#i sketched out this scene so quickly after i saw it. i feel insane

[justsomerandomplanet]

AUGHHHHHHH

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[unholyobsessions]

Welcome to my dorm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Warnings: eight year age difference. Mentions of kidnapping

Description: the FBI question you about your friend’s disappearance and you can’t help feeling for a certain doctor. (Inspired by scene above)

Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 There was heavy knocking on your door. You rolled over, burying your face deeper in the pillow. “Y/n l/n this is the FBI open up!” You let out a groan followed by a dry laugh. “Real funny Danny now let me sleep,” you yelled loud enough for who you assumed was your friend Danny to hear. The knocking continued, pissing you off. You let out a huff reaching over to your nightstand to put on your glasses and climbed out of your bed. “Damn it Daniel seriously if you don’t knock it off I swe-“ you opened the door and the words died in your throat. 

Two very attractive men were standing in front of you holding FBI badges up. You saw them eye you up and down which prompted you to look down at yourself. You felt heat rush to your face as you took in the loose booty shorts and bralette you were wearing. Both men put their badges away and stood awkwardly at the door. You snapped out of your embarrassed daze and cleared your throat. “I am not wearing the appropriate clothes for this. Come in.” You stepped out of the way and headed to your closet to grab a random sweatshirt, pulling it over your head. Once you were no longer exposed you turned to face the agents that were now letting their gazes wonder around your dorm room. You found yourself thanking past you for taking the time to clean it two days ago. When they realized that you were now fully dressed the dark skinned man spoke. “We are sorry to bother you this early, I’m Agent Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid and we need to ask you some questions.” The man who you now identified as Agent Morgan gestured to the tall curly haired man next to him. You smiled gently at both of them before pointing to the two chairs by the desk. “Questions regarding what, Agents?” You asked them as they sat down. “The disappearance of Haley Bowen. She went to school here.” This time it was Dr. Reid that spoke. Your eyes widened, you knew her. “Oh my God okay.” You took a deep breath, your brain not really knowing how to react. “Umm do you guys want coffee? I can’t really function without caffeine in the morning so I’m just going to make a pot.” You changed the subject quickly. Your friend was missing and the agents needed your help. You cannot break down. “No thank you.” Agent Morgan answered at the same time as Dr. Reid said, “Yes please.” You sent him a smile and started preparing the coffee. Morgan gave Reid a look and he shrugged as if to say ‘hey, coffee is coffee.’ “How do you take your coffee? Personally I take mine with too much sugar and too much creamer because I don’t really enjoy the taste of coffee but I’m still kind of addicted to it. Which my friends say makes me insane but I actually think it’s pretty normal. The taste is too bitter, reminds me of dark chocolate,” you stopped yourself. “Sorry I’m rambling I tend to do that in uncomfortable situations.” You looked at Dr. Reid expectantly and it took him a second to realize that you were waiting for his answer. “Oh uh three teaspoons.” He gave a small nod at the sugar in your hand. You smiled widely at him, seemingly glad that you were not the only one to enjoy overly sweet coffee. She’s cute, Spencer found himself thinking. After stirring sugar into both cups you walked over to the agents and handed one of the cups to Dr. Reid. Seeing as there were no more available chairs, you hopped on your desk and sat criss cross facing them. “So why are you asking me about Haley?” You took a long sip of your coffee. “She was last seen at the bar you work at.” Agent Morgan spoke but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off Dr. Reid. He’s cute, you thought. “So she disappeared on Saturday?” You let out a sigh. “You remember seeing her?” This time Reid spoke making direct eye contact with you. You nodded. “She was a regular so we became friends over time. She comes in every weekend to blow off steam. She’s double majoring so she has a lot on her plate. She sits at the bar. Same place every time so I’m always her bartender.” Both Agents nodded at the information given, internally relieved that this interview could result in a lead in the case. “Did you notice anything different about her that night? Anybody that tried to approach her or payed more attention to her?” Dr. Reid asked you. “Well she seemed nervous. She talks to me a lot, rants about her professors and stuff like that. She didn’t talk much on Saturday and she seemed restless. Fidgeting in her seat and playing with the rings on her fingers. I just assumed she was meeting a guy and that’s why she was nervous. I pay attention to her, she gets drunk often and all of the workers like to make sure that nobody too drunk walks home alone or leaves with someone they are uncomfortable with. Whenever she was uncomfortable with a guy trying to make a move on her she played with her rings. That’s when I knew to intervene.” You took a deep breath and a gulp of your coffee, burning your tongue in the process. You felt tears pooling in your eyes and you did your best to blink them away. “Did you see a guy approach her that night?” Again it was Dr. Reid who asked the question, his voice softer this time. You hesitated before answering trying your hardest to remember. “There was this one guy,” you paused, letting your mind wander back to Saturday night. “He wasn’t drunk like most people there. He talked to her while he waited for me to serve him his drink. He got a coke which was strange for someone who was clearly sober to order. I recognized his face but couldn’t place a name. I turned around to serve another group and when I turned back the guy was walking away and Haley was asking for her check. She wasn’t drunk, barely tipsy so I didn’t insist on calling her a cab. Damn it why didn’t I call her a cab?” You couldn’t stop the tears anymore. This was your fault, you should have made sure she got home safely, you should have called her at least. She was your friend and now she could be dead and it will be your fault. Sobs racked your body, your half empty coffee cup slipping from your fingers and shattering on the floor, the sound only making you cry harder. Morgan instinctively reached for your hand the words of comfort ready to be spoken. He was stopped when Reid leaned toward you and grabbed your hand away from your face. He gave it a small tug to make you look at him. He didn’t know what came over him at that moment. He didn’t shake hands and didn’t really touch people but all he knew was that he wanted you to stop crying and he never wanted to see you sad again. “Hey it’s not your fault.” His voice was soft but firm. “There was no way for you to know what would happen and you had no way to stop it. What you told us right now is extremely helpful and will help us bring Haley back home. Okay?” You gave a small nod of your head trying to calm yourself down. “It’s okay just breath with me.” Dr. Reid took a deep breath and you mimicked him continuing until your breathing was back to normal and only a few stray tears were running down your cheeks. “Thank you.” You sniffled and smiled shyly at him. “Would you mind coming down to the station later and giving a description of the man you saw with Haley to a sketch artist?” Dr. Reid looked you in the eyes, his deep look telling you that although it was phrased as a question it was really the only choice you had. “Yeah that’s okay.” You wanted to reach up and rub at your runny nose but you noticed that he was still holding your hand. He felt the slight movement and realized as well. The both of you blushed and averted eye contact while Agent Morgan looked at the two of you with an amused expression. Both Agents stood up signaling that they were prepared to leave. You lead them to the door and they both thanked you for your time. Before you closed the door Dr. Reid handed you his card telling you to call him if you remember anything else that might seem important. You nodded at him, not trusting your voice. You gave him a wide smile which contrasted with your red teary eyes but he still felt the breath being knocked out of him. After the door closed Morgan looked at Reid. “What was that?” Spencer played dumb and started down the dormitory hallway. “What was what?” He pushed the door to the stairs open and looked back at Morgan. “What do you mean ‘what was what’ you were totally into that girl.” Morgan grinned at him and Spencer felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer started down the stairs, making a point to ignore Morgan’s laughter. • • • A few hours later you had taken a shower and put your contacts on. You put on a light face of make up and decided that this time when you met the agents you would be fully clothed so you put on a pair of jeans and a white tank top with a loose button up over it. You slipped on a pair of converse and headed to the police station. You walked up to the front desk and smiled lightly at the woman sitting behind it. “Hi I’m looking for Dr. Reid he told me I was coming in for a sketch.” The woman nodded and gestured someone over. You waited patiently as the two had a conversation and eventually Dr. Reid came into view. You smiled at him and it grew when he gave you a grin back. He guided you through the police station with a hand placed firmly on your back his hand pressing harder when one of the men in the holding cell wolf whistled at you. He brought you to a room where a sketch artist was sitting there waiting. “Here you go.” He mumbled under his breath. “Thank you.” You sat down as Reid left the room. You talked to the sketch artist for about 45 minutes trying to give as much detail as possible. You looked at your watch and noticed your afternoon shift at the bar was starting soon. You quickly thanked the artist and made a quick exit in hopes of not being late. You speed walked all the way to the bar and got there just in time to see the morning bartender ready to leave his shift. He sent you a tight lipped smile as you settled yourself behind the bar. The place was empty except for the man sitting at the bar who looked to be nursing a glass of whiskey. A few minutes later you heard the door ring signaling someone coming in. “Be right with you,” you called as you refilled the man’s glass. He was mumbling something about a cheating girlfriend which made you wince slightly. People dealing with heartbreak at a bar never ended well. You turned around to greet the costumer who had just taken a seat at the bar. Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw Dr. Reid sitting there with a sheepish smile on his beautiful face. “Dr. Reid what can I do for you?” He looked down for a second before making eye contact. He’s nervous, you thought. “I just needed to clear my head for a bit and I wanted to take a look at the scene and try to get a sense of what happened that night.” You nodded your head before giving him your signature smile. “Well can I get you something? I’m not going to offer anything alcoholic since you are still on the job but I do make a mean Arnold palmer.” You sent him a subtle wink, reaching under the bar for a glass. He snorted before accepting your offer. Setting the prepared drink in front of him, you spared a glance at the sulking man to find him slumped in his seat with light snores leaving his mouth. Damn, you thought, this is going to be a slow shift. You turned your attention back to the Dr. who was looking at you with a quirked brow having noticed the frown on your face. You quickly explained how you hated afternoon shifts because they usually consisted of you being bored out of your mind dealing with day drinkers. He struck up conversation to “relieve some of your boredom” as he so kindly put it. Conversation flowed extremely easy between the two of you, talking about anything and everything. From his experience in college to what your favorite song was at the moment. “I have a question,” he spoke after taking a bite of the french fries you had brought out at some point during the conversation. “I may have an answer. Ask away doc.” He smiled lightly at the nickname. “You’re a senior right?” You nodded your head, wondering where this was going. “So why do you still live in the dorms?” You let out a small laugh. “It’s part of my scholarship. I get free housing and I am also an RA.” He took a sip of his drink and mulled over the information. “Now it’s my turn. How old are you?” You told yourself it was an innocent question, that you held no ulterior motives other than curiosity.  His eyebrows rose before he set his glass down. “I’m twenty-nine. You’re twenty-one right?” “Yeah.” Eight years, you thought, not that big of a difference. You internally scolded yourself. You couldn’t be thinking that. He was here doing an investigation on your missing friend. He wasn’t thinking about picking up some random college girl who still lived in the school dormitories. 

Similarly, Spencer was having an internal battle about his feelings. He wanted to believe that what he was feeling was simple protectiveness over a witness, although it was pretty clear that you were not in any sort of danger. 

“So where do you live?” You asked in order to fill the silence that had taken place. “I live about and hour and a half away in D.C.” He felt the need to add the fact that he didn’t live far away from your current location.  “I’ve never been.” You said. He almost chocked on his drink. “You’ve never been to D.C.? But it’s so close!” Again with the proximity, could you be any more obvious? Spencer scolded himself.   “I know I know but I work most weekends and when I’m not working I’m studying so it is kind of hard to get free time.” I’ll take you. That is what he wanted to say. He had to stop before he made a fool out of himself. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way. Sure he has been attracted to plenty of girls before but you were different. You didn’t stop his ramblings about statistics and random facts that he had in his brain. You listened to him and sometimes even asked to him to elaborate more on a certain subject. You also tended to ramble like when he asked about your family, you went on a tangent about how your mom was your best friend and your younger sister had a dream of being a dancer. Or when he asked about your major and you went on to explain all the research you were doing. You were so passionate about everything you talked about. He smiled at the happiness in your eyes. They were still bloodshot from your breakdown this morning but they held so much happiness and hope that he couldn’t help but feel the same. He was about to reply when his phone rang and he realized he had been talking to you for over an hour. More than halfway to D.C., he thought. He answered it and heard Morgan’s voice telling him to head back to the station as they had found the name of the man who talked to Haley that night. “I uh- I have to go.” He gestured behind him to the door but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up yet. You nodded your head, slightly disappointed that he had to leave. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the card he gave you this morning, writing down your number on the back. “Call me if you find her. Please. Dead or alive I don’t care I just don’t want to find out from the news.” You handed him the card and he looked down at it. “Don’t you need my number if you need to call me? If you have more information that is.” He questioned. “Oh I already put it on my phone. Is that weird?” He looked at you with something that you couldn’t put your finger on. “No, not weird. Kind of cute actually.” He smiled down at you, having already stood up from the bar chair. You blushed and looked away from him. Your blush gave him a sudden surge of confidence. “Can I call you? Even if it isn’t about Haley. Can I just call you?” You smiled brightly at him. “Yes Dr. Reid you can call me.” “Spencer,” he said. You gave him a confused look. “Call me Spencer.” He took a step back heading to the door. “Spencer.” You tested the name on your lips, the smile never leaving your face. He grinned at you and walked out the door. • • • The next day you received a call from Spencer after your lecture. You smiled down at your phone before answering. “Spencer to what do I owe the pleasure?” “Hey y/n we found Haley.” Your heart stopped, the voice in your head praying for it to be good news. “She’s alive and being taken to the hospital.” A long breath left your lips as tears stung your eyes. She’s alive. She’s alive. Without thinking you hung up the phone and hurried to find a cab that could take you to the hospital. You payed the man quickly and took off after he pulled up to the curb. You saw Spencer with Agent Morgan and a woman you haven’t seen before but you assumed she was a part of their team. “She’s okay? Please tell me she’s going to be okay.” You started speaking as soon as you were within hearing distance of Spencer. As he soon as he saw you his eyes softened. “She’s in the ICU right now. They are setting her up and her mom is on the way.” He looked down at you and his heart broke at the tears that were making their way down your cheeks. “Oh thank god. Who was it? Was it the guy I-“ your voice broke before you could finish but Spencer understood what you wanted to ask. “Yeah it was. If it wasn’t for you remembering him it would have taken us a lot longer to find her. You saved her y/n okay?” He reassured you because he knew what you were thinking. It was written across your face. You could have stopped him. “You had no way of knowing. Don’t blame yourself.” He placed his hands on your shoulders as you nodded your head weakly. You leaned your head on his chest needing some sort of comfort from what you were feeling. He didn’t push you away. In fact he pulled you closer and let you cry, staining his shirt. Morgan and Prentiss gave each other a bewildered look because Spencer Reid did not hug. Much less strangers who were witnesses on a case. A doctor came into view and cleared his throat. “Haley Bowen,” he called out. You pulled away from Spencer and walked toward the doctor. “Yes?” He gave you a smile which you took to be good news. “She’s going to be fine. She has a concussion, bruised ribs and sprained wrists from being bound but I have no doubt that she will make a full recovery and be out of here in the next few days.” You let out a sigh of relief. “Can I see her?” The doctor shook his head. “Right now it is family only and I’ve been told her mother is not far but after she gets moved out of the ICU tomorrow you can come visit her at any time.” The doctor finished and walked away. You turned back to the three agents who were now looking at you. You felt awkward in their gaze so you locked eyes with Spencer. “Thank you Spencer really. I should go I have a class in about 40 minutes but hey don’t be a stranger.” You pointed an accusing finger at him and he let out a laugh. “Spencer?” Prentiss and Morgan mouthed to each other. “I won’t I swear. I’ll call you later?” He ignored the questioning looks his coworkers were sure to be giving him. “I’d like that. Maybe you can show me around D.C. sometime.” He smiled as he remembered their conversation yesterday. “Definitely.” You blushed, something that you found yourself doing a lot around him. “Bye Spencer.” “See you later y/n.” He watched you disappear from view before turning back to Morgan and Prentiss. “Okay what the hell was that?” Prentiss spoke up first. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He smiled innocently at both of them before walking away in search of coffee, ignoring his friend’s calls from behind him. He wondered if you would mind him calling you earlier than expected.

[fuzzyporcupine]

lead me with your hands tied | chapter 7

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

rating: explicit

word count: 15,443

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 7:

Eren entered the studio with more than enough time to spare. Not in any way dressed for a portrait, but on time nonetheless. Thankfully, Levi only needed to accomplish a sketch today. The attire could be forgiven for now.

Eren leaned against the doorframe, a tight golden waistcoat highlighting the man’s frame.

“I see your illness has faded, Your Highness.” Levi continued to clear his workstation as the prince sighed dramatically.

“As you commanded, artist.” Levi’s fingers stilled over the brushes. He thought about the venom he’d spewed at the prince in the bedroom. Thought about how angry he had been as he marched out of the room. The guards hadn’t paid him any mind as he shuffled back to the studio with tight fists and a furrowed brow, well-warned by Petra. The time alone had allowed him to decompress, to curb his thinking from wrapping his hands around the prince’s neck to that of a brush instead.

“Quite,” Levi muttered, returning to shuffling through his supplies. The sound of advancing footsteps bounced off the stone as Eren approached him from behind. He felt a headache beginning to swell deep beneath his eyes. One that would surely only add fuel to this infuriating fire. Bringing thin fingers between his brow, Levi pressed gently against the soft skin. Usually, he could simply will the pain away. Could push the ache into the dark abscesses of his mind to be reignited on another day. However, now with Eren’s gaze demanding attention, he was finding it hard to ignore the subtle throbbing.

“Are you alright?” The prince’s breath fluttered delicately over the back of his neck, twisting heat around the bones of his spine. And he hated it, almost as much as he despised the goddamn royal family. Hated the way Eren was able to pick and probe these reactions out of him as if he were some young girl vying to lose her maidenhead. It was unequivocally, irrevocably insane. To be nearing his thirtieth year and still acting like a young boy going through puberty. Levi could curse himself - curse the dreadful prince, as well.

He turned around slowly, cautious of the ever-growing pounding ricocheting inside of his skull. Levi expected to see a smug grin, a look of enjoyment over his suffering. He figured that Eren would be all the more pleased to find that his own drunken aliment had seemingly shifted its host over to Levi. The irony was indeed thick, Levi supposed. However, instead of a gleeful smirk and self-righteous glare, Levi found a wrinkled brow. Eyes that were normally so wide and full of pride were now narrowed and searching, darting quickly across Levi’s face. Thin lips pressed tight as Levi’s fingers dropped to fiddle with the sleeve of his linen shirt.

“It’s just a headache,” he mumbled wearily, watching the way Eren’s brows pulled a little tighter. “I’m fine.” There was a short pause, and then the prince was nodding, feet shuffling backward against the hard grey stone. The whole scene was baffling. More so than when Eren stormed into the dining room in nothing but nightclothes. The thought had his palms going sweaty against the white fabric still being fussed about between dexterous fingers.

Eren stared at him, looking one half bewildered and the other half perturbed. Finally, the man cleared his throat. “Petra knows a great remedy for those. Tastes like shit but does its job,” Eren laughed awkwardly. The sound had his toes curling uncomfortably in his boots. The prince looked away then, sparkling eyes roving over the blank open canvas. “Where do you want me?”

“The fireplace,” he said without hesitation. Levi remembered how the location had called so loudly to him. The elegant lines, the stone etched to perfection. His only hope would be that the backdrop would not upstage the prince himself. It would be a far cry, though, as loathe as Levi was to admit it.

Eren was a handsome man, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Thick dark brows hovering over fierce wide eyes that almost verged on too large. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses.

The aching in his skull had thankfully drizzled off into a manageable thud by the time Eren found a spot in front of the fireplace. The man hovered there, hands gracelessly hanging off to the side. It was slightly satisfying to see Eren looking so out of place especially after being so often on the receiving end of the prince’s brash humor.

“I believe that I’m at a bit of a loss here, artist,” Eren admitted, sagging broad shoulders with a heavy sigh.

Levi looked boredly over the edge of the canvas. “Haven’t you done this before?” Eren bristled marginally at that, and Levi had to fight back a devilish grin.

“When I was twelve!” The prince’s voice cracked hilariously and a fabulous flush crept up onto the man’s cheeks as Levi watched Eren sway anxiously back and forth. He took pity on the poor soul, scoffing as he placed the pencil down on the table next to the empty canvas. Standing, Levi gave Eren an assessing look, analyzing the man’s position as he stepped closer.

“Act natural.” Eren huffed crudely at the comment, spine stiffening beneath Levi’s stare. The stance was similar to a toy soldier Levi once owned as a child, wooden limbs ramrod straight at the sides. While appealing to a figurine young boys and girls could play with, the posture was thoroughly horrid for a portrait. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses, Levi reminded himself. “Now you look like you need to take a royal shit,” he chided, crossing his arms against a sturdy chest.

The blush on Eren’s cheeks deepened brilliantly. “You’re being far too vague,” the prince muttered quietly, pride effectively wounded. A small part of Levi wanted to reassure the man that the art of posing for a portrait did not come as natural as one would expect. However, a much larger part enjoyed seeing Eren’s tail tucked between his legs like a kicked dog.

“Relax your shoulders,” Levi said. Eren did as much, rolling them back into what appeared to be a much more comfortable position. “Now turn your body to the left.” He watched as Eren turned on his heels, eyes now facing the Jaeger family crest posted to the wall. Levi stepped forward. “Bring your chest towards me. For fuck’s sake, not your entire bloody body.”

Eren scowled, frustration clearly nearing the end of its rope. “This is damn near impossible.” That was a rather final word for it, Levi thought. The game had seemingly run its course, and despite his gratification over watching Eren squirm, he did not want to risk having the prince storm off in a snit like before.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he surmised, thumb stroking the underside of a pointed chin. Confidence supporting his gait, Levi strode forward until he was within arm’s reach of the prince. “Face the wall again.” He watched the prince eye him up and down warily. “Before the sun falls, Your Highness.” Eren sighed irritably as the wide gaze was once again fashioned to the vibrant green tapestry.

“Absolutely impossible,” he heard Eren mutter quietly into the air. The breath was sucked straight back into the man’s lungs, however, when Levi wrapped tentative fingers around either side of the thin waist. Time seemed to still for a quiet moment, and the prince stiffened. The skin felt red hot beneath his touch, warmth seeping through the fabric and onto the pads of his fingertips. Could feel the way the muscles moved and flexed beneath the flesh as he twisted Eren’s upper half marginally to the right. Levi dropped the clutch, satisfied when the prince held the position without being corrected. Next, he grasped Eren’s right arm, bending it at the elbow before trailing his palm down to the man’s wrist.

“Take hold of your belt,” Levi requested.

“Rather uncouth of you to assume my innocence is so easily won, artist,” Eren jested, mouth pulling maddeningly at the corners. To hear the prince describe himself as innocent almost yanked a chuckle from his throat. Almost. Instead, he gifted the infuriating bastard with a deadly glower as he dropped his hand.

“Grab the damn belt.” With the instructions delivered, Levi turned and shuffled back over to the canvas, hoping that the grit of his teeth wasn’t too audible. The expectation that the pose would be held was minimal at best, nonexistent at worst. However, when Levi looked back over his shoulder he saw to his surprise that the stance was exactly as he’d envisioned - give or take the shit-eating grin.

Moving behind the blank linen, Levi selected a pencil from the complied lot of tools to begin the sketch. It was a soft, smooth grey. Perfect for capturing lines and easily covered with the drag of a brush. For now, he only needed to reproduce the simple shapes that would eventually be reconstructed into the prince’s form.

Hooded eyes only barely reached above the edge of the canvas, his short stature dwarfed by the coarse cloth. Levi typically didn’t work on portraits so large, and if he were capturing anyone other than the shitting smiling bastard before him, Levi might be apt to ask for a stool. As it was, he would rather face the entire Shiganshina army with only his paintbrushes as a means of defense.

He worked in relative silence, save for the scratching of the pencil across the linen. His gaze flitted quickly between the man and the canvas. Rough lines began to appear, boxy shapes symbolizing hands and shoulders.

“I beg your pardon if I’ve caused offense.” The statement caused a line to go astray. Levi swore quietly beneath his breath, rubbing away the error with the side of his hand. The prince would truly be the death of him. Perhaps literally.

To be quite honest, he was wholly surprised that Eren even had the ability to utter words that weren’t a vulgar insinuation or an infuriating quip. An apology was definitely not considered to be a part of the man’s vocabulary.

Levi's voice failed him as he tried to conjure up a worthy response. One that would likely tell Eren which unspeakable place the man could shove the pleas of forgiveness. Instead, Levi was left to hide shamefully behind the canvas as he attempted to avoid Eren’s pointed stare.

“You simply intrigue me.” Levi’s breath caught painfully in his throat. Intrigued? He had no idea how to respond to such a claim. One was intrigued by the leaves morphing colors on the trees or the way the stars glittered brightly at night. But Levi? Intriguing? He should perish the thought.

When Levi looked up, an unyielding stare immediately sought out his eyes. “I can assure you,” he finally said, voice not quite as steely as he’d hoped, “that this curiosity is misplaced.” Levi watched as the man’s posture slipped. “As is your right arm.” The prince quickly righted himself back into position.

“How self-loathing,” Eren muttered.

Levi ignored the quip, returning to the sketch. To anyone else, the scribbles would be puzzling. A scattered mess of unconnected dots and lines. However, Levi recognized the sketch for what it was - the beginning of a potential masterpiece. The majority of the prince’s outline lined the canvas. Hands, legs, arms, and torso all sketched to represent an estimated length and width. Levi had saved the face for last. It was, without question, the most crucial element of the portrait. Oftentimes, he had been asked to substitute hands that were thought to look too old or bellies that appeared to be too fat. But the face was always that of the owner’s. He gazed at Eren’s now, noticing how the intensity behind the man’s eyes had not diminished even with Levi’s blunt rebuttal. He tried to read them, to find something within the swirling depths. Though it was unclear to Levi what he was even looking for. Sarcasm? Ridicule?

Curiosity?

He scoffed softly to himself, eyes falling away from Eren’s commanding stare.

The face would have to wait until the morrow when his head was sat correctly on his shoulders. Regardless, the fireplace still needed to be outlined into the background, something that would not require Eren’s presence.

“We are finished for today, Your Highness,” Levi said, bowing slightly. The rumblings of the headache reawakening began to whistle between his ears. Unlike the others, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if this one was well-deserved. Thinking so deeply about how Eren perceived him or what the man’s intentions were would do nothing but drive him utterly mad.

The prince relaxed, falling out of the chosen position. “Thank the gods.” Levi did feel at least a modicum of sympathy for the man. Despite his chiding, Eren had remained steady for the majority of the session. It was more than he could say for most clients. “Will you require me again tomorrow?” Levi nodded, pencil going back to work as he etched out the beginnings of the fireplace. “Good. I shall require you, as well.”

The line crooked to the side as his hand twitched.

Eren’s boots clicked against the floor as he approached the canvas. “Meet me in the courtyard after breakfast is served.” Levi looked up at the man as if he had grown two heads. In actuality, that feat might have been more realistic than the thought of Levi Ackerman campaigning with a member of the Jaeger family after breakfast. The very idea had his gut twisting in a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. “Until tomorrow, artist.”

And with that, Eren took his exit, leaving behind a very befuddled - if not slightly captivated (though he would wholly deny it) - Levi to wonder what glorious plan the prince had in store.

[familyagrestefanblog]

Hawkmoths/Mayuras glass window + scenery appreciation post

This is a post I've been meaning to do for a long while already and now I accidentally found a solid reason to finally do so!

But I'll start with the beginning because this is an appreciation post and I want you all to appreciate every little aspect of this beautiful glass window with me.

Hawkmoths butterfly glass window + scenery

Quickly starting with the basics here because there is not too much to unpack. Hawkmoths butterfly window is the most direct and obvious side of the window, since it's the one we see every episode because Hawkmoth is/has been the main villain since day 1. I don't think there is a single person in a Fandom who hasn't noticed the implied butterfly in it. As seen above, the butterfly spreads across the whole window and it's present to us from a tilted side perspective from the left corner of the room, slightly looking up.

The "corner and up" perspective gives Hawkmoths presence in the room a more threatening and uneasy feeling, highlighting his chaotic and uncontrollable tendencies and persona. The slight tilt of the "camera" and his stand also functions as a visualization of Gabriels unstable mind.

The window itself is the highest focus point in the picture and the light falling through it throws light and shadows on the floor, in which Hawkmoth himself is standing in the bright center of it. This and the big butterfly on it tells us one thing inmediadly: Hawkmoth is in charge now. Through it we see Paris the way Gabriel sees it in this moment. Far beneath him, small and unimportant (Paris is blurry out of focus).

Mayuras peacock glass window + scenery

Yes with this I mean the scene in "Mayura" where Natalie stood in HM lair and used the miraculous to "akumatize" Gabriel.

Right of the bat one can notice that the scenery is giving quite different feelings to the viewer. The perspective we are given for her is straight upfront and (again) looking up (same as with him, Paris is far beneath her, small and still blurry out of focus. It and it's citizens are unimportant to her.) In comparison to Hawkmoths tilted side perspective, it tells us that Mayura is more focused and calmer/more collected than him (as we have seen in her scene in "Mayura"). She's not here to make a show, she's not taking unnecessary chaotic/sadistic enjoyment out of it (though I'm sure Natalie is enjoying herself just fine as Mayura/Catalyst) the way Gabriel/Hawkmoth does, she's BUSINESS! Hawkmoth may mean serious business too but her focus and straight forwardness brings her to another level (still do NOT underestimate this man, Mayura being more focused doesn't mean he's not a serious force to reckoned with. He's highly dangerous and a league for himself!)

Back to the window and to the next visual point. Unlike Hawkmoth Mayura is not standing neatly in the middle of the center of the light. She's a few steps off and for her the window isn't fully in frame anymore. Meaning the butterfly is not viewable for us anymore. Instead we get a view on the window that shows us this:

Now instead of the butterfly we have Mayuras mask in the focus of the window.

The way she's standing in the light but not on Hawkmoths propper place, how her symbol is in the window but unlike his not on the entirety of it and that the room is now colored in her blue but the personal and owning aspect of the butterflies is gone (now its just empty) let's the viewer understand straight away that Mayura took over and is now in charge of the villain room that doesn't belong to her!

This fits perfectly and perfectly forshadows what we have been told about Mayura before met her. She an even bigger and worse threat/evil than Hawkmoth and will "make him look like a baby". She will overthrow him!

But frankly, that's not what I wanna focus on here

This comparison between Hawkmoths and Mayuras symolism and presentation in and of the window was originally the reason I wanted to do the application post. I just thought it was so freaking awesome how they managed to put two villain symbols into it and presented the needed one and Hawkmoths/Mayuras mannerisms to us through the placing of the "camera".

But two nights ago, I looked at these two window pictures trying to analyze the details (and honestly just starring at it because it's just so visually appealing and pleasing and just such marvelous work imo)

So I just laid in my bed gushing over its awesome design when I saw it and I just

What

THE.

CAT?!??!!!!????

Okay 1. That's a cat, plain and simple. And this is not a coincidence or just accidentally looks like a cat. I literally don't think that's humanly possible to accomplish with how detailed the cat is in the woven linework and how big it is (literally half of the window/half of the butterfly symbol). It's there because they want Adrien in there. Make with this information whatever you want.

2. Or you know what? Do that later. I'm gonna ask you now to take a step back for 3 more minutes and to just appreciate the insane level of design and craftsmanship that went into this window to put THREE layers/perspectives of character symbols into it while at the same time making 2 of them subtle enough to never overpower the third (and main one) in a normal episode.

Seriously, whoever designed this is a bloody brilliant genius and I hope they've got a raise for it. This is just.. just.. I really can't find another word for it, IT'S MIRACULOUS, that's what it is! Like, I dead-ass lost almost 3 hours of sleep that night, because I lost my shit after finding the cat and I simply couldn't stop fangirling about the BRILLIANCY of the window! Working and coming up with this had to have been so frustrating, infuriating and complicated. Redoing ideas and sketches over and over and OVER again, to then having to scratch them entirely,had to have been a complete pain in the arse but GOSH I swear it was so worth it! I am in love with this window and it's easily one of my favorite visual story elements of the entire show.

What a Masterpiece!

I'm giving my permission to spread these pictures everywhere you like. I really want this to get the attention and appreciation it deserves and therefore you can take/use it. No credit needed.

Here a better "cat glass window" picture

[bytheangell]

once upon a time... (it was made for us)

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Fairytale AU for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: None Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:   Princess Clarissa Fairchild dreams of a boy in a tower, one who calls to her for help night after night. Every time he calls out to her, begging for help, asking him to save her.She isn't going to let him down. -------------

Clary isn’t sure when the nightmares began. They bring deep creases of worry to her mother’s eyes and forehead, though Jocelyn always soothes her fears by telling her over and over that they’re only dreams. They can’t hurt her, and most importantly - they are not real.

The problem is that they feel real. The details of a tower she’s never seen before are too intricate, too familiar, to be entirely made up. The voice in her head that cries for help - cries to her specifically, using her name, reaching out to her with voice and arms alike - too distinct to be only in her head.

She’s told not to tell anyone else about the nightmares, and for a while, she doesn’t. Clary sees the boy, she hears his screams, and for a while she simply looks away, hoping that if she ignores them in her mind they’ll go away. Instead, she only wakes up feeling guilty, memories of his screams plaguing even her waking hours. He’s being held there by an Evil Queen. Had he told her that? She doesn’t think so. She’s only ever heard him cry out for help, begging and pleading, but this new fact she knows now with great certainty.

The next few times the nightmare comes to her she tries to help, attempting to climb the tower, scaling the sides of the sleek stone the best she can. Each nightmare she gets a little farther up, a little closer to the prince in the burning tower.

Had he always been a prince? Had the tower always been on fire? Clary isn’t sure. She’s long since stopped questioning the dreams.

She tells only her mother of the dreams until her mother, more distraught with every retelling, begs her to stop.

So Clary breaks her promise to not talk to anyone else about them. She has to - she needs to tell someone or they’re going to drive her insane. She sketches the scene that haunts her sleep, showing it to others, waiting for them to ask her where the inspiration came from so she has an excuse to talk about it. About him - her Prince in his burning tower.

They do notice. They ask, and she tells, eager for the opinions of others, until one day Lady Dorothea catches sight of her showing a drawing to one of the castle’s servants.

“Do you know what that is?” she asks Clary, pointing to the drawing.

“It’s from my dream,” Clary says vaguely. Normally she would have no problem trusting Dot, but she’s close to her mother, and if her mother doesn’t want her talking about this then she can’t be sure where Dot stands on the matter.

“It’s not a dream,” Dot says. “It’s a nightmare. That tower, that place… you’d do best to forget it, Clary. Edom is no place for Princesses, even in dreams.”

There’s something forboding in her words that tells Clary this isn’t just helpful advice, it’s a warning.

“Does your mother know about this?” she asks, and Clary, too afraid to lie, nods.

“She used to, at least. She made me stop talking about them, so I draw them instead.”

Dot turns and walks away without another word. Clary wonders if she should be afraid, but all she can find it in herself to be is thrilled because now she has a name: Edom.

---

Clary makes it to the edge of the kingdom before they realize she’s left and come after her. She hasn’t done anything like this before - running away, seeking out a kingdom she’s never even heard of before, let alone been to - so she doesn’t cover her tracks or leave at the right time to avoid being noticed and followed.

When they bring her back her mother is waiting, along with a man she’s never seen before. When he looks to her it’s with a flash of cat-eyes - a warlock.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the warlock says, holding his hands up in front of him. It’s meant to be an act of reassurance but Clary backs away from the sudden movement, fearing what magic those hands may unleash.

“He’s a friend. He’s here as a favor,” Jocelyn says. There’s an edge to her voice as she nods to a guard and the door closes behind Clary.

“What kind of favor?”

“He’s going to take away some of your memories,” Jocelyn tells her. “It’s for your own good. Those nightmares of yours, the things you’re seeing, the things you’ve learned… they’ll only hurt you. I’m only trying to protect you.”

Clary struggles against the men who grab her by the arms and drag her into a chair where she’s strapped in, unable to move.

“Please, don’t - the boy, I have to help him. I have to save him!” Clary pleads, kicking out every time they try to come near.

“What boy?” The warlock asks, hesitating. “She never mentioned a boy any of the other times.”

Other times? What-- how many times have they done this to her?

“Magnus,” Jocelyn snaps. “I didn’t hire you to encourage this, I hired you to put an end to it.”

“There’s a boy,” she says quickly, hoping that maybe the warlock - Magnus - will listen this time. “He’s locked in a burning tower by an evil Queen and-”

“Magnus, now!” Jocelyn practically screams, her tone frantic now.

“I’m sorry, biscuit,” Magnus says with a fond sense of familiarity, and he truly does look sorry as deep blue tendrils of magic reach out toward her, and everything goes black.

---

It isn’t long before the nightmares return, except that Clary doesn’t know that they’re returning - to her they’re new, calling out to her all over again. The first few times she wakes up she barely remembers having them. She mentions them to her mother who bristles and sends her away. When she returns, still eager to talk about what she saw in her nightmare, she overhears Jocelyn arguing with Lucian Graymark. Clary presses herself back against the wall to listen, staying out of sight around the corner.

“They’re back already,” Jocelyn sighs.

“So soon?” Luke sounds worried. “I told you this was a bad idea. You can’t keep wiping her memory like this.”

“What else would you have me do? She tried to find him the last time, Lucian! But that’s impossible because he’s dead.”

“Is it impossible? Or are you so unwilling to consider the idea that he might be alive that you’re putting your own daughter’s life at risk in the process.”

“I am not,” Jocelyn insists stubbornly. “She’s safer this way. We all are.”

“Is she? Because she remembers. She’s going to keep remembering. And maybe she’d be better off if she knew everything so she could make her own decisions rather than running off after things she only knows half of.”

“No. Absolutely not. I’ll tell her… one day. When she’s ready.”

“When she’s ready, Jocelyn? Or when you are?” Luke asks, and Clary hears the click of her mother’s shoes against the stone floor echoing down the hall as her only warning that she’s leaving rather than continuing whatever fight they’re having. Clary tenses, listening closely for a second, only to hear the steps fade - her mother went down the hallway on the other end of the room rather than coming in her direction, and she heaves a sigh of relief at not being caught eavesdropping.

Or so she thinks.

“Clarissa,” comes Lucian’s voice, and all of that relief is replaced by enough tension she forgets to breathe for a second as if stiffening and holding her breath might make her invisible to the man standing in front of her.

“How much of that did you overhear?” he asks her.

“Enough,” she says defiantly.

“Good. Then I’m not breaking my promise to your mother not to tell you anything if you already know,” he says, and though there’s the hint of amusement in his tone at that his face is still far too serious for Clary’s liking.

“The boy in my nightmares, you know who he is, don’t you?” she asks.

“Possibly. The last time you had the dreams you began drawing pictures of them. The resemblance is… well, too much to be a coincidence, I think, if you’re the one getting visions of him.”

Clary’s eyes widen at that. “Visions? But they’re just-”

“Dreams. Yes. Maybe they are… but maybe they aren’t. And if they aren’t, then the more you know about them the more you’re going to be able to prepare yourself for what’s to come.” Luke’s words are forboding, and Clary doesn’t like the implication of them one bit.

“What is to come?” she asks, trying to sound much more fearless than she feels just then.

“I think you’re meant to save your brother.”

---

The weeks that follow seem to drag on for ages. Lucian tells her things about her family’s past, about a brother they thought was dead, but who may have just been taken out from under her mother’s nose.

“You mustn’t think too ill of her,” Lucian insists softly. “She had no reason to believe otherwise. Even when you started having your nightmares… she truly believes him dead.”

“But you don’t,” Clary points out.

“I’m not willing you rule out the possibility he’s alive,” Luke corrects. “Your father was a clever man. Cruel, but clever. If he wanted to take him...” His words trail off there, unwilling (or perhaps unable) to elaborate further.

“Each time Magnus takes your memories away the dreams seem to come back stronger and more frequent, as do your desires to decipher them and save the boy in the tower. Feels a lot like destiny to me, doesn’t it, kiddo?”

Clary nods. “I have to help him. I can help him, I know I can! Just tell me what I need to know.”

Her brother, Lucian tells her, was experimented on with magic as a baby. He had powers they did not understand and could not control. He was different - the dangerous kind of different. And his name was Jonathan.

Clary studies in secret - she learns the routes between here and where Edom is meant to exist, though none from their kingdom have ever dared to enter there. Dragons rain fire down from the skies, demon-like creatures with inky black skin that circle the land. The Queen - Lilith - is sent to be a warlock of her own right, though none have come back from their quests to find her to confirm or deny.

To many, that’s more than enough confirmation.

She also trains in secret. Lucian is friends with one of the knights who teaches her the best he can in the cover of night, working through hand-to-hand combat and weapons maneuvers not normally given to the women of the court. It’s a good thing she’s a quick study. In fact, with some more training, she’s told that she could easily be one of the better fighters in her family’s kingdom.

That’s good, she thinks, because she’s going to need all the natural skill she can get.

---

The next time Clary has a nightmare she screams the name from the bottom of the burning tower as she dodges the flames to try and find a safe place to climb.

“Jonathan!”

“Clary!” He cries back, and though he’s screaming she can see, just for a moment, the pleased look cross his features at the sound of his name leaving her lips.

“Tell me who’s keeping you here!” she tries, wondering if she’ll remember when she wakes up even if he does tell her.

Jonathan opens his mouth to speak but the word is choked off in his throat, and he’s pulled back, away from the window, with an invisible but violent force.

“I’m going to find you,” she promises, even as she feels herself slipping. “I’m going to save you.”

And then she falls.

---

It’s several more weeks until Lucian tells her she’s allowed to leave. She starts to suspect he may just be stalling, that he’ll never allow her to leave and seek out Jonathan, but then why risk going behind her mother’s back as much as he already has? She forces herself to be patient, all the while dreaming of the Prince in the tower - of her destiny.

And then, one night, it’s time. “You leave in an hour. Get your armor, Hodge is readying your horse.”

Clary’s ready - she’s had a sack packed with essentials since they started planning, one she’s switched the rations out from every other day to keep them fresh and ready at a moment’s notice.

They’re nearly outside when Luke adds, “And I have a friend to accompany you on your journey for extra protection.”

“What?” Clary demands. “No. Taking someone with me was never part of the plan. I can’t risk-”

“Trust me,” Luke insists. “Magnus isn’t a risk. You’ll need him once you cross the border into Edom.”

Clary freezes at the sight of the yellow-eyed man sitting atop a black horse next to her own white mare.

“Magnus - the same Magnus who keeps taking my memories?” Clary hisses. She can’t think of a bigger risk, and to be left alone with him so far from home, from the safety of anything familiar---

“I’m sorry for what I agreed to do for your mother in the past,” Magnus says, bowing his head. “It wasn’t right. I’m here to make amends.”

“Luke, I don’t know if I can trust him,” she whispers so only Luke can hear.

“Then trust me, Clary. He’s here to help.”

She doesn’t have much of a choice - he’s here now, and she can’t waste another minute waiting around to argue.

“I trust you. And thank you, Luke. For everything.”

She double-checks the daggers sheathed at her hips, the armor around her torso, and slings her pack over the back of the horse before mounting it herself and taking off under the cover of night, with Magnus by her side.

“I’m coming, Jonathan,” she says under her breath as she urges her horse on faster.

---

Most of the travel is surprisingly easy until they cross the border into Edom at daybreak. There’s nothing officially marking it, but it becomes obvious as the ground begins to grow dry, shifting from grass to dark reddish-brown earth which only seems to grow leafless, twisting trunks of what can hardly be considered to be proper trees. Even the sky seems to take on a golden-red hue behind dense clouds.

“This way,” she says, turning them to the left.

“How do you know?” Magnus asks, raising an eyebrow but following her without hesitation.

“I just… do. I can feel him. In my dreams, it always felt like I was being drawn to that tower, to that boy, whether he’s Jonathan or someone else entirely. I feel the same pull here, only stronger.” She doesn’t have a single doubt that her instincts are right.

They travel in that direction for what feels like hours, though it doesn’t seem as if the world around them changes at all. The sun should be rising, moving throughout the sky, but instead, it hovers steadily over the horizon. It’s disorienting.

The first time Clary hears a dragon screech overhead she freezes. It’s much larger than she imagined, and if it weren’t for Magnus there’s a good chance she’d be dead before she ever reaches her prince in his tower.

Instead, Magnus sends a bolt of magic straight through the creature’s heart. It looks as if it disappears within the dragon, but then she sees it - the faint, pulsing blue from beneath its skin. The magic is killing it from the inside. She has to turn her head away as it tears the creature open to destroy it.

“I-” she stammers, pulse racing, hands shaking at her sides. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m here for a reason, remember. Let’s keep going.”

They continue on, for how long Clary doesn’t know. There are more dragons, along with other creatures that are somehow more horrifying though they crawl along the ground. This time she’s far more useful in dealing with them, putting her weapons training to good use. She’s infinitely grateful for Luke sending Magnus along, however - without him by her side she would be dead at least a dozen times over.

Finally, just when Clary is starting to wonder if they’ll have to attempt a camp to rest, they see the tower in the distance. In her dreams, it always stood alone, the focal point of everything she saw. But here, in person, it’s attached to a much more sprawling structure. The castle has torches lit up along the sides of the exterior, and the windows of the tower itself are lit with flames as well. And there, leaning out of the window, crying for help -

“Jonathan.” Clary breathes out the name as his pleas echo across the barren land to where she and Magnus pause.

“Help me! Someone, please! Help me!”

Dragons circle the tower, too many of them to count.

“If you want, you can stay here, Princess. I can try and get close enough on my own to-” Magnus starts to offer, but Clary cuts him off.

“No,” she says, taking a deep breath to steady her trembling voice. “It has to be me.”

“Very well,” Magnus says. “I’ll provide cover. I can’t portal anywhere I haven’t been before, which means I can’t get you into the tower itself. I could drop you above it, but that’s far too much of a risk. What I can do is get you back faster: take this.”

Magnus reaches into a small pouch tied to his waist, pulling out a necklace that looked like a colorful shard of glass.

“Once you get to Jonathan, I can open a portal for the two of you to jump through from the tower. But listen closely: you must be in contact with one another, and with this shard. Understand?”

Clary nods. There’s so much pressure on her now, not just to make it to the castle but to get to the tower, to convince Jonathan she’s there to help, and to get him to jump through a portal with her that she isn’t even sure will work because all she has to go off of is blind faith in the man giving her a magical portal necklace.

It’s a lot. It’s too much… but she doesn’t have a choice. There’s no turning back now, not when she’s so close. Leaving her horse behind with Magnus she takes off at a run towards the castle.

As predicted, dragons spot her coming from a mile away and begin to descend on her. Magnus makes short work of them each and every time - after the second one, she stops looking up in fear at every screech and simply trusts him to have her back. She deals with the creatures that come at her from the ground, with blades through hearts and heads, aiming for where brains and major arteries should be or slicing at legs to keep them from chasing after her as she leaves them behind, wounded.

When she reaches the bottom of the castle and looks up, the tower with the boy in it looming ominously overhead, she doubts herself more than she has at any other moment of this journey. It’s the first time she’s truly alone, even with Magnus watching from afar to keep the dragons at bay. He can’t help her climb, he can’t keep her arms from shaking with the effort needed to find every grip and pull herself up. She pauses more often than she’d like, for longer than she’d like.

“Clary!” the boy in the tower calls down to her. “Is it really you?”

She wonders if he’s dreamt of her as well. Perhaps her nightmares were his dreams of reassurance and comfort that there was someone out there, someone coming.

“Hold on, Jonathan! I’m almost there.”

There’s no reply - instead, it goes eerily silent above her. The screeching and flapping wings of the dragons cease entirely. Jonathan is no longer calling out of his window to her and something doesn’t feel right. She continues to climb, her progress slow but steady until her fingertips grip a window ledge.

She expects Jonathan to be there waiting - instead, a female’s hand with long, black nails reaches out to grab her by the wrist and pull her up as if she weighs nothing. Blood red lips and narrowed eyes framed by long black hair are what greet her instead.

“Well, well, well,” the Queen says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I stand corrected,” she says, gaze turning toward the corner of the room where Jonathan sits huddled on the floor, a fresh burn covering his left cheek. “Looks like you tricked a Morgenstern into taking interest in your pathetic pleas after all.”

The woman pulls Clary in through the window and drops her to the floor, but Clary is quick to spring to her feet. She readies herself for an attack but it doesn’t come. The Queen walks back towards Jonathan, grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him up.

“Stand in the presence of a Princess,” she hisses.

“Sorry Mother,” Jonathan mumbles, wincing at the pain of moving his lips as they pull at the burned flesh on his face.

“Let him go,” Clary demands, daggers pulled and ready at her sides.

“Or you’ll do what, little girl?” The Queen asks, arching an eyebrow at her. With a flick of her wrist, the dagger in Clary’s right hand is flung from her grasp, out of reach. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. He isn’t worth it. Leave now and I’ll spare your life.”

Clary looks to Jonathan who stands, shaking, behind the Queen, defeat written in his hunched shoulders and the way his eyes remain trained on the floor. Her heart breaks for him and the knowledge that he believes his mother’s words, that he’s not worth saving, that he expects Clary to turn and leave to save herself.

“You’re wrong,” Clary says. “He is worth saving, and I’m not leaving without him.”

Jonathan stands a little straighter at that, looking over at her in disbelief.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the woman says, bringing her hand up slowly in front of her. “On both counts.”

Another swift movement of her hand and Clary feels her feet lift off of the ground, an invisible momentum pushing her back through the open window. She manages to catch her fingertips on the ledge, dangling over the side of the building.

This time Jonathan does appear at the window, looking down at her as if he isn’t sure whether pulling her back up to face his mother is truly a better option than letting her fall. Clary hears a noise beneath her dangling feet and glances down to see a swirling portal beneath her.

Magnus.

Clary looks up at Jonathan with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Jonathan hesitates, then nods.

“Then grab by hand,” she says, getting a better grip with her right hand so she can reach her left up towards Jonathan. “And jump.”

Jonathan’s eyes go wide. “What?! No!”

“Trust me,” she repeats again, with more urgency this time. She knows the Queen thinks her helpless, that she’s simply playing with them. They don’t have much time.

Jonathan realizes this as well. “Goodbye, Mother,” he says with a single glance back before leaning over the ledge of the windowsill, grabbing Clary’s outstretched hand and jumping down after her as she lets go.

Clary grips the necklace shard with one hand, the other holding tight to Jonathan, as they fall through the portal in the air beneath them-

-and come tumbling onto the ground next to Magnus on the other side.

Clary hears a cry of anguish from the window and sees the Queen in the place where Jonathan stood all those times before, looking down at them.

“You actually came for me,” Jonathan says, voice full of disbelief. “I saw you in my dreams so many times, and I hoped, but-”

“As much as I love a good family reunion,” Magnus starts, eyeing the sudden influx of dragons coming from the direction of the castle. “Perhaps we could save the celebrations for once we cross that border home, what do you think?”

Clary mounts her horse, reaching a hand to help Jonathan up behind her.

“I think that’s a pretty good plan,” Clary agrees, already spurring her horse forward. “C’mon Jonathan, let’s get you home.”

[gargaj]

A breakdown of the Revision 2020 Threeway Battle shader

Those of you who have been following this year's edition of Revision probably remember the unexpected twist in Sunday's timeline, where I was pitted in a coding "battle" against two of the best shader-coders in the world to fend for myself. Admittedly the buzz it caused caught me by surprise, but not as much as the feedback on the final shader I produced, so I hope to shed some light on how the shader works, in a way that's hopefully understandable to beginners and at least entertaining to experts, as well as providing some glimpses into my thought process along the way.

Recorded video of the event

But before we dive into the math and code, however, I think it's important to get some context by recounting the story of how we got here.

A brief history of demoscene live-coding

Visual coding has been massively opened up when graphics APIs began to introduce programmable fragment rendering, perhaps best known to most people as "pixel shaders"; this allowed programmers to run entire programmable functions on each pixel of a triangle, and none was more adamant to do that than a fellow named Iñigo Quilez (IQ), an understated genius who early on recognized the opportunity in covering the entire screen with a single polygon, and just doing the heavy lifting of creating geometry in the shader itself. His vision eventually spiraled into not only the modern 4k scene, but also the website ShaderToy, which almost every graphics programmer uses to test prototypes or just play around with algorithms. IQ, an old friend of mine since the mid-00s, eventually moved to the US, worked at Pixar and Oculus, and became something of a world-revered guru of computer graphics, but that (and life) has unfortunately caused him to shift away from the scene.

His vision of single-shader-single-quad-single-pass shader coding, in the meantime, created a very spectacular kind of live coding competition in the scene where two coders get only 25 minutes and the attention of an entire party hall, and they have to improvise their way out of the duel - this has been wildly successful at parties for the sheer showmanship and spectacle akin to rap battles, and none emerged from this little sport more remarkably than Flopine, a bubbly French girl who routinely shuffled up on stage wearing round spectacles and cat ears (actually they might be pony ears on second thought), and mopped the floor up with the competition. Her and a handful of other live-coders regularly stream on Twitch as practice, and have honed their live-coding craft for a few years at this point, garnering a considerable following.

Just a sample of insanity these people can do.

My contribution to this little sub-scene was coming up with a fancy name for it ("Shader Showdown"), as well as providing a little tool I called Bonzomatic (named after Bonzaj / Plastic, a mutual friend of IQ and myself, and the first person to create a live coding environment for demoparties) that I still maintain, but even though I feel a degree of involvement through the architectural side, I myself haven't been interested in participating: I know I can do okay under time pressure, but I don't really enjoy it, and while there's a certain overlap in what they do and what I do, I was always more interested in things like visual detail and representative geometry aided by editing and direction rather than looping abstract, fractal-like things. It just wasn't my thing.

Mistakes were made

But if I'm not attracted to this type of competition, how did I end up in the crossfire anyway? What I can't say is that it wasn't, to a considerable degree, my fault: as Revision 2020 was entirely online, most of the scene took it to themselves to sit in the demoscene Discord to get an experience closest to on-site socializing, given the somber circumstances of physical distancing. This also allowed a number of people who hasn't been around for a while to pop in to chat - like IQ, who, given his past, was mostly interested in the showdowns (during which Flopine crushed the competition) and the 4k compo.

As I haven't seen him around for a while, and as my mind is always looking for an angle, I somehow put two and two together, and asked him if he would consider taking part in a showdown at some point; he replied that he was up for it - this was around Saturday 10PM. I quickly pinged the rest of the showdown participants and organizers, as I spotted that Bullet was doing a DJ set the next day (which would've been in a relatively convenient timezone for IQ in California as well), and assumed that he didn't really have visuals for it - as there was already a "coding jam" over Ronny's set the day before, I figured there's a chance for squeezing an "extra round" of coding. Flopine was, of course, beyond excited by just the prospect of going against IQ, and by midnight we essentially got everything planned out (Bullet's consent notwithstanding, as he was completely out of the loop on this), and I was excited to watch...

...that is, until Havoc, the head honcho for the showdowns, off-handedly asked me about an at that point entirely hypothetical scenario: what would happen if IQ would, for some reason, challenge me instead of Flopine? Now, as said, I wasn't really into this, but being one to not let a good plan go to waste (especially if it was mine), I told Havoc I'd take one for the team and do it, although it probably wouldn't be very fun to watch. I then proceeded to quickly brief IQ in private and run him through the technicalities of the setup, the tool, the traditions and so on, and all is swell...

...that is, until IQ (this is at around 2AM) offhandedly mentions that "Havoc suggested we do a three-way with me, Flopine... and you." I quickly try to backpedal, but IQ seems to be into the idea, and worst of all, I've already essentially agreed to it, and to me, the only thing worse than being whipped in front of a few thousand people would be going back on your word. The only way out was through.

Weeks of coding can spare you hours of thinking

So now that I've got myself into this jar of pickles, I needed some ideas, and quick. (I didn't sleep much that night.) First off, I didn't want to do anything obviously 3D - both IQ and Flopine are masters of this, and I find it exhausting and frustrating, and it would've failed on every level possible. Fractals I'm awful at and while they do provide a decent amount of visual detail, they need a lot of practice and routine to get right. I also didn't want something very basic 2D, like a byte-beat, because those have a very limited degree of variation available, and the end result always looks a bit crude.

Luckily a few months ago an article I saw do rounds was a write-up by Sasha Martinsen on how to do "FUI"-s, or Fictional User Interfaces; overly complicated and abstract user interfaces that are prominent in sci-fi, with Gmunk being the Michael Jordan of the genre.

Image courtesy of Sasha Martinsen.

Sasha's idea is simple: make a few basic decent looking elements, and then just pile them on top of each other until it looks nice, maybe choose some careful colors, move them around a bit, place them around tastefully in 3D, et voilà, you're hacking the Gibson. It's something I attempted before, if somewhat unsuccessfully, in "Reboot", but I came back to it a few more times in my little private motion graphics experiments with much better results, and my prediction was that it would be doable in the given timeframe - or at least I hoped that my hazy 3AM brain was on the right track.

A bit of math

How to make this whole thing work? First, let's think about our rendering: We have a single rectangle and a single-pass shader that runs on it: this means no meshes, no geometry, no custom textures, no postprocessing, no particle systems and no fonts, which isn't a good place to start from. However, looking at some of Sasha's 3D GIFs, some of them look like they're variations of the same render put on planes one after the other - and as long as we can do one, we can do multiple of that.

Rough sketch of what we want to do; the planes would obviously be infinite in size but this representation is good enough for now.

Can we render multiple planes via a single shader? Sure, but we want them to look nice, and that requires a bit of thinking: The most common technique to render a "2D" shader and get a "3D" look is raymarching, specifically with signed distance fields - starting on a ray, and continually testing distances until a hit is found. This is a good method for "solid-ish" looking objects and scenes, but the idea for us is to have many infinite planes that also have some sort of alpha channel, so we'd have a big problem with 1) inaccuracy, as we'd never find a hit, just something "reasonably close", and even that would take us a few dozen steps, which is costly even for a single plane and 2) the handling of an alpha map can be really annoying, since we'd only find out our alpha value after our initial march, after which if our alpha is transparent we'd need to march again.

But wait - it's just infinite planes and a ray, right? So why don't we just assume that our ray is always hitting the plane (which it is, since we're looking at it), and just calculate an intersection the analytical way?

Note: I would normally refer to this method as "raytracing", but after some consultation with people smarter than I am, we concluded that the terms are used somewhat ambiguously, so let's just stick to "analytical ray solving" or something equally pedantic.

We know the mathematical equation for a ray is position = origin + direction * t (where t is a scalar that represents the distance/progress from the ray origin), and we know that the formula for a plane is A * x + B * y + C * z + D = 0, where (A, B, C) is the normal vector of the plane, and D is the distance from the origin. First, since the intersection will be the point in space that satisfies both equations, we substitute the ray (the above o + d * t for each axis) into the plane:

A * (ox + dx * t) + B * (oy + dy * t) + C * (oz + dz * t) + D = 0

To find out where this point is in space, we need to solve this for t, but it's currently mighty complicated. Luckily, since we assume that our planes are parallel to the X-Y plane, we know our (A, B, C) normal is (0, 0, 1), so we can simplify it down to:

oz + dz * t + D = 0

Which we can easily solve to t:

t = (D - oz) / dz

That's right: analytically finding a ray hit of a plane is literally a single subtraction and a division! Our frame rate (on this part) should be safe, and we're always guaranteed a hit as long as we're not looking completely perpendicular to the planes; we should have everything to start setting up our code.

Full disclosure: Given my (and in a way IQ's) lack of "live coding" experience, we agreed that there would be no voting for the round, and it'd be for glory only, but also that I'd be allowed to use a small cheat sheet of math like the equations for 2D rotation or e.g. the above final equation since I don't do this often enough to remember these things by heart, and I only had a few hours notice before the whole thing.

Setting up the rendering

Time to start coding then. First, let's calculate our texture coordinates in the 0..1 domain using the screen coordinates and the known backbuffer resolution (which is provided to us in Bonzomatic):

vec2 uv = vec2(gl_FragCoord.x / v2Resolution.x, gl_FragCoord.y / v2Resolution.y);

Then, let's create a ray from that:

vec3 rayDir = vec3( uv * 2 - 1, -1.0 ); rayDir.x *= v2Resolution.x / v2Resolution.y; // adjust for aspect ratio vec3 rayOrigin = vec3( 0, 0, 0 );

This creates a 3D vector for our direction that is -1,-1,-1 in the top left corner and 1,1,-1 in the bottom right (i.e. we're looking so that Z is decreasing into the screen), then we adjust the X coordinate since our screen isn't square, but our coordinates currently are - no need to even bother with normalizing, it'll be fine. Our origin is currently just sitting in the center.

Then, let's define (loosely) our plane, which is parallel to the XY plane:

float planeDist = 1.0f; // distance between each plane float planeZ = -5.0f; // Z position of the first plane

And solve our equation to t, as math'd out above:

float t = (planeZ - rayOrigin.z) / rayDir.z;

Then, calculate WHERE the hit is by taking that t by inserting it back to the original ray equation using our current direction and origin:

vec3 hitPos = rayOrigin + t * rayDir;

And now we have our intersection; since we already know the Z value, we can texture our plane by using the X and Y components to get a color value:

vec4 color = fui( hitPos.xy ); // XY plane our_color = color;

Of course we're gonna need the actual FUI function, which will be our procedural animated FUI texture, but let's just put something dummy there now, like a simple circle:

vec4 fui ( vec2 uv ) { return length(uv - 0.5) < 0.5 ? vec4(1) : vec(0); }

And here we go:

Very good, we have a single circle and if we animate the camera we can indeed tell that it is on a plane.

So first, let's tile it by using a modulo function; the modulo (or modulus) function simply wraps a number around another number (kinda like the remainder after a division, but for floating point numbers) and thus becomes extremely useful for tiling or repeating things:

We'll be using the modulo function rather extensively in this little exercise, so strap in. (Illustration via the Desmos calculator.)

vec4 layer = fui( mod( hitPos.xy, 1.0 ) );

This will wrap the texture coordinates of -inf..inf between 0..1:

We also need multiple planes, but how do we combine them? We could just blend them additively, but with the amount of content we have, we'd just burn them in to white and it'd look like a mess (and not the good kind of mess). We could instead just use normal "crossfade" / "lerp" blending based on the alpha value; the only trick here is to make sure we're rendering them from back to front since the front renders will blend over the back renders:

int steps = 10; float planeDist = 1.0f; for (int i=steps; i>=0; i--) { float planeZ = -1.0f * i * planeDist; float t = (planeZ - rayOrigin.z) / rayDir.z; if (t > 0.0f) // check if "t" is in front of us { vec3 hitPos = rayOrigin + t * rayDir; vec4 layer = fui( hitPos.xy, 2.0 ); // blend layers based on alpha output colour = mix( colour, layer, layer.a ); } }

And here we go:

We decreased the circles a bit in size to see the effect more.

Not bad! First thing we can do is just fade off the back layers, as if they were in a fog:

layer *= (steps - i) / float(steps);

We have a problem though: we should probably increase the sci-fi effect by moving the camera continually forward, but if we do, we're gonna run into a problem: Currently, since our planeZ is fixed to the 0.0 origin, they won't move with the camera. We could just add our camera Z to them, but then they would be fixed with the camera and wouldn't appear moving. What we instead want is to just render them AS IF they would be the closest 10 planes in front of the camera; the way we could do that is that if e.g. our planes' distance from each other is 5, then round the camera Z down to the nearest multiple of 5 (e.g. if the Z is at 13, we round down to 10), and start drawing from there; rounding up would be more accurate, but rounding down is easier, since we can just subtract the division remainder from Z like so:

float planeZ = (rayOrigin.z - mod(rayOrigin.z, planeDist)) - i * planeDist;

And now we have movement! Our basic rendering path is done.

Our little fictional UI

So now that we have the basic pipeline in place, let's see which elements can we adapt from Sasha's design pieces.

The first one I decided to go with wasn't strictly speaking in the set, but it was something that I saw used as design elements over the last two decades, and that's a thick hatch pattern element; I think it's often used because it has a nice industrial feel with it. Doing it in 2D is easy: We just add X and Y together, which will result in a diagonal gradient, and then we just turn that into an alternating pattern using, again, the modulo. All we need to do is limit it between two strips, and we have a perfectly functional "Police Line Do Not Cross" simulation.

return mod( uv.x + uv.y, 1 ) < 0.5 ? vec4(1) : vec4(0);

So let's stop here for a few moments; this isn't bad, but we're gonna need a few things. First, the repetition doesn't give us the nice symmetric look that Sasha recommends us to do, and secondly, we want them to look alive, to animate a bit.

Solving symmetry can be done just by modifying our repetition code a bit: instead of a straight up modulo with 1.0 that gives us a 0..1 range, let's use 2.0 to get a 0..2 range, then subtract 1.0 to get a -1..1 range, and then take the absolute value.

vec4 layer = fui( abs( mod( hitPos.xy, 2.0 ) - 1 ) );

This will give us a triangle-wave-like function, that goes from 0 to 1, then back to 0, then back to 1; in terms of texture coordinates, it will go back and forth between mirroring the texture in both directions, which, let's face it, looks Totally Sweet.

For animation, first I needed some sort of random value, but one that stayed deterministic based on a seed - in other words, I needed a function that took in a value, and returned a mangled version of it, but in a way that if I sent that value in twice, it would return the same mangled value twice. The most common way of doing it is taking the incoming "seed" value, and then driving it into some sort of function with a very large value that causes the function to alias, and then just returning the fraction portion of the number:

float rand(float x) { return fract(sin(x) * 430147.8193); }

Does it make any sense? No. Is it secure? No. Will it serve our purpose perfectly? Oh yes.

So how do we animate our layers? The obvious choice is animating both the hatch "gradient" value to make it crawl, and the start and end of our hatch pattern which causes the hatched strip to move up and down: simply take a random - seeded by our time value - of somewhere sensible (like between 0.2 and 0.8 so that it doesn't touch the edges) and add another random to it, seasoned to taste - we can even take a binary random to pick between horizontal and vertical strips:

The problems here are, of course, that currently they're moving 1) way too fast and 2) in unison. The fast motion obviously happens because the time value changes every frame, so it seeds our random differently every frame - this is easy to solve by just rounding our time value down to the nearest integer: this will result in some lovely jittery "digital" motion. The unison is also easy to solve: simply take the number of the layer, and add it to our time, thus shifting the time value for each layer; I also chose to multiply the layer ID with a random-ish number so that the layers actually animate independently, and the stutter doesn't happen in unison either:

vec4 fui( vec2 uv, float t ) { t = int(t); float start = rand(t) * 0.8 + 0.1; float end = start + 0.1; [...] } vec4 layer = fui( abs(mod(hitPos.xy, 2.0)-1), fGlobalTime + i * 4.7 );

Lovely!

Note: In hindsight using the Z coordinate of the plane would've given a more consistent result, but the way it animates, it doesn't really matter.

So let's think of more elements: the best looking one that seems to get the best mileage out in Sasha's blog is what I can best describe as the "slant" or "hockey stick" - a simple line, with a 45-degree turn in it. What I love about it is that the symmetry allows it to create little tunnels, gates, corridors, which will work great for our motion.

Creating it is easy: We just take a thin horizontal rectangle, and attach another rectangle to the end, but shift the coordinate of the second rectangle vertically, so that it gives us the 45-degree angle:

float p1 = 0.2; float p2 = 0.5; float p3 = 0.7; float y = 0.5; float thicc = 0.0025; if (p1 < uv.x && uv.x < p2 && y - thicc < uv.y && uv.y < y + thicc ) { return vec4(1); } if (p2 < uv.x && uv.x < p3 && y - thicc < uv.y - (uv.x - p2) && uv.y - (uv.x - p2) < y + thicc ) { return vec4(1); }

Note: In the final code, I had a rect() call which I originally intended to use as baking glow around my rectangle using a little routine I prototyped out earlier that morning, but I was ultimately too stressed to properly pull that off. Also, it's amazing how juvenile your variable names turn when people are watching.

Looks nice, but since this is such a thin sparse element, let's just... add more of it!

So what more can we add? Well, no sci-fi FUI is complete without random text and numbers, but we don't really have a font at hand. Or do we? For years, Bonzomatic has been "shipping" with this really gross checkerboard texture ostensibly for UV map testing:

What if we just desaturate and invert it?

We can then "slice" it up and render little sprites all over our texture: we already know how to draw a rectangle, so all we need is just 1) calculate which sprite we want to show 2) calculate the texture coordinate WITHIN that sprite and 3) sample the texture:

float sx = 0.3; float sy = 0.3; float size = 0.1; if (sx < uv.x && uv.x < sx + size && sy < uv.y &&uv.y < sy + size) { float spx = 2.0 / 8.0; // we have 8 tiles in the texture float spy = 3.0 / 8.0; vec2 spriteUV = (uv - vec2(sx,sy)) / size; vec4 sam = texture( texChecker, vec2(spx,spy) + spriteUV / 8.0 ); return dot( sam.rgb, vec3(0.33) ); }

Note: In the final code, I was only using the red component instead of desaturation because I forgot the texture doesn't always have red content - I stared at it for waaaay too long during the round trying to figure out why some sprites weren't working.

And again, let's just have more of it:

Getting there!

At this point the last thing I added was just circles and dots, because I was running out of ideas; but I also felt my visual content amount was getting to where I wanted them to be; it was also time to make it look a bit prettier.

Post-production / compositing

So we have our layers, they move, they might even have colors, but I'm still not happy with the visual result, since they are too single-colored, there's not enough tone in the picture.

The first thing I try nowadays when I'm on a black background is to just add either a single color, or a gradient:

vec4 colour = renderPlanes(uv); vec4 gradient = mix( vec4(0,0,0.2,1), vec4(0,0,0,1), uv.y); vec4 finalRender = mix( gradient, vec4(colour.xyz,1), colour.a);

This added a good chunk of depth considerably to the image, but I was still not happy with the too much separation between colors.

A very common method used in compositing in digital graphics is to just add bloom / glow; when used right, this helps us add us more luminance content to areas that would otherwise be solid color, and it helps the colors to blend a bit by providing some middle ground; unfortunately if we only have a single pass, the only way to get blur (and by extension, bloom) is repeatedly rendering the picture, and that'd tank our frame rate quickly.

Instead, I went back to one of the classics: the Variform "pixelize" overlay:

This is almost the same as a bloom effect, except instead of blurring the image, all you do is turn it into a lower resolution nearest point sampled version of itself, and blend that over the original image - since this doesn't need more than one sample per pixel (as we can reproduce pixelation by just messing with the texture coordinates), we can get away by rendering the scene only twice:

vec4 colour = renderPlanes(uv); colour += renderPlanes(uv - mod( uv, 0.1 ) ) * 0.4;

Much better tonal content!

So what else can we do? Well, most of the colors I chose are in the blue/orange/red range, and we don't get a lot of the green content; one of the things that I learned that it can look quite pretty if one takes a two-tone picture, and uses color-grading to push the midrange of a third tone - that way, the dominant colors will stay in the highlights, and the third tone will cover the mid-tones. (Naturally you have to be careful with this.)

"Boosting" a color in the mids is easy: lucky for us, if we consider the 0..1 range, exponential functions suit our purpose perfectly, because they start at 0, end at 1, but we can change how they get here:

So let's just push the green channel a tiny bit:

finalRender.g = pow(finalRender.g, 0.7);

Now all we need is to roll our camera for maximum cyberspace effect and we're done!

Best laid plans of OBS

As you can see from the code I posted the above, I wrote the final shader in GLSL; those who know me know that I'm a lot more comfortable with DirectX / HLSL, and may wonder why I switched, but of course there's another story here:

Given the remote nature of the event, all of the shader coding competition was performed online as well: since transmitting video from the coder's computer to a mixer, and then to another mixer, and then to a streaming provider, and then to the end user would've probably turned the image to mush, Alkama and Nusan came up with the idea of skipping a step and rigging up a version of Bonzo that ran on the coder's computer, but instead of streaming video, it sent the shader down to another instance of Bonzo, running on Diffty's computer, who then captured that instance and streamed it to the main Revision streaming hub. This, of course, meant that in a three-way, Diffty had to run three separate instances of Bonzo - but it worked fine with GLSL earlier, so why worry?

What we didn't necessarily realize at the time, is that the DirectX 11 shader compiler takes no hostages, and as soon as the shader reached un-unrollable level of complexity, it thoroughly locked down Diffty's machine, to the point that even the video of the DJ set he was playing started to drop out. I, on the other hand, didn't notice any of this, since my single local instance was doing fine, so I spent the first 15 minutes casually nuking Diffty's PC to shreds remotely, until I noticed Diffty and Havoc pleading on Discord to switch to GLSL because I'm setting things on fire unknowingly.

This is fine.

I was reluctant to do so, simply because of the muscle memory, but I was also aware that I should keep the show going if I can because if I bow out without a result, that would be a colossal embarrassment to everyone involved, and I only can take one of those once every week, and I was already above my quota - so, I quickly closed the DX11 version of Bonzo, loaded the shader up in a text editor, replaced "floatX" with "vecX" (fun drinking game: take a shot every time I messed it up during the live event), commented the whole thing out, loaded it into a GLSL bonzo, and quickly fixed all the other syntax differences (of which there were luckily not many, stuff like "mix" instead of "lerp", constructors, etc.), and within a few minutes I was back up and running.

This, weirdly, helped my morale a bit, because it was the kind of clutch move that for some reason appealed to me, and made me quite happy - although at that point I locked in so bad that not only did I pay absolutely not attention to the stream to see what the other two are doing, but that the drinks and snacks I prepared for the hour of battling went completely untouched.

In the end, when the hour clocked off, the shader itself turned out more or less how I wanted it, it worked really well with Bullet's techno-/psy-/hardtrance mix (not necessarily my jam, as everyone knows I'm more a broken beat guy, but pounding monotony can go well with coding focus), and I came away satisfied, although the perhaps saddest point of the adventure was yet to come: the lack of cathartic real-life ending that was taken from us due to the physical distance, when after all the excitement, all the cheers and hugs were merely lines of text on a screen - but you gotta deal with what you gotta deal with.

A small sampling of the Twitch reaction.

Conclusion

In the end, what was my takeaway from the experience?

First off, scoping is everything: Always aim to get an idea where you can maximize the outcome of the time invested with the highest amount of confidence of pulling it off. In this case, even though I was on short notice and in an environment I was unfamiliar with, I relied on something I knew, something I've done before, but no one else really has.

Secondly, broaden your influence: You never know when you can take something that seems initially unrelated, and bend it into something that you're doing with good results.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, step out of your comfort zone every so often; you'll never know what you'll find.

(And don't agree to everything willy-nilly, you absolute moron.)

[ihaveakoreanseoul]

Shoot Out Part III

Part I  Part II

Word Count~ 3.7

Warnings- None!

Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

Juyeon (The Boyz) x Reader

Mafia! AU; Werewolf! AU

I took a moment for myself, trying to only focus on the feeling of my breaths coming in and out of my body. After I felt steady enough to perform basic functions, I changed out of my sticky mess of a shirt and grabbed a replacement out of my closet. I washed off my face and pulled my hair into a bun, figuring that washing it would be a challenge that I would leave for a later time. I cracked open the door and scurried over to my brother’s room, grabbing a plain black t-shirt for the beautiful boy sitting in my kitchen to change into.

As I walked down the stairs, I mentally prepared myself to see his face again and ignore the pesky feelings that he caused to arise in me. He was sitting at the counter, his hair freshly slicked back, as if he had tried to wash it in the sink. He was hunched over a notebook of some sort, furiously dragging the pencil across the paper, as if he was sketching something. “Hey,” I said and he jerked up, slamming the notebook closed as if trying to hide something. “I brought this shirt for you to change into. We can stick your shirt in the washer when you’re done changing and I’ll get the brownies in the oven.” Once again he responded with a grunt of agreeance and I wondered what had changed. Gone was the boy who used every possible opportunity to fluster me with a flirty comment or cocky remark, he simply behaved like he didn’t know how to act around me anymore.

After I knew he had made it up the stairs and heard the sound of a door shutting, I tiptoed over to his notebook, curious of its contents that he seemed so desperate to hide from me. I opened it up and at first glance realized that it was indeed a sketchbook and also that Hyunjin was insanely talented. The first pages were all drawings of nature scenes of some sort, with a common theme of there being wolves in the sketches, either in the foreground or peering out from behind trees that looked so real that I could almost smell the fresh scent of pine.

Knowing that he would come down soon, I quickly flipped to the later pages, hoping to locate his work in progress. I was continually skimming the pages until I came to a halt upon a face that was oh so familiar but also looked like a face I had never seen before. It was my own face, deep in thought with a pencil pressed to my lower lip. I saw my eyes, my lips, my nose, the furrow in between my brows that formed when I was deep in concentration. I knew all these pieces were drawn to perfection but I could still hardly believe the sketch was of me because it was beautiful. I had never been what I considered severely insecure about my looks but I knew where I lied on the scale of beauty and it was not like this. The way he drew me felt like a caress on my face, his pencil lightly running over my features.

Wholeheartedly shocked by my discovery, I flipped past the first sketch to see drawing after drawing of me in various states. In most I was in class, either furiously scribbling down notes or with my hand raised high and eagerness to learn in my eyes. But in some I was with friends, smiling mischievously with a glint in my eyes or with my hands waving in front of me, caught up in the magic of storytelling. I finally came to the last sketch, which was rougher than the others, with the lines drawn in an almost frantic manner. If I had questioned that Hyunjin at least had some type of feelings towards me when I was looking at the previous drawings, all those doubts disappeared immediately when I saw this one. It was a moment that had occured only minutes ago, in the midst of the food fight. I was crouched on the ground, hands reached out in surrender and my head threw back as laughter wracked my body. Somehow with only the gray of the pencil he had made my eyes look like they were sparkling from within. I knew at that moment that he cared about me, much more than he would ever let on but the question I had was in what way did he care for me? Was it the joy of companionship that made him draw me? The tingle of new friendship? Or possibly something more?

With those thoughts shaking me back into reality, I realized that he would probably be down any moment. I slammed the notebook closed and ran over to hurriedly pour the brownie batter into the prepared pan, all while my mind spun out of control. I was debating what to do about what I had seen as I reached down to put the pan in the hot oven. As I slid the brownies onto the rack I was so caught up in thought that I didn’t notice my fingers coming into contact with the scalding metal rack until pain shot through my fingers.

I shot back, shaking my hand as if it would take away the pain as I heard a call of “(Y/N)” echo through the kitchen. I looked over to see Hyunjin running toward me and as he reached me he grabbed my hand to inspect my reddening fingers. Like a nagging mother he started on with “(Y/N) you have to be more careful next time. For christ’s sake you only have one set of fingers, they won’t regrow if you burn them off.”

As he mused, he placed a hand on my back and guided me towards the sink, where he turned on cool water and ran it over my fingers, still gingerly holding my hand in his. For the first time since he had come downstairs, I looked to him and our eyes met. In a low voice I said “Thank you for taking care of me Hyunin. I promise I will be more careful next time.” Instead of looking away, we both held the gaze for a few moments that felt like an eternity and I could feel my cheeks flush under his stare. He leaned in minutely for a moment and breathed in deep like his lungs were begging for air before he said “Be more careful from now on (Y/N) or you could get burned.” Somehow I knew that he didn’t mean that the oven would burn me.

Panic coursed through me as I struggled to come to terms with all the extraordinary events that had happened in the last hour. I yanked my hand out of his and I swear I saw pain flash in his eyes for a moment. “We had better get started on the project,” I said, trying to convince myself to focus on schoolwork instead of the feelings that I was drowning in.

I sat down at the kitchen counter, spreading all the class materials out in front of me. Looking down at the rubric for the project, I let out a deep sigh. Our english teacher was known for being a harsh grader, and I was worried that this project could drop my grade down to an A-. My parents have always been a major source of pressure when it comes to grades and I knew they would be displeased with a grade like that.

I heard the noise of the chair scraping across the floor as Hyunjin sat down next to me. I began to go over the basics of the project with him and then decided it was best to discuss the novel to see if we could agree on a theme to focus on. I was shocked that when I began to throw out ideas into the mix, he responded with eloquently spoken, well thought out responses and used examples from the novel to support his statements. A few minutes into our discussion I was stammering in surprise when I finally decided to voice my confusion.

“So Hyunjin, I’ve got a question for you.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Yeah?”

“I thought you slept everyday in class, how do you know all of this?”

He immediately burst into laughter. “I’d already read these novels in my free time and I’d rather sleep than listen to our teacher try to explain the beauty out of the book.”

“So I’m not the only one who gets upset every time he brings up literary devices that I’m relatively sure the author never intended to mean anything?”

“Not at all. Do you remember one of the first days in class when he tried to say that Twilight was a modern day Romeo and Juliet and as such, should be treated with more respect? That’s the first day I fell asleep.”

“Okay I have to admit, I did question his sanity a bit at that point but he is the one who writes the tests so I still try to listen.”

“Fair enough.”

For the next few hours we worked in comfortable silence. I began making the powerpoint that was necessary for the project, while Hyunjin began searching for sources to cite. I did not realize how late it was getting until I heard the familiar sound of the garage door lifting, signaling that my mom was home from work. I let of an “Oh shit,” without thinking about it. Hyunjin looked up from his work. “What’s wrong?”

“Well I hope you’re ready to meet my mom.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No, she’s one of the kindest women to grace this earth.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“Well… when she sees that you… look like you do, she’s going to you know, bug me about it.”

A knowing smirk appeared on his face. “You mean when she sees how devastatingly handsome I am she’ll want you to date me?”

A flush came upon my cheeks as I responded. “For lack of a better way to say that… sure. Whatever makes you feel good about yourself.”

“Well then I might just appreciate your mom’s help.”

“Help in what?”

“Dating you.”

As the words left his mouth my jaw dropped open and my heart began to race but as I was about to respond, I was interrupted by the sound of the garage door opening.

“Hi mom!” I called out.

“Hi sweetie!” She responded.

It was almost as if I could see her thought process as she walked in and her eyes fell upon Hyunjin. She was shocked at how attractive he was at first and my eyes jumped to his figure to see how he was feeling about the situation. Once again I was enraptured by his enigmatic aura and captivating eyes. When I glanced back at my mom, her eyes told me that she had not missed the way I had looked at Hyunjin and it made me nervous and embarrassed in an instant. Now that she had noticed my very obvious attraction to him, I knew she would try that much harder to get us together.  

I was surprised when Hyunjin confidently strode towards my mother and reached out his hand towards her.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Hyunjin. It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of grabbing his outstretched hand, my mother pulled him into a warm hug. “Oh you are just too cute! It’s so nice to meet you.” I saw Hyunjin’s body immediately tense, before he relaxed into the hug and reached up to awkwardly pat my mom’s back. He looked shocked by the motherly affection I was used to having, and it was kind of sweet to see him interacting with arguably the most important person in my life. When she pulled away, she turned her head towards me and said, “Have you asked him if he wants to stay for dinner?”

“No, mom I haven’t.”

“I thought I had taught you better manners, (Y/N).” She scolded, but I knew she was not actually mad at me. “Hyunjin, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making pasta.”

“Mom I’m pretty sure he’s busy-“

“I would love to ma’am, thank you.” Hyunjin said, interrupting me. I glared at him, upset that he was beginning to fully invade my life, but he took my glare and met it with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Oh, how wonderful! (Y/N) why don’t you two go and hang out for a while. But I’ll be vacuuming in the living room, so you’ll need to go to your room,” she said mischievously, sending me an extra conspicuous wink. “Mom…” I began, bothered by the forceful way she was trying to make me confront my own feelings. But then I felt a warm and comforting hand wrap around my own as Hyunjin said, “Let’s go (Y/N), your mother must be an extremely busy woman, we don’t want to distract her.” With a sigh, I let him pull me towards the stairs and when I peered over my shoulder, I could see my mom with a hand thrown across her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

As Hyunjin led me up the stairs, his warm hand still sending tingles through my body, I had mixed feelings about the situation, simultaneously feeling excitement course through my veins, as well as a distinct sense of anxiousness. I was becoming increasingly aware as time passed that I was quickly developing feelings for Hyunjin and feelings like these are truly unfamiliar territory for me. I have never been one to quickly fall in love, letting infatuation overtake my sensibilities. My sole focus has always been schoolwork and academic success, and everything else, including romantic relationships, has fallen to the wayside.

While I was in my practically catatonic trail of thoughts, Hyunjin looked back at me for direction. “(Y/N)... (Y/N),” he called, waving a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my own head. “Yeah?” I mumbled, still slightly dazed. “Where’s your room at?”

“Oh my room?” I questioned, a flush rising on my cheeks, “Oh umm yeah… it’s just right around the corner there.” As we walked over the threshold into my room I began to move around uncomfortably. I twiddled my thumbs and shifted my weight between my feet, not sure what to do with this Adonis of a man standing in my room. To my surprise, he fearlessly launched himself onto my bed and grabbed my TV remote from the bedside table. “Do you have Netflix? We can watch something,” he said, and then proceeded to pat the bed beside him, indicating that I should sit beside him. I nodded and hesitantly walked towards my bed, delicately seating myself on the very edge of the mattress.

Hyunjin looked over to my tense figure and chuckled. He began to scoot towards me, with a knowing smirk on his face. As he moved closer, I could barely remain seated on the bed. I was on the very edge of my precarious seat when, unexpectedly, he lunged towards me, sending me careening off the bed. In an attempt to keep myself from crashing to the ground in a heap, my hands reached out and grasped onto Hyunjin’s. Unfortunately, this did not prevent my fall but instead pulled the boy who began this along with me.

As my back hit the ground, I felt my breath leave my lungs in a rush of air. Before my body had time to fully register the impact, I felt a weight coming from above. As I cracked my eyes open I realized that Hyunjin had landed on top of me, his face only inches from mine. Before I could speak his hands were framing my face and tilting back and forth as if checking for any major injuries.

“(Y/N) are you okay? I’m so sorry I should have been more careful. Where are you hurt?” Instead of telling him that I had suffered no injuries, I became flustered by his nearness. He had not yet bothered to move, and my body was all too aware of his closeness. Afraid of what semi-coherent thoughts may come out of my mouth if I spoke, I bit down on my lip to keep these stray words from coming out and embarrassing me permanently.

When Hyunjin’s eyes landed on my lip in between my teeth, I could see his eyes darken and the temperature in the room felt like it skyrocketed. Our eyes made contact and I let my lip go from between my teeth with an audible pop. With a look of manic hunger in his eyes, Hyunjin let out a sigh and a barely decipherable “Fuck it,” before his lips fell on mine.

For a moment I was stunned into stillness. It was almost as if I had forgotten how to perform all of the major functions of my body. My heart stopped beating, my breaths stopped coming, and my lips had turned to stone. Frustrated with my lack of response, Hyunjin nipped at my bottom lip, trying to coax me into returning his affections. It worked, with my lips parting in a gasp, giving him a chance to kiss me deeper. I began to mirror his movements, falling into somewhat of a rhythm. As I gained confidence, I wound my arm up around his neck, running my fingers through his silky locks. His hand moved up to caress my face, making me feel cherished. While our lips continually met, he sat up, pulling me with him and onto his lap, so that I was straddling him. As we kissed, I fell deeper and deeper into the trap that was my feelings for Hyunjin. I knew at this point that there was no going back from what had happened tonight.

At some point I forgot where I was, how long we had been kissing, and my own name. It was just so easy to fall into the kiss and let my emotions run rampant. His kiss made me feel desired and wanted but never pressured to do anything further. As our breath ran out, we finally broke apart from the kiss. When we made eye contact an uncontrollable grin came on my face, a smile so wide, my cheeks strained. His face then reflected mine as he said, “My god, (Y/N), you put the brightest star in the sky to shame.” He stopped speaking but I could see in his eyes that there was more that he wanted to say. I reached up and pushed a stray hair out of his face. “What is it?”

He looked momentarily embarrassed, as if he was caught in the act of a crime. “I just… This might be too fast but… (Y/N), would you be my girlfriend?”

It felt like I had just won the lottery, a gold medal at the Olympics, and American Idol all at once. Even though I was overwhelmingly filled with joy at his question, there was still a whisper of doubt nagging at the back of my mind. I just couldn’t help but wonder why all this way happening. Why me and why now and why so quickly? Hyunjin could get pretty much any girl he wanted at our school, whether they were taken or not, and I was by no stretch of the word the prettiest girl at our school. I wanted so badly to just believe that Hyunjin truly liked me for me but that was a notion that I could barely wrap my head around. Gathering my courage, I decided to voice my concerns, instead of cutting myself off from him.

“I just was wondering something…” I mused, peering into his chocolatey eyes from my vantage spot on his lap. I could see that my comment made him nervous and I wanted to kiss away the little wrinkles that formed between his eyebrows while he worried. “Why me? I mean you could have practically any girl you wanted and I’m… I’m me. Nothing special, just your typical nerd but with possibly too much sarcasm. And I look like-” He cut me off in the middle of my self-deprecating rant.

“You look like the most extraordinarily attractive woman I have ever, and will ever, lay my eyes on. When you smile, my heart clenches and when we kissed… that’s a feeling that I will never grow tired of. But the most beautiful parts of you are the huge brain and heart you have. I have never met anyone as intelligent as you or as kind and loyal to your friends. The only fault I could ever find in you is that you don’t see all these beautiful things about yourself that I see. (Y/N) from the moment you woke me up in class and stomped all over my asshole front that I put up, I knew you would be someone I treasured forever, either as a friend or hopefully something more.”

My eyes began to well up with tears from his heartfelt confession. I had never felt so desired and treasured as I do now. It was at this moment that I knew I had my answer. “Hyunjin, I would be so honored to be your girlfriend,” I choked out before I burst into tears. He simply pulled me into his chest while I sobbed for all the insecurities that Hyunjin had begun to assuage.

Looking back at this moment, years later, I realize that this moment, along with the next year with Hyunjin, were the happiest times in my life. I lived in a state of constant bliss as I was showered with affection and reassurance.

The height of my happiness emphasized the severity of my heartbreak, when Hyunjin disappeared one night and in the past two years, has been gone from my life but never my heart.

[laraslandlockedblues]

On Lovers’ Lips

I woke up this morning with this scene running through my mind, and decided to go ahead and write and share it, because why not. And so - have a one shot from the perspective of Abby’s father, Michael, about how he met her mother.

Under a cut for length.

Michael slowed on the sidewalk, digging in the worn leather bag he wore across his body. With a sigh he opened it to peek in when he failed to find what he was reaching for, and he realized he must have left his journal in his room. There wasn’t enough time to walk back to get it, and for a moment he looked up and down the street. He’d need it for class, they were taking notes instead of sketching today -

The most beautiful shade of gold caught his eye, and he turned eagerly toward it. Walking slowly toward the window through which it was shining, he realized the gold was cascading waves of hair catching the sunlight. Thin fingers dragged through it and brushed it off a face, and his heart almost skipped a beat as the most angelic face he’d ever seen was revealed.

Soft cheekbones angled high on a heart-shaped face, small pointed chin resting below full pink lips, their corners curling up slightly as if they carried some secret only they knew. The slope and point of her nose made him want to trace it with his fingers, to memorize its angles and curves.

She rested her chin in her hand, staring down at something as she tapped her cheek absently with the eraser of the pencil in her other hand. Michael stood transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away, and suddenly the fact that he was running late to class slipped his mind. He found himself carried to the door as if compelled, knowing only that he had to get closer, to see her and maybe even speak to her if he could.

The old bookstore had a dusty quality to it, swirls of particles almost glittering in the dim yellow light. Sunlight streaming through the slightly grimy windows illuminated them and almost made them look like the tiniest snowflakes, falling over the books piled on tables lining the space between the door and the counter.

She was sitting behind the counter, a textbook and papers open before her. When she heard the bell above the door ring, she glanced up and quickly closed her textbook.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted, and for a moment she simply held his gaze. A soft, almost hesitant smile came across her face, and it felt as if he was staring into the sun. “Can I help you find something?”

“I - um,” he glanced around quickly, trying to think of an excuse before he realized he already had the perfect one. “Do you sell journals here? Or a sketchbook, maybe? I - I only just realized I forgot mine, and I need to get to class.”

She smiled and nodded, hopping off the stool she was sitting on so she could lead the way down one of the rows of bookshelves. She was short, and her wavy hair fell like silk to her waist, swinging as she took brisk steps. He followed behind her, fascinated by the way the it moved and caught the light until he almost felt himself having to resist reaching out to see if it really was pure gold as it appeared.

“We’ve got these, they’re not - the best, but if you just need one for class today,” she leaned over the small display table she had led him to, “this one’s pretty cheap.”

When she turned back to hand him the thin, plain notebook she smiled, her whole face lighting up. This close he could finally tell her eyes were hazel, though they were a golden green at the moment as if the green sweater she was wearing was reflecting back at him from their depths.

“Th-thank you,” he said when he realized she was waiting for him to say something. “It’s just what I needed.”

She continued smiling as she brushed by him, a whiff of something floral like gardenia lingering after her. Michael followed her back to the counter, scanning the shelves as he did, wondering if there was something else he could ask her about. But they reached the counter and she began to ring him up at the register.

As he dug in his wallet for his cash, he looked at the textbook she had sitting on the counter. “What are you studying?” he asked.

She looked down at the textbook and sighed softly. “English,” she answered.

“At NYU? Or -”

“Yeah, NYU,” she told him with a small smile. “How about you?”

“Same,” he said. “Or - I’m in my last year at NYU, but I’m not studying English. I’m an Art major.”

“Art?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she accepted his cash and opened the register. The touch of her fingers was brief on his, but the feeling remained like a ghost whispering on his skin. “Do you - paint? Or sculpt or something?”

“Sketch and paint, not - not sculpting,” he replied as he accepted his change. He wished he could close his fingers on hers as he did, thinking of how much he wanted to study the lines of her palm. But he pocketed his change and picked up the notebook he had bought, gesturing it as he spoke. “I - well, thank you, this was - a lifesaver.”

She nodded and smiled. “Glad you were walking by when you realized it, that was lucky,” she agreed.

He took in the soft angles of her face, the bright gleam in her eyes, the secret that still remained in the upward curve of her lips, and he returned her smile. “It certainly was.”

After a moment standing in front of the counter, wishing he had a reason to stay but unable to think of one in the face of her radiant beauty. Instead he gestured the notebook in farewell and turned to leave. Once out on the sidewalk he stopped and looked back through the window, his heart racing again when he saw her watching him leave.

The next day he left early for class, running a hand through his thick dark hair as he hurried along the sidewalks. He slowed as he approached the bookstore, trying to act casual. One last run of his fingers through his hair, and he opened the door, enjoying the ring of the bell as he did.

“Good afternoon!” her sweet voice called, but it came from amongst the shelves, the counter to the right of the door standing empty.

He stepped into the bookstore, slowly walking along the rows of shelves and craning his neck to search down each. Her head popped out from the row next to him, mouth open as if she was about to offer assistance, but she fell silent at the sight of him. For a moment she held his gaze, a soft, almost shy smile coming to her lips.

“Hello again,” she greeted. “Did you forget your journal again? Or is it pencils this time?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Actually, I was - hoping you could recommend something for me,” he told her, trying to remember the excuse he had rehearsed when he decided to come back. “We have a project to try to capture a certain style and period, and I was thinking of exploring the Gothic, or Romanticism. I thought maybe you could help me narrow it down, since you’re studying English.”

She considered him for a moment, but then smirked and nodded. Spinning on her heel she crooked a finger over her shoulder, and he followed, watching the way her golden waves swung with each step as they had the day before. She had the front of her hair pulled back with a black ribbon, so that it fell like a cascade down her back and around her face. 

As she walked she spoke over her shoulder, “I mean, you could always go classic for Gothic. If you wanted to do Edgar Allan Poe, there’s a lot of scenes you could do that would capture the feeling. Or something like Frankenstein, but that almost seems too obvious, unless you want something insanely easy. Do you have to do a scene, or just the essence of the style with your own piece? I mean Gothic would just be - dark, and morbid, probably wouldn’t be putting yourself out depending on your choice...” She continued talking as she led him to a section in the shelves and began to pull a few worn books down into her arms.

He thought quickly for a moment as he listened to her ramble so eagerly, realizing she had asked him a question he needed to figure out the answer to. There wasn’t actually an assignment, but he had thought pretending he had a project was the easiest excuse to return to speak with her more. “Um, just the - style, it’s - it’s an odd assignment, trying to translate literature styles into an interpretation of art,” he told her when she took a breath. He secretly hoped it didn’t sound too far-fetched or odd, and that she wouldn’t realize he was making it up.

She gave him a fleeting look from the corner of her eye, but then shrugged. “So do you want something easy like Frankenstein? Or do you want a challenge?”

“A challenge,” he answered. “I - I like challenges, they’re the only way you can really grow. Especially with art.”

A smile flitted across her face, a look almost like approval and wonder in her eyes. “If that’s the case, honestly,” she put the books back and took down a different one, “then you should read this. Trying to capture the style of Shelley’s poems and writings would be a challenge, if you want to do Romanticism.”

He took the book of poems from her, running his fingers over the worn cover and opening it to find some of the pages dog-eared. The scent of old books wafted up as he flipped through the pages, and he raised his gaze to hers once more. “Shelley?” he asked.

“Well, I mean - he’s one of the most famous Romantic poets. His second wife, Mary, wrote Frankenstein,” she rested a hand on the shelf, turning to face him, “and they had a whirlwind affair. Quite scandalous, she was only sixteen, he was twenty-one and married. They used to sneak out and meet in a cemetery - the same cemetery where her mother was buried. There’s a lot of speculation that Mary Shelley even lost her virginity on her mother’s grave.”

At this he raised his eyebrows, looking down at the book he held. “That doesn’t sound like too much of a challenge,” he told her.

She shrugged. “Maybe not,” she agreed. “Read his poetry though, see what you think of his style. What’s the medium?”

“Uh - charcoals,” he told her, listing the first thing he could think of. He looked back down at the book, considering. “I’d never heard any of that, before. Is that what you’ve been studying?”

“We did last semester, but I did a lot of reading about it on my own, I - I tend to do that. I love learning,” she answered. “I found it incredibly romantic, too, I mean - as silly as it sounds.” She blushed and looked away. “It was probably foolish, her father disapproved, he was married, but they - went on to be two of the most influential writers of that time, together. For a time, at least, I mean he - died tragically young.”

For a moment Michael stood, admiring the way her cheeks pinkened as she avoided his gaze, as if she hadn’t meant to ramble quite so much about something so romantic. “Parents disapprove of a lot of things,” he mused, trying to keep the topic going, to add anything worthwhile to the beautiful things she had said. “If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be happy and love whoever she chose.”

She looked up at him, that same soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth, the secret he wished dearly to discover for himself. But then it was gone and she looked at where her fingers were fidgeting with the edge of the shelf. “Um, was there anything else I can help with? Pencils you need to buy?”

Michael smiled and shook his head, glancing at his watch. “No, I should - probably get to class,” he said with a sigh. He wanted to linger, to continue speaking with her, to hear more of her interests or things she found fascinating. Instead he let her lead him to the counter and he paid for the book of poems before he put it in his leather bag. “Thanks, again.”

“Of course,” she told him. She smiled and then bit her lower lip. “You’ll have to tell me how it turns out, if I see you again.”

He felt himself flush, but he laughed and nodded. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

The next day he went after class, when he would have more time to spend in the bookstore. He had spent the evening reading the book of poetry in his room, and was better prepared to ask her questions about Shelley and Romanticism.

When he arrived, an older man with wire-rimmed glasses was sitting behind the counter, and he greeted him with a muttered ‘good afternoon.’ Michael paused, looking around the bookstore, but it seemed to be otherwise unoccupied. Deciding he’d rather ask he stepped up to the counter and waited for the man to look up from what he was reading. “Excuse me, there’s a - a young woman who works here, is she - is she working today?”

“Not today,” the man answered. “She’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Michael said, trying to hide the disappointment from his face. “Th-thank you.”

“Need me to pass on a message?” the man asked.

“No, no, that’s - fine,” Michael said. He turned to exit the shop again but then paused. “Oh, actually - tell her thank you for the suggestion. It was just the challenge I needed.”

The man gave a noncommittal grunt and Michael showed himself out of the bookstore, burying his hands in his pockets as he began the walk back home.

After his morning class the day after, he hurried down the streets until he reached the bookstore. He could see glints of gold through the window, and he smiled brightly at the sight of it. Taking a deep breath he walked inside, the now familiar ring of the bell above the door greeting his first step into the musty store.

“Good - oh, hello,” she greeted him, and she sat up straight at the sight of him. “Back again? What is it this time?”

“Just - just a thank you,” he told her, slowly crossing to the counter. He rummaged in his leather bag and pulled out the book of poems, carefully opening it and withdrawing the thick paper he had tucked into it. “You were right, this was -”

“The challenge you needed?” she finished for him. “Mr. Nicholson told me someone stopped by to say thank you, I figured it was you.”

He smiled and nodded. “It was,” he admitted, and he put the piece of paper in front of her. He watched as her eyes lit up, as she carefully picked it up and let her eyes wander over it. “What do you think? Did I - did I capture the style well enough?”

“I - I’d say you did,” she murmured. “I never thought - did you paint this?”

“Watercolors,” he told her. He leaned his elbows on the counter as she laid the piece back down between them.

Her fingers traced the lines, delicately moving over the scene. “It’s - it’s beautiful,” she said after several moments of silence, raising her gaze to his. “I thought you said charcoals, though -”

“This is for you,” he interrupted. “I - I wanted to see what you thought of it, if I - if I captured the romance well enough.”

Her lips parted slightly, her cheeks flushing again as she looked between Michael and the painting. She seemed unable to speak, and she moved her fingers to the small initials at the bottom corner of the painting. “M - F - H?” she read out, looking up at him.

“Michael Frederick Henderson,” he told her with a smile.

“Well, Michael Frederick Henderson,” she replied with a smirk, seeming to regain her composure from the shock of receiving the painting. “I’ll have to make sure I hang onto this so I can say I had an original Henderson from before you were famous.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Then it’s only fair I know your name, so I know whose essays to look out for on the romance of young love and poets,” he replied.

She held his gaze for a moment and then smiled. “Jackie,” she answered.

“Just Jackie?” he teased, quirking an eyebrow.

“All right - Jacqueline Moreau,” she told him with a smirk.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jacqueline Moreau,” he said. For a moment they held one another’s gaze, both leaning on the counter, the small painting between them. But then he cleared his throat and straightened once more. He glanced around the small shop, taking note of a corner with a worn wingback armchair and table, a standing lamp beside it for reading. “Do you work tomorrow, Jackie?”

She smiled and nodded. “In the afternoon,” she answered. “Will you - need more help then? It’s Saturday, so no rushing to class…”

There was the slightest hint of hope in her voice, and he felt his heart race. “I may need some more research,” he mused, and he glanced back at her. “I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She chewed her bottom lip and lowered her gaze to the painting still resting on the counter. “Sure, see you tomorrow, Michael,” she agreed.

The next day he went in the afternoon, leisurely making his way down the street. Once inside the bookstore, he nodded at the man who must be Mr. Nicholson and then walked through the rows of bookshelves. He settled into the armchair, pulling out the book of poetry and his sketch paper, working on the piece he had begun planning when he decided to come that day.

His work was meticulous, and time passed quickly as he sat perfecting his sketch. By the time the bell above the door rang and he heard Jackie’s voice greeting Mr. Nicholson, he was almost done with the background. He smiled to himself when he heard her footsteps approaching, and he hurried to hide his work.

“Hello,” she greeted, stopping near him to pretend to straighten a few of the books. “How’s your research going?”

“Very well,” he answered with a smile.

“Maybe you can tell me about it later,” she said, and she lingered for a moment before she went back to take her seat at the counter.

Mr. Nicholson left, and a peaceful silence settled over the bookstore. Jackie sat at the counter reading from a textbook, but more than once Michael caught her glancing his way when he happened to be looking at her for reference. He continued work on his sketch, trying to be discreet, hoping he could manage to surprise her with it.

When he was finally done, he wrote the quote he had the book open to on it and signed his first name beneath it. He studied the piece for a moment, looking between it and his angelic model sitting behind the counter. With a satisfied smile he closed his book and slipped it into his bag before he stood.

One deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and he crossed the bookstore to the counter. He set the sketch on top of her textbook, and watched as she gasped and gently reached for it.

“I - it’s - beautiful,” she stuttered out, staring open-mouthed at it. Her eyes wandered over the lines, one finger delicately tracing the slope of her nose, the bow of her lips sketched in pencil before it moved to the words.

Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment they simply stared at one another. Michael finally smiled and gestured to the sketch. “I - I don’t think I’ve ever had such a beautiful muse,” he told her. “Maybe - sometime, we could go to Central Park and I could bring my watercolors -”

“Yes,” she interjected, a tender look in her eyes. “I’d - I’d love to. I’m - I work in the morning tomorrow, we could go after?”

“Perfect,” he agreed. “I’ll - I’ll see you around noon?”

She nodded, chewing her bottom lip as she looked back down at the sketch. “Yes, noon - noon works. I - thank you, it’s - beautiful.”

“As I said, it was - the muse, more than anything,” he told her. He stood for a moment, considering, but then he cleared his throat. “I should - go. I’ll see you - see you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she said softly, looking up at him.

He returned her smile, drinking in the way she was looking at him, and he felt as if he had to drag himself away from the sight. Once outside the bookstore he stopped on the sidewalk, his feet unwilling to carry him home.

He had always been impulsive, and the urge overtook him, the desire he didn’t want to fight. Without another second’s pause he turned and walked back into the bookstore. She wasn’t at the counter, and he hurried along the rows of shelves until he found her, almost dreamily putting a few books away.

Jackie glanced up at his approach, something like eager surprise in her eyes when she saw him back once more. “Michael -”

He slipped his hand into her hair, his other at her waist, and he pulled her to him. Pressing his lips to hers he held her to him, backing her into the shelf behind him as he did. Her lips were soft, and when she parted them his tongue delved into her mouth to search hers out. She tasted sweet, and her fingers gripped the front of his jacket as she held him to her in turn.

The kiss tore through him, until his every nerve felt keenly aware of her, his every sense full of her until he felt as if he hadn’t truly experienced life until this moment. He was dizzy in response to how she was returning his overeager passion, looping her arms around his neck, fingers running through his hair as she kissed him desperately.

When he finally pulled away, he stared down into hazel-green eyes wide with surprise and desire. Neither of them spoke for a moment, simply holding one another’s faces as they tried to catch their breaths.

But then he smiled, a feeling like perfection overcoming him until he knew that whatever fate had led him to leave his journal that day was something he would always be grateful for. He blinked to clear his vision, trying to resist the powerful emotion swelling inside of him, the overwhelming joy crashing over him.

“Jackie,” he murmured, and she smiled when he said her name. “I’m going to marry you,” he told her softly, and he watched the way her lips curled up in the way he had watched them since the first time he saw her. Only now, he knew what the secret they held was, the secret meant only for him. “I just know it - without a doubt. I’m going to marry you, Jackie Moreau.”

[daehwifi]

CROWN . | LEE DAEHWI

- admin xion 

genre: fluff/angst but mainly fluff  member: lee daehwi word count: 3, 106 requested: uh... not really ?  side notes: dedicated to this bub who cries over him so much @dong-hyucks ily jade <3 // wOAH I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I WROTE THIS MUCH IM SO SHOOKT 

prompt: where you help out backstage for the school’s plays they put on 

you stretched your arms out and let out a yawn 

daehwi sat beside you and looked at all the sketches you had placed out in front of you 

“wahhh- so this is the set for the play?” he spoke with his jaw dropping

“mmhm, i mean, i have to make it extra special since you’re the lead role in it now,” you teased, lightly hitting him on his shoulder

he giggled a bit and rubbed the back of his neck 

“i don’t know how i feel about being a prince though,” he mumbles under his breath 

you rose an eyebrow 

“the kiss part,” he adds as you mouth forms an ‘o’

“i mean, you’ll get to kiss you longing princess of unaveia,” you joked, exaggerating it a bit 

“haven’t you have a crush on her since like, third grade?” you added, nudging his shoulder a bit 

“yeah- i guess,”  he spoke softly, staring at your sketches 

his sudden blank (and slightly gloomy face) instantly disappeared when he noticed the sketches of the crowns you were going to order 

“wOAH, THIS IS WHAT MY CROWN IS GOING TO LOOK LIKE?” he blurts as he picks up the sketch

you nod with a soft smile across your face 

the crown was gold, with small little gems across it 

“and the princess gets a flower crown because she’s-”

“believes in nature and has a strong connection to the wind,” you both spoke in’synced using the most monotone range

it followed with laughs in the air as daehwi picks up the flower crown sketch you made 

“why is there a x2 here?” he asked, pointing to the topic corner of the sheet

“ah- i thought it looked pretty so, i decided to order two, y’know? one of her and one for me, but i’ll just be wearing mines backstage,” you spoke softly, almost flustered

“and i bet you’ll look beautiful regardless if you’re on stage or backstage,” daehwi compliments 

the heat rose to your cheeks, and the pain to hide your smile became unbearable as you let out a small laugh

you hid your face in between your hands 

and daehwi found it the most cutest thing ever 

throughout the days, daehwi would be rehearsing his lines with you and giving you opinions on your sketches

as the day of the show was soon closing it

of course, the tension was rising as everyone was trying to jam everything in on time 

rushing downstairs, you ran out to your mailbox, quickly opening it 

there in it was a box and you quickly grabbed with a smile across your face

running back inside your house, you dashed up the stairs and opened the box with the help of some scissors, scratching yourself a bit 

despite you winced to the pain, you saw how the crown and the flower crown turned out to be 

you couldn’t help but become giddy as you laughed a bit, kicking your legs from the sight despite your hand was slightly bleeding 

“ah wai-” you trailed off your sentence when you noticed your hand had a trail of blood going down to your wrist 

quickly, you rushed into your washroom and ran your hand under cold water, then wiping it down and placing a band aid on it 

you seriously, couldn’t help but become a kid to how the crowns looked

you even wore the flower crown and looked at yourself in the mirror, holding daehwi’s crown in your hands 

but for some reason, you were a bit sadden to the fact that he’ll be kissing someone in the play 

almost like if it was jealousy 

she’ll be wearing the same crown as you 

“that’s okay! daehwi deserves it, he’s been liking her since 3rd grade,” you attempted to cheer yourself up, forcing a soft smile 

once daehwi heard the news of the crowns coming in, of course he rushed to your house rehearsal to see them 

without even knocking, daehwi BARGED into your house and into your room as he saw the crown laying on your desk 

mouth opened, he picked it up and placed it on his head 

“IT’S BEAUTIFUL” he blurts, almost shocked to how he looks like 

softly smiling, he looks at you and noticed the flower crown on top of your head and the other copy of it on your night stand 

“you’re- beautiful,” he added without even thinking twice 

your cheeks grew red 

he was instantly taken aback 

“nO- I MEAN- YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL BUT LIKE-” he attempts to recover himself but was still in awe to how pretty you looked 

in which was the most cutest thing in your opinion

you began laughing without even noticing it 

daehwi rolled his eyes and took your wrist, dragging you in front of your mirror 

the two of you stood beside each other 

“you’ll do amazing tomorrow, i know it,” you spoke softly 

“you too,” he replied, nudging you shoulder 

“what exactly am i doing?” 

“uh- PUTTING ON THIS WHOLE ENTIRE SHOW? if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have this amazing set and props,” daehwi spoke, making you feel a bit better about yourself

“thanks,” you replied 

the next day rolled around as you already downed 2 cups of coffee despite your hate for it 

it was too bitter, but it helped you stay awake 

“LIGHT CHECK IN 5, BE READY” you heard someone say 

you were running around all over the place, making sure everything was set and ready to go 

what exactly is your job?

you’d stay backstage, so when people would go off when it’s not their que, you’d make any last minute adjustments or go over their script with them, sort of like a moral support type of person 

“you have a crown too?” the princess of the show scoffs in disgust as you were adjusting daehwi’s hear 

she walked off, making you slightly pouted 

“don’t worry, you look beautiful in the crown y/n,” he spoke with a smile across his face 

you nodded and fixed up his bangs, showing two thumbs up

“goodluck!” you spoke 

“GOING ON IN 3″ 

everyone was getting into their positions as you got into yours 

you had multiple things beside you

band aids, towels, a little sewing kit, water bottles and even more 

before going on, daehwi turned around and gave you two thumbs up, making you chuckle a bit 

and you watched the play begin 

the story was about a prince, who was claimed he didn’t need a princess 

until walking in the forest one day, he came across a girl who loved nature at it’s best 

soon enough despite there being a controversy that someone believing in nature and has a strong connection to the wind are insane 

they soon give in and crown her princess with a flower crown

the same one you were wearing 

and kiss 

just as the last scene was happening 

you couldn’t help but feel your heart being dragged down a bit 

he inched closer towards her as their lips placed against one another

all the crowd cheering for them as the curtains rolled down 

you stood there, almost feeling a wave of tears but you weren’t sure why

for some reason, you couldn’t stand being there anymore and walked off 

everyone got off the stage as you wiped away the slight tears from your eyes, forcing a smile a bit 

you avoided the mist of everyone and didn’t go to the after party

it was worth it anyways 

you didn’t like loud music and wasn’t in the mood to eat

instead, after everyone had left the empty you dangled your legs off the stage and looked at the empty seats 

“he’s liked her since 3rd grade, there’s nothing to worry about,” you spoke to yourself, forcing a small laugh

a few minutes paced of you sinking yourself in a bit of a sorrow 

when sudden footsteps filled your ears

“that’s where you were!” daehwi blurts as he rushes over to sit beside you 

“why are you here by yourself?” he asked 

“ah- i just, wanted some quiet, y’know?” you spoke softly 

he nods and stares at your hands, noticing the band aid 

“did you cut yourself?” he grabs your hand and looks at the band aid 

you became a bit flustered because the look on his face looked so concerned and his fingers were touching the palm of your hand

“y-yeah! when i was opening the crown box... i got too excited,” you mumbled 

he nods as he released his fingers from your hand and stares at your side view 

suddenly, he took off the flower crown you still kept on and placed on your head the crown you made for him

“princes shouldn’t have crown’s anyways. it only makes more scene if a beautiful girl has a beautiful crown,” daehwi spoke 

you sat there with red cheeks

daehwi smiles, making your heart melt a bit 

“and don’t worry. she’s a bad kisser anyways,” he joked, making you feel a bit better 

“but i think i know someone who’d be a good kisser!” he adds happily 

just as you turned you head, daehwi places his lips onto yours quickly

“wAIT I MEANT TO KISS YOUR CHEEK-” he blurts 

you could see his cheeks forming red 

but yours was just the same 

[katleowriting]

Sister of Darkness- You’re Undead to me

He you go, episode 5 with the vampire diaries rewrite!

Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001889/chapters/35573652

Fell/Gilbert House

Parker sat up in her bed, she looked around and smiled. Over the four days since the founders party, she had managed to move all of her stuff from the Gilbert house to Sarah's house. Or would it be her house now too? Parker didn't really know, but she was there now and she was extremely happy about it. Jeremy helped her some with bringing over her larger stuff, even Vicki had stopped to help. Elena was almost silent when she helped her pack the rest of her stuff in her room, along with Jenna who couldn't shut up about how Parker was all grown up, and didn’t need anyone to take care of her anymore. There was also lots of complaining about what are they going to eat now that the only one in the family that could cook was leaving. Parker had promised to return if randomly if only to keep everyone else from being subjected to take out for the rest of their lives.

Getting up from her bed she walked to her bathroom and brushed her teeth, and then took a shower before getting dressed to head to the school. Walking down the stairs, Parker, passed pictures of her and Sarah growing up together, then there were some of them with Zach at the boarding house. Smiling she walked into the kitchen to find Sarah drinking coffee and flipping through magazines. The kitchen was already more organized than when it was just Sarah there, all of the coffee cups were actually together.

"Hey, how are you doing this morning?" Parker asked pouring herself a large mug coffee.

"Good, thanks to you for organizing the cupboards. I could actually find stuff." Sarah said with a laugh before going back to her magazine.

"I’ll see you tonight, I'm off to the school and then Zach asked me to come over for a while, and help him with something at the boarding house." Parker said putting a lid on her cup and picking her stuff up.

"Is he going insane with only his nephew there? Grab me a good book while you there." Sarah grinned not looking up from her magazine.

Mystic Falls High

Parker sat at her desk during lunch and waiting for Stefan to come in and make up a test he’d missed in one of his classes. Not a few minutes later he walked in and almost let out a sigh. Ignoring him she pointed to a desk with a paper on it and he got to work. Six minutes later he laid the paper down on her desk.

"I take it you've talked to my little sister?" Parker questioned looking up at him.

"Yeah, we are going to meet up at the grill later to talk." Stefan said standing near the door, so people could see he was finishing up a talk with the counselor.

"Well I have a feeling you're going to tell her another lie, so tell me the truth. How is it going with Damon?" Parker asked looking him in the eye.

"He's Damon, never underestimate him. He's strong, stronger than I am. It'll take longer for him to be weakened enough to move him to the family crypt." Stefan warned with worry in his voice.

"Good to know, I'm going to hang out with Zach during that stupid car wash tomorrow and I'm also going over there tonight after I get out of work." Parker said shaking her head and ending the conversation. Sending Stefan on his way to whatever class he had after lunch.

Salvatore Boarding House

Parker walked up the steps of the Salvatore house with Stefan only a few feet in front of her. Entering the house it all seemed quiet, until Stefan disappeared at vampire speed causing her to go on alert and run to the basement where there was suddenly noise. AS she basically flew down the stairs Parker could see Zach leaning against the wall holding his throat and Stefan was glaring at Damon.

"Yo, Z man, you okay?" She asked walking up to him to start looking his neck over, seeing slight red marks in the shape of Damon’s hands.

"I'm fine, you shouldn't be down here though," Zach replied trying and failing to push her to the stairs, "You don't take vervain."

"Stop Zach, you know I don't need vervain. I can't be compelled, so stop and let me help you." Parker growled causing Zach to freeze and let Parker finish her inspection. Parker grabbed his head and tilted it from side to side seeing the slight bruises form. "You'll live, any tighter and you could be dead, due to lack of oxygen."

"Got it Parker," Zach said as both of them made their way up the stairs to the couch waiting for Stefan to come back up.

"You young man are late, my baby sissy won't be too happy," Parker said shaking her finger at Stefan, a fake stern look upon her face as he entered the room causing Zach to laugh at the scene. Smiling Stefan left knowing that they were both okay and safe upstairs.

Twenty minutes later Zach had gone to the bathroom and Parker got up off the couch and silently walked to the basement, the door was still open so she ran down the stairs as quietly as humanly possible, and for her that was practically silent. Once down the stairs she walked to the door of the cell Damon was in and looked at him, she mentally started taking stock of the shape he was in, and how close she could estimate possible desiccation.’ Stefan was wrong, it will take him longer to be weak enough than what he thinks’.

"My little brother and Zachary won't be too happy that you’re down here," Damon mumbled before he groaned slightly in pain, Parker could see some of it wasn’t all real pain.

"I honestly don't care. Don't you think it’s  kind of funny that Katharine and my little sister look absolutely identical. Not just sorta, but actually fully alike. Not like family, but practically the same person." Parker chuckled drawing Damon's full attention.

"How do you know that?" Damon groaned looking at her, eyes narrowing. "Stefan wouldn't have told you, and Zach doesn't know that little detail, so he couldn’t have told you."

"I like to snoop.One can't live in this house for almost three years and not snoop, Damon. Did you honestly think I didn't look around. I mean, Zach can only pay so much attention to what someone is doing while he's asleep. In his room, on the main floor,”  Parker smirked as Damon tried to chuckle, "I liked it here, at one point my mom insisted that she help Zach clean because I was staying here. I helped out to but, I mainly hung out upstairs. Zach was always down stairs on the main floor, so I went into rooms he said not to. Like your room and Stefan's. I must be honest, I liked your room better than Stefan's, his is to cluttered. Your’s is more clean and sleek, in an antique kind of way."

"Why are you down here?" Damon asked groaning again.

"I'm bored, and Zach said I couldn't go upstairs, I think he caught onto me snooping in your guys rooms. But silly him, he never said anything about coming down here." Parker smiled with a hint of red around her iris. Before walking away she stopped hearing when she heard Damon's voice again.

"She had a picture of you, Katherine. She told me it was from when she was human, five hundred years ago. It was given to her hand maid with the stuff left behind when she was sent to the church to burn." Damon whispered causing Parker to scrunch her eyebrows and frown before walking up the stairs.

Fell/Gilbert House

Parker lay in her bed the next morning staring at the ceiling, thinking over what Damon had said before she walked out of the basement. How did Katherine have a picture of me over a hundred years ago? How is the picture from when she was human? Parker thought to herself as her door opened to Sarah standing there in a bikini.

"I'm going to the high school car wash, Caroline wants more help and apparently she thinks I look sexy in a bikini." Sarah said before leaving.

Rolling her eyes Parker got out of her bed, to take a shower. Once out of the shower she braided her hair minus her bangs. She put on her black shorts and red tank top, with her black ankle boots. Grabbing her phone, wallet, and a sketchbook with pencils, Parker left for the boarding house.

Salvatore Boarding House

Arriving there Parker  just walked in and sat on a couch, Zach barely noticed her as he dusted some shelves. Quietly Parker started to sketch something she had seen the night before in a dream.

Twenty minutes later Parker heard slight whispering from the open basement door but chose to ignore it. It wasn’t much longer when she heard one of the glass doors open. Frowning Parker stood up when she heard someone walking in, they sounded like they were wearing sandals. Hearing the steps head to the basement, Parker, stood up and started walking in that direction hearing, "Damon?"

Quickly Parker ran in the direction Zach was in and grabbing him dragging him and pulling to start running in the direction of the basement. Quickly Zach understood something was happening and they were in a race for the basement. Once down the stairs Parker gasped at the sight of Caroline starting to unlock the door of Damon's cell.

“Stop Caroline!” Parker gasped, moving forward to try and pull her away from the door.

"You're going to open the door," Damon repeated over and over to Caroline, trying to block her from hearing the other two.

"No," Zach shouted running and grabbing the lock. Damon started to struggle and fight to open the door from his side, Parker managed to push Caroline to the Stairs.

"Get out of here. Now. Run." Parker yelled at her moving to the door to try and help shut it. But Damon was quickly opening the door, even weak he was stronger than two humans. Damon pushed Zach to the ground, snapping his neck. When he turned to Parker, he slammed her into the wall. The last thing Parker saw was Damon running up the stairs after Caroline, and all she could feel was a throbbing from the back of her head and the rest of her body.

Parker came to with a groan, looking over she saw Stefan holding a now dead Zach. Tears started to form in her eyes, Stefan saw this and just looked back down at Zach. Parker slowly stood up holding onto the back of her head, once she was fully standing she almost walked up the stairs slowly to her stuff. Grabbing her stuff She looked back at Stefan with tears running down her face before she moving out of the house and to her car.

Fell/Gilbert House

Entering her house ten minutes later, Parker was still crying when Sarah came out of the kitchen. Seeing her best friend in tears and holding her head, Sarah, ran to her and dragged her to the couch. Quietly Parker told her through her sobs about Zach and Damon, both girls having been told the Salvatore secret by Zach, when the two of them were in high school. As members of founding family's and Parker being the eldest they were told the true history of their town. Sarah told Parker about seeing Bonnie set the water at the car wash on fire with her magic, and that the younger female had gone to her grandmother. The two spent the rest of the night drinking straight from the a bottle of bourbon given to them by Zach.

[13tth]

Smooth Horizon of the Verb Love: Chapter 2

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Eleven/Max

Summary:  “I bet you real money, or rides, or smokes— whatever you want, that you can’t get Jane to sleep with you by the end of next semester.” Lucas looks almost proud of himself when he steps back, glancing over his shoulder at the group of girls wielding pom-poms, seemingly flying. Seemingly touching the sun.

“You fall in love, you lose.”

Title from the poem of the same name by Nicole Brossard.

Read on ao3 | Chapter 1

Max approaches the football field with a diminishing spring in her step.

It’s not that she’s nervous— no. She just doesn’t have any idea what to say. To anyone, most of the time. Except for Lucas. She can always fuck with Lucas.

Max had never been great at making friends and or keeping acquaintances. The best friends she’s ever made were the three or four she’d managed to reel in during her eighth-grade year when she was new to Hawkins, and boys thought her sun-kissed skin was pretty. Dustin and Lucas were first, the two fighting for her unfortunately— as realized later— very very lesbian hand. Lucas stole a kiss at their winter semi-formal the very same year. Dustin thought he’d won until she came out to both of them through teary fingers the following summer. They all grew closer after that somehow.

She’d met Jane in 8th grade the day after winter break.

And Mike. And Will. She’d met them all.

"This is Mike, and his girlfriend, Jane, and Will Byers..."

Mike was skinny, about her height with a stunning full head of black hair comparable to a mushroom, and had a scowl on his face that could compete with her own. It only seemed to diminish when the tiny girl with short brown hair and huge dark eyes (darker than dark, almost nothing), whose hand he was holding, would tug on his arm and plant a wet kiss on his cheek. It was disgusting then because they were shy, but only a little afraid. It’s even more so now that they aren’t either.

Max had been holding hands with Lucas, her heart tugging on her throat telling her strongly that she was pretending, that she was a fraud. That was before she’d learned to listen.

It was amazing to think she’d even kept him at all.

Will was the smallest of them all, Max remembers because she’d heard a lot about Will Byers. And how he always looked like he’d been run over by a truck. He stood on flat feet, back hunched and fingertips ghosting Mike’s side. Max thought it was weird that he tagged along with Hawkins Middle’s own married couple, but there was something about the way he would sigh at Mike sometimes and stand a little straighter when Mike would glance at him with worried eyes. Max ignored it. For a few years.

Will was still small for a guy, standing at a threatening 5’6 even at the ripe old age of 17.

On days like today, when the sun is shining low, almost touching the horizon, Max will often find him hunched over on the bleachers, blending stick in hand pretending to not know marching band practice is going on on the east end of the field. Pretending he isn’t sketching 30 different angles of Mike Wheeler.

“How’s it going, Byers?”

Will slams his sketchbook shut with graphite stained fingers, straightening his back with a nervous smile. “Um hey— hi Max.”

Max sits a step down from him, boots coming to rest underneath her knees as she leans back and looks up. “Anything new in Will’s world?”

“Not—“ He twists his body around to face her, face lighting up at the realization that just beyond her head was the view he’d wanted anyway. If she’d done that on purpose, no one would know. Will certainly wouldn’t ask. “Really, no. You?”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, my friend,” Max leans in close, urging Will to do the same with the wave of her hand. “I’m on a mission.”

“What kind of mission,” Will looks suddenly intrigued and pulls his sketchbook tighter to his chest, hoping to lean even closer.

Max covers her mouth with one hand, “A gay mission. And I need your help.”

“I’m in,” Will immediately whispers, sending them both into small fits of knowing laughter.

It’d be insane to anyone but them, but they have a bond no one at Hawkins High School can really relate to. They weren’t the closest of friends but they were out to each other and for Max that was enough. It’s one thing to be gay around people that aren’t, but a totally different (and amazing) thing to be gay around other gay people in a town that’ll all but kill you for both. Will Byers was a blessing.

Max looks around at that, noticing that marching band was done for the day and everyone was starting to disperse, which meant cheer would soon be done too. It sent Max into a panic when she saw Mike jogging over to where she now sat with Will to her left. She waves a hand of dismissal in Will’s general direction, but he’s already sitting up, eagerness seeping from lips drawn up in a tight smile.

Before Mike can even make it to the fence surrounding the track he’s intercepted by Jane, who slams into his side and attacks his lips in a fever Max would only dream of committing to a dripping ice cream cone.

She scoffs at the same time Will hums a disapproving note.

“Any cool ones today, Will?” Mike’s hair against the sun forms a kind of halo around his head. Max can almost see the cartoon hearts floating out of Will’s ears. She feigns a gag.

“Just some dumb drawings of the trees and stuff, as usual,” Will lies through his teeth. Max seems to be the only one with bullshit goggles because Jane perks up with his mention of landscapes.

“I’m sure they’re beautiful, Will. You should show us tonight we’re out of here. It’ll be late, around 10 as usual.” Jane leans against Mike’s shoulder, their staggering heights shocking to the eye.

Max can’t look away from them until Mike’s hand is on Jane’s hip and she has to.

“It’s so nice to see you as well, Maxine! Feels like it’s been a million years.” Jane’s voice jumps, full of surprise, but it’s still genuine. Her eyes find Max’s when she lifts her head and she smiles. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”

Her teeth are full of lavender sprigs—

“I’m not really a football person,” Max shakes her head, not breaking eye contact. That is until Jane smiles again and for some reason, she feels she has to. Again. Max tries to tell herself it isn’t because Jane is pretty. Home by eight with soft pink cheeks pretty. Never.

Will stares on at their interaction with a confused expression. Glancing back and forth awkwardly from Max to Jane to Mike, and back again. Mike opens his mouth to intervene before Jane cuts him off.

“Then come to Deena’s after and bring Lucas, we have enough room.” Jane’s eyes widen like she’d just had a revelation, and Max remembers her mission at the sight. Her mind clicks into gear in the same heartbeat, already visualizing a skateboard friendly path to the diner. “Will is definitely going, right Will?”

Will’s tennis-match-like concentration breaks and he stumbles over his words, coughing up an affirmative noise. Mike does the same with his eyebrows drawn together.

“It’s not a big game or anything so like,” Mike scratches at his neck, in a trying-to-figure-out-how-to-be-passive-aggressive-without-actually-expressing-it kind of way. In a Mike way. It doesn’t work. “You don’t have to come if you can’t. I’ll let Lucas know—

“I’ll come,” Max agrees quickly. She’s confident now that if this was her way into Jane’s circle, with the invitation from the girl herself, this couldn’t possibly get any easier. “On one condition,”

They all raise eyebrows, Jane’s looking exceedingly sculpted, the dark blue barrette holding bob-length wisps of hair from her face almost mimics the shape.

“I get to sit next to Jane.”

Max swears the shine of Jane’s lip gloss could blind a pilot when her mouth drops open just a bit, and a soft giggle falls out.

Will smiles. Mike doesn’t. His sneakers scratch the dirt in an impulse to walk and Max can tell, so she lets them turn to leave, limbs and torsos tangled haphazardly, borderline protectively together.

“10 sharp, Maxine!” Jane calls back with a wave, pom-pom strapped to her wrist shaking as she does so. Max swallows a wad of spit.

“What the hell was that,” Will finally asks when they’re gone, stunned by the scene that had just unfolded in front of them both.

“My gay mission,” Max exhales, pulling the cigarette she’d forgotten she had stored behind her ear from its hidden home, and sticking it between her lips.

tags: @dandeliontozier

[serkewen12]

Jefferson/Reader - Part Two

Here it is everyone! I was up all night typing because I was in the groove. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as Part One. Thank you for all your support 💜

@butlinislin @musicalmoriarty @daveedish @insane-hamilton-imagines @notthrowingawaymyfood @crazypurplebananas 

@small-stars

@imagineham

@crazypurplebananas

@hamiltryingmybest

@hammyhamfanfics

@ahhhhamilton

@witch-bitch-coven

@icanneverbesatisfied

@lunaaugurium

Pairing: Jefferson x Reader Time: modern college AU Word count: 2775

I use Google translate so I hope the French isn’t butchered… 🤞

When you walked across the courtyard it didn’t take you long to notice Hercules and John were already waiting for you to arrive at the group’s normal table. They were scanning the area trying to spot you.

“Here we go…” you say to yourself taking a deep breath.

“(Y/N)!!” They both chorused as they jumped up to hug you.

“Hey! What’s up? Where is Laf?”

“Laf has class so he isn’t here. I think you know what’s up… spill,” John said with a scowl.

Hercules was standing next to John and was uncomfortably silent. When you looked up at him you could tell he was incredibly angry. The larger man was not someone you wanted to cross and ever since you had befriended the fashion major he had become your protective older brother.

“Just sit down and when Alex gets here I will tell you the whole story,” you say sitting down at the table.

John and Hercules followed suit and sat down. You slowly pulled out your sandwich and started to eat it. You were painfully aware they were both staring at you impatiently. The tension in the air was thick.

“ALL RIGHT I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE SON OF A BITCH SAID!” Hercules shouted, drawing attention from a few students sitting at the other tables.

“Will you keep your damn voice down!”

“Hey, hey, hey, we have arrived,” Alexander said cheerfully.

Eliza took a seat next to you and threw you a sympathetic look. Alexander sat next to Hercules with a rather smug look on his face. There was no doubt he was looking forward to watching the reaction your story would receive.

Alexander folded his hands under his chin and said, “I believe you owe these guys a story (Y/N).”

You took a deep breath and began to tell them what happened when you went into economics class. Hercules was shaking with rage at the comments Jefferson made. John was shocked but laughed when you told them what you had told Jefferson and how he had reacted. Eliza put a hand on your shoulder supportively and gave you a small smile.

“Wow… I can’t believe he would say something like that. You really told him you wouldn’t come near his cock for all the money in the world?” John asked slightly amused but you could hear the edge of anger in his voice.

“I know right? It took all my self control to not lose it right there,” Alex seemed proud when he spoke.

“Herc?” You ask quietly. He was shaking, but had yet to say anything.

“I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands, I swear to God,” Hercules said slamming his hand down on the table.

“Calm the fuck down Hercules! I think I effectively handled the situation. He basically ran out of class and couldn’t even look at us. I love you, but I’m capable of defending myself! I put him in his place! That asshole isn’t stupid enough to come within a mile of speaking to me again after what happened, ” you said with a scowl.

“I suppose you’re right. He wouldn’t dare try to do anything, I’m sure he knows you will tell us what happened and he knows we always have your back,” Hercules muttered.

“Oh what? Come on guys we have to come up with a way to get back at Jefferson for this? He will see what we can do to him!” Alexander sounded extremely determined.

You look at Eliza. She was shaking her head at Alexander’s antics. You lean over to her and whisper, “Please do something to shut him up.”

“Alexander! I think that’s enough! (Y/N) did an amazing job putting Jefferson in his place and you’re making a scene. Stop trying to instigate a fight, it’s already over,” Eliza scolded.

Alexander looked like a child who had been put in time out. “Sorry, sorry you are right. It’s been handled.”

“So… Herc I heard you started on a new design project. Tell me about this dress you’ve been assigned to make,” you say trying to steer the conversation away from Jefferson.

As Hercules begins to talk animatedly about the dress he was designing and grabbed his sketch book out of his bag you mouth “thank you” to Eliza. She sends you a wink in response. When lunch ended you received a hug from everyone and you started walking to your writing class. Half way to class your phone buzzes letting you know you had a new text.

Fashionista: 3:00pm - I know you handled the situation, but if he says anything like that to you again… nothing will hold me back. -

(Y/N): 3:01pm - Love you too Herc -

Angelica was waiting for you in her usual seat in the writing class you two shared. The rumor was that (Y/N) had let Jefferson have it in economics so badly that he had actually skipped his next class. She couldn’t wait to question you to find out if what everyone was talking about was true.

As you walked into class you noticed a few people stop talking and look at you. You quickly sat down next to Angelica, who had a knowing smile plastered across her face.

“Let me guess… you want to know what happened in economics class?” you ask with a smirk.

“You’re damn right I do! I’ve been hearing all kinds of things the last hour and a half.”

“He was degrading Alex again so I stood up to him,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Girl don’t you try to jip me like that! I know there is more than that. Spill it.”

“He might have told me to suck his dick and I may have told him not for all the money in the world…” you shrugged.

“Oh my god! Are you kidding me?! I can’t believe it, good for you! No wonder he skipped his next class…” Angelica gushed.

“He did what?”

“You heard me, he didn’t show up to his next class.”

“Holy shit,” you whisper with wide eyes.

You must have affected him even more than you thought. After the two hour writing class you were stir crazy. You hadn’t been able to focus on the lesson. Angelica’s admission to you that Jefferson had actually not shown up to class had you distracted. Why would he do that? He never missed classes. You walked out of class, said a quick goodbye to Angelica, and slowly walked down the halls. As you ate dinner the argument replayed in your mind over and over. The only thing thinking about it accomplished was to make you even more confused about the whole situation.

“A walk is what I need,” you say to yourself. You pull on your jacket and step into the cool evening air and begin to wander with your thoughts.

Thomas Jefferson walked up to the entrance of the library and checked his watch. 7:10pm. He pushed the door open and walked through the shelves of books heading toward the back. As he got around the last shelf he saw Lafayette seated at the table reading a book.

“I didn’t expect you to be here yet.”

Lafayette snapped his book shut and tucked it in his messanger bag. He looked up as Thomas sat down across from him. “Class ended earlier than I expected mon ami. You said you had something important to talk to me about?”

“I trust that you have heard what happened between (Y/N) and I this afternoon…” Thomas trailed off, slowly making eye contact with Lafayette.

“Oui. Alexander wrote me an essay about it.”

Thomas grimaced, “I figured as much.”

Lafayette didn’t look amused as he raised his eyebrow at Thomas, “Care to explain what happened?”

“I don’t know what happened! I was arguing with Hamilton and all of a sudden there she was. She jumped right into the fray and I was so wrapped up in the argument I never thought that she would be fluent in French. It’s idiotic looking back to think that since she is your friend and Hamilton is fluent. It came out of my mouth so fast and I figured it would rile him up… I never thought she would understand me!” Thomas looked exasperated.

“Have you, how you say, considered apologizing?”

Thomas looked at Lafayette with his mouth slightly agape. “I told her she should wrap her mouth around my dick! Something tells me a simple I’m sorry isn’t exactly going to cover it. Even if I tried to apologize she would never believe me. What am I going to do?” He dropped his head into his hands. “You know how I feel about her! She just told me off without a single ounce of hesitation and it only makes her more attractive…”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you stopped always trying to belittle Alex. You know (Y/N) will jump to his defense. Perhaps back off a little,” Lafayette suggested.

“You know as well as I do that Hamilton starts just as many arguments with me as I do with him. I’m not going to sit by and not defend myself!”

“Mon ami, you could try to control the way you respond to Alex. If you refuse to stop bickering with him, there is another way to fix this…”

“And what pray tell is that?” Thomas seemed curious.

“You could let (Y/N) in a little bit. She thinks you are nothing but a pompous asshole, you could try to show her different. This armor of arrogance and indifference is doing you no favors Thomas. You claim you care about her but how is she supposed to see that, if you do not let her in.”

Thomas seemed lost in thought and Lafayette hoped he was seriously considering what he had suggested. As Thomas was muttering to himself about options Lafayette’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw an unread message from (Y/N).

(Y/N): 7:40pm -Hey Laf. Are you busy? Can I meet up with you and talk?-

Lafayette sucked in a breath and sat his phone on the table. You wanted to meet and talk too? Should he tell you to meet him here? It was the usual spot that he would meet you when you needed to talk. Another message.

(Y/N) 7:43pm -If you are busy it’s okay. I’m just not in a good place emotionally right now, I can call Angelica and vent if you can’t meet up.-

Lafayette: 7:43pm - Non mon ami. I can meet up. I’m in the library, our usual spot.-

(Y/N) 7:44pm - Sounds good. I will start heading that way. I’ll be there shortly.-

Lafayette looked up from his phone and saw Jefferson with his head bowed and his fingers tangled with his curls. “Je suis désolé. I didn’t catch what you said Thomas.”

“I said there is no way I can do that! I can’t just let her in! How do you expect me to do that? I can’t give Hamilton a single bit of ammunition to have against me. There has to be another way, she wouldn’t let me get close enough to let her see anything and I’m not willing to take that risk,” Thomas declared.

You pushed the doors of the library open and made your way to your usual table. You had assumed the walk would help you calm down, instead it just made you more angry and confused. Laf was a voice of reason and you could talk to him about anything that bothered you. At this point you had lost count of how many times you had met him at the table in the back of the library to vent about anything you possibly needed. You looked up and stopped dead in your tracks. There was Lafayette at the table just like he promised, but across from him was the one person you did not want to see. Jefferson. You seethed at the sight of him sitting there. Lafayette was looking increasingly irritated until he snapped at Jefferson. You weren’t close enough to hear their hushed conversation and didn’t want to take the risk of being spotted yet. Judging by Jefferson’s hasty retreat from the conversation you could only assume Lafayette had put him in his place for how he had treated you.

Lafayette let out an angry sigh. He had tried to help Thomas but he had reached the end of his rope. His eyes steeled and he glared across the table with crossed arms.

“C'est votre propre faute que vous êtes dans cette situation. Si vous n'écoutez pas la raison, décrivez vous-même!” Lafayette hissed, reverting to his native tongue showed his anger. ( It’s your own fault that you are in this situation. If you won’t listen to reason, figure it out on your own.)

Thomas was taken aback. He rubbed his temples as he stared at the Frenchman. He stood quickly and gathered his jacket.

“Je ne peux pas m'en occuper maintenant. Ça me donne de mal á la tête. On se voit plus tard Lafayette,” was all Thomas uttered before turning and heading toward the door. ( I can’t deal with this right now. It’s giving me a headache. See you later Lafayette. )

“Imbécile,” Lafayette said under his breath.

Jefferson had barely gotten out of sight when he heard her voice. He immediately stopped and peered around the bookcase. He saw you stroll up to the table with a scowl on your face. He held a bit of hope that he may be able to smooth things over until he heard you greet Lafayette.

“What did that asshole want Laf? What did you just say to him?”

“I only told him what he needed to hear.”

Jefferson backed away from his hiding spot and turned on his heels and quickly made his way to the door. As he pushed the door open he whispered, “ Maybe Lafayette is right…”

You aggressively pull out a chair and throw your bag on the floor as you sat down. You looked at Lafayette. After your long walk overthinking the “situation” as you had decided to call it, it threw you off even more to see Jefferson.

“I just can’t believe him Laf! I mean I know you’ve heard everything already because of Alex, but I’m just so irritated. He was the last person I wanted to see right now!” you vent while gesturing in the direction he had left. “You should’ve seen it Laf! He was so smug, but then he looked so ashamed! It’s infuriating! Can you believe that for a second I considered that he was actually sorry for his comment to me?! I want to punch him in that pretty face.”

“It’s possible that he is,” Lafayette reasoned. (Y/N) looked scandalized at the idea.

“Oh come on, you can’t honestly believe that! That arrogant piece of shit has never been sorry for anything in his entire life. To him the whole world should bow at his feet, he can do no wrong,” you claim rolling your eyes.

“That’s not entirely true (Y/N). He really isn’t that bad, but you will never see any of that unless you let go of your hate and actually look.”

“Seriously Laf, that is ridiculous. If he had any redeeming qualities I would have noticed. I know you got to know him while he spent the summer in France, but that doesn’t obligate you to defend his character,” you say with a smirk.

Lafayette ran his hands down his face and swore in French under his breath. “It’s not that I feel obligated (Y/N), it’s the truth. He really has a lot more to him then the person he lets you see.”

You scoff, “So you would have me believe he is secretly a good person under that mask of superiority? Yeah okay,” you laugh, earning a judgemental look from Laf, “Well it’s getting late and I have a test tomorrow. I’ll see you later Laf.”

As you walk away you hear Lafayette groan that causes you to look over your shoulder. He was redoing his bun and looked exhausted. When he got the elastic in place he shook his head in disappointment.

“Ils sont tous deux si obstinés qu'ils ne verront jamais qu'ils sont vraiment pareils,” Lafayette said. ( They are so stubborn that they will never see how alike they really are. )

You feel anger raise again at his comment. You turn quickly and rush to the door. Lafayette didn’t know what he was talking about.

“We are nothing alike.”

[shilohhawthornearchived]

For you I’ll try

The months leading up to Halloween had been rough and a little rocky after the argument that Shiloh had gotten into with her boyfriend, which had eventually led to him ripping the side of his neck open with a needle that he’d snatched off of an unsupervised tray. She’d taken him to the hospital out of fear for his mental health and well-being, but apparently, a place like that wasn’t even safe for him when his mind was in that sort of mode. The event had nearly taken his life and it had left the brunette in a seemingly perpetual state of depression, worry, and feeling guilty, but the trauma of the ordeal had managed to bring her even closer to him. Actually, she struggled to even leave his side for a long while, and she quickly found herself growing more and more protective over him. The depression continued to weigh on her for months afterward, especially with the added nuisance of Monty’s unappreciated presence and her constant meddling, but the slate had practically been wiped clean when her blue-eyed baby proposed to her unexpectedly during the Halloween party at the institution. She felt as though she was walking on air and she’d never been happier, and she truly felt that there wasn’t a thing in the world that could bring her down.

Shiloh hadn’t been on speaking terms with her parents since the day that she’d introduced them to Bayden and had been in turn practically disowned, but as December rolled around, they seemed to have had a change of heart because they invited her over for dinner. Whether it was the holiday spirit that was changing their mind, or a sudden change of heart about their opinion on her relationship, she was glad that they were at least putting in an effort now. A chance was a chance, after all, and she wasn’t going to pass that up. At first, simply due to how bitter she was about the way that they’d treated her fiancé, she wanted to turn them down, but after really thinking about it and mulling it over for a while with Bayden, she ultimately decided that going to see them would be beneficial. Besides, she didn’t want to cut ties with them forever, and she wanted to tell them the good news about her engagement, regardless of the fact that she suspected that they would both lose their heads over it. She just hoped that when they saw the ring, they would see how serious she was about him and perhaps be a little more sensitive.

For the sake of keeping the peace on Christmas day and avoiding a scene in front of all of her extended family, Shiloh arrived at the party with her ring tucked safely away inside of her purse, and just as she’d expected, her father never once brought up the topic of Bayden. Her mother, however, wasn’t so closed-minded.

“So, you’re still with Bayden, I assume?” Grace asked while she worked next to her daughter to prepare the last-minute dishes for that nights dinner in the kitchen. “How’s he doing?”

The comment had taken Shiloh by surprise, as she hadn’t thought that her mother would even acknowledge her relationship with him, but the fact that she’d cared enough, or at least pretended to care enough, to ask her about his well-being meant the world to her. A smile gradually grew on the brunette’s face until it was completely lit with it, her brown eyes flickering up to meet with the similar hues of her mother’s. “He’s good. Bayden is good,” she answered. “Thanks for asking,” she added. “I spent Christmas Eve at his place and we had our own little dinner, and we exchanged gifts and everything. It was nice, although I wish I could have done more for him.” She wanted to utter aloud her desire to have had Bay be invited to tonight’s dinner, but she held her tongue, not wanting to overwhelm her mother or sour her mood. Besides, she guessed that she didn’t really care to begin with, and that she was simply trying to be polite. Regardless, Shiloh went on to show her pictures on her phone of the beautiful sketches that her sweetheart had done of her as gifts, and of various photos that she’d snapped during their night together, including pictures of Beetle and of the tree that they’d decorated together.

The rest of the evening went strangely smooth, as though the fight between her and her parents had never happened. It was almost uncomfortable, honestly. Shiloh wanted to believe that they’d simply just needed time to cool off and that they were fine now, but she guessed that it was more of a ‘we swept it under the rug and we’re going to choose to avoid it forever’ sort of deal, especially on her father’s part. Alas, there would be no ‘sweeping’ or ‘avoiding’ today, because as soon as her family left, Shiloh spilled the beans.

“Mom? Dad? I, um.. I have something that I want to tell you guys,” Shiloh said, gesturing for both of her parents to take seats on the couches. Worried expressions immediately crossed their features as they did as they were implored to, and it wasn’t hard for Shy to guess that they knew who the topic concerned: Bayden. “I know that you’re going to want to lose your heads like you did last time, but please stay calm, okay?” She paused then with her hands behind her back, exhaling a soft sigh before extending her arm to show them the beautiful ring that adorned her finger. “I got engaged. Bayden proposed to me.” Another pause. “—And I said yes.”

A silence fell over the room and Shiloh could hear her heart beating loudly in her chest, an echo pounding in her ears. Time seemed to move in slow motion then as she waited anxiously for a response, but it was made quickly apparent that she’d left both her mother and father speechless. If she would have known that it was just the calm before the storm, she might have appreciated the silence a little more though, rather than praying for it to be over.

“What?” Came Brendon’s loud, bellowing voice, shattering the silence in the harshest way that he could have. “You’re kidding me.” He fought to collect himself as his world felt as though it was crumbling around him, visions of his daughter being stabbed to death on the day of her wedding flashing through his mind. He didn’t trust that psychotic boytoy of hers’ as far as he could see him. “You’re kidding me.” His voice lowered and it began to lose its ferocity, his disbelief and utter disappointment taking his tone over and causing his face to fall in defeat.

Shiloh didn’t say a word as she stood in place, her eyes flickering momentarily away from her father to glance at the ring on her finger. No, she wasn’t kidding him. She was completely serious, actually, and in fact, she didn’t think she’d ever been more serious about anything or anyone in her entire life. Bayden was, without a doubt, the person that she was meant to spend forever with, and she felt that she’d made that perfectly clear by now. Aside from her rebellious behaviour and her flighty nature, she’d always proven (for the most part) that she had a level head, so it wasn’t as though she’d just suffered some psychotic episode that left her longing for the companionship of a serial killer. Speaking of which. Damn, did she ever wish that she could tell her parents the truth about his innocence in the involvement of the murders. She wanted to tell the whole world.

Brendon had already been beyond frustrated with the fact that Shiloh was romantically involved with a serial killer to begin with, but now she was going to marry him? He honestly wasn’t even sure how to deal with the situation, but he knew better than to completely lose his cool like he’d done the last time. That explosive behavior of his had caused his daughter to vanish from his life for over three months, and he couldn’t have that happen again. Sure, he was upset with her and he couldn’t understand what was going on in that head of hers, but if she was going to go through this damn serial killer phase of hers, he at least wanted to be there to protect her. Grace’s thoughts were very similar as she sat wide-eyed and shocked, her hand covering her gaping mouth. She couldn’t believe what was happening, but she’d learned from their previous mistakes as well, and she wasn’t about to push her baby girl away again when she clearly needed them more than ever. Besides, if she was willing to marry this guy, then this had to be something deeper than a simple crush. Whether she was serious, or mentally ill, she couldn’t just abandon her.

“Shiloh,” Grace began, her eyebrows furrowing together as she tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t be completely insulting. A sigh left her instead and then she forced a smile. “Shiloh, sweetheart, you can’t be serious. You’re—you’re still so young.” Oh yeah, she was trying to use her age as an excuse to avoid getting married. Shiloh knew it too, and she wasn’t about to play into that bullshit.

“Mom, stop.” Shiloh frowned and shook her head, holding her left hand closer to her chest as though it was symbolic to holding onto Bayden. “Both of you need to stop trying to convince me that I don’t know what I’m doing, because I do know what I’m doing and I’ve put a lot of thought into this. I’m serious about the engagement. I’m serious about Bayden. I know that both of you think that I’m completely insane for even being with him in the first place, but you’ve never even given him a chance. You don’t know him like I know him. He makes me so happy. I’ve never been as—are you crying? Dad?” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw her father turn his head away to hide his face in his hand, and the quiet noises that were leaving him and the way that his shoulders were shaking were telltale signs that pointed to a waterwork show. “Dad?” She reiterated, taking a step closer as her mother began to rub his back. It made her heart sink, and for a moment, she almost felt bad for him. But then she remembered how he’d treated both her and Bayden, and a part of her felt that he almost deserved to feel like this. Pushing that part of her aside, she moved to sit next to him, wrapping her arms around him and tightening her grip when she felt his familiar embrace around her.

Although the rest of the conversation was handled delicately and with more tact than their last one, both of her parents, especially her father, raised their voices a few times due to frustration, and the evening wasn’t without tears and arguments. Shiloh had expected that though and she was simply appreciative of the fact that they were at least putting in some effort this time to hear her out. It probably helped that Bayden wasn’t around though, and she imagined that if he’d been here during their talk, they both would have been kicked out again. By the time all was said and done, she couldn’t say that she felt she’d gotten much clarity from everything, as she still wasn’t sure where her parents stood on the situation, but somehow, she felt a little better anyways. She’d just had a weight lifted from her shoulders, and they were on a path to finally finding some connections to normalcy. Well, as normal as things could be, while being in a relationship with Bayden.

Her parents seemed to avoid giving her direct answers by beating around the bush or changing the subject, and Shiloh didn’t feel as though she was in any position to push them. From what she could gather, they were both still completely opposed to her relationship with Bayden, but.. they were perhaps willing to try to work things out with her this time? Maybe? It was hard to get a definitive answer from them, and she felt it best to let them cool off and process everything first before she tried anything else.

The next morning, after falling asleep on the phone with Bayden while having him read her another chapter from Narnia, Shiloh met with him in his small cottage, bringing Bailey along with her as she usually did. Of course, upon entering, the first thing that she did was call for Beetle in a high-pitched baby voice, and she wasted no time scooping the excited pup up to offer him some cuddles and kisses. “How’re my boys?” She asked, half to the dog in her arms and half to Bayden, who she soon approached to steal a few kisses from too. After setting Beetle down to allow him to play with Bailey, she slipped her shoes off and gave her fiancé a proper greeting, giving him a hug and pressing a kiss to his torso. “Guess what, babes?” With her arms still around him, she tilted her head upwards to see his face. “I told my parents about our engagement! And as you can see, my makeup isn’t running down my face right now and I’m smiling, so that means that it went pretty good!” She paused for a moment to reflect on the statement, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought and she tilted her head slightly. “—Mm, well,” she added, scrunching her nose up and pursing her lips. “I think it went good. I mean, it could have gone worse.”

“I’ll explain. Come, come,” Shiloh implored, gesturing for the tall male to follow her over to the couches, where she tucked her feet neatly beneath her on one of the cushions of it. “So firstly, before I even told them about the engagement, my mom asked me how you were doing. I didn’t really expect them to bring you up on their own, so.. that was nice. I think that’s progress, right? I showed her the drawings that you did of me for Christmas too, and she was really impressed.” Her smile grew as she went along, and it was clear that even though the progress was small, she was overjoyed that there was any at all. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Oh, and I showed her some of the pictures that we took together on Christmas eve, and she told me that you have nice eyes. I’m not sure that’s relevant, but whatever,” she laughed, carding her fingers through her dark hair and shifting a little on the couch to turn her body, allowing her to completely face Bayden.

“Anyways, like I said, I told them about the engagement,” Shiloh began, settling her legs partially atop her betrothed’s lap. “They, uh.. They took it okay, I guess. My dad cried a little and they both got upset at first, but they didn’t kick me out of the house or try to sign me up for therapy sessions again, so I’ll count that as a point for us. I still think that they’re pretty positive that I’m mentally unstable, but at least they tolerated it this time, right? If I can talk to them without them looking at me like I’m an alien or trying to lock me away, then there’s hope. Baby steps.” She nodded and moved a little closer, kissing her sweetheart’s cheek and gently sweeping her fingers through his dark locks. “So, that being said, on another note—“ She paused, her tone gentle as she continued to play affectionately with his hair. “There’s no obligation or pressure here, love, but would you ever consider coming with me to talk to them again? Maybe we could go out for dinner? Or have dinner at their place? Now that we’ve broken the ice, they aren’t going to try to cut our heads off the minute that we walk through the door.”

@placebopuppytales