#i have too many of them piling up in my sketch pile

[eydilily]

cleaned up some slabtek today

[motthe]

hiii !! just read like ,, a BUNCH of ur lumen au stuff ,,,, truly i am brainrotted now because i'm just thinking of so many different scenarios involving the lumens and i am just . EXCITED !!! its SUCHHHH a good concept im a big big sucker for soulmate stuff ,,,,

i was just wondering how you feel about jayvik x reader ,,,, TWO lumens ,,,,,,,, idk if you write for anything poly or not, but id love to hear your thoughts on it !!! either through headcanons or a ficlet, whichever you feel like :]

my first viktor x reader x jayce piece i’ve ever written… wait is this my first poly drabble?? it might be actually! i hope it’s fun to read ♥️

warnings: fem!reader, slight negative feelings of not being good enough, but overall fluff!!!

The scientific jargon that came with having not one but both of your fated being inventors was overwhelming. The words they tossed around became an entire other language since you’d all gotten closer. It left you feeling unbearably empty-headed, wondering why the universe would bond you to such intelligent men.

They were already changing an entire city with their ideas, and you would bet the world would soon bear their mark as well. In comparison, you were a meager artist making ends meet at festivals and street corners. Sure, maybe your work could be seen on a few shop signs or covering a wall or two in a cafe, but that was as famous as you’d ever be—a stranger to the passing eye.

“We need to widen the cylindrical chamber, maybe add an exhaust pipe to help with the cooldown.”

Jayce’s voice slipped through your head, smooth and confident and making no sense. You’d gotten rather good and tuning out the meat of the conversations, only recognizing the tones and emotions.

The heavy, warm accent of Viktor’s replied, swirling in the back of your mind as your pencil swiped over the heavy parchment against your thighs.

Recently, they’d begun inviting you to their lab to spend your free time in their company. There were two desks to choose from, though they were usually piled high with blueprints or notes. Jayce had moved a couch into the space for your comfort, placed in the corner and under a window, well away from any dangerous work they had their hands on, though they usually took anything too precarious into another portion of the building.

Their assistant, Sky, was in and out, always double-checking if you needed anything. She was a kind young woman, curly hair and glasses and a smile that made anyone feel at home. She brought you your own coffee and snacks, promising it was no trouble since she was already bringing them to Viktor and Jayce, anyway.

“You actually eat them,” she chuckled. “Jayce will if he notices they’re there, but it’s a long shot most days.”

You understood what she meant, seeing how focused the men became on their gadgets and studies. You’re sure if you got up and left they wouldn’t notice for a good, long while.

Today was one of those days, though there was peace in your private little corner as you sketched away. You squinted over the top of your sketchbook, skimming the outline of Viktor’s goggles pressed into his thick, winding hair and quickly adding the little licks of tresses to the paper before he was moving again.

You switched targets, taking in Jayce’s side profile and adding a bit more depth to his eyebrow and under eye.

Taking a moment to look between both drawings, you were hit with their beauty once more.

Jayce was deemed the academy’s “pretty boy,” with his strong jaw and perfect smile. He was a clean cut handsome, peak health and built with broad shoulders. He knew how to use those looks to his advantage.

On the other end was Viktor. He was a haunting beauty, sleek and angular. If he had the same charisma with speaking to the masses as Jayce did, that accent would gain him more than a fair share of admirers, but his confidence and skills lied elsewhere. He had a sharp eye and wore his emotions rather loudly on his face.

Where Jayce had faint lines from how much he smiled, Viktor had a feather soft crease between his brows from how often he furrowed them. Where the golden boy’s hands were always warm, his partner’s was cold. They made such gorgeous opposites, yet they held so many comparisons in mannerisms when it came to their shared hobbies and passions.

It was safe to say you adored them and their intricacies.

Taking a slow, deep breath you checked both shoulders before moving the tuft of black in your periphery into your hand. Gold shimmered between the dark mass that made up Jayce’s lumen, settling deeper into your palm as you raised your arms and stretched.

When you moved your drawing pad to the side, you spotted Viktor’s wedged between the apex of your thighs. Swallowing your gasp, you scooped it up, praying it hadn’t been smushed the entire time.

“When did you get there?” you whispered, rubbing your pointer finger into the tawny fuzz of his light. His lumen had always had a bit more give to it, leaving it to wedge itself under your leg or your shirt collar. Viktor’s preferred to be as close as possible to you, even if it left his lumen squished.

Jayce’s lumen was firmer, still soft but in a velveteen sort of sensation. It was bigger, taking up a good portion of your palm. Now your second month with it, you’d learned if it wasn’t on one of your shoulders, it was likely circling your head. His never went far either.

You wondered if you’d received Jayce’s lumen first, if it would have more of an attachment to you. As it stood, you’d had Viktor’s since you were young while he’d held Jayce’s and Jayce yours. The three of you being tied together had become quite the story as there went many outward poly fateds in Piltover, but luckily the gawking had passed after the first handful of weeks.

It was only a few days ago that Viktor confessed he’d been rather confused when he’d met Jayce and the lumens had flashed against one another.

“There were no similarities,” he’d explained, holding up one long, thin finger for your lumen to rest on as it hovered in front of him. The three of you were cozied up in your lackluster apartment—a studio more than a bedroom but it had a nice pullout couch and plenty of blankets to rest on in front of your heater. “Jayce was ecstatic, of course, but I was ruminating over your lumen when we first met.”

“I thought he hated me,” Jayce had murmured, breath warm against your ear as you laughed.

“I did not hate you,” huffed Viktor on your other side, rolling his eyes as he dropped his hand, your lumen resting within. “I wasn’t aware we had a third, yet—it was puzzling.”

“I had to explain it to him,” Jayce chuckled. “One of my old friends was in a poly.”

“And, then, he was even more ecstatic,” Viktor sighed but there was affection in it. “I thought you’d follow him home some nights.”

“And leave you all by yourself?” You laid your head on his shoulder, grinning as his eyes fled. It was still so early into the relationship, and he grew flustered with physical affection whereas Jayce sought it every chance. “I’d never.”

“It’s better now, we’re all together,” Jayce hummed, lowering to lay his head in your lap. You brushed your hand through his hair, smiling as his lumen lit up in Viktor’s lap.

“Yes,” Viktor had agreed, careful as he laid his head against yours. “It all feels…complete.”

Your chest warmed at the memory as you held both of their lumens in your hands, giving a fleeting kiss to each. Viktor’s snuggled happily into your palm while Jayce’s pulsed a happy gold before flying off, likely to check in with Viktor.

As your eyes lifted to follow its journey, you jumped when you found Jayce smiling from a few feet away by his desk. He seemed to be shuffling through some papers. Your lumen floated just nice his head, twinkling in the sunlight that shone through the windows behind you.

“Didn’t see you there,” you said, stretching your legs out before standing. Viktor’s lumen left your hand, keeping close to your neck.

“I hope you’re not bored.” He opened an arm up and you approached. You still grew giddy with any chance to be wrapped in his embrace, quick to accept the invitation.

“I like spending time here with you both,” you assured, giggling as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “Gives me plenty of practice.”

His eyes lit up, one of those dark eyebrows lifting. “Oh?”

“I know what you’re about to ask—”

“Please?” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist. “I wanna see.”

“They’re just rough sketches!” you laughed, pushing against his chest.

“C’mon, I bet they’re great! I’m sure Viktor wants to see them, too.”

You shook your head, a mess of giggles as he wrapped both arms around you and slowly edged his way towards the couch.

“Did someone call my name?” asked Viktor, turning from the machine he was working on. A torch was in his hand but luckily still off for the time being. Jayce’s lumen was sitting on his knee.

“Viktor tell her you want to see her art!” Jayce goaded.

“Tell him he needs to wait for a real piece,” you threw back, wrinkling your nose at him as he stuck his tongue out.

“You’ve been drawing us?” Viktor’s voice seeped with awe and innocent curiosity. “May we see?”

Jayce bounced his eyebrows at you, all too smug. “Told you.”

“Fine—fine!” you sighed, throwing your hands up and wiggling out of his hold as you went to grab your canvas notebook. “Don’t gripe when you see your half-finished faces.”

The tap of Viktor’s crutch intermingled with Jayce’s footsteps as they met you by the couch. As you handed over your work, Viktor was the one to accept it as Jace stood over him. Both their eyes went wide at the current page and your hand went straight to your arm as you shuffled in place.

“Those are just warmups, so…”

“Warmups?” Jayce breathed, looking up from the notebook. “These are amazing!”

“I have to agree, the detail is astounding,” Viktor hummed, looking to turn back a page. He caught your eyes before he did. “Is this all right? Tell us if we’re overstepping.”

“No, it’s okay! I’m used to people watching me draw on the street, it’s just… I don’t know.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up as Viktor’s lumen rubbed against your neck. Jayce’s was just settling on your shoulder again. “I care about what you guys think. It’s not anything big like you do, but…”

“Big?” Jayce echoed, both of their sights set on you.

“Well, it’s not as important as what you both do is what I mean.”

“Of course it’s important,” Viktor argued, expression stern.

“But it’s art!” you laughed, waving off the sudden seriousness growing from them. “It’s helping a bunch of people like your creations do. That’s much more important.”

“Art is just as, if not more, important,” he continued, passing the notebook to Jayce. “We are helping people in different ways, but do not do yourself the disservice and think what you create is anything less than what we do.”

“He’s right,” Jayce agreed, holding up your work. “This? This speaks to people. Your work can bring life to a room and lets people save a special moment in time.”

“Okay, don’t butter me up so much or I’ll melt!” you squeaked, too embarrassed to look at them as they chuckled and continued flipping through your sketches. It wasn’t long before the three of you were on the couch, both of them pointing out their favorites.

“Is my hair truly that messy?” Viktor grumbled, raising a hand to it. “Perhaps I should cut it.”

“No, I like it,” you said, grabbing his wrist. “You twirl it when you’re thinking! It’s so sweet.”

He blinked at you. “I do?”

Jayce whistled and you turned and gasped, completely forgetting the drawing you’d done of him in the forge. It was more from memory so your imagination had left it a bit more detailed than the rest.

“Okay, that’s enough!”

You swiped for the book, shutting it as Jayce laughed. Viktor rolled his eyes, smirking as he nudged your shoulder.

“Should I be worried of any scandalous pieces of me in there?”

You pouted, holding the notebook tighter to your chest.

“Oh?” Jayce breathed. “She didn’t say no!”

“You two are the worst!” you groaned, unable to help yourself from smiling as they both laughed in tandem.

[zepskies]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gather your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 1

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[buckys-little-belle]

Oh! What about hcs for Bucky and little! Reader during the fall? I get cold super easy but I love the colder months!

Fall Fun

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Warnings - Talks of pumpkin carving, talks of Bucky being the Winter Soldier (Very very vague), Talks of (Bucky's) memory loss, Fall Fluff

Notes - I love fall! It's my favourite season and I had genuinely so much fun writing this!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

Bucky loves the fall, it's his favorite season. He's not too hot, or too cold, and he finds he enjoys seeing how beautiful change can be. But most of all he loves all the activities the two of you can do together.

Most activities are ones done outside, and he is aware that you react to the cold different than him. Sure this is his perfect weather type, but you don't have the same super soldier blood he does.

So he keeps an extra jacket and sweater in his truck for you in case you're in need of an extra layer. He's also got a flannel blanket at the ready for long drives, and when buying the truck he made sure to buy one with heated seats. He never uses them, but with how often you turn yours on, he knows it was a worthy purchase.

He loves the pumpkin patch to an annoying extent. He could truly spend days there, especially with you by his side.

He has a whole seasons pass that allows unlimited corn maze trips, as many hay rides as he wants, and a total of 10 professional photos at those cute little stands where you stick your head through and end up being a pumpkin person. Trust, he has every photo framed around the house.

He also loves picking pumpkins with you, you'll give them all names and he'll do his best to remember which one was named Frank and which one was named Jeff. And he can't say no to you, he really can't, so the front porch of his house is home to 20 pumpkins by the end of fall.

He only lets you carve three, because he know you'll get bored if he tried to get you to do more. You tell him what you want them to look like and he'll do his best to sketch and carve the pumpkin the way you like.

You'd never tell him but he's actually not very good at art things like pumpkin carving, and you think you could do a better job, but he won't let you touch the sharp carving tools so your kitty cat pumpkin is lopsided, the flower looks more like an explosion, and the classic pumpkin face carving has two very different shaped eyes.

Bucky has a Pinterest account, he does, and he always is looking for new things to do to entertain you and him. Which is how you end up in the middle of a forest collecting all types of different leaves, putting them in a small book to press and dry.

You love all the colours, and Bucky takes a bunch of photos of you playing in the leaf piles, or just photos of you walking through the pretty forest, and his favorite photo is the one of you holding two leaves up proudly with a big smile on your face. (They were the biggest leaves the two of you found that day.)

Bucky always makes you wear mittens even if you don't think you need them. You argue that they're winter accessories but Bucky won't have it. He buys you mittens with pumpkins on them, or little leaves, so they look cute. He secretly has a deal with the grandma two doors down, she knits him your mittens and he buys her copious amounts of yarn.

Also fall baking? Bucky isn't a baker, but he does his best when you suggest you two make cupcakes that look like pumpkins. They actually turn out well, but the kitchen ends up a mess! And Bucky vows to never bake again ... Which was a short lived vow because two days later you two are back at it again making chocolate chip cookies with orange coloured chocolate chips.

All in all fall goes well every year. And it's the only season Bucky actively records. You don't know this for a few years but he actually scrapbooks every fall. The books are in his office and he pulls them out when he needs to remember something good.

Pictures of you in the forest line a bunch of pages, some selfies of the two of you are tucked in there, and every picture taken at the pumpkin patch has a spot. Leaves that you two pressed are glued to the pages with care, and he makes sure to photograph what your carved pumpkins look like each year.

He finds he likes making scrapbooks. Once in his life he forgot everything important to him. And sometimes he wonders what he still doesn't remember because there's nothing to remind him. So he keeps these tucked away in case he ever forgets, he keeps them so no matter what happens he'll always have proof that he loved you, that you loved him, and that beauty can exist during change.

[truths33k3r4]

TMNT au Writing/Sketching Prompts! ~TMNTember 2024~

These are some silly, angsty, peaceful, comforting, and bizarre prompts you can use to really explore your characters in your au!

Going for a walk after being inside for a whole week

Carnival ride gone wrong

Aftermath of a scary situation

Betrayed by someone they trust

Exercising to cope

Sibling catches them cheating in schoolwork

Forced sedation

Bribing a tattle tale sibling

Sibling's voice changes over night (Piercing HIGH/drumming LOW)

Battle with siblings for the bathroom in the morning

Forced to go to doctor/hospital/medic- "I don't want to go! Don't make me go!!"

Trying to keep a secret from parent/older sibling at dinner table, while other sibling continually tries to reveal secret

Realizes they're poisoned after the battle is long over

Younger sibling uncharacteristically fighting back at older sibling

First time alone in the house

Playing pretend with siblings outside

Unexperienced medic forced to re-locate sibling's dislocated arm/leg

Knock out dart/knock out gas

Tea Party

Finding an abandoned baby

"This is going to sting. ... Like a lot."

Strapped down and experimented on

Freaky Friday- Body Swap

Fake smiles for a photo

Finding out they have a tail now

A silent, pleading prayer

Panicking as they try to turn off a scary movie

Nightmare serum injected by villain

"I'm ready. I... am READY."

Turtle Pile

Hope anyone who wants to try this has fun!! The purpose of this exercise is to really push yourself out of your writing/sketching comfort zone. Many of these prompts are vague enough where you can choose if they'll be comforting, angsty, quiet, or full-on angst. Have fun with it!!!

(Just a heads up- this challenge is just for fun! You do NOT have to do every single prompt! Do whichever one you want! :) )

And please feel free to tag me if you use this! I'm going to be doing this exercise this month to hopefully stretch my artistic/creative abilities too! And I'd love to see what you guys come up with! :)

If anyone wants, they can send me a number of a prompt and the name of a character from my au, "The Strength in Weakness", and I will either draw a sketch or write a short fic on it. :)

HERE'S WHAT I HAVE SO FAR!!

Going For a Walk After a Week of Being Inside

Carnival Ride Gone Wrong

Aftermath of a Scary Situation

Betrayed By Someone They Trust

Exercising to Cope

Sibling Catches Them Cheating in Schoolwork

Forced Sedation (comedic and angst versions)

Bribing a Tattle Tale Sibling

Sibling's Voice Changes Overnight

Battle with Siblings for the Bathroom

Forced to Go to Doctor/Medic/Hospital

Trying to keep a secret from parent/older sibling at dinner table, while other sibling continually tries to reveal secret

Realizes They're Poisoned Long After the Battle is Over

Younger sibling uncharacteristically fighting back at older sibling PART 1 and PART 2

First Time Alone in the House

Have fun creating, guys!!!

~ Melissa

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hii :) i love ur fics & i was wondering if you could do childhood friends to lovers with friends to lovers w/ miles morales (e-1610) where they're mutually pining but think that they don't feel the same but literally EVERYONE else sees it. bonus points if there's a confession in the rain or an accidental confession while crying when one of them gets seriously injured. sorry if my ask is either too descriptive or not descriptive enough thank you for your time <33

(Hello! Of course I can, lovely! Enjoy!)

Taglist

Frontline Confessions

Your guys' crushes on each other was practically orchestrated by y'all's parents

They always knew you guys would in some way like one another

You guys were best friends growing up, never leaving each other's sides

You also forced your parents to be friends just so you guys could hang out even more

You guys were always connected by the hip

If one was near the other was following closely behind

Miles and you always shared everything, sometimes you would come home at like 6 and your parents would be like

"Whose sweater is that?"

"Miles!"

And look at each other knowingly

Rio and your mom were mostly excited, as Rio wholeheartedly approved of you as she thought of you like a bonus child

Everyone could tell you two liked one another, it was no secret

But you guys didn't even know you had feelings until you guys got older

Miles would do anything for you

And I mean anything

Constantly sketching you, you and him as a photo on his lockscreen, he was bursting at the seems trying to keep it in he was Spider-man, but you found out

You guys had those little kid marriages under the slides at recess

You and him fended off childhood bullies or one who teased you guys

Only you two needed each other honestly

You guys obviously had other friends but always were each other's number one

The one to walk with you anywhere just to hold your hand

You guys had "platonic" affection but really just acted together

So many people thought you two were dating when they saw you guys

Ganke actually thought you were dating for like 6 months

You guys denied it over and over but couldn't help but wonder if you guys would ever actually date

His mom was constantly teasing him about you

Half of your closet was really his because he knew he wasn't getting them back

You guys were always out with one another, getting food, hanging on top of rooftops, sneaking away from your parents

He sometimes swung you around on his web shooters

You guys would also hang out at Uncle Aaron's apartment

You were there with the good and the bad

And Miles really needed you in the bad

He was always outside knocking on your window, or sneaking inside or just standing in front of your apartment door

You guys had movie marathons or pulled out old photos of you two when younger

"Look at your missing tooth!"

"Well, look at this horrible ponytail! What is this?!"

"You cut off half of it!"

"Oh, right-"

You guys always were seen giggling, holding each other or laughing your heads off

Everyone would look and know

Begging to be put out their misery

Confessions didn't happen for a long, long time, until a certain time you were almost bleeding to death

"Holy- I'm so sorry, (Name)!"

Miles panicked, by your side and spitting out apologies as you bled, holding your newly adorned soon-to-be battle scar.

"Are you okay?" Miles asked, glancing behind himself as Peter fought, Gwen and the rest of your friends desperately trying to keep up without you guys.

"Are you okay to fight?" Miles asked, grimacing at you and even more so at the look you gave him.

"I think I'm dying, Miles!" You yelled, holding your side in the pain as Miles tried to help stop the bleeding.

"Don't die! You can't die!" Miles said once more, trying to convince himself more than your blood piled beneath you.

"Why not? I'm gonna anyway!" You bickered back, much less concerned for your wound than Miles.

"Because I still have something to still tell you!" Miles tried once more, his own small tears in the corners of his eyes at the thought.

He couldn't lose you.

"Tell me then! What's the point of holding it in now?!" You continued on, shaking your head as your hand was almost coated red.

"I can't!"

"Why not?!"

"Because I'm scared you won't like it." Miles revealed, shaking his head as you gave a look of disbelief.

"Who cares! I'm dying." You countered.

"I like you! I've liked you since we were kids! And I don't want you to die because I'm scared!" Miles yelled back, looking down at his hands as they both tried to stop the blood, making it better, somewhat.

Miles then noticed his mistake, not able to take back his words but instead being able to slowly look up at you, grimacing at himself.

You couldn't help but stare at Miles, barely believing your ears, much less now.

Much less with the boy you had liked since you were kids.

"...you like me?"

"...yeah."

Miles stared at you for a moment, like the world went away as he took in your face as you spoke.

And suddenly, Miles laughed.

Miles laughed hard, the tears in his eyes turned to relief as he laughed. As your best friend, and maybe now more, laughed, you couldn't help but join in.

Miles then took a moment, turning it over in his head before he launched forward, bringing you in closer to him.

You and Miles stared at each other, closer than normal, then suddenly, you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him, one you wanted to do for so long.

The kiss wasn't long, but it was waited for, dreamt about and slow and passionate, lips moving together almost like they were meant to be.

Miles pulled away, not away from you but away enough he could laugh, smiling in victory.

"Have you wanted to do that for as long as I have waited to do that?" You laughed at the both of you, and so did Miles as he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I have." Miles shook his head, the same smile there as he hugged you, arms around your waist as he almost pulled you into his lap, but stopped.

"Ow, ow, ow!" You cried out, punching his arm, cause even if you liked each other, you were still best friends, and friends hit.

"I'm sorry! Shit! I'm sorry!" Miles cried out, wincing as he looked at the blood on his arm, wiping it away quickly.

"We gotta get you out of here." Miles said, tucking his arm under yours and starting to lift you to your feet, a bit too rough at your circumstances.

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Don't make me leave you here!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagslist:

@mushystrawberries

@sweetheartlizzie07

[star-spacer]

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.

[quillsandblades]

Shades of Another World

Based on the art by @catyypss

Levi has a way with colors and paints that is unlike anything Hange has ever seen before. The moment he sets up his canvas and arranges his equipment, she knows that he’s just a paintbrush’s stroke away from capturing the whole universe and translating it on his canvas in streaks and splashes of color. 

It’s beautiful to watch, and she feels quite privileged to be able to see him paint. Best friend or not, Levi has always been secretive about his art. He stores his pieces in his workroom, letting only a few of them be seen by anyone (Which kind of makes sense because they’re the reflection of his innermost self). And Hange’s sure that no one in the entire world has ever been allowed to watch Levi Ackerman paint. So it’s only natural to feel absolutely giddy and warm when Levi finally allows her to see him while he worked—but only after years of insistence. 

Hange Zoe marvels at her friend’s command over the shades of the world, the way his slender fingers move the brush, and guide the reds and blues and greens. At first it looks like haphazard colors strewn over the white surface, but then they take shape and arrange themselves, and Hange realizes that each stroke had a meaning, a purpose to the bigger picture, and how the absence of even a single speck would have diminished the final effect. 

She just sits in wonder as Levi leans back on his chair, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth. He has made a horse galloping in a field, with the wide sky spread above. Sunlight plays on its mane and flank, and shadows dance on its body in just the right places. The field is full of flowers, lifting their faces in the gold pouring from the sun above. 

It feels like the painting is breathing. 

She’s sure she can hear the grunts of the horse, and the telltale whistle of the breeze. 

‘You’re amazing Levi,’ she says a little breathlessly, turning to smile widely at him.

He just clicks his tongue and looks away. 

Hange giggles. When will that shorty learn to take a compliment? 

‘You know what?’ Hange leans her elbow on his desk. His eyes narrow suspiciously. ‘You should teach me how to paint this good.’

‘Fuck no,’ Levi glares. ‘I don’t teach. And especially not to morons like you.’ 

‘C’mon Levi,’ she whines. 

‘No. You’ll probably manage to break everything you touch.’

‘Hey! I’m not like that!’ she cries indignantly. ‘And besides, I do know some basics; I just need to get my hands settled on it. I know it’ll never be as good as you, but I want to learn. Pleeeease.’

She stares at him with wide pleading eyes. 

He folds his arms and glares at the window beside him. Hange pokes his shoulder hard with her finger and continues to do that repeatedly when he ignores her. 

‘C’mon you grump, don’t be selfish. Share your talents.’

He grabs her finger and glares at her as she pokes him again. Anyone else would’ve pissed themselves at his menacing expression but Hange just grins.

‘You’ll love it too! I promise it’ll be fun.’ 

He sighs and pushes her away.

‘Fine,’ he grumbles.

‘Yesss!’ She punches the air. 

*****

 

Levi has a shed in his backyard where he has set up his art studio. Next morning, Hange walks into it for the first time ever. It’s as neat as she expected, with paint tubes, canvases, sketch pads and so many other colorful things arranged in neat piles and labeled boxes in shelves. An easel and a comfortable chair are standing right next to the window, and a large work table is set beside it. A fair few of his paintings are hanging from the walls. 

Hange takes off her jacket and hangs it. Levi follows her in and closes the door behind them quietly.

‘So what will we start with?’ Hange exclaims, picking up a brush excitedly, hovering next to the canvas.

‘Not that,’ Levi pulls her by the arm towards the table. When they’re both seated, he passes her a blank sheet, a paintbrush and a tube of paint. ‘First I need to see how good you are at handling a brush. Start.’

Hange looks at him uncertainly, ‘Um, so what exactly should I do?’

‘Anything. I just need to see how you use a paintbrush.’

‘Okay . . .’

She begins with simple shapes and figures and he silently watches her work. In between he sometimes asks her to make something.

‘Your grip seems fine, on the whole,’ he says when she’s finished. ‘But there’s still a lot you need to work on.’

Hange nods eagerly.

Levi then proceeds to explain the basics of using a brush, different types of grips for various strokes, when to apply pressure and so on. Then he observes her as she follows it all and guides her in places she goes wrong. They sit there until the sun dips low in the sky and the shadows stretch out against the ground. By the time Hange gets up to leave, she’s dead tired but happy.

Their routine continues, and each day he takes her one step ahead, explaining the basics of color theory, shading and so much more. Hange finds out that she’s seen Levi talking more than she ever had, in those classes; he seems relaxed, in his element. And Hange likes to think that it’s because he’s sharing his favorite thing, a part of himself, with his closest friend (as she prefers to call herself). And of course the thought makes her pleased beyond measure.

 

 

It’s another one of those days; Levi and Hange are in his studio and outside the summer sun shines in all its glory. She’s working on a technique he showed her, blotting a paper with paint-soaked fingers, trying—and failing—to bring about the proper effect. Levi is sitting by a canvas, painting away. 

Hange drops her head on the table, and regards him over the rim of her glasses; sunlight dips over his face, slanting along his cheekbones. His brows are drawn in concentration, eyes following the constant sweep of his hand over the canvas. 

‘Levi.’

‘Hmm?’

‘What’s your favorite thing to paint?’

‘Are you done with that?’ he points at the sheet in front of her.

‘I can’t get it right, but tell me—’

‘Then finish it up.’

‘Levi,’ she complains. ‘It’s a harmless question, I’m not gonna do anything else until you answer me. What do you like to paint the most?’

He sighs and puts his brush down, then leans back on his chair, contemplating her words. Hange waits in the wake of his silence.

‘The sky,’ he says after a while. 

‘Why?’

‘Can’t you be satisfied with one answer?’ he grits out.

‘Not in my nature, shorty,’ she chuckles.

He picks up his brush and starts working again. She’s about to pester him further when he speaks softly.

‘It just . . . makes me feel free. The sky is unrestrained, limitless. I don’t know but, something about it just draws me in.’

Hange waits, knowing there’s more. She sees his fingers tighten around the brush, knuckles turning white. His next words come out fast and fumbling.

‘Every time I look up, I feel like I can breathe a little more easily—I'm so damn relieved that there’s—that there’s actually an open sky up there rather than—’

The brush slips from his finger as he stops short, eyes wide and staring into space.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ Hange gets up, rushing over to him. Levi blinks rapidly, shaking himself out of whatever is going on in his head. Hange puts a hand on his shoulder and he turns to her.

‘’M fine,’ he mutters, brushing her off. ‘How’s your progress?’ he gets up. 

‘I can’t get it right!’ Hange grouches. ‘Why do I need to paint with fingers in the first place?’

‘It’s important for some pieces. It also helps to bring out a texture that a brush can’t manage at times,’ he explains patiently. 

He dips his finger in some paint and shows her once more how to do it. They sit side by side and work on the sheet, and Levi corrects her wherever she goes wrong. But Hange has to admit that it's a boring practice and she’s seriously lacking some entertainment. So when Levi is focused on the sheet in front of them, she stealthily scoops up some red paint and smears it right on his cheek.

He freezes. 

Hange knows she has a literal second before he’s after her; she jumps out of her seat with a shriek before he can snatch her arm and bounds to the other side of the room. 

‘You. Are. So. Dead,’ he promises darkly and chases after her in a flash.

Hange sprints around the table, cackling like a madwoman, with Levi on the tail. In her chaotic scuffle she grabs onto the rest of that paint and as he gains on her, she splashes it squarely at him. With Levi dripping in red, Hange knows she’ll be dead for sure if he catches her now. She pelts out of the shed and into his backyard. Her howls of laughter echo in the silent afternoon and they both run in circles around the garden like some frisky children. 

When he almost catches her, she turns around abruptly and jumps on him, taking him by surprise as they both tumble to the ground. He’s pinned beneath her and scowling through the mess on his face. 

Everything is silent around them save for the chitter-chatter of birds and Hange’s giggles. Summer seems to be pouring on them lazily and she can see how his face shines in the warmth of the sun. She’s left him quite disheveled; he’s panting slightly; his shirt is stained and streaks of red are sliding down his forehead, cheeks and nose and—

Shrapnel is embedded in his face, blood trailing down his once flawless skin. He lays limp in her arms, dragging down her heart like an anchor to the bottom of the sea. Don’t die, her broken, wounded heart pleads, please don’t die. 

Hange’s laughter tapers off. She stares at him with wide eyes.

‘Oi,’ Levi is frowning, sensing her sudden rigidness. ‘Four-eyes.’

She shivers violently and Levi pushes her off him gently. She sits upon the grass as her head pounds and her vision swims. She sucks in heavy breaths feeling like her lungs are in a chokehold. With a long breath, she pulls herself together and looks around. Levi is nowhere and she’s sitting alone in the yard.

‘Levi!’ she shouts, irrational panic laces her voice. She stumbles to her feet, searching left and right. He was right there with her, where did he go? Where could he have—

‘Relax,’ his steady voice sounds from behind her. She whips around to see him coming out of the house, holding a glass of water in one hand and tissues in the other, with which he’s wiping his now wet and blood—paint-free face clean. Her anxiety diminishes a touch.

He hands her the water and she gulps it down shakily. The cool liquid soothes her throat and calms her jangled nerves. Levi is gazing at her apprehensively and she wants to tell him that she’s okay and it was probably just the heat, but the words are trapped in her throat and nonsensical thoughts are swirling in her head—thoughts that are screaming that he’s gonna slip out of her grasp and die any second if she doesn’t do anything right now because he’s bleeding and dying out in her arms and they’re surrounded and there’s no way out. 

‘Hange,’ she feels a cool hand on her arm, her gaze catches his, steel-blue irises watch her intensely. 

She raises her trembling fingers and softly brushes them against his cheek, pale and smooth, not cut up and bleeding. He’s still under her touch, his eyes searching. She lets her gaze flit across his features, trying to release her throat from that chokehold.

‘You’re not . . . hurt?’ her whisper is small.

He frowns and seizes her hand, squeezing her fingers firmly, ‘No four-eyes. I’m fine.’

‘But you were,’ she murmurs feverishly. ‘And I . . . I couldn’t—’ 

She drops her forehead on his shoulder and shudders ‘Don’t do anything so reckless again.’

She doesn’t know how long they stand there like that, but Levi doesn’t move and she just breathes. Maybe he thinks she’s finally gone mad, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push her off. In truth, she can’t understand a thing herself, or the words she’s saying, but she knows that something made her feel like she was losing Levi. And the thought was terrifying. 

‘Let’s go inside, I’ll make lunch,’ he sounds indifferent as ever, but she can detect hints of worry in his voice. She presses his hand.

‘Okay.’

*****

Levi eventually gives her the spare keys so she can come to his studio and practice whenever she feels like. It’s helpful, because now she has pretty much mastered most of the things he taught her over the months and she sometimes feels the sudden urge to paint something that pops in her head, and rushes to his shed right that instant if she can. She’s still not perfect, and there are many things she struggles with, but she likes her progress.  

‘Leviii,’ Hange drawls, slumped over the chair by the window, pouting at her canvas. 

‘I can’t draw the sea foam.’

He sighs from the other end of the room where he’s arranging his new supplies, ‘Have you learnt nothing all these months?’ 

‘But it’s difficult. I can try but there’s only a sixty percent chance that I’ll get it right and I don’t wanna ruin this canvas.’

Previously she made two paintings on a canvas, only because she was confident that she’d get them right, and she’d practiced on a rough paper beforehand. One was a sunset, and the other was a sea port. Both of them are now hanging on the walls. The one she’s currently working on is of a raging sea and so far everything’s going good except for that damned sea foam. 

Levi approaches her, observing her work critically. She extends the paintbrush towards him and grins, ‘You’ll do it for me, right?’

‘No.’

‘But it’s just one tiny detail, nothing will happen if you help me out shorty!’

‘I’ll help out all right, but I won’t do it for you,’ he grumbles. 

And before she can protest, he moves at the back of her chair and clutches her hand from behind, leading it to the blue and gray strokes she has made. He positions her fingers in the right way, ‘You do it like this,’ he says softly. His breath tickles her neck and she suppresses a shiver. He’s close. Very close. 

He moves the brush lightly over the canvas and she sees the sea foam manifest before her eyes effortlessly. He guides her hand over the rest of the painting in the same way. His grip is warm and steady, whereas her own hands are trembling slightly. Hange is not averse to physical contact, especially with her friends. But Levi has never before initiated it first, and she tells herself that it’s the sole reason she feels shaken right now. 

‘You get it?’ his low voice spills over her ear. 

‘Y—yes,’ she manages, feeling breathless for reasons beyond her. 

‘Good,’ he pulls away slowly and she exhales. ‘Don’t mess it up again.’

She’s sure she wouldn’t. Not when the phantom touch of his fingers is still burning on her hand.

Hange wakes up to the morning light with a start, gasping for air. Her heart is racing in her chest and cold sweat slicks her face. She looks around and realizes that she’s at home, at her desk where she fell asleep last night. Files and documents are jumbled around her, and her muscles are sore from sleeping in an awkward position. She checks her phone; it’s eight in the morning and Sunday. 

She runs a hand over her eyes. There’s an odd restlessness in her heart, and she knows it’s got something to do with her dream. Its memory is hauntingly fresh in her mind, so much so that she can even feel all those sensations. Suddenly the room is too hot and stifling. She gets up, grabs her jacket and the spare keys Levi entrusted to her and rushes out.

His shed is empty at this hour, and she knows he won’t be surprised to see her when he’ll come in as he’s already used to finding her cooped up in there at odd hours. 

She grabs a palette, paints, brushes and fixes a suitable canvas on an easel. Then she perches on that chair beside the window and starts to work. Colors merge and dance over the blank surface, filling it with life. She works with focus this time, and yet her hands shake, but not due to nervousness. Maybe it’s anticipation, because surprisingly Hange doesn’t know herself what this will lead to. Her muscles seem to be obeying that hazy, murky part of her brain that’s ruled by the incoherent; the part that perhaps knows and remembers the dream she had today, much more vividly than her. 

Red, blue, yellow, gray. There’s a story in every stroke. She’s waiting. Waiting for it all to come together and assemble, and finally give her the answer she craves. Outside, the sun climbs higher and the day gets steadily brighter. Light streams in, shining curiously upon her as she works, unaware of the world.

When she finally concludes her painting with a last shade of swirling orange, she freezes. Everything is silent around her, sunbeams dip into the room, her heartbeats are loud in her ears. 

In her painting is a port, and giant skeletal creatures wrapped in raw muscles are marching over everything. She’s high up in the sky, zipping towards them in rage. Burning. Below, in the shadow of it all, small figures of people are rushing around a plane. 

Hange drops her brush and stares at the scene before her. She’s not sure why she made this, or what compelled her mind to come up with an image like that. She wants to brush it off as a spur-of-the-moment inspiration, but the fact remains that she wasn’t even aware of what she was drawing half the time. The image made itself. And then there’s this suffocating ache in her chest that she can’t define, it’s squeezing her in an iron grip. She leans back and throws an arm over her face, breathing deeply. 

The fire licks at her body and screams rip her throat. Pain beyond measure stabs her all over but she has to move forward, she has to finish them off, has to buy them time, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much she wants to live. She must sacrifice herself. 

The door opens. 

‘What’re you doing this time?’ Levi’s voice pulls her out of the drifting currents of her mind.

She looks up at him with tired eyes. How long had she been sitting there, working nonstop?

‘What’ve you made?’ he comes over to her, leaning over to look at her work. Hange watches him closely.

She hears his breath hitch, sees his eyes widen and expression morph into something unguarded and open. He gazes at the scene for a long moment without saying anything. Then he raises his hand and touches the painting, the part where she is drawn in an odd suit, wielding swords and engulfed in flames. The painting’s still wet and the reddish orange color of the fire stains his fingers. 

‘You . . .’ he looks back at her, and this time Hange can see something more in his expression: pain. ‘Why did you make this?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘It felt like my hands had a mind of their own. I couldn’t stop.’

He straightens and lets out a heavy breath. His eyes are weighed. He grabs her hand and leads her to a door at the corner of the shed that Levi never let her open before. They enter a small room which is full of paintings of different sizes—Levi’s art, she realizes. At one side, some of them are covered with a large white sheet. He yanks it away to reveal more pieces, only these are different from the others. 

As soon as Hange looks at them, the same restlessness she felt today crashes back into her heart. There’s something achingly familiar about those pictures. They show green fields, stables and dark, stone castles. They show people sitting around fires, but their faces are hazy, as if the moments were captured from wispy dreams. She does recognize some people though: a blur of color that resembles Levi, a similar one that could be her. She even spots Erwin’s indistinct form among many others. Then there are paintings with giant distorted creatures and people zipping through the sky.

She turns to Levi, ‘What is this?’ her voice begs for answers.    

‘I don’t know,’ he mirrors her words from earlier. 

It’s something for sure, they both feel it and she knows it’s important in some way. 

Levi seizes her arm suddenly; his brows are furrowed and his fingers are digging into her skin. 

‘You’re . . . here? Right?’ and the helpless look he gives her just confirms that he’s feeling exactly as she did that day when she splattered paint over him. He needs to know that she’s okay, and he’s not going to lose her. He needs her to destroy the images in his head that are probably playing a twisted scene of her death.  

Hange laces her fingers with his and presses reassuringly, ‘I’m right here shorty. And I’m not going anywhere,’ she promises. 

He nods, but maintains the death grip on her hand. They both walk out of his shed and Hange pushes all those tangled thoughts to the back of her mind. She’ll think about it later, talk to Levi and make something of this. But for now she has to assure him that she’s with him and they’re fine. They’re okay and they’re together and they’re alive.

And there’s nothing more she can ask for. 

[anderstrevelyan]

wip wednesday

I haven't done one of these in a minute because I've been focusing on polishing and reworking rather than drafting new words (hopefully by next week I'll have some!), but you know what, let's do one anyway!

Here's the opening of my as-yet-untitled multichapter project, aka my early days of durgetash project (set about a year after they first meet):

*Valas is the son of Gorion's Ward rather than a strictly canon Dark Urge: mentioning to avoid confusion since it's relevant here!

It’s dusk when they first discuss it, a desire so deep Valas has never said it aloud. Were anyone to look up at the quiet manor on a corner in Bloomridge, perhaps on their way home from selling trinkets in the Wide, or while they wander to a tavern bleeding laughter and light onto the street, they’d see them there, the pair of them. A half-drow dressed in deepest black and a human with gold on each finger, the plates laid before them picked clean, the wineglasses in their hands stained with two layers of red, lounging at either end of the settee long past when one of them should have risen to draw the curtains shut. He should do it now, Valas thinks as he turns his glass, watching the candlelight refract. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t, just as he doesn’t know how they arrived at the subject, his confessing the name of the person he most longs to kill.

He lets his voice trail off, and swallows against the dry in his throat. Tries to find his footing. He’s not one for quick words, the thoughtless flow that pours from so many like blood—he often prefers to listen. For a heartbeat, for an opportunity, for the guiding voice of his god. And Enver Gortash doesn’t seem one for silence. Not like this, chin in his hand, long gaps between the sound of his own voice—not unless he’s waiting, too, searching for a flaw. Perhaps he understands this weakness for what it is. Skie. Skie Silvershield. Skie Silvershield the second—not the same young woman said to have died at the hands of the Bhaalspawn who sired him, but Valas yearns for her blood all the same, Torlin’s daughter named for the ancestor plucked too soon. Sometimes, in Valas’s worst moments, his mind whispers that it would be right. To prove himself better than the one who raised him before he found his true Father’s embrace, who always claimed he hadn’t been the one to kill his Skie. That it would be good, further insult and honour to the man once Chosen by his god—Torlin proved unworthy the moment Valas set in motion his death, but he was a Bhaalist all the same, and there’s nothing more Bhaalist than the slaughter of one’s kin. But it’s weakness, coveting one death over all others, no matter how he twists his thoughts. He’s seen such a thing in his acolytes’ eyes, when they come to him soft and raw, his Father’s voice in their heads a mewling thing—they don’t understand, in the throes of those first few tastes of blood, what their work really means. They dwell in emotion, in grudges, in hate, longing to kill an old rival, a scorned lover, someone who did them wrong. The faith shows them: there’s no value in the personal, in passion, if it’s not needed to reach the right holy end. It’s weakness, then, too, how much he’s come to enjoy this new ally’s company. Valas turns his gaze to the window, to the motion on the street below—feet catching on cobble, glances cast over shoulders, plumes of breath climbing in the cool evening air—just as Gortash looks away, too. He must be admiring the curves of his own furniture; the works of art in their golden frames, some so new they sit still propped against the wall; the piles of papers and gadgets, their places not yet found, sketches and plans and small, delicate tools. The home he’s building, here in the Lower City’s most fashionable neighbourhood, so different from where he’d laid his head just months before. But when Valas turns back his way, he’s looking out into the dark. Toward the wall, just steps to the north, that separates them from the Upper City. Valas can almost hear him thinking. “There would be a beautiful kind of symmetry to it,” Gortash says finally, and Valas busies himself with a sip of wine. “One Bhaalspawn filled with remorse, peaceful against his nature, and then all these years later another to do it right. It’s not far from our other discussions of late.”

[greenlightbulbonawire]

Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song)

XLI.

______________________________________________________________

Summary: From the dark musty cell of Stillwater all the way to the very base of Firelights, but where to from there? Guess you'll just have to let fate lead you.

Author's note: I took a break... again... and I'm back now! But I will have to resort to posting once a week from now on, due to me not being able to write the chapters as fast as I am posting them anymore. Well anyway, have a great day!! xoxo previous chapter: Fourtieth chapter

next chapter: Fourty second chapter

Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

“I made a few sketches, I’ll show you, hang on.” You pushed yourself up off the ground and walked up to your desk quickly, swiping your sketchbook off of it and returning to Ekko, slipping onto the ground next to him again, scattering a few parts of the blown up board in the process. The book fell into his hands and you put the parts back onto the pile as the boy flipped through the pages of paper, looking at the drawing you made in the past instead of finding the sketches you told him about. “You can draw pretty good actually, I had no idea.” Your eyes tore away from fixing the pile and registered what you just put into his hands, you quickly grabbed it away from him, skimming to the page with the sketches and handing it back to him. “Don’t look at a different page than this one, please.” “Oh uh, I mean yeah, sure? Why though?”

Ekko gave you a questioning look, before returning to the drawn on paper page, looking over the sketch, his face displaying various emotions as he went through the thought process of making the sketch a reality. “There’s some stuff in there that I don’t want anyone to see.” “Okay, that’s fair.” He shrugged and closed the book with a snap, giving it back to you and then standing up. You took the sketchbook from him again and looked up at Ekko towering over you as his hand stretched towards you, offering to help you up as many times before. Without much hesitation, you accepted it and stood up too, facing him, waiting for the boy to say something and explain why you were standing now.

“Let’s get to work then.” He nodded to you and turned to the door to leave, and you went to take the sketchbook back to your table. Ekko waited for you outside of your room, and then headed towards the staircase, but starting to descend instead of going up, which surprised you. “We’re not going to your room?” “And how would something as big as that fit into my room exactly?” The boy turned his head to face you as you went down the stairs, following him a few paces behind, a smug expression painting his face, before he tripped and almost fell, catching the railing at the last second to stop himself. You laughed at him, waiting for him to regain his balance and continue walking and then answering him. “Karma’s a bitch huh?”

“Welcome to my… I actually don’t know what to call this room, uh, I make bigger things here basically.”

“Why did I have no idea a room like this was here?”

You asked and walked into the room after Ekko, taking in the many tools and almost finished projects, he really had a taste for mess huh. “Probably because you haven’t seen like eighty percent of the base yet.” “That… makes perfect sense actually.” You admitted, watching as the boy moved through the room, pulling out different parts and gathering them into a box. He mumbled something to himself and pulled the box towards a messy desk, probably the place where he worked on his inventions and stuff. “I’m missing some things here,” Ekko stated as he started to lay out the parts from the box on the desk and looked at you for a moment, quickly returning to what he was doing, before he spoke again.

“so I’ll write you a list and you’ll have to go get them, maybe take Heimerdinger with you, he’ll help.”

Metal bolts clattered as Ekko placed them onto the table, you made your way to him carefully, trying to avoid bumping into anything in the process. Ekko pulled out a piece of dirty paper from god knows where and took a pencil off the desk, scribbling down a few words, then he looked into the box again and added something to the list, repeating this a few times. You were watching with interest, before you realized you haven't answered him yet, you shook your head and blinked a few times.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Great, well here you go, that should be all I hope, and please don’t blow yourself up again okay?” The paper with the material list got swept off the table by the boys hand and he turned his attention to you, looking up from his chair, while handing you the piece of paper. “What, you’ll miss me?” You raised a brow and gave him a smug smile, swiftly taking the list from his hand, fixing your eyes on it and reading its contents.“Oh yeah very.” The boy chuckled softly as you read through the listed materials. “Who else will come and save me when I specifically told them not to?”

[e-hibiscus]

I'm just eating up @spirit-lanterns's casino AU so i made a sketch of my own bunny (don't mind the bad background, it would take too long to properly draw)

SO

Say hello to the “fun-sized” bunny Misha!! This charismatic bunny is one of the shorter workers at The Rabbit's Foot, but that doesn't mean she's got no game!! Even if she only stands at a tall 5'2, she works as one of the many casino runners to help maintain the machines while serving customers.

Even though she moves a lot during her shifts, she's often seen doing the zoomies before the doors open for the clientele, on her break, and around closing time. Her favorite part is greeting patrons new and old, bringing them onto the casino floor to have fun and lose money 🤭

art utc just incase you don't wanna see bunnysuit artwork

Fun fact: This bite-sized bunny rather spend her time in a cuddle pile with the other bunnies or with the boss instead 😏

[kozachenko]

Zanmu 100% has a very large bone collection. She seems like the type. I can perfectly imagine an interaction with someone, probably Eiki, (idk why but it fits) and she says (for some reason), "You must have a lot of skeletons in your closet" and Zanmu responds with, "Oh, how did you know about my bone collection?" and Eiki just stares for a few seconds and then says, "your what now?" and Zanmu responds by opening up a closet and low and behold, she has a bunch of them. Some human, some not. As Eiki stares in shock, horror, and confusion, Zanmu just starts rambling on about all the facts about bones she knows, where and how she finds them, and even starts sorting them into different piles as she speaks, "Of course, I organize them by species, age, condition, cause of death, and more specific categories," and when Eiki asks how many she has, Zanmu just says, "I kind of lost track after I reached 100" and poor Eiki faints.

{Artists Note}:

So I had a really neat pose idea for Zanmu and I had to draw it. I'm glad that I finally drew her again, because last time I did she looked waaaaaay too tense so this drawing serves to rectify that. Man was the actual process for the first bit of this rough, like, especially the eyes. So last time I drew Zanmu, I gave her some really nice eyeshadow, and I forgot about how big of a difference eyeshadow makes to how the eyes look, so I went through several different variations of them. Also, I'm glad that the expression turned out nicely, it's a nice break from the deadface I've been stuck with for a while now lol. Her one arm that isn't holding the skull kinda gave me some hardship because I had no idea how to show that it was resting on the rock, as the idea for the rest of the piece came to me waaaay after I did the sketch, so hey, just a thing to improve for next time. I played around with some collage elements for the trees, their foliage literally has a paper texture on it. I went for a more simplistic approach to the lighting, letting the colours more or less speak for themselves. The background also gave me a hard time, as I was getting stuck with how to make her pop out from it, and I think I found a good solution using overlay layers.

Clothes and fabrics are now my favourite things to render, it's just so satisfying to do. I also love adding that textured layer overtop of everything, it just makes everything come together y'know?

Also, another headcanon I have for her is that she's taller than Hisami, and Hisami is really tall so that means that Zanmu would be able to tower over literally everyone lol.

[blaithnne]

Early concept sketches of Midnight Giant Lauren! You can see me figuring out the style, colours, as well as Lauren’s outfits, plus a little Hilda that I wanted to include but gave up on cause I couldn’t get her to look right.

Johanna switches outfits about 3 times in this comic, so I wanted Lauren to do the same. Also, since Johanna’s deerfox outfit in the flashback is based off one of her looks in mountain king, I wanted Lauren’s to as well! So one of these outfits will be repurposed for teenaged Show!Lauren in the deerfox later down the line, which I think is fitting because she’d be around the same age in the flashback as Comic!Lauren is here

I didn’t talk much about my design process in the original post, so I’ll make a couple notes on that under the cut!

Here’s the final product for reference-

Though Johanna changes outfits about 3 times in this comic, one of these outfit changes is just the same outfit but with trousers instead of a skirt. So I wanted one of Lauren’s outfit changes to be more subtle, keeping most of the same items of clothing but only changing the jumper!

In terms of her outfits, I tried to add a little bit of a late 2000s - early 2010s vibe, which I think makes her fit in a lot more

Whilst this style still features quite noodley characters, it allowed me to bulk up Lauren much more than the troll did, so I took advantage of that and started adding in juuuust a little muscle! But she’s still kind of twig looking, so I brought back the same trick I used in the troll and gave her a big ol’ pile of logs and a heavy axe to weild in one of the sketches just to show that she’s a strong girl. I swear I tried to think of something other than an axe but it’s surprisingly hard to think of heavy objects that a character would just be. Carrying around lol

Looking back at this design a few months later, the biggest thing I’d change is I’d make her look a bit younger. It’s a little hard to design a unique character when you only have two points of reference lol, one of which is an adult and the other of which is a child, so I think I made her look a bit too much like an adult, oh well!

One thing I kept though to help her look younger is her freckles, same as Hilda! I love freckles but I swear I never use them in character designs. This design feature disappears from Hilda in the later comics, but I wanna keep them for Lauren for as long as I can tbh…

I mentioned before that I thought it would make sense for Lauren to go through a couple different hairstyles before reaching her final one in these early comics - the designs in the show are based off the ones in stone forest, which was the most recent comic to be released at the time the show came out. The style and characters designs had changed a lot from the early comics, and one of my favourite things about reading through the series is seeing how the designs changed and progressed before reaching those “final” versions, so I’m kinda reverse engineering Lauren’s design process to get that effect here, and I think one way that’d be shown is through her hair. Here her style is getting closer to the final version, her fringe has been lifted so it no longer covers her eye, and she’s got more of a curl! But her strands fall a little differently, so we’re not quite there yet…

I struggled a LOT with colouring this one, and that’s because I got the colour count wrong! One of the most overlooked ways to emulate a style is to count how many different colours appear per character - Hilda The Series generally has 6, 2 for hair and skin, and 4 for outfits, though the number can change. I miscounted here and thought the comics had 4 outfit colours like the show, but they actually only have 3. Once I realised that it made things much easier, though I still sent a little over it with some varying shades of green in her shoes. These kinds of rules generally aren’t firm, and might not even be one’s the original artist is even aware of, but when you’re trying to emulate someone’s work these little things can make all the difference

Show!Lauren probably doesn’t play guitar, I’ve mentioned before that I think she’s decent at piano and I stand by that, but I thought it was fitting for Comic!Lauren lol

That’s everything I can think of right now!

[signanothername]

Sooo... I'm back from the dead after dying from the overflow of too many positive emotions yesterday... (thanks for all the kind words 🩷)

And I'm back with another ask! Cool.

My question is not something necessarily related to the topic of the blog or anything, but rather about your artistic process?

So, personally I think many artists have those moments, or maybe specific paintings, that may just be emotionally draining. Like you're drawing a piece, and you don't like it for some reason, you try to change it, but you still don't like the painting, and you keep trying, but it's just something that's missing and you don't understand what it is and it just becomes frustrating and you start to get angry and-

Well, at least I seem to have such moments quite often (I dunno, maybe I'm just a perfectionist), and as far as I'm concerned different artists have their different ways to cope with this, so I wonder - do you have such moments sometimes and what do you usually do about it?

I'm sorry for the long ask I just can't keep things short and I'm just always curious about such things and the way different artists do stuff 😅

Hello!! Amazing to see you again! <33333 (of course!! Thank you for your kind words as well aaahh 😭❤️✨🌷)

As for your question, oooh boi, yes actually I have these moments A LOT, it’s cause i’m a perfectionist myself jdhdhdh

In fact, these kinda moments is why i sometimes give up on certain artworks or comics I make, and that’s why my wips just always seem to pile up, here are some examples of two artworks and a page of a comic I gave up on cause I just couldn’t for the life of me make them into what I wanted

And I will be lying to you if I said I have a solution for it or that I know how to deal with it

But I deal with it in two ways, I either completely delete the sketch i made and start over again

Or what I usually do is that I actually stop if i find the piece I’m working on emotionally draining, let go of the artwork and work on something else that i find fun, cause “giving up” doesn’t necessarily mean i will never get back to them, I see it as “taking a break” from the artwork till I get inspiration or motivation back to work on it again

Generally I’ve learned that in art, it’s ok to take things slow, I don’t always need to finish the artwork that I started before I start working on something else, in fact, taking things slow is how I made art much more enjoyable to me, cause it means I actually enjoy the process instead of treating it like there’s some sort of deadline above my head

To give you an example of what i mean, this artwork right here? Took me over 2 weeks to finish, not cause i couldn’t finish it quickly (in fact i can easily finish the same artwork in less than an hour) I just taught myself to take my time when making art, take things slow snd enjoy the process bit by bit, i worked on the quick sketch, closed it, then got back to it to work on cleaning it up multiple times, closed it again, then worked on coloring it and so on

And that’s also how i deal with artworks that make me frustrated, i take things slow, if i get frustrated then i simply close the artwork and work on something else till i have the motivation to work on what frustrated me again, that way i took a little break, and sometimes actually while working on something else you might get an idea on how to fix the artwork that frustrated you, but ultimately art is supposed to be fun not frustrating, so it’s ok not to finish artworks, it’s ok to abandon artworks if you don’t like them or if they emotionally drain you

That’s how i deal with it at least, but i say try to find your own path to how to deal with it, cause my way might not work for you, so i say experiment and find out :D

And nah don’t apologize i love long asks actually dychchch

[cloudysunflowr]

First of all—

3,000?!

Where did you all come from!!! Ahhh!!! Thank you so much for following! Im so flattered and truly didn’t think I would get so many here on Tumblr >< Im very grateful!

Ahhh, and second!

I’m working on answering the asks that have piled up, Im sorry for being so lack luster in my response time! Once my tablet is charged I want to get to them!

I think my issue was thinking I had to do full pieces for each ask but Im settling with sketches and doodles, or else it would be too much for me iwi hope you all dont mind.!

Aaaaaa

Thank you again for over 3k of you lot!!

I should figure out something to celebrate! Hmm…

[undertale-anomaly20]

Mortal Kombat 1 x reader: Prolouge

The screen shows a dark void where sand drops through the neck of an hourglass into a heaped pile. the camera focuses on a single slow-falling grain of sand that bursts into a cosmic light. The light pulses and myriad galaxy clusters resolve in an abyss. the camera passes the many galaxies to focus on one galaxy as it spirals radiantly in the dark.

"Having liberated the Hourglass and become Keeper of Time, my next task was to restart history" Liu Kang's voice echoed out as the camera dove into the Galaxy through its clouds, to the asteroid belt around its solar system, and past a planet or molten rock "Not beholden to past events, I was free to craft a new era. It was with humility and restraint that I approached this blank canvas. After careful preparation, I began work. Painting over the darkness"

The black screen soon had multiple small bursts of light across the screen, then stars as it slowly descended onto the earth's atmosphere horizon where the sun shone in the center of the horizon "After eons passed, I sketched out the realms. After eons more, I brushed them in with life"

the camera soon zooms in on the earth revealing the clouds "In my new era, all beings will have the opportunity to find peace. Whether or not they do, will be their responsibility. For my power only permits me to begin this endeavor. It is the duty of mortals to finish it" The camera flies through the clouds, past them to the landscape below through the mountains to an open land where a lake lays with a statue of two dragons intertwined in the center in the distance. the title appears on the screen

Mortal Kombat 1

The screen fades into black.

The scene opens on a dreary, rainy day as (Name) stands in her empty bedroom packing the last of her belongings. Five years ago, in this world at least, she had been an eager, optimistic young woman. But the events of her last involvement in the Mortal Kombat universe had taken their toll on her and now she was a bitter, stubborn, and hostile woman who had seen far too much. With no family left in the world, (Name) decided to move away and put the past behind her.

As the rain continued to pour outside (Name) packed away her possessions, lost in thought. Her mind was filled with the memories of her life before, both the good and the bad. She had loved and been loved by her friends, by her loves and her daughter, laughed and cried with them through the victories and the loss, and seen dreams come true. But she had also seen heartache and sorrow, The death of Mileena cracked her heart, and the death of Hanzo fractured her soul but her daughter, Calithea, dying in her arms was what truly broke her. The image of her turning to sand in her hands is something she can never forget and never forgive. Logically, in the back of her mind, she knew Liu Kang had to do it but that was snuffed out instantly as she remembered how she begged and pleaded with him to stop but he didn't even look at her nor did he even hesitate to continue. She could never forgive him for what he had done. She couldn't even grieve properly, She couldn't just go to a therapist or vent to anyone because in her world it never happened, and if she did she would have been called insane and thrown in an asylum. The best she could do was go to a doctor for anti-depressants which barely did anything.

Having no person to unburden her emotions too, (Name) was left to suffer such tragedy all on her own. Even though she was sent back to her world she still carried that same pain with her. Everywhere she went, she could still hear Calithea's cries for her.

(Name) sighed as she placed the last photo frame in her box before taping it up. Even though when she was sent back to her world she went from being 28 to 20 years old the same age as when she left. She was now 24 with a 30-year-old mind. She stands back up looking around to see if she missed anything giving the viewer a good look at her.

She had long (hair colour) hair at tailbone length tied into a bun, a white singlet that hugged her curves, an orange oversized flannel, blue denim jeans, brown lace-up combat boots, and a brown hobo crossbody bag containing her Phone, its charger, her wallet, some gum, wireless earbuds, and her anti-depressants that she received from her doctor.

Physically she didn't look that much different from her 20-year-old self apart from the dull look in her eyes and the neutral expression she wears permanently. many of her old neighbors worried for her since she used to be so bright and cheerful and wondered what changed her into the woman she is now.

She sighs putting the box to the side and looking at how empty the room is. Over the 4 years, she had gotten rid of anything that reminded her of the world she once lived in and avoided anything Mortal Kombat-related. She sighs as she picks up her bag and pulls out her phone, checking the weather, to see if the rain won't be letting up. She looked so tired as she glanced at the window realising the rain wouldn't stop till tomorrow. Everything she owned was sent to her new apartment apart from a few things leaving only her wide-flat screen TV, her PS5 plugged in, a Collectors edition box, The art book for the game, and one unopened game out with a note on it. Though she hated the Mortal Kombat franchise the company sent her a test game of the latest one.

Mortal Kombat 1

"Fucking idiots" She grumbled walking over to the unopened game picking it up, with a scowl, and reading the note. It was a small printed note new Roman times print.

Dear (Name),

We are writing to thank you for agreeing to be part of our Beta Testing team for our upcoming game! We are looking forward to your help in making sure that the game is as perfect and entertaining as possible for our players.

We are sending you the only existing copy of the game for you to play through and report any glitches or bugs you may find. We understand that it is only a beta build of the game and that there will probably be some issues, and we greatly appreciate you taking the time to report any issues you may find.

Once again, thank you for being part of the Beta Testing process and helping us make the game as good as it can be. We look forward to seeing your feedback.

Sincerely, WB games

She sighed agitated "I only agreed to do it because I needed the money," She said as she sat on the floor she opened the case and took out the disk. She slipped it into the PS5 slot picked up the remote and turned the TV on "Let's get this over with" she muttered as she set it up to download the game. While she waited she picked up the art book for the game, That they sent to her exclusively, looked through the concepts of the game, and looked at the different locations. after about 2 and a half hours she watched the title screen roll in "Finally" She said closing the book and picking up the controller ready to play.

2 hours later

"WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO TO THE TIMELINE!?"

(Name) looked at the game in shock. She had started with the tower stories rather than the actual story mode. So far she got the gist of some things.

Kuai Liang was a scorpion and was going to marry Harumi, Hanzo was a 15-year-old boy, Sindel was going to die, Lie mei was a kombatant again, Shao Kahn was alive, Mileena and Kitana were twins, Tanya and Mileena in a secret relationship? (Name) groaned pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes in frustration "Jesus Christ Liu Kang...making the timeline a reboot" She said before dropping her hand from her nose as she looked up at the roster for the next ladder. It didn't hurt her that Mileena was with Tanya if anything She felt slightly happy that her former love found her happiness. Her eyes soften "Well done, Beautiful" She whispered.

"Alright. Who's next?" She says as she flits around the screen when she finally lands on Geras selects his character and uses Sub-Zero as the cameo. His first opponent is Kitana and Scorpion. (Name) waits for the signal to fight when the intros are finished the words fight appear on the screen. She goes to move Geras but nothing happens "...What the..." She mumbles and fiddles with the controller. The strange thing is Kitana isn't moving either just standing there. (Name) grows frustrated "Come on Gera! move!" She shouts as thunder sounds off outside the window causing a flash of light across the dark room...When Geras moves.

Facing her.

(Name) is confused seeing him fully face her, as Kitana disappears, and the camera places him at the center of the screen. He places his hands behind his back "My apologies, Lady (Name), for interrupting your work" He states. (Name)'s jaw drops "How is this..." She muttered unaware of the sand slowly sifting across the floor behind her "We do not have much time. I am sorry for this, My Lady" He said looking ashamed confusing (Name) further "What are you-?!" She is interrupted by the sand behind her whipping around her room like a storm causing her to cross her arms over to cover her eyes as her braids flay erratically around in the storm as does her bag and flannel. The camera moves to her feet as they turn to sand and quickly moves up her body soon covering her. The sand formed a tornado around her before the top of it darted towards the TV pulling her in along with it.

Once the storm subsided all that was left behind was some sand on the ground before the screen faded to black

"Forgive me, My Lady...But this universe needs you now more than ever"

The scene changes to the sun that had yet to come up over the horizon, giving the landscape an eerie and missed hue. The sky was still painted various shades of navy blue and silver, fading out into the darkness of night underneath the stars. The air was still and silent as the village of Fengjian lay – untouched by any sound – just the idyllic meadows, the few tall trees, and the distant rolling hills.

(Name) was lying unconscious on the ground, on her back, with her bag around her. She stirred awake as the sunlight hit her closed eyes, making them flutter open. She briefly opens them before squeezing them shut and slowly sitting up holding her head with one hand while using the other to prop herself up groaning in pain "Ooooh...my head..." She said trying to open her eyes. Once she does she quickly takes notice of where she is. She looks around the vast land where she sees nearly nothing but rolling hills and flat fields for farming. She sees buildings in the distance and notices some of them look familiar "...no..." She mutters as she staggers to her feet and stumbles forward a bit recognising the biggest building.

The Fengjian teahouse.

Her eyes go from shocked to angry in a matter of seconds, her teeth gritted "You've got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME!" She yelled in anger. She couldn't believe that she was back in the same universe that had caused her so much pain. The tears started to flow, and she felt her chest constrict with emotion. She had been through this universe before, and the memories of the pain it had caused her came flooding back in a wave of agony. She felt so powerless, so helpless, and her anger grew with each passing second.

She couldn't believe she had been brought back here. It was like a cruel joke, a punishment for something she hadn't even done. She wanted to lash out, to fight back, to do something to make it all go away, but there was nothing she could do. She slowly started to calm down and wipe her tears.

"My goodness. Why are you crying, Young lady?"

(Name) turned her head to face who spoke to her. There stood an old woman wearing a slightly dulled pink and purple long-sleeved qipao dress, with embroidered sleeves, a purple sash around her waist, brown pants underneath, white sneakers, and a cigarette packet sticking up out of the sash a bit. her face showed many wrinkles indicating her age was somewhere in the 70s or even 80s, her hair grey pulled back into a neat and flower-like bun held together with a blue flower hairpin and a kind smile.

Understanding that the woman who stood beside her was the character Madam Bo was a shock and it truly showed "Well?" Madam Bo asked "I...I um...I'm sorry..."(Name) said looking down ashamed "I'm just lost, ma'am, I've-" "I can see that. Not many people walk around dressed like that unless they're from out of the country" Madam Bo interrupted gesturing to (Name)'s clothes and making her look down with a frown "You new or something?" (Name) looked at Madam Bo "Something like that" She replied bending down and picking up her bag to sling it across her body. She dug through it and checked her phone to see if it was working still, thankfully it still worked causing a sigh of relief to escape her. She turned to Madam Bo "Thank you for checking on me but I better get going...I need to find a way to..." (Name) trailed off shaking her head before beginning to walk away.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Viper"

(Name) stopped in her tracks before slowly looking back at, the now smirking, Madam Bo ".....How do you know that name?" She whispered. Madam Bo simply chuckled and walked past her smiling after walking a few feet ahead she turned back to (Name) "Well? follow and find out" She said and continued walking having (Name) quickly stumble to catch up to her.

The scene changes to Madam Bo and (Name) sitting at a table in the teahouse with two cups of hot tea and a large book on the table while her bag hangs on the back of the chair. The Tea House is Fengjian's heart and soul. Villagers gather here to relax, gossip, and enjoy Madam Bo's homestyle cookery. Whether you're starting your day, or winding down at night, the Tea House has a special blend made just for you. (Name) takes the cup of tea thanking Madam Bo "You called me Viper. How exactly do you know that name? Or how you know that name belonged to me?" She asked. Madam Bo smiled "Looks like you don't even know who YOU are, my dear" She replied as she opened the large book to a marked page before sliding across the table to (Name).  The old thick book was a large, rectangular object, bound in brown leather. Its pages were yellowed with age, and some were starting to come loose. The edges of the pages were worn from the thousands of times they had been read and consulted. Its spine was creased, as if its old, leather cover had been opened and closed countless times. Splashed across its exterior was a maroon pattern, which only added to its aged look. If one were to look closely, one would notice small imperfections, like dented corners, which further attested to its years of use. She looked down at the book in confusion then shock.

The book depicted her as some kind of legend. It described her to be a fierce warrior of truth and justice who would use her flames to snuff out those who would harm others for their selfish gain but would shelter those who were in need. The legend for her was that she disappeared one day never to be seen again. On the left side of the book were two paintings of her. In one of them, her hair was pulled back into a braid with a gold ribbon running through it, an orange-colored tunic underneath a gold breast/torso plate, gold wrist guards, burgundy long pants, brown boots with gold thigh guards, one-hand raised holding a ball of fire, looking at it with anger, while the other leaning on a large sword. The other one right was of her wearing an off-shoulder orange crop bra with a gold band under the bust holding an amber gem in its center, her long skirt ombres from orange to cream with deep orange clothes wrapped around her hips similar to ancient Egyptians, gold armlets and wrist guards with a silk cream colored material on both arms connected, a gold intricate collar and a light orange lily tucked behind her ear. Her long (hair colour) hair is loose and reaching the floor as she holds a ball of embers in one raised hand smiling softly at it.

(Name) was in shock and confusion at the picture and looks back at Madam Bo, who gives her a knowing smile, confused even more "I...I don't understand...how am I a part of this..." She held her tongue from saying timeline making Madem Bo believe she was at a loss for words causing her to chuckle "Your legacy has been around since before the time of the great Kung Lao, my dear, crafted into the very walls of shaolin minds and history. The name everyone hears when they see this image? Viper" She says lighting a cigarette "This doesn't make sense though. I'm not Viper...not anymore" (Name) says sadly looking away. Madam Bo looked at her for a few moments and inhaled her cigarette before exhaling "Well then...If you're not Viper anymore what do I call you?" She asked "(Name)...just (Name)" (Name) replied looking back up at her "Alright (Name). I am Madam Bo" "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Bo...you said the shaolin know about me?"

Madame Bo nods "Indeed as do a few other cultures. Not sure how many exactly but a few at least. Each one depicts you differently but always with the same face" "Wow" Madam Bo smirks "We have a lot to talk about, My dear"

The scene changes to the morning light streaming into an old dusty room and the dust particles glowed in the air like fireflies. It was the bedroom of an old teahouse, and the furniture was a testament to the rural Chinese designs of the past.

In the corner of the room, there was a wooden bed that was almost a century old. It was made with a dark lacquered finish. The headboard of the bed was a simple design with little child drawings carved into it. On the bed was a quilt made of cotton, and it was the color of sand.

On the opposite wall of the bed was a wooden armoire. The armoire was painted in a bright red color, and its doors were adorned with intricate designs of cranes and bamboo. Inside the armoire were several shelves and drawers, filled with clothing and other items.

In the center of the room was a black lacquered table. The table was of a unique design, its legs were curved elegantly, and its surface was painted with a pattern of white and gold. On the table was a vase filled with fresh flowers, and several teacups filled with tea.

On the wall opposite the table was a large mirror. The frame of the mirror was made of dark lacquered wood, and it was intricately carved with scenes of nature. There were several shelves beneath the mirror, and on them were several items of clothing and other decorations.

On the wall next to the armoire was a painting of a rural Chinese landscape. The painting was done in a traditional style, and it depicted a tranquil scene. The colors were vibrant, and the detail was exquisite.

The room was filled with many other items, all of which were made in the old rural Chinese style. There were several lamps, which were made of brass and glass, and they cast a soft glow throughout the room. There were also several wooden chairs, and they were covered in embroidered cushions.

The walls of the bedroom were adorned with many paintings and tapestries. The paintings depicted scenes of rural Chinese life, and the tapestries were of the same style. The colors were bright and vivid, and they were a reminder of the old days.

The room was filled with a sense of nostalgia, and it was easy to imagine the people who used to occupy this room. The furniture was worn, but still beautiful, and it was a testament to the skill of the people who crafted it. The room was a reminder of the beauty of rural China, and it was a place of peace and tranquility. Madam Bo and (Name) stepped into the room "This is where you will be staying, my dear, it's been many years since someone has occupied this room" She said as she began to walk out "Thank you, Madam Bo" (Name) said smiling softly and placing her bag on the dusty bed.

(Name) is left with her thoughts as she sits on the bed. She looks down at her hands going through her memories as to how this had happened "Geras....why did you bring me into this?" She whispered to herself.

The scene changes to what seems to be a few days later (Name) isn't one to talk to anyone. where she had once been someone happy to talk to anyone now she preferred the solitude and quiet of her loneliness. It wasn't that she couldn't talk to anyone it was that she didn't want to get attached to anyone only to lose them. No smile was ever present on her face and if there was one it was out of politeness. Never out of joy. 

As she strolled through the teahouse, the smell of nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon aromas filled the air. (Name)'s ears perked up as she heard the faint sound of a raised voice - it was coming from the kitchen. She stopped and listened more closely, attempting to understand just what was driving the commotion.

(Name) ducked her head around the corner and spotted two flustered cooks, one of them with their hair all askew and their faces flush. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening. The stove, close to the center of the kitchen, had gone kaput and wouldn't light up.

The first of the two cooks was a slim man with jet-black hair that hung over his forehead. He had sharp, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with a spark of creativity, and a slightly crooked nose that hinted at an interesting backstory. He was dressed in a crisp, spotless white chef’s coat with black buttons, dark trousers, and spotless safety shoes. To complete the ensemble, he had a white cook’s apron around his waist.

The second cook was a bigger man, but he was also tall and muscularly built. He had a rounder face, and his head was shaved close. He wore an identical chef’s coat to the first cook, but his trousers had thick white stripes down the sides. To finish his uniform, he wore a pair of heavy-looking black boots. 

The large stove, in question, looks aged and impressive, standing at about the same height as a person and spanning six square feet in width and length. Its upper surface is covered in ornate blue embossed tile framed in black metal which gives it a unique appearance. Its sides are decorated with intricate designs, from swirling dragons to blooming lotus flowers, all highlighted with small bits of colorful ceramic.

The stove has two large central openings accessible from both sides and two smaller ones at the back. They are each covered by elaborately designed metal covers. The edges of the stove are made of sturdy iron and each one is detailed with beautiful etchings along each side. There are two large trays located at the front and back of the stove and within each tray are individual removable metal bowls which are used to cook a variety of dishes.

The stove is powered by a large wood or charcoal-filled fire bowl housed underneath. The fire is controlled by two large handles located on either side of the stove. Also underneath, two metal racks act as shelves, helping to contain the heat during cooking.

(Name) stepped closer but hesitated questioning herself if was she overstepping her boundaries or being too intrusive. But she quickly squashed these thoughts, opting to help instead. She cleared her throat and made her presence known "Hey...Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked a bit nervous.

The two cooks broke off from their quarrel and looked at (Name) with surprise. They were hesitant until one of them sighed "How much do you know about old stoves?" He asked "A bit not much but it can't hurt to look," she said as she removed her flannel and knelt by the stove, taking a moment to survey the problem before opening it up. She saw immediately the issue "Well there's your problem! When was the last time you guys cleaned this thing?" She asked, her voice reverberating in the stove "There's a build-up of thick soot within the innards I'm pretty sure that's what's preventing the flint from sparking up" 

For what felt like an eternity, (Name) sank her hands deeply into the stove, searching blindly for the hard-to-find components. She was passed a variety of tools by the cooks, their faces increasingly worried as the minutes trundled by. (Name) worked diligently, her arms aching from digging deep within the machines' innards, her fingertips sore from her search.

Finally, after pushing herself to the brink, (Name) pulled her hand from the stove with a satisfaction- she had done it. Using the tools provided, she had successfully cleaned out the soot and ash build-up and, as if by magic, the flint sparked to life, returning the stove to its full glory. The kitchen staff erupted into cheers, high-fiving her in congratulations. (Name) watched as they celebrated, feeling her heart swell with pride.

The scene changed to the back of the teahouse a month later. There lay a small garden that was a sight to behold. , a collection of lush green vegetation could be found, surrounded by a simple wooden fence. Sitting at the back of the teahouse, the garden was only just in the process of becoming something more than an outlet for (Name).

(Name) had become responsible for the garden's well-being since some of the servers told her about the abandonment it received. Though reserved and unsociable due to her wishes not to get close to anyone, (Name)'s passion for the garden was evident in her approach, and her gentle demeanor often allowed her to be just the right amount of charming with a subtle hint of authority if needed.

(Name) would start her work late in the morning when the sun rose high into the sky, welcoming the day's mild heat. She could be spotted in the garden, trowel in hand, planting various fruits, berries, vegetables, herbs, and spices into the soft dirt. The summer breeze carried the hint of lavender and basil past her nose, making it difficult to retain focus. With the air full of the aroma of soil, (Name)'s dedication to the task at hand was unwavering.

The garden was a place of respite for her from the crowds and gave her the ability to avoid anyone who was involved directly with the Mortal Kombat events yet to come. With the garden rows neatly arranged from one end to the other, it was a sight to take in. The fruit bushes were lined up at the northern corner of the garden and stretched up to the edges side by side, branded with the same rust-colored wooden stakes that marked the entirety of the garden. The vegetables, such as pumpkins, beans, and squash, were placed together along the western side, each one accompanied by its sturdy trellis crafted from wood and metallic wire. The southern section bowed out inwards as the herbs and spices were planted in several mounds along the ground, creating an inviting pathway for anyone ready to explore the area.

The amount of money she spent on buying the already sprouted plants that would grow into fruits and vegetables to speed up the process of gaining fresh produce had left her in debt with Madam Bo even more due to the fact that she hadn't had any money when she arrived. She felt guilty borrowing the money from her but swore she'd pay everything back to her.

Though it didn't look like much, the garden was a beloved part of her life in the village. (Name) enjoyed no words of praise nor monetary reward, but the small glimmer in her eyes when she gave anything produced to Madam Bo to use was all that was needed to be told how fulfilled she felt when she grew her produce.

Tucked away at the back of the teahouse, the small garden was the perfect place to while away the afternoon on a sunny day. The warmth of the sun shining high above was inviting and refreshing. Surrounded by a fence of simple timber, this little sanctuary remained hidden from prying eyes. Here, (Name)'s passion for her work was showcased and appreciated, and it was here that the plants of this proud oasis were brought to life.

The scene changes to the outside of the teahouse at the back away from the garden. grunting is heard from around the corner where (Name) is striking a thick wooden post sticking out of the ground with her fists, which are wrapped up in bandages, and her feet. Her flannel is hung over a fence nearby as she hits the post over and over and over again. Her focus is solely on the post as she hits it ignoring any soreness or sting in her hands. Despite not being able to train for years she never forgot how to fight. Not after her training with the SF, not after her training with Mileena nor after her training with the Shirai ryu. Those memories she could look back on with fondness.

It had been nearly a month since she arrived back in this universe, where she trained in secret where the training post was, it wasn’t until now, as she stood at the back of the teahouse and unleashed her ferocious strikes and kicks against a thick wooden post, that she truly felt alive and in control. Her feet twisted and spun as she moved around the post, her arms jabbing and blocking as she switched between techniques. The air seemed to crackle with electricity as she attacked the post over and over again, a fierceness in her movements that belied her age.

It was different from her training from years ago for sure. In the months she's been here she hadn't been able to conjure a single flame not even a spark. Her fire abilities seem to have disappeared. Once again she had lost another part of herself that she had hoped to find returning to this world as a small consolation. As disappointing as it was to lose them maybe it was for the best. She felt a little less troubled by the fact that maybe she could hide away from whatever Mortal Kombat tournament would take place and maybe then avoid whatever Geras brought her here for.

For minutes that seemed like hours, (Name) repeated her strikes and kicks until her body ached and her breathing became labored. But she pushed on, leaning into each strike and kick, her mind repeating her movements as if she were in a trance. The post creaked and groaned as it withstood her assault, but still, it did not give way. Memories flooded her mind with every strike.

Her first encounter with Raiden and Liu Kang Strike Meeting Scorpion Strike Fighting Shang Tsung Strike Meeting Mileena Strike Her first kiss with Tomas strike Falling for Mileena Strike Losing her Strike Finding Calithea Strike Losing Hanzo Strike LoSiNg CaLiThEa! STRIKE

Suddenly, a force much greater than anything she had previously exerted seemed to pass through her body. She stepped back and released a loud cry, her spinning heel kick connecting squarely with the post. The wood split in half, both pieces tumbling to the ground.

(Name) stood back, panting for breath, yet feeling strangely triumphant. She took a few paces back, her eyes fixed on the broken post then she looked down at her hands, her knuckles red, bleeding a bit, and bruised up, with a nod as she clenched them "Still got it" She said before wiping the sweat off her brow then walking to the fence to grab her flannel.

Unknown to her that watching from the top balcony of the teahouse was Madam Bo. She was smiling with a knowing glimmer in her eyes "And she says she's not Viper anymore" She said laughing to herself before walking back into the teahouse to write a letter to a certain god that there was another candidate for him.

The scene changes to the balcony of the teahouse where (Name) sits alone on the railing and looks up at the moon. She thought of all the promises she made to herself that she never kept. Tears began filling her eyes as the realization that she still hadn't gotten over what Liu Kang did to her nor was she over the fact that no one would know her as she was instead they would see a legendary hero...not the friend who stood by their side.

(Name) raised her spirited drink to her lips and took a sip. The warmth of the liquid felt comforting and she found comfort in the taste. She closed her eyes and let the wind dance around her flushed face. She had been drinking for an hour by now and borderline was drunk at this point but still maintained her balance on the railing.

"Geras...Why did you have to bring me back?"

She opened her eyes slowly staring up at the moon, her eyes melancholic and dulled, as she let the alcohol in her system cloud her mind and speak without a filter.

"You couldn't have let me be, huh? Y-you-you-you think that what? Just because I came to the last two times to help that I'm some kind of go-too for fixing his problems? News flash, Geras, I'm not!" Tears began streaming down her flushed cheeks, in frustration, as her eyes reddened and anger shone through "I'm not some toy you get to pick up and play with and then discard when you're bored! I'm alive, I think, I feel, I have a heart that beats and eyes that can see this world for what it is! A joke and an absolute joke! The story will end exactly the same as it did with the other ones! so why take me away? Why bring me back into this shit when everything stays the way it was written! Everyone got a happy ending except for me! What the fuck is that about!?"

She drops her head low for a few moments before looking back up in pain and sorrow with the look of defeat in her eyes "I've already lost...so much, Geras,...the woman I loved, The man I loved...for fuck sake my own daughter...Haven't I given enough? Haven't I suffered enough by now for you to just leave me alone?" The moon gives no reply as (Name) openly sobs into her hands, her body shaking with each sob. She allows her drunken grief to consume her as she cries unaware of the eyes watching her, from beyond the stars, with regret and remorse dancing in them. The screen fades to black with (Name)'s sobbing slowly fading.

"I am sorry, My Lady, but this is needed for this world...and for you"

The scene opens to 2 months afterward with the sun shining down on (Name) and Madam Bo as they stand out the front of the teahouse. (Name)'s clothes have changed to a white peasant blouse with sleeves to the elbows, a long ankle-length green skirt, brown flats with crossover straps, her hobo crossbody bag with her clothes, and a white wide-brim sunhat with a black ribbon around it. Her hair was in braids again but longer above her mid-thigh. The travel cart was making the last calls for departure.

"You sure you can't stay a little longer, Dear?" Madam Bo asked with a sad frown on her face as she straightened up (Name)'s shirt "Ma, I'm fine really. I promise I'll write to you every week to let you know how I'm doing" (Name) said trying to assure Madam Bo. She had started Calling Madam Bo 'Ma' around a month ago and it just stuck. Madam Bo sighed as she let her hands drop to her side and looked (Name) in the eye "You'd better. I can't have you disappearing on me" "I'll be ok, Ma, I'll come back in 3 months I swear. I just want to travel for a bit and make something of myself I don't want the name 'Viper' being the only thing that defines me" (Name) replied "I know. It was nice having you here but even I know I can't keep you here forever" Madam Bo said before hugging (Name) "Make sure you come back in 3 months on the dot" (Name) nodded "I promise, Ma, I promise!"

"Last call for departure!" The cart driver called out causing Madam Bo to let go and (Name) to quickly dash off to the cart. after a few steps, she bumped into someone causing the hat to fly off and onto the ground"Oh! I'm so sorry! Here let me get...that" The person said gently picking up the hat "No it's my fault really" (Name) said taking the hat from the man. His brown eyes meet hers as he looks at her from underneath his Chinese coolie hat not used to seeing a new face in Fengjian. (Name) quickly turns to the cart and hops onto it "BYE MA!" She called out as it drove off down the road leaving the man to watch her as she fades off into the distance while Madam Bo waves goodbye to her 'daughter' "You're here early today. Aren't you, Raiden?" Madam Bo asked not taking her eyes off the cart "I wanted to come here for once without having to foot the bill for Kung Lao," He said laughing.

The scene changes to a village bathed in moonlight. (Name) had been wandering for what felt like an eternity, even though it had only been a few days. She had turned off the main road in favor of taking the scenic route, winding her way through the villages and hamlets that dotted the countryside. This late in-the-evening air was cool and still, with nothing but the faint buzz of cicadas and distant birdsong to break the silence.

(Name) slowly made her way through the village, the full moon lighting her path as she walked. She saw as the buildings of the village shimmered in the light, their sloped roofs reaching up into the night sky. The dirt road streets were so quiet with only the occasional villager out and about. She could see people walking back to their homes, while some were huddled near the local taverns sipping from their drinks and chatting.

As (Name) walked further into the village she noticed how dark it was, shadowed alleys in the darkness, mysterious buildings lit up by the dimly lit lanterns that lined the roads. The windows of the buildings glowed yellow in the moonlight, settlers were asleep inside their homes. Along the way, she saw Chinese symbols and intricate carvings encapsulated in the walls of the village buildings, which shined in the lantern light as she passed them.

As (Name) walked further, she sensed something was off. She could feel a tingling along the edges of her skin, a warning sign that something was amiss. She kept walking, her pace becoming more vigilant and alert to her surroundings.

Just then, she heard a commotion ahead of her. It sounded like shouting and cursing coming from a nearby alley. (Name) quietly picked up her pace, curiosity getting the better of her.

As she rounded the corner, she was horrified to find a group of roughly seven men standing with pipes and clubs, surrounding a little girl, with black hair and fair skin, who was huddled against her unconscious mother’s body. The girl was sobbing and shaking her mother, desperately trying to wake her.

The little girl looked too much like Calithea.

(Name) felt a wave of pure rage surge through her; these men were preying on this defenseless woman and her child. There was no way (Name) could let this stand. She rushed forward, determined to protect them.

As she barged her way through the crowd, the men stopped in surprise. (Name) felt something stir deep within her, something she had long suppressed but which now seemed to be reaching out in a desperate attempt to protect the two civilians, and before she knew what was happening, she felt the heat beginning to build in her palms and arms. Tendrils of flames started to erupt, curling and folding around each other, growing ever larger and brighter. As she raised her arms, they began to spread outwards around her body.

The men seemed surprised by the sudden display of power in front of them and took a couple of steps back. (Name)'s flames continued to build, her anger and outrage at the injustice of this unfairness morphing and twisting the fire into shapes and colors that she had never seen before.

The flames reached out further, encircling (Name) in a protective flame that extended outwards in all directions, blocking the brutes from getting close enough to do any additional harm.

(Name) stood there, her heart racing and her emotions in a knot, feeling her power but also feeling utterly drained and exhausted. She sent a wave of fire and energy around her, pushing the men away and ushering in a sense of safety and protection for the woman and her daughter.

The men exchanged terrified looks and turned to flee before the furious inferno that had appeared before them. (Name) scoffed at the retreating forms, her hands extinguished and her fury abating.

She then looked down at her hands in confusion. She hadn't used her fire abilities in years thinking they had disappeared, and yet here they were, responding to her anger as if they had always been a part of her. She shook her head, her recent revelations pushed to the back of her mind.

She turned to find the little girl still sitting beside her unconscious mother, eyes wide with shock. (Name) knelt before her and gently asked, “Are you alright?”

The girl nodded looking up at her with big green eyes, Kaitlyns heart sank slightly as that was the only one of the few differences between her and Calithea, "Thank you, Miss" She sniffled. (Name) waved her thanks away "No problem but we need to get you're mum to a doctor. Don't worry, doll, I got her" (Name) said picking up the mother and carrying her on her back.

(Name) quickly found the local doctor’s office after walking with the little girl for a few minutes, thankfully they were still open but the looks on their faces when they saw (Name) carrying the mother and the daughter standing next to her with scratches was a sight. After some medical attention and a few hours of rest, the woman was thankfully alright. (Name) was exhausted by the evening’s events and knew she needed rest. She continued on her journey and soon found the local inn where she was able to get a much-needed night’s sleep.

The following morning, (Name) awoke to a knock at the door. She opened it to find the same little girl from the night before, with her mother behind her, standing before her, tears in her eyes and a silver necklace in her hands "Thank you for protecting my mommy and me!" she once again thanked her for her help, before slipping the necklace into (Name)’s hand and running away with her mother following after her. (Name) looked after her, moved by the girl’s appreciation. She opened her hand to find the necklace with a simple circle pendant. Her heart swelled with the girls' kindness as she slipped the necklace on yet she still didn't smile but there was a slight twinkle in her eyes.

2 months later reads across the screen changing the scene to the village where the sound of a monkey wrench being used can be heard coming from an open shed. (Name) sat in her open shed, her motorcycle in pieces in front of her. The sun was high, beating down on her and the few buildings that populated the area. (Name) had been in this village for exactly two months now, and in that time it had become her home. In the short time she had been there, those in the small town had come to rely on her for fixing their various things.

She nods to herself as she surveyed her work. From where she was sitting, the motorcycle was made up of titanium, steel, and tungsten parts - all put together by her.

(Name) had on long jeans, her white singlet, and her brown boots. Her (hair colour) hair was tied up in a high bun, ensuring it stayed out of the way as she worked on her motorcycle's engine. Not that it mattered, as she already had smudges of oil on her otherwise fair skin. luckily she hung up her flannel on the hook behind her.

Glancing around the village, (Name) thought to herself that it was hot. She thought of the heat that must have been radiating from her shed, and of how she had been there all day with no break - not even for lunch. (Name) knelt in front of her bike and inspected the engine, her brow furrowed in contemplation "Son of a bitch" She grumbled as she worked on putting the engine together. She had to obtain the specific metals so that she could have her bike run on two different fuel sources. Petrol of course to avoid any unwanted attention not like the other option.

Her fire.

She had planned this for the past month and a half. Getting the materials was easy it was forging the parts that were hard for her. Tungsten and titanium don't melt easily. Tungesten melts at 5600* while titanium melts at 3000* She had to figure out how to meld them together with steel so that she could build the bike up from scratch. using the two specific metals made her bike damn near fireproof meaning she couldn't melt it as long as she didn't use her fire at half-strength which was easy enough.

She had been training with her abilities in the fields on some nights away from any civilian life to prevent any injuries to others. They hadn't changed all that much, maybe her anger fueled it a bit too much at times, yes but there wasn't all that much different from what she used to do.

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and (Name) knew it was about time to end her day's work. As she collected her tools and carefully put the pieces of her bike back in place.

The cruiser motorcycle was a sight to behold, sleek and powerful, yet elegant and compact. It was a perfect combination of classic looks and heavy-duty performance. Its frame was constructed from a combination of titanium, tungsten, and steel, all of which lent the bike its incredible fire and heat resistance, able to withstand temperatures of up to 5000 degrees Celsius. The black leather seating was comfortable yet beautiful, the handlebars soft and easy to hold onto, and the strong headlight shone brightly during the night.

To complete the look were two side saddle bags, affixed to each side of the bike for storage. These bags were made of tough leather, able to resist wear and tear, as well as provide plenty of space for items.

Yet, the most impressive feature of this cruiser motorcycle was its ability to run on her firepower. In the event of a fuel shortage, the bike would still be able to function from the energy generated by the fire she supplied. This allowed it to be used in areas where fuel was not easily available, making it an even more reliable and attractive vehicle.

The bike was energized by the roar of its engine, capable of moving forward at an impressive speed. By its looks, it was clear that it was designed to be a reliable and steady machine, one that its rider could count on.

This cruiser motorcycle was a sight to behold, a brilliant combination of beauty and performance that was sure to make any rider proud. It was robust and dependable, able to withstand intense heat and fire, and yet still retain its style and charm. Its strong headlight and side saddle bags provided extra functionality, and its ability to run on firepower made it an invaluable tool for remote studies. This hefty, classic-looking bike was a true powerhouse that any rider could count on.

She loved how beautifully put together her bike was as she began closing up the shed with a nod of approval and locked it up. She turned around with her toolbox in one hand and her hoodie in the other as she made her way back to her little house ready for what was to come.

Later that night they came back.

The six bandits were a motley crew, all of them draped in tattered cloaks and cloaked in hoods that hid their true identities. The leader of the pack had a jagged scar running down his left cheek, and the others - six men and three women - were equally as rough in appearance.

They burst through the village in the dead of night, their cackles ringing out loud across the sleeping streets. The bandits wasted no time messing with the villagers' stalls, standing firm with their arms crossed even in the face of the enraged complaints of the angry vendors. They plundered and tore through the booths, grasping merchandise in their hands and stuffing their bags with all they could find. The leader of the bandits went around brandishing a hefty stick, lashing out at anyone who looked twice at them.

The villagers, rightfully scared of the bandits' violent behavior, stayed indoors as the bandits pillaged the stalls to their heart's content. The frightened market-goers looked out from their windows at the chaotic scene developing before their eyes, familiar faces that had been shopping there for years now dreading the thought of the bandits returning. The villagers acted like rats in a maze, waiting for the bandits to eventually release them from their fear.

The six bandits were loud and oppressive, their bulky frames intimidating and their unkempt hair billowing in the night breeze. They were clad in leather and carried daggers and swords in makeshift scabbards. Their boots stomped on the cobblestones as they began to make off with their plunder. The villagers, scared and trembling, waited hunkered in their homes waiting until the bandits had moved on.

But the bandits were unaware of the return of a legend.

"I don't think those belong to you"

The bandits look around trying to find who dared to speak out against them "Up here" They all look up to the building where the moon hangs over.

There on the roof stood a silhouetted figure loomed over them. Her mid-thigh length hair floated slightly in the wind gently, her nose and mouth covered by a black bandana, a black sleeveless shirt, black fingerless gloves, black leggings, black ankle boots with silver rivets on the sides, chains wrapped around both of her forearms, a long black pole strapped to her back and her piercing (eye colour) eyes trained on them in a glare as she stood there in a crouched position with her forearms laying on her thighs.

"What the-" "Drop the valuables they're not yours. If you do that you can walk away without any harm done. You DON'T drop them you won't be walking away from this" (Name) said in a calm and ice-cold tone of voice that sent shivers of fear down some of their spines. One of the women stepped up. "Like we'll listen to you! Fucking coward standing above us up there!" She yelled up making some of her friends laugh. (Name) remains silent for a few moments before she straightens herself up "I gave you a chance. Now suffer the consequences" she says as she walks to the side of the roof and drops into the dark alley disappearing into its inky blackness. It's silent for a few moments and the bandits begin to believe that she is all bark and no bite laughing and mocking her.

until there was a little light in the alley.

In the darkness, (Name) raised her arms and suddenly the alleyway transformed. Fire engulfed the walls and the ground beneath them seemed to ripple as flames lapped up against the stone. She had a scythe in one hand--its silver blade reflecting the orange light as its tip cut through the air. In the other was a chain of metal, glinting in the fire. While the chains were simple silver the Scythe was another story. 

The long scythe was awe-inspiring and had a dangerous air about it. It was a thing of beauty; not that of the clean and inoffensive kind, but rather, of a wild, feral beauty.

The scythe had two distinct colors, complimentary and in perfect harmony: silver and black. The pole was a black design with slim lines through it like cracks in the ground which seemed to show the inside of the scythe, slim and strong. The silver blade was set on a short yet powerful black iron arm, where the design on the handle stood out exquisitely despite its darkness. The blade itself was in the shape of a large fang but still looked very similar to that of a grim reaper's scythe. the design on it was simple for the most part, with no special designs, and no patterns but the edge of the blade was more defined as a lighter silver.

The bandits stood in shock. The female vigilante had come for them and she wasn't here to give them another chance.

She strode towards them, her movements fluid and graceful as the flames danced around her. With one swift movement, she swung her scythe, and as the lines on either side of the pole lit up with her fire, the edge of the blade glowed bright and sent the flames soaring outwards, scorching the faces of the bandits and immolating the stone. The bandits yelled and scrambled, trying to outrun the fire, but the woman was relentless. She swung her scythe at the first bandit severing his arm from above the elbow. He screams in pain but is quickly silenced by her decapitating him. Another bandit tried to charge at her but didn't get even close as she swung her scythe again upwards slicing her left leg off and making her scream and howl in pain. The man and the other two women tried to run from her. A chain flew out from the alley and wrapped around one of the women's throats choking her. (Name) heated the metal causing the chain around her forearm and hand to glow bright with the conducted heat. The glow traveled up the chain to around the woman's neck. She tried to scream but the glowling hot chain was pulled back severing her head and letting it roll on the ground.

(Name) twirled her scythe and sent out a shockwave of flame that engulfed them, burning them to ashes in a matter of seconds leaving two of the bandits alive and on their asses.

The two bandits looked at each other in horror then at (Name) as she loomed over them like a specter of hell the moon shadowing her features except for her glowling eyes that held no remorse. Just a cold dead stare "P-Please! w-w-we're sorry! we'll give everything back! we swear!" The female bandit from earlier stammered as her leader trembled in fear with sweat beading from his head. (Name) tilted her head and narrowed her eyes "....You are to leave everything you have taken from these people...then you will spread a message for me to every single one of your friends and anyone else who wants to prey on the innocent again" (Name) said calmly with venom dripping from her voice as she leaned in closer causing the pair to shake with fear seeing her grip tighten on her scythe still glowing with fire. The wind carried a chill throughout the village, the fire behind her causing her eyes to look like a predator about to pounce on their prey, her hair being highlighted by its light.

"Viper has returned. She is here to bring swift justice to the degenerates of this world, and none shall be spared her wrath"

The two bandits nod shaking and running off with nothing but the clothes on their backs into the night. (Name) stood in the center, surveying the carnage, her hair billowing in the wind. Satisfied that justice had been served, she extinguished the last traces of flame stepped away from the alleyway entrance, and walked down the street retracting her chains back to her forearms.

This was the monster she had hidden. The monster who fed on her anger, her rage, her heartbreak, and her sorrow. She may be a legend in the books but she took her anger out on those who thought they were above consequence.

Gone was the naive 18-year-old girl who looked at this world with wide eyes and a bright smile, gone was the 22-year-old who was in love and hoped for a future where she could have peace, and gone was the 28-year-old who was a mother in bliss ready to be with the man she loved. Now all that remains is the 24-year-old woman who simply existed and never asked for more.

Kindness, for her, was something she would always have but she swore to keep others at arm's length. (Name) sighs pulling down her mouth mask before returning to her small house to clean off her scythe.

As the fires had begun to die out the darkness of the night swallowed her up, leaving nothing but silence in her wake. Justice had been served, and the town was now safe. The screen fades to black.

Grunting can be heard in the darkness along with air wooshes before the screen brightens to an open field.

(Name) stood in the middle of the training grounds, her long scythe in hand. She had been practicing for hours, and her arms and hands were covered in cuts, a testament to her dedication to her craft. Holding the long scythe tightly, (Name) swung it around her like an extension of her arm. She trained for hours every day in the large field, with wooden poles that she had set up in a makeshift training area. The helix pattern of curved metal that took up more than 1/3 of the scythe's length glinted dangerously in the setting sun's light.

Her breathing was even, her stance sturdy as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes, a comforting brown, were focused and intense, her gaze fixed on an imaginary opponent. She didn't train just for the vigilante shtick she did it to release any extra energy she built up otherwise she'd end up being anxious and get frustrated. (Name) raised the scythe and began to move. She twirled it in her hands, spinning it around her body with an almost graceful ease. It seemed like second nature to her, as if she'd been born to wield such a weapon.

One foot moved forward and the other moved back as she shifted her weight again, her eyes never leaving her imaginary target. The scythe flew in circles around her, its sharp blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

(Name) had been training with her scythe for months now, and it was starting to become second nature to her. She could feel the weight of it in her hands, and the balance of it in her body. She could anticipate her opponent's moves before they even made them, and she was ready to strike at any moment.

She moved forward, her scythe slicing through the air with a deadly accuracy. (Name) was a master of her craft and determined to prove it. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the makeshift training grounds. (Name)'s cuts glistened in the fading light of day, and her breathing was still even and steady as she moved with her weapon.

(Name) had been so deeply engrossed in her training that she hadn't noticed the sun sink low on the horizon. Her arms and shoulders ached from the effort, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She didn't bother keeping track of time while she trained instead she used her determination and anger toward this world's so-called protector to push her forward. She recalls how she had made her scythe with the intention to instill fear in her opponents or any poor unfortunate soul unlucky enough to cross her in any way. She wanted it to be strong enough to withstand her fire much like her bike. Gathering the materials was much easier than designing the weapon.

Since then, she had been training hard, learning to work with any restricting movements with bandages on the skin of her arm, what with all the cuts and scrapes she had amassed due to her intense training with the weapon. Her palms were the worst, the skin on them sore and raw. She brushed a lock of her (hair colour) hair out of her eyes and flexed her fingers.

She was clumsy at first with it in the beginning, getting cut up multiple times, dropping it many times, and missing over and over again but after a few weeks, she was a natural with the scythe. It moved through her hands like an extension of her body, guided by some of her training. She could feel it, a power like no other that thrummed through her, as she continued her training. Her determination, impressive as it was, was beginning to pay off.

(Name) left the makeshift training area and began her way back home. Her feet moved lightly across the ground as she crossed the field, she felt the cold breeze licking at her skin like a gentle caress. She breathed in the fresh, night air. Soon, she was home, her scythe in tow.

At home, (Name) laid her scythe down carefully, its weightless form settling in its place. She rested her head on her pillow and allowed her eyes to close, finally surrendering to the exhaustion of her day. All the while, she knew that when her eyes reopened in the morning, it would be time to pick up her beloved scythe once more.

This was her life now, and she was determined to make the most of it. She did not doubt that she was ready for whatever might come her way. The screen fades to black as the candle nearby is blown out.

The screen shows that enough time has passed to the point of a week before (Name) is to go back to Madam Bo's. She's packing things into her motorcycle's saddles as some villagers come to wish her well. As she places her scythe into its collapsable size in one of the saddlebags the camera pans down her clothes. An orange sleeveless zip-up hoodie open to an inch under her underbust, black shorts, black tight-fitted thigh-high boots, a black mouth mask, and yellow round duo-bubble lens goggles on her head.

"That should be everything" She mutters her mouth opened enough to see her small sharp canines as she adjusts her goggles on her eyes before hopping onto her cycle. She nods in approval as she revs up her cycle, kicks the kick-stand up, and pulls up her black mouth mask  "Atta girl" She praises her creation before taking off down the dirt road into the wide open lands.

The camera pans to a side view of (Name) on her motorcycle giving a full view of the landscape behind her. Her expression was unidentifiable due to the mask and the goggles as dust blew behind her. Her mind focused on only getting back to Fengjian and seeing her Ma again. The camera pans around to the back of her and her hood flutters in the wind underneath her fluttering hair.

She rides off down the dirt road where the camera stops then pans upwards to the blinding sun.

(I promised someone on my wattpad account that I'd post the first chapter of this book in the first week of November so here it is. Understand, however, that the rest of the chapters will take a while to get through since, unlike the previous games, I don't have transcripts of the game to go off of and it'll be hard to watch through the cutscenes of the game and type it up at the same time. until then hope you enjoy the first chapter)