#i was already going to draw them coming off the page

[dovalore]

forest field guide | owlcat journal

[timey-fandom-stuff]

a doodle compilation of Kriptid Kris the undead creepypasta tryhard being an unnecessarily edgy dork. they might ALMOST be scary if they had anything rattling around in their goofy skull other than moss and poor impulse control, but... alas. don't do bath bombs, kids.

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade's life and his mental health issues a lot, and I just thought about this. Not only being abused, but his entire brain being made out of cancer, and the fact that oxygen was physically taken from his brain over the course of 2+ days multiple times?

We see him coloring a lot and claim multiple times that he doesn't/ can't read (this is probably a bit, I guarantee he can read), but it had me thinking what if some days were more childish then others as part of his coping mechanisms?

At first, Logans was really confused about why Althea puts up with it until he realizes that it's extremely good for him to just... be taken care of? Praised and given affection for the bare minimum? He thinks it's weird. This wasn't the same man he was fighting with yesterday.

Coming into the living room, he sees Wade sprawled out with crayons and markers all around him with multiple pictures already coloured, his notebook having pages ripped out of it as he kicks his feet and hums.

On the tv, there are cartoons playing. Once in a while, he'll look up at the tv and then go back to coloring. "What are you doing??"

"Hi wolvie. 'm colouring."

"He's behaving, so don't ruin it." Al says. There's pictures by her, and she is holding a box of cereal.

"O..kay??" Sitting down, he's almost too curious to just walk away, picking up puppins so she doesn't ruin his drawings, petting her confusedly.

Sometimes, Al will hold out some cereal in her hand. "Wade." And he will see him shimmy over and take the cereal. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

As hes scooting back to his color spot he stops and watches the tv for a bit longer then usual.

"...What.. the fuck." Logan says to her and she gives him a brow raise. "What?"

"What is he doing?"

"He's coloring. And I thought I was the blind one."

"No no I mean.. those aren't murder plans. That's puppins."

"Yes? And?"

"And.. what did you do to him?"

"Treated him like a human being. Give it a try once inawhile." She says, and he comes back with more pictures, climbing in between them with no regard for space as he leans into her.

"Oh thank you. What is it?"

"It's you."

"Oh? How sweet. Do I look good?"

"Mhm!"

"Im glad. How about you show our friend here your amazing pictures. And he better be nice!"

So wade turns and now is leaning on logan as he points to a different picture. One of Logan with Puppins on a leash with a sun in the corner and crappy grass, a hearts all over the place.

At first he wants to tell him to get off of him, but seeing the pictures and how excited his eyes were to show him, it hits him and he understands.

".. uhm.. thank you?" But he puts it back in his hand. "Oh- you want me to keep it?"

Wade nods and starts cleaning up his crayons.

Logan turns to whisper to Al "How long does this go on?"

"About 2 hours or so."

"Why?"

"God only knows, but it helps with his nightmares."

"Colouring helps with his nightmares??"

"Its more then that. Hey sweetheart? Why don't you bring your ponys out."

"Theyre horses."

"Oh im sorry, my mistake. I think logan here wants to play horses."

Logan gives her a look like excuse me? When did I sign up for that? "No.. uhm.. I think im good."

Wade gets this look of sad innocence but goes to get them anyway, beginning to play by himself, brushing them and making them talk to each other quietly. As if he speaks any louder, he would get hit.

Logan groans and is like "Gimme a fucking horse.."

From then on, Logan is quick to understand what's happening and is much nicer to him, starts giving him snacks, buying him actual coloring books, and has pinned his drawings to the fridge each time he's gifted one. His horses name is Buttercup, by the way.

[inkdrinkerworld]

post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before

It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.

Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.

He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.

You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.

He’s never seen you like this.

“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”

What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.

He strains his ear and hears you whisper,

“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”

You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.

“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.

“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.

Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.

Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.

“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.

“We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.

You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.

“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.

Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.

“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”

You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”

Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[fanficgirl429]

Mike has a feelings for you (fluff)

Prompt: While babysitting Abby she tells you that Mike has a crush on you

Pairing: Reader x Mike Schmidt

----

“I can’t believe I have to fucking work today,” Mike says, pulling his gray security shirt on. “I told them I can only work during the week!”

Your best friend scrambles around the living room, looking for his phone, keys, and wallet- all of which are in various places. You are currently sitting on the couch, watching all of this unfold. He was always leaving his items in various places. How many times had you told him to leave them in the same spot?

He finds his keys and phone and shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Where is my wallet?” he says, running his fingers through his already messy brown hair.

“Did you check your room?” you ask.

He quickly leaves the room and returns moments later with his wallet in his hand.

Mike let’s out a sigh and looks over at you. “Are you sure you’re ok watching her? I can always call Max.”

“I don’t mind watching her at all,” you tell him.

You stand up and walk over to your best friend. Wrapping your arms around his waist you pull him into a tight hug. He instantly relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“You have no idea how amazing you are,” Mike tells you, smiling.

You laugh as Mike takes a step back and towards the front door.

“Thank you so much for watching her,” Mike calls. “I owe you!”

“Hey Abs,” you say, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “What are you drawing?”

Abby smiles and passes you the sheet of paper. There is a white house with a large tree and three people standing out front. A man, a woman, and a child.

“You have to tell me who everyone is,” you say, pointing to the three people.

Abby stands up and comes to sit besides you on the bed. Her small hand points to the man on the page, “That’s Mike,” she moves her hand to the woman, “you,” and points to the child, “and that’s me.”

You weren’t shocked that you were drawn- Abby tended to draw the three of you alot. Mike and you had been best friends since middle school and you loved Abby like she was your little sister. Most of her drawings were things the three of you had done together or what she wanted to do with the two of you.

“And who’s house is this?” you question.

“We all live there together,” Abby states.

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you reply.

“Yea! Because you and Mike are going to get married!”

Abby’s comment throws you off. Not once has she ever asked about your and her brother's relationship.

“What makes you think we’re getting married?”

“Because Mike has a crush on you,” Abby says, shrugging.

You laugh. “No he doesn’t.”

Abby nods her head. “Yes he does. He says your name a lot in his sleep.”

“But that doesn’t mean he has a crush on me,” you tell her.

Abby’s silent for a moment then answers quietly. “You make him smile and laugh and he’s always happy when you’re around. He’s not like that around anyone else.”

Her answer surprises you but kids are very perceptive. Instead of pressing any further, you tell Abby to start to get ready for bed.

“Do you have a crush on Mike?” Abby askes as you tuck her in to her bed.

“Oh…um…yea, I do,” you tell her.

Little does Abby know but you are in love with her brother.

Abby smiles and nods and you turn the light off, closing the door behind you as you walk back to the living room.

—-

Abby falls asleep quickly and you sit in the living room watching tv. Your mind keeps going back to conversation with Abby. Does Mike really have a crush on you?

Abby doesn't know it (well maybe she figured it out) but you’ve had feelings for Mike for a long time. You loved your relationship with Mike and didn’t want to jeopardize it so you never made any indication or moves towards him. You had hoped that maybe he would be the first one to make a move but he never did.

All of the sudden it hits you, how tired you are. You stand up from the couch and stretch and slowly walk back towards Mikes room. This isn’t the first time you had slept over. Many times after Abby had gone to sleep, you and Mike would stay up together, hanging out. At first Mike insisted that you sleep at his house but now he didn’t even have to say anything- you would just crash on his bed, next to him.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep and a few hours later, the bed dips slightly as Mike lays down next to you- waking you but only for a brief moment.

—-

The sun peeks through the curtains in Mikes room and the smell of bacon and pancakes wake you up from your sleep.

The spot on the bed next to you is disheveled -the only evidence that Mike has slept there.

As you lay in bed for another minute, you hear voices drifting down the hallway. You can’t make out what they are saying but you can tell it’s Mike and Abby.

Standing up, you walk into the hallway but hang back for a moment- waiting to see what they are talking about.

“Did you know that Y/N had a crush on you?” Abby tells Mike.

“How do you know?” you hear him ask.

“She told me,” Abby states matter of factly.

It’s then that you decide to walk into the small kitchen. Abby and Mike are both sitting at the small kitchen table, eating bacon and pancakes.

“Morning,” you say, walking over to the coffee maker.

“Morning,” Abby and Mike say at the same time.

Mike's hair is sticking up in various directions and he looks like he just woke up. His dark t-shirt hugs his frame and you know he’s wearing his favorite pair of flannel pajama pants.

“I’m going to go draw,” Abby says, leaving you and Mike alone in the kitchen.

Mike watches as you pour yourself a glass of coffee but don’t turn around to face him.

“So,” he begins. “Abby told me something interesting…”

“And what was that?” you question, although you already know the answer.

“She said that you have a crush on me.”

“Oh. Why would she say that?”

“She said that you told her you did.”

You turn around to face your best friend, your eyes locking with his. His cheeks are slightly pink and it makes you feel better that this conversation might be slightly embarrassing for him as well.

“I-uh-,” you stammer.

Mike stands up and walks over to you and your back presses against the counter. He slowly moves his hands to your waist, waiting to see how you’ll react. When you don’t move away, he grips your waist, his brown eyes locking with yours.

“What if I told you that I had a crush on you?” he says.

A soft smile crosses your lips and Mike reaches up and places his hand against your cheek, his thumb moving in small circles.

You move your arms up and snake them around his neck, waiting for him to make the next move. His body is pressed against yours and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

Within moments, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours before pulling away.

“Why did you stop?” you tease him.

He smiles as his presses his lips against yours and they move together, almost as if the two of you had done this before.

[meanbossart]

Pin!

Hi, I'm RJ (Male, 27 years old) I'm a -usually- horror oriented artist and collaborator alongside my partner and better-half @barbatusart, though I'm currently on a Baldur's Gate 3/DnD streak with both my art and writing, specifically centered around the Dark Urge I created for my campaign and his antics, so that's most of what you will find here!

I want to leave a warning right here that I occasionally venture into delicate topics in regards to character lore and history - though none of it strays too far from what the game already delves into and I try to give a heads-up ahead of time whenever I feel like something might catch someone off-guard otherwise.

PATREON WHERE I POST WIPS, SKETCHES, UNRELEASED ART, ALL OF MY NSFW CONTENT, ETC : patreon.com/meanbossart/

BLUESKY WHERE I PUT UP FULL VERSIONS OF *SOME* OF THE NSFW THAT I CAN'T POST HERE: bsky.app/profile/meanbossart.bsky.social

TWITCH WHERE I STREAM SOMETIMES: twitch.tv/meanboss14

PSA: I get a lot of asks and I'm slow to go through them, please don't take it personally :U

Anyway, here's the guy of the hour:

🚨FAQ BELOW🚨

Q: Does your Durge have a name? A: Nope! I named him "drow" when I played the game because I didn't feel like thinking up anything special. His lack of a name has become part of the character's lore and you will find him to always be tagged with "DU drow", or referred to as The Drow or just Drow.

Q: Where can I read your BG3 fan-fiction? And what is it about? A: Right here! The main plot follows DU Drow, Astarion, and Shadowheart on a new adventure that fractures into a couple of different directions, but mainly focuses on the aftermath of the spawn that Astarion has released and the personal development of the main cast, alongside a number of original characters that get involved in the narrative. My goal was to create a kind of "DLC" experience, so you can expect a lot of themes that parallel the main game.

Q: Can I draw one of your characters, a scene from your story, or any of your characters interacting with mine/other characters? And can it be NSFW in nature? A: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN, AND I'LL BE DELIGHTED TO SEE IT IF YOU CARE TO SHARE. I'm equally fine with NSFW as long as everyone involved (in the art and otherwise) is an adult.

Q: What drawing software/tablet/brushes do you use? A: I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22, using Clip Studio Pro. I switch around brushes quite often but most of what I use comes from the DAUB super-bundle by Paolo Limoncelli.

Q: Where can I find more of your work? A: You can find mine and my partner's comics here, but please bear in mind that most of it is highly violent stuff and you should read the content warnings on the store page carefully before making any purchases - if in doubt of whether or not any of it could be detrimental to your mental health, DON'T BUY IT. Stay safe!

Q: Do you take commissions? A: I am not currently taking any new commission inquiries, sorry!

[choochooboss]

Submas Sketchdump Vol. 4 July 2022 Part 2!!

I knew that particular month beat my all time record for productivity multifold but I had forgotten SO MANY PIECES from the original collection!! I think I finally got them all?? More stuff under the cut!!

BREAKMAS!! WIP of the first piece I posted of them, here's the link to the final version! I tried coloring this first but the black & white had ultimately more impact so I went with that!

TRAINS!! I like this base color version too! Link to the final version!

The top sketch is a direct reference to Cluedo! A spinoff game, "Missingo", starring certain familiar characters trying to figure out what happened to Ingo/trying to prove their innocence in the case! Also WIP sketches for these two Breakmas comic pages!

As you may know I adore butlermas! For the classy and stylish look which appeals to me in general, and coincidentally I had played PLA & got hit by submas train only one week before butler Ingo's banner rolled out! The pure bliss of finally meeting both twins in a game I felt was incomparable!! This moment in the Curious Tea Party event was really entertaining to me! We got to see submas get serious and stand up against this selfish collector thief! Two towering train twinks with commanding voices looming over the unfortunate guy was enough to make him change his mind ahah! They truly are the protectors

1-hour submas challenge prompt "Descend"! This is the actual one hour result before I continued rendering this!

Mmmmm not my first attempt at drawing them hug and definitely not my best OR last. I want to make that moment something very special when I finally go all out on it!!

Comic cover vibing~

The scrapped last page for this silly comic! Sorry the dialogue is all over the place on the first piece, might be hard to read! I wasn't happy with how I presented Elesa, I wasn't familiar enough with her character back then so I thought of her carrying a toy taser to threat her friend even as a joke was too much and I couldn't come up with anything else for it. This held me back from posting the other three pages for another 5 months! In the last panel

I prefer to not mess up the twins too much but my brain is still very curious and conjures some peculiar stuff like this sometimes.. I think I may have broken his arms there looking at the anatomy, ooops! I hope you don't mind the photo quality or the two weird guys in the corner, they escaped containment!

Idea of warden Ingo, being projected to modern era by his Alakazam, walking through crowd on a train platform & Emmet standing inside a passing train. Their eyes meet for just a few seconds...

Pokemas Ingo practise!

Another WIP of a piece I posted! I started this piece like this but then later I decided to flip the whole thing.

YET another WIP of something I already posted! No idea why I went and mixed up his suits but I like this sketch! They rarely end up looking this clean haha

Sketch version of the self-defense practise piece! I love getting creative with action stuff! I barely ever think of how difficult they are to draw, I just get so excited and fixated on visualising the scenes in my mind I just keep at it, pull out refs and pose in front of mirrors until it looks good to me! I want to draw more action scenes but besides being challenging to draw my brain comes up with more silly and cute ideas than cool ones unfortunately ahah

One more WIP, here's the link to the final results!! I really like how genuine their expressions look here even if the faces are a little off. I recall spending a long time figuring out this perspective. I thought it would be fun to you to see how all these pieces started and... looking at the sketch above and the stuff before that, you can compare some range of my style!

RANDOM SUBMAS MISSILES GO

OHHH looks like some nasty passengers got the best of them!! If I recall correctly there was no fight because they managed to paralyse the two before they could act. Fully awake yet completely helpless... how convenient unfortunate. Thank you so much for checking these out!! Not every sketch is that exciting but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on these!

Previous posts: Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Cheerleaders + Football Team

The thing about cheerleaders and the infamous football team is that they’re quite accurate to their stereotypes

Now not every cheerleader team is run by a head girl who’s a massive bully 

Or that the football team is filled with dumb jocks that are just as violent if not worse

But they’re nothing to scoff at 

They’re beautiful

They’re athletic

And they're disciplined with confidence that comes with successful games and competitions

Such perks might give them quite a bit of power

Power that’s doubled when they’re working together

If you’d like to be happy you’re better off not figuring out just yet 

Since your arrival to the University, you’ve noticed more of your things have gone missing

Maybe this move made you more frazzled than you thought

Because you’ve found that you haven’t been able to keep friends like you used to

At least not without some help

“So you’re the new student, huh? Welcome to Energi University. As cheer captain, I’m really happy to welcome you finally!”

As she drags you along throughout your schedule, you’re waiting for the punch line

The moment she switches to embarrass you or smile coyly as she says something underhanded about your appearance

But she doesn’t 

Only twirling her hair as she asks you where you learned to glow like you do

You find it odd but you’re not complaining

Movies taught you that she and her team were top of the food chain 

so if they liked you enough maybe it’d trickle to some friends eventually

“Looking for a partner? Me too. How about we uh work together, freshie. If we finish before class ends you can have my varsity jacket and I can have yours.”

It seems it works as the beefy but beautiful captain of the football team partners up during chemistry

Between the two captains, you think you’re making progress

Finally beginning to make friends

But you couldn’t be farther from the truth

Already you were skipping right into the pitfall that was their playground—Energi University

It started with the cheerleader’s captain, gorgeous, rich, and with a serious attitude problem

She was making her daily rounds with her two main girls

‘Putting the worms in their place’ as she’d report to her team

Until she found something interesting 

a glasses-wearing nerd had been holding a file, scrolling through someone’s social page with such dedication they didn’t even realize they were being cornered

And its not just someone—you

while her girls were exploring the use of pins on the human body, she was going through this fairly thick file

A file all about you

Filled with hundreds of pictures of you some with consent some not

Extensive organized lists of your likes and dislikes

And a neat report on your current whereabouts and social circle

By the end of it, she was intrigued

She’s never been one for reading but she just can’t put it down

Having to be brought back into the real world when her girls are done playing 

“Already? Ugh, let’s go find the next one this little report of his might be worth selling to those stupid jocks.”

That’s just an excuse 

she’s combing over your photos again as she re-reads about the mundane drama in your life

“Babe, I thought you said you wanted to spend time with me? Not lose braincells studying!” 

Her boyfriend–captain of the football team is trying to draw her attention with kisses and inviting touches

But she’s just too focused

Eventually, he’s going to snatch it all away, taking a look at it

“Who’s this? Your latest victim?”

“Puhlease they don’t even know me…yet.”

The nights they spend together is searching you on socials as they filter through these words about your world

There’s just something about you that has them enraptured

For them it’s like when they first started dating, running off from their teams to gush about their latest finds about you

Texting all through the night about schemes to meet you

Whispering on the bus on their way to seasonal competitions

It isn’t long before the nosey teams start poking around

All it takes is a whispered mention of your name and they’re stalking your socials 

Some hire private investigators to tell all they can get their hands on

It’s like a virus how the whole team is eventually letting your distant lovely little life take up all of theirs 

At some point words and posts just aren’t enough

“Yo Cap, why don’t we just get them to come here?”

“Yeah! I know I can get my dad to extend a scholarship and dormitory if something happens at their old school.”

“Hmm, I do still have those lighter fluid canisters.”

“Oooh and I can get them out of the dorms for awhile!”

“Then  we can swoop in and be the knight’s of shining armor they’ll need!”

“C’mon, captain! Let’s bring them home, aren’t you tired of looking at them through the screen?”

“Don’t you think it’d boost our morale for the championship?”

“Yeah!!” Pleaassee!?”

What terrible captains they’d be if they let their teams down now

So the plan is set, you conveniently are stood up on a date when your dorm and campus is burnt down killing so many friends you made+

The mysterious fire destroying their security footage and all your belongings too 

Its natural you start looking for a new college, a safer option

“Hey (Y/n) why don’t you come to our next game? Forget about that horrible fire and cheer us on!”

“Wait how did you know–”

“Grapevine cutie! Now what do you say to a sleepover!?”

“Not after we do our victory party!”

“Oh, you’ll have to try our captain’s famous jello shot! It’s going to knock your clothes+ socks off.”

Both Captains will watch happily as the group swarms you 

Your questions about the slug you made plans with prior were drowned out in their shouting and giggling

Their goal wasn’t to make you worry 

After all, they had the power to dissolve all of that 

The Captains and their teams

“Now that we have them I don’t see any reason, why our teams won’t be planned for an all-around victory in the nationals.”

“Of course, though we could do it without them. Money and pure talent are a given for people like us.”

“Still there’s nothing wrong with sharing a good luck charm.”

“You are absolutely right..”

“Aren’t I always? That being said we’ll have to talk about the…hoarding issue.”

“Oh yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. The next time one of your cheerleaders interrupts me, they’ll be dealing with more than broken legs.”

“And your players should know the next time they take my time with (Y/n) away they won’t just become paralyzed.”

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Holiday Special

Summary: You get ready for your first Christmas with the Maximoffs, but not everything goes according to plan.

Part 2 of 3 of the Holiday Special

A/N: Can you spot the major character we're introducing?

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Wanda wakes up, alone and confused. The light outside tells her it’s later than usual, and she suddenly remembers it’s a school day.

The woman hurries down the stairs, finding you in the kitchen.

“Hey, chatty patty” you say with a smile, loving her disheveled state. “Hungry?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 11” you look at your wrist watch, pushing a plate towards her.

“School! The kids!”

“I already drove them to school, and yes they had breakfast that wasn’t just cereal” you explain. Wanda finally sits, and looks at the french toast you’re offering.

“This is really good” she praises as she takes a bite.

“I know I call you cute when you’re cooking, but that’s not the only reason I watch you do it, baby” you smile, kissing her temple as you stand up to pour her some coffee. “In Medicine you learn by watching and doing. I’m trying to learn cooking as if it was the same”

“You’re on the right track. Thank you” she comments as you hand the mug. “I’m just a little lost, why did I not wake up?”

“You really don’t remember?” you say, amused.

“No. Did we…?” she says, suddenly afraid that she fell asleep in the middle of sex.

“Oh, no. If we did, you’d remember. Trust me” you say in a low voice, moving closer. Wanda’s eyes drift to your lips and you smile, pleased with her reaction. “No, we didn’t have sex, baby. You woke up at two in the morning talking about a book idea and I wrote it all down until you went back to sleep”

Wanda notices the notebook on the counter, and she takes it. The story is about a girl that makes a drawing of her perfect pet. Her brother sees it and adds things like dragon wings and fangs. By night, the drawing comes to life, and it follows the girl everywhere she goes.

“This is a full story”

“Mhm”

“This is like three months work”

“Glad to hear we were productive” you nod, not understanding her issue with saving months of work.

“This never happens!”

“Counterpoint, you never had a light sleeper that woke up to your mumbling” you point out, stealing some of her toast.

“Yeah… that’s a good point” Wanda says, frowning. You miss the way she looks at you, as you lean forward to read over everything she said while asleep. Honestly, the story is sweet and very original. To think it was something she came up while asleep is bonkers.

“Wow” you laugh as Wanda lunges forward, kissing every inch of your face.

“You’re so hot right now” she says against your neck and you sigh, pleased.

“Well, let me show you what other stuff we could do to lose some sleep” you propose, carrying her to the couch.

—

For the next day, while you’re at work, Wanda is focused on meeting with Laura and her publisher. You get a few texts here and there, but you know she’s in the middle of a creative storm and you’re happy she finally found the inspiration needed for her next book.

Still, it’s a tough shift as you lost sleep on your day off.

“Wild night?” Darcy says as you’re sprawled across the break room couch.

“Jealous?”

“Meh” she shrugs her shoulders. “I hear Fury is going to be lighting up the Christmas tree in the foyer. Wanna come see?”

“Oh, yeah!” you stand up, eager to check if it will go down the same as every year. Without fail, someone forgets to test the lights and as he plugs it in, nothing happens.

Darcy and you are leaning against the railway, chuckling while Fury screams.

“Every damn year! We run a hospital. Why can’t anyone check the lights?”

“It never gets old” you smile, feeling like the holidays are finally here. You’re about to suggest a trip to the cafeteria when Carol comes right behind you, borderline hysterical.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Uh… is there an emergency? Did you page me?” you check your device, Darcy frowning at Carol’s outburst.

“Yes, there’s an emergency! Come here, the both of you”

With surprising strenght, she pulls you to one of the meeting rooms, a couple of sample cakes in display.

“We’re tied”

“Who is?” you say, reading the flavors written in the small cards.

“Maria wants one flavor and I want another one. We need a tiebreak. You are my maid of honor. So, help me!”

“Ok, we’ll try them out. Jeez”

“I’ll be right back” Carol says, leaving the room in a hurry.

Grabbing a fork, you begin to take little bites of every cake, nodding approvingly.

“Chocolate ganache is to die for” you moan, feeling so happy that Carol is in the middle of this predicament.

“You should have red velvet for your wedding” Darcy points at the one she’s tasting.

“I’m not getting married”

“Yet”

“Darcy, come on” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, like you don’t have an idea on how to propose to Wanda already” she mocks, which shuts you up real fast. “I know you better than anyone. And I better be your maid of honor”

“I’m not getting married” you insist, this time  with less conviction.

You keep discussing the flavors and come to the conclusion that chocolate ganache is the winner.

“That’s the wrong answer! Carrot cake!” Carol huffs when you tell her your decision.

“Not everyone likes it. It’s just a weird choice” you say, while Darcy nods.

“Everyone likes chocolate” she points out.

“Fine, whatever! You win, Willy Wonka” Carol storms out of the room.

“Wow, you dodged a bullet there” Darcy says and you nudge her side.

“Don’t be mean. She wants her wedding to be perfect. That’s nice” in that precise moment, you get paged and you decide to take the rest of the chocolate cake to eat on the way. “See ya!”

“Thief!”

A couple of emergencies take your attention, making you go into the OR. Your phone is forgotten and by the time you check, there’s a single text from Wanda.

W: Are you coming for lunch? I want to tell you something important.

Your heart begins to race, and you remember a few days ago during the snow storm. She mentioned something but you distracted Wanda and you figured it wasn’t that important.

Y/N: Is everything ok?

Coming out of nowhere, Carol once agains blindsides you.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Go…”

“Dress fitting. Your bridesmaid dress”

“Now?” you look at your phone. Wanda hasn’t replied. But Carol looks ready to kill you and you won’t take your chances. “Sure, let’s go”

Y/N: Gotta take care of something, will try to be back for lunch. Love you.

There’s no reply and during the entire car ride, you look out the window, wondering if you messed up in any way.

“I’m sorry” Carol says, mistaking your silence with annoyance. “For snapping at you”

“Oh, that’s… well, not cool, but I don’t take offense. I just never thought you’d be the Bridezilla type, Danvers” you joke.

“It’s more about the holidays. Maria’s family and mine are coming over. They’ve met each other a few times, but you know… it just feels like whatever happens during Christmas will set the tone for the wedding. And marriage”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure” you agree.

“I admire you for setting boundaries with your mother”

“It’s not a boundary, it’s more like thousands of miles and avoidance” you reluctantly admit, which makes her laugh. “It’s all gonna be fine. You’re marrying the girl of your dreams, and I will be there as well, in a cool, not at all pink bridesmaid gown to help with whatever happens”

“Actually…”

“It’s pink?” you say, mouth wide open. Carol nods, avoiding your eyes and you huff. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend”

—

Wanda’s buzzing with excitement as she stops by the cafeteria, ready for her second meeting of the week with Laura.

It seems as if this new book will be out fast, and if it’s as successful as her past stories, Wanda could finally have some free time to focus on a whole different thing: a trilogy for young adults.

Wanda leaves the cafeteria carrying a tray with two cups and scones, knowing that you’d be the first one to support her if it all works out.

She’s surprised to find you walking across the street, as your last message gave her the impression you still had work to do. Wanda is about to call for you, when someone else joins you in the sidewalk.

Carol says something that makes you smile, linking her arm with yours. Both of you walk in the opposite direction of Wanda, getting inside a store.

Wanda replays the moment where Carol opened the door for you over and over again.

“Ready for day two?” Laura says as soon as her friend walks to her office. “Wanda?”

It doesn’t take much for Wanda to tell her what she saw. Beyond that, she goes over your strange attitude recently, smoking compulsively and having trouble sleeping.

“Maybe she’s rethinking our relationship, maybe Carol is trying to win her back…”

“Wow, slow down. You said they were going inside a bridal shop?”

“Yes, I think it was”

“Well, what if… she’s thinking about… ya know” Laura says, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

“No, I don’t. What do you mean?” Wanda says, resisting the urge to drive back and get answers straight from you.

“Ok, so she’s been nervous, she visits a shop with all kinds of things for a wedding. Could it be that she’s working up the courage to propose?”

“No… I don’t think so. Do you think that could be it?” Wanda says.

“I think based on everything I’ve seen and heard about Y/N, that makes a lot more sense than her cheating on you” Laura shrugs her shoulders. “Look, just tell her you saw her. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation”

“But what if she is proposing and I ruin the surprise?” Wanda pouts, torn between what to do.

“Let’s get to work, I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do” Laura tries to divert the conversation, which works for a little while.

Except, she’s typing and Wanda is just doodling instead of creating sketches.

“Would you say yes?” Laura asks, amused at Wanda’s enamoured look.

The woman shrugs her shoulders, biting her lip as she imagines what it would be like to be married to you.

Needless to say, she doesn’t get much work done after that.

—

The flowers might be too much, but you rather be on the safe side. Wanda never replied to your text, so you drove straight home as soon as you came back from the dress fitting.

“Honey, I’m home” you joke, leaving your winter jacket and scarf at the coathanger. To your surprise, Wanda is sitting at the kitchen counter, looking conflicted.

“Hey” she says, letting you kiss her cheek. “What is this?”

“My favorite girl’s favorite flowers” you sit next to her, worried. “Is something wrong? I know you wanted to talk”

“Yes. I…” she takes a deep breath and turns to look at you. “Is something going on between you and Carol?”

“What? Is that what you wanted to talk about?” you say, confused. Where is this coming from?

“No. I was at the cafeteria around Bleeker Street and saw you with her” she admits, sighing.

“Wanda, I’m sorry. No, nothing’s going on. Carol and Maria are getting married and she asked me to be her bridesmaid. I said yes, before even thinking about consulting you. I guess I didn’t even know how to bring it up. I know our past… makes things weird”

You hesitate about reaching out for her hand, but then she lets out a laugh.

“I was about to ran over Danvers’ bike” she says, bringing her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry for not trusting you”

“No, I’m the only one who should be apoligizing. I should have told you. Can you please forgive me, love of my life?”

“There’s nothing to forgive”

“You know, you should play hard to get” you point out, your arms around her middle, placing a kiss against her temple. “Don’t forgive me so easily, I was planning on taking you out to a fancy place to earn it”

“Mmm, you’re right. I’m too forgiving” she jokes.

“Wait, you sent me the text before I left with Carol. So that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about” you suddenly remember.

Going back to face her, you lift Wanda’s chin with your hand, making her look at you. She seems suddenly nervous.

“I was thinking… you don’t have to answer right now. And also, with this new book, I might be too busy and the house will be a mess for a while and you don’t wanna be around for it, you want your own space… forget I even asked”

She’s rambling, so you craddle her face in your hands, making her stop with your lips on hers.

“You haven’t even asked anything” you nudge your nose against her, smiling lovingly at the way she melts against your touch.

“Move in with me. Us”

“What?”

Never in a million years would you have guessed this was coming.

“This is your home as much as it is ours. I want you here all the time, I want to make room for your stuff, look for my clothes in the closet and stumble upon your scrubs” Wanda says. “Either way, you spend more time here than at your own place. You could also save some rent money”

“You had me at this is your home, my love” you laugh, kissing her again. “And no worries, no wet towels in the bathroom, I promise”

“We have a deal” she smiles against your lips, heart beating faster at this new step you’re taking together.

—

You should have listened to that Kondo lady when she was all the rage. Your house is full of crap, and none of it brings joy. Only dust and boxes that get in the way of packing.

Good news, it’s gonna be an easy move. All you have are clothes, books, some records and pictures.

“Are you sure you wanna throw this stuff?” Wanda says, holding a couple of trophies from Science Fairs and other stuff.

“Yes, baby” you nod, handing over a box. “I don’t think that has any value to my career as a surgeon”

“I think they’re cute. You were a nerd”

“Yeah, that I was” you smile. You keep digging through old boxes, until you get to one you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“What is this?” Wanda kneels next to you. She sees the picture you’re holding. “Is that your dad? Oh my God, you look exactly like him”

“Yeah, two peas in a pod” you laugh, admiring your matching Halloween outfits. Ghostbusters, obviously. You flip through the album, grateful that you had the sense to take it with you after you left for college. You know your mother would have thrown it in the trash.

“Why isn’t this in a frame?” Wanda takes a lose photo of you two during Christmas.

“I guess I never got around to doing it” you shrug your shoulders. There’s a tin box, and you kinda wished you hadn’t opened it. A broken wrist watch is the only thing inside it. “He loved this watch. Was wearing it on the day of the accident” you mutter, suddenly feeling small.

Wanda let’s you sit in silence for a few minutes and then places her hand on your shoulder.

“We can take a break from all the packing, yes?”

“Yeah, ok” you nod, standing up. Wanda takes your hand and leads you back to her -and now your- place. There are already several boxes in the living room of your new home.

Home, that word fits so well with how you feel here.

The only other time where you felt like you belonged was in college, in the dorm you shared with Darcy and then at the hospital, which wasn’t strictly a home.

Without saying anything, Wanda pulls you to the couch, and you let her rest her head against your chest as you watch “Golden Girls”. She had you to thank for introducing her to a whole new obsession.

“Shouldn’t we go pick up the kids now?” you say after a while, looking at the hour.

“Sharon is driving them here”

“Now she’s your best friend”

“I’m sure she only offered to see you again and annoy me” Wanda chuckles, looking up at you. “Unfortunately for her, I don’t share”

“Mmhm” you smile against her lips, enjoying her possesiveness.

By the time Sharon drops off the kids, Wanda’s shown you how she really feels about sharing, making sure there’s a visible mark on your neck as you walk out of the house to greet Tommy and Billy.

“Hey, Y/N” Sharon says, playing with her sunglasses.

“H-hi, Sharon. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Enjoying the cold days, wishing I had someone to warm me up”

“Yeah, it’s cold. Outside, and inside too if you don’t have any heating” you mumble, trying to end the conversation. “Stay hot. I mean, warm. And thanks for dropping off the kids”

“My pleasure”

Sprinting back home, you lock the door and lean against it, hoping you won’t have to talk to the woman in a very long time.

“I see that little mark on your collarbone wasn’t enough. Maybe I should leave more on your neck” Wanda taunts.

“Baby, I could tattoo your name across my forehead and that woman would still try to get in my pants” you sigh, hands resting on Wanda’s hips. “Are we telling the kids about me moving in?”

“Yeah, come on”

Billy and Tommy are in the backyard, throwing a ball that Sparky chases around. They both approach you as Wanda calls for them, and she kneels to be at eye level with them.

“Boys, we have news. Y/N is moving”

“What? Where? You’re not gonna have your house across the street?”

“Mama, we should all live together” Tommy says, pleading to his mother.

“Oh, my darling boys, Y/N is gonna move with us! We’ll all live here. What do you think about it?”

“Yaaay” they run towards you, talking as fast as they can.

“I’ll make room in my drawers for you!”

“You can take one of my shelves”

Each kid takes turns on ideas to make room for you, and you hug them closer.

“I’m sure we’ll find a place for all my stuff. Don’t worry about it, I’m just happy you want me to live here”

“We do” Billy says, and then he turns to his mother. “Can we please get pizza to celebrate, pleaaase?”

“Yes, can we?” you join, pouting.

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing.

“I can’t believe I set myself up. Now it’s three children against one of me”

“You love us” you say, standing up and pulling her in for a kiss.

Wanda smiles against your lips.

“I do”

—

You’re buzzing with excitement to tell everyone the news, but you want Darcy to be the first to know.

While you sit in the cafeteria, the perfect oportunity presents itself.

“Ugh, one of your presents will arrive too late for me to wrap it up. I’ll send it but you have to promise you won’t open it”

“Yeah, yeah. Just send it home”

“No. I’ll send it to Wanda instead. She’ll keep it away from you”

“Same thing. Home for me, her. But I won’t open it” you smile as you take a bite of your sandwich, waiting for Darcy to understand what you mean.

“You? And her? Moving in together?” this is the first time that you see Darcy so excited over your relationship, and she hugs you. “You’re not gonna die alone”

“Oh, shut it”

“What are we celebrating?” Carol says, taking a seat next to you.

“Y/N and Wanda are moving in together” Darcy says, practically singing. “And now I have to rethink my second present”

“Why do you give her two Christmas presents?” Carol looks between you two and Darcy gasps.

“She saw you naked but didn’t tell her about your birthday?”

“Eh, what can I say? I have intimacy issues” you shrug your shoulders, laughing as Carol catches up with everything.

“Your birthday is on Christmas Eve”

“That’s correct” you nod. Eager to change the subject, you ask about the wedding. Lunch is cut short as they’re both paged and you walk back to the front desk, dropping off some paperwork about discharges and patient forms.

You’ve been talking for a bit with the nurses when you feel someone stand behind you.

A beautiful redhead with striking green eyes smiles at you, and it takes you a moment to notice you’re staring.

“Hi. How can we help you?” you say, pulling the charts close to your chest, pretending to be casual.

“I’m looking for an old friend”

“Sure thing, do you know his room number?”

“I know his name. Nick Fury” she says with a smirk and you laugh.

“Oh, the Chief. He should be in his office reviewing schedules right about now. Just go upstairs and turn rigt” you point behind her.

“Thank you, Doctor…” she leans forward to read the name on your badge. “Y/L/N”

You’re about to ask her name when you’re paged.

911.

“My pleasure. Enjoy your reunion with the Chief” you excuse yourself, going back to the ER.

As a group of people involved in a car crash arrive, everything that just happened becomes irrelevant.

You have no idea how crazy your day is about to get.

—

“Let me see if I understand” Fury says, the tips of his fingers aligning as Natasha looks from the other side of her desk, impassive.

She’s got a poker face that no one can break, not even someone as respected as Nicholas Fury.

“You want to teach us the new surgical method your mother invented"

Natasha nods.

“Why the sudden interest in sharing with us?”

“You’re a teaching hospital. Stark is on this quest to make everything accessible for everyone. It gives us good press, and will draw attention to your program”

“No ulterior motive?”

“The world is getting more complicated. The Starks and Romanoffs are the families with the greater research capabilities, I think it’s time to stop competing with each other and work together” Natasha says.

“Just like that?”

“Well…”

Natasha doesn’t get to complete her sentence, as Tony walks in the room without knocking.

“Chief” he says, a bit distressed. It takes him a minute to process the other presence in the room. “Romanoff?”

“Hey, Tony”

“What are you…? Ok, that’s for later. There was an avalanche in Silverton Mountain, several people are trapped and injured. They’re requesting aid”

“Let’s page Y/N and prepare the ER to receive them”

“Sorry for cutting your meeting short, I’m sure it wasn’t important” Tony winks at Natasha.

“I’ll be back later” she says. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Tony, not everyone can have a Nobel Prize”

“Your mother won that, not you” he says, trying to keep his cool.

“Well, let’s see if another Romanoff can beat you to it again” the woman says, smiling while Fury stands up.

“Children, not now. Call me tomorrow, Romanoff”

The two men leave his office, walking to the ER to find the head of Trauma.

“Is it a good idea to leave her alone there?”

“She’s not a spy, Stark”

“Her mother sent her for some nefarious purpose, I’m sure”

“That’s a talk for later. Y/L/N” Fury finally spots you.

“Chief, what’s up?”

“Avalanche in Silverton Mountain. I’m sending the chopper with you, Barton and another doctor of your choice”

“We’re only transporting critically injured patients, the rest will be taken by ambulance to local hospitals” Tony adds, while you walk back to prepare.

“Ok, I’m taking Bishop with me. Anything else I should know about?”

“Expect a long day” Tony pats your shoulder and you sigh.

Looking for the storage room, you find a three layered rescue suit, preparing for the cold and relentless weather of the mountains. Next are medical supplies, rope, thermic blankets, comms and avalanche probes.

Once you check everything’s set up, you change your sneakers for hiking boots and carry everything in a waterproof backpack. Just as you’re about to leave, Kate comes in. You show her the clothes she should change into, and what to put in her own backpack.

“I’ll meet you at the rooftop”

Wanda doesn’t pick up the phone when you call her, so you leave a voicemail explaining you won’t be reachable for a couple of hours.

As you walk to the elevator, you meet the mysterious woman again.

“Up or down?” you ask as you both reach for the button.

“Down. You?”

“All the way up”

“Going somewhere?” she teases.

“Just a helicopter ride. Care to join me?” you say, not knowing what makes you joke with a stranger.

“Perhaps next time. Take this one. I’ll wait for the other elevator” the woman says when the doors open. You nod your thanks and your eyes meet as you press the button. “I do hope we’ll see each other again, Y/N”

“I didn’t get your name”

“Natasha” the woman smiles, doors closing. The last thing you see is that cryptic smile as the elevator starts to go up.

The cold wind hits your face as soon as the doors open, Stark’s helicopter ready for the 15 minute flight to Silverton.

“Hey, Barton. Wilson?” you say, surprised. “Didn’t know you could fly these things”

“Hell, yeah. This is Redwing” he says, pointing at the helicopter.

“Stop calling it that” Stark grumbles.

Clint and you check for everything to be in its place and you nod as Kate joins you.

“I’m having everyone on standby, we’ll start preparing as soon as you call with more information on number of patients and status” Fury says. Then he turns to look at everyone else. “Stay safe and good luck”

The building becomes smaller as you fly away, and Barton chats with Sam for a bit about the weather and the rescue plan. You follow the conversation here and there, but instead look out the window and then to Kate, who seems to be deep in thought.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just nervous” she admits and you nudge her knee with your hand.

“It’ll be fine, you’re gonna fly back with patients that need to be at Stark hospital. I’ll show you what to do”

“Ok”

As soon as you land on the area, a group of first responders run to greet you.

“Lee Jones” the team leader introduces himself. “There are six people still missing, we secured the area and will be starting a second round of search” he says, pointing at a nearby hill.

“Doctor Bishop, head to where the rescued people are to evaluate them” you say, and she walks back to an operations center with several stretchers. “Do we have a list of the people missing?”

“Here”

You take the paper, inspecting it. Two women, one children, four men. Your stomach drops as you get to the last name.

“Barton” you pull him to get his attention. He reads over your shoulder, alarmed as well.

“Is this accurate? Have you doble checked these people are not back in their hotel?” he says, knowing that information could get lost during rescue.

“Yes, sir”

“Crap” he says, looking at the hill.

The name at the bottom of the list is Pietro Maximoff.

“Come on, no time to waste” you say, sprinting. A couple of people follow you, and you have to remember the training you got.

The first 15 minutes are crucial. And now, the people who didn’t die instantly, will pass from asphyxia, hypothermia or critical injuries.

Except Pietro. He knows what to do to stay alive. You just gotta find him.

“We gotta let Wanda know” Clint shouts next to you, the cold wind hitting you straight in the face.

“There is nothing to tell her now”

“Y/N”

“Go back and call her if you want. I can’t waste time right now, Clint”

It looks like there’s a storm forming. If you’re lucky, you’ll get an hour of not so bad weather and then, it will be too risky for them to continue.

Not you, though. You’re not leaving until you find Pietro.

“Here!” two people shout at the same time. You turn to run where they are. One of the rescuers is digging through the snow, and a woman’s face is visible. You want to keep looking for Pietro, but you came here to help everyone.

“I’ll keep searching” Clint nods your way.

The second person they find is the woman’s child.

“Hypothermic, hard to say if they have other injuries. I’d recommend you take them back to Stark Hospital, call and ask for doctor Lewis and Rambeau. Wilson will fly them there” you instruct the rescuers.

“I found one, he’s dead” you hear through the radio and your heart drops. You race to where the rescuer is, praying that it’s not Pietro. “Male, approximately 50”

You take a minute, holding your side as the cold air makes it hard to breathe.

“Mark the spot so we can recover the body and alert his family” Lee instructs.

They keep using the avalanche probes, to no avail.

“You’re walking too far away and the wind is getting worse” Clint warns you, but you ignore him. Pietro has to be here.

“Come on, come on” you walk faster, the wind almost knocking you down.

“Y/L/N, come back” Clint says, this time through the radio so everyone can hear him. “Now”

You ignore him, looking around. Everything is white… except.

A spot of color. Bright yellow and green. Just like the gloves you gave Pietro.

“Pietro” you run towards it, heart beating out of your chest. There he is, you can see his face, and part of his hands, as he managed to dig through the snow to be able to breathe. “Clint, I found him”

Pietro’s vitals are weak, but he whines when you call his name. Everyone comes running to help you, digging him out.

“Can you hear me? Frosty, come on” you insist, inspecting every inch of his body. “He’s going back to Stark Hospital with us, now”

“As soon as Wilson comes back”

You nod, stabilizing his neck as the men carry him to the operation center. You hear through the comms that they found the last man, unfortunately deceased as well.

“It’s a miracle we found him alive” Clint comments.

You stay quiet, going over statistics and the list of injuries that could be life threatening and you won’t know about until you do imaging.

“I’m calling Laura, so Wanda’s not alone” Clint says. You should have brought your phone. He greets his wife, and a moment later his face falls. “Wanda’s there with you? Can you put her on the phone?”

Now it’s your turn to feel dread, taking the phone with shaky hands.

“Sweetheart” you say, feeling awful when you hear Wanda’s voice, knowing what you’re about to say will destroy her. “You might want to sit down”

—

“Male with helmet and airbag, was conscious during rescue and prior to boarding the helicopter. Heart rate weak, slow, irregular due to hypothermia; passive warming techniques started on the way to the hospital. No visible trauma, do a complete body scan” you say as soon as you land, Carol and Stark the first to greet you at the rooftop.

Wanda’s not here yet and you’re not ready to face her, especially since you have no idea on the extent of his internal injuries.

“Are you ok? You’re shivering” Darcy comments when you change into your scrubs, and all you can do is nod.

“Fine”

Thoracic spine fracture, comminuted knee fracture and intracranial hemorrhage. The room is silent as you look at the images, knowing it’s gonna be a long and challenging intervention.

“Wanda’s here” Kate says as soon as you take the elevator to the OR.

“Not now, Kate. Tell her we’ll keep her updated and then scrub in”

Carol gives you a curious glance, but keeps her comments to herself.

There’s silence in the OR as you work with Carol and Kate, while Stark and Parker deal with the hemorrhage.

“Doctor Y/L/N” Fury steps in.

“Not now”

“Miss Maximoff would like an update”

“I don’t have one for her” you let out an exasperated sigh when Fury insists, turning to look at Stark. “Do you have an update? How about you, Danvers? Alright then, when we know something other than his body is all kinds of fucked, we will give Miss Maximoff an update”

“You’re too close to this”

“No, I’m stabilizing his spine so he can teach his nephews how to ride a fucking bike and all you are is a distraction. Leave my OR, now”

You can feel Fury’s angry stare in the back of your head, but ignore it and keep working.

Stark is the first to break the silence, if only to ask for more suction.

“I’m done with the knee. If you want to update her” Carol says after a while.

“You heard her, Bishop”

“You should go. I’m sure Wanda will want to hear it from you”

“No” is all you say, voice shaking.

No, you can’t face Wanda now. You don’t know if Pietro is gonna make it and you won’t lie to her.

Beyond that, you can’t imagine what she’ll say to you if you can’t save him.

Why didn’t you find him faster? Why didn’t you help him?

This is your fault.

“BP’s dropping” the nurse alerts you.

“One minute” Tony says, eyes glued to his work.

“Stark, he’s crashing” you insist. He ignores you and you’re about to throw your scalpel and start CPR when Pietro’s vitals stabilize.

“You gotta let me work too” Tony says. “Peter, close here. Let’s see that spine now”

After three more hours of work, there’s nothing left to do but wait. While Pietro’s transferred to the ICU, you stay back, removing your facemask and surgical cap.

Carol stands next to you, without saying a word.

“If he doesn’t make it, Wanda’s never going to forgive me” you say, looking at the ground.

“You don’t believe that” Carol says.

“I don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out”

“It’s gonna be fine” she says, giving your arm a squeeze and you nod, leaving the scrub room.

Your hands shake as you press the elevator button that will take you to Wanda. The adrenaline is slowly leaving your body, but your muscles can’t relax, still waiting for an even bigger disaster to come.

Forcing yourself to step into the hallway, your eyes meet Wanda’s across the room. They are reddened by the tears, her hair a bit disheveled and all over the place.

Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat. She stands up, walking towards you, and you brace yourself for a myriad of insults and bitter words.

Instead, she throws herself in your arms, crying.

“You’re ok” she keeps saying. “I was so scared. I’m so sorry”

“It’s fine. I’m here” you hold her closer, kissing her head and shedding a couple of tears. “We did everything we could, Wanda, please believe me. Now we have to wait for him to recover. Please, please don’t hate me”

“You saved him. He’s alive because of you” she says, her arms still on your back. “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“I’m here” you sigh against her temple. “It’s all going to be fine”

But you don’t know if that’s true.

—

Natasha answers the call as soon as she’s in her suite, knowing her mother only had a few minutes to chat.

“Hello, dear. How did it go?”

“It was cut short. An emergency” the redhead sighs, sitting in the bed and taking off her heels. “They used Tony’s helicopter and everything”

“The Stark boy, always wanting to be the center of attention” Melina tsks. “Did you get to see their ER?”

“Not yet. I did meet their Head of Trauma”

Natasha’s mind goes back to you. She was honestly surprised when she saw you waiting for the elevator in the rescue gear. You weren’t like any other of the Trauma surgeons she had met before.

“What did you think of them?”

“Very heroic. Jumped straight into the danger, no questions asked. And she yelled at Fury when he tried to keep her out of the OR”

Another pleasant surprise. It was hard to tell you had that fire in you, with those kind eyes and gentle smile.

“Do you want to hire her or date her?” Melina picks up on her daughter’s tone.

“Can’t I do both?”

“My darling girl, of course you can. When was the last time you didn’t get what you wanted?”

—

It’s cold and you can’t reach for whatever it is you’re looking for.

What were you trying to find in the middle of nowhere?

It’s dark, except for a circle around you, and there’s no way to tell up from down.

Except when you see something next to your feet, and you kneel down. As you pull from it, the snow moves and you can see Pietro’s face. You dig deeper, and then you see Wanda. Every time you remove snow, there’s another face, until you find your father, staring at you.

You try to reach for him, but the watch on your wrist reaches zero on its countdown, the beeping sound mocking you as you run out of time.

“Wait” you jump up, looking around.

On call room. You’re in the hospital. There’s solid ground beneath you, not layers and layers of snow.

The sound comes from your pager.

911.

Everything feels like an emergency these days. You’ve lost track of time, alternating between your shifts and the ICU, where Pietro is still recovering.

It’s been four days and he hasn’t woken up yet.

“What do we have?” you ask Kate, who begins to give you the overview.

It’s not something that requires surgery, which makes you sigh with relief. This is the end of your shift and you need to eat something before heading back to the ICU.

“When was the last time you left the hospital?” Darcy says and you shrug your shoulders, eating your sandwich and feeling ill the second you swallow.

You have to force yourself to eat lately.

“I don’t know”

“The day of the accident. Five days ago. You can’t keep going like this” your friend says, but you avoid her stare.

“Wanda is not allowed in the ICU and Pietro shouldn’t be alone in there”

“Pietro is unconscious. Wanda is the one that’s at home, alone and scared. I think her brother would appreciate you keeping her company” Darcy reasons with you.

You rub your temples, trying to not throw up.

Truth is, you’re scared that the other shoe will drop. That things between you and Wanda could turn sour if her brother doesn’t show any signs of improvement.

“You are carrying an immense responsibility and burden, that it’s not yours. Nor anyone’s. It was an accident. It’s life” your friend insists, knowing very well the meaning behind your silence.

You keep looking down, chin resting on your hand as a couple of tears run down your cheeks.

Darcy’s expression softens at that.

“I’ll stay with Pietro for a bit. Wanda is in the foyer, ready to take you home. Please, go with her”

You try to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. It’s been like this for days. When it comes to work, you function even better than usual, accostumed to chaos and uncertainty. The minute the conversation pivots, your throat closes, making it hard to utter a single word.

In the end, you nod, throwing away your barely touched food to go meet your girlfriend.

Guilt overwhelms you as you notice the bags under Wanda’s eyes. It’s impossible to be everywhere and be everything to all the people that matter to you, but you still feel like a failure.

“He…” you prepare the update, but Wanda kisses you, stopping the words from leaving your mouth.

“I’m here to take care of you. I already know everything there is to know. Let’s go home”

Taking a breath, you nod and walk behind her towards the exit. The light hurts your eyes, and you have to look down, frowning. Wanda’s hand is on yours, leading you to the car.

The ride home is silent. There are still some boxes in the living room, pushed to the wall to make room for walking. It gives an eerie vibe, another reminder that your entire world stopped almost a week ago.

“Are you hungry?”

“Just tired” you say in a low voice. “I smell like hospital”

Wanda nods, closing the door and walking you upstairs. All you’ve done for the past days is take quick showers, with cheap shampoo that is in the hospital and leaves your hair dry.

For the first time, you don’t have to hurry and jump into a spray of cold water, rinsing as fast as you can. The warm temperature  and pressure on your muscles feels like a luxury.

“Feels good?” Wanda whispers against your ear and you nod. She places a kiss on your shoulder’s scar. You step back, trying to chase after her touch, and she laughs.

That sound is enough to make you feel ten times lighter.

As you step out of the shower, you admire the way Wanda places a towel around her, and without thinking you meet her in a slow and tender kiss.

“Missed you” you say against her lips.

“I missed you too, sweetheart”

There’s no rush as you change into comfortable clothes, and rest your head on Wanda’s lap while she reads a draft for Laura to review.

“How’s the book coming along?”

“Good, very fast thanks to your help”

“So, do I get credited on the cover or something?” you joke, looking up.

“I can pay you in other ways for your very valuable contribution”

“I’ll hold you to that” you joke, feeling sleepy as Wanda runs her hand through your hair. 

The next time you open your eyes, it’s past noon. You turn in bed, Wanda looking at you.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No” she answers way too fast. “Maybe. I… you looked upset. Like you were having a nightmare. I just wanted to make sure you were ok, that’s all”

“I’m ok” you promise, pulling her so she’s resting against your chest. “How are Billy and Tommy?”

“Quiet. I know they’re worried and they’ve been missing you too”

“We could go out to the movies today” you suggest.

“Actually, they have a surprise for you” she looks up and you smile.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And I promised them you are wearing an ugly Christmas sweater”

“Is that so?” you turn her in your arms, tickling her sides. “I don’t have any”

“I got you one” Wanda says between giggles and you pull her closer as she tries to get away from you. “Stop, please”

“Not until you show me that ugly sweater”

“Nu-uh, you’ll find a way to get rid of it”

“Then, you shall pay the consequences” you declare, laughing as she distracts you with a kiss.

—

“Is this absolutely necessary?” you say, walking towards the school auditorium. The sweater is not exactly ugly, it only has some paper figures hanging along the arms, which makes it uncomfortable to move around.

The biggest issue is that Wanda and everyone else is wearing normal clothes, which earns you a couple of funny looks.

“Babe, let me get changed, I have some scrubs in the car” you turn around, but Wanda catches you and pulls you back.

“I promise you, I’ll make it worth it” she says in a low voice against your ear. The little kiss Wanda gives behind your ear seals the deal.

“Are you gonna wear something slutty?” you whisper against her temple and she laughs.

“You’ll have to find out, detka”

“Detka?” you repeat, your pronunciation awful. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s part of your Christmas present” your girlfriend says, biting her lip.

She’s such a tease.

“Show’s starting, come on”

“Show?” you say, following her all the way to the front row. The lights go out but to your horror, your sweater glows in the dark. You struggle to take it off, but Wanda takes you by the wrists, laughing while you look around, embarrassed.

The first number is of really small children, who try to follow their teacher as they sing and dance, but looking adorably confused is enough to have all the parents clapping and cheering. After two or three more songs, you finally know why you’re there. Billy and Tommy are in the front of their class, singing Holly Jolly Christmas.

“Those are our boys!” you shout excitedly, looking around so everyone knows they’re your kids.

“Baby, I think they got it” Wanda smiles lovingly as you take out your phone and record, zooming in on the twins.

Once the song ends, you give them a standing ovation, and the only thing most people can see is a floating figure that glows in the dark.

The show goes on for another forty minutes, but you’re the first to go find the kids backstage. As soon as they see you, they jump into your arms.

“You were amazing! Next stop, Broadway!”

“Did you like the sweater we picked out for you?”

“Yes, it’s so original!” you say, hearing Wanda laugh behind you. “Come on, let’s get some pizza. Or burgers and milkshakes, whatever you want”

“Can we go to Burger Galaxy?" Billy says and you nod.

"Sure, let me check if it's open" you say, pulling out your phone. You frown at the missed calls from Darcy. She's still at the hospital and there's only one reason why she'd call. "Give me a second"

Walking away, you dial her number.

"He's awake"

"How is he...?"

"Just come to the hospital" she insists. Wanda is talking to the boys as you return, her face dropping when you lock eyes.

"We need to go to the hospital"

You take the keys from her shaking hands, smiling as she tries to control her breathing. The ride feels like an eternity, but it's only ten minutes. You're about to head to the ICU, when Darcy sees you.

"Over here"

"How is he...?" you catch up, aware that Wanda and the kids are right behind you.

"Awake and annoying. A bit confused as well, but all things considered, he'll be fine. Congrats, pal. You worked a Christmas miracle"

You stand by the door as Wanda walks past you, speaking in Sokovian and holding her brother's face between her hands. Tommy and Billy stand next to his bed, waiting for a chance to greet their uncle. Between all the fuss, Pietro looks at you, mouthing a thank you.

You can't help the tears from clouding your vision. After taking a breath to calm yourself, you wipe the corner of your eyes and smile at him.

"Welcome back, Frosty"

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[shomatoriashi]

09/26/24; 12:20pm

- the academy arc -

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

anonymous asked: Hello! I've always admired your writing, and finally thought of an ask for you! What about yandere jinwoo with an oblivious reader? Its kinda funny how the reader has so much influence over him, and dont realize it, after all, how could they think he's dangerous when he's all soft for them, and only them... Oblivious to all the danger he causes to others

warnings: incredibly dark themes; harassment and petty bullying.

you felt butterflies erupting all across your abdomen, feeling your gaze darting all across the new sights and scenery of your high school. feeling a bit uncomfortable, you pull at the collar of your blouse and adjusted your tie at least a hundred times leading up to this very moment.

tightening your grip on your bag, you hardened your resolve and nodded, stepping into the school with as much confidence that you could manage. avoiding the crowd of students, you kept to yourself and take the flight of stairs up to the second floor. you trail your eyes across the labeled classroom before entering the one labeled 2-a.

you pass by a boy wearing a single glove, reading his textbook while flipping the pages with a bored expression. he sits near the back row, and you take the opposing corner, trying to remain as small as possible while getting out your pencils and notebooks for the day.

the sight of you settled off to the side makes the boy stop reading, and you caught a glimpse of how he was staring at you from your periphery, but wasn’t brave enough to meet his gaze. instead, you distract yourself by writing reassuring mantras in your notebook.

it’s going to be fine.

today is the first day of class for everyone.

surely no one is going to notice how you’re the newbie.

as the minutes ticked by, you became increasingly aware of the students that walked in, laughing while talking about their breaks. just as the bell rings, signifying the start of the day, your homeroom teacher just had to notice you as he forced you to introduce yourself to the whole class.

throughout it all, you were a stuttering mess, forcing out the syllables that made up your name all while feeling like your knees would give away at any minute now. the heat was felt burning against your cheeks, traveling down the length of your neck by the end of it all. when the teacher lets out a grunt of approval, you sat back down as quickly as you could.

a rich chuckle was heard coming from your left, and you took a quick peek over to see the same, perfect boy who had been studying softly laughing at you. his attention was on his open textbook, but you could tell that he was still looking at you from his periphery, those grey eyes drawing you in-

you clear your throat and look away from him, feeling the warmth now spreading to the rest of your body. the hours kept ticking by until finally, it was lunchtime. you grab your lunchbox from the confines of your bag, but found that you didn’t have much of an appetite.

as you debated on what to do for lunch, a loud whistle makes you gasp, looking over to see a group of rowdy looking boys making their way towards you. you visibly stiffen, willing them to go away, but your prayers were all for naught when the entered the classroom, already sauntering their way closer to you.

“man, when i heard there was a new girl here, i didn’t expect her to be so cute.”

you cling to your lunchbox, ready to bolt when needed. your anxiety was shot through the roof now, watching as the boys came closer to you when they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. it appeared that they had a difficult time moving, like there was an invisible wall that kept them from coming closer to you. noticing their strange behavior, you visibly relax, watching their stiff movements as they walked out of the classroom and fell into a pile in the middle of the busy hallways.

laughter was heard erupting all across the hallways, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. the same soft chuckle was heard, and you look upwards to see your classmate standing before you. he had perfect, ebony locks of hair with grey eyes that shone with a startling clarity. “hey, are you alright?”

“oh, i’m fine! thank you for asking…”

the boy shakes his head. “there’s no need to be so stiff around me. just think of me as your new friend.”

your mind was spinning now, practically on cloud 9 at the thought of having this cute boy as your new best friend. you smile up at him, watching as he sheepishly brushes back his hair before reaching out a hand for you to take. “the name’s sung jinwoo, and would you like to have lunch together with me?”

you nod and stand from your seat with your lunchbox in hand. “of course!”

jinwoo gives you a kind smile, stepping out of the classroom with you. you see the same rowdy boys glaring daggers at jinwoo, yet he doesn’t relent, standing protectively in front of you. the boys end up scoffing before walking away. as jinwoo leads you in the opposite direction, you remain blissfully unaware of how shadows seemed to dart away from jinwoo while aiming toward the group of boys who dared to make you uncomfortable.

{ … }

the trio of girls had purposely intercepted your walk to school, pulling at your hair before tossing you aside, making you land against the hard pavement of the sidewalk. you had the air knocked out of your lungs when you suddenly felt the contents of your packed lunch land over your head.

tears were felt filling at your eyes, and you watch as a girl leans down closer to you, her blond curls framing at her face while icy blue eyes glare down at you, “who the hell do you think you are, getting so close to my jinwoo like that?”

her lackeys stand beside her, all sneering at you while exchanging looks of disdain towards you. ah, it seems as though your seemingly perfect life was coming to an end, with jinwoo’s own fanclub coming after you now. you had barely been basking in your school life and newfound freedom with jinwoo for a month when the drama suddenly started.

it started about a week ago, when you found safety pins on your seat and your notebooks ripped to shreds. you did your best to ignore it while hiding your troubles from jinwoo, yet it only seemed to strengthen the bully’s hatred for you.

and now, it had come to a boiling point, as the three girls continued to mock and sneer at you, teasing you, making fun of all your imperfections while stating how you were a mere “charity case” for jinwoo.

by the end of their torment, you were a sobbing mess, all alone as the girls quickly left you behind with their harsh laughters echoing in your ear. the stickiness felt from having your lunch dumped all over you made you feel worse than you ever felt, and you knew that you couldn’t go to school like this.

while you were wallowing in your misery, you remain completely unaware of the way your shadow lengthened, reveal jinwoo as he steps out of it. he says nothing, simply falling down to his knees before taking you in his arms. “i was worried about you not being in class today.”

hearing his voice makes you cry out to him, facing him as you hugged him closer to you. jinwoo didn’t mind how messy your uniform was, simply holding you closer to his chest. he lets out soft coos of your name, allowing you to let out all of your tears and frustrations. while keeping your head kept protectively against his chest, his eyes began to glow a startling purple hue, already commanding his soldiers to get rid of three, new targets.

{ … }

after your encounter with the bullies, the next day, you felt a strange sense of dread consuming you. you truly wanted nothing more than to skip-

or transfer-

yet jinwoo stops you from even considering moving away from him. and after much convincing from his end, (“don’t worry, i’ll be by your side the whole time if those girls come back!”) you relent and head to school with him.

upon entering your classroom, you felt a strange sense of relief filling you. you saw no signs of those nameless, petty girls, and you visibly relaxed. upon entering the classroom with jinwoo, he seemed to flash you a knowing grin, as if silently telling you i told you so.

needless to say, with those girls seemingly gone, (maybe even transferred to a different school?), you were able to resume the peaceful school days with jinwoo by your side.

and of course, he shared his lunch with you because he “always made extra” and knew of your healthy appetite.

of course he walked home with you every single day after your club activities, simply because “it was dangerous for girls to walk home at night” and he was your “best friend who wished to keep you safe.”

you saw no red flags-

becoming so blinded by his own brilliance that it made you blissfully unaware of the neverending darkness settled in the depths of his heart and soul.

{ … }

it was amazing how you couldn’t see just how obsessed sung jinwoo was with you.

ever since that first day, where you had entered his classroom and introduce yourself, becoming a mess of stutters in the process-

you had completely captured jinwoo’s heart.

throughout that first day, he kept sneaking glances at you, thinking of way to properly approach you before wrapping his tendrils of darkness around your heart, further trapping you within his web.

with beru and igris talking his ear off, knowing of their king’s desire to capture your heart as well, they were obnoxiously supportive, thinking of ways to help with winning you over. and just as he was ready to approach you-

those damn men had to ruin it all.

jinwoo could see the fear and discomfort in your eyes-

the way you stiffened in response and how you looked like you wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow you whole.

but he stops them from coming any closer to you, using his abilities as the shadow monarch to freeze them, controlling their jerky movements until they were tossed out of the classroom.

later that night, after beru had dealt with them, jinwoo reappears and gazes down at their lifeless bodies.

arise.

he commands their shadows to awaken, tying their souls to him for all eternity as they now obeyed his every desire and whim. even when the teachers questioned their absences, jinwoo made sure to dispose of their corpses. he had thought about erasing everyone’s memories pertaining to them-

but he was achingly aware of how it would alter your memories as well, which made him hesitate when it came to executing it. for now, as long as you remained blissfully unaware, then he would allow yours (and everyone else’s memories) to remain intact.

after all, what did he have to worry about? to the whole world, he was the ideal student, making 100’s on all of his assignments while doing his best to win the heart of the girl he adores. no one has any reason to suspect him of any foul play.

and he was going to use this seemingly perfect image of him to his advantage.

once jinwoo saw you again, he pretends to bump into you, successfully gifting you his freshly made soldiers by having them morph into your shadow as you remained clueless to his abilities.

after all, seeing your smile and how much happier you were with them out of your life was like receiving a piece of heaven for jinwoo. he lived for your laughters and could feel his devotion for you growing by mere seconds.

that was his first act of love and devotion toward you.

and the second act?

i believe we know when that was, too.

red hot anger was felt coursing through jinwoo’s veins when he found you broken and tossed aside, with the contents of your lunch thrown over you. though it pained him a great deal to watch your suffering through the eyes of his shadows, he had to confirm the identity of your pursuers before taking action.

as you sought comfort within his embrace, jinwoo commanded at least a hundred of his soldiers to stalk those who dared to bully you, not even feeling an ounce of regret when not even their corpses were found due to how they had all been ripped to shreds.

jinwoo didn’t bother extracting shadows from his latest victims, knowing that you would be so much happier without any traces of them close to you.

so, as he lay in bed with you sleeping so soundly within his arms, he silently vows his loyalty to you alone. his heart already burning with an inferno of emotions when it came to you and how you made him feel so alive-

and he never wanted this feeling to end.

he would never tell you the truth of his darkness either, or the things he had done to keep you safe and happy, oh no-

for why would he when you could forever remain his precious girl, living in a perfect sandbox that he had made specifically for you, all while swearing to protect it with his life?

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[leighsartworks216]

You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

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Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand. 

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently. 

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have. 

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft. 

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?” 

Solana nods. “That!” 

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him. 

If anything, it just makes it stronger. 

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life. 

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time. 

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality. 

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear. 

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger. 

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her. 

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.” 

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her. 

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action. 

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit. 

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better. 

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife. 

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.” 

He turns away,  watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly. 

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives. 

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for. 

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No. 

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace! 

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated. 

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful. 

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true. 

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction. 

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell. 

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?” 

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.” 

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?” 

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort. 

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.” 

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth. 

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!” 

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!” 

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!” 

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place. 

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.” 

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens. 

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?” 

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself. 

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind. 

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that. 

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck. 

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting. 

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.” 

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again. 

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on. 

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes. 

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity. 

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not? 

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night. 

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her. 

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no. 

To have that autonomy. 

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest. 

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe. 

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her. 

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.” 

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. 

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit. 

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly. 

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet  almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other. 

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her. 

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt 

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.”  He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

 And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth. 

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity. 

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.” 

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers.  “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost. 

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax. 

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.” 

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch. 

“I’m gonna be your first.” 

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her. 

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him. 

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction. 

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate. 

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

 Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating. 

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word. 

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage. 

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” 

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him. 

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

[fraugwinska]

Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."