to therapy after all that!

I found Ladybug at the bank of Seine next to the Pont du Carrousel. We hid under the bridge.

“We don’t have time, Cat…” I whispered. “We have to find a shelter. If Juggler finds us when we are in the civilian selves, we can say goodbye to our Miraculouses.”

“We’ll learn about our identities!” Ladybug replied in horror. Adrien started paninicking… Not good… That didn’t help me at all.

“Actually, I know yours…” I admitted and Ladybug gasped. “But I’m aware it might be a shock for you… Before we’ll transform back, could you show me what’s the ‘Lucky charm’?”

“I have no idea what’s that…”

I glanced at the oval object in Ladybug’s hands. If anyone asked me, I’d say it looked like a new Miracle Box. That meant we needed an ally. My brain tried to work as fast as possible.

“OK, Cat…” I made a decision. “We have to split. I’m going for the Miracle Box, although I have no idea who could we ask for help. Chloe revealed all identities of the miraculous’ holders. I hope I’ll figure out something in the meanwhile. Let’s meet somewhere around the Eiffel Tower. If I make it…”

“I’m sure you will, M’Lady…” Ladybug assured me, and my brain tried to process the collision of words and image of a person speaking. “You have been Lady Noir already, so I’m sure you’ll do your job perfectly…”

“But I have never been a boy…” I muttered, and my partner burst out laughing.

“After Reflekta nothing surprises me anymore…” he replied after a moment.

“Good luck, Cat! Oh, and don’t panic!”

“Why should I?” Ladybug asked me surprised.

“Tikki will take care of you…” I told rather myself than him, suspecting how much he would be shocked when he found out the Ladybug’s identity. “See you later!”

I jumped on the Cat’s staff, trying to overcome sickness at my stomach. I preferred walking on the ground, but there was no time for this. I had to be home before I transformed into Adrien.

I landed on Marinette’s balcony just before my time was up. When my feet stood on the floor I felt transformation. I saw green flashes around me and a cool air ran down through my body. Plagg emerged immediately in front of my face and looked at me concerned. Was it possible that this little sarcastic cat was worrying about a teenager’s emotions?

“Don’t panic, Pigtails…”

Oh, right! Plagg’s nickname for Marinette…

“I’m fine… I knew it was Adrien…” I muttered, jumping into Marinette’s bedroom.

“Really?” Plagg was surprised, but to hide all hints of sensitivity he added in his normal tone: “I’m starving!”

“Of course…” I reached my pocket to get some cheese for the kwami. “Even if I gave you piles of camembert you’d still be starving…”

“Piles of camembert… You know my deepest dreams, Pigtails…”

“No comment… Now, let’s find the Miracle Box…”

“Find? What do you mean by saying ‘find’?” Plagg choked with cheese but looked at me meaningful, so I gave him another piece of camembert. “You’ve already lost it?” he asked ironically.

“I haven’t lost it. I hid it…”

“And you forgot where?”

“It’s a long story…” I muttered.

At that moment my phone began ringing. There was Marinette’s picture on the screen. So Adrien had just found out. I clicked a green button.

“Marinette?!” a shocked face of… well… Marinette was staring at me, but said nothing more.

“Don’t panic. Just breathe!” I replied.

“But… Marinette?”

Not good… Apparently, Adrien’s brain stopped working.

“Calm down, please… Is there Tikki?”

The red kwami didn’t show up, but I heard her voice somewhere there. Oh, right! I forgot that kwami were invisible for technologies!

“Can you take care of him?” I asked with concern. A panicked partner wouldn’t help me in coming back home. “I can see he didn’t take it too well…”

“It’s not like that, Marinette!” Adrien replied. “It’s just…”

“I know, Adrien… I know…” I cut it, although I had no idea what he wanted to say. Probably, he would start talking about our friendship and how happy he was, but surprised too. I had no time for that. I had to find the Miracle Box. “I have a problem, Tik. Can you tell me, where I should look for you-know-what?”

“I can’t tell you…” Tikki sounded like she was really sad that she couldn’t help me. “Try to figure it out. Plagg will help. Remember he can pass through solid objects…”

“If the Box was smeared with camembert he would find it within a couple of seconds…” I muttered under my breath.

“Camembert? Someone has said ‘camembert’? Plagg pricked up his ears. “And I object! I would find the Box within less than a second! If it was smeared with camembert, of course… What a shame it isn’t…”

“Can you give a hint maybe?” I turned back to the phone. “Just a hint, Tikki…”

“All I can tell you is that yesterday we had no time to find a perfect hiding place.” Kwami replied. “We found a tolerable one…”

Woah, much better!

“Why are you so calm?” Marinette, or rather Adrien, cut in.

“What”? I was surprised.

“You don’t look like shocked that… you know… That I am…”

“It’s a long story…” I said, realising that I repeated this too often. “Don’t worry. After ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ we both will forget about our identities.”

“But… I don’t want to forget…” Adrien confessed.

‘Your bad, because you will…’ crossed my mind. That how the spell worked. And I could be more that sure that the original Marinette would have no idea about Cat Noir’s identity.

“Focus, Adrien!” I called him to order. “You must recharge Tikki. You should find some macaroons in my purse. But wait with transformation because I may need Tikki if I have some more problems with seeking. Just… Keep your fingers crossed and wish me luck!”

I hung up.

“I should have made you take back all those ‘just a friend’s!” I muttered to myself. “I swear if you said that, I’d cut myself into pieces. Or you…”

I heard laugh. Plagg seemed to have fun.

“It’s hilarious!”

“I’m so glad to see you find it funny. But maybe let’s find the Box instead, shall we?”

“What a shame you didn’t think about smearing it with camembert…”

“By the way, let’s try to be quiet…” I toned down my voice. “It would be better not to draw parents’ attention. Who knows how they would react seeing a boy searching their daughter’s room…”

“Especially, if it’s a love interest of their daughter…” Plagg added still amused with the situation.

“He’s so blind, that I truly doubt that even if he saw all of those stuff, he would realise about her feelings.”

“Her?” kwami stopped and looked at me alarmed. “You’re not Marinette!” He discovered.

“Bingo! Before Juggler changed me with Cat Noir, he managed to change me with Marinette.” I explained quickly. I had no time for this. Not now. “I’m not Marinette. I’m Lena. And I really need to find this Box if I want to go back home!”

“Tikki knows?”

“Sure she does. She already checked me. And now… Could you please help me in returning to my life? I have no idea where that girl could hide this egg!”

“Don’t ask me!” Plagg turned away from me, yet added under his breath: “But as a big fan of chaos and destruction I’d start from the biggest mess…”

I looked at a pile of fabrics in the corner next to the sewing machine. Theoretically, it could be considered as a ‘tolerable’ hiding place. If I was Gabriel Agreste I wouldn’t even touch a top of this pile, not to mention about diving in it… I began searching the fabrics and other sewing stuff, one by one. After a few minutes I finally found what I had been searching for. When I picked up a big red sphere, I felt like it was vibrating. That was illogical because I wasn’t Marinette – neither internally nor in body. However, the Miracle Box seemed to feel that I was the right person. Weird.

I drew a sign of ‘M’ on the top of the sphere. I didn’t know why such a stupid idea came to my mind, but surprisingly it worked. It wasn’t the first time here, in the Miraculous universe, when my intuition led me correctly to the solution.

The Box started opening, showing me the magic jewels. I didn’t know the abilities of most of them, but I remembered what I had learned about the Miraculous of Fox and the Miraculous of Turtle. I took them from the Box and then I put my hand on the top of the sphere. The Miracle Box closed, and I couldn’t believe that it worked! This time it was illogical to think that it was because of body memory – Adrien had never touched the Miracle Box nor tried to open it. So, why I managed to do it?

“Seriously? Fox and Turtle?” Plagg asked in a doubtful tone.

“I don’t know the others. Besides, when I saw them all, I discovered how we could defeat Juggler. And to do so, I need those two.”

“Wow, I’m impressed, Pigtails…”

I smiled at him. I knew I’d miss him.

“Plagg, claws out!”

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#miraculous ladybug #fanfic #fanfiction #I Marinette #LadyNoir #Cat Noir #Ladybug #kwami swap #identity reveal #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Plagg #Tikki #funny story

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