#it's a very similar color but hand dyed so not completely solid

[buttercupyarnart]

I ripped out the Moonless Pullover I'd started (RIP, the yarn is a great color, too bad it's not fit for purpose) and started a Filigree Tee, designed by Julie Knits in Paris! I'm enjoying working on something small, lightweight, and simple after months of working on a complicated blanket that weighed multiple pounds by the time it was finished. The Blanket of Doom was definitely worth it, but I am beyond glad to be out of Endless Blanket Nightmare Land! Pro tip, don't crochet a worsted weight queen size blanket in summer time. Maybe don't do it at any time, ever. ...maybe I'm a hypocrite who's already considering making another one because there's a super cool pattern I really like.

[maniacwatchestheworld]

The top 10 Two-Face/Harvey Dent looks

So I gathered my sister (@steeltypeloverbecca) and my ex (who doesn't really use social media) and together we ranked every Two-Face/Harvey Dent Look that I could be bothered to get my hands on from best to worst. In total we ranked over 200 Looks (general character designs and outfits). We agreed upon where to rank things between us via our emotions, hearts, and feelings. Here are the top 10 that we agreed upon.

10: Samurai Two-Face from Batman Ninja

What happens when you drop Two-Face into feudal Japan? Why he decides to become a samurai, of course! This one is just a fun Look that plays with the sensibilities of the time period the story takes place in interesting ways. I can't help but to imagine how much of a pain in the ass this outfit would have been to forge for the people in the story lol. But the textures, patterns, and little details in how the two sides of his outfit differ are just great! Huge kudos to the artists who worked on this look! They did a great job! A very fun time travel Look!

9: Classic Look

The original Look for Two-Face (more or less). This outfit is a classic for a reason and it's completely understandable why people continue to bring variations of this Look back over the years. It works! And I feel like the strength of this outfit has greatly contributed to Two-Face's popularity and continued longevity as a character. I had a lot of other pretty similar Looks to this one on the list, but ultimately his shoes on this one really won us over to rank it as high as we did. Solid asymmetrical character design, our boi is looking good, and this Look is simply iconic in a way that is entirely deserving of a top spot.

8: THE MOST BALLERINA Two-Face look from Batman: Masque

So I put 3 of Harvey's Looks from Batman: Masque onto the list overall, and all 3 of them made it into the top 10 Looks. But can you blame us!!!??? This was the WORST of the 3 looks and it is simply fabulous! I know nothing about ballet, but this outfit? Fun, flamboyant, dramatic, and probably historically inspired in a way that I know nothing about! It's a perfect outfit for the stage, and Two-Face just looks so goddamn elegant in it! This outfit is a winner and I love it! And yet it is somehow the worst of the three options!??? Surprising, I know!

7: Ballerina Harvey from Batman: Masque (casual look)

Whoever decided that Harvey should be a ballerina for this loose adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera, but make it Batman was a goddamn genius! We get all of these elegantly dressed Harveys and they are all great Looks in their own right! Here's a casual one, and before his disfiguration at that too! It's always nice to see a more casual Harvey. And this one is a handsome gent! I'm a sucker for the vest look on Harvey, and the green vest and pink cravat are a great combo. Plus those frills? Great Look. Ionic. Fantastic. So congrats to this look for being the best of Harvey's non-disfigured Looks.

6: Classic Turtleneck look from A Lonely Place Of Dying

So you know how I mentioned before that I included a few variations on the classic Look in this list? Well, here was one such look that was actually requested! And how can you improve on a classic look like Two-Face's original look? Simple, really! You simplify it! No patterns on this suit, and instead of a dress shirt, he's wearing a turtleneck. It's simple, casual, and it looks GREAT! Harvey's looking ready for a night out on the town or to do some chill crime! This look feels a bit 70's to me, but it's just a great and solid one overall!

5: Phantom of the Opera but it's ballet w/ dramatic cape from Batman: Masque

And here it is. Peak ballerina Harvey! The best Ballerina!Harvey Look! How can you look at this Look and not immediately fall in love with it! We looked at this and knew. Immediate classic. Immediately iconic! How can we not!? It's just so good! The hat! The cape! The colors! It's simple, elegant, and yet showy and dramatic! This outfit is wonderful in every way and is executed to perfection! It's simply iconic. One hell of a Look! How can we not love it!?

4: DC Legends Two-Face

Just a solid look with great execution. Everything about this outfit works and to a fantastic degree. It's different enough to stand out above many other black and white suit Looks, and the bright reds of the pinstripes, tie, and face give it just a little bit of POP! Not to mention those simply gorgeous eyes! They did more with the black and white suit Look than many bother to do, while also not over complicating it and keeping things simple. It's just incredibly solid and executes on everything it wants to do with a simple sense of style and panache! A simply great look!

3: Glam Rock Two-Face

Now this. THIS is A Look! Imagine my disappointment when I was pointed to the Deathstroke comics for a Look, saw THIS on the cover, only to find out that this is not how Two-Face is actually dressed within its pages AT ALL! This Look is incredible. It's glam rock! It's punk! And it's fantastic! A classy suit and one of the few Looks that pulls off using the color yellow well on one side, and just... The coolest disaster of a look on the other! Harvey looks GREAT in pink (and purple), and people do themselves a disservice when they don't embrace that fact! The bedazzled diamond patterns. What looks like bright and messy paint on his under shirts. The torn and battered quality of that side of the suit. This Look is incredible, I LOVE it! This needs to legitimately be in a comic somewhere sometime and not just tease us on the cover! I love this look so much, I would absolutely want a figurine of this Look! This Look absolutely deserves its place in the top 3 Looks!

2: William Shatner Two-Face from Batman vs. Two-Face

What can I say? We love William Shatner in this household, and a William Shatner Two-Face!? We are all for this! Once again, we have a look that's very much been inspired by Two-Face's classic look. Just a little simplified, and the colors desaturated for the sake of animation and to fit the world and style of the film. But William Shatner as Two-Face? I feel like that casting was simply inspired! The fact that Harvey looks a fair bit like a young William Shatner within the film was just a GREAT decision. Shatner was a good looking guy in his youth, and I think that for a Two-Face look to work, he does need to be handsome on his normal side. Just a great look. And since we love Shatner in this household, we couldn't give him anything less than an S tier rating! S for Shatner!

1: Monochrome suit from Batman: the Animated Series

And to nobody's surprise, our #1 ranked Two-Face look was his design from Batman: the Animated Series. What can we even say about this Look that isn't obvious just from looking at him? This iteration codified the black and white suit and for good reason! This Look is one that is so classic that it somehow beats out the original classic Look in terms of classic Looks that they keep bringing back! It's gorgeously elegant. It's stylish. It's simple. It's classy. It's just perfect, really! We agreed that somehow the Animated Series made Harvey look MORE handsome after his disfiguration than before it! We ranked how Harvey looked before he became Two-Face in the show. He looks kinda weird originally. But here? Oh. He's a handsome devil here! Somehow they managed to make his disfiguration look classy, handsome, and stylish too! Just like his outfit. Everything about this Look and how it's executed just WORKS! Many have tried to replicate its success, to try and adjust this Look to make it something different, but just as good. None have succeeded. We have ranked many a black and white suit look and none are able to quite reach this peak of character design. So of course it had to take the top spot! It's a good Look, we all know it, and of course it beats out all the others! 10/10 fantastic Look!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Black Widow

As many of you may know, I am a huge fan of the MCU. I grew up reading comics and seeing all these superheroes, and it’s interesting to see how they are interpreted on the big screen. Sometimes I love it (Iron Man, Thor: Ragnarok, Infinity War), sometimes I don’t (Thor: The Dark World, Iron Man 2), and sometimes it’s my favorite movie ever made (Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2). The point is, while I’m predisposed to liking these movies, I don’t always, and especially in a post-Endgame world these films really need to try and do something new if they want to grab my attention. There’s only so many times you can watch a guy fight another guy with his same exact powers in an origin story before you say, “Give me something different or get lost,” right? Comic book movies need to be more colorful, more creative, and more weird if they’re going to survive… And I really can’t say Black Widow is any of those things.

Black Widow is yet another film that feels like a holdover from ten years ago, which is at least partly the case. The stories of the racist, sexist Ike Perlmutter are common knowledge now, so it’s not really a huge shock that it took so long to get Widow a starring role in a solo film. With that being said, could they have not tried to make it feel less like a Phase 1 or early Phase 2 Marvel movie? It ends up falling into a lot of the same traps Captain Marvel fell into as a result, at least in regards to feeling way too standard for this late in the game. But, much like that film, there’s still a lot of things to like here.

Just a quick note here before continuing: I’m probably going to be using Captain Marvel as a point of comparison a lot. To be perfectly clear, the reason for this is because both movies feel like leftovers from earlier phases of the MCU being shoved into later phases, and there are actually real-life misogynistic reasons why this ended up happening. I’m not trying to “pit two bad bitches against each other,” I’m not trying to trash talk Captain Marvel (it’s a decent enough movie, I don’t hate it), but both films have a lot of similarities in where they excel and where they fall a bit flat.

Now, why don’t we start with what I liked? The absolute best part of this film is the supporting cast, which is actually very similar to Captain Marvel, complete with said supporting cast completely outshining the lead. Natasha, at least, is a lot more likable than Carol was in her debut and feels far more fleshed out after years of getting to know her, but that does make the supporting cast overshadowing her sting a bit more. This is, most likely, her final appearance after all, and she’s getting sidelined by a bunch of newcomers. Florence Pugh’s Yelena in particular gets a lot of focus and development, and she grows into a really great character by the film’s end, but the absolute best character of all is David Harbour’s Red Guardian. Imagine the world’s most embarrassing dad, except he’s an aggressively Russian super soldier who is so very proud of his adopted children being assassins. He gets a few laughs here and there and even some really sweet moments too; it’s almost enough to wash the taste of Hellboy out of your mouth.

Surprisingly, the action is pretty solid. It’s not the most amazing stuff in the world, but the movie is actually pretty smart about it. Natasha is never put into any situation where she’s at a serious risk of dying, because the movie is aware that you know she’s making it out. The new characters, on the other hand, are constantly put in peril, and it manages to make the action still thrilling and engaging. It’s a clever little screenwriting trick, and even if the action isn’t the best you’ll see, it’s at least watchable and choreographed well enough. The comedy is actually decent here, if only because the four characters cracking jokes the most are established as a (very dysfunctional) family of choice. It felt a lot more natural than most times this sort of quipping happens in MCU films, though one joke where Natasha and Yelena graphically describe their forced sterilization to Red Guardian after he makes the “Is it your time of the month?” comment swings way too far in the opposite direction of Joss Whedon’s disgusting “Being sterilized makes me a monster” bit from Age of Ultron.

By far the best bit, though, is the dinner scene. Kevin Feige had to fight ScarJo and the director to keep this one in, and honestly, it’s a good thing he did. One thing the MCU excels at is when characters stop and have these moments where they bond. Aside from the aforementioned sexist bit, the cabin scene in Age of Ultron is the best moment in the movie. Captain Marvel also has a great scene where Carol, Fury, Talos, and Rambeau all hang out at her house for a night and interact. Moments like these are, I think, what really makes or breaks an MCU movie, and at least here we have some very strong emotional moments, from Yelena starting to crack at Natasha constantly deriding their former family as fake, her cries of “It was real to me” really hitting hard. And then the moment where Red Guardian goes to her, tries to bond with her with a gross story, and then sings to her? It really feels kind of like genuine and familial. It’s such a good sequence, and one far better than any action sequence in the film.

But hey, I did say this was like an early Phase film, and you know what early Phase films in the MCU were known for? Awful villains! And guess what we have here? Awful villains! Here we have the cinematic debut of Taskmaster, the mercenary who can copy any move he sees who is beloved by comics fans! Except here, Taskmaster is reimagined as a mute assassin whose powers come from a computer system in their helmet. They have no personality, no lines, and are a bland retread of the Winter Soldier rather than the more dynamic character Taskmaster is known to be.

What’s worse is their connection to the other villain. The other villain is the man behind the Red Room, who takes little girls and molds them into Widows. A man like this should be utterly evil, reprehensible, and disturbing, and yet the movie decides to turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon villain who is just blatantly and over-the-top misogynist, monologues excessively for his entire time onscreen, and who secretes a pheromone that makes Widows unable to hurt him. Yes, the bad guy has the power to smell bad, which makes this guy an evil smelly misogynist. Captain Marvel had this problem with their main antagonist too, where he was just a straw misogynist with so little going for him otherwise. At least here it’s so embarrassingly stupid you can laugh at it.

What it’s hard to laugh at is the fact that Taskmaster is his daughter. This isn’t bad on its own, but what is bad is how they shoehorn a personal connection to Natasha in. This is, in general, an issue with comic book movie villains; there always has to be a personal connection to the villain, because it raises the stakes and makes the fighting more intense. But if you’re going to do that, you need to implement it well, and this movie does not. Natasha recounts the famous Budapest mission, where she sued Smelly Man’s daughter as bait and blew them both up with a bomb to end the Red Room forever. The big twist in this movie makes Natasha seem incompetent, makes this bomb the least lethal bomb in the world, and robs her of a lot of the moral grayness that would come from a hero who sacrificed one child to save millions more. It kind of cheapens Natasha, if only a little bit, and it certainly doesn’t make Taskmaster any better or more interesting.

The big issue, though, is this: Black Widow’s dead and probably not coming back, so this whole movie is just robbed of a lot of impact just from knowing that. Like what is the point here? We know how her story ends. Everything we see here doesn’t move her forward because we know where she stops. And even with all that said, we’ve seen spy thrillers before. The Winter Soldier already exists, Falcon and the Winter Soldier already exists, so what is this movie doing beyond bringing us a spy thriller with a girl as the lead? It has its good points, but it isn’t doing anything new or interesting, and like I said, if the MCU is going to keep doing it needs to do new and interesting things.

In the end, this movie isn’t really great, nor is it offensively bad. It’s just okay. It’s about agood a spy thriller as a middling James Bond film like Spectre or For Your Eyes Only or From Russia with Love, so if those are your cup of tea you might like this. It’s a perfectly alright Marvel movie that doesn’t really effect anything at all and that just doesn’t feel like it matters. How much you like it is really going to depend on how much you enjoy fun character interactions and family of choice stories, because that stuff shines the strongest, and even then you could be watching Guardians of the Galaxy instead since that film does it so much better than this one.

 I compared this a lot to fellow female-led superhero film Captain Marvel because both movies feel like Phase 1 films shoehorned into later Phases, but another film it could easily be compared to is The Incredible Hulk. Much like that film, this is a perfectly decent, perfectly okay superhero movie with some good bits… but in the end, it doesn’t really matter, it doesn’t really change anything that happens, and it just doesn’t really do enough to justify being there. Black Widow is ultimately just a film that exists, and despite its aspirations never really reaches higher or lower than that.

[admiralrazorbeard]

Razorbeard's (Anatomically Correct) Mouth

I seem to get this question a lot. I have decided to go into detail in the hopes of providing some answers. Yes, here it is. For the first time recorded in history, I present to you my oh so mysterious mouth.

Before we begin with the features, I must make a very important distinction.

With that out of the way...

Robo-Pirates don't have "teeth," we have MASHERS.

Mashers are small metal blocks that can move up and down, firing like pistons. They can fire at rapid speeds and with crushing force. Some mashers have angular tips that can extend when necessary, raising to create sharper points.

While we can still eat normal foods, consuming greases or oils and especially metals are necessary for survival.

But because robot diets mainly include consuming various types of metals our mashers would need to equal or surpass the crushing power of a hydraulic press. (Sidenote:  When I say “robot” for the remainder of this post, I am referring specifically to my own species.  Not all robots in the known Universe.)

These examples are ranked in order of strength, the top being the weakest.

Carbon Fiber

Aluminum

Stainless Steel

Regular Steel (Strongest)

Notice that even the hydraulic press had some trouble completely crushing the strongest material, that being the regular steel.

To give you some perspective on size to strength ratios consider the following...

My mashers happen to be on the smaller side of things. Comparing them to pocket change here gives you a rough estimate of the size of most of my mashers, but even still I have others that are much smaller than that.

My mashers function just as good as any other robot's, and even for their size I would be able to crush up regular steel much more efficiently than the hydraulic press I showed you earlier.

Warning: Do not stick your hands in the robot's mouth.

BONE

Mashers have to be able to tear and chew up metals into small bits in order for them to be burnt down in our stomachs and recycled back into our bodies.

Considering that there are much tougher metals out there in the universe than those you may be familiar with on Earth, I can say with great confidence and ease that even our rudimentary mechanics are far more advanced and powerful than anything known to Earth.

"Salivary" Secretions - Much like humans salivate in order to lubricate food chunks for easy passage down into the digestive system, robot mouths can secrete oils and greases in order to lubricate substances being consumed.

Much of the oils and greases that we consume as a part of our diets are used to keep our internal systems healthy and can also be recycled into different parts of our bodies to help with various processes. The mouth is one such example.

Swallowing Substances - For humans and many other animals the tongue and cheeks work together, moving food between the teeth so it can be chewed. Tongues are then used to help swallow foods.

For robots, once the substances are chewed up and torn apart by our mashers, mashers will then move in a synchronized wave like pattern to move substances to the throat pipe.

Alright. Let's talk about lips. Robot lips aren't the same as human lips. No surprise there. When we say "lips" we are usually referring to the "edge" of something and not a pair of moving, squishy-face-lines.

Lip style can vary between robots, but for me personally, my lips feature a second set of "teeth."

The area seen in the picture above has been magnified to show what these "teeth" look like. These are not mashers, but are small raised points creating serrated edges.

HOWEVER...the black coloration you see on my lips is actually a tar-like substance. Think of something soft and malleable, yet firm.

The best example I have? Eh...

Have you ever stepped on those black lines in the parking lot on a hot summer day and found that they aren't fully solid? That they seem almost squishy?

This stuff. (So scientific. I know.)

This is very similar to the substance that can be seen covering my head and face behind my beard, and also covering the decorations on the sides of my head. You can also see my mouth bottom and lips are covered in this as well.

The malleable property of this substance allows me to create a tight seal when I close my mouth, and, to an extent, I can actually stretch them small amounts at will to cover up my secondary set of teeth or even move them to match the shape of objects entering my mouth.

So in a way, MY lips have some similar properties to a human's lips but only because of the tar substance covering it. And yes, if you're curious I can actually make somewhat of a smile or a frown if I really try, but I'm very limited in these motions.

Fun fact: Robot bodies naturally produce tar and crude oils, however seeing a robot who has this visible on the outside of their body is actually very rare. This tar like substance grows from my face in certain areas and requires constant maintenance. Around my face and eyes it can actually start to droop if left growing for too long without scraping the excess off. As for my decorations if I let it grow for too long all that happens is that they thicken up in size as the layers accumulate. In some photos you may notice that my decorations change in shape or thickness slightly and this is because I can style them in different ways depending on how long I let the tar grow. This is also how I'm able to grow "hair." All it really is, is excess tar growing from the top of my head which I can have styled so it looks nice. ★

Might as well. 

And I can even have it dyed and cured so the color will stain through. My favorite color to dye my decorations is blue, or I leave it black. And as for my hair I either leave it black or dye it red. We even have a salon on the ship for these things but I'll have to tell you more about THAT another time...

That's all for now. Until next time.

× ARB

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

References:  

INCORRECT Photo - Rayman: The Animated Series

Correct Photo - Rayman 2: The Great Escape

Pistons GIF - https://youtu.be/DAgWzvx46J0 

Metal GIFs (1-4) - https://youtu.be/BaSXRoD2xaQ

Bone GIF - https://youtu.be/os98s9kBlOI

Asphalt Crack Sealer 1 - https://images.app.goo.gl/gzWgrrw6AfN3CB7g9

Asphalt Crack Sealer 2 - https://images.app.goo.gl/eZL1GbPuRrXvTRBbA

All other diagrams and images belong to me.  

(Art Created 2/22/2020)

[nsfwsportsanimebabes]

S/O with the best vibes headcanons

Description: can I request kuroo, and the Miya twins w a fem s/o or crush (whichever u want:3) who’s room has just like the most chill vibes, like they have a record player, lots of plants, books, fairy lights, and a cute colour theme that they just adore. Maybe like their first time coming to visit & staying till 2am cause it’s just so welcoming and calm?

Requested: YESSSS OF COURSEEEE🥺🥺🥺 this is so pure and I’m excited to get these hashed out for you🥺🥺🥺 honestly both your admins HARDCORE relate to these vibes. Like we both have these things scattered between our apartments. So you’re really pulling on some great vibes here. I’ll try not to go too overboard 😉☺️

A/N: soooo uhhh. I’m not dead.. lolol. Just kinda reallyyyyy lost any motivation to write for not only this blog, but any writing in general honestly. BUT this blog is still kicking, we do still take requests in, and love seeing them. I plan on doing a few more requests and/or WIPS that motivation comes for. 

Also..I apologize if Osamu’s isn’t the greatest, I did his first and this is the first scenario type post I have done in a longgggggggg time. But regardless hope you all enjoy! ~Admin Crow 💚

Miya Osamu

“and if you push this button on the remote you can totally change the colors to the lights too. Pretty neat right?”

To be honest, Osamu didn’t hear much of your explanation of all the things in your room. Mostly because he was overwhelmed by the pure vibes coming from your room. He was a little surprised that you had invited him over to study. You two hadn’t been dating for very long, so inviting him over to study, in your bedroom no less, had taken him by surprise. But of course curiosity got the best of Samu, so he wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity. Looking around, he noticed the way your lights were set up to give off whatever color you wanted to hit every corner of the room. And how your cute little starter plants overtook your dresser. Candles of specific colors adorned your bookshelf where you had organized them by color to match an obvious theme you were going for. Osamu especially enjoyed the record player that had music softly playing; the record turning slowly to match the music coming out of it. He’d have to investigate your books and records later when you showed him your favorite ones. 

He took in the way your lights had pictures hanging from them, most of them were pictures you had taken with your friends. But he noticed the corner by your bed had ones the two of you had taken together. For some reason Osamu found that really sweet. 

“Samu? Did you here me? Hello, earth to Osamu.” you called out, trying to gain the attention of your boyfriend, who had been staring at your fairy lights after taking in your room for a solid 3 minutes without looking or acknowledging you comments. You were nervous about what his response to your room would be. The way you decorated your room was in a way that really showed who you were, and you didn’t want to just share that with anyone. 

Osamu finally realized you were calling him and turned to look at you with a lazy smile noticing your slightly guarded look and could tell you were waiting for a response. “Come here F/n, there’s no reason to be anxious, I totally think your set up is amazing. Show me more?” 

Miya Atsumu

 “You have so many books F/N! How the hell do you afford all of these!?” Atsumu had never seen so many books outside of a library in his life. The fact that you had two full size, five shelf book shelves in your room side by side. Each bookshelf adorned with rows and stacks of books taking up every possible space that you could cram a book into. 

You rubbed the back of your head blushing slightly “well....I found most of them at bookstores, thrift stores, sales, friends and family who gave them as gifts...” you rambled, not sure what his response would be. 

Atsumu ran to another corner of your room immediately starting to flip through your almost equally impressive stack of records. When you had invited Atsumu over to work on a school paper together, you didn’t know what his thoughts of your room would be. Even though you two had been best friends since you were 6, he had yet to been inside your room. Although your locker at school had a lot of similar vibes as your room, a few mini plants you had snuck into school were on the top shelf, pictures adorning your locker door, and other things gave Atsumu an idea of your inner vibes. 

It was something he really loved about you. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was dying to see what your room looked like. Any chance to get closer to you was really his end goal. I mean, he’s been trying to go over to your place for years to be shot down every time. But the opportunity had finally arrived and you had caved, finally allowing him the opportunity into your private life. 

“Hey F/N, got any secret journals hidden amongst all of these books full of secrets you haven’t shared with me?” he teased going back to the books scattered over your desk. 

Sighing, you sunk into your corner of comfy, plushy bean bag pillows and called for him to join you “Knock it off Tsumu, get over here and sit down so we can work on this paper please?” 

Atsumu took one look at the comfy looking pile before taking three long strides and plopping down onto the one next to you, jostling you and your laptop in the process. “I could really get used to hanging out here F/N. I say we start having movie nights at your place. In fact, let’s just do everything over here from now on.”

“Don’t push your luck there Tsumu.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“can I choose the next record F/N?” 

Looking up from your sketchbook, you noticed your boyfriend looking over at you with a lazy look. To be honest, he looked completely at home, fitting in with the glow of the fairy lights that you had dimmed just enough to allow you guys to see what you were doing. 

Kuroo had been surprised when you suggested doing homework together at your house, since his room was the usual hang out spot, unless you chose to be outside in nice weather. It’s not that he didn’t think you didn’t want him in your room, he was just usually the first to suggest studying over at his place. 

But seeing the way your room just gave off vibes that were purely, you, had Kuroo ready to study and hang out here all the time. He found your room a chill environment, but still productive enough that he wasn’t wasting his time studying. He had particularly enjoyed flipping through your pile of records, and naming off fun facts of all the cute plants you had scattered in perfect places in your room to capture the sunlight. 

You nodded at Kuroo’s question, returning to your sketchbook, immediately getting lost in the drawing you were working on for class again. A few minutes later you recognized the soft melody of your and Kuroo’s favorite song coming from the record player. Suddenly two strong, volleyball and chemistry note taking worn, hands gently took your pencil and sketchbook from you. Setting them down next to you before pulling you to your feet and into your dorky boyfriend’s arms. 

“Tetsu you cannot dance for your life. What are we doing?” you laughed, letting him pull you close and swaying with him. 

“I can’t dance?! Excuse me have you not seen the grace and beauty that I have on the volleyball court? What makes you think I can’t use that to dance with my beautiful girlfriend?” he defended, although you both knew you were right. 

Laughing you took control, despite the obvious difference in sizes between you two, and spun under his arm, enjoying the quick way he caught himself from tripping. Whether the two of you could dance or not, it didn’t matter. Spending this time with Kuroo was like the world had stopped moving around you. If you could spend forever here in his arms in your room forever you certainly would. 

Although it wouldn’t be spent dancing as Kuroo ruined that moment by throwing you over his shoulder and flopping down on your bed deciding it was time for cuddles while enjoying the rest of your album playing your favorite songs. The two of you laughing and sharing special secret moments that would stay inside your four bedroom walls for eternity. 

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 7

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art 

I am both sorry and not sorry. I really wanted to post this part because I think everyone will like it a lot. I hope you guys enjoy it. Of course... I will assure you that the next part is well underway, so you don’t perhaps try to murder me in my sleep when you reach the end.

Like what you see? Check out my MasterList above for more stories! Feel free to BuyMeACoffee for a starving artist, and if you’re interested, DM me for commission prices/details. As always, much love and appreciation for each and every one of you!

Enjoy!

The next few days passed by in such a blur, I hardly even registered them. My mornings would start with a training spar session with Damjan, who peppered in goblinese vulgarities and unsolicited relationship advice, much to my chagrin. Usually this was followed by an hour or two where I was left to my own devices. I had utilized my new charmed eyes and Seoc’s willing company to explore the top levels of the castle, but had promptly decided this was not the best use of my freedom the third time Seoc had to take the lead to bring me back to my quarters. It was during one of these excursions that we brooched the subject of my need for more clothes (Seoc politely alluded to it, for which I was extremely grateful) and it was arranged for a tailor to be commissioned for a few new outfits similar to the ones I had brought. The first was ready within a day, and I found it lovely despite the slight over embellishments of gold thread at the sleeves and collars on even the tunic and trousers as well as the vest and (thankfully) matching jacket. It seemed the tailor couldn’t completely resist their decadent nature (it probably seemed a horribly dull project to them considering their usual customers).

Before noon each day the King would appear, usually still in a sour mood, and we would share a quick meal before he took me along with him to complete his daily tasks. Most of his day to day responsibilities were things like managing disputes, discussing the use of Royal funds, monitoring progress on plans, and receiving reports from various ends of the kingdom. This was accomplished by meeting with various diplomats and members of court. I attended, but did not participate for the most part. They were kind enough to conduct most of the meetings in Common, but occasionally would slip back into goblinese. It turned out the kingdom was much larger than I had ever been led to believe; the portion of the goblin realm that rested under the same mountain as the castle was only its capital city. There were many other smaller cities and hamlets spread out far and wide beneath the mountain range.

By mid to late afternoon, everyone had been seen, and Grier would retire us to his study if he had paperwork to complete with Hibik. It was there that I began my lessons with a stout little old goblin named Sir Ludde. He spoke softly, and I often had to struggle to hear him. But he was very patient and seemed to have a solid grasp of the relationship between Common and goblinese. Our dinner would be brought to us there, and we would eat while we worked. Occasionally, Grier was needed elsewhere in the castle, and would leave me alone to my lessons. Usually he would return just as I finished and escort me back to my rooms for the evening.

I found I enjoyed our time alone. It was not often; the demands of the court kept the King quite busy (more so than usual, I was assured, due to the new Treaty happening to correspond with the harvest). Sometimes even when we found  time to ourselves, we still had more work to do. I with my assignments from Ludde, which were difficult and required almost all of my concentration, and him with his paperwork. On these occasions, I would often look up to find him near me; spread out on the sofa next to me, sitting on the ground by the marble table at my feet. And, as if he could sense my eyes, he would look up and smile. And I would blush profusely and pretend to go back to whatever I had been working on. When we weren’t distracted by something else, he would sit close to me. And talk endlessly about this, that, or the other thing. The subject of our wedding came up more than once, and I tried hard not to squirm too much during the discussions. Although I didn’t share much during these moments, I was surprised to find myself growing accustomed to his presence... which of course, had been the intent.

The next time his responsibilities took him away from the study, I finished up with Ludde alone. I worked on the assignments he left me and penned a new letter to Morgana for Seoc to send out the next day, glancing at the door every few minutes. Those minutes ticked by into hours, and I began to grow restless with an ache forming in my neck.

I sighed, leaning back and blinking a few times. The words on the page had started to blur together; I just wasn’t understanding any of it anymore. I glanced at the door for the millionth time that hour, but same as all the previous, it remained closed. I shifted in the arm chair, glancing over to the dying fire. Wondering just how late it really was. Judging by my pounding head, I was guessing it was pretty late into the night by now.

Even if the hour hadn’t been so deep into the evening, between the clutter of Grier’s study and the strenuous labor of my latest assignment I was surprised I was still awake at all. I looked about quietly, considering the odds and ends and trinkets spread across the room. It wasn’t the first time the thought came to my mind asking if perhaps he had forgotten he had told me to wait here for him… It was seeming more likely with each passing hour.

Perhaps I should leave, and try to navigate back to my rooms. It wasn’t a super appealing thought considering my skill at getting lost. I sighed again, rubbing at my face with one hand. It was no use, I told myself. I wasn’t about to fall asleep on the couch here. I couldn’t stand the idea of being woken like a child to be led back to my chambers. Better that I at least make an attempt. Perhaps I could find a goblin to assist me. Seoc had already retired for the evening as both of us had been under the assumption the King would be returning to escort me back himself. I shifted and looked around one more time. But there would surely be others, despite the hour.

I shuffled my papers and left them in a neat pile on the marble table and blew out the candles I had been reading by. I had done what I could for the rest of the room; organizing and piling and stacking. My goblinese was still limited to the alphabet and a few simple words, so I didn’t dare sort papers too much. But at least there weren’t scarves strewn about haphazardly, nor inkwells and quills all over the place. I had returned books to shelves or otherwise neatly stacked them, had straightened trinkets and moved the candlesticks into a pattern. Tall silver, short gold, short silver, tall gold, and so on. More intentional. It looked better, if I was being honest, despite the explosion of colors and the amount of clutter that remained… I only hoped Grier would agree. I wrung my hands anxiously at the thought he would be irritated that I had changed his private study to meet my own standards… but then, argued an angry little voice, if he hadn’t wanted you to touch anything, he shouldn’t have forgotten you here. He only had himself to blame, I agreed with the voice.

I made my way over to the door, hesitantly tugging it open and peering out into the hallway beyond. Unfortunately, there was not a soul in sight. I would have to venture further to find assistance. I pulled the door closed behind me as quietly as possible. But which way? I glanced both directions, wracking my brain and trying to at least recall the general direction we took whenever we had left his study previously. Right, I supposed, though I wasn’t certain. I sighed tiredly, glancing around one last time before making my way down the hallway in that direction.

I wandered for far too long, until I had a hard time picking up my tired legs. Originally I followed the hall, listening for sounds and hoping to come upon a friendly goblin face. But the castle was quiet, almost eerily so. I grumbled to myself after the fifth empty passage. There should really be guards posted more frequently; I would bring it up later. I decided it was a mistake to leave the study, and turned to try and make my way back. And ended up in an entirely different part of the castle. Or at least, I was pretty sure I had. The statues and decorations were just as eclectic and scattered down these halls, but nothing looked familiar. Had I taken a wrong turn somewhere? I was pretty sure I had only retraced my footsteps… Maybe it was supposed to be a right at the fork behind me. I must have turned left initially.

I suddenly heard footsteps that weren’t mine, and eagerly tilted my head. Relief washing through me. Around the next corner I came upon their source; a narrow shouldered goblin who seemed to be carrying a crate of supplies. They seemed to be struggling actually, balancing two boxes on top of each other.

“Excuse me!” I called lightly, forcing myself to walk over calmly so as not to startle them.

They turned, and scarlet eyes widened in surprise. She (as I could see now that she turned around) quickly put the crates down and dipped her head respectfully. Her dark brown hair was cropped short on one side and braided on the other, and it fell neatly about long flat ears. She had a small nose with a wide base, and when she chanced a peek up at me, I saw dark green speckles on her round cheeks.

“Apologies, forgive me!” I told her. “I… I seem to be a bit lost. Can you direct me to my quarters? Or perhaps back to the King’s study?”

She straightened a little at my words, and her head tilted to the side. “Eto ochen, mo Onsa.” She replied, and her tone sounded apologetic. I felt my cheeks flush a little as she shook her head. “Non tuig shibalon…”

“Ah.. yes, I see.” I tried not to mumble, and carefully kept my disappointment out of my voice. I recognized ‘eto ochen’. ‘I’m sorry’. And I was certain she had said ‘shiba’, though perhaps I was pulling sounds where there were none. I dug through the rest of my limited reserves of goblinese. “Ah… Korol Grier, ah…” I gestured around, then swallowed hard and dropped my hand. “Eto ochen, cara…”

She giggled, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. Bowing low and stammering something quickly. I held up my hands, patting the air before me.

“It’s alright, my fault entirely,” I assured her, and she looked up at me shyly. I tried to soften my look, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded, “I wish I knew a little more… I don’t suppose you can help me?”

The woman tapped her fingers to her lips, a gesture I had come to recognize as the universal sign of a goblin thinking. I waited patiently, hands tucked neatly behind me.

“Tha thu nomerak so’un Korol?” She offered, patting her chest and pointing to me then around the hall. I got the impression she was signing a guiding motion.

I nodded. “Erm, yes… I think. Korol… Grier.” Maybe she knew where he was and could bring me straight to him? Either way, she had said something about the King. And that was better than wandering the halls lost.

She smiled widely, nodding and bounding eagerly on her toes. She glanced over at the crates, patting them and tilting her head to the side. She asked something, gesturing to the crates again, then down the hall.

“Ah, you are… bringing these somewhere? I don’t mind, of course.” I nodded to the crates. “Thank you.”

She glanced at me, then moved to pick up the crates again. I quickly stepped over to help as she staggered under their weight, and took the top one for her. Her eyes went a little wide, and she looked me up and down. Then she smiled, seeming genuinely grateful and wholly awed. I decided that it was a good thing goblins didn’t hide their emotions so well; even if I couldn’t speak with her, I could easily tell what she was thinking.

“Ni pasi, mo Onsa.”

I returned her nod, recognizing her thanks. “Ussta bez.” I replied, and her smile widened. It brought a twinkle to her scarlet eyes.

She jerked her head and led the way down the hall. I followed behind, and our pace was much quicker now that she wasn’t struggling to carry something nearly her own weight. Not far away we came to a short, narrow door, half tucked behind a thick curtain. She waved me to stop, speaking softly, and shouldered it open. It seemed to be a small storage closet, and she walked in, dropping her crate amid some others at the back. She came over and I bent low, passing her mine, which she promptly brought to place with the rest.

She ushered me out, smiling and bobbing excitedly. As the door clicked closed behind her, she nodded and jerked her head. Speaking quickly and happily. She pointed to me, spoke something where the only words I made out again was ‘King’, then led the way down the hall. I followed her, hoping she was actually leading me to Grier, or perhaps his study. I also hoped I had remembered the word for ‘King’ correctly… I wondered if there were any similar words. But she seemed confident, and I was simply grateful not to be wandering alone anymore. The cluttered hallways were a bit ominous by oneself.

“I didn’t get your name,” I told her, keeping my stride short to avoid stepping on her ankles, “Ah...nazain, cara?”

She grinned over her shoulder at me, and spat out a long goblinese sentence. I blinked at her. She chewed her lip, her eyes dancing. “Hausa, mo Onsa.” She amended.

“Hausa?” I echoed, and she nodded excitedly. “That’s a very pretty name… Ni pasi, Hausa… Nazai Nikostratus.”

“Feos, ta non ussta, ussta bez, mo Onsa.” She replied. She stopped, apparently having reached our intended destination, and pointed to a grand doorway beside us. I glanced at it, but it was completely foreign to me. She smiled and nodded. “Nomerak so’un Korol.”

Crap… This was not Grier’s study. Nor, certainly, was it my own rooms. I was positive I had never been to this place before. I looked around, but there was no one else about. No other guards, no servants. Certainly not Hibik or Seoc.

“... Korol Grier?” I asked her tentatively, pointing to the door. 

She nodded, grinning. I resisted the urge to chew at the inside of my cheek. Debating what to do. But she seemed so happy, I couldn’t quite bring myself to try and communicate the fact that… I still had no idea where I was. I tried to keep the embarrassment out of my face.

“Ah, Ni pasi, Hausa.” I told her again, careful to keep my tone polite. Dipping my head to her.

She bounced again, her dark hair bobbing on one side. “Non ussta bez, Onsa… Nee-koh-straw-tus.”  She sounded out my name carefully, then giggled, bowing so low the ends of her hair brushed the carpeted floor. She gave me a little friendly wave, then darted off.

I waited for her to disappear around the corner before I released a heavy sigh. Well… Hausa had insisted that this door had something to do with Grier… so I supposed it would be alright to attempt to check beyond. Maybe she had meant he was in a meeting here? I strained my ears, trying to see if I could hear anything beyond the intricately carved oak doors. I reached out one hand and touched the pattern, scoffing slightly at the inlaid gold and silver. This door certainly seemed like the door that might lead to Grier; it screamed of his overly flamboyant style. I almost laughed at that thought.

I built up my courage and balled my hand into a fist, knocking lightly. There was no answer, and after a few moments, I tried again. Still no answer. Curiously, I tried the handle, and found it gave readily under my touch, unlocked. The door popped open easily despite its size, and I jumped. Before I could catch it, it slowly swung out of my reach. Revealing the room beyond.

It was large, and lavishly decorated. At first I thought it might be a library, or perhaps a visiting sitting room. The walls were almost entirely shelves, filled with books and scrolls and tomes. They seemed to be spilling off the shelves, along scarves, necklaces, and other long string like things that had been stuffed in the crevices between books. A large couch took up the majority of one side of the room, facing a stone fireplace that filled one wall. The couch was short and deep set, and ridiculously plush. There was also a set of armchairs around a small card table, a long narrow table along the back of the couch, and little round pedestals and tables lining the arms. Of course, nothing matched anything else, and again I was grateful that my charmed eyes did not see the color as lavishly in the dark as in candle light. The floor had at least three different carpets piled on it, and everything everywhere was absolutely covered or filled to bursting with stuff. Globes, bowls, vases, chests, jewelry boxes, glass jars, models, maps, parchment, quills, inkwells, jewels, rings, what I was pretty sure was a crown, sextants, astrolabes, and a whole manner of other things I didn’t have a name for nor the time to properly sort from the rest of the clutter. It spilled over the tables and dripped to the floor into piles at their bases, not dirty or filthy but certainly not organized. There was even an armchair filled with discarded clothing, or at least that was what I assumed it was based upon the errant sleeve, pant leg, or collar I could make out amid the jumble.

Despite this, it was not the overwhelming amount of clutter in the room that had me suddenly frozen in place. It was the smell. As soon as the door swung open, it hit me in a wave and made my heart spin in my chest. The soft scent of parchment and candlewax. The lingering tint of woodsmoke. But overlaying everything else, stronger than I had ever smelled it before (save for perhaps one other source) was the scent of sage and Myrrh. And whatever the indiscernible natural scent of his body that I had come to associate with Grier.

“H-Hello?” I called timidly, then quickly cleared my throat and straightened. Walking a more affirmative step forward. “Hello?” I tried again, more formally. “Is anyone here?”

I half expected the King to burst from behind one of the other doors that lead away from the room. I took a few more steps in, looking around slowly. The door swung on its hinges, rolling towards its frame as soon as I had cleared its arch. It moved on its own, and before I could react, it clunked closed. I wondered if it was enchanted. Based upon the other charms and such I had seen so far in the castle, as well as having seen more of Grier’s forgetful nature over the last few days,  it didn’t seem far-fetched. I turned, looking around the room again and giving another quiet call. It seemed this was his foyer, though it was larger than mine, the layout was much the same. Just like the door, I could see his personality abound in each collected bobble and scrap of clutter. The realization that Hausa had assumed when I was looking for the King this was what I meant had me blushing at the edges of my collar. I pulled at my tunic, clearing my throat and looking around carefully. Brushing the thought aside.

I felt strange, standing there, surrounded by not only his things, but the overbearing scent of him. It made my tired head dizzy, as well as other things I briskly ignored, and I shook it quickly. I couldn’t stay here, now that I was certain the rooms were empty. And besides, what if Grier did go back to the study to look for me? If I wasn’t there, would he go to check that I had made it back to my rooms? And when he found those empty as well? I broke into a cold sweat at the thought of alarm bells sounding and a full sweep of the palace and city being conducted for me. I was certain his personal chambers would be one of the last places they checked. And I would be mortified to have caused such a fuss in the first place.

I had made up my mind to leave, and if not wait in the hallway, then to try and find another goblin (perhaps one that spoke Common) when the clunk of the door’s latch dropping had me jumping out of my skin. I spun, eyes shooting wide, flush filling my face.

Relief flooded over top my surprise as I recognized the goblin who stumbled in noisily, and I almost breathed his name out loud. Grier. I started to take a step forward, then stopped. The King hadn’t noticed me, and was staggering about. He knocked over the small side table by the door in his effort to walk over to the assorted pile of clothes on the armchair, and I didn’t need to speak goblinese to know he was heavily cursing in response. My eyebrows shot up as he quickly undid the buttons on his tunic, then loosened the ties and pulled it up over his head. Chucking it to the side.

I took a step back in shock at the sudden sight of his bare torso. His soft, grey-green skin was pulled taut with a healthy vigor over his muscular shoulders and back. I watched it ripple as he moved, digging around the pile of discarded clothes, and my mouth suddenly went quite dry and my pulse ricocheted. My retreat had me bumping into the card table, and I scrambled clumsily to try and catch the candlestick before it toppled over, without success. It crashed to the floor, and Grier spun at the sound.

I thought his eyes might just pop out of his sockets, and he nearly lost his balance entirely at the sight of me. I was certain there would be steam rising from my face, my blood was rushing through it so fast. I straightened so fast my spine protested, squaring my shoulders and trying to look more intentional and confident. And less guilty.

“H-how...H-how??” He finally managed after his mouth flapped uselessly a few times. The goblin tried to cross over to me, but his feet got tangled amid themselves and he barely caught himself on the couch.

I moved without thinking when I saw him stumble. With two quick strides, I was at his side, reaching out as if to catch him. I stopped short, straightening again and rubbing the back of my neck. I realized I was staring a moment later and quickly cleared my throat. Darting my eyes first to the left. Then to the right. Then circumventive around the room. Anywhere but on the shirtless goblin staring up at me with eyes falling out of his head.

“I-I apologize, Your Majesty, I didn’t-”

“Alright, I must have hit my head somewhere.” He mumbled, then slowly straightened himself, swaying slightly. “I lost my balance and passed out. And now I’m dreaming.”

I watched his eyes appraise me unabashed from head to toe. “A-ah, I… I didn’t mean t-to-”

“Or I’m hallucinating.” He amended at my stuttering response. “I felt guilty not going back to get you sooner, and now my conscience has conjured you up in the flesh.”

I didn’t think I could run any hotter. The heat of my cheeks would put a dragon to shame and my ears burned painfully. “N-no, Your Majesty, I’m-”

His hand came out, reaching for mine as if to ascertain the truth of the matter. I jerked away, startled by his movement and nearly squeaked as Grier suddenly toppled forward from over extending himself. I barely had time to react, jumping back towards him as suddenly as I had pulled away and putting my arms out to catch him before he hit the floor. He fell into my chest, and I just barely kept us both upright in my surprise.

We froze like that, and scarlet eyes met mine as Grier slowly craned his neck to look up at me. His fall had him leaning heavily against me, one hand on each arm, his upper torso against my abdomen, his legs haphazardly skewed beneath him. My heart raced a mile a minute in my breast, and I held my breath captive in my throat. Trying not to think too much about the warmth of the skin on the small of his back beneath my palm.

“So…” He breathed. “You really are here…” I watched him blink slowly a few times, confounded. He glanced around, as if not entirely certain where he was, then turned his attention back to me. “What… how did you get here?”

I swallowed hard. “I-I… I was trying to find my way back to my rooms-”

“These are my rooms.” He interrupted, tilting his head to the side. Then he looked around again. “Aren’t they?”

“Y-yes! But, you see, I got lost…” I stammered, then suddenly realized I was still holding him against me. I carefully tried to right him, seeking to put space between us once more to allow my thoughts to have a remote chance of functioning more normally.

“In my rooms?”

“Yes! I-I mean, I mean n-no, I was… I, there was a… a servant. She didn’t speak Common-” He swayed again, but steadied himself with a hand on the back of the couch. I stared at the ground at our feet, trying to completely disregard the wave of intense heat washing through not only my face but the rest of my body as well. “She- ah… there was some… miscommunication I think-”

He laughed, then hiccuped, and I lifted my gaze to look at him in surprise. “Ah well, serendipit-dious then… I was on my way back to you, but I spilled something on my shirt, you see-” He moved to gesture to his torso, then seemed to realize he was in fact shirtless. He blinked stupidly, then looked around. “Ah… I… I meant to change-”

“A-are you alright?” I asked dubiously, somehow managing to get my tongue to work properly in my mouth. I had been so caught up in my own embarrassment I hadn’t realized how much his words were slurred. Not to mention his strange lack of balance.

“Mm?” He was rubbing at the back of his neck, which made his chest muscles flex in a way that had a shiver running down my spine. “Mmm. Oh, ah. Yes, that. This, rather.” He shuffled his feet, then barely caught himself again. “I was… I am afraid I partook in a fair share of liquor with our dear General Damjan…” He laughed lightly again. “The man can drink like a horse, I tell you!”

I stiffened, suddenly praying that perhaps this whole misadventure might be forgotten tomorrow. If only I could make my escape now. “I-I apologize, I would have-”

“Non, halshen Osna mo!” He cried, then stopped, blinking a few times. I stared at him, wide eyed. He gave me a sheepish grin. “Ah… The fault is mine, Nisostraw… Nickosta… My young Prince.” He started to spin quickly on his heel, extending one hand out. “But come! I shall rectify it and escort you to your rooms-”

I had to leap forward to catch him again, hooking my arm under his. I gritted my teeth even as my cheeks throbbed from the blood rushing beneath them. “You are certainly in no state to be going anywhere, Your Majesty.”

He scoffed at me, letting me settle him back on his feet. “Stop calling me that, you handsome fool,” He demanded, trying to push my hands away and nearly losing his balance again in the process, “I am perfectly capable of escorting you to your rooms.”

He began to stride towards the door, purposefully and carefully placing each step before him. “Ah.. Your Majesty-”

“I’m not answering to that!” He called over his shoulder, halfway to the door now.

“Y-your Majesty…” He continued to ignore me. “Grier!” I cried exasperatedly.

Finally he stopped, turning and swaying slightly. A cocky grin on his lips. “Yes, my young Prince?”

I pursed my lips, straightening slowly and fixing my composure as I tucked my hands behind my back. “... You’re still not wearing a shirt.”

“Eh?” He looked down, and his complexion became a little darker. The goblin cleared his throat, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “... Perhaps you have a point.”

“... It’s alright, I-I’ll figure out the way back.” I reassured him.

He nodded, looking a little disappointed. I moved to walk towards the door, trying to decide exactly what I could do, and not fancying a night wandering the halls. Grier turned to address me as I drew closer, and started to topple to the side once more. I just managed to catch him again, my arm scooping out. Our eyes met, and his mischievous grin returned.

“I seem to keep falling for you, my young Prince.” He murmured teasingly.

My breath caught in my throat and my face burned, but I shook my head to hide it. “...I can’t believe you just said that.”

He laughed, his hand lingering on my arm as I got his feet beneath him once again. “I couldn’t resist, it was too perfect.”

I sighed, glancing at the door, then back to him. “I suppose I-I should get you... settled first. Elsewise you might end up spending the night on the floor.”

His grin turned to a small scowl. “I most certainly would not! I am quite capable of taking care of myself!”

I raised one brow at him. “Say my name, then.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Nikostrawn… Nack-we.. Neekohstran…”

I took up his elbow, steering him towards the rear chambers. “Nope. Let’s go.”

I ignored his continued protests as well as his still very distracting bare top half as I led him through the sitting room, then towards the door which corresponded to my own bedroom in my quarters. I opened it experimentally, and was pleased to find it was in fact the sleeping chambers. A large bed overflowing with numerous thick, colorful blankets sat in the middle of the back wall. It had a tall canopy overhead, and long draping curtains sloppily tied to the posts. The rest of the room was equally disheveled and I resisted the urge to sigh as we picked our way across the scattered items spilling from pedestals, tables, and shelves onto the floor.

I let him fall face first onto the bed when we reached it, and heard a muffled groan as he did. I placed my hands on my hips, looking around before noticing a pitcher set nearby with a copper chalice beside it. I picked my way over and raised it to my nose. Sloshing it about and sniffing at it experimentally. I poured a bit into the chalice, turning and making my way back over to him. Confident that while I had no idea how long it had been sitting out, this was at least water of some form or another that had at one point been intended for drinking.

I dodged as a boot whizzed past me, and turned with a small scowl forming on my lips. Grier smirked, shrugging, and seeming pleased to have managed to sit right-side up amid the voluminous sheets and wiggling his now bare toes. He took the offered glass, drinking deeply and peering up at me through pale lashes.

“... If you’re settled now?” I pressed, refilling his cup then setting the pitcher on his nightstand. I briskly turned to make my escape.

“Wait!” He caught my arm, kneeling on the mattress precariously to be nearly at my eye level. I stared at his hand, then studied his face. “My head is still spinning… keep me company a while longer?”

His hand was surprisingly strong despite the amount of alcohol I amassed was swirling through his veins, and he tugged on me insistently. I sighed, shaking my head but too tired to resist and allowed him to pull me a little closer. My flush returned, and my heart thundered in my ears as he settled onto his bottom again and patted the edge of the bed beside him. I considered him one last time, then slowly lowered myself to sit in the indicated space. He pulled one knee up, leaning over it and sipping at his water again.

“You are very kind, my young Prince,” He said, smiling at me coyly, “Especially since I left you waiting… it wasn’t my intent.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands on my lap. “What kept you?”

Grier sighed deeply. “Well, first it was a meeting with Lord Notah, who always wants me to try his latest imports. Then I ran into Damjan, who insisted on playing a card game with me and plying me with copious amounts of alcohol.” He chuckled sheepishly. “I lost track of time.”

I frowned slightly, thinking it over. “Understandable, I’m sure. If I had a better head for the castle, it wouldn’t have been an issue… I wouldn’t need to be led about like a child.” I tried not to sound too bitter about it, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded.

He shook his head. “I think it worked out for the better though, no?” He cleared his throat, thumbing his chalice. “Certainly makes for a story.”

Noticing it was nearly empty, I reached for the pitcher, refilling his cup. I belatedly realized as I returned it that the motion had me reaching across his lap, bringing our bodies perilously close together. I blushed, leaning back and rubbing the back of my neck. Grier took a slow sip of the newly refilled water, eyeing me with a look I couldn’t quite place but that had my stomach flipping.

“... Perhaps we can use this time to speak some more?”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “How do you mean?” I asked dryly, stiffening my jaw warily.

He shifted, chuckling into his cup. “I always have questions about you… how are you finding goblins?” He peered up at me. “Are we very strange to you?”

I thought about that for a moment, rubbing the palm of my hand. “In some ways...”

“What ways are those?” He pressed.

“Ah…” I swallowed hard, hesitant. “... You are very… friendly.”

He laughed. “Friendly? Are humans so cold?”

I shook my head. “Not ‘cold’ per say just… more reserved. More.. subdued.”

“I see. We certainly don’t abide by reserved-ness.” He mused, nodding.

“I-I apologize-”

He waved away my words. “I completely agree. And I find humans equally strange.”

I glanced at him curiously despite myself. “We are?”

He nodded. “Yes! You are an absolute enigma, everything you do is a mystery to me.” He cocked his head to the side. “You also always stand like there is a lance strapped to your spine. Is it so wrong to see that you are actually feeling something?”

I almost laughed, but settled for an embarrassingly casual shrug of my shoulders. “It… I’m not sure…” I looked off to the side. “It was always… frowned upon. Showing emotion… Especially as a Prince…” I stopped, hesitating.

“Why? What’s wrong with having emotions?” I opened my mouth, then closed it. “Just your thoughts.” He reminded me. “No filter. Just speak. Even if you don’t think it makes sense.”

I chewed that over for a minute, frowning slightly. “It’s… it’s seen as a weakness… A lack of control…” I paused again, struggling to understand my life through the eyes of an outsider. I glanced at him, then back down at my hands. “It’s just how it’s always been. You don’t question it…” I rubbed at my palm again. “H-how do goblins see it?”

“Emotions are a part of life,” He replied, leaning over his knee and taking a long sip of his water. “Trying to fight one's emotions would be like trying to control the sea. Sure, during fair weather you might appear be able to, but come the first storm?” He sighed. “Why would humans try to deny such a large part of themselves?”

“It’s... it’s just how it’s always been... We’re not so good at accepting changes…” I mumbled honestly, “Especially things deemed unusual or … different...”

There was silence for a long moment. My neck itched to look up at him, but I couldn’t quite manage. I sighed deeply after a while, straightening and shaking my head.

“It is late. I should be going-”

I stopped short as his hand caught my arm again. “You can hardly be expected to find your rooms on your own. And it’s clear I can’t bring you...” He pointed out, and I stared down at the way his green skin seemed all the more vibrant against my pale sleeve. “Why not just… stay? Besides, I feel like I never get to see you anymore.” He quickly changed the subject as I started to stiffen at his suggestion.

“See me?” I echoed, surprised. “We’ve hardly been apart.”

“Well, yes, but… not alone like this.” He fumbled with his drink, then gave me a lopsided smile. “I had hoped to charm another kiss out of you tonight.”

I swallowed hard, and my eyes dropped back to my lap. “O-Oh….”

My common sense told me to leave. To say good evening and make my way out. What did it matter how late it was, or how unlikely it was that I would ever find my rooms on my own? I couldn’t help the old voice at the back of my mind screaming about how improper it was to be sitting alone with him in his bed… Another part of me… a quieter part, becoming louder by the minute… wanted to see what would happen if I did stay. Perhaps if I hadn’t already been so tired, my will to resist that second voice would have been stronger. Perhaps if I hadn’t felt myself in a heavy fog made of exhaustion and embarrassment, my lifetime of proper etiquette might have won out… As it was...

“... Perhaps I might tell you how handsome you are again,” Grier continued tentatively, when I made no further move to leave, “... And how I can’t stop thinking about the way you kissed me outside your rooms…” I blushed profusely and shifted restlessly. “.... Or maybe I could… perhaps recite you some goblinese poetry? If that’s something you’d like.” He offered, and I felt him roll his thumb up and down my arm. “... And talk about how I dream of the day I won’t have to ask... I will just know exactly what I need to do or say to make you smile.”

I looked at his hand again. As my eyes fell on it, he gently squeezed my arm, then ran it down the length to my own hand. I didn’t even think; my wrist rotated, and he slid his palm over mine. I swallowed hard, trying to force my heart out of my throat and back into my chest where it belonged.

“... Is it working yet?”

“A-ah...I… I-I should…” I stammered uselessly.

I could hear his grin lacing his next words. “Well, I’ve gotten you flustered… That’s a start.” He traced his thin fingers up and down the lines of my palm. “... Can I ask you something?” I nodded numbly. “... Are you scared of me?”

I started slightly, my eyes jumping to his face in confusion. I met his ruby reds, watching me hesitantly. But his question seemed sincere, not teasing. I thought about it for a moment, then looked back at our hands.

“... No. Not… Well… Not of you...” I stopped, swallowing hard again. “I suppose… I am a little afraid of… umm…” He slowly continued to stroke up and down my palm soothingly. “I-I… I am… I am scared of… of… “ I sucked in a tight breath, and found that my hands shook. Grier’s fingers quickly wrapped themselves between mine, squeezing gently. “... Of getting hurt again…”

“... Again?” He breathed. But I pursed my lips, shaking my head. I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t even think about it. He brought our hands to his chest, pressing the back of mine against his heart. “... I won’t hurt you… I can’t hurt you…” I managed to bring my eyes back to his. “Gods above, I-I can’t even begin to express…” His other hand came up, trailing along the collar of my tunic, skimming along the soft underside of my neck. “You are… so wonderfully... wonderful…” He laughed. “I think I got the better end of our bargain.” I shook my head, trying to look away, but he caught my cheek against his palm. “... Stay with me?” 

My breath hitched. “... You’re drunk…”

He shrugged. “And if you try to leave now who knows where you’ll end up…. So just stay… stay here safe with me.”

I glanced over. “Perhaps the couch-”

“Here with me.” He said firmly, then quickly added; “Just to sleep.” After his promise his mischievous grin returned. “I’m far too besotted to try anything untoward… your virtue is safe, my young Prince.”

I choked on a laugh in my throat and shook my head. “I-it’s not exactly appropriate-”

He scoffed, squeezing my hand gently, still clasped to his bare chest. “I am King! I decide what’s ‘appropriate’.” His grin grew. “Besides, it’s not like we’d be crowded.”

I glanced over our shoulders at it, my heart thrumming in my ears, my breath quivering in my throat. “... I’m not sure why you have such a large bed… when you are so small.” I replied dryly.

Grier laughed loudly, rolling to his knees. The motion brought him precariously close, and my eyes widened as he kneeled on the bed next to me. I even had to tilt my head back slightly to look up at him. He skimmed the fingertips of his free hand along the edge of my jaw, the other still trapped against his breast, and I saw his scarlet eyes grow dangerously hot. I felt my blood rush, and tried to reconcile with the face that my tongue was suddenly far too large for my mouth.

“I can assure you... I am anything but small.” 

I nearly knocked him off the bed as I jumped out of it, yanking my hand back from him and stumbling over my own feet as I scrambled to get them beneath me. I spun, facing him as if he might lunge after me, my hands raised defensively. I scrambled back a few steps and nearly fell over one of his boots. The goblin himself barely managed to catch himself at the edge of the bed, and stared at me in surprise as my face lit on fire and my eyes nearly popped out of my skull.

“Y-you...I-I-I don’t, We-ah, y-you, I-I mean uh, I mean-th-that’s not-” I tried unsuccessfully half a dozen times to form a sentence, and found my lips wholly inept for the task. Not to mention my mouth felt drier than a desert, and there was a frustrating large lump in my throat in the shape of my heart. My stomach flipped and twisted and a cold sweat broke out at the back of my neck.

Grier swung his legs out, staggering from the bed himself. Hands up, apologetic crooked smile in place. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to ah… startle you so…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I got a bit carried away with the banter.”

I clamped my mouth shut, cringing and clasping my hands behind my back. Berating myself for my lost composure over a few simple words, but my head spun. I shook it, trying to level myself, yet felt my mind absolutely rioting with the notion. I felt my lips move, felt my tongue form shapes. But as my jaw refused to open, the sounds were chopped off at the source and I merely stood with my eyes darting wildly about. Looking for anything else to focus on other than the goblin standing in front of me.

“Well, while we are on the subject...” He began, putting his hands on his hips and looking me up and down. “What is it with humans and sex?” I nearly squeaked at the word. “Why are you so skittish about even hinting at it?”

I stammered and sputtered, then clamped my mouth shut again. It was no use. My lips and tongue just could not seem to coordinate with each other. I shook my head vehemently, opening my mouth then promptly closing it. Grier looked more amused than annoyed, and his fingers drummed on his hips. It seemed he wasn’t meaning to tease though, and was genuinely asking. I tried to take comfort in that, but found it not particularly possible.

“... Is it because you consider it… unclean perhaps?” He offered, and I swallowed hard. “Or do humans not find the same pleasure in it?” He frowned thoughtfully at that. “I would hope that is not the case.”

I shook my head, felt my mouth drop back open. A few sounds came out, and I cleared my throat. “I-it… it’s just… umm” I shifted and dropped my gaze to the floor. “I-it’s just… n-not… not talked about.”

“But why?” He pressed, taking a few steps closer.

I swallowed hard again, then cleared my throat. Stiffening as he swayed another pace. “We… I … Umm…” I shuffled again, eyes darting about, “It’s … I suppose we… ah… it’s… shameful… I guess…”

“Shameful?” He echoed, sounding confused. “Why?”

“Ah… um… Well, because… ah…” I was almost shaking, but somehow managed to remain on my feet. “It’s… vulgar and… personal… and… because it…. Umm… Feels good…” I dropped into barely above a whisper at the end.

One slender brow raised. “You don’t talk about sex… because it’s shameful to do so… and it’s shameful… because it feels good?” His smile returned. “That makes no sense! What’s wrong with feeling good?”

It was a valid point, and I tried to focus on the philosophy of his question rather than the subject. Even as my mind provided copious amounts of related but very distracting thoughts on the matter. My eyes still darted about, and seeing this he had stopped his approach with a safe few strides still between us. Letting me calm myself once more.

“I-I’m… I’m not sure… Maybe… Maybe because… ah…” I dropped off and reached a shaking hand to rub at the back of my neck. “Well… we make ourselves feel guilty for… for enjoying ourselves… For indulging in… ”

He gave a deep ‘hmmm’ as I dropped off, rubbing at his face. His head tilted to the side, his hair falling wildly about him. “I suppose it would go along with how you never seem willing to be even remotely self-indulgent, and constantly feel the need to apologize for yourself.” I must have flinched because he quickly raised his hands. “It’s ok! I don’t mind… I just hope you realize you don’t have anything to apologize for… Especially if it makes you happy...”

I gave a small nod, settling my eyes off to the side again. We stood quietly for a moment, the tension trailing heavy fingers between us. I didn’t dare check to see if he was staring at me, in case our eyes accidentally met. My face was still flushed hot, and my collar itched from sweat.

“It’s late. I can barely stand anymore…” He said finally, his voice gentle, “If you want to sleep on the couch… I don’t mind… I want you to be comfortable... But…” He hesitated, “I would be happier if you felt safe enough to join me in my bed.” When I glanced at him out the corner of my eye, he gave me a small, wry grin. “I promise I’ll behave myself.”

I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck again, still twitchy. It was late, and I was teetering on the edge of collapse myself. Not to mention the spasms in my chest from our conversation.

“... I’m not sure you’re capable of behaving yourself…” I muttered, perhaps a little grumpier than I intended, shuffling yet again.

His laugh was warming, and I felt a little tension ease with the sound of it. I peeked at him again, and his sharp toothed grin had my heart rate spiking. “Well, if you’d rather, perhaps I should sleep on the couch,” His lips twitched, “... Since I’m smaller.”

A soft, nervous laugh petered from my own lips, shaking and brief. But it made his grin grow even wider. I stiffened, glancing around again. Trying to sort through my own thoughts.

“...That wouldn’t be fair to kick you out of your own bed…” I mumbled.

“So does this mean I’ve convinced you?” He asked, playing for innocence. I lifted my eyes, watching him take a few ungraceful steps back and sit on the edge of the bed again.

“... I should probably just go back to my own rooms…” I replied, though my resolve sounded weak even to my own ears.

His chin bobbed lightly. “Should. Maybe. .. But will you?”

I hesitated again, and he slid back further into the bed, gesturing gently with one hand. I studied it, shifting from foot to foot. He waited patiently. I looked over his shoulder at the bed, and suddenly felt so very heavy and tired. My back ached, and my legs quivered beneath my weight. I blinked, remembering how good it felt to sleep.

My feet moved of their own accord, slowly, haltingly. Carrying me over to the side of the bed. Grier watched quietly as I slipped off my boots and slowly sat on the edge of the mattress. The hair on the back of my neck tingled, feeling his eyes. My fingers felt numb as I clumsily undid the buttons of my vest, then let it slide off.

When I turned, he was sliding back to the head of the far side of the bed. Pushing aside the blankets and shuffling down into them. I swallowed my nerves, scooching back myself and slowly pulling my legs up. I hesitated, my hand pulling at the starch collar of my tunic. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me without my shirt before, a small part of me reasoned. And while my trousers were comfortable enough to sleep in, I would be hard pressed to find a comfortable position with the tunic... My hands came up while my boldness lingered, reaching over my shoulders and tugging the fabric over my head. Goosebumps trailed over my skin as I gently folded the tunic and placed it on the bedside stand. I quietly lay down with my back to him, stiff as a board.

I felt the mattress shift, and turned my head slightly to see him sliding closer out of the corner of my eye just before his hands slowly rolled over the bare skin of my shoulders. I froze, my breath faltering as his warm palms traced lightly down my back, then up. Gently, his hands came up, cupping into the curve of my shoulder and giving a light tug. I obediently rolled to my back, letting out a shuddering sigh as my shoulders hit the soft blankets. Grier’s head was on the pillow next to mine, and I watched him quietly. His hand came to my chin, skimming his fingertips with a feather soft touch along my jaw. Lightly turning it to face him properly as he trailed them over its length, then following the curve of my neck. His fingers rose and fell with the lump in my throat as I swallowed nervously.

I watched his face, even as his scarlet eyes seemed to be tracing over the rest of mine. I watched his attention move down the length of my neck, his fingers mirroring his gaze, then across my collarbone. Coming to a rest on my sternum. His eyes flicked up to meet mine then, and I searched them hesitantly. They were filled with warmth, and a tenderness that made my heart skip. I wondered if he could feel the missed beat beneath his fingertips. He shifted a little closer, and sighed deeply. I could see him slowly relaxing, and somehow… the sight had me relaxing too.

Grier traced his index finger up and down first my sternum, then my collarbone. It was entrancing, and I felt myself relax incrementally more with his soothing touch. His lids drooped lazily, but his eyes remained stubbornly open. Moving from my face to watch my chest rise and fall with whisperingly shy little breaths. I was stuck watching those scarlet eyes, the way he blinked languidly every few minutes, each one a little heavier than the last. I memorized the way his wild strands of wheat hued locks fell haphazardly across his forehead and heavy brow, with a few long strands trickling past his ear and down his neck. I considered the shape of the edge of his jaw, and the relaxed curl of his lips.

I didn’t realize I was staring with my mouth slightly parted until his hand came back up, cupping my chin. I closed my lips, but couldn’t keep my gaze from flicking to his. I turned, rolling onto my side to better face him. He closed the gap left by my movement, leaving only a ghost of space between us. Whenever he breathed his skin brushed against mine, and I shivered at the sensation. His hand trailed back down, over my shoulder, and I moved my arm beneath his touch. Flexing the muscles so that as his hand skimmed its length to mine, I could turn it and feel the pads of his fingers whisper against my own. He glanced down at our hands, then rebounded and traced his way back up my arm to my shoulder. My own hand lingered where he had left it between us, then slowly reached out. Flattening against his own shoulder.

He was so warm… And his skin was firm, with a texture as if almost beveled, but barely discernible. I brushed my palm over the crook of his neck, lingering for a moment with my thumb on the apple of his throat. His eyes closed fully as I continued up, cupping the sharp edge of his jaw against my palm. I stared for a moment, the way his grey-green skin seemed more vibrant against mine, the way my own color seemed warmer… I slid closer, leaning over and running my hand back to bury my fingers in the thick mess of hair at the base of his skull.

He parted his lips slightly as I pressed mine to them, and I relished the faint hint of liquor lingering there. I felt his breath flutter against me, and felt my own eyes droop shut. His hand lingered on my chest, his thumb tracing thoughtfully small circles. I felt his mouth open against mine, and responded in turn, reaching out tentatively with my tongue to dance around the tip of his. I could almost hear the click in his jaw as he opened it more, straining closer, and deeper. I welcomed his tongue, feeling it trace around the inside of my mouth. It was longer than mine, which could barely reach the edge of his front teeth. I lightly flicked it at the points of his incisors, curious, but felt heat growing in my core as his tongue skimmed my molars and the side of my cheeks.

Grier pulled away a little then, his tongue slipping back. I was surprised to find myself following him, unwilling to part yet. Wanting to keep the taste of him longer. His sharp teeth pricked my bottom lip as he bit it gently to still my pursuit and a breathy gasp escaped me before I could catch it. He sprung forward at the sound, like a predator unable to resist the fleeing prey, locking our mouths back together. His hand slid up my chest, scooping the back of my neck and pressing me fervently against him. Suddenly tasting less of liquor and more of hunger, hot and burning in my mouth. And I drank deep of his craving, feeding my own as I slid closer, pressing our bodies together. His arm pinned against the bed came up to catch my neck and hold me against him, freeing his other to roam down to my waist. I could feel the muscles of his arm flex against me as his fingers gripped at my side, then grabbed at the small of my back. His own smaller body writhing against mine.

All too suddenly, he pulled us apart again, shaking himself. I found myself winded and breathy, my eyes reluctantly opening and releasing me from whatever spell I had fallen under.

“I promised I would behave myself.” He breathed, and I nearly leaned in to catch those words directly from his lips with my own.

A shiver ran down my spine as his scarlet eyes flicked up to meet mine. “.... I don’t think you’re doing a good job proving that...”

He laughed lightly, pressing his hand firmly into the small of my back. I barely managed to keep my breath from shuddering with that, and was glad when he rolled it back to the relative safety of my shoulder.

“You can hardly plead innocence.” He murmured, his thumb coming across my lips. “I swear… your lips are like a drug…”

I would have turned away to hide from the implication of his words, but held still beneath his touch for a moment. Letting him trace back and forth over the features of my face. I let my hand trail from the thicket of his hair to his ear, thumbing the gems piercing the cartilage there.

“... Since I’m misbehaving already…” He mused, then straightened, propping himself on one elbow to look down at me. I eyed him warily. “...I’m dying to know. Then I swear I’ll leave you alone for the night.... Have you ever…?”

He let the question hang, and I felt the blood quickly rush to my face as I realized his intent. I shifted, letting my hand slide down to rest on his collarbone. Swallowing hard.

“.... Once.” I mumbled uncomfortably.

He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “...With another man?” I nodded, not meeting his gaze. “... I thought humans…?”

I shook my head. “No… not… not openly.” A shaky sigh evaded my defenses, and I felt him lean a little closer, rubbing his thumb against me gently. “It was… I had thought…”

I dropped off, my voice broken, and he didn’t pry. I felt his lips against my temple, and my eyelids drooped. Feeling strangely comforted by the touch, especially as his hand came up to caress my cheek. I turned into his palm, and breathed in the scent of him. Not that I had lost it once since I had come to his chambers… the place was heavy with his presence. I let myself be completely enveloped in it, closing my eyes again.

“... I’ve had many lovers,” He confessed softly against my ear, “Men and women.”

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

Grier pulled away and I felt him settle back onto the pillow beside me. “... Does it bother you?”

“No.” I didn’t even have to pause to think about that, opening my eyes to meet his.

He studied me for a moment, and saw his lips twitch. “I’m… a little surprised. I thought you might be … off put. Being that I have lain with both...”

“... Would you want to take a... a lover?”

I felt his hand at my cheek tighten, and he vehemently shook his head. “No. Not anymore…” His touch gentled, and his eyes grew softer. “Just you…”

“Then it doesn’t bother me.”

He smiled, running his hand down to trace his thumb along my lips. I watched his scarlet eyes study them for a moment. “... Would you?”

I shook my head, feeling his hand move with it. “... Just you.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “That… makes me very happy…” He shifted, glancing away. “I’ve never… well… I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face… And I’m not the type to just…” He glanced back at me sheepishly, “Suffice it to say, I had those who were willing stay and keep me company for some time. And I enjoyed each relationship… But…” He shifted again, hiding beneath his wild hair. “They’ve never… I have never…” The goblin hesitated, and I waited patiently, curious despite myself. “... This feels different.” He stared at my chest, running his fingertips slowly over the edges of my muscles. “This feels… better.”

I tucked my fingers back into the deep locks of his hair. My head swirled and felt thick with exhaustion. But I nodded back sleepily. “...It does.”

Grier shifted closer, tucking his face against my neck. I would have stiffened in surprise, but could already feel sleep tugging insistently at my senses. And gods, he was just so wonderfully warm…

…..

The knocking roused me. I would have sat bolt upright, but was weighed down by the goblin who had apparently entangled himself with me. His arms wrapped as far around me as they could reach, his legs folded and half tucked between mine. Curled to bury his head deep into my torso. I stared at him in shock, trying to get my bearings, then jumped as the knocking sounded again.

“Your- ah…. G-Grier,” I hissed softly, not quite sure what to do with my hands now that I was awake and letting them extend awkwardly out in front of me. The knock came again, and I craned my neck as if I would be able to see who was at the door. “Grier!” I said, more insistently.

A grumble answered me, and to my horror the King merely burrowed deeper against my bare chest. I almost sighed exasperatedly, but jumped in a near panic as the knock came again. Sounding much more urgent this time. My face burned at the thought of being discovered like this; entangled in the bedsheets with … well, he was my betrothed. By human standards, it would be outright scandalous. But… I wasn’t sure if the goblins would care… or if I did anymore, for that matter...

At the fifth knock, louder than the previous, I could stand it no more. I untangled myself from Grier, pushing his hands away as he tried to wrap himself back around me. Like prickle vines, where you free yourself from one and find another attached. As soon as I managed to mostly free myself though, he gave another grumbling sound and rolled back over. Embedding his face into the pillows. I shook my head, scrambling to my feet and over to the foyer. Nearly tripping over his clutter as I did. I scowled at it, glancing back over my shoulder. But the King seemed unperturbed by the final knock, nor by my escape from his clutches. Blissfully unaware and happily burrowed into his bed.

I hesitated momentarily with my hand on the door. Debated simply hiding somewhere and hoping whomever was on the other side knew the King well enough to either give up or just enter. And then hopefully I would remain unnoticed and be able to sneak back to my chambers… I sighed, shaking my head. Yanking the door open before I could lose my nerve.

If Hibik was surprised that I was the one who answered the door, he did a good job of hiding it. He gave me a quick polite bow, and I carefully kept my torso screened by the door.

“Your Highness, there are visitors waiting on the main floor.”

I blinked, a bit confused. “For Gri-Ah, I mean, the King?”

He shook his head, glancing nervously about. “For both of you… They are emissaries of the human court.”

I stiffened, my mind suddenly racing. Emissaries? Here? I had received no word… It was highly unorthodox for us to send people unannounced. Unless.. unless there was some sort of emergency, where there was no time to send word ahead...

“Did they say why?”

He shook his head. “No, Your Highness. They would speak only with you and the King.”

Dread filled my chest, and I nodded to him in a daze. My head spun like a top and numbness was tingling at the ends of my extremities. I glanced over my shoulder. Debating if I had time to go back to my chambers. It pained me that the first thought was not to run to speak with them, but to compose myself. Lest my people think less of me. I was forced to make myself presentable before I could deal with whatever urgent business they had. I gritted my teeth at the ridiculousness of it, my stomach somersaulting as the possibilities raced through my head.

“Send Seoc with some fresh clothes for me, if you please, then see to our guests,” I told him, my voice tight, “I’ll… try to wake the King.”

Hibik gave me a sympathetic look. “Yes, Your Highness. Of course.” He bowed his head, then darted off.

I closed the door behind him, a cloud settling around my head and nerves wrapping tighter around my stomach. After a delayed moment, I turned and picked my way back to the bedroom.

“...Your Majesty?” I called, lingering in the doorway. Suddenly almost afraid to pass the threshold. But he didn’t answer. “... Grier.” I tried, a little louder.

A grunt this time. I waited, thinking there would be more. When nothing followed, I gritted my teeth, and forced myself across the room. Still in a haze. I stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at his bare back, half buried in the blankets.

“Y-....G-Grier.” I said again. When he didn’t answer, I even went so far as to reach out and touch his shoulder lightly. “Grier… There are emissaries here to see us.”

He shifted, and I stepped back, thinking he was about to sit up. But he just rolled a little, then heaved a sigh and settled into the mattress again. I pushed his shoulder more forcefully, starting to get a little frustrated. And more than a little apprehensive. My thoughts still racing, my heart thundering in my ears. He grunted, and even swatted my hand away.

“Gr-”

“I don’t care. Tell them to come back later.” His grumpy voice was thick with sleep and muffled beneath the pillows.

My hands were shaking now, and I shoved him again. “Grier!” I demanded, and cut myself short when I choked over the end of his name.

Red eyes emerged sharply from somewhere amid the blankets at the break in my voice, eyebrows arched above. I must have forgotten to clear the emotion threatening to swallow me from my face, because whatever he saw there had him quickly sitting up. My mouth opened to speak, but even before I could he was before me. Kneeling at the edge of the bed and cupping my face in his palms.

“What’s the matter??” 

The surprise and alarm in his voice hurt, breaking my composure even more, and I brought shaking hands up to catch his wrists. If I had thought to pull his hands away, I would have struggled; he kept his grip like iron, though somehow still gentle. I found I didn’t have the strength to remove them anyways; emotionally or physically. I would have shook my head, but he held me still. My lips flapped uselessly for a second and I looked everywhere but his face.

“... The emissaries are from the human court.” I told him, and knew more than a little of my distress leaked into my tone. I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw. I looked down, trying to shake my head again but captured by his strong hands. “... They didn’t send word… Something… Something must be wrong-”

“Ok. It’s ok.” He ran his thumbs under my eyes, and I finally dared to look up at him. The sight of his scarlet eyes, warm and comforting, soothed me, and I managed to take a shuddering breath. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Ok? We’ll be alright.”

I was beginning to shake in my rising panic. “... Do you think... What if something… “ My voice broke again. My lips moved, trying to find the words I didn’t have the strength to speak.

Grier rested his forehead against mine, and I felt his breath splash against my cheeks. “Morgana is fine.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to swallow my heart before it choked me. “I’m sure of it. Everything will be fine.”

“I should have kept her with me.” I snapped, anger mixing with my fear. “I should have brought her here, damn that bloody…” I stopped, letting out a sharp breath. “I swear… if anything happened to her…”

He shook his head. “We’ll bring her here.” He promised. “We’ll keep her safe. But this may not be about her.” He rubbed his palm gently against my jaw. “Let’s see why they are here. Then we’ll go from there, ok?”

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. Feeling my panic begin to subside. “Y-you’re right… I’m sorry I-I-”

“Don’t apologize.” He ordered, sitting back on his ankles. “I’m here for you. In whatever capacity you need me.” A teasing smile split his lips. “Even if it is too damn early.”

I was too anxious to laugh, but felt a little better for his words. I jumped at the light knock at the door. “That’ll be Seoc; I sent for some fresh clothes.”

Grier nodded. “Let me get dressed too. Then we’ll go see what they want.”

I returned his nod, composing myself and striding quickly over to the door. Within the half hour, we were both dressed and following Seoc down to the lower levels. I fretted with the hem of my vest, tugging it straight more than once as we moved. Impatient and anxious but carefully building up the steel mask and stiff shoulders. I noticed Grier shooting me looks out the corners of his eyes, but couldn’t bear to return one. One emotional upheaval at a time, I reasoned. I felt numb, as if I was walking through a dizzying fog, and none of this was real. Dread dug cold fingers into my spine, dragging me down.

Hibik was waiting, and opened the door ahead of us, bowing low as we passed then pulling it closed. I stiffened as the latch clunked, resisting the urge to scowl at the sight that greeted me in the small private side room off the main hall. It certainly didn’t lessen the tension in my spine.

“Sir Gareth.” I greeted him flatly as he turned to face me, a small scowl on his own face. And was for once pleased that formalities required a cold edge. “And by whose authority do you dare come unannounced-”

“By mine.” Came another voice, deep and powerful, from the second occupant of the room who had his cowl pulled low to obscure his face where he sat by the fire.

I almost took a step back, barely managing to keep my eyes from widening in surprise at the familiar voice as the man stood. He swept his hood back, revealing fair skin and neatly short-cropped gold-blonde hair set atop a squared face. His gaze flicked to Grier briefly before meeting mine. And it was my own eyes that stared back at me, or more… our father’s eyes.

“Crown Prince Valerianus...” I breathed, forgetting myself for a moment in my shock.

My older brother nodded to me tightly. “Prince Nikostratus.” His brow became dark, and he squared his shoulders, tucking his hands behind his back. “... We need to talk.”

....

UPDATE: Part eight is HERE

[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars in Your Eyes

THIS IS PART 2 OF TO THE MOON AND BACK

Part 2: Chapter 1 Part 2: Chapter 2

A/N: I’m thinking of starting a one-shot “series” based off of songs, send me a message with any songs you want to see!

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 4,898

9/30/2015

A string of murders across the country led Hotch to tell Rossi and Morgan to fly out to Seattle to investigate. The victims had peculiar face paint when they were found.

Reid was at his desk reading books insanely fast when you both noticed Hotch and Garcia enter the bullpen. He gave you a look telling you to follow him. You both stood from your desks and made your way to the conference room.

“Is it the same unsub?” you asked as you and Reid rushed in.

Rossi was looking over some files when you entered, “yeah.”

“Two murders on two coasts in two days,” Morgan flipped the pages in front of him. “This guy is on a mission and he’s not going to rest until he completes it.

Hotch entered on the tail-end of Morgan’s thought, “neither will we.”

“But we’re still down two profilers,” Garcia looked around the room with a sour look on her face. JJ was on maternity leave and Kate quit.

“Our six brains against his one,” Rossi pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Everyone take a few minutes to review the case and we'll meet back in 20 minutes,” Hotch grabbed one of the files from the table and left. The rest of you followed in his footsteps, grabbing files and leaving the room.

Reid went to sit at his desk and you sat on the floor next to it. For some reason, you always worked better on the floor than at a desk. The twenty minutes flew by and you all returned to the conference room.

“We know for a fact that victim number one was bound and gagged,” Morgan read a page of the file, “but it doesn’t look like number two was.”

“Windows in both residences were tampered with,” Reid noted.

“So he knows how to get in and out undetected,” you finished his thought for him.

Garcia piped up, “ok, so that’s impressive because aluminum foil is super crinkly.” The team looked at each other with different looks of confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m not a profiler, I’m trying my best.”

“No, it’s a fair point,” Rossi leaned forward in his chair. “He snuck up on a tweaker who probably hadn't slept in a couple of days.”

“M.O. said this guy is good at hunting,” you leaned back in your chair.

Hotch flipped through the pages with a confused look on his face, “Cause of death?”

“Cardiac arrest, but Dr. Mertz in the crime lab can’t pin down how,” Morgan sighed and rested his face in his hands.

“He might hide it under the face paint,” you held your hand out to Reid under the table. “What we’re assuming is a ritual might be a forensic countermeasure,” Reid interlocked his fingers with yours.

“What do we know about the face paint?” Rossi asked.

“Traditional greasepaint used by clowns,” Reid like to talk with his hands so he had to let go of yours, “but, applied to resemble a Pulcinella.”

Garcia pulled her phone out, “ok, I totally know what that is, but I’m going to google it in case someone doesn’t.”

“Sorry,” Reid leaned forward. “The clown archetype that we recognize today actually dates back to a 16th-century stage tradition called commedia dell’arte, where actors wore masks to resemble their characters. The Pulcinella was a trickster character, usually without a voice. He used a horn to make funny noises.”

“Maybe the victims tricked him, and he’s remaking them in death how e saw them in life,” Rossi added.

“So this is a vendetta by the unsub and not a compulsion,” Hotch’s phone started to ring as he finished his sentence.

“It’s gonna make this guy really hard to profile,” you sighed.

Hotch picked up his phone, “Alright, Dave, keep working on victimology. Morgan, stay on the M.O. Reid and Y/N, dig deeper into the ritual. I’ll be right back.” He stood from the table and left the room. You figured he had to talk to some of the applicants to replace Kate.

The group of you left the room. Morgan headed to the crime lab. You grabbed a map from down the hall for Reid to work on. When you wheeled it back into t bullpen Rossi and Reid were already hard at work.

“Thank you,” Reid gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing a marker. Rossi stood up and opened the file in his hand, “well this doesn’t clear up much. Vic number one was a divorced dad who got custody of his kids.”

“And two was the local drug supplier,” Reid paced in front of the whiteboard.

“What connects these guys?” You sat on Reid’s desk.

Rossi sighed, “nothing.”

“And we would never have made the connection if it weren’t for the face paint,” Reid looked incredibly confused. “Which begs the question, why do it at all?”

“To taunt us, feel superior,” you added.

“It’s obviously a message,” Spence started to rummage around his desk. “My assumption is has something to do with the mouth.” He picked up the book that was next to you and flipped to a seemingly random page. “Look at this,” he showed Rossi a picture from the book, “the colors of the Pulcinella are oddly inverted. Traditionally the character has a black face and a white jaw, he’s painting it the other way around.”

“You said that this character was the precursor to today’s clown because he couldn’t speak, right?” you hopped off the desk and stood next to him.

“Yeah that’s right,” he glanced at you.

“So he was also the first mime, too,” you pointed at a few of the pictures of the board.

Reid turned to look at you, “very much so, which means he himself might have an injury to the jaw.”

Morgan came into the room and joined the three of you, “our unsub can’t eat solid food.”

“How do you know?” you turned to him with a look of confusion.

“Dr. Mertz found a nutritional supplement in the stomachs of the victims,” he pointed to the board, “what have you guys figured out?”

“Y/N, can you get Hotch and Garcia, I think I know what’s happening,” Reid grabbed a few papers and books from his desk and went to the conference room.

You did as he asked and got Hotch and Garcia to go to the conference room. When they got there Reid was standing at the front of the room while Morgan and Rossi were sitting.

“What is it, Reid?” Hotch sat down in the chair next to Reid.

“The unsub has a feeding port in his stomach,” he said such a gross sentence very nonchalantly.

“He has a feeding port in his stomach?” Garcia looked disgusted.

“The nutritional supplement that Dr. Mertz found in both victims would be ideal for someone who couldn’t eat normally,” he was very cute when he talked with his hands. “So if the unsub sustained an injury to the jaw, it would also suggest that he is unable to speak.”

“Hence the Pulcinella mask,” Rossi leaned back in his chair. “It’s his way of communicating.”

Garcia was listening very intently, “what is he trying to say?”

“Well let’s work our way back to that based on what we know,” Morgan picked up the file in front of him. “We know this guy travels thousands of miles in two days. So he probably doesn’t sleep. He’s able to sneak into a suburban house or a drug den undetected. He overwhelms his victims silently and then injects them, and then as they lay there dying over the course of an hour, he simply sits over them and leaves them a highly symbolic message, but it’s a precise message. His victims are seizing up right in front of him, but this guy does not miss a brushstroke. This is a man who’s been around death before. It doesn’t faze him. Who else would leave this type of message?”

“Drug cartels,” Reid’s face lit up. “Cutting the tongues out of snitches and the hands off of thieves.”

“The mafia,” Rossi leaned back, “sleeping with the fishes and all that.”

“Oh my god,” you picked up your file, “he’s a hitman,” the team shot you confused looks. “Think about it only a contract killer could be this good.”

Morgan nodded, “his message isn’t for us, it’s for his customers.” With this final revelation, everyone sighed.

There was a knock at the door behind you. You turned around to see Anderson standing with a file in his hand, “Sir, they discovered a new body.”

“Thank you, Anderson,” Hotch followed Anderson out of the room.

You leaned back in your chair, “do you guys want to go get lunch?” Everyone agreed except for Garcia who had to help dig up for information on the newest victim.

Once Garcia left you all quickly decided on a restaurant and piled into your car. You got to the restaurant and enjoyed an incredibly normal meal for your insane life. Rossi paid and you all made your way back to the BAU. As you pulled in Rossi got a call from Hotch saying that we are ready to give the profile. The four of you made your way upstairs and to the bullpen. Hotch got you caught up on the new information. The group of prospective agents was called in and you all prepared to deliver the profile.

“The unsub that we're looking for is a contract killer who is doubling back to kill his former customers,” Morgan started. “This man is highly skilled and well-trained. Under no circumstances should he be engaged without back-up.”

“So is this a case of organized crime tying up loose ends?” one of the agents asked.

“Organized crime's got nothing to do with this, at least not in the traditional sense,” Rossi warned

You could see the gears turning in Reid’s head, “in 2013, the Bureau took down the Silk Road network. Our initial assumption was that it was an encrypted online market for illegal drugs, which it was, but upon further inspection, we were stunned at the breadth of goods and services being traded online. Weapons, child porn, even hitmen.”

“And the payment scheme was escrow based, in which the buyer would put down half as a deposit and the other half when the seller delivered,” you clarified. “We've now confirmed that all 3 victims hired the unsub over the past year through a similar escrow system.”

“So why is he killing his old clients?” the same recruit asked.

“Hitmen

don't leave a message unless you pay them to,” Rossi always had an answer. “The exception is to leave a warning for customers or competitors.”

“This unsub suffered some sort of injury to his jaw or voice, most likely as a result of something these customers did,” Reid said. “The Pulcinella mask is his statement on revenge and justice-- betray the oath between customer and contractor and you pay the price.”

“Now, normally a man with this kind of defect would attract attention,” Morgan started. “The fact that he hasn't indicates that he has deep pockets and a network of resources at his disposal.”

“Share this profile with your local divisions and with law enforcement. Search for escrow payments to match the unsub to his clients. One of those clients will be his next target. Thank you,” Hotch finished. With that, all of the starry-eyed recruits fled from the bullpen.

Morgan and Garcia fled the room as well, leaving you and Reid to fend for your selves. The two of you sat at your desks for an hour without saying a word. You eventually got up from your desk and went to sit by him. You sat on the floor and rested your head on his lap. He used one hand to flip through the pages of his book and the other to pet your hair. You felt your eyes starting to close when Morgan and Garcia frantically ran into the room.

“We found the next victim,” Morgan held up a piece of paper. Hotch and Rossi came down from their offices, you and Reid both stood up and went to meet them.

“Name and location?” Hotch said as the five of you rushed to the elevator.

Garcia waved her phone at you, “already sent.”

The doors of the elevator closed on a smiling Garcia. You all quickly jumped into your SUV’s and drove to the beat-up garage in Baltimore. Hotch told you that there wasn’t going to be much time to get ready hen you got there, so you had to get your vests on now. Reid and Morgan put theirs on while you kept your eyes on the road. When they were done, Reid helped you squeeze into yours while keeping at least one hand on the wheel.

You pulled into a parking lot with ten cop cars and two SWAT units. Morgan quickly sought out the SWAT team captain to coordinate your entry “how do you want to do this captain?” You all shook the captain’s hand.

“We’ll breach and clear,” he pointed to the building behind him. “When it’s locked down, the site is yours. Sound good?”

You all nodded in agreement. The captain started to walk back toward his team and you all followed, drawing your weapons. The SWAT team threw the doors to the garage open and worked there way inside, “Police!” one of them yelled.

“Don’t shoot, do not shoot,” a voice called out from behind a car.

The captain found the car and raised his weapon, “come out with your hands up!”

“That’s gonna be real hard, real hard,” the voice yelled. “Look!”

You were the first to go around the car to see what was happening, “Morgan, get everyone out of here,” you holstered your gun and looked back at Morgan with a worried look on your face.

“What is it?” Reid furrowed his brow and moved closer to you. “Grenade!” he shouted when he finally saw what you were staring at.

The SWAT team started to yell at him to drop it but he yelled that he couldn’t.

“Put your weapons down!” Reid lowered his gun and approached him, “you mean that literally, you literally can’t drop it.”

“Yeah,” his temper was short.

“What’d he use? What’d he use?” Morgan repeated with more ferocity each time.

The man nodded his head toward the cart next to him, “over there.”

“It’s dried and set,” Reid was holding the man’s hands in his own, “he glued over the pin-hole.”

“Do you have any acetone?” you knelt down at his side to examine it yourself.

“That won’t work, that won’t work,” the victim kept repeating this to Reid over and over.

Morgan picked up the bottle the man gestured to, “Y/N, he’s right. It’s an industrial acrylic. It holds car parts together.” The SWAT team was leaving to set up a perimeter but you four were going to stay.

“Look, you gotta do something, ok?” the man kept pushing his hands closer to you.

You tried your best to stay as calm as possible, “we’re going to do everything we can.” Reid was frantically looking around for a solution.

“My hand is cramping, just do something, all right?” the man yelled at you this time.

“Y/N, four cars,” Reid was still looking around the room.

“Each car has a battery, right?” you stood up and looked at him. “Each battery has an electrolyte solution of 62% water, 38% sulfuric acid.”

“Y/N, that won’t work,” Morgan sighed.

“Why not?” Rossi was definitely confused at this point.

“Because the acrylic will still stay bonded to the metal,” Morgan grabbed the man’s hands to help keep them still.

“Absolutely true, but it will also create a saponification effect on his flesh,” Reid explained. “The grenade will literally slide out of his hand like a wet bar of soap.”

“Of course, there will be an intense burning sensation on the skin, and the smell will be horrendous,” you pointed out.

“You can't--you're not burning my hands! You're not gonna do it!” he shouted \.

Stay still!” Morgan shouted back

“Hey, listen, pal. We have two geniuses working to save you so just shut up,” Rossi said sternly.

Reid ran to find a turkey baster and quickly got some of the solution from the batteries. You, Morgan, and Rossi all put on gloves to protect your hands.

“Sit down,” Morgan snapped at the man.

“This is gonna hurt, but you'll survive. Is everybody ready?” Reid came to meet you with the solution.

“Yeah,” you were the one tasked with grabbing the grenade as it slid out of his hands. “Just watch your aim. All right, my hand's on the lever.” Reid started to dispense the solution on his hands. It was difficult to listen to the man screaming, but you knew it was for the best. After a while, the man’s hands detached from the grenade and it slid right into your hands, “I’ve got it,” you shouted.

Morgan wrapped his hands in a towel and tried to soak up the acid, “Are we safe Rossi?”

Rossi examined the miniature bomb in your hands, “yeah the lever’s st-” he paused, then you heard it. The click that it was armed. “Run!” Rossi shouted.

Your instincts took over, you threw the grenade as far as you could and high tailed it out of there. Right as you ran through the door you heard the explosion. The five of you ducked behind a police car and covered your heads.

“You guys ok? Anyone hurt?” Reid asked as everything settled down. “You ok?” he asked while wrapping you in a hug.

“I’m fine,” your breathing was heavy but that you were fine.

Rossi grabbed the man you just saved from being blown up and shoved him in the back of a police car. The rest of you hopped into your SUV and headed back to Quantico. Morgan grabbed the ‘victim’ and dragged him to an interrogation room.

Before you went to your desk, you took a trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit. You were splashing some of the cold water onto your skin when you saw Reid walk in.

“Are you okay?” he had worry in his eyes and on his face.

You turned around and leaned against the sink, “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’m not,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I don’t want to live without you.”

“You’ll never have to,” he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that for well over an hour. Morgan texted you to come to the bullpen right away. You cleaned up your tears, grabbed Reid’s hand, and made your exit.

“Ok, so, a week ago, this guy stumbles into the Atlantic City E.R.,  having been shot in the jaw,” Garcia started as you walked into the bullpen. “Can't give them his name 'cause of the whole shot in the mouth thing. But his fingerprints lit up the Rome police database like a Christmas tree.” “Italian,” Rossi interjected. “That explains the pulcinella influence.”

“Yeah. They were able to get a name-- Giuseppe Montolo, but by the time Jersey P.D. got there, Montolo had been patched up and made his escape,” Garcia finished.

“And now he's on some type of payback gig,” Morgan started. “He has no idea who double-crossed him, so now he's killing every customer that he suspects might have done it.”

“I tried to use Al's username and password to flush out other clients, but they don’t call it the Darknet for nothing,” Garcia seemed distraught that she couldn’t anything.

“Then we let it go,” you chimed. “We're not going to catch him that way.”

“What other way is there?” Garcia asked.

“Montolo changed his M.O. drastically with the last victim,” Hotch pointed out. “He went from up close and personal to collateral damage. Al blows himself up or we kill him. Either way, it's a win-win.”

“If he made that dramatic a shift, it was a mistake,” Reid noted. “That's how we catch him.”

“All right, then let's do this old school,” Rossi stood from his seat. “Morgan, you took Al’s confession. Walk us through it like you're the unsub.”

“I got my victim on the ground, and I have the syringe in my hand,” Morgan started to walk around the room. “I have total control over him. This is my moment. I'm gonna make him pay for what he did. But Al said he got a text. I don't like what I see. Now I have to change my plan. What was on that text?”

“Someone tipped him off,” you shook your head. “He wouldn't deviate that much otherwise.”

“But that would mean that,” Garcia paused.

Hotch nodded, “we have a mole.”

“There's a lot of new faces around here want to join the BAU,” Rossi looked around the room at the people hanging around.

“I don't think it's a federal agent,” Reid narrowed his eyebrows. “I think it's someone in local law enforcement.”

“Based on what?” you turned to face him.

“The clock,” Reid pointed to a clock hanging on the wall across from him. “According to Al, the unsub left 5 minutes before we showed up. That's a narrow window. Too narrow for him to wait around for an embolism, but he had to figure out a way to deal with his last victim. Montolo changed his M.O. at the last moment because he learned about us at the last moment.”

“So the last on to hear the cavalry was coming is the Judas,” Rossi nodded. “That means a local cop.”

“Or SWAT. You said Wilson pulled his men off the scene?” Hotch asked.

“He said he wanted to box the unsub in,” Rossi reminded. “But maybe he really wanted to ensure he got out.”

“We profiled that the unsub would have support and resources,” you pointed out. “An ally in SWAT would give him both.”

Morgan sighed, “we go after a captain, we need more than a profile, we need proof.”

“The security perimeter they set up, they would have recorded every license plate-- Garcia,” Hotch turned to the perky blonde.

She rushed over to the laptop she had set-up, “yes, sir. Ok. Cross-referencing last name Wilson. Uh, ok. I got a Ford Taurus. It is registered to Betty Wilson, wife of Captain Phil Wilson.”

“Quite a plan these 3 have,” you scoffed. “He waved his own wife through the checkpoint. And she secured the hit man's escape.”

“Montolo has them both working under duress,” Morgan shook his head. “Wilson has to be a customer.”

“Which means he's also a target,” Hotch sighed. “Dave, you get to the wife’s house.”

Rossi quickly got up and headed for the elevator. Within 20 minutes he called saying that Montolo had taken Phil. Hotch sent Reid and Morgan to drive around until we can get them an address. Garcia ran to grab some equipment that Hotch needed to call Phil.

“You ready?” Hotch asked Garcia, who was setting up the phone call.

She connected aa wire and started to type on her computer, “Almost. Setting up caller I.D. Spoofing and... Dialing.”

Hotch turned to you and handed you the phone, “ok, all you have to say is, ‘It's me. Can you talk?’ And I'll take it from there.”

You held the phone to your ear and tried to change your voice a little, “It’s me, can you talk.”

“Yeah,” you could hear the shakiness in his voice.

You handed the phone to Hotch, “not on speaker,” you whispered.

“Captain, this is Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. We're going to get you out of this. Just drive normally and follow my prompts. Can you talk? Yes, it's fine, or not right now. Did you enter the address in the map apps on your phone? We're getting the address from your phone, sir. My team is going to beat you there. You're gonna drive him straight to us. Sir, you are the last errand. He's going to kill you.” Hotch shortly set the phone down. You all waited around and held your breath waiting for a call from Morgan. Rossi had called Hotch and left his phone on so we could hear his conversation with the wife.

“3 years ago, I had two miscarriages, back to back, just like that,” you could hear a crying woman. My O.B. prescribed painkillers, and after a while... My...dealer wanted me to do things. He wouldn't leave me alone. That's when I read about Silk Road. I could buy the drugs anonymously, and... And more than that. I kept it all a secret until he showed up at our door. Then I didn't have a choice. When I told Phil... He said he still loved me. God, I'm so sorry.”

“You get all that?” Rossi asked.

“Yeah,” Hotch answered. “Relay that to Morgan and Reid. As soon as Montolo lands, he's gonna kill Wilson. There'll be no time to intercept or talk him down.” As Hotch was talking, you noticed he was staring at one of the new recruits.

Shortly after Rossi hung up, the phone started to ring in the bullpen, “oh, dear, Captain Wilson is calling us, he’s calling home,” Garcia said as she saw the caller ID.

“I can try to fake it,” you stuttered to Hotch.

“All right, everyone quiet,” Hotch announced. “Stay off your phones. No one makes a sound. Lewis, you're up,” a pretty black woman started to approach the desk you had set-up at.

“H-hello?” She picked up the phone. “What is it? Is everything ok?”

“Hotch,” you heard Morgan’s voice through your earpiece. “He just landed.”

“Phil?” She continued. “Just do what you need to do and get home, ok? Sweetie, I can hear it in your voice. What is it?”

“Morgan, do you have a shot?” Hotch asked.

“Do you have a visual?” you assumed Morgan asked one of their SWAT members. “Hotch, this is negative. Wilson's in the way.”

“Honey, talk to me, baby,” the new agent was really good. “Tell me where your head is at. I know. I'm so, so sorry about all of it, but just keep your head down and we'll get through this. Ok? Do you hear me, baby? Just keep your head down.” You saw both Hotch and the new agent pull the phone away from their faces. The new agent set the phone back on the receiver.

“What happened?” you asked.

Hotch set his headphones down, “someone fired.” You hated this part of the job. You weren’t able to know who was shot and who was shooting, for all you knew Reid could have been laying a puddle of his own blood.

You waited in agony for a few minutes before Garcia’s phone started to ring, “It's Reid,” she answered the phone. Reid, what happened? What happened? What happened?”

We got both of them,” you heard Reid over the phone and let out a long sigh of relief. “Alive.”

“Yes!” Garcia practically screamed.

“Good work,” Hotch smiling was a nice sight to see. “We'll see you back here.”

“Look, I just want to say, even if I don't get the position that this was the best job interview ever,” the new agent was smiling from ear to ear.

“Penelope Garcia,” Garcia stretched her hand out to the new agent. “You're marvelous. She's marvelous.”

“I’m Dr. Y/N Reid,” you went to shake her hand.

“Reid?” she furrowed her brow. “Are you and that other agent siblings?”

“We’re married actually,” you gave her a warm smile.

“Agent Lewis,” Hotch interrupted. “I believe I asked you to wait and that was about 36 hours ago.”

“It was completely worth it,” Agent Lewis was still smiling.

“Maybe we could have that sit-down now?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, 2 a.m. is my jam,” she started to walk toward Hotch’s office. You turned around and started to pack your stuff up. You hadn’t even realized it was that late.

“Sir?” Garcia stopped him.

Hotch turned around to face Garcia, “Yes.”

“Do I have to organize the other applicants to follow her?” Garcia whispered.

Hotch smiled, “no, you can tell them the position's been filled.”

You liked agent Lewis and smiled at Hotch’s answer. The two of them went to his office and closed the door. Garcia grabbed her equipment and headed back to her office.

The bullpen was quiet, which is an odd sight. You laid your head down on your desk and closed your eyes. You made a promise with yourself that you wouldn’t fall asleep. Unfortunately, you were woken up by Reid who was crouching by your side and playing with your hair.

“Let’s go home,” he smiled at you when he saw your eyes open.

You yawned, “please.” Standing from your seat you grabbed your car keys from your pocket.

Reid grabbed the keys from your hand as you got to the elevator, “I’m driving,” he smirked. You pouted at his chivalry.

When you got to the car you snuggled into your seatbelt to try and fall asleep again, “I love you,” you whispered as you fell asleep. Before you were knocked out you heard a small scoff and an ‘I love you too.’

[handmadecp]

‘Leaf’ Pouch, full Build along.

Hi guys, This week I’ve been busy with lots of little projects, all of which I will show on here all in good time. Also busy right now trying to go Self Employed with this which takes forever to sort out here in the uk because there ‘is’ help...but not much and what there is takes a long time to get, anyhoooo, moving on to the fun stuff. Some of you may have seen a few W.i.P’s added to keep you all up to date on whats actually going on, I hope you are enjoying the short snap shots through out the week, I thought it might grab your interest and also just to give you a quick taster of the coming blog.  So here it is, the ‘Leaf’ pouch build. This build is ok to try if you are a beginner...but probably more suits people wo have had some experience with stitching, dying, cutting with a swivel knife and tooling. I am now four years into my Journey into this amazing craft but still learning new stuff all the time, so although there will be projects that may seem a bit advanced for Beginners, I will still be alternating between the ‘Beginner’ projects, intermediate and advanced ( As I learn more I will share.) So , lets get on. I First Purchased for about £3.50 (Uk) from a great Lady goes by the name of ‘Downtoearthcreations’ you can find her on Youtube she is a prolific maker and sells some great patterns and has build along tutorials I’d advise you to go have a look, I then down loaded the Pattern.

First go to Downtoearthcreations on youtube, find the Leaf bag tutorial video and the purchase this pattern, it’s not expensive and is very easy to follow.

I then cut all the pieces out as shown here and stuck them together where needed with decorators paper tape....why?...coz that’s what I had, no other reason. then Transfer the pattern shapes to the leather of your choice, I used a 2-3 mm veg tan, it takes tooling well, but just be careful, it’s not very thick, don’t press the swivell knife too hard or else it will go right through, how do I know this...guess. Well that’s not hard to guess, Yes I cut through my first one, I’ve always said I will mention successes and failures on here, it’s the only way to learn I think.

For any really ‘New’ people who maybe don’t know yet what ‘Casing’ means I’ll quickly explain, it just means ‘wetting’ the leather to a ‘certain’ point of saturation..NOT..completely saturated as you might do for wet molding, but that’s a whole other thing. so for now just wet it evenly, whenever I wet leather I usually wet it all over , even the areas that I won’t be tooling, I have learned from other more experienced folk that if you only wet the area you need, you can end up with a ‘tide’ line and the water actually does darken the leather so when you come to dye it the will be a difference in shade between the area that was wetted and the one that wasn’t. some people don’t mind it...but personally, I wet it all over, your choice. Then you have to leave it until it almost looks dry again, then it’s ready for cutting and tooling. First you need to draw your veins on the leaf, you can free hand this part if you are confident enough or trace the given pattern with a ball point stylus tool or similar to get the pattern on the leather, then, use the swivell knife to cut in your design, adding any extra veins or cuts you might like. Take a Pear shader tool as shown above and using the bigger edge..’smash’...in a controlled way...the edges of the leaf as shown above..

Here you can see how I’ve gone all around the edges and basically flattened them, also here the ‘veins’ have been cut into the leather it’s now ready to tool it. You can leave it exactly like this as it will still look great but for a little extra ‘depth’ to the design I’m tooling mine.

Here I’ve decided after several ‘Coats of Looking at’..that I wanted the veins to really stand out so made a second cut as seen here,

Once the veins are all tooled with the beveler (Number B802) I dampened it a bit more..not a lot as before because it still retains some moisture and I just want to mould it a bit not soak it. (This molding is completely different to ‘Wet Molding’ as such, as with wet moulding you are shaping pouches and bags etc...this is just a thin leaf. If you do think you have over watered it, just leave it to dry off for a while at room temprature, don’t try putting it in the oven or under the grill or using a heat gun..as you will make it solid and brittle...again..yes..I know because I’ve done just that in the past, luckily..I do learn from my mistakes. I then manipulates the leaf into a more acceptable shape, I did this several times before getting a shape that pleased me.

Look closely you will notice I added some small ‘cuts’, just my own preference, you decide what you want if making one of these yourself.

I Layed down lots of paper, got myself gloved up, had some paper towels and old cloths handy, a small tub of water and a sponge, then I got out the Gel Antique dye, made by Eco-Flo. I decided on a Dark Brown. Couple of things here if you’ve never used Gel Antique dyes...firstly get some gloves on because this stuff will dye you and take weeks of hard scrubbing to get off. secondly, this is expensive stuff..for a reason, it actually works. I love it, but you have to get a whole bunch of it on your sponge to then spread it on your piece in circular motion as fast as you can..because then you need to get off the eccess with your towels, the reason is because the antique dyes go darker the longer its on, so get it on...get it off, if not dark enough for you then repeat until it is. this stuff also buffs up really nice. A good video on YT to watch is by a guy called Chuck Dorset at Weaver Leather Craft , go watch him first if you’ve never done this before. If it all looks a bit dark when you’ve finished don’t worry, antique gel dyes can be toned down by wiping with a ‘Damp’ cloth or sponge until it is a shade you like. You also don’t want this stuff on your clothes or furniture...you have been warned ( hahahaha ). Good luck...the  results are worth it.

See how it’s getting lighter as it dries out.

I Like to use a piece of Canvas cloth to buff up my projects, it almost Burnishes them as seen here. note how I’ve twisted some of the ends of the leaf points, the Lady at Backtoearthcreations taught me that neat little trick on her YT video...once again..I advise you go have a look you’ll enjoy it.

So now we need to think about the stitch holes, I’ve used quite a wide gapped stitch iron as you can see on the following pic’, this is so that when it’s stitched we get the ‘style’ that I want. keep going you’ll see at the end. First I put stitch holes in the front piece, then laid that in position and made the first four holes just to give me the opposite position. I did use a Divider to draw a line to keep my stitch holes straight if you zoom in on the next pic you can see the line, this will be hidden by the thread when finished.

I have also made a strap loop which comes with the pattern, my advice...make it slightly longer so that a 2″ belt will fit through it. it’s ok as is...if you just rivit it ‘flat’ but if you want the extra ‘look’ you get from bending the strap over as shown here it can get a bit tight...your choice. I used a couple antique brass rivits top and bottom to hold it in place. Oh..nearly forgot, by this stage I had already coated with resolene to ‘fix’ the dye, but I guess you can do it at the end too. I dyed the flap side of the pouch on the inside dark because if you twist the leaf points you can see the ‘flesh’ color, didn’t want that, but I left the inside of the front peace ‘flesh’ colored and untouched so that when searching in the pouch in bad light it helps to light the inside of the pouch a little, just another little tip I got from someone far more experienced which I’m happy to pass on to you. I would have left it all flesh colored if not for the leaf points.

I decided to use an antique brass snap stud as a fastener for this pouch, so punch the hole BEFORE you start putting it all together...it’s just easier. ( guess how I know ???...hahahaha...yup you guessed it..what can I say..I didn’t have people pointing this stuff out to me, but hopefully by sharing my mistakes it will save you from doing the same thing..)

Not everyone has a snap stud fitting machine but the hand tools are easy to learn.

Starting to look like a pouch a bit more now.

So, all the pieces are almost ready, just the Gusset to make now, I chose a soft leather in Maroon color as seen here, again I drew a line about a quarter inch in as a stitch hole guide. The gusset section is deliberately cut a bit longer than needed and will be trimmed once done.

Finally it’s time to stitch it all together, I chose a veg tan flesh colored Lace and I had to stitch it all by hand with nothing more than a scratch awl to widen the holes. ( As I didn’t have the necessary Flat Lacing needle at the time ) but I personally enjoy stitching without a needle. so, I lined up the gusset, at this point you may do well to have the ‘Down to earth’ Leaf Bag Tutorial on as she demonstrates quite well how to begin the stitch which is a little difficult for me to explain on here. Ok, so once you’ve watched how she starts the stitch off you are basically ‘away’ and just keep going to the end and tie off as shown on the YT instructional video.

Here you can see the scratch awl in my hand whilst I’m ‘gently’ pulling the Lacing tight. Use good quality lace as there’s nothing more annoying than it keep snapping when you tighten it.

Really starting to come together now, the contrast between the Maroon and the antique colors is amazing...well, to me at least. Here now you can see why I used a wide gap stitching iron for the holes, it leaves a nice gap between each stitch which adds to the over all look of the project.

Here I’m trying to show how I finished off the stitching on this side of the gusset. as I came through with the last four stitches I pulled extra thread through so I could widen them on the inside allowing me to back thread the lace as shown here, I then pulled it through and snipped it off.

Then I went back and pulled all of the four stitched tight to hold the cut off end tightly. there are more than four widened here but as you saw I threaded it through four, you can do two if you like but I felt that four would hold better.

I then just snipped the end .

I slotted it in place and ‘snapped it closed just to get an idea how it was looking and have to say I was very happy at this point.

Then it was on to side two.

Annnnd..’Voila’ one really nice Leaf Bag / Pouch suitable for every day wear if you are into that sort of thing, or Renaissance / Larping / fancy Dress / medievel / basically any kind of costume event even Steam Punk if you just added some Steam punky bits to it. Well guys there you have it another little project from our new workshop, many more still to come, I’ll keep showing little snap shots through out the week to give a taste of whats going on in the w/shop just to show what I’m getting up to. Hope you have enjoyed this build along set, also hope you have a go yourself and as always I’m free to answer any questions and always happy to receive constructive advice. I’m still not professional, still learning and still sharing it all after nearly four years...yes my little Blog will be four years old next month. Till next time then, Stay crafty and watch this space.

[wonjaekook]

Vivid

A/N: after a complete fluff story, I decided that, naturally, it was time for a complete angst trope. Thank you all for your patience with me and my upload schedule!

21 Tropes: 4. Hanahaki disease + navy w/Taeil

Description: The flowers he coughs up are navy blue - a color as deep and vivid as the love he feels for you.

Word Count: 5.3k

Genre: angst

Warnings: death mentions

Moon Taeil is dying. He’s dying, he knows he’s dying, and he knows exactly why. Though his feelings moved to the cold of winter, the flowers wrapping around his heart and blooming in his lungs stayed in spring. The love, the endless admiration, is the flickering fire amidst the snows of rejection, of his unrequited feelings, but the navy blue of the poppy flowers that emerge from his lungs remind him of his fate amidst the ice.

She loves me.

He doesn’t know when the feelings took root, or even when they sprouted, but he knows when they blossomed. As time went on, he watched you bloom. You’d always been a flower, promising to grow and finally transform when you were ready, but that idea hadn’t become clear to him until it was too late. And, as the long wait ended and you bloomed, so did the first flower in his chest.

When the two of you were young, you tried your hardest to look past your insecurities. In the end, whenever you cried because you felt like you weren’t good enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough, Taeil was the one who wiped away those tears and told you that you were perfect. You played together, laughed together, and cried together. Two shy children, supporting each other when no one else would. Not that the two of you ever needed anyone else - having each other was always enough.

Why would he have needed anyone to play your part when you were always there, supporting him at his first piano recital, helping him plan the confession he was thinking of giving another girl in your seventh grade class, comforting him when he cried at her rejection? When the flowers finally come up for the first time, his first instinct is to call you. To tell you what’s wrong, to have your sweet voice and kind words tell him that everything will be alright. But he knows about the disease, if only from the love songs he listens to sometimes, and he knows he can’t tell you. You have always been kind beyond belief, too kind, and he trusts you with his deepest secrets, but not this.  Your heart would break in a different way if he told you.

You’ve always been perfect to him. So perfect that he fell in love with you and didn’t realize until it was too late.

She loves me not.

When it was time for the two of you to go to college, he wanted to go to a music school and you wanted to go to an education school. You planned for the same city, Seoul, though you would be on different campuses, in different dorms, living diverging lives for the first time since you could remember. When you’d gone away, you were still shy, but when you reunite a month later, you already glow in a way that you hadn’t before.

He sees your petals begin to unfurl, your true colors come to fruition, and it sparks a feeling in his heart that he hadn’t ever experienced. Even after a month, you were forced to open up, to make new friends in his absence, and he can tell that your confidence has grown because of it. A somewhat similar phenomenon happened to him, as he was also forced to make friends, though he had been lucky enough to have most of them approach him first. He feels as though there was only a small change in him, while he sees a different person in you. Different, but familiar. You’re still Y/N, his best friend, his rock, but now you’re not only his. The two of you are as close as ever, your kindness, your dorkiness, your spirit has remained the same, but something is different. That difference sparks a greater change in him, too.

It takes a few more years. He watches you grow more and more, as you watch him do the same, until suddenly you’re like an eternal rose, never fading, never wilting. In that time, he also sees your boyfriends come and go. He knows none of them are good enough for you, but he doesn’t know who would be. On his side, he tries to date, but he finds something missing, both from them and from himself. You encourage him, as you always do, and he tries to smile for you, as he always does.

One night, the two of you lie together under the stars on the hood of the car he’d painstakingly worked for months to afford, sharing pieces of your lives. You’re both out of college now, working full-time jobs that make you feel as though your youth has passed, but this moment, out in the dying summer breeze, makes you feel like teenagers again, borrowing one of your parents’ cars on a Friday night to drive out here and admire the view. The light pollution from the city makes the stars nearly invisible, casting the entire sky in a shade of deep navy blue, but he finds that both you and the city lights are close enough to stars in his eyes. That color, that blue, is what he sees when you whisper that you think your current boyfriend might be the one. Parts of his body burn and other parts are numb as you tell him that you’d been talking with him about your future, that you can envision yourself marrying him, having kids with him, growing old with him. With him, not Taeil. Even in his state of overwhelming emotion, he turns to you to return your smile, whisper that he’s happy for you, that he’ll support you until the end of the world if that’s what you want.

He doesn’t realize the extent of what he’s feeling until he’s waving goodbye to you later that night, his heart throbbing in his chest, and, as he’s watching you close the door to your apartment, he feels a soft, scratching sort of bile rise in his throat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Pressing a hand to his mouth, he only manages to stumble past the edge of your building before flower petals begin to spill from his lips in a violent retch. But, it’s too late. Doubling over, violent coughs leave his body as solid material leaves his lungs and falls into his hand. He pulls his hand away from his mouth to find navy blue petals that he’d never seen before cupped in his palm.  He realizes exactly what was missing, and all he can do is stare as some of the petals drift slowly to the ground.

She loves me.

Most of the flowers that emerge from his lungs are either torn apart, crushed, or shredded in some way, making the process of him trying to figure out just what is coming out of his lungs particularly difficult. Finally, a whole, relatively unscathed flower lands in his hand with one coughing fit, so he does his best to clean it off before he takes it to the flower shop down the street. When he walks in, the sweet aromas of the various flowers hit him and, like many things these days, they remind him of you. He’d been in here a handful of times, mostly when he was trying to woo a girl back in college, but that time seems far removed from now. The shop worker, a young woman, stands up from a small table located at the middle of the shop, greeting him with a smile. A boy around the same age as her remains seated at the table she had just risen from and Taeil’s eyes dart over to him. He looks back at her as she speaks. “Hello, how can I help you today?

“Oh, if you were helping him first…” He says meekly, cradling the flower he had brought with him gently in his hand. The woman blushes.

“Ah, no, he’s not a customer, he’s just…” Her posture shifts to one of embarrassment and she clears her throat. “Sorry about that. What can I do for you?”

His heart pangs with envy for a moment. He doesn’t consider himself a particularly envious person, but the way the two had been looking at each other when he walked in is something he longs for with every fiber of his being. And, now that he has this disease, he…

He looks back up at her face. “Could you possibly identify a flower for me?”

“I can try my best,” she says, smiling at him. He presents her the flower and she takes it, observing it for just a moment before her eyes widen in surprise. “This is a blue Himalayan poppy! The color is a little dark, but it has to be that for sure. They’re really hard to grow because they need very specific conditions, usually taking years to even flower and, even then, the flowers die really quickly. But if you have this… do you have a plant at home?”

“No,” he says quietly, a small smile on his face at the bitter irony of the type of flower he’s cursed with, “a friend gave it to me.”

“Well,” she chirps, elated, “if they ever have a cutting they want to get off their hands, let me know! I would love to try to grow one of these.” She hands the flower back to him. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

He considers buying a bouquet to bring some more color to his apartment, but he simply shakes his head at her. Nausea rises in him at the thought of more flowers - he has more than enough of his own as it is. “I’m alright,” he rasps, throat suddenly dry, “but, thank you for your help.”

“Of course! Come again if you ever need any more help, or, well, some flowers.” The kind, happy smile she gives him makes his heart ache. He knows better than anyone that he won’t be coming back.

She loves me not.

The appointment Taeil makes with his doctor approaches slowly. Every day, every labored breath that he takes while thinking of you weighs him down more and, even though all his own research has ended fruitlessly, he hopes that the doctor will be able to help him somehow. But a physician is no love doctor and he can’t make him fall out of love when he’s this far in.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, eyes empty of emotion, unsympathetic to him, “there’s no other way. It’s either the surgery or death.”

Taeil knows about the surgery. After all of his own research, scouring the internet for something, anything he could do, he’s read all about it. Anyone who goes through with it has a high chance of death, and, if they do survive and have the source of the disease removed, they are left lacking in emotions and are never able to see the person who had caused the disease ever again. Their memory of the person goes away almost entirely - he had read interviews from those who had gotten the surgery, and they often describe their former loves as foggy, distant, unreachable. Trying to recall them often brings the patient so much pain in their lungs and heart that it feels as though the disease is threatening to come back. If they do meet their unrequited love again, the disease has even returned for some. The surgery is too dangerous to do twice. Everything about this “solution” is just pain on top of pain, and he thinks that he’s had enough of that already.

If he chooses the surgery, it would leave him empty of you, empty of half his heart, empty of all the love and memories you’d cultivated in him over the years. It would be like he died anyways. After the surgery, he might not feel the same way as he does now, but he would always be hurting you somehow, too. A death is a death either way.

As he’s sitting in that examination room, he can’t help but think that there has to be a song somewhere that describes how he feels right now. None come to mind, no matter how hard he tries to pull one into his head. Perhaps he could write one - a song that would take the life his heart bled into the petals and make something beautiful of it.

The doctor continues to stare at him. He’s not a man that Taeil recognizes - he’s probably a specialist of some sort - and he almost wishes he would show some sort of emotion to him. A reaction, pity, anything to make him feel like there’s any hope. Instead, he just gets the glint of the cold light reflecting off the man’s glasses, the white of his lab coat leeching the color from the room, the blank eyes of a man who doesn’t care about his heartache. Taeil figures that this is probably something this man has had to do many times, that there’s a reason he’s desensitized, but he can’t help but feel completely, utterly alone.

In the stark white room, nearly empty of color, he thinks about the deep blue sky - the sky he saw when his heart first opened and the sky he hopes will remind you of him when only a few poppies are left in his place.

She loves me.

As he’s leaving the hospital, a crinkled diagnosis and recommendation in his hand, he sees you. His blood runs cold after you spot him, running up to him with a grin on your face. “Taeil!”

He shoves the paper into his pocket, not caring about how creased it’ll be because of it. “Y/N,” he responds with a thinly veiled look of panic. Thankfully, you’re too busy hugging him to notice. “What are you doing here?”

“Lunch break - my building is right there.” You let go of him to point at a building in the distance. “Why are you coming out of the hospital?”

“I just had a physical,” he says, forcing a smile, “the usual.”

“Everything okay up there?” You say jokingly, mussing up his hair.

“They wouldn’t check my mental status at a physical, idiot.” Though he responds like that, you know he loves you - always tolerant, always happy to just be around you.

“It was a joke, idiot,” you say in return, rolling your eyes. You tug on his hand, pulling him along the sidewalk with you. “Have you eaten? I know you’re cooped up in your studio all the time now.”

The concern on your face makes a warm feeling grow in his chest and it’s enough, just for now, for him to forget the roots around his heart and in his lungs draining the life out of him slowly. “I haven’t.”

“Come have lunch with me, then!” You chirp, continuing to pull him along. The warmth of your hand in his affects him more than he thought it would and his heart melts a little. “Tell me about the song you’re working on,” you say, glancing back at him.

“Well,” he starts, smiling to himself a bit, “it’s a love song. It’s about the most wonderful girl in the world.”

“Oh?” You respond, smirking, “Who’s your muse?”          A confession rests on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it. “No one in particular. Just daydreaming, like usual.” It’s a half-truth—a sweet dream is all he’ll ever have.

“You write really nice lyrics for not thinking of someone in particular.” You pout at him. “But, it’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.”

I want to tell you, his heart sings, believe me. “It’s really no one,” his mouth says instead.

“I’ll believe you, just this once,” you respond, cracking a smile. In that moment, he feels like soaring. To be the source of your smile, your amusement, your happiness - it’s everything he could ever want. The world around the two of you melts away and all he can see is you, beaming at him as you walk along. He’s convinced that nothing more perfect exists. His own lips curl upwards to form an expression similar to yours. The colors around you fall back into place as you stop in front of some little restaurant. He’s sure he’s been here with you before, but the name escapes him. Glancing up at the sign, he reads the name: ‘The Garden.’ “Oh!” You say suddenly, making the world completely solidify around him again. “I forgot to tell you, but we’re meeting my boyfriend here, too. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he says, keeping the smile glued to his face. “As long as he’s okay with me joining. You made plans with him first.”

“Thanks, Taeil! Love you.” The ease with which you say it tears at his heart. The sun passes behind the clouds again and, as you turn around, the smile falls from his face.

She loves me not.

He finds that his internal hopeless romantic bleeds even more freely now because of his disease. All he has time left for is wishful thinking and fantasies.

At this point, he’s written enough love songs for a lifetime—all of them about you. Most of them weren’t intentionally written like that, but, looking back, he realizes that they couldn’t be describing anyone else. Seeing all the helpless, pining lyrics and yearning notes, he’s almost embarrassed that he let his feelings get this far completely unchecked for so long.

Scrolling through every file he’s worked on, he feels slightly less bad about his resignation to die. There’s an incredible amount of music here—something that will carry his voice forever. He figures he has to leave something behind after he’s gone. Still, there’s a piece missing. He decides, on the day he comes back with his official diagnosis, that he’ll make one last masterpiece for you. His final notes, his missing song, a memoir of his life and love and hurt. The song he couldn’t bring to mind at the doctor’s office. A song that will make you think of the city lights that were your stars together and the navy sky that meant something neither of you could ever figure out.

The process is slow. It’s like trying to breach a wall that he never thought he would even have to climb; he’s grasping at cracks in the foundation to find a place to start.

But, once they take root, the flower don’t stop growing. So, he doesn’t have time to wait either.

One night, after he spends all of his time thinking of you once again, thinking of every possible outcome to every possible path he could take in his life now, after he spends more time than ever emptying his lungs into a trash can in his studio, pulling on petals to try to find what to do, he decides that he needs some help. Though it’s late, he won’t let himself go home until he’s done at least something. Something is the most I can get in the nothing I have left.

“Johnny,” he rasps into the phone, throat still raw from the plant matter that had just left him, “can you help me?”

“Hyung, what’s wrong? You sound sick.” Taeil knows Johnny is perceptive enough to figure out that something more is wrong than just a cold, but he keeps it at that for now.

“I’m writing a song and I just… How can you describe someone using words when they’re so much more than that?”

The unexpected question makes Johnny raise his eyebrows on his end. “What are you talking about? Is this about a girl?”

Taeil nods, his mind elsewhere, before remembering that his friend can’t see him. “Yeah. The perfect girl. She’s… she’s everything.“

The other end is silent for a moment. “Well,” Johnny starts, “don’t try so hard.” Taeil opens his mouth to respond but stops when Johnny continues. “You know her, right? You love her? Then, just say that. Don’t try to make it perfect. If you love her that much, it’ll come easily.”

The pieces fall together slowly. “Okay. I think I know what was wrong now. Thanks.”

“No problem, man. Don’t overthink it. I’m honestly surprised you’ve never confessed to anyone this way before; girls love that kind of stuff. Just whip out your guitar, sing some notes, and boom! Married with three kids.”

A bitter smile tugs at his lips. If only it was that easy.

“Yeah,” he says, “I never found someone worth a song before, though.”

“Ah, young love,” Johnny says in a mocking wistful voice before he drops back to his normal tone. “Once you woo your girl, don’t forget about your friends, okay? You’ve been pretty M.I.A. lately and the guys and I miss you.”

“Sorry,” Taeil says quietly, “I’ve just been busy.”

“It’s fine, really. Just don’t forget about us.”

Don’t forget about me.

“I’ll buy dinner for all of you next time we’re out. I have news, anyways.” He can feel butterflies churning in his stomach, as if they’re trying to reach the flowers just a few inches up.

“Do I get a hint as to what this ‘news’ is?” Johnny says teasingly into the phone.

“Nope.” The statement is final, and his friend knows not to push it. “I have to get back to work now. This really helped, so thanks again.”          “Like I said, no problem. Get some rest soon, okay, hyung?”

I’m the kind of sick that you can’t fix.

“Yeah. Night.”

The writing comes easily after that. When he thinks of you, of how you make him feel every second of every day, it’s not so hard. You would love this song, no matter if it was perfect or not. You’d told him so before, though, somehow, he had forgotten until now.

Each second ticking by on the clock is a second longer that he’s lived and a second longer for him to remember and be remembered by. His chest doesn’t hurt as much when he writes, but, when he has to cough, the pain comes flooding back and reminds him again of what’s happening to his body. Sometimes the flowers are lighter, sometimes they’re darker, sometimes they’re almost purple. He reminds himself that it only hurts because he loves you. He coughs up the bruises on his heart through his lungs and, as he continues writing, music notes emerge from his throat as well.

As the days go by, he feels his strength continue to leave him slowly, dropping away like the grains in an hourglass. Each heartbeat is shorter and heavier, each stroke of his pen falls harder than the last, and his voice strains in his throat. Like with any cough, it gets harder to sing, to the point where he has to take breaks to expel more petals from his body every few minutes when he’s recording. But the song isn’t finished. So, he continues.

For you. Always for you.

His voice feels heavy in his throat and his guitar feels heavy in his hands. But he keeps singing and playing. He keeps singing and playing until he holds a final memory for you in his hands.

She loves me.

The thought of telling you just what’s happening to him makes him ill, makes him want to cry, makes him hurt more than any roots in his lungs or flowers in his throat ever could. It’s not because you don’t love him—no, you love him so much. You tell him so every time you see him. He’s seen your heart break before and he vowed to himself to never be the cause of it. You love him, you’re hurting him, he loves you, and, now, he can’t help but hurt you back.

He knows his time is running out. No matter how much the disease exhausts him, he tosses and turns in bed every night thinking about what he’s done to himself and what he’s doing to you. It’s another one of those nights, one of those precious, painful nights, and it’s nearly five a.m. when he gets out of bed, turns on a light, and picks up a pen.

‘Dearest Y/N,’ he starts. He crosses it out. It’s true, but it feels strange to address you like that. He tries again.

‘My dear Y/N.’ Another line through it. No. You’re his, but not his. More straightforward?

‘Dear Y/N,’ he writes. But it doesn’t feel right either. He puts his head down on his desk, thinking. Thinking about who you are to him and who you are as a person. He lifts his head and tries again.

‘Y/N.’ It’s you, it’s all his feelings, it’s where his relationship with you began. He gets out a fresh sheet of paper and begins to write.

‘Y/N,

It only seems fitting to start like that. When we first met, I was so shy that I could barely ask you your name and you were so shy that you could barely say it. But I’ve never been so thankful that I’ve known someone’s name. You’ve changed my life more than I could ever list or quantify or explain. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I wouldn’t have gotten this job or made the friends I did or written the song I’m giving to you if I hadn’t met you. You’ve brought me so many good things in the years you’ve been in my life and I couldn’t be more thankful. Thank you for being the best friend I could ever ask for. Thank you for being you.

I promised a long time ago that I wouldn’t hide my feelings from you and I’m sorry I haven’t told you yet, but I’m telling you now. I’m in love with you. Even writing it, it’s hard to admit. We’ve been friends for so long for me to just fall in love with you? It’s kind of funny. Kind of like a romcom. But, it’s true. There’s so much to love about you and I’ve told you that before. I hope whoever you end up marrying can see that as much as I do. I know you don’t return my feelings and that’s okay. That’s the reason I waited to tell you. You’re happy where you are right now and I never wanted to disrupt that. There’s a second reason I waited to tell you.’

He stops for a moment. He can imagine your face as you’re reading this. Your lips would be parted in shock, a blush would start to form on your cheeks. You would wonder how you didn’t notice before and wonder why he’s telling you now. Painfully, he starts to write again.

She loves me not.

‘I’m dying. That’s another strange thing to admit. I have that disease, Hanahaki disease, and I’m dying. If it seems like I’ve been distant, it’s because I’ve been taking a lot of time to think about this and to make the song I gave you. I hope you can use it to remember me by when I’m gone.

I know you’re going to be mad at me that I didn’t get the surgery. You’re going to call me a martyr, and dumb, and all sorts of things that you both mean and don’t mean, but I’d rather die like this than forget about you.

I’ve been spending a lot of time alone these days and I miss you more than ever. You told me you miss me, too, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I’m in love with you. I’m sorry because the days of missing me aren’t over and I’m sorry because I hope you remember me even though I’m going to keep hurting you after this. I promised I would never be the one to cause you pain, but I can’t help it and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because I couldn’t tell you this to your face. I don’t want to see you cry.

When I brought these flowers into that little flower shop down the street from my university, the worker there told me that they’re a type of flower that takes years to bloom and die quickly once they do. It’s a blue Himalayan poppy—they’re rare enough that I hope you never have to see one and cry because they remind you of me. I know you do that. Your memories hurt you too much sometimes and I’m sorry I have to be one of them. One day, when you think about me, I hope you can remember all the happy times instead of what’s happening now. Please, if you take anything from this letter, just keep living and try to remember me happily. That’s all I want.

I love you. I’m sorry.

I can’t say any of those things enough. Most importantly, thank you for all of my happy years. You’ve brought me more joy than anything else in the world.

Your Best Friend,

Moon Taeil’

His skin is white under the pressure of his grip on the pen, but, when he sets it down, it feels like he has no strength in his body at all. Five a.m. seems lonelier than it did before.

She loves me.

From his slumped position in his desk chair, he looks up. Each year since the end of high school, you had given him a picture of the two of you together. There are a couple of photos from when you were younger, all the way back to elementary school, with your grins missing teeth and your messy hair. The photos came with him to every apartment he moved to because he took great care not to lose them and he knows you have an identical set somewhere in yours. He can see the way both of you have changed over the years and it makes him smile. For almost as long as he can remember, you’ve been there.

You’ve always been there and, soon, he won’t be.

She loves me not.

For once, he feels the tears coming before the flowers. But, before he can make a move towards a trash can, he feels them start to come up. It’s a horrible image, the sight of Taeil hunched over, coughing flower petals into his hand, his final letter to you on the desk in front of him. The clock in his room reads 5:47 in bright red letters.

The tears come harder. How could you bring him so much happiness and all he can give you now in return is pain? He wants to be back in those photographs, in a time when he wasn’t in love with you, when he wasn’t hopeless, when he could keep his best friend by his side without wanting to vomit up flower petals.

She loves me…

His phone buzzes and lights up with a random alert and he sees a picture of the two of you together as his lock screen. The last time you were alone, you had grabbed his phone after the picture was taken, setting it as his background. He hadn’t had the heart to change it.

Your smile makes the pain in his chest worth it for a moment. He forgets about the disease and being in love with you and the flowers in his hand and, instead, he thinks about the warm sun that day and the feeling of you hugging him and smiling up at him like he was the most important person in the world. Out of habit, he looks out the window. The sky is dark, barely on the edge of purple, but mostly navy blue. He gets out of his chair, walks towards the trash can in his room, and empties his hand, with all the flower petals, into it. He watches as they drift slowly downwards.

The last petal falls.

She loves me not.

[frizz22]

Best Laid Plans

Established Madam Spellman; canon-divergence from 2x09 when they attack the Dark Lord in the first time in the woods. Starts immediately after Sabrina blows the horn. Read on ao3

The sound of the horn died down and a malicious smile spread across Lucifer’s lips. His daughter was weak, so attached to these ‘aunts’ of hers, to her ‘cousin’ who still lay unconscious several yards away. But he would teach her, mold her, into something stronger; even if it took centuries.

Content with his manipulation, Lucifer turned to drop the daggers, intending to keep his part of the bargain… when a small flash of black caught his eye.

Lilith.

He’d suspected she was drifting, her little stunt in encouraging Sabrina’s resistance of him evidence enough. But Lucifer thought he’d quashed that particular streak of rebellion out of his servant. Apparently not. Apparently, she’d been the one to aid the Spellman’s in their murderous attempt. 

Well, this was something he couldn’t disregard. Lilith needed to be punished, in a way she wasn’t like to forget. Turning to look at the Spellman women once more, an idea came to him. With a flick of his wrist the dagger at Hilda’s throat fell to the ground, harmless.

The dagger at Zelda’s throat, though, dropped with more purpose—slicing her thigh deeply before it thudded on the leaves.

The witch cried out and crumpled to the ground, the magical wound immediately sapping her strength and leeching her blood; despite her fruitless attempts to stem the bleeding. He’d hit the femoral artery; just as intended.

Sabrina pushed past him, quickly joining her aunt on the ground, small mutterings of “no” repeatedly falling from her lips as her hands fluttering uselessly above the gash—likely she was regretting her rash decision to rid herself of the powers he’d so generously bestowed upon her. “What did you do?” She whipped around to face him, tears streaming down her face before turned her attention back to her aunt—who was already rapidly losing color in her face. “Auntie Zee, I tried. I didn’t want—”

Always a strong woman, Zelda hushed the girl and hugged her hard, leaving bloody handprints visible even on the red leather of his daughter’s coat. “It’s alright,” she murmured, shaky even with Hilda frantically casting healing spells. “I said over my dead body, didn’t I?” Zelda chuckled weakly, lips starting to tinge blue as she leaned up and kissed Sabrina’s forehead. “It appears that will be the case.”

At these words, Lilith abandoned her hiding place and rushed forward, crowding his daughter out of the way, her eyes wild. “No. It’s not that bad.” She exclaimed, eyeing the wound and then paling when she saw the extent of the damage. “No,” a wretched whisper came next. “No,” she repeated once more, dumbfounded, hands fluttering uselessly over the wound—she’d never been particularly good at healing spells. “This should have worked…. It was a solid plan.” Lucifer smirked as Lilith’s voice cracked in her panic.

“Oh, darling,” Zelda whispered between labored breathes, “if only fate was beholden to our plans.” The witch managed a sad smile and touched Lilith’s cheek, leaving a smear of blood. Zelda leaned forward then, and pressed a light kiss to Lilith’s lips, fingers trembling against his servant’s cheek at the effort. Turning to her sister, Zelda clutched the woman desperately. “Hildie, take care of them. Be safe, lo—,” Her strength flagged completely then, and Zelda slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Lucifer watched with interest as Hilda continued to work furiously. But he’d inflicted the wound himself and a wound from the Dark Lord could not be healed with average spells. “You cannot save her, Sister Hilda. You’re not strong enough.” He informed the blonde, thinking he might save her some energy, some effort. No point in pouring magic into a dead woman, an almost dead woman, he corrected in his head.

Magic crackled through the air unexpectedly and Lilith surged upright and turned on him. ”No!!” She bellowed, blasting him back.

Despite her efforts, he only stumbled back, laughing. “Oh Lilith,” he intoned, “as if I didn’t know. Imagine my surprise when Stolas informed me that you cared for not one, but two beings. First Adam, though he was a man, a mortal with the very name of the one meant to enslave you, you grew fond of him. His appreciation, near worship of you, it bolstered you. And, as you know I couldn’t have that, so I got rid of your pet. But before you eviscerated the crow, he told me about another. One you cared about on another level, perhaps loved? A certain red-haired witch.” He glanced at Zelda, where Hilda and Sabrina were still frantically working and chuckled. “She, and her family, were giving you ideas, like you could defeat me.” The mirth slipped from his face, a stoniness taking over.

“So, really, killing her accomplished several things. It took away the most powerful member in the Spellman family, removed the biggest obstacle in my path to making Sabrina my queen,” he stepped forward and let his fingers graze over Sabrina’s hair, ignoring how his daughter jerked away and continuing to address Lilith. “Killing Zelda will keep the rest of the Spellmans in line for the future, unless they wish to meet similar fates…. And lastly, and most importantly, it hurts you Lilith. You belong to me. No one else. How dare you think otherwise.”

Suddenly an iron collar appeared on her neck, the chain attached to it landing in his hand. He yanked it hard, bringing her back to her knees—her rightful place. “It’s time you relearned yourself, Lilith. I’ve apparently given you too much freedom. For the next several centuries you will be where you’ve always wanted… by my side. But only to serve my queen and I, in any manner. You’re a handmaiden, nothing more.”

Gasping, Lilith clawed at the collar. “Dark lord, please,” she beseeched, eyes flicking back to Zelda who’s breaths were getting shallower by the second—only Hilda’s spells prolonged her meager life. “Save her.”

The plea amused him. “Why?” He scoffed, following Lilith’s eyes to the dying witch.

“I’ll serve you willingly if you do.” Lilith offered, desperately.

Arching a brow, Lucifer smirked. “You’ll serve regardless,” he retorted, relishing in her distress.

Sabrina spun then, covered in blood and tears running down her face. “I’ll marry you without objection. I won’t fight it, or you, ever again.” And here she was, finally submissive, truly on her knees and understanding she was at his mercy, always had been. Before he could reply, Hilda was shouting.

“No!” The blonde grabbed Sabrina’s arm. “Your Aunt Zelda didn’t want that. None of us want that. Which is why we were here. Don’t you make her death be in vain. She’ll be furious if she’s brought back at the price of you.” Despite the tears streaking down her cheeks, there was steel in Hilda’s voice.

Deciding he’d save them all some time and arguing, Lucifer cut in. “The marriage will happen no matter what, daughter, the wheels are already in motion and can’t be stopped.” Lucifer watched them all with amusement and then his brow furrowed. “Such a fuss over just one witch.” He walked closer and peered at Zelda; who was moments from death. “What did she do to garner such loyalty?”

All their voices overlapped, anger and tears constricting their throats.

But it was Ambrose’s words, the young warlock finally stirring, dragging himself painfully over to his aunt, that captured Lucifer’s attention. “Family comes first.” He croaked, clutching Zelda's hand tightly and a fire in his eyes.

Giving him an appraising look, Lucifer nodded. “Quite right. And Sabrina, they aren’t your family, not really. Not by blood. I am.” He held out his hand, “now come.”

When Sabrina didn’t move, face hard and tears still spilling down it he sighed.

Waving a hand, Sabrina was drug across the ground and brought to her knees next to Lilith in front of him. “Daughter, this can either be easy, or it can be very hard. But it is happening one way or another. You are powerless, having forsaken my gifts to you in order to try and stop me. It was a bold choice, a poor one certainly, one that some advised you against and yet you didn’t listen. Perhaps, in a few centuries, after some good behavior, I’ll give you your powers back. Until then...” A matching iron collar appeared around her neck, “remember you did this to yourself.”

Fighting against the collar, Sabrina arched to try and see her old family. “But Aunt Zelda—"

“Is dead.”

Everyone whipped around to determine for themselves. The redhead was no longer breathing. Hilda sobbed and clung to her sister, Ambrose sat stunned and silent, a vacant expression on his face. Lilith, though, screamed and the trees themselves seemed to shake in response to her grief, but Lucifer remained unaffected.

Sabrina struggled against the chain even harder, trying to reach her old family. “No! You said if I blew the horn you’d spare them!” She sobbed, “you said—"

Tired of the entire affair, Lucifer sighed. “I am the Father of Lies, Sabrina.” He informed her, eyeing her pitifully for believing him. “You’ll learn. For now, just be thankful I didn’t kill the rest of them as punishment.” He gripped the chains and yanked Lilith and Sabrina to their feet, picking up the Horn of Gabriel with his other hand, he smiled and nodded at Ambrose and Hilda where they were kneeling next to Zelda’s corpse. “Goodbye Spellmans, enjoy Hell, it should be here soon.”

And he disappeared, Lilith and Sabrina in tow.

[rikrakyarnncrafts]

Dye Bare Yarn with Kool-Aid!

Did you know you can experiment with dyeing yarn in your kitchen, using food-safe & low-cost products, and get some really cool results?! What a great way to play with our Bare Yarns!

All the yarns in this post were dyed with Kool-Aid (or sometimes other brands of unsweetened drink mixes), in my kitchen. Above is Bare Capretta, and below is Woodland Tweed. There are lots of different ways you can dye yarn with Kool-Aid; today I’ll show you my latest favorite, in the microwave!

The question I hear the most about dyeing yarn with Kool-Aid is: is it colorfast? Or, does it wash out? The answers are YES, and NOPE! I have yarns I dyed 12 years ago that are still bright and vibrant. I won’t say they are 100% colorfast—some dyed many (over 10) years ago look lighter than I remember, but they’re still colorful and look great, even if slightly faded over a decade+. I do recommend storing items away from direct sunlight and I’ve never seen any dye come out during washing.

If you’re interested in learning more or other methods besides the microwave, google is your friend, and also I wrote several tutorials many years ago: an intro to dyeing with Kool-Aid when I first started doing it, how to dye striping yarn on the stove, dyeing in a crock pot (I used to use this method a lot, it works so well!), and another self-striping tutorial for really long stripe sections. Lately I’ve been enjoying the microwave method because it’s easy and compact (you just need a bowl, no big pot or crock pot) and fast! And it works well for speckle-y kinds of dye jobs.

Something else you may want to think about when planning your project is color mixing, how to get the colors you want. Kool-Aid doesn’t limit you to just the base powder colors—you can mix, overlap, and over-dye! The way to darken or mute colors isn’t to use more or less of a color. Instead, adding some of a complementary color (opposite on the color wheel) could achieve exactly the results you’re after. For example, adding a little orange to a blue will make a darker, less vibrant blue, and vice versa. It doesn’t have to be the exact complementary color; you can try mixing colors that you might not think would mix well just to see what results you get. One of my favorites is adding some orange to green to make it a more olive, darker shade of green.

Let’s get to the dyeing tutorial, then I’ll talk a little more about color at the end! I’ll show you exactly how I made the yarn pictured above, which is Bare Superwash Merino Twist. A note before you begin! You’ll want at least THREE ties in your skein so it doesn’t end up a tangled, wet mess—not all of our Bare yarns come with three ties, so you may need to add one yourself. I recommend using a cotton yarn for ties.

Also, this kind of dyeing only works on animal fibers— wool & alpaca especially—with nothing or only a little of other things mixed in. No cotton! No acrylic! A small percentage of nylon is okay.

First, I like to soak my yarn in water with a big splash of white vinegar for an hour or longer. The Kool-Aid has acid in it so it’ll set onto the yarn without the vinegar, but I think the vinegar makes it a bit more colorfast in the long term, and it doesn’t hurt! If I’m going to dye several skeins, then I’ll soak them all in vinegar water in a big bowl or bucket together, then take them each out to dye them one at a time in a separate bowl. In this case, I was just dyeing a single skein, so I soaked it in the same bowl I’d be dyeing it in.

Next, place your skein in a glass (or otherwise microwave-safe) bowl with just enough vinegar water to cover the top of it. If you want to dye the skein in a certain pattern (like different colors on different sections of the loop) then position the yarn intentionally. For my skein, I wanted all-over speckle-y variegation, so I purposely let it be messily positioned in the bowl. Now sprinkle on some powder!

I purposely let the oranges, greens, and blues overlap and mix. Then cover the yarn with plastic wrap and microwave it for 1 minute. (I use maximum power, but I have a small microwave; if you have a high-power microwave, you might want to use a lower power setting.)

When you take it out, that powder should be mostly absorbed into the yarn. Now you’ll go through the process of adding more dye, and giving it more time in the microwave, until you’re happy with it. Your exact process may vary depending on how you want your yarn to look. I usually flip the skein upside down (that’s what I’d just done in the above right photo), then add more powder, then give it 1 more minute…

…then I repeat one or two more times. Reposition the skein, add more dye, another minute. I usually end up doing four minutes total. Never do more than 1 minute at a time (it could hurt your yarn!), and when the water looks clear, it’s set! Dump the yarn into a colander to cool to room temperature. Below, left you can see how the water is cloudy, but white, no dye. As long as there is no colored dye left in the water, it means the dye has set into the yarn, not in the water, that’s the important part!

Then rinse it in water (the same temperature as the yarn) very gently. If you want to get the vinegar smell out, you may choose to wash the yarn with a good-smelling wool wash now; I usually just rinse it with water, knowing that I’ll wash the finished object after knitting it up. Gently squeeze the water out in the sink, then roll the skein up in a big towel and gently press on it to squeeze the remaining water out. Shake it out, and hang it to dry over a hanger, shower curtain rod, or coat rack. It could take a couple of days to dry completely (reposition a few times to help it dry).

Here’s the finished yarn! This method is great for this kind of look with the white showing through, but if you want a more saturated look, just use a bit more water and stir mix the dye around for full coverage. Below are two more skeins of the same Bare Superwash Merino Twist dyed with similar Kool-Aid colors in different ways. The left-hand one was actually partially dyed on the stove first, for the dark solid green section, and then overdyed more in the microwave, and the right-hand one was using the same microwave method above.

For further color information, you can find Kool-Aid dyeing color charts and blog posts online to get mixing ideas, and you can also try mixing a little in a cup with water, and then dipping a white paper towel into the mixed dye to get an idea of the color you’re making, before using it on your yarn. Also, Kool-Aid can be hard to find in lots of colors (flavors) so your local options may be limited. You can use other brands of drink mix, but—this is important!!—make sure they don’t have sugar! Kool-Aid mix comes unsweetened (you need to add sugar when you make the drink) but many other mixes already have the sugar included. This would be bad news for your yarn! Another pro tip: generally, you can preview the color in the packet by looking at the color of the liquid in glass cup portion of the illustration (and not the color of the packet background).

Above are a few old yarns I dyed with Kool-Aid years ago, to show some different color effects. I do tend to prefer bright colors, so the lack of darker/muted shades has more to do with my preferences than with the possibilities!

There’s also the option of dyeing vibrant Kool-Aid colors over the top of other colors. Using our Simply Wool & Simply Alpaca yarns as bases instead of Bare can get you beautiful, darker, toned-down color results! Or dyeing Bare yarn with tea or coffee first, to give it a brown base, or just adding tea or coffee with the Kool-Aid… lots of options!

Those are two skeins of Bare Shimmer Bulky that I dyed (using the same microwave method) with a couple of shades of orange/yellow, for a tonal hue. I then over-dyed each skein separately, with totally different colors (below). On one, I overlapped a few shades of red and pink, for kind of a tonal coral; on the other, I used blues and greens, which mixed with the light orange base to be more muted versions of those colors. Orange and blue are complementary colors, so adding blue and green to that orange base worked to tone down the shades… if I’d mixed them all at the same time, it might have been muddier than how it turned out with this over-dyeing method. This kind of color mixing is a lot of experimentation; I wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but I’m happy with the result! You can always dye a very small amount of yarn first to try out a color idea, before using a whole skein.

I love doing this, as a full grown adult knitter, but it would also be a really fun activity to do with kids, to give a hands-on lesson on the basics of color theory, or just to play and have fun! If you dye your own Bare yarn, we’d LOVE to see the results! Post links in comments below, or tag us on instagram, etc. Have fun dyeing!!

The post Dye Bare Yarn with Kool-Aid! appeared first on KnitPicks Staff Knitting Blog.

from KnitPicks Staff Knitting Blog http://bit.ly/2ILVu6v via IFTTT

[colorfulhearts]

Colorful Hearts Ch. 9

*buzz-buzz*

Jackie looked up to her desk from where she was sitting on the floor to see a light coming from her phone. She crawled over to her desk on her hands and knees and grabbed her phone.

New Message flashed on her dim screen. Opening it, she saw that it was from Ethyn.

Ethyn: Come to my room please.

Jackie: Sure! Be there in a sec. Gotta clean up the explosion of fabric.

She put down her phone and quickly picked up the bits of fabric she had been working with.

Exiting her room and going one door over she lightly knocked on Ethan’s very blue door. She heard him answer her knock with a muffled ‘Come in’. Opening the door she saw him curled up in his computer chair looking a little annoyed.

“Hey Eth,” she greeted him as she made herself comfortable on the small couch he had in the corner of his room. “What’s up?”

With a bit of frustration he scratched at his head and growled a response, “Miko canceled on going to the faculty costume party.”

“Why?” She asked puzzled. Miko and Ethyn had planned the whole evening. They even asked her for help with their outfits. Ethyn and Miko were going to the party in Phantom of the Opera inspired outfits that they had managed to put together but had asked Jackie for accessories. The rose that she had made was sitting in a vase on his desk. The silk had been hand dyed and made to glow in the dark. She also made them each a mask. Ethyn had them hanging above his desk. He had been really excited and the look he had on his face now broke Jackie’s heart.

“What happened?”

He reached up over his head and grabbed the mask that was hanging on the edge of the shelf. “He has some family coming in that day.” His fingers traced the shape of the half mask. “I’m not mad, just bummed. You worked so hard on these masks and they’ll never see the outside world.”

“Pfft,” Jackie waved her hand in front of her, “Yes they will. Sadly just not at this party.” She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a huge smile. She didn’t want him to be upset over something silly like that. “Are you still going to the party?”

“I want to but I don’t want to go alone,” he wrinkled his nose. “That’s never any fun.”

The two sat in silence for a while when a thought crossed Jackie’s mind. But before she would share her idea she needed some confirmation.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to text Phelix and Marco. The two guys gave her the green light on her idea.

“What are you so smiley about?” Ethyn probed.

She didn’t waste any time.

“How would you like Marco, Phe, and I to be your dates to the party?”

Ethyn looked stunned by her question. The thought clearly had never even occurred to him.

“You three are willing to go with me?”

“Duh!” She exclaimed. “An excuse to go out and have a good time, especially with you? You know we are all about that.”

The laughter became uncontrollable for a while after that. Both remembering moments that the four of them spent having a great time together. It wasn’t until Ethyn remembered that the party had a costume requirement that he stopped to ask what he thought was the obvious.

“We need costumes!” His face somewhat panicked. “The party is next Saturday, what are we going to do?”

Jackie got up off the couch and headed for the door of Ethyn’s room. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ve got it covered,” she said calmly with a wink as she left his room.

***ONE WEEK LATER***

It was a few hours before the party and Ethyn was pacing in his room.

“I haven’t even seen what she’s working on! I knew a week wasn’t enough time!”

“Will you please calm down. When has Jackie ever let you down, especially fashion wise?”

Ethyn stopped his pacing and looked towards his computer desk. There on his laptop he could see his boyfriend’s smiling face. He calmly walked over to his computer chair and sank into it. He didn’t say a word; he was trying to release the nerves that were trying to take over his body with little success.

“Just breath, Ethyn.”

He listened to him. Closing his eyes and bringing to mind all the times Jackie pulled through not only for him but anyone she knew. After a few moments he opened his eyes and saw that Miko was still smiling at him.

“Better?”

Ethyn nodded. Changing the subject he asked, “When do your parents get in?”

Miko picked up his phone and checked the time, “They said they’d be in town by 6:30.”

Checking his own phone he saw that it was 5:37. He also saw that his phone had no messages. Checking his phone wasn’t the best idea. He could feel the nerves rising again. As if Miko could read his racing thoughts he began to softly speak to his nervous boyfriend, “It’s still early, Eth. The party isn’t until 8:00. You have time.”

He was about to nod in agreement when there was a pounding on his door. It surprised him in a very unpleasant way.

“Who knocks like that?” Miko made a disapproving face as Ethyn went to open the door. But before he could even take a step away from his computer desk to reach it the door swung open and entered three color coordinate humans he recognized vaguely as his friends and roommates.

As they entered his room they formed a line, all three in clear view of both Ethyn and Miko.

Jackie dressed in a double breasted flare coat with three quarter sleeves in a deep emerald shade of green that stood out over a fitted white button up blouse. The flowy layered skirt she was wearing was the same emerald green. Black floral lace tights and her signature black boots with dragon wings completed her look.

Next to her was Marco, wearing a two toned red and black layered fitted vest with a white button up shirt underneath tucked into blood read jeans that Ethyn knew right away had been hand dyed by Jackie with three gold chains hanging from his belt loops. Adding a bit of intimidation to a preppy look. Black combat boots were on his feet but that wasn’t all. Marco was also wearing a blood red bow tie. How Jackie got him to do it no one would ever know but it suited him perfectly.

Last but not least was Phelix. He was wearing what could only be described as 80’s era varsity jacket without the patches in a golden yellow. Underneath the jacket he wore a simple white fitted T-shirt paired with jeans and yellow high top converse shoes. Phelix wasn’t the jock of the group but he sure did dress the part extremely well.

As if on cue, all three of them looked towards Ethyn and began to look him over.

“Ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful,” Marco commented as he stepped closer to Ethyn.

Ethyn had nowhere to go. His computer desk was behind him. He looked towards his laptop and saw that Miko had a huge grin on his face as if he was in on this whole situation that was unfolding in his room. He turned back towards Marco and saw that Jackie and Phelix hadn’t moved but we’re still looking him over in what he could only assume was a judgemental way.

“A bit of this and that,” Marco flicked his hand toward Ethyn. “Get this guy some accessories!” He snapped his fingers and Jackie and Phelix moved to flank him. “And Heather I need your brush!”

Together they said, “Let’s make him beautiful!”

“Okay?” Marco smirked.

With those last few lines Ethyn finally knew what was going on. Jackie had always said that their signature colors reminded her of her favorite movie turned musical. A smile crept onto his face as he recited the next line, “OKAY!”

Miko on the laptop shouted, “How very!”

That took them all out of character and laughter erupted. It took some time for them to compose themselves but when they did Ethyn couldn’t wait any longer.

“So where’s my outfit?” He looked to Jackie for the answer.

She extended her hand to him to take and he did. Together they walked out of his room and into the hallway.

It wasn’t long until Jackie returned and opened the door wide and stood next to the boys sitting on the couch in Ethan's room. Miko was still on video chat when his boyfriend strode into his room. Striking a pose and with an overly confident voice only Ethyn could muster up he said loudly, “Ask me how it feels looking like hell on wheels!”

Ethyn was decked out in dark midnight blues. A sports jacket that had three quarter sleeves made to look rolled up. The exposed lining of the jacket was blue plaid and similar to the others he was wearing a white button up shirt but the buttons were blue rhinestones. Dark wash jeans with tears exposing the same blue plaid that the jacket was lined with and solid black converse completed his Veronica inspired look.

Miko in his best impersonation of JD said, “Greetings and salutations. I’d fight for you any day.”

Jackie, Marco, and Phelix couldn’t help but aww in unison. Ethyn blush as he walked closer to the laptop. The other three got up off the couch and stood behind their friend.

“You guys really look great,” Miko continued to compliment. “Jackie, considering this was all last minute it looks like you’d been working on them for months.”

“Thanks Miko!” She blushed, “A compliment from you is one of the highest of praises.”

“Can you four stand together I wanna get a screenshot,” Miko requested. The four of them did as they were asked but before he could take the shot Jackie squeaked.

“Wait! Hold on, I forgot something!” She ran out of the room and quickly returned with four croquet mallets, each in their signature colors and their names engraved on the handles.

“Wow!” Phelix exhaled in surprise, “You really went all out.” Jackie just shrugged with a sweet smile that said she knew as she handed them their props and posed for Miko. He quickly took the screenshot and gave the group a giant grin.

“Beautiful! But I want better pictures please!”

“You got it, babe.” Ethyn smiled as he got closer to his laptop.

“We are definitely getting better pictures of these outfits. If not at the party then at a proper photo shoot for my site.” Jackie proclaimed proudly. “Robynn will demand it.”

The rest nodded. Soon Ethyn said a quick goodbye to his boyfriend who’s family would be arriving at any moment. Both promising to see each other soon.

“Bummer he couldn’t make it tonight,” Jackie half smiled to Ethyn as he put his computer into sleep mode. He just sighed.

“I did however make him an outfit just in case his plans changed.”

“What?” Ethyn was shocked.

“You know me,” Jackie shrugged as she lightly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “the overachiever.” She waved her hand for him to follow her to her room. She opened her door and lead him inside. To the far side of the room 5 mannequins lined against the wall; four of them bare but one still wore an outfit.

“It’s pretty simple,” Jackie began to explain as Ethyn walked up to the mannequin to get a closer look at her creation. “But the trench coat is what I’m truly proud of.”

Lifting the coat away from the mannequin he saw what she meant. It was lined with the same plaid his jacket and jeans had.

“JD worshiped Veronica. Granted in a very unhealthy way but I thought it was fitting that he’d hide a secret token for her.”

“Your mind..” Ethyn couldn’t even finish the sentence. Her creative mind was something that couldn’t be described with mere words. He stepped away from the mannequin and engulfed her in an embrace that translated his thanks to her for everything.

When they finally parted she smiled at him with a smile that told him she understood his hug.

“Come on. Heather and Heather are waiting. There’ll be plenty of time to gawk at our outfits at a photo shoot. Right now we have a whole party waiting to fawn over us.”

The two laughed as they joined Marco and Phelix in the living room.

“Ready?” Phelix asked as he tossed his car keys from one had to the other.

“Very.” Ethyn answered.

[bioware-meta]

Companion Study: Jacob Taylor

I know, I know. Jacob Taylor? You’re writing an essay about Jacob Taylor? It’s fairly uncontroversial that he’s the least interesting of Mass Effect 2’s otherwise stellar cast. Even the Shadow Broker doesn’t seem to think he’s very valuable (if you haven’t brought him along on Lair of the Shadow Broker, the difference between the comments on him and everyone else are astonishing). But that’s why I wanted to write about him – almost no one has. But I think there’s a lot of value in analyzing why this particular character fell flat with the majority of the player base, and if you’ll bear with me for a few paragraphs, I think you’ll agree.

While doing research for this essay, I discovered that Jacob Taylor was a pretty major character in a couple of the Mass Effect books. I grappled for a bit about whether or not to consider his actions and characterization in those books in my analysis here, but ultimately decided against it. For one thing, I don’t own and haven’t read the books, and there’s only so much insight you can get out of summaries. More importantly, though, I had no idea these books existed when I played ME2, and neither did most players. A video game series that prides itself on storytelling can’t rely on external media to support its story, so I will analyze Jacob Taylor in the form that the majority of the player base experienced him.

 So, with the limits of this analysis established, let’s dive right in to the problem of Jacob Taylor. I want to briefly note what an honest-to-God shame it is that this character fell so flat. He’s one of the only people of color on Shepard’s squad, and one of the only significant black characters in the game. As a white person, it’s not my place to analyze Bioware’s issues with race in detail, but it felt important to touch on. He’s also a major contributor to fem!Shep’s lack of romance options. He’s a thoroughly unappealing option to most players anyway, but to also have him cheat on Shepard and break off their romance in ME3 is a real slap in the face to the few people who were interested. Having characters whose lives don’t revolve around the protagonist and whose romantic relationships don’t work out is an interesting idea, but it’s a problem that it only happens to female protagonists, who also have a romance option unavoidably die. M!Shep, on the other hand, can always steer their romances to happy endings. That’s a problem.

 So what caused this character to fail so utterly? To understand that, let’s take a look at what the developers were hoping to achieve with this character. We’re introduced to Jacob Taylor as a friendly face in a confusing environment, a casual and collected man who offers up the truth of the situation to Shepard out of moral conviction. That’s a decent introduction. Between that and the first few conversations Shepard has with him on the Normandy, I think we can piece together pretty clearly what Jacob’s character is supposed to be. First and foremost, he’s supposed to be a sympathetic voice. He defends Shepard against Miranda, commiserates with them over Cerberus’s spotty track record, and talks about his service with the Alliance. He’s presented as the voice of reason relative to Miranda and TIM. He’s like Shepard, working with Cerberus because he doesn’t see a better option. And that’s the second thing – he’s like Shepard. He shares a similar career path and went through a similar arc of disillusionment and frustration. He’s supposed to be relatable. Third, he’s a good soldier. He’s dutiful, professional, shows great respect for the chain of command, and a solid combatant. And finally, he’s presented as a voice of reason. He frequently advocates for the “logical” and “morally upstanding” choices. His biases show through rarely. The information he provides to Shepard about the galaxy is meant to be very reliable.

 However, this collection of traits fails to make him interesting, for a variety of reasons. Let’s examine why one at a time. He fails as a character sympathetic to Shepard primarily because he’s set up in opposition to Miranda’s fervent belief in Cerberus. The dichotomy between the two makes plenty of sense in the first mission – one pro-Cerberus, one anti. But this falls apart very quickly thereafter, because absolutely no one else you recruit likes Cerberus. The best you get is indifference from people like Zaeed and Kasumi, and far more often you get burning hatred. The deep vendettas of Jack and Tali against Cerberus burn brightly, and Jacob’s mild dislike for them fades out in comparison. This is especially bad for him because his character concept is grounded in the contrast between his reluctant partnership with Cerberus and Miranda’s conviction in their methods. It’s simply uninteresting when compared to the rivalry and outright hatred between Miranda and Jack.

 His failure as a sympathetic ear for Shepard is, surprisingly, almost completely unrelated to why he fails as a target for Shepard’s empathy. This failure boils down primarily to a failure in the writing of his one-on-one conversations. He’s given a backstory that somewhat mirror’s Shepard’s, but there’s no emotion or color attached to it. We know very little about his feelings about his time with the Corsairs, or the names of his fellow servicemen, or any of the conflicts they engaged in, or the hardships they overcame. Compare to Garrus, who talks at length about the team of vigilantes he put together and the tight scrapes he fought his way out of and the burning sense of purpose that sustained him through his ordeals. Jacob was instead written to be almost completely impassive, private, cutting off any conversation as soon as it ventures anywhere potentially emotional. This can be interesting, done correctly. The majority of the companions begin somewhat emotionally closed-off. But Jacob never opens up. The writer’s attempted to make Jacob seem professional and controlled, but instead they robbed him of interiority. This is especially apparent with his personal mission, which fails to advance any central conflict in his personality or resolve an issue that has clearly been affecting him personally. Even the climax of that mission barely brings any of his emotions or character traits into the limelight, and when Shepard tries to dig into his feelings after the mission, Jacob completely shuts down that line of inquiry, never to be reopened.

 Jacob isn’t helped by the fact that he’s also basically the most ordinary combatant to ever be a permanent member of Shepard’s squad. Mechanically, his powerset is very bland, with only Pull and Incendiary Ammo to start off with, and his unique power is functionally interchangeable with two other unique powers, simply extending the user’s shields. And within the game’s story, his abilities are just as ordinary. He’s not a vigilante sniper, a dying assassin, a genetic experiment, or a biotic engineered into the ultimate weapon. He’s just a security officer who happened to not die in the opening level. Simple competence as a combatant looks a lot less valuable when everyone else on the team was recruited because they were extraordinary. In ME1, Kaiden and Ashley had each other to bounce off of, keeping either from looking like the weakest link in a party consisting of fascinating alien experts, and by ME3 neither of them could be considered ordinary soldiers by any stretch of the imagination. But Jacob is just clearly the weakest link of ME2.

 His final and weakest central character trait, acting as a general voice of reason, actually works the best out of any of these. It simply fails to be impactful because the previous three failed so significantly that the player has no real interest in him, so his opinion is unimpactful.

 Having laid bare the flaws in Jacob’s character design, what have we learned? What was the primary factor that created such an uncompelling character, and how could he have been done better? In my opinion, the prime cause of the failure of Jacob Taylor comes from what role the writers wanted him to serve. They intended him to be Shepard’s number one, the friend and confidante that Shepard sees themself in. This was an ill-conceived idea for two reasons. First, there’s player behind the character of Shepard, and that means there is no one-size-fits-all most sympathetic best friend and supporter character. Everyone is going to see it differently. Second, this was a bad idea because there’s already a character returning from a previous game who had this effect on the majority of the player base with astonishing effectiveness, and that’s Garrus Vakarian. Other have written more and better than I could ever hope to on what makes Garrus such a great character, so I’ll leave that alone for now. Instead, let’s talk about what Jacob should have been, instead of trying to fight for Garrus’s role.

 First, I would make Jacob a true believer in Cerberus. As it was, Miranda was the only one who really backed Cerberus – for good reason, the organization was completely mistrusted by outsiders. Making Jacob a true believer would go a long way towards making the presence of the shadowy group feel more immediate, rather than confined to Miranda’s room and TIM’s video calls. This would also open up more avenues to compare and contrast him with Miranda in ways that aren’t better filled by other characters. Preserve Jacob’s general friendliness and moral conviction but put him in control of it. Make him the honey to Miranda’s vinegar, doing his best to gain Shepard’s confidence and exert Cerberus’s agenda over them. Don’t necessarily make him good at it – he’s not a spy – but put that barrier of distrust up that justifies his emotional distance from Shepard. Make him a professional – but this time, he’s not working for Shepard, he’s working on Shepard.

 Naturally, this substantially shifts the nature of his interactions with Shepard. Now Shepard has to not just assess him as a person, but try to shift his loyalties away from Cerberus, just as they must do with Miranda. Likewise, Jacob would have pressure to open up a little more, to try to earn Shepard’s trust through emotional intimacy. This allows us to maintain Jacob as a deeply private person while still letting the audience get to know him through those anecdotes and emotional drives that are so sorely missing from his actual conversations. I’d also consider moving him from the Corsairs to N7. This would shave off a bit of exposition on an element that never seemed to go anywhere, as we never directly interact with or are influenced by the Corsairs in the games. And of course, his personal mission needs to be much more grounded in his issues. We could even preserve most of the basic structure of the mission that appears in game if we provide some crucial background. Have Jacob early and often credit his father with his morality and dedication and, position his disappearance as something that Jacob blames the Alliance for. Don’t make this the inciting incident for Jacob’s defection, we should avoid reducing his morality to a product of his personal suffering, but certainly make it a bitter mark against the Alliance. This allows Jacob’s euphoria and subsequent disillusionment with his father’s survival to have a much more profound impact on his beliefs as it throws him into a crisis over whether his choices and moral compass have come from a worthwhile place – and with the previously established emotional intimacy between him and Shepard, the player can actually see this crisis, unlike in the actual game. I can see a few different trajectories that that could send his character on that could have a substantial impact on ME3, but that would basically be an essay in itself, so we’ll leave it alone for now.

 Next, make him more than just an average soldier. Give the player a reason to think he’d be a good person to have on the team. Maybe instead of being station security, he could be a military expert there to evaluate Shepard’s mental faculties once the Project is finished. Or maybe he could be positioned by TIM to watch Shepard and assassinate them if they go off the rails. The specifics don’t necessarily matter – just present him as being someone who could be taken seriously as a choice for your team when you could pick an ancient asari warrior or the greatest master thief in the galaxy instead.

 Finally, drop the only sane man angle entirely. ME2 is entirely about Shepard corralling dysfunctional superpowered idiots into a workable team. Let Jacob express strong opinions and clear biases for the player to consider and grapple with. Let some personality through the professionalism.

 Maybe you disagree with me. Maybe you think Jacob Taylor is fine as is and I’m going on a ridiculous rant. Maybe you’re right. But to me, and to many others, Jacob Taylor failed as a companion, which is a damn shame, because there was so much that could’ve been done with him instead.

[arteacactus]

Angels/Demons AU Universe

Heaven

Heaven is a place of many tiers.

Tier 1 is general human area- where dead humans go. It’s built to look much like earth, so the humans feel at home when they pass. The only difference being there is no such thing as currency, humans work because they want to and since they are pure of sin, have no ill intentions, so they don’t steal, hurt, etc.

Tier 2 is where fledglings are- usually angels made from particularly pure/good dead humans. It’s still much like a city, but with some more heavenly qualities, as if getting the newly made angel used to it.

Tier 3 is the lowest of angels, usually called commoners. They live in villages in wide, open fields. Still resembling earth, with some things that throw the earthly feel off- such as visible planets in the sky, and the winged angels themselves. They have little to no purpose in heaven, just there to be there.

Tier 4 is guardian angels and the first tier to have its own kingdom and royal family. Guardian angels are angels who are assigned to protect humans, tied to the human’s soul until they die, and the guardian angel gets a say in whether this human goes to heaven or hell. The royal family in this circle of heaven is responsible for giving each angel its human, usually giving guardian angels to the younger, weaker humans on earth. They don’t have much power anywhere else in heaven.

Tier 5 are the messengers and warriors. Messenger angels are the angels who are in charge of delivering messages and prophecies from heaven to anywhere else. There are very few of them, however. Warriors are the angels who are in armies, who fight to protect. Heaven and earth are mostly their responsibility. They fight against the demons of hell and the various supernatural beings that roam the earth- always recruiting and always losing their members. They train only to the minimum, they rely on instincts and pure natural ability in their fights, as they don’t usually have time or the warriors to spare to train others.

Tier 6 is the tier of mostly seraphs and archangels. This tier has three royal families throughout the realm, and it’s the second most protected place in heaven. The seraphs and archangels are very important to heaven, being highly magical angels, and taking care of most of the land and animals throughout the entirety of heaven. The royal families in this tier don’t fight with each other often, though not really friends. They are not affected by the peaceful air in heaven and therefore do feel sin like humans do, as does tier 7.

Tier 7 is the highest of tiers, and consists mainly of royal families, and one Kingdom that rules over the entirety of heaven. Only a select few regular angels get the privilege of living in this tier with the rest of the royals. This entire circle is filled with mainly prideful, snobby royal angels, a small handful being genuinely kind and loving- mainly the few commoners in the tier. The Kingdom has a King, Queen, and three Princes- one of them being the next King. This family is the one who protects, rules, and is the head of all of heaven- if something at all, no matter how miniscule, goes awry, one hundred percent of the blame is on the Kingdom, and generates sizzling hatred from those who can feel it.

Hell

Hell is very similar to Heaven- has tiers and a royal family just like it.

Tier 1 is what humans refer to as ‘Purgatory’. It is the corrupted Garden of Eden, and where exorcised/dead demons, dead angels, and humans who don’t believe in heaven or hell get tossed. It’s a silent, dull forest, with the lingering scent of death in the air. Occasionally, agonized screams can be heard in the distance, but never tracked.

Tier 2 is a black void. There is no sound, there is no echo to your voice, there is nothing in sight- you are alone, in an endless void, until your mind deteriorates and black sludge rises from the ground and grabs you, and you do not fight it as you are pulled into the suffocating void with the slime- you do not want to fight it. The silence has become too much. Death is a mercy.

Tier 3 is where demons crawl. Low demons, mind you- these are dream eaters and bloodsuckers. Dream eaters are demons that haunt your dreams and give you nightmares, feeding off your fear to gain power. In extreme cases, these creatures can kill you with the sheer power of fear alone, but it doesn’t happen often. Bloodsuckers, or in human terms, vampires, are the demons who feed off blood. Their fangs pierce your skin and breaks your veins, allowing it to suck blood through the puncture wounds and, in some cases, drain you completely. These demons are often insulted, or used as insults (e.g. “You’re acting like a bloodsucker!”)- the lowest of the low.

Tier 4 is cities and villages of demons- eerily similar to earth, only laws are nonexistent. Chaos rules the land. Demons who live here, rarely stay. The demons in this circle of hell are usually the newly fallen angels and corrupt humans- the ones who live the longest are able to move up in tiers, as they’d proved themselves by being able to live in the most chaotic of tiers.

Tier 5 is the soul pit, where most of the population of demons live, including warriors, messengers, etc. Named the soul pit because beneath the rich soil of the ground is where the souls of dead creatures lay. The ground cracks open in some places and there are craters of glowing, colored orbs of light, the souls sat in wait to be eaten- serving no other purpose. Lava surrounds the area, often called the hottest part of hell, pools of lava dotting the land and mountains of obsidian rose in the air, falls of lava cascading into rivers that flowed throughout the realm.

Tier 6 is the highest part of hell- where the Royal Kingdom sits. This circle is home to only the Royal family- cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. The Castle itself houses a single King and his son, and two friends of his son’s- the only demons allowed in the realm that are not of Royal blood. Unlike heaven, the Kingdom in hell hardly has anything to do- hell usually handles itself. The only thing the Royal family has to do there is fight in wars and do boring paperwork (joy).

Angel/Demon Appearances

Royal angels and demons have naturally vibrant, colorful hair. It cannot be dyed over, no matter what Though, commoners can dye their hair vibrant colors- but it’s nowhere near as gorgeous as a royal’s hair. Similarly, royal angels’ wings are naturally colorful, whereas regular angels have either white, gray, or black solid color wings- which can not be artificially colored. To do so would be considered harmful, to both the angel and wings.

Royal angels’ halos are different from normal, too, with little wings on the sides, and another detail decorating the halo itself- all different depending on the angel. No design is repeated. It’s almost like a crown.

Royal demons, though, don’t have anything like a halo to show as a crown- they either wear a crown, or they decorate themselves to look better than others, usually in piercings, tattoos, etc.

Demons also have groups, different types of demons, like bird demons, cat demons, spider demons, etc., and their vast amount of appearances are much more distinctive than angels’.

Miscellaneous

Demons have different breeds- cat demons, bird demons, etc., and for a demon of one type to be in a relationship with a demon of another type is strictly forbidden. If they have a child, they are both sentenced to death, and the child is killed for being an abomination.

However, on the very rare chance that a child manages to stay alive, they are not any particular ‘type’ of demon- they are more of a stereotypical one, with the pointed tail and bat-like wings. These demons are entirely unable to have children.

Unlike demons, angels laws on relationships are not nearly as strict. It is frowned upon, yes, but nothing much is done about it.

When an angel of high blood (seraph, archangel, etc.) has a child with a commoner, the child usually is a mix of the two rather than strictly one or the other. Usually, it is the vibrant hair and/or wings of the royal that carries over into the child, but that’s it. There have been rare exceptions to this, though.

Angels and demons can both be summoned by humans- but it usually ends in death or a signed contract, binding the being to the human’s soul, much like a guardian angel. It is unheard of for multiple beings to be tied to a single human.

It is forbidden for angels and demons to have children with each other- or even fall in love. It causes nothing but agony for both sides, and always ends in spilled blood. Never before has there been a child of an angel and a demon.

Demons who don’t look too impressive in appearance are usually always immensely skilled in magic. Magic is usually used for fighting, but can be used for healing as well. Demon magic is based on the elements- Fire, earth, air, water- and sometimes the elements are mixed to create a new type of magic (highly dangerous and done only by the most skilled of magic-users), such as, air+earth=lightning, air+water=ice, etc.

Roman Logan Patton Virgil Deceit Remy

[edh-a-to-z]

Dominaria - Green

Looks like elves are coming back.

Good ol’ Magic elfball. Something needs to go toe-to-toe with the Gobs.

My Top 3 picks:

Multani - Commander (I know, not included in this post, but a reviews coming soon) that just keeps kicking, with relevant Reach and Trample

Song of Freyalise - Ramp. Ramp. Win

Verdant Force - A Reprint of an EDH fave

Adventurous Impulse

Grade: D

Home: Any green deck

Range: Very Wide

Draw is always nice, but these “check the top X cards” are usually less impactful in EDH. In a format where you can Diabolic Tutor on turn 1 (much less any other tutor), this feels less useful.

Ancient Animus

Grade: C+

Home: MonoGreen

Range: Narrow

Needs an interesting requirement, and feels like Pounce for legends. Fight at instant speed is pretty decent, but if you’re outside of mono green, there’s better removal

Abhor Armament

Grade: F

Home: Counters deck?

Range: Average

Most monogreen decks aren’t in desperate need of combat tricks granting reach, and the counter is only nominally useful.

Baloth Gorger

Grade: F 

Home: Ramp, Fatties

Range: Narrow

Vanilla creatures are lame. For about the same cost, Kavu Primarch gives you more options. Bottom line, there’s better kicker creatures, better 4 drops, and better fatties.

Broken Bond

Sorry Chandra, looks like your girlfriend left.

Grade: D+

Home: Any green deck, Ramp

Range: Narrow

Another cousin of Naturalize, trading Instant speed for Ramp. Nice that it doesn’t care what type of land, so it meshes well with cards like Kodama’s Reach that put lands into your hand.

Corrosive Ooze

Wait a minute, that’s not a Magic card!

Grade: D

Home: Anti Equipment, Anti Voltron

Range: Very Narrow

A bear that destroys the equipment of creatures it blocks or is blocked by. Not particularly powerful, but I was able to make a Hearthstone joke, so I like it.

Also, destroying the Equipment at the end of combat won’t save you from being completely killed by a Trampling Voltron commander, so it’s meh.

Elfhame Druid

Grade: C

Home: Kicker, Elf Tribal, Any Green deck

Range: Wide

Kicker has a lot of use in EDH, and having GG available makes many of them more attractive. The worst case of being a mana dork for 2 isn’t that bad especially in a tribal deck.

Fungal Plots

Grade: C

Home: Saproling Tribal, sac deck

Range: Narrow

I compare it to Night Soil, one of my Fave EDH cards. Unlike Soil, it costs more, it only goes after your ‘yard, only exiles one creature, but offers some utility to saprolings, like much needed draw.

Solid option to have in Saproling deck to give you more Sap sac options.

Gaea’s Blessing

Grade: D+, Reprint

Home: Recycling Decks, weak GY Hate, Anti-Mill

Range: Narrow

Weak GY hate is ok, self replacement is nice, and milling protection is nice. Sorc speed always stinks, but this in a weird niche card.

Gaea’s Protector

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Effect not interesting or powerful enough for EDH. Especially at 4 mana.

Gift of Growth

Grade: D

Home: Combat Trix, Ramp

Range: Very Narrow

An odd spell. Green doesn’t get a lot of this untapping stuff as much as White. It can untap to make a blocker, or give quasi-vigilance to an attacker. Buffing, with multiple strength levels, is interesting.

It’s expensive, but neat.

Grow from the Ashes

Grade: C 

Home: Ramp Deck, Multicolor deck

Range: Wide

Explosive Vegetation with Kicker options.

There’s plenty of ramp in the CMC 2-4 that’s pretty solid, and I think kicker gives it some consideration, especially in ramping early and late. Solid card.

EDIT: (thanks @starkmaximum) I should also mention the benefit of the lands coming in untapped. Sure they’re basic, but fixing RIGHT THEN AND THERE is great.

Kamahl’s Druidic Vow

Grade: B-

Home: Ramp, MonoGreen, Big Mana Combo

Range: Average

If you got mana and a legendary (annoying hoops to jump through), you got toys.

I can’t wait to go infinite, play my whole deck, and Elixir of Immortality everything back. Boom, Board full of legends and lands. Gonna be great in the Captain Sisay deck (if you can buy her for 30!).

Remember that Genesis Wave is kinda a strictly better version than this (sure it costs G more, but doesn’t need a Legendary and hits any permanent), so get this as a budget option, not a power options.

Krosan Druid

Grade: D

Home: LG Deck

Range: Narrow

Most LG, especially one shot lifegain, isn’t useful in EDH. Incremental or repeatable lifegain is usually the name of the game.

While 8 mana to kick a 2/3 and gain 10 life is fair, it’s just okay. At that point I’d rather play Archangel’s Light or Congregate-look alikes.

 Llanowar Elves

Grade: Reprint

Home: Every elf and green deck in existence

Range: Very Wide

The source of strength for many an elf deck, I’m mostly interesting in the sweet new art, plus awesome FNM cards.

Llanowar Envoy

Grade: C-

Home: Multicolor Infinite mana combo

Range: Very Narrow

Straight up Mana Filter when you go Green infinite mana, as well as mana fixing in multicolored decks.

Body’s decent enough but nothing to write home about

Llanowar Scout

Grade: D

Home: Ramp, Elf Tribal

Range: Average

Compare with Budoka Gardener and Sakura-Tribe Scout for similar effects, with Budoka as the most powerful. Solid ramp option, and a good reason to keep a handful of lands.

Mammoth Spider

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Decent limited fodder, trash for EDH.

The Mending of Dominaria

Grade: C

Home: Land Sac deck

Range: Narrow

Plays well with Titania, Gitrog, most land heavy commanders. You can even Zuran Orb your board if you time it right, and get a ton of life.

Nature’s Spiral

Grade: D-, Reprint

Home: Any Green Deck

Range: Very Wide

Not really the best EDH card. It ends up in the first draft in a lot of my decks, but usually gets cut. Mostly because Reclaim exists.

Pierce the Sky

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Bog standard anti flying. Sure, you’ll get to use it, but bring something better, like Beast Within. 

Primordial Wurm

Grade: F

Home: N/A

Range: N/A

Bog standard fatty. There’s better

Saproling Migration

Grade: C

Home: Saproling Tribal, Token decks

Range: Narrow

Solid Servo Exhibition, in green with upside. Kicker gives it some nice utility. Me gusta.

Song of Freyalise

Grade: B

Home: Ramp Deck, Fatty decks, Any Green Deck, Go Wide

Range: WIde

Ramp. Ramp. Smash.

An ult that lets you smash with no consequences is amazing. Mana fixing early game is great

Spore Swarm

Grade: C-

Home: Token Decks, Saproling Tribal

Range: Average

Useful for token decks. Captain’s Call for Saprolings. Slightly nicer while it’s at Instant speed.

Sporecrown Thallid

Grade: B+

Home: Fungus/Saproling Tribal

Range: Very Narrow

A lord at 2 CMC? Wow!

In the Fungus/Saproling deck, it’s amazing. Elsewhere, it’s usually a strictly better bear, so it’s bog awful there.

Steel Leaf Champion

Grade: C+

Home: Mono Green decks, Elf tribal

Range: Narrow

The last of the CCC cycle, a beefy elf with the Daunt power.

It’s a great reward for playing the color, much like a better Woolly Thoctar. 

Sylvan Awakening

Grade: C+

Home: Lands, Untap deck

Range: Average

Any deck with enough lands can run this well. Get an army of 8-12 lands, attack without worrying.

Untappers like Awakening give you an army of Reach Indestructible creatures on the defense. Combos well with Armageddon, if you’re the mood for destruction.

Territorial Allosaurus

Grade: C

Home: Dino Tribal

Range: Very Narrow

Only dino tribal actually wants this, and barely at that. It’s costed aggressively, and kicker is a nice option, so it’s nice removal for 7. It can usually trade without dying, but there’ll be some times when the kicker won’t help, so play after combat I guess.

Thorn Elemental

Grade: D-, Reprint

Home: Fatty Deck, Any Green Deck

Range: Very Wide

Power creep hit this elemental hard.

Bog standard hitter fatty. Does decent work as a super trampler, but there’s better options at this CMC.

Untamed Kavu

Grade: C-

Home: Any Green Deck, Ramp, Counters

Range: Very Wide

Unlike many common and uncommon Kicker cards, this one is good with and without kicker. 

A french vanilla bear is nice, and makes a good early game card, and the 5 drop with 5/5 and the same abilities is pretty solid. Plus some deck likes counters, so that’s good.

Never your first choice for any deck, but decent to fill out a curve, and good for the first or second draft of a deck. I’ll bet it’ll be in a Commander pre-con.

Verdant Force

Grade: B, Reprint

Home: Any Green Deck, Go Wide Deck, Ramp deck

Range: Wide

The original solid EDH card. This card came out over 20 years ago, and it’s still racking up kills in EDH.

One of the best scaling Fatties that can sorta take over a game (but not really in EDH, cuz no player should be over run by Saprolings)

And side note, hey it’s the first new art!

Wild Onslaught

Grade: D?

Home: Counter deck?

Range: ???

Not sure where I can really use this. Most counters are, in my opinion, are better suited to being put on one creature.

Yavimaya Shepard

Grade: D-

Home: Fungus/Saproling tribal decks, Go Wide

Range: Narrow

3 mana for 3/3 of stats is not interesting, even for Sap/Fungus decks. Leave it in the box.

So that’s the five colors! Multicolored reviews, Artifacts reviews, and more, are coming soon!

[voidendron]

The Outside: Chapter 1

Mark and Seán have ended their YouTube careers. That leaves their Egos with one option to keep themselves from fading as the fans start to forget them: Leave their dimensional plane, and live in the humans'. But the Outside is new and unknown to the Egos, with rules and laws they have a hard time understanding.

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

The Outside Chapter 1 A Doctor, A Demon, and Two Hosts... Chapter Warnings: None

It had been seven years since Mark’s last video. Three years since Seán had announced he’d be stopping YouTube soon, too. That didn’t mean they had no more fans. People still watched their videos, wrote fanfiction, drew fanart. Unfortunately, the people who did began to dwindle as time went on.

The Egos? They were afraid. No, terrified. Most of them had already grown transparent in the arms. Some were close to fading completely. The few fans who still watched were all that kept them alive.

Magic grew weak, Visions started to cloud, powers became draining. They were all fading. Some, faster than others.

The doctors, with Iplier weak on his feet, made their rounds every day. They’d ordered that everyone stay in Egos, Inc. so that they could all be kept track of. The Septics’ office, Ego Central, had begun to fall apart during that time; with no magic to keep it in good shape, no Egos to give it reason to exist. Schneep and Dr. Iplier made sure to check in on everyone; just to see who was still with them. So far, they’d been lucky. No one had faded yet—though the King, Bim, Marvin, Yandare, and Twins seemed to be getting close.

The Jim Twins never let go of each others’ arms anymore; terrified that if they let go, that if they didn’t stay near each other, they’d fade without their brother at their side. Marvin clung to Jackieboy in a similar manner, while Bim and the King had locked themselves away in their rooms, and Yan stuck close to anyone he could; namely Chase, due to his more paternal nature.

The Egos knew, simply through an accident many years ago, that they couldn’t fade Outside. Not outside of their offices, but really, truly Outside. That if they left their dimensional plane, and went into the humans’, that they could live on. But it was a terrifying thought. Most of them had never even set foot out there; if they had, it had been only very brief, and with their creators. They didn’t know what to expect, except that it physically altered their features.  

Kathryn had explained it in a way that made sense; especially to those who weren’t exactly ‘law-abiding’. If the Egos went Outside, and did something to draw attention to themselves, the different appearance they got made it so Seán or Mark wouldn’t be pinned as suspects. Sure, the Ego might look like they could be related to them Outside; but they no longer looked like clones as they did in their own plane.  

The Egos were all too afraid of what was out there to leave. Not even Dark wanted to go out there. Nor Wilford, or Anti, or the Googles; the seemingly fearless ones. The Outside was a new, unknown world to them.  

That all changed when Schneep entered the Twins’ room to check up on them, and found only a note on their bedside table. Bing, Chase, and Yan had all left similar notes.

They’d left together, in the middle of the night. Gone Outside. Chase with his kids in tow; each of them with backpacks filled with cash, food, and water. Yan so desperate to survive he’d left behind every keepsake of his senpai he’d collected and only brought a few changes of clothes, as well as his swords. Bing had ripped his charger from the wall to take with, while the Twins shouldered backpacks filled with notebooks and clothes.  

The next day, Jackieboy and Marvin left with Bim and the King. Then it was the Googles, while Anti and Jameson left within two hours of the androids.  

Their numbers started dwindling more and more; anywhere from one to a few Egos leaving every day, until the only ones left were the doctors, Dark, Wilford, and the Host. But soon enough, even they wanted to leave. There was nothing left for them in their plane but a lonely end.  

“Out there, we have chance. In here, we can only fade from memory,” Schneep had said to the other four. Alone, he’d exited through the back door that would take him to the humans’ plane; carrying nothing but a card from Marvin, a scalpel, and his cellphone and wallet.

The following day, the remaining four made their choice.

“You’ll need a human name,” Dr. Iplier had said, gaze flitting between Dark and the Host. The Doctor could barely stand, and the others had to squint to focus on his extremely faded form that was barely visible. Dark, predictably, selected Damien. The Doctor suggest ‘Arthur’ for Host; a callback to his original title of Author, and easy to remember. He received a frown for it, before the blind Ego gave a nod.  

Much like the Doctor, Host was very faded. He was followed closely by Dark. Only Wilford, through all these years, had maintained a mostly-solid form with only his hands fading in and out of visibility. And that was only because he was the channel’s literal icon; seen every day even if the videos themselves weren’t viewed.

Shifting the pack on his shoulders, the Doctor bent down to pick up his first-aid kit. He struggled with its weight in his weakened state, but managed. His free hand found the crook of Host’s elbow; both as a means to help the blind Ego since his Visions weren’t working properly, and so they could support each other, and he led the Host through the back door without another word. Dark and Wilford hesitated for but a moment before following suit.  

Dark flinched at the bright sunlight to greet him, and it took a good thirty seconds for his eyes to adjust to it. Smoothing out his suit jacket, he reined in his aura to form the appropriate shadow at his feet that he always seemed to lack. Out here, he couldn’t let it surround him, draw attention to him, them. Finally, the old Ego took a look at his comrades and was nearly dumbstruck. He knew they’d all look different out here. He just...hadn’t really thought about it until actually seeing it with his own eyes.

The doctor looked so young. He was also lankier and taller than their creator, now. His face was one of a tired youth; maybe college-aged, and a soul patch adorned his once clean-shaven face.

The Host’s face was narrower, angled more harshly; bandages almost looking like they’d slide right off with how loosely they clung to it now. Iplier leaned in to readjust them so they wouldn’t actually do so. Much like the Doctor, he was taller, but overall build similar to what it had been before. It was amusing, however, at how much shorter his coat seemed with the added height of the Ego himself.  

Wilford had gained a soldier’s build; slimmer than before but still powerful. His mustache didn’t curl at the corners nearly as much, and covered his upper lip better; no longer pink, but the same black as his hair. Dark wondered how long it would be before it was dyed back to that signature color.  

Dark, himself, didn’t feel much different build-wise; his suit didn’t seem loose or tight, at least. Though, he did keep stepping on the bottom of his pantlegs. So the doctor and Host were taller, Will more or less the same height, and Dark shorter? How did it work out like that, he wondered with a twinge of annoyance. Judging by Wilford’s smirk, the height difference was fairly obvious.

The Doctor was looking the other three over as well, his own surprise at their appearances shining in now-green eyes. “This,” he muttered, “looks like the start of a very bad joke.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >>Next https://blitzindite.tumblr.com/post/174705689657/the-outside-chapter-2 Don't want to wait for the Tumblr release? You can also find the story on AO3 and FF.net under the username Blitzindite!