#it’s so much easier to see the world in red and teal. purple-and-gold? i don’t know what to do with purple-and-gold

[deep-space-lines]

help girl..

i’m struggling with the color scheme for the next stained glass poster so i’m gonna see if i can crowdsource this. please. please. every time i have to do stained glass in a color scheme that isn’t red/orange and teal/blue all my confidence flies out the window </3 importantly this isn’t so much about accuracy of colors as aesthetics

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

What are the ten True Dragon Types? And what's a true dragon? I don't play D+D lol

(( Hey yall! This post is REALLY LONG (and techincally the part one to a much shorter addition about drow dragonblood descendants, here!) but the stuff in it is pretty important, since this game focuses pretty heavily on dragons and I’ve changed quite a bit about them from standard 5e! So, if you have time, maybe take a look ;) ))

(( I got a LOT of the changes to the chromatic dragon’s designs, and the pit organs of the copper dragon, from tumblr user filibusterfrog! Go check out their art and creature designs, they’re mad awesome!! ))

~~~

      True Dragons are the ten subspecies of Dragon who most resemble the ancient goliaths that ruled the entire Material Plane long ago, before it was stolen from them by the ancient Elves, and most of them were killed. They are few in number and don’t tend to band together in clans, but that does not make them weak. They are still huge, immensely powerful beasts, with a natural command of magic and the elements and incredibly long lifespans. 

      (“False Dragons” are either farther removed from their common ancestors, or are not actually related to dragons at all and simply resemble them more than any other creature type, like wyverns and drakes!)

      ((More in-depth explanations below!))

~~~

      After the war with the Elves and their allies, those Dragons who survived split into two pseudo-religious factions; the Metallics, who serve King Bahamut, Platinum Justicebringer, and made peace with the Elves and all other humanoids, and the Chromatics, who revere Queen Tiamat, Chaos Avaricious, who desire to see the world brought back under their thumb. 

(Metallic, strongest -> weakest: Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper, and Brass.)

(Chromatic, strongest -> weakest: Red, Blue, Green, Black, White)

      These two rulers gained Deity status through their people’s reverence, and in turn shaped the bodies and minds of their people into the dragons we see today: Unlike most Humanoids, Dragons don’t exactly have free will. (Most of their personalities and decisions are directly puppeted by their Gods.) Because of this, the behavior of each Type is pretty consistent across the board, even in half-dragons or dragonblood descendants. Each Type also has a distinctive look, a set of common behaviors and flaws, and a set of Hoarding Behaviors, though they are all incredibly greedy and proud beasts. 

~~~

The Ten True Types:

~

      Black Dragons are slender and wiry, their bodies covered in slick, dense, thick tar-colored fur. Their fur is lighter around their eyes and on their underside, appearing a pale, sickly yellow or green. Their horns are just as pale, and protrude from the sides of their heads and wrap around, projecting forwards. Thick pale skin plates their muzzles and under their eyes, appearing like the naked bone of their skulls. Their front feet have extra skin that acts like a paddle for swimming, and they have flat, paddle-like tales, and the hair at the upper part of their neck sticks out like a large frill. They smell of rotting vegetation and foul water.       By far the cruelest and most vile-tempered of the chromatic dragons, black dragons actively take pleasure in the suffering of weaker creatures. They hoard the ruins of old civilizations and ruined noble houses to imagine the suffering of their endings, and hoard tools of torture they might use to toy with their prey. They desire nothing more than to kill, in whatever way which maximizes the suffering of their chosen victim/s. Their weapon breath is a stream of bubbling green acid.

~

      Blue Dragons have two large horns on their snout much like a rhino, two smaller horns by their ears, and even more horn-bumps lining their thick, crocodile-like tails. Their scales are thin, layered across thick hide-skin like a light chain mesh. They range many shades of blue, with a more cream-colored underbelly, paws, and horns. They have a dark blue mane of hair around their necks and chests, which stretches down their back and tail, between their scutes. Their chests are large and necks are short, but they are lighter than they appear, most of that center mass being applied as muscle that powers their massive wings, more powerful than any other dragon’s. They smell like arid sand, and the burning, static sting of an oncoming storm.

      Blue dragons are ceaselessly vain, more concerned with being respected for their beauty and the beauty of their hoards than for their power. They are even known to spare those who flatter them enough, and allow safe passage to jewel merchants who promise them the finest in their possessions. They are still not to be trusted, and are more likely to mock and toy with lesser creatures than spare them, like cats playing with mice before a meal. They exclusively hoard gems and items laden with them, preferring blue sapphires above all others. Their weapon breath is a stream of powerful lightning.

~

      Brass Dragons are one of the most distinctive. Their wings attach all the way to the tips of their tails, longest at the shoulder, making a V shape from below. Their thin, brass-colored scales -- which start brown when they are young, turn brass, then turn blue in splotches as they age -- radiate heat and light. Large curved plate-like horns extend from the dragon’s eyes and cheeks on either side and curve upwards into two points, and a mass of brass and brown spotted feathers grows behind them, fluffing out around their chest and neck like a lion’s mane before tapering down their back to the tail. They have two sharp horns on their chin that curve downwards, giving their muzzles a faux beak-like shape. They smell like freshly worked metal.

      Brass dragons are the most benign of the ten, wanting nothing more than to converse with other creatures. They love to talk, to the exclusion of every other possible activity. They hoard items that make conversation easier, like sentient magic items, genie lamps, and items with charm effects. Brass dragons have two separate breath weapons: a narrow line of fire, and a cone of sleep gas. (All Metallics have a lethal breath and a non-lethal breath)

~

      Bronze Dragons have small, reflective scales (which are red at infancy but turn bronze in color during adolescence,) and black claws and horns. As they age, the tips of their wings and horns turn teal blue at the edges and tips, and their scales turn teal in long stripes. They have four large horns on each side of their heads, three protruding from each cheek and one from the top of their brow, all pointing back towards their tail. Their tongues are long and purple-grey, with a shallow fork like an iguana’s, and their teeth appear to be forged of broken glass, like the moray eel’s. A series of long spikes runs down the upper part of their necks, the spikes curving slightly backwards towards the tip of the tail. A dorsal fin runs from just beneath these spikes all the way down to the tip of their tails, mirrored by another long fin that stems from under the chest and runs along the underside of the body. Bronze dragons smell like sea spray.

      Bronze dragons are curious and stubborn, possessing a strong sense of justice and a deep-seated hatred for all forms of cruelty. They crave the sea and the pursuit of freedom, often spending their time taking human shape and becoming pirates or seaside mercenaries. They are brilliant military tacticians, and they demand high salaries for their work. The only time they will charge into battle without compensation is when fighting against a powerful tyrant, where they can expect to go all-out, and exercise their true strength without restraint. They hoard keepsakes and memorabilia from the wars they’ve fought and adventures they had, including sunken ships, old cannons, and legendary weapons. They have two breath weapons, a lethal lightning breath and a repulsion breath that does no damage, just moves things around. 

~

      Copper dragons have short, smooth faces, with pit organs and cheek ridges that point backwards. Their long segmented horns begin as smooth brow plates and extend backwards, and plate-like scales extend backwards from the tops of their heads and down their backs, with incredibly thick hide on their underbellies and the insides of their limbs. Their scales are wide and large, like interlocking shields, and dome over their wide bodies, making them look much like pangolins. These scales begin orange, yellow, or green in color, turning copper as that dragon ages, then green in spots and splotches as they reach adulthood, though they remain red-orange around the eyes. Tucked underneath the bottom ridges of the lowest scales are their alar limbs, short but articulated, and manta-like wings grow from them down to the base of their tails. When fully opened, they seem to make a U shape from below, with red and green discolorations at the end. Their tails are long, wide, prehensile, and well-armored, and they have long digging claws.. As they age, these dragon’s pupils turn a glowing turquoise green. They smell like stone.

      Copper dragons are even-tempered and sociable, with an insatiable love for riddles and jokes. They love to share in witty conversation and play “harmless” pranks, but get offended easily at those who don’t like to laugh or talk, and people who do not find them funny. They treasure moments of good companionship, and hoard items that remind them of people and conversations they’ve enjoyed, as well as old tomes that contain their favorite stores. They have two breath weapons; a line of powerful green acid, and a cone of gas that slows anyone who touches it. 

~

      Gold Dragons appear like the typical depiction of a Chinese dragon in our world, but their fur, scales, antler-like horns, and claws are all the color of glittering gold. As they aged, even their pupils faded away until their eyes appeared like pools of liquid gold. Notably, they do not have wings, flying entirely through magic and force of will. They seem to glow in the sun, though whether they are actually glowing or their scales simply reflect sunlight very well is anyone’s guess.

      Gold Dragons are passionate and valorous, desiring nothing more than victory over evil. They are relentless in their hunt for evil creatures, injustices, and foul play of all forms, putting aside all other desires and even often food or shelter to combat cruel forces in the world that require more force than humans are capable of. They are personally grim and reserved creatures -- not unkind, they simply don’t prefer company, and usually avoid casual contact with other creatures, even fellow dragons. They hoard the spoils of their evil-hunting conquests -- hoards of chromatic dragons they’ve slain, jems from the bowels of a purple worm, etc. They have two weapon breaths, being a cone of fire breath and a spray of some chemical gas that weakens all who inhale it...

~

      Green Dragons had long, snake-like bodies and smooth snake-like scales. A large, waving crest fin starts at this dragon’s nose and runs the entire length of their body. Their scales and fins start a dark blue-black when they are young, turning dark green as they reach adulthood, and then their underbelly scales lighten to a paler green as they age. They also have exceptionally long, slender forked tongues.

      Green Dragons were master manipulators and liars, who enjoy corrupting weaker creatures (especially elves) and hoarding them like possessions. They will put up a front of diplomacy and deceit when bargaining with stronger foes, but reveal their true cruel and petty nature when intimidating lesser beings or when they gained the upper hand. They delighted in stalking their chosen enemies for information and exposing other’s secrets, but despised whenever they were exposed in a lie. Their hoard took the form of a network of spies and captives, who the Green Dragon blackmails and manipulates into servitude and dependence. Green dragons are one of the weaker of the true ten and despise getting their hands dirty with violence, counting any encounter that couldn’t be ended with words and mind games as a failure. Their breath weapon is a cloud of yellow poison gas.

~

      Red Dragons appear like the classic English/European dragons, with fire-red scales, reptilian bodies, and large bat-like wings that fray along the edges. Their horns, claws, and underbellies are a pale golden color, growing back from the skull and curling back and upwards towards their wings, twisting on themselves as they grow longer. Red dragons were of an enormous size and wingspan even for dragons, true powerhouses of their species. They smell of smoke and sulfur.

      Red dragons embody the worst of all their kin’s vices. They are voracious over-hunters, vain and covetous hoarders, and cruel, maniacal, sadistic tyrants. Short-tempered and hot-blooded, Red dragons are known to make all decisions without an ounce of forethought, completely confident in their ability to do anything they want. They delighted in the ruin, death, and destruction of other creatures and their settlements, wanting nothing more than to set the planet ablaze and reap the rewards of dead men’s gold. They hoarded anything with material wealth, wishing to be the richest creatures alive.

~

      Silver Dragons’ bodies are tube-like in shape, with soft, iridescent silver fur all over their bodies. The fur on their underbellies and jaws are more white than metallic, with pronounced goatees of longer whiskers under their chins. They have curved wings with two talons instead of the usual one. A beautiful stripe of glittering opalescent fur runs down from the top of their heads all the way to the tips of their tails, sticking up like a spiked frill or mohawk of pearl thread, abruptly fading to a purple hue at the tip. Their antler-like horns and long claws were also pure silver with opalescent purple tips. They smell like rain and petrichor. 

      Wise, noble, and playful, Silver Dragons do not go out of their way to fight evil like the gold or bronze, but wait to be asked for help; They were simply more concerned with protecting those humanoids they had come to befriend than actively seeking out injustices. They are obsessed with the lives and cultures of humans and elves, spending most of their time among them, taking the shape of a humanoid and pretending to be one of the crowd. They desired to spend most of their everyday lives in humanoid form (though it should be remembered that they still consider themselves to be the most superior creatures in the world). They hoarded works of art and historical artifacts with connections to civilizations they admired or befriended, and the friendships they made with humanoid people (though they did not physically keep the people themselves, like Greens and some Brass). Their breath weapons were an icy blast that froze solid all it touched, and a short-lasting paralyzing gas.

~

      White Dragons appear very similar to Silvers, at first glance. But, unlike the lithe and flexible silvers, White dragons are stocky and muscled; still streamlined for maximum speed but built with considerably more strength. They have manes of long, thick white fur on their shoulders and back, stretching down their tails and the outsides of their limbs. Their underbellies, faces, and the inside of their limbs are plated with glittering translucent scales, shining all shades of pearlescent white, icy blue, and opalescent lavenders. Their claws are obsidian-colored and long, optimized for climbing and digging through solid ice, and their tales are tipped with a leathery swimming fin. A singular horn-like crest grows back from their skulls under the mane of long fur, and a large dewlap hands from the underside of their necks, with spikes growing down from it. Like red dragons, their wings appear frayed and punctured towards the ends, but usually aren’t actually damaged. Their eyes are fully black, turning a light purple as they age. They have a crisp, vaguely chemical smell.

      White dragons lack the cruelty of their kin, but they make up for it in pure strength and ferocity. It is believed that they are actually one of the strongest of the chromatic dragons, (unlike their typical placement on the hierarchy,) but because they chose not to engage like other dragons; They purposefully abandon their natural talents for magic, and even their intelligence, choosing to behave as massive animals. White dragons despise socializing or even speaking to other creatures, resorting even to fleeing their lairs for the day if they see someone approaching. If bothered persistently they are known to make deals with other creatures (as long as they aren’t hungry or angry already when you show up), and even form bonds with them, at which point they are very protective and loyal allies. They are some of the most excellent hunters on the Material Plane, seamlessly blending otherworldly intelligence and heightened senses with animalistic vigor and savagery. They are still one of the most dangerous of all ten dragons, though, from their tendency to go full ‘animal’ and hunt any creature that moves. They hoard anything that glitters shines in the light (including chunks of ice), and their breath weapon is a blast of freezing cold.

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Two; Outsider.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: Implied violence, sexual thoughts and some emotional abuse.

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it. 

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia. 

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left. 

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~  🥀 ~ ~ 

 Night falls dark and still over the landscape brushed with snow. Westwell’s gardens seemed crushed under the icy weight.

 It seemed the heavy blanketing of it muffled and blotted out all sound. But it’s a peaceful intrusion.

 The huge square windows of Westwell Manor are flaked with frost and each square of glass glimmers gold with the tall candle holder placed in each one. A stick of fire and gold warding off that indigo night that shrouded heavy and deep in the sky above. Trying to spill into the window.

 Iris is sat in her small bedroom. A tomb or a cell, really, was how it felt to her some days. Wall to wall draped in pretty Morris flowered wallpaper of white sprawling flowers with navy and blue birds and country vines.

 Her double bed with twisting pillars of dark mahogany twine up to the wheat thick canopy that is draped over it. The mattress is layered in a fluffy champagne coloured eiderdown and white embroidered scalloped-lace pillows. The floors are dark walnut wood, and they creak wildly. Groaning. Cold and heat seeps easily through the cracks between them in winter. Chilling her toes. And in summer the warmth of the creaking cracking house bleeds upwards.

 The walls of her bedroom are sparse but some have photo frames of embroidery or pressed flowers she’s collected over the years held neatly in small wooden frames. She has a small stool by her bed with the tapered candle lit on a brass holder. Apricot flame coming off the long drip of the Chantilly candle. Casting pools of orange up the warm-ivory-bone of the walls. A jug of dried wildflowers sat on that little stool spices up the air. Dried lavender and clary sage, wild shasta daisies and a green-pink hydrangea bulb. Her little stack of modestly worn books lay piled neatly on the floor next to her bed.

 Iris is sat at her dresser, pulled near the window. With the roaring fireplace just to her left. Above the mantel hung a gilded mirror on the chain. Candlesticks alight, set on the dresser and on the alcove of the sash window. Two candles flank the oval of the mirror she’s sat looking into.

 Mother is behind her, dressed and ready in her purple muslin gown and her white fichu. Stabbing pins into her daughters hair. Every time she sticks in another pin, Iris winces. Blinks through the stinging pain of it. She was attempting a more fashionable colonial coiffure. Easier to produce.

 “Your hair is much too thick to curl properly.” Her mother addresses her idly. Snappily. Tugging back a section back behind her ear.

 “Posy and Flora have much finer hair.” She offers.

 As ever. Iris doesn’t know what to say to that. Should she offer an apology? Should she agree? Disagree? She fails to know how to be.

 So she remains silent and watches her mother’s reflection in the looking glass as she almost crossly dresses her hair.

 Caroline Ashton was maturely beautiful woman. With skin as clear as fine porcelain - like smooth cream. Even if sporting wrinkles by her mouth and eyes belying her later age. She had hair exactly the same as Iris’s. Except her mother’s was such an opulent shade of cinnamon-black. Stroked with streaks of silver like lightning bolts had struck through. Her eyes were clear silver. Two discs of shining moonstone. Very mysterious eyes, Iris had always thought.

 Lately those eyes seemed permanently hardened over like rainstorms. Clouded over with disappointment at her eldest.

 Always wishing she could do more to see more of the love that used to linger there. Nowadays it seemed like Caroline could only look at her and see the blemishes. Only see the wrongs.

 The frown lines seemed deeper. The cutting remarks appeared more frequent. She was always telling her to sit up straighter, correcting her posture. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dresses. Always picking. Forever finding something lacking.

 Iris likes to think she was doing it out of an abundance of love. But it’s becoming clearer and clearer to her that it’s really about the opposite. It’s not about her wanting to provide for Posy or Flora or Father.

 It’s purely selfish. It’s all about her ensuring they don’t lose any respect in the ever omnipotent eyes of society.

 If her mother thought less about their image; perhaps Iris could love her more.

 As it is. Coldness and distance lay weighty between them. Thicker and frostier than the snow outside. The ground between their geniality and affection lay strewn and twined with thick vines of barbed thorns. No way to tread such hallowed ground without drawing blood.

 “Posy and Flora have had their hair in bows all day.” She points out. She shuts her eyes and grits her teeth as another pin slams into her skull. Yanking her hair right at the roots.

 “And they’ve taken all week to fret over choosing their dresses.” Iris adds.

 She looks up to see those steel swords of mama’s eyes cutting into her in the reflection. Mouth was a grim line.

 “You should know by know what’s expected of you, Iris. And not take the matter so lightheartedly.” She warns.

 “They can take balls seriously, as real chances of finding matrimony. Why can’t you?” She asks with a cruel tone.

 “Mama. Flora and Posy haven’t taken anything seriously since they day they were born.” Iris insults plainly. Speaking truth.

 “You know they only delight in attending ball’s and assemblies because they wish to make greater spectacles of themselves in front of soldiers from the militia, and get flirted with, by any creature sporting breeches.” She adds.

 “Atleast they try.” Caroline cuts in.

 “And I do not?” Iris asks. Flatly exasperated. She huffs.

 “You only danced with three men at last months assembly. It’s simply not good enough. You must try harder. Your sisters may have prettiness and confidence in unholy abundance. And they apply it. You wither away and that will never gain you a husband. For heavens sake- What upstanding man wants to marry the silent wallflower?” She declares gruffly.

 She fiddles with her new satin gloves sloped in her lap. Her dress was ivory silk printed with frail gold flowers and embroidered scalloping on the hem.

 There’s Van Dyke pointed lacing around her neckline and the same embroidered trim on the three-quarter sleeves. White helped ‘lift’ her ash eyes apparantly. It was fresh out it’s box from the dressmakers, Madame Larousse, on Pembleton high street. Indian printed silk and Italian lace. The most expensive fabric in stock.

 Their maid, Julia, had earlier laced her stays so tightly over her cotton chemise, Iris worried she broke several ribs. Her nails stung into the wood of her bed post.

 Mother was stood getting her gown ready on the other side of the room. Watching her eldest have the breath thumped right out of her lungs. “Tighter.” She ordered. Iris clutched a hand at her stomach.

 “A man could go a long way without seeing a bust like yours Iris. We must take advantage of it.” She comments wryly. Julia tugs tighter on the strings. Iris’s jaw clenched all the more.

 By the time she’s finished her waist is tucked right in and her breasts clasped high on her chest, almost so high they hit her chin and there’s scant space between her cleavage and her areole tumbling free, this gown is so low cut.

 She tugs it up higher when mother isn’t looking. Spectacles of her fertility not quite on such prominent display now.

 She fancied this silk of it was so fine and thin - and clung so tight to her body, one breath of wind would closely reveal her wide hips. And doubtless her chemise and garters could be glimpsed through the thin sheer sheen of it.

 And here she was now, submitting to her mothers inspection and brutal torture. Laced up in her silken gown. With her best stockings, and slippers. Earlobes dropping pearls, and a head full of silver decorative pins and an ivory comb.

 Speaking of which, the latter is just being wrestled into the weave of her coiffured braided bun, at the back.

 “There...” Her mother says. Fussing with a few strays. Tucking them in where they should belong. As she picks at Iris’s mud hued hair. She idly asks her questions.

 “Will you be dancing with Armitage tonight?” She asks. Insinuated, more likely.

 Iris averts her eyes and pats the back of her hair. Checking it in the glass.

 “Will he be in attendance?” She asks offhand. As if she had no clue.

 “Of course he will. Brendol knows the Hearst’s very intimately.” Her mother shrilled.

 “You will dance the first minuet with him and I’ll hear no more fuss about the matter.” She orders. Cold eyes finding her daughters in the mirror.

 Armitage Hux was the son of a strict local army colonel. Tall, dashing, hair as brilliant as copper and eyes as cool as teal sea-foam in contrast. He was lean and willowy in stature. Always bedecked finely in his uniform. Buttons gleaming, blushing blood of a red coat brushed and pressed to within an inch of it’s life.

 He’s not a bad man - he doesn’t drink or laugh at her. Or try and fondle her in a darkened corner.

 He just strikes Iris as being incredibly vain and undeniably haughty. He thinks all the world should be owed to him. 

 He only wanted to talk medals and glory and rank. How he was a model soldier. And so admired the bravery of gunfire and glory in battle. He’d never even seen battle - his father bought him a conscription and shook hands and pulled favours to get him a high rank in the military. Sergeant Hux, he now was.

 He didn’t seem to be able to equate soldiers and uniforms and weapons with actual war or combat. But liked to boast about how deadly he was. His sharp reflexes. His skill as a swordsman and marksman. Iris felt like stuffing cotton in her ears - or sticking her eyes with pins all night - anything but listen to Armitage spew out his toy soldier reveries.

 “He is a very agreeable man. You would do well to land him, Iris. He would make a most affable husband and a good match.”

 “I barely know him, Mama.” Iris pointed out.

 “You don’t need to know him. That is no hindrance to a proposal of marriage.” She says crossly. “You need not know your husband. You merely have to do your wifely duties by him.” She reminds.

 My duty of keeping my mouth shut and my legs and womb wide open, Iris thinks.

 “I thought I heard he was courting Mary Simpson?” Iris pipes up. Uncurling two tendrils of delicate hair from in front of her ears.

 “She has barely a thousand pounds a year. Brendol would never stand for him marrying such a girl.” Caroline declares mightily. Speaking in derision of the girl who was beneath them in every sense.

 “Besides. Lord Hearst says there will apparently be a very rich gentleman from the continent in attendance tonight too. A Lord Ren, from Bavaria. It would do well to seek him out.”

 “Every matronly mama worth her salt will be throwing their daughters in his path. I do hope he doesn’t trip on the sheer number of them crushed underfoot.” Iris says lightly. Pulling on her gloves.

 “And if he is a Lord, why has he deigned in all his lofty power to grace us with his presence, and to come to a small county rather than go to vastly over stocked marriage mart in London?” Iris questions.

 “Don’t be so blockish, Iris. Maybe he has business here to attend. Mrs Wilson told me this morning that he’s bought Hellford Park out in its entirety. Now that takes an extraordinary fortune.” She corrects.

 Iris looks directly at her mother. She spies the gleam of want in her eyes. The hunger that such a sum she could snatch up in her hands.

 “Lord’s marry Heiresses to sugar mills who are poised for ten thousand pounds, or widowed old Duchesses with vast crumbling estates. Why would he in his lofty state and means, lower himself to wed a girl of simple country gentry, with a barely three thousand pound dowry?” Iris sarks.

 Mama gives her a pointed look. Like a ream of needles pressing in her skin.

 “Then you will make a even better spectacle in front of him. And show him how elegant and courteous country girls can be and see if you can’t win him over that way.” She insists direly. As if she were plotting a serious military offensive.

 “If he is a Lord, he will be titled. Titled means landed money and dignity.” Her hair is yanked yet again. “He could well be the answer to all our prayers.”

 Your prayers, Iris points out rudely inside her head.

 “He could be a hideous old letch.” Iris says, rightly.

 Mother stabs one final pin into her head. As if in revenge. “Looks aren’t everything- Money. Station, and respect? That is forever enduring.”

 So are things like love, intimacy, friendship and happiness. Those things endure too. But Iris can’t imagine her acerbic mother has ever felt happy or loved a day in her life; she likes to think her marriage, when it comes, shall be different.

 She ends the conversation on that dazzling note. Iris’s scalp is on sore-fire by now.

 The door opposite them creaks as it’s burst open. Impending footsteps barrelling down the creaking floorboards of the corridor shortly before signalled their arrival. Flora and Posy.

 Fully gowned and gloved and perfumed to high heaven, with their hair pulled in elaborate coiffures on their heads. They had perfect curls. Perfect flounces and ruffles on their dresses. Cheeks a healthy pink. Eyes wild bright with excitement.

 They look like blooming silk roses in a summer garden. Iris feels more and more like a singed daisy in her own gown.

 Flora was dressed in a cobalt muslin, with a roller print of dandelions laid in pinstripes down the fabric. Posy was in a demure blush pink cotton. With lace trim tumbling over the neckline. And Iris sees she wins the honour of wearing the rose silk slippers. Flora is in some ivory ones that have seen more mends and fixes than is earthly possible. For silk slippers didn’t come cheap.

 Both her sisters have much lighter colouring; they both still have the chowder grey Ashton eyes.

 Flora’s hair however, is darkly mousy brown. Golden like toffee leaves that come off the trees in autumn. Posy is far more chestnut red. Blazing bonfires and russet red embers. Overall more enchanting than that of Iris twigs and sticky-mud hued locks.

 They are a barrage of noise and silliness as they barge into Iris’s room. Flora flops onto the end of the well made bed and Posy nosily inspects herself in the looking glass over the fireplace. Preening. Voices overlapping.

 “Mama! Did I tell you what Fleur told me earlier today?” Posy insists. Flora speaks louder over her, in order to be heard.

 “Mama....Have you seen my pink silk shawl for I’m sure I left it in the drawing room.”

 “I haven’t seen your shawl, Flora. You should take better care. And what did Fleur say, my dear?” Caroline asks in a soft voice.

 Whilst fixing strayed hairs at Iris’s nape. Pulling and pinching. She had no softness reserved in store for Iris. She rather wants to roll her eyes at that.

 “There will be a gentleman of certain lordly magnificence at the ball tonight.” Posy sing-songs. Aiming her teasing words at Iris. Who gives her a cutting look at her bubbly behaviour. Steel daggers made of her grey eyes.

 “He’s said to be most handsome, sable haired, and devilishly tall. And he’s single. And Lord Hearst says he’s a recluse who barely leaves his castle, so we’re very honoured he’s coming and he has eighty-thousand a year.” She awards with great enthusiasm. Flora giggles.

 “Maybe you should set your cap at him, Iris.” Flora jabs teasingly. “We could all be vastly improved by such a match you know. I could finally stop wearing these hideous thin old slippers.”

 Iris wished to point out that she wasn’t being induced into matrimony merely to vastly improve the quality and state of her siblings footwear.

 And quite wondered if he sister knew all that she’d have to undertake in making such a match - all she’d have to give up to be some man’s wife. All she’d have to do-

 “She won’t. For she’s already got a suitor whose madly in love with her.” Posy insists.

 “Hux is not in love with me, Posy. Don’t be ridiculous.” Iris says. For starters she wasn’t his red uniform or his army commission. Those were the things he was resolutely enamoured with.

 Standing from the dresser as she speaks, and going to where her new slippers were laid out by the maid on the bed. Flora eyes the silk things with jealous disdain. Iris fixes her satin gloves up over her elbows. Disappearing under her sleeves. Mother is too busy fussing with Posy’s neckline - tugging it up to cover more of her second youngest’s chest. She protested so at the action.

 Iris took the opportunity to slide a small pearl hair comb into Flora’s hand. Her favourite one. The one with coral flowers and paste amber gems on it.

 Iris flickers a look over the mother and a silent understanding passes between the sisters. ‘Put it in, in the coach in the dark. So she doesn’t see.’

 Flora smiles awfully wide up at her sister. Grateful that she shared out her pretty things. Flora was the youngest - the youngest daughter deserved nice trinkets too.

 “If you’re all ready we’d best be off soon. The roads are icy. It will take an age. I won’t have us be late.” Mama orders out to all her girls.

 She turns her head to Iris “Fetch your things and the velvet cloak. And for heavens sake don’t be long. We don’t have all night.” She frets.

 Marching out the room after rearranging some of Posy’s curls. Barking at Flora as she passed to fix the wrinkle in her gloves. The door grated and whines as she shuts it, lock rattling in the frame.

 Iris savours the silence - the crackling of the fire. The owl hooting off in the tree tops outside her window. She lets it soothe her. Let’s out the deepest sigh as they’re now left alone.

 She crosses to her wooden wardrobe cabinet by the door, and opens the door to search for her blue velvet cloak. She throws it around her shoulders and ties it up. Posy hands her sister her cream silk reticule.

 “She just wants you to marry well.” Posy says with some attempt at comforting.

 Iris nods, glumly stroking her sisters hand in thanks. Looking into her earnest young face. Still so full of innocence and hope.

 Her heart shaped little face so full of impish naivety.

 “She might do not to make me feel exclusively like a breeding mare to be sold to the highest bidder for marriage at every conceivable turn.” Iris says wryly.

 Angrily shoving a meagre few possessions into her reticule from her dresser. She looks down at her empty dance card that mother would see absolutely filled with names by the end of the night.

 She wipes away an angry tear from the corner of her eye with a handkerchief that Flora gives her. Her anger crowded and crackled the room. These two didn’t deserve her ire, after all.

 She sighs yet again. Letting the churning anger eating at her bleed out. Frustration filtering away. She plasters on a smile. Posy steps forwards to her exasperated sister.

 “Can I borrow your diamond droplet earrings? They’d go very well with my dress...” She asks coyly. With her hands behind her back.

 Iris rolls her eyes. Maybe they did deserve just a little bit of ire after all-

 “You are both enormous pests.” She says. Guiding them out her room.

 “Come on. Lest we hold mother up and I don’t much fancy our chances then.”

 She corrals her pests of sisters downstairs. Makes sure they too are cloaked and ready. They have their gloves and she does uncurl Posy’s palm as they’re heading out the door, dropping the diamond and earrings into them. They sparkle in the moonlight.

 “Lose them and mother will have your head.” She whispers to her in caution as they alight the warmth of the house into the cold sting of the night air.

 Snow crushed under their slippers as they make for the coach. Slipping to step up inside the cold wooden enclave of it. Rubbing their cold hands together to create some heat.

 It was just the Ashton ladies in attendance tonight. Father cared little for balls. Something mother sniped at him for regularly. Ernest Ashton would far rather stay home of a night with his ledgers and his books and his brandy than subject himself to the silly gossip and frivolity of idiotic society people present at balls.

 Her father was a tall, quiet man. Sturdy and aged as an old oak. Strong and strapping figure even in his later years. He quietly took interest in the world where her mothers inclination was to devour it.

 He had an open broad face. With tame blue eyes and thick greying hair. He was a studious man. Often kept to his study or the gardens. He enjoyed his ornithology and his Entomology books. He collected butterflies. All pinned out in cases in his study. Lining the walls.

 It was a place she found infinite comfort in. Wandering into her fathers study. His entomology collection like dots of silken colour in their cases. Old leather books and volumes and manuscripts. Edifying proud in their papery silence. The old wood of his desk worn by years and years. The smell of the study. Of old leather and pipe tobacco. And peppermints from the little jar he kept on his desk.

 He didn’t press Iris in the same way her mother always prevails to do. But then she sees the frayed gems and worn and mended holes in his clothes. The faded material in his waistcoat. How he hasn’t bought himself new shoes in two years.

 That’s how she can put up with every snipe and every cross word that spits out her mothers mouth.

 Iris sometimes quite wondered how her parents ever stood each other for any length of time to bear any children. They were entirely separate people whose interests did not align. They agreed on very little. And settled for that.

 It’s so cold in the coach they can see their breath as they bump and shift along the icy roads. Trees make terrible dark shapes in the near distance, beyond the frosted glass of the coach door window. Iris sits, peering out. Watching the full bowl of the moon slither white off the silver and black landscape. Off the snowy fields and perched on the roofs of the hamlet of houses they pass by.

 The carriage crawls slow up the winding drive of the Hearst’s three acre estate. Horses hooves hitting the hard paved path. Clopping in the night air. Skipping over the frost. They’re but mere minutes from exiting the coach, when mother decides to speak up and issue a few last desperate words of strict orders upon her eldest;

 “Take every opportunity Iris. I won’t have it said in the gossip sheets tomorrow that you didn’t even try.” Caroline insists. Fussing with her own thick muslin cloak draped over her lap.

 Iris looked at her mother then. Across the dark carriage as she tuts at the specks of lint sullying Flora’s cloak where she’s sat next to her. Picking it away.

 She strongly suspected Caroline Ashton could have the whole world in her palm or on a string; and even then she’d find fault in it. Pluck displeasing bits of it out like loose threads.

 She has that irate frown darkening her features. Cloudy set in her eyes. Posy’s little gloved hand reached across and held her sisters tight. Squeezing it in comfort sat there in the dark. Iris turns and looks to see Posy’s heart shaped face beaming up at her.

 “You should let us introduce you to Captain Clifford’s friends Iris. They really are the most splendid fun. I’ve heard many of them say they quite fancy you, you know.” Posy grins. Whispering hushed to her sister to keep her spirits buoyant.

 Iris strokes her hand and she can’t help smiling. More at her always sunny hopes. How bright her outlook on life was. She saw ball’s for the fun they were meant to be.

 A dance, a party, a celebration.

 Posy wasn’t yet tarnished by the knowledge that her hopes for future happiness depended on her behaving well and taking things seriously. It stopped being fun and became a chore. Iris lost her starry eyed wonder about ball’s years ago.

 She hoped she could help Posy keep her gleaming eyed wonder and fun for just that bit longer. She would suffer every second of misery to keep it that way if she must.

 She squeezes her hand back. “Thankyou. That’s very sweet. But I fear I shall be otherwise engaged in dances.” She excuses.

 Besides, most of the young Militia men she met were very wet behind the ears. And all madly enamoured with exhausting dances and infatuated with every beautiful young lady in attendance. Declaring they fell head over heels with every girl they so much as walk past. She finds their overeagerness and exuberance a little trying.

 Before long, they draw up the grand old stone columns abutting the front of the huge house.

 An immense hulking beast of a thing. Lit with autumn-blaze torches in the night. The coach lurches to a creaking uneven stop. Jolting. And a helpful gold liveried footman in a powdered wig steps to and opens the door to help the ladies out.

 Caroline doesn’t even glance at the man. Looks right through him. Flora flutters a flirty smile. Posy and Iris offer a polite snippet of thanks.

 The Ashton ladies make their way up the torch lit steps and into the greatly heaving bustling foyer of the Hearst’s grand house.

 Renford Manor was one of the finest houses in the county. The gardens were splendid. There was a maze and a famed marble garden gazebo.

 A great split imperial staircase opens into the large cool foyer. All ivory marble. Hues of Eggshell and ice. Imposing, echoing and cold. Footsteps rattle like claps up to the ceiling. Distant notes of the small orchestra float through the air like zipping flapping insects.

 Everything glimmers. The chandeliers that drip with gold and crystal. The old pearl and sharp onyx pointed tiles on the floor look like they’ve been scrubbed raw. They gleam almost too brightly.

 They hand over their cloaks to more footmen to be put away. Letting their ball gown splendour come forth. Iris is almost crushed by the amount of people there are in attendance here tonight. Lady Hearst was known to stuff her parties to the seams. The whole county, and all of the two neighbouring ones, had most likely been invited.

 Mama encourages them all up the staircase. Idly smiling greetings in passing to her matrons of her acquaintance. Iris skims one hand along the smooth cold of the marble banister. Holding her skirts up as her slippered feet hit each step. Steps firm and steady.

 They come to one of the big main ballrooms. Looking through the scope of many double doors, leading onto another room and the next and the next furniture pushed aside. There was such a crush of so many ladies and numerous gentlemen packed in. Coats of all colours on the men. The spectrum of silks and cotton dresses so vast, it quite made her head spin.

 Flora excitedly giggles and slips away. A flurry of laughter erupts and she joins hands with a little gaggle of her more intimate friends.

 Iris raises a brow at her behaviour, not surprised to see that she caught a glimpse of a fair few red coated members of the militia in that particular direction. Mother huffs and gruffly tells Flora, through gritted teeth, not to linger too long.

 Iris and Posy linger by mother as they chat to an elderly companion. Mrs Bishop. An ever worrying woman, Who ventured the world was going to end if there was slightly too much rain. She was practically apoplectic about the snow. Iris shares a look of pain with Posy. Who excuses herself with a bob of a curtesy to go find Flora.

 “Pest.” Iris smiles at her as she slips away from conversing will dull matrons about the impending end of civilisation and the earth as they knew it. Anymore and Iris will be forced to rush for  a vinaigrette of smelling salts to revive the poor dear when she swoons.

 Iris stands with her hands folded demurely in front of her. Her eyes wandering over the party in full swing behind her.

 The crush of noise, music and heat and bodies. Candies flicker doomed shapes copper and black up the light walls. The tall windows are guarded with heavy emerald draperies. Cascading waterfalls of apple green. Spilling and tumbling like grassy hills.

 The windows glimmer like yellow square gemstones from the candles in their stands dotted everywhere. The dark floorboards glow with it too. Patches of orange inbetween the shadows.

 The ballrooms, of which there were three, all adjoined by French pocket doors, are kept fairly dark. Lit only by the honey slither of candles reaching apricot slithers of light at every corner. People chatter and laugh to the din of a faint violin chorus of Mozart.

 Laughter, Baritone gruff and the sparkling light of ladies chuckling delight flutters up to the ceiling. The room seems to burst at the seams with it all. Like a room full of butterflies. The heat, the noise, the voices and music. It was almost too much. Everything is palpable and it stings and rips at her eyes and ears.

 They eventually depart from the hysterical Mrs Bishop. Leaving her fanning herself on a settee. Trying not to succumb to a fit of the vapours.

 They make their way through the ballroom. Chatting and conversing and being mangled in the almost too heaving crowds. She loses count of the amount of times her toes get stepped on. Or elbows sharply prodded into the soft of her back as people pass.

 Eventually; much to her mother’s delight, Iris is propositioned by a young gentleman from the militia, into a dance. There seemed to be no sight of Hux yet. Much to Mama’s chagrin.

 He’s very polite and puppyish, delivers her safely back to her mothers side when the polka dance is through. Kisses her hand, declares her daughter a fine dancer, then is off onto the next partner.

 They are lingering on the far side of the dance floor, just idly watching. In full view of the doors and the adjacent ballroom. Through the two sets of double doors either side of a great roaring stone fireplace. It’s light casting copper over every dancer.

 “We won’t waste our time on him.” Mother harrumphed when he leaves. Looking with disdain as they watched him ask Primrose Charleston to dance the next.

 “Mama. It was merely a dance.” Iris points out with a futile smile. “Don’t tell me you were picking out wedding attire and embroidered initial pillowcases.” Iris mocks.

 That earns her a sharp look. She smiles in forbearance right back at her mother.

 Her cheeks now pinkened and her eyes bright from the exercise. She likes dancing. When her partner isn’t a clumsy one, or reeks of port or body odour, or wine, or has wandering letching hands. It’s actually rather enjoyable.

 “We should be setting our sights rather more higher than some penniless officer.” She insists. Watching the couples twirl and sway in front of them.

 “Heaven forfend I dance with a man sheerly for the joy of it.” Iris concludes.

 Caroline tuts in exasperation. Mumbles under her breath. “You do so vex me greatly sometimes, Iris. Even worse than your sisters.” She grumps.

 Deep down inside, Iris is a little proud of that accomplishment.

 A flurry of footsteps and squeaking squeals and suddenly Flora and Posy burst into view where Iris and her mother are stood.

 Their voices are high pitched and they’re panting with excitement. Flora slings her hands into Iris’s and twirls her around with elation. Iris stumbles in the circle Flora leads her in. Posy is stood by Caroline grinning up a storm.

 “Mama, Iris. He’s here! He’s here and he’s coming this way!” Posy giggles. Iris and her mother remain perplexed.

 “Who is, my dear?” Caroline seeks. Frowning a little.

 “He is surely the most handsome man I ever seen. And so tall. Did you see him Flora? That chest...” Posy flatters.

 “Taller than any man I’ve ever met. And so well built. Such stature.” Flora says back.

 “And he has dark eyes, Did you notice?” Posy asks.

 “Of course I noticed! Very dark eyes. They are positively enchanting.”

 “Bewitching.” Posy giggles.

 “And his shoulders in his coat. So large.”

 “For goodness sake, lower your voice-“ Iris chides at the both of them, glancing around the ballroom. Trying to decipher who they were so flustered and flapping about.

 Her eyes don’t make it past the door-

 The room seems to have slowed. The dancers are distracted. People around the fringes of the ballroom chatter louder. Deafening din rising. Gossip flourishing.

 For Lord Hearst is at the entrance of one of the double doors, conversing with someone, and that someone walking by his side, is one of the broadest and most strapping men Iris has ever seen in her whole life.

 He wasn’t just a man.

 He was entirely too much, man.

 “That’s Lord Ren. The handsomely rich one all the way from Bavaria.” Flora hisses to them all. “I’ve never seen a gentleman more strongly built, or beautiful.” She giggles loudly.

 “I beg of you, lower your voice.” Iris chides. Pearl earrings jitter as she moves her head. Ash eyes governed by lintels of her brows creased up in a light frown.

 Everyone’s eyes in this small stale society, is fixed solid upon the sight of this newcomer. Hungrily devouring this unfamiliar brooding man.

 Obsidian jacket. Snowy shirt. Scarlet cravat like a bloodied noose around his neck, with a seers eye of a winking diamond pin studded in the knot. He radiates charm and magnificence. And masculine appeal.

 “He’s in mourning to be wearing such dark colours.” Mother presumes. “How unusual for a man.”

 “Don’t fret, Mama. Lady Hearst assures me he’s most certainly single. Now, Iris might have her chance at him after all...” Posy cackles.

 Iris rams an elbow into the bony cradle of her sisters petite hip.

 “Do try and endeavour to behave.” She chides to Posy. Whispering harshly.

 This mysterious Lord is unfashionably attired in all black. Perhaps he is in a state of mourning? Ink black breeches cling tight to his strong thighs and wide wide hips and shining boots come to his knees - the wrong sort of footwear for a ball but he doesn’t appear to notice. Or even care.

 He had an air about him that couldn’t be ignored. The dark clothes. Sable hair. It was long too. Far too long by societal standards. It curled at his neck. Swept in tumbling waves back from his face.

 He’s scanning the room like he hates everything and everyone in it. A soured scowl on his face. The softness of his full lips are pursed and there’s a predatory quality to the way his eyes flicker around the crowds. He seems above it all. Distant. Untouchable. He was a Lord - he held himself superior as one as if a different species.

 “Fleur told me he’s quite the scandalous man....” Flora begins.

 “I heard he was married. Once before, but she turned mad and killed several servants. So he locked her in the dungeons and she’s still here raking her fingers to the bone at the stone walls to get out.”

 Iris wants to roll her eyes. Now it’s Posy’s turn for interjection;

  “And I heard that his castle is haunted and full of ghosts. And he seduces young noble women and then sacrifices and feeds them to the devil. Maybe he’s prowling for next victim?” She gasps frenziedly.

 “You two need to stay clear away from anymore novels.” Iris scoffs.

 She lets her eyes slip back over this Lord’s frightening exterior. She focuses on the dark pits that were his eyes. They seemed oddly familiar. As if she’s glimpsed them before. In a fanciful daydream, maybe- or maybe it was a dreadful nightmare.

 They’re too far away to make out their true colour. But it must be a truly dark for the way they eat up all the light and glitter like rough cut gemstones lost to shadow.

 His arms folded behind his back pulls his coat right across his chest. Exposes the musculature of him: he is big and beastly. There was no denying; his figure is redoubtably masculine. Intimidating and strong- meaty arms, no tapering away at his waist. He was entirely built of great slabs of muscles.

 A warriors figure through and through.

 Iris thought that such a body frame belonged in a previous age. A more ravening one. A cutthroat one. That stature was suited to a gigantic rampaging viking or a crusading knight in steel armour.

 Quite why she thought so she can’t fathom. That big shape of his seemed unsuited to the setting of a dainty English ballroom. It seemed more natural for him to be on a battlefield slicked up and splattered in the blood of his enemy’s.

 She watches as he boredly sizes up the room before him. An arcing sweep of his eyes and he’s done with it. Thrown aside all interest. Devouring all pitiful excuses for life. As if he’s looking or searching for something...

 Then he looks right at her-

 His eyes spear directly into her. See’s her. Meets her grey gaze and keeps it. Steals it away beyond her reckoning.

 One side of his lip curls up. His eyes churn to look nearly honey gold in the light. Trick of the mind. All in her head. It was surely just the candles malforming the shade-

 But it seemed more than him just seeing her. It was as if he could gaze right through her. Pierce her skin. Puncturing her very soul - she’s sure.

 Her whole body feels his looking at her. She thrashes and aches.

 If she has one. Some flimsy scrap of quivering human spirit in her, it is quaking and trembling now, and very much intoxicated by this man.

 Her cheeks flush and she feels that betraying annoying heat slither down her neck and flourish at her breast. She swallows and blinks and tears her eyes away. She looks at her shoes cause she’s suddenly got a spinning head and her mouth is woolly.

 That look and those savage eyes had set a flame blazing right down to her bones. There’s something she feels deep down that almost seems strange. Uncertain yet resolute. A tug on her stomach. An unknown yearning.

 She realises quickly that this was the same pair of eyes that stole her breath this very afternoon. The gentleman from the imposing black carriage. Twice now she’s locked eyes with him and stared.

 He must think her either a raving simpleton or a gawping lunatic.

 “Iris. I do believe he’s staring at you.” Posy hisses with a wide impressed smile.

 “Oh he is! He’s definitely staring.” Flora squeals. Tugging and shaking her sisters hand.

 “Iris. Stand straight. Stop stooping. Chin up for heavens sake- look decent.“ Mother shrills through a gritted smile. Smiling demurely in the intended direction of Lord Ren. Preening herself like a flustered hen.

 Iris dares another look up. Clasping her hands together delicately in front of her. At the front of her skirts. Him and Lord Hearst are mere feet away now.

 “He’s coming this way! Mama! He’s coming over...” Posy grins. Flora laughs with her.

 By now, Iris’s heart resembles a mad creature clawing at its cage, desperate to be free. Thumping and thudding her neck. Quivering nervous breaths leave her lips. Heartbeat hammering and pulsing in her ears.

 He’s looking at Posy or Flora, she thinks. He must be. They always draw men like magnets. He’s not looking at me- he’s not. Really. He’s not-

 They are closer now. Lord Hearst and Lord Ren are mere metres away. The entire room seems to be holding its breath. Another dance starts up and she’s glad for that distraction.

 Her cheeks remained flushed and she raises her eyes when the air shifts around them. She can scent the brandy and violet water coming off Lord Hearst. There is his stout waistcoat and his perfumed wig. Lord Ren appears unscented. But a fusion of aromas simply pour off his vast body.

 Sandalwood oil. Probably used on that thick rakish mane of his. There’s something else too, something earthy darkly rich, that mingles with the musky new wool of his coat. Peppermint or spices. She can’t tell. It’s damnably distracting.

 “Praise the lord in heaven. We are saved.” Her mother mumbles gladly under her breath. Smile wide and gentle. Artificial and superficial to hide her truer nature.

 Lord Hearst and Lord Ren are right before them now. Right in front of them. “Mrs Ashton.” Lord Hearst begins in greeting. Iris watches her Mama curtesy politely to the old lord.

 “Might I have the pleasure of introducing you to Lord Ren. An old acquaintance of mine...”

 Iris looks from the doddery old form of the red faced Lord Hearst, up and up up, into the face of the dark stranger. The top of her head would barely come to brush at his collarbones. His eyes are still fixed on her face. A shock jolts through her like she’s been burned.

 “Lord Ren, this is Mrs Caroline Ashton. And her daughters. Miss Posy Ashton. And Miss Flora Ashton...” Lord Hearst introduces. Flora and Posy bob demure little curtseys at him. Bowing their heads and smiling prettily like fools.

 He barely glances toward them. His eyes were fixed on Iris.

 “And this is her eldest daughter, Miss Iris Ashton.” Lord Hearst beckons to her. Stood back behind her two sisters, and almost guarded by her mother.

 She curtseys. Chin to her chest and she bows her neck in a manner she hopes comes across as graceful.

 Lord Ren smiles. It’s terrifying in its power and beauty.

 It moves the corners of his lips. And he comes in a step closer. Advancing.

 Posy and Flora flatten back a little. When one hand comes around from his back, Iris could see he had thick leather gloves on. As if entranced she reached out where his hand beckoned to hold hers.

 She slipped her satin gloved hand into his big offered dark palm. It sits right in the middle of the wide thing. So dainty in comparison.

 He brings her silken hand up. Bows down and lays a kind kiss to the back of it. His eyes hadn’t left her since he entered the room - they didn’t start shying away now.

 This is a man who is not shy. Not any bit of him.

 He draws her hand down, very slightly. Freeing his lips.

 “Enchanting to meet you, Miss Ashton.” He says.

 Iris never knew a voice could be so deep. His voice sunk right to the core of her. Right through flesh and bone. Sinking deep. She’d expected a Bavarian accent. Or a continental lilt. But his accent is precise, crystal-cut English.

 She blinks. Remembering she had a verbose vocabulary to make use of.

 “It’s an honour to make your acquaintance, Lord Ren.” She gasps out with some hint of strength in her voice. When she lets her hand slips from his, her body feels strange. Her whole arm is left tingling.

 She finds herself sighing as she pulls her hand back. He straightens his back with ease. She knows her mothers eyes are looking sharply at her so she remembers her politesse.

 She feels like the whole world is watching them converse.

 “Are you, enjoying... your time in England?” She seeks. “I understand you are recently arrived.”

 “Very much.” He looks amused. “I haven’t been on these shores in- quite an age.” He says. She can’t help but feel there is something cryptic to his meaning.

 “Do you mean to stay long, in Hampshire, your lordship?” Flora asks. Batting her long lashes up at him so much she could fan out a chandelier of candles if she’s not careful.

 His eyes calmly flick across to the smallest Ashton sister. But linger back on Iris.

 “Not long. But after tonight I think I’ve found sufficient reason to extend my stay.” His smile twitches smoothly once again.

 “Are you enjoying Hellford Park, your lordship? Surely it is the finest house in the county, is it not?” Posy enquires.

 Another flicker of those charcoal eyes to the other little Ashton. Really, there were too deuced many of them, Kylo thinks.

 “It is an immaculate house. The snowy woods are very pleasant this time of year.” He agrees.

 “Of course. The climates in Bavaria are surely similar. I imagine there is much snow on your own estate, your lordship?” Iris asks.

 He seems pleased with her interjection. As if she were the only soul whose voice he wished to hear.

 When he looked at her, it was like they were the only two people in this room. The only two that mattered. It’s just them, in the candlelight, cast by flame. As if no pairs of eyes are watching - when in reality there are hundreds looking in. 

 “Indeed. The summers are short, and the winters are long and frigid. I am somewhat familiar with the clime of snow. It falls more gently here than in Bavaria.” His eyes glare warmly across at her. Increasing her blush.

 Caroline steps in with a saccharine smile that showed far too much teeth. A leer it could rightly be called.

 “You must come and dine with us at Westwell, Lord Ren. We would be honoured to receive you. We can promise you an elegant dinner service, and cards. Why we dine with six and twenty great and fine families around the county. We would be very much favoured with your visit. I wager you won’t get finer, prettier companions or better conversation elsewhere...” Mother boasts.

 He smiles right at Iris and it spears into her hot chest like an iron poker stoked too long in the fire. Red hot.

 “Indeed. I Thankyou greatly for the invitation. Madam.” Then his eyes grow blacker. “You have very fine daughters. God has blessed you three times over.”

 Flora giggles a beaming smile. Posy bats her lashes and grins. Iris fiddles with her hands and examines the floorboards, reddening at his charm.

 “I often think so, myself.” Mother preens.

 “Of course all my girls are immensely beautiful. But, it is my Iris who is revered around these parts as a local beauty.” She lies.

 “Mama.” Iris blushes crimson. Averting her eyes.

 “A rumour well circulated indeed.” Kylo’s looking at her. And to her amazement. She bravely looks back.

 “And she deserves every such compliment I can bestow.” Kylo adds.

 “You are too kind, Lord Ren.” Iris smiles slightly at him. It makes his chest pound harder. Watching her bosom heave at the neckline of her dress.

 His mouth waters. That same scent from this afternoon hits him square in the jaw like a rounded fist. He all but moans at the erotic pleasure of it. Of her sweet scent drifting up his nose. Stoking at his eager hunger.

 He will tear something apart tonight, rip it limb from limb, and glut himself on that sweet penny-metal flush of blood spilling down his parched throat. And as he does- as he feasts and drinks and crimson drips from his maw, he will think of this moment; of her aroused scent tangled in his nose. Stirring his own lust to boiling point.

 He bids the Misses and Mrs Ashton’s a goodnight.

 Lord Hearst had more introductions for him to make. More simpering sickening people to meet. All the same. Savagely polite and viciously boring. Their superficial kindness and flattery turns his stomach.

 A bevy of swans the lot of them. Preening and pathetic. He could barely hide his disgust at the stench of rotten perfume that beat off each one of their hot pulsing throats. All the vapid girls that desperate Mother’s shoved in his chest to make introductions.

 It was like the sheep throwing their own sweet little lambs out into the slobbering wolves.

If this were a less guarded age he might have already slipped away under guise of a romantic tryst in the garden, to drink a few of them dry.

 Posy and Flora squeak and shake Iris’s arm after he passes. He is led around the ballroom, that great vast man. Introduced to all the good and the great. They gabble and squawk at their sister about how she’ll be the next Lady of Hellford Park.

 She shushes them and sees it makes Lord Ren lock eyes with her from over where he towered loftily across the ballroom crowds.

 Her heart starts beating wild again. A demure smile and she takes her eyes away elsewhere. And that heartbeat calls out to him like the pound of a war drum. A bell summoning him to worship.

 Oh yes. He thinks. She is the one.

  And she’ll do splendidly.

 ~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

[maximum118]

Ashes of the Phoenix

Zen: Huh I though RTS would be pubished

Me: Not this month this is AOP and The Sitcom only.

Yin: O...K?

Me: Plus with the sequel still in planning for RTS I need to forcus on the two that are newer.

?: Aww sweet!

? 2: Behind her* She does care!

Me: GET THE FUCK OUT.

Chapter 2- Them...

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 

           Knocked out on the ground was Hato. Around him was his father, Satori, Heisu, and Haruki. Satori looks at her father. 

           "Will he be alright??" she asks. Her father pats her back. "Have faith, you three. Your siblings don't die or give in easily…" he says. 

           He walks over, kneels to Hato, and pets his white hair. "We'll have to leave you soon…please watch your sister…". 

           Hato unconsciously grabs a familiar haori snapping his eyes; he sees his father's haori with Zen with a bamboo muzzle on her mouth wrapped in it. 

           "Your awake." Says a familiar voice. Hato instantly sits up and hugs Zen to his chest. In front of him is Eita standing with his arms crossed. 

           "Head down the mountain and find a mountain called Fenikkusu Mountain. Then look for a black-haired man wearing a crow mask. He may help you with your quest. Keep your twin out of the sun. She can die from the sunlight.  She should be fine as it is cloudly Safe travels." Says Eita as he zooms away. 

           Hato looks at his sleeping twin with a smile. 

           ~Later~

           Hato says his prayers mentally at the burials of his four deceased family members. Zen stares at the tombs sadly. Hato pulls out the flower crown Haruki gave him just yesterday and places it on the grave of Haruki. Hato says his goodbyes, grabbing his twin's hand, and begins to run to an area where she would be safe. 

           After running down the mountain, Hato guides Zen to a cave and puts her there. "Alright, Zen, stay here. I'm going to find something, alright?" asks Hato. 

           Zen looks at him and nods. Hato gets up and goes to look for something to carry her in. After walking around, he sees a basket and bamboo, and a cloth. He runs up the duo gardening.

           "Excuse me, sir! Can I have the bamboo, basket, and cloth?" asks Hato, a curious glint in his eyes. 

           The man turns to Hato. "Sure for what good it'll do you. It's covered with small holes." He says. 

           Hato smiles. "It'll work. How much do you want for it?" 

           "It's free. Go on ahead and grab it."

           Hato pulls his wallet out and grabs a few coins. "Let me pay for it."

           The guy sweatdrops, "No need to jeez calm down." 

           Hato pulls his hand and slaps coins in his hand. "Shut up and take my money." He says. 

           Hato grabs the stuff while the guy holds his hand in pain. Running to the cave, he looks around him. Many trees and flowers surround him, his eyes land on a red flower, and his mind thinks of Riku, and his eyes soften Riku…I hope your OK…We can't go back… We'll run into each other soon…hopefully…thinks Hato.

           Making it to the cave where Zen was digging a hole. Hato stares at his twin, uh…what? Is my demon sister becoming a mole now? He thinks.

           "Zen?" asks Hato. Zen turns to her older twin tilting her head. Hato smiles at her. "Hey. Are you that afraid of the sun?" 

           Zen nods, looking at her brother. "Alright, I'm going to do something…" says Hato.

           Hato fixes up the basket he got. Entering the cave, he placed the basket down. "Hey Z? Can you go into the basket?" He asks.

           Zen looks at him, blinking confusedly. Hato points to the basket "Bas-ket," he sounds out. Zen crawls out from the hole and slides in the basket.

           Hato sweatdrops she's too big…He thinks. Then Zen moves more in, then flips the basket and shrinks. Hato panics. "Ah! Zen!" he goes to the basket.

           Zen looks up to her twin with her gold eyes. In front of Hato was Zen as a Child with her big yellow eyes. A sense of nostalgia goes straight through him. Zen looks at her brother, blinking. He pats her head. "Sorry Zen…Good girl…" he says. 

           Looking at his sisters' longer, messier hair Hato gets an idea. He picks Zen out and begins to try and braid her pale blonde hair. As he tries to braid, he notices that her ashen blonde hair had white ends. Blinking, he grabs his little sister's child-hands and sees that they're sharper, fading to red. "Hm…Weird…hey Zen?" asks Hato. 

           Zen looks at him, making small noises. "Are these all aspects of a demon??" asks Hato. Zen shrugs, Hato finishes the first-time braid and uses a ribbon to tie extra hair. Hato then picks Zen up and places her in the basket. 

           "Sorry if it isn't good. I think it'll be easier to tame, though." He says. Zen nods in agreement.

           Putting the cloth over the basket, then slipping the basket on. Hato begins walking to the mountain he was told to go to.

           ~Meanwhile~

           Riku trails behind Meiro and Yang as they enter a wisteria family crest house. Meiro would look over his shoulders to watch Riku and make sure he didn't do anything. Yang glances at him. "I said to put a gag on him. Why haven't you done that yet?" Asks Yang. 

           Meiro glares at his older half-brother. "He hasn't hurt anyone yet, Yang…".

           Yang sighs. "Meiro. Father may have allowed it, but he too asked for a gag…" He moves his hand to his snake-hilted sword.

           "I won't do it!" 

           "Do you want to be eaten, Meiro?" 

           "He won't! Now can we clean his kimono?! It's covered in blood! Along with his mouth!" 

           Yang sighs and turns to Riku. "OK, demon, take your kimono off. We have extra." He says, turning away. Riku begins to take his black kimono with blue feathers and flame. The kimono was off his shoulders when Yang turns and freezes "Woah, Woah! In a separate room!!" he says.

           Meiro blinks. "I wouldn't-"

           "Meiro Chisaki, you finish that sentence, you will be back with father in HQ as a bloodied pulp and broken bones." 

           Meiro shuts up completely. Yang then pushes Riku into a room with an extra kimono. He looks to Meiro. "Go dampen a cloth. To clean Riku's mouth." He says. 

           Meiro nods and goes to get a cloth. Yang places his sword on the wall letting it rest on the wall. Removing his dark haori with the yin and yang symbol and snakes, he puts it on his sword's hilt. Going into another room, changing into the kimono given to him by the old lady. 

           "My…what a nice view I saw," says a voice. Yang freezes and looks at the window.

           There sat a black-haired individual with purple eyes in the window. A smile was on his face, Yang glares at him. "Hiroshi. I see that you're still a stalker." He says. The man known as Hiroshi smiles and enters the room. Looming over the much shorter man, eyes clearly showing the kanji for "Lower Rank one." 

           Yang glares at him. "What do you want," he says with bitterness in his words. Hiroshi chuckled at the attempt to scare him. 

           Hiroshi moves closer to Yang and gently grabs his chin. "Why else? For you, my little snake harshira. I want you to join the demon's side." He says. 

           Yang pulls the demon's hand away from his chin. "It will never happen, Hiroshi. I don't even believe that's your real name." 

           Hiroshi glares. "You will be a demon and be by my side. I won't let you leave like the one before you." 

           Yang turns from him. "You slept with me more than once. Find someone else." 

           Hiroshi's purple eyes glared at him and about to leave. "You will be mine, harshira. I'll become an upper rank and physically take you if I have too" he says, disappearing. Yang leaves the room to see Riku with a gag and Meiro holding his forearm. 

           Yang runs over. "Meiro! What happened?!". Hiroshi must've put something over the room they were in. Whatever happened must've been loud. He would've come out right away if that was the case. 

           Meiro looks at Riku, who seems shocked or disgusted with himself. Yang pulls Meiro's hand off his forearm and sees bite marks and claw marks. Looking to the side, he saw Meiro's Wisteria Flower pouch on the ground. 

           "I won't ask again. What happened?" 

           " He bit me…So I had to get him off. I pulled out wisteria flowers, and he backed off…He put the gag on himself… He's disgusted by himself…" explains Meiro. (Diizaren, You gave me the idea. Meiro did look like food to the insecure demon boi)

           Yang walks over to the demon who's cowering in a corner. Riku looks up in fear at the older auburn male. Tears were desperately appearing in his pale teal eyes, looking away from Yang. Yang feels his eyes soften. He may be a demon, but he's still young… He's obviously sorry for what he did…thinks Yang as he pets Riku's red hair. 

           "You…must be disgusted by what you did…so you wanted a gag. You did the right thing…I just remembered…We never asked your name…What is it…."

         Riku grabs a piece of paper and a paintbrush and then writes."

         "Riku. Todoroki Riku."

         "Riku? That's a nice name…

          My name is Chisaki Yang..

          My brother is Chisaki Meiro…."

           ~Meanwhile~

           As nightfall lands on the land of Japan, Hato lets his sister out of the basket, and the twins walk side by side. The lady Hato stopped to talk to said this was the way to the mountain they were getting sent to. Though she did tell, people have gone missing up in the mountain. So best to have his demon twin with him in case he goes missing. 

           The twins begin to walk past a temple when Hato freezes. His eyesight was 10 times better in the night, and he saw blood and a demon eating a human arm. The demon senses them and leaves the temple jumping on top of Hato. Zen meanwhile had drool dripping from her mouth onto the ground, her pupils becoming slits as the scent of blood and meat filled her nostrils. Craving a feast, she stares at the bodies. 

           Hato struggles against the demon. Pushing the demon off, Hato realizes the demon looks strangely familiar to him. Then the moonlight shone on the demon, revealing deep-red hair in a similar style to Hato's mother, who passed away many years ago after Haruki's birth. The shadow on the demon's eyes lifted, showing pale teal eyes with slits and blood dripping down from his mouth, where a scar from the right corner of his mouth to his ear. The black kimono the demon wore was awfully recognizable with red flames on the end and sleeves. 

           N-No...it couldn't be…thinks Hato, gold eyes shrinking. As if Hato's world wasn't broken enough…it was shattered completely. In front of him was Kouten, his elder brother the one that went missing three years ago. 

           "K-Kouten…It can't be…you… can't be…a demon," says Hato, heartbroken. Kouten growls in response. Kouten then dashes over to Hato and pins him to the ground, fangs bared with blood on the pearly whites. Hato tries his best to hold off his elder brother from biting down on his neck or collarbone.

           His eyes were filled with shock, horror, and tears. "Kouten! Stop!" sobs Hato. Kouten doesn't hear him and gets closer to Hato's neck. When Zen hears her twin's sobs, she automatically turns her attention from the dead bodies to Kouten and Hato. Zen's eyes clearly show anger as she dashes over and kicks Kouten off of Hato. 

           Kouten growls and zips to Zen, grabbing her and throwing her into the nearby forest. Hato panics and tries to follow after his two siblings. With Zen, she regains her footing and gets a clear view of Kouten. Zen's eyes shrink K-Kouten…No…she thinks tears gather in her pale-yellow eyes. 

           She and Kouten were close. She followed him everywhere in the house when she was younger. Kouten was an ideal older brother. He worked day and night for money to give his siblings and dad something for their birthdays. When their father needed rest Kouten would do the cooking, cleaning, and watch his younger siblings. When Saisho was out, Kouten would, to the blunt of getting more stuff. He was highly charismatic as well, and to go with it, he had good looks. Every girl wanted him, but he always turned them down since he chose his family over a relationship. He adored his mother, father, older brother, and his younger siblings. 

           So seeing her elder brother like this was…traumatizing. Zen could hardly fight him, but she has to. The two demons enter a battle where one will die, and one will live. The demon in front of her, who was Kouten wasn't the kind-hearted and devoted big brother she knew. This demon has no more mental state. The only thought is…I must fight him. He isn't himself anymore…thinks Zen. 

           Hato finally catches up to his two demon siblings fighting. Hato glances around, hoping to figure out a way to separate the two. Then he could possibly talk some sense into his older brother. Unknown to Hato, a wolf stalked around him. When Hato is distracted, the wolf lunges at him. 

           Kouten looks to the side, seeing the wolf lunging at Hato. For some strange reason, Kouten forgets the battle with Zen and dashes to Hato. Getting close enough, he kills the wolf before it attacks Hato. The twins watch in slow-motion. Kouten throws the wolf corpse deeper into the woods. Turning to Hato, he stares at the familiar white-haired golden-eyed male. He unconsciously pats Hato's head then disappears. 

           The twins look at each other and quickly return to the temple. Unknown to them, a man in a crow mask watches them. He shakes his head. Are they Hawks-Sensei's kids? The white-haired one is too scared, kind, and slow…thinks the man as he looks at the sun peeking out from the horizon. 

           Eita, I am sorry…I do not think 

          The white-haired one will be

          Cut out for the corps…

           Meanwhile~

           Kouten takes refuge in a cave as the sun slowly rises in Japan. He rubs his head, wondering where he saw the two people before and why he saved one of them. 

           One of his eyes begins to shift into the kanji for "five" he thinks back to this familiar ginger as well. Why did these people feel familiar to him? The white-haired one knew his name, yet he didn't know his.

           His only "family" he had was the family he created in the mountain of Norkoribi. Kouten looks to the mouth of the cave. He decides to wait until sun-down to return to the "family" on Norkoribi. 

           Resting his head on the cave wall, he closes his eyes. Suddenly he was on a mountain full of flowers. He then notices a white-hair full-grown male with black tips wearing a black haori with blue flame on the sleeves and around the bottom on his shoulders watching two kids play. 

           The two kids, one teal-eyed, blonde with red and blue specs wearing light-yellow kimono with blue and red dots was running from the other golden-eyed with white hair and wearing a white kimono but with purple feathers was chasing him. He feels something behind him, and he turns to see a redhead with a shadow over his eyes with a black kimono with blue feathers turning into flame as they reach the end. Kouten subconsciously pets his head to encourage him to play with his older and younger brothers. 

           The redhead smiles and joins the two boys playing tag. Looking to the side, two females. One with a multicolored-eyes, short blonde hair wearing a red kimono with black feathered detail on the left arm sleeve and white feather detail on the right arm sleeve holding baskets veggies. The other had loose pale blonde hair with a shadow over her eyes, wearing a similar white kimono with black feathers was carrying a basket of tea leaves and flowers.

           The pale blonde runs to him and hugs him with a smile on her face. Kouten hugs back with an unknowing smile. He then sees two males walk over to him. One was white-haired with a shadow over his eyes, wearing a black haori with white feathers. The other one seemed older than Kouten with deep purple hair wearing a dark purple haori with lighter purple flames around his neck was a necklace of a silver feather and a shadow covering his eyes. The pale blonde girl returns the short blonde girl. The two new males look at him and walk past him smiling. 

           He feels warmth in his hand as he looks to his left was a lightly tanned ginger wearing a haori in a very dark blue with yellow stars with constellations on it. Kouten feels warmth in his heart and squeezes the ginger's hand. The ginger smiles and lightly squeezes back, then Kouten moves his hand up and caresses the cheek where a dark moon and yellowed stars on the cheek sat tattooed there. The ginger blushes, and Kouten assumes he looks away. Remembering that they weren't alone, Kouten pouts and stops caressing the ginger's cheek. The man with white hair with black tips stares at him and smiles. Kouten turns to him. 

           The man gets up and walks over to Kouten. Kouten looks to the man who pets his hair gently.

           "It's time for you to wake up…

           Kouten…"

           Kouten snaps his eyes open and immediately looks around. Empty. It was just him in the cave. In a dream that felt real, he feels no warmth in his hand where the ginger held. No boys playing or girls bringing veggies and tea. Nor the man was white hair with black tips. Kouten feels something break in his heart, something that didn't happen with the "family" he created.

           He missed that dream…he wants that dream. He wants a real family, a family where everything felt so natural. 

           Just who…

            Am I?

           Thinks Kouten as tears fall down his cheeks 

           Who are those 

           People?

Saisho/Sai belongs to  @ulti-mal

Kouten belongs to @hairuko

Hato belongs to @juniperarts

Satori belongs to @fioresacros

Haruki belongs to @/_falyy on twitter

Riku, Meiro & Hotaru to @diizaren

[commorsicoclub]

The Commorisco Club (4)

(Author’s notes: And the feedings continues. Soft, unwilling, human prey, Demon pred, G/T, non fatal)

Chapter Four: The Waiting Game Continues…

Erin, James, and Valarie huddled together and waited. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of their anxiety and fear. In her head, Erin could hear the slow tick-tick-tick of the clock that counted down to the next demon to step through the door.  

“Whoever is next,” James said quietly. “I’m sorry. None of you – us – deserve this.”

“I want to go home,” Valarie said, crying softly into James’s shoulder. “I want to see my Dad.”

“They won’t kill us,” Erin said. “But...”

“It doesn’t exactly make it all that much easier,” James finished and he tightened his grip on the girls’ hands. “When they come next, don’t let go of one another. If they want to make a meal of us, let them work for it.”

They all wound their arms together and gripped tightly to one another’s hands, eyes staring towards the velvet curtain and together in solidarity, they waited. They only needed to wait another ten minutes before the aforementioned Egan walked through the door. If the other demons had been large before, this one was a mountain. He wore a tight fitting sleeveless maroon shirt that greatly showed off his formidable muscular upper body and around his waist he had some sort of gathered fabric with a jeweled broach on his hip from which dangled many chains of gold. His hair had been cut close to his scalp which allowed the long wicked horns to show to better effect. Both of his ears were pierced with many gold rings.    

“Oh, well look at this. I see a few someones’ have already been in the cookie jar,” Egan said, flashing his wickedly sharp teeth. He walked over and bent down to lean an arm on the metal shelf, regarding the three huddled humans with great amusement. “Luckily they left me the one I’ve been craving all day.”

Erin held tighter onto James as Egan’s shadow fell over them. Yellow eyes peered back “It’s James, right?”

She felt his whole body tense, but James didn’t answer the giant. They just stared and waited. Egan seemed disappointed at their lack of response. “Rude little things, aren’t you? You’re suppose to say hello back...”

A large hand came for James and even as thick fingers wormed their way between Erin and Valarie, they still clung together desperately. Yellow eyes narrowed and he growled at them, a deep vibration that sent unpleasant tingles through their bones. “The others will get pissed at me if I hurt you, but if you two don’t let go of him, I don’t mind helping myself to seconds and thirds.”

Before she knew what was happening, James had let go of her and her grip slipped and both her and Valarie tumbled the few feet down to land harmlessly onto the cushions below.

“James!” Valarie shrieked.

“Ah, so it is James,” Egan said to his soon to be lunch.

“Let him go!” Erin demanded. She didn’t wanna see it. She didn’t wanna see another friend disappear into a demon’s belly. She didn’t want to hear their cruel laughs or see them rub their engorged stomachs, to hear them tease and taunt. She didn’t want any of this. Stop. Just please make it all stop!

“Just let it be!” James yelled back at them, surprising both girls. “I’ll just...see you guys after, alright?”

Egan laughed, eyeing the human. “Well look at you, all chivalrous and whatnot. Awfully kind of you to calm your friend’s fears.”

“Just get it over with, will you?” James’s eyes were shut tight and his whole body was tense, waiting for the plunge.

“You’re making this way harder than it has to be, kid,” the Demon said with a disproving shake of his head. “I’m just gonna eat you. It’s not the end of the world.”

James opened his eyes then, full of fear and anger and hurt. “Fuck. You.”

Egan’s mouth pulled back into a devious smirk. He shrugged. “Have it your way, kiddo. I’m easy.”

Like Danny before him, James was thrust head first into a demon’s gaping jaws. Egan didn’t waste any time playing with his food like any of the others. Instead, he tilted his head back and let gravity do most of the work. The bulk of his neck stretching out and expanding to make room in his gullet for the human to slip inside. When there was nothing but James’s twitching feet left outside of Egan’s mouth, he swallowed once and once again. Two gulps and the human was gone. A record. The lump that was James squelched down Egan’s thick neck to disappear into his broad chest. The only sign that the boy had arrived in his devourer’s belly was an ominous rumble from the organ and a slight quivering of his abdominal muscles. Egan’s belly seems quite happy with it’s new plaything and rumbled contently.

As Egan licked his lip of the human’s taste, he rubbed slow circles over his stomach and then let out a loud belch. Laughing, he addressed the struggling meal inside him. “I’m almost impressed, kiddo. You’re stronger than you look, but you’re gonna need to kick a whole lot harder to get out of my stomach. There’s a good bit of muscle between you and freedom. Ease up on it though. Only way you’re getting out is when I say so. So just make yourself all comfy and –” He belched again and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Fucking stop that you little shit! I’m trying to keep air in there for you to breathe! You kicking like that just makes me –” he belched into his hand. “ Augh. Fine, then if you like. Keep at it kid. Unless you wanna suffocate? Then you really will die.”

The fervent jiggling slowed and stopped. Egan sighed in relief, giving his belly a light pat. “Now be a good lunch and sit still.” After a moment of just standing there and concentrating on his movement inside him, Egan nodded with a pleased hum. “There’s a good, lad.”

He looked back to Erin and Valarie and winked before turning to stride back to the door. Just before he closed it, he stuck his head back inside. “Thanks for the grub, ladies. He was delicious.”

The door shut and then there were two.

……………………………………………...

Valarie wouldn’t stop crying and it made Erin feel all the more wretched because she could no nothing to help. There was no help for them.

“How can they do this to us?” she cried. “Just...just swallow us like we’re nothing! Like we’re just...just food!”

“I guess to them that’s what we are,” Erin replied and then grimaced when she realized how cruel it sounded. Even if it was true. Valarie cried all the harder.

“Michael and James and Danny, they’re people!” Valarie ranted through her angry tears. “Not food! They’re good people! And they just…!”

Erin could do nothing but rub Valarie’s back, trying to bring her some sort of comfort. But she had to wonder now that it was just the two of them, which would take that dark slide next? Aware of how selfish she was being, Erin desperately wished it wasn’t her. Their answer came much quicker than either of them had expected. It hadn’t been but a minute since Egan left, James squirming away in his stomach, that for the fourth time that day, the teal door appeared. It opened agonizingly slow, the dark just beyond swallowing up all the light so that all they could see of the next Demon was his hand clutching the door. Pale with long fingers that ended in sharp black nails. Two green eyes, like emeralds, stared at them from the dark before the Demon stepped fully into the light.

Not purple, Erin thought. He’s not here for me...

The Demon was dressed in all in white from his white long coat to his white vest, to his white shirt and trousers. His shoes, were a deep ruby red that matches his long red hair that fell in loose tendrils about his face and his two long twisted ebony horns. A gold pocket watch attacked to a glittering gold chain peeked out from the breast pocket of his vest.

“Good,” he said as he swept his emerald gaze to the remaining humans, his voice a low timbre. “They’ve already eaten, then.”

Valarie and Erin did not move, even as he fully moved into the room, deftly slipping his coat off his shoulders and folding it across his arm. Seeming to ignore them for the moment, he strode over to the metal shelf and carefully laid his coat down, and smoothed out the wrinkles. His green eyes turned to them before focusing in on Valarie and the corners of his mouth curled into the smallest of smiles.  

“Hm,” he hummed, eyeing her hungrily. “I do hope Gobbler was sufficient in tending to your needs in the way of food. He’s attentive, but can sometimes be a bit literal in his interpretations of orders.”

When neither girl answered, he frowned. “Did he bite our your tongues, or do you simply refuse to answer me?”

“He brought us sandwiches...” Erin offered robotically, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, undoing the cufflinks and rolling the sleeves up. “Good. My name is Rolland and I am the founder of the Commorisco Club.”

Valarie eyed him warily as he walked around the cushions, looking about the room as though he had never been there before. He reached up to grab the glowing orb that was their source of light and seemed to be examining it. The strength of its brilliance not seeming to effect him. Rolland released the orb and it floated back to it’s spot on the ceiling. He then walked the entire circumference of the room, fingers trailing across the velvet curtains and every so often, he would pause and pressed his hand into the wall. It took nearly five minutes for him to be satisfied with his exploration of the room before he turned his glowing green eyes back to Valarie. She had curled herself up into a ball and watched him fretfully from over the top of her knees.

“Are...are you going to eat me?” she asked, her voice shaking and despairing.

“Of course,” Rolland answered simply and in only two steps, he stood above her. “Your recovery took longer than we would have preferred, but that is our own doing. We were too eager and drained too much of you too soon. You’re bodies did not respond well and you slept for an entire day. But you are recovered now and in prime condition for a feeding.”

She didn’t meet his eye and her shoulder shook with real effort not to start sobbing. “We’re not food.”

The demon raised a single eyebrow. “What a silly thing to say when I have come to you with the sole intention of ingesting you.”

Valarie shook her head, face red and eyes swollen from crying. “WE’RE PEOPLE! NOT FOOD!”

Without word or warning, Rolland reached down to grab her up. But Valarie seemed to have found some measure of courage and fought back, rolling onto her side and kicking up at the reaching fingers. It was a short struggle as Rolland easily snared both her hands in one of his and used his other to grab her around her hips and pull her up. The moment of bravery was spent and Valarie was left to wiggle fruitlessly in his gasp, whimpering and shaking as her diaphragm spasmed, making her hiccup.

He narrowed his eyes at her, a dangerous aura pulsing from his person.

“You are here to serve a purpose, little girl,” he told her, voice firm and commanding. “My friends and I require a stable supply of living energy to maintain us. For centuries we’ve persisted on nothing but lowly ghouls and demons who do not hold any physical form once they’ve been bled of their life force. And frankly they taste absolutely vile.”

Valarie tried to wiggle her hands free, but he tightened his grip, making her wince. “Humans are a different matter entirely. You’re rare and are of a different make than any creature in the Netherworld. Properly seen to, a single human can keep a high ranking demon fed for its entire natural born life and will suffer no ill effects of routine and frequent feedings.” His lips pulled back into a faint smirk. “That makes you a priceless commodity. One we have paid for and for which we expect an equal return. This, little miss, is your reality from this point on. My suggestion is that you reconcile with this fact. Make peace with it. Otherwise, you are in for a long and arduous existence. Now, fortify yourself. I am bored of this conversation and I am very hungry.”

With that, Rolland slipped Valarie’s feet into his mouth. He wasn’t rough and he didn’t rush. He took his time, savoring her flesh and ignoring the pitiful squeaks and cries she produced with every slimy fleck of his tongue. He breathed slowly through his nose, his eyes closed, as he concentrated on the exquisite flavor sweeping across his tongue. With a deftness that belittled his true nature, Rolland opened his mouth just a bit so as to give himself enough room to use his tongue to scoop under Valarie’s behind and usher more of her in. His lips seals around her middle and she began to hyperventilate, softly pleading with him to stop. But he made no indications that he head or cared. His grip on her arms remained as he slowly fed more of her into him. His first swallow pulled Valarie in with a sudden jerk that made her shriek in fear. Her pleading mantra growing louder and more fervent. Another gulp and only her head and arms remains free from Rolland’s eager mouth.

“Please...please no...please...” Rolland swallowed again and Valarie’s tear stained face slipped between his lips. He released her hands then and allowed them to move about unhindered. His jaw moved back and forth as he tasted the human, rolling her lazily about with his tongue until at last he seemed ready to finish his meal. With a final dooming swallow, Rolland had eaten up the pitiful human girl. As composed as he had been throughout his tasting of her, Rolland did not seem to be able to resist putting a hand to his middle to feel for the moment she slipped from his esophagus and into his stomach. He hummed quietly to himself, lightly rubbing. Erin could pinpoint the moment it happened, because almost immediately, Rolland took a deep breath and looked down towards where Valarie lay within him. “You will be supplied with fresh air to keep you alive as I feed.”

He rolled his sleeves back down, securing them once more with the gold cufflinks, before contiuing to address his belly. “I suggest you remain still, child. When my food fights back, it gives me indigestion and can negatively effect this process and prolonging your stay. So behave yourself and I will be done with you in short order.”

Rolland turned back to the metal shelf to retrieve his long coat and slipped his arms into it. He straightened it across his shoulder with firm tug and then brushed his hair back, one hand gliding along his horn and the other returning to his middle to give it a final, approving rub. “Good girl.”

He pulled the gold pocket watch out, flicking it open and then he turned his eyes to Erin. “Magnus is running late, but I imagine he will want to feed the moment he arrives. Don’t give him any trouble, human. We have a meeting to discuss the next agenda and we are already far behind schedule.”

Rolland turned away from her and with a sweep of his coat, he was gone, and the teal door shut. The velvet curtain closed and Erin was left all alone. She took in shuddering breath before she broke and began to sob and cry, not caring if anyone heard her. She screamed and pounded the floor with her fists and let everything inside her spill out. By the time she had nothing left to give, she lay on her back, panting and starring up at the orb, not caring if it stung her eyes. Time became meaningless again as she lay there, head pounding with a headache. She pulled herself upright and looked at all the abandoned cushions. Four of them. Four cushions for four humans now stewing in the depths of uncaring and cruel demons. And as soon as this Magnus Demon showed up, she would once more take a trip to his belly. He was late for his meeting. What did it matter if he hastily ate his dinner. She was only food after all. Just like Danny, Michael, James, and Valarie...

She laid down on her cushion then, her back to the door, and decided she would wait for this Magnus to come. If she didn’t struggle or fight, maybe he would be quick and she would just fall asleep and then wake up with a bad hangover. Maybe that was how she would maintain herself through all this chaos. Docile placidity. So when the sound of the curtain and door opening sounded for her, she did not move. She did not look. But, then she heard a familiar voice that sent her heart racing and she sat bolt upright to see Archeon enter the room, one arm cradling the sleeping form of Danny and with his other hand, he held a white piece of cloth that he brushed across the sleeping human.  

“And then there was one,” he said, grinning knowingly at her. “Poor little Erin having to wait on Magnus. Rolland’s pretty miffed he’s so late. He’ll have to hold the meeting while he’s feeding. So I guess that means you’re invited too. Ha!”

As he spoke, Archeon ran the cloth over Danny’s face and hair and then once more over his arms and legs. Erin watched in equal confusion and fascination and before she could stop herself, she asked “What are you doing to him?”

“Just drying him up a bit,” Archeon replied, not annoyed by the accusation in her question. “You little guys tend to end up a little...damp, when we bring you back up.”

The image of Gobbler regurgitating the munitions box sprung to her mind and her revulsion must have been obvious, because Archeon laughed. “What? You thought we just waved our hands and magicked you all out of our bellies? Ha!”

“That’s so gross...” Erin said, shuttering at the thought.

“That’s how it is,” Archeon replied, seeming satisfied with his job and slipped the rag into a pocket before laying Danny back onto his cushion. Erin could not help but notice the striking care Archeon handled Danny with when the boy was unconscious. When he was awake and kicking, he was so much different. And looking into the demon’s face, Erin was certain it wasn’t hunger in his eyes that she was seeing. “Sleep well, my little Snack.”  

“His name is Danny,” Erin said angrily. Archeon looked at her, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Not Snack. His name is Danny and he’s allergic to peanuts and he plays the guitar and he is a person. A person you ate. Twice.”

“Oh, he’s alright now,” the demon replied with a nonchalant shrug and taking another look at the boy in the blue hoodie, still slightly damp from his misadventures inside his belly. “Alright, Danny it is then.”

“...and he’s terrified of you.”

Archeon’s face broke into a grin as he stood up. One with genuine humor behind it and not the domineering hunger of a predator. “Ah, that’s only because doesn’t know me well enough yet.” He patted his now human-less stomach. “Knows my belly decently well though.”

“Doesn’t it bother you at all what you’re doing to us?”

He sighed. “Erin, you’re putting far too much emotion into a very simple truth. We are predators. We feed upon others to maintain ourselves. You humans are not so different. You hunt and kill and consume other creatures. My fellows and I do not need to kill you to satisfy our predations, though.”

“You took us from our homes!”

“No,” he said. “The demons at The Black Hole did that. We purchased you from them. And before you start in on that tangent, let me remind you. If it was not us who you all were served to that night, you would all be dead. Truly digested by another demon to whom you would have been served.”

Erin opened her mouth to try and argue further. She wanted him to feel bad for what they were doing. For making them all fear and cower and…She was crying again.

“Look at me, human,” Archeon said and when she turned her head to look up at him, she jumped back in fright. He was so close to her. She hadn’t even heard him move. His eyes glowed red and his face was placid and serious. “There are far worse thing waiting for you out there than us. Keep that in mind.”

[formlesscopycat]

Meet Me at the Red Bridge

A Kuroko no Basuke fanfic.

Pairing: Aomine x Kise

Summary: Kuroko Tetsuya means well, he really does. So he takes matters into his own hands and goes into a mission to get his dumb friends, Aomine and Kise, together.

Read on AO3

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He’s already fifteen minutes late to their meeting but Daiki doesn’t give a fuck, after all, it’s just his best friends, Tetsu and Satsuki, asking him to hang out with them on their stupid Valentine’s date.

He’s got nothing better to do than mope at home tonight, and honestly, Tetsu and Satsuki are infinitely more tolerable than watching his folks get lovey-dovey with each other. At least with his friends, they just hold hands and blush a lot like fuck, it only makes Daiki gag just a little bit. Add to it the ultimate deal breaker, Tetsu and Satsuki promised him free food, all the burgers and milkshakes that his appetite can hold, no holds barred, all Daiki gets to do is to show up on time.

Tetsu said they’ll wait for Daiki by the arched wooden red bridge overlooking the river, the one they always passed by on their way to and from Teiko.

5pm, sharp! Satsuki had reiterated. But to hell with punctuality, Tetsu and Satsuki should’ve accepted the fact that he, Aomine Daiki, Teiko Ace and future NBA star, had no sense of urgency in his bones.

Past the clearing, Daiki approaches the red bridge with careless, unhurried steps and braces himself for Satsuki’s inevitable tantrum. But instead of teal and pink heads, a splash of gold breaks into Daiki’s vision, the smoothest, softest-looking blond locks he’ll never mistake for anybody else no matter the distance. The other teen has kept his back turned towards Daiki, his lean, athletic frame half-bent against the red-painted railing, seemingly too engrossed with the rushing waters under the bridge that he fails to sense Daiki’s presence drawing near.

“Kise?”

There’s also an obvious mark of astonishment on the blond’s face, that of which on an equal level with Daiki’s, as soon as Kise pivots to face the Teiko Ace. For a moment, Daiki gets lost in his thoughts as he takes in Kise’s appearance, and he wonders how the hell Kise pulls off a look like that, casual yet quite dashing in camel-colored trench coat, layered over a knitted-gray turtleneck and dark skinny jeans.

“A-Aominecchi?” Kise stammers, his amber eyes blown wide like saucers.

“What are you doing here?” Daiki and Kise both ask at the same time. Daiki reflexively looks away out of embarrassment, and from the corners of his eyes, he’d noticed Kise do the same, almost furtively, and Daiki feels his cheeks heat up despite the February chill hanging in the air.

Predictably, it’s Kise who speaks first.

“I’m waiting for Kurokocchi, said he needs to tell me something important.” Kise clears his throat before adding,  “I didn’t know you’re coming, too.”

Daiki likes to think that he didn’t just imagine the blush that briefly colored Kise’s cheeks just now.

But still, there’s something quite puzzling in their situation that Daiki can’t put a finger on.

“Huh? But I’m supposed to meet him and Satsuki, no mention of you, either!” Aomine exclaims.

“What?” Kise gets caught up in the confusion, as well. “Wait, you’re like, third-wheeling with Kurokocchi and Momoicchi?”

“Only for free food, yeah.”

“Aominecchi, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

“So?”

“So you ought to give the love birds some privacy!”

“This wasn’t my idea, Tetsu insisted that I tag along! And where the hell are those idiots, anyway?”

“Weird… ain’t likely for Kurokocchi and Momoicchi to run late like this.” With his thumb stroking his chin, Kise looks upwards into the afternoon skies already bathed in purples and oranges.

Daiki nods. Satsuki, at least, should’ve been here already. She hates being late. Daiki squints his eyes and searches around for Tetsu, but there are no traces of the Phantom Sixth Man anywhere. And how come nobody said that Kise’s coming along, too? It’s not likely that they’d just forget to mention this.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Daiki pulls out his phone from his jacket pocket and immediately dials Tetsu’s number. After six rings, Tetsu finally picks up the call.

“Tetsu, where the hell are you and Satsuki?!” Aomine jabbers on the phone.

“Are you with Kise-kun?” Tetsu asks in his usual calm monotone.

“Yes, he’s here! Why didn’t you say he’s coming?”

“Put me on loudspeaker, Aomine-kun. I’d like to speak with you both.”

Still utterly clueless about what Tetsu could be up to, Daiki catches Kise’s eyes first, the latter meeting his gaze with an equally baffled look, before he taps the loudspeaker icon on his phone.

“Kurokocchi, where are you, is everything alright?” Kise inquires worriedly, sliding closer to Daiki as he holds out his phone.

“Listen,” Tetsu’s voice cackles through the phone’s speaker. “You two are huge dumbasses so I decided to make things easier for you both. I’m so fed up with the two of you mooning over each other all the time and not doing anything about it. Aomine-kun, you’re crushing hard on Kise-kun since the first time you saw him, aren’t you? You always like to poke fun at Kise-kun if just to hold his attention all the time. And don’t you dare deny, you secretly collect his photobooks, I knew because I saw the stash under your bed when the Miracles had a sleep over at your house!”

“What the--the fuck are you saying, Tetsu?!” Daiki shouts, already feeling an angry vein bulge and throb on his forehead. Holy shit, did Tetsu actually exposed him like that? He never expected to be pushed off the cliff of humiliation in this manner, his well-kept secrets divulged in the open, right in front of Kise, whose eyes are blown wider than Daiki has ever seen, the blond’s gloved hands are both clapped over his mouth. Daiki swears, he’ll definitely gut Tetsu when he sees him.

“Don’t interrupt, I’m not done yet,” Tetsu continues, with barely a hint of emotion in his voice, which makes it more scathing, somehow. “And you, Kise-kun. You’ve always admired Aomine-kun, too, right? And we’re not talking about his basketball skills. Too many stolen glances don’t escape me during practice.”

At this, Kise gasps and buries his face in both of his hands.

“Always… admired?” Daiki repeats, his mind barely keeping up with the information Tetsu has just revealed. This is certainly new, and Tetsu better not making this shit up or Daiki will hunt him down and kill him again.

“...And you can’t stop talking about ‘Aominecchi this, Aominecchi that’, I’m betting my milkshakes, you keep talking about him in your sleep.”

“Kurokocchi!” Kise lets out a muffled squeak, Daiki assumes the mortification gets too much for him to handle, too.

However, Tetsu, the little shit, is unstoppable. “...But you thought Aomine-kun only likes big-chested girls. Well, you’re wrong, he likes you. A lot. So there, enjoy your date. You can thank me later, bye.”

The line goes silent, as simple as that.

Dead air weighs around the two teens, stifling and awkward.

Daiki’s throat goes dry, he can’t look at Kise, running away and hiding forever in his bedroom seems like the most convenient option and yet, he freezes on the spot, his legs feeling like a ton.

He is going to fucking murder Kuroko Tetsuya.

“Is it--is it true, Aominecchi likes me?” Kise suddenly blurts out, snapping Daiki out of his homicidal thoughts.

“I don’t know what made Tetsu spout that crap. After all the help I gave, this is how he repaid me. What kind of friend is that?”

“Uh, okay.” Kise looks down, as if his boots are the most interesting things to look at in the world.

“Don’t mind him, Tetsu’s probably having a bad case of being a huge-ass prick,” Daiki puts in, waving his hand in the air dismissively.

Pressing his lips together in a tight line, Kise just nods and turns around to go.

“Hey, Kise, where are you going?”

“There’s no point of me being here, Aominecchi. You should go home, too.” Then Kise begins to run, the rows of wood slightly creaking against his steps.

Kise’s reaction makes Daiki’s thoughts swirl and churn into a messy heap but before he figures what to make out of the situation, Daiki’s reflex had pushed him to chase after Kise. As soon as he gains ground, he seizes the blond by the wrist in a tight clasp, the effort makes Kise wince.

Kise whirls around, enabling Daiki to get a good view of his face. He sees the slight trembling of the blond’s lips as he fights the urge to cry and Daiki doesn’t quite understand why, but the sight wrenches his heart painfully.

“Please let go, Aominecchi.”

There are a million things Daiki wants to say but how and where to begin, he has no freaking idea. And there are a million possible ways for things to go downhill from here, but he knows, he knows…

It’s worth a try.

Daiki swallows the lump lodged in his throat, tries to ignore the fluttering of a hundred butterflies in his stomach.

Now or never. Daiki pushes himself to take the leap of faith.

“I never said Tetsu was lying,” Daiki begins. He doesn’t know where his speech will lead him but he’ll say it, anyway. “Yeah, I like you… not as a friend, that is. And maybe I like you a lot, I think about you all the time. That’s a lot, right?”

It all sounds so lame, so absurdly lame, and Daiki had really wished he knew how to properly articulate the flurry of sentiments he’s kept to himself for so long, all coming down to these stupid impulses, how much he likes to look at Kise, and to be around Kise everyday, and how much he thinks about Kise when they’re not together.

The soft rustle of water beneath the red bridge seems to mark the moments slipping away as Daiki waits for Kise’s reaction, fretful and breathless, the silence that chased after Daiki’s words intensifying the roar of his own heartbeat.

Kise blinks, then a smile blooms from his lips. Daiki lets go of his hand.

“Aominecchi really likes me.”

Daiki shrugs his shoulders. It feels strangely pleasant coming from Kise. “‘kay. But what about you?”

“Same.”

“Same, what? Speak clearly, you idiot!”

“You can’t be mean to the person you like, Aominecchi!”

This is so unfair. He wants to hear it from Kise himself. Did Kise make him admit his feelings so he can poke fun at him?

A staring contest commences between them before Kise says quietly, “I always like you, Aominecchi. As in more-than-a-friend like.”

Daiki lets that sink in while steadily holding Kise’s gaze, he lets himself and Kise bask in the quiet comfort of finally letting the truth out.

“So uh, what do we do now?” Daiki is still clueless as to where the revelation will take the two of them, exactly.

“Would you, um, like to go out with me?” Kise asks, amber eyes shining with expectation.

“You mean, date? The two of us?”

“Yes, that.”

“Yeah, sure. I like that, Kise.” Daiki grins as he scratches the back of his head, disbelieving how ridiculously simple things are. They just agreed to date and that had been it. The prospect of going out with Kise starts to toy with his teenage fantasies and for a fleeting moment, an image crosses his mind, of Kise and himself kissing behind the lockers after practice. For sure, he’s earnestly looking forward to that. “We can start right now.”

Kise’s smile grows bigger. “And where would you like to go?”

Daiki thinks for a moment. “How about we hit the movies?” he suggests, vaguely remembering that couples always go to cinemas in those drama series that his mother enjoys. “But I didn’t bring money with me so you’ll have to pay for everything.”

“Eh? How can you leave the house without bringing money?” Kise scowls.

“I told you, Tetsu and Satsuki promised me free food, not a… a boyfriend. Anyway, I’ll let you choose the movie. If you want the latest chick flick, fine.”

“Alright, let’s do this! Be my, um, Valentine?”

Daiki isn’t sure how to respond to that, it’s all happening too fast.

And Kise doesn’t wait for his words, either, he just takes the initiative to entwine his and Daiki’s arms together. For a tad longer, Daiki takes it all in, he lets his eyes linger on the blond because Kise at that moment, is a picture of complete bliss and the ray of sunshine that is his smile brings so much warmth into Daiki’s heart.

-x-

Daiki, admittedly, has no first-hand experience on dating and it annoys him to an extent, that he keeps on second-guessing himself, so he still blames Tetsu for putting him in a tight spot.

In the cinemas, there’s nothing much to choose from except a handful of chick flicks, Daiki thinks he’ll just sleep through it. But the fact that Kise’s right beside him, their elbows touching, the two of them actually sharing the biggest bucket of honey-butter flavored popcorn, keeps Daiki awake and hyper-conscious of even the tiniest of Kise’s gasps all throughout the duration of the film.

After Daiki cleans his fingers with tissue, he debates whether he’ll hold Kise’s hand or put his arm around Kise’s shoulder. Both are equally nice, he thinks, and it’s not an easy choice. Just yesterday, Kise and himself are mere classmates, teammates, one-on-one buddies, yet today, they’ve gone through the friends-to-lovers phase quite fast, it’s a mixture of terrifying, confusing and incredibly wonderful feelings Daiki has to find a name for.

A moment later, Daiki feels Kise shift a little from his seat, gingerly sliding closer to lean his head on Daiki’s shoulder.

“I hope this is okay, Aominecchi,” Kise whispers. In response, Daiki slides his arm around Kise’s shoulders, making more room for the blond to get closer, his head now comfortably rested on the crook of Daiki’s neck. Daiki then puts his chin on top of Kise’s head, he sniffs on Kise’s hair and catches the scent of his shampoo. The freshest strawberries. Daiki likes it so much.

“This is more than okay,” Daiki drawls. He and Kise can stay forever like that.

-x-

It’s dark outside when they left the cinemas. Daiki barely understood the plot of the movie, he hadn’t really paid a lot of attention, but he did quite enjoy the feeling of having Kise’s body pressed against his, the warm, velvet smoothness of Kise’s hand on his skin. He remembers, though, that there are lots of kissing scenes, and now, he wonders if Kise would want to be kissed later and when would be the perfect time execute his plan (though he’s very worried too, that he might not be able to do it properly).

“What’re you thinking, Aominecchi?” Kise peers up at him, curious, honeyed eyes focused on Daiki’s features.

“Nothing,” Daiki replies, looking away.

“Are you thinking of me just now, hmm?” Kise teases with a slight tilt of his head to the side. There’s this mischievous smile playing on the corners of Kise’s lips and fuck, it’s doing these things to his heart again.

Daiki’s hand moves on its own, it has given Kise’s cheek a hard pinch.

“Ouch!” The blond yelps, gently stroking the tender spot on his face.

“That’s what you get for being so cheeky. I was thinking about what to eat.” Daiki feigns a little annoyance, then he pulls Kise’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go to Maji!”

But then Kise easily pouts, refusing to move from his spot. “No way, that’s not even a good place for dates. I’ve got a better idea!”

-x-

Daiki lets himself be dragged through several train stations, no questions asked, since he knows that his new model boyfriend is adept and more experienced at these kind of things for completely obvious reasons.

When they reached their destination, it’s not really what he has in mind so Daiki turns to Kise with raised eyebrows and asks, “What do we do here, exactly?”

“Oh, I’d be perfectly happy walking around and holding hands!” Kise chimes.

They arrived at Hanegi Park at half past seven in the evening, and of course, it’s bursting with people who came to admire the delicate plum blossoms in full bloom at this time of the year. The wide pathway leading towards the lake at the center of the park is lit by hundreds of hanging paper lanterns that gently flutter with the night breeze, bathing everything else under a soft yellow glow. With their hands intertwined, Kise leads Daiki past the countless stalls selling street food, flowers, toys and other trinkets, stopping at intervals to stuff themselves with whatever snack that rouses Daiki’s appetite. Daiki makes Kise buy mozzarella cheese dog, yakitori and several bowls of heart-shaped Umaki while Kise insists on getting taiyaki, on the belief that they bring great happiness, and though Daiki’s really not that fond of the sticky red bean filling, he chooses to humor Kise in the end, who whines and keeps making these cute, stupid faces until Daiki caves in.

-x-

They stroll past the plum orchard, treading through the bushes until they hear the loud pounding of a drum from somewhere. Curious and excited, Kise pulls Daiki to the direction of the drumbeat, making their way across the sea of people while being careful not to step on anybody’s foot. Their quest leads them to a crowded open field, and when Kise realizes what the drum is for, he gets even more restless.

“Calling all couples to come join the game!” A woman in megaphone announces before she swings and pounds on to the large, makeshift percussion before her. “First couple in piggyback to round up a hundred-meter dash across the field wins this little guy over here!” She points to a short girl with dark braided hair, her assistant, carrying a giant stuffed bunny.

And the look on Kise’s face, even before the blond utters a single word, tells Daiki where this leads to, so he makes his case and declares adamantly, “Don’t give me that look, I’m not gonna do that!”

“But Aominecchi, please?” There he goes again, wielding his silly little pout and stupid puppy eyes— rounder, softer under the glow of paper lanterns above their heads—and Daiki is certain that Kise knows the extent of his charms and just how much Daiki is powerless over them.

In defense, Daiki shakes his head and deliberately looks away. “No way, I’m not carrying you around!”

“Oh, but you don’t have to. I’ll carry you!”

“No, never!”

“Pretty, pretty please, Aominecchi, do you really love me?”

“Shut up, Kise!”

“But I want the bunny! I can carry you, I’m fast, we can totally win this!”

Daiki gives Kise a sharp, warning glare but the blond is relentless on his pursuit to play. He gives Daiki a shock, jaws unceremoniously dropping in awe just as Kise crouches in front of him, an imploring demand for Daiki to hop onto his back already.

“C’mon, Aominecchi!”

“You idiot! Get up!” His nostrils flaring, Daiki grumbles and yanks Kise’s upper arm, forcing the blond to stand on his feet despite vehement protests.

“Aominecchi, please I--”

“Shut up, I’ll carry you, I’m so much faster!” He bends his knees and swoops low before Kise.

“Huh?”

“What are you waiting for?” Daiki growls, “get on before I change my mind!”

After Kise throws his arms around Daiki’s shoulders, Daiki gets to his feet, hauling Kise high on his back by grabbing under the blond’s knees before he marches closer to the row of other couples preparing for the relay.

“On your mark!” The gamemaster yells.

“Ah, this is so nice, being carried off by Aominecchi like this,” he hears Kise murmur over his ear.

“This isn’t. You’re heavy, my spine’s about to snap.”

“Get set…”

Kise retaliates by hugging him tighter, nuzzling his face on Daiki’s nape, sending in waves upon waves of warm current to the tips of Daiki’s toes.

“Stop that, do you want us to win or not?”

A round of silvery laughter coming from Kise fills the air while Daiki feigns annoyance as much as he can, blanketing his words under a growl, to save face, because he won’t be caught dead admitting out loud just how much he loves the way Kise is making him feel, Kise’s arm draped around his shoulders, feather-light breath ghosting over the back of his neck, the soft thud of Kise’s heartbeat against his back.

The gamemaster’s whistle goes off, and Daiki’s legs break into a sprint, soon he’s soaring, soaring, towards the finish line, to the edge of his emotions, the wind against his face, Kise laughing behind him, chanting his name over and over, and then nothing else matters in the world except the two of them, earning a piece of heaven tonight, the beginning of many nights and days of making memories together, him and Kise.

-x-

He’s pretty sure it’s Satsuki who tells him that first kisses are like a thunderclap, a kind of explosion that resonates inside you, the crashing of waves against the shore. Tonight, Daiki has found out otherwise--his first kiss is much comparable to the break of dawn, warm sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees, the calm of the morning before everything else stirs to wakefulness. His first kiss hadn’t turned his world upside-down in an exhilarating fanfare as he initially pictured it to be, rather, it quiets everything in him, slowing all senses, all thoughts, to a standstill.

Much to Daiki’s delight, Kise lets himself be kissed more than once, as they sit together on the front step of the Kise house, the huge stuffed bunny perched raggedly beside Kise almost a foot away. And Daiki’s lack of experience poses no problems at all, because Kise has made it so easy, so effortless, as they slot their lips together and the sensation overwhelms Daiki just as he savors everything at once: soft lips pressed on his, shifting ever so carefully with each bated breath, fingers threading through his hair, Kise’s warmth washing over him, vibrant and comforting.

“Aominecchi, we should really thank Kurokocchi for this. I want to hug him and give him all the milkshakes in the world.” Kise tells Daiki when they pulled apart to catch their breath.

“Thank him however you want. But those hugs, they’re all mine from now on. And the kisses.”

“Okay, deal.”

Daiki leans in to kiss his boyfriend again, however, the momentum gets shattered when the front door suddenly bursts open.

“Ryou-chan, it’s cold out here, why don’t you and your boyfriend go inside?” A petite, blond woman in her pyjamas, the splitting image of Kise, peeks through the door and throws the two of them an impish gaze.

The intrusion startles them and both teens stood up at once. “Onee-chan, why are you still awake?”

“Good evening, Onee-san,” Daiki curtsies, bowing his head.

“Aomine-kun’s finally your boyfriend, huh? I’m so glad! I mean, it took you forever to confess!” Kise’s sister gushes, pressing both hands to her cheeks.

“Onee-chan—!”

Yet his sister ignores Kise, commenting, “and is that Aomine-kun’s gift to you? That’s so cute!” She wheezes as she inspects the enormous stuffed animal. Then she steps back, making way for her brother and Daiki to come in. “Get inside, love birds.”

“No, Aominecchi’s already leaving, he needs to catch the last train!”

“Are you sure? We can always set up the extra futon in your room, your boyfriend’s welcome to stay the night!” She teases with a sweet smile that’s almost identical to Kise’s but not quite. Daiki thinks that the smile he comes to love is far more radiant, somehow.

“Shoo, stop embarrassing me in front of my…” Kise awkwardly pauses, and he visibly stiffens. “Aominecchi!”

“Whatever you say, lil bro!” She singsongs, biting back a fierce laugh before she disappears behind the door.

Out of embarrassment, Kise sidles over to Daiki, nestling his forehead into Daiki’s chest to conceal his face. “I’m sorry, Aominecchi, my sister wants me miserable.”

“It’s okay, she’s only worried we’ll both catch a cold.” Daiki’s arms move on its own accord, wrapping Kise in a protective embrace. “You should get inside.”

“Aominecchi is such a sweet boyfriend,” Kise remarks, lifting his flushed face towards Daiki. “Had I known you’re like this, I wouldn’t have waited—“

Daiki shuts him up by closing the distance between their lips.

When Daiki pulls back, Kise still has both of his eyes shut.

“Kurokocchi’s mission is a huge success,” Kise quips, rather dreamily.

“Wow. Thinking of some other guy while kissing me.”

Kise’s eyes snap open. “It isn’t like that! Aominecchi is the only one who has my heart!” And then, “Oh!”

Too abashed by his own words, Kise gasps, clapping both hands over his mouth. An even deeper shade of crimson overtakes his face, Daiki notices with pure amusement, despite the scant amount of light slipping through one of the windows.

“God, that’s too much sap in one night.” Daiki palms his face with a slight shake of his head, a feeble attempt to hide the blush crawling on his own cheeks. “I’m leaving.”

“Alright, just go home.”

“But you were my home.”

“Oh my god, Aominecchi!”

Daiki lets go of Kise, and he runs away as fast as he can, out into the street, his heart drumming so hard it’s swelling with bliss, with inexplicable contentment.

Fuck. He thinks. He’s gone from a brick wall to a disgusting cheeseball in a span of one night.

But Daiki has no regrets.

[blueflameforyuzu]

Hanyu Yuzuru - Starting from his face, Falling for his talent, Staying for his character

Note: This is a translation of an original article by Vogue China for their WeiXin/WeChat mobile platform. I’m quite surprised this actually made the cut, even if it’s just content for Vogue China’s mobile platform. What started as a Hanyu costume appreciation article quickly revealed its true form as a Hanyu appreciation post and the fangirling is anything but subtle. Not that I minded Ci The words in the brackets and the ~ are not my translator’s notes and personal input but are part of the original article. Captions for photos are in italics.

Click the link to view the original article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/9bHolfsTxbJ2XYsmG465ng

There are more pics and gifs there, the writer has definitely spent a lot of time and effort on this labor of love so do check it out. Even if you don’t understand Chinese, a picture speaks a thousand words, so let all the pics do all the talking for you.

Hanyu Yuzuru - Starting from his face, Falling for his talent, Staying for his character 始于颜值，陷于才华，忠于人品  (T/N: Describing the journey of most fans - you notice his good looks first, then you appreciate his talent and you stay as a fan/become a loyal fan due to his outstanding character)                                 

"Blue roses do not exist, Hanyu as well, he gives an impression that he does not belong in this world", Japanese photographer Ninagawa Mika has said this of Hanyu Yuzuru. This youth who is already a legend at the tender age of 23, what other miracle-like surprises can he bring us?

Every year, the Japanese imperial family will host a spring garden party and invite outstanding personalities from all fields to view the flowers, converse, eat delicious food and listen to music at the Shinjuku Gyo-en.

This year, among the 1940 guests, one person’s arrival created a stir among the assembled ladies - he is 2 times Olympic champion Hanyu Yuzuru.

Just a few days ago. Hanyu Yuzuru held a celebratory parade in his hometown Sendai with over a hundred thousand people in attendance. This year, he was invited to the garden party (the last time was after he won in 2014), and even the princesses revealed that they had held hands together to cheer for him (insert fangirl heart eyes) ~

In this type of formal setting, female guests normally choose kimonos or suits while male guests usually appear in hakamas, suits or uniforms.

Hanyu who has donned suits both times has said that he prefers a slim-cut which fits his body well. He might have said so, but perhaps Hanyu is too slender (actually his muscles are well-developed, and his body fat percentage is super low), it is hard for a run-of-the-mill suit to fit well on his body.

Hanyu at last week’s parade. His suit might not be the best fit, but it is way better than his uncle suit from years ago~

Compared to the western suit, actually a traditional hakama suits Hanyu better, but this super low-profile Olympic champion really doesn’t have too many opportunities to show us~

Hanyu’s first appearance in a hakama for a 2015 photo shoot

A earphone-maniac and game otaku, this prince-on-ice who exudes an ethereal aura doesn’t really care about fashion in his private style, basically he lives in sportswear.

Sportswear can actually look so good ~~

He seldom does magazine photo shoots, after all he is not an idol or celebrity (but once he does, it’s a big production)

Hanyu captured by Ninagawa Mika for Aera magazine

However on the ice, Hanyu’s style is varying and elaborate, every costume can be said to be a piece of art. Asymmetrical designs, crystals, gradation, Japanese style, classic, lace…...a perfect combination of masculine heroic spirit and feminine softness and beauty.

Figure skating is about both athleticism and artistry, and as the ‘absolute champion’ of this sport,  Hanyu has already declared that he is one-of-a-kind just from his costumes.

CHOPIN BALLADE NO.1

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

The most beautiful moment

The Olympic version where he passes his hand through his hair with shut eyes

We’ve already established that Hanyu is a ‘skating fairy’, Chopin is a program which best embodies his ethereal aura and elegance.

After the end of the 2014 Olympic season, Chopin V1.0 made its debut. From the white to blue gradation, the rows of crystal embellishments and the flowy lantern sleeves, it creates the effect of a grand introduction and conclusion while on the ice, and reflects the leisure and calmness of this well-known piece of music.

Close up of V1.0. Not only are there rhinestones, you can also see the blue-purple pearl embellishments

Chopin V2.0

For Chopin V2.0 in the 2015 season, the color of the costume has changed from sapphire-blue to sky-blue, and gold elements have been added to the sleeves and waist. The belt is changed to gold as well (all of these reflecting the champion’s desire for gold).

Olympic Chopin V3.0

For the Olympics season, the chosen blue shade is a deep sky-blue in between the colors of the previous versions. The gold elements are up-up-upgraded as well - gold crystals and pearls are added to the neckline and the colorful rhinestones on the gold belt are extremely shiny (yet very lowkey), a perfect complement to the rush of thick emotions and fanatical fervour of the ballade’s climax.

SEIMEI

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

The most beautiful moment

The opening “ Guiding both heaven and earth onto the right path” action

Hanyu’s signature hydroblading move (Hanyu himself says his eyes here can kill~)

Among all of Hanyu’s programs, Seimei which was inspired by the movie Onmyouji is definitely the most famous.

Seimei V1.0

At an ice show before the start of the 2015 season, Hanyu revealed this program for the first time. After being redesigned by designer Ito Satomi and Hanyu, the Heian-era karigime becomes a lighter, more convenient and fitting costume.

Still from the movie Onmyouji, played by Nomura Mansai

Kyogen stage actor Nomura Mansai who plays Seimei in the movie had a one-to-one exchange with Hanyu and gave him a lot of suggestions on the hand movements, rhythm control and character understanding. When the program was officially debuted in competition, we saw ‘Hanyu Seimei’ V2.0.

The most obvious changes were that the shoulders and waist were looser so as to allow for easier movement. The light green ribbon ties on the sleeves are now bordered by grass-green. There is an additional mesh insert on both the front and back. More gold embellishments and green embroidery and rhinestones were added. And the black gloves - there are many hand movements when Seimei casts his spells and the contrast between the black gloves and white rink is more stark.

Close up of V2.0 details. Intricate gold bead work, embroidery and rhinestones

During this Olympic season, V3.0 makes an appearance. A large portion of the bead work and embroidery is removed and replaced with crystal embellishment instead (3000 pieces were allegedly used). The main reason for this change is to lighten the weight of the costume so that it is easier to jump.

Even the belt is changed to a gold color which looks more majestic and as per the old design, it is embellished with crystals of varying sizes. There is a slight change in the color of the costume as well; a touch of deep red is added to the purple while the lace ties becomes cyan/teal.

The front, back, sleeves and even the lower part of the shirt is embroidered with an even more lavish golden phoenix design (all in all, the champion must be commanding + regal), at the back there’s even a signature Seimei ‘5 point star’.

Usually, skating to Japanese-style music is not favorable in international competitions, but this program has helped him broke the world record twice and win the Olympics again in 2018. Actually, just from the details on this costume, you can already see how much he has fine-tuned this program’s choreography.

LET'S GO CRAZY

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

Skating on bent knee while bending backwards

In all of Hanyu’s programs, Let’s Go Crazy (nicknamed ‘Go Crazy’ by fans) is the program which drives fans the most-most-most crazy. Basically every time you watch it, you get a nosebleed. All the lil actions woven in the program are designed to bedazzle and drive you crazy.

This is Prince’s famous song. In April 2016, the pop star passed away. Hanyu, who was then preparing for the new season, together with his choreographer decided to use this song as a tribute to Prince and came up with a crazy and bold program.

Comparison of the LGC costume with Prince’s costume, Yuzu’s costume is actually slightly sheer

The inspiration for the costume came from Prince’s concert. This song was in the album ‘Purple Rain’ so the costume was mainly in purple. The vest over the shirt and the standing collar were all references to the outfit worn in the MV. The bead work and sparkles on the vest were also designed based on the photos.

His hair was also styled differently from the usual, his hair was combed back in a style that reveals his forehead, which was rare. Actually his hairstyle was based on Japan’s ‘i-ta men’ style. This term originates from the samurai Date Masamune who lived during the Japanese warring period. He was brave and valiant and excellent in warfare, yet he dressed magnificently, so ‘i-ta men’ was used to describe such men. Later it evolved to describe playboy/dandy type of men.

NOTTE STELLATA

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

The most beautiful moment

His silhouette during the sit spin resembles a swan

Notte Stellata is an exhibition program which Hanyu used for 2 seasons. In Italian, Notte Stellata means ‘a sky full of stars’.

During the Great East Japan earthquake seven years ago, Hanyu was at the Sendai ice rink practicing and after escaping, he sought refuge at a school gymnasium for several days. There was no electricity in the entire city and only the stars in the sky shone brightly, planting seeds of hope in the youngster’s heart and hence this program came to be.

Adorned with white feathers and featuring a daring off-shoulder design and deep V-cuts in both the front and the back, the costume has the grace and elegance of a swan; and the crystals scattered on the sleeves and the bodice are just like the stars in the sky.

Perhaps it is his perpetual youthful looks and his slender body frame, even in a design which seems feminine, Hanyu is able to make it his own. This is one of his special traits.

Actually most of Hanyu’s exhibition pieces revolve around a common theme - praying and wishing the best for the disaster area. Having ‘escaped’ after the earthquake, he has always felt that he has not done enough for the disaster area, so he has donated his bonus for winning the Olympics and the revenue from the sales of his autobiography and so on, and he has always tried his best to express these emotions during his exhibition skates.

Hanyu exhibition piece in 2015 Believe

Hanyu exhibition piece in 2012 Hana ni Nare

Hanyu exhibition piece in 2012 The Final Time Traveller

Hanyu exhibition piece in 2014 Hana wo Saku

So most of Hanyu’s costumes for his exhibitions are usually softer compared to his costumes for his competitions and are usually made of chiffon with pleating and floral decorative details. Under the dim lights on the ice rink during the exhibition, it is like a beacon of light, full of life.

HOPE & LEGACY

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

The most beautiful moment

Hanyu’s signature Ina Bauer

The Biellmann spin which usually can only be done by female skaters, it requires the body to be very flexible

This is the most emotive of all of Hanyu’s free skate programs and till today, it still holds the world record for the highest score for the free skate. Hope & Legacy is the theme song for the 1998 Nagano Paralympics and is composed by the famous Hisaishi Joe. And this year is exactly the year Hanyu started skating.

This program is like an exchange between Hanyu himself and the ice rink, Since he started skating at 4 years old, figure skating is almost his entire life. From longing to desire to adversity to fear and finally to the release of emotions and rapture, these were all showcased in a single breath.

Just like the blue, green and white gradation signifies the the sky, the earth and the rink, everything is as natural as the floating clouds and flowing waters, and the scattered rhinestones are clustered even more closely than before, just like the shining marks that Hanyu has left behind in his journey.

It is indeed profound that after a mistake resulting in him in fifth place after the short program at the 2017 World championships, he went on to perform this free skate perfectly and broke the world record at 223.20 points, creating the impossible and aiding him in capturing the gold medal.

This costume actually has a ‘previous form’ six years ago. It was the season right after the 311 earthquake and the short program is titled Etude.

To Hanyu, this is a costume which was in remembrance of the disaster, the many layers of blue are used to express the giant waves and the sea and to commemorate everything that was lost in the earthquake and the tsunami. At that time, he was only 17 and he could already deliver such a soulful performance.

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

The most beautiful moment

The hand movements depicting wearing and removing the mask

POTO is a classic song that has been used by many other figure skaters, yet Hanyu’s interpretation still manages to inject freshness.

The earliest version was pieced together from red, black and white fabrics in a asymmetrical fashion (the black part is openwork lace) and aptly fits the character who has lost himself in his obsession for his love and has the resplendence of the men’s court attire in the 19th century.

However, this costume was sealed after just wearing it once; before the competition he collided heavily with another skater and sustained severe external and internal injuries and even had to have an operation. Hence this version of POTO was never seen again in competitions.

The redesigned POTO costume went from figurative to an imagery style, the concept of the veined patterns are interlaced with the doomed love between the angel and the phantom, but the designs on the collar, the end of the sleeves and the waist still retains the elements of the Romanticism period.

PARISIENNE WALKWAYS

— YUZURU'S COSTUME —

The opening brushing his hands-over-head and raising his leg teasing move

The handsome side-lunge and point move

Fans call it the ‘Big Parisienne Saunter’ and it’s the program that has made many fall for him. Hanyu started using this short program since the 2012 season, and it is from this time that he started breaking all kinds of records, and it even became the first short program to ever break the hundred point barrier at the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

At first glance, it looks like a simple shirt + belt + pants combination, but actually the shirt is full of thoughtful details: the pleats on the front and back are adorned with sparkles, and in line with the blue and white color scheme which seems like the blue sky, the sparkles look like shiny stars hiding in the clouds, which perfectly matches the aura of the youth who had just turned legal.

There’s a detail here, which is our ‘perfectionist’ Hanyu even had a matching bottle cover with his costume (it should be hand-made by Hanyu’s mum’s deft hands) ~

An elaborate figure skating costume can easily cost up to ten-thousands, Hanyu's costumes were initially designed and hand-made by his mother and subsequently he collaborated with designers Orihara Shizuko, Ito Satomi and famous figure skating veteran Johnny Weir. Every costume is worth to be admired and appreciated. Actually Japan is holding a Hanyu photo and costume exhibition, if you’re in town, why not go take a look?

2011’s Romeo & Juliet designed by Orihara Shizuko

The costume for 2010’s Zigeunerweisen designed by Johnny Weir and handmade by Hanyu’s mum

2009 Junior GPF’s costume for Mission Impossible

For an Olympic gold medallist to have such high popularity, can it just be attributed to his appearance and the sport’s intrinsic entertainment value? To explain, we can probably use the well-known phrase “starting from his face, falling for his talent, staying for his character”.

2 times consecutive Olympics champion, 12 times world record breaker and the current record holder for the highest scores for the short program, the free skate and the combined scores, behind these hard facts are his perfectionism and determined performances.

“There is no meaning if you do not try your best at doing what can be done, this cannot be called ‘staking your life’.”

Every time before he goes on the ice, he’ll touch the ice as a sign of respect towards the sport

To clearly say “hate to lose” these three words, Hanyu seems like a high-spirited teenager. As long as it’s a silver, he will be super frustrated. He doesn’t just does highly difficult jumps, he combines them with difficult entries and exits to score the maximum GOE. His techniques in competition are clean, there are definitely no petty tricks. He has many injuries and his condition seems to fluctuate high and low but he has never faltered at the crucial timing. When some athletes choose to retire after becoming famous, he is still passionate about the sport and has declared that he wants to challenge the 4A and quintuple jumps…… Just as Hanyu himself said, “I have bet my entire life on skating”.

Just a strong determination is not enough, Hanyu’s brain can be said to not lose to his athletic ability. He is enrolled in Waseda University and is able to respond within seconds to change his jump layout to make up for lost points. He has produced his own ice show and his candid responses to tricky questions from reporters are all charming points both on and off the ice.

“I do not talk about who my rival is, I am my only rival”

“Although this is just my way of thinking, the ‘plus’ and ‘minus’ in life will balance out, and finally result in zero”

We hope that the name ‘Hanyu Yuzuru’ will live on forever and become a power of vision and a light of tenderness.

[theantibridezilla]

Subtle Fantasy Colors from Overtone!

I normally don’t cover haircare products on TAB mainly because I’m natural and the natural hair blogging community is fairly well saturated. However, today’s feature is about color and actually goes well with the Pantone Color of the Year Ultra Violet, that I’ve been highlighting. Now when it comes to color, I’m no novice. I’ve been coloring my hair (or extensions) since about 2007/2008. I’ve done standard drug store/beauty supply box dyes, I’ve done Wella, BAQ henna rinses on my natural hair and my preferred ones which I’ve been doing since about 2013 are actually color rinses rather than dyes. I’ll dig deeper on that in a bit (yes, this will be a bit of a long post) but let’s just say although I’m not a licensed beautician or anything, I understand the mechanics of dying hair. And long before fantasy colors were trending, I was dabbling in that world with navy, teal, dark green, fuchsia, and purple thanks to process friendly rinse (NOT dye) brands like Manic Panic and Creative Image Adore.

In the past two to three years, fantasy hair colors (i.e. pastels, gray, rainbow hair, etc) have trended across Instagram and in the mainstream beauty space. If you’re unfamiliar with dying hair and especially what it means to “lift” hair, here’s the crash course. It’s very easy and literally a one step process (typically) to go darker than your natural hair shade because you’re only depositing color - just add the dye or rinse to your hair and you’re done. It takes more work and processing to go lighter. If you want a clearly visible lighter hair color (i.e. pastels or vibrant bold hues) on your current dark hair, you need to bleach first (developer + bleach powder) to at least a strawberry or honey blonde shade and then deposit color. And depending on how much lighter you’re trying to go from your natural hair shade, you may need to use some pretty strong developer which comes ranging from 10 to 40 with 40 being the most intense lifting power. If you just want something subtle, you can deposit a dye or rinse and depending on your starting color you may end up with something visible under low light or under sunlight (depending on the strength of the rinse/dye).  

As a general rule, aside from when I used to apply BAQ henna to my hair and scalp when I was newly natural, I DO NOT color or do any kind of chemical processing to my natural hair. When I want to wear a new hair color, I turn to extensions and full lace wigs. And because I love to do an ombre from a natural-ish dark brown/brown-black shade into some form of fantasy color, it means that when rocking colorful wigs/extensions, I always have to first bleach using 20 developer to the ends and then deposit the color. I use a 20 developer because it lifts enough in one application for me to see visible results but I don’t have to be concerned about over processing. Why? Because if you’re buying extensions they’ve already been processed somehow unless you buy truly virgin hair - which tends not to be in typical African American textures. So, when I buy an Italian Yaki or Coarse Yaki unit in natural brown, there’s at least one texturizing process that’s already been applied. Bleaching it means at least a 2nd process and actual dye rather than a rinse would be a 3rd process. The more you process hair, the more you damage it and reduce the life of a unit. And if you’re doing a home color job, it’s best to be as gentle as possible to prevent over processing and damaging the hair (especially if it’s the hair growing out of your scalp).

I say all this to say, Overtone offered to send me samples of their hair color and after doing a bit of researching and learning that it was a rinse and not a dye, I was hyped to check them out. They sent me their Extreme Purple deep treatment and the Extreme Purple daily conditioner as well. The deep treatment is the rinse which will deposit the initial color and the daily conditioner basically acts as a touch up to condition while maintaining the color of the hair. They also sent me a tester amount of their rose gold deep treatment but I currently don’t have any units light enough for the color to even appear and I didn’t feel like bleaching anything. So, I’ve tabled that experiment for the moment. I actually did this color project right before NYE for NYE and my baby shower. But if you follow my on Tales of a Mommy 2 Be, or either of my IG accounts, you know that I’ve been rocking my natural hair almost exclusively for the last 2 months. So, this weekend I washed and conditioned the unit I colored using Overtone’s conditioner - and am now rocking the new look as you see above.

Now, one thing I really loved about Overtone’s FAQs is that they were very honest about what results you could expect to achieve. For instance, they make it clear that if you apply their rinse over previously colored hair (especially a fantasy color), you may not end up with the shade you purchased from them (i.e. adding red rinse over previously colored blue hair can get you purple). And they specifically noted that because it’s a depositing rinse and not a dye, if you’re brunette or darker, unless you bleach your hair prior to applying their colors, you may be left with a more subtle color. The reason I bring this up is because one, it’s important to manage expectations especially for hair color newbies. And two, there are other brands out here lying to people saying they can lift brunette and dark hair to super light fantasy colors without the use of bleach - and this just isn’t chemically possible. Looking at you Lime Crime with your Dark Unicorn dye.

Anywho, back to my experience. So, I have lots of wigs lying around and I opted to pull out an oldie but goodie to test the Overtone color. I chose an Italian Yaki wig I’ve had for about 3 years now and one where I originally bleached & dyed the ends using a teal shade from the Adore rinse line but that ended up depositing as this awesome forest green shade (see collage). I loved this color because I bought this wig for my trip to Seoul and Tokyo years ago and it was just an awesome unit! I even touched it up many times to keep that awesome green shade. But it was time for a change as the unit was now faded to bleach blonde ends, a sad looking greenish middle and the untouched natural brown roots. Now, because I was going to use a unit that had been previously colored, I already knew a few things:

Rich fantasy colors from Adore don’t fully rinse out no matter how hard you wash - even after washing the hair twice with Dawn dish soap (a beauty hack to strip color!).

Because they don’t fully rinse out, as vibrant as that purple hue from Overtone was, the likelihood that the end result would be that Extreme Purple was 50-50.

So, knowing these things, I was really open to seeing what would come of this project and I wasn’t going to be angry if the color wasn’t awesome. I applied color from the ends up to a little bit higher than where the green had been placed to ensure that the green would be completely covered. However, to hedge my bets, I did put the wig in a plastic bag and then left it in my cap blow dryer on high for about 20 - 30 minutes to help the color penetrate better. (Note: the blow dryer trick can work on anyone. If you’re dying your real hair, you can just cover with a plastic cap or bag and the heat off your head will help to make the color penetrate better).

What I Love About Overtone:

The Deep Treatment is actually really thick like a slightly goopy paste, making it easy to apply. The color sticks to where it needs to be and it’s not messy like when I usually use my Adore rinses which are very runny. I recommend using a tinting/color brush versus your hands so that you can be more precise.

The smell is divine, it’s minty fresh. Now, I don’t mind Adore rinses either because it’s not funky. But Overtone knocked it out of the park with that scent. I was able to apply this while my husband was home without him complaining about the smell.

Although I’m not vegan, it is a vegan friendly product which is also sulfate free.

Rinsing out with Overtone was WAY easier than when I use Adore. Adore rinses (for as long lasting as they are) never fully rinse out. You’ll stand there for 30 minutes trying to wash that rinse out of the hair. And every time you wash your hair afterwards...yup you’ll see color in the water. Overtone clearly deposited color, but didn’t stain my sink (I used the stainless steel kitchen sink just to be safe because I’ve definitely accidentally dyed my bathtub a time or two!).

Even though I didn’t get that Extreme Purple hue, I did get an obvious color change, which lets me know that this product is a strong color depositing rinse. That makes it a very good alternative to traditional hair dyes.

After washing and using their Extreme Purple Daily Conditioner, very little color rinsed out and my navy hue still looked very vibrant.

What Could Be Better:

Honestly, nothing. I like that they’re truthful on their website about potential results. I liked how easy this was to apply and that it wasn’t stinky. And most importantly I liked that even though I didn’t end up with a purple color, I still had a clear color change.

The Results:

As you can see in the opening post pic and in the one immediately above, it’s not really purple, except for at the very ends of my hair which were faded to a true blonde. However, the color I got, I LOVE because it’s everyday wearable. As much as I love bright fantasy shades, the reality is that I do have corporate clients I consult with - it’s not okay to go into meetings with bright pink or purple hair. I’ve been trying to do brown into navy ombre for a while but truth be told, Adore’s Royal Navy rinse would always deposit as teal on dyed blonde hair. For whatever reason, the previous Adore teal rinse mixed perfectly with Overtone’s Extreme Purple to create this beautiful subtle navy which is slightly visible, but isn’t shockingly bright. So, I give Overtone two thumbs up as they gave my beloved Italian Yaki unit new life!

For more info on Overtone or where to buy visit www.overtone.co or follow them on IG @overtonecolor

[curiosity-killed]

merliro au 1/???

There are monsters in the deep. There are humans with piercing harpoons and fish with strange lures – but there are also monsters. Looming, leering, they wait beyond the reef, in the shadows of sea caves and the rifts of ancient trenches. Their shape changes with each story – sometimes towering and thunderous, sometimes slight and swift as a shark. But always, always, one thing remains. ‘Don’t go into the deep, Takashi,’ his mother had said with fierce solemnity. ‘It’s not safe out there. Monsters live in the deep.’ He’d nodded, promised her he wouldn’t go in the deep, and darted away with the other minnow-like children. As he grew older, the monsters faded into myth. There was so much to learn, so much of the ocean yet unmapped. There was danger out there, oh yes, always. But it was composed of real threats, of pressure and chemicals and predators. ‘Monster’ was just a catch-all for the things people once hadn’t understood – the vents and nets and snares. He promised his mother he’d be careful on the voyage to far-flung Kerberos, but he laughed at her fear of monsters. Now, he grips his spear tight and wishes he could apologize to her as around him, the arena roars.

“Relax, Pidge,” Shiro says. His hands, mismatched, are planted on her shoulders. Despite his efforts, her electric-green fins are all flared and her tail writhes beneath her. “I need to finish!” she protests. “Look, I’m one tide away from completing it.” “And how long have you been awake?” Shiro counters. She looks away, crosses her arms. Shiro waits. “Two moons,” she finally mumbles. Shiro sighs, disappointed but not exactly surprised. He can’t really scold her without feeling like a hypocrite; he can’t remember the last time he actually slept through a full tide without waking and patrolling away his nerves. Still, he’s an adult. He can handle his faulty sleep schedule. She can’t afford the same erraticism. “Your project will be here after you sleep,” he says. “I’ll have Hunk put it somewhere safe.” “Hunk will try to change it,” Pidge complains. “Fine,” Shiro says evenly. “I’ll have Lance and Keith move it.” Pidge blanches, the fight fleeing her body. “Hunk can move it,” she says quickly. Shiro raises his eyebrows and gestures back towards the barracks. “Do I need to escort you?” he asks. She rolls her eyes and flips backward, sending a hard wake directly into Shiro. He rides it out with a disapproving frown but waits until he sees her tailtip disappear down towards the sleeping quarters before turning around and swimming back into the lab. Bioluminescent bacteria illuminate the lab as everywhere in the castle, but a separate light comes from Hunk’s work station, purple and eerily unnatural. Shiro knows it’s ridiculous, but he still approaches with caution. His body remembers too well the pain associated with that virulent shade of violet. “About ready to sleep, Hunk?” he asks. Hunk jerks in surprise, gold fins flattening to his thick tail and back. When he realizes it’s only Shiro, they relax again and he offers an abashed smile. Shiro brushes it away, tail swaying a little to keep himself afloat. “Yeah,” Hunk says, “let me just power down.” He does so with the kind of precise speed that comes from familiarity, and Shiro watches with a stomach-twisting mix of guilt and pride. Already the paladins have adapted so thoroughly to this new life, this new home. They learn so readily, so eager to jump forward into this adventure. They don’t know what waits for them, out there beyond the castle’s coral walls. They don’t know the horrors to which Shiro has brought them. “Does Pidge have a spot for her projects?” Shiro asks, pulling himself back to the present. Hunk snorts a little, blowing a stream of bubbles out of his gills. “A spot?” he jokes. Shiro lets him lead the way to Pidge’s workspace. The project is illuminated by the same cyan bioluminescence as the rest of the lab, and it turns the sleek carbon sides of it a watery teal. It’s small enough for Hunk to lift it easily, and he waves Shiro off when he offers help. “Nah,” he says, “we don’t know how your arm would interface with it, and if it gets messed up…” He widens his eyes and lifts his eyebrows, and a grin sneaks over Shiro’s face. Pidge is territorial in a way neither of the other Holts are. Were. He flinches at the thought, the smile vanishing from his lips. He trails after Hunk, the purple of his tail throwing strange shadows under the blue of the lab. The project is placed carefully on a shelf in the back of the lab, a thick sheet dropped over the front to seal it off to the rest of the world. 

Unlike Pidge, Hunk doesn’t object to their informal curfew. He swims alongside Shiro, a polite distance apart, and chats with a cheerful ease. They say goodnight at Hunk’s door, and Shiro swims down to his own room. It’s closest to the entrance of the hall, no doubt so the Black Paladin could take control of the situation as quickly as possible. Inside, the room is nearly identical to when Shiro first entered. A sleeping cove, neat and clean, a set of shelves, empty, and a small corridor to a private bath. Within this corridor is a storage nook, and inside, the clothes Keith gave him when they found Shiro. He tugs off his armor briskly, ignoring the way it tugs on his fins as he pulls the sheath from around his tail. There are releases he could press to loosen the armor before pulling it off, but this is faster. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt that much. He tidies the armor on the shelves, makes sure the other clothes are neatly stacked. These are far less formal or restrictive than the armor; they came from some Keith had and are only work clothes, not royal equipment. When both sets of clothing are settled in neat stacks, he pauses to debate whether he ought not clean the armor. It’s not as if he did anything much in it today; their training session was thankfully void of bloodshed. But…

But he doesn’t want to sleep. Or, rather, he doesn’t want to try to sleep when he knows he won’t succeed. Insomnia is as constant a ghost as his nightmares and memories of the arena. It plagues him with urchin-like pricks, anxiety a toxin that slithers violet through his veins. Sleep is no longer a comfort but a collapse; it greets him with sudden blackness and missing hours and turns from him for days afterward. He dreads it for its darkness, its gaping loss of time, and he is terrified of its absence, the sloppiness and mistakes it brings. He cannot afford the forgetfulness, impulsiveness, and slowness brought on by sleep deprivation. With the lives of the younger paladins, and the security of the entire reef resting on his shoulders, mistakes are impermissible. His hands, mismatched, fall from the armor that’s already more than neat. He stares at it, biting down into his lip. The glossy ‘V’ stares back. Finally, reluctantly, he gives in. Shutting down his prosthesis, he works through the familiar process of releasing all the many hooks that slide harpoon-like through his flesh and connect to the nerves deep within. A trickle of blood drifts up through the water, but it’s smaller than the time before and the time before that. Resting the prosthetic on the same shelf as the armor, he turns to wrapping his arm in blue-green kelp. The salt stings a little as it seeps into the still-healing ports. He drifts towards the sleeping cove, reluctance turning his movements sluggish. He curls up half-heartedly, tail looped around itself so the tip fans out over his hip. He nestles his left arm under his head and stares, unblinking, at the sealed door. Maybe, just maybe, sleep will come if he pretends he isn’t looking for it. The water washes gentle over his skin, recycled through the castle’s complex vent system. Deeper in, he knows, the Alteans sleep in air pockets to keep from drowning. They flooded these rooms solely for the paladins’ comfort, though Shiro sometimes finds it jarring, still, to breathe through his gills. He spent so long without using them in the arena that he nearly grew accustomed to having them lie still and flat against his neck. Now, they flutter gently with the lapping water. He shifts, rolls onto his back. The ceiling is dark above him, the lights recessed an arm’s length above only a diffuse glow in the water. He sucks air in through his gills and breaths it out through his mouth, releasing a stream of bubbles. As the bubbles pass the lights, they turn briefly iridescent – turquoise and cyan and teal in a shimmering sphere. They pop before they reach the ceiling. “Fuck it,” he groans and rolls out of the cove. His tail unfurls as he falls through the water, and he catches himself easily at swimming level. He debates pulling on clothing for a long moment – it would be easier to pass his patrol off as an infrequent thing if he doesn’t bother – but he relents and tugs his armor back on. He’s grown used to the weight of it, the way it presses around him like a bind. His prosthetic burns a little, as always, as the connections are remade. The door hushes open in a quiet stream of bubbles, and he slips through. Always, always, this is a furtive vigil. He cringes at the thought of discovery. It’s an embarrassment, though he can’t exactly explain why. Perhaps it’s that old guilt, that, after all the lives he ended, he doesn’t deserve the kind of sympathy and pity that might be offered. He is the Black Paladin, a defender of innocent lives, but that has not washed away the blood of those innocent lives he failed to protect. It would take centuries, eons, he thinks, to wash away all that red. The halls are long and empty, filled with only water and the blue of the lights. His shadow is thrown against the ceiling and walls like a living thing, amorphous and wriggling. His gaze shies from it, turns instead to the far end of the hallway where it intersects another going the opposite way. When he reaches the nexus point, he flicks his tail to take him down the righthand path. He changes it up every night, too wary of predictability to stick to a habitual route. He’s alone in the hallway for long enough to settle into a semblance of comfort. Every thing is in order: the doors are all sealed, the training gladiators powered down, the command deck empty. He turns from these and starts down a new corridor. He’s cautious of these hallways, the ones they don’t venture down in the day. There are echoes here from voices long-dead. They whisper around corners and down long and empty corridors. Shiro pulls his mind back and refocuses on the other noises of the castle instead. It is an old castle, and its creaks and groans are not solely imagined. It settles into the sand with the aching gravity of a shipwreck. He wonders, idly, if someday it will simply collapse; if the sandy seabed will, little by little, consume its glossy floors and high-arched ceilings. Almost as quickly, he brushes those thoughts away. His concern is not possibilities but reality. Now is all he can control. There’s a noise to his left. Shiro freezes, tail coiling in tension. His prosthesis hums to life, purple glow brightening in the shadows of the hall. The noise comes again, along with a soft vibration through the water. He can’t quite distinguish the source, but he can tell the location. Twisting around, he dives down the hallway. The castle lights are dimmed here, and the path less familiar. It’s not one of the main corridors but only a side one, little used. Shiro tunes his ears to the foreign noise and lets it guide him down the turns and nexuses of the hallway. He swims swiftly, arms pulling him through the water as his tail pushes him forward. The noise progresses slowly through the hallway, and it’s only a few minutes before he’s reached his destination. The hallway culminates in a dead-end with a spoke branching off the left. Shiro tucks in against this corner and peers carefully past, his tail and arm carefully tucked behind the bulk of the wall. Peeking around the corner, he freezes. Galra. A lone Galra swims down the hallway away from him, its broad purple tail swaying back and forth just enough to move it through the water. Shiro sucks in a breath, teeth baring. He moves before he’s made a plan. Launching himself forward, he draws his prosthetic back to strike the Galra and then shoots it forward. It stops mid-swing. The Galra has twisted around, broad hand shooting up to wrap around Shiro’s wrist. They’re much bigger than him, large enough to simply crush him if the water weren’t there. They make no move to do so. “Shiro.” It’s a breath, a whisper without understanding to support it. Shiro’s eyes flicker over the Galra, hyperaware of the strength withheld from the grip around his wrist. With little effort, they could do great damage. “Who are you?” he demands. The Galra’s mouth opens, twitches as if to form words, and then snaps shut. Their ears flatten against their skull a little, brow furrowing. “You do not remember me,” they say. Shiro tugs his arm, and the Galra lets it go readily. Pulling it back to him, Shiro tightens the artificial hand into a fist. “Who are you?” he repeats. “What are you doing in the castle?” “Ulaz,” the Galra says finally. “My name is Ulaz. I come seeking help from the Paladins of Voltron.”

[sinkingorswimming]

"Sunrise" of the In the Heights OST

*these are just all gonna be the x-men au now, i got eaten by it, i have no control anymore sorry*

“I have no idea what to do with this,” Celestino admits an hour after the commotion at Webster Hall with a vague wave of his left hand.

This being Longshot, who smiles at him, his mouth shaping into a pink heart.

“It’s why we brought him to you,” Phichit says. “You’re the one who knows weird.”

Celestino gives Phichit a sigh and an exasperated look. “Television,” he says as he absently ties up his hair. “A dimension ruled by television.”

Longshot shrugs with a softer smile.

“Well,” Celestino says. “We’ll find a way to get you home, Longshot, since your revolution sounds like it can use all the help it can get.”

Longshot nods with a combination of gratitude and resignation. He folds his hands over his mouth, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

It’s Sunday in the West Village loft Phichit and Yuuri call theirs. They share bunk beds so Yuuri can have a workspace for his studies and his writing and so Phichit has space for his rigs. Phichit’s an NYU student too, he’s in Tisch, and he single-handedly keeps the corner bodega in business because of an addiction to their egg sandwiches.

Celestino gets up, and he makes a face like he just recalled something. “Right,” he says. He picks up a large shopping bag that says Intoxicated by Giacometti on the side. “Chris had prototypes for Fall ‘18 lying around. Longshot looks like he’s a sample size—he said he figured he shouldn’t draw as much attention in these.”

Longshot takes the black bag with metallic blue and purple writing. He holds up a grey and black sweater, pawing at its fabric like he’s a stranger to the concept of wool.

He may be, Yuuri realizes. “We’ll get you showered and prettied up,” Phichit says to Longshot with a wink.

“I’m already pretty, it’s part of my design,” Logshot says with a raised eyebrow.

“You have a mullet,” Phichit counters. “No one in New York City has a mullet. It’s gotta go.”

Longshot gives Phichit a confused stare, and Yuuri clears his throat. “He means you need a haircut. Between the color and the style, you’ll stand out too much. It’s either we dye it or we cut it.”

Longshot touches his hair, the strands sliding through his (four still how the fuck) fingers. “Cut it,” he says after a few minutes contemplation.

Phichit smiles and Yuuri nods. He leads Longshot to the bathroom—it’s surprisingly decent for its size, no bathtub though. Just a decent shower and pair sinks. Yuuri gets a spare towel and wash cloth of him. “Okay my soap is the white and green bar, Phichit’s the blue one—mine smells like cedar, is flowers and—” 

Yuuri stops and swallows like a huge rock is in his throat. Longshot’s already mostly naked, and yes he’s beautiful, like a Greek statue, but his spine—

Instead of a subtle ident curving down his back, his vertebrae protrude like if an invertebrate made him. Yuuri stares, partially because it’s a new sight, but also because it’s…appealing “Do they hurt?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Longshot looks over his shoulder at him. “Not really,” he replies. “You can touch them, if you like.”

Yuuri comes close, reaches to the one at the base of his neck, and runs his hands over it, the holographic teal glitter nail lacquer bright against Longshot’s pale skin. It feels like a really large knuckle, but on his back. His skin is warm, smooth, and soft. 

Longshot smiles over his shoulder. “That feels good.”

Yuuri clears his throat and takes two steps back. He clears his throat. “Well, um—” He turns to the sink, grabbing the MAC wipes and his glasses. He deals with his make up at his desk since the light’s better. “Hot water runs out after fifteen minutes. Try to be quick.”

He hightails it out of the bathroom with his face like a tomato, falling gracelessly into his make up chair and wiping his face down. Once there’s only a touch of blue in his eyelashes, he throws the used towelettes out and groans. 

Phichit hangs upside down from the top bunk by his tail. “Your merch sales are improving,” he says. “We’re out of a few t-shirts and some posters—should I restock or should we make new designs? We have that one photoshoot we did with the blue and gold jacket—”

“The alternate take of the indigo outfit with the crystals,” Yuuri answers as he removes the purple lenses and puts on his blue half-rimmed eyeglasses. He shakes his hair loose out of his stage style and puts on a plain lip balm flavored like melons.

“Oooh yes!” Phichit accesses the file on the cloud and sends it to their printshop. “Perfect.”

Yuuri puts on a pair of skinny denim jeans and a slightly-oversized oatmeal and navy striped sweater. His socks are navy with cream colored dogs on them. The water cuts off and he grabs his clippers and a pair of scissors. Phichit flips upright into his bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“Kay,” Yuuri answers. He knocks before entering to a Longshot in a burgundy t-shirt with a silver abstract print and dark gray denim. Chris provided him a pair of Chuck Taylors the same color as the shirt, and there’s a soft looking leather jacket on the back of the toilet. “Sit please, back to me.”

Longshot does. Yuuri combs out his wet hair, then gets to work shearing off the length first and then clipping down the sides and back, leaving it long in the front and on top. It’s a respectable yet fashionable hairstyle. Yuuri uses the blow-dryer phichit uses for his body and when he’s finished, he puts a bit of product in it. 

His hair is soft and smells like Yuuri’s shampoo, and Yuuri has to step back a second time.

Longshot stands and looks in the mirror. He nods with approval. “You do good work, beautiful,” he says. 

Yuuri gives him a strange look. 

“You look good with the make up,” Longshot elaborates. “But this is better.” He rakes his eyes up and down Yuuri.

Yuuri stammers with his eyes wide. “Pancakes.”

“What?” Longshot asks.

“Breakfast food,” Yuuri manages. “Uh—eating? We…eat. Yeah.”

He turns away and scoots out of the bathroom, Longshot following. Yuuri texts Phichit that they went out so he’ll see it when he wakes up. He locks the door and they walk down the six flights of stairs to the street. Empire Diner’s not a long walk, and Longshot keeps looking up and around as they head to the restaurant. 

“What’s that?” he asks. It’s a building with a red awning, bins of bright flowers in the front, and smells wafting from it. 

“A bodega,” Yuuri replies. 

Longshot gives him a curious look.

Yuuri blinks. “Right um—it’s a Spanish word for corner store, basically. They sell flowers, groceries, sandwiches, beer—it’s easier than a big grocery sometimes.”

“Gro-cer-ies,” Longshot sounds out. “I don’t know—”

“Food,” Yuuri answers, kind of taken aback. “We have to buy food to cook and live off of. A grocer provides it.”

“Major Gosha fed us,” Longshot says. “When we’d be taken out of stasis to perform for Yakov’s shows. He’d wake us, give us the food, wardrobe, hair, and make up, and then showtime!”

“Well, we make three meals a day or buy them from a restaurant,” Yuuri elaborates. “Restuarants are expensive, but I got paid for the show last night even though—well you were there. Anyways, I’m buying you brunch. My treat as a Welcome to Earth, Longshot! gift.”

“Victor,” he says. “I want you to call me Victor. The others can call me Longshot—but please, beauitful, call me Victor.”

Yuuri feels the heat flood his face. He bites back an awkward reply, opening the Diner’s door instead. They’re shown to a window-side booth, and Victor looks up and around with wonder like a child. 

The waitress comes over. “Hi guys, what’ll it be to drink?”

“Coffee please,” Yuuri answers. “Two of them.”

Long…Victor gives her a bright smile. “Yes this…coffee!”

She flushes and giggles before leaving, and Yuuri’s less flustered the next time his dining compainion smiles at him. He does it to everyone, Yuuri realizes. 

Okay.

“What is…a waffle?” he asks, saying “whuffle” instead of the correct pronunciation.

“Waffles are like a bread thing that’s sweet,” Yuuri explains. 

“Avocado?” he’s asked.

“It’s a vegetable that’s soft and green on the inside,” Yuuri says, feeling like Human Google.

His companion keeps looking. “We just eat this Nutrient drink; it’s peach and flavorless. This is all very complex.”

“Wait you’ve…never had food?” The disappointment vanishes because what the fuck?

“The Spineless Ones get to have the food,” Victor says. “Entertainers get nutrients.The Spineless Ruling Class eats real food.”

Of course Yuuri’s heard of socities like this—pre-Revolution France, third world nations—but it’s different knowing someone from one, seeing them in real life and hearing them discuss it.

Especially since he sounds so calm and matter-of-fact.

“Order whatever you like,” Yuuri says. “However much of it you want.”

Victor looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to understand the bit about the financials. His eyes are confused but grateful, like he understands Yuuri’s gift but doesn’t at the same time. The server brings their coffee and asks for their orders—Yuuri gets the salmon pastrami avo toast, and Victor orders both the pancakes and the waffle.

The way he lights up when he gets his first bites, the happiness and excitement in his expression and voice—risks to himself be damned.

Yuuri’s gonna help him.

[bitterbuttercups]

Review: Beach Beasties Draculaura and Lagoona Blue, and Gloom Beach Frankie Stein

Yesterday, on the way to dinner, we passed a Five and Under and I found these three girls on sale and couldn’t resist! I had so much fun with my last review I knew I had to talk about these, too.

Kala Mer’ri and Posea Reef, who I reviewed previously had much nicer and more exciting packaging than these three, but, the simplicity of the window box feels intentional here.

I’m not as much of a fan of the pink body colour she has, it feels very generic somehow, but i do love how bright and fun her hair and her bathing suit is.

First thing I noticed with Frankie was that instead of her stitches being molded plastic, they’re bright and painted! That’s cool!

And Lagoona, oh my goodness. I’m in love with her bathing suit! Teal and red is my absolute favourite colour scheme. 

The backdrop for Draculaura and Lagoona is a mostly monochrome blue  with an off center coffin shape frame. I found it really easy to get out of the package, too! the bottom isn’t sealed as you can see, so I just ran a finger under the plastic and it popped right off. Most of the plastic ties holding them down were fine and not terrifically intrusive, but I was very dismayed to again see plastic ties in her head attached to the carboard. What am I supposed to do with that? Cutting them risks cutting her hair and even then leaves nasty little pointy plastic pieces embedded in her head. I don’t like it and I wish they would find a better way to secure their heads.

Frankie’s Gloom Beach box is similar, in that it’s also monochrome and has the coffin shaped frame, but it’s yellow instead of blue, and has a sandcastle at the front and an appropriate skullete in the background. I think I like Frankie’s more.

But we can only talk about one at time, so I’m going to start with Lagoona. I like the art on her box. She’s got a little hang ten thing going on. I wonder if Lagoona likes to surf? It does seem like a sea monster girl’s hobby. 

I think the back of her box is nice. It’s very simplistic compared to some other boxes I’ve seen, but since the front was also pretty simple, I think it works.

I kind of expected this to have information on Lagoona herself instead of just the line, but I guess that’s fine. I think it’s a little weird though, that since Lagoona and Draculaura have the same excerpt on the back of their boxes, it should have larger text so that it could fill up the entire box. It looks a little unfinished- or at least, it looks like the box was made seperately than the text, so I expected their boxes to say different things, but they don’t.

You know, I do have a lot of problems with the body images fashion dolls promote. I am unhappy with how boy dolls are thicker than girl dolls and how skinny girl dolls are, but I do respect that Monster High pushes inclusion and uniqueness in such a genuine sense. I’ve seen Monster High dolls with artificial limbs and even a doll in a wheelchair, and I read the back of my Posea Reef box and it looks like she has ADHD. I have ADHD! I thought that was really nice and it made me smile. 

There’s also a picture of Draculaura from this set, who I also got, and Venus McFlytrap, who I really wish I had! I grew up in Cape Fear, the only place in the world the Venus Flytrap is native to. I like her colours and her fuzzy undercut. I do think her name could have been a little more creative though. Venus is a perfectly good name, but McFlytrap isn’t exactly a pun or anything.

And there’s Lagoona herself, out of the box!

She has grey-blue skin with fins on her arms and legs, and straw-gold hair with cerulean streaks.

She’s got a soft, clear plastic headband and a pair of hard clear plastic sunglasses. It looks like she has a small button nose and large lips, but we’ll get a better look at her when we get her accessories off.

And oh but my favourite part of Lagoona is her arms and hands! Her arms below the elbow and her hands are cast in clear blue plastic and then painted to match her skin tone, except for the webbing between her fingers and the fins on her arms. I know in my last review I said I don’t like webbed hands but the reason I don’t is that it makes hands look blobby and vague, but this is such a neat gimmick! All her fingers are still visible and individual and I am a HUGE sucker for clear plastic.

She also has clear plastic detachable fins on her legs. 

They peg in and out so that you can get pants over her legs, which makes sense. I can imagine I’m going to lose them within an hour, though, which has me wary. They also have different pegs so you can’t put them in the wrong leg.

She’s also got bright orange clear plastic shoes. They’re made of soft vinyl so the thinner parts are flexible, but the thicker parts are not. These are wedge sandals. I wish she could wear some truly beachy flip flops, but fashion feet stand on their tip toes and she can’t really wear flats. Or stand on her own. Try as I might I could not get any of these three to stand on their own during this review, and I don’t own a doll stand and they didn’t come with any. So I leaned them against my backdrop for the most of this.

Her bating suit is a cute pattern. Lots of little swirls, and some little tentacles and fishes which go with her sea monster theme. 

The ruffle on Lagoona’s shoulder is very cute with a double tier of pink polka dotted teal ruffled fabric with a line of clear red plastic sewn on. My only problem with this design is that I feel like it would look better if the lower side was a little higher, so that the plastic was above her bust. Having the fabric cover her bust there seems a little accidental looking, and initially I thought it was when I was redressing her. It’s not that bad, I just think it would look better that way.

It velcros shut at the back and layers pretty flat. It also has puffy little plastic circles around her thighs. I like those too! They have a lot of character.

Her head accessories are all tied on with plastic bands. A lot of them, actually. Lagoona’s head is hard and filled with glue. it doesn’t turn well and cannot look up or down.

There’s even more on the back. Her glasses don’t really loop around anything, they just sort of stay on her head by pressing against the sides. they’re okay- they’ll definitely stay on for a photograph, but not for much playtime. Her hairband has a peg at the back. It stays pretty solidly pegged in which is nice.

She also comes with a green clear plastic shell shaped purse. It’s made of soft plastic so it opens easily. I think it’s very cute, and usually I would wish for some paint apps, but I am a sucker for clear plastic, especially soft clear plastic and I love it as its. It’s got lots of nice details- the row of pearls at the bottom and for the handle, the little stars (starfish?) where the pearls attacks, and the little ribbings along the shells bumps.

I found her hand a little annoying to get through the bag loop- It was of course very easy to get on by taking her hand off and sliding her wrist through, but the opening is big enough to fit her hand through without taking it off, meaning it can slide off after you’ve put her arm through. I wish it would either be a little bigger of an opening so she could pick it up easier or a little smaller so she could hold it better, instead of just being pretty okay at both. It’s not a major complaint, but it is something I noticed.

I took off her accessories and let her hair down. I was a little annoyed by the gel in her hair. It made it stiff and unpleasant to brush- it was only on the underside, but I didn’t like it. I should probably wash it, but I don’t really feel like doing that right now. Washing hair is a big to do for me.

Other than that, her hair is pretty soft. It’s also layered, so parts of it are shorter than others.

From the front, I think her eyes are a little unfocused. I like her pink-lavendar-blue eyeshadow and I love the little blue highlight under her eye. She also has shimmery eyeshadow below her eyebrows, and those I’m less favourable towards. I don’t know where the purple comes from? The shape is nice but she has yellow and blue hair. So, uh? what? alright.

Her freackles are maybe a little dark. They lightened them for her packaging art and I can kind of see why. Maybe if she had some spots on her nose it would look better. It doesn’t look terrible though. I like her eyeshadow though, the bottom of it looks a little like fishy fin webbing, which is neat. I thought monster high eyes usually had a line-dot style of reflection, but this is two small dots. I like the lines better.

She has very large pink lips and I actually like these. Sometimes the pointy corners of the lipstick doesn’t match the edges of a girl’s lips and it looks weird up close. Lagoona’s looks nice though. Her nose is super small though. small and flat. 

yeesh. and from a profile, her nose looks creepy and alien. Her forehead feels too long and her face is so flat. I don’t like it. #GiveLagoonaANose2K17

It doesn’t look much better at a three quarter profile. Her lips still look nice but her nose just. It all falls apart in the center of her face.

Also, check it out! She has cute little fishy fin ears!

And here she is without her bathing suit. I like her leg fins, but I’m not sure the plastic actually matches the colour of her arm plastic.

I also noticed Lagoona has some information stamped between her upper shoulders. 

Hey! This is my first doll with feet and my third aquatic girl, funnily enough. She has those fashion feet and can’t stand on her own. I wish she could wear flats. :( I understand it’s easier for shoes and for molding and heels are more versatile and all kinds of stuff, but, I just like flats. And I don’t like heels. I get it, I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

And wow, she sure has some detail! her ankle is visible even from the front and all her toes have been molded and shaped. It’s pretty neat, actually- I remember my childhood barbies all had Lumps for feet.

She’s got molded panties, too, with a little checkered diamond pattern. They do this for modesty purposes, which makes sense. 

they do mold their butts, though. Also, Lagoona has a little extra plastic on hers.

Speaking of defects, she also has a little plastic rub on her forearm. You can really see the colour difference between her arm paint and the upper arm plastic here- it’s not very noticeable in real life, but it is in photos.

I really like the detail monster high dolls have in their bodies- she has smooth little collarbones and a belly button and I really think it goes the extra mile. Plain dolls with flat upper chests and tummies look very weird to me in an uncanny valley type way.

Here’s everything she came with! Her bathing suit, her headband, sunglasses, purse, shoes, and towel- which had one white stitch of fabric holding it together I needed to cut.

I wish her towel was wider. She can’t like, wear it like a bath towl, which is unfortunate I think. It’s a nice set piece to lay her on or put i her bag, but, come on, one more inch.

At this point I put her hair up in a ponytail except for the front parts. I think it looks really cute, even with the weird little wave in the middle.

It almost looks like it’s flowing over her shoulders, but, it’s just a very conveniently placed kink. She can hang out like that for awhile until I wanna take more pictures of her.

Next up is Draculaura! I love the pun in her name but I think it’s odd she’s like, the only one with no last name!

It says the same thing as Lagoona’s, except that she’s the daughter of Dracula.

This one has another picture of Venus (wistful sigh) and Lagoona, who I just finished talking about!

Pink is my favourite colour! I love bright bright pink. My hair is that colour, my car is that colour. If they let you buy it in pink I buy it in pink. However I don’t think bright pink and light pink go well together. So I love her hair and her outfit, but, her skin feels off, like it doesn’t really match.

Draculaura also cannot stand. She’s kissing the wall a lil bit.

It looks like she has a sharp face, and I like it. I also love her hair- I love the curly pigtails and while a lot of people hate bangs on dolls? I’m into it.

I think her hair is split nicely- the plugs are crossed so you can’t see her plastic head.

Look how cute her bathing suit is! White and black distressed stripes with hot pink bat outlines and pink ruffles along the thighs and the neck, down past the bust to a hot pink palstic waist bow. I love everything about this swimsuit, 10/10 character appropriate and with a great colour scheme and design.

The back of her swimsuit velcros shut.

She’s wearing hot pink heels with a little ribbon around her ankle and a bow on the toe. There’s a slit on the back I forgot to take a photo of, making it easier to get off her foot, but, her shoe is a little finnicky to get off.

She’s got a very sassy face! I like the shape.

Very pink

very pink.

Draculaura also has molded panties, but I think these are actually dots, not diamonds? My Draculaura has these two blue black dots on her right hip. They won’t come off.

Maybe they are diamonds? I’m not sure. They look a little different from Lagoona’s, but maybe I’m seeing things.

Let’s take a look at your pretty face!

She also has a button nose like Lagoona, but hers is more pronounced and her forehead is shorter. She has thin eyes and very pronounced eyelids and very sharp dark eyelashes. Her eyes are purple and these have the white streaks. She also has medium brown eyebrows, a red heart on her cheek, and bright red lipstick with white fangs. 

You know, I like the shape of everything here but not the colour. Why does she have such large brown eye shadow? Why brown? Brown might go with her light pink skin but certainly not with the otherwise bright pink colour scheme of her hair and her clothes. It’s a little weird and doesn’t match I think. Also, again, with the eyebrows! Why are they brown? I like her lips and her lip colour- usually pink and red don’t go togehter, but it’s okay here.

She has a much nicer profile than Lagoona does. I think this looks fine, but her brown eye makeup could at least be pointy, couldn’t it? I guess not.

She has a nice three quarter profile. 

Here’s everything she came with. Her swimsuit, her shoes (would you wear those to the beach?), her sunglasses, her sunscreen, her totebag, and her towel. I really like her towel- it matches her bathing suit by essentially being the exact opposite of it. Her tote has the same problem Lagoona’s does, though.

I especially like her little sunscreen bottle hehe. The black design is printed directly n so its not a sticker, which is cool. It says “SPF: 500,”Which is super appropriate, because she’s a vampire, hanging out at the beach. Haha.

And there’s Frankie! I think she’s the main character of the line. She’s front and center on the website and she’s in all the movies. I like her personality. Frankie is outgoing and likeable and is always trying to help people and make new friends. I think she’s a very good role model for young girls.

She also came with this cute postcard!

Aw, it’s to Ghoulia. I think this is a really sweet little postcard.

And there she is out of her box!

I took off her sunglasses to turn her around because I found them very cumbersome- they’re shaped like lightning bolts which makes her hair ruffle up around them as they get caught in the corners.

I like her eye focus a lot, she doesn’t look cross eyed like some other dolls do.

I think her bathing suit is really cute and matches her electricity theme well. It’s also a little offbeat with the blue and yellow stripes and the tartan- but it all still looks very cohesive! Her wrap is very annoying to deal with because it keeps sliding up her waist, but it looks really really nice.

It velcros very low on her back and you can see the problem this outfit has. Her shoulder straps came with a plastic band tying them together and I can see why- they will NOT stop slipping down her shoulders. I wish they’d just made it a higher cut back.

Well would ya just LOOK at that sweet face! She’s really been designed to look friendly. A wider button nose and a big round chin and very gentle eyes. I like her lipstick especially- it really really matches everything well. I think her heterochromia is super fun! And I like the bluegreen eyeshadow she’s wearing. She also has the white flecks of light in her eyes and some purplish dots? It doesn’t show up well in her green eye. She’s also got brown eyelashes. Again, I’m confused by this. She has has a little line of frankenstein stitches on her right cheek. They don’t look like the ones on her body, but I can see why- those would probably look very intrusive on her face.

And hey, oh my goodness! She has little earrings that match her neck bolts.

Frankie has a good profile with pouty lips, a nice sized forehead, and a round nose. I think her eye rounds oddly from this angle, but I love her jaw! It makes it look like she has a little babyfat in her cheeks.

The stitches on her neck and body use a reflective silver paint and then a black outline. They are not molded to her body but I actually like them a lot like this and probably prefer them. She also has steel coloured neck bolts!

Her sunglasses are really annoying to mess with but they look really nice. A nice bright blue with electric bolts on the sides. I love clear plastic haha

I also really love her sandles. The paint is a little messy but it’s also fun. She has black wedgish sandals with yellow straps and bright blue buckles.

You can see them a lot better from this angle.

and oh my god! I thought EAH had my favourite hands.... holy cow! Look at them. They’re gentle and delicate.

very soft palms.

and just look at this. it’s beautiful and artistic. It reminds me of a Renaissance painting.

She can actually sit up on her own quite nicely! She doesn’t need any support for that.

But she can’t really bend her knees much.

I was half expecting her to have a secret line of stitches somewhere!

I like her pale green body. It’s not quite mint, but it’s not gross.

Her hips look very weird when you pull them apart though!

Here’s everything she came with! (I realized too later her bathing suit was inside out, sorry) Her bathing suit, her sandals, her wrap, her brush, her sunglasses, her hairband (which I found SUPER difficult to unsnap and open), and her bag. I like her bag, but it doesn’t seem very beachy to me, even though its very detailed and looks good with her.

but you know what the best part of dolls are? Playing with their clothes!

First up, here’s Lagoona in Frankie’s outfit!

And then Lagoona in Draculaura’s!

Draculaura in Frankie’s outfit!

And Draculaura in Lagoona’s outfit!

Frankie in Lagoona’s outfit!

And lastly, Frankie in Draculaura’s outfit!

Aaaand just a few group shots. :)

Final thoughts:

These three dolls cannot stand on their own and all three have very hard heads, though Lagoona’s is the worst. They are not as articulated as some other dolls, but they move well enough for nice photos and fun play, and they have really nice outfits unique to their characters! I think they are fun to play with, but I also think that because they have a beach theme their outfits are simpler than some other dolls and that they have fun colours and shapes and faces and I really enjoy them. I hope I find more at the next Five and Under I stop at!