#is imagine that current me is meeting myself at different ages

[shinysteph]

Halfway through Summer and I'm only now realizing that this is the first Summer in a few years that I haven't had seasonal depression. I've actually been pretty good? Maybe it's because I'm too distracted thinking about my Belgium trip in September to be sad.

Anyway it is lovely that it's also 20 years since Summer 2004 which is the summer from my childhood that I remember the best and have the fondest memories of. At least 5-year-old me and 25-year-old me were both happy at this exact time of year, 20 years apart. It's like we're saying hello to each other across time.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.3

WandNat x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Notes: Mentions of death, violence, underaged drinking, slight mentions of SA, lisichka=little fox

Summary: Natasha has heard stories of you from Wanda. It has her doubting your current day skill level. With Dragos and Wanda in a meeting, you get the chance to tell her a bit about the person you've become.

An: Finally something between Y/n and Natasha (I say finally as if this isn't chapter 3 lol) Anyway enjoy this chapter and see you back next week.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You could feel Natasha’s eyes on you as you worked. It was tedious work, but you typed away with a smile on your face regardless.  You thought that maybe she’d pick up her phone or something, but she seemed to just watch you.

“You want to ask me something or you just going to keep staring?” You kept your eyes on the computer screen as you addressed her.

“You’re different than Wanda said you’d be,” was all that she said.

You finally looked at the red head, “Well like I said, it’s been a while since she has seen me. A lot has changed in the years she’s been gone.”

“Like what?”

You paused your work to give Natasha your full attention. You sat back fully in your chair pondering back to the last time you saw Wanda. “Well, she left before I graduated. Back then I thought I was going to take my degrees, find an honest job, and live a normal life. I was fragile, even after the self-defense training. I hadn’t held a gun, I hadn’t hacked into anything, I was just a little girl.”

“And now?”

You gesture around you, “Now, I have this nice office. I crunch numbers for the most high-profile company in town, that just happens to be a front for a criminal organization. I have 2 degrees, I can defend my family and myself, I’ve shot a gun more times than I can count, and I could hack into anything that you could imagine.”

“You’ve got a ledger?” The line about the gun seemed to stick out to Natasha.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ve carried my weight.”

“How many?”

The question startles you a bit. It was so candid as if she was asking about the weather. You could see them, the people you had killed. It wasn’t a large number, not even in the double digits, but still.

“7.” You don't know what compelled you to keep speaking,” I remember all of them. What is it they say about the first one? You will never forget it. I was 20, it was before I joined the organization. Pietro had dragged me to some party.”

“I take it you weren’t a party animal back then?”

You chuckle and shake your head, “Not even a little so I did what everyone does to get comfortable at a party. I took a few shots, it was stupid. As a light weight and someone not of legal drinking age, I should've been more careful. The shots had loosened me up, so I was enjoying the party for awhile. I lost Pietro at some point, but I was too drunk to notice.”

You see Natasha frown a bit, but you continue, “The host of party finds me on the dance floor. We dance for a while; we don't say much, just hi. Someone spilled a drink on me while we were dancing. He offered to get me a new shirt. Like the innocent little idiot I was, I followed him up to his room.”

You paused, almost feeling like you were back in that moment. You could feel everything again, your skin was hot and sweaty, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you could feel him on you.

Natasha could sense she lost you to the memory. She got up from the couch in your office to make her way towards you. She took a seat on the edge of your desk and pulled your hands into hers. “What happened in his room?”

“He tried to take advantage of me. He tore my shirt off just so his gross hands could grope my skin. He pulled me against him fiddled with his belt before trying mine. His breath was hot on my neck as he peppered kisses on my collarbone. When his hand slipped into my pants, is when it really clicked in my head. I had told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. You know the kind of guys that say, ‘you want this’ or ‘you teased me all night’ or ‘You’re the one half naked in my room’. He was one of those, no wasn’t going to cut it.”

Natasha squeezes your hand as you recount the harsh memory. It looks like you could cry right there in the office. Then all of a sudden, the tears pooling in your eyes are gone. A blank expression takes over your face.

“For a minute, I pretend I’m into what this creep is doing to me. Only enough for him to loosen his grip on me. At this point my back was against his front. I reach behind his head, like my arms trying to loop to bring him closer. Except one of my hand rests on top of his head and the other one is on the opposite side of his jaw. I snapped his neck. His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.”

“Y/n- “

“I threw up when I saw him. After I was done, I called Pietro, he found me upstairs with the body. He felt so guilty for leaving me, but I could tell he was surprised too. So surprised that fragile little Y/n had snapped someone’s neck.”

Natasha’s eyes bored into yours, “That asshole deserved that. He deserved worse.”

“He didn’t rest even in death. Dragos made sure of it. He made that family’s life a living hell. It was a message to the entire city that I was under their protection. If anyone so much as laid a finger on me there would be dire consequences.”

A silence filled the room. Natasha didn't remove her hand from yours and you didn't ask her too. You glanced back at your computer, knowing you had to finish your work.

“Wanda never said you were fragile, just delicate,” Natasha’s fingers drew patterns on your hand.

You shake your head, “Wanda has always had a way with turning something negative into a positive. I never saw the difference between the two words, but she’d always say- “

“Fragile things break quickly into millions of pieces under the slightest pressure,” Natasha starts as if she had been there when Wanda said it to you.

“If you were fragile, you wouldn’t be here with us. You’re delicate, beautiful, intricate, and deserve to be handled with care,” you finish with a fond smile on your lips.

“For what it’s worth, I think she was right,” Natasha returns to her space on the couch to allow you to keep working.

She finally pulls out her phone seeming to have relaxed a bit because of your vulnerability. You want to refocus on work, but there are some questions that are nagging you about the woman in your office.

“How did you two meets? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Natasha ponders a minute for a suitable answer, and you take note of it, “The short version is that we met at work.”

You raise an eyebrow, “And what did you do for work?”

“Guess.”

You let your eyes look over the woman. You took in her relaxed posture, the muscles hiding under her shirt, the way she allowed you to be vulnerable with her, the mischievous glint in her eye. She was a multifaceted woman, you could tell.

“Spy, a Russian spy to be exact.”

Natasha seems slightly surprised, “How’d you guess Russian?”

“Romanoff sounds suspiciously close to Romanov, common last name in old Russia.”

“You’re a smart lisichka aren’t you?”

A blush takes over your features, “Little fox is new, but you’re stalling, Natasha.”

She crosses her arms across her chest, “Well I was formerly spy, turned into assassin for hire. I was anonymously hired to kill Wanda.”

“Too charming to kill?”

Natasha sighs, “I tried, but she was just too good. We started this rivalry, playful banter, suggestive tones, I spent a lot of time trapped under her thighs. It got to the point where I didn’t want to kill her, I had terminated the contract, but I just kept coming around to see her. She told me that my skills were being wasted on petty assassinations, when I could be working for her. I said the only way I’d consider was if she went out with me. The rest is history.”

“Leave it to Wanda to seduce an assassin.”

Natasha laughs, “Hey, she only seduced me because I let her.”

“Whatever you say super spy. I’ve got to finish this work before we have to leave for dinner.”

“Flora might have your head if you show up late,” Natasha comments.

You press the small button on your desk, “Thanks for reminding me. Kate, do you think you could get me some hydrangeas for Mrs.Maximoff.”

“Of course, Y/nn, anything for you,” she responds cheerfully.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks Katie.”

With that you're back to working. Though Natasha pulls out her phone, you still feel her eyes on you at time. It sends shivers up your spine, yet you don't want her to stop looking.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Replay | ateez x reader

Pairing: pirate!ateez x adventurer!reader

Genre: adventure, fantasy, time travel, poly

Warnings: mention of a panic attack, mention of a sharp object.

Word Count: 1475 words

Summary: You're given a second chance to change things. But will you go or stay?

a/n: hello hello! welcome to my first one-shot! (but not really hehe) if you're new and found my account for the first time, I hope you enjoy my stories and it's really wonderful to have you here! :) In an update a while ago, I mentioned that I currently have a plethora of story ideas that I would love to develop into a full-length series one day, but for now, in order to not overwhelm myself, I will be posting these stories as one-shots/imagines so that I can share it with all of you and come back to it later on! This is my first one inspired by Marry My Husband and set in a world like the Choices' game Blades of Light and Shadow! Let me know what you think and happy reading! <3

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You're standing at the plank, back against the sea, tears streaming down your face. You refuse to look up at your lovers. There's a rollercoaster of emotions going on inside you, ranging from pain, hurt and betrayal to anger. 

They chose her over you, believed her melodious and cunning lies, and expect you to apologize to her. You're not looking up but from under your eyes, you can see her figure cozying up next to Wooyoung's. He's telling her not to cry, wiping away those crocodile tears in contrast to your real ones. 

Raw rage is slowly thrumming through your veins and resentment is coiling in your stomach as a vortex of anger gradually swirls inside. You've had enough honestly and you were no longer going to bend to anyone.

"Just apologize Y/N." Hongjoong remarks in a cold and distant voice.

His sword is right in front of you, barring you from getting off the plank.

"For what?" you respond icily,  "I've done nothing wrong."

Hongjoong grumbles under his breath and another person steps in, you recognize its Seonghwa by his boots.

"Please Y/N, don't be childish. Aera is younger than you, she needs us to look after her. You can't get jealous so easily."

Jealous. Such a funny word coming out of your lover's mouth. It's hypocritical rather, because your eight lovers lose it over the slightest glance someone casts in your direction.

You find it ridiculous.

The girl weasled her way onto the ship, and you had a bad feeling about it since day one. But you didn't think it would come to this. 

Love. That's all you ever wanted, and you found it in these eight men, who you had been with since the age of 16. They loved you more than anything, at least, that's what they said.

The only thing you want more than anything right now is to go back and choose differently. 

"I—" you declare, "I hope in my next life, true love finds me."

"Y/N what—" Yunho begins but you cut him off.

"I hope I meet someone who truly loves me and I hope it isn't any of you." 

You raise your head and look at Hongjoong directly in his eyes. He's taken aback at that cold and empty look in yours. He can see the wheels turning in your head but he’s not sure what you’re planning.

"Traitor." You verbalize before running into his sword.

"NO!" All eight voices ring out.

Shouts and screams erupt from all eight men as your blood begins to stain Hongjoong’s sword.

"Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Hongjoong screams.

You pull away and stumble backward towards the edge. San tries to reach for you but you pull your hand away and fall into the sea.

You're thinking this is where your story ends but actually dear one, this is only the beginning.

-

You startle out of your trance. You're in the fortune teller's shop. Blinking around haphazardly, you try to zero-in on your surroundings. Memories flood into your mind as you recognize where you are. This is the shop you visited when you were in the town of Maverick - it would be a month before everything happens.

You're dumbstruck by what just happened. Just moments ago, you were on the plank, ran yourself into Hongjoong’s sword and fell into the cold raging sea. Now, sitting in front of you, the elderly tarot reader draws some cards and gives you a reading.

"You're in for a big change dearie. I see the wheel of fortune is in your favour but be warned, the justice card reversed suggests there is dishonesty somewhere. "

“And this one?” you ask, pointing to the death card.

“In its upright position, it reveals that beginnings and change is expected. You’re nearing the end of a cycle.”

You don't ask for a further explanation, you pay and leave, walking back to the tavern where the boys are currently in. But as you walk out the shop's door, it begins to rain.

No...

Immediately, memories rush into your mind as you recall the timeline of events. It will rain and then the dam that's near the town will break, unleashing a flood. Aera is already with you all, the boys bringing her back home to her father after she got herself caught up with some misfits. But when the flood hits, everyone will scamper and she will come back with you all, joining the crew and then ruining everything you had with the boys.

Reaching the tavern, you watch from outside: all the boys are sitting around a table while Aera's father brings another round of drinks, and says something to Hongjoong. Aera stands at the far back of the room but you can tell there is something on her mind, that dubious and suspicious glint in her eyes. Her father walks back, she asks him something and then he scolds her before walking away. She balls her fists but then regains her composure before hopping over to your boys.

Previously, none of this had happened, as far as you remembered. After visiting the tarot reader, you waltzed into the tavern, pecked San and Jongho on the cheeks before placing yourself next to Yeosang who drew you closer to sit on his lap, his arm around you bringing you in closer. Aera did not come and sit with you all.

This time you hesitate entering the tavern, wondering if wandering around, accidentally getting lost or going the other way would be better. 

Love. That's all you ever wanted and you thought it would be with these eight boys. Now, you weren't so sure.

Little did you know, this moment of hesitation will change the course of your life. As you continue to think about your next course of action, a figure runs into you, bringing you down with him.

"What the—" Before you can even question, the figure jolts up, ready to run again. But you're quick on your feet too, and you grab the person by their wrist.

"Now wait a minute Mister," you begin but you're cut off by shrill shouts.

"There he is! Get him!"

You turn to the voices but before you can look at the person, he grabs your hand and pulls you with him. 

You have no idea why you're even running with him. You're strong enough to break free and go your merry way but as you study his back, you're intrigued — this black hair guy has a pretty feathered twist in his hair and silver dangle earrings. Something about him entices you.

He leads you down an alleyway, over a wall and then into an open field. The next thing you knew, you are on top of a hill that overlooks the town. He brings you behind a tree and you rest against the bark, trying to regulate your breath. The stranger crouches down attempting to do the same.

"You're insane." You remark.

"Yeah well, you were slowing me down so I had to bring you with me if I wanted to get away."

He doesn’t seem dangerous but rather, very amiable. The rain has stopped and there is only a slight drizzle, but from on top of the hill, you can see the dam that’s about to burst.

"No...the dam..." you mutter in-between breaths.

The stranger turns to the dam’s direction and his eyes widen. The dam erupts and rains down like a waterfall. You watch in fear and fright at the sight and your mind races to the boys, but deep down you know that they'll escape. 

But this time, you're not with them. You're with this stranger, now apart from them. 

"Hey are you okay?"

There's a wave of emotions and you feel yourself spiralling into panic. Your heart pounds in your chest and a familiar grip of fear tightens your chest, each breath of yours shallower than the last. Suddenly, the stranger holds you gently, looking at you with a reassuring calmness.

"Hey, don’t look there, look at me okay? Deep breaths, you can do it, take your time and follow me."

You do as you're told, the stranger running soothing circles on your forearms provides a sense of comfort and relief, and after a few minutes you finally compose yourself, staring out at the now submerged town. It's heartbreaking. 

"Where are you going to go?" he asks.

"I don't know." You answer.

The stranger hums and thinks for a minute before getting up and stretching out his hand for yours.

"Let's get going together then."

You're taken aback by his boldness but fascinated and captivated at the same time.

"I don't even know your name." you voice out.

He helps you up and gives you a polite smile, one that is soft and heartfelt.

"Yoonghoon. My name is Kim Yoonghoon."

[heartfullofleeches]

RuthieLand

 Yandere Amusement Park Staff [F,M,G.N/NB] + G.N Reader

Summary: A proper intro into Ruthieland. A park full of fun and colorful characters. A few with their eyes on a certain someone.

Word Count: 2.8k

The letter in your small hands is drenched in sweat, and the sticky combination of spilled soda and melted ice cream. You were the last to get up from the picnic table, placing you right at the back of the line of antsy children waiting to pass off their papers to the teacher waiting at its front. The excitement felt throughout the day dissipates the closer you get; your eyes locked on the untied pair of shoes beside you to avoid seeing just how many students you'd be competing with. The owner of the mitch match sneakers grips the sleeve of your coat, working their bandaged fingers into its opening to hold your hand with a comforting squeeze.

“Don't worry, Y/n. I’m sure you'll win.”

“I don't know…. The whole class is trying.”

“I can always ask my dad to pick you.”

Your anxiousness dies with a giggle of disbelief; your elbow gently nudging the other child's shoulder. “No way! That’s cheating. Besides, the main reason I want to win is to spend more time with you, but you said you don't even like it here that much.”

Their hold grows tighter.

“I'll go anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”

-

Knock- Knock-

A pause.

Knock-

“Just a minute!” 

You pause the brainrot currently playing on the TV, and dust off your clothes as you walk over to the front door. The alarm you set for the occasion goes off the second you rise to your feet. Huh. Tv- Bit later than usual today. On most days, your visitor arrived five minutes before it went off, even when you adjusted the schedule to the new time. Opening the front door, a shower of confetti meets you with the same familiarity as an old friend; the colorful onslaught sending you a wave of shock no matter how many times you're blasted with it. A sharp gasp comes from behind the barrel of the popper.

“O-oh, crap- Sorry about that, Y/n. Didn’t think you'd be so close this time.”

Dressed in a stereotypical mailman outfit with a new miner changes, the figure shoves the remains in their bag and straightens their back; fixing the rim of their bunny-eared hat over their face. The shadow of a sheepish smile appears under the lid. They extend their hand, holding out a bright pink envelope. 

“Got your tickets for you, same as always.”

You take the paper, bittersweet nostalgia lingering on the tip of your tongue like your favorite food you haven't tasted in ages. Ruthieland. The talk of both children and thrill seekers across the county and beyond. It would’ve been anyone's dream to even have the chance of winning lifelong tickets to an amusement park. Imagine your unfortunate luck to be the one child to win that once in a lifetime prize.

“Thank you, Cass.”

The carrier pulls their hat down further. “It's no problem. I actually have something else for you.”

They retrieve another item from their satchel. A single red rose. You take it with addled glee. Normally you didn't get any extra gifts unless it was at the park, or for your birthday or a holiday. 

“This is.. different.” 

Cass rubs at the back of their neck. “It's from me. I thought it'd be nice to give you something myself after all the time we’ve spent together.”

You can’t help but smile, partly from the guilt racking at your nerves. Cass has been delivering your tickets personally for the better half of two years. They were a reserved individual, only opening up to you about three months ago. In the beginning, they just left your tickets at your door and ran off. You weren't even sure if Cass was their name. It was pinned on a jacket they wore in the winter, and they never argued when you called them by that name. 

“That's sweet of you.” You press your fingers over the seam of the envelope. “Would you like a ticket? I can treat you to a float if you show up one day.”

Cass raises their hands. A dark substance is caked beneath the nails of the hand placed to their neck. “N-no thank you. I’m not good with amusement parks… Too loud and not a big fan of roller coasters. I gotta go. Can't be late. See you next month, Y/n.”

Cass flees the scene, running straight down the block instead of climbing into whatever vehicle they came in. You’ve never actually seen them drive. Hopefully they had some sort of transportation. With your company gone, you open the envelope. Four tickets wait for you in the pouch, decorated with four of the park's most beloved mascots. Ruthie Hare, Farmer Crow, Serenity the Baker, and a newer addition to the crew – Bashy Fox. Four tickets for four days of the month. You figured it was the right amount of days. Anymore and you'd probably get sick of going honestly. Since you had nothing better to do, the timing for their arrival was perfect. 

-

Throwing on some casual clothing, you hop on the nearest shuttle to the park. There was a number you could call for a lift, but taking the stroll felt like a nice start to the day. You lived roughly twenty minutes from the location and the stop was only a five minute walk. Excitement peaks for fellow riders of all ages as the park's largest coaster rolls into view, screaming from its passengers clear as day through the thick glass as the carts loop through the biggest hurdle. That one most likely wasn’t in the cards for you together. Especially after you saw someone losing the horde cotton candy they'd eaten before the ride during your last visit.

Stepping off the bus puts you front and center to Ruthieland's main entrance. The park's main mascot smiles down at you and all the other guests, hand raised in a partial wave.

Ruthie Hare was a silly character, as one would expect from a character originally solely targeted towards children. A root beer loving, flute playing hare with a whole gang of friends waiting inside. The anthropomorphic creature was soft pink in color, a black diamond around his left eye and a spotted bow tie from his early days as a circus mascot. He wore brown overalls with one sleeve always pushed down and large, oversized gloves. He had a bite mark on his right ear the comics and shows based off his gang never explained.

Reading your ticket, you march up to the counter to hand it to the attendee on staff. The woman stares at the sky as she aids another customer, cinnamon sugar powered around the corners of her lips. The hat she wore was dawned with rabbit ears just like Cass', but hers was a baseball hat and the ears had been snipped to keep them out of her face.

“Thank you for visiting our fantastic park today. We hope you have a hop-tastic day, and to see you soon… Or not.”

You walk up to the counter.

“Welcome to-Fuck" The woman wipes at her mouth and fixes her cap, adjusting her collar as she leans against the back of her seat.

“Y/n. Sup. Finally gonna let me treat you to the good shit today?”

Her relaxed attitude is a complete one eighty from how she first acted towards you, and the rest of the park goers. Ell, or Dashiell as her tag read, has been manning the ticket booth since high school; when she isn’t cleaning up messes she’s partly responsible for around the park. She was apparently homeschooled which is why you never saw much of her, and hardly showed emotion except for when you were around or in the company of her favorite snacks.

Like everyone else, she thought little of you in the beginning, but when she became aware of your status she figured it wouldn't hurt to get to know you a little. Majority of her coworkers had picked up on the crush she developed over the years, while you still remained obvious. 

“If I’m still here when you get off, then sure.” You pass her your ticket. Ell wipes it through the reader and shoves it directly into her pocket rather than the bin by her post.

“Gonna hold you to it. If I catch word you bailed on me, I'll find out where you live.”

Ell plays off the threat with a pat on your shoulder. “Alright, you better get going. Don't need the head of the lap dogs biting my ass again for holding up the line.”

You heed the warning and take your chance to go on ahead. The last time Ell was able to brew up a conversion, it took nearly a half hour to find your way out. Luckily it was a slow day. Finally entering the park, your senses are overloaded by the smell of buttered popcorn and sugar, and the amplified screams and laughter of everyone else at the park. Today felt like one of those easy days. Just a couple of the more relaxed rides and maybe a look at the other types of attractions till the firework show later in the evening. Maybe it was finally time to go back to the carnival area. 

“Well. Well. Well. Look what we have here.” 

The thick southern drawn slithers up your back like the snake the shadow behind you was. You watch from the silhouettes on the ground as its arm reaches over your shoulder, the handle of a shovel keeping you from going anywhere anytime soon.

“Well I'll be- I knew I could recognize that pretty head of hair from any angle. And here I was thinkin' these weary eyes of mine were foolin’ me.”

“Hello, Farmer.”

The farmer chuckles, voice fluid as  molasses and course as gravel. They step in front of you, twirling the rubber tool before planting it in the cracked concrete for support as they lean on it. They lift their head high so they’re able to see you past the rim of their sun hat and the tip of their beak.

“Howdy, there. Ol' friend.” 

Farmer Crow was the periodic villain of the park. A foul tempered soul, who hunted after the main characters for stealing their supplies. A lot of people sympathize with the crook for this reason, though their original methods for getting rid of the crew were – quite harsh.

The farmer was mostly humanoid and leaned slightly more towards scarecrow than anything with burlap skin and straw coming from the sleeves of their flannel shirt. The upper half of their face was fashioned after a regular crow with a long beak and black feathers. The shovel they carried was once a scythe, but after an accident that resulted in a young boy losing his eye, a petition was created to have it changed. 

“I missed ya dearly. Couldn’t catch a wink of sleep without seeing that face of yours. Here. On the house. As a welcome back present” They palm the breast pocket of their shirt and extend their hand, a small pin resting in their gloved palm.

It depicts the character Serenity offering the grumpy farmer a bouquet of roses. She had always been a neutral figure in the group, baking pies and other goods for them all to enjoy. You met the character at the themed restaurant in the park, and she was as sweet as her desserts. She even snuck you an extra treat on those days when you weren't feeling like yourself.

“A special gift fer a special friend. Long as you stay away from that darned rabbit, and all the other troublemakers we can be pals.” Farmer Crow readjusts their grip on their tool. Their tone is quiet, almost hesitant as they continue. “We are pals, ain’t we?”

“Course. Thank you, Crow.”

You take the pin from them. As you do, a group of kids runs up to them for an autograph. One of the older teens bumps right into you and just keeps running ahead. Strange. Farmer Crow grumbles something under their breath, but faces the crowd; body still angled towards you. You wave. 

“I'll catch up with you later, Crow. Try not to murder anyone.”

“I'll try…” 

Continuing ahead, you barely make it ten steps before another person is running up to you.

“Hey, Y/n! Wait up!”

The male catches his breath as you stop, standing to full attention now that your focus is solely towards him. He turns slightly so you can get a good look into his good eye; his right lidded and iris milky.

“You- Whew. Dropped this.” He holds out your phone to you. You slap your hand against the pocket it was held in, unaware of its absence until then.

“Crap. When did that happen? Thank you so much, Atlas.” You return your phone where it belonged. What would you do without this man? A newer hire, but one of the most helpful park employees you had met to date. He helped you out on those scarily frequent occasions you lost your phone or your keys, sometimes driving you home when the shuttle didn’t show. It was honestly no surprise really that he became head of security in such a short time.

Atlas waves off the praise. “It's nothing, Y/n. Just helping out a friend is all. Everything else okay? Need a chaperone around the park? Someone to take you home later?”

“Nah, I'll be fine. I think I’ve been coming to the park long enough to know my way around.”

Atlas looks a little down, but quickly picks himself back up. “I understand. If you need anything, you got my number and I'll be in the back checking the cameras for your every move.”

Realizing his error, the guard backtracks. “N-not that I’m watching you specifically! I meant it like I'll be watching out for everyone, but you especially. Cause I care about you and all.”

Atlas fakes a laugh. “I probably said too much, huh? I'll get out of your way for now. Talk to you another time.” 

The guard politely excuses himself; retracing his steps just to make sure you have his contact information including an email and back up phone. He leaves you to your business and with no further interruptions you go about your day. Getting on your rides of choice, exploring the on-plot museum and trying out some of the seasonal treats. You even meet back up with Ell at one point to fulfill her previous requests. You wonder about blissfully unaware to all the eyes that follow you; a mix of human, faux, and from behind the lens of a camera. 

As the day draws to an end, you finish your trip by sitting on the ledge of the fountain in the middle of the park and watching the fireworks. It was the central hub of the area, giving attendees easy access to all the different junctions. Small droplets of water sprinkle the back of your shirt as the fountain recycles its stream, but you don't mind. Vibrant flashes of color bead across the sky, blinding you momentarily from their brightness and the sheer wonder of it all. If there was one thing you could never get tired of – it was this. With the fireworks soon coming to an end, you stand up. Where did everyone go?

A sharp whistle pierces through the loud booms.

 You look around.

There’s a short breath, before another whistle. The sound stops for a solid five seconds, and then another.

It continues longer this time. You’re able to trail it back to your left, towards the circus themed corner of the park. Your breath quickens. 

Standing right beneath the sign was an all too familiar, buck toothed face. He waves his arm in your direction, drooping ears swaying with the motion. They looked longer than the poster's pictured them to be – every part of him did. 

“Ruthie?”

The hare nods, beckoning you towards him with a finger. You haven’t seen him in ages. While his face was still plastered everywhere, the mascot himself had been retired from walking about for reasons even you didn't know. He points over to the large circus tent at the back of the park, forming a heart with his thin fingers. 

“I can't come with you. The park is going to close soon.”

His arms fall to their sides. He stomps his foot before pointing again. Seeing you won't budge, he steps forward. He moves as though an unseen weight is dragging his body to the ground, dragging the left side of his body forward. Paralyzed by fear, you remain glued to your spot as he nears. The fur around his mouth glistens with a dark substance. As he stands over you, you shut your eyes, fearing the worst. It's only when you hear the mascot shuffling away that you open them.

In your lap is a napkin with two, mug shaped candies nestled in it. Ruthie's favorite. Beneath the sweets are three words.

Some-bunny likes you.

[elbarkla]

Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

 ~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

 1 – Manage Your Health 

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

 #2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

 Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

  r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

 6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you’re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

 7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning.  Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

[topazadine]

Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks to @the-golden-comet for the tag! I enjoyed reading your answers, especially the part about your characters!

Alright, here goes.

About Me

When did you first start writing?

I wrote my first story at age 7, started my first book at age 12 (no you can't read it, it's terrible) and published my first poem at age 15.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Despite writing fantasy, I actually don't read much of it myself. My undergrad career focused most on British literature (specializing in Victorian lit) so that's what I'm most familiar with and what I like the most.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I don't really seek to emulate anyone because I have my own unique voice, and I don't really get compared to anyone else either. If you have suggestions of what I might sound like, fire away lmao, because I don't really know who I emulate. However, I take a lot of inspiration from Willa Cather for atmosphere and Emile Zola for realism.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I exclusively write at my desk. My setup looks like this:

I need my little guys and my Emotional Support Stuffed Cow (her name is Bluebell the Moobell because she has a little bell in her). Note the knitting I'm procrastinating on at the bottom right lmao.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Funnily enough, I often get inspiration from my day job as an SEO writer, even though it has absolutely nothing to do with the types of stuff I write. Sometimes I'll just be hammering away at a Construction Accident Personal Injury Lawyer page and it strikes me that I need to kill one of my characters.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Sort of. I have this thing I do where I like to mentally walk through buildings I used to visit as a relaxation activity, like my childhood elementary school, so that's given me a good memory of how places are laid out. As for actual settings? No, most of those are just made up of pictures I've seen of different places that I've never visited.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Some of my recurring themes include: Degradation/transformation of memory Struggling against fate/the unknowability of fate Found family Abusive relationships Moral relativism Satisficing (choosing between multiple suboptimal outcomes to pick the least harmful option) None of them surprise me; I recognize where they come from. For example, my obsession with the degradation and transformation of memory comes from my own struggles with dissociative amnesia, and my interest in satisficing comes from my International Relations degree. My concerns about the unknowability of fate come from the fact that I had a premonition that I'd die of a heart attack at 42. And I'm 32 right now. You can imagine that this influences my process lmao.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

As a lesbian, I am not ashamed to say that I am deeply and passionately horny for Uileac (who you can meet in "Cachaille" or read about in 9 Years Yearning). Like how can you not go crazy for a man who thinks this is the perfect declaration of love?

He's so scary and so devoted, yet also very chill and laid-back? And funny? And athletic? And protective of his lil sis? He's just ... (screams into pillow)

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Ono. He's a Sinan royal guard who is just so sweet but also kinda dumb.

There's a scene where he has to ask Cerie what kind of menstrual products she needs for their trip, which is both mortifying and really adorable. He's just a really gentle and nice guy who I think would get along with damn near everyone.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

I think Mordrek would scare the absolute shit out of me ngl. Like ... bro just ... does this kind of shit on the regular

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Uileac, Orrinir, and Ono were heavily inspired by Uguisumaru, Ookanehira, and Omokage from Touken Ranbu and I don't apologize for that. Obviously they are a bit different, but their personalities are quite similar. Cerie was developed from a roleplay where I was playing as Uguisumaru's made-up sister, so that's why she's Uileac's sister in Poesyverse. Haniya, Cerie's love interest, was made up by using personality testing and astrology to come up with Cerie's Perfect Match. No one knows where Mordrek came from. He just kinda showed up.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

They all have daddy issues. Every single fucking one of them.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

All the art I have for my characters was made with AI before I realized AI was absolute garbage shit, so I'm not showing it, but I did commission a painting of Cerie from the amazing artist Caleb over on Twitter:

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

For me, that's kind of like asking why a bird sings. It's just what I do and what I have always done.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Definitely when someone says that my writing helped them or resonated with them. My writing gives me catharsis and it feels really good when other people say they got that same sense of catharsis.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

As someone who takes risks that pay off.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Depicting trauma without being melodramatic.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

People have told me they like how meticulous and carefully set up my stories are without infodumping or being boring. They appreciate the work that goes into planning things, how it all pays off in the end and comes together nicely without plot holes.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I think I've come a long way and continue to improve, which is what is most important.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

The last Kauaʻi ʻōʻō still sang until the end. So yes.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write whatever the hell I feel like when I feel like it. People tend to like it, but if they don't, I enjoyed making it anyway.

Open tag!

[alltimefail-sims]

📩 Simblr question of the day: How do you incorporate seasons, festivals and holidays in your game? Do you stick with the default calendar or add your own? Or maybe you ignore the calendar entirely? (@simblr-question-of-the-day)

I love stuff like festivals and holidays that prompt you to do something different with your sims so I'm looking forward to hearing your answer to this one!

I've been pondering adding some vampire/werewolf/spellcaster holidays myself, but I'm not very sure what exactly I would do for those. There's a lot of history, I expect I might add some memorial holidays.

Honestly I wish I had a better answer to this question than what I have, but I actually under-utilize the calendar feature. I would even argue I nearly ignore it entirely, especially some of the festivals and small holidays (the neighborhood brawl holiday for example, lol).

I love the idea of festivals, but I tend to play a little pretend with this feature - I'll make seasonal community lots (like a pumpkin patch/fall festival lot) and just plan a party or gathering at that lot. It gets my sim out of the house, but I don't have the rigid holiday goals that slow my computer down. Unless my sim is living in the world the festival is occurring in, I tend to not have my sim attend them. I blame my computer's lag for that issue - not the features themselves. But attending a Henford fair when my sim lives in Brindleton Bay feels strange to me. I will say, I actually love the City Living festivals when I'm playing in San Myshuno though!

One thing I do use the calendar for, however, is adding summer vacations for my child and teen sims (and even a small winter/fall break as well - I have pretty much all my saves on no aging/longest life span I think, so I never run into an issue of time).

I think the idea of adding holidays or festivals for occults is an intriguing idea! I kind of do this without the calendar and with a little imagination, but I might play around and see if there's anything cool I can come up with to share down the road. Vampires in my lore, for example, are fickle creatures who love lavish parties and events - they have regular vampire council meetings (composed of all the vampire clan leaders), galas, social events, etc. Vampires are very traditional as well, so I feel they would observe many formal holidays that are exclusive to the vampire world. The same goes for Spellcasters. Wolves feel more free, "on-the-fly" types to me, but The Collective might have some traditional ceremonies/festivals/memorial holidays etc. that could be incorporated with the calendar.

My big issue with holidays, as they currently are, is that they're far too broad - they apply to the whole world, not just a certain occult type or your household, but I'm sure there are mods out there that remedy this issue. But by and large I have avoided adding holidays to the calendar that just target specific occults (or ones that only benefit the save I'm playing in) because it would be very weird to see Nancy Landgraab celebrating an occult holiday on a community lot or something lmao. I am a micromanager in most of my saves and a stickler for keeping the "immersion," so this could just be a "me" issue. Some of my occult lore is kind of dark, which is why it makes broad stroke, blanket features like the calendar a bit challenging to use. But if you play around with holidays at all, I'd love to know what you come up with!!!

[repairingtomorrow]

Kiriko Yamagami (Origin Story)

To Master List

Centuries ago, when the dragon brothers walked the earth, war engulfed Japan and they needed a messenger. They called upon a legendary warrior and healer from Kanezaka, and gifted her with a fox companion to help. Her name was lost to time, but her actions were legendary. Near the end of the war, she and her companion were discovered and gravely wounded. In an attempt to save their lives, the Dragon of the North Wind had used one of his scales to save the both of them. They lived on, and continued their service to the brothers until their natural deaths. But the story did not end there. The scale connected them to the Shimada bloodline, but they could not host them. So, a Tetsuzan Shrine was built to honor the duo, and a miko was assigned to house the kami and perform the same tasks she did ages ago.

My grandmother was the last miko before me, and I was about to become the next one to house the kami.

It was the the day of the ceremony. My nerves were high and I wrung my hands to keep them from shaking. Hanzo and Grammy were putting a shroud around me: He noticed my apprehension and squeezed my shoulder. "You'll be okay, Kiriko. I know it's not exactly the same, but I was nervous when I was getting my dragons." "I suppose, but your dragons are still you. This isn't me, it's someone or something else." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. Grammy smiled at me. "I felt the same, dear, but the kami became a lifelong friend to me. She will be the same to you." She said, and the two of them put a freezing cold blanket around me.

After a few agonizingly cold minutes, the three of us left the room to the main hall of the shrine. Genji was sitting with his father and Kasumi, one of the elders' daughters. They were distant cousins, but we were all good friends. She gave me a small nod and a smile, and I couldn't help but smile back a bit. Genji seemed uncomfortable, and his father irritated. I ignored it, since it wasn't my current concern. Grammy showed me and Hanzo where to kneel, and I followed her instructions. She knelt across from me, rang the summoning bell, then she gave it to me.

Grandmother started to chant, and I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, and started meditating: I needed to 'open my heart' to the kami. I thought about my future, how I'm going to serve my city like my grandmothers before me. My heart began to race despite my shivering. I joined in her chanting, feeling comfortable enough to do so. I opened my eyes and peered through my shroud. We locked eyes: Grammy's eyes were glowing a blue-green color, and the same colored energy flowed around her. It began to surround me, and it felt like a cold rush of water. I couldn't tell if it's because of the chill going through me, or if it was the power of the kami. Instinctively, I rung the summoning bell and the energy rushed from my grandmother to me. Then, everything went black.

I opened up my eyes, and I was still kneeling in the shrine. Everyone was gone, and the lighting seemed different. I looked around when I noticed a woman standing by the entrance of the shrine. She had long black hair, and was wearing an elegantly designed yukata. "You're...her." I was in awe. I've heard so much about her, and to finally meet her was crazy. She looked over her shoulder at me. "It's good to finally meet you, Kiriko. I've heard so much about you." The spirit didn't sound too happy, but I'd imagine being around for centuries like this is not all that fun. "I could say the same thing about you." I chuckled awkwardly, walking closer. She had this 'don't touch or get close to me' kind of energy, but we are stuck with each other.

The kami chuckled, and I stood next to her. "It will be refreshing to be in a younger body. I apologize if that sounds strange." I nervously laughed. "It's fine, all of this will just take some getting used to." "Agreed, I promise I won't intrude too much. I keep to myself." That did reassure me a bit. It didn't dispel all my worries, but I'll have to get used to it. "Perhaps we can work together. The Hashimotos are a blight to innocent people, and the Shimadas are not much better." What did she mean by that? Sojiro has been kind to me and the people in our cities. "I don't believe you. The Shimadas have protected us for centuries." I spat, glaring at her. The kami didn't react. "Yes, they have. But in more recent decades, they have become as bad as the people they claim to fight. They were good people ages ago. You'll see in time, I suppose." She waved her hand dismissively, and everything went dark.

My eyes snapped open, and I sat up in my bed. I had a heated blanket on me, and I was sweating from it. Hanzo was in my room, looking out a window. "Good to see you awake." He said, glancing over to me. I just stared at him--at the tattoo on his left arm specifically. I grabbed his arm, rolled up the sleeve and examined it: it had a soft light blue glow to it, energy flowing through the markings. He pulled his arm away. "I guess the ritual worked." He said, putting his sleeve down. "Sorry, I just noticed something...different about it." "How do you feel now? Since you seem to have merged with the spirit." He asked. I looked at my hands, still thinking about what she said. How could people like Hanzo, Kasumi, or even Genji be evil as she claims to be? I look over at him, as he waited for an answer. "I feel fine. Things will take some getting used to, though." He nodded. "I felt the same when I got my dragons."

"Hanzo, do you like your family?" I asked him after a few minutes of silence. He grew pale at the question, then cleared his throat and regained his composure. "What do you mean?" I shrugged. "How about this, then. Do you love your father and brother?" He was deep in thought for a while. "Of course. I love them both with all I have." Hanzo didn't really sound sincere, but I didn't want to push it. "Do you think the rest of your family is evil?" He looked at me, confused. "Where is this coming from, Kiriko?" "I-I don't know. The kami said some things that made me question...a lot of stuff." Hanzo sighed and sat next to me. "The kami has been working with our family for centuries. She would've said something by now if she was unhappy." I opened my mouth to speak when I heard her voice. Hm, he acts as if I have a choice. The Shimadas need me as much as I need you. I froze. Hanzo didn't pay attention to me as he got up to leave. "I should let you rest. Let you get used to things." He whispered, walking out of my room.

I've thought about what the spirit said for a long time. Three years later, I've gotten used to the kami's presence but she didn't want to say more on the topic of the Shimadas all that time. But everything started to go wrong very quickly. Sojiro was assassinated by a Hashimoto sniper, and they tried to kill Genji too; They only hit his right shoulder though. I was walking through the private infirmary the Shimadas had, worrying far too much about everything. Lost in my thoughts, I bumped into someone in the hallway. "Oh! I'm sorry!" I shouted, stopping and turning to the man. "Don't worry 'bout it, miss." He replied and looked over his shoulder at me as he kept walking: He had an accent that definitely wasn't from around here. I paused for a moment, then I walked into Genji's room.

Genji was sitting up on the bed, staring out the window deep in thought. I tapped on the doorway, and he gestured for me to come in. "Hi, Sparrow. How are you feeling?" I walked over to him, combing my thumb over the ofuda in my hands. "I've been better...and also worse." He replied, sounding rather out of it. "Who was that walking out of your room? I bumped into him, and he said sorry with a rather interesting accent." Genji let out a dry chuckle. "He's...a friend of mine, a tourist from America. He was just coming by to see how I was doing." I nodded, staring at his bandaged shoulder. He avoided looking at me, like he was hiding something. "What's going on, Genji? You know you can talk to me, I'm good at keeping secrets. It's kind of my job." I told him, touching my fingers to his shoulder. He flinched and moved his shoulder away, which made him wince from the pain.

"It's nothing to concern yourself about, Kiri. It's my business, not yours." I couldn't help but feel hurt at what he said. There was a time not too long ago where we could talk about anything. "Is it about Sojiro? I know you where there--" "Just drop it, Kiriko." He snapped, glaring. I stared into his gray, green-flecked eyes. After a few heartbeats, he turned away from me again. I grabbed the ofuda and forcefully pressed it to his shoulder without warning. He let out a hiss and he swore at me. "Was that necessary?!" He growled. I gave him a dismissive hand wave. "Don't make the healer angry if you want nice treatment." I joked, watching the ofuda disappear into his shoulder with a soft yellow light. He let out a quiet sigh, his pain presumably lessening. "...Thank you." Genji muttered. He still looked tense, but there was nothing I could do if he didn't want to talk to me. So, I got up and left, but I stopped at the door. "You can talk to me anytime you want to, Sparrow. I hope you know that."

That was the last time I spoke to him. He wasn't at his father's funeral a few weeks later--I should've pushed him to talk to me back in that infirmary. The Hashimotos finished what they started: They broke into the Shimada compound and killed him. After Genji died, Hanzo left Hanamura and abandoned us. The Shimada elders struggled without their leader, and after a year, they collapsed and disbanded. We were all thrown to the mercy of the tigers.

But it's not the time to be living in regret anymore. The Hashimotos only keep increasing the stranglehold they have on our city, and we're sick of it. I've formed the Yōkai, and we started a war on them; even Kasumi and her gang joined in. Every time they fight, we fight back: Everything they take, we take back.

Sooner or later, they will all know that Kanezaka is under our protection.

(Thank you for reading if you made it this far! Unfortunately, I've realized the reality of the situation of Kiriko's abilities and decided to make them magic, same thing with the brothers. Even before Kiriko, the dragon magic never really seemed to make sense and I'm not buying the "it's not magic" bullshit, either give an explanation or admit you can't make it operate without magic. Sorry for the mini rant, just wanted to explain some things.)

[owlhead650]

Pokemon Rejuvenation - Asopo Interceptor of Persistence meets Lepidopterist Butterfly

This is a short story set in the world of Pokemon Rejuvenation. The player character is replaced by my interceptor oc Asopo who had Alain as his host. This story takes place during the month of .Karmafiles and in it Asopo meets another Pokemon trainer known as Butterfly. Butterfly is an oc created by @lemonade-juley and after looking at the art of her I felt inspired to write this story. The story is about 6180 words long. I hope you enjoy.

Asopo was walking the streets of Grand Dream City, shortened to GDC, and enjoying the sound of Thursday's rainfall. The dome around the city could simulate any weather, allowing the citizens to vote each morning on what they wanted. Yet no matter what it always rained on Thursdays, making it Asopo’s favourite day in the city.

He wore a black jacket with neon magenta lines around the sleeves and edges, a white shirt, blue waterproof runners, a blue skirt and fishnet leggings. His hair was long and vast, dyed blue and tied at three different spots to keep it in the strange shape that made Asopo feel beautiful. As much as he loved the feeling, the sound, the look of rain falling, Asopo knew it would ruin his hair so he walked along with a parasol balanced against his shoulder.

Eventually Asopo arrived at Somniam Mall, a bright towering glass structure that was wonderfully well stocked yet tragically gatekept and expensive. Asopo walked along the tiles of the shopping centre floor and searched for a shop he’d never been in before. It didn’t take long, as a hardcore Pokemon battler Asopo only used two shops on a regular basis. He entered a place called Ribbombee’s Raiments and saw many clothes with colourful patterns spread across the fabric. Most if not all of these clothes were made for women but Asopo was the kind of boy who wore fishnets and a skirt whenever he felt like it so there’s no chance that would stop him. He had closed his umbrella, now carrying it with his left hand. He reached out towards the ring of clothes hangers and let his fingers dance through the silk. Green, black, blue, a sun dress styled in the likeness of Araquanid. Asopo never trained an Araquanid yet he faced trainers like Crawli or Alain who showed him just how powerful it could be. He imagined himself wearing it during a visit to Teilia resort, laughing with his friend Amber under the sun. 

As he lifted it up, he realised someone else had a hand on the dress. A girl his age marginally shorter than him with auburn hair and orange orbs for eyes. Her freckled face widened in surprise as she took a step back. 

“O-oh! Hi there.” She had let go of the sundress. Asopo saw she already wore a dress of her own. It was light in weight and colour, with many shapes like butterfly wings. Dominantly white, with orange and black outlining the finer details. It revealed her shoulders and chest. She also had a black and white mothwing cape. Asopo wondered if she was a regular.

“Are you going to buy that dress?” She asked, lifting a finger to point at it gingerly. Asopo nodded.

“Good choice, I was planning on getting it for myself but I think it’d look great on you. Why don’t you try it on, just to be sure?” Asopo could tell she was hoping he would change his mind, but that wasn’t going to happen. Pulling the curtains behind him, Asopo sat on the stool and held up the sundress. He removed all his major articles of clothing except for the belt and its six pokeballs. With the sundress on he bundled his own clothes in a corner and pulled the curtain. The girl had been waiting and the first thing Asopo saw on the other side was her bright expression. “Hey, that looks really cute! You’re not as cute as me or my moths, but the sundress is still good on you. How does it feel?”

Asopo thought carefully for about three seconds, analysing his current physical and mental state. “I am comfortable.”

“Great, feeling comfortable is the most important part about the clothes you wear. You can’t run or hide if a dress hinders your mobility.”

Asopo reached under the skirt and pulled out a standard pokeball, allowing his trusty Swampert to emerge in a flash of light. Mud Splash looked Asopo up and down. “Swaammmp!” It cried with a glint in its eyes Asopo recognised as approval and happiness.

“I didn’t know you were a trainer. Do you battle?” Asopo looked back at the girl and nodded. He was proud of his Pokemon power, they always came through for him when it mattered most. “That’s good. Me and my moths are trying to get stronger too! Actually, let’s battle. I won’t be able to protect myself if I don’t stay practised.”

Asopo smiled and nodded. He felt the bond between himself and others was strongest when battling alongside them, and sometimes you get unique insights into the nature of your opponents. Seeing the way trainers speak to their pokemon, the way the pokemon behave and express themselves in the struggle, there’s nothing else like it.

Asopo and the girl took their places on the road in front of Somniam Mall, facing each other at a healthy distance. Despite what you would assume, a pokemon battle on the streets of GDC wasn’t particularly disruptive or dangerous. Ambitious trainers fought each other in public spaces all the time, the city roads were built specifically to resist pokemon attacks therefore accommodating this aspect of its culture.

“Okay Asopo, I can’t linger too long so let’s keep this as a quick 2v2 double battle. Frosmoth! Volcarona! Come on out!” The girl threw both pokeballs up in the air and with a flash of light the moths took flight. Volcarona looked about as if expecting to see dangers of some kind. It then thrusted itself towards its trainer, snuggling against her. “H-hey! Stop it guys, not now…” The girl rubbed Volcarona’s fur anyway, its six orange wings lit up with excitement. Frosmoth’s wings blew cold wind as the girl rubbed its head, yet this scene made Asopo feel warm. 

“Go Mudsplash! Go Drizzler!” Asopo’s throwing arm was fast and precise. He had thrown Mudsplash’s ball before Drizzler’s yet they both emerged only half a second apart and quickly positioned themselves, alert and ready to face the moths.

Volcarona and Frosmoth were both satisfied with the attention from their trainer and now ready to battle. Asopo and the girl made eye contact, neither hesitated.

“Giga drain, now!” Volcorona flapped its wings and channelled powers of growth, ready to absorb the energy from its opponent like a tree with its roots in the ground.

“Protect.” Mudsplash braced itself and concentrated its move energy into a barrier that nullified what would have otherwise been a devastating attack. Drizzler flapped its wings and brought the rainfall back. 

“Pelipper pel!” It chirped happily. “Hurricane.” As Asopo had asked it to, Drizzler sent a cyclone towards Frosmoth.

“Use stringshot on the wall!” Responding to its trainer, Frosmoth shot a sticky weave rope towards the side of a building and pulled itself away from Drizzler’s attack.

“Good! Now Volcarona, use sunny day!” Its wings shone with heavenly radiance, demonstrating the power that inspired worship from ancient Unovans and banishing the rainfall Asopo loved.

“Tailwind. Rockslide.” Drizzler flapped its wings and gave its team a favourable air stream. Mud Splash clenched its fists and slammed the ground sending dozens of stones into the air. Volcarona was hurt, badly. “Oh no! Frosmoth use blizzard to protect yourself!” Frosmoth twirled in the air and sent frigid gusts every direction, deterring the stones from harming it and momentarily blinding Asopo with the sudden burst of snow.

“Volcarona we can’t give up! Use morning sun!” Forcing itself upright the moth absorbed strength from the light. 

“Mud Splash. Together.” Asopo pulled back the purple sleeve of his dark coat. The key stone shone from his mega ring, reacting to Mud Splash’s Swampertite. Their souls connected. Asopo saw the world as Mud Splash and Mud Splash saw the world as Asopo. They were one, they were two, they were strong. Mud Splash was enveloped in light and changed, its arms getting thicker, its muscles getting stronger. Mega evolution.

“Hurricane, behind. Liquidation. Volcarona.” Drizzler flew behind Mud Splash chirping about how it was going to win. Carefully it surrounded Mud Splash with a cyclone, propelling them forward. Mud Splash channelled water energy through their fists and became a blue torpedo crashing into Volcarona.

“Well crap! Return!” Volcarona was lying flat on the ground with a dizzy look on its face. The girl returned it to the pokeball. “It’s all up to you now Frosmoth. I know we can still do it! Icy wind!” A chilling gale lashed at the legs of the opposing pokemon, slowing their strides and hindering their dexterity. “Rain dance.” Drizzler looked up at the skies and imagined a happy world where it could create puddles all day. “Pelipper Pel!” In the rain Mud Splash could move faster than a jet ski. With a tailwind behind it and lashing rain above it that icy wind meant very little.

“Liquidation.”

“Use feather dance!” Frosmoth blocked the heavy blows with a thick cushion of feathers. What followed was the prolonged struggle of a desperate bug and persistent sealife clashing their moves and running around the streets. Frosmoth kept blocking attacks and pulling itself out of danger. Occasionally Frosmoth would find a way to disappear from view, but Asopo and his pokemon remained alert, tireless. Never to be taken by surprise and rushing to corner Frosmoth until it ran away again. This girl was such an expert at escaping and hiding that the Frosmoth she trained was never caught by any of its pursuers. Instead it simply grew exhausted, struggling all on its own.

“Fr-frosss…” Fromoth collapsed to the ground and the girl recalled it. “Ugh, I want to get better at battling, but maybe I should just stick to running away…” Both trainers were exhausted, but the girl looked gloomy. She crossed her arms and sulked. 

“...Are you okay?” Asopo readjusted his umbrella and shared the shelter with her.

“Y-yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just that my favourite dress is all soggy now, and obviously I’m disappointed I lost. But stuff happens, right? You’ve got to keep going. Even if I only enjoyed the first half of that I still think you’re a really great trainer Asopo. I can see why everyone in this city likes to talk about your battles.” She looked back at her dress and felt the fabric drenched in water.

“Do you need a spare?” Asopo knew how much it sucked to be stuck in wet clothes, but he loved swimming anyway.

“No, no, I just need to dry it. I should be going now.” She let go of the umbrella they were both holding.

“My apartment has a dryer. We can feed our pokemon too.” The girl had made a move as if to walk away but stopped just as abruptly. She looked thoughtful and stared at Asopo. Everything about her at that moment seemed uncertain, nervous. She was struggling with a choice. She put her hand back on the umbrella handle. “Good idea, I’ll go with you for a little bit then.”

Asopo and the girl went for a long walk through the city, crossing roads and passing through parks. She told Asopo an anecdote about how she met her Snom who became Frosmoth. “Then I said, it’s ice to meet you! And I caught them with my pokeball.” Eventually they arrived at the Residential District and found the massive apartment complex where Asopo had been given a room by Rhodea.

Asopo showed the girl where his room was and then he went to the kitchen while she changed. She seemed so sad. Her pokemon adored her and persisted as much as they could for her sake. This girl was a good person who had to endure a lot, maybe even fended off some dangers. Probably with little or no protection from her parents. So really she seemed just like a lot of Asopo’s other friends. He realised he just acknowledged her as a friend and smiled.

When she came out of his room the girl was wearing the red and white dress Asopo found on Terajuma. It looked the same as the one Tesla wore, only fitted for Asopo instead. What was she doing? Hadn’t she learnt time and again that trusting strangers or getting close to other people endangered her? What if Asopo called the police? To escape from this building she would need to jump out a window and get one of her moths to catch her. Insane.

She could hear the hum of the drying machine, the repetitive sound of it functioning. It was dark outside but brightly lit within. Through the windows you could make out only your own reflection and some distant city lights. She could smell something too, a sweet warm scent. Asopo was making tea. “Huh? Asopo you didn’t need to do that.”

He slid the miniature plate along the counter to her side. “Here. Drink it, if you want.” Asopo picked up his own cup and sat down in front of the TV. The girl picked up the plate and slowly stepped over to the couch, nearly tripping over a pool noodle on the way. Mud Splash was chewing on it like a dog with a toy in its mouth. “Swammmp…”

She sat with Asopo and prayed he never watched the news. Turns out he did. 

“Hello everyone~ It’s me, everyone’s favourite Gardevoir here with the latest and greatest in Breaking News!” The girl was relieved, somehow Asopo had tuned into the Reborn region’s news channel. It’s unlikely that Gossip Gardevoir would be covering stories of the wanted criminal who had fled to Aevium. She would’ve been really scared if Volta was the one on screen.

“Today I’m here in Calcenon City to interview the smouldering beauty famed for the flames– Charlotte Belrose!” The Gardevior was standing next to a woman with long pink hair and a red leather jacket.

“Yes it's nice to see that you kept your introduction for me consistent, even years later but I’d prefer if you toned down the peppiness for this one.”

“Oh? And why is that?” The girl noticed the indignation in Gardevoir’s voice, all but buried by her peppy mask. The passive aggressive smile on Gardevoir’s face unpleasantly reminded the girl of her own mother.

“Because. Look.” Charlotte gestured to all the burnt buildings of Calcenon city and her ice pokemon suppressing the last of the flames. “Hey, um… Asopo?” Asopo looked at her. Silently awaiting the rest of her question.

“Can we watch something else? This is a bit uncomfortable for me…” Asopo changed the channel. “Welcome to Gearen News. I’m your host, Volta!”

“UM! Can we change it again?!” Asopo changed it again. The next show was a true crime tv show hosted by a retired officer Jenny. They were about to interview a famous detective named Elaura. 

“HUH! FUNNY HOW NOTHING ON TV TODAY IS REALLY MY CUP OF TEA!” Asopo turned to the girl, a humorous yet deadpan expression on his face. “But of course. Your cup of tea is right there.” The girl snatched the remote out of his hand and turned it off.

“...Okay. Sorry about that Asopo, it turns out I’m just not in the mood for this right now… I really hope I didn’t bother you.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Nice. Thanks for having me, but I think I should probably just leave now. Thanks for the tea, you’re really good at making it.” The girl stood up and turned around to make sure she didn’t leave anything on the couch.

“Mom Tesla taught me how. I mean Tesla. That’s what I call her.” Asopo was good at concealing it when he felt embarrassed, but she saw the cracks, yet decided not to pry. “Well Tesla taught you well. This is goodbye Asopo, thanks for being so nice to me.” The way she said that bothered Asopo. It sounded too dramatic, too definitive. At that moment Asopo finally realised he neglected to ask her name. He chased after her, looking through the hallways of the apartment complex, yet she was nowhere to be found. Already gone.

The next day Asopo had a wonderful time exploring the city with his friend Ren. A gym leader named Talon had set up some ‘mysteries’ for them to solve. The truth behind the mysteries is that they were either some dull tourist attractions or actual insanity. No in between. It culminated with a thrilling pokemon battle against Talon atop one of the highest buildings in the city. 

As Asopo was walking away from the match with Talon, back towards the Residential District, an adult woman who looked the same age as Tesla approached Asopo. She had a heavy black coat and short brown hair. A Stoutland dutifully followed after her. “Excuse me! Are you Asopo?” He wasn’t expecting this woman to be dangerous, but instinctively his throwing arm adjusted itself over Mudsplash’s pokeball.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. You have quite a reputation in this city you know, while I was gathering information I came across your fan club in the Scholar District. Everyone I’ve asked about you claims you’re a powerful defender of the Aevium region. You’ve fought evil in many places, haven’t you?” This woman didn’t sound like she was praising Asopo, the tone was very as a matter of fact.

“Definitely.”

“Good. Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Elaura, Detective Elaura to you. I’ve come to bring another villain to your attention. One that I believe has recently entered the city. The fugitive, the renegade, the notorious and diabolical arsonist Butterfly!” Elaura held up a wanted poster. It was her, the girl Asopo met yesterday, who he had battled with, shared tea with and talked to.

“Hm? That’s an interesting expression. Asopo, do you know anything about Butterfly?” Asopo put on his best poker face and started weighing his options. The last time Asopo held his tongue and hid information about a criminal was with Flora. He knew Flora was dangerous and for that exact reason he thought reporting her immediately was too risky. Flora went on to bomb the GDC ball event and tried to seize the jewel of life on Eclysia Pyramid, nearly killing several of Asopo’s friends. He did not regret his decision considering the likely alternatives if Asopo had reported her after all, but clearly protecting a criminal like that could have destructive consequences.

Alternatively Asopo could report Butterfly and confirm that she was somewhere in this city. If he shared that information then he would need to commit to helping Elaura corner her and seeing that she faces the full consequences of every crime on her record. On paper helping the authorities catch an arsonist sounds like the right thing to do, but despite being an interpol agent Elaura would first need to bring Butterfly to the GDC authorities before returning her to the region she came from. Asopo knew that former mayor Cassandra wasn’t the only member of Team Xen in GDC’s government, so he felt they weren't trustworthy.

That’s what this choice came down to, trust. Did Asopo believe that Butterfly was a good person who shouldn’t be caught, or did he believe she was a threat? 

He thought all of that in five seconds.

“Unfortunately I don’t know anything about her. I was just surprised that someone like her could be so dangerous.” Proper eye contact and a steady voice.

“I see where you’re coming from Asopo. It would shock most to learn that such a cute face could hide such a dark heart. Did you know that her first act of arson was an attempt to kill both of her own parents? Only one of them survived.” Asopo felt his chest tighten, but he didn’t change his mind.

“Well, you’re free to go Asopo. I simply thought it best that you should know about this, the city has been through enough this year already and I would hate to see anything worse happen. Goodbye.” Elaura walked off, though her Stoutland lingered for a moment to stare at Asopo.

Butterfly had found her way to The Underground, a separate city beneath the city in which many criminals and outcasts found a sanctuary. She felt as though she didn’t fit in at all. Everytime a person got near her she walked to the other side of the street. You could do so more safely and quickly in The Underground than you could above due to the total lack of automobiles. Butterfly had found a hotel run by people who seemed relatively sane and normal, but she was restless. She had that quiet impression of sadness that made her chest feel empty. She needed to talk to someone or do something. She was grateful for the company of her pokemon but she needed another person. 

In The Underground city centre Butterfly saw a one storey building with lots of flashing lights around the corners and around the door. Next to the entrance was a small black sign with red writing that said ‘Madame Peony’s Fortune Telling’. Butterfly had never been the type to go to mystics and psychics for life advice, but since she had nothing better to do she may as well try it for fun.

Butterfly walked through the neon archway and pushed open the door beneath it, hearing the jingle of some shop bells and enjoying a break from all the bright flashing lights of the city. Instead this shop was lit only by candlelight. The actual interior made Butterfly uneasy, it looked like an abandoned casino that had been trashed, with many broken slot machines and some thrown on their side. “W-why is everyone down here so weird? I’m a bit different myself, but still…” 

Someone coughed and Butterfly noticed the short old crone who probably owned this dump. “Hello there young lady, what are you doing here?” She had wild red hair tied into banana shaped knots around her head. She wore these comical round glasses, held a walking stick and her black dress had a green skirt that dragged on the ground with the effect of concealing her feet. Madame Peony looked ridiculous.

“Uh, nothing in particular really. I just read the sign that said you were a fortune teller.”

“Ah very good, but are you sure that’s what you want? Looking into the future has its consequences. You peer into a world that was not meant to be seen.”

“Well having a ball with you sounds better than having a bawl by myself in the corner somewhere, so I may as well.” The woman Butterfly kept internally calling an old crone didn’t have the lively reaction she was hoping for. “...A joke. I was telling a joke. Nevermind. If you aren’t going to tell my fortune then I’ll just leave and find something else to do.” Madame Peony straightened up with a crooked smile. “I like you, girl. I’ll tell your fortune for free, just because you put me in a good mood.”

Madame Peony stared into the crystal ball, the mist inside was moving about. Eventually they cleared and both of them could see Butterfly’s future…

Butterfly was old, as old as Madame Peony and about as strange looking. She was utterly alone, without any people or pokemon anywhere in sight. That quiet feeling, that absence in her chest which Butterfly knew too well, was intensified. It hadn’t gone away, not for any significant amount of time in her whole life. Butterfly had spent her entire life on the run. She had experienced minor misfortunes at every turn, sometimes with dire consequences. She had always been an unlucky person. No one had ever accepted her, no one had ever understood her. She was living in some remote mountain range in a wooden cabin as she waited to die. She had released her pokemon into a thriving forest she researched for ages. All types of bug pokemon lived in peace there. They would be happy. At least happier than they were the day Butterfly released them all.

She pressed her dirty blanket against herself while trying not to think about the sounds her moths made when she was leaving them behind, or the things she had to do and say to them so they would finally accept that she wasn’t their trainer anymore.

But Butterfly knew it was for the best. If she brought her pokemon to this place where she was dying and kept them linked to her pokeballs then who would release them afterwards? How would they survive this environment so unsuited to them? It had to be this way.

Butterfly stared at nothing and went to sleep for the final time.

Butterfly stumbled backwards and realised she was in tears. The vision had felt so real, so sensuous, as if she had actually gone through it. Madame Peony looked shocked and ashamed. “Oh, ummm… wow, that was worse than I thought. I’m very sorry, child.”

“I-I-I, what was that…?” Butterfly was pale, she felt weak.

“Well unfortunately that was your fate. The visions I allow my clients to experience are absolutely unchangeable and inevitable. Maybe you should visit my friend Sienna. She’s very wise and she might have some advice for you, or maybe…” Madame Peony paused, Butterfly could see behind those sunken eyes that she was weighing the odds on a sudden thought.

“Um… maybe what?” Butterfly sounded so small, she felt so small.

“...Maybe you should become acquainted with my other friend Asopo instead.”

“A-Asopo?!” It couldn’t be true, surely not the same Asopo.

“Yes. I’m familiar with a trainer named Asopo who doesn’t talk much, loves the rain and has frequently visited The Underground over the past few months while keeping it a secret. He’s also interested in fashion like how you seem to be. Maybe you’d get along.”

“Uh, yes. Maybe we would. I think I actually spoke with him before, but I never told him my name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah he was nice to me and I was jealous of how his hair had grown out longer than mine.” Butterfly ran a finger through her own auburn hair.

“Heh, well I know this restaurant that’s also connected to a casino. It’s a great place to chat so how about I send you both over there?”

“Yeah okay.” Butterfly had dried her reddened face and steadied her breathing.

Asopo was walking back to the residential district after the talk with Elaura, but then his Rotom phone started buzzing. Madame Peony. He had exchanged contact details with her and Particia so they could alert each other if they learnt about the whereabouts of Dylan, V or Ana.

“Hello.”

“Ah hello Asopo. How are you today?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good, good. I’ve met someone I think you should come see. It’s this girl who visited me. She had a… misfortunate experience looking into the future with me and I think she needs your help. If you’re willing then you can meet her at the same pub in The Underground that you’ve visited with Dylan and Patty before.”

“I’ll go.”

“Thank you very much Asopo. Bye for now.”

He turned back the way he came and went to the night market. He located the elevator and held onto one of the bannisters. Metal grates of the platform descended. He felt the shift of his weight, the cool air of the ventilators on his face and listened to the machine function, it sounded like a heavy lifting machine. For a couple minutes he was in darkness, with just enough light to see the walls around him. Then the flash of The Underground and its neon colours. The elevator came to a halt.

Butterfly pushed open the doors and entered the building. The ‘pub’ looked like the people building it couldn’t decide on creating an actual pub or a 1980s Unovan restaurant instead. Butterfly arrived just in time to catch the tail end of a waitress screaming about Broadway or something. Butterfly glanced about and decided on a large cushioned chair in the corner where most people wouldn’t notice her.

Was this going to be alright? What if Asopo learnt she was a criminal? It’s so strange to think that Asopo and the old crone were on friendly speaking terms. How would the two of them have even met? How does Asopo even know about The Underground? Despite feeling uneasy, Butterfly had no intention of running from this chance. She just saw what a life of running would do to her… she had to take the risk.

The door opened and she glimpsed blue hair with patches of purple. The black and magenta jacket, the white shirt. It’s Asopo. He noticed her and approached. No backing out now. “Hi there.” Butterfly said, trying her best to sound casual. Her best wasn’t always enough.

“Hello.” Asopo sat down opposite her. Silence. They just stared at each other. Strange. Normally when Asopo stared at someone in silence they would just start talking at him and he could respond if he wanted. He’d need to take the lead this time. “So how long have you been on the run?”

Butterfly did an ever weary sigh. “...So you know. I’ve been running for too long. When did you learn?”

“A few hours ago. A detective named Elaura told me you were dangerous. She wanted to know if I knew anything.” Asopo saw Butterfly’s face pale.

“Oh… and what did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“H-huh?” Butterfly had this deer in headlights expression. Then she coughed. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means that Elaura doesn’t know where you are.”

“But why? Why would you lie to her? Why would you say that if she told you I was dangerous?”

“Because I’d like to decide that myself. Tell me everything so I can figure out what kind of person you are.” Asopo didn’t really trust the authorities to know the difference between good and evil. He just didn’t believe all the things being said about Butterfly.

“Well I didn’t have any clue what we were meant to talk about anyway. Explaining how I got into this mess is as good a topic as any I suppose. But I’ll only do it if you tell me about yourself as well, deal?”

“Yes.” 

“Right. So I’ll start then.” Some colour had returned to her face by now. Maybe this would be a nice evening.

“It started with my parents. I guess you could say that about my entire life in general but at the start they were the only ones I wanted to run from. They despised me. They couldn’t stand who I was becoming or who I wanted to be. I really can’t bring myself to tell you the details but I had no choice other than to run from them. Staying with them would’ve been suffocating, miserable. I wouldn’t be able to live in a way that matters if I stayed with them.” Asopo could sense Butterfly’s resentment. It’s the kind of anger, the kind of grudge that someone holds onto when they feel powerless. Then she looked expectantly at Asopo.

“Your turn. How did your story start Asopo?”

“I was a disembodied spirit from another world that was called to take the place of a person named Alain who rejected their role. I think it’s beyond the scope of this conversation for me to fully explain this ‘role’ but I’ll answer further questions about where I came from.”

Butterfly had a strange smile. “Ahah, what? That’s a joke right?” 

Asopo didn’t laugh. “Oh shit you aren’t joking. So can you elaborate on the whole ‘disembodied spirit’ thing?”

“I don’t fully remember but I have memories of swimming around somewhere. I think I was a magic fish. Sometimes I get dreams about another life where I was human. I think I came into existence as a fish spirit then born as a human but then back to being a fish. Maybe this sounds like madness to you but it’s the truth.” When Asopo was finished Butterfly nodded like she understood.

“I think I believe you actually. It’s just something about you that makes me think you wouldn’t lie about that. Your turn.”

“Butterfly, is it true that you tried to kill your parents?” Asopo didn’t sound accusatory or suspicious, he was just genuinely asking.

“No. Never. I don’t think I have it in me to hurt someone like that. Even if I’ve done it by accident once or twice. People think I tried to kill them because my home caught on fire at the same time I decided to leave for good. Also because the one who survived knew I had a larvesta and assumed I was to blame, which is typical of them actually.” 

Asopo thought back to how his mother died. 

Nancy never would’ve blamed him for anything, certainly not for her death. Regardless of what Nancy was or how their relationship started, Asopo knew they were mother and son. They loved each other and that bond was real.

“So Asopo, why did you start fighting Team Xen? I heard about your reputation. I suppose Elaura went to you because she knows you’re Aevium’s most prolific vigilante. I’d say it in a way that sounds less cheesy but isn’t that basically accurate? How did it start?”

“The S.S. Oceana bombing. Team Xen kidnapped everyone aboard other than me. I started fighting them to rescue my mom, but when I finally found her their leader killed her in front of me.”

“O-oh god… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Even if our time together was short it felt very special to me and I’m proud of her. She only died because she sacrificed herself to give everyone else more time to escape. Halfway through the sacrifice she realised she wanted to live after all but at that point it was too late. Some people might think her attempt to escape showed weakness and a failure to remain resolute, but I think it makes her even greater. She valued her life, she wanted to keep living but she risked it anyway. I’ll never forget that. My mom Nancy is my hero.”

They lingered on that thought.

“Asopo, normally I’d say that you have my sympathies, but you don’t. -What I mean is that Nancy sounds like the most wonderful person, I’m happy for you. Oh yeah, uh, your turn to ask a question.” 

Asopo composed himself, then asked “So what’s it like being on the run? Do you think there’s any chance we can exonerate you?”

“It feels nice to know that someone wants to help me but I’ve already been on the run for years. At first I really didn’t know what I was doing, only escaping through dumb luck. By now though? I’d say I’ve gotten pretty good at running away. I’ve got lots of techniques for hiding and fleeing using my pokemon. But it’s scary. I always feel isolated because there’s no one on my side, everytime I’m out in public I worry about someone recognising me. Also Elaura won’t stop chasing me. She’s getting good at it. As well hidden as The Underground is, I’m sure she’ll find it. Even though it’d be nice to get proven innocent I think that I’ve committed enough minor offences as well as accidental manslaughter that I’ve lost hope of that ever happening.” Butterfly sounded so defeated, so tired. It reminded Asopo of his own experiences of futility.

“Never lose hope. As long as you persist there’s always the possibility.”

“I guess, but what’s even supposed to happen? What can I do? I’m getting sick of being alone.”

“You won’t be anymore. I want to be friends with you, and there’s some people I can introduce you to.” Those words reduced her to tears. Asopo didn’t try to quiet her. Crying was good. Asopo enjoyed a breakdown when things were overwhelming.

“Asopo. I can’t remember the last time anyone said that to me. I don’t think anything made me that happy in a long time. Who are these other people you know?”

“My friends Erin, Melia, Ren, Aelita, Venam, Kanon, Amber and some others. That reminds me, we’re going to be really busy for the rest of the month because we’re preparing to raid Team Xen’s base and stop them for good. We’re working with the Champion of Aevium and some other elite trainers. I’ll contact you from time to time but I’m busy.”

“Yeah and I’m tired, but even something like this means a lot to me. Thanks for giving me this chance Asopo. Even if I’m still on the run, knowing that someone like you believes in me makes everything feel much better.” Butterfly stood up and walked towards the door, there was a spring in her step. She was happier. She looked back at Asopo one more time. 

“By the way, if you’re ever stuck for a good outfit come find me and I’ll stitch something together for you. Just try to keep it out of the rain!”

And that's the story. @lemonade-juley I hope that I potrayed Butterfly accurately. I educated my interpretation of her by reading a lot of the asks you received about her and reading the stuff you included in your posts on the character. I just thought that the character was such a funny and interesting premise that I wanted to create a longer story about her. To anyone else, thank you so much for reading this entire fanfiction about a pair of obscure pokemon ocs.

[wolfiafuntime]

Event: 🧋Shakes Shop🧋

 Hello! I'm Wolf. I like writing fanfic, and I used to write some X Reader's about a year or so ago, but I fell out of the scene due to mental health problems. I've recently come back to it, but I'm super insecure now, and I get really stressed about writing for others (I tried doing a request thing on Quotev but I kept making myself too sick to actually do it). I also have creativity problems.

 My solution to all of this? Easy:

 The 'Shakes Shop' Event!

Featuring: Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All X (Aged Up!) Disney Twisted-Wonderland X (Modern AU!) Genshin Impact X Gn! Ice Cream Bartender! Reader

Imagine This: You've always loved cruises. Everything from the beautiful sights to even the smell of the air. And for a while now, you've been wanting to work on a cruise ship. So, you started looking. And pretty quickly, you found a new position opening for your favorite cruise line: The Crux! The position? Working as a bartender for a shop that only serves ice cream! Instantly, you made a resume for it and put it in. And a few days later, the Manager contacted you, and offered you a four-month contract that would get you $7,200. That's $1,800 per month. Which is $450 a day. Meaning you make $90 an hour!

Damn, why didn't you try to get a job like this sooner?!

Upon getting the job, your boss sent you a description of your uniform, their shop's menu, and a plane ticket to the Crux's next wet dock location. Which wouldn't be happening for another month... Which gave you enough time to quit your current job, sell all of your non-important and non-sentimental items, and spend some much-needed time with your loved ones before your departure!

You also had more than enough time to buy clothes for your uniform: A sleeveless white button-up, a pink vest, and pale white shorts. And, of course, you also had time to learn the menu- which was more customizable than you thought-:

Sizes: Small Cup (125-word range) | Medium Cup (250-word range) | Large Cup (500-word range)

Flavors: Vanilla (fluff) | Chocolate (reverse comfort) | Strawberry (romance (Adults only!)) | Blueberry (platonic) | Banana (crack) | Mint (dark)

Mix-Ins: Reeses Pieces Chunks (1st meeting) | Cookie Dough (reunion) | Oreo Bits (rivalry) | MnMs (yandere) | Mini-Marshmallows (day off/break) | Chocolate Chips (cold/injury) | Peanuts (bad weather) | Caramel (karma)

Toppings: Chocolate Syrup | Strawberry Syrup | Caramel Syrup | Blueberry Syrup | Whipped Cream | Chocolate Cream | Rainbow Sprinkles | Peanuts | Chocolate Chips | Cherries | Banana Slices | Oreos | Chocolate Chip Cookies

Note: Customers can only choose one size, flavor, and mix-in; but they can choose 3 of the 13 toppings (5 if one is a non-pourable!)!

Some Additional Rules/Explanations:

I couldn't decide what I was gonna do with the toppings, so I'm making them wild cards. Most of the toppings are related to something previously stated on the list (ex. strawberry syrup has a romance element while Oreos have a rivalry), but some (whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles) are for me to decide. Also, having 3 of one topping doesn't do anything.

You can only choose up to three different characters for your fic! They can be from any one of the fandoms; so you can have a 'Mammon X Grim X Aether X Reader' fic if you want to!

I can refuse/change part of a order/request if I want to. But I'll only do so if I've already written a similar version of the order/request!

Finally oders/requests for the event close on July 16th at Midnight EDT!

[blindedbythedarkness]

My mind is so full right now. I feel more emotions than I can name thoughts, but there's just so much going on. When I was younger, my dad used to tell me that anxiety is just intolerance of uncertainty. Well, I have a hell of a lot of uncertainty right now and I get why people don't tolerate it, it's fucking uncomfortable.

At university, I have to make a decision which could mean giving up my dreams of being a doctor. Either that, or say nothing about being caused likely permanent harm by the institutions that were supposed to protect me. The real kicker is, I daren't even say more than that in case I post the wrong thing and fuck it all up both ways. Who can I even speak to about it? No one in my life has any useful advice for me because people just don't have to make massive fucking decisions like this on the regular. It all feels so heavy and maybe I'm an adult now, but I still feel like a kid with no clue what to do.

I also feel like I'm losing my parents. Both, at the same time. Though actually I think I've already lost my dad. He gave into the crowds last year and dropped all Covid precautions to "live his life". He's always been fixated on living at least to the age of his mother, which gives him 8 more years. His current lifestyle means if nothing changes, I doubt he'll make it there, at least without serious health issues. He wouldn't give a fuck if I told him though. It's all too hypothetical and he's too cynical that he doesn't want to live longer anyway. I don't think he can even conceive of how it is to live with serious chronic illness, he probably thinks he's built different and could just push through. I'm a living, breathing example of the damage Covid could do, but despite sharing half my genes, it could never happen to him. Even if it did, he'd just try harder than me.

I lie awake for hours at night, my mind involuntarily churning out essays and letters to the people in my life who's life choices are breaking my heart fragment by fragment. I beg my brain to shut up and let me rest, knowing I'll never bother to send them, but I just can't sleep again until its down on paper.

To my dad, I imagine writing him letters explaining how I know he's never prioritized me in his life, but perhaps he could reconsider. I want to tell him how he's killing me on the inside more each day with his decisions. I want to beg him to reconsider, because I want him to last long enough to see me married and meet my children; they'll already be lacking two grandparents, please don't make it one more. I want to threaten him, tell him when his brain is bursting with the fucked up proteins that mean he can't think or remember who I am anymore, all because he gave up and gave in to SARS2, it will be me who chooses his care home. Care homes which will lack even more staff, and will be even more expensive as the early onset dementia epidemic explodes a decade from now. I want to ask him if it was all for nothing, me rebuilding our relationship? Because if he carries on like this, I'll have no choice but to build walls to protect myself from the anticipatory grief. Do I really mean so little to him? He's choosing a few short years of the old-normal instead of me having a future with him in it.

I've shared similar thoughts with my mum and she seemed to understand my point of view, yet I'm still afraid she'll follow him down the same path. She says she's trying to balance being safe and living her life, and I understand no one can be perfect. But the world is growing more hostile and she's faced opposition to masking at work. She's never had as many balls as me, so I worry eventually she'll crack. She went on holiday recently, and there's not a single mask in her pictures. I know she likes to take it off for photos, but how can I know she ever wore it at all. If I question her, she scolds me for not trusting her, as if I haven't had an endless conveyor of friends and family willing to trade my life for brunch these past 4 years- of course I have trust issues. It also seems that she made a new friend on holiday, a friend that could become more. I have no issue with that, it'd be good for her. But what if they don't understand Covid? What if she caves to keep them in her life and trades safety for companionship?

I just feel so lost, and I have so many questions with answers I'm afraid to find out. But without them, I'm in some sort of emotional purgatory. I do have friends who I know would care. But one would never understand. Another is busy seeing family. Another is too new for me to drop all this on. And the one who would understand it most has her own horrors to contend with right now and I don't want to add to her stress. Meanwhile, my therapist is on holiday for a month.

Plus, and its small by comparison, I've spent the last two months in new-pet limbo. We've kept rats for the last 5 years and they've really been amazing for company, joy and amusement throughout this current dystopia. But we lost our last one two months ago and now an empty cage sits right in the middle of our living room. I've spent so much time and energy researching breeders and joining new lists, but there's been so many unanswered emails and painfully slow waits for responses. It would just be nice to know when this one nice thing will be back in my life.

How I feel right now is like no simple depression that, looking back, is what I had in my late teens. This is years of acute-on-chronic compounded trauma and discrimination and loss of even the most basic human need- safety. I'm numb and yet my whole chest hurts. I find myself wishing it would change, in either direction. I have fleeting thoughts of overdose on antidepressants or cutting myself, just to fortify the numbness or finally break through the walls around my heart. But I won't. Instead, I'll do just what I've been doing for four fucking years- enduring. Tolerating. Staying alive and not self-destructing. But inside, I'm crumbling more than ever.

Oh please, dear God, let things improve soon. There has to be a light at the end of this and I'm so desperate to live to see it.

[cornus27florida]

Dogyssey if being part of Gwen's dream

Warning and Disclaimer: This post is totally just prediction or theory or headcannon (??sorry I am myself got confused), or could be saying as 'over-active' imagination - which likely won't be true or it might could be become true in some degree but not all - I am alright with whatever actually for the outcome. My goal is simply to share it to more people, these thoughts hidden away in discord server on fast-pass spoiler which I know people tend to avoid - so I feel as it not really spoiler content, I like to have more people to know it. ALSO I thought to make it fanfiction-styled, but I realized now I am so lost in touches with it as IRL I am speaking too formally to the point it kinda 'clinical' and not beautiful flowy art of literature - so I think it's best to be myself currently, tell exactly what I have in mind except some fixations (like grammars) if needed + CPC Ss to help me covey what I had in mind. Without further ado, here the post is! Dream!Gwen!!

-> Also the idea of Dogyssey could become part of Gwen's dream because Frederick's Dogyssey copy book is in her bed desk - and it's not a surprise for LambCat bringing upon small detail to become bigger later on + Gwendolyn need closures to everything that happened.. and I want to see Furryderick again ;-; XD sahbbddjnds I am not a furry I promise, is just Fred's dream of Dogyssey is wholesome

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Dream!Gwen that carrying the shattered-not-yet healed Humpty Dumpty got desserted in an unknown island. She have similar experience with Jack that deserted in the Braided island [P.S: This could also give setting in Gwen's dream if her mother's diary been read to her - but with the very limited time space in CPC's final season - I somehow didn't think that Aurelia will really read from the very start]

So I think Dogyssey will be read to sleeping Gwen, resulting to Dream!Gwen realizing she got stranded in unknown island that she learnt named 'Ithaca' (I take the real Odyssey version, and as it prediction - it could be turn out different than the Canon which LambCat has in store for us) In the middle of the island, there's a cozy homey-looking hut which dream!Gwen knocked the door off. She found out that inside the hut, there's a lovely couple with dog ears and dog tails that open the door- that really look like herself and Frederick.

Both of the hut owners somehow looks like 'few years older' version of herself and Frederick -> basically Gwen dream is skipped to the epilogue part of Dogyssey, similar to me that sometimes skipping book to epilogue part. We have Gwen in the epilogue part of the Dogyssey, unlike Freddie's dream.

Gwen's “suitors” might turn up in Dogyssey - like Leopold or Beckett -> but as dream!Gwen skipped to the ‘happily-ever-after’ ending part, both of them likely won’t shown especially with Gwen never thought of those two like that romantically - and Beckett is actually for Maria, while Leopold for Jamie.

I think Gwen unaware about both Leopold and Beckett is fancies her - the one that know and aware is Frederick that used to think both of them as his 'love rivals' Also what in my head focused to help Gwen find her own closure in the epilogue part of “Dogyssey - which means all the suitors already left out and Dogyssey already returned to his lover (in Homer version of the Odyssey, is to return to his wife instead - and they're already have a grown son - but this detail changes as it in CPC universe, as the MC literally a dog instead a human) after 'dog' years facing various obstacle in his boat journey Hence understably that the Dogyssey and his angel of Fortune which dream!Gwen meets has slightly older appearance than what Frederick dreams on (which same age as they're currently-16/17) - the story now on future timepiece. Also my own take for Frederick question in this panel below : because the MC, Dogyssey, loves and trusts his lover - the angel of the fortune - so much. He believing that her feelings to him remains unchanged, and she'll waiting for him endlessly - which totally a truth, with IRL The Odyssey have the wife Penelope is believing faithfully that Odyssey still alive while keeping her wits to fend off her suitors.

Dream!Gwen becomes so surprised with the revelations of people that lives in the hut - even blurted out 'Frederick!' in the face of 'furryderick'. The MC become so confused with the exclaim and telling Gwen that his name is Dogyssey, then he introducing his lover the angel of Fortune (is weird that I simply named her.. Angel?) - with obliviousness that Angel and his guest has same appearance [also the obliviousness IMHO totally make sense as episode ‘The Dream part 1” we have totally same appearance as Prez and behaving the same, but not recognizing Gwen at all and introducing as ‘the Mad hatter’] - except one holding shattered Humpty Dumpty while one has furry features such as having dog ears and tail.

Dogyssey letting Gwen to take a seat to sit down inside their humble hut, while he helping Angel to prepare the pleasantries for their guest in the kitchen. The floofy warms interaction between Dogyssey and Angel makes Gwen unawarely began to start sobbing, as those two is what exactly that Gwen dreams on as her 'happily-ever-after' with Frederick (remember in the crystal room that what Gwen wanted the most selfishly is to skip to her happily-ever-after without facing the 'hurts painful feeling' of confronting Frederick honestly about her shattered perspective at their first meeting+first ep of final season as the panel below).

Her sobbings make Dogyssey and Angel alarmed - and hurriedly comes surrounding dream!Gwen and comforting her. Between her hiccups due to crying, dream!Gwen asking the two something along these lines : “How- How are you two - could so be in love with each other? I - I want that too.. Have my happily-ever-after .. b-but.. I am afraid it is not possible to me.. He never loves me.. Nobody loves me..”

Dogyssey and Angel calming her down (with warm tea and handkerchief ~ likely?) then begin telling their love story as the tale of the Dogyssey. Dogyssey could return back to Angel because they are trusting each other so much, in the way that Dogyssey turns the 'monsters' that he meets to become his friends (showing the monsters look like CPC members which kinda surprising Gwen) while Angel holding the Ithaca island from her suitors that want her in marriage - everyday as she awaiting for the return of her lover while believing he still alive and not dead in the journey.

Angel and Dogyssey can't give definite answer to dream!Gwen, but their answer that enforcing Gwen to believe that Frederick will come and he indeed truly loves her is warming her soul - and both of them wishing the best good lucks for dream!Gwen especially about Frederick. It also could be added in this scene, Gwen telling that she just want to skip to her happily-ever-after - but both Angel and Dogyssey exclaimed to Gwen softly that happily-ever-after ending isn't given - it's earned (through the following steps that also could means as hardships, like facing the 'painful feelings') = so Gwen still need to faces her feelings including the one that makes her hurt, but they assured that it Will be okay as vital part of relationship is honest communication. Angel and Dogyssey then softly gone as the Dogyssey book been finished to read, leaving Gwen and the Humpty Dumpty to preparing for her next dream sequence.

The end~ totally not fanfiction styled and more of the mesh mass of the mashed potatoes there ><

-----------------------------------------------------------------Here the summary as image of the original version of Dogyssey, which IRL The Odyssey wrote by Homer

Also final P.S.: Dogyssey definetely different than the IRL the Odyssey - IDK how 'abridged' actually will become but it seems from Frederick's dream - the monsters that Dogyssey confronts is simplified than the Odyssey (like there's no Calpyso) as these following image of SSs making points:

Dogysseys monster count is much shorter than the Odyssey, and I think the 'mermaid' in Leelathea's reading is to potraying Calypso - that trying to get Odyssey's heart.

[alexandreajones1947]

📣 Attention Bendy Fans and Aspiring Writers! 🖋️📚

Hello fellow Bendy enthusiasts!

Are you a die-hard Bendy and the Ink Machine fan? Have you read all the Bendy books, played every game, and watched every thrilling moment unfold? If so, I want YOU to join a group of talented fanfic authors!

About me:

(ahem)

Hello! my name is Meg, and I am a teenage girl currently attending a trade school, and struggle with severe ADHD, Anxiety, and OCD and am currently taking medication for all of these. Unfortunately, not all of my symptoms have been able to be effectively treated— as I suffer from severe writers block and mental fatigue when actually trying to put my thoughts and ideas on a page. This unfortunately includes the fanfic I’m trying to write, which is why I need help. 

I struggle with communication and have only one friend because of this, who is also part of the bendy community. I should note I am very socially anxious, and shy, but friendly (I think?) once I warm up.

My role in writing the story: 

as of right now I have a vague outline skeleton of the plot of the story, and character backstory’s, but if I could write an entire story by myself I probably wouldn’t be here asking for help, if you would like to see ideas I have for the story as of right now, I’ve copied and pasted the outline in a server on my discord!

My requirements: 

This project is nonprofit, as I do not have the means to pay you (unemployed), so please have that in mind 

I’d feel more comfortable if my fellow writers were around the same age as me, for maturity reasons and such, but I will allow people up to 20 to join.

I’d also appreciate it if you have read all the books/own them, I’m currently on page 40 of the Lost ones myself.

If you do want to join me, please have an example of your writing on hand (bendy fanfic if available)

Accurate Knowledge of history, ww2, America during ww2, etc

Able to accurately depict grief, etc

Background about the story

My fanfic takes place from 1943 to 1945

The main character, Sylvia is (unknowingly) the daughter of a famous retired Hollywood actress and an popular musician, Sylvia has two older brothers, who, along with their father, was drafted into ww2. Sylvie is the 3rd child and only daughter of the Young family— she has two younger brothers, who are twins. 

Sylvia meets Joey when he takes a wrong turn on a street, and comes across her selling her painting and sketches on the sidewalk, eventually the two get to talking, and Joey offers her a job, which she accepts, and the rest of the story details her journey through the studio.

Warnings about the story : this fanfic will (probably) have period typical homophobia and racism, curses, harmful ideals, gore, body horror, torture, casualty’s of war, suicides, car wrecks, mental abuse, manipulation, exploitation, mentions of past abuse, character deaths, BRUTAL character deaths, and other warnings to be added.

How I currently imagine handling credit:

I’m think about having the people who worked on a certain chapter put their initials/names in either the bottom of the page, the top corner, or anywhere else I can think of, if you would like to suggest a different method please reach out to me

If you would like to join me, you can reach me (or join my discord server) on these platforms:

Discord server link:

My fanfic email:

alexandreajones1947@gmail.com 

Why did I add these themes? Because I feel like that if they weren’t mentioned, it kinda feels like we’re ignoring/erasing the past, and that is a major injustice to those who suffered because of these beliefs during this time. (i should note that I myself do not support these “Ideals” and am part of the LGBTQ community myself (Asexual).)

[child-of-hurin]

.

Fascinated myself by entertaining a crossover where two of my favorite "we have the same abusive boyfriend" ships met: The Gentleman, Emma Pole and Stephen Black & Dracula, Mina and Jonathan Harker -- before realizing I was thinking of the latter in the terms of my favorite fanfic AU for them, and not canon.

Dracula and his brides, then? But I'm not sure vampires dream.

Easiest of all, and just as interesting: Jonathan Harker, during his captivity, wandering into Lost-hope in dream, meeting Emma and Stephen across the ages... If only I had the skill to write it!

(Or meeting Emma and Stephen in current time, for a lighter mood... I had a comic WIP I lost that involved an elderly Emma meeting Stephen again in Lost-hope... But ultimately I'm more interested in the darker mood)

This also made me realize a crossover is possible with minimal timeline-bending... Setting Dracula a little earlier than when it was actually published, you can have Emma Pole be an elderly but still active lady... 100% self indulgent, as the universes are so different, but one can imagine Mina reading about this reprehensible Lady Pole who gives money and consequence to the suffragette cause :) Or Lady Pole seeing this haunted-looking couple, wondering whether they are being forced to attend some hellish, secret balls themselves.

[hyoisms]

HYOJUNG: "I think people believe that once you're ten years into your career, you've got everything figured out. I believed that as well, but now that I got here, I realized I'm still on a journey to find myself."

Hyojung's ten-year anniversary interview with WEVERSE MAGAZINE.

I still remember seeing you in a frilly shirt and white skinny jeans, singing and dancing to Tell Me Tell Me that even I can't believe it's been ten years since your debut. How does it feel knowing that you've been in this industry for a decade?

HYOJUNG: Personally, it doesn't feel like it's been ten years. A lot of years sort of blur past in my memories, but I'm thankful that I'm still able to promote to this day. It means a lot.

In past interviews, you've spoken about missing out on regular activities that young adults your age would experience, but not wanting to trade your current life for it. Does that still hold true?

HYOJUNG: It does. While I realize that there are activities and years that I can't get back because I was promoting, I also know that I've lived a pretty unique life that people my age couldn't imagine. I believe we're all on our paths for a reason, so there's no need to be envious or jealous.

They say mountains change in the span of a decade. What's changed about Jung Hyojung in the last ten years?

HYOJUNG: A lot and too little at the same time. I've definitely matured (laughs), but that's a natural phenomenon, isn't it? But I'm still trying to figure out who I am. I think people believe that once you're ten years into your career, you've got everything figured out. I believed that as well, but now that I got here, I realized I'm still on a journey to find myself. I'm not sure when that journey will end, but I hope it comes down to a happy ending.

The past few years have been very crucial in your career as you transition from an idol to an actress. What's been the most difficult part in making that change?

HYOJUNG: The eyes of everybody watching me. I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter, and that I'm like a turtle in which I move at my own speed, but I couldn't help myself from feeling like I was failing in solidifying my spot as an actress. However, I think I've partially made it. There is still so much I want to do, though, so I don't want to speak too quickly.

I know many people were shocked to see your acting in The Red Sleeve. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that's probably your representative work. How did you end up on the project?

HYOJUNG: I had to audition. The director had told me they saw me on Our Beloved Summer and felt that my emotional acting would be a fit for Deokim, but they still wanted to see an official audition. It makes sense, of course, and I was honored that they even considered me. I think I went through about five rounds of auditions before getting that role.

Filming it was probably difficult as well, as it is with most historical dramas.

HYOJUNG: It really was. We started filming around the beginning of summer, and then it lasted through winter so everybody on the production team and cast had to deal with drastic weather changes. The outfits are also very heavy, so it was difficult to film in any kind of weather, really. However, it's taught me some know-hows I can take onto my next roles, so I'm thankful.

Angelic hasn't released any new music since 2020, and everybody was so certain you would never stand on stage again. But then you released Drive earlier this year. What was the decision process behind that?

HYOJUNG: It's not that my members and I don't want to release music, but we've moved to different companies so coordinating things have been more difficult than it used to be when we were all under Everlast Entertainment. Of course, we'd love to meet our fans, but it just isn't easy. That doesn't mean I don't want to stand on stage, however, and I wanted to show my fans that. I haven't lost my passion for singing and when I was offered Drive, I thought it was the perfect song.

Does that mean we might get more Soloist Hyojung in the future?

HYOJUNG: I can't make any promises, but it'd be nice if I could, yes.

You've had some back-to-back well-received dramas. What's next? What do you want to explore?

HYOJUNG: I've received a few scripts but haven't decided on anything yet. I'm still searching for the right one that kind of comes to me immediately. I love all the roles I've played so far and wouldn't reject similar ones, but I know that my fans want to see something new as well. Maybe something that leans more towards thriller? Action, even? I'm not sure (laughs).

Any words to Jung Hyojung ten years from now, who will be celebrating her twenty year anniversary?

HYOJUNG: You've worked hard. Continue to work hard.